#this is too complicated of an emotion for his lil head

[tennessoui]

For the OTP questions, could I ask for 25 with the smithsonian au?? I feel like it would be funny to see what they do when they do have something in common 😭

lmao the smithsonian au !!! thank you for sending this in from this list of prompts !

25. do they have any hobbies they share?

lmao they would not be able to handle having anything in common but they probably honestly have a lot that they agree about they just....refuse to admit it.

but ok here are two things they have in common/hobbies they share: hating on the rocks (geology) team & bike riding. anakin picked up biking because he knew obi-wan liked it and he decided he was going to be Better At It than obi-wan, as if leisurely biking were a competition. but since it's not a competition they just sort of accidentally end up going on nice bike rides around the dmv area. almost like a dat---(gunshots)

and obi-wan has always hated the rock people because he's just silly and petty like that. anakin also has always hated the rock people because obviously space rocks are cooler than earth rocks. but when obi-wan finds out that anakin hates the rock people he finds a rock person to take out on a date (to their trivia team night) just because he knows anakin will hate that The Most. unfortunately, obi-wan also finds him annoying because he's a rock person. this is a new low for him:

Anakin's bouncing his leg up and down beneath the table, something he doesn't even notice until Padmé reaches out and grasps a hold of his knee.

"I'd ask if you needed a drink, but you've already had three," she mutters, squeezing once before letting go. "Come on, don't tell me you need to be drunk to spend time with Obi-Wan these days."

Anakin scowls, half at the name and half at the words. "I'm not thinking about him at all," he snaps back, which is a lie. "It's just rude to be late. Especially to trivia. Why are we even on the same team? That's not--"

"He thought it would be nice," Padmé says, taking a sip of her own cider. "He explicitly requested that we don't talk about work. Maybe he's trying to bond with you."

Anakin's scowl turns into a softer frown. Bond with him? Obi-Wan Kenobi doesn't want to bond with him. How would they even work if they weren't at each other's throats? What would they talk about? How would--

His mind flashes back to the first time they ever met, before Kenobi opened his mouth to reveal that beneath his gorgeous face, he was just a British dick.

He can feel his face heating, and he takes a sip of his beard to distract himself. Ugh. Kenobi. Kenobi.

"Apologies for the delay," Kenobi says, as if Anakin's thoughts have conjured him into existence. He drops into the chair next to Padmé and kisses her hello on the cheek.

Anakin's scowl is back. Fucking Europeans. He's not even a European. He's from an inconsequential fucking island in the middle of nowhere.

"Gregor here had to finish up a bit of work at the lab," Kenobi continues before looking across the table at Anakin. "Hello, Anakin," he says, tone noticeably cooler but there's something smug about it. About his whole face. And...everything. "Have you met Gregor? He's also a Smithsonian employee."

Anakin casts his gaze to the man still standing at the head of their table. "No," he says, then adds, lying through his teeth, "Pleasure."

"Which department?" Padmé asks sociably as Gregor sits down next to Obi-Wan, who smiles and places his hand on Gregor's arm.

"Mineral studies," Obi-Wan tells them. "I thought perhaps Gregor here would be a boon during the more technical science questions we can never get right."

"Oh, is that why you brought me along?" Gregor asks, turning to Obi-Wan with a familiar, sickening twinkle in his eyes. "And here I thought this was a date, Obi."

Obi-Wan laughs and pats his arm, but his eyes are tighter around the edges. He hates the nickname, Anakin knows. Apparently Gregor doesn't.

"Only if you win it for us, darling," he tells Gregor, and Anakin scowls.

Darling. Ugh. This is bar trivia.

"Mineral studies," he says suddenly. "What's that then?"

"Well," Gregor replies, puffing up the way anyone in DC does the moment they're given an opportunity to talk about what they do for a living. "I guess the easiest way to describe it is that I study rocks. I mean, that's really boiled down, and it's more like---"

He continues, but Anakin's stopped listening the moment Gregor said the word rocks. Rocks.

He raises his eyebrows at Obi-Wan in disbelief. He brought a rock guy to trivia. He's planning to fuck a rock guy. A rock guy. He shakes his head at the other man, who just blinks as if he doesn't understand. As if hating rock people isn't the one thing that they have in common.

This is a new low, even for Kenobi.

[lacydollette]

CASUAL , TWO ⸻ dean winchester

warnings dean winchester x fem!reader, unrequited love, fwb, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, praise, explicit language, angst, arguing, dean being a scared lil bitch, nsfw, 18+, ꒰ part 2 of my ‘casual’ mini series ꒱

Dean knew he was asking for a lot the moment he hit the call button. He leaned against the creaky wall of the random, rundown motel room he had booked. His mind was racing, though he wasn't really sure why. He just needed a distraction, something to pull him out of the mess inside his head, and you—well, you always knew how to make him feel better.

He'd heard that you were on a case nearby, and now, here he was. Again. Calling you like it was nothing, like your last time together didn't feel... different.

While on the other end you had stared at your phone for what felt like an eternity, your thumb hovering over Dean's name. You knew what he wanted. You always did. It wasn't a mystery why Dean was calling you up out of the blue at 1am.

Your first instinct was to ignore him. You didn't need this—didn't need to be his go-to when he needed an escape. Lately, every time you thought of him, it felt like your heart cracked a little more. And despite his emotional distance you couldn’t help yourself.

"Dean?" You voice crackled through the phone as you picked up the call.

"Hey, uh... You still in the area?" he asked, trying to sound casual. You sighed on the other end, and Dean could already feel your hesitation. "Yeah, I'm around.”

"Good. There's this motel a few miles off the highway. Thought maybe you could, I don't know, come ‘round?"

"I don't think I can," you said, your voice softer now, but firm. "I'm busy."

Dean frowned, pushing off the wall and pacing. "C'mon, y/n. Just a couple of hours. It's not like we haven't done this before."

A sarcastic chuckle left your lips, sounding almost bitter. "Exactly, Dean. We've done this before. Too many times."

"Yeah, but—" Dean started, then stopped, running a hand through his hair. He wasn't sure what the hell he was supposed to say to that. It wasn't like he could argue with you. You both knew what the deal was. Casual, no strings, no messy emotions.

But still, he found himself pushing. "I just need you, okay? For tonight. Just to get out of my head." Dean could feel his heart thudding against his ribcage.

It wasn't supposed to be that complicated.

You wanted to say no. You should say no. You knew that you’d leave feeling emptier than when you came, like you always did, yet the thought of not seeing him at all—that was even worse. You hated it. Hated yourself for it. It was ridiculous, really, how you kept giving in, knowing how things would end.

"Fine," you finally said. "I'll be there."

When you arrived at the motel, the familiar sight of Dean's black Impala parked outside brought a lump to your throat. You’d convinced yourself on the way over that you’d keep your guard up this time, that you wouldn't let him get under your skin. But the moment you walked into that damn room and saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, all your defenses began to crumble.

He stood up, giving you that same tired smile you’d seen a hundred times before. "Hey."

"Hi," you echoed, crossing your arms over your chest, trying not to let your frustration show. You weren’t here to fight—not yet, anyway. But the weight of everything unsaid was suffocating you.

But Dean wasted no time, stepping toward you and pulling you into his arms, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both urgent and needy. You wanted to push him away, tell him this wasn't what you wanted anymore, but damn it, your body betrayed you. You kissed him back, letting yourself get lost in him for a moment, because it was easier than dealing with the truth.

You two fell back onto the bed, lost in each other like you had countless times before. For a little while, you could forget. You could pretend that this wasn't just about the physical, that maybe, just maybe, there was something more between the two of you. But deep down, you knew better.

Dean’s body pressed more firmly against yours, his chest solid and warm as it met yours, adjusting himself just enough so that he was hovering above you. His tongue pushed gently against your lower lip before slipping into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You moaned quietly, hands finding his hair, tugging lightly at the nape of his neck as his hands traveled down your sides, leaving goosebumps all over your body.

You could feel his growing erection pressing against you, slowly grinding himself back and forth on your core. The urgency in his movements made you feel wanted, desired, but at the same time you felt empty, just wanting it to be over.

Dean tugged at the waistband of your jeans, pulling them off within a matter of seconds before he freed himself from his own clothes, leaving you both bare.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He mumbled, the words leaving his lips almost unconsciously. Of course he thought that you were stunning, but maybe it meant a lot more to you than he realized.

You inhaled sharply as you felt Dean’s finger teasing your entrance, smirking as he felt how wet you’ve gotten over the course of a few seconds. You surely couldn’t deny the fact that he turned you on.

“Soaked already?” He chuckled, making you nod hastily.

Grabbing your hips he secured you onto the mattress, pressing you down gently before he pushed his aching tip past your entrance, a loud moan escaping your lips. Your walls clenched around him almost immediately, making him groan.

“Fuck sweetheart, that tight cunt ‘s sucking me right in.”

You let out another moan, eyes fluttering shut as you felt his cock filling you up to the brim, a perfect fit. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he almost pulled himself out completely before slamming right back in, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

“Hngh..shit—“ you hissed, your nails digging into his back, skin slapping against skin echoing through the motel room.

Dean's hand moved to cup your ass, his fingers digging in slightly as he pulled you closer with each thrust, craving every single inch of your body. As he continued to fuck you at a steady pace you felt yourself getting closer, clenching around his thick cock.

Dean was quick to redirect his hand in between your bodys, finding your clit, and circling the sensitive nub to drive you completely over the edge. You could feel your body tensing up, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level.

“Dean, I’m gonna—“ you whined out before the band in your stomach snapped, cumming hard all over his cock.

"That's it, baby.” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, not even noticing the little petname that had slipped past his lips.

He gave you a few more hard thrusts before letting out a loud groan himself, feeling his dick twitch as he came deep inside of you, painting your walls white with his cum, and leaving both of you breathless.

Dean fell down beside you in the quiet aftermath, the soft glow from the motel's flickering light casting shadows on the walls, staring up at the ceiling like he always did. It was so routine by now that you could almost predict his every move.

But tonight, something felt different. The silence between you was heavier than usual, and you felt a knot forming in your chest. You waited for him to say something, anything, but when he finally spoke, his words cut through you like a knife.

"You’re so good at this stuff. It’s like you were made for it.”

You froze. Made for it? Your heart sank. The casualness of his words, the thoughtless way he dismissed whatever connection you two had, made you feel sick. You sat up quickly, eyes burning with anger and hurt. "That's all I am to you? A fucking hooker?”

Dean turned to you, clearly confused. "What? That’s not- Why are you suddenly acting like this?"

Your anger was burning up, but so was your pain. It wasn't just this moment; it was all of it. Everything you’d been holding back for so long, everything you’d swallowed down, was bubbling to the surface. "Why wouldn't I act like this, Dean? Last time we met, we literally had dinner with your brother, and you fucked me in the bathroom like some random slut who’s hopping on anyone’s dick. And now you wonder why I'm bitter?"

Dean blinked, caught off guard. "That was just... it wasn’t—You know how it is with us."

"No, Dean," you shot back, voice shaking. "I thought I knew how it was. But apparently, I've been fooling myself this whole time. I hate that I let this drag on so long, and now, I hate myself for it."

Dean sat up, running a hand through his hair. This was exactly what he was afraid of. "I thought we were on the same page here, y/n.”

This was just how things were, right? Casual. No complications.

"I'm not just someone you can call when you're bored or need to get out of your head," you continued, voice breaking. "I deserve more than that, and the fact that I've let this go on for so long—it kills me. Because I hate that I've let myself care about someone who clearly doesn't care about me."

Dean's heart sank at your words. He'd always known you were more than just a quick fix for his demons, but hearing it laid out like that? It stung. And for the first time in a long time, he didn't know how to fix this.

"y/n...I-" Dean began, his voice soft, almost pleading. "I didn't mean to make you feel like that. I didn't—"

You cut him off, shaking your head as tears welled up in your eyes. "It doesn't matter, Dean. What's done is done. I just... I can't keep doing this. Not like this."

The room fell silent again, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. Dean stared at you, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to wrap his head around what was happening. He wanted to say something, anything to make it right, but the truth was, he didn't know how.

But what he knew was that the thing between you two wasn’t as casual as he pretended it to be, and that scared the shit out of him. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

You stood up, heart pounding in your chest as you began putting on your clothes. You couldn't stay here—not when everything felt so raw, so exposed. Dean watched you, the guilt etched on his face, but he didn't say anything to stop you.

"I need to go," you said quietly, pulling on your jacket and heading for the door. You could feel his eyes on you.

"y/n.." Dean called after you, his voice almost too faint to hear.

You paused at the door, your hand resting on the knob, and for a brief second, you thought about turning back, thought about giving him one more chance. But you didn't. Instead, you opened the door and walked out, leaving Dean alone in that empty motel room.

He sat there, staring at the door long after it had closed, the weight of everything he hadn't said pressing down on him like heavy rain. He had no idea if you’d come back. And for the first time, he wasn't sure if he wanted you to. Because you deserved better than what he had to offer.

coming from first hand experience 😁 anyways..

feedback and requests are greatly appreciated !!

tags 🏷️ @gibson-g1rl @beausling @angelicjackles @deansbite @figthoughts @deansenvy @chevroletdean @rubyvhs @sugardean @figurantedefilme @cosmicanakin @sammyluvr @nuemanfilms @titsout4nicholas

[joeyfranchise]

is it cool that i said all that?

joe burrow x fem!reader

summary: everything you thought you said and everything that happened… was all a dream? how can you go through this again, tell joe your real feelings, and calm yourself down enough to let the truth out? and how will he take it?

warnings: MDNI!!! (and i’m not gonna tell y’all again bc i’ll start blocking.) smuttttt, it’s fluffy too! oral (m. rec), p in v, spitting, manhandling ofc, size kink! a lil light choking again. this one got a lil nastier than i originally intended. cocky joe is always it’s own warning.

word count: 4.1k.

note: THIS IS A PART 2, original fic here (x). it starts exactly where it ended, so it will not make sense if you haven’t read part 1 first. much love to yous. 💗 (so sorry it came a day later than i wanted it to.)

you rub your sweaty palms against your shorts and bite at the inside of your cheek. you watch joe as he toes off his shoes and socks, making himself comfortable. for some reason, that helps you calm down the tiniest bit.

he sits next to you expectantly, silently waiting on you to speak. your heart is beating against your chest as hard as it ever has before. you’re swimming around inside your own brain like a goldfish. the room is spinning.

you feel joe’s hands - his large hands - grab your shoulders, steadying your now swaying form.

“y/n, you look like you’re gonna be sick. are you sure you’re okay?” he questions, voice laced with concern. he reaches up and tucks a strand of your sweaty, slightly tangled hair behind your ear.

somewhere, deep inside your head, you’re screaming out all your feelings. you’re telling joe you love him, you appreciate him, he’s everything to you. but the words just won’t slip past your lips.

joe’s worried. he’s not sure what’s going on, but he’s trying to think of something, anything to help you.

you close your eyes and try to take a few deep breaths, sorting through your thoughts like a rolodex. you clench and unclench your fists. you count. one. two. three. four. five.

when you open your eyes you look at joe, still looking concerned. you avert your gaze to the wall. “alright joey,” you start, “here goes nothing.” you take one last shaky breath.

“i have a lot to say so, i’m just gonna spill it out okay?” you ask, once more giving yourself a moment. “go ahead, i’m all ears.” he says, rubbing your shoulder. finally, you face him again, his blue eyes staring into yours.

“listen, joey. i don’t want this to be weird. i just… i think i’ve liked you as long as i’ve known you, and i think i’ve known for a while that i… i don’t just like you. i have serious feelings for you. and i know that’s a complicated predicament to put us in because we’re best friends, but hopefully you’ll feel the same. and if you don’t, then i hope you can understand because i can’t lose you as a friend. you’re all i have, i care about you more than anything and i can’t lose you. i literally cannot.” you spill out, emotions beginning to flow. joe looks at you with a soft gaze. he opens his mouth like he’s going to speak, but then he closes it.

“and i know it’s sudden joe, i know it’s abrupt. but the teasing about our size difference was really getting to me, i’m assuming you must’ve caught on to that. and i know it’s probably wrong to be fantasizing over your best friend or something but i just… i love you and i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.” you’re word vomiting. tears begin to stream down your cheeks as you apologize to him. you’re afraid you’ve ruined everything, that he’s gonna walk away from you, leave this friendship and everything you’ve ever had behind.

but why would he?

before you can register what’s happening, you’re being pulled into his lap and crushed against his chest for a hug. you begin crying even harder.

“y/n, bub.. don’t cry.” he says, rubbing your back soothingly.

“will you look at me?”

you pull away from his tight hug and look into his eyes once again as he wipes away your tears with his thumbs. “everything is okay. breathe for me. we’ll keep talking in a minute. just breathe in for four seconds, hold for four, blow out for four, hold again and repeat. square breathing, remember we learned that together?”

you try. you try so hard to regulate your breathing, emotions, feelings. but here you are, straddling his lap just like in your dream - your stupid fucking dream you haven’t even gotten to yet - and you can’t even focus on breathing properly.

joe’s strong hands find their way to your arms, rubbing soothing circles into your biceps. you breathe in, hold for four, and try to do square breathing. you close your eyes, once again trying to just gather your thoughts. joe lets you sit in your silence, allowing you to process before he speaks his mind.

once you open your eyes again, still finding his gaze on you, you think you’re ready to continue. before you can start the conversation back up, joe is speaking.

“let me say my piece, okay?” his voice sounds sure, his gaze is stern. you’re still afraid of where this is going. all you can do is nod your head yes.

“i’ll start by saying i figured it out on the football field, but it was solidified when you spent the night with me. i don’t think it’s crazy or weird that you like that, i’d be lying if i said i haven’t thought about you in that manner too. i mean, any guy and girl as close as we are.. there’s bound to be sexual or intimate thoughts bouncing around in our heads somewhere, right?” he cocks his head to the side, a small gesture that lets you know he’s being honest, that he isn’t bothered by anything you said. that helps you breathe easier for a moment.

“honestly y/n, i’ve loved you a long time. as a friend, as something more. and it’s selfish but… it’s like i always knew you were gonna be there. i always knew you were my girl. i hate that i’ve never come to you about it before. i hate that i’ve dated around and never talked to you about these feelings, because deep down i know it was wrong. i think i’ve known for a while we both felt the same about each other.”

a part of you wants to be mad, because in truth it is kinda fucked up for him to just leave you in waiting, but your brain is focusing on something else. my girl. my girl. my girl.

he just called you his girl. something about that possessive phrase has you reeling, and after the evening you’ve had, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t want to make you jump his bones that much more.

“y/n… anything to say?”

shit. you zoned out.

“oh, sorry joey.” you mumble out, closing your eyes and shaking your head lightly. “i mean… i’m glad that you feel the same way. i think i might be a little mad at you later, but right now i’m trying to process this all. but… it’s cool that i said all that?”

“yeah, it’s cool. is it cool that i said that? and would it be cool if i said i loved you back?” he asks, a playful lilt to his tone.

“i mean they do call you joe cool, so, everything you do is cool.” you smile down at him, and he matches your expression. you let your hands wander to the nape of his neck, lightly scratching at his hair.

he sits up, pressing his chest into yours, nose inches from your own. something is starting to feel oddly familiar.

