#this is the thing I wrote a lot of tipsy

[stllmnstr]

easy mode

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: brother's best friend au

word count: 2.9k

warnings: not explicit but veeeery suggestive, alcohol consumption, swearing, lots and lots of jealousy aka very bthb coded

note: Another reupload! I wrote another ~3k of sacred monsters today and saw this in my drafts and realized I never posted it. If you read it before, I hope you like it just as much! If you haven't, I hope you enjoy!

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Lee Heeseung likes to do things the easy way. 

It’s not that he’s lazy, just... efficient. A fan of the path of least resistance. He knows how to pick his battles and does so sparingly. 

Heeseung minds his own business, keeps his eyes on the path in front of him and rarely lets them stray. And he definitely, definitely never pokes his nose into other people’s problems. 

It’s a philosophy that keeps his head on straight, that allows his friendships to remain low-maintenance and sans drama. It’s what’s kept Jay at his side for the last fifteen years, even through the trials and tribulations of elementary school playground altercations, puberty-fueled fights in the middle school locker room, and most recently, the frustrating misalignment of their post-graduation work schedules. 

Four years ago, Heeseung thought a bachelor’s degree would be his ticket to success, not a soul-sucking nine-to-five that leaves him itching for a drink or three most Friday nights. Luckily for him, Jay’s in the same boat. 

But tonight, sitting next to his best friend on his favorite slightly wobbly bar stool, Heeseung almost misses the monotony of their usual Friday evening happy hours. 

He’s nursing his third beer, which would usually go down like cold water, even though time and tipsiness have turned it lukewarm. Tonight, though, Heeseung’s eyes keep wandering towards the same corner table just over Jay’s shoulder. 

And every time they do, the muscle in his jaw strains a little further. The beer on his tongue tastes a little more bitter. 

Heeseung hates making things complicated. He doesn’t get involved. He doesn’t. But–

“Are you gonna do something about that?”

On the adjacent bar stool, Jay glances at Heeseung. “About what?” 

Heeseung just keeps his eyes trained on that table, that spot over Jay’s shoulder. 

Picking up on the hint even through the pleasant haze in his mind, Jay turns his gaze to follow Heeseung’s nonverbal cue. It takes him only a matter of seconds to locate what has his best friend in such a mood. Or rather, who. Although Jay isn’t quite sure why. 

He’s digging for clarification when he looks back at his friend. “What do you mean? Did she do something weird?” It wouldn’t be exactly unlike his younger sister to do something slightly embarrassing in public. 

Heeseung’s jaw just tightens further, betraying annoyance. Finally, he puts words to his irritation, saves Jay from his suspense. “You’re gonna let that idiot put his hands all over your little sister in the middle of the bar?”

Jay frowns, turns over his shoulder once again to make sure he isn’t seeing things. 

He’s not. From this angle, at least, Sunghoon’s hands are at a perfectly respectable distance from you. Not that Jay could do much about it either way. 

He tells Heeseung as much. “What am I supposed to do? Drag her out by her ear and force her to join a convent? Ship her off to a girls only boarding school?” 

Jay laughs humorlessly. He’s not exactly thrilled that you and your friends chose to patronize the same bar as him and Heeseung tonight, but he doesn’t want to linger on it either. In fact, he doesn’t want to do anything but forget his woes this evening, drown his sorrows in overpriced pints of whatever’s on tap. 

He’s perfectly happy with his back turned towards you. Out of sight, out of mind and all that. “She’s twenty-two.”

And that wasn’t what Heeseung was suggesting exactly, but now that Jay mentions it…

“You’re okay with Park trying to play tonsil tennis with her then?”

“Dude,” Jay winces, setting his beer down on the bar, stomach suddenly queasy. “Gross. That’s still my little sister.”

Which is exactly the card Heeseung is hoping he’ll play. But all Jay does is sigh. If Heeseung didn’t know better, he’d think the exasperation was directed at him instead of the loser he’s pretty sure is currently trying to make himself Jay’s future brother-in-law. 

Jay checks over his shoulder one final time for good measure. It confirms whatever he’s looking for. Mostly the fact that Park Sunghoon’s lips are too busy cracking mediocre jokes to be making sloppy passes at his sister in public. 

Hoping to put it to rest once and for all, he turns back to Heeseung. “Besides, it’s Sunghoon,” Jay reasons. He finds it in himself to reach for his beer again. “She’s known him since preschool. He’s practically like a second brother to her.” Jay takes a sip, misreading the rise in Heeseung’s agitation as familial affection. Trying to soothe it over, he concedes with a nod, “Or third, I guess. I’ll let you be her second.”

Like always, Heeseung lets it go. He goes with the flow, rolls with the punches. 

Well, at least on the outside. 

But even if he weren’t so committed to never rocking the boat, this is hardly the time or place to correct Jay’s assumptions that his feelings towards you are anything but brotherly. 

That, he decides, will have to be a revelation for another time. Preferably in a situation where Heeseung is well out of arm’s reach and Jay is in restraints of some sort. 

Those, after all, are the only circumstances in which he could ever disclose just how decidedly not brotherly his feelings towards you are. 

In fact, his feelings are a lot more aligned with that stupid game you used to make him play as kids. The one where you put on the white dress you’d gotten from your cousin as a hand-me-down, an assortment of grape juice, finger paint, and pasta sauce stains scattered along the hemline. 

The one where you’d gather a bunch of dandelions from your overgrown backyard and call them a bouquet. 

The one where you’d live out all your grandest six-year-old dreams of walking down the aisle towards a handsome prince with the latest Kidz Bop rendition of whatever love song was most popular on the radio crackling through the cheap speaker you stole from Jay’s bedroom. 

The one where you’d drag Heeseung away from the player number two console, much to Jay’s unending annoyance, and force him to play the part of your groom. Even at six, you were a force to be reckoned with. An argument-winning fiend that even your older brother could rarely best in a fight. 

Heeseung played along, more than anything, because he was scared to face your wrath if he declined. But he’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t feel a little funny in his chest every time he watched you walk down a makeshift aisle made from your mother’s missing tablecloth. 

So no, Heeseung doesn’t give a shit how long you’ve known Sunghoon. After all, what does Sunghoon know about your childhood dream to get married in a garden full of roses? Judging from the way it looks like he keeps trying to get you to take a sip of his drink, he doesn't even know you can’t stand the taste of Coke mixed with liquor. 

But Heeseung knows. He was there the night you developed the aversion. The night you decided bottom shelf tequila and the soda you snuck from your parent’s fridge were your best friends for the evening after junior prom. The night he held your hair and rubbed soothing circles into the skin between your shoulders as it came back up a few hours later. 

And he was there for the rest of it, too. All of the little moments, the big moments, and everything in between that spun the tapestry of your formative years. 

The day you finally got your braces off and didn’t stop smiling for three weeks straight. The time you sprained your ankle trying to hide Jay’s favorite pair of sneakers in the alarmingly tall tree in your backyard. The night you cried for four hours straight when you found out Jake Sim from biology was a big, fat, liar that was indeed texting other girls for homework answers. 

There may have been moments, tangled up in that swirling mix of memories, when Heeseung felt nothing but a brotherly sort of affection for you. A desire to protect you from the world and a distinct sort of pride when he inevitably failed and you rose to the challenge anyway. 

But Heeseung also remembers what it felt like to stand across from you as you recited your six-year-old attempt at recreating marriage vows, and he thinks he never really stood a chance. 

So tonight, glancing over Jay’s shoulder again, Heeseung watches as you lean a little further into Sunghoon, straining to hear him over the cacophony in the bar. 

And the anger he feels in his gut is not brotherly in the slightest. Nor is the red, hot, scalding jealousy that burns his throat every time he forces himself to swallow it down. 

Searching for a distraction, he busies himself with his beer once again, letting Jay’s unwanted evaluations fall to the wayside for the time being. 

Immersed in the dregs of his own despair, he almost misses it. The flash of movement as you slide out from your seat next to Sunghoon. 

His eyes track your movement with the quiet focus of a predator on the hunt, watching as you disappear around the corner. 

Heeseung mumbles some excuse about needing to go to the bathroom that Jay only partially hears before he’s stepping off of his bar stool, beer forgotten on the counter behind him. 

Your footsteps are easy to follow as he traces the predictable path you forge to the opposite corner of the bar. Heeseung’s bathroom excuse was a good one, he’s pleased to discover, once he realizes that’s precisely where he’ll be meeting you. 

The line is long, but it moves quickly. Only a handful of minutes have passed when you emerge again. This time, Heeseung doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t give you the chance to walk back and make him watch you from a distance for the rest of the evening. 

Doesn’t give you the chance to so much as look at Park Sunghoon again. 

Instead, he wraps long fingers around the skin of your wrist, dragging you to the adjacent hallway where it’s empty, quiet. Secluded. Away from any wandering eyes or unwanted ears. 

Any protests of yours are overtaken by surprise, and by the time you finally find them again, they’re replaced by questions. 

Heeseung may be a captain of a steady ship, a firm believer in the merits of smooth sailing, but he’s never been able to resist the urge of liminal spaces like these. Moments with enough plausible deniability that Jay won’t have a reason to give him a bloody nose or threaten his life if he so much as looks at his little sister again. Exchanges that he hopes will linger with you long after the two of you have parted ways. 

Desire for ambiguity aside, the position he puts you in is compromising no matter how you spin it. Your back against the wall, Heeseung leans over you, cages you in like he’s after something other than your answers. 

Something more. 

But the gap between your bodies is deliberate, a way for him to backtrack if the situation calls for it. An escape route if he needs it. He really, really hopes he won’t. 

Your wrist is still in his grip, light but demanding, when he finally says, “Park Sunghoon? Really?”

He can’t help it, the way his words are warped with poorly disguised venom. He really cannot stand the guy. 

“What?” You hope you can blame the obvious breathlessness in your voice on shock. “What are you–?”

Heeseung won’t leave you wondering for long. “You think he can handle you?” With the way you’re wrapped up in Heeseung’s hold, the challenge, the comparison, is apparent. 

Your shock morphs. Hardens. Gaze narrowing, you relax a little into his grip. 

Your words, however, remain combative. “Handle me? Am I a wild animal?” You scoff. “I don’t need to be han–”

And, oh, this is Heeseung’s favorite kind of tightrope. His very best balancing act. He loves it, thrives on it, revels in it. 

This exchange of heated words that never go anyway but to your head. He hopes you’re seeing fucking stars. 

Heeseung leans an inch closer. He’s breaching dangerous territory. He’ll blame it on the alcohol if he has to. Glancing at your eyes, holding your gaze, he doesn’t think he will. 

“Who said anything about you needing it?” He’s so close that you feel his breath on your cheekbone, ghosting across your temple. It’s warm, leaves your skin tingling in its wake. “I’m talking about what you want.”

Something unreadable flickers through your gaze. If Heeseung didn’t know any better, he’d call it desire. But it disappears before he can name it, replaced with contempt. As if Heeseung is nothing but a pest, a fly to swat at until it stops buzzing. “Awful presumptuous, don’t you think?”

Heeseung only grins. He’s not like this, usually. Even when his intentions are less than pure. Just like everything else, he flirts in obvious ways. He doesn’t play games or speak in riddles or hope that subtleties will do the job for him. 

But it’s just so easy with you. “I don’t know.” He leans in closer. “There are a few ways we could find out, though.”

If your breath stutters, you’ll disguise it as another scoff. “Pray tell.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Heeseung inclines his head in a mockery of an apology. Pet names are another thing he keeps reserved for these stolen moments with you. Another exception to the rule that he refuses to examine further. 

For a moment, he lets his eyes do what they want. You feel the heat they scorch in their path from your nose to your chin back up to your molten gaze. 

“I’d rather show you.” Heeseung pauses, biting at his bottom lip. “But I don’t think I can do any of the things I want in public.”

You hate the way he does this. The way he never says what he means. The way he skirts around his desires with such heavy footsteps but still leaves you feeling foolish for drawing obvious conclusions. 

The way your heartbeat stutters regardless. But tonight, you’ll hold firm. If he wants anything from you, he’ll have to spell it out. “What are you saying?”

Heeseung is as evasive as always. “I’m saying that Sunghoon’s too nice for you.” There’s a hard edge in his eyes when he adds, “You’ll eat him alive and still be begging for more.”

Fine. If he wants to play games, then you’ll roll the dice too. Make scathing comments and heated taunts with whatever numbers you land on. 

This time, it’s you that leans in. “Should I make sure to find you, then? When I’m all done with him?”

Heeseung’s eyes light up with a renewed vigor. You can’t tell if he’s furious or the most delighted you’ve ever seen him. “Careful,” he breathes. “That’s a dangerous game you’re playing at.”

You smile. Sweetly. Innocently. Leaning in further, your mouth is scant inches from his. 

“I’m not playing at anything.” It’s a blatant lie, but you’ve become well acquainted with denial, too. Picked up a few tricks from the master himself. “You’re the one that dragged me here and started demanding that I ditch my friend.”

Heeseung grins as if you serve no purpose but to amuse him. But there’s a hard edge in his voice when he asks, “You let all your friends look at you like that?”

“Only the ones I really like.”

And now you’re under his skin. Exactly where you want to be. “Careful,” he repeats, even lower this time. “I’m not as nice as him.”

You won’t heed any warnings, and especially not ones given from him. 

Heeseung is all talk. All bark and no bite. You almost wish he would bare teeth, just once. 

But Jay is still sitting on a barstool just one room over, and no matter how much he likes toying with you, you have the sinking suspicion that Heeseung’s loyalty will always begin and end with his best friend. 

He’ll press up against the line, will skirt the edge of the boundaries between you every chance he gets, but you’ve yet to see any indication that he’ll ever cross it. 

Just once, you want to be the one with him wrapped around your finger. Want to watch him become putty in your hands. 

“What are you gonna do?” Unblinking, you hold his gaze. “Handle me?”

A blurred line dissolves completely. Heeseung’s resolve slips, just a fraction. His eyes are still guarded, yes, but there’s a desperation that wasn’t there before. “Is that an invitation?”

“A challenge,” you correct, taking advantage of his sudden surprise to slide out of his grasp, maneuvering away from his hold. This time, he has no choice but to turn as you begin to back away, to let his eyes follow your lead. 

The misstep might have been miniscule, but it was enough to tip the balance.

For once, the results of this game are under your sole control. You have choices, ones that would leave him in the dust and ones that would put a trophy in his wandering hands. 

In the end, you discard it all. You have only one final demand for him. It’s a whisper that’s barely audible, “Rise to it.”

Heeseung doesn’t need to hear it twice. 

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Thanks for reading :) If you enjoyed, let me know!

[bluesidez]

The Love Lab presents:

One Bite for You, One Bite for Me

💗 THIS IS MY 100 200 300 FOLLOWER SPECIAL!

pairing: Miguel O’Hara x AFAB!Reader

summary: One of the things you and Miguel bond over is delicious food. One day, you notice that your clothes aren’t fitting like they used to. Miguel is there to remind you how beautiful you are.

content warning: established relationship but they’re not married, 18+ so MDNI, non-Spiderman Miguel, LOTS OF MENTIONS OF FOOD AND DRINKS, weight gain, cycles, insecurity about body, alcohol, body worship, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up 🫵🏾), cunnilingus, lots of praise, a little Spanish (if wrong please lmk)

credit for art + dividers: Me! + @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

a/n: This is actually the first fic I wrote when my Miguel hyperfixation came back in full force. I based it off of this video and a comment saying that girls are usually the ones that gain weight super quick in a relationship. Please know that gaining weight is not a bad thing, especially in this story. Relationship weight can be positive and food is here to nourish your body! Also know that everyone’s body is different. Our bodies will react to things in different, unique ways. If you’re ever feeling icky about your weight/health, please take a step back, breathe, and know that you’re beautiful no matter what. There are also sources out there that can help you if your thoughts overpower your heart. Please don’t hesitate to seek help.

word count: 4.3k

To all my food-lovers and fellow plus-size girlies, kisses to you! You’re beautiful!

SPRING 🥭

“Baby!”

You grinned as you heard Miguel’s shout from the front door. His voice had a giddy tilt as if he made a breakthrough in one of his projects.

“I was finally able to stop by the new Jamaican spot before they sold out and look what I got us,” Miguel says before he slides the take-out bags across the table. “Ribs, oxtails, rice and beans, mac, and your favorite…fried plantains!”

You quickly untie the bags, happy to have a break from your research paper, and immediately get hit with the smell of spices both sweet and savory. “Oh my god! That looks incredible.”

After frantically digging around for a plastic fork, you were finally able to pull a piece of meat off the oxtail. It looked mouth-watering and tender. One bite of the meat and you’re immediately groaning, slumped in your chair. You nod your head and scrunch your face, watching as the juice from the gravy soaks into the pieces of rice stuck at the bottom of the take-out plate.

“That is so fucking good, Mig. No wonder there’s never any combos left by the time you leave work.”

Miguel just watches you eat with a glint in his eyes, happy to see you so relaxed and enjoying the food. He reaches into the second bag, pulling out two bottles of juice, “And to make it better, I got their fruit juice, made fresh daily-”

“Passionfruit and mango flavor!” Your eyes got big as you jumped up and wrapped your arms around his neck. He knew how much of a juice fanatic you were, so this drink was just the cherry on top of the large ice cream sundae that was your generous boyfriend.

“Thank you, baby,” you giggled and gave his cheek a fat smooch. You patted his chest twice and moved back to set up the table, “Now, hurry and wash up so we can eat this before it gets cold! We’ve got shows to watch.”

“Entendido, I’ll be right back”

SUMMER 🍦

You and Miguel were walking hand in hand along the Cancun Hotel Zone, taking in all the sights. Miguel’s job had given him a promotion along with an extremely high bonus, so what better way to celebrate than to use his PTO and bring the love of his life on vacation?

Granted, the area you guys were currently in was a little touristy, borderline bougie, but it was all worth it when Miguel got to see your eyes light up as you watched the turquoise waves fade into white foam along the shoreline.

You wobbled a bit while clinging to Miguel’s side, a little tipsy from the frozen paloma you drank to pair with today’s lunch. It was a waterfront restaurant with a live band so the vibes were just right for a little bit of liquid fun.

The downside was that the two of you were supposed to meet up with Miguel’s family later that evening and while you were fine with the confidence boost you were sporting, you wanted to be more alert when speaking with loved ones. Plus, you needed to give a good impression to the relatives you hadn’t met yet. It will be nice to put a face to the names of Miguel’s childhood.

“What do you say we stop and get some ice cream?” Miguel suggested, chuckling at you when you grinned up at him, ecstatic over the proposed plan.

“You know me so well,” you said, arms reaching around his waist, face squished into the side of his chest. “I would absolutely love some ice cream. Cool me down from the inside.”

Miguel chuckled and kissed the top of your head. You were especially cute when you got like this.

FALL 🍕

“Baby, check this out,” Miguel shouted, finally returning to your table with your food.

The fair was packed full of people, especially due to the pop-up food truck festival happening that same week. You had never seen more people run to get fried turnip greens and loaded fries in your life.

Still, this was just another chance to hang out with Miguel. You really didn’t care where you went with him, as long as you got to see that pretty smile.

You look down at the table and see what he brought back. Before your eyes sat the most un-Miguel order ever: birria pizza and two walking tacos, one Hot Cheetos and the other Dorritos.

“Dorilocos, Miguel. Really?” you raised an eyebrow watching him try to steady the open chip bags over some spread-out napkins.

“Amor, don’t look at me like that! I had to get them because Gabriel kept talking my ear off about this new food truck that made them better than the ones we used to eat on our trips back home. I, for one, don’t believe that for a second, so what better way to test that theory than to eat it with my baby?” Miguel gave the saddest look he could muster and slid his hand across the table, trying to convince you to indulge with him.

“Fine, fine. Don’t give me that look,” you say, pulling off a slice of the pizza, making the cheese stretch as long as you can. “Just don’t complain to me from the bathroom while your stomach fights to digest something it hasn’t had in over a decade!”

Miguel pursed his lips while shoveling as much food as he could on one Doritto, “Shouldn’t I be the one telling you that? That’s a lot of cheese, babe.”

“Oh my god, some queso tears up my stomach one time and you can’t let that go, can you?”

“It was once and yet you were in agony about it for days. I think I’m allowed to remind you at least monthly.”

“Just eat your food and leave me and my iron stomach alone. We’ll see what happens between today and tomorrow,” you quip, pulling your phone out ready to record Miguel’s reaction to send to Gabriel.

Miguel takes a bite and just leans against the table, head slumped on his clean head.

“Dios mio, he was right. This can’t be happening,” he groaned, slightly annoyed that Gabriel wasn’t exaggerating. He was also shocked at the fact that someone even came close to getting the local snack right.

You giggled behind your phone, happy that his reaction worked in your favor. You zoomed in a little more on his face, capturing him smacking his lips and licking off excess sauce. He was so zoned in on his food that he didn’t even notice you with your phone up.

“Is it good, Mig?” you asked, mirth in your voice.

He looked at you ready to answer but his eyes snapped to your camera and started to whine, “Amor, please stop recording!”

With a small smile, you made sure to add the video to your folder full of Miguel. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You just look so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Miguel just mumbled to himself while stacking up another chip, neck heated over the interaction. “Here, just try this,” he said, holding a nacho close to your mouth.

You opened your mouth, just barely getting the chip in. Cupping your hand under your head, you begin to hum, the flavors all tangy, spicy, and savory. “I don’t know what your childhood Dorilocos tasted like, but this is really freaking good.”

“Just know that this one is only slightly better. By 0.00001% to be exact,” he said, rubbing sauce off of the corner of your lips and licking it off. The movement was muscle memory for him as he always liked to watch your face when you ate food, especially when it came to any nostalgic or homecooked dishes you never tried before. It warmed his heart to see you find comfort in his favorite foods.

“Well, I can tell you it’s 100% better than the ‘Taco Tuesday’ luncheon my job hosted last month. Nothing but unseasoned ground beef, endless black olives, and store-bought guacamole for two hours,” you respond, shuddering at the memory of soppy taco shells and your coworkers complaining about how spicy the mild salsa was.

“On second thought, this is absolutely a step up. Was the guacamole name brand at least?” He asked, peering up at you with a twist on his lips.

“I’m pretty sure it was a grocery store brand, so no.”

“Damn.”

WINTER 🍫

You were at your apartment in your bed, completely covered under the comforter with a fluffy blanket on top.

It was snowing heavily outside and you were freezing. However, your heater tended to make your apartment feel like a sauna, so you kept snatching the blanket off only to put it back on minutes later. Plus, your cycle was here. Your cramps left you lying on your side, rolling back and forth between the cool side of the bed and the warm side.

Physically, you were exhausted, but mentally, you knew you had so much to get done.

Christmas was just around the corner but you still had so many presents left to buy and wrap. Your job was doing the dreaded Secret Santa gift exchange and you were stuck wondering what gift would appeal to the stuck-up director in the accounting department.

You and Miguel were also hosting a small Christmas party amongst your friends, and there was still food left to buy. To top it all off, you were worried about your gift for Miguel, wondering if a silly little apron saying “Kiss me, I’m Irish” would hide the fact that you spent a ridiculous amount of money on some new tech he was eyeing.

You heard the apartment door open and close.

Knowing it was Miguel, you groan out dramatically.

He opens the bedroom door and peaks inside, “Baby?”

You just groan out again, “Everything hurts, Miggy.”

He comes up to bed and sits on the edge, “I know, amor. I’m sorry.” He bends down to kiss your head. “Want me to plug up the heat pack?”

“Yeah,” you say, leaning into his hands. When he gets up to grab the pack, you whine at his absence.

“I know, I know. I’m coming back,” he says, voice soothing.

Instead of turning the pack on, he removes your covers and sits back down on the edge. You shiver a little bit and he’s quick to cover your body with his, rubbing the top of your head as he kisses your temple.

“Are you feeling too bad to eat something for me?” Miguel asks, the timber of his voice settling you.

You shake your head and lean in closer to him.

“I think I want some food,” you reply, squeezing his body. “I haven’t eaten anything yet.”

Miguel tuts as he sits up and pulls you up with him, “That’s no good, baby. You have to eat so you can feel better. Your body needs it.”

You groan again and put your face in his neck, not wanting to move.

“Come on,” Miguel says, rubbing you from your back to your leg. “I got you some soup and a grilled cheese.”

“Did you get the stuff for the hot chocolate bar? For the party?” you whisper.

“Mm hm. Jumbo marshmallows included.”

You nuzzle his neck before you look at him, “Carry me to the kitchen?”

He makes a swift move to wrap your legs around his body and hike you up.

He gets up and holds you close, heading to the kitchen, “Let’s get some food in you, yeah?”

SPRING 🍇

The short spring break trip that Miguel surprised you with has been lovely. Miguel woke you with kisses down your body, taking you to the hilt with his mouth alone. You had to muffle your cries as to not disturb the neighbors in the inn. As his tongue danced inside of you, you gripped his hair with one hand and his head with your thighs. Miguel wouldn’t want it any other way.

After his first course, Miguel treated you to breakfast on the balcony. You two enjoyed looking over the horizon as you ate yogurt parfaits and fluffy omelets.

Later on, the two of you enjoyed a few tours of the vineyard and the city. The sights were beyond compare and the atmosphere was serene.

“Thank you so much for this Miguel,” you say, interrupting the silence.

“Anything for my lady,” he says back. “You’re doing great work this semester so you need the break.” Miguel stopped and turned to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You leaned up and kissed him, hands warm on the sides of his face.

You both started to makeout for so long that Miguel forgot about the massage he had planned for you before tonight’s farm-to-table dinner.

Needless to say, he laid you out on your bed and oiled your body down. Your head was in your arms as rubbed his hands up and down your back. His hands were heaven and you felt like puddy by the time he flipped you over.

After he massaged your inner thighs he pounded you into the mattress. Something you’re sure the hired masseuse would never be able to do.

Miguel joked and called it the Miguel Magic Massage when you asked if he offered this special regularly. The price? Being his cariño, his amor, his sweetheart.

By the time dinner started, you were glowing. You felt adored and the courses were amazing.

Miguel made sure everyone knew you were his. His hand never left your thigh the entire meal, staring down the older men sitting at the end table who were looking a little too long at the dip of your dress.

You were oblivious, feeding Miguel bites occasionally and humming at how fresh and delicious everything was.

After the last course was over, the men came to you all’s side of the table quickly. All of them started to make conversation with you, plugging in their businesses, and stuffing their business cards in your hands.

It was as if Miguel was invisible. He scowls deeper when they let out hearty laughs at something you said.

“Are you fellas here with your wives?” Miguel asked loudly, completely irritated. “My wife and I have really enjoyed our time here. It’s a beautiful place for couples.”

Some of the men went red in the face flustered at Miguel catching their scheme. Others just scowled, pissed off at being interrupted.

None of them could answer his question.

You looked at Miguel, eyes heavy and relaxed.

“You gentlemen have a great night,” you said, putting your hand in Miguel’s as he guided you to the exit.

“Your wife, huh?” you asked, core on fire. It was hot watching Miguel get so worked up over you.

“Baby, they were looking at you like you were some fresh meat. Like I wasn’t even sitting there,” he grumbled.

“One of them already offered to bring me on a cruise. He’s staying right next to us,” you say, standing outside your room as Miguel swipes his card at the door. You walked your fingers up his chest, heated over the grit you could see from his profile.

He was oh so upset.

“He’s next to us? Right here?” Miguel asked, voice low.

You nodded as you bit your lip, arm around his neck.

Miguel picked you up and dragged you to the bed. You giggled a little to yourself as he plopped you down. Mission accomplished. Silently, you thank those older men. If it weren’t for their overconfidence, Miguel wouldn’t have been tearing at your clothes like he us right now.

Miguel kept you up almost that whole night, making sure that the neighbors heard your cries. Those old geezers were sure to know his name by the next morning. Buying you a ring wasn’t enough. He needed a bat.

It was all worth it to see the tired and flushed looks of their faces when you all checked out the next day.

SUMMER 🍯

“What the fuck,” you mumble, looking down at the pair of jeans you were trying to put on.

It was early morning. You had a family reunion that you and Miguel would take a bit of a drive to get to.

You made sure that everything was packed the following night. Some clothes to stay for a few days, a few snacks for the road, a book for you to catch up on, and even a crossword puzzle book for Miguel.

You planned ahead. You were diligent. So why is it that when everything else is going right, your pants decide not to button up?

You pulled at the flaps once more, trying your hardest to connect the button with the hole. It fails as they slip from your grasp. You try again, sucking in your stomach as much as you could. You get the button to snap in this time, but it’s digging unbearably into your skin. The zipper fights against you as you try to pull it up.

You huff out in frustration and the pants snap open again.

Defeated, you let out a watery sigh and look in the mirror.

Your stomach was bigger than you last remembered, fupa a little more prominent. Your thighs were also a little thicker, the jeans hugging them a little tight. Your breasts looked a little big in your shirt. The family name stretches a bit more across your bust than the original design intended. Even your face was a little chubbier than normal. When was the last time your jaw was like this? High school?

When did you get like this?

You felt your throat start to burn, a sob building in your system. You’ve always been fine with your body, loving the dips and curves. Adoring your flaws and finding beauty in what society decides is not worthy.

You knew this. You knew that you were beautiful. Why was it so hard to get that thought into your conscience?

You felt the tears roll down as you peeled the jeans off of your legs. They were especially tight at your hips and you wondered how you even forced them past in the first place.

You didn’t know what to do. It was so hot outside, so you needed something comfortable, but those jeans…you had your mind set to wear those jeans.

You rummage through your closet in frustration, pushing and pulling the clothes across the rack.

By the time Miguel found you, you were squatting in the closet, hot tears covering your face.

“Babe, it’s been almost 30 minutes and we need to head out before the work traffic starts-”

Miguel stopped in the doorway as he noticed the state of the closet, “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? ¿Que pasó, cariño?”

You wipe furiously at your face, sniffling loud as you hear Miguel push clothes to the side to get to you.

“My pants don’t fit. I don’t think anything else will fit either,” you say, stuttering out your words as Miguel gets to your side.

You let him pull you up into a standing position. You felt defeated.

Miguel looked at you and wiped away the tears that you missed. You feel horrible as your face scrunches up again, tears forming in your eyes.

“No, no, no,” Miguel says, hugging you close. “Listen to me. I know that this feels like a lot, but this is normal. Your body will always change with you. You’re still the same beautiful, gorgeous woman I met years ago and that’s not changing because you got some extra hips, baby.”

“But Miguel,” you say, voice so sad. “I feel like I just got those pants. And. Nothing else in here goes with this shirt. I’m scared that nothing else will fit-”

“And if that’s the case, I’ll buy you new clothes,” Miguel says, pressing kisses over your face. “If these clothes mean that much to you, I’ll take you to the gym. Let me work out with you, but until then, I’m loving your body as is.”

You stare at Miguel, heart beating at his revelation. He stared right back at you, daring you to question or challenge his words.

“Don’t beat yourself up over something like this. If anyone has ever let you feel insecure about your body, they’re an ass, let me deal with them. If I ever do anything to make you feel insecure, tell me. Yell at me. Question me, because as far as I’m concerned, that’s not me.”

He hiked you up on the closet island in the middle of the room. You shiver a bit as your naked legs hit the wood.

He leans closer, placing his hands on the side of you, “Now, let’s think. Don’t you have a pair of cargo shorts that match the ones I’m wearing right now?”

You whisper out a yes.

“Would you be ok with wearing those? I’m sure they fit perfectly.”

You say yes again, head leaning onto his. You could accessorize it perfectly. It would make a great couple’s look.

Miguel knew this much, he just had to get you to see it.

“I love you, ok?” he says, voice clear.

“I love you, too. Thank you,” you say.

“Anything for my girl,” Miguel says. “My beautiful girl. She’s just for me. I can’t believe it.”

Your heart beats faster as he starts to kiss down your body.

“Her face is so lovely.” A kiss to your cheek and your lips.

“She’s always working so hard.” A kiss to your neck and your collarbone. He pulls your shirt over your head.

“She makes me so happy.” A suck to your breasts as he unclasps your bra.

“Her body is beyond comparison.” A trail of kisses down your stomach, your belly twitching as his breath twinkles on along your skin. “Soft. Amazing. Irresistible.”

“Her thighs are my earmuffs.” A caress to your inner thighs. Your legs snap a bit, ticklish at his ministrations.

“Miguel?” you whimper out.

“I have to relax you before this ride. Can’t have you upset,” he says, kissing his way up your thighs to your panties. “May I?”

You nod your head, fingers grasping at nothing but then a flat surface.

Miguel was swift. He pulled your underwear down and kissed at your clit. You could only hold tight as he pulled your body forward and dove in.

It wasn’t long before you were shaking like a leaf. Miguel sucked at you for minutes, pulling a long orgasm out of your system.

He kneaded your thighs as you trembled around his tongue, humming as your legs squeezed tighter. That was the queue for him to go further, so he added his fingers to the mix, moving his mouth up so that his fingers could pump in and out of you.

It took all of your strength not to let your body drop off the other side of the island.

“Miggy, please,” you wailed. You wanted more.

Miguel looked up at you whining above him. You pull your legs up, holding your hands under your thighs, practically begging for him.

Miguel kissed up your body again. He was swift with removing his clothes. You still had to have these clothes fresh for later and Miguel was about to wear you out.

He moved to push himself inside of you, grunting as you gripped him.

He replaced your hands with his and pulled your legs up by his head. You balanced yourself on the island as he slowly started to thrust.

“So good. Just for me,” Miguel said, watching as your body moved with his movement. “Perfect. And all mine.”

You remained quiet, whimpering softly as he dragged against you.

“You heard me, hermosa?” Miguel said. “You’re beautiful. C’mon. Say it for me.”

“I’m,” you stopped, mind foggy. You didn’t know how you were supposed to respond when he was going so deep.

“Say it.”

You cried out as he snapped harder, “I’m beautiful.”

“That’s right baby,” Miguel praises you, bending further to give you a kiss. “So amazing.”

He praised you until you finished, squeezing at any of you that he got his hands. By the time he was done, your arms felt like jelly from holding you up.

He carried you to the bathroom for a quick shower, never stopping his reassurances of you.

You guys made it in the car an hour and a half off schedule, but it was worth it for the uplifted way you carried yourself throughout the day.

It was worth it to see you happy and healthy.

By the time you made it to the reunion, it was like you were born anew. You greeted your family with smiles and laughter. Miguel couldn’t help but to cheese watching you do your thing.

He felt his heart soar as you caught up with family. Your smile was the biggest as you were out on the floor line dancing your heart out. He was right up behind you when Outstanding came on. The song was really a declaration of how he felt about you.

You giggled as he crooned in your ear.

“You light my fire,” he sang, swinging your hips in time with his.

“I feel alive with you, baby,” he spins you around to him, a smile on his face.

“You blow my mind,” he pulled you out and back in.

“I’m satisfied,” you squeal as he spins you in the air and puts you back down to keep dancing.

Outstanding. You really knock him out.

Another season where Miguel adored you more.

Another season where Miguel wanted you to be forever his.

Another season where he made sure he fed you well.

Another season of you making his heart pound.

Another season of your love reaching to the fullest.

Miguel was excited for the next season with you.

As always, I hope you enjoyed reading! 💗

Any likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated. Let me know how you feel! 🥺🧁

Until next time,

-Lauro 💗

[pintrestgrl]

loved your bsf!jj drabble!!!!! maybe a little drunken love confession from bsf!jj … and reader thinks its lowkey too good to be true bc she’s been yearning forever… but when they both sober up jj is like !!! i meant wtf i said !

hi i wrote this and then it completely disappeared. sigh. also im sorry if this is bad, i was half asleep bc i spent forever writing it the first time.

also i’m sorry for being inactive yesterday i was so so stressed nd had cramps and was dying… but hi !! hope u like this anon 🥹

note: after writing this, i rlly don’t like it. but i pray u guys do 😞

drunk!bsf!jj x pogue!reader.

“here, drink this.”

you spoke, shoving a glass of water into jj’s chest, sitting down next to him on the couch of the chateau.

he was clearly very wasted, and you were only a slight bit tipsy.

you two had both went out to the boneyard together, the rest of the group out doing god knows what.

he rambled on about not wanting to drink it, before giving in and chugging the clear liquid.

“thank god, you’re annoying when you’re drunk.”

“no, ‘m not. you are.”

“at least i’m not sloppy wasted, unlike somebody.”

“whatever. guilty by association.”

he spoke, slurring his words and laughing drunkenly.

“i’m not associated with you, you wish.”

“you’re my bestfriend, of course you are.”

he spoke, rolling his eyes amused at your denying.

you managed to let out a fake chuckle, silently cringing inside as he called you that. were you really only his ‘friend’ to him?

you wished to be so much more, and he had no idea whatsoever.

you were snapped out of your thoughts by his voice, drunkenly rambling again.

“thanks for the water. that was like, kinda sweet.”

“sweet?” you question, laughing as you furrowed your brows.

“yeah. you’re a sweet girl, i swear.”

you opened your mouth to protest, before being interrupted before you got the chance.

“you’re kinda pretty too.”

you froze at his words.

pretty?

that’s the last word you thought jj would use to describe you; at least to your face.

“what?”

“actually, no. you are pretty. very pretty.”

“jj, you’re drunk.”

“yeah, i am. and you’re pretty. probably beautiful if i could think right now.”

“you don’t mean that.”

“no, i do. i definitely do. i don’t know why you don’t have a boyfriend. or why i’m too dumb to ask you out.”

you were completely baffled at this point, trying to find any truth in his words. and to your surprise, he sounded genuine. drunk, but genuine.

you had liked him forever, and this was the most he’d ever showed any reciprocation.

you were always too scared to say anything, afraid of his rejection and what it would do to your friendship.

so, you opted for having some of him, rather then none at all.

“do you even understand a word you’re saying?”

you spoke, desperately needing to know if he was just drunkenly saying bullshit, or revealing the truth of how he felt.

“yeah, i do. you’re a sweet girl who is too pretty to not have a boyfriend. i mean, god. your face is perfect.”

“jj, shut up. stop.”

“no, you shut up. let me talk. i think i like you.”

“i’d hope so, considering i’m your bestfriend.”

“no, no. like actually like you. like seriously.”

you desperately were trying to deny his words, convincing yourself this was a dream and you needed to wake up.

“you think you like me?”

“no, i actually know i do. like a lot.

“jay, you’re joking.”

he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“can you let me be serious about one thing in my life? i mean, god. i’m not joking. i’m serious. serious about this, about you.”

you could tell he was probably getting agitated the way you kept denying him, the way his mood shifted from amusedly drunk, to pissed off.

“why don’t you sleep the ‘liking me’ off, yeah?”

it took a while, but you convinced him to just go to bed. and as he layed in the next room over, you couldn’t get over his words.

was he trying to get in your pants because he was wasted, or was he serious about liking you?

you knew the thought would keep you up all night if you let it, so you decided to drop it from your brain, drifting off to a light sleep.

next morning.

you woke up groggily, a slight hangover lingering on your body. once you registered everything, you decided to go to the room next door, consisting of a likely just as hungover jj.

you opened the door, sitting on john b’s his bed, silently shaking him awake.

you knew he’d probably get all mad, but you needed him to help you clear the lingering thought in your head.

he groaned, mumbling a sleepy short sentence.

“what do you need?”

“can we talk?”

“speak or forever hold your peace, stupid.”

you rolled your eyes at his tired insult, reluctantly continuing with your words.

“uh— last night, you told me some stuff. like that you liked me, thought i was pretty and stuff. were you serious?”

he shot up as the words spilled out, immediately sitting against the headboard.

“i told you that?”

“yeah, you did.”

“shit— um, well yeah. kinda. in a way.”

“kinda?”

“no. not kinda.”

he said, rubbing a hand over his face.

he spoke again, sounding embarrassed.

“yes. i did. i meant it. every word. ‘m sorry. i didn’t mean to— jesus, fuck.”

“no, it’s fine, uh— i ‘kinda’ like you too.”

you said, letting the words come out before you thought about their weight.

“kinda? you’re serious?”

“yes, i’m serious. and not kinda, i didn’t mean that. i like you a lot.”

“shut up.”

“i’m serious, i do.”

“well, why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“i don’t know. i was nervous.”

a silence filled the room, not awkward. just waiting for someone to figure out the right thing to say.

finally, jj spoke.

“uh— i’m like really hungover.”

you rolled your eyes at the subject change, finding it just like him to do something like that.

“that’s what your gonna say?”

“no, fuck—sorry. can you just sleep in here with me so i can think straight after?”

“you could’ve just said that.”

“well, i just did, didn’t i?”

“i guess. and yeah, i can. scoot over.”

he awkwardly listened to your demand, not used to the feeling of you knowing about his thoughts of you.

you both fell unconscious soon after, unknowingly shiftinging your bodies closer as you slept.

you slept for another hour or two, limbs tangled and intertwined together as your mind tried to decipher if this was a dream, or if your head was really resting on your bestfriends chest.

[therealcocoshady]

Come inside

Eminem x Assistant!Reader

Author's note : so, funny thing... I got this request I really like and started writing to it. But I realized I needed to give it some sort of prequel, just to set context, y'know ? Long story short, I wrote something rather long and I could have waited until the whole thing was complete to post it on here, but I'm a really nice person and I thought you guys would enjoy it 😉. Stay tuned for part 2 !

CW : Implied smut but nothing NSFW. Tipsy reader. Marshall being a consent king. Coco pouring all of her energy into describing a kiss.

When you started working for Marshall, you had immediately developed a crush. How could you not ? Your boss was not only talented, he was also handsome, kind and funny as hell. You had a blast working for him and, even though being a personal assistant to a celebrity had never been your dream job, it sort of turned into it. Only a fool would complain about being paid to hang out with a talented musician, helping them managing their day to day life and enjoying a lot of perks, such as trips and occasional presents. Sure, the job was demanding and didn’t really leave a lot of room for personal life, but your boss definitely made up for that. It all started during a work trip to Los Angeles. 

You had been working for Marshall for a little over a year and you were used to trips to California. He often went there, whether it was to work with Dre or to meet with people from Interscope. It was often the same song and dance : you did the coordination for the trip, took care of the day to day management of his schedule and, while he was busy making music in Dre’s studio, you were on call but allowed to do whatever you wanted. You had heard a lot about celebrities that demanded that their assistant be with them at all time, ready to indulge their every whims but Marshall was pretty low-maintenance, especially when he was in studio mode. As long as the his schedule was coordinated correctly and his lunch was delivered on time, he didn’t care what you did or how you chose to spend the day. You actually came to enjoy the work trips to California, which were less hectic than life in Detroit. You got to sleep in a comfy suite in a nice hotel, go to the beach, lounge by the pool, answering the occasional email while your boss was in the studio. All you had to do was meet him in the morning for breakfast, keep him informed of his daily schedule before he went about his day, be available if he needed to call you to sort something out (he never did), and join him for dinner, either at the hotel’s restaurant, in his room or at Dre’s. You also went with him to a couple of parties. At first, you didn’t think you would enjoy the events and attended them in a strictly professional capacity, but as time went on and you got to know Dre and his team, you let your hair down and allowed yourself to have fun. Everyone in the Aftermath family was friendly and the parties were always really great. During one of them, preceding the launch of Gin&Juice, you were offered the opportunity to sample taste the flavors and, one thing leading to another, you ended up indulging in gin-based cocktails with everyone. Being a lightweight when it comes to drinking and handling your liquor, it didn’t take too much for you to be tipsy, showing your boss a side of you he had never seen. 

While the two of you had always gotten along very well and had a friendly relationship, you usually kept things on the professional side. Due to the nature of your job, you knew a lot about him and his personal life but you didn’t share too much about yours and, since he was very respectful of people’s wish for privacy, he definitely didn’t pry or ask too many questions. However, the liquor had you being a little more talkative and, on the way back to your hotel rooms, you ended up opening up. You weren’t too sure how the subject turned to your love life, but you certainly ended up laughing out loud when he brought up the topic of boyfriends. 

What’s so funny ? He asked with a confused look on his face. 

That you think I have boyfriends, you chortled. That’s… hilarious. 

Sorry, he chuckled. Girlfriends, then ? 

What I mean is that being your assistant doesn’t exactly make dating easy, you explained with a smile. You’re a great boss but, believe it or not, you’re the biggest cockblock ! 

Am I ? He chortled. 

Oh yeah, you giggled. Apparently, not a lot of guys are willing to accommodate that kind of schedule. And the ones that do usually end up blowing it when they find out I work for you. 

Do they ? He mused. 

Are you kidding ?! It’s a nightmare ! Last guy I dated was great. But when he found out I work for you, he absolutely lost it ! You chuckled. He was absolutely obsessed and he spent all night asking questions about you and was pissed when I told him I wasn’t allowed to answer any of them. And don’t get me started on the guy who went on a rant about how he’d never trust me, since I work for a « sexy millionnaire ». His words, not mine, mind you. 

Wow, I’m sorry, he chortled. I feel for you. 

Eh, it’s fine, you shrugged. You kind of ruined me for other men anyway. 

Oh yeah ? He asked with a grin. How so ? 

Well, you certainly made me rethink my standards, you giggled. I can’t go for the first loser that comes my way when I work for a really handsome man who takes me on cool trips and gives me presents. 

Should I stop being such a nice boss, then ? He grinned. 

Please don’t, you giggled. I really enjoy working for you. I can’t complain. 

Even if I’m a cockblock ? He asked with a smirk. 

Yeah, you said with a laugh. That’s your one and only flaw. 

Is it ? He mused. I would have thought you’d find quite a few of them… I know I’m not easy to put up with. 

You’re fine, you said. 

Good to know, he chuckled. 

And you’re really fine, too, you added without a second thought. 

You didn’t even catch yourself, not realizing that you had just told your boss that you thought it was really attractive. And to help matters worse, your own flirty facial expressions really flew over your own head. It was only when Marshall looked at you with a smirk on his face and returned the compliment that you realized what you had done. 

Why, thank you, Y/N, he said with a smug face. I think you’re pretty fine too. 

Oh my god, you said as you blushed. I’m so sorry ! 

Come on, it’s no big deal, he chuckled. I can think of worse things than being complimented by someone like you. 

Someone like me ? You asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Well… You know, he said as he gestured towards your body. Come on. You’ve seen yourself. 

His words, the gesture, the look on his face made you blush even harder. Not only could you feel the heat rise to your cheeks, warmth was invading your whole body, and the gin was definitely not helping. The rational part of your brain was trying to tell you to lower your gaze and go to bed but, unfortunately, it was being silenced by the other part. The irrational one. The one controlled by your hormones, that was urging you to jump this man’s bones. 

You’re making me blush, Mr Mathers, you said in a sultry voice. You’re such a big flirt. 

You’re one to talk, he whispered. Telling me you think I’m fine. You’re the one making me blush. 

Am I in trouble, boss ? You asked in a voice that was all but innocent. 

I think the headache you’ll have tomorrow will be enough trouble, he said with a playful grin. 

I didn’t drink that much, you giggled. 

He hummed and chuckled before taking a look at you. You were in front of our hotel room, standing close to each other. You smiled and looked into his baby blue eyes. You had always been so drawn to them. You liked everything about his eyes, from the color to the depth of the emotions they conveyed. They had an intensity to them and, most of the time, you managed to refrain yourself from staring too long, knowing you could drown in these waters. But in this moment, you couldn’t stop yourself. And when you did, it was only to look at his lips for a second, before holding his gaze again. You didn’t even need to speak. Your eyes were doing all the talking, supported by the biting of your lower lip and the soft sigh that escaped you. 

How much ? He asked carefully. 

Enough to have the courage to tell you to come closer, you said as you batted your eyelashes. 

I think you’re a little drunk, he said with a slight shake of his head. 

I’m sober enough to give informed consent, you purred. 

His lips twitched into a smile, though you could see him try and hide it. He held your gaze and inched a little closer. You weren’t touching but the atmosphere was heavy and had your heart pounding. You smiled to yourself, noticing how evident his attraction  was. You still had it. You still had game. He was close enough so that you could notice his breath hitching. And he got even closer, his forehead touching yours, one of his hands brushing against your hip. 

Is this ok ? He whispered. 

More than ok, you murmured at you leaned in and cupped his jaw. Is this ok ? 

He didn’t even reply. Simply nodded with a grin, before capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. You could tell that he was testing the waters and you were quick to respond, your other hand finding its way to the back of his neck as you deepened the kiss. It became more urgent, more intense. His arm wrapped around your waist and he slowly pushed you against the door to your room, as he kept on kissing you with a passion that made your brain glitch. It was everything a kiss should be. Soft and hungry at the same time. Warmth was invading your chest as Marshall captured all of your senses. You lost track of the time, of where you were. All that mattered was the lingering taste of Diet Coke on Marshall’s tongue, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, the softness of his fingers on your cheek and the sensuality of him playfully biting your lip before your mouths reluctantly parted ways to allow for some much needed breath catching. When you opened your eyes, you saw him blink a couple of times as he regained consciousness. Evidently, he was as dizzy as you, the newfound chemistry absolutely exhilarating. Your eyes met again and the sparks of attraction were obvious and, this time, none of you needed to ask, practically jumping on each other, your bodies mirroring each other’s raw and unguarded desire, your chest pressed against his as his mouth crashed on yours with a fervor that took your breath away. You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him even closer to you, his body moulding you as every inch of space between the two of you disappeared. Your lips moved in a desperate rhythm, tasting, exploring, as if making up for all the time they’d spent keeping their distance. Your nails lightly raked down his chest, sending a jolt of heat straight through him. He groaned into the kiss, pulling you even closer, his other hand gripping your waist with a possessiveness that matched the urgency in his kiss. You responded eagerly, your tongue tangling with his, and the kiss became a wild, feverish dance of lips and breath. Every touch was charged with a need that neither of you could ignore. When you finally pulled away again, both of you were breathless, hearts pounding as if they’d run a marathon. Marshall’s thumb brushed against your cheek, his breath ragged as he looked at you, eyes dark with desire.

Holy shit, he muttered. That was… Wow. 

I don’t want to stop, you said in a voice that betrayed your hunger for him. 

Then don’t, he whispered, pulling you back in for another searing kiss. 

It was as if you’d both been craving unknowingly craving for this. It felt right. There was something about the way you held on to each other, the exhilaration of newness mixing with an odd familiarity. It was all but foreign, and he seemed to know all the right ways to touch you, that had your pussy throbbing, aching with desire for him. 

Come inside, you pleaded in between kisses. 

To your room ? He asked breathily. 

Yeah, sure, that too, you shrugged. 

For all you cared, he could have his way with you in the hallway. He let go just long enough for you to fumble with the keycard and, as soon as you stepped in your suite, he was all over you again. You nearly tripped as you made your way in, both of your desires so urgent that you didn’t even make it to the bed. Not until round two anyway. In the heat of the moment, caution was thrown to the wind. You didn’t care that he was your boss. You didn’t care that it might be weird in the morning. Neither did he, it seemed. All that mattered was your carnal need for each other, your senses only focusing on pleasure, touching and tasting each other as the room filled with moans and whimpers for a night that seemed never-ending. 

Only the night did end and, as you woke up alone in bed, naked and wrapped in the bedsheets that reeked of sex and your boss’s cologne, you knew you had to have a much needed talk. You had never thought of yourself as a coward, but you sure as hell didn’t feel too good as you knocked on his door, unsure of how he felt about what had happened and a bit upset that you couldn’t even hide behind excuses of alcohol clouding your judgement. You had wanted this and it was time to face the music. There was a bit of awkwardness as he opened the door and greeted you, before allowing you to step into his suite. You could sense the weight of what had happened in the atmosphere, none of you being sure where to start. You decided to do what you did best : focus on work. 

The car to take you to Dre’s studio will be there in 20, you informed him. The chauffeur will pick you up at 4 and drive you to the airport for our flight back to Detroit. No lunch delivered at the studio today since you’re going out with Dre. I will pack your bags and I’ll meet you at the airport. I have texted Dre’s assistant and she’ll have energy drinks and snack ready for you when you arrive. I know you don’t do too well when you haven’t slept. 

Thanks, he hummed. Is 20 minutes enough for a talk ? I’d like to… sort things out before we start the day. 

Of course, you said as you tried to sound as neutral as possible - not willing to let your anxiety show. 

You stared at each other awkwardly for a second and he gestured for you to sit on the couch. 

Are you alright ? He asked carefully. 

Yeah, you hummed. Are you ? 

Of course. Look… last night was amazing and I don’t want you to think that I regret anything, because I don’t. But you work for me and it complicates things.

It does, you agreed. I don’t have regrets either, but I think we should keep things professional. I actually like working for you and I know I’m good at my job. I’ve worked too hard for one night to mess things up. 

Agreed, he said. We’ve got something good here. 

So, what happens in LA stays in LA ? You suggested. 

Exactly, he said with a smile. 

You both sighed in relief, happy to be on the same page. Just like that, the talk shifted to something work-related, and it was back to business as usual. You both went about your day and met again when you boarded the private plane for your flight back to Detroit. During the flight, you attempted to read a book but you could feel the atmosphere heavy, as well as Marshall staring at you. You didn’t say anything, though, figuring it would take a little while for things to go back to normal. It was probably a good thing that you were flying back home, getting to sleep in your own place rather than in a hotel room next to his. Going back to the studio would probably help too. The sooner you’d go back to working like usual, the better it would be. You didn’t talk much and simply wished each other a good night before parting ways as the chauffeur dropped you at your place before heading to Marshall’s. 

You spent an awful evening, trying to shake feelings of frustration. You attempted to pamper yourself and have a spa night at home but, as you lathered your skin with lotion, you could only think about Marshall’s touch, and how you wished it were his hands against your skin. And it didn’t get much better when you decided to touch yourself before bed, struggling to get off, your bullet vibrator obviously not comparing to the man who had made you see stars the night before. You were starting to get there when your doorbell rang, making you grunt as you quickly tossed the toy to the side and put your pajama shorts back before going to open the door, ready to yell at whoever thought it was ok to bother you at 11PM. Your heart dropped when you saw Marshall standing there, holding the scarf you had worn on the plane. 

Hey. I know it’s late but you left it in the car, so I figured I’d bring it back to you, he said as he gestured to the scarf. 

Thank you, you said softly. It could have waited until Monday, though. You didn’t have to drive here so late. 

It’s no big deal, he shrugged. I, uh… Mentally, I’m still in LA. 

Oh, you mean the time zone ? 

Yeah, sure, that too, he muttered. 

You held his gaze, understanding what he meant. You scoffed softly and stepped closer, taking the scarf from his hands, your fingers brushing against his as you did so. You felt the tension, some sort of electric current coursing through your veins when you touched. Letting go of what had happened in LA seemed impossible. You bit your lip and cursed your brain and dripping wet cunt for what you were about to do. 

Do you want to come inside ? You offered. 

Inside your apartment ? He asked as a grin formed on his lips. 

Sure. That, too, you said in a sultry voice before pulling him inside of your apartment. 

[harrysfolklore]

valentine

a valentine’s day blurb inspired by this song ! i hope you guys like it 💓

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Four months ago you agreed to be Harry's girlfriend, and it was safe to say that those months have been filled with happiness that you've never felt before.

You met Harry through your longtime friend, Anthony, who happened to be Harry's tour photographer. Anthony had insisted for months that you needed to come to one of Harry's shows so he could introduce you two, because he felt that you would get along perfectly, but you remained skeptical. You weren't one to easily warm up to new people, especially not someone as famous and charismatic as Harry.

But fate had its own plans.

You finally attended the famous Love On Tour when it was brought to Wembley Stadium, and you were convinced that it was the best concert you had ever been to.

You got to meet Harry and just as Anthony predicted, you hit it off right away. You texted daily, face-timed and every time he had small breaks from tour he traveled to visit you.

One of those times he ditched everything to spend time with you in the comfort of your small but cozy apartment, he asked you to be his girlfriend now you were about to celebrate your first Valentine's day together.

"You and me, movies and dinner at my place for Valentine's day, how does that sound?" Harry said over FaceTime, you had adopted the tradition of calling each other while you did your night routines, it was clingy but you secretly loved it.

"Valentines day? Is that a thing for you?" you replied, spreading your moisturizer on your face.

"Baby, I did a world tour called Love On Tour, of course Valentines day is a thing for me!" you laughed at his expression, "Besides, this year I get to celebrate with my pretty girlfriend."

You instantly blushed, and by the smug smile on his face you knew he had achieved his goal.

"You know, I never know to respond when you call me pretty," you admitted, trying to play it cool, "Do I tell you that you're pretty too? Can I say that? Don't have a clue."

"Yes, love. You can tell me that I'm pretty too."

As Valentines day approached, you weren't what kid of gift you should get for Harry, it was pretty much the first time you had someone as "your valentine", so you struggled a lot to figure out what would be the perfect gift to give your boyfriend of four months.

You settled for a personalized leather-bound journal, you wrote a nice and heartfelt message on the first page expressing your feelings for Harry and recounting some of your favorite memories together over the past four months. You knew Harry appreciated thoughtful gestures, and you hoped this gift would show him just how much he meant to you, since sometimes it was hard for you to express it with words.

With the gift box and a homemade apple pie you decided to bake last minute you headed to Harry's house, when you got there the door swung open and you were met with a cozy Harry, clad in a brown jumper and some sweatpants.

"Hey, love," he greeted, pulling you into a tight hug. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Happy Valentine's Day," you replied, returning the embrace, "I brought you something," you handed him a small wrapped box, shyness and excitement in your voice.

"Is this a gift?" Harry's eyes lit up with curiosity as he took the box from you, "Baby, you didn't have to get me anything."

"Just open it."

Harry carefully unwrapped the box and took the journal from it, turning to you and smiling widely.

"This is so nice love, thank you," he kissed your lips quickly, "Your gift is upstairs, I'll give it to you later."

He sent you a wink and you rolled your eyes, you decided to begin with your movie night, pouring two glasses of wine and pressing play to "Crazy Stupid Love", one of your favorite romcoms.

Two bottles of wine and another movie later, both of you were pretty tipsy and clinging to each other, and you could feel a burst of confidence flowing through your body.

"Wanna know something?" you drunkenly asked, making him look at you, "I'm scared of flies, like absolutely terrified."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at your confession, "Are you now, love?"

"Yeah, I also think I'm scared of guys, well, at least I was because I dated soooo many douches in the past," you kissed his cheek playfully before continuing, "But now I'm with you and you're nice."

"Am I?" Harry teased, enjoying this new side of you he had not seen before.

"You are," you pecked his neck, "You're like, the first one to ever like me back and honestly, I can't believe I get to call you mine.

Harry smiled in total awe, his heart growing twice its size at your words.

"I feel the same way, love," he pulled you closer, "You make me really, really happy."

You snuggled into him, nuzzling your face into his neck and feeling tiredness take over you, you closed your eyes and enjoyed his warmth and smell.

"How the hell did I fall in love this time?"

You mumbled before you drifted off to sleep, but Harry heard it loud and clear and he felt like he could cry out of love.

"I love you too, silly girl."

He kissed your forehead and carried you to bed, he wasn't sure if you were going to remember your conversation, but he was ready to remind you that he loved you as soon as you woke up.

[mrdixon]

55th Birthday

pairing: established daryl x f!reader

wc: 6k

warnings: 18+ content, lots of plot!!!!, reader shoots a deer, alcohol, little bit of tipsy sex, oral (male AND fem receiving), hair pulling, little talk about pregnancy, slight breeding kink…?, creampie

summary: daryls birthday celebration!!

A/N: birthday fic for daryl since its normans birthday 😋 also ive been doing a lot of established daryl x reader, lmk if yall want something different i just like the way husband/boyfriend daryl feels… probably wrote this on ovulation.

masterlist

“It's the uh sixth of January t’day,” Eugene read from his notebook.

“What!? Shit!” You ran out of the council hall, ignoring Eugene’s confused babbles.

Today was Daryl’s birthday and you completely forgot. To be fair, who was keeping track of time nowadays? Eugene was apparently. You bit your lip as you scurried back home, Daryl was out right now so you had time to collect something to give to him.

Maybe you could bake a cake? Not much to work with though… and he isn't a big fan of sweets. You walked up the porch stairs and walked into the house, kicking your shoes off haphazardly as you furrowed your brows in thought. You thought about making him some arrows, but you didn't have time to make them, nor did you have the material for them.

You walked into the kitchen, throwing open cabinets and pulling open drawers, scrambling for any sort of material you could use to make something. How old was this man turning? You wondered, pausing for a moment.

“Fifty… fifty…” you thought for a long moment, “not in his sixties for sure.” You shrugged and continued your search for materials. Judging by the years that passed he was probably in his mid fifties, the thought making you realize just how long you’ve lived in this apocalypse. You picked up some twine, closing the drawer and running up the stairs. It wouldn't be much but you decided to thread some of your ribbon and twine together as a little charm for his crossbow.

Daryl knew how much you loved your little miscellaneous rubbish, despite his complaints of finding buttons scattered around the house. He brought you back a little wooden box just for your stuff, it would convenience both of you. The box stood atop your nightstand, you flipped it open and plucked out a light pink ribbon, it was one you threaded into your hair occasionally. Daryl always commented on it so you figured maybe he’d appreciate it if he had something of you with him all the time.

You plopped down onto the bed and made a little pattern with the twine and ribbon, intertwining them together into a little bow at the end. He could honestly wear it as a bracelet if he really wanted to, but the thought of having a slightly feminine object amongst his manly crossbow was kinda cute.

You tucked the charm into the pocket of your jeans, grabbing your holster that was also on your nightstand and securing it around your waist. Your gun was placed in there along with your hunting knife that was gifted to you by Daryl himself. You made sure you were fit to go hunting before leaving the house, the only thing you had to do was find your husband now.

You hastily walked down the street towards the front gates where Rosita was keeping watch.

“Rosi!” You called out and ran the rest of the way, she turned and smiled at you, furrowing her brows in curiosity.

“Hey you, whatcha’ need?” She brushed off your shoulder, you just sighed and placed your hands on your hips.

“I need to find Daryl, it's his birthday. He come in yet?” You sighed, fumbling with your fingers.

“No shit?” She asked surprised to which you nodded, “nah he hasn't come in yet. Probably still around the usual hunting grounds.”

“I'm gonna go track him down then,” you muttered and clutched onto the handle of your hunter's knife. Rosita chuckled and moved to open the gate for you.

“Yeah you go do that, be safe.” You nodded halfheartedly and quickly walked out of the gates and towards the forest.

It was surprisingly clear today, you haven't seen any walkers yet. The sun was bright and the atmosphere was just generally, calm. It was a perfect day for Daryl's birthday. You found the markers that stated the hunting grounds and decided on tracking Daryl. He's taught you many of his hunting tactics so why not put them to good use?

This quickly turned out to be useless as Daryl was really cautious out in the woods, and he tended to take careful steps. Meaning, no tracks to track. You groaned as you stalked further into the forest with no hope of finding your husband… until.

Rabbit tracks. Knowing him, Daryl would be following after the rascal. So if you couldn't track his tracks, you’d track the rabbit’s. You kept your hunter’s knife in your hand to be wary of your surroundings, it was way too peaceful to be true. The rabbit had travelled far as you kept walking, and walking… and walking. Eventually you reached a clearing, and the rabbit’s tracks had stopped.

You groaned. You were hopeless. Of course you could always wait for Daryl to just come home, but you wanted to do something for once. Plus if you really did track him down, he'd for sure be proud. And you loved when he was proud of you. You thought about different ways to find him, but there was really nothing to do. He could’ve gone any which way out here, and with no other tracks to look at, it was a lost cause. That was what you thought until you heard the sound of what you believed were your husband's arrows being shot.

You quickly made your way towards the sound, making sure to stay hidden from his sight. After all this was supposed to be a surprise. The more you walked through the bushes, the more you could hear the faint sound of his footsteps. You peeked through the leaves of a bush and saw your husband looking around, he heard something, probably you. You ducked when his body turned in your direction, slowly standing up to see him facing the other before carrying on his journey.

You smirked, you felt like a spy dodging his glances and switching from tree to tree. You kept your distance to not get caught, staring at him from afar as he walked around looking for whatever animal he could get his hands on. The sun shone on his hair, highlighting the little specks of blond scattered amongst his brown locks. Those angel wings that hung from his broad shoulders surely displayed his character. Your eyes travelled down his arms, annoyingly covered by his shirt sleeves. His right hand held his crossbow idly by his side, the other holding that rabbit and his backpack. Daryl was beautiful, he didn't think so but you always reminded him.

You started to get closer to him, close enough to hear him grunt to himself as he sat on a log. You started to get closer from behind, holding your hands out to prepare covering his eyes. He placed his stuff down next to him and looked down at the rabbit in his hand, though not doing anything. Like he was expecting something.

You quickly covered his eyes, not feeling him flinch a bit.

“Guess who?” You taunted playfully, standing right behind him. You heard him snort, his shoulders shaking.

“If I didn’ know it was you, ya would've been shot dead a while ago.” He shook his head chuckling as you removed your hands from his eyes and moved around the log to stand in front of him, your hands on your hips.

“Jeez, you couldn't humour me just a little bit?” You frowned at his smug expression, he was playing around with the rabbit in his hands.

“Nah, ya gotta work on yer tracking. Could hear ya from a mile away,” he snorted seeing your annoyed expression while simultaneously looking you up and down. “Is tha’ my shirt yer wearin’?” You looked down at the shirt you were wearing, noticing how much looser it was on you.

“Yeah, I guess it is, why?” You asked while plucking a pine needle off of the fabric.

“Ya didn’ have any other shirt ta wear?” He furrowed his brows before stuffing the rabbit in his bag, his head tilting back to look up at you.

“I just grabbed a random shirt from my dresser, why? Would you rather I not wear anything?” You crossed your arms and watched as he looked you up and down again, saying nothing but raising his brows. You rolled your eyes, “don't answer that.”

“I ain’ sayin’ anythin’.” He raised both hands up defensively before patting down the spot next to him. You grumbled but sat next to him, sighing as you relaxed and lay your head on his shoulder. He hummed in acceptance, placing his hand on your knee. “So why’re ya ‘ere?”

You sat back up, you almost forgot the reason why you were out here.

“Right, shit.” You fished out the handmade charm from your pocket, holding it out in front of him. He chuckled, taking it from your fingers and taking a closer look at it.

“’s cute, this fer me?” You nodded in response and his lip curled into a smirk, “this tha’ ribbon ya put in yer hair?” You nodded again as he pointed to the pink ribbon amongst the twine.

“Thought it'd be cute if you had a little something of me near you when you're out, you can tie it to your crossbow.” You murmured shyly, feeling like a schoolgirl giving her crush valentines chocolate.

“I love it,” he smiled genuinely before grabbing his crossbow and putting it between his legs so he could tie it to the handle. “Perfect, but why the sudden gift? Ya dyin’ or somethin’?”

You chuckled, “well…” He sat up straight and shot you a concerned glance. “No, I’m not. I’m giving it to you cause it's your birthday.”

His concern flushed away with a look of confusion, his hand coming up to rub his chin.

“My birthday? How do ya even know?” He narrowed his eyes questioningly.

“Eugene.”

“Ah…”

He nodded, looking back down at the charm before looking back at you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and brought you close, kissing your forehead.

“Well thank you, I ‘preciate it.” He rested his chin on the top of your head, stroking your hair. “My birthday, haven' had one in a while.. damn, ‘m fuckin’ old aren’ I?”

You snorted, moving out of his grasp to look up at him. “You're not that old,” he gave you a ‘yeah right’ kind of look. “No really! You look quite young for your age.”

“Sure thing, ya just like butterin’ up yer husband.” He sneered playfully, you punched his chest in turn while chuckling.

“We’re both getting old hun,” you sighed contently and leaned against his body, feeling him let out a tiny sigh of his own.

“Mhm, yer still hot as hell though.” You laughed, covering your face while you felt his body shake in silent laughter. “’m not lyin’.”

“I know you aren't,” you chuckled and sat up straight. “Okay but… you have to admit, I did somewhat a good job on tracking you.”

Daryl snorted and raised his brows at you, but immediately stifled his chuckle when you frowned.

“Okay, okay sure. Ya did do a good job, ‘sides scarin’ my deer away with yer big ass footsteps.” You groaned at his feedback, kicking his ankle gently. You looked away from him and felt a gentle kiss on the back of your head, his warm breath on your neck. “Nah seriously, ya did a good job locatin’ me.”

“Really?” You turned around to face him quickly, “mean it?” He chuckled as you beamed at him, nodding.

“Yes really, now ya wanna help me find that deer so we can all eat t’night?” He nudged you on your lower back, his fingertips grazing your ass. You glanced at him, noticing a cheeky grin before standing up.

“Sure, why not? Maybe you could help me track better,” you dusted off your backside and took out your hunter's knife. He stood up with a grunt, slinging his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his crossbow before leading the way.

“It went off in this direction, couldn’ ‘ave gone far.” He murmured lowly as he pointed towards the direction where the river was. You nodded and followed close behind him, wincing as you stepped on a few twigs. Daryl turned and smirked slightly, “alrigh’. Watch where ya step, find soft ground an’ take ligh’ footsteps.”

“I think that’s obvious,” you muttered and heard him snort, taking your hand in his.

“Look,” he pointed to a leaf on the ground with his crossbow. “Tha’s gonna crunch when ya step on it,” he looked at you to see if you were listening before continuing his tangent, “ya can tell if a leaf is crunchy if ‘s browned on the tips and edges. When the colour of the leaf is dull or muddy, it’ll be soft. So ya can step on it but ya have ta be careful ‘cause sometimes tha’s just the colour of the leaf.”

“Then what about twigs?” You squeezed his hand and swung his arm with yours back and forth while you two walked.

“Well those are gonna snap if ya step on ‘em obviously,” he rolled his eyes matter-of-factly. “Jus’ watch yer step, eventually you’ll be good enough at watching yer step tha’ it’ll just be second nature ta ya. Which is why I dun’ have to look down every time I take a step.” He nudged you playfully, watching as you bowed your head and took various lengths of steps.

Daryl chuckled softly, releasing his grip on your hand to grab your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “Dun’ keep lookin’ at the ground though, ya keep doin’ tha’ an’ you’ll lose yer prey. Or worse, you’ll run into a walker wit’ yer head down.” You scoffed and shook your head, grabbing his hand again while he continued to walk ahead.

You occasionally glanced down at your feet, but kept looking ahead to watch your surroundings. Eventually, you found some deer tracks and elbowed Daryl.

“Deer tracks,” you pointed with your knife. He hummed in approval and let go of your hand to fully grasp his crossbow, turning his head over his shoulder and nodded as a signal for you to keep following him. You pressed your lips into a thin line and proceeded to follow the archer, making sure to take lighter steps.

The deer quickly came into view, unknowingly chewing on some not so crunchy leaves. Daryl raised a finger to keep you still and quiet, before beckoning you with that same finger. You quietly moved next to him, the two of you crouching behind a tree. His blue eyes met yours, holding his hand out for yours. You gave him your hand and he flipped it over so your palm was to the sky, and then he placed the handle of his crossbow in your hand. Your eyes quickly widened and you shook your head.

“No, Dar! I can’t shoot this thing!” You hissed quietly, seeing his expression shift into an amused one.

“Yeah ya can, dun’ worry. I’ll help ya,” he took your other hand and guided it to the foregrip before grabbing your waist and maneuvering you in front of him. He kept his body pressed against your back, his hands on yours and mimicked your placement. Your breath hitched as he moved his head to rest over your shoulder, his lips just barely grazing the shell of your ear. “Now aim fer the deer.”

His whisper sent a wave of heat through you, closing your eyes to calm yourself before opening them again and following his instruction. Gripping onto the foregrip, your raised the cross bow slightly and aim towards the deer, hearing a low whistle of approval.

“Good, now can ya take a shot at it?” His warm breath hit your ear again and you nodded, his pointer finger over yours as you started to slowly pull the trigger.

THWACK

You flinched and widened your eyes to see the deer on its side, an arrow sticking out of it. Daryl chuckled and let go of you, patting your waist.

“Good girl.” The nickname made you shiver a little, hoping he didn’t notice. “See, I told ya you could do it.” He took the crossbow from you and slung it over his shoulder before walking over to the deer. You walked proudly after him, watching crouch next to the deer and finishing it off with his knife.

“I may have lost your deer earlier but I shot it,” you grinned as you placed your hands on your hips. He chuckled and stood up, kissing your forehead.

“Tha’, you did. Now carry my bag so I can lug this home,” you smiled to yourself and took his bag, slinging it over both your shoulders as he threw the deer over his shoulders. Your eyes sparkled as you looked up at him, wishing you were the deer right now.

“Well now we’ll have something to eat for your birthday dinner, isn’t that right?” You chuckled as you both started walking back to Alexandria.

“Yer gonna cook me somethin’?” He raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “Ya already made me tha’ charm.”

“Of course I’m gonna cook you dinner, hell it’s your birthday. You deserve more than that flimsy ol’ thing,” you snorted while adjusting the straps of his backpack.

“Ya dun’ ‘ave ta,” he grunted. “Ya could just gimme a kiss an’ I’ll be okay wit’ tha’.” You laughed at his comment, shaking your head.

“But I want to,” he couldn’t argue with that logic. Instead he just sighed and nodded his head, the two of you continuing to walk in silence.

Daryl was in the shower while you pranced around the kitchen searing the share of deer you were given, making some venison steak for dinner. The smell of rosemary and lemon filled your nostrils as you stirred some mashed potatoes in another pot, the hiss of the meat cooking on the pan was delectable. You hummed while throwing some peas into the pot of mashed potatoes, along with some butter and salt before stirring it once more and turning off the stove. You checked on the venison which looked perfectly cooked, tasting a bit of the sauce left over and decided it was perfect.

“Really outdid myself tonight,” you hummed and turned off the stove completely before setting up some plates on the dinner table. You precisely plated the steaks on the plate, scooping the mashed potatoes intricately before drizzling some canned cranberry sauce over it. You smiled proudly and poured some red wine into some glasses before lighting up a few candles. After accessing your work you quickly ran upstairs to change into a little cocktail dress, still wanted to impress your husband after all. Speaking of, you could hear Daryl fix up in the bathroom so you hurried on. You fixed up your hair in the mirror and took one last glance over your body before running back downstairs, taking your seat at the table.

You waited patiently, letting him take his time to fix up. He wasn’t going to expect all of this, the dimmed lights and candlelit dinner, but you were ready to see his expression.

Daryl came down the stairs, his hair slightly damp and over his eyes. Your eyes trailed down his neck towards his button-up, which had a few buttons undone already, and he was wearing his usual pants. His head perked up at the smell of the delicious food, brushing his hair out of his eyes and taking in the sight before him.

You grinned cheekily as he stood there, mouth agape in shock. Catching himself, he smirked slight at you and brought his hand over his mouth, his eyes glazing over your legs.

“Thought you were jus’ makin’ me dinner,” he drawled lowly. “Didn’ expect a whole feast,” he gestured towards you. You laughed as he took his seat, his eyes still on you.

“Shut up, try your food.” You giggled as you pulled your chair in and cut at your steak, letting your eyes dart up to see what he thought. He looked down at his plate and picked up his knife and fork and cut into his, dipping a slice into the mashed potatoes to get a taste of everything before shoving it into his mouth. He groaned and leaned back in his chair as he continued chewing.

“Jesus christ, (Y/N)…” You giggled and took a bite yourself, groaning as well while leaning back.

“Damn, I’m good.” You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your wine, Daryl sitting up to do the same. He swirled his wine a couple times in the glass before taking a good chug and swallowing the liquid.

“Mmh, yeah ya are.” He grunted and continued to eat his food. You smiled lovingly at him, his gaze drifted back up to yours. He chewed his food and smiled back at you, just as loving. “Ya look beautiful.”

“You do too,” you grinned and earned a snort of disbelief from him. “You are!” You giggled, causing his stomach to swarm with butterflies, the sound of your laughter bringing joy to him.

The dinner consisted of you two talking and giggling about old memories, sipping wine and sharing longing glances across the table. Eventually you both finished your dinner but remained sitting at the table and drinking your wine.

“Do you remember when I fell off the back of your motorcycle and you refused to take me anywhere for two weeks?” You giggled against the rim of your wine glass, your eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Sure do, an’ I didn’ take ya anywhere fer two weeks because ya broke yer damn arm an’ had to heal.” He crossed his arms and had a stern look on his face, but laughed nonetheless.

You just giggled and finished your glass, reaching for the bottle for some more but it was quickly snatched away.

“Not too fast,” Daryl chuckled, reaching for your glass and pouring it himself. “Thank you fer all this, ‘s by far the best birthday I’ve had in a while.” He handed you your glass back, brushing his fingers over yours as he did.

“It’s nothing… I just wanted to spoil you a little, even if it’s just a little.” You smiled and took a sip of the wine, your head starting to spin a little. He noticed and took your glass away, finishing the rest himself. You chuckled, “I wasn’t done with that.”

“I know, but I dun’ want ya completely drunk.” He took the plates and glasses and put them in the sink before sitting back down in his seat.

“Why’s that?” You leaned forward, grinning expectantly.

“’Cause I wanna be able to reward ya fer yer hard work,” he smirked and leaned back in his seat, manspreading like his life depended on it. “C’mere.”

As if you were in a trance you immediately stood up and wobbled over to him, your mind still hazy but you both knew what you wanted. He tilted his head back to look up at you, that same cocky smirk painted across his lips. He kept his hands on his thighs, and it was like a silent communication of what he wanted. You bit your lip and held eye contact as you kneeled down between his legs, his head cocking to the side as he looked down at you, bring one hand into your hair.

“Good girl… now I may be askin’ too much, but do ya mind?” He nodded towards his erection that was eagerly straining against his pants. You shook your head, bringing your hands up to unbuckle his belt. He grumbled graciously, his fingers curling in your hair.

You bit your lip as you solely focused on getting his pants off, feeling him lift his hips up a bit to make the removal process easier for you. You glanced up at him while sliding his pants and boxers off in one go, he grunted softly as his cock sprang out. His pants and boxers hung around his ankles as you moved closer, inspecting his length. The head was flushed red, and looked almost painfully hard as it twitched from the feeling of your warm breath brushing against it.

As you continued gawking at his cock, Daryl got impatient and took his length in his hand. Your drunken body felt even more turned on as you watched your husband stroke himself slowly, brushing his thumb over the sensitive tip and hissing. You whimpered, biting your lip as you moved closer. The cold tile against your thighs was a good relief from your aching heat, feeling yourself get wetter the more you watched him.

Daryl brought his other hand to the back of your neck, bringing you even closer as he held his cock and guided it to your lips. You closed your eyes and let him run his length against your cheeks, giggling a little as he slapped the tip against your lips. He pushed the head of his cock against your lips which you quickly parted, letting him slide half his length into your mouth.

You both groaned at the contact, both his hands moving into your hair while one of your hands moved to hold onto the base. Daryl threw his head back and whimpered softly as you literally sucked on him once, pulling off to leave little kitty licks on his sensitive tip. He pulled your hair into a ponytail and tugged on it when you took him into your mouth again, rolling his eyes back as your tongue swirled around the tip. He let out multiple moans and whimpers of pleasure as you bobbed your head, stroking what you couldn’t take with your hand.

You could feel him start to get close, by the sounds of his breathless whimpers and the way his grasp on your hair got tighter. You let go of his cock and braced yourself before fully letting him in, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag. He moaned loudly, making a sound of protest and trying to pull you off of him. You didn’t budge and kept bobbing your head, gagging every time he hit the back of your throat. He whined breathily, his cock twitching in your mouth as he got closer and closer. Your eyes were teary but you kept going, wanting to taste his sweet release.

Daryl tugged your hair hard, groaning deeply as he came. Splurging ropes of warm semen into your mouth, you eagerly licked it all up, savouring the saltiness of his release. The sound and sight of him coming almost had you releasing yourself, reaching down to squeeze between your legs.

His hand released your hair and caressed the back of your head soothingly, as an apology for his rough tugging. You looked up at him as you swallowed the rest of his seed, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Get up fer me,” he whispered hoarsely, grabbing onto your thighs as you obeyed. He stood up after you and pulled you against his chest, his cock stirring back to life as you felt it press between your thighs. One hand was on your waist while the other held your chin, tilting your head back to look at him, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip before dipping his head to kiss you deeply. He groaned into your mouth as he tasted himself on your tongue, your tongues wrapping together as you fought for dominance. Ultimately, he won and you let yourself be kissed aggressively by this man.

He placed both hands on your hips, pushing you back and pulling his lips off yours. Before you could think he turned you around and bent you over the dinner table, his hand immediately moving under your dress. You cried out as his fingers rubbed your wet heat over your panties which were well soaked by now, he kept his other hand on your lower back before pulling your panties off. He pushed the skirt of your dress up and over your ass, keeping you bent over on display for him. You didn’t hear anything for a few moments, the alcohol in your system making you hear your heart beat in your ears. Your knees buckled as you felt his tongue run along your slit, you whined slightly while his hands held you steady.

His tongue wiggled around between your folds, a soft cry escaping your lips every time he brushed over your clit. His lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves, sucking on it and you could feel him smirk when you cried out. He continued this motion, your eyes rolling back while the top half of your body lay flat against the table. His tongue was replaced by his finger, rubbing your clit harshly and making your leg tremble in sensitivity. You moaned loudly, the sound of your moans echoed through the kitchen while his tongue entered you. You gasped harshly at the intrusion, your nails scratching against the table as his tongue thrusted in and out of your wet heat. The warm feeling of coming undone was brewing up in your stomach, your moans ragged.

“Fuck… Dar I’m gonna cum,” you whined breathlessly. He didn’t stop, rubbing your clit even harder and causing you to arch you back and squirm against his face. His tongue remained inside of you as you came, your breath heavy while he licked up your sweet nectar. You sighed and lay your head against the table, your mind swirling with lust and haziness from the orgasm.

“Stay there,” he grunted as he stood up, rubbing the flesh of your ass with his palm. “Ya look so beautiful bent over fer me like this. Makes me wan’ ta fill ya up, put a baby in ya.” Your breath hitched, looking over your shoulder to see if he was serious.

“Really?” You whispered hoarsely, your eyes sparkling in want. “You want a baby?”

“Fuck yeah,” he grumbled, standing behind you while caressing your ass. “I mean hell, we’re both gettin’ old. I wanna be able to give ya a child before we can’t… will ya let me?”

“Yes, oh god yes Dar please.” You pleaded, earning a light tap to your bum as he bit his lip.

“Then be a good girl fer me and lay still, yer perfect.” He whispered, running his length between your ass cheeks teasingly. You bit your lip and lay your head against the wood of the table, panting in anticipation as he continued to rub his cock against you. He held his cock in his hand and rubbed the head against your clit, spreading your folds so he could thrust along them. You both moaned simultaneously, the two of you relishing the slick feeling.

He pulled his cock back, circling it around your entrance before pushing forward, filling you completely. You moaned out in delight, closing your eyes and clenching around the length inside you, feeling your walls mold to his cock. He groaned, grabbing your hips and moving back and forth slowly. Your eyes rolled back, biting your lip hard as you felt every inch of his velvety skin stroke your inner walls.

His fingers surely were leaving marks on your hips from how hard he was gripping onto you, clearly holding himself back from taking you roughly. He kept the pace slow, his cock occasionally brushing against your sweet spot but not fully meeting it. You moved back to meet his thrusts, earning a moan of approval from your movements. It still wasn’t enough.

“Need you deeper,” you pleaded softly, the high pitched tone of yours making his hips stutter. One of his hands ran up your back, grasping your hair and gently tugging you, prompting you to come up. You obeyed instantly, pushing yourself up as he carefully pulled you back to his chest. Your back arched as his hand trailed down over your throat, holding you against his shoulder.

He pressed his hips harder into you, eliciting a light breathy whine from you as your back arched further. He continued his hard thrusts, turning his head to press kisses along your neck, his cock reaching deeper and deeper with every thrust of his hips. You were closer to getting what you wanted, just one swivel of your hips against his was what got it. He slammed against your sweet spot, your jaw dropped and you closed your eyes as he kept hitting the spot. Your moans came out freely, his palm against your throat as you leaned back on his shoulder, mewling and whining loudly.

His grunts came in your ear, his breath heavy and hot as the both of you started to sweat from exertion. The sound of your skin slapping together echoed through the kitchen along with your whimpering moans and his grunts and groans. He let go of your throat and let you fall over the table, placing both his hands on your hips and thrusting with renewed intensity. His hips slapped against yours hard, his eyes watching your ass jiggle with every contact. He brought a hand up to grip your ass, pushing himself deeper into your pussy. The wet sounds of him thrusting in and out just filled you with more arousal, closing your eyes to fully immerse yourself in the moment.

You tightened around his cock as you felt yourself coming close to completion, the feeling of your walls tight around him made Daryl groan deeply. His hips stuttered but kept the pace, fucking you deeply and hard. It was clear he was also close as his grip on you became tighter and his movements got sloppier.

“Fuck, yer so tigh’… gonna fill ya up,” he groaned, thrusting harder into you. “Gonna make ya carry my babies.”

His words sent a chill up your spine, mewling out in pleasure and desire. “I want that… please…” You begged pathetically, your voice barely a whisper from all your crying and moaning.

“Imma give it to ya, dun’ worry baby. Gonna cum inside ya so deep,” he grunted, pulling your hips back in time with his movements. “Gonna give ya a baby, make ya a mama.” You whined in desire, clawing at the wood as your body trembled. Your orgasm quickly coming up.

You screamed out his name as you came for the second time tonight, rolling your eyes back as you did. You lay against the table while your legs struggled to keep you standing, his hips rapidly pushing in and out of you as he chased his orgasm.

“Shit, fuckin’ tigh’ as shit.” He cursed haphazardly, his balls tightening as they threatened to burst. “C’mon take it, take it pretty girl,” he shouted as he came, deep inside of you like he promised. He fucked you through his orgasm, groaning softly before pulling out.

Your entire body shook in sensitivity, your legs threatening to give out. Daryl continued to hold you up, watching your pussy drip with his cum. He reached down to scoop it back into you, a whimper leaving your lips at the feeling.

“Dun’ wan’ this ta go ta waste now do we?” He taunted hotly into your ear, pulling your panties up and letting your dress fall over your ass. He slapped your ass playfully before pulling up his own underwear and pants, buckling his belt. “Now let’s go cuddle upstairs hm?” He chuckled lowly and scooped you up into his arms, his expression softening at your fucked out expression.

You looked up at him sleepily and nodded, pulling his head down to kiss him softly. He hummed against your lips, taking you upstairs.

“Happy birthday, Dar.”

[gleefullypolin]

Stacy's Tipsy Musing's - Colin Bridgerton Hot Takes - Part 1

Ok boys and girls, we need to have a little chat about Colin Bridgerton.

Part 2 has been out now for a couple of days and there have been a lot of hot takes to come out of the season. A LOT of hot takes.  I’m going to break this down into 4 parts. 4 questions that I'm seeing really bad hot takes about Colin.

Now none of this is new, I gotta say before Season 3 aired Colin was a hot button topic anyway. He seemed to be the Bridgerton brother that lots of people love to spew hate takes on anyway. But damn I gotta say its painful seeing the Polin fandom have so many bad takes falling from their lips.

So, I figured...having a little drink tonight, sitting down for Father’s Day (Happy Father’s Day, Colin) I’d give you the opinion on some of these takes that you didn’t ask for...Mine!

Ok let’s start with the hottest take. Question 1:

Does Colin really believe that Pen entrapped him in marriage?

“Perhaps that was another part of your planned entrapment”

Ok I have to say, I have never seen one line inspire SO MANY BAD TAKE FANFICS IN ALL MY LIFE! Let’s start at the beginning...he found out about Lady Whistledown by following Pen because he noticed she and his sister run off together and disappeared. His sister who was not speaking to Pen previously from his knowledge. So not only is he suddenly feeling betrayed by his future wife, but also his sister.

Now add to this, his trying to reconcile this lie in the middle of planning a wedding to the woman he thought he knew most of his life as quiet little Pen, who just weeks earlier he was trying to teach how to flirt and land a man. He is confused and angry.

But that’s only 2 layers of hurt. Let’s keep adding to that. Layer one, we have the lie. Layer two, we have a woman he thought he knew. Add in Layer three, the Marina situation.

The original LW lie for him was about Marina’s lie. The original entrapment. An entrapment that Colin was willing to look past. He was still willing to marry Marina despite her deception. He still checked in on her post marriage to Phillip to ensure she was happy, to see if she regretted NOT marrying him. Colin always regretted his behavior to Marina’s entrapment. An entrapment that LW pushed into the light and forced a different decision for him. I don’t think he cares about Marina now, he never once accused her of taking Marina from him, he never loved Marina, but she took his agency, his decision.

Now for the fun of it, let’s add layer four. Portia’s already accused Pen of entrapping Colin during his confrontation with her. An accusation he strongly defended her against. An accusation which led to him telling her he loved her for the first time and them sharing their first time together. Which he is now reminding her of.  “I’m a man of honor. And we were intimate.” Colin knows how to hurt Pen. We always know how to hurt those we have known for a long time, and they are of course the oldest of friends. He is striking her where he knows it will hurt her the most. Because he is hurting, and she caused the blow.

So let’s talk about the biggest blow of them all. “Perhaps that was another part of your planned entrapment” He doesn’t look her in the eye when he says any of this. He can’t, because he KNOWS he’s being an asshole. He knows its below the belt. But she hurt him. He’s angry, hurt, lashing out.

Because of Layer five...Hot anger at what she wrote about him at the beginning of the season. This person who knows him better than anyone else, wrote truth to page. No one knows the real Colin the way Pen does. His brothers toasted him when he returned home because of his new female attention, his friends said he was more fun this season. But Pen called his new persona a ploy for attention. She saw him for what he was. A fraud. If he is to forgive Pen, he is to also start to acknowledge that there is truth in things she says that perhaps Lady Whistledown does not tell lies.

But then there is layer six. Jealousy and shame. Colin has sat in all of his emotions, yes he’s angry about what she has written,but we get to the heart of it, he’s jealous of her and that makes him ashamed of himself. That’s very Book!Colin coded who was very ashamed of his jealousy, so much so that Pen mistook his silence and brooding as shame of her. But this Colin is brooding in his own shame and jealousy and lashing out at her.

And then we get to layer seven. Colin loves Penelope above all else. And with this love and hurt and shame and jealousy, there is nothing that will stop him from marrying her. And in part, that is where his ire in this pointed cut comes from. He’s reminding her that they will marry. This will happen. This woman who is a successful writer, something he thinks he will never be, will marry him. Because he has laid claim to her. He has bedded her. They were intimate, she was compromised, and they have entrapped each other. But above all, he loves her, and Lady Whistledown will not change that decision for him this time. This time, he will marry.

Seven layers of lies, deception, past hurts, parental pressures, anger, jealousy and shame, and above all love sat on his tongue and wormed through his thoughts for days until they cut out at the small woman beside him that he needed to hurt in that moment. The woman he had been avoiding for that very reason.

Colin is not a hateful man. He was a kind man. He was rarely angry. But when he was finally put in a place where anger was his only emotion, he avoided Penelope, so that he didn’t hurt her, so he would not say things that were unkind and would hurt her. But when put into the place that he could not avoid her, he lashed out. He made it very clear how things were going to go and he pouted, and he brooded and he said unkind words.

And he was ashamed. And after that he did his best to avoid her, (by being out drinking, sleeping on the couch, avoiding intimacy) so he would not lash out at her again. Because he was ashamed.

Stick around for Part 2.... Why would Colin send Pen home alone after finding her on the street at night?

[bueckers-sturniolo]

you are in love. (part 2 to the alchemy)

paige bueckers x fem!reader

read part 1 here!

word count: 1,234!

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol, drunk!paige, smooching. ALSO, if u listen to the song and read, i skipped around and used different lyrics to make this flow easier and more understandable.

authors note: HI GUYS! i wrote the alchemy 10-ish days ago now, and you guys have shown me so much love and support. i cannot express how happy i am that you guys enjoy my writing :) i hope you guys love, love, love this. i love love love you. part 3 coming soon, hopefully :)

p.s. all of the words highlighted in blue are references back to you are in love. enjoy :)

one look, dark room. meant just for you. time moved too fast, you play it back. buttons on a coat, lighthearted joke. no proof, not much. but, you saw enough. small talk, he drives. coffee at midnight. the light reflects, the chain on your neck. he says,’look up,’ and your shoulders brush. no proof, one touch, but you felt enough.

the night after the game was a blur. well, partly. the team was now at a restaurant-bar type thing. some of you were drinking, some of you aren’t. paige was, which, everytime the team went out, she did. but, this time is… different.

shes always a little touchy-feely when drunk, but, she’s taking it to a whole new level tonight. right now, you’re talking to kk, sitting down, and she’s somewhere taking shots with azzi. you’ve been keeping an eye on her all night, but…. she tends to wander.

you’re currently drinking an espresso martini, even though it was close to midnight and it probably wasn’t the best idea to drink coffee at midnight. but, who cares? it’s fun.

“im surprised paige isn’t attached to your hip, right now.” kk says, snapping you out of your daze with a light-hearted joke.

you chuckle, shaking your head. your gaze meets paige again. she finally locks eyes with you, and smiles lopsidedly.

“holy shit, she’s hammered.” you whisper to kk, and kk laughs, “yeah, she normally gets a little tipsy after a win.” you nod at that, then signal for paige to walk over to you guys.

she makes her way over to you guys, immediately walking up behind you and resting her chin on your shoulder.

“hey, hiccup, killer. what’s up?” paige says, slurring her words. you can smell the alcohol. maybe it’s from the close proximity, maybe she’s just chugging alcohol like it’s spring break. you have no clue, but regardless, it kinda makes your stomach turn. it’s not a great smell.

“just checkin’ on you,” you mumble, turning your face to look at her. she looks at you from the corner of her eyes, smiling slightly. “how much have you had to drink?”

“a few, not a lot…” she says, still smiling. you chuckle, looking back at kk with a ‘are you hearing this bitch lie straight through her teeth?’ look, and kk just smiles.

paige’s hand made its way around your body, then brings it up to your collarbones, fiddling with the necklace around your neck. she hums as she looks at it.

“it’s sparkly.” paige says, her drunk mind being weirdly fascinated with the way the light reflects the chain on your neck. you smile at that, finding it absolutely fucking adorable how interesting she finds this necklace, even though you wear it all the time.

one step, not much. but, it said enough. you kiss on sidewalks,

by the time paige is ready to leave, it’s 1:46 am. the rest of the team had left already, getting bored of waiting for paige to hurry up. but, you felt obligated to stay. so, you call an uber, then you guys stand outside on the sidewalk. it’s december, and it’s extremely cold outside. you and paige stand huddled up to each other, shivering. your teeth started chattering together, and paige couldn’t bare it anymore.

that’s when paige wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you into her. it wasn’t really for her sake, at all. it was for yours.

you rest your head into the crook of her neck, pushing your hands inbetween your bodies to seek some sort of warmth. you guys stand like this in silence for a few minutes. then, her drunk temptations started to get the best of her. she gently nudges your face with her shoulder, signaling for you to lift it up.

as you do, she looks at you for a few seconds. you were extremely confused as to why she would take away your sense of heat, and then she kisses you. she kisses you.

what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck, is your only thought. after a few moments of shock, you decide to kiss back, bringing your hands up to her face. it feels wrong, you feel guilty. she’s so drunk she probably doesn’t even know what she’s doing.

but, drunk actions are sober thoughts. so, fuck it, you think.

as the uber rolls up beside you guys, she breaks the kiss. she then just lets go of you and walks off like it didn’t fucking happen. what. the. fuck. is still your only thought.

you fight, then you talk.

the next morning, you decide to ask her about it. bad choice, but hell, why not?

“so… you just…” you stay silent for a few seconds, “don’t remember kissing me? at all?” you say, getting frustrated. you had no real reason as to getting angry over this, but, you wanted her to remember it. you wanted her to have meant it.

“no, i do not fuckin’ remember it, why is it even such a big deal? friends kiss all the time as a joke.” paige says, shrugging. she’s sitting across from you on your couch right now, and she’s sitting as far as she can. why the fuck is she doing this?

“paige, i just-“ you cut yourself off, running your hands over your face. how do you defend the fact that you’re angry about your best friend not remembering kissing you while drunk? it’s not even that big of a deal, really.

“look, im sorry i did it. im sorry i dont remember. it was a mistake, y/n.” she says, sighing. okay, fuck you too, then, you think. you didn’t really want to talk about it anymore, honestly. her saying it was a mistake was something that was so hurtful that it kinda made you have that feeling in your stomach when it feels like your heart has actually dropped down onto it. (does that even make sense? let me know)

now or never, now or never, now or never, you repeat in your head.

you take a deep breath, opening your mouth. then, you close it again. paige is staring dead at you. she’s always been good at just making eye contact with anyone and everyone, it made you kinda nervous. you weren’t bad or uneasy with eye contact normally, but with her… it was different.

“what if i wanted you to mean it, paige?” you say, looking her dead in the eyes.

she stares. all that she can is fucking stare at you. “what?” she mumbled out, quietly. “what do you mean, ‘what?’ its pretty damn clear. what if i wanted you to mean it when you kissed me? i know you were drunk, i understand that. but, what if i have been praying since it happened that you intended for that to happen and the only way you could push yourself to finally do it was when you were drunk off your ass?” you begin rambling out of frustration of her not responding with what you want her to.

you want her to admit that she wanted to kiss you. you wanted her to admit that every time she saw you, it took every fiber and atom in her body to hold back from kissing you. but, she didn’t. she stares at you in shock, eyes wide. in disbelief, even.

“what?”

a/n: sorry for the cliffhanger. anyway, part 3? 😁

[mustainegf]

Friends with benefits typa thing with 1991 James, reader has been friends with him since 83 and knows Kirk, lars and Jason real well. AND LIKE MAKE HIM CONFESS HE WROTE NOTHINF ELSE MATTER ABOUT THE READER. And like end up fucking backstage after performing it 🙏🏻🫶

DONT YOU DARE MAKE ME CRY.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ¹⁹⁹¹

I’d known James for many years. That bond between us was always quite firm. Things had recently become pretty intimate. I will say we hooked up a few times in our friendship, just two friends seeking something more during lonely nights on the road.

One night, after a great show show, we just sat around on the tour bus. Adrenaline was still high, beers were flowing.

James and Lars were knocked out from performance, having gone directly to bed, shockingly. So I, Kirk, and Jason sat around and let the liquor flow.

"Hey, turn up the radio," Jason said suddenly, his eyes lighting up. "I think that's one of our new tracks."

Then, sure enough, the soft melody of Nothing Else Matters filled the small space of that tour bus.

It was quite a far cry from the usual thrash metal Metallica creation. This song was somber, simply beautiful. I found myself immediately in love with it since the day they played it for me in the studio.

"I really like this one," I said aloud to no one in particular. "It's different."

Kirk chuckled and glanced over at Jason. "Oh, you know all about this song," he said, his eyes sparkling with tipsiness.

I raised an eyebrow. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Jason turned to Kirk, then back to me. "Wait, you don't know?"

"Know what?" I asked, a weird sense of anticipation.

"James didn't tell you?" Kirk asked, lowering his voice so James wouldn't hear from his bunk.

I shook my head, completely baffled as i glanced around for any clue as to what’s they meant. "Tell me what?"

Kirk leaned forward, his face now dead serious. "He wrote this song about you."

I just sat there staring at him, my brain stumbling over the thought. "About.. me?"

Jason nodded, his face softening with a knowing smile. "Yeah. Ever wonder why it sounds so personal?"

I was floored. Absolutely floored. Of all the things that I had contributed to the scale of imaginations in my mind, this wasn't one.

James wrote a song for me? I replayed again, this time each word sounding all new.

"But, why?" I stuttered.

Kirk and Jason exchanged another look, as if wordlessly passing along a secret they both shared. "Because you mean a lot to him," Kirk explained conclusively. "More than you might realize."

I sank back, my heart thudding inside my chest. The lyrics looped in my mind, the tune entwining itself into my thoughts. James, who I had known for so many years, my friend, and lately so much more, had laid his heart out in this damn song. A song about me.

Everything had become pretty fuzzy in the days since Kirk and Jason's secret. That conversation just kept playing over in my head. The knowledge James had written that song about me left me unable to breathe.

I sat backstage at one of their concerts tonight, just like I usually did. The crowd roar and the all knowing riffs of Metallica pierced the air, but my thoughts strayed strong.

I sat there, lost, replaying the moments I shared with James, not able to shake off that my heart filled with an emotion I had been trying to ignore for years.

The final song began.

Nothing else matters, those sweet open notes.

I watched James up on stage, his voice pouring out something so raw. He looked so vulnerable in that circle of light.

I am thinking of James, of his smile, wide, sweetly bent, which can still make me smile. His laughter is soft and amused sometimes, other times, it's loud and proud. He has such a big heart, which maybe he would have covered up with an exterior of toughness, but there was unmistakable proof in his acts. He was just a big teddy bear, really.

I thought about the times we had shared, nights that we spent as lovers. The way he touched me, held me, kissed me, made love to me. It wasn't just sex, it was something deeper, something more.

I felt my eyes swim with tears as he sang. The lyrics glowed of love, longing, all the same things that I had suppressed, feared admitting.

All along, I had been trying to tell myself it was just a friends with benefits thing, no strings attached, that sort of thing. Yet now, with this song playing, knowing it to be about me, it was impossible to keep lying to myself.

I loved James. And always had.

As the last plucking notes of the song ceased into the applause of the many fans, something hit me like a ton of bricks. I realized I was in love with James. But now, denying it wasn't possible. I loved him.

Later that evening, we started back to the hotel. The streets were empty, at times, only the sound of our footsteps could be heard.

That song still stirred something inside me. I walked along with James, taking quick looks at him, my heart racing with all the things I wanted to say. But didn’t.

Finally, we reached the hotel, and James excused himself. "Hey, can you come with me for a second?" he asked, looking at me with a face he clearly wanted to look hesitant.

I nodded, my lips curling up slightly. "Sure."

We walked down the hallway to his room, until at last he stopped and turned toward me.

"So uh… Don't freak out," he started off awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. "The guys convinced me to tell you what I'm about to say."

I nodded again. My stomach practically doing flips as I knew what he was about to say. "Okay, shoot."

He sucked in a deep breath and looked around looking more nervous than I’d ever seen the man. "I, uh… I don't really know how to say this, but…the song, you know.. 'Nothing Else Matters'…I wrote it about you. For you."

"About me?" I whispered, even though I already knew. Hearing him say it was different.

James nodded, his eyes finally meeting mine. "Yeah. I… I wasn’t gonna tell you, but Kirk and Jason wouldn't let it go."

"Why would you write something so beautiful about me?" I queried softly.

James stepped closer, his voice whisper soft now.

“Because I love you.”

His words strung in the air between us, then came the kiss, soft and full of passion, full of all the love that had been built up inside me during all those many days. His hands rested lightly on my hips, and I felt right.

I pulled back just an inch, my forehead still against his. "James… promise me this means something, that we won't go right back to being friends," I whispered, referring to all those other times when, well, we'd made out, even fucked, without meaning anything by it.

He stared into my eyes. "The last thing I want is to just be friends.”

A grin spread across his face as he swung me up and into another kiss. Our lips had barely touched when he pushed open the door to his hotel room, sweeping me inside before he kicked it shut behind us a little more gently.

The latch clicked, and the sound bounced in the room.

We both giggled, the laughter blending with the kisses, our joy filling the room. His hands took their place all over my body.

He laid me softly on the bed, crawling over me. His lips found mine again, and this kiss was slow, full promises.

His hands were absolutely everywhere, stroking down my sides, brushing and squeezing against my breasts, finally resting on my hips.

"I love you," he breathed against my lips.

"I love you too, James…” I whined in return, just hardly a breathy sigh.

He shifted in weight, moving between my legs, his erection pressing insistently against my thigh. I felt the heat of him, the hardness that told me of his deep need.

We stripped ourselves down, pecks and smiles given between each article of clothing that was tossed to the floor.

Slowly, he guided himself to me the head of his cock nudged against my wetness. It was familiar, but different this time. It meant something.

My hands clutched at his back, my nails dragging in a little as he started to push inside.

"God, you feel so good," he groaned out. "So perfect for me…”

That stretch was fucking perfect, a mix of pleasure and slight ache as he filled me up. Slowly but surely, his cock slid into me, inch by inch, and sank deeper.

I just cannot describe this feeling of being inside.

"You're so big," I whimpered again. "I love how you feel inside me..." I told him earnestly, I knew it would get him riled up.

"I love being inside you," he replied with a chuckle despite the growl. "You make me feel so good, baby… you always do."

Once he was bottoming out, the thrusts began almost simultaneously, each pump a reasoned peice of his love. I felt every inch of him, the way his cock stretched and filled me up completely, how it rubbed against all the right places inside.

"You feel amazing," he murmured again, his lips against my ear. "So, so tight. My good girl."

My hips lifted to his thrusts, and we moved together. The sounds of our lovemaking were quite evident, the wet slap of our bodies coming together, the endless gasps and moans becoming a mess.

"James," I groaned, grasping at his neck and tugging him closer as he moved inside me. "Oh God, yes. Just like that!” I wailed.

His tongue delved deep into my mouth, as did his cock. I felt the heat of him, the slick pulsing hardness that filled me so well, better than anyone or anything ever could.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered against my lips, breath hot. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," I gasped, my body arching against his as my pricked nipples grazed his sweaty chest. "I love you so much, James."

His thrusts quickened, grew harder, urgent, sloppy. I could feel that tension tightening and tightening in my tummy.

His cock pounded inside me, each beat forcing me closer to cumming.

"You're my everything," he groaned thickly. "My beautiful girl. You're so good for me.”

"Yes," I groaned, my nails clawing into his back and probably leaving vulgar marks. "I'm yours, J-James. Always."

I could feel him throbbing inside me, its heat a delicious reminder of his lust for me.

"Cum for me," he whispered, his voice at once a command and plea. "Cum for me, baby."

The final push that sent me over the brink. My climax ripped over me. I clung to his body, my frame shaking as He fucked me through it.

It was only second later and James followed, his member pulsing as he roared. I felt the hot, wet rush of his cum, flooding me. He groaned my name, every inch of us trembled, from our legs to our voices.

He kissed me lightly, lips tender. “You're amazing," he breathed in my ear.

This was where I was mean to be, with James.

And nothing else matters.

[nervoushottee]

A Shot of Whiskey | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Smut

Summary: [1.2k] You didn't think Joel would take you up on your offer. But here you were getting fucked in the bathroom stall of the bar.

Warnings: (EXPLICIT MNDI 18+.) SMUT SMUT, sir kink, praise, pet names like "good girl, pretty girl, darlin', my girl." Fucking filth honeslty.

Notes: Heyyyy Hotteesssss! Long time no seeee. I've been working at my new job and getting settled. Listen yall. I've never written Smut before. I've only read it, but I don't know what came over me (I'm ovulating and feral) but I wrote this all in one sitting. I hope this is good

I hope you enjoy! Comments and reblogs are ALWAYS APPRECIATED!

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

You didn’t think Joel was going to take up on your offer.

 You were a bit tipsy. Not really. Only having a few shots of whiskey to warm your chest. But it  was just enough to give you the confidence to approach the big man that you’d been eyeing since he arrived in Jackson. You thought he would’ve kindly redirected your attraction to him, like he had done with Janice. The poor woman's cheeks were cherry red out of embarrassment but Joel brushed off with his gruff southern hospitality. “No harm done darlin’.” is what Janice told you he said when you were working a shift at the bar. 

You wished he could call you that. You wish he could call you a lot of things. You were hoping he would with the way you had been flirting with him quietly at the bar. You were off work, only really coming to help cheer Janice up who had already picked up another guy at the dance floor. 

You thought he wasn’t going to act on your very horny request. But here you both were, in a bathroom stall at the bar. Joel fucking you with his hand covering your mouth to hide your moans. Your legs wrapped around his waist as tightly as your body could let you. 

He was going at such a sickly sweet pace. A nice rhythm that hit the right spot at the exact right time. Having you moan and whimper into his hand louder when he added a bit more pressure. 

“Right there darlin’?” he questions.

You whimper again at the name, nodding softly against his hand. Clenching against his cock caused him to groan into your neck, rutting into you at a faster pace. His warm breath against your skin, the grip he had against your ass. The two of you being pressed up against each other, The cool touch of the stall against your back. Every feeling, every sound was making it even harder for you not to come too quick. 

You wanted this to last as long as it could. You didn’t know if this was just a fluke. Probably a one time thing. You assumed that the glass of liquor Joel was sipping when you spoke to him was the only persuasion to fuck you right now. Let alone in the bathroom of Jackson’s most popular bar. 

Joel removes his hand against your mouth, causing you to let out a sigh that came out as a moan. He shushes you, slowing his pace. Moving his head to look at you. “We got to be quiet baby, don’t want them hearin’ you make all those pretty noises for me.” 

You nod your head quickly, your eyes hooded and glossed over as you stare at him. 

“They’re just for you.” you say softly, a moan coming out near the end when Joel hits that spot deep within you. 

His eyes light up at your words with a smirk that turns into a smile. “Yeah? That right? All for me darlin’?” he says to you. Each question he asks you makes him speed up his pace in fucking you. Your head hitting the back of the stall in process. You didn’t care. You would’nt give two shits if the fucking bar was on fire and everyone had to evacuate. You wouldn’t be leaving until Joel fucking Miller made you come at least once in this bathroom stall. 

“Yes sir.” you pant. Feeling the delicious pressure slowly building inside you. 

“Fuck.” he moans, going at even faster pace that makes you cry out. He places one of his hands at the back of your head to keep it from knocking against the hard surface. 

The sounds you too were making were so deliciously sinful. The echo of his dick going inside you, skin smacking together in the process. You heavy breathing saying a multitudes of “fuck, yes, more, and please Joel” coming out your mouth. His constant groans and praises. “Good girl- that’s it, fuck you’re so good.” 

 You didn’t care if the whole bar heard you at this point.  Something deep inside you even wanted them to hear you. Granted you’d probably get fired from this job but it’d all be worth it  because of how good you were getting fucked. 

“You’re doing so good for me, my girl. Clenchin’ on my dick like that, fuck you’re so tight. You want me to keep going? You want me to fuck you harder so the whole bar can hear you screaming my name? Calling me sir all nice and pretty like the good girl you are. Being so good to me let  me fuck you like this all nice and filthy in this stall? You want to come, my pretty girl? Are you gonna give it to me baby?” Joel fucks at a relenting pace as he talks to you, never stopping for a second. His praises shoot right up your spine down to your throbbing pussy. 

You reach down beneath the two of you to messily rub against your puffed clit. You shriek at the sudden feeling of additional pleasure. “Oh fuck!” you scream.  Joel hums at your response, kissing your neck, licking his tongue down to your collarbone. “You got it my pretty girl. My good girl.” 

“I’m so close Joel. I’m so close.” You rush out and say.

“I know my girl, I know. I got it.” He says to you, moving to watch you. Your eyes nearly closed with how fucked out you were. 

“Give it to me baby. Let me feel you come on my cock. I want it so bad, be a good girl and come for me.” He praises and begs you all at the same time, watching you so intently. 

“Fuck I’m coming- I’m comingg, fuckfuckfuck.” you shriek loudly, your orgasm washing over you and hitting you like a truck. 

“That’s it.” Joel groans loudly, feeling you clench against him, as he fucks you even faster. His pace turning sloppy and rushed as he chases his own orgasm. “My good girl, you feel so good clenchin’ around me. Fuck.”

With a few more strokes, Joel comes inside you. He moans against you, as his forehead press against yours. The two of you slowly come down from your high. Joel kissing your neck repeatedly, lickling the salty sweat against you.

You come down from your high and you're finally able to hear what’s happening outside the bathroom. Sounds like a country song playing with the community singing and clapping loudly. Probably a line dance or something of the sort. 

A blessing that the activities going on were so loud. Because there was no way in hell that you and Joel were quiet and you told him as such. “Good thing it’s so loud out there. There’s no way I could’ve been as quiet as you wanted with how you were fucking me like that.” You say to him breathly. Still haven’t caught your breath after what you too just did. 

Joel lets out a hefty chuckle. Still panting with you also. “Lucky us.”

Neither of you had moved from your position. Your legs still wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck. His, still on your ass and thighs holding you up. His dick slowly softens inside you. The feeling of him slowly dripping out of you. 

“How about we go back out there and you get me a drink?” you question.

“Yes ma’am.” he responds without hesitation. 

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

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE ALWAYS APPERCIATED

[jolalibrary]

but he does have you

joel miller x f!reader

summary: because he hasn’t got a lot of anything, but he does have you.

warnings: reader gets hurt off-screen, so tending to wounds. protective!joel. no reader age specified, joel is canon age. brief mention of alcohol. slight mention of smut. idiots who are together but don't admit it. jo-angst

an: i wrote half of this when i was tipsy. i don't even know how. i did it. a huge thank you to @guyfieriii for her eyes, her smile and the title.

wordcount: 1.5k

He wakes to throbbing, churning and a dry throat.

Eyes squinting, the sunlight peering in, casting too much goodness over a sorrowful sight, even if the shadowy flecks try to leave paths to greatness.

All it does is highlight it all over again. That it is still there. A reminder, memories recalling yesterday, eyes tracing the scored marks across your face, all illuminated by warm, golden rays.

It’s all in vain, because even a sunny morning couldn’t make it better.

It couldn't rid the tightness in his chest. Couldn't fix what had already been done. Joel had tried to do it all himself last night.

"You should see how I left them."

As soon as he'd had a chance to really see you, see what had happened, he’d done what he used to do with Tess. By that, he cracked open a bottle, placed little pills in your palm, and cleaned out the brick dust from your cuts and scrapes.

But you weren’t anything like Tess.

Where she was like fire, you were more fury. His silence worsening your mood, spoiling the air.

Instead of saying a biting comment, you pushed his hand away. Staring, burning holes, until your fingers yanked him by the denim of his shirt, crashing his lips to yours.

He remembers how warm they were, cracked, but still as pleasant as always. Craving each second more than the last until he lost himself completely—just like the first time the two of you stepped over the line together. His feet sliding, willingly, off the metaphorical ground and straight into you.

Because before, he used to put up more of a fight. Keep his distance, be aloof in the hope you’d turn your attention to another. You didn’t, and thank fucking shit you didn’t, because ever since, when the two of you are alone, he’s been freefalling—without worry or care.

It's why he let his fingers lose themselves on the back of your neck, keeping you close, tasting whimper after moan—preferring the taste of Miller to the swears that fall as he walks you to the bed.

The one on blocks of concrete, covered in messy sheets that likely still smell of the two of you from a few nights ago. The one he shares with you, even if only for a night or two a week.

It had been different a few nights ago, than it is now.

A different kind of need, seeking a different resolution or proof of being alive. Your body vibrates with it, the adrenaline of keeping your head above water, knuckles cracked with your determination and your body bruised with your unwillingness to bow to anyone.

He suspects that’s why his back throbs, aches—thrumming and thrumming as it twinges, unable and unwilling to slide his arm from under or over you.

Because this isn’t something the two of you do.

It’s not something he does.

But he likes it, having you close. Little to no space between you, your neck warm on his arm.

He shouldn't get to experience mornings like this, so he clutches it closer. He ignores the fact he's stained and marred with what he's had to do to live and focuses instead on the softness of your skin.

Because he didn't deserve you to begin with. So much so, a while ago, he’d forced a list, all in his mind. One thing after another as to why he should keep you away, push you away.

He knows last night isn't what ripped up that list, he'd done that months ago. But he’s sure that last night is when it truly turned to ash. When he torched it, shredded it, lit a match and watched it burn. All of those reasons why he shouldn’t be this close to anyone—never mind someone like you—gone, as though they’d never occupied any space in his mind before.

Because how could he not want you?

A thought which had hammered in him on the day his resolute had finally snapped. All you'd done was smile, blessed him with a laugh all because of something he’d said. A fleck of nice in a wasteland of detestation.

Somehow, unbeknown to him even now, you had managed to keep a part of yourself alive even after all the horrors. A slither of humour, snark and wit. You, who had seen, done and experienced things, yet bore no real scarring from any of it.

It’s why he knew, deep down, whatever semblance of himself remained, he wanted to enjoy moments like this. He squirrelled it away, sneaking it into a box in his mind different from the one he usually buries things in. Placing it on a shelf beside the one stuffed with memories, voices, and butterflies.

Brushing his hand over his face, he opens his eyes across the room—and sees the catalyst of your pleading, begging arranged in scattered clothing across it.

It all comes back to him, all the hours that had ticked on by as the place filled with moans, sweat and skin-on-skin sounds. How good you'd felt, how solid and firm you'd been on top of him, reminding him, over and over, how alive you were.

If he focuses hard enough when he drags his tongue over his bottom lip, he can almost separate the taste of how alive you are from the bottle of cheap liquor the two of you had attempted to finish.

The one he managed, one glass off, maybe two.

You're determination outweighing his in your pursuit of burning the epinephrine from your system, desperate to feel him, have him scorch bruises over the ones you'd gained from other hands.

Not that he'd have drank much more anyway. It's an effect of having you close. Finds you remedy more things, calm more storms and flickers on a light that is otherwise fading.

Especially when he makes your back arch, when your chin tilts up, and he buries grunts along the place where your neck and shoulder meet. When he feels you tighten, tense—body electric, nerves alive and buzzing.

Then, there’s the way you always say his name—not Miller, not Misery or Grump, but Joel.

It’s all elongated. Heavy.

Kissing the air with a breath encased all around it, that ricochets around his skull and buries itself in an abandoned part of his brain.

It being further proof, a receipt (in a world that doesn’t care) that the two of you are more than what you’re willing to admit, acknowledge. No label, no conversation. Just continuous acts that layer and layer.

He lets his eyes fall back to you, still sleeping soundly. Chest rising and falling, the thin sheet clinging, trapped under your arm. It’s clearer now, where they'd grabbed you. Where their hands had been.

It's much more evident now, even if he’d seen them all in their beginnings last night—the ones you’d not admitted to—spotting, mentally noting all the little swollen patches, surrounded by grazes, cuts.

Now, they're magnified by the morning light.

And it makes his blood boil all over again.

His palm wanting to gently slide over them, heal them in some way—and then later, use that same palm to squeeze the life out of the person who inflicted them. Find them, drag them down an alleyway until their teeth sit amongst the pebbles and weeds.

You’d begged him not to leave to find them last night. You had asked it of him between heavy kisses. All whispered, a promise he’d handed you because you were naked, all wanting and sat on top of him, full of him, every inch of him buried inside of you—

“Please. It’s nothing.”

The latter two words were what you’d said when you’d knocked on his door with a faded, dusty med kit. The exact two words you’d repeated when you’d winced as he cleaned the cut above your brow. Them repeated again once you’d taken you'd caught your breath from sliding his cock inside of you, all unwilling to move until he agreed.

You'd even splayed your fingers across his chest, eyes determined, flickering with flames sitting on him so prettily.

“You don’t want me to hurt them today, I won’t.”

Joel isn’t sure if you caught it. But you were intelligent, clever—far more devious than you looked or acted. But, you said nothing. Rocking your hips, taking his hand and resting it on your thigh, words falling, littered with praises and gratitude.

Each washing over him, temporerily making him forget—able to live in a lie when he closed his eyes. Able to pretend the air was tinged with liquor because of celebrations, and not because you’d fought to keep ration cards.

“You’re so good to me, Miller.”

He sighs, remembering it falling from your lips. His heartbeat quickening like it did when his fingers had rested at the base of your neck, watching in awe as you fucked yourself on him.

It’s a line you say infrequently, but it slams into him with the same force as it did the first time. The words rattling and clanking around until they fall through and are processed. That’s when they almost take the air from his lungs, knock him to his knees, breaking and fixing, ripping and soldering, him all at fucking once.

Because he’s not good, but then neither are you.

There’s no good, no evil. Living and surviving being all that remains.

Something he finds hard to believe when you’re back is flush to him. When your is skin bare, hand under your face, curled so your face is buried from the window you face.

Joel supposes that’s why he’ll get up soon. Pull on his jeans, grab some clothes, throw water on his face and head out.

Because you are warm, while he’s cold—and deep down, while he pities those who get between the two of you, he’s not sorry for them. He’s not sorry for the precipitation that catches them off guard, how they’re trapped in a storm that never lessens when they cross the two of you.

They should know better. Do better. Be better.

“Goddamnit—can’t say those words to me—“

He’d meant it, likely in the same way you meant the ones that followed. An array of admirations that fell and tumbled.

The muscle in jaw twitched, fingers drawing a line up and down your side. Watching, as he does sometimes, as you wiggle, shift. Moving further into him, leaving no amount of gap between his body and yours.

“No? Why not, Miller?”

He still doesn’t have an answer, and it’s been hours. Mainly, because there's not just one, but rather an amalgamation of many, smashed together to make a thing, rather than an explanation.

Because.

Because he lost a lot, practically everything. Because he hasn’t got a lot of anything, but he does have you. Because you’re not something he never wanted, but he wants you all the same. Because he prefers you here, in the place you are now.

Because it’s you.

And no one gets to breathe, never mind talk if they try and take that from him.

No one.

And honestly, he's not entirely sure what to do with that knowledge.

[azriels-shadowsinger]

Brother’s Best Friend (Azriel x Reader)

summary: you are cassian’s sister and have a thing for azriel

wc: 1K

a/n: this is my first fic ive written for tumblr since like 2014 i think so sorry if its absolute garage. this is also not proof read at all and honestly i wrote this while tipsy bc ive been nervous to write again so i’m just saying fuck it i’m sorry :)

warnings: slight smut/suggestiveness

You always looked up to Cassian since you were little.

Like most big brothers, he has always been protective as fuck, especially with growing up in the windhaven camp and becoming solely responsible for you after your mother died.

He shielded you from so much in your childhood because he wanted the best for you.

Like many little sisters, you thought Cassian and his friends were the coolest males alive and wanted to follow them everywhere.

You basically had three big brothers instead of one.

They would try to include you as much as possible, but sometimes they did certain things that you definitely should not be around and would find some excuse to get rid of you.

But at the end of the day, the three of them would stand up to just about anyone for you to protect you. And they did.

They only let you join the snowball fight once and then kicked you out because it wasn’t fair that you only targeted Cassian the entire time and that Azriel felt bad throwing snowballs at you.

Also you were a child and couldn’t throw far enough to hit any of them, but they still say you suck at snowball throwing to this day.

When you got older, you desperately tried to ignore the rumors you heard about the boys around the camp. No one needs to hear about their brother’s sex life.

When the four of you moved to Velaris and after everything with Rhysand’s family, they were all very protective over you.

Over time, you and Azriel grew closer. His close friendship with Cassian led to you becoming closer with him than Rhys.

He is soooo protective of you.

So much so that no one bats an eye when he scares off any male that tries to court you, claiming they are not worth your time.

“I’m not overprotective, I just don’t think that any of these males meet your standards.” Aka his standards for you

Having a shadow or two follow you around became the norm.

You and Azriel start to spend a lot of one on one time together, platonically at first. You two are definitely the comfortable silence type.

Reading your separate books on the couch together was a common occurrence.

You spent years trying to ignore the shift in how you viewed Azriel.

Neither of you are quite sure when you realized the change in your relationship, but one day you became very aware of how attractive you find him.

The shy and quiet boy quickly became the silent and mysterious male.

And Azriel isn’t quite sure when you went from being Cassian’s kinda annoying younger sister to a vivacious female with curves he can’t keep his eyes off of.

The emotional connection had been there for centuries through friendship, but once it became physical attraction, you both knew you were screwed.

One night after drinking at Rita’s, Cassian asked Azriel to make sure you got home safe.

The alcohol inhibits both of your judgements and you both end up in your bed that night.

“You don’t know how long I have wanted to do this. No other male even deserves the chance to try to make you feel as good as I do.”

He was your first (again because he scared away every single male who tried to come near you) and it was fucking adorable

Waking up next to your brother’s best friend is a different level of anxiety.

You freak out and tell him this absolutely cannot happen again. You make an effort to avoid being alone with him.

But obviously Azriel is not content with just one night after getting a taste of you.

He spends the next several weeks slowly breaking down your walls with sneaky touches and whispering dirty things in your ear when no one is watching.

Eventually you cave and end up at his door one night, pissed at him for succeeding, but also practically begging him to fuck you again.

And again. And again.

It took no time at all for the actual feelings to be revealed between you two and to start secretly dating.

And from there it’s months of sneaking around and pretending to be just friends in front of others.

Az feels sooo guilty about lying to his friend but you don’t want to tell Cassian because you know he will freak out.

He asks you so many times to tell Cassian because he hates lying to him.

And Rhys is so suspicious of you two but doesn’t want to interfere.

Eventually Cassian catches you two.

He enters Azriel’s room without knocking one night to ask some stupid question and finds Azriel with his face between your legs. We all know Az loves eating you out so obviously.

Cassian is pissed.

As in, he tries to fight Azriel.

But Azriel just lets him and doesn’t fight back because he knows he fucked up by not saying anything sooner.

You start screaming and put yourself between the two of them to get Cassian to stop, which makes Azriel immediately move to cover you in case Cassian doesn’t react quick enough to stop.

Cassian sees how protective Azriel is of you and how you were willing to throw yourself in front of Azriel to defend him and realizes this isn’t just some casual thing between you two.

It takes a couple days for him to forgive Azriel for lying. He forgives you within one day because you always have been able to use your puppy dog eyes on him to get what you want.

Eventually Cassian accepts your relationship.

But he threatens Azriel that if he ever hurts you, he will do something so severe that Az wouldn’t tell you what he said.

Cassian still makes an overdramatic scene of gagging every time you and Azriel are affectionate in front of him.

Which only makes you do it more to piss him off because that’s what sisters do.

[bloodwrittenballad]

Satisfaction Guaranteed | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader x Jake Seresin

Summary: Maybe tipsy, tmi confessions aren’t so bad after all

Warnings: Smut, threesome, oral, pnv, swearing, mentions of drinking, readers call-sign is maze, use of the pet name baby like a lot, not proofread. wrote this on a whim. a horny whim. 18+ ONLY, NO MINORS. Please, don’t be a silent reader. Feedback is highly appreciated, so are reblog. Let me know what you think! And if you would like to see more of these three! Enjoy, and happy reading ;)

You should really stop talking.

No, seriously, you need to stop talking. The more you say, the worse it gets. You’re a few drinks in and then bam! Suddenly you’ve decided to spill your guts out - not literally, thankfully - to your two best pals. Jake Seresin and Bradley Bradshaw. Two of the hottest and greatest men you knew had now heard every single thing they ever needed about your sex life. Or, well, lack there of. “Yeah and like, noooone of my exes ever wanted to go down on me. Not one! B-but I’m expected to give them head?! How unfair is that!” You hiccuped, as you dug yourself deeper into a hole.

But what was worse, was that they weren’t even stopping you. Maybe the alcohol was hindering their better judgment too? Either way, you were never going to come back from this. The shit eating smirks on their face and the looks they shared - the ones they thought you wouldn’t notice - only made you feel like more of an idiot as you finally began to rein in your pitiful rambling. “Oh, god, I totally just ruined the mood? Didn’t I?” You said in an embarrassed little squeak, face falling into your hands as you tried to hide from their piercing gaze. “Actually, Maze, I think you just heightened the mood.” Jake said, his voice low. You looked up, hands falling back down to your side as you caught Bradley’s eyes. Maybe it was the one too many drinks you consumed, or the sexual frustration that has been building up for months, but something in the way he was looking at you… fuck, it made you feel like a giddy teenager after a first date.

“Ya know, Maze, I think Hangman is right. I also think you’re right,” Rooster began. He noticed the way your eyes lingered on his face, more particularly, his lips… You gave him a look of confusion, nodding for him to continue. “It is unfair that no one’s repaid the favor of going down on you. Hell, it’s a downright shame.” Oh Christ almighty, you had to be imagining this. There was no way he was actually saying this right now. You could just die of embarrassment right now. “But I’m thinking that could change tonight, if you want it to.”

Okay what? This really, truly could not be happening. “I- Um- Huh?” You barely managed to get out, and Jake chuckled at your response. If now was the time for teasing, he’d say you looked like a fish out of water, with the way your eyes were wide and your mouth hung open as you tried to form words. But, Hangman was feeling nice, so he decided to help you out. “I think what Rooster here is trying to get at, is that he’d like to show you what you’ve been missin’ out on. I would too,” He said with a wink. Jesus fuck.

“Y-you b-both wanna…” you trailed of. “Fuck you? Yeah, darlin’. We do. Real bad, too.” As if Jake couldn’t get any cockier already, this was only feeding in to his attitude even more. “So, Maze, what do you say? How about you let Hangman and I show you how it’s done? Satisfaction guaranteed.” Rooster chimed in with a wink, and if you couldn’t feel your heart racing at a thousand miles per hour, you would’ve figured you died and gone to heaven.

“Okay,” you said. Maybe a little desperately, but hey, they offered.

And that’s how you found yourself in this moment now, with Bradley between your legs as Jake held you against his chest. His strong, tan arms around you for support as you rested your head against his shoulders and moaned out. “Fuck! Bradley, right there!” You cried out, feeling his mustache burning roughly on the soft skin of your inner thighs. It was glorious, like nothing you felt before. Well, really, it was nothing you felt before. But it definitely wasn’t like how you imagined it, or even read about. No, this was so much better. “You like that, baby? Does it feel so good, getting that pretty, needy little pussy taken care of after so long?” Jake hummed low in your ear.

“Yes! Fuck yes! So good!” Moaning out loudly, your thighs clenching around Bradley’s head. Bradley chuckled against your pussy, the sensation only bringing you closer to relief. “You gettin’ close, baby? You gonna come on my tongue?” Bradley asked, bringing his hot mouth away from your wet pussy for just a moment to ask, but still working you with his thick fingers. You nodded, the shine of the sweat on your forehead was like a beacon as he caught sight of your face and the pleasure that was painted on it.

“I’m s’close,” you managed to get out. The grip you had on Jake arms only tightened when Bradley’s mustache made contact with your clit. Dipping your head back in a moan, Jake attached himself to the skin of your neck. Licking, sucking, kissing any and every square inch he possibly could. “Come for me, baby. Come on my tongue, I know you want to.” Bradley encouraged you, his mouth still moving on you so quickly as you approached the heavenly gates of orgasmic bliss, before coming. And hard. “Fuck, shit, oh my God!” you moaned out, swears tumbling from your mouth as your body shook with your release. “That’s it, that’s our good little baby,” Jake spoke into your ear. His words of encouragement not stopping until you touched back down to earth again

And when you finally let out a heavy breath and opened your eyes, that’s when you noticed. Bradley, still sat on the edge of the bed and between your legs, was soaking wet. And the look on his face, was priceless. “Good God, baby, look at the mess you made,” Jake said in a laugh as he looked down at Bradley, who was still looking at you in complete awe. “Damn, baby,” said Rooster as he licked his lips. “I didn’t know you could do that,” you didn’t know either. You’ve never squirted before, but somehow Bradley managed to completely change your world in a matter of seconds. “I-I didn’t either,” you spoke. “That was-” you began, but the two men cut you off.

“So hot,” they said. “Yeah,” you said in a breathy laugh. “You ready for more?” Jake asked, and that’s when you could feel it. His hard on, pressing right against your lower back. “Because I still haven’t gotten my turn, and if Bradshaw can get you to react like that, you can only imagine the things that I’ll do.”

And thus, is how found yourself, yet again, being completely and totally lost in the pleasurable thralls of your two fellow aviators fucking you. Jakes cock was buried deep in you, reaching places no one had before, as Bradley sucked on your neck and toyed with your tits and clit. The room was hot and heavy, filled with moans and skin slapping skin all around as you came once again that night. Yeah, it was safe to say that satisfied was definitely guaranteed.

[kalembappe]

do with that what you will | j.b. 5 (feat. e.h. 9)

a/n: remember when I wrote? back in June? Time flies. Also hi anon who req'd this forever ago, title's yours. also proofread! but don't hold it against me, english is a hard language. wordcount: 4501 nsfw under cut! minors dni 18+...pwp(very little plot), choking, oral(m receiving), public(?), unprotected p in v sex, overusing of italics

You were moody today. He could tell by the way you avoided his eyes to how you’d only talk when acknowledged (by someone else) but not before plastering that scrunched smile that only he could tell was fake. It’s not like your reasons are invalid, if anything he was the one to blame for this but he doesn’t have time for your petty squabbling, you’re in public and you’re both adults. You know well enough that you should act like it.

At least that’s what he thought until he saw his old friend, the one that just completely bodied his team 14 hours prior to tonight is now standing next to his girlfriend, you’re talking with that pretty smile that was the death of him, easily would be the death of anyone else.

He looks like a lamppost, he observes the man dressed in all black; a complete contrast to his bright platinum hair slicked into its normal bun.

You looked more at ease now that you were talking to him, you both did. Compared to your stiffness to other people, you seem to warm up to him. You were so comfortable that you even let him stand by you with your arm pressed against his broader one.

Not as broad as mine, but you know I– Again, he catches himself. He should stop. That’s his friend too. The interaction unfolds, what should be friendly, is anything but to him. To him. He should look away, but he can’t.

This isn’t supposed to bother him. It wouldn’t bother him as much as it does if he didn’t know that Erling used to pine for you. Grovel at your feet even. He remembers that boyish grin he makes every time you would interview them post game or before. People would point it out online, saying things such as you favor the Dortmund players or that you’re so critical but praise Erling like he was god and even thought it was funny at first knowing he himself made you see god.

It’s unfair that he suddenly wanted to show Erling his place, he isn’t even sure if he knows that you and Jude were a thing at all and maybe only now had he suddenly found the confidence in himself to finally talk to you; but that was never a priority in his brain when he boils catching sight of a hand that isn’t his resting on your back.

Jude set the shot glass down a little louder than normally, clinking against the marble of the table. He picks up another one, it’s his third…or fourth. Actually, He isn’t sure, he lost count and he doesn’t leave his place. He doesn’t move when Erling’s pinky taps on your back, his patience runs thinner by every inch that finger dips lower than where it’s welcome.

The only thing that breaks Jude from his reverie is when he catches your eye as you turn back for the shortest moment, droopy and paired with a lazy smirk. He didn’t care much until he realized what it implied; you’re tipsy, not enough to be too vulnerable, but enough to let yourself be reckless to do something you shouldn’t. You wink, solidifying his conclusion–you know what you’re doing.

Before he knows it, you’re back to entertaining his “friend” only this time you’re a lot more confident, talking louder, smiling wider, even grabbing his bicep as you slightly tilt your head back from laughing. It irks him, but he’ll play your game. He wonders if Erling knows he’s playing too. *

You’ve been avoiding him all night. Even at home– his home you mean (where you luckily had some appropriate clothes), dodging kisses and pretending like you don’t feel his stare at the back of your head just like he was doing now; seconds before Erling asks you to go dancing. A bit of a surprise since you thought he only approached you to ask where the toilet was and now you’re dancing? He had to lean down to your height to be audible over the music. The question hangs in the air–Should you? Probably not.

“Sure.” It comes out before you realize, but the acknowledgement in his face tells you that you indeed said it out loud.

You have to stop yourself from turning back too fast when you feel Erling’s palm rest lowly on your back, he says something you don’t listen to– he’s getting himself another drink(looking back, his intentions were obvious if he started drinking right after he asked where the restroom was). His attention shifted long enough for you to finally steal a glance at Jude, who’s shot glass threatened to crack between his fingers. He liked to pretend it was Erling’s pinky, grip tightening as he watches it brushes on your back. His stare follows as you take the initiative of walking Erling to where the people are drunk and dancing.

From anyone’s point of view, it seems like the next story on Hello! Magazine, awaits Erling, but contrary to how it appears, your mind was occupied completely and utterly of Jude. How much you hated him, how he looks like sitting with his legs spread, wondering how far you could press till he cracks. It’s all fair play though, he out of anyone should know.

He promised himself that after the game, you would get to hangout. You were excited, you thought maybe you’d go out for dinner, do something intimate; just the two of you, but after a day’s rest (that you so generously granted him) he says he needs to attend a party, for old time’s sake.

You didn’t know how to react at first, should you be mad? You started to feel so, but thought to yourself; do you even have the right to? You shook that thought off your head. Of course you did! You let your insecurities go before settling on disappointment. Jude saw this, thought it’d be better if you spent what could’ve been your date together at the party. With his friends. Might as well bring his mum, she’s better company anyways.

Call it what you want, maybe It’s a bit childish how you hated the thought of sharing Jude to anyone, a bit possessive; but it’s hard having to arrive at a party together only to split up and socialize with other people so you can keep things hush, water down suspicion. You understand why he does it, you think it’s best too. But just for tonight, you hoped; you didn’t have to share him with the world. Alas, another day goes where you have to. Anyway, if he liked to do it so much then he shouldn’t mind if you share a little too.

The music changes once your heels click on the dance floor, the song’s slower. Erling’s stills, “I’m not good at this” Hands hover over your body, he didn’t know where to place them. He’s antsy, it’s cute–you won’t deny that; the drinks wear off when you’re nervous. Suddenly he’s aware that you’re dancing with him. You feel a little bad knowing you’re using him, regardless, he’s still a nice guy. Always thought he was a little sweet. Your eyes crinkle as you smile, watching him blush. Confidently, you push down the hands onto your hips before adding a firm pat to reassure him. “Keep it there.” You sound more serious then you’re supposed to, it makes Erling gulp. All his confidence may have just been the alcohol talking, and if he were being honest, he wished he drank a bit more.

Jude watched as you giggled–he scowled, you’ll have nothing to laugh about if you keep this up. If he was jealous when Erling put a hand on your back, he was livid when he watched you laugh with Erling, like you’re actually enjoying yourself. He’s not one to be insecure, he’d never even entertained the thought but that seemed to change when this jealousy turned into something worse. He couldn’t put it into words. It boils in him as your hips sway, you’re too close to each other, but he’s rooted where he stood. He’s mesmerized and enraged, but he won’t go down without a fight.

Minutes pass and Jude finds himself seated next to his friends, he figured he needed to let loose, maybe people were getting suspicious with how he’d only kept his attention to that girl dancing with Erling Haaland. Gio yells over the music, “did you order this?” his eyes shift to his friend, confusion replacing Jude’s then blank face. He almost said no before catching a group of girls giggling to themselves. Just as Gio was about to return them back, Jude tapped his shoulder, “I’ll be back.” He didn’t wait for a reply, already trekking his way to his next mission.

Erling’s let’s his limbs set loose, even if he’s just jumping to the music, you’re jumping with him. It’s dark, but it was lit enough that he could make out the shape of your jaw and the curves of your body, he doesn’t know why he hasn’t noticed but it drew him in even more. He spins you, back resting on his front, hands are on your hips as you sway to the rhythm. For the first time tonight, Jude was the last thing on your mind.

But from where you stood, you felt eyes on you; consciously, you opened yours only to get a glimpse of something that made your blood cold. Hands were on him. Everywhere. He’s got his arms out with two girls wrapped on him like he was a tree. The music tunes out, the hands on your body disappear, and it’s red. You see red. It makes your fingers twitch. He catches your eye, how your movements slow until your whole body’s rigid, and thought to himself; I’ve won. He grins, satisfied with your reaction. But if anything, you’re the stubborn one in this relationship.

Erling’s voice is soft on your ear, polite as he is. “Are you okay?” You don’t look his way, you’re busy making sure Jude’s watching. You trail your eyes back to Erling with a smile that fooled anyone.

He’s upside down from your point of view, the outline of his jaw more prominent under the shadow. The stare you give makes his cheeks hot. He’s about to say something but the words get caught in his throat when the feeling of your hips grinding back at him registers in his brain. He short circuits, forgetting every word he’s known.

Jude’s smirk leaves as soon as it arrives, dropping and taken over by his wide eyes���ironically mirroring Erling’s expression who’s grip lands on your hips for leverage. Your eyes look blown under the light, big and innocent like you don’t know what you’re doing–but Erling knows, they both know you do. You’re close to his face, enough that he could see the remnants of gloss on your lips.

It happened quickly, someone spilled liquid on you, mostly your shoes but also a little on your dress. It’s beer. You look up, both of you pulled away. Maybe you should’ve cared that you ruined it, the shoes that Jude bought you. Jude. Fuck. You look up, he’s already leaving sans the two girls he had all over him. Maybe you overdid it this time. Taking a quick glance at Erling, he’s occupied with the person apologizing to him, reassuring the man. He’ll be fine on his own, you think to yourself. When Erling picks his head up, you’re already gone.

You follow him amidst the sea of sweaty drunk people, shoving, and pushing. You think of what you want to say, apologize? That’s completely unfair. It’s not like you were gonna actually lean in and he shouldn’t have ditched you in the first place or canceled last second– And where does he think he’s going?

You curse this world for giving him long legs, walking two steps at a time. Everything just decides to be an inconvenience to you today. Your voice is dry with alcohol and the lack of use, but still you yell over the unnecessarily loud club music.

“Jude! Can you please– slow down! Asshole...” You say the last part in a normal tone only to realize you’ve said it loud enough for him to hear. There’s a cold breeze on your shoulders that tells you you’re at the exit, the door’s open and it’s quiet. Jude turns slowly, a more than displeased expression on his face.

“Me? I’m the asshole?” He scoffed.

“Yes. You ditched me!”

“And you seemed to find great company.”

A scowl disturbs your features, “You were doing the same thing!”

Before he responds, he pauses, Jude does something you both have been avoiding all night. He takes a deep breath, recollecting himself. His voice is steady, “Look, I can tell you’re upset about tonight,”

“Wonder what gave that away–”

“Let me finish.” You cross your arms on your chest, mumbling to yourself. Jude takes a step in your direction, enclosing your figure on the wall but (as much as you’d hate to admit) it isn’t suffocating, he’s warm and the scent of his clothes are comforting. His fingers stroke your arm up and down till they reach the space between your neck and your shoulder. They linger for a moment before softly brushing the hair clinging to your skin.

“I know why you’re mad, okay? I get it baby.” You sigh when his head ducked to your height. His voice is so soft on your ear that you can’t help but sink into the wall, his body pressing flush on yours. Lips graze the shell of your ear, leaving a soft peck on the sensitive skin. Jude… dazed, you whine his name. “I know you can’t help it..” He continued, “I know you can’t because,” fingers stroke your throat. “Well ‘cause you’re a whore.”

As soon as your eyes open, there’s a grip that tightens at the sides of your throat, squeezing out a strangled noise from you. A whimper or a moan, You aren’t sure anymore. There’s a pause in the air, he waits for you to say something. You don’t–no, you can’t. The damp spot on your underwear strengthens his claim. Heat rushes to your cheeks, you want to tell him off at least, leave a snarky remark but embarrassment floods in your stomach and his hold on you is immovable. His eyes speak for himself, Look at me–it read, but you never had the strength to look away in the first place.

“You think I’m gonna let you off easy? You’re used to that aren’t you. ‘Cause I spoil you too much, isn’t that right?” His tone is sweet, his hand brushes your temple gently, but it isn’t real–the only thing you could register with a lack of air in your brain. Your body shudders when the stroke of his hand travels lower, the one on your neck slacking but he still keeps you between him and the wall. So close that you could feel his breath on your cheek, his knee taking place between your legs and pressing slowly, you gasp.

“Jude not– here.” You curse at yourself. It was supposed to come out firmly, a command, rather it sounded like a meek plea. Jude’s leg bumped against your clothed front like he was playing with you, your thighs tried to shut but it only made things worse. “Please we’re in public–” He paused his movement before scoffing at your words.

“Really? You didn’t seem to mind while you were fucking around with Erling. ‘In public’, for someone in the media, you could lie better than that.” You wince when you recall the events earlier tonight and how he spat your name out in disgust. “Maybe I should just keep you on a short leash so you don’t hump on people like a bitch.” The words are shameless, and the lack of a better term, fucking vile that it makes you squirm. You look down, unable to meet his eyes.

“Why are you so bothered? Thought you liked this...? So open for everyone to see…” His hands massage low on your back, reclaiming what’s his. Jude’s tone was frustratingly cocky that you almost rolled your eyes if his knee didn’t come up and down again to get your attention, a surprised whimper escaped from you. “Hey, Don’t cry for me yet, I’ve barely started.”

Your hands press flatly on his chest, “Jude, can we just– let’s do it somewhere more private.” You do your best to coax the man with eyes he normally can’t just say no to, thinking that seemed to soften him just a little.

He takes a step back, enough that you can breathe your own air, albeit keeping you from sinking to your knees with his hands on your waist. He sighed, “You’re right.” *

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, the mascara that you meticulously applied earlier although waterproof is probably running down your cheeks. Drool gathers around your lips, he thumbs under your jaws; a reminder to keep it slack. Jude’s torturously slow with his movements, making sure that you take all of him. You do your best to do the complete opposite and take him in eagerly, the head of his cock reaching the back of your throat causing both of you to moan. Jude, having none of it, sinks deeper in response, causing you to flinch your head back in a fit of coughs. He wipes your swollen lips of the liquid that gathered with a dumb grin on his stupid face, enjoying the sight of you on your knees.

You swallow back spit to clear your throat, holding onto his thigh so the strain on your knees wouldn’t hurt as much. Catching your breath, you glare at him, “Dick.”

He flashes a smile, “Yes, what did you think it was?” He looked completely unserious, relaxed even, bringing down one of his hands to his side. He tucks your chin between his fingers, “Come on, angel. The faster you get me off, the faster it is for you to get up off your knees.” Lightly, he slaps the head of his cock on your cheek. The pout you make is endearing, a glimpse of your usual adorable self that he’d nearly ruined by slotting himself between your lips. “Unless…you want to keep at it till someone walks in and sees the Fox sports journalist giving head to a Dortmund player? I can already see the tabloids– fuck.”

The sound is enough encouragement, Jude’s cock twitches as he watches you (all he ever does) your pink tongue licks a stripe up his length before you suckle on the tip, cheeks hollowing, sealed tight, taking your time. Your answer is clear, Jude doesn’t know whether to celebrate or crumble. His grunts are short and restricted, yet they echo in the wide restroom that you were dragged to on a whim, how you got here happened in flashes of red lights that disappeared when you heard the door shut, unsure if he locked it–you know you didn’t but it adds to the thrill, the thought makes your stomach swirl and your knees shut.

You’re kind enough to sink your mouth deep till you're half way. Slowly, you pick up the pace. The rise and fall of his chest accelerate, gasps turn into moans. His hips meet yours, although his movements were careful, he was desperate. It didn’t help his resolve when your eyes fluttered at him, all pretty even with you gagging on his dick. His hands absentmindedly found their way to the back of your hair, finally letting himself yield and start fucking your throat. You try your best to catch up even if you’re no longer moving in your own accord and just making sure to breathe through your nose. Just as his moans turn ragged, he pulls you off, leaving you gasping for air. He lends you a minute, tilting your chin up at him to meet his eye.

“All good?” he waits for you to nod–you do, still trying to breathe. He strokes your lips with his thumb, wiping it dry. You look up at him, eyes hazy and blown. “Get up.” He commands, tone stripped of all its grit. You’re a beat too slow that Jude forces you up your shaky knees himself. You have to hold onto him and lean into his body. He’s just as wobbly but he tries his best to be steady for you both.

You’re close enough that he could steal a chaste kiss. What was an intimate exchange turned greedy. You’re on your tiptoes to reach him, but you’re not close enough, urging him to lean to your height, his palm traveling from your spine to the back of your head. He needs to feel your body and engrain the scent of your perfume on his. He flips you over, back now on the wall, hands greedy on your skin like he doesn’t know where to with your body. You nibble on his bottom lip a tad too hard that it makes him hiss. You kiss it better, sweet for a moment before swiping your tongue across it. He takes the hint and deepens the kiss and slips his tongue in exchange. You part, he leaves a peck on your forehead, drawing his lips to your cheek then to your neck

You’re getting impatient. Your body’s a lot more fidgety, writhing with every press into you. “Jude can you- I want-”

“Be quiet.” His tone was cold, still he kisses you dumb, he has the lips for it. It’s physical and intangible. He draws you in and lures your soul out, it makes your knees weak and turns you breathless. Your arms settle on his shoulders–they’re taught and big, your clothed cunt brushes against his dick—it makes you dizzy, sinking further into the wall.

He shifts your leg up on his hip, the other following naturally. You breathe heavily, his hands are impetuous on your body while he hikes up your dress roughly, settling for the fabric to hug your ribs. He pushes the flimsy material of your knickers, groaning as he sees you clench on nothing when the cool air meets your throbbing cunt, shiny with arousal. Fuck, baby. He mutters, voice above a whisper, you can’t tell if he meant to say it out loud.

He strokes himself on your clit, rubbing with his cock, goading needy little moans out of you. You feel like crying when his tip finally stretches your hole. You’re loud enough that Jude has to silence you with his lips as he fully fits the head of his cock in. He catches your whimper in his open mouth, gasping together when he places you higher on the wall, pushing deeper. You’re tight with the lack of prepping, but you’re wet. So deliciously wet. Taking him in like butter on a hot knife. He presses his face against your neck, grunting and breathing heavily. You’re left in an even more muddled state, spilling incoherencies, trying and failing to hold in your noises. You’ve completely given up on the silence, fuck it.

A grip on your face stills you, it’s then when you recognize the familiar callous hand covering your mouth–your noises. You don’t have enough time to tell him off, you couldn’t if you tried. His eyes burn on your skin, the warmth in your neck gone, you feel the tightness of his muscles in every buck of his hips, slapping against your skin. His stare is heavy on you– that alone flushes your cheeks. You push his hand away, instead tucking your head in his neck to muffle yourself , holding on for dear life while he thrusts faster and faster still.

  Your alternative catches your noises, poorly at that. Your eyes are shut, meeting his movements as you focus on the heat building in your stomach. He’s driving into your pussy like he’s trying to fuck you into the wall. Each word that tries to escape is garbled in your pipes, strangled and aching for release.

“You gonna come? Already?” He mocks you. “Come on, let me see my dumb girl.” Your grip softens around him, Jude maneuvers your face with his hand before fixing his palm to rest on your throat like he does although now looser. “What a mess…” You’re close, he can tell. Your stomach tenses, clenching onto him as if you’re dreading the second that he’ll pull out. He laughs, unsure of why but he tightens his grip, one that’s become so familiar on your neck that it’s grounding. The lack of air and the heaping pleasure turns your brain into a puddle, everything around you clouds, your own voice and the muffled music louder than it was, bouncing off the walls.

It’s when you open your eyes that your stomach drops, it’s a second that slips as soon as it passes. Your legs shake, thighs tensing around Jude. The same eyes you spent looking at the entire night stares back at you, wide and struck. Erling stands there, tense in his spot, taller than the space between the open door, music leaks in, almost blending with your high moans but the sound bleeds into his brain. He can’t describe what he felt strongest; jealousy, shock, or the tightness in his slacks. For now he swallows his own spit, the picture of your writhing body ingraining itself in every memory he has of you. Ruined. You’re completely ruined.

“Oh my–Erling–”

Jude smirks, “No, It’s Jude.” He teased, loud enough that all three of you could hear.

“N–no, I mean– It’s– Fuck. Oh god!”

“Yeah, that one works too.” It’s embarrassing how slippery you are inside, Jude rocking in and out of you like a piston with the stamina of an athlete.

Erling’s planted on the floor, it feels like he’s holding in a breath that’s stuck in his lungs. He should look away, but he can’t.

“Go ahead,” He whispers between thrusts, holding you against the wall. This time his words are close, only for you to hear. You have no choice, unable to utter a word, gasping, forced to take it. “Come for me while you look at him.”

It’s pathetic how you follow, eyes fixed towards the door when your orgasm crests in an explosion that leaves you shaking and trembling, legs wrapping tighter around Jude’s waist. Ultimately, you fail the task at hand, eyes nearly rolling back when your mind goes blank, the sensation tingles all the way to your satin shoes, throbbing and pulsing. His grunts turn into gasps, nails digging into your thighs when he climbs his own high, finally spilling into you.

You recollect, breathing heavily against each other. The last thing you saw were a pair of icy blues. As soon as you pick your head up from Jude’s neck, they’re gone.

[mybelovedwoo]

partying with ateez - headcanon

how would a party look like with ateez members

headcanon, romance, fluff, a little spicy in some parts

gn!reader x bf!atz

wc. ~0.8k

an: this goes so well with the new wanteez episode, I wrote this even before it was announced though. you can request headcanons if you want to!! if you want to be tagged in any of my fics you can apply here <3

masterlist

hongjoong 

-doesn't really want to go out in the first place, but doesn't want you to go without him either

-so in the end he'll end up going with you to keep an eye on you

-matching outfits, that don't really match (if that makes sense)

-he says that he can handle alcohol, but he can't, so he will be the first to get drunk

-like a weird drunk?? he does things he normally wouldn't do, like dance like a crackhead in the middle of the crowd

-when someone is looking at you, his scorpio is coming out, he places his hands somewhere on your body, usually on your hips, so everybody can see you are his

seonghwa

-that one person everybody likes to be around and dance with

-he always wants to pay, but you agreed to take turns on paying for the drinks

-knows the actual choreos for the songs, and having a full-on concert

-very light-weighted, cute tipsy type, just gets tired very quickly

-even there, he tries to take care of you, makes sure you don't drink too much or don't feel uncomfortable

-always accompanies you to the bathroom, he can't let you go alone anywhere

-he definitely is the best dressed there, no doubt

yunho

-ohh the life of the party, it's not even a party until he doesn't arrive

-dances all night long, with you, with friends, with strangers, with everybody

-becomes friends with the DJ, and has his own little part at the party, when he plays songs

-dances on the table with you, holds you tight, so you don't fall off

-handles alcohol very well, you can't even tell the difference between his real personality and when he's drunk

-can hardly be dragged home, you have to at least tell him you want to leave 30 minutes earlier, so he can say goodbye to all the people

yeosang

-this boy is so adorable, he couldn't say no to you when you invited him to a party

-but he hates it, when you arrive, he feels so uncomfortable, you have to buy him like 3 drinks at least, so he can feel better

-you ask him if he wants to go home, but it's too late now, the drinks kicked in, and he's feeling himself

-dancing with you in the crowd, doesn't care about anyone else, like really tiny dance

-you've never seen him like this before, or anybody, he talks a lot when he is drunk

-the next time he is the one asking if you want to go out because last time he had so much fun

san

-he was excited to go out with you, to see you all dressed up and having fun

-he stays at the bar staring at you while you are dancing and having the time of your life

-gets you a drink every now and then, he brings it to you and leaves a peck on your cheeks with it

-claimed that he is very good at drinking (he is not)

-dead stares everyone whos looking at you inappropriately, acts immediately if someone is trying to dance with you

-watching you for so long, he can't control himself, pulls you aside to the bathroom and...(you know)

mingi

-he can't handle alcohol at all, he says he can, but everyone can tell if he had even one drink

-wants to buy a drink for everybody at the club, and thinks he is friends with everyone

-just vibing to the music, might break dance if he had a little too much to drink

-feels the urge to tell everyone you are his beautiful girlfriend/boyfriend, and talking about how much he loves and adores you, istg it's so embarrassing 

-might cry at the end, because looking at your face made him emotional

-that's when you call the taxi

wooyoung

-social butterfly, somehow already knows everybody, introduces you to his friends as "the love of my life"

-having a drink with every friend he met there while having a quick convo, you can't even tell that he's been drinking

-you need to beg him to finally go dancing, he is such a tease, even when he dances with you

-places one of his hands on your neck, and makes you look straight into his eyes while you dance, he knows exactly what he's doing

-you wanted to kiss him multiple times, but he never let you do it, always pulled his head away, and smirked

-on the way home, a full-on make-out session in the car, from the build-up tension

jongho

-you've never seen him this hyped, he is all smiley (I love his smile so much ㅠㅠ)

-having really good party tricks you never knew about, he's showing off for sure, but he only cares about your reaction and nobody else's

-keeping you close to him, either holding your hands or having his arms around your shoulders

-protecting your drink while you have a toilet break

-when you try to pay for a drink he gets sulky because he wants to pay for everything, so in the end of course you can't say no to him

-carrying you home on his back, because your feet hurt from dancing too much

[reverie-starlight]

{nobody like you- momo yaoyorozu}

I've been in such a momo mood lately, I just really needed to write something for my wife. I'm so in love with her she deserves all the best things ever.

fem!reader, no physical descriptions. slight angst but mostly fluffy. lots of yearning. reader and momo get a bit tipsy. teensy tiny bit suggestive at the end if you squint.

this is a part 2 to this drabble I wrote a while ago! reader is pro hero!momo's PR manager/assistant/best friend.

momo doesn’t need reassurance very often.

she hasn’t since her U.A. days. for the most part, she’s managed to overcome her insecurities and losses and shine in the hero world as a very dependable and capable leader.

but still, there are times that she falters and familiar feelings of doubt creep in.

you walk through the elevator that opens into her penthouse apartment carrying a bottle of wine and some take-out. for the first time that evening, she smiles.

"hey," you murmur, settling next to her on the red chaise-lounge overlooking tokyo's night life. it's cramped, considering she's huddled under her fluffiest blanket and surrounded by pillows, but you make it work and she's so grateful to have you close. "how are you feeling, honey?"

the immediate comfort of having you near dissipates and she's reminded of why you're here in the first place.

she shrugs. she feels absolutely horrible about how things on her last patrol had transpired. it was petty theft, there's absolutely no reason she should've let him get away, but she got distracted for one second because a kid ran in front of her begging for her help with finding his mother.

and of course a lost child takes priority over a stolen bag of groceries in most people's eyes, but the cranky old man (who was objectively having a better time than momo), decided to go on and on to anyone who hadn't seen the sequence of events about her "carelessness" and "clear bias". even after momo offered to pay for his new groceries and then some.

he happily took her up on that, but still decided to rip her to shreds when a pretty penny was dropped in his wallet in exchange for an interview from an outlet that has been anything but kind to her.

she groans and brings her hands to her face thinking about the media coverage she's been getting all day.

you put a hand on her knee and stroke your thumb over it to soothe her. "it's okay, momo. everyone who really saw what went down has been defending you online."

she peeks through her fingers to look at you with a pitiful expression. "really?"

you nod enthusiastically. "mhm! and besides, everyone knows better than to believe anything those vile journalists say about you."

momo drops her hands and looks at you gratefully. it's true, there's been a lot of fans and heroes alike calling out the news outlet for it's recent criticisms of fan favourite heroes, some of her friends included. she thinks back to the messages she received earlier from midoriya and mina, and those she's yet to check from todoroki and ochako.

"and," you continue, pulling her out of her thoughts yet again "you have me covering for you. I'll take care of it, don't you worry."

that's right, she thinks fondly. I have you...

but does she? nothing else has happened between you since that day you stitched her up. no words have been exchanged about it, no more developments have come about.

she's going to reach her breaking point soon, she can feel it, but she's terrified of putting herself out there without anything to confirm it won't be for nothing. not one sign to confirm that you feel the same.

you're not making it any easier by looking as good as you do right now- you're not dressed in anything particularly fancy, your clothes are rumpled and your eyeliner is a bit smudged, but you look perfect.

and you have food. what more could she ask for at this point?

you seem to remember the bag of food when her eyes are drawn to it and you light up. "oh! it's your favourite, I figured you needed a pick me up. seriously, I've got everything covered, so let's just unwind tonight."

she looks between you and the bottle you placed on the floor and nods.

about an hour and a half later, you’re both tipsy and singing at the top of your lungs to whatever songs come up on your shared playlist.

while you take a breather, you watch as she lets loose. her hair is down, her shoulders aren’t so visibly tense anymore, there’s a pinkish hue painting her cheeks and she looks more carefree than you’ve seen her in a long time.

maybe that’s not a fair observation, considering she’s currently inebriated (and you are too), but the sight captivates you nonetheless.

she’s gorgeous. so gorgeous it physically pains you to keep staring at her, yet you can’t look away. (in the back of your mind, you recall a joke she once made about you being a masochist and you almost laugh at your own expense.)

the yearning you’ve tried so hard to push down hits you like a truck and it only intensifies when the song ends and a slow song takes its place.

panting from her performance, momo turns her head towards you, the wide smile on her face that morphs into something far more gentle than you can handle right now.

you stare at each other. the slow strumming of the guitar in the background seems to charge the atmosphere and you’re both left with funny feelings in your chests as the song goes on.

your queue really knows how to set the mood.

the amount of love you have for her holds you to the ground and settles uncomfortably within you, like it’s fighting to come out. demanding to be heard. you don’t break eye contact. you can’t.

her eyes, wide and shining, show hesitation and… longing?

could she feel the same about you? all these weeks of yearning… does she feel it too? is she… waiting for you to make a move?

she breaks eye contact first, shaking her head a bit in the very same way she does when she’s doubting herself, but you’re just brave (and drunk) enough to keep her in this moment with you. determined enough to not let her down by chickening out.

“I love you,” you blurt out, and your own voice sobers you up immediately.

her head snaps up, and she looks at you again, this time shocked.

your heart sinks to your stomach as you take in the weight of your words. did you misread her? did you just ruin everything? you wonder what you must look like from her point of view right now. scared? probably.

“I love you too,” she says. the way she speaks is soft, but full of emotion, full of comfort. there’s hesitation mixed in there, like she’s unclear on what you’re getting at, but afraid to clarify.

you begin chewing on your bottom lip nervously, doubt creeping into the pit of your stomach, latching onto your heart and squeezing it tight enough to restrict your circulation. your body grows cold as the nerves eat away at you from the inside.

this is your only chance to write it off as how you’ve always meant it- friendly, platonic, very much not romantic. you could play it off, blame it on the alcohol, change the song and go back to how it’s always been…

but you think of that day you patched her up once again, and deep down you know your heart can’t take much more of this.

“I know… but do you… do you understand how I meant it this time?”

her breath hitches. a wobbly smile finds its way to her lips. “I think so,” she whispers.

you step towards her, grab her hand and rub your thumb over the back of it. “I’m so in love with you, momo yaoyorozu.”

she steps forward too, wrapping her arms around your neck. the tension in your chest subsides and it’s almost like you can feel your blood flowing again.

“I’m so in love with you, too,” she replies, her eyes meeting yours, wobbly smile evening out and becoming much more confident.

your hands find her hips and excitement blooms in your stomach. “can I kiss you?”

she nods and immediately leans in to capture your lips with hers. you gasp and reciprocate the best you can while trying to keep your grin at bay.

eventually you’re both giggling and pulling away, standing in her penthouse living room with your foreheads pressed together, breaths mixing as you pant.

momo isn’t in need of reassurance very often, but a kiss really can do wonders for a weary mind.

she pulls away a bit and asks you a question you’ve only ever dreamt of her asking. “will you be my girlfriend?”

you’re pretty sure the way you kiss her as soon as the last syllable leaves her lips is enough of an answer, but you reply anyway with a mumbled out “yes, I would love nothing more, sweetheart.”

nothing has ever felt as right as this.

~~~~~~~~

BONUS

when momo wakes the next morning, she’s greeted with the feeling of you curled up against her. images of everything that transpired after you made it official flash through her mind and heat creeps into her cheeks.

if it weren’t for the dull ache and pretty marks in various places across her body (strategically placed to be covered by her hero costume, she notes) she might have believed that part was all a dream.

but you’re really in bed, and all hers.

for the first time since becoming a hero, momo doesn’t care one bit about what’s being said about her in magazines. she doesn’t care about what criminals she’ll have to face later on.

her whole world, the only person who’s opinion she’ll ever truly care about ever again, is right beside her, sleeping soundly.

her heart flutters as she traces your back and watches your nose scrunch slightly. you’re so gorgeous in the morning light. she’s always known this, of course, but she’s absolutely ecstatic that the guilt that normally comes with that thought is no more.

she thinks back to something you had said to her last night- something mumbled incoherently as you both drifted off to sleep- and a realization suddenly hits her and sets her ablaze all over again.

shaking you awake, she waits for you to open your eyes before rolling on top of you excitedly. she relishes in your sleepy giggle and the feel of your arms wrapping around her waist.

“good morning, pretty girl,” she coos, pressing kisses all over your cheeks.

you whine in response, screwing your eyes shut and she smiles. “remember what you told me last night about needing to get all that stored up affection for me out?”

you peek up at her with one eye, curious as to where she’s going with this. “mhm?”

“well I just realized that I don’t need to hold back anymore, either.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m soooooo happy to have this done and very proud of how it turned out!! idk why but I genuinely think some if my best writing happens when I’m writing for miss momo.

the song I had in mind for the confession scene was sailor song, mostly bc it makes me yearn beyond belief and that’s the vibe of this fic lmao. I wanted to name this fic “dripping in my favour” bc I thought that whole section of the song is very fitting, but I really didn’t want people taking it out of context 🥹.

I am so down to turn this into a mini series, with PR manager!reader btw :3

@emmyrosee here it is!! <3