#thing is though i think it may be a front. there is some truth to it but. moe is nothing if not fucking stubborn.

[moe-broey]

I am Often thinking about it (guy whose entire life motto is "If it sucks hit the bricks" vs guy who literally clawed his way out of his own grave and is currently trying to outsmart god(s) because he just fucking REFUSES to let go and take the L)

[blackmoonoracle]

PICK A CARD - Uncomfortable Truths

P I L E O N E

Quit putting your trust in things you know don't work. I heard showmanship. The way youve been approaching this connection or situation is egotistical at times. You can be someone that tends to put up a front because you're scared of being seen as weak or vulnerable. You're very tactful & can also be highly skilled in deception. I heard something about reality weaving, you weave your reality very powerfully. Be more mindful of your words when you get angry. When it comes to YOU they aren't just words, you influence the essence of the occurrence of life in every word you speak and every tear you cry. Could be Latino or indigenous in heritage, I also heard Slavic! Give up on what doesn't serve you I heard. Your ancestors are very impatient because you keep avoiding this lesson. If you don't relent soon you're going to look back at this eventually and just be like 😬. While you may think you're operating from a higher perspective right now, there are times you don't & there are times you don't actually hear or understand others the way in which you believe you do.

P I L E T W O

You're actually very lovable. Needing help isn't a reflection of your weakness, it's a reflection of the fact you're wise enough to grasp that sometimes you don't have all the answers. You're veryyyy intelligent & deeply intuitive but you tend to silence yourself for the sake of others. It's like the prospect of standing out really makes you anxious at times. You think about your desire to be seen and acknowledged and then remember what that means for you socially and get the ick 🤣 This pile is giving Taurus energy 🤣 you need to relax more often, youre so serious that sometimes you miss out on the joys of humanity. Even though some things aren't always forever doesn't mean you can't enjoy them for what they are. Learn to indulge without emotional consequences. Also some of y'all would benefit from changing from some kind of diet? Or also from doing some sort of yoga or somatic practice that focuses on clearing anxiety from the stomach.

P I L E T H R E E

You have an envy & projection issue. I feel like a lot of this group Lowkey compares themselves to others frequently or grew up in a way as a child that never made you feel justified in standing up for yourself. So now, you at tiiiimes perpetuate this pattern in your day to day life on a subconscious level. It's a program in your mind, and it's why you feel upset a lot of the time. You may feel like you hold such grudges because you forget how valuable your own perspective and self validation is. You're very self critical and can get frustrated when others succeed. Like you almost fear being outshone by others. A lot of neglect wounds here too, where some of you expect others to go above and beyond for you but you treat yourself horribly. You are very cruel with yourself pile 3, be more kind and be more loving. You deserve to treat yourself with respect.

[minimujina]

wanderer in his season of healing makes me so happy. i love that he is safe enough to become softer again, that he is regaining some of his previously “weak” attributes and finding peace with them. he is becoming measured and introspective, and thinking before he speaks, perhaps a result of both his healing and his melancholy; i think it’s beautiful that he is finally able to safely feel his sadness and process the things that have happened. he is simultaneously finding peace and feeling all the difficult emotions he previously consumed with anger. it is painful, but right.

his sense of humor is still intact, certainly rough around the edges as you’d expect, though much less biting than before. it’s easy to tell that most anything aggressive he says is a front, a front that he is no longer concerned with presenting as absolute truth. perhaps the front is his sense of humor, and his affection is all thinly veiled behind jabs and sour grumbles—he is not willing to divulge the intimate details of that, however, preferring to leave it up to interpretation.

i just think of him and his healing and i feel like if he were to fall in love, it would be such a sweet and gentle and quiet sort of thing, just like his newfound peace. he ponders over many things, brooding by himself as much as he can, though he occasionally allows space for others to brood with him. that, i think, is something unique he may grow in. there are people who cannot tolerate strong emotions in themselves and certainly not in others—but he is the kind of person who can. he is the kind of person you could sit with and exist in your sadness and just be sad, and that’s okay. he’s not offering words of comfort or anything, but he doesn’t need to. anything he’d say would be useless anyways, he knows what it’s like and knows that a presence is enough and existing in your emotions safely is enough. he can appreciate someone who is straightforward about feeling unwell, who doesn’t seek pity, who is alright with sitting in the mud. he will gladly sit with you, then, as long as you don’t expect him to get all mushy about things.

he would do well falling in love quietly, not having to beat around the bush. naturally, pieces would fall into place, and he’d find himself yearning to be in the presence of another in a way he’d never before experienced. he had never really wanted to be around anyone, had never sought out anyone’s presence. but once he has been treated gently, has fallen softly into the arms of a likened soul who has the patience and understanding to touch his rough edges without recoiling, he finds his third space being with this new safe person.

and despite his reluctance to be anything but mysterious and nonchalant, i believe wanderer in his healing season would become quite the romantic. not in the sappy sense, but in the quiet love sense i’ve been talking about. firm and protective, subtle and gentle, almost gentlemanlike if it weren’t for his falsely rotten attitude he enjoyed projecting. romantic in a princely way, in a reverently respectful way, in a grotesquely wholesome way.

only the most chaste touches and kisses; he’s still getting used to affection, and would abhor pda. in private he’s much more open to being touched, because he is safe. if he is not safe, he is deeply conditioned to be conscious of his vulnerabilities, and it’s something that will take a lot of time to override, if even at all. but it’s a massive and beautiful step that he is even willing to receive affection at all, that he would want it from a partner in any amount.

hates eye contact, likes playing with hands. likes tracing veins and creases in skin and freckles and scars; he finds them fascinating, as he has nothing of the sort on his artificial body. one of his unique ways he shows affection is what could be called “studying” you. he likes to brood (with you there; perhaps it could be called parallel brooding) and take your arm and trace all the splotches, imperfections, veins, tendons he can find. he likes to touch more than he likes to be touched i think. perhaps he becomes amusingly selfish in this way. perhaps he is more averse to receiving than giving the affection because his disgust towards himself still lingers. perhaps he still has harmful core beliefs to unlearn.

i think he is full of a love that is strong and quiet, a love that he gives so sparingly, and only in pieces, never all at once. unless, that is, someone comes along and manages to drag it all out like a magnet—his carefully crafted exterior is in pieces, just like that! but oh, once someone is in possession of his love, he begins to know them so intimately, more intimately than he lets on. he so deeply knows who he loves and he knows how to give and to take action and so he does it, silently, for he is adept at perceiving the needs of his loved ones. reading body language and facial expressions is second nature to him at this point; nothing can get past him.

he studies you wordlessly with the expression of a cat who loves and reveres its human, except it’s the kind of cat who believes it owns the human, not the other way around. you’re his responsibility that he has taken on like an extension of himself because he loves you, and you have loved him, and now he hardly wants you out of his sight. his journey of rediscovery and learning self acceptance has been mentally and emotionally arduous, but ever since you came in and made loving him seem so easy, he’s felt much more at peace, and has had the capacity to reflect and process with much more freedom to sincerely feel.

stupid fictional character i hate him i hate him so much he is not real and i hate him

[corroded-hellfire]

Hi love!! I would love an Eddie request of him with inexperienced reader but it's not smut it's like the convo leading up to it like May be they start making out and it's getting steamy and she tells him she's a virgin and she's terrified bc what if she's bad at sex and then it's not good for him? What if he sees her naked and thinks she's not pretty?? And it's just Eddie comforting her and reassuring her

Oh, I would most definitely need Eddie to reassure me of these things, too. I hope you like what I've come up with 💕

Words: 1.3k

The old springs in Eddie’s mattress dig into your back, an occasional squeak emanating from them whenever your boyfriend shifts his weight on top of you. His tongue dances with yours, breath colliding and teeth grazing. Eddie encompasses all your senses, surrounding you wholly and leaving no room to think about anything else but him–if your brain can even manage to think at all with strong, calloused hands running over your body. 

His warm fingers trail up the outside of your leg, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The moment Eddie’s hand slips up your shorts on the front of your thigh though, your body goes from pure ecstasy to adrenaline-pumping nerves in an instant.

An involuntary jump of your body against his alerts Eddie that something’s wrong and he immediately pulls away to gaze down at you in concern.

“Are you okay?”

Though it’s clearly not the truth, you nod your head. Slowly, you scoot yourself out from beneath his body and sit up against the cheap mahogany headboard that’s caused a multitude of scratches against the dully painted trailer wall. 

“C-Can we talk for a second though?”

There’s worry in Eddie’s eyes. He’s terrified that he’s done something wrong or has hurt you in some way. Taking care to give you some space, your boyfriend situates himself to sit next to you on his bed, back also resting against the chipped and scuffed headboard.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Eddie says. “What’s going on?”

Tentatively, Eddie offers you his hand, resting it between the two of you. He’s leaving the decision up to you if you want to touch him right now or not. There’s no hesitation though, you eagerly lace your fingers with his. 

You give him a nervous smile, a million thoughts running through your head at once. It’ll be a miracle if you can speak coherently with the rate at which your mind is moving. Deciding to just bite the bullet and get it all out there, you take a deep breath.

“Um, I’m—I’m a virgin, Eddie.”

Whatever reaction you were planning on Eddie to have, he doesn’t give it to you. He seems completely unfazed by your admission. All you get is a nod of his head and a gentle squeeze of your hand. 

“Okay,” he says casually, as if your entire body isn’t running on nervous energy at the moment. “We can go as slow as you want, yeah?”

You know your body should feel relief, but the worry in your head tells you that you’ve only gotten through part of what you need to tell him. Might as well push through to the end.

“I’m…scared,” you admit. Shame floods your body, chilling your veins.

“Of me?” Eddie’s eyes widen and the alarm in them is clear.

“No!” You quickly assure him. “No, no, never of you.”

He heaves a sigh of relief, and you cup his hand in both of yours. Out of all the things that make you anxious about having sex with Eddie, Eddie is not one of them. But that means you have to tell him that you’re the problem. If your anxiety has one mortal nemesis in the world it is vulnerability. 

“I’m scared that I’ll be bad at it,” you admit. “I don’t know what I’m doing. What if you don’t like it? What if I mess up?” What if you don’t like how I look beneath my clothes?

“Whoa, whoa,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. The crease in his forehead shows his displeasure with the pressure you’re putting on yourself. “First of all, I don’t think you can really mess up sex, sweetheart. As long as you’re here and your clothes are off, I’d say we’re good to go.” He chuckles, but when you don’t join in, he sighs. “Are you honestly worried that I won’t like it?”

Unable to look him in the eye, you nod. His forehead furrows further as Eddie frowns. Usually, you’d rub your thumb over those wrinkles to smooth them out and calm him down. But usually, you’re not the cause of them. 

Gentle fingers grip your chin and tilt your face so you can look at him.

“Princess, it’s you. I love doing everything with you, you really think I won’t like having sex with you?”

When he puts it like that, you feel silly. Heat blooms in your face as embarrassment is scooped on top of the nerves. There are legitimate concerns, though. You’re sure of it. There has to be.

“W-What if you don’t like what my body looks like?” You ask it so quietly in the hope that he misses it.

It’s obvious that he doesn’t by the way his eyes nearly pop out of his head. He reminds you of one of those stress dolls that you squeeze and the small plastic eyes bulge out.

“Not like your body?” Eddie sounds almost incredulous. He pauses for a moment, eyes gazing into yours as he thinks of a reply. It feels like the understatement of the century to say he was unprepared for you to be worried about this; about something that he whole-heartedly knew to be untrue. A smile quirks Eddie’s mouth as his mind goes back to a day before you’d started dating. He licks over his lips before continuing. “Sweetheart, remember the pool party Jeff threw for his birthday last summer? You wore that low-cut, blue one-piece that showed off most of your back?”

Do you remember? You had agonized over what you should wear to that party and what Eddie would think when he saw you. 

“Yeah,” you tell him, voice quivering. 

“Babe,” he says with a shake of his head. “I still get off thinking about that. About how you looked. There was a reason I had to stay in the pool past the point of me freezing half to death in the water.”

Shock colors your face, and despite the gravity of the conversation, it makes Eddie smile wider.

“You…really?”

“Yes,” Eddie says with a breathless chuckle. “God, you’re so fucking hot. You’re gorgeous. It bothers me that you don’t see that.”

If there’s one thing you can say about your boyfriend, it’s that he’s very candid about his view on things–just ask anyone who’s had the pleasure of hearing him make a grand speech from atop a lunch table. Which is most of the high school-aged population in Hawkins.

Half of your brain is trying to convince you that now is the time he chooses to lie, that he’s just saying this to make you feel better or to shut you up. Meanwhile, the other half is telling the anxiety to put a sock in it and listen to Eddie.

“What’re you thinking?” Eddie asks quietly. A reminder of how well he knows you.

“Too much,” you say with a soft laugh. 

Eddie lets out a long breath and gently pulls you into his lap. He absentmindedly rests his hands on your thighs and his thumbs rub calming circles on your skin.

“What can I do to make you feel better?” he asks. Needing to show you physically how much he wants to help you, he snakes his arms around your body to hold you snugly against him. Your heart all but melts as he looks up at you with those large, puppy dog eyes.

With a small smile, you lean down and rest your forehead against your boyfriend’s. Sometimes he’s too cute for his own good. 

“You already have,” you say softly.

“What? How?” Eddie’s frowning again, but this time it's in confusion.

“Just by being you,” you tell him with a shrug.

“Well, I am pretty great,” Eddie says with a playful smirk. Your heart feels lighter once the stress lines fade from his beautiful face. 

You chuckle at his ego and sit back up straight.

“There is one more thing you could do for me, though.”

“What’s that, beautiful?”

There’s a hungry gleam in your eyes as you let your gaze trail up and down his lithe body. 

“Take off your shirt.”

[voxmortuus]

⇘ PAIRING:⇙ Dom!Benny Cross x Sub!F!Reader

⇘ UNIVERSE:⇙ The Bikeriders

⇘ WORD COUNT:⇙ 3k

⇘ SUMMARY:⇙ Seems you've found yourself in a rather unique situation. You've known Benny for a long while, but you always felt a little out of his league, whatever league that may be, it just didn't feel like you were good enough for him. The thing is, you're just what he's looking for. You've got a lot of love to give, a heart on your sleeve, and a loyalty that is stronger than a dog. He wants you, but he wants you specifically. He wants you to be his old lady, he wants you to be his ride or die. Once he gets you alone though, the patches stay on, and things get a little far from vanilla.

⇘ TRIGGER WARNINGS:⇙ Fluff | Language | Smoking | Smut | Some BDSMesque Scenes | Dom!Benny | Kissing | Face Smacking | Boot on Face | Hair Pulling | Fingering | Hand job | Oral (M) | Face fucking | Guided Masturbation | Benny Masturbating | Begging | Facial | These are in no particular order! PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this…

⇘ NOTES:⇙ I hope this brings you some joy.

⇘ DIVIDER CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa

⇘ IMAGE CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa

⇘ My Master Masterlist ⇙

Was it happenstance, or was it planned that he happened to show up today? Handing the beer over the counter, you lean against the bar, and you smile the sweetest smile you've got in you.

"Well shit, if it ain't Benny Cross. How long has it been?" You asked. Benny looked up at you as he walked in, giving you that same crooked grin he always walked around with. He gave a slight chuckle.

"Well, no shit. It's been, what, almost 7 years?" He asked you. You nod your head and chuckle a bit.

"Yeah, somethin' like that." you smirk and look down at the bar top.

It had been what feels like forever. It feels like you haven't seen him in ages, and truth be told, it had been ages. Seven whole ages, as a matter of fact. Smirking, he looks over you as he approaches the bar. Looking over his face, you smile, and a soft blush graces your cheeks, causing you to feel warm. Letting out a soft, shaky breath, you glance around, realizing that no one else was there in the bar, but you knew that wasn't going to last too long. How do you even say what you think you need to say. You groan, and you sigh and decide not to say anything.

As the night went on, the two of you mingled and caught up. He learned quite a bit about you, just as much as you learned about him. You learned quite a bit, and he learned just as much. However, you learned something that he didn't tell you either, he had always liked you. Well fuck. Upon closing up the bar, you look at him and shake your head.

"Benny, I've always had a thing for you. I always thought you were too good for me. Outta my fuckin league." you state honestly.

Benny stopped and stared at you. "Outta my league? No, no. I felt you were outta mine. Let me ask you this... you still want me?"

"I've always wanted you... that never changed, never after all these years." you admit.

He looks at you and runs his hand over his face. Nodding his head, he looks back toward the door. Looking back at you, he walks to the door and locks it. "Come here." he points to the ground in front of him.

Lifting a well-manicured and well-defined brow, you walk to him and stand in front of him. You look over that face, that handsome, perfectly chiseled face, and you lose yourself all over again. Why? Why, when you are around him, he makes you feel so... weak. He makes you feel so... dead-brained.

Walking to you, he sticks a finger under your chin and forces you to look up at him. A thought crosses his mind, an urge.

"I want you to prove to me how much you want me." He tells you, his voice drops an octave as he watches you.

"How do you want me to do that Benny? Just say the word and you got it." You state.

"Strip, then lay flat, face down on the floor." He states.

Okay, so that was NOT what you had expected. Blinking a few times, you don't hesitate, and you do just that. Stripping down, you fold your clothes and place them to the side, and you lower yourself to the floor. Biting your lower lip, you listen as he paces around you, observing you, taking in your figure, your heartbeat picks up in anticipation as you watch his boots come into view, and he stops and looks down at you.

Benny lights a cigarette and takes a long drag from it. Watching you as you lay there, he runs his free hand through his hair and then over his facial hair for a moment. Smirking, he takes a few steps closer to you and kneels down a moment, a hand dangling between his legs.

"So, you've gone this whole time not sayin anything. All because you felt I was out of your league... You know Darlin' if you had said anything, you may have learned a thing or two about how I felt. Maybe you need to be punished for that, huh? Teach you how to speak your mind? Make you beg for my attention now?" he stated.

Why did that make your cunt tingle? Make you hot? And why the fuck did that sound like such a good idea coming from him? You nod softly.

"No, I want you to say it." He stated firmly as he took a drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke bellow above him as he exhaled.

"Yes. Punish me, teach me to speak my mind... make me... beg." You state. Your eyes look at his boots, and your fingers press into the floor as they are stretched out to your sides.

Standing up, he looks ahead of him, out the window of the bar, and smirks. He leans against the pool table, thinking of ways to punish you. Looking at your figure as you are sprawled out against the floor, so many things come to mind.

Standing back up from leaning, he pushes himself from the pool table and walks to you. He places his right boot on the side of your head. Not stepping, but applying just enough pressure for it to feel -- oddly comfortable. Your fingers press into the floor as you gasp. Why are you feeling this right now? Feeling these... feelings push through your thoughts. You bite your lip, and you let out a slow breath.

"Now, I've been thinking, since walking into this place, since we started talking, reminiscing about the past. I have been thinking about how things could go. About how we could have been together this whole time. But now, now I see the kind of girl you really are. I won't lie, Darlin'... kinda revs me up a bit. Eager to please." he mused a moment.

Looking down at you, he tilts his head, a sight for sore eyes, and fuck did he enjoy the view. Licking his lips, he took another drag from his smoke before he reached over to a close by table and tapped the ashes into an ashtray he had. With your head under his boot, he looks over the rest of your body. Leaning over with a smoke between his lips, his fingers run down the length of your spine. Feeling your flesh under his fingers.

"Soft to the touch." he pointed out.

Standing back up, he moved away from you, leaving you to bite your lip and almost ask for more. But instead, he reached down, grabbed your hair, and moved you to a standing position. You guided yourself with ease, and there was this deeper part of you that also enjoyed that. "What is wrong with me?" you asked yourself.

Moving you to sit in a chair, he spreads your legs apart. Looking over you, he licks his lips.

"Hands on your thighs, don't move them." He demands.

You nod in agreement. He wasn't going to demand the 'Sir' word just yet, but holy fuck was he going to enjoy it when it happened.

"Now I'm going to ask you a question, either say yes or say no. It's that simple. Got it?"

"Yes. I understand."

"Good. I'm going to hurt you, but it's not because I want to hurt you, it's because well... I want to see you in a different light, and because I enjoy it. Do you consent?" he looks over your face.

Taking a moment to understand, you've read some raunchy trashy books, so you knew not to compare the two, you weren't that naïve. You draw in a breath and you nod. "Yes. I consent." you finally state.

With a smirk across his lips, he nods. "Good girl. So long I've wanted to do this to you." He stated as he put his smoke out.

Walking behind the bar, he went to wash his hands, took a swig off a whiskey bottle, and made his way back toward you. Standing in front of you, he tilts his head. With a firm hand, he looks at you and throws it across your face. At first, you gasp, you close your eyes, your head whipped to the side. You whimper, not sure how to feel about it. You look to the ground, but he takes your chin and forces you to look back at him, and he smiles. Giving you a wink, and that's when you feel this sense of calm wash over you. It's like this switch was flipped in your mind. Submissive mode on... more so than before.

You didn't dislike the feeling on your skin, a hot sting. He brought his hand back, and it met your face again. Quickly moving to grab your chin, he leaned in and kissed your lips softly.

"Atta girl." he praised.

You felt this bubble of excitement rise inside you. It was this rush that moved through your veins like a hot liquid. Bubbling at the surface, wanting more.

"More, please." You ask.

He was happy to oblige. A little harder, be clipped your lip, but you didn't mind. The coppery taste on your tongue was sort of pleasant, a welcomed gift. You smile looking up at him. He looked at you, almost worried, but yet oddly calm. He smirked, leaning in he kissed you again, nipping at your now swollen lip. You feel your lower lips clench and quiver with want. Your breath was shaky against his lips.

His hand moves down your torso, moving to grip a breast before his hand moves down your apex right to your core. Your breath, staggered, your heart, pounding, your mind, stupid. You clench your lower walls and bite your lip, watching him, feeling him, desiring and needing him. You whimper. His fingers hover, and the heat from his flesh kisses your warm, swollen, needy bud.

When he finally brings his fingers to touch you, you gasp. You lock eyes with him, studying his baby blues as he begins to work your little swollen bundle of nerves. His free hand moves to jerk your head back by pulling your hair, as he hovers over you. His legs pressed against yours spreading your legs further as he worked you, exposing you to the pool table behind him.

But it was when he slid his fingers into you that your mind went more stupid. You let out a heavy moan as your eyes flutter, feeling his fingers work you. Leaning back in the chair, you let him take complete control, as he desired, and your body was no longer your own, and you were far from upset with that idea.

His fingers were like magic, but suddenly that all came to a stop. He looks at you, holding his fingers up as he looks at you. Bringing them to his lips he placed them in his mouth and smirked.

"Finger lickin good... Now... show me what you do with that pussy of yours when you think of me, because let's face it, Darlin, with all you've admitted, I know you've thought about me." He smirked as he moved back to lean against the pool table.

Looking at you he watches intently. Your hand moves to your bud as you slowly begin to work yourself. You watch him, intently, watching how he moves, how he breathes, how his lips curl with that crooked grin of his. You begin to remember how his lips tasted, how they felt against yours, how his fingers felt playing with you. You whimper as you bring your other hand up to grip your breast. Your breathing becomes heavy and you watch as the front of his pants grow tight.

Biting your lip you tasted the blood but your focus was on him.

"Atta girl, slow down, not too fast." he guides.

He readjusts against the pool table as he undoes his pants, freeing himself, he begins to stroke himself slowly. You slow down a bit, your toes curl against the floor as your legs spread even wider giving him a full view as you scoot forward a bit and expose your whole self even more.

"Just like that, keep going. What crosses your mind when you think of me?" he asked you.

Letting out a whimper you look over him as he strokes himself right in front of you. Dear fuck, his cock is god damned perfect.

"What you would feel like inside me." You state honestly with a soft whimper.

"What I'd feel like inside you huh? Well, maybe if you're a good girl, you'll find out." He mused as he moved his hand a little quicker against his cock. "Pick up a little speed." He demanded.

Without a shadow of hesitation, your fingers begin to work yourself quicker. You moan a little louder. His hand works himself faster, a little harder. He grunts, you whimper. It's a tandem of back and forth, a perfect give and take.

It feels like a lifetime, but a lifetime you'd never give back. He sees how wet you are, how you're beginning to drip off the edge of the chair. He snarls and walks to you, taking you by your hair he guides you to the floor and slips his cock between your lips, pressing to the back of your throat. He lets out a heavy groan.

Like a good girl, you take all of his cock, your tongue swirling around as he uses you like a little sex doll, fucking your face. He pulls you back, strings of spit from your mouth to his cock still connected as he slaps you across the face and shoves his cock down your throat again. Your eyes water and your breathing through your nose becomes heavy, and he does it again. Pulls you from his cock, slaps your face and brings your mouth back to his cock, and proceeds to fuck your throat and mouth, his grip on your hair tight it pulls at your scalp. Your moans and whimpers echo and vibrate through him and you as he uses your head to pleasure himself.

"Finger yourself." He snarls

You begin to do just that, your fingers working yourself as your mouth is being used. He smirks looking down at you before he's had enough of using your face he throws you back onto the floor and stands over you.

"Keep going." He demands.

And you do, you don't question him.

"Yes Sir." You state. Again, no question.

He's officially lost all control, at this point you both have. He works his cock faster, and you're watching every bit of it while you're moaning loudly just slightly below him as you work your bud, driving your fingers as deep as you can, feeling your wetness. You want to finish, you're right there, you almost cannot contain that hot explosion between your legs.

"No girl, you gotta beg for that finish." He states.

"Please, please let me cum" You plead.

He shakes his head. "Not yet... keep going... faster." He demands.

A soft whimper escapes your lips as you work yourself faster, you arch slightly your toes curled under you. You're rocking back and forth your hips buckle.

"Please... please Sir... I want to cum. Can I please. Please." You beg.

He looks down at you as he works his cock, and he feels his own eruption on the rise. He looks down at you and smirks.

"Open up." He states.

Opening your mouth, you stick your tongue out flat and you begin to taste those hot wet ribbons as he releases against your tongue, and over your face.

"Come on... Cum for me." He growls as he continues his facial finish.

You let out a heavy moan, a loud breathy gasp as your body begins to tremble. His cock tapped against your tongue as if saying he was finished with his finish. He watches you shake, almost a pleasure convulsion. You begin to giggle, swallowing what was in your mouth, and cleaning up your face. Licking it from your fingers.

"Thank you." you muse.

He looks over you and smiles. "No, thank you." he chuckles as he puts himself away.

Moving toward you, he scoops you up places you on the pool table, and looks over your face. He moves a moment and grabs a bottle of water from the bar fridge, and a clean, rag, getting it cool, he moves back toward you. Wiping your face, and neck, he starts to wipe you off and smiles handing you the water bottle.

"So I have a question." He states.

"Yes Sir?" you ask.

"How about you be my Old Lady... my ride or die... my one and only. My little pet... my little pain slut... my girl." He asked you looking over your face.

You look up at him, and this sense of perfection washes over you as you lean forward and kiss him sweetly. "I've waited a long time for that..."

"So is that a yes?" he asks with a smirk.

Nodding your head you chuckle place your arms around him and pull him in for another kiss. "That's a Yes." you whisper against his lips.

Smirking he presses his lips against yours and wraps his arms around you. Holding you tightly against him he leans back and looks over your face.

"Now, how about I take you back to my place, and show you how I feel inside you..." he smirked.

Nodding your head you chuckle. "Yes please, Sir." you whisper against his lips.

He kisses you again, and helps you get dressed before he takes you to his bike, hands you a helmet, and takes off in the direction of his place.

Everything that happened today, it felt like a dream, but this dream was one you'd remember. Only it wasn't a dream. This was real, and you were about to unlock a new chapter in your life.

[reveluving]

Phillip Graves getting jealous because his shy wife is getting flirted on by someone else but she doesn't know how to respond?? Yes please!!

(could be sfw at first but when they get back home graves pounds his wife against any surface he sees because he can't stand seeing his wife getting flirted on right in front of him)

YUUUUH I HAVE JUST THE THING!! I know, it's been AGES with these, and this one from last year but I still hope you like it! and I know you said doing the nasty back home, but I thought "man, I'm already here. might as well!" and filthy-ize(???) it even more for good measure 😘💗

Includes; soft (& slightly mean dom) & possessive graves, fingerf~cking, unprotected sex (p in v), petnames ('sugar', 'pretty girl'), licking, biting & marking, praising, dirty talking, mentions of voyeurism & exhibitionism!!

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

It happens. 

A lot.

The library, your favourite diner, your flower shop—anywhere.

It happens more than you can imagine, but with Phil around, it’s mostly from afar. The kind where they could only dream about making a move on you, if not for the guard dog with the sharp tongue.

Hence, when he’s not around, he worries a little for you, but he knows you can protect yourself when needed, thanks to the self-defence lessons he has given you when you were still dating.

So, imagine the unlucky bastard who thought it was a good idea to take advantage of your gracious hospitality, not knowing your husband was around.

It happened when he had finished work, but instead of heading home, he took the route where your flower shop was. Closing time was ten minutes ago so he knew you’d be waiting for him at the cafe next door, probably nursing a cup of your favourite drink or nibbling on a pastry.

He hated it whenever he couldn’t reach you on the dot or before, no matter how many times you’ve reassured him. 

Reaching the neighbourhood shops was like a breath of fresh air, enjoying the sense of familiarity and the breeze as he turned the corner, passing by the cafe first.

But with a glance, his brows furrowed, seeing that you were nowhere in sight. He quickly took it as a sign that you were still working, though a thirty-minute overtime was almost uncommon of you.

He parked his convertible close to the entrance of your shop but still out of view, and for a brief moment, he caught sight of you through the window. 

And just his mood lifted, ready to greet you with open arms, his smile dropped.

You were dealing with a customer, a man likely in his 30s and dressed, well, if one were told to dress formally, and they did it haphazardly, then that was exactly what it was. His body language was a little awkward, almost unsure what pose may look alluring in your eyes.

Though Phil had a knack for judging certain people by their looks, if and only if their personality rubbed him the wrong way, he didn’t have an issue thinking of the worst insults about the man, if not for the uncomfortable smile on your face.

So, leaning against the wall, away from you or the man’s sight, he listened in. 

“So, your husband’s in the military, huh?” He asked, but Phil wasn’t dumb enough to think it wasn’t a sneer in disguise. Probably thought he held some rookie position, “Must be hard not having someone to hold to every night.”

Phil didn’t bother hiding the scornful look on his face.

“It’s not bad,” He immediately perked up at the sound of your voice. The gentle sound that could heal even his worst wounds, “He finds time to check up on me.” 

Whether or not you were telling the truth or if you were downplaying your thoughts if his absence really did bother you, he’ll ask you later, but for now, he wanted to tell you how proud he was. Not letting some schmuck stick their nose in someone else’s business, and your marriage, no less.

“Well, sure, but look at you! I don’t know about you but if I had a girl like you? Shoot, I don’t I’d ever get any work done,” The audacity. Phil’s jaw tightened, listening to him weakly defend himself when you didn’t respond, undoubtedly displeased by his unnecessary opinion, “But that’s just me, y’know.”

“Right, um,” You turned to the row of flower pots, using the second to roll your eyes to the back of your head before showing him the bunch of bluebells in your hands, “How about some bluebells?”

The man pretended to think, “Nah, I mean, they’re cute but I’m looking for something… more,” He then leaned in, resting his arm on the counter, “A little bland, if I’m being honest with you.”

You forced a smile, but Phil, oh Phil.

He wasn’t smiling. 

Who was this man, no, who was this kid to not see how uncomfortable you were with his god-awful ‘flirting’ skills and judge your taste in your very own store?

“That’s fine, I’m sure we can find something else.” Oh, that pitiful tone of yours. Just how long has this man been bothering you?

You bit down a sigh, placing the bluebells back into their pot before walking back to the back of the counter. You knelt, possibly looking for something else, though Phil wouldn’t blame you if you were doing so to drown him out for a bit.

Phil had listened long enough. Moving off the wall, he clicked on the lock button of his car keys. He spun his keys on his finger as he entered the shop, the rattling sounds prompted the man to follow his figure. His eyebrows knitted further, more so when Phil casually stopped right in front of the counter as if used to coming over.

His eyes darted from Phil’s attire; simple yet sophisticated, and how he carried himself, then the convertible behind him. The sudden insecurity forming in the guy’s mind was a no-brainer.

You must’ve heard the extra pair of footsteps and the keys, “I’ll be right with you!” 

He didn’t respond, opting to eye the man—Chad, which he would later learn—with full of judgement. The latter flinched when their eyes met, though he tried to act cool soon by clearing his throat.

But the stare may have been too much for him, as he asked, his voice less confident than before, “Do I know you?” 

“You tell me.” He responded loud enough for you to hear, and just as he hoped, you straightened, visibly lighting up at the sight of him. 

“Phil!” You cheered, already forgetting about the customer as you rushed over to your husband for a hug, “I thought you wouldn’t be back until tonight?”

He shrugged, wrapping one of his arms around you while he caressed the apple of your cheek with his free hand, “Change o’plans. Drove here as fast as I could.” He gave you a lazy smile, more so when you jutted out your bottom lip, pouting at his statement. 

“Phil, you know how I feel about you speeding home,” You sighed, despite leaning into his touch, “But I’m glad you’re back. Safe.”

You couldn’t stay mad at him, not with that cheeky smile of his before he pressed his lips onto yours. You could feel the upturn of his lips when you yelped, and he didn’t even bother hiding his amusement—his delighted huff when you returned the kiss.

But before he could feel you, before he could melt into your hands as they held his face, you broke the kiss, almost hiding in his chest for a moment before motioning to the man watching—his face that of panicked realization.

“Phil—Customer…”

Ew.

Well, at least he learnt he had messed with the wrong married woman.

Phil suddenly grinned, and a painfully fake one, judging by the lack of positive emotion, or any emotion in his eyes as he looked at Chad.

“Y’here for an arrangement?”

“U–Uh, no. I’m just… looking around. Thinking of buying one for my, uh, girl.”

The man wasn’t dumb enough to think the smirk on Graves’ face wasn’t the face of mockery. A man who has done enough interrogations to know just how much he was bullshitting.

“Huh, Y’must be lookin’ for a special one if you’re makin’ my girl workin’ overtime,” He glanced at the clock just hanging by the door, his arm not leaving you once, “Y’sleepin’ in the dog house or somethin’?” 

“Phil.” You hissed, and ever so cutely, might your husband add. You briefly apologised to Chad, even if you wanted nothing more than to send him on his way.

“Sorry, sorry,” If you noticed his lack of sincerity, you didn't call him out on it. Graves held his hand out, the corner of his lips twitched when Chad took a step back, “Graves. Commander and CEO. Proud husband of this pretty girl right here.” 

Chad accepted, albeit hesitantly, nearly squawking when Phil purposely squeezed his hand. He had a feeling he wouldn't mind breaking his arm if it weren't for the obvious repercussions and well, you being there. 

“Mr Thompson was just looking for a bouquet for his girlfriend. It might take a minute so you can hang around for a bit while I help him.” You explained, standing close to your husband, now that he was with you.

“Or,” Phil spoke, and you should’ve suspected something was up just by his tone, despite his so-called generous offer, “I help him look for what he needs, while you go ahead and close up, get your bag, lock the back room and all.”

You raised your brows, “Phil, are you sure?”

He hummed, “C’mon. ‘Bout time I put my flower knowledge into good use. And who knows?” He glanced at Chad, sharply. With his eyes on the unwanted customer, he leaned to your side, as if whispering, despite making sure Chad heard him loud and clear, “It’s probably nothin’ more than a lil’ trouble in paradise. Nothin’ I can’t sort out, man to man.”

You thought for a moment. You had your suspicions when Chad stopped by the same time your shift ended. And while you wouldn’t have minded, he wasn’t exactly helpful about his request either. Giving you doubtful answers such as his supposed girlfriend’s favourite colour or the occasion. 

Plus, you were a little eager to be away from Chad, even for a short while.

In the end, you nodded, much to Chad’s horror.

“Okay, I just need to organize a few boxes in the back,” You squeezed Phil's arm, “Thank you. I won’t take long.”

Sliding his hand down your arm, he raised your hand to his lips before letting you go.

“Take all the time y’need, pretty girl,” And as soon as you were out of sight, his voice dropped, the upturn of his lips now in a manner that Chad knew this was going to be anything but a quick talk amongst men about which apology flowers were the best, “Take all the time y’need.”

His smile was nowhere to be seen as he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched Chad pinching a leaf of random flower in the guise of interest.

But by the third flower, Graves had enough, surprising Chad with his authoritative tone.

“Y’just gonna stand there and ruin my wife’s flowers or are y’goin’ to buy somethin’ and get out?” 

“I’m…” Chad began but Phil didn’t give him the satisfaction to explain himself. He didn’t need to.

“Look. I’m really fuckin’ tired, and my girl is, too, but I’m sure you’re too busy trying to look down her dress to notice that.”

“That’s—”

“Cut,” He didn’t even need to raise a single finger as the tone he normally used on his team on a bad or serious day was enough to shut the man up, “... the bullshit, alright? Y’can buy all the flowers you want to impress her, save a puppy as soon as you see her coincidentally walk by at the park. Fuckin’ pick-me.”

The impatient smile plastered on his face told Chad everything about the commander’s patience.

“I know a degenerate when I see one.” Chad knew not to trust how calm Phil sounded, “And I know she can defend herself just fine. Hell, I taught her everything she needs to know t’deal with boys like you. But I can tell y’one thing; I’ll do so much worse than what she’s already capable of.”

Graves’ heavy footsteps sounded like a disaster waiting to happen in mere seconds before he stood in the middle of the shop.

“Might wanna get out while y’can.” He gritted out, and Chad didn’t waste a second to find out what would’ve happened if he didn’t that very instance, whether it was from you or your husband.

You returned just in time to find Graves appreciating the tulips, though, unbeknownst to you, he was also slightly miffed that some were stained by Chad’s hands alone.

“Oh, did he find what he needed?”

“‘Guess so. Took off as soon as he figured it out. He didn’t buy anythin’ though,” He swiftly carried the bag for you, pulling you in for a kiss on your forehead, “Sorry he wasted y’time.”

“That’s alright,” You grinning, not expecting him to apologize over that, “I just need to keep the flowers in the back. Mind helping me?”

Of course he didn't mind.

He moved with you, carrying much more stock to the cool room where the unsold flowers were kept. During his second run, he lightly tapped you on the ass, stealing a kiss before telling you to lock the register instead. You did just that, carefully organizing the cash and coins before locking it.

Phil worked with ease, pushing necessary pots and displays to one side and pulling the blinds down like the tasks were at the back of his hand. But he didn’t draw the blinds close all the way, though, leaving a small opening at the bottom of the windows where you and Graves could see the sun shining through and the feet of passers-by. 

But unbeknownst to you, he locked the front door and with great care, avoided the usual click.

He shamelessly glanced at you at every possible moment, watching you sit prettily as you focused on your task behind the counter. 

Once his side was done, he approached you, stannding in between your legs as soon as you locked the register.

“All done.” You smiled, crinkles forming in your eyes.

“Perfect.” He opened up his arms, closing the space in between as you embraced. But just as you basked in the wholesome reunion, you froze up, eyes wide at a familiar tent prodding your stomach. He didn't bother concealing his amusement, his smile grew at your giggles, showering one side of your face with kisses to hear more of you. 

“Thought he'd never leave.” He murmured against your skin with zero shame, which prompted you to pull back.

“You threw him out?” You asked in disbelief.

“He threw himself out,” He shrugged, not exactly lying but telling you the whole truth either. He cooed at your little frown, even holding his hand up in a saluting manner, “I’m serious. Scout's honour.” 

“Were you even a scout?” 

“Nope,” He responded without missing a beat, “But I do know how to tie a knot.” 

“Phil!” You smacked his arm, but it did nothing to deter him, “I wasn't even gone that long.” 

“Four minutes was all I needed.” He brushed his nose against your neck, looping his arms around you. You couldn't help but melt, sighing but more so in contentment than disappointment. Granted, you were anything but the latter, but who knows where your business would be if Phil did, well, whatever to your customers the way he did to Chad.

“He was bothering ya.” You knew it wasn't a question and there was no point denying it, so you hummed in confirmation.

“Kinda figure that out after a while,” You shrugged, though you didn't want him to worry either, “I, uh, had my suspicion as soon as I asked him what he was looking for.”

“Yeah? What did he really tell ya?” 

“Just said he wanted some pretty flowers for a pretty lady, and then,” You mimicked the awkward eyebrow-wiggles he did to you, much to Phil’s amusement and disdain, “And then said no to all of my suggestions.”

Phil’s tutting was akin to a Southern mother's, being his blood and all. That, and he was having second-hand embarrassment—to think Chad thought he'd have a chance using that line on you.

Hell, on anyone.

“It was getting a little embarrassing, honestly.” You couldn't help but snort, only for your smile to grow when he, too, expressed his amusement. 

‘A little’ was putting it lightly.

“You and me, sugar.”  

You leaned your weight against him just as he did against the counter, figuring that this was one of those days where he needed to just relax. Be around you as if you exuded great energy, and in his eyes, you were.

A far cry from the more despicable chaos he and his partnering team have to deal with for a living.

You brushed your fingers along his stubble, smiling to yourself at the familiar, prickly sensation. Ever the perceptive man, he angled his face so your lips were pressed on his instead of his cheek.

It was much needed for the both of you as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Though, you tried not to go too far with it, your nerves rising as your eyes flitted to the door, despite Phil’s breathy reassurance that he locked it.

Noticing your hesitance, he broke the kiss to rest his head in the crook of your neck. His warm breath tickled you, more so when his hands languidly moved up and down your body.

But then, his hands didn't stop moving upwards.

He swiftly pulled down the straps of your dress, trailing his lips along your shoulder. Though the dress wasn't fully removed, the way you haphazardly held the front of it against your chest, amplifying your cleavage which was just as alluring as you were topless.

“Phil!” You choked out, and yet, he continued. Licking across your newly exposed skin with the tip of his tongue. Starting from the collarbone, down to your tits when he squeezed your breasts together, and then, sucking on the plush at random spots. Eager to leave a mark wherever he could with shameless sounds of suckling and pops, “Here?!” 

If the way your hand shot up to his hair, massaging his scalp and pulling his head close instead of pushing him away was anything to go by, he knew dead set on making you scream.

He took a step back, encouraging you to stand up before hooking his arms under your ass, lifting you effortlessly to seat you on the counter.

His bulge was snug against you, thanks to his taller stature. The way his hands slid down your thighs prompted you to wrap your legs around him, despite the growing warmth in your face at the lewd display. There was something about the sliver of possibility of being watched that raised both your worries and anticipation, despite the opaqueness of the cream-coloured window blinds.

Plus, the shop wasn't exactly soundproof either.

He leaned forward, forcing you to lie back on the surface. His lips hadn't slowed down since, enjoying your squirms and breathless moans as he peppered your neck in kisses before raising his head.

“My wife's a beaut, isn't she?” He whispered against your temple, rolling one of your tits in between his fingers before sliding his hand down to your thigh, squeezing the plush of it, “Got these boys actin’ stupid around ya.” 

You gasped when his hand slid further under your skirt. He toyed with the waistband of your panties, teasingly pulling them up and wedging the lacy material in between your sopping pussy.

“Even I can't resist her sweet lil’ charm,” He purred, pulling your panties to the side and then bunching the hem of your dress for him to delight in all its glory, “Y’know that, don't cha?” 

He swiped two of his fingers across your lips. Even the softest touch elicited the most delicious squelch he had ever heard. 

He hummed in approval, teasing you to his heart's delight, “But she's also so, so dirty, deep down,” He made sure you made the slightest mess, letting your juices drip bit by bit, down to your tight hole and the counter itself, “And this—this is only f’me to see, right, pretty girl?’ 

He captured your lips with his before you could even muster out a breathless ‘yes’, the kiss ending just as quickly as it happened before tapping your lips with his fingers.

You didn't need to be told, but that didn't mean it was any less embarrassing. But his approving hum at your first, kitten-like lick was encouraging. It had you chasing after his praises, verbal or otherwise. 

His cock was downright throbbing, wishing it was his cock you were eagerly drooling on instead of his fingers, but who was he to say he wasn't enjoying the view in hand either? 

Once he was sure they were wet enough, he slid them out of your mouth, crudely enjoying the string of saliva for a second before dropping his fingers to your cunt. 

He mirrored your parted lips, watching your face scrunch up as he eased in one finger. Your whimper was pitiful, and the slightly wicked side of him couldn’t help but coo at you almost condescendingly, knowing you could handle something much bigger than his mere finger, even if they were much thicker than yours. 

He set a torturing pace, taking in the way your body moved, rolling your hips in hopes you’d have his fingers knuckles-deep in you. The way you half-heartedly covered your face with one hand was endearing, probably too overwhelmed by his unapologetic stare.

Then, he cranked up the speed with two fingers, greedy for more of your juices leaking out each time he moved in and out. And by the time you were clenching around three fingers, he was ruthless with his pace. 

Unforgiving. 

He looked euphoric just from bringing the pleasure to you, tipping his head back as he listened to you struggling to hold back your moans and whines whenever he pulled out to tease and slap at your clit.

“Colour?” As casual as he tried to sound, he was just as breathless as you were.

“Green…” You whined, pleading him to continue, even if it felt like you were overstimulating, “Phil, please… Please…!”

You didn’t have to repeat, for he amped up his pace and chased after the climax when the pitch of your voice heightened, arching your back like you weren’t sure if you wanted him to carry on or push him away when you were getting close.

He didn’t falter, nipping on your shoulder just a tad harder just before you trembled, cumming and clenching hard around his fingers. He cupped your face with his other hand, soothing you from your high with praises and kisses. 

“Such a good girl, my good girl. Always so brave f’me, makin’ the sweetest faces. None of those boys gets t’see what I see.” 

It wasn’t long before he carefully slid his fingers out, comforting you each time you whimpered or twitched.

Opting to continue caressing your face, he took the chance to snag a taste of you. Savouring the one taste he had been dying for each time he was away for work.

But he didn’t finish it all. As much as he wanted to, he needed to save the rest for his cock, itching to have a mere feel of your wetness.

Speaking of, he was straining, standing proud and curved a little as the tip, just a hint of red, nearly touched his belly button as soon as he pulled his trousers down. It yearned to feel you, tight and hot, his extra-vulgar actions were the results of restraining himself. 

He shuddered a little—it was entrancing, holding one of your legs up for him to brush his lips against and seeing his cock slide up and down your pussy lips. 

Even after prepping you well, it felt like his cockhead was breaching your walls. You let out a breathy sigh, tilting your head at the upside windows, tensing up at the sight of passersby’s feet at the foot of the glass.

“What do y’think, pretty girl?” He murmured against your leg, still pushing into you, “Do y’think that Thompson guy’s around, wonderin’ why the window’s closed while the car’s still out there?”

The way your head tilted back against the counter in ecstasy, the last rays of the sun shining down on your skin. Even with the AC still on, it stopped neither of you from sweating. The thinnest layer of perspiration, especially gathering along your throat, down to the valley of your breasts—oh, what a shame it would be if he didn’t have even a single lick of it.  

And he did just that, leaning in to give one of your tits a teasing lick.

Those half-lidded eyes, that drunken smile—oh, he was losing it.

He felt like the most blessed man in the world.

“Eyes on me, bunny. He can listen all he wants but this—it’s you and me.”

And it wouldn’t take long for you to reach your peak, Phil kept his eyes on your facial expression because if it wasn’t the sexiest look he had ever seen before he, too, cums with you. In you.

Holding himself up with one hand beside your head, he used the other to caress your face, allowing you all the time in the world to catch your breath. But truth be told, he had fucked the senses right out of you.

“You alright?” “Mmm…” Your murmurs had him chuckling as he carefully gathered you in his arms.

“Can y'walk? Or do I have to carry you? Because y'know I don't mind either way.” Not especially the latter. He may not be as buff as some of his team but he feels good being able to prove the assumptions wrong. So wrong.

You shook your head, and though none of you were even certain what your answer was, Phil somehow understood, but not before letting you collect yourself for as long as you needed. There was no need to rush. Not now.

“Alright, pretty girl. I can do that.”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

[canirove]

The invinsible princess | Chapter 1

"Champions of Europe"

Index | Chapter 2

Masterlist

“C’mom, go talk to her. Look at how miserable she looks.”

“Why don't you go talk to her?”

“Because she doesn't fancy me, Gavi” Ferran smirks.

“That's something the press made out.”

“Or not” Ferran shrugs. 

“If you don't go talk to her, I will.”

“Fermín, don't you have a girlfriend?” Gavi says.

“Yeah. And?”

“You can't go talk to the princess. That's cheating.”

“It's just talking, Gavi. Relax” he chuckles.

“Unless the press sees you and then boom! Fermín the Prince” Ferran laughs. 

“Fermín I of Spain. Sounds cool, I like it. What do you think, Pedri? Pedri?” he says, looking around for his teammate.

“Where is he going?” Ferran asks.

“He’s… Oh my God, he's walking towards the princess!” Gavi gasps.

“There he goes. Pedro I of Spain” Fermín chuckles

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“And then it all had been a mistake!”

“That is so funny” my dad laughs. “Isn't it, Sofía?”

“So funny” I say with my best fake smile. 

Why am I stuck with a bunch of old men? This is a party to celebrate that Spain just won the Euros. I should be out there mingling with the young people, talking with the players and their families, getting to know them all a bit and properly congratulate them. But no. I'm stuck with a man telling us about his latest golfing trip to Scotland. 

“Something similar happened to me last time we went to Mallorca” my dad says, making me already disconnect from the conversation. I know which anecdote he is about to share. I probably already know it by heart just from hearing him telling about it to everyone he's met lately. So instead of listening to him, I start looking around.

There are some players dancing with their partners, others playing with their kids (which is the cutest thing ever), others are just chilling… And then, there is someone wearing red and a medal around his neck walking towards me. Or trying to. 

“Right, Sofía?” my dad says again.

“Yeah, yeah” I nod. 

One of the good things about him having told this anecdote so many times is that, by now, I also know when he asks for my support and how I have to react to it, what I have to say. Which comes very handy when your eyes are stuck on the guy smiling and standing in front of you, and who is currently moving his head to one side to make you follow him somewhere. 

“Dad, do you mind if I go get myself a refill?” I ask him.

“Yes, sure. But just beer.”

“Just beer, I promise” I smile before finally leaving the group of men and following Pedri. 

Oh, yes. Because the guy who had been smiling at me and asking me to follow him, was freaking Pedri González. 

“Ma’am” my bodyguard says behind me. “Are you going somewhere?”

Shit. Fuck. I had forgotten about him.

“I'm just going out to get some fresh air. I'm feeling a bit dizzy” I say with a nervous laugh.

“Alone?” he says, looking at the glass door that leads outside the room, Pedri waiting on the other side.

“I… Ummm… It'll be just five minutes.”

“Ma'am…”

“Five minutes, Carlos. It's not like he can kidnap me or something with his leg like that” I chuckle. 

“He cannot, no. But what about others? You are Spain's Princess.”

“But not the heir. No one cares about me.”

“Don't say that, ma'am.”

“It's the truth” I shrug. “Anyway, can I go outside for five minutes? Please? He may just want a photo for his mum.”

“Ok, fine” Carlos sighs. “But don't leave the building.”

“I won't, I promise” I smile before basically running towards the door. He may still regret letting me go.

Once outside, it takes me a moment to find Pedri. When I spot him, he is resting against one of the huge windows, checking the brace he has to wear on his knee. 

“Is it too uncomfortable?” I ask him as I walk towards him.

“Uh?” he says, looking up. And maybe, just maybe… I gasped when the lights from outside illuminated his face in all the right places.

“The brace. Is it uncomfortable?”

“A bit, yeah” he smiles. 

“I'm sorry about what happened.”

“Thank you” Pedri smiles again. “Though everything worked out in the end” he says, touching his medal. “Do you want to try it?”

“Oh, I, ummm…”

“Here” he says, taking it off before walking towards me and putting it around my neck, carefully untucking my hair so it doesn't get tangled with the strap. “Perfect. How does it feel?”

“Heavier than I expected” I chuckle.

“It can't be heavier than a crown” he laughs.

“I don't know. I've never tried on one.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. It's not like I'm gonna be the one who is gonna have to wear it. That's my sister, the heir.”

“But you still are a princess, aren't you? Don't all princesses wear crowns?”

“Nope. I may get to wear a tiara one day if I'm invited to a big event like a royal wedding or a reception for someone important, but other than that…”

“I'm sorry.”

“Oh, don't be. Sometimes being the second born that everyone forgets about actually comes with its perks. Like being here today, for example.”

“I thought it was because you liked football.”

“That too” I chuckle.

“And football players?” Pedri asks me. “Do you also like them?”

“What?”

“My friends were talking about you fancying Gavi.”

“That's my sister, not me.”

“Ha! I knew it! I knew it was her and not you. But they were so convinced they didn't want to listen to me.”

“I'm used to people mixing us, don't worry” I say while playing with the medal. “And I actually am more into dark haired guys than brunettes like him.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah” I shrug, still focused on the medal. 

“Anything else you like in your men?” 

“Why are you interested?” I ask him, looking up and at his face, a little smirk on his lips. 

“Just curious about how the future Prince of Spain could look like” he shrugs.

“Well… I like men with interesting noses.”

“What?” he laughs.

“Yeah… I don't know how to explain it. But if you look at the list of men I'm attracted to, famous or not, they all have that in common. Yours would actually make the cut.”

“My nose?” he laughs again.

“I… It is too weird, isn't it? Urgh” I say, covering my face with my hands. And that, my friends, is how you ruin things with the guy you are trying to flirt with. 

“No, no. Not at all. Is just that no one had complimented my nose before. Most girls talk about my lips.”

“Your lips?” 

“They say they were made to kiss and be kissed. What do you think?”

“What?” I say, still covering my face.

“Are my lips kissable or not, your royal highness?” Pedri says, his hands suddenly on mine, moving them away to rest at my sides. But he doesn't let go once they get there. He keeps holding them, his fingers playing with mine, his thumbs sometimes caressing my knuckles or the inside of my wrist and sending waves of heat all the way up my arms. 

“They are ok” I manage to say.

“Just ok? I think I'm gonna have to move closer so you can see them better” he says, closing the space between us a bit more. 

“They just look like lips” I shrug. But that's a lie. Because his lips do look made to kiss and be kissed.

“Maybe if we moved towards the light…” he says, his hands suddenly on my waist, moving me until my back is against the big window, the light once again hitting his face in all the right places. 

I knew Pedri was handsome, but this handsome? Wow.

“Better now?”

“Let me see…” I say as I move forward a little bit, the medal doing it with me and hitting his chest. We are so close right now… “Nothing. Just lips.”

“Well, if you can't see anything, I'll guess we'll have to try with a different sense. Like touch, for example.”

“What?”

“How does this feel, your royal highness?” he says, gently taking one of my hands and kissing it, the other still resting on my waist.

“You can start calling me ma'am now. Royal highness is just for the first time you address me.” And how I've managed to give him a protocol lesson while feeling my skin burn on the spot where his lips have been, will forever be a mystery.

“Ma'am sounds like something for someone old. What about my lady?”

“You could also call me by my name” I shrug. 

“We just met, my lady. Aren't you going too fast?” Pedri smirks.

“Me? Who is the one looking for a way to kiss me?” I smirk back.

“Busted” he laughs. 

“Though if you want to kiss me, you just have to ask.”

“Ok, then. May I kiss you… my lady?”

“You may” I whisper. 

“Thank you” he smiles. “But…” he says, stopping just as his lips brush against mine. “After I've done it, will you tell if my lips are made to kiss and be kissed?” 

“I will.”

“A princess must keep her promises.”

“I will, I promise. Now are you going to kiss me or not?”

“As my lady commands” he smirks before finally doing it and kissing me. Pedri… the Pedri… is kissing me. And it is… wow. Just wow. “And?” he whispers against my lips.

“I haven't told you to stop.”

“So bossy” he chuckes.

“Well, I am your princess, am I not?”

“You are, yes.”

“Then as your princess, I'm telling you, Pedri González, to keep kissing me.”

“With my lips made to kiss and be kissed?” 

“With your lips made to kiss and be kissed, yes” I say, making him smile before kissing me again and… Oh, my God.

I thought winning the Euros earlier had felt amazing, but I was wrong. Being kissed by him, and in the way he is right now, is what truly feels amazing. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“I think this is yours” I say, giving Pedri his medal back.

“It looks better on you, tho.”

“Oh, stop it” I laugh, putting it around his neck, the place where my hands were resting not that long ago.

“It's the truth” he shrugs. “And do we seriously have to go back in there?” he says, nodding towards the party.

“We do, yes” I sigh. “But, we are meeting again tomorrow.”

“We are, yes. And you've promised me a tour of the palace. And a princess…”

“Keeps her promises” I smile.

“Exactly” Pedri smiles back. And we stay like that, just smiling like two idiots, until someone clears his throat behind us. Carlos, my bodyguard. “I think that's our cue to go inside.”

“I think it is, yes.”

“Do you think he will send the secret service after me if I kiss you one last time?” he whispers.

“There is nothing like trying” I shrug.

“Ok, then. Bro, look the other way!” he says to Carlos while I just laugh, his hands suddenly cupping my face before kissing me one last time. “No secret service?” he whispers, opening one eye. 

“No secret service.”

“Thank God” he sighs, making me laugh again. “Anyway… I should probably go in first, shouldn't I? Distract everyone with my limping so they won't look at you.”

“Oh, don't worry. No one looks at me, I'm the invisible princess.”

“Only someone blind would not look at you, my lady.”

“Thank you” I say, feeling my cheeks getting warm. We've been kissing and flirting, and him saying that is what finally makes me go shy. “But like I told you, I don't mind being invisible sometimes. This” I say, playing with the strap of his medal. “Would have not been possible if I was the heir. And the secret service would have definitely jumped at you the moment you got too close.”

“Lucky me, then” Pedri smiles.

“Lucky us” I smile back. “Now go. I can see Carlos getting impatient.”

“Urgh, fine… See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Ok. Good night, my lady” he says, kissing my cheek.

“Good night, sir” I giggle as I watch him walk back into the party, laughing one more time when he turns around to look at me and blows me a kiss.

“Feeling better, ma'am?” Carlos says behind me.

“Much better” I smile. 

“Then I'm sorry about what I'm about to tell you, ma'am.”

“What?” I say, turning around to look at him.

“It's about him, about Pedri. Something I heard his friends talking about when I went back inside to give you some… privacy.”

“Carlos, you are starting to worry me.”

“I… I'm sorry, ma'am.”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

The next day…

“My lady.”

“Pedri.”

“I wasn't expecting to be offered croquetas at the royal palace” he chuckles, nodding at the table in front of us.

“Yeah, well.”

“When we met earlier it was kind of awkward, wasn't it? Shaking hands with your parents and your sister, acting as if we didn't know each other and nothing had happened last night…”

“Did something happen last night?” I ask, eating an olive and finally looking at him. “Besides you winning the Euros, I mean.”

“We… you… what?” he says with a confused look.

“I don't remember anything important happening” I shrug.

“You don't… Oh. Oh, I get it. You are teasing me because out here someone could hear us” Pedri says, looking around at his teammates. After meeting the whole team inside the palace, we are now in the gardens, everyone chatting, having a drink and relaxing before they have to go to Cibeles to celebrate.

“I'm not teasing you, Pedri. I don't remember anything” I shrug again. “Wait, no. I do remember one thing” I say, moving forward. “That you are a dick” I whisper in his ear before walking away.

“That I'm what? What are you talking about?” he says before following me. 

“Is your hearing also injured?”

“My hearing is perfect, my lady” he says, struggling to keep up with me. “What I don't understand is why.”

“Why what?” I say, suddenly stopping. We've walked away from where everyone else is, kind of hidden behind some bushes.

“Why are you calling me a dick? What did I do?”

“Do you seriously have to ask?” I laugh.

“Yeah.”

“I can't believe it” I laugh again. “You fucking used me, Pedri!”

“What?”

“You used me to have a laugh with your friends! You made a bet with them to see who could get a kiss from me first!”

“What?” he says again, looking more and more confused by the second.

“Carlos heard them talking about it, so don't you dare try to deny it. I'm sure you all had a laugh this morning when you told them everything that happened between us.”

“We don't… I…”

“I was an easy target, wasn't I? The poor princess that no one looks at, the one who always is in the shadow of her sister, who always is the second option. I'm sure you felt so proud when you told them how easily I fell for your charms, how stupid I was. But not anymore, you hear me. Not anymore.”

“That's not what happened” Pedri says, grabbing me by the arm when I try to walk away, earning himself a even more deadly look than the ones I was already giving him. “Sorry. I'm sorry” he says, letting go. “But please let me explain myself.”

“Why? Why would I do that? You manipulated me once, you could do it again. I am that stupid.”

“You aren't stupid, and I didn't manipulate you. I…” he says, running a hand through his hair. “The boys were talking about who could get you out of your misery, that's true. We were watching you talking with your dad and those men, and you looked so… Bored. Like you wished to be anywhere but there. But I wasn't part of it, I swear. I actually was getting mad while listening to them and the way they were talking about you. So before any of them found the guts to go talk to you just for fun, I did it myself. Not the go talking with you for fun part. The one about finding the guts to go talk to you. Because I… I have a bit of a crush on you.”

“What?” I laugh.

“Yeah” he says, nervously touching his cheek. A cheek that had turned almost as red as his Spain's shirt. “Here, look” he says, taking his phone out of his pocket. “I have proof.”

“Proof of what? You being an idiot?”

“An idiot for you, yes” he says, showing me what he had been looking for on his phone. “It's a WhatsApp conversation I had with my brother yesterday before the game when it was announced that you were attending. You can check the date and the time, it isn't fake.”

Your girlfriend is gonna be at the game tonight 🤭 If you win she may give you a kiss 😚 Instead of Casillas and Sara Carbonero, Pedri and the princess ⚽👸🏻👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻 

“This… This means nothing” I say, giving him his phone back. 

“I can show you more messages from him teasing me about it. Look.”

People are shipping Gavi with the princess after the game 😂 Maybe he could introduce you to her little sister 😏 Gavi king and you prince 😂

“I… Pedri…”

“Everything that happened last night was real. I swear it” he says. “I didn't kiss you because of a bet with my friends. I kissed you because I wanted to. Because I like you.”

“You don't know me. Like, you barely know anything about me, only what the press publishes.”

“I know enough. Because to me” he says, taking one of my hands on his, his thumb caressing my knuckles like he had last night. “To me you aren't invisible or someone's shadow. To me, you shine brighter than anyone else. King, queen, heir to the throne or whatever.”

“That's so cheesy” I chuckle.

“But the truth.”

“Pedri, I…” I say, meeting his eyes. He isn't lying. Everything he's said about kissing me because he wanted to and not because of a bet, about liking me, about me not being the invisible princess I always believe myself to be… All that is true. I can see it in his face, on his blushed cheeks, in his eyes. He is being honest about it all. “I believe you.”

“You… You do?”

“I do” I nod.

“Thank God” he sighs. “I thought any moment now you would call the secret service and they would send me to… Where do they send people when they arrest them?”

“Can't tell you. It is the secret service for a reason” I wink.

“Makes sense” he chuckles. “But does this mean that I am not a dick anymore or…?” he says, closing the space between us a bit.

“Well… There is something you could do to make me completely forget about it” I say, also moving closer towards him.

“Something like what?” he asks, his other hand finding mine, now both his thumb caressing my skin, bringing back the waves of heat I felt last night. 

“You could kiss me with those lips of yours” I smirk.

“Here?” he says, looking around. “What if someone comes this way and sees us? Like someone from the team, your dad or… your mum. Your mum is quite scary, you know?”

“Oh, I know” I laugh. “But if we move over here…” I say, walking us behind a big tree, my back against it. “No one will see us. We'll be… invisible” I smile.

“You are anything but invisible, my lady” Pedri smiles back, his hands letting go of mine and moving to rest on my waist.

“Then show me” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck. 

“Will you then give me a tour of the palace? You promised it last night, and a princess…”

“Keps her promises, I know.”

“Exactly” he smirks.

“First we kiss, then we do the tour. But just so you know, Carlos will probably join us.”

“Wait, is he here?” Pedri says, looking around, his eyes wide.

“He may be hiding behind a bush, yes” I laugh.

“Shit. If he sees together after what he heard last night…”

“I'll explain everything to him, don't worry. But if you are being serious about getting to know me…”

“Deadly.”

“Then you better start getting used to his presence.”

“I think I can do that. Because you” he says, brushing his nose against mine and making me giggle. “Are worth it, my lady. So worth it” Pedri says before finally kissing me again, making me feel what he has been telling me since we met: that I'm not just someone's shadow, a second option. That I am not the invisible princess anymore. 

[sleepynoons]

jing yuan x f!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: nudity, suggestive content

notes: pls lmk if i'm missing any tags or warnings. anyway, nothing explicit this time, experimenting more w/ pieces that heavily focus on sexual tension + build-up. anyway x2, not sure how to describe the setting of this piece. still uses some hrs concepts like aeons. jing yuan is rich, the reader is his maid, and both use more formal language. this was a fun exercise!

THERE ARE a lot of rumors surrounding your master. you hear them when you go grocery shopping, visit the tailor, pick up the dry cleaning, drop off lunches at the front desk on days that he’s busy. some of them are about you – who are you? his wife? mistress? there’s no way you’re just a friend, right?

you’re trained to maintain a stoic facade, but inside, you can’t help but be entertained. you are none of those things, and one can only dream of sharing such a bond with him. you’re content with simply being his maid – you mustn’t tread closer.

on a wooden tray, you neatly arrange a cup of chamomile tea, another cup of warm, honeyed milk, and a folded newspaper of today’s news. before you leave the kitchen, though, you make sure to drop a few treats into a feeding bowl and rub at mimi’s stomach, your master’s beloved dog.

“your father needs some time alone,” you say to the animal. seemingly able to understand your words, mimi’s ears droop at a slight angle and she licks at your fingertips, seeking consolation. “he’ll be out soon, i promise.”

you get back up, wash your hands, and pick up the tray, heading over to your master’s bathroom.

from the hallway, you can hear the sound of water splashing and sloshing. if you strain a bit more, you can arguably make out some humming, nonsensical and haphazard in melody. when you reach the door, you hear submerging, and you know you’re right on time.

you knock on the door twice. “master, may i come in?”

you hear a faint noise of affirmation, no doubt muffled by the wall, and carefully enter without spilling the contents of the tray.

you’re greeted with a dazzling smile and glimmering droplets of soap and water slipping down naked skin.

your master greets you, fine smile lines outlining his rosy lips and delicate nose. “how many times have i told you that just my name will suffice?”

“master jing yuan,” you say as you place his drinks and paper on a designated drawer beside the tub, “how many times have i told you that you shouldn’t ask me to join you when you’re in the bathroom?”

“but who else can help me with my unruly mane of silver?” he pouts, tone feigning innocence.

“your hair isn’t unruly.”

“did you not call it that last time?”

you click your tongue. your master chuckles and turns away from you to face the other end of the tub. you grab a stool, hand him his newspaper, and take your place behind him. with a brush in hand, you unravel the red ribbon tying his hair and, with quick, gentle strokes, run the brush through the thick layers. you didn’t mean to call his hair unruly before, but you think there’s quite a bit of truth to it anyway. you also note that his hair has gotten quite long.

“master jing yuan, perhaps it’s time for a trim?” you suggest.

your master hums and leans back so that your hands can reach the crown of his head. “you are right. i shall leave it to you, then?”

shaking your head, you respond, “you really ought to get it done at a professional salon. i can only do so much.”

“you are a woman of many talents. i am sure you will do just fine,” he reassures. you huff in protest.

as your master’s only taking a soak today, you plait his hair into a thick braid before tying it up into a bun. you hand him his cup of tea, which is no longer scalding, and stand up to leave.

“oh!” he suddenly exclaims. “i seem to have forgotten my bathrobe.” he looks up at you expectantly, and you nod in understanding.

“i’ll go grab it. i’ll be right back.” you bow quickly before closing the door behind you on the way out and heading towards the laundry room.

you take your time. really, you needed an excuse to leave the bathroom. you’re glad that your master’s such a big fan of bath bombs, or else you’d see everything… you pat harshly at your warm cheeks to break free from your reverie. don’t tread any closer. you’re behaving like a schoolgirl experiencing her first love, and you can only groan internally at yourself. but you can’t blame yourself either – anyone would fall in love with your master if they know him the way you do. he’s so irresistible, and having been his maid for so long has only enabled you to witness more of his charisma and charm. you sigh, sitting on the floor in front of the dryer as you wait for it to de-wrinkle your master’s robe.

you return ten minutes later, both for your own wellbeing and to also give your master some time to himself.

“master jing yuan, i’m back. may i come in?”

instead of a reply, though, the door cracks open, and your master, wearing nothing but a towel tied loosely around his hips, appears before you. you yelp and rush to cover your eyes. he simply laughs at your antics before grabbing you by the arm and leading you into the bathroom.

“what – what are you –“

“i hurt my arm today, so i will need your help putting my robe on. it is quite heavy, after all.”

you don’t know where to look. you certainly can’t look at the bathroom mirror that covers the top-half of one wall or the marble on the other that shines and reflects so clearly. you opt to close your eyes and hold the robe up by the collar.

“this is hardly appropriate,” you mutter, embarrassment and nervousness coloring your tone. as a result, you try to distract yourself with another subject. “besides, couldn’t you have told me earlier? i would’ve prepared something in advance had i known.”

“i just noticed the bruise as well. seems i was a little careless today.” he then chuckles – at himself or you, you’re not sure.

you remark, “you? careless? that hardly goes together.”

your master lets you know that he’s put on his sleeves, so you step away, eyes still closed. 

immediately, he hums with obvious disapproval. “hm? why are you backing away?”

you sputter, “m-master jing yuan, i should not be here! if you could just – i don’t know – turn around or something, i can –“

“i have turned around.”

you sigh in relief, happy that he’s obedient for once. your master is often relentless in his teasing and tricks, and you’re grateful that he’s granting you mercy in this moment. so you open your eyes, ready to find your way to the door –

your master is standing dangerously close, so that you’re eye-to-eye with him. from this view, you can also see that his chest is barely covered, knot slowly slipping undone.

“master!” you gasp. the proximity, the surprise, the challenging look in his eyes – they’re all driving you mad.

he clears his throat. “jing yuan.”

“master jing yuan.”

“jing yuan.”

“oh, for aeons’ sake, jing yuan! you’re not wearing your robe properly!”

jing yuan gloats. he then says in a low, low whisper, “my hands have cramped up. can you do it for me instead?” he speaks directly into your ears, and you want to scream.

shaking, you stretch out your trembling hands and take the ends of the belt. you can feel jing yuan’s hot breaths fanning your cheek, and you can even smell the faint trace of lavender from the bath bomb. your fingers are too clumsy, though, and you fail multiple times in properly tying the belt. after a few more fruitless attempts, jing yuan reaches down, softly grabbing your hands, and gently guides them.

“and… like this,” he breathes. even when you’ve secured the knot, though, he doesn’t let go.

don’t tread any closer. “j-jing yuan,” you whimper. “please…”

his hands inch up, gliding from your palms to your forearms to your elbows. he does it so slowly, so seductively, so intentionally. he tugs you impossibly a little closer, and now you can feel the heat of his chest through your uniform. then, jing yuan rests his head on your shoulders, and his lips ghost the sensitive skin of your neck, causing you to shiver and shudder at the sensation. the two of you just stand there, him taking deep breaths, you holding yours.

finally, after a few minutes, jing yuan breaks the silence. “i can no longer employ you, my dearest.”

you feel faint. you’re never escaping the gossip now.

[rootedinrevisions]

Cowboys & Angles (Kinktober 2024: Day 3)

SUMMARY: After years of playful flirting and a deep-rooted friendship, you and Tyler Owens find yourselves crossing the line between friends and lovers when he returns home for the fall. What starts as a fun, teasing night at the local bar quickly turns into something more when Tyler finally takes his shot. But as feelings are laid bare, both of you must confront what this means for your relationship—because for Tyler, you've always been more than just a friend, and he’s ready to prove it if you let him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: When I first decided to do Kinktober, I was planning on doing a bunch of drabbles (my goal is for them to be at or under 1k words). But kind of like with yesterday's, as I was writing this one it kind of just took off and I kept going and now here we are at over 5k words! So I think Kinktober is probably going to be a mix of both shorter drabbles and longer fics! I will also be mixing up characters/fandoms so Kinktober will have a mix of my Glen Powell characters as well as some WWE/Wrestling, and I may be introducing a few new characters I haven't written for yet too!

PROMPT: "I'm already dying to take you right now. Don't tempt me."

KINK: Cowboy Hat / Cowboy Hat Rule

WARNINGS: Teasing. 18+ SMUT. (P in V Sex.)

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891 @saucy-sassy-sparkly  I  @alipap3  I  @dudinhastuff I  @lunatygerqueen  I  @hookslove1592

If you would like to be added to my Tag List please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

The bar was quieter than usual for a Saturday night. The usual hum of conversation was replaced by a few scattered groups of locals enjoying their drinks in the dim, amber glow of the overhead lights. You leaned on the counter, wiping down a glass as the front door swung open with a faint creak. The familiar sound made your heart jump before you even saw who it was.

Tyler Owens.

He strode in with that easy confidence, his tall frame filling the doorway for a second before he glanced around the room, spotting you instantly. A slow grin spread across his face, and he tipped his cream-colored Stetson in your direction before making his way toward the bar. You hadn’t seen him in months, not since he’d been off chasing storms across the country, but it felt like no time had passed at all.

“Well, if it isn’t Tyler Owens, the Tornado Wrangler himself,” you teased as he reached the bar.

“Back in town for a little while. Thought I’d drop by and see what kind of trouble you’ve been getting into.” His voice was smooth, that southern drawl rolling off his tongue like honey, and you couldn’t help but smile.

Amber, the other bartender, had been subtly hinting that she could use the extra tips if you wanted to take the rest of the night off for the last half hour. The bar wasn’t too busy, so you figured now was as good a time as any to give her the extra tips and catch up with Tyler. Setting the glass down, you unhooked your apron.

“Amber, you’re up. I’m clocking out,” you called over your shoulder. She practically beamed at you in response, already moving to take over.

Sliding onto the stool next to Tyler, you felt a familiar warmth wash over you—not from the two drinks you had in front of you, but from the easy energy that always existed between the two of you. You’d known Tyler since high school, and while your friendship had always teetered on the edge of something more, nothing had ever come of it. Flirting was just part of your dynamic.

“So, you’re back home, huh? Storm season finally winding down?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink.

“Yeah, things are quietin’ down. I thought I’d stick around town for a bit. Y appreciate the peace and quiet without me stirring things up?” He teased, nudging your shoulder with his.

“Oh, sure. It’s been so peaceful without you around,” you replied with a playful eye roll, though the truth was you’d missed him more than you wanted to admit.

After another round of drinks, your inhibitions softened but far from impaired, you reached out and plucked the Stetson right off Tyler’s head. The hat had always been his signature look, and you couldn’t resist the urge to mess with him a little. You placed it on your own head, adjusting it with a smirk.

He raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You know there’s a rule about wearin’ a cowboy’s hat, don’t you?” His voice was low, but there was something underlying it now, a challenge.

You feigned innocence, leaning in slightly. “Oh? And what rule might that be?”

His eyes darkened ever so slightly, his gaze flicking to your lips for just a second before he leaned back in his chair, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. 

“Never mind,” he said, his voice huskier now, “you wouldn’t be interested.”

But you couldn’t resist pushing him just a little further. You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper only he could hear. “Oh, I know the rule, Tyler. I just wanted to see what you’d do about it.”

There it was—the shift. His expression hardened ever so slightly, but that teasing smirk was still there, hanging on the edge of something more. He didn’t say anything, just gave you that look, the one that always sent a spark straight through you.

Without breaking eye contact, you stood and made your way toward the corner of the bar where the old mechanical bull sat. It hadn’t been used much recently, but it was still in working order. Tyler’s eyes followed you, curiosity piqued. You glanced over your shoulder, the Stetson still perched on your head as you grinned mischievously.

“Start her up,” you called to one of the other employees, hopping onto the mechanical bull. You adjusted your seat, settling in comfortably as the machine started to hum to life.

Tyler's gaze was locked on you now, his arms folded across his chest, leaning back in his chair as if to say, Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.

The bull started slow, rocking gently, but you handled it like a pro. With each buck, your eyes stayed locked on Tyler’s, never wavering. You could see the way his jaw tightened slightly, how his hands gripped the beer bottle in his hands every so tightly as the intensity of the ride increased. His hat sat firmly on your head, and you couldn’t help but grin as you imagined the thoughts running through his mind.

Finally, the bull jerked sharply, and you were thrown off, landing on your feet in a flurry of laughter and adrenaline. Without missing a beat, you sauntered back over to where Tyler sat, your steps light and confident.

“So,” you teased, pulling his hat off your head and spinning it around on your finger, “what was that rule again?”

Tyler’s eyes were darker now, his gaze intense as he reached out, plucking the hat from your hand and setting it back on his own head. He stood up slowly, towering over you, his voice a low growl as he leaned in, lips close to your ear.

“I’m already dyin’ to take you right now,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “Don’t tempt me.”

Your heart raced at his words, your playful bravado wavering for a split second as the tension between you thickened. But you couldn’t help yourself—you were never one to back down from a challenge. You met his gaze head-on, your lips curving into a daring smile.

“Well,” you whispered back, voice full of teasing confidence, “maybe I’m countin’ on that.”

The playful tension hung thick in the air, the space between you and Tyler charged with unspoken desire. His hat back on his head, Tyler’s eyes lingered on yours, darker than before, filled with something new—something inevitable. He stepped closer, and before you could say anything, his hand gently cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, the kiss firm yet unhurried, like he’d been waiting for this moment for longer than either of you cared to admit. Your body responded instinctively, leaning into him, one hand gripping the edge of his flannel shirt as the heat of the kiss spread through you. The years of playful back-and-forth, of near-misses and flirtatious glances, melted away into this one moment of pure, electric connection.

Around you, the few regulars left in the bar had noticed. A couple of whistles and cheers rang out, a playful acknowledgment of what everyone in your small town had suspected for years. But their noise faded into the background as you ignored them completely, lost in the feel of Tyler’s lips on yours.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his thumb still gently stroking your cheek. “You good?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper, eyes searching yours for confirmation.

You nodded, breathless but smiling. “More than good.”

He gave you that signature grin, the one that always made your heart skip a beat. Without another word, he grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the door. The cool night air hit you as you stepped outside, the warmth of the bar replaced by the crisp breeze of the fall evening. Tyler didn’t let go of your hand as he led you to his truck, parked just out front, the red Dodge pickup outfitted in storm-chasing gear that you’d ridden in countless times before. But this time felt different.

Tyler opened the passenger door, turning to you with an extended hand to help you up. His touch was gentle, but there was a quiet intensity in the way he guided you into the seat. Once you were settled, he made his way around the front of the truck, climbing into the driver’s side and turning the engine over with a low rumble.

As he shifted the truck into gear, he glanced over at you, his lips curving into a smirk. “So, where to? Your place, or mine?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yours.”

The smirk deepened into a grin. “Good choice.”

With that, he pulled out onto Main Street, the quiet stretch of road that ran through the heart of your small town. The familiar sights blurred past as the truck rumbled westward, toward the outskirts where Tyler’s place sat nestled among the trees. You leaned back in the seat, the thrill of the night coursing through you, heart racing as anticipation built with every passing mile.

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable—if anything, it only made the air more electric. Tyler’s hand rested on the gearshift, his knuckles brushing yours every so often, the simple contact sending a rush of warmth through you. You glanced over at him, taking in the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his focus stayed steady on the road, but there was an undeniable tension in his posture, like he was holding himself back.

The drive out to Tyler’s place was familiar but felt brand new in the charged atmosphere. Every turn in the road, every familiar landmark, passed by in a blur until finally, the gravel road leading up to his house came into view. The soft crunch of tires on gravel filled the quiet as he slowed the truck, pulling up beside the small, rustic house you’d been to more times than you could count.

But tonight, everything felt different. Tonight, it felt like everything had been leading to this moment.

Tyler parked the truck and turned off the engine, the silence of the night settling in around you as he turned to face you. That smirk was back, but now, there was a fire behind it, his gaze locked on yours as if daring you to make the next move.

Without a word, he opened his door and came around to your side, opening it for you and offering his hand once again. You took it, heart pounding as you stepped down from the truck, feeling the solid ground beneath your feet but still floating on the rush of what was about to happen.

As the door closed behind you, Tyler tugged you gently toward him, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you close. His lips found yours again, this time slower, softer, like he was savoring the moment. You melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard in the stillness of the night. His voice was rough, barely more than a whisper, as he asked, “You ready?”

You nodded, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his flannel, your voice soft but steady. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Tyler’s lips brushed against yours one last time before he pulled back, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. You barely had a moment to wonder what he was up to before his hands slid down to your waist, fingers gripping with a possessive but playful strength. 

With a quick, effortless motion, he hoisted you up and over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. A squeal of surprise escaped your lips as you suddenly found yourself looking at the world upside down, your hands instinctively grabbing onto the back of his flannel to steady yourself. 

“Tyler!” you protested, half-laughing, half-scolding as you kicked your feet, trying to wriggle free. “You’re going to fall if you keep carrying me like this!”

His deep chuckle rumbled through his chest, vibrating against your body as he tightened his hold on you. “You think I can’t handle it?” he teased, his voice laced with humor as he started up the stairs toward his bedroom, his stride steady and sure. “I’ve carried heavier stuff than you during storm season, sweetheart. You’re light work.”

You squirmed again, the sensation of being tossed over his shoulder making you feel both thrilled and embarrassed, but the grin on your face was impossible to hide. “You’re gonna regret it if you drop me!” you warned, trying to sound serious but failing miserably as laughter bubbled up from your chest.

“I’m not dropping you,” he assured, his tone dripping with confidence. “But keep squirming, and I might just have to remind you who’s in charge here.” Tyler just laughed, one arm hooked securely around your legs while his free hand swatted playfully at your ass.

You rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. “Oh, please, Tyler. You think you’re so—”

Before you could finish the sentence, he gave your ass another playful smack, the sound echoing off the walls as he continued up the stairs. This one was a little harder than the first. 

“That’s for doubting me,” he quipped, his voice teasingly low, the heat between the two of you rising again despite the lighthearted moment.

You huffed, still trying to act indignant despite the butterflies swarming in your stomach. “Alright, alright! Just get me upstairs in one piece, cowboy.”

He chuckled again, finally reaching the top of the stairs and carrying you effortlessly down the hallway toward his bedroom. The door creaked as he pushed it open with his foot, the room bathed in the soft, dim light of a single lamp in the corner. 

Tyler walked straight to the bed, carefully lowering you down onto the mattress as if he were laying down something precious. Your heart was still racing, your skin flushed from the thrill of it all. You looked up at him, catching your breath as he stood there, grinning like the devil himself. 

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, though the playful glint never left his eyes.

You smiled back, your heart still pounding, but now for a different reason entirely. “Yeah,” you said, your voice quieter, more breathless. “I’m okay.”

Tyler leaned down, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, his touch lingering against your skin for just a moment before he gave you a wink. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

The playful spark in Tyler’s eyes softened as he leaned over you, his hands resting gently on either side of your body, caging you in without making you feel trapped. His gaze locked onto yours, searching for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was anticipation. 

Slowly, he lowered his head, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that started soft but deepened with every passing second, the heat between you building once again.

His hands, large and warm, began a slow exploration. He started at your hips, his fingers tracing the curves of your waist before moving up to your sides, sending a shiver through your body. His hands stopped when they reached the bottom of your shirt.

He pulled away from the kiss for just a moment, his eyes meeting yours, a silent question lingering there. You knew what he was asking without him needing to say it. You nodded, giving him your permission with a soft smile.

Tyler’s lips twitched up in a small, relieved grin as his fingers grabbed the hem of your shirt, tugging it up gently. You lifted your arms to help him, your heartbeat racing as the fabric slid off and hit the floor. The cool air of the room brushed against your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat coming from Tyler’s body as he leaned back down, his hands now roaming over your bare skin, igniting every nerve he touched.

Your hands moved up to his chest, and with trembling fingers, you started to undo the buttons of his shirt. As you worked your way down, Tyler’s mouth found the delicate skin of your neck, pressing soft, teasing kisses along your throat. His lips were warm and gentle, but when he bit down lightly, your breath hitched, a small, involuntary sound escaping your lips.

That sound—small but full of need—seemed to drive Tyler wild. His grip on you tightened slightly, his lips continuing their assault on your neck, alternating between gentle kisses and playful bites. Each time his teeth grazed your skin, you couldn’t stop the soft moans that spilled from your mouth, your body arching slightly into him. 

His name escaped your lips in a breathless whisper, barely audible but enough to make him pause for just a second, his breath hot against your skin as he groaned softly.

“You keep making sounds like that, and I’m not gonna be able to control myself,” he murmured against your neck, his voice rough with need. 

His hands slid down your sides again, fingertips skimming the waistband of your jeans, but he paused, giving you time to stop him if you wanted to. When you didn’t, he met your eyes again, waiting for your nod before his fingers deftly began undoing the button and zipper, tugging the denim down over your hips.

You took a deep breath, your fingers still fumbling with the last few buttons of his shirt, finally getting it open enough to slide it off his shoulders. The moment his shirt hit the floor, your hands were on him, running over the hard planes of his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your palms. Tyler groaned again, his hands continuing their exploration, mapping every inch of your body as if it were the first time.

His mouth was on your neck again, trailing lower now, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone and further down. Every touch, every kiss, sent a wave of electricity through you, building a tension in your core that made it hard to think straight. The intimacy between you felt more intense now, the playful teasing giving way to something deeper, something that made your heart race and your breath come faster.

Tyler pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands resting on your hips again. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low, concern flickering in his eyes despite the heat between you.

You nodded, your voice caught in your throat for a second before you managed to breathe out a soft, “Yeah... more than okay.”

His lips curved into that familiar grin, but there was something different in it now—something softer. He leaned back down, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one filled with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. 

As his hands continued their journey over your skin, you could feel the shift between you, the playfulness melting away into something intimate, something more raw and real.

Tyler’s lips were on yours again, soft but hungry, as his hands roamed over your skin, pulling you closer, deepening the intensity between you. There was a new urgency in the way he touched you, the last of your clothes falling away, leaving nothing between you but heat and desire. When you finally pulled back to look at him, you noticed that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes, tempered by something softer, almost reverent, as he took in the sight of you.

“Your turn,” you whispered, your voice shaky but steady enough to tug at the waistband of his jeans.

Tyler grinned, the playfulness returning for just a moment as he sat back, undoing the button and zipper with quick, fluid motions. You watched as he kicked off his boots and jeans, your eyes following the movements of his hands as he finally tugged off his boxers, leaving him completely bare before you. You couldn’t help but admire the way he moved—every flex of muscle, every shift in his body.

You moved toward him, but Tyler caught you by the waist before you could get too far, flipping the two of you gently so that he was the one lying on the bed beneath you. His grin was still there, but it softened as his hands rested on your hips, pulling you down on top of him.

"Now that’s a view," he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. He traced slow, deliberate circles on your skin as you straddled him, feeling the warmth of his body beneath you, your bare skin pressed against his.

For a moment, you just hovered there, the tension between you thick and electric. But then Tyler’s hand slid up your spine, his touch gentle yet firm, grounding you in the moment. 

“Before we go any further...” he murmured, his voice low but serious. His eyes met yours, searching. “We need to talk.”

You nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. The chemistry between you was undeniable, but that didn’t mean you were going to be reckless. 

"I’m clean," you said softly, feeling a little breathless as you admitted it. "I’ve been tested."

"Me too," Tyler replied, his voice steady but filled with the same tension that ran through your body. “But...” He gave you a sheepish grin as he reached out, fumbling in the drawer of his nightstand for a moment. His fingers finally closed around what he was looking for, and he pulled out a small foil packet, holding it up between the two of you with a little chuckle. “Just in case.”

You smiled at his awkward fumbling, appreciating the way he was handling this—respectful, but still maintaining that easy, familiar chemistry you had with him. 

“Good thinking,” you teased, watching as he ripped the packet open, his movements still a little clumsy in his eagerness. He rolled the condom onto himself, his eyes never leaving yours. His breath was heavy, and you could feel the tension building again, stronger now that you’d both cleared the air. 

You reached for his Stetson, which had somehow ended up on the bed, and with a grin, you placed it on your head, the brim casting a shadow over your eyes. Tyler’s gaze darkened as he watched you, his lips parting slightly as if he was about to say something, but no words came out.

Slowly, you positioned yourself over him, your legs straddling his hips. His hands came to rest on your thighs, his fingers squeezing lightly as you sank down onto him, a gasp escaping your lips at the sensation. The Stetson tilted slightly on your head, but you didn’t care. All that mattered at that moment was the connection between you and Tyler—the heat, the closeness, the way his hands gripped your hips like you were the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth.

Tyler let out a groan, his grip tightening as you adjusted to him, your body leaning forward slightly, pressing your chest against his as you both took a moment to breathe. His hand slid up your back again, this time tracing your spine with slow, deliberate strokes that sent shivers through your body. He tilted his head up, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that was slow as if he had all the time in the world to savor this moment.

"God, you look so damn good," he whispered against your lips, his voice rough, filled with that raw desire you’d only ever seen glimpses of before.

You smiled, breathless, your forehead resting against his. “Wearing your hat and nothing else?” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Mmhm.” Tyler’s hands slid back down to your hips, guiding you as you began to move slowly against him. “You have no idea what you do to me...”

Tyler’s breath hitched as you settled against him, your bodies moving in sync, slow and deliberate, as if the two of you were savoring every second. His hands never left your skin, sliding from your hips to your waist, then down your thighs, like he couldn’t get enough of the feel of you. Each movement sent a shiver up your spine, your body reacting to the way his fingers traced small circles, grounding you in the moment.

The slow rhythm between you grew more intense with every passing second, but Tyler kept his focus on you, his eyes locked on yours, the smirk on his face softened by the emotion behind it. He shifted slightly beneath you, a groan slipping from his lips as he tightened his grip on your hips, guiding you in your movements but still giving you control.

Your breath came in shallow gasps as the sensation built, but you didn’t rush. There was something almost sweet about the way you moved together, like you both understood that this wasn’t just about the physical connection. It was something deeper, something that had been simmering for years between flirty glances, teasing remarks, and late-night conversations.

Tyler leaned up, capturing your lips in another kiss—this one softer, more tender, as if he was trying to tell you something without words. His fingers threaded through your hair, gently tugging, tilting your head back just enough to expose your neck. He pressed his lips to your throat, kissing his way up the sensitive skin there, and you couldn’t help the small sounds that escaped your lips, your body responding to every little touch.

You felt his grip on your hips tighten again, pulling you closer, your bodies moving together with more urgency now. The feeling between you was electric, your heart pounding in your chest as his kisses grew more desperate, more hungry. But even in the midst of it, Tyler’s touch remained careful, measured, as if he was constantly checking to make sure you were okay.

You didn’t mean for it to happen but your orgasm hit you faster than you expected. You felt your walls squeezing around him as your thighs started to shake. You let out several moans into Tylers mouth as he bucked his hips up to work you through it.

When you finally broke away from his mouth, breathless, Tyler leaned his forehead against yours, his hands resting on your lower back, holding you close. His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence between you—just the sound of your breathing and the steady beat of your hearts.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with concern as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “More than okay,” you whispered back, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

He exhaled, a relieved grin spreading across his face. “Good.” His hands slipped down to your waist again, his grip firm but gentle. “Because I’m not sure I can handle you looking like that in my hat and not lose my damn mind.”

You chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss him again, feeling the way his body responded to the smallest touch. The teasing from earlier was still there, but it was mingled with something else now—a deep sense of care and affection that had always been beneath the surface.

As the tension built between you again, Tyler’s movements became more urgent, more deliberate, and his grip on you tightened in response. His groans were low and quiet, but the sound of them sent a surge of heat through your body, making you move faster, more eagerly, craving every reaction you could pull from him.

Tyler’s hands roamed your back, sliding up your spine and then down again, before settling on your hips once more, guiding you, helping you keep the rhythm even when it became harder to focus as your second orgasm crept closer. His mouth found your neck again, biting down gently in a way that made you gasp, your body arching into him as the sensation overwhelmed you.

Every touch, every kiss felt electric, like the two of you had been waiting for this moment for years. And as the intensity reached its peak, you couldn’t help but feel the emotion behind it all—the unspoken bond you shared, the connection that had always been there, simmering just beneath the surface of your friendship.

Finally, as the tension broke and the two of you found your release together, Tyler pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you as you collapsed against him. His body was warm and solid beneath you, his heartbeat strong and steady as you both came down from the high of the moment. He held you there, his hands still tracing gentle patterns on your skin, like he was memorizing the feel of you.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the room filled with nothing but the sound of your breathing as you lay in the quiet intimacy of the aftermath. Tyler shifted slightly, his hand sliding up to brush through your hair again, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“You okay?” he asked again, his voice soft and filled with that familiar concern.

You nodded against him, your body still tingling from the intensity of what had just happened. “Yeah... more than okay,” you murmured, echoing your earlier words.

Tyler chuckled quietly, his arms tightening around you as he pulled you closer. “Good,” he said, his voice warm and filled with affection. “That’s all I ever want... to take care of you.” His fingers trailed along your back in slow, soothing strokes as he held you there, the warmth of his body surrounding you like a cocoon of safety and comfort.

The warmth of Tyler’s body still enveloped you as you lay there, your head resting on his chest, his hand gently running through your hair. The room was quiet now, just the soft sounds of your breathing mixing with the faint creak of the old house settling around you. For a while, neither of you spoke, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the air. You could feel Tyler’s steady heartbeat beneath your cheek, and it grounded you, but there was something else—a nagging thought that you couldn’t quite shake.

You shifted slightly, lifting your head to look at him. “Tyler...” you began, your voice soft, but tinged with uncertainty.

He looked down at you, his brows furrowing just a little, concern immediately flashing in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You bit your lip, hesitating for a moment before speaking. “What... what does this mean for us?” you asked, the vulnerability in your voice surprising even you. “I mean, is this... was this just a one-time thing?”

Tyler’s expression softened instantly, and he reached up, cupping your cheek in his hand, his thumb gently brushing over your skin. 

“A one-time thing?” he repeated, his voice almost incredulous. “Are you kidding?”

You averted your gaze, feeling a little silly for even asking, but Tyler didn’t let you look away. He gently guided your chin back toward him, making sure your eyes met his.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were teenagers,” he said, his voice low but steady, like it was the most natural thing in the world to admit. “I just... I didn’t think I had a shot in hell with someone like you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, his words sinking in slowly. “Someone like me?” you echoed, a small laugh escaping your lips despite the serious turn of the conversation. “Tyler, you make it sound like I’m some kind of angel.”

He chuckled softly, his thumb still brushing along your cheek. “Well, that’s what you are to me,” he said with a grin. “An angel. I mean, come on... a guy like me? A cowboy who’s been out chasing storms and kicking up dust for most of his life?” His eyes sparkled with humor, but there was something deeper behind them—something genuine. “I didn’t think I deserved a shot with someone as good as you.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart swelling at his words. “Cowboys and angels...” you teased, the playfulness returning to your voice. “Seems like a pretty good combination to me.”

Tyler laughed, the sound warm and rich, and he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go. “Yeah,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Turns out, they go real well together.”

For a moment, you both lay there in the quiet, the weight of his confession settling over you. It felt like everything had shifted between you, but in the best possible way. The years of friendship, the playful flirting, the unspoken connection—it had all led to this, to a moment that felt as natural as it was surprising.

You smiled up at him, the worry that had been gnawing at you now completely gone. “So... we’re doing this?” you asked softly, your hand resting over his heart.

Tyler grinned, his eyes full of warmth as he leaned in, kissing you tenderly. “Yeah,” he whispered against your lips. “We’re doing this.”

And with that, the uncertainty melted away, replaced by the deep, undeniable certainty that this was where you were meant to be—wrapped up in the arms of the man who had loved you all along, even when you hadn’t realized it. The cowboy and his angel, right where they belonged.

[suplicyy]

I NEED SOMETHING ABOUT FIRST KISS WITH KUROO BECAUSE I’M RUNNING OUT OF IDEAS, and you’re the only writer i enjoy sooo👀👀 love ya!!

⊹ ࣪ ˖First Kiss⊹ ࣪ ˖

Haikyuu boys x Reader

— Summary: Some hc about what your first kiss with him would be like!

— Characters: Kuroo, Bokuto, Oikawa, Atsumu.

— Tags/Genre: Fluff | Gn!Reader | Headcanons

— Warnings: None!

Kuroo Tetsurou

In my opinion, this is not his first time in a relationship, which implies that this was not his first kiss either. Even though his previous relationships may not have lasted as long as his current one with you.

But even though it's not his first time, it really seems like it is, because he's a bit nervous!!😭

He likes you so much and thinks you're so beautiful, that he can't stop thinking about what his first kiss with you would be like.

Sometimes there are moments when he would stare at your lips when you weren't looking, imagining what your lips would feel like on his.

His first kiss was definitely something spontaneous, and even though he already had this idea in his head, he didn't plan for this to be the exact moment.

HEAR ME OUT!! He LOVES watching you do anything, whether it's schoolwork, cooking, or even talking about your interests.

And he can't help but fall even more in love with you when you do something you like, the sparkle in your eyes and your bright smile make him all silly...🤭

He's looking at you with such admiration that he doesn't even realize he just said "I wanna kiss you so bad..."

After that he almost died of embarrassment, but at least he got to kiss you.👁👁

Bokuto Koutarou

This boy definitely kissed you within a second of you two deciding to date (if you were comfortable with it, of course)

To try to win you over and also understand romantic things, he spent a considerable amount of time watching romance movies and series, no matter how cheesy and cliché they were, for him it was all the same thing.

And he's definitely tried something embarrassing that he saw in one of these, like suddenly starting to sing in the school hallway while you were walking by.

Akaashi definitely put this on his list of his concerns for Bokuto, trying as much as possible to avoid him making a fool of himself in front of you and everyone who was there...💀

When you had your first kiss, even though he was very excited about the idea of kissing you, he was definitely embarrassed, very embarrassed indeed.

So it's to be expected that some accident will probably happen, like him accidentally hitting your teeth, or keeping his eyes open during it.😭😭

Oikawa Tooru

I think he's the only one on this list who I dare say has more experience when it comes to relationships, since it is actually canon that he already had a girlfriend.

So I think he would be a good kisser, maybe.

He would definitely be making jokes about how you want to kiss him so bad anytime you praise him or something like that(when in reality it's him who wants you SO bad)

Even if he made such jokes with you, Oikawa would definitely be very respectful towards you. He wouldn't be upset or sad if you're not ready for your first kiss yet, he would love you anyway!!!

But the moment you say or make some implied movement that you want to kiss him, he will freak out internally.

I imagine him being someone very vain, always leaving his hair impeccable and his skin always in perfect condition, then I think his lips would be very soft on yours.

After that he would love to grab any opportunity to kiss you again, he really has no shame in showing physical affection in public.😭

Atsumu Miya

If someone asked him if he had ever kissed anyone, he would say "Of course I has!!" with a smug smile, but the truth is that he has never even dated anyone in his life......

Every time Osamu remembers this fact, he always makes sure his brother remembers it too (which always causes a fight between the two)

The truth is he's a big idiot who's too focused on volleyball to think about anything else.

He really tries to come across as the nonchalant and charming one when he's with you, but the truth is he feels like he's going to faint at any second.

The moment you two are about to kiss, he'll be all red and a little nervous, but of course he tries to hide it from you (and fails miserably every time)...

But after you kiss, he'd shrug his shoulders and say: "I know I'm amazing," when in reality he had no idea what he was doing.

And get ready, because after that he'll seem 10 times more annoying than usual, wanting to kiss you at any moment and whining when you reject him.💀

— A/N: IT'S LESS THAN A WEEK UNTIL MY BIRTHDAY YIPEEE!!!!!😆😆

I hope you don't mind, but I added a few more characters to mix it up a bit!! But if you don't like it, I can change it for you, just let me know!

I didn't review what I wrote because I'm very lazy, so please forgive me if there are any spelling mistakes, and if you can point out what they are I'll be grateful!😭

[dilfsfordinner]

Escarmiento- Miguel O’hara x fem!spider reader

a/n- spoiler warning for atsv!!! Some of the things in this I don’t agree with based off of my personal opinion for certain characters, but y/n, for story sake, agrees with Miles

warnings- eventual smut, predator/prey dynamics, spanking, edging, degradation, explicit language, size kink, biting, mean/rough sex, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, aftercare, soft miggy after he realizes he was an ass

—————————————————————————

“You’re an anomaly. You don’t belong here, you don’t even belong in your universe. Everything you’ve done…”

The sound of your husband’s voice rang between your ears as you squeezed between the growing crowd, the dark blue and red of Miguel’s “lair” reflecting off the suits of the hundreds of spider people slowly congregating around the boy you knew as Miles Morales. For weeks, Miguel was infatuated with this Morales kid, infatuated with the idea of capturing him so that he could save everyone, so he could save you, as he loved to say.

Slowly but surely, you found yourself standing at the front, watching as the young boy was on the receiving end of a very familiar type of lecture. “-kid, you can’t have everything, you can’t save everyone. Spider-man makes sacrifices, that’s the way it has to be,” Miguel’s tone was strong, unwavering, as he told the kid the unfortunate truth of the situation.

Gwen, Peter, Hobie (who could not care less about the situation), Jess, and your husband all battered the kid with their takes, with their opinions on the situation and you could tell that he wasn’t having any of it. The others in the room also thought it their place to partake in this ping pong match of morals, their voices overstimulating even to your ears. It was obvious that Miles felt suffocated, lied to, attacked, and you couldn’t just sit back and watch.

“What if he’s right?”

…

The room went silent at your words, every single spider lensed eye turning to look at you as you stepped forward, a pair of scarlet eyes meeting your own, narrowing slightly. “What if nothing happens? I mean, how are any of us supposed to live if we stay trapped by the rules of the unknown?”

A sigh left the lips of the spider you knew all too well, his gloved hand running down his face as he turned to you. “We’re “trapped” by those rules for a reason. They’re the only thing holding everything together. You should know that more than anyone.”

Yes, you knew all too well what would happen if the canon was disrupted, being Miguel’s only pillar to trust and lean on for him to be vulnerable enough to share his story. That was one case though. One instance out of countless others that were possible.

With careful steps, you walked toward them until you were side by side with Miles, his wide eyes watching you literally take his side, the first out of hundreds to step up.

“Amor.. being bitten by that spider should’ve caused irrevocable damage in his universe, should it not have?” You questioned him, his strong arms crossing as he pondered the fact, “It wasn’t canon, so by your reasoning, all hell should’ve broken loose in his universe. But it didn’t. Miles may very well be an anomaly, but if he can commit non-canon acts without consequences, there’s nothing stopping us from letting him save his father.”

With a scoff, your husband’s hand turned to gesture the scenes projected behind him, the sight of universes crumbling, millions of lives wiped out due to one action. “This is why we can’t let him. If the kid is allowed to do whatever he wants, every single universe would end up in shambles because one little thread of reality was tugged loose.”

You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but to some degree, you did agree with Miguel. You knew how important it was to uphold the rules of the multiverse, but there was just something different with Miles. You couldn’t help but think that this was different, that his case was truly unique.

“He’s staying. I don’t care about hypotheticals or any other possible outcomes-”

Using Miguel’s voice as a cover, as inconspicuous as possible, your gloved hand lightly tugged at Miles’ pinky, and when his eyes glanced at your still frame, you whispered under your breath, “Use your palms.” Miles’ eyebrows furrowed at your comment, his shoulders squaring as Miguel approached the both of you.

“-he’s not going anywhere until we know for sure that he’s not a threat.” Miguel’s hand closed around your wrist, pulling you away from the boy’s side as you watched him pull a red disk from the air behind him, casually throwing it at the boy’s feet, a red cage snapping up around the panicking kid.

Miguel was immediately battered with pleas to let him go, specifically by Gwen and Peter, as Miles yelled and slammed against his enclosure. Slipping away from the turmoil and shouting, you caught Miles’ gaze and nodded slightly, his eyes going wide at the realization of your words. His hands pressed against the red lining, a muttered sentence leaving his lips before the cage shattered and every single spider-person was thrown backwards by the sheer force. Everyone besides you of course, who was conveniently standing next to a freed Miles, your webbing attached to the floor the only anchor you had to prevent from flying back.

Scarlet eyes immediately snapped to you, your gaze full of guilt as Miles turned to sprint, your legs quickly following as the shout of your name boomed behind you, your eyes flitting back to find a rage-filled Miguel with hundreds of spiders at his heels, pursuing Miles, and unfortunately, you as well.

—————————————————————————

Part Two

[tiredfox64]

Liu Kang × unimpressed person that does their best to make fun of him. If you could do him and a girl who could not care less hes a god and instead is making fun of his bob and the fact that he seems allergic to shirts given that he cant wear more than 75% of one at aany given time

I'm Not Impressed

Yip notes: I feel bad when I have to fake being impressed. It's a lot of "Really?!" which is the equivalent of "That's crazy"

Pairing: Liu Kang (MK1) x Afab reader

Warning‼️: I never warn about my language, second half not proofread cause I was in class

So god comes to your door one night and tells you that he wants you to be one of his champions. Right, okay, cool.

…

Cool? Sweetie, that’s your creator right there. Your creator asked YOU to be one of his champions to fight another realm. Did you need time to process that or…no, alright…I don’t know why I am trying to talk to you.

You’re not the kind to marvel at Liu Kang not that he asks for that. You’re not all that impressed. Sure, he’s the god of fire but if you think about it hard enough you could extinguish him with a fire extinguisher.

Let’s get this straight, you’re not undermining him at all. You understand that he could still beat your ass terribly. Nobody wants a burst ass. But you’re just not someone who is easily impressed. Some think you are plain rude. Some think you aren’t entirely neurotypical. You don’t see it that way, this is just who you are. You find it would be ruder to pretend to be impressed. This rule applies to everyone, not just Liu Kang. Even your family understands that about you.

Liu Kang could see that you weren’t like Johnny who didn’t believe Liu Kang at first. He knew you understood that he was the god of fire and the protector of Earthrealm. That didn’t stop you from making comments though.

Even after first introducing himself you made it clear that you didn’t care who he was. I mean you were outright ready to start shit the moment you opened the door.

“Who the fuck did your hair?” You said the moment your eyes landed on him.

“I beg your pardon?”

You saw his glowing eye go wide before narrowing in disappointment. He was hoping your comment was because you wanted to drive him away. A little tease like that won’t drive him away. So he explained the whole god thing and the protector bullshit to you.

“Oh yeah? Is that right?” Your tone was not rude you were actually asking if what he just said was the truth.

“Yes. Please, I must discuss important matters with you. May I enter?” He asked in his gentle voice.

“I mean, whatever, sure. But don’t try anything stupid I won’t hesitate to beat your ass.” You warned the literal fire god himself.

You believed everything he was saying which was surprising. If he could make himself burst into flames right in front of your eyes, you’d believe anything he says. You accepted his offer to go to the Wu Shi to train. It’s for a good cause so whatever. You could get out of the house.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Poor Liu Kang, you never give him a break.

You always find something about him to make fun of. It could be his hair, his clothes, his face in general. You were warned to be more respectful of him. In a way, you do respect him by listening to what he has to say and the advice he gives you. But that doesn’t stop you from pointing out some silly things.

For example, his hair. You’re always pointing out the bun in the back. It does nothing. His hair is still down and possibly getting in the way. And when he mentioned to you all that he used to have a bob cut, hah, fuck him he shouldn’t have said it. You snorted the moment you heard that. You laughed at the thought of it because you could never understand why he would have that cut. Good thing he didn’t mention what color it used to be; he would never hear the end of it.

You also make fun of his facial expressions. He’s calm and you know it. But his resting face seems so disappointing. When he’s disappointed, like when Johnny doesn’t take something seriously, it adds more fuel to the fire. You only figured out the difference when you first said something.

“Well, ain’t you just a ray of fuckin sunshine. Why are you so upset?” You asked as you looked at everyone else training. They seem to be doing fine, what does he have to be upset about?

When you looked back at him you saw his eyebrows were more furrowed and you could see the corners of his mouth tip down. Now he was upset. He was upset with your assumption.

“I am only displeased with your attitude. I was fine beforehand.”

“Oh so you just look like that.”

May the elder gods help this man.

You watched him roll his eyes as he grimaced at your attitude. He pointed at the others to signal you to return to training. You put your hands up like you didn’t just insult this man’s face. He could see that smug fucking grin on your face.

His clothes though, ugh, that is so easy to poke at. It’s like he’s allergic to covering up. You would expect some modesty from a god but you could always be wrong.

You found it funny that the sleeves were rolled up. The shirt is already short-sleeved but apparently it’s not short enough for Liu Kang. If you wore your button-up shirts like he wears his you would be called a slut. Side titties would be shamed in this Academy except by Johnny, he would welcome it.

At first, you thought he purposely got a shirt that was too small for him. The sleeves looked like they struggled to contain his muscles. Those things are bound to rip if he flexes a little too much. Oh but remember he’s “modest” so he would never do that. No, no, he’s too modest to gloat but not modest enough to cover up. And to answer your question, no, his shirt is not too small. In fact, it might be his size. He’s scrunching it from the back.

Why it took you so long to notice you had no idea. You were more focused on the front and not the back.

You only noticed when he was explaining to all of you why the Mortal Kombat tournament was important, something about making sure those Outworld fuckers stay back. You were staring at the back of his head before lowering your gaze. Wow, he has a nice ass OH something is up with his shirt look at that. How could your eyes not be drawn to that area. The red sash wrapped around his waist called for your attention. His shirt was bunched up in the back. It’s like those girls who would tie a hair tie at the back of their shirt to make it squeeze against their body which just made it funnier.

As you all gathered to figure out who would be the true champion, you decided to stand near Liu Kang instead of with everyone else. Johnny had already aggravated him from the start so a fire was already going. Oof that eye-roll and grimace came from the soul. He was already side eyeing you as you scooched over to him. Before you could say something he was ready to interrupt you.

“Please act well today. Do not provoke me.”

“I wasn’t gonna provoke you, damn. I just wanted to ask you if you’re feeling a little cold?”

He wasn’t confused, he knew you were starting something. His hand went up to his forehead as he leaned against the armrest. He’s so tired.

“I’m just asking cause, ya know, you could easily button up that-“

“Enough!” He pushed your hand away which was slowly inching towards his chest.

“I’m just trying to help. You could easily button up if you untuck your shirt. Here.” You reached towards his back and started to untuck his shirt from the tight red sash.

“By the Elder Gods, you are out of your mind!”

It became a scuffle between you and Liu Kang as he tried his absolute best to stay calm. The monks that were near were either occupied with Raiden beating Johnny’s ass or trying to avoid being stepped on by you. Once you got it untucked he was mentally defeated. Liu Kang gave up, you won.

“See, now we can button that up. No need to show the universe your man tits.” You used the loops on his right side to hook the buttons.

He let it happen. His eyes stared straight ahead, not at the fight but past the horizon. Where did he go wrong? Why him?

You stared down at him, waiting for any other reaction than that blank stare. All you got was him holding his hand out to tell you to fight Raiden. You looked over to see that Johnny was flat on his back, clearly the loser of the fight. You shrugged and made your way over. He clearly didn’t want to talk to you. Now time to get your ass beat.

No, you will not win this match. You were never gonna win this match. You got your ass handed to you by a simple farmer who speaks softly. And could call Liu Kang cruel or even sadistic for how he was feeling. But by the gods was he satisfied by seeing that fight. Karma!

Yap notes: Yeah so I died whoops lol. Nah but I'm glad to get another fic out and hopefully I start feeling better soon. Uni is killing me this semester ugh. Maybe I’ll make a post explaining more. Adiós!

[nonotnolan]

Swap Broker: Social Climbing

Seeing James in a suit, Clay suddenly felt a bit self-conscious about scheduling a meeting at his modest apartment. The car that James drove was probably worth more than this entire building. Still, that was part of why he was hiring James in the first place. Clay was trapped in the lowest income tiers of society, and upward momentum was unheard of. He didn't regret dropping out of high school to take care of his younger brother when their mother passed-- their father had never been in the picture-- but now that his brother had a full ride to college, it was time to take care of himself for once. If he wanted any sort of life outside of minimum wage retail work, he was going to have to take drastic action.

"Legally, I have read you a few disclaimers before we begin," James said, pulling out some papers from his briefcase. "You are purchasing my services as a swap broker. This does not guarantee that I will be able to match you with another customer, and some customers may request additional payment. My servicing fees must be paid up front and in full. The body real estate market is new, and may be subject to new regulations at any time. You cannot trade more than ten years plus or minus your original date of birth, and any attempts to defraud security regulations will result in legal action, up to and including life in jail. If either client is able to prove misleading or fraudulent claims about their new body within the first 30 days, the swap will be reversed. Customer dissatisfaction is not a valid reason to reverse the swap process, so care should be taken prior to confirming purchase. If you agree to these terms, your payment will be considered a legal signature."

Clay paused, staring at the wad of cash in his hands. "You, uhh… you do take cash, right? I didn't even think about trying to get a money order."

James simply smiled at him. "That will be fine, Mr. Clay. It's not standard, but for you I will make an exception. Truth be told, I'm already making a few exceptions for you, but I've been able to pull strings to have it classified as charity work. Besides, all of your of the mandated background interviews have come back with glowing recommendations, which is why I have no issues taking such a risk on you."

"And I appreciate that, don't get me wrong. All the same, I… I'm just worried that no one will want to take my life in exchange for theirs," Clay said, kicking the carpet with his boots. "But anything will be better than this, and … well, I'm trusting you, James. I'm trusting you to find something for me."

"I actually do have a very promising lead for you, if you're willing to take it," he said, adjusting his necktie. "It's a very unusual situation, which is why most of my clients have not accepted this body. But for you… honestly, this might work. My client is local businessman Richard Hargrove, but the body for trade or sale is the body of his son, Aiden Hargrove. It's… legal, technically, though I'm not convinced Aiden fully understood the paperwork he was signing."

Clay raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess… Richard expects great things from his son, but his son isn't matching those expectations?"

James nodded. "It's a tale as old as time, and it's a lot of emotional baggage to carry over into a new life. If you want to inherit the family money, you'll have to make certain that you keep Richard appeased. There's going to be a lot of family drama, while most people on the market for a new body are looking for a swap with no strings attached."

"No strings, you say," Clay said, absent-mindedly scratching his chest. "How often are people swapping bodies, anyway?"

"Honestly, we're starting to see a lot of designer body circles where people swap bodies every few months like clothes. People are trying to establish winter bodies, vacation bodies, bodies for formal events… it's a bit of a mess out there right now. But most people don't want to be locked into a new body forever, which… is what Mr. Hargrove is looking for. But since it sounds like that is what you're looking for as well... here's a photo of Aiden," he said, passing a headshot over to Clay.

Clay could feel his cock stirring to life in his jeans. Aiden was incredibly attractive. He also looked like an insufferable spoiled rich kid, but… well, that was probably true. "James, this man is gorgeous. There has to be some sort of catch, more than just the family drama angle you described."

"Well… yes. As a part of the swap agreement, Mr. Hargrove is requiring that the person taking his son's body signs a five year habitation agreement. It includes a stipend of $100,000 spread across monthly installments, but it states that you will only be able to contact your prior family through written, voice, or video correspondence. Nor will you be able to contact any of your prior friends ever again. For most people, that's a complete dealbreaker. For you, however…"

Clay couldn't help but laugh. "My younger brother is going to college several states away, so I already have limited contact. And the closest things I have to friends are people who are nice to me at work." He paused, taking off his cap and squeezing its brim as he thought it over. "I really don't have anything to lose," he said. It felt odd to say it aloud, but… he hadn't fully realized just how much he had been putting everyone else's needs over his own until it was pointed out like this. "I always knew it, I mean… it's why I hired you, I just… I never quite thought about it like that. James, I accept. Whatever you need me to sign, let's do this."

James smiled. "Excellent choice! I'll put in an offer this afternoon, and I'll be in touch with the next round of paperwork. It's not official yet, but given that Aiden's body has been on the market for over five weeks, I can't imagine that we're going to get any resistance."

------------------------------------------------------

"Alright, so that was four strokes, which puts me at… +8," said the new Aiden. "Not great, but at least I'm slowly improving. Ready for the next hole, Dad?" The first week or two had had its share of uncomfortable moments, but he was slowly easing into the expectations of his new life. Now, after a few months, life as Aiden Hargrove was becoming second nature.

Richard smiled at him. "I'm proud of you, you know."

"Agh, Dad…" Aiden said, feeling himself starting to blush.

"No, I mean that," he said. "It was hard enough having to disown my first son… I was so worried about who my new son was going to be. But you… you're hard working, you're dedicated, you're sincere… how could anyone not be grateful? I'm… I'm bad at knowing how to show people that I care, Aiden. Too much tough love, they tell me. And if I'm going to start training you to take over the family business, that will only get worse. Which, I will be training you, son, you've picked up on sales like it was second nature. So… when we leave here, and I'm back to being a dick… it's because I expect a lot from you, okay? I'm proud of you even when I'm not showing it." Richard leaned in for a hug, which Aiden returned with an awkward embrace.

"Also, son, I keep meaning to ask-- have you been getting your dick wet?"

Aiden felt his stomach drop out from under him. "Jesus, Dad! That's not… do we have to talk about that?"

"You're almost thirty," Richard said, folding his arms. "It's well past time for you to get married. I'm not going hold sins of the old Aiden against you, but people are already starting rumors. An eligible Hargrove, unmarried? It's unheard of. I don't even care who you marry, as long as they make at least $150,000 per year. Are you gay? I've seen the way your eye wanders in the country club's sauna. The old Aiden was straight as an arrow, but we can smooth that over easy enough."

"I… yes sir, I am a gay man," Aiden admitted, as he desperately prayed for the ground to open up and swallow him in. "I haven't, uhh… I haven't had sex in this body yet. I've been focused more on living as the new Aiden. Adding a relationship to things felt… complicated. Especially since the thought of a queer scandal had me afraid to… pursue things, as it were."

Richard waved a dismissive hand. "Well, start pursuing them. You're a Hargrove now. We don't have scandals, we just have bribe money. Your mother and I are going to be celebrating our 40th wedding anniversary next year, and I expect to you be engaged by then. I need everyone to see that you are a force to be reckoned with."

------------------------------------------------------

Aiden leaned against the bar of the country club, waiting for his date to arrive. It was easy to adjust to the trappings of his new life, but he hoped to never fully lose sight of his roots. The navy suit he was wearing tonight was a designer piece that cost about two months of his old life's salary, and he was about to spend over ten hours of minimum wage labor on a single dinner. The universe had managed to reward all of those years of thankless labor with the opportunity to live Aiden's life, and it wasn't something he ever wanted to take for granted.

Trying to date as a gay man looking for marriage was complicated enough. Trying to date men who fit his new father's limited criteria was proving to be almost impossible. Most of the men who checked off all of the necessary requirements were either straight or insufferable-- but usually both. All the same, Aiden had high hopes for his date with Hunter. Unlike his previous dates, Hunter came into his wealth by creating and then selling his business at the right time. Hopefully that lack of a privileged upbringing would make him a tolerable human being.

Dinner with Hunter proved to be everything that Aiden had hoped for, and more. They were able to hold actual conversation, shifting from topic to topic without his date trying to brag about prior accomplishments or disparaging Aiden's interests as puerile. It was taking all of his restraint not to mount Hunter right there, in the middle of the dining room.

"Would you like to join me on a brief walk?" Aiden asked, once their meals had been finished and billed to his family's tab. "You'll have to forgive me if I am being too forward, but I took the liberty of reserving one of the... private cabana rooms at the edge of the grounds." His eyebrows waggled as he emphasized the word private, and the flush on Hunter's cheeks confirmed that the innuendo had not been lost on his date. Aiden swelled with pride as he observed the outline of Hunter's erection against his blue slacks as the man stood up, the most sincere sort of compliment he could receive. His own manhood was straining against his silk boxer briefs, and he found himself hoping that Hunter was sneaking glances.

"I... do have a confession, before we get too serious," Hunter said, as they strolled across the greens. "This is not my real body. My swap broker arranged for a three month loaner, while my real body is...being acclimated to my new wealth, shall we say. I'm paying someone to lose weight at the gym, whiten my teeth, develop a suitable skin care regimen... that sort of thing. And once I do get my body back, there will a wardrobe and hairstyle adjustment period..." He started to tug nervously at his collar. "Just a temporary side effect of being new money. I hope you don't find that too scandalous."

Aiden gave him a warm smile. "Far from it, I assure you. Your newfound wealth and status is part of your charm. It means you don't have any of the odious habits of my peers." He wrapped a possessive arm around Hunter's waist and pulled him close, a trophy to be displayed. "Besides, that sounds like an incredibly smart usage of a swap brokerage contract. If things get serious, I'll have to tell you about my own family's dealings with swap brokers."

[justevelynnnn]

Need that

💋 Logan x blk!fem reader 💋

Summary: You’re a young woman in need of an older man. Specifically, that man that is staying with Wade.

Warnings: Profanity, mentioning of reader being a sugar baby, sexually explicit scenes, PiV, no protection, fingering, smoking, age gap (reader is 21)

A/N: Hugh Jackman// older Logan is why I have a current dilf obsession

Minors do not interact.

You noticed the new—and may you add hot—new neighbor walking into Wade’s apartment one day you got home from a shift at the bar. You work in the day because more reckless drunks come at night.

The only thing about this man was, well he was older. You were only 21 but he looked an easy late 40s, early 50s. However, that’s just your type. And Wade made fun of you for it all. the. time.

You were somewhat a beginner sugar baby; sleeping with older men for money. But honestly the money was a cherry on top for you.

Wade caught you walking a man out one morning before he went to work himself and completely scared him off with his usual eccentric antics. You quickly explained to him after the man ran off that he wasn’t hurting you, that you let him in.

“Ohhh, so you like fucking dilfs?”

“Why are you always so crude with how you talk, geez-“

“Hey, you know risqué humor is my thing! Literally Deadpool’s staple! How else will i keep my viewers entertained during my filler episodes?” He put his hands on his hips but you just looked at him wildly confused.

From that day forward though he always finds a way to bring it up.

You could tell his new roomate, or whoever that was, wasn’t too well off. You had a way of noticing of an older man has wealth or not. But it was okay. You made enough at the bar to pay for rent, the money from being a sugar babe was just extra.

Although, the extra money did help you finally buy a car so Wade didn’t have to keep dropping you off while also blasting ridiculous music on purpose.

After you saw the older man, you made numerous efforts to see him again. You tried to watch and see if he had some kind of routine. He didn’t. You did catching smoking cigars in the evening, before it got too dark.

So that’s when you emerged from your apartment. Doing anything. Sweeping by your front door, taking laundry to the laundry room, pretending you were on the phone or just walking downstairs. It was kind of pathetic.

One evening, you heard Wade’s door opening and closing, knew it was him. Your newest obsession. You threw on a crop top and some loose pajama shorts that kinda rode up and grabbed your laundry basket. There wasn’t much in it so you just threw some clean clothes in and walked out.

As you passed him you just said, “Good evening..”

While he did acknowledge you by glancing your way, he just grumbled. But you still melted inside. Oh, this would be a hard fish to catch but that made it so much more worth it.

You needed him.

Little did you know, Wade was watching you too. Through the peep hole of his own door of course to not make himself obvious.

When you came back to your apartment door with the basket, Wade was already outside it. Like head waiting for you.

“Oh, hey-“

“Don’t hey me missy-“ Wade said as he walked up to you, head tilted. “Don’t think i don’t see what you’re trying to do..”

You blushed. Did he know? You decided to try and play it off.

“What do you mean? Do what?”

A snort. “I’ve seen how you’ve been ogling my wolvie. I know that look.”

“Wolvie? You mean your new roommate?”

“Obviouslyyy, sista. I saw him first! Finders keepers!”

You give up. Why fight it. “I’m sorry. He just so..i mean where did you fine him?”

“Trust me, he’s from out of this world.”

He winked as you tilt your head now, not knowing how truthful he’s being since it’s normally a hit or miss with Wade. “Look- just don’t tell him…okay? It’ll be so embarrassing.”

“You’ve already embarrassed yourself.” He points at your basket. “You wash your clothes without detergent? He already peeped that. Asked me if it’s provided in the room and whatever. That’s when i knew what was happening.”

You felt your face get hot as you realized he was right.

“Look, if you wanted me to hook you guys up why didn’t you just ask? I know he’s your type. Hot daddy and all. Sharing is caring I guess… Plus, he really needs some pussy. That guy is pent up!”

“Wadeee!” You whine embarrassed even more. He was being too loud..

“What? Let me work my magic. Here, i already have a great idea…”

An enticing offer. You listen as he tells you his master plan to helping you get what you want.

You spray on some perfume behind your ears and on your neck as you look yourself in the mirror. You wore a f/c backless satin dress and some simple jewelry.

As you reached for your lipstick you heard a knock at your door. You opened it expecting Wade but instead saw…

“Hey. …Um. Wade told me he left something here and i’m just here to get it.” The gruff looking man looked over your figure. Noticing how the color of your dress complimented your darker skin. How your eyes looked up into his innocently through your lashes.

“Oh, yeah yeah sure. Come on in and i’ll get it.” You step to the side as he hesitantly walked in. “Shouldn’t be long.”

As you closed the door, the man continues to stare at you.

“What’s the occasion?” He asked sitting on your couch. You noticed his manspread and felt your heart skip a beat.

“Oh, nothing too crazy…just meeting some guy.” You winked.

“Must be a damn lucky guy…I mean..”

“Oh, it’s okay…thank you.” You pretend to look around a bookshelf to this thing Wade “forgot”. It was hard not to slightly tremble under this man’s intense stare. He was different from other older guys. He looked at you like he was somewhat hungry.

“Hm, i must’ve misplaced it..do you have time?”

He just nods.

He looked at the couple of lit candles you had in your living room, setting a calm almost romantic atmosphere.

As you continue to “look” around you broke the ice.

“Um, so..how’d you meet Wade anyways?” You turn to look at him who you noticed was probably staring at your behind.

“Longggg story. H’bout you?”

“Just my crazy neighbor. Had him dropping me off at work before i had a car.”

“Mhm. Mind if i light?” He asked grabbing a cigar and lighter from his pocket. You didn’t mind because it’s was him so you just said yes but anyone else would’ve gotten a hard ass no.

As he lights it and takes his first puff he mumbled, “Heard a lot about you..”

Oh? What could Wade have possibly done now.

“Oh? Like what?”

He chuckled. Smirked at you and said, “You have a thing for older guys?”

Another puff.

You freeze. Damn it. Why would tell him anything like that? How could this be part of the plan?

“Um, well…”

“Bit scandalous, don’t you think? Pretty young thing like you…getting with old men. Y’think they deserve you?” His lids lower. It’s a lustful stare. You could tell form a mile away.

“Maybe…maybe the lucky ones..” You slowly approach him. He rubs his thigh. He was just in a robe again but as he sat it only covered up to this mid thigh. Almost leaving little to the imagination.

“W’daya consider lucky, hm?”

“Maybe the ones that make it inside my apartment.“

He takes another drag from his cigar as he reaches for your hand and pulls you into his lap. “Yeah? So am i lucky then?”

You nod as you blush at the new closeness. His hand rests on your back slowly moving up and down. There’s some movement under his robe, a tent forming.

“There’s no guy….is there? Unless…” He takes the cigar out after puffing one more time. “Unless it’s me. Hmm?~”

You bite your lip as his other hand goes to the other side of your back. He holds you in place as he licks his lips. The smell of cigar smoke, his hand placement, him. All so intoxicating. You start to squirm in his grasp wanting any kind of friction.

“Aht, aht- We have all night, baby. I want to enjoy this.”

You eye his salt and pepper beard and his chest hair that was the same colors. Another small detail about older guys you absolutely loved.

“What’s your name, doll?” He whispered.

“Y/n…what’s yours?”

“You’ve been lusting for me but you don’t even know my name?”

You look down slightly embarrassed but hear him say, “Logan.”

“Logan..” you quietly repeat. “Can i kiss you Logan?”

You rest a hand on his cheek, feeling the roughness of his beard hair, staring into his hazel eyes. God, do you want to ride that nose.

He nodded as you quickly leaned in. Soft lips against his slightly chapped ones. You moan as you shift on top of his hard-on under his robe. He groans and holds you in place.

“Baby, i won’t be able to control myself if you keep that up.” He warned.

“Good.” It’s all you say as you pull the dress off. You wore nothing underneath which took Logan by surprise. Your soft looking brown skin being lit up by the sunlight peeking through the window turned him on even more which he thought was impossible. He took you in. Eyes looking over every curve.

“Fuck.” Was all he could say.

His hands travel to your breasts, squeezing a bit. It was then he felt the wetness on his thigh as you mindlessly rode his thigh. His hands traveled back down, over your stomach and hips. One stayed while the other made its way south between your legs.

You gasp as he teases your clit, gathering some slight accumulated there. Gazing at it he muttered, “So wet for me already…I could smell you a mile away…”

You bit your lip and rode his thigh even more as you watched him lick his finger. A deep groan emitted from him as he undid the sash holding together the robe and revealed himself to you. He was definitely fit for his age. And also covered in hair, chest to…well that. You noticed it was thicker than average. Girthy. An angry vein you noticed next to his happy trail, going right to it. The deep rose tip leaked and leaked.

You never wanted to suck a dick so bad in your life.

He reached down between your legs again as he explored your slick folds. You moaned as he teased your entrance, maintaining eye contact the entire time. As he slipped inside, you rested your head against his shoulder and whined. Slowly you reached for his dick and started jerking him off to the same rhythm he fingered you.

Silently, this went on for a few minutes. The room filled with moaning and groaning and slick sounds but stopped as you felt yourself getting close. You clenched around his middle finger, whining at a higher pitch as he pulled out quickly.

“Why?” You cried.

“I wanna feel that on my cock.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he said that, you let go of him and he positioned you over his tip.

One unspoken look of “Are you sure/ready?” and you nodded immediately.

He slowly lowered you down as he stretched you out. It burned. Not horribly. Almost a good burn but still regardless a burn paired with a stretch. Definitely the thickest you’ve ever had.

You squeezed his shoulders as he stopped and looked over your face for any sign of pain or wanting to quit. You muttered a “M’fine.” And he stilled waiting for a cue to continue.

The gentleness only turning you on more, getting you even more wet. As the pain subsided and you got used to his size, you nodded. He started again but slowly. Hands squeezing your ass as he moved you up and down and up and down…

The pleasure was incredible as you moaned loudly quickly not caring who could hear you. His pace quickened hearing this, groaning and growling almost animalistically.

Skin-slapping and squishing sounds filled you guys ears as he continued thrusting.

A slap on the ass got you to look at him and gasp playfully. The pain made you squeeze his length for a second as he growled and grunted at you to squeeze him again and again.

Once he heard his name coming out your mouth like a broken record he knew you were close.

“That’s it baby. Go ahead, cum on my cock. Fuck-”

He says it into your ear as he quickened the pace even more getting rougher. A few seconds later you’re trembling intensely as you crawled out his name one more time. You secretly loved this part. It was like nothing else mattered. Pure euphoria.

“Ah, fuck. Good girl. Good, good…” His pace starts to get out of rhythm as he nears his own orgasm.

As you plop onto his shoulder he finishes too, warm spurts filling you and coating your walls. You noted to force Wade to get you a plan b later as you both panted and huffed.

“Fuck, i needed that.” Logan says out of breath. “This is the one good thing that idiot did for me.”

Puzzled you looked up. “So he told you about the plan too?”

“Too?”

Then all of a sudden you hear clapping coming from outside your door.

“Bravo! Bravo! I have never heard a better fuck session in my life! And that, is saying something coming from me!”

It was Wade.

“Did he just listen to us have sex????” You say annoyed but definitely not surprised. “Wow, Wade.”

“Motherfucker. I’m gonna kill him.” Logan muttered.

“Yeah, sure, kill the guy who finally got you some freaking puss! You shouldddd be thanking me you ungrateful hairball!”

Logan rolled his eyes, he pulled out of you completely soft now as you whined at the emptiness.

You grabbed a towel you had nearby and started to wipe yourself and Logan off.

A minute of resting later you said, “We should thank him by the way. You are pretty good.” You whispered as he got up and put the robe sash back on, tying it.

“Hm.” Was all he said. You threw the dress back on and walked him to the door.

Just before he opened it he looked at you again.

He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out what to say.

“Wanna make a this a weekly thing?” You smiled.

“Sure. But i wanna do more than jus’ fuck you, princess.”

You blush. “Oh..okay. Friday? 7?”

He nodded and opened the door. Wade was still there.

“Fuck out the way, Wade.” He grumbled.

“Hey! Where’s my thank you? On top of all else, i got you a date!” Wade crossed his arms but Logan just pushed past him, rolling his eyes, cussing at him once more and walked to their apartment door. “Can you believe him??!”

You laughed and thanked Wade. Once Logan was inside the apartment you whispered to him, “Oh, and by the way, you owe me a plan b. Like, now.”

“What?! Did he- inside?!?” Wade pushed your shoulder playfully. “I’m not surprised with him but with you?! Don’t you know about wrapping it up?! So irresponsible!”

“Whatever, Wade. Come on.”

“Okay, just wait here, i’ll go grab my keys.” Wade said before running over to the door and running inside.

As you watched him run inside you leaned on the wall and sighed. Already reminiscing about your time with Logan. Wade came back out with keys and wallet in hand.

As you guys walked out the complex he immediately said, “Okay, now you have to tell me all about it. Don’t spare details!”

“Wade!-” You started.

“You thinking i can’t handle it?!”

You laughed as you guys walked to the corner store and started tell Wade all the details about your evening with Logan.

[ceilidho]

prompt: im also thinking of a very bad fic where ghost is taken pow for awhile and it fucks him up and he’s forced to see a therapist when he’s rescued but he’d rather use her p[] as therapy instead. tags: nsfw, implied/not described violence, slight dubcon, unprofessional relationship lol

-

It isn’t serendipitous that you meet; it comes because of a lot of bad luck and malevolence. 

He’s captured during a routine surveillance mission and spends three months as a POW in some shed in the Ural mountains. He comes back different. That’s to be expected. Trauma is an insidious thing that takes root under the skin, that twists and turns even in the dead of night. It’s a tunnel that gets tighter as you walk through it. It would be concerning if he didn’t come back that way. 

You know far too many gory details to ever feel truly comfortable around him. Not because of anything he’s done but because you can’t help the way the narrative builds in your mind when you look across the room at him. Even sitting on the prim and proper little sectional in your office, his body too big for the cozy little couch you picked up from some upscale boutique with your government paycheck, you can’t help but mythologize him. 

The official story is that four men were found dead when Simon Riley was finally extracted from the shed-turned-torture-room six months ago due to a bacterial infection that, luckily, Simon was not exposed to. The story’s flimsy even to your untrained ears; you may not have gone to medical school, but it just seems too perfect, too impeccable. When you push your superior for the truth, the look you get and the quiet “leave it alone” tells you far more than your paygrade deserves. 

Even knowing what you know, he shows up day one with the skull balaclava like some bone fortress that tells you before you even try, I am unknowable. You can try to cut me up and look inside, but this is all you’ll find—bone and bone and more bone.

He’s remarkably resistant to therapy, which is also to be expected; you aren’t at the stage in your career where you’re surprised that a man entrenched in the machinery of militarism won’t acquiesce to talk therapy. 

There’s a point where you want to try a new tactic, something to get to the root of what he’s hiding from you. So, you poke at it. You ask him to give you a five-minute account of the traumatic event, something that took place in the shed. 

“Which of those events do you dislike thinking about the most?” Your pen is poised over the pad in your lap. 

He raises a brow so high up that it disappears behind the mask. “How could I pick just one?”

His voice rumbles like tires over gravel. Sometimes your leg jitters when he speaks and it’s not your fault. You shut it down though because this is not a legend in front of you but a man, and you are in this room with him for a very specific purpose that does not include finding the sound of his voice attractive. 

You ask him again: “Which comes to mind first?”

Simon doesn’t answer you, but there’s a flash like quicksilver across his eyes and you catch it not because you’re looking but because he lets you. 

He shifts forward in his chair so that his elbows are propped on his knees and he’s leaning forward, closer to you than you’re comfortable with. You didn’t think to put a coffee table between the two of you. With other vets and active personnel, it’s easier without the sense of distance; makes them feel closer to you, vulnerable because it’s just skin, oxygen, and skin. 

With Simon, you get the sense that distance might be better. 

“What comes to mind first is that it was dark and I could smell the blood. I could taste it. But I couldn’t see it.” He doesn’t blink for as long as he speaks. You try not to let your breath shorten; you feel hungry for his truth the way a wolf hungers for the moon. “And it was dark and I could smell it; it was in my throat because I knew it was the only way out of there. I realized in that room that there is no righteous path but the one you take.”

Simon leans so far forward that his body glides up to stand and the pencil trembles in your hand when he takes a step close. He’s bigger looming over you, all brawn in the way military men often are, but sleek in his movements. You think of snakes or panthers. 

He breathes in. “You smell good though, love. Do you think we could start there instead?”

You open your mouth to reply, maybe even tell him to sit down so you can approach the question from a different angle, but then he’s on you, quick as he must have been that night. One big callused hand over your mouth and one knee on the couch, his other hand reaching up to pull the mask below his nose. You feel the warm press of it into the side of your neck and try not to struggle.

His breath shudders across your skin. You shake because you feel all the bone hidden beneath his frame now.

Simon’s hand is rough when it slides up your shirt. Pretty pearl buttons go flying; one rolls under the prim and proper couch. You only struggle for the first couple of seconds before professionalism melts away like a fine mist. Like you can do anything but look at him like a revelation. You stare at the pearl beneath the couch when he fucks you, legs split around his waist and you know it’s going to hurt in the morning. 

“If I’d known that you were waiting for me while I was in there,” he breathes, sonorous and rich, mask rolled up over lips bisected by a puckered scar, “I would have torn out their throats much more eagerly.”

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Bad Habits Are Hard to Break When I'm With You.

Thomas Shelby x reader

Author's note: what is my obsession with Tommy having a mistress? 😭

Masterlists

Summary: Thomas can't seem to stay away from his wife's new friend, and even if he could, neither of them would want him to.

Warnings: SMUT/NSFW, angst, infidelity

She’s like a bad habit- the worst of them. He could drink himself to oblivion, smoke until his lungs turn to marsh and drown his system with opium and she'd still be the worst habit- the worst addiction- he has. Thomas doesn’t recognize himself when he’s around her; it's like she enters a room and he’s entranced.

Under the control of a siren song or some enchantment.

She ruins him, makes a mess of him. Because Thomas thinks that even when she isn’t around, he’s completely and utterly in ruins at the thought of her. Her. Y/n. A recent friend of Lizzie’s, the object of his wildest and most lewd fantasies. He never even had time to be perplexed by the odd pair they made before being totally consumed by the very thought of her; Y/n, her expensive education and even more expensive London apartment and Lizzie, who he knows is only still married to him out of convenience. At this point, he can’t even remember where or how Lizzie met her, just that she was in his drawing room one day, sipping gin and wearing lips so red that he swore they’d been painted with the juices of fresh, spring berries.

Since then, he’s kissed those lips. Tasted their sweetness, been intoxicated by their saccharine flavor.

And his wife hasn’t suspected a damn thing- at least, he thinks she hasn’t. If she has, Thomas hasn’t noticed, and that may be because his interests have been lying elsewhere.

And now he’s sitting so close to her that he swears that her perfume floods his senses with every inhale. Thomas knows that he can just reach over and lay his hand on her thigh, but what kind of husband does that right in front of his wife? The worst kind. Thomas knows that he’s probably amongst the worst of the worst, the type that would reach over and splay his hand under Y/n’s skirt while they dined with Lizzie but Y/n is as good of a friend as she can be given the circumstances and would give him an earful if he did something like that.

So he’ll keep his hands above table and try to contain himself for as long as necessary.

Dinner seems to drag on, though. There’s an eternity between the moment the first drink is laid before them to the moment Francis announces that dessert will be served shortly. Thomas swears that he’s gone gray by the time the meal is over, and by then, the tension is enough to stifle him.

“Oh, Tommy,” Lizzie knocks off the ash from her cigarette, “I forgot to mention, Y/n is staying over tonight. The drive back to her place is so long, and her driver asked for the rest of the night off.”

“I hope it's no imposition,” Y/n interjects after a long sip of her wine, and the sparkle in her eyes when she says it is telling of something more. Of course, Thomas already knows she’ll be staying over, she’d already detailed her and Lizzie’s arrangement to him when they saw each other the day before, at a hotel in the city, where four walls had cocooned them for a few precious hours. “My driver is taking his wife to dinner for her birthday, but if its any trouble, I can try to make other arrangements.”

“No trouble,” Thomas shrugs, holding her gaze, “Anything for a….friend of my wife.”

At that, Lizzie scoffs a chuckle, “Well that’s a first,” she jokes brashly, polishing off her wine before reaching over to pour herself another glass.

Y/n chuckles too, and the sound is so melodious that he thinks he’s never heard something sweeter, “I must be special then,” she teases.

In response, Thomas huffs, and its only because he can’t say anything that won’t give them away. But in truth, Y/n is special; she’s the first woman to ever make his knees feel like they’re buckling every time with just a look, he has to pocket balled fists when he’s around her just so the tension coursing through his body has somewhere to go and he hangs on to every word she says.

She’s the only reason he’s still at that table; he and Lizzie rarely have dinner together, much less drinks afterwards. But Thomas can’t stand to let Y/n out of his sights. He wants to see the way her lips stain those minty, imported cigarettes that she enjoys and be privy to those moments when she casually runs her fingers along her collarbone.

It's possible that she’s worse than an addiction - Y/n is an obsession, and he is nothing but a fiend.

The rest of their quiet evening passes with her and Lizzie dominating the conversation, with Thomas only enduring the whole thing so he can be in Y/n’s orbit. Afterward, they separate; Lizzie decides to show Y/n to her room, and he steals away to his office under the guise of having to work. Though, while there are a series of documents that require his attention, it's impossible for Thomas to focus while she’s in the room over his head. Probably peeling off that stunning silk dress, exposing ample breasts and perfect curves while the smooth fabric skims down thighs that he’s tasted the inside of and legs that have locked around his hips more times than he can count. And because of that, the excuse of having to work is just that, an excuse. A way to bide time until he’s certain that Lizzie is their room, hopefully deep in a wine induced slumber.

When the house finally goes still, Thomas deserts his suit coat and heads upstairs, passing his own bedroom and pausing in front of the guest room where the yellow glow of a lamp seeps out from under the door. Without knocking, he turns the knob and pushes the door open slowly, hoping to quiet the pesky creek that accompanies the motion.

Thomas finds Y/n on a chair near the window, which she has opened. The tall lamp is positioned over her shoulder, and in her hands, she clutches a novel with a name he doesn’t recognize past the title being obviously in French. “What’re you readin’ eh?”

Marking her page, she sets the book down in her lap, freeing the view of her chest, clad in a rayon nightie that doesn’t do much to hide the fact that she isn’t wearing a bra. “A book. It's French.” Y/n hums.

“I can tell,” He huffs, and Y/n laughs softly.

Deserting the chair, she stands and proceeds to cross the floor. Her steps are practically inaudible on the lacquered floors, possibly because she isn’t wearing shoes. “Its……romantic, in its own way,” when she reaches him, Y/n looms her arms around his neck and Thomas instinctively takes firm hold of her hips, the warmth of her skin permeating the thin fabric. “You wouldn't get it.”

“Callin’ me stupid?” Thomas arches a brow.

Y/n giggles, a sound so thrilling that Thomas struggles to not come apart right there. “Oh, I would never,” the tips of her fingers caress his nape so gently that they feel like butterfly wings beating against his skin. “It's about the devil. And a man.”

Thomas searches her eyes, “And what does the devil do to the man, eh?”

“Falls in love with him. Follows him around disguised as a woman and tries to seduce him,” Y/n offers simply, and Thomas pauses, “It reminds me of us,” she adds in a more hushed tone.

He squints a little, trying to understand what she could possibly be trying to say, “Why? Am I the man or the devil?”

At that, she laughs a little louder, “Well you're hardly a virgin boy,” leaning into him a bit more, Y/n continues, inching her lips closer and lowering her tone, breath fanning his neck, “Perhaps we're both the devil.”

“Oui,” he offers humorously, Burmie accent muddling his pronunciation.

Licking her lips, she stands on her toes to bring them closer to his, and at this point, her breasts are pressed firmly to his chest, “Mon cher Belzébuth, je t'adore,” (my dear Beelzebub, I adore you). Y/n’s accent is the perfect product of a well-educated and widely traveled woman, and he can practically taste her words as they send the most pleasurable tingle up the center of his back.

“Maybe I should read that book,” Thomas suggests.

Y/n’s hand starts creeping downwards, first grazing his shoulder, then his chest, passing over his stomach before finally settling on the bulge in his trousers. There must be a spark when her fingers curl against him because that would be the only reason for the hitch of his breath. “Perhaps you should do something else,” she gives him a purposeful squeeze, and Thomas mirrors the motion by tightening his grip on her hips.

“Yeah?” He rasps, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Yes,” Y/n hisses. His lips come down on hers, and she readily relinquishes control. Her mouth is, just as he remembers, soft and warm. Y/n’s lips are sweet from the wine and he can taste the mint from her last cigarette. When he curls his fingers around the back of her thighs, hoisting her up into his arms, she gasps.

“You never said if I was special,” her breathy words punctuate their hungry kisses.

“Really?” He breathes, walking forward until her back hits the nearest wall, eliciting a soft ‘omph’. “Well sweetheart, let me show you.”

Caressing his nape, Y/n bucks her hips, “Please.”

Securing her against the wall, Thomas shoves the hem of her nightie up Y/n’s thighs, feeling the contrast of her warm, silky skin under his rough, calloused fingers. “All night,” he rasps between fervent, open-mouthed kisses, “You’ve been a fuckin’ distraction,” he squeezes her hips so tightly that his fingers might leave bruises, “What are you doin’ to me woman? Eh?” He groans when she bites his lower lips, “You’re a fuckin’ drug.”

If there's anything worse than opium, it's probably her.

Y/n giggles softly, “Am I now? Drugs are intoxicating.”

In his arms, he carries Y/n over to the bed, unceremoniously dropping her onto the perfectly made sheets. Clamoring onto the mattress, Thomas quickly positions himself between her spread legs and undoes his shirt, casting it off to the side before leaning over her, so their faces are a mere inch apart. “So are you,” he smirks, sealing his words off with a searing kiss.

“Thomas,” Y/n croons when his lips travel to the column of her neck, hips bucking towards his in an unspoken plea. His response is a low hum as he nibbles on her skin. “Please,” she begs again, and he revels in her insistence; he’s had women long for him, but its different with Y/n. With Y/n, everything else fades to black, and they’re the only two people in the world. With Y/n, his reciprocated desire for her will always doubled;

No person has ever longed for another the way he yearns for Y/n.

“Patience,” he teases, hands taking their time as they appreciate the topography of her curves. By now, he can probably draw a map of her from memory; Thomas has a million pictures of her stowed in his mind and his fingers know the shape of her even when she isn’t in the room. There isn’t another body- or anything else- that he’s committed so well.

He can single out her laugh in a sea of chatter. Smell her perfume the minute she walks into a room filled with fragrant flowers.

Y/n’s glossy, burgundy nails dig into his back, leaving crescent shaped marks in their wake, while her bare heels press into his thighs. When Thomas’ lips reach her chest, he sucks purplish bruises into the swell of her breasts causing goosebumps to litter her otherwise silky skin.

His own desire strains against the rough fabric of his trousers, making them so tight that its hard to ignore. But Thomas’s determination to prolong his time with her triumphs all else; it's always been so peculiar to him, how half the pleasure of being with her came from just being with her. In her orbit, knowing she’s in the same room with him, touching him - choosing him when millions of other men would probably fall at her feet at a moment’s notice.

“Thomas,” she croons when he pushes her night dress up so his kisses can travel to the plane of her stomach. His fingers maintain a white knuckled grip on the fabric, and its probably the only thing keeping him sane enough to completely debauch her.

“Mmm?” he hums, mouth lingering right above her public bone, “Tell me what you want, darling.”

“You,” Y/n heaves, hips lifting off the bed, only for Thomas to force them down with a bruising grip. Her fingers, lithe and warm, thread through his hair, “I just want you.”

After peppering a series of feather-light kisses to the inside of her thighs, he works his way up her body again, eventually peeling the fabric over her head. “What?” She breathes when Thomas pauses, one elbow sunken into the mattress, holding him up over her while he cups her cheek with his free hand. He marvels at the softness of her skin beneath his touch, the way it feels like she's been conjured up by some combination of Japanese silk and gypsy magic. With every exhale, he can feel the tops of her bare breasts touching his chest, and Thomas can taste the wine from earlier on her breath.

She's real, she tangible, she's there.

And yet, most times, he can't believe that she's in his life.

“I'd do anythin’ for you, you know that?” He'd kill for her - he'd live for her.

His words make Y/n smile a little, that little twist of her full lips that makes his heart tick a little quicker. “What a politician you are,” reaching up, Y/n's thumb gently caresses the scar near his eye.

There's a little voice in his head that aches to argue; he would never use that hollow, politician's charm on her. He can't. Her eyes make it difficult to lie to her. But he's too concerned with….other endeavors to try to change her mind. Instead of arguing, Thomas catches her lips in a heady kiss, while Y/n clumsily reaches between them to undo his trousers, before using the front of her feet to shove them, along with his pants, down his legs

Unable to hold himself back for any longer, Thomas lines himself up with her entrance and pushes in. There's a moment of euphoria; a low groan that probably filters out of the room and a lewd moan that makes no effort to hide what they're doing.

Simply put, she feels like the closest to heaven he’ll ever get, and Thomas is perfectly fine with that.

If her body is the pearly gates, if her lips are Eden's fruit. If her fingers tracing patterns on his skin is grace from a god that has otherwise forgotten him, Thomas will take it with pleasure. In fact, he'll pray for it. To it.

“Fuck,” Thomas grunts, stirring a rough, albeit controlled, rhythm. With one arm curled around his back and the other hand clinging to his shoulder, Y/n presses her face to the side of Thomas’, alternating between kissing his jaw and drawing in audible, hitched breaths. The little noises that he’s able to extract never fails to inch him closer to release.

Simultaneously, the feel of him filling her up so well that it almost burns is exhilarating. Y/n can feel every vein running along his shaft, and each stroke ensures that Thomas hits the perfect spot. The friction he creates with each thrust makes her toes curl tightly and her hips reach for his, eager to match his pace.

Dragging her nails along his back, they tickle his nape before settling on the top of his head, so she can thread her fingers through his hair. “Thomas…..” she pants, breathless, “I'm-”

He doesn't let her finish, instead snatching her lips in a searing kiss. Her skin is hot, and Y/n’s legs, still wound around his hips, start tightening. Her vision goes white and her mind is reduced to a muddled mess when it happens;

Complete and unparalleled bliss.

No one can make her feel what Thomas does, wield her body the way he does.

Their mouths are still locked when she moans softly and he feels her walls clench around him.

Thomas’ strained grunt is accompanied by the rhythmic roll of his hips lapsing into harsh, jerked movements. Sliding his free hand down her side, he takes a bruising hold of her waist. He can feel her body quaking while his goes rigid. His ragged breaths tumble into her mouth between messy kisses and noses pressed together. As Thomas pours himself into her, every sound she makes is amplified, panting that matches the heavy rise and fall of his chest, the pitch in her inhale at the moment her back curves gracefully, and the slow rustle of sheets as she gives them a grounding tug.

Spent, Thomas gingerly detaches himself from Y/n and rolls onto his back, but not without his arm curled around her shoulders. She settles in the space between his arm and chest and stretches her arm out to drape it across his mid. He raises his hand to lazily thread his stocky fingers through her hair, and her eyes slip shut at the comforting sensation.

Oh, the things she’d give to fall asleep like that every night.

They stay tangled up like that for a while, but still not for nearly as long as either of them would prefer. The clock, in some odd corner of Thomas’ vast abode eventually reminds them of the late hour at the stroke of midnight, its familiar sound traveling to even the home’s most private quarters. With a sigh, Y/n shifts and presses her forehead to his side, “You should go,” she whispers.

Thomas’ response isn’t much, a rough hum of acknowledgement and his fingers trailing from her hair to stroke the center of her back. The pads of his fingers aren’t anything akin to the men that she usually surrounds herself with, they’re harsh and worn from having clawed their way out of Small Heath – and fighting to stay out.

“Go to sleep,” he eventually rasps, and she feels his lips on the top of her head for a moment. Y/n wants to protest; she likes to be awake when he leaves, if only so she can savor every last second of his presence. Soak him up, sear the image of him into her mind lest it be the last time she lays her eyes on him.

Because what they share is so fragile and so marred by recklessness and immorality that its a wonder its lasted so long.

Perhaps they're lucky. Or just too selfish to habour even a thread of guilt.

Thomas, on the other hand, usually prefers to slip away when Y/n is asleep. It's easier, he thinks, not having her arms tight around him when he reluctantly deserts her embrace, not having to look at her as he inches the door shut. He can maintain apathy when her hold is limp and her hair has fallen over her face; he can pretend she’s just another tryst and not the woman who has completely beguiled him. The one he’d swear himself to at a moment’s notice.

“Go,” Y/n urges after a stretch of steady, comfortable silence, “before she goes looking for you.”

Instead of making a move to get out of the bed, Thomas tightens his embrace, “I don’t care,” he returns in the same hushed tone, “let her look.” Let her do whatever she wants, its not like their marriage can get any worse than it already is.

“I care,” Y/n sits up, pulling the sheets over her chest. Freeing one of her hands, she touches the side of his face, and Thomas leans into her palm, “Lizzie is my friend. She’s a good friend.”

Licking his lips, Thomas sits up against the headboard, “if I told you to choose, would you?”

Y/n searches his eyes, trying to determine how serious he’s being. “In a heartbeat,” she promises earnestly, tipping her chin slightly before leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips. She pulls away before Thomas can deepen it, but his fingers return to her hair, keeping her face close to his. “But you don’t want that.”

“You always know what I want, eh,” Thomas scoffs sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “I should go,” he determines, fingers curling in her hair slightly. When they kiss again, Y/n drops the blanket, pressing one hand to the center of his chest while her other lingers on his face. His arm goes around her back against, hand splayed on the center in a bid to keep her close. The kiss is deep and quickly devolves to a messy affair. His tongue slips past her teeth, exploring her mouth, and she's melting into him.

Neither of them are sure who pulls away first, but the moment is taunt with painful reluctance. His hand leaves her hair so Thomas can ghost his thumb over her plump, lower lip. “I should go,” he determines again, and Y/n shuffles away so he can get out of bed. Slumping against the tufted headboard, she watches as he gets dressed, pulling on articles of clothing as he finds them, before finally collecting his shoes in his hand. He doesn’t say anything as he leaves. In fact, Thomas doesn’t even look at her; he thinks if he does before he gets to the door, he simply won’t leave.

“Goodnight, Tom,” Y/n offers softly as he eases the door open, careful to not let it creak.

When he’s safely in the corridor, he peers at her through the four inch crack, “‘Night, Y/n.” He swears her eyes tun glassy as she holds his gaze, but he can’t be sure that isn’t just his hope that she wants him to stay as much as he wants to.

The door is finally shut with the most subtle of clicks, and Thomas spends the next handful of seconds staring up the hall, checking that the door to the master bedroom doesn’t open. It's really for Y/n, because he’s been on the receiving end of Lizzie’s threats long enough for them to roll off his back. Satisfied that he's in the clear, Thomas offers the door to the guest room one final, backwards glance before setting off on quiet steps, practically forcing himself to press forward.

There's a hollowness residing within him that yawns wider every time he leaves her, like a grave that gets deeper or a valley that stretches open. It's almost as if Y/n fills and overfills that gaping emptiness within him, and then, when she’s gone again, Thomas is worse off than before.

He needs her more than he did before.

Gripping shoes a little tighter, he summons the same resolve that kept him alive in the tunnels, and trudges to his room. The walk towards his room is long, and he swears he may need blinders, the type riders put on horses, to stop him from looking back. He just wants to see if she’s poking her head out of the room, the way she watches from the window when he leaves her flat. While he doesn’t think he can bear her eyes tonight, Thomas doesn’t want to miss the chance to look into them one more time, either.

When Thomas finally gets to the master bedroom, just as he opens the door, he gives in. He looks – but she isn’t there. Instead, he catches a glimpse of the door being pulled shut, the soft click echoing off soaring walls.

She’s gone, and now he must wait. For the next fix. The next hit. The next time she’s willing to lend him her time.