“and if i kissed you? that’d be super cool right?”

“the coolest.”

his hands come back up to cup your cheeks as he brings his lips to yours gently. you gasp out in shock. they’re softer than they were in your dream, and he doesn’t taste like mint. he tastes more like mango. probably all the damn body armor, you think to yourself.

as he deepens the kiss, slowly and sweetly, you reach over and pinch yourself.

“did you just… pinch your arm?” he asks, breaking away from your lips to catch his breath.

“yeah… so you know how i looked like a sweaty disheveled mess when you got here?”

“i’m familiar. you still do.”

you smack his arm. “well i was… kinda…” you start, then you bury your face in his neck.

“you were whacking it?” he laughs, tipping his head back.

“no fucker, i wasn’t whacking it.” you laugh too. “but i was having a pretty good sex dream. involving you. and me. and a lot of manhandling.”

you can feel your cheeks heating, your heart is beating hard again. “is that so?” he asks, teasing you again. “you wanna re-enact it?”

hell no. nope. this isn’t happening again. you can’t be, you aren’t dreaming again right?

you hop off his lap and run to the kitchen, turning on the cold tap and splashing water all over your face. you’re definitely awake. joe hops off the couch after you, laughing at your dramatics, something he’s very used to. before you know what’s happening, he’s rearing back and smacking your ass. hard.

“JOE!” you scream, jumping forward. “what, i figured that’d show you that you’re awake.” he shrugs, leaning against the counter smugly. you grab a cup from the cabinet, filling it with some of the cold water before finally turning off the faucet. you walk forward a few inches toward joe. “don’t start something you can’t finish.” he warns, wagging a finger at you. you start to tip the cup, but he’s moved in a flash, running out of the kitchen and down the hall.

you peek around the corner and joe is nowhere to be found. tiptoeing your way down the hall, you look into the bathroom quickly to see if joe’s hiding there. he isn’t. you keep walking, almost to your room. before you register what’s happening, a hard body is leaping at you then pressing you to the wall. the cup of cold water is spilled all over you as a result.

he’s laughing, face inches from your own. “what the hell, joe!” you exclaim, but soon you’re laughing too. joe leans back in to kiss you again and you gladly accept his lips, loving how they mold with your own.

he mumbles a little “jump” into your kiss, so you do and wrap your legs around his waist. your hands find his hair again, you weave your fingers between the shorts strands and tug lightly, earning a groan in response. joe nips at your bottom lip, pulling it slightly with his teeth.

he pulls back from the wall with your body still wrapped around his and walks you into your bedroom, and all of this is beginning to feel oddly familiar again. he tosses you on the bed. you look up at him with lustful eyes as he stares back at you. the air in the room is thick, heady.

“joey…” you breathe out, your voice lower than usual. your tone is dripping with arousal. you watch joe swallow, knowing he’s just as turned on as you. he’s in this moment too. as you’re peeling your now cold wet shirt off your body, you hear him respond.

“yeah, baby?”

his voice is deeper too. he sounds so gruff, so sexy, it’s almost like you can feel him speaking between your legs. whatever is happening in this moment is like your dream to the max. arousal and sexual tension to the nth degree.

“there’s something that didn’t happen in my dream that i really wanna do, is that okay?”

you slide off the bed and onto your knees, crawling forward a bit until you’re directly in front of him. “and what’s that?” he lilts, smirk crawling across his face again.

“i wanna suck your dick, joe.” you rasp. you watch as he tilts his head back, his eyes rolling. a small “fuck” escapes his lips. from your position on the floor you can see that’s at least half hard in his shorts. you reach up and grab the waistband, tugging his shorts down. joe shrugs his shirt off at the same time, leaving him completely bare to you.

his cock springs up, slapping against his stomach. somehow, someway, it’s bigger than what you imagined in your dream. you wrap a hand around the base and bring the head to your lips, sticking out your tongue to kitten lick at his tip teasingly. you take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you suck him off.

what won’t fit into your mouth is being worked by your hand, in quick motions. you look up at joe through your eyelashes and he thinks he could cum right then. slurping sounds fill the room as you take him into your mouth eagerly, over and over again.

joe suddenly looks at you before grabbing your hair in a makeshift ponytail. “you want rough, right?” he rasps, his eyes hooded.

“mmmph… mhm.” you mumble, never removing his cock from your mouth. “tsk-tsk. talking with your mouthful. so rude.” he teases.

his hands tighten in your hair and he gives you one final glance before taking over control and beginning to fuck your mouth. you let your hand drop as joe finds a rhythm, pumping his hips forward as he holds your head into place.

tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes, your lips are starting to get sore, but you don’t care. the fact that joe is using you so roughly to get himself off is almost enough to have you creaming in your panties. after a few minutes of joe’s relentless face-fucking, you feel his hips stutter, but before he cums he pulls out from your mouth with a loud pop.

“stand up.” he commands, his voice low and gravelly. you rise to your feet before him, craning your neck up so you can look into his eyes. he lifts you again, your legs wrapping around his waist. he walks you closer to the bed again, plopping you down onto it.

he’s still standing above you, his gaze is giving you chills. it’s almost like a switch has flipped, like he remembered suddenly how this all came to fruition. that you love how much bigger he is than you, you fantasize about him throwing you around, and he intends to use that to his advantage.

“strip.”

you stay still for a few seconds as you try to process what’s happening and gauge joe’s reactions, but when he repeats himself you strip immediately, starting by unclasping your bra and then taking off your shorts and panties, tossing them aside aimlessly. you lay bare before him and, just like your dream, you feel confident. his eyes rake over your form and he licks his lips.

joe leans over you, finally climbing into your bed, slotting his knee between your legs. “look at you, all spread out. you’re perfect, y/n. fucking perfect.” you shudder.

he brushes your hair away from your neck and starts kissing along the column, the tip of his nose occasionally brushing your ear lobe. your soft moans fill the room, but you let out a sharp gasp as he moves his leg up, pressing his thigh against your core. joe chuckles against your throat.

“joey, i can’t take it anymore, please.” you beg, scratching at his shoulders. he moves away from your neck slowly, you can see his pupils blown wide as his eyes once again rake over your naked body. you grind down on his leg, searching for something, any kind of friction to ease the ache in your already soaking wet core.

he begins kissing your lips again, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip and you part them for him, his tongue melding with your own. he snakes a hand down your body as he moves his thigh away from you, and you whine at the loss of contact. his kisses trail down your throat again, over the soft planes of your collarbones, and onto your chest. his tongue slowly drags over your nipple, flicking around the hard bud.

finally, his hand makes its way between your legs, the tips of his calloused fingers making contact with your swollen clit. he slides his hand lower to gather some of your wetness before rubbing tight circles against your clit.

“j-joey, ah fuck..” you moan out, pressing yourself down into his hand. “please fuck me, joe. i need it so bad.”

you’ve never been more sexually frustrated than you are in this moment. even though you’re with joe, he’s touching and kissing you, your burning desire and needs aren’t being satiated. you need him to fuck you, rough and hard.

“needy, huh?” he laughs, kissing the valley between your breasts. you want to answer, but the words get caught in your throat and instead you just let out a strangled whine. joe smirks, wondering if you’ll get there just from him touching your clit. he lowers his hand, dipping two fingers into you as his thumb takes over your clit, your body jerks as a reaction.

you arch your back off the bed, pressing down as hard as you can onto joe’s fingers as he works them in and out of you. when he suddenly stops, you scream frustratedly.

“calm down, princess.” he says, his smarmy tone filling your ears and making you want to slap him. you look down, watching joe as he finally grabs his hard length and strokes it a few times. he slowly presses his tip into you and you whine at the stretch of him. your eyes are screwed closed, your breath coming out in short puffs as he inches forward slowly, until he’s completely seated inside you.

“it’s so big joe,” you groan, your voice completely fucked out.

“or maybe you’re just really small, baby.”

what a fucker, you think. he grabs your legs at the thighs and brings them up, hooking your knees over his shoulders. he pressed his weight into you so that your knees are next to your head, and from this position you can feel everything. every inch, every vein. it’s euphoric.

his hips start moving finally, and you bite your arm to stifle a loud scream that threatens to break through your lips. joe roughly moves your arm away from your face.

“fuck no, let me hear you. let everyone around hear who’s making you feel this good.” his dominance reverberates through your bones. maybe this is what heaven is like?

you don’t say anything, but you allow every sound, every breath and gasp of pleasure fall from your gaping maw as joe pounds you relentlessly into your mattress.

“you look so pretty like this baby, you’re taking it so well. thought it’d be to big for you.” he teases, his hand finding your throat. once again, something similar to your dream. but this is reality, and that makes it a thousand times better. “joe, i’m so close.. please, i’m..”

although his actions are dominant, the way he’s pressed against you, his large frame caging your much smaller one against the bed, and his large hands are holding you down, the sincere love and affection that’s shown in his eyes is what’s going to take you right to that edge and drop you off.

“open your mouth.” he commands. you do as you are told, too into the moment to even argue. you part your lips, and suddenly joe is spitting right into your mouth. “swallow it.” who are you to say no?

you obey him. his hand finds your clit once more and after a few erratic strokes of his fingertips over your swollen bud you’re coming, harder than you ever have before. every nerve ending in your body is set ablaze, white hot fire spreading over your skin.

in this moment, all you know is joe.

your orgasm prompts his own as your heat tightens around him, and after a few pumps he’s filling you up before falling forward and pressing his sweaty forehead against your own. your eyes are still closed, but you know he’s smiling. you’re smiling too.

joe pulls out of you and you both hiss. you feel him move from the bed, and you hear his footsteps pattering down the hall to your bathroom as he turns the shower on. when he comes back, your eyes are open, waiting to see his face.

“come on,” he says, lifting you up. “let’s go clean up.”

he helps you stand in the shower, and the intimacy of the moment feels easy for you both, it’s comfortable. you’re thankful for that. he helps you wash, your body and your hair, and then the two of you stand under the hot stream and laugh and talk after joe finishes cleaning himself.

as he helps you out from the shower, you can’t help but tease him. “risky move there cumming inside me, by the way. you want children this young? in your prime?”

“i know you’re on the pill, y/n. i know everything about you. plus, a kid with you wouldn’t be so bad.”

you’re instantly flustered at his answer, but you quickly brush it off. you keep talking as you both make your way down the hall and back to your room. “if you know everything about me then what am i thinking right now?”

he laughs as he walks into your closet, rummaging through a stack of his clothes that you keep there for him. he foregoes boxers, which makes you giggle, and you bite your lip as you watch him pull the pair of sweatpants he chose up over his ass. you make a mental note to get a handful of it soon.

he turns around, tossing you one of his old college shirts. “you’re thinking ‘wow, i really wanna order thai food and watch scream with my sexy hot best friend who just rocked my entire world.’ sound accurate?”

you laugh at his statement, but you agree. “damn joey, you’re good.” you walk over to your dresser to grab a pair of panties, slipping them on below the shirt joe gave you.

the two of you go out to your living room as you order your food and joe preps for the movie. the rest of your evening is spent cuddled up as you eat together and relax, another one of those moments of comfortable silence between you. the simplicity of just enjoying each other’s presence, something you both love.

you fall asleep with your head on joe’s chest, the soft lull of his breathing and the beating of his heart helping ease you into a lovely slumber.

wake in the morning, it’s because of a shrill ringing. this is familiar, you think. your body almost slips into panic mode, because no the fuck you did not dream this shit again, but when you feel joe’s hard body pressed against yours, and in nothing but gray sweatpants, you thank every god you can think of.

you look over to one of your end tables, noticing it’s his phone that’s ringing. from where you are, you can barely see it, so you crane your neck up to get a better look. you can see a girl's name and contact photo lighting up the screen.

okay, you tell yourself, don’t panic. he has a lot of friends and stuff. just wake joe up so he can answer it.

you shake him awake, his groggy eyes taking a moment to open.

“morning y/n.” he says, finally looking at you. you pick at your thumbnail nervously. “morning joey. your um- your phone was ringing.”

he reaches for it, tapping the screen to see his notifications. you see his expression drop, which makes you feel even more nervous.

“it’s my friend kate,” he starts, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. “i told her we could have brunch this morning since i didn’t figure i’d be busy… but that was before we— i didn’t know how our talk would go.” his guilty tone lets you know everything you need to know, that more than brunch was being planned.

you slide off the couch, walking back toward your room. joe is quick to follow. you turn, stopping him by placing a firm hand to his chest. “go have brunch, have a good time.” your small, defeated voice pierces joe right through the heart.

“y/n, please. i love you, i told you i love you. i want you to be mine. that’s all i want, from now til forever. just, let me explain all that to kate, okay? and then i’ll be back. we’ll spend the whole day together. does that sound good?” he’s groveling, you can tell. you can’t really be mad at him, because he made these plans prior to what has just happened between you, but you’re reminded of what he told you yesterday, and that pisses you off.

“fine, joey. go. we’ll talk when you get back.” you bite, turning on your heel and stalking off to your room, slamming the door behind you.

taglist: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @bengals-barnesbabe @joeyb1989 @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 (i added everyone from the replies on part1 & all taglist requests- i hope that’s okay! 💗)

[pickingupmymercedes]

Blessed - Lewis Hamilton

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: Blessed - Daniel Caesar - @goldenroutledge

pairing: Husband!Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: fluff (bc we need a lil breather from the news lately)

wordcount: +1k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

“Alright, alright!” The sound of a spoon tapping against a champagne glass drew everyone's attention toward the center of the room.

The reception room was glowing in warm hanging lights, the low hum of chatter filled the air as glasses were put down and chair were pulled closer. It was a night of celebration, of love and new beginnings – tale as old as time.

At the head table, the couple of the evening, Lewis and Y/n, sat side by side. Lewis’s arm draped protectively over the back of Y/n’s chair and she leaned into him slightly, her eyes sparkling as she looked out at their friends and family gathered around.

It had been a long road to get there. Everyone knew that.

Their love story wasn’t the clean, perfectly drawn-out romance people read about in books or saw in movies. It was messy. Complicated. And yet, they had made it there—newly married and completely in love.

Standing in the middle of the room, their friend held a mic in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other. Her grin promised a toast that would be anything but typical.

“As much as I’d love to pretend I’m not emotional about this... y’all know me too well,” she began, casting a cheeky look at the couple. “But first... let me just say—finally!”

A wave of laughter rippled through the guests. Y/n chuckled, nudging Lewis as he grinned wide, squeezing her shoulder. Their friend raised her glass, eyes twinkling.

“No, seriously though. I’m not gonna lie. There was a point where I thought, ‘These two? Getting married? Yeah, no way.’ But hey, life has a funny way of proving me wrong.”

The guests laughed, nodding in agreement. She looked around the room, drawing everyone in as she spoke.

“See, Lewis and Y/n... they were that couple. The one everyone’s always asking about. Like, ‘What’s going on with them? Are they together? Are they on a break? Are they—” she paused, turning to the person sitting next to her and raising her hand for dramatic effect, “Are they fine this time?’”

Everyone laughed, nodding along. Y/n exchanged a smile with Lewis, who shrugged as if to say, She’s not wrong.

“They always had this... thing, right?” their friend continued, making an animated swirl in the air with her hand. “Like, they’d walk into a room together and, boom, all eyes would go straight to them. You could tell they were just... magnetic.” She turned to Lewis’s mom, who was laughing and nodding knowingly.

“Oh, and don’t get me started on the families!” She gestured to Lewis’s mom with a playful smirk. “Carmen, you knew Y/n was family long before this day, didn’t you? You were still having your spa days with her even when these two claimed to be ‘over!’”

The room burst into laughter as Carmen raised her glass with a playful smile, shrugging unapologetically. “She’s family, with or without him.”

“And you sir,” Their friend pointed a finger at Y/n’s dad, shaking her head with a grin. “You’re just as bad. I remember calling Lewis during one of their ‘breaks’—you know, the ones we had to keep a calendar for—and he’d be like, ‘Oh, I just got off the phone with Y/n’s dad. We were talking about the race.’” She shook her head, laughing. “You all knew they weren’t fooling anyone, didn’t you?”

Y/n’s dad chuckled, glancing over at the newlyweds with a warm smile. “Some people need more time to figure things out.”

The friend shook her head with an exaggerated sigh. “Honestly, who didn’t lose track at some point?” She turned to a nearby table. “Raise your hand if you’ve ever had to ask someone else if they were ‘back together’ or ‘taking a break’ this month?”

A few hands shot up in good-natured fun, the crowd’s laughter rolling even louder.

“Yep! See? Half of us here had charts,” she added dead serious. “And the funny part is, every single time they said they were ‘done,’ deep down, I think we all knew. Because no matter how ‘done’ they claimed to be, they’d somehow find a way back to each other. Every. Single. Time.”

Y/n shook her head, laughing softly as if the memories were flooding back to her—late nights of arguments, quiet moments of reconciliation, times they’d sworn it was over for good, only to realize that no one else quite fit the way Lewis did.

She paused, glancing between Lewis and Y/n, before taking a slow sip of champagne. “You two are a pair, alright. A little unpredictable a lot stubborn. But that’s what makes it funny—and honestly, kind of beautiful— because you couldn’t stay out of each other’s orbit if you tried.”

Their friend took a breath, her grin turning into a soft smile. “And as much as we all like to joke about how confusing it was trying to keep up, deep down, we all knew. Because whatever you two have... It was messy, yeah. But it’s real. And it’s the kind of love that survives the storms because you make each other better.”

Her gaze shifted to Lewis, sincerity pouring into her voice. “Now, Lewis... yeah, you’re a lot of things. A goat, some would say... but let’s be honest—when it comes to Y/n, you’re the guy who can’t help but light up when she’s around. I mean, look at you!” She waved her hand, pointing as he grinned, clearly caught.

Lewis laughed, shaking his head, but the warmth in his eyes as he glanced at Y/n was undeniable.

She then turned to Y/n, her eyes softening even more. “And Y/n, girl... don’t think I haven’t noticed how you let him in, even when you’re stubborn about it. He’s broken through those walls in a way that, frankly, I’m still kind of mad about,” she teased, winking. “He really made me share my spot as your only confidante.”

Another wave of laughter and cheers erupted, softer this time, filled with knowing looks and nods. Y/n’s hand founding Lewis’s under the table, fingers squeezing his as she took in her friend’s words.

“And it wasn’t until you both finally stopped running from this, that the rest of us got to see the magic happen,” their friend continued, leaving her glass on the table to be able to use her hands to motion to the couple.

“And now? Look at you two. You’ve found your rhythm. You’ve learned that yeah, sometimes you drive each other nuts.”

“And us too, to be honest.” She pointed out as she motioned to the rest of the guests

“Sometimes it’s not perfect, and it never will be. But that’s not the point.” She paused, letting the silence hang for a second before speaking again. “The point is... you two, you’re so blessed to be stuck with each other.”

Y/n’s breath visibly caught in her throat. She glanced at Lewis, and the warmth in his eyes met her own, creating a small, private moment between them.

“I mean, look at them, guys. There he is, looking at her with the same adoration he always had, even back when they weren’t even ‘official’. They always saw each other, didn’t they? Even when they didn’t see themselves.” Their friend chuckled as she took their little moment to get her point across, just to cease the moment and break the atmosphere with another tease.  

“Gosh, I remember when you two were in those other relationships,” she said, eyes glinting mischievously as she winked. “And they were great, don’t get me wrong... But we all knew they were temporary. Because there’s no one else out there for you two. You tried to move on, I’ll give you two that. But you were just lying to yourselves. The whole time, you were still orbiting around each other, waiting to collide.”

The crowd murmured in agreement. Everyone there had seen their journey. Everyone knew how hard they’d fought, how much they’d both been through to get to that moment.

“So yeah, you two might be a little messy sometimes” she added, a grin spreading across her face again. “But who isn’t? The important thing is... you bring out the best in each other. Lewis, you make Y/n smile like no one else can. And Y/n, you keep this man grounded in a way that nothing else ever could.”

And it was true.

Lewis was Y/n’s grounding force, the one person who could calm the storm inside her, even when she didn’t want to admit it. And she did the same for him, though he’d probably never say it out loud.

They weren’t perfect, but they were perfect for each other.

“To Lewis and Y/n. To all the highs and lows, to all the moments that got you here. And to the future, because if this crazy, beautiful love of yours has taught us anything, it’s that you’re in it for the long haul. Here’s to being blessed... and a little bit of a mess.”

The room erupted in cheers and clinks of glasses. Y/n’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she turned to Lewis, her fingers reaching for his over the table. When their hands touched, he laced his fingers with hers, giving her that same familiar squeeze he always did when words weren’t enough.

He leaned in, his voice low as he whispered against her ear “I am blessed to be stuck with you.”

Y/n smiled, blinking away the moist that had been threatening to fall. She turned to him, kissing him softly on the lips, savoring the moment.

Because their friend was right. It wasn’t always perfect. It wasn’t always easy. But it was real.

And maybe they were a little bit of a mess.

But they were each other’s mess.

And that was everything.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

@hiireadstuff @f1-football-fiend

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ APATHY OF THE CHIEF JUSTICE — NEUVILLETTE.

contents. archon quest spoilers, liddol weepy dragon neuvillette :(, established relationships, reverse comfort, lots of kissies 4 him, it’s a bit self indulgent my bad but he’s just a sensitive lil friendly guy who tries his best he makes me sad :(, maybe ooc idrk how to write him yet

it starts raining out of nowhere on a sunny day, hard. you frown—you know exactly what this means, walking up to neuvillette’s office in concern.

“good afternoon, sedene,” you smile, patting the melusine on the head. she leans into your touch happily, content with the small show of affection.

“good afternoon. if you’re here to visit the chief justice, i have to warn you. today, he seems…” sedene trails off, unsure how to finish, and you hum knowingly as you nod.

“i see,” you murmur, “i’ll see if i can help.” you turn and knock on the office door—it’s silent for a moment before you call, “it’s me.”

you hear some shuffling before neuvillette finally answers. it’s a quiet, “come in,” and nothing more. you sigh before entering—that can’t be a good sign.

neuvillette looks…well, devastated. with red rimmed eyes and a slightly pink nose, his cheeks trailed with delicate tears that break your heart. you walk over, cupping his cheek and brushing away a stray tear with your thumb as he closes his eyes.

“what’s got you so upset,” you murmur, “the weather has taken a rather drastic turn, wouldn’t you say?”

he sniffles, the poor thing—it’s as precious as it is heartbreaking. “i believe…i believe i may have made a mistake,” he mumbles, “a terrible one, in fact.”

“oh?” you raise a brow, leaning down and brushing your lips against his forehead soothingly, “i’m sure you’ve done your best, neuvillette.”

“no,” his voice breaks, a fresh round of tears falling past his lash line and staining his skin. you furrow your brows, cupping both sides of his face as your forehead presses to his, “no, i didn’t…i didn’t do what i should have. in fact, i did nothing at all.”

“i’m sure that’s not true,” you reason, “you always do what you can.”

“i could’ve stopped the duel,” he shakes his head, and instantly you know what must be on his mind. “i thought…i thought i understood but i didn’t. i still don’t.”

neuvillette doesn’t understand humans as well as he hopes—it’s changed a bit since you’ve shown up, but their emotions are far too complicated for him sometimes. you help him, sometimes—you try to show him they’re not much different from him, but he’s learning slowly on his own.

you nod slowly at his words, as if you understand, before pressing soft kisses along his face. you scatter them along his cheeks, over the tip of his nose, just at the corners of his mouth and right on the center of his forehead.

he sniffles again, miserably.

“oh, love,” you murmur gently—callas has always been a complicated topic, one you’ve carefully treaded since it’s happened. his lips wobble, and you pull him into you, letting his head rest against your chest as you sit on the armrest of his chair. “callas wasn’t your fault,” you whisper, “none of us could’ve known.”

“i believed he was guilty,” he confesses, “otherwise, why duel? i…i didn’t think he would do it for…”

“and you weren’t alone in your assumptions,” you reason. that doesn’t seem to make him feel any better—in fact, you feel your shirt dampen, and the rain hits the glass of his window harder.

“but i am the chief justice,” he insists, “how i can be so if i let innocent men throw away their lives?”

you’re silent for a bit—it’s difficult to give him an answer. it’s difficult to offer him any solace over something like this. but you do know it’s not his fault—and soon enough, you hope he’ll accept that too.

but until then, you thread your fingers into his hair as you press a chaste kiss to the crown of his head.

“being the chief justice doesn’t mean you have all the answers,” you say quietly, catching a tear as it slips down his cheek with your thumb, “you won’t have all the answers. but you’ll do your best to find them. i think that’s enough.”

“lady navia yelled at me,” he tells you. you want to chuckle a little at the way he says it, like child who’s been scolded—but now is not the time, not when he’s so upset. “a few days ago. because i did not stop it. she…she was right—”

“lady navia is grief stricken,” you interrupt, “you have to understand. she didn’t mean—”

“but i could’ve stopped it—”

“anyone could’ve, neuvillette,” you insist, “lady furina, or even clorinde. but no one knew, and that’s okay. it’s how callas wanted it, i’m afraid.”

he’s silent for a bit, weighs your words as he presses against your chest further, let’s your fingers trail through his hair and stroke along his cheek for a bit.

it rains in fontaine—whenever there is something to mourn, it rains. perhaps the people can know this way that they are not alone in their grief, that there is always something, someone to share the burden of pain with them.

“i’ll visit,” he mumbles after some time, “to pay my respects to mister callas.”

“i think that’s a lovely idea,” you smile, poking the tip of his nose and pulling the tiniest of smiles from him, “would you like me to come?”

“no, i think i should do it alone,” he says thoughtfully, “but thank you.”

you feel his hand grab yours, his fingers lacing with yours as he gives it a small squeeze—perhaps he still has a long way to go to understand humans and their complex emotion. but this one, he thinks he understands well enough.

he loves you, just as much as you love him—it’s simple enough to understand.

my lil cinnamon roll :( my emotional liddol weepy dragon :(

[mingi-s-dimples]

Study buddy or... fuck buddy? - Yeosang

KINKTOBER DAY 8- REQ. BY anon

~"yeosang x reader; please add squirt and virgin reader?"

pairing: yeosang x fem!reader

genre: 18+, college au

summary: anatomy lessons weren't this.. practical in the past.

wc: 2.7k

warnings: college au, friends with benefits, protected sex (we cheered !), cumming, squirting, first time sex, yeosang is a lil gentle boi at first, gets a lil bit rougher throughout the moment, he's a damn tease, aftercare, unedited, completely consensual, making out, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: Hm. I liked writing this one. Was a lil bit harder at first cause I didn't quite have ideas for the plot but.. the ironic situation was that I got this idea while actually studying anatomy... sigh, to be fucked senseless while in break from studying... slams desk. Anyways! My loves, hope you like it!! 🙂‍↕️💖

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The soft hum of fluorescent lights filled the classroom, the buzz faintly drowned by the chatter of students packing up their bags. Another long day of classes had come to an end, and the weight of exhaustion was heavy in the air. You let out a slow sigh, stretching your arms over your head as you leaned back in the chair. Mind buzzed with information from the anatomy lecture—complex structures, nerves, and muscles all swirling together in a chaotic mess.

Being a medical student was no joke. Between the countless hours of lectures, labs, and the never-ending stream of exams, it felt like there was hardly time to breathe, let alone focus on anything outside of school. Relationships? That was out of the question. Who had time for the emotional rollercoaster of commitment when you could barely keep up with the textbooks?

"Hey," came a familiar voice from beside you.

You turned your head to see Yeosang slipping into the seat next to you, his expression as calm and composed as ever. His light blonde hair fell just slightly into his eyes, and he pushed it back with an absent-minded flick of his hand. Even after hours of classes, he still looked effortlessly put together, which was more than you could say for yourself.

"You surviving?" he asked, his lips quirking into a small smile as he dropped his bag onto the floor.

"Barely," you chuckled, rubbing your temples. "Today was brutal."

Yeosang nodded in agreement, leaning back in his chair. "Tell me about it. Anatomy’s kicking my ass. I don’t know how you’re managing to keep up with all of this."

You shrugged, trying to play it off even though you knew the material was just as hard for you. "You just do what you can, I guess. It’s not like we have a choice. We’re all drowning in the same boat."

He smirked, his eyes drifting toward me. "Lucky I have you to help me stay afloat."

It was a lighthearted comment, but it carried the familiar tone of your casual dynamic. Yeosang and you had developed this strange, unspoken arrangement over the past few months. Friends with benefits, no strings attached, no drama. You both agreed early on that neither of you wanted anything serious. Medical school was already overwhelming; the idea of adding the complications of a relationship into the mix felt like an unnecessary distraction. And honestly, it worked. You kept things simple, fun—just two people who got along well, enjoyed each other's company, and let off steam when the stress of school became too much. You never had sex with him tho. With no one. You thought it would interfere with the feelings between two people, hence you and Yeosang only had make out sessions for now. And he was okay with it. Tho, it was about to tkae a 180 degree turn..

"Yeah, I guess you’re lucky," you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

His grin widened, and he gave you a playful nudge back. "Speaking of which, I was wondering if you were free tonight. You need help with some of this anatomy stuff. We’ve got that exam coming up, and I’m seriously struggling."

"Anatomy?" you raised an eyebrow. "That’s not exactly light studying."

"I know, I know," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But if I don’t get this stuff down, I’m screwed. You’re better at this than I am, and I could use the help."

You hesitated for a moment, considering your options. It had been a long day, and you were tempted to just go home and crash, but the thought of studying alone didn’t sound appealing either. Plus, you knew Yeosang needed the help. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t mind spending time with him—especially in a more relaxed setting.

"Fine," you finally agreed, gathering your things and standing up. "But you owe me coffee or something for this."

"Deal," he said, standing up as well, his smile genuine. "I’ll make sure to have some at my place. You’ll need it."

---

Yeosang’s apartment wasn’t far from campus, and the walk there was peaceful, the evening air cool and crisp as you made your way through the quiet streets. When you arrived, he unlocked the door and ushered you inside, the familiar scent of his place hitting you immediately. It was clean, minimalist, the kind of space that felt uncluttered and calm—perfect for someone like him, who always managed to maintain that same composed demeanor no matter how stressful school became.

"Make yourself at home," he said, tossing his bag onto the couch as he headed toward the kitchen. "I’ll grab us some coffee."

You dropped your things on the dining table, already pulling out the anatomy textbook and notes. It was a massive textbook, the kind that seemed to weigh as much as all your collective stress, but you flipped it open, scanning through the sections you knew you'd be covering.

Yeosang returned a few moments later, setting two mugs of coffee on the table before sliding into the seat besides you. He leaned back casually, watching as you flipped through the pages, his eyes following the movement of your hands.

"So, where do we start?" he asked.

You took a sip of the coffee, the warmth of it soothing after a long day. "Let’s go over the musculoskeletal system first. I know that’s usually where people get tripped up."

For the next hour or so, you worked through the material, explaining the finer points while Yeosang asked questions here and there. Despite the subject matter being dense, the atmosphere between you was relaxed, easy. It was always like this with Yeosang—no pressure, no tension. Just a comfortable rhythm.

But as you moved through the material, you couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze lingered on you a little longer than usual, the way his hand would brush against yours when he reached for his pen or the way his knee pressed lightly against yours beneath the table. It was subtle, but it was there. Familiar.

Eventually, you leaned back, stretching your arms above your head and letting out a long sigh. "Okay, I think we’ve covered enough for now. You should be good for the exam."

Yeosang didn’t respond right away. Instead, he shifted in his seat, his eyes watching you with that same quiet intensity you'd seen before—when the interactions had veered into something less academic, something more physical.

"You’re a lifesaver," he finally said, his voice lower, softer than before. He leaned in just a little, his arm brushing against yours as his eyes locked onto you. "I really don’t know how I’d get through this without you."

There it was—that shift, that unspoken tension that had always existed between the two of you, just beneath the surface. You felt it too, the pull between, the way your casual arrangement had always felt so effortless, so natural. No strings, no complications. Just the two of you, in moments like this, where the lines blurred between study partners and something more.

You met his gaze, heart rate picking up slightly as you saw the way his expression had changed. His hand, warm and sure, moved to rest on your thigh, fingers gently tracing small, lazy circles there. It wasn’t aggressive, just a quiet, deliberate touch that sent a shiver through your body.

"Yeosang," you began, voice trailing off as his hand moved a little higher, his touch firm but not demanding.

"We’ve been studying for a while," he murmured, his voice low and smooth as his thumb grazed the inside of your thigh. "Maybe we should take a break."

"I-" you stuttered, not knowing what to do. You wanted to.. have sex with him, that's for sure. He was a good guy, whom could be even better in bed, you thought. But was it ethical? to fuck your.. best friend? Without being in a serious relationship? Well, in reality, friends with benefits is known for exactly that thing but at first you omitted that detail.. You loved how good you get along with him, all the intimate moments you had, without the proper sexual part. You were a virgin after all..

and you always thought that you'd never fuck him. But was it the same today...?

You never told him this, yes.. You remembered. You never told him you never had sex, either. The reason you were still "friends with benefits" if you could even call making out that, was that he was damn patient with you. You loved that about him.

"W-what do you wanna do?" you asked, seemingly confused but you knew where this was going.

"I mean.. just the usual, if you don't want something more" he said.

There it was. His patience running thin but never actually doing something about it. He was patient. Now, it was up to you. He was contently looking into your eyes, waiting for any sign from you.

Your hand went for his biceps, looking in his eyes. Then, he slowly went in for a kiss, not wanting to startle you. The kiss was needy, lustful, like it has always been. Tongues interlocking and touching, his hands were all over you.

He'd always get turned on from kissing and touching you. It was partly sexual, after all. And he always also got slightly hard, but he'd take care of it by himself later that day. It was.. sketchy, how patient he was. Seconds later you acted on instinct and impulse, but where did the action come from? Your right hand went from his biceps to his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch.

Yeosang stopped for a moment and looked at you, surprised. "Hm? Tell me sweetie, what do you wanna do?" he said, cupping your face. "Tell me" he murmured in a soft tone.

"I-uh" you stuttered.

"Hm?"

You didn't continue your words but you still answered his question. Your hand rode up his thigh, even closer to his crotch. Then, almost acting on instinct, your hand unbuckled his pants. He smirked at your action and leaned in for a slower, sloppier kiss. He smiled against your lips, sending shivers down your spine. He took you in his embrace and placed you in his lap, still kissing you. His hands went traveling, slowly making their way up to your breasts, to which you flinched for a short second.

He stopped.

"Hey, we don't have to do this if you don't feel comfortable with it. We can do the usual" he said in a reassuring tone.

"N-no" you said. "I wanna do this."

"Then.. may I?" he asked.

"Yes " you firmly said, kinda excited for what was gonna happen next.

You went in for a kiss again, your hands carresing his back softly. As you embraced him you started taking off his shirt, his muscles leaving you speechless. He saw your expression and giggled, finding you cute. He also took off your shirt, then he nodded, asking you if he can also take your bra off. You nodded affirmative and he left your chest bare in front of him.

Yeosang embraced you and put you on the desk, pushing away all the anatomy books you were supposed to have started studying by now. He took off your scrubs slowly. Yes, you had a practical that day and you were too damn lazy to go home and change yoursekf befoee going over at Yeosang and you also went right after classes. On the other note, he was wearing jeans cause he had only anatomy classes today. As soon as he took care of your clothes he also took care of his, both of you being left in only your underwear. His cock was already straining against the briefs, where your eyes spent a little too much time to stare at. He didn't say anything, even tho he probably saw you.

He took of your panties and threw them on the floor and looked contently at you. His rifht hand rode up your thigh and went for your folds, being really patient wirh you. He was looking you in your eyes to see any discomfort or sometning. But as soon as he saw that you were okay with it, he used two of his fingers to thrust them in. You moaned softly at the sensation, arching your back in response.

After he prepped you for a couple of minutes, basically already making your legs slightly tremble, he took you in his embrace and took you to his room where he put you on the bed. He softly pushed you back as he kneeled halfway on the edge of the bed. He took his briefs off and his cock sprung out, leaving you agape. He climbed on tbe bed right between you, feeling his length right against your folds.

"WAIT, wait." you suddenly shouted.

"Hm? what happened?" he said confused.

"I have to tell you something-"

What? Tell me" he sounded a bit worried avout what you'd say.

"It's just that, uh- Ah fuck it. I haven't had sex... never." you finally told him. "So please.. be gentle with me...?" you whispered.

Yeosang giggled. "Seriously? This is what you've been stressed about? Don't worry, I'll take good care of you, silly." he giggled and continued.. "May I? I want to make sure you're comfortable and all.." he whispered.

"Y-yes." you shyly said.

He looked at you and observed your expression. He knew you were turned the fuck on. Your folds literally dripping on the mattress, legs slightly shaking from only his fingers and eyes wide to see what he eas about to do.

"You don't know just how much I've wated this... but I care too damn much about you to have pushed the note or make you do something. Thanks.. for trusting me" he smiled against your thigh.

Yeosang stroked his length for a couple of times, then opened the drawer besides the bed. He took a condom out and put it on, making you feel even safer with him. He looked you in the eyes and nodded, to which you nodded back and he slowly pushed himself in. Your back slightly arched under his action, eyes teary and your hands holding onto his hands. He started slowly thrusting, watching you contently.

"Does it feel good to you?" he asked, hands holding your waist thightly.

"Y-yes!" you soflty shouted.

"Then.. mind if I go a little.. rough?" he bottomed down. "You gotta get a taste of how you'll be fucked in the future, sweetie"

You smiled. The little.. joke? you thought of it as a joke, yes, made you smile. He took that as a yes and as soon as he started thrusting a little bit faster, your chest rose up, soft muffled moans could be heard. You started to feel your core getting thighter and thigtber, you kinda new what that feeling was. To be true to yourself.. you haven't had sex with anyone but.. you fingered yourself at least twice since the semester started.

"Yeosang I-" you stuttered.

"Hm?" he was out of it.

"I'm.. c-close" you finally said.

"Me too" and as soon as he finished his words he raised your back up and took you in his embrace. You were now on your fours, back arching against his chest with every thrust. Kisses started trailing along your spine and shoulders, sending shivers down your spine. Within a couple more thrusts you finished, clenching onto him harshly. Surprised, he stopped for a short moment then started fucking you again, even more forcefully. It hurt but oh god... you were right when you told yourself he might be goon in bed. All sort of thoughts were running through your head, your chest slowly falling on the mattress.

He lifted you up.

"I'm not done... yet" his thrusts became sloppier and heavier, panting softly in thr nape of your neck, leaving kisses all over. As soon as his hands found their way to your breasts and pinched your nipples, you moaned loudly and.... squirted all over the place. Yeosang found that damn hot and came as soon as your moan revebrated through his body. He softly fucked you through his high, then came to a stop.

He slowly put you down and pulled out, throwing the condom away. He covered you with the weighted blanket he'd always had in his bed and hugged you thightly.

"...hey. How was.... it?" he spoke first in a soft tone.

"..A-amazing" you said, head still dizzy. "Though.." you continued.

"Hm?"

"I didn't quite expect to.. you know. Squirt..?" you giggled. "You're really something, Yeosang"

A smile rose on his face, "and this is not even everything that I can do" he laughed, teasingly.

"I bet"

"Hah, come on now. Let's get you washed up." he lifted you up and carried you to the bathroom.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @gong-fourz @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Howdy! Jdjdjfh I hope you're still taking Gravity Falls Stan/Ford requests--

What if the reader and Ford/Stan (separate) were married, but the reader suffered a traumatic head injury in a car accident? This injury causes them to be unable to retain memories for more than a day. Every morning, they wake up next to this mysterious, handsome man who has to explain to them that they are married—and have been for years. The reader can't help but feel guilty about this situation. :( We need some lovey-dovey comfort

Sorry if this is long or complicated kfhfkfh thank you for your time!!

Have a good day/night :)) 💗 love your writing so much

you’ll always remember | Stanley Pines x reader

tags: sfw, memory loss, established relationship

a/n: hi, lovely anon! thank you for sending this in and for your sweet words!💗 this little piece focuses on Stan for now. but don’t worry, i’ve got something equally heartfelt coming for Ford too, ill post it a lil bit later

thank you for trusting me with your emotions and have a beautiful day/night, darling!

Ford version

you open your eyes and the next thing you feel is headache, your head feels. . . way too heavy, but sadly, not from oversleeping or the nice kind from sleeping in. it’s different type of pain. 

you rub your eyes, feeling lost and blink around the room, with fear realising you don’t understand where you are. your messy thoughts are interrupted by the bed creaking when you sit up and your heart does this awful little jump when you see him.

this man.  

this. . . mysterious man with a broad chest, an old tank top clinging to it. there’s golden chain around his neck, glinting against the soft peppered hairs of his chest. 

and you. . . you don’t know him.  

your stomach twists immediately. the room doesn’t look familiar, either, nothing does. these stacks of magazines, mugs, a nightstand that’s barely holding itself together. you hear a faint sound of birds outside, but even that won’t calm your mind 

“mornin’, sweetheart, sleep okay?”  

your heart lurches, panic curling up your throat. you try to get up from bed, but everything feels too heavy and weird, your body barely listens to you, your limbs hurt

you freeze, looking a bit scared, but more than all confused. “who— who are you?” 

Stanley sighs, nodding at your words, agreeing with you. it’s not the first time he’s heard it. you can tell from the way his face falls, his smile disappearing, but then he covers it up with a gentle grin

“right. uh, this part,” he mutters, scratching the back of his neck. “okay, so. you don’t remember me. look, baby, my name’s Stan. Stanley Pines. i’m your husband.”

your what?

“yeah, i know. sounds like a bad joke, but it’s true. you’ve got, uh. . .” he avoids your wide-eyed stare. “you’ve got a thing. memory stuff. from the accident. doc says you won’t remember much past a day. it’s been like this for a while now, heh.”

his tone doesn’t sound all that happy, because for Stanley it’s just as hard as it is for you. he explains it like it physically pains him to spell all this shocking nonsense out for you.

“i know this ain’t fair to you. shit, it ain’t fair to either of us. but i’m here. i’ll always be here, ‘kay? even if you wake up every day thinkin’ i’m some creep who wandered in off the street.” 

you just look at him, unable to understand what he’s talking about after the word “husband”. husband. . . gosh, feels like your brain just started to hurt more. your mind scrambles, clawing at the edges of something it can’t reach, no matter how hard you try.

“don’t— don’t look so freaked out, kid,” Stan says quickly, seeing your panic. “here, look—”  

he reaches for something on the nightstand, hoping each time that it will work. Its an old picture frame, a little bit worn, but when he holds it out with a hopeful look, you see yourself in it. laughing. leaning into him. his arm’s slung around your shoulder as he grins, his fez perched crookedly on his head. 

“that’s us,” Stan says softly, watching your reaction. “took that on our anniversary, up at lookout point. you love that spot, always goin’ on about the view. even dragged me up there at sunrise once.” he chuckles, but his eyes are watching you carefully, he’s waiting you to give some reaction, please just. . . please. he waits to see that beautiful smile of yours he always loved so much and you want to smile. you want to remember. 

but there’s nothing.  

corners of your mouth lowers and your chest tightens, guilt bubbling up inside. “i. . .” wait, what was his name again? damn. “don’t remember that. i don’t remember you.”

Stan’s smile wobbles for half a second before he catches it. “yeah, i figured. but that’s okay. s’not your fault, sugar.”  

you hate that. you hate how kind he is about it, how patient, but at the same time how broken his voice sounds.

Stanley sighs, rubbing at his face, trying to scrub away years of exhaustion. then he looks at you again.

with hope in his eyes.

“here, how about this?” he says suddenly, brightening. he pulls open the nightstand drawer and takes out another photo, this one of you, him and some. . . kids? it’s twins, a boy and girl in some funny looking sweater, both with brown hair, all of you standing by the lake. you’re holding up a huge fish, grinning from ear to ear, and Stan’s standing behind you with his hands on your shoulders looking so damn proud of his lovely little human.

“this was last summer,” Stan tells you, tapping the glass with his thumb. “we went fishin’. you caught that sucker all by yourself. wouldn’t stop braggin’ for weeks.”

a faint smile appears on your lips. 

“still got the tackle box you picked out, too,” Stan adds with a laugh. “you said the one i had was too ‘junkyard chic.’ you’ve got a sharp tongue on ya, y’know that?”  

your fingers tremble as you reach to take photo from his hands. you look at it, look at that person who looks like you, with a smile’s brighter than the sun and these eyes. . . sparkling, as if you’ve just heard the funniest joke in the world.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, staring down at your hands. tears spilling down your cheeks. “i- i don’t know how you do this. every day. i can’t- i can’t even remember, Stan.”

the first time you said his name. 

“hey, hey.” his hand comes up, hovering over your shoulder, rubbing it slightly to calm you. he’s not sure if it’s okay to touch you yet, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but you look up and he’s already leaning closer. “don’t you dare apologize for this, sweetheart. you didn’t ask for it. none of this is your fault, y’hear me?”  

you nod weakly, but he isn’t done.  

“you’re still you. still the same stubborn, beautiful, funny, smart, pain-in-the-ass i fell for, okay? you’re stuck with me, like it or not. you take all the time you need, honeybun. i’m not goin’ anywhere.”

you nod, still doubting, lowering your eyes to that photo again. 

“now, how about we get some breakfast? you always say my stancakes are the best damn thing in oregon.” Stan smiles at you because you’re his whole world. and even though the pieces don’t always fit in your mind, Stanley still loves you with this kind of affection that’s lived a thousand lifetimes and he knows, somewhere deep in your mind, you love him too. he just gotta try a bit harder.

when you meet his eyes, for the first time, you feel something painfully familiar deep inside of you. as if he’s the one you’d always reach for in a sea of faces. and you laugh softly

“i say that, huh?” 

“every time,” noticing that little change in your voice, Stan grins and winks at you. “c’mon, let me prove it to ya, baby.”

even though your head’s a mess and your heart feels like it’s been put through a blender, you want to believe him. you take his hand, noticing a ring around his finger and only now you realise you are wearing one too

….

“but what if i never remember?” you ask as you trace the edges of his beautiful face with trembling fingers, trying to commit it to memory.

he just smiles and wraps his big hands around your waist.

“then i’ll just remind ya every day. as long as it takes.”

[sturniolo-simp4life]

Call Me Back- Chris Sturniolo 

Paring- Chris Sturniolo and Y/n 

Description- Chris has been ignoring you for a while, upsetting you, until one night he shows up at your apartment. 

Warnings- angst, crying. Remember everything is fictional! Nothing here applies to real life.

NOT PROOF READ!

You had really been upset this past week. Chris had been distant this week. At first, you thought he was busy with filming and that he needed space. 

But it had gotten more complicated. 

He stopped answering your calls and texts. You could see his likes on other girls' social media.

Another thing- you didn’t care about whose posts he liked, whether they were girls or not.

It was that he was liking pictures of half-naked girls was what got to you. 

You could feel your heart swell when you got a notification. 

Chris.sturniolo made a post 

You clicked on the notification. A picture popped up. It looked like Chris was at a party. He had that big bright smile the one he would always show around you.

What really caught your attention though, was that his arm was clinging onto another girl's waist. 

The girl was leaning her head on his shoulder, and her arm was on his other shoulder. 

You felt your heart crack. Had he found another girl? Is that why he had been ignoring you? 

The girl did look perfect for him though. Golden brown hair. Crisp, green eyes. Big, perfect pink lips. You felt your heart crack even more. It looked like a match made in heaven. 

You hadn’t even realized tears welled up in your eyes until they started streaming down your cheeks. You choked a sob, as you sank into your pillow. 

You didn’t like your emotions getting the best of you but when they did, it was too late. 

What if you were just overreacting? What if she was just a close friend? 

But you saw how both their eyes showed happiness. Connection. Love. 

You cried yourself to sleep that night. 

___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___ 

Two more days passed. Two more notifications, each day. Each post with the same girl. The same bright eyes.

The same smile. The same pang of pain in your heart. You had tried calling him too, but he would just ignore your calls, or not answer. 

You decided that you did want to live a sob story, so you went to the grocery store, hoping to at least be productive and get some tasks done. 

You found yourself driving to target, hoping to buy some things. For one: food. It was always your comfort. 

You also needed to buy your daily necessities, like toilet paper and soaps. 

And you defiantly bought snacks and candy. 

You thought things were going well. You thought you could avoid any possible thought of Chris at all today.

You were literally finished checking out your items. 

But no. The world must really hate you. 

The way your heart shattered when you heard that laugh. As you saw those brown locks of hair.  

Chris. 

And you heard the female laughter following. That golden brown hair. Those deep, crisp, green eyes. That girl. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to move. At all. Who is she? Why do I feel like this? You couldn’t bring yourself to speak.

And the next thing you knew, they were right in front of you. “Oh hey y/n!” You heard Chris’s voice. You couldn’t utter a word. 

You couldn’t hear, you couldn’t feel you couldn’t speak. Are you alright? He asked. Are you okay?

I can’t do this. You finally snapped back to reality, and you ran. You ran right out of that store. You couldn’t turn back.  

He had ignored you for almost a week and a half. Hadn’t picked up any of your calls. And now suddenly acting like he cares? You couldn’t do this. 

You cried as soon as you got home. 

___---___---___---___---___---___---___  What time is it? Was your first thought as you woke up. You rubbed your eyes. Sighed. You needed to relax.  

You grabbed your phone, a blanket, and snacks from your kitchen, and made your way to the living room. 

10 things I hate about you. Thats what you decided to put. 

You wrapped the blanket around yourself, its warmth covering you, protecting you, keeping you safe. Why can’t they be Chris’s arms. 

You were about halfway into the movie and on your third bowl of popcorn when you heard a knock on the door. You sighed, not wanting to get up. 

The knocks wouldn’t stop, so you forced yourself to answer it. 

“What are you doing here,” you asked. Where’s your new girl? You wanted to ask. Why haven’t you broken up with me? 

“I wanted to see if you were alright.” he said.  

“You wanted to see if I was okay?” you could feel your voice rising.

“Oh Chris I’ve been great. I’ve just been ignored for a whole week by my boyfriend, not to mention that he’s been hasn’t been answering my texts of calls, and hanging out with some girl I don’t even know?” 

You were crying at this point. “So yeah Chris. I’ve been doing great.” He was silent for a moment, his eyes showing pure heartbreak. 

You couldn’t. You completely broke down. Sobbing. 

Chris knew you didn’t like crying. That’s why he was so shocked. It broke his heart that he made you feel this way. 

He pulled you into a hug, murmuring soft, reassuring words into your ear. “Shhh, you're alright pretty girl. Don’t cry. Please.” his voice cracked on the last word. 

Once you had calmed down a bit, both of you took a seat on the couch. 

“10 things I hate about you,” he said. “That’s always been your comfort movie.” You nodded your head. 

A few moments passed. “Look y/n, I owe an apology. I’m sorry I haven’t reached out in what feels like forever.” he sighed. “What about that girl?” you asked. 

That’s what was bothering you the most. 

“Yeah um, she's the reason. Ally. She was one of my best friends in middle school, and she surprised me by showing up out of nowhere. She moved away right before high school- before we even met. I was just happy to see her when she came. She has a boyfriend, you know.” 

“Oh,” was all you could manage with a voice crack. “I-I’m so sorry.” Guilty guilty I feel so guilty.

I felt a tear slip down my cheek, many more following. For the second time, Chris pulled me into a hug, kissing my hair and rubbing my back. “It’s not your fault pretty girl. Don’t cry. I promise you.”  

His touch leaves a trail of butterflies on my skin. “I’m sorry for ignoring you, my sweet girl. I promise you that won’t happen again.” 

You sniffled as you hugged him burying your face into the crook of his neck. He suddenly picked you up bridal style. “Lets get you showered and ready for bed, yeah?” 

You nodded your head. “Chris I love you.” 

He looked down at you and smiled at me. “I love you too baby.”  

tags- @tillies33ssss @theyluvme-2315 @alorsxsturn @maya555sblog

[erodasfishtacos]

Somethin’ Unholy (sexclubowner!hxengaged!yn)

prompt: YN and Arthur have to adjust their arrangement. The first scene leaves YN hopeless and wondering if she should even come back to the club.

word count: 9.7k+

warnings: emotional infidelity (kinda, it’s complicated), d/s dynamics, mean Harry

author’s note: next part is posted on patreon & continuing to be updated this week💕 this is the last part that will be posted on tumblr.

to get access to the rest of this trope as well as 300+ other exclusive writings - you can join for $3USD! -> HERE <-

PART ONEk

+•+•+•+•+•+•+•+•+•

YN isn’t above this.

Actually, this is exactly where she wants to be.

Her arms are akin to jello as she slowly starts to move across the floor, the hardwood was rough on her knees, and she had to complain.

YN sits back on her heels, eyes sparkling and challenging, she was going to make Harry prove himself as a good dominant.

Harry raises an eyebrow, questioning but unmoving from where he stands.

“Hurts my knees, sir,” YN tells him, the ‘sir’ was patronizing and not obedient in the way it was intended to be used when he demanded it from her.

“The funny thing is…” Harry tilts his head, eyes tracing over every inch of her, “I didn’t fucking ask if it hurt. Crawl to me now.”

YN huffs, putting her palms flat again and moving towards him.

“Slower. Move slower. I really want you to feel that ache you were bitching about in your knees,” Harry tells her, his voice was so calm and monotone that it was making her want to get him mad.

YN does as he says but to the extreme, going so entirely slow that she’s barely moving any bit forward.

Her face is towards the floor and suddenly, there is a pair of leather boots in her line of vision, standing in front of her.

A hand weaves into her hair, twirling the strands between slender fingers, and pulling upwards without mercy.

YN lets out a high-pitched squeak at the pain prickling on her scalp, forcing her neck to tilt upwards to look at Harry who’s now squatting in front of her.

“Is that too rough?” Arthur echos from behind her.

YN shouldn’t feel annoyance, this is a learning experience for both of them but she wants him to just sit there quietly.

The way Harry looks up towards Arthur was downright terrifying.

A sharp, mean smile spreads wide enough on Harry’s face that his dimples pop in both of his cheeks, and then he tugs her hair until her head is turned a an uncomfortable angle, looking towards her fiancé.

“S’it too rough for the lil’ angel?” Harry asks in a mocking tone, his grip hasn’t relented and YN had missed this type of pain so much she could cry.

“N-no, it’s good,” YN manages to get out between clenched teeth before focusing her eyes back on Harry.

She didn’t want to remember that Arthur was here.

“It’s good, sir,” Harry lets his blunt fingernails tease at her scalp, “You’re being so awful already. It’s making it hard for me to want to play with you.”

If YN wasn’t in a headspace like this, she could logically identify that he was saying this to get under her skin, making her insecure.

But because her rational thinking isn’t as present as it normally is, it makes her chest ache, and her voice sounds small when she says, “I’ll be good, sir.”

Harry’s laugh is loud enough that she jumps, his hand loosens and unweaves from her hair as she blinks up at him.

He was ethereal under the dim light, all of his sharp features were defined, like they were from renaissance times, and he’d be unreal but YN was witnessing him with her own eyes.

“Did that spark a nerve, pet?” He teases as he stands up, leaving her on hands and knees.

YN only folds her lips inward, refusing to give him an answer because she wanted to get the biggest reaction possibly out of him.

When he realizes that she’s not going to reply, he runs his tongue over his teeth, “Right now, I wish you were really my sub. This would end so fuckin’ poorly for such a defiant slut.”

“Whoa, I don’t know if you should call her that,” Arthur interrupts with an affronted tone, like he’s trying to stand up for YN.

YN feels the irritation of his interrupting itching at the back of her teeth, she wanted him to just sit there and stop.

YN doesn’t realize that she lets out a spoiled noise of impatience, of annoyance at her fiancé.

It causes Harry to take a step forward, lightly pressing the bottom sole of his shoe on her splayed fingers, warning.

“This is a learning experience,” Harry scolds her, pressing down just enough to add pressure on her knuckles, “ He’s allowed to ask questions and voice limits. If you have an issue with that, there is no purpose to this session. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” YN replies quietly because she did not want this session to end.

It had only just begun and she felt such a spark that had never been there before.

This was visceral, different than any experience that she had had with Klein before they broke up.

The atmosphere, the way that Harry held himself with such knowledge and confidence was unmatched.

“Good girl,” Harry murmurs lowly, almost as if he didn’t want Arthur to hear, and he moves his boot away from her fingers.

The praise felt fucking addictive.

She wanted more of it.

But at the same time, she wanted to create mayhem too.

“Is that a limit for you? Yellow?” Harry asks Arthur, checking in like a responsible dom would do during a lesson.

YN hated that it took his attention away from her.

“Er, not necessarily. I’m…this is all just new. I didn’t know whether she liked being called that or not is all,” Arthur trails off unsurely but he doesn’t sound like he’s distressed, he definitely is a mixture of curiosity and arousal.

He liked this.

“Arthur,” Harry replies in a conversational tone, he nudges his foot against YN to signal her to stand up, “You will learn that it doesn’t matter what YN likes because she likes to be disobedient and insubordinate. It only matters if she uses her colors. If she doesn’t like something enough to stop, she will either use ‘yellow’ or ‘red’.”

YN stands, feeling awkward in how overdressed she is as Harry provides education to her fiance, this was such a weird situation, and she wanted Arthur to stop bringing her out of her floaty headspace.

“Right, slut?” Harry smirks wickedly, he stands with his hands behind his back, and pointedly not trying to touch her in any way.

She could tell that in this weird dynamic, Harry was trying to be respectful that he was instructing and not taking ownership of her as her dominant, despite her body screaming at him that that is exactly what she wants from him.

“Yes,” YN agrees, purposely leaving out the ‘sir’.

The smile drops from his face, he had thought he’d broken her, and it wasn’t that easy by just some hair-pulling and name-calling, it would take so much more, and he would learn her threshold for pain tolerances is high.

Harry’s lips press into a firm line and he steps forward, grip firm on her wrist as he jerks her forward, making her stumble into his chest, and he whispers into her ear, “God, if you were mine you would be broken.”

It was only loud enough for YN to hear.

But he takes a step back, letting go of her wrist, and an odd emotion she can’t read crosses his face before he announces to them both, “This is an instructional session as I’ve stated before. That was an example of power play but now I will move onto the next portion of learning.”

And something has switched, YN doesn’t know how to put her finger on it but Harry had suddenly become more formal with her.

More of a teacher, less of a dominant like how he was acting in the beginning.

She wanted the latter to come back out, a hollowness started in her chest when he walked away from her to sit down on a tufted leather bench, and a completely uninterested expression on his face.

“Strip down to your bra and underwear,” Harry replies in almost a robotic tone, none of the teasing and lift was there anymore.

YN is shaky as she rids herself off her trousers, the structured corset bodysuit she had put on, and she was down to her strapless bra and seamless thong.

YN wasn’t self-conscious, she loved her body and was proud to show it off but there was something about Harry’s demeanor that made an inkling of self-doubt creep in as she stood in the middle of the room where he had left him.

When she subconsciously goes to wrap her arm around her chest, as if to give herself any type of modesty, Harry clicks his tongue at her and shakes her head.

Without having to speak, YN puts her arm back down at her side and takes a deep breath, shaky on the exhale.

“Ask to come lay on my lap,” Harry tells her calmly, his legs spread enough to be obscene, a hand resting suggestively on his inner thigh, much too close to his groin to be appropriate in any other setting.

“May I come sit on your lap, sir,” YN repeats as steadily as possible, she wanted to be good, and she wanted to earn his interest back.

Harry is surprised by her compliance, definitely not expecting her to follow his instructions without a fight.

“Come here, now,” His voice is tighter, lip between his teeth as he watches her carefully.

“Ho-how, sir?” YN swallows because she doesn’t want to get scolded again.

“How do you walk? That's a silly question, are you a dumb pup?” Harry asks as if she just asked the most outlandish question ever, “Walk with your two feet unless that’s too much brainpower for you, pet.”

“YN,” Arthur speaks from behind her, still sitting but YN’s back is turned to him.

She knows she should look, this is a lesson for them, to learn how to do this, to model the play, to communicate better.

She knows they’re here as a couple and Harry is simply an instructor.

But she doesn't want to turn to look at him.

YN keeps her eyes on Harry, in an almost pleading to have him help, to speak to Arthur for her because her fiance kept dragging her out of the fuzzy headspace she was desperately trying to sink into.

Harry doesn’t let anything show if he’s annoyed by Arthur.

He probably isn’t because this is a lesson for him, he isn’t really playing.

YN was and that was the issue.

“Yea-yeah?” YN manages to reply after blinking a few times, almost like snapping out of a trance, and she turns to make eye contact with her partner.

Arthur was visibly flushed, his hand was strategically placed over his lap to hide what YN is guessing is evidence that this situation is turning him on, even though he doesn’t need to hide that because that’s mostly the point of all this.

“Is…Um, color? I just didn’t know you liked being talked to that way or…ordered around like that…” Arthur still doesn’t sound upset or necessarily bothered by the revelation, just maybe a bit surprised.

“Green. I like it,” YN nods because she wants to snap at him, tell him that she’s been trying to communicate that she likes this for ages and he hasn’t caught on whatsoever, but she doesn’t want to ruin the scene so she simplifies it down to that.

“Ask him his color,” Harry reminds her from behind, “You need to check in with him too.”

I don’t want to check-in with him.

“What’s your color?” YN tries to keep interests in her tone but these interactions with Arthur are taking any semblance of an actual scene out of her mind which she knows that wasn’t the goal but she had made it her own at some point when this started.

“Green. You look amazing right now and I -,” Arthur smiles so sweetly at her, genuine and honest.

It makes her feel guilty.

YN was pretty sure in this moment that Arthur would never have the ability to be mean to her in the way she needs, in the way that Harry can provide, and that leaves her with a sinking feeling.

“Get your ass over here now,” Harry cuts Arthur off mid-sentence, irritation finally settling in on his features.

YN walks as gracefully as she can over to him, standing between his spread legs, and he reaches out to run his fingertips over the curve of her hip.

It’s surprisingly gentle until he pinches her, enough to sting, and says, “Kneel.”

YN obliges, her knees were already going to be bruised from the hardfloor beneath her but by this point, she was welcoming the aches that were going to last for days after, to remind her of Harry.

“Let’s keep simple today, shall we?” Harry asks her as he runs his open palm across her collarbone, getting closer to her chest.

Right now, she’s blatantly aware that they haven’t done anything inherently sexual which she be lying if she said that it’s not clawing at the pits of arousal in her stomach.

YN doesn’t know if she’s ever been as attracted to someone sexually as she was with Harry.

She knew these instructional sessions weren’t for his pleasure but fuck, she wishes that she got to see him in action - real, in scene action, not this only sliver of what he actually has to offer.

YN nods in response to him, trying to be on her best behavior because her disobedience really hadn’t made him more prone to play with her further than teaching.

“Open,” Harry commands as he withdraws his fingers, thumb now moving to tug on her bottom lip sharply as she complies. As soon as it was, he pressed down on her tongue, with enough pressure that she had to swallow harshly not to gag.

Harry laughs as he watches her, never taking his eyes off of her, “You can’t even handle my thumb but you want to have the attitude of a girl who can take me all the way down their throat.”

YN can’t speak, can’t tell him that she can and she can show him.

Instead, her brattiness that she’d been trying to tamper down flares right back up as she sinks her teeth into the skin of his hand in a clear way to convey she didn’t like what he had just said.

It takes Harry by surprise, his features twitching just the slightest before he’s steadying them again, and pushes down further on her tongue until she actually does gag. Before he’s pulling his spit-soaked thumb out and dragging it across her cheek, surely smearing the meticulously applied foundation and bronzer.

There’s a conflict, YN can tell Harry is debating on what his next course of action is and he seems to be arguing with himself internally before he’s gripping her jaw and making their eyes meet.

“Cut the brat shit. I’m not your dom, this is a lesson. Stop getting so far into it. Save it for your fiance,” Harry’s voice is cold, mean but not in a teasing way, almost a dismissive way and it doesn’t feel like they’re playing anymore.

It seems like he’s actually scolding her even though she sure he probably just thinks he’s giving her a reminder so that there’s no hard feelings between her and Arthur after this but it felt like a knife in her chest.

YN feels any of the feistiness leave her body, it would probably be a responsible time to use her colors, and let him know that she’s bordering on ‘yellow’ because she realizes she’s misinterpreting this whole scene.

He was never going to get into the full headspace with her.

Of course, he wasn’t.

This was fully for teaching.

And YN was trying to fall into her subspace that she would with her actual dom.

But the text messages, in particular, made her confused.

Why would he have goaded her over text like that?

“Let’s get this over with,” Harry presses his tongue to his cheek, looking frustrated as he signals for YN to stand right back up.

“Alright, I’m going to demonstrate how to properly spank. We’ll do five, alright?” Harry tells her as he reaches for her wrist, tugging her until he can position her over his lap, face-down.

But you said fifteen in the text.

Harry is now talking to Arthur directly as he lands the smacks, informing him on the proper amount of pressure, placement, repetition, and timing that all make a difference to how the scene goes.

YN can’t even focus on the words, her fingertips gripping at the leather bench in front of her, and the hits weren’t hard, they barely stung but she felt disappointment at this whole experience sink into her bones.

After the five, Harry pulls her into a sitting position next to him before standing up.

“No comment then? Want to be a brat the whole time but when you actually get a spanking, you’re dead silent?” Harry questions, hands on his hips, and he just overall seemed…unhappy.

“I wouldn’t call that a spanking,” YN scoffs in annoyance but it no longer had any playfulness in it, “Is this scene done? I’m ready to go.”

Arthur is oblivious to the intense tension between the two, standing up and straightening out his trousers, wiping the legs off, and smiling widely, “That was pretty awesome. I liked it more than I thought.”

YN embarrassingly enough feels like crying.

“Arthur,” Harry’s eyes haven’t left YN’s, “Can you leave YN and I for a second? To discuss before you head out.”

“Absolutely, I’ll be at the bar,” Arthur agrees easily, trusting as he excuses himself from the room with a kiss to YN’s cheek.

YN moves to pick up her clothes, bunching them in her arms, and refusing to acknowledge Harry’s existence as she lays them out of the bench to try to organize them in order to put them back on.

“Look at me.”

YN refuses, shaking her head, and clutching her shirt in her fist.

She felt embarrassed, let down, disappointed.

YN doesn’t hear Harry move but jumps when his hand snakes around her waist, physically turning her around to face him, and god, why the fuck are there tears streaming down her face right now?

“Why are you crying?” Harry asks bluntly, his hand leaves her hip and that makes the tears fall harder.

She’s crying over a fucking stranger who sent her a few flirty messages.

“It doesn’t matter,” YN tries to keep her gaze on her feet but the finger under her chin doesn’t allow it.

“It does matter,” Harry argues, exasperation through each word.

“I…It just wasn’t what I expected,” YN replies honestly because Harry can see straight through her lies anyways, “I’m just disappointed but that’s on me for my expectations, it’s not your nor Arthur’s fault.”

“What were your expectations?” Harry seems hesitant to ask like they both know that the honest answer isn’t appropriate for YN being in a relationship, engaged to be married type of commitment.

YN squeezes her eyes shut, the words are stuck in her throat until his hand comes back to her hip, very cautiously rubbing a circle on her hip, “I…I know you made it very clear that this was instructional. It’s not your fault for my expectations. I just….wanted….I just wanted a scene with you. A real scene.”

“You should want that with your fiance,” Harry sighs as watches her, voice low, “You should want to do a scene with him, not me.”

“I get that you don’t want that with me, that’s okay-”

“I didn’t fucking say that, did I?” Harry cuts her off, a defensiveness that she hadn’t heard before in his tone, his thumb pressing in a bit harder to her hip, pressing against the bone and purposefully.

“It seemed like there were a few moments in the scene where you were into it but then…you went back to…” YN trails off because she doesn’t know the best way to put it into words.

“I went back to teaching because I shouldn’t have let myself get like that in the first place,” Harry bites out, his lip twitching as it furls downward, “It was unprofessional. This was strictly educational.”

“Do you often get lost for a moment in the scene when you’re doing instruction?” YN asks timidly, unsure of whether she wants to know the answer and if she’s trying to make this more special than it was to him.

“Never has happened before,” Harry tells her, his gaze unfaltering, “I’ve never struggled not to fall into an instructional scene before tonight.”

“This isn’t in my head,” YN swallows, feeling a bit braver in what she believes, “There is…a compatibility between the two of this. In this setting.”

“Be that as it may, it doesn’t matter,” Harry’s words are tight, strained, “You are in a relationship, working on these issues between the two of you. So that Arthur can provide you with what you want.”

“Tell me honestly, sir,” YN lets the name roll off her tongue thickly, smiling to herself when his hand squeezes at her again, pressing and pressing into her skin, “Do you think that Arthur will be able to tame me? You can’t even do it.”

Finally, that familiar wicked smile spread over his tense features, his eyes twinkling under the dim light.

Because just like her, he loves a challenge.

“I could break you, over and over,” Harry steps further into her space, she was suddenly very aware of how undressed she was in comparison to him, “Make you into the sweetest little sub that I would never get sick of using.”

“That-that doesn’t answer my question,” YN’s breath was picking up, he could tell, and he moves to cup the side of her neck, thumb laying over her pulse point.

“The question of whether Arthur will be able to learn how to handle you? In the way you need?” Harry clarifies as his eyes dart down to watch the way his fingertips dimple the skin underneath them.

YN nods.

“You and I both know the answer to that,” Harry scoffs with a shake of his head, the smiling fading a bit, “No, I do not think your fiance will be able to give you what you need. He doesn’t seem like the type to suddenly be able to dom.”

YN wants to kiss him, drop her kneels in front of him, beg him for anything he’s willing to give her.

And yet, she’s engaged.

The ring had never felt good on her finger but right now, it felt like a fucking trapped life sentence.

Harry moves to take a step back which has YN reaching out to grip her wrist, “Please.”

He lets her hold him but sighs, “We probably shouldn’t do another lesson together. I don’t think that I can do another scene with you acting like such a fuckin’….a brat and try to keep it as a learning experience. I can set you two up with another instructor-”

“Why didn’t you set us up with a different instructor in the first place?” YN throws the question at him, “Raven said you didn’t play here anymore or teach. But you-”

“You know why,” Harry cuts her off, not willing to lay it out any clearer for her, “You know why and I can admit it was a bad idea. I should have thought it through and I shouldn’t have offered myself.”

“It’s because you want me,” YN lets a smile creep onto her face, arrogance filtering throug her veins and she takes his hand, bringing it to her hip once again, “You wanted to play with me. You wanted a chance-”

“And I shouldn’t have given into it,” Harry won’t let her finish a sentence, “I know from your paperwork that you aren’t in an open relationship. You need to go the fuck out there to your fiance and forget about this.”

YN doesn’t like that answer.

Of course she doesn’t.

But he’s absolutely right.

What she was doing was borderline cheating, by just engaging in their conversations that she wouldn’t have had if Arthur was in the room with them.

YN had never once thought about cheating on Arthur or any of her partner’s in the past.

She judged people who cheated on their signficant others.

And now all she can think about is how much she wants Harry.

She was royally fucked and she knows it.

“Fine,” YN bites back, her guard completely up and she turns her back to him.

She can sense his hesitation before he’s cursing under his breathe and slamming the door on his way out.

++

They don’t talk about the lesson.

Not on the way home, not before bed, not the next day.

Arthur doesn’t try to initiate any type of power play when they have sex that night when they get home from playing.

YN doesn’t see a world where they’re going to go back to The Body Factory because the lack of interest from Arthur about domming was blatantly obvious in his actions following their arrival home.

YN notices Arthur being much more distant after that night, just for the following few days as he was much more quiet, reserved than he normally was, and overall seemed lost in his thoughts.

She starts to worry that this all was just such a poor idea, for both of them.

“What is going on?” YN finally asks one night while they sit at the dinner table, across from each other in silence leading up to this, “You’ve barely spoken to me all week. If it’s about what happened on Saturday night, just say it.”

Arthur puts down his fork and knife, wiping his mouth with his napkine before sighing, “I’m sorry, sweetie pie. There’s just been…a lot on my mind and a lot to process after this weekend.”

“You could have just talked to me about it. I thought we were supposed to have positive communication about all of this while we figured it out,” YN lets her fork clatter loudly, showing her irritation but to be fair, she was much more on edge later than normal.

“You’re right,” Arthur agrees, his expression is soft and apologetic like it always was, never wanting to argue, “I…I needed to figure some things out for myself and kind of…process. I worry that I’m going to upset you with what I want to talk about and I guess I was just trying to find the right time.”

YN braces herself for what she knows is coming, they’re not going back to that club, she’ll never see Harry again.

“Just say it, Arthur,” YN sighs, rubbing a hand over her eyes and she knows her shoulders have slumped slightly.

There’s a pause.

“I dont think I can be what you need, in terms of dominant,” Arthur’s voice is cautious, “But I discovered that I, uh, I liked watching you with Harry. Like….I really enjoyed it and have been thinking about it a lot.”

YN’s eyebrows raise to the ceiling.

That was not how she expected this conversation to go.

++

Harry asks YN and Arthur to come into the club on a weekday night to discuss what they are asking from him.

They weren’t able to get a hold of them and the secretary was able to set up an appointment to talk about their membership.

YN and Arthur are sat in his office, dark with the green undertones accented throughout the room, matte and deep oak wood.

The door opens behind them, YN feels herself tense and Arthur must feel it too because he gives her a reassuring squeeze on the hand he’s holding of hers.

“If you’re here to cancel your membership, you’re still charge for the entirety of the year. You already signed a contractual agreement,” Harry’s voice is disinterested, dull as he rounds his desk and sits down in front of them.

“No, that’s not why we asked for a meeting,” Arthur is a bit flustered, eyes darting away like he can’t quite look directly at Harry.

“I’m not interested in doing instructional sessions. It wasn’t a good match and I offered you other educators we have here.”

YN feels like it’s purposeful that Harry hasn’t made eye contact with her once when he typical couldn’t take his gaze off of her.

Arthur’s hand is clammy on hers, making her want to pull away but she was in all honesty feeling the nerves of this meeting too.

She didn’t know how she would handle a rejection from Harry.

Even though she knew there was a much higher likelihood that he would reject the proposition than accept.

Raven had given Arthur a bit of information last weekend when YN and Harry were along in in play room still.

She had told Arthur that Harry hadn’t had a sub in the eight years that he hadn’t played at his own club.

Raven wouldn’t disclose what happened that made him stop partcipating and only faciliating, as it obvious didn’t take his interest out of this world or his ability to be a good dominate.

This was a shot in the dark.

”I am busy. Let’s speed this up,” Harry makes a point of glancing down at the very-expensive looking gold watch on his wrist as if he has a meeting with the queen after this.

”Of course, my apologizes,” Arthur instantly responds, submissive without even realizing it, something that makes YN’s skin crawl, “After the instructional session last week. My fiancée and I discussed our thoughts and where we wanted to go from there.”

Harry just blinks at him, heavily like he’s losing interest.

”And er, I definitely realized that I don’t have the capacity to be what YN needs in that aspect nor is it really my interest. However, seeing YN act like….”

”A spoiled brat?” Harry fills in, running his tongue over the front of his teeth.

He was so intimidating, just by the way he held himself, shoulders broad, head held high to show off the defineition of his jawline, and his faux calm demeanor like nothing in this world bothers him.

Artuhur chuckles, squeezing YN’s hand again, “I was going to say that she was acting so differently, free, and yes, bratty. It was unlike anything I’ve seen from her before and I do not want to be the one to dull that light for her. However, I still want to experience it with her…from more of a onlooker perspective like last week.”

Again, cue a twitch of guilt because Arthur was a good guy and he cared about YN very much but it didn’t stop her from the craving for something from Harry as it should.

”There are plenty of open doms here or doms that will have more than one sub at a time,” Harry’s teeth are gritted now, it was subtle but YN notices that way his fingers are gripping a pen in his hand.

”That’s not what YN is interested in,” Arthur’s has seemed to calm down a little bit, his voice more conversational, “We talked about it extensively and the reason we are here is because we would specifically like you to consider being YN’s dominant. It’s something we’ve both discussed and both feel comfortable with. If it is something that you would think about.”

Harry cannot hide the surprise, his eyebrow raises before he’s steeling his expression again, giving Arthur a bored blink, and he doesn’t respond right away.

YN just wants him to fucking look at her.

“You put clearly in your paperwork that you are not interested in other partners,” Harry settles on stating after leaning back in his chair, hand dragging through his curls.

”Well, I discovered uh…” Arthur starts to become flush.

”It’s fine, Art,” YN finally says, patting his knee, “Everyone has something there. This is literally the place for it. What you like isn’t unusual.”

“I like watching YN with someone else,” Arthur admits, looking down at his hands and trying not to become even more embarrassed, “And I feel comfortable with her being with you. I trust that you would take good care of her but also give her what I cannot.”

Harry narrows his eyes, “You realize what you saw this past weekend was nothing in comparison to what actual scenes look like, right? You’re agreeing that you're open to me doing whatever I please with her, break her, and it won’t be pretty much of the time. At least to the outside onlooker…”

”I know, I’ve done my research recently,” Arthur nods, he starts twisting his wrists between his other fingers as he always did in an anxious habit.

”I cannot give you an answer tonight. It’s something that I will have to think about,” Harry decides, sitting up straighter and tugging at his suit jacket to adjust it.

”Are you going to even acknowledge my existence tonight?” YN blurts out because she cannot take it anymore, he won’t even make eye contact with her, and she knows it's purposeful.

“Did the kitty need attention? Can’t go a minute without it, huh?” Harry chuckles as he slowly rolls his gaze over to her, eyes finally glancing up and down her body before meeting her stare once again.

YN bites her lip, refusing to give into his teasing if this isn’t going to have the end result she wants because the fire building in her belly is already back with a vengeance.

“I just think you’re being rude,” YN shrugs defiantly, crossing her leg over the other and bouncing it like she was impatient to leave, giving him a reminder that he does want to play with her - he’s said it himself.

That fucking smile spreads on his face.

The one when he’s challenged and he knows he’s going to win.

”I think you’re being a greedy slut but I wasn’t going to say anything,” Harry’s voice sounds curiously fond, enamored by her, and it makes her preen at the unspoken praise of his reaction.

YN scowls but when Arthur touches her bouncing leg, it drags her out of any floatiness that she was going to drift to, and it was probably for the best anyways in this moment.

“I’ll have an answer for you by tomorrow,” Harry tells them, standing up and motioning towards the door, and Arthur thanks him more than once before starting to trail out.

As Arthur starts to head down the hallway, a hand reaches out and wraps around her wrist, stopping her for a moment, and causing her to look back at the person who grabbed it.

Harry’s eyes are back to the intensed, lock-in almost predatory stare.

”Do you think this is a good idea?” Harry asks quietly, so even though her fiancé is oblivious, he doesn’t hear.

”I can’t think of a better one,” YN responds honestly, “If I’m being selfish, yes. This is a good idea.”

“And if you’re actually thinking about your fiancé?” Harry prompts, eyebrow raised and truly questioning her.

”He liked watching,” YN acts like she doesn’t know what the underlying question that he’s asking is, “I think this is a good idea for both of us. We’re adults who are consenting and both talked this through at lengths.”

Harry nods, lip tucked under his teeth, worrying it until it’s puffy.

YN feels a pit of despair at his reaction, it didn’t seem positive, and it doesn’t seem like this is something he will agree to which he has every right to do but the feelings must flash across YN’s face.

”Hey,” Harry’s voice is softer, his thumb comes up to tug at her bottom lip, “Everything will be fine, okay? I’ll reach out tomorrow.”

”Okay,” YN sighs, leaning into his touch more than she hold because it was definetly inappropriate, “Just…please think about it.”

Harry nods, letting her go, and starting to close the door.

YN can’t be one hundred percent certain but she’s nearly confident that she heard Harry mutter something under his breath as he closed the door that sure sounded a lot like…

”Don’t think I’ll ever be able to say no to you. M’fucked.”

++

YN checks her phone all day during work.

Nothing from Harry.

It makes her even more anxious when she gets a text from Arthur saying that Harry reached out to him and would like to meet privately that night.

YN patiently waits for her confirmation of whether he’s on board or not but the text doesn’t come in until after Arthur’s stopped at the club after work and they talked.

YN realizes that it was all very intentional when at right near midnight sends a simple text.

Harry [11:59PM]: After talking to your fiancé, I’ve decided that I will agree to be your dominant. However, that is contingent on how our meeting goes.

Harry [12:00 AM]: When your shift is done tonight, meet me at the club. We will need to have a meeting to establish further boundaries, limits, and expectations.

Harry [12:01 AM]: Understood?

YN is tired and insanely happy which makes her feel rather pliant and sweet.

YN [12:03 AM]: Yes sir.

Harry [12:08 AM]: Good girl for me already? Get some rest, kitty. I will see you tomorrow.

YN sleeps like a fucking baby.

++

The club is surprisingly busy for a Thursday night.

YN’s shift was in the evening and when she walked into the club, there were people playing in the free play area - very much already into their scenes.

YN knew she didn’t look her absolute best.

She had changed out of her scrubs, into a flowy dress that had been easy to throw on, and purposefully forgoing a bra.

YN had taken her hair out of her claw clip, smudged on some tinted lip balm, and swiped on a coat of mascara hurriedly in the hospital locker room before making her way here.

It had been all she could think about all day and now that she’s in the darken, moody atmosphere it was feeling very real.

YN doesn’t see Harry monitoring the free play from his usual spot, in fact, he’s not in the main room at all.

YN decides to go over to the bar, always in the mood for a Shirley temple, reminding her of her childhood a bit.

Raven was there, as always, looking radiant and unbothered as she greets her happily, “Hey! It’s so great to see you again. I wasn’t sure if I was after last week's session. I swear Harry had been in an awful mood after that and it only got better once you and Arthur came in for a meeting.”

That was…interesting.

“Did he say anything?” YN can’t help but ask.

“Uh,” Raven’s eyes dart to the side, shifty and avoidant.

“No, no worries,” YN soothes easily, not meaning to put her on the spot, “It was an experience. It wasn’t what I -“

“Hello there, beautiful,” A deep voice interrupts their conversation, a hand brazenly sliding onto her bare shoulder.

It wasn’t Harry.

The man was attractive, above average but held no light to Harry.

He was muscular, in a way that wasn’t YN’s type.

His muscles were bulging, like they didn’t have enough room until his skin, and he was making it obvious that he was flexing his biceps.

“I just saw you walk in alone. God, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. Your tits are -“ The man begins to compliment.

Raven snaps her fingers, making a motion across her lips to the man to be quiet.

However, someone clears their throat, and all three turn their heads to Harry who was now standing behind them with a displeased frown.

“Hands off of her,” Harry murmurs, his voice is level, non-aggressive but still incredibly domineering that it wasn’t a recommendation.

It was an order.

The man removes his hand like he’d been burned, stepping back, and instantly apologizing the owner, “I-I didn’t know-“

Harry ignores him, glancing at Raven, “From here on out, please inform the guests that my submissive is off-fucking limits. Clear?”

“Yes,” Raven agrees with wide eyes.

The possessiveness as he puts his hand on her lower back was quite possibly the hottest thing that YN had experienced in her life.

The man disappears back into the group but is clearly passing on the message, whispered surprise as Harry guides her towards his office.

YN can hear bits and pieces of hushed conversation.

“What do you mean that’s his submissive?”

“He’s never once done that before. When he used to play, nearly a decade ago, he always shared his submissive.” “He must be down bad for her.”

“I tried to get him for ages to play with me. She’s been here once.”

“Well yeah but look at her.”

That’s all she can gather before they’re out of earshot.

“You’re off limits. They won’t bother you again,” Harry assures her as he guides her into his office, motioning to a seat before walking to his desk.

YN nodded, her heart was pounding, and she had definitely lost a bit of bravery.

Harry opens a folder, YN notices her handwriting, and realizes it’s all of the questionnaires and paperwork.

“This paperwork is fine for casual play but we need to establish more before I feel comfortable getting started,” Harry tells her as his eyes trace over the information.

“Your hard limits…” Harry trails off as he skims, “We have a few similar ones. Neither of us are into body fluid play other than come. As well as we both do not like temperature play, well hot wax in particular.”

“Allergic reaction made my bum cheek swell up like I got stung by fifty bees,” YN smiles shyly, it was so nerve-wracking, she was intimidated and he wasn’t even trying at that moment.

Harry lets out a laugh, a genuine one, a sound she hasn’t heard before and it was beautiful like the rest of him.

“I also had an allergic reaction. I thought my cock was going to be permanently damaged,” Harry’s smile is softer, the dimple still appearing.

“I still have a scar on my ass,” YN giggles, he’d find it soon enough but now he knows why she has it.

“Any other limits not mentioned?”

“No, I mean I haven’t tried everything but those things are definite no-gos,” YN tells him, her nails digging into her thighs unconsciously almost.

“And we will find out other things you don’t like along the way. Hopefully, we find more things that you enjoy,” Harry's voice is gentle, like he can sense her nervousness and is trying to ease it.

“Things you know you like,” Harry prompts, looking back down towards her papers.

“I like to be a…brat as you know. I really love the dynamic of pushing and pushing until I give in. I love making my dom frustrated and annoyed. However, if the aftercare isn’t sweet and extremely gentle than it ruins the experience for me.”

The smile had naturally faded off if his face, eyes intent on her, “You want me to wear you down? Until you’re crying for me to be nice to you but even then I’ll give you more. After we wrap up, you want praise, compliments, and affection.”

YN nods in agreement, “Exactly.”

“Was this what your previous dom gave you?”

“Sorta? We were younger and he was still really learning. He wasn’t as mean as I wanted but he struggled with that part. He was definitely a softer dom than what I wanted. He could only handle so much of me being a brat, it was a fine line because he would start to actually get angry with me and it was hard for me to tell. I never fully felt like I was able to push as much as I wanted.”

“You will be able to push as far as you want with me. If you think you can go hard, I promise you I will give it back a hundred times worse,” Harry's words are threatening but she knows he’ll make good on it.

“We’ll see,” YN pokes the side of her cheek with her tongue in an act of indifference

Harry glances at her from under his eyelashes, gaze darting down to her chest for a moment before her lips then her eyes again.

YN knows her nipples are outlined against the thin fabric, ready to be played with, and teasing right in front him.

“As for Arthur,” Harry’s voice gets serious again, “I already laid out to him all of his rules and expectations. I do not share in scene.”

“I heard other members saying you did share your submissives,” YN isn’t arguing, just curious.

Harry pauses, lip twitching before blinking slowly and very distinctly says, “I will not share you in a scene. Is that an issue?”

“No, I don’t want that either. I just didn’t know what made me different,” YN responds, picking at her thumb on her lap.

“A lot of things make you different,” Harry replies cryptically, he doesn’t elaborate nor does YN ask because he continues speaking.

“He will not participate. He will not speak. And he will leave the room when I’m providing aftercare,” Harry tells her firmly, fingers drumming against the dark cherry oak.

“And he was okay with that?”

“He was hesitant at first but aftercare is very important to provide. I should be the one taking care of you afterwards, at least immediately afterwards, and I take it very seriously.”

“That all sounds fine.”

YN has to bite back saying ‘can you ask Arthur not to be in the room at all?’

“We will meet every Saturday night. At the start of hours. You will not socialize with others nor will you participate in free play. You will be fully dressed at all times in front of other members.”

YN tilts her head, leaning forward just the slightest so she knows there’s a gap in her top, flashing him his first sight of her breasts.

“Yes sir.”

Harry’s fingers roll tightly into a fist, exactly how she would hope he would have responded.

“I cannot wait to make you cry like the little disobident brat you are, fuckin’ starving for anything I’ll give you,” Harry tells her, voice dropping noticeably lower.

“I’ve been good all night. I’ve said sir,” YN makes sure to sound as innocent as possible, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

It’s crossing a boundary, surely.

Arthur isn’t here.

YN cannot find it in her to care.

“Then I guess our scenes will be mild, boring,” Harry shrugs, his cadence going slower, deeper into his accent, “Shame.”

He stands up, taking his time to round the desk, and reaches out his hand, “I will walk you out.”

YN raises her eyebrow, “In a minute. My legs are sore from running around all day.”

She gets the perfect response.

Frustration.

Harry’s jaw shifts under his skin, teeth together, and nostrils flaring, “Get the fuck up.”

“Jesus, someone has an attitude,” YN mutters under her breath but obviously loud enough that Harry would be able to hear her clear as day.

She pushes herself out of the seat and turns towards the door, the opposite side of where Harry is standing to bypass him.

As she walks towards the exit, a hand reaches from behind her, his chest suddenly flush against her back, and a hand cupping the sides of her neck.

He pulls her back into him with enough force that it knocks the wind out of her for a moment and she squeals in surprise, airway suddenly restricted slightly.

“You’re cute when you’re brave, kitty,” Harry whispers in her ear, teeth grazing her lone, and he bites her - enough to sting, “I’ll show you a fucking attitude. One you’ve never seen.”

His fingers tighten for a moment and YN doesn’t think before she’s pressing her bum back into the cradle of his hips.

He was thick, unsurprisingly big from what she could feel, and she was craving that inside her as soon as possible.

YN reaches for the hand on her throat and surprisingly, Harry lets her move if, down over her collarbones, down over her sternum, and guides him right to her chest.

Over the fabric, Harry finds her hard nipple with ease, and gives her the hardest tweak she’d ever experienced, gasping as she grinds backwards.

“Enough.”

Harry suddenly takes his hand, his body away, and is standing at a distance.

He shakes his head, “We can’t be doing things like this. You know that.”

YN bites her bottom lip, she knows why, and she knows Harry is just trying to respect her fiancé even when she can’t.

“Yeah,” YN agrees, trying to stop the tightness because she’s in over her head, how can she only have him once a week.

Why was she so fucking in to him when she barely knows him?

When she’s fucking engaged, with a date, a ring, and her father’s blessing to be wed.

YN crosses her arms over her chest, embarrassed because she almost feels like she’s being scolded for her actions.

As she should be.

His hand comes to her neck, cupping it gently this time as he sighs, shaking his head solemnly before their eyes meet, “This isn’t a good idea.”

YN’s heart rate spikes.

“You’re going to destroy me, aren’t you?”

And the way he says it isn’t teasing but isn’t accusatory either.

It’s like it’s a fact.

“I’ll try not to,” YN peeps up, swallowing harshly.

Harry laughs wistfully, thumbing over the center of her throat before stepping back, “S’a bit too late now, kitty.” ++

Friday cannot come quick enough.

YN is excited enough that the buzzing in her veins feels electric.

YN had sent Harry a picture earlier in the day of a hot pink lingerie set and then simpler black one next to it.

YN [11:03AM]: which one, sir? [photo attachment]

Harry [12:34PM]: It doesn’t matter. You’re stripping the minute you’re in the room.

Harry [1:01PM]: I am very rarely spontaneous. I have had this night planned since I first sat you in the club that first night.

YN [1:02PM]: when you were playing candy crush on your phone?

Harry [1:03PM]: I wasn’t playing candy crush. I was reviewing your file virtually to see if you were available for open play.

YN[1:04PM]: i thought you didn’t play in your club anymore

Harry[1:04PM]: I haven’t in nearly a decade.

YN’s hands were shaking, excitement, confusion, and curiosity.

YN[1:06PM]: what would you have done if i had been available?

Harry[1:13PM]: I would have fucked you so well that you wouldn’t have wanted to even look in your fiancé’s direction ever again. That you would have chased after me like a puppy after that instead of it being obvious how much I wanted you.

Harry[1:13PM]: I wanted you to only be able to think of me every time you slept with your fiancé.

Harry[1:14PM]: I’ve never been a possessive man but something in you has sparked it for me. I typically share without a problem. The one time I actually have to share, it’s going to be a struggle. I’m willing to try.

YN felt that Harry was actually being vulnerable with her for the first time and she didn’t know what all of this meant. There is warning signs that YN is blatantly ignoring because he just fed her everything she’d wanted to hear.

YN[1:23PM]: thank you for trying

Harry [1:39PM]: I will see you tonight, sweet girl.

Sweet girl.

It felt different than the sweetie pie that Arthur went with, a nickname that she never had liked but didn’t have the heart to tell him.

YN may have reread their texts a few times as she got ready for the night.

She was going to have to meet Arthur there as he was coming from a work dinner.

++

Arthur meets her outside the club, giving her a firm kiss which takes her by surprise, he murmurs, “I cannot wait to see you tonight in there.”

YN rubs his shoulder, stiff when he kisses at her neck, and grips her hip.

“We should probably go in,” YN whispers back, stepping out of his hold to motion towards the door.

“Okay, sweetie,” Arthur smiles brightly, oblivious to any tension that YN’s holding in her body as he keeps his hand on her waist and follows her in.

YN had forgotten to tell Arthur about the rule that Harry did not want her interacting with other members before a scene.

And Harry clearly hadn’t communicated that with him because when they walk through the free play room doors, he guides them towards a group.

Arthur had made friends with a few people and they wave at them when they walk in, encouraging them to come chat.

YN feels herself start to panic slightly, this wasn’t good, off the bat she wasn’t following instructions and she needed to speak up.

“Hey guys!” Arthur greets as he pulls her with him into the circle of people.

“No, Art. I can’t -“ YN starts to frantically whisper into his ear as his brows twist downward in confusion.

Suddenly, everyone in the group goes wide-eyed, and YN has a sinking feeling that she knows exactly why.

A hand wraps around her throat, similar to the other day, and applies practiced pressure on the sides where her blood flows as he yanks her backwards into his chest.

His lips to her ear and it’s not necessarily what he says but it’s the tone.

It’s the dominance, the aggression, and something about it seems borderline primal, rasp and deep as he speaks carefully.

“If you think this is going to work in your favor, you’re very fucking wrong,” Harry warns with another squeeze, firmer this time.

Everyone around them is quiet.

They’re almost in shock.

And YN knows it has nothing to do with her and everything to do with Harry being openly dominant when he hasn’t in nearly a decade.

Harry must look towards the crowd, “My stupid lil’ kitty seemed to forget her rules already. You are not to interact with her prior or during play hours. Afterwards, it is fine. However, she is off-limits in every fucking sense. Understood?”

“Yes.”

All in unison.

Harry doesn’t acknowledge Arthur’s existence.

The hand on her neck was possession, ownership, and making sure everyone knew that YN was his to play with only.

“Sir, I-“ YN begins to try to speak when he lets up slightly.

Harry leans back toward her ear, his voice noticeably softer and quiet enough no one else can hear, “Hush. No play in front of others, remember? S’just for us. Now let’s go.”

YN closes her mouth and nods, eyes downward to avoid making eye contact with anyone who was watching.

Harry releases his grip, hand coming to intertwine their fingers which seems like such a stark contrast from where he’d been applying pressure to her airways.

It’s a quiet trek down the hallway, YN keeps her head down even when Arthur exchanges pleasantries with Raven.

Once they’re in the room, YN feels like she’s quivering in a mixture of fear of the unknown and anticipated excitement.

Arthur goes to the chair in the far corner without prompting, silent as he should be.

YN doesn’t plan to look at him at all.

Imagining it’s just her and her dom.

Harry is hers.

Atleast on Fridays.

“Do you have any questions before we begin?” Harry rasps lowly, stepping in front of her and studying her face.

YN shakes her head.

“Speak the fuck up,” Harry’s voice is substantially louder, meaner, and his whole expression has changed into something darker, malicious.

“No,” YN shakes her head again, biting back with a little attitude.

The same smile, deviant and enthralled with her response spreads on his face, dimples carving into his cheeks.

“Then let’s start,” Harry rumbles as he steps back even further, sitting on the bench, “Strip. Everything off.” + 👀 please let me know your thoughts! They make my day

[theweasleytwinsownmyjuicyass]

Friendly lips pt. 2 | L.N.

Lando Norris x friend!reader

Summary: Two close friends try navigating the complex emotions that have arisen after their unexpected kiss.

Warnings: lil sexual themes, fluff.

Word count: ~1.6K

<

Lando couldn't escape the memory of your lips, the taste of your strawberry lip balm had lingered on his mouth since the night before. He had known the familiar scent for a long time, but now, he had a different connection to it, one that left him feeling both exhilarated and bewildered.

As you yawned and cuddled up to him, his eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, deep in thought. When you greeted him with a "good morning," he realized he had been lost in his own world ever since he awoke.

"Morning," he replied, wrapping his hand around your shoulders, pulling you closer. But, in the quiet of the morning, Lando couldn't help but continue the wrestle with his emotions.

For the first time in his life, he had to resist an overwhelming urge to lock lips with his best friend, to taste the strawberries on your lips once more. It felt like a whirlwind of emotions and confusion, and he couldn't quite make sense of it.

"Ready for the last race of the weekend?" you inquired, breaking the building tension with a smile.

"Absolutely," he replied, letting go of his inner turmoil. "I'm already on fire to get on that track."

The tension dissipated, and you smiled contentedly, hugging your friend closer. "Can't wait to see it."

Lando couldn't help but tease you, "Well, if you hadn't been late yesterday, you would have seen it, but clearly, you don't love me enough."

You retaliated by biting his shoulder, causing him to yelp. "OUCH!"

You playfully scolded him, "Stop being a drama queen, or I'll bite you again."

Lando countered, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "But you love it when I'm dramatic…"

Deep in thought, you responded, "You're right, I do. Sorry, Lan," and sealed your apology with a kiss on the small red mark your teeth had left on his shoulder before heading to the shower.

Lando lay in bed, not moving, not breathing, his gaze locked onto his shoulder, where your lips had been mere seconds ago. The world felt like it had gone mad, and he couldn't help but wonder if he had too. The complicated dance between friendship and the unexpected pull of desire was a puzzle he wasn't sure how to solve, but one thing was certain: it had changed everything.

Lando couldn't comprehend why you appeared so nonchalant about the kiss, as if it held no significance to you. It left him frustrated and angry, wondering why you seemed to have it so easy, unaffected by the emotions that were tormenting him. He partly wished he could just go with the flow and pretend it didn't mean anything, but he knew he'd be lying to himself. He didn't want to forget the memory of how you felt and tasted against him, and that left him feeling increasingly lost.

Sitting in the garage, his hands almost pulling at his hair in frustration, Lando couldn't help but think about the kiss.

His gaze was fixed on you and some other drivers chatting, and the mere sight of you only deepened his inner turmoil.

Oscar, a keen observer, approached Lando, concern etched on his face. "You're all right, man? You seem stressed."

"I am stressed," Lando admitted, feeling a weight on his shoulders.

"Why? You did great yesterday, and today's race isn't even that important. I'm still sure you'll get on the podium."

Lando took a deep breath before responding. "It's not really about the race. I just can't get something out of my head…" He trailed off, his gaze still locked on you.

Oscar didn't miss a beat and saw right through Lando's internal struggle. "So, you've finally caught up to yourself and don't know how to get Y/N to be your girlfriend?"

Lando wasn't going to answer, but Oscar's persistence got to him. "I kissed her… well, more like we both kissed."

"When did that happen?!" Oscar's eyes widened with surprise.

"Yesterday…"

"Wow, mate… I mean, that's good. You've gotten out of the friend zone and into the boyf-"

Lando cut him off. "Not like that."

"What do you mean?"

"We were just playing around, and I stupidly, as a joke, said that we should kiss. She agreed, and we kissed, and… well, nothing, absolutely nothing. At first, I thought maybe she just felt awkward about the whole thing, but now I honestly think she's pretending like it didn't happen."

Oscar let out a low whistle. "Man, that's a lot."

"I know," Lando sighed, his frustration and confusion still gnawing at him.

As Lando finished the race in P1, the frustrations that had plagued him earlier seemed to have dissipated. He stepped out of the car, and the entire team swarmed him, offering hugs, congratulations, and pats on the back. You stood back, your heart swelling with eagerness, tears welling up in your eyes.

Amidst the commotion, your eyes were drawn to Lando, who looked incredibly happy and radiant. His smile, brighter than ever, was like a beacon of joy that made your own heart soar to life. You could hardly contain your emotions as you waited for your turn to congratulate the boy who officially lived rent free in your mind.

After a series of interviews, Lando finally had a moment to break free from the throng of well-wishers and head your way. As he made his approach, your eyes locked together, and in that shared gaze, all your unspoken emotions seemed to flow freely.

The two of you collided in a fierce, emotional hug, and Lando used his whole strength to pull you as close as possible. His face found solace in the crook of your neck as tears of happiness streamed down both of your cheeks. While your hands surrounded his shoulders, tangling in his champagne covered hair as you held on to him with all your might as well.

In that moment, as Lando inhaled your scent, time seemed to come to a standstill, leaving only the two of you in the world, your voice a clear whisper. "Congratulations, Lando, you are the winner." You could feel his rapid heartbeat against your own chest, making your heart come in sync with his.

He pulled away slightly, his gaze locked on your eyes, and you could see the depth of his feeling reflected in his soft, adoring look. "You're my best prize," he said, winking and gently kissing your forehead.

Your heart swelled even more, and you couldn't help the words that so silently escaped your lips, "I am yours."

However, your whisper was not to be heard as Lando was pulled away by ta group of other drivers pulling him into proud hugs. But Lando‘s eyes remained on yours speaking louder than you could, written in the language of your eyes, and it was a memory neither of you would ever forget.

Returning to the hotel after the race, you and Lando were still high on adrenaline from his impressive win. You ended up back in your pajamas, entangled together on the bed, watching a movie. The situation felt like a repetition of a few days ago when you had shared your kiss.

Your mind was racing with thoughts about that kiss, how it had lingered in your thoughts since it had happened. It was as if you couldn't escape the memory, and the way Lando made you feel.

On the other hand, Lando had accepted his fate, believing that he was just a friend to you. He was glad to, at the very least make you a proud friend with his victory, but the weight of disappointment sat heavy on his heart, especially when moments like this, being so close to you, felt utterly natural.

"Lando," you began, voice hesitant, "can I ask you something? But you must be honest."

"Whatever you want, darling," he replied, the endearment bringing a blush to your cheeks.

"Did our kiss mean anything to you?" you asked, eyes searching his with a mixture of hope and trepidation. You needed to know the truth, even if it meant potentially shattering your own heart.

He straightened up, looking directly in your eyes. "Everything... But if you wish to forget it, let's..."

His words trailed off as his gaze fell from yours, unable to withstand your lovely gaze that he was adamant he found himself drowning in

"I wish I never have to forget what kissing your lips feels like" you poured your heart out to your friend, meaning every word you softly spoke to him.

He is shocked by your words but your following actions shock him even further. You place your hands on his cheeks and pull him down, locking in your wish with yet another passionate kiss.

"Y/n please be mine, I’m begging you" the strawberry flavor has once again enveloped his senses and he rests his forehead against yours, his ardent breath ghosting your lips.

"Without a question my love, I’ve been yours this whole time" you reply, sealing your promise with a kiss to his cheek. Lando practically melts into you, breathing you in as if you were his lifeline.

A wide smile broke across his face, and you both began to chuckle as he peppered your face with affectionate kisses. "This is so much better than winning the race," he confessed, caressing your face.

"Even better than the champagne?" you can’t help yourself but tease him for his love of the sparkling drink.

 "Your lips are my champagne now" he said with a smirk, capturing you in another sweet and feverish kiss.

>

A.N. I hope this ain't too shabby...

[motherroam-rs]

Wrap Me in Your Skin and Bones

NSFW - 18+

Warnings/Tags : Cockwarming, Nightmares, Mentions of Trauma and PTSD, Angst, Comfort, Love Confessions

Relationship: Crosshair/Fem!Reader

Summary: After solitary confinement on Mount Tantiss, Crosshair is plagued by nightmares that lead him to seek comfort in your body.

A/N : Wrote and posted this to AO3 before season 3 but wanted to put it here too 🫡 I just had this angsty lil thing in my head about how a touch starved Cross would deal with physical contact after the empire 🫶 (even though I firmly believe Tech survived the fall - he’s dead for the purpose of this I’m SORRY)

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

The sharp hit to your ribs has you springing into a sitting position, eyes wild and scanning the room for a threat. Muscle memory from years in the war has you reaching for the blaster and pointing it towards various shadows in the room.

You would be a lousy shot with the way your hand shook from the adrenaline in your veins. But, there are no imperial agents hiding in your room, no battle droids under your bed, the source of the attack lays next to you, writhing against imaginary forces in his nightmare.

Crosshair.

Abandoning the blaster on the floor, you work on tearing the bedsheets away from him before he can tangle himself any further in the restrictive fabric. Every muscle in his body seems to be rigid, even once you manage to free him, but he still thrashes, as if fighting against invisible restraints.

The sight of his struggle has your stomach forming knots.

“Crosshair, wake up,” your pleading hands press to his shoulder, thankful that the prominence of his collarbones has eased over the last few weeks, but he’s still nowhere close to as healthy he was the last time you saw him before the war had ended.

Unlike the rest of the batch, you hadn’t seen Crosshair during his time under the empire, and although during his absence you were thankful for it, this only made it worse the day his brothers brought him home.

Crosshair had always been the leanest of them, you had even joked with him on several occasions that he resembled the toothpicks which always hung from his lips, but the breath had been stolen from your body when Echo half-carried him down the walkway. Crosshairs face was almost as hollow as Echo’s had been after Skako Minor, and it was now flecked in silver stubble, with a large scar that stretched across the side of his head where patches of hair were entirely missing.

Just as the pair passed you by, Crosshairs eyes had met your own. You were used to a range of emotions in them, from heated glares and desire filled gazes, occasionally there was even an amused look that framed his eyes with a hint of laughter lines. However, what you didn’t prepare yourself for was for them to be entirely void of any emotion, it was if you were just one of the stone pillars that lined the streets.

After a week in the infirmary, it became evident that Crosshair couldn’t sleep alone. With Hunter preoccupied with Omega, the responsibility fell to Echo the first few nights, he was the closest to understanding Crosshairs situation after all.

On the third day after the rescue, Hunter had told you although Omega was kept somewhat safe with another female clone, they had found Crosshair in solitary confinement. Something deep in your chest broke at the unsaid weight of the information. Despite his aversion to most people, Crosshair had spent years of being in tight living spaces with his brothers, only to be thrown in a cell alone for maker knows how long.

Maybe this was why he gravitated towards you once he was finally in good enough physical condition to be released from the infirmary.

Between Echo’s own complicated relationship with sleep, Wrecker’s inability to not snore and wake everyone in the immediate vicinity, and Hunters responsibility for Omega, it was you who took him in.

If Tech was still here, he would have been the one to stay with Crosshair. You push that thought down, but the pain still resonates in your chest.

You give Crosshair another shake, and the second your other hand presses to the bare skin of his face, his eyes snap open. He lashes out like a snarling animal trapped in a snare, gripping both your wrists and pinning you beneath him with a speed that causes the room to spin around you.

“It’s just me, Cross.” You speak in a hushed tone, attempting to calm him as you fight against his grip.

Reality bleeds into his eyes, momentarily easing his pained expression, but then he’s choking on the air, collapsing onto you.

“I need,” although his face is buried in your neck, you hear the emotion crack his voice, and you already know the broken look that on his face. “Please, I need you.”

“It’s okay, Cross.” You nod and widen your legs, allowing his hips to settle between them. Your bodies act on the familiar routine you had both fallen into over the last few months since he moved into your spare room - which he has still never spent a night in. Crosshairs shakes have already begun to ease with the contact, his hands have at least stilled enough so he can effectively rid you both of the few items of clothing until you were bare against each other.

He coils himself around you at first, as if he were a snake trying to suffocate its prey, but you only wrap your arms around him in return, welcoming his touch. You aren’t certain if it’s the solitary confinement that made him need the contact, or if it’s some lingering effect of the chip, but either way you still offer yourself to him.

Seemingly unable to wait for his heart to settle, he chases the comfort only you can provide, and begins the slow push of himself inside you. Crosshair’s breaths are escaping him in desperate pants and he’s pressing as much of himself to you as possible, seeking the warmth of your body to drive away the sensation of the cold interrogation table that plagued his mind.

The stretch burns with the little preparation you have, and Crosshair senses your silent discomfort. He draws his hips back with a mumbled apology, so only the tip remains inside you, and draws slow circles on your clit with his thumb. It doesn’t take long for the resistance to ease with your wetness, and soon enough he’s rocking back into you with a groan, allowing you time to adjust.

He doesn’t attempt to bring you to the precipice, or anywhere close to it. Once he fully settles into you, his hand withdraws and instead tangles itself in your hair.

Right now Crosshairs need for you isn’t sexual, despite what it seems.

Some nights it will delve into more once his body relaxes, and he’ll take his time to have you come undone beneath him with more care and attention than he had ever possessed before the rise of the empire. But tonight, as he does most nights, he stills once fully seathed inside you, his only desire being your embrace.

“Where was it this time?” Sometimes he would answer, but other times he would give a slight shake to his head in response.

“Barton-4, then the interrogation room.” His voice is strained, and you recall everything he’s already told you about these places, specifically the haunting memory of Mayday’s death.

“You’re safe, we’re both safe, Crosshair.” You press a kiss to his temple as if it would help the promise sink into his mind. One of your hands moves to the back of his head, cradling him against your neck as the other traces patterns on his back.

It takes a few minutes of silence for his breathing to fall in sync with yours, and despite his cock being inside you, the light exhale against your neck has your face heating at the intimacy. His shakes have entirely ceased now, and you think he’s fallen asleep, until you hear the broken whisper.

“I love you.”

Your body freezes at the admission, both hands stopping their comforting movements. His throat bobs against your neck with a dry swallow, and you wonder if it’s his body trying to subconsciously take back the words.

You had been somewhat together during the clone wars, but it was never emotionally intimate. He had a physical need for you in a way that led to fucking you from behind against almost every surface on the marauder. And yet, true to his cold nature he never faced you, or even kissed you. Once he finished, he would neaten his armour and leave without a goodbye, yet you would still allow him back every time he gave the word.

“Crosshair-“ you start, but he’s cutting you off before your mouth can form another syllable.

“I know it’s not the right time to say it, but I do, I always have.” He rasps, trying to force the confession out in one breath, as if ripping the bacta patch off a wound.

Always have?

Your mind begins unravelling years of your self-imposed torture during the clone wars from biting down your feelings, pretending not to care when some pretty girl inevitably threw herself at him in a bar.

“You need to sleep.” He bites out, hurt evident in his tone at your lack of response, but he doesn’t dare peel himself away from you. Despite the hurt seeping into him, he’s too selfish to let you go unless you ask him to leave.

“Crosshair.” There’s no response, but something possesses you to reach out anyways, and you’re pressing your hand to his face, craning your neck to meet his stare. His eyes are open, but still avoid your own.

Your brush your nose against his, and your thumb traces over the sharp angle of his jaw, memorising the way he ever-so-slightly leans into your touch.

“I love you too.”

His eyes close, a shaky breath of relief escaping his lips. Crosshair had never needed a helmet to mask his emotions before his brothers brought him back to Pabu, back to you. His face had always been set in an ever cold smirk, whether it be when he was taunting a reg, on a stealth mission, or when you caught glimpses of him in mirrored surfaces in the marauder as he fucked himself into you. However, at your words, something akin to peace washes over his face, allowing it to morph into a rare expression of something softer, like that of a soldier returning from battle finally setting eyes on his home.

When the morning comes, you half expect the bed to be cold, or at least as cold as it can be in the climate of Pabu, but when the midday sun casts its warming rays over your skin, he’s still inside of you. Slender limbs have tangled with your own and his face is nestled against your neck, but you can tell from his breathing that he’s already awake.

“Stay.” It’s a whispered prayer against your skin, a desperate plea to some deity that seems to have abandoned him long ago in that cell on Mount Tantiss. But you don’t think the gods, the Empire or even the force could keep you apart now, and you don’t want them to. You press your forehead to his, a wordless answer to him that you aren’t going anywhere, that he’ll never have to be alone again.

[lxmelle]

I wanted to make a post on the number of times Gojo and Geto “meet halfway” even beyond death. Just a complication of moments!

Spoilers if you’re anime-only.

Gojo Satoru stops in his tracks upon hearing something roll onto the floor; quickly followed by the voice of someone whom he killed with his own hands.

More under the cut:

Gate open!

The same words upon a 10-year separation. Not “hisashiburi ne” but “hisashi ne” (a shortened version):

(Worth noting: the flashback image of Gojo after killing Geto looks eerily like Toji upon death. There is a deliberate parallel.)

Gojo tries to make sense of what is happening and his six eyes registers the physical information that it’s really Geto.

In processing this he is momentarily flooded with memories of the best 3 years of his life - the Blue Spring 青い春.

Ironically like being flooded with information after being hit by unlimited void, as there have been others who pointed out.

He was rendered immobile with information on his precious memories and that’s what seals him.

His mind was matching up information from his physical senses (six eyes) and his soul (presenting as feeling).

And his soul refutes the information. His mind knows Geto wouldn’t do this. Thus, he knows otherwise.

Here is where he reverts back to “ore” 俺 as his raw and authentic self presents itself for a the moment where he is experiencing heightened emotions from the sacrilege before him that gets his trapped.

And it all kinda sucks because seems unfair that Gojo is going to suffer again for what seems to be a heavily one-sided pining for his best friend.

But then, Geto, who really is unable to react (because it isn’t Geto, as he is actually dead) ... still manages to do something.

Although like a dragonfly whose head has been cut off, it responds. His body appears to be imprinted with information despite his brain (mind) and soul not being there.

As someone pointed out on Twitter/now X, Gojo reacts to Geto’s words/presence and Geto react to his name being called (and possibly also from seeing Gojo in that position):

Gege, thank you for making this a reciprocal moment.

That smug lil smile from Gojo also kinda depicts a small victory that he made that happen. Something, as a reader, we appreciate that even the ancient Kenjaku has never encountered before - the vessel reacting whilst he is the host.

It’s poetic how they react to each other despite the situation where one is practically dead but can still depict sentiments of a strong bond.

Gege follows up on this with a moment between Toji and Megumi to illustrate another example of parallelism and emphasis, just 7-8 chapters later:

The narrator doesn’t finish the sentence, but it hints at how the remnants of a soul can still persist within the body if it’s important enough. Leading the body to react even if the brain isn’t there in Geto’s case, and the body in a vessel can still react even if it’s soul information wasn’t summoned by the curse technique user.

It also hints at the parallels between Geto and Toji who died after yielding and “burying” a part of themselves.

The reciprocal nature of Gojo and Geto extends to the afterlife scene.

Can I just add (again) that I love how they’re sitting closer together than compared with when the chapter began? 🤭 yes I like repeating myself because i dedicated a whole post on it before

And I like how they meet halfway there too.

Isn’t it romantic somehow? Last person Geto saw before his death was Gojo, and the first person Gojo saw was Geto in the afterlife.

I wrote this in another post but I’ll include that here too: the top bit is in reference to Geto’s death where his reaction acknowledges that he doesn’t feel he deserves the loving words, but rather a curse at the end.

Link: https://www.tumblr.com/lxmelle/748022415626567680/ah-this-makes-lots-of-sense-especially-that?source=share

And taken from my other whopper of a post on souls because I’m too lazy to write it all again:

The end.

Thank you for sharing in my satosugu indulgence.

Please feel free to share and reblog with other moments worth pointing out! ╰(*´︶`*)╯~♡

[enj4s]

VAMPIRE BOY, BITE ME IN THE MOONLIGHT! ᡣ𐭩 .

─── ˚୨୧⋆ PAIRINGS; subaru sakamaki, 𖥻SUBARU x fem! reader ｡˚ ⋆

─── ˚୨୧⋆ 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎; smut. swearing. fem!dom! reader. reader is mean, again. pegging. (lil) hair pulling. hickies. crying. toxic relationship. both are fucked in the head.

★ Author note 😆😆!!: Whoever requested ts excuse my dramatic ass, I LOVE drama as you can see. (sorry btw) enjoy 🤤‼️ yallyal request I got nun to do other than rot in my bed 💔

It was one of those days-

You were a patient and laid-back person, or so you and some people thought. But your anger issues have gone up the roof since you met the seven diabolic, unhinged brothers.

Their mothers and Karlheinz were just as bad, if not even worse. The Mukamis could not redeem themselves but they were bearable, especially Azusa who was just less annoying and irritating, or atleast didn't make you wanna dig your nails in your skin and clutch hard till it bleeds, like the others. You had an exception between the seven Sakamaki siblings as well, whom was Subaru.

Subaru was one helluva person to deal with. If not for Karlheinz introducing you to his past, you would've kept your first impression of him, which was he had rabies.

That boy was as layered and complicated as an onion, and trying to navigate through his mind and emotions was gonna drive you mad. One moment he's calling you a dense ass for dropping a pencil or getting bitten, and the other he's glancing at you all soft like a high school girl in love would.

You swore you have spent and used more brain cells on trying to see through him than you had on maths. He could be downright cruel at times, and even dismissed you so harshly that you favored the men-whore final boss (Laito) over him for some while, which didn't last long when he forced you so adorably in a 'relationship' with him or is what you thought, since he ordered you to resist if any of his brothers try to bite you. What else did it mean?

He would become absolutely feral when he got jealous. It was pretty easy to make him reach that point, but dangerous. He would start yelling at you and destroying everything around him in blind rage when he saw you talk to a male teacher or student or his brother's, going as far as attempting drain you of plasma. It was all too tiring and frustrating, you wanted nothing but quietness, to be left alone and ignored.

His delusion of you being his was so utterly nonsensical, but you went along with it for your safety and sanity, it was wise to sometimes give up and give in to his delusions, which he used as a control and power element. Resisting only meant to get bit to near death, where you'd start to see stars and lights that you thought only existed in cartoons, or, like these times, when he'd strangle you.

-where you'd snap.

"Shut the FUCK UP!" You'd yell at the top of your lungs, couldn't you even be strangled to death silently? His yammering of you being a betrayer was so damn irritating. Subaru jolted and flinched away form the volume of your voice, that look on your eyes, he backed up slightly, his grip on your throat weakened. In a swift movement, you dug your nails deep into his unhealthily pale wrists, shoving him away with every ounce of strength you had left.

Subaru stumbled backwards, catching himself quickly, his white boots stepping on a broken shard of glass from a vase that you bet was supposed to be cherished. You felt guilty for using one of his traumas against him to make him halt, stop. Yes, but did it save you from getting choked? Yes.

The anger was incredibly contagious, you bite your lip to hold back all the insults and traumas you could bring up, knowing that it would just bring you brutal death and a quick burial in dirt in the next hour, you shut your mouth, trying to find saliva to relieve your sore throat that was deeply in dire need of moisture.

The grip he had on your throat just now had been so tight you could've sworn he had actually meant to kill you for a second. Your breathing became labored. Your heartbeat was stubborn and didn't wanna settle down. Your eyes stared back at Subaru's with a mixture of tears and fury, you blink. Trying to help your eyes get used to the light again.

Both of you had your flaws and toxic traits, you suddenly found yourself on top of Subaru, a hard grip on his hair that matched his on your throat earlier, you wipe salty tears away, everything was a blur. You swore you couldn't remember a thing. You'd insult other people for not controlling their actions, yet you couldn't keep yours in check either.

"Sorry," You murmured against his pale skin, kissing alongside the hickies and bite marks you left on his neck. They looked painful. He was a vampire, so you didn't worry too much. They'd heal in an hour or two. You were still between his thighs, cum dripped down his hips and legs.

"You just piss me off sometimes...It's so childish when you start yammering and yelling, creating scenes when I talk to anyone," You watched his wine red eyes trail down in something like shame. His mouth was sewed shut, he was already embarrassed from moaning as loud as he yells. He was cuter when he was quiet, you note, and grin silently, propping yourself on your knees to thrust inside him again without warning, tearing a shriek from the albino beneath you, he drops his head down on the pillows, you were making him feel way too good, as rough as it was.

It almost seemed like you were still taking your anger out on him as you pounded inside him harshly. Subaru felt his stomach coil and he tightens, when you'd lean down to whisper sweet nothings in his ear that didn't match your humping.

“C-ca- ah! Can’t! Hah..” Subaru whined shakily, a sound he'd drop dead before making if he was in his right state of his mind. He hiccups and whimpers as he covered his face with his hands. “So full..hic- too much," His legs dangle like a rag doll's from your shoulders as you plundge inside him deeper and deeper with each delicious thrust.

You lean down with a sigh, catching Subaru's lips in a kiss, and grab at his long bangs, tugging hard to tilt his head upward, and swallow down the loud wail that was about to wrack from his body as he came, vibrating slightly and hips thrusting up pathetically in the air. His fangs poked at your lip a bit painfully as he tried to bite down his noises, now chasing after your lips and the little blood that threatened to spill.

Getting strangled or beat again later from a flustered Subaru wouldn't be surprising after wracking his shit, but it was worth it. You could only laugh as he emptily threatened to break your arm after this, complaining that he couldn't feel his legs and that you're a perv.

─── ˚୨୧⋆ @enj4s ♡ @un0rin ♡

don't repost or copy I know where u live 👁

[lil-elle]

Him <3

group: xikers

pair: seeun x fem!reader

genre: fluff, best friends to lovers, crushes

word count: 863

content: fluff 🥹🩷 (as always, yk me), a few lil swears

a/n: felt bad being so ia, so I quickly finished up this draft! Enjoy!!

Your soft sobs were suddenly caught in your throat after hearing a soft “Y/n?” being called through the door to your room. You hurriedly rubbed your sweater sleeve over your tear stained cheeks just in time for the door to crack open and Seeun to peek his head in.

“H-Hey, why’re you here?” You squeaked out, trying to sound as normal as possible. Not normal sounding enough, apparently, as the tall boy quickly rushed over to sit beside you on the bed.

“I don't think you're in a space to be asking questions…” he chuckled softly, his arm snaking around your shoulder to pull you gently against him, “...why the waterworks?” You forced out a giggle, resting a hand against your best friend's chest and looking up at his surprisingly worried expression.

“It's nothing, really…” He sighed as you dropped your head again, his hand now gently rubbing up and down your arm as a way to comfort you.

“It's okay if you don't wanna talk about it…but I'm staying right here…” His voice was so gentle, and yet it pierced so deeply into your heart that you felt the painful sting of tears in your eyes once again. His grip on your shoulder tightened as you suddenly choked back a sob.

“I-I just don't get it…” You sobbed, and he leaned forward a little to get a glimpse at your face, using his other hand to gently swipe some hair away from your forehead and behind your ear. “W-Why…”

“Why what…?” He asked, his voice laced with a genuine worry that had your heart breaking and your stomach doing somersaults simultaneously.

You responded with silence, a few seconds passing before his voice cut through, a little lower and more serious this time.

“Is this about him again?”

Him. The word you always used to refer to your crush when you were ranting to Seeun. A boy that Seeun knew all about from the way you'd fawn over him, fangirl over him, and even complain about him. Little did Seeun know that this him in question that he'd give you advice for and talk shit about sometimes…was himself.

You nodded slowly and Seeun’s grip on you tightened slightly as he clicked his tongue.

“That ass. I swear y/n, how many times does he have to make you cry like this for you to see he's not worth it?”

Your glossy, puffy, red eyes meet his and you speak up, a slight crack to your words.

“That's the problem, though…He is worth it. He's beyond worth it. He keeps reminding me why I fell for him in the first place even if he doesn't realise it…”

Your gaze was almost burning holes into his as you spoke, his deep brown eyes reflecting back at you with complicated emotions that you couldn't quite place.

“He's just…” your eyes scanned over the boy's face in front of you, his every feature showing love and care for you that made your heart race every time, “...too dense to realise my feelings for him.”

Seeun sighed, his hand rubbing up and down your arm comfortingly.

“He's stupid. The most perfect girl is right in front of him, screaming for him to notice her, and he does nothing.”

You chuckle wryly, sighing almost exhaustedly.

“...You're right…you are stupid…”

“Huh…?”

You drop your head in your hands, giggling weakly as your face heats up red.

“You're so stupid, Park Seeun…”

“W-What? Why me?” He asked confusedly. You lifted your head to look at him, a bitter-sweet smile on your face.

“You just said it yourself.”

His expression only grew more perplexed as you spoke.

“I-I said he was stupid.” He stated, thinking that you must've heard him incorrectly.

“Yup, I know. And yes…you are.”

You watched as the gears in his began to turn, his confused eyes slowly turning to those of realisation and fluster.

“O-Oh. Yeah. You're right, I am.” You couldn't help but notice the way his ears almost immediately went bright red, making your grin widen. You burst into laughter, your body leaning into his, making his other arm wrap around you and cradle you.

“I can't believe the amount of times you called yourself a dumbass without any idea…” You laughed, making him swat your arm playfully.

“Please forget everything I've ever said to you about him. Pretty please.” He leaned closer, nuzzling his forehead against your hair.

“Ha! Not a chance.” You responded, earning a chuckle from him in his deep, quiet voice right above you that reverberated through you and made your stomach twist into knots.

“When I gain super powers and learn how to erase people's memories, you'll be my first victim.”

You giggle wildly, snuggling even closer to him and earning another adoring chuckle from him. His arms tightened around you before pulling you back to sink into the mattress together, forcing another laugh from the both of you as you tangled together in a playful and shy fit of giggles. You felt like a whole weight had been lifted off your chest and you knew you'd never feel as happy as you do anywhere else bit in his arms like that.

-

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

TAGLIST: @chocoeon @hyunukitty @cake1box @chiiyuuvv @shortnstupid @dogyunslover

[eiraeths]

do you guys want some of my cod 141 headcanons you’re getting them anyways

SOAP

-puts stuff in his mouth a lot to hold it when he runs out of hands (this includes when he’s making explosives, it stresses everyone out)

-gets cute aggression and bites people

-will also bite in a fight

-has bits and pieces of rubble from explosions that he thought looked pretty

-is feral, like he takes a hit to the face during a spar and grins with blood trickling into his mouth

-had a graffiti phase as a teen that never fully left and because of it he writes in all capital letters. this is great when they need something written down where no one can read it. (the 141 probably had a meeting where they went over how to read his handwriting)

-has dreams so realistic he wakes up confused wondering if it was a memory he forgot about even if it didn’t make sense

-military grade anger issues

-never fully grew out of his punk phase

-his childhood room was full of road signs and traffic cones

-is actually a hardass when it comes to training recruits (i think the proper term for privates in the sas is troopers but im calling them recruits cause that seems to be the term everyone uses)(everyone thought his bright attitude meant that he’s laid back and easygoing. no. he’s not. yall ever seen those videos of drill sergeants coming up with the most creative insults? thats him)

-randomly says “i am normal and can be trusted around military grade weapons”

-his journal from the og games is a must in the remaster sorry i don’t make the rules

GHOST

-can play guitar super fucking well, im talking full on fingerstyle ballads

-major staring problem, if he doesn’t want to talk to someone he’ll stare until they go away. sometimes stares at people for no reason. also stares when he wants something. he’s always watching.

-would be interested in getting into blacksmithing if he didn’t grow up poor and hates spending money on himself that isn’t out of necessity (seriously you need like 30k to start a forge)

-can and will obsess over damascus patterns in blades (i feel like his favorite pattern would be fish bone or those really complicated mosaic patterns. he gets soap into it too by showing him fireball patterns)

-never grew out of echolalia and because of this is amazing at mimicking noises (he mimicks smoke alarm battery low noises and phone chimes to troll people sometimes.)

-road rage, but its quiet fuming comments that make you grip the oh shit handle for dear life (“you better turn off your fucking highbeams or i can’t be blamed for the head on collision that’s about to happen”)(no one can tell if he’s serious or not)

-hates tin foil, hearing it or touching it makes him clench his jaw because it feels like he can feel it in his teeth

-secret sweet tooth, but it comes and goes. sometimes he’s disgusted by anything sweeter than white bread and other times he can fuck up an entire box of lil debbie cakes

-can hand sew efficiently and fast as fuck

-his favorite type of blanket is a heavy quilt

GAZ

-is aggressively hydrated and is one of those people who carry around those big 128 oz water bottles

-gets competitive over karaoke (it took him months to convince everyone to join and he only got the idea after finding out soap wanted to be in a band as a teen and that he spent days learning how to properly vocal fry)

-says WOO! when he’s super fucking excited (will throw his arms up as well if soap is around because the two of them are an echo chamber of emotion)(the WOO! might actually be canon theres a voice line in warzone)

-probably the most up to date on modern fashion trends (get this man a long cashmere coat he deserves it)

-he does own a bedazzled cap he found at a gas station though (it’s hideous)

-elaborate skin care routine (he’s conned everyone to have some sort of routine. especially ghost. he got so concerned when it hit him that ghost was always wearing the eyeblack)

PRICE

-listens to black label society (i won’t budge on this its not even a head canon to me anymore its fact it was revealed to me in a dream)

-plays solitaire (he’s a very high level and it took him less than a year to get there. no one knows where he found the time to play for that long)

-drives a manual and shames people who don’t know how to work a stick

-literature nerd (im talking all the classics and philosophy books this man can get his hands on)

-discovered tennessee moonshine and has thought about it ever since

-smacks people on the back of the head when they’re doing something stupid

-if anyone makes a negative comment on his facial hair he gives them the dirtiest side eye

GEN/MULTI

-gaz and soap carry those big contractor waterproof sharpies and leave gaz was here or soap was here everywhere they go (this stemmed from soap’s graffiti phase and gaz turned it into a competition. they once got into a competition on who could leave the most signs until price called them muppets and confiscated their sharpies)

-ghost put soap in air jail once, it was very effective

-gaz and soap go to the gym together and take photos in the mirrors after they’re done (somewhere there’s a photo of the time they got ghost to join and they even got him to flex an arm)

-ghost and soap are professional assholes to each other.

-none of the 141 are allowed play card games and gamble with each other because they’re all dirty charlatans

-price tried to stop smoking only once and carried around gum and peppermints. ghost stole the peppermints and soap wouldn’t stop asking for gum

-gaz and ghost are the only ones who really try to adhere to the lights out rule. price and soap can be seen drinking coffee throughout the day

-all of them can hold a grudge for life

-ghost clears his throat loudly when any of them smoke by him. or stares. depends on the say

-if any of the smokers see another outside smoking and decides to join them it turns into a drawn out conversation about the most mundane topics

-the 141 can have full conversations of pure sarcasm nons

[joelalorian]

Tides of Desire - Chapter Twelve: Turn the Corner

*mood board by the lovely @janaispunk. divider by the equally lovely @saradika-graphics

Pairing: Yacht Captain!Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Summary: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI. Angst, cursing, some deep conversations, forgiveness, fluff, and a lil bit of smut. Smallish age gap (reader is 32 or so, Joel is 40). No use of y/n, though reader is of British descent and has the nickname Brit (occasionally used). Chapter names are nautical phrases.

a/n: So, I thought there'd be a couple more chapters, but Joel said no. He wanted the tale to end here, so it does. What can I say, that man gets what he wants. There will be an epilogue, though. He's not the total boss of me. Hope you enjoy!

Series masterlist

Days after the fall, you felt a lot better. Physically, at least.

Emotionally? That was an entirely different story. You didn’t know how you felt, torn between two dueling desires – one for self-respect along with the respect you are due from Joel and the other a life with Joel. Was it too much to hope for both at the same time?

You and Joel still hadn’t talked about that morning, each of you dancing in circles around the topic but never coming right out to discuss it. There was no getting around it, you knew that, but still you hesitated. Why was it so hard?

Joel, being a man of action, showed you he was trying every minute after you were hurt. He took exceptional care of you, making sure you wanted for nothing as you recovered. His efforts bordered on too much after a few days, leaving you wanting a bit of space to think. Despite the care he took of you, you couldn’t get past the hurt in your heart once the pain in your head eased.

The anguish in his big, brown eyes when you told him you needed space haunted you, but you stood strong in your convictions. The return to your cabin was surreal after the luxury of Joel’s quarters and spacious bed, but it was necessary to decompress and sort through all the jumbled thoughts bouncing around in your muddled mind.

“Ah, the prodigal bunk mate returns!” Tess teased as you sauntered into the cabin the morning before the next charter started. “Finally gracing us mere peasants with your presence, are you?”

“Oh, shove off, ya muppet,” you snarked, plopping down on your bunk. Holy hell, Joel’s bed was a lot more comfortable that this lumpy pile of cotton and springs, you thought.

“How are you feeling?” Tess jumped down from her bed to perch herself at the end of yours.

You shrugged. “Physically, I’m fine.”

A single eyebrow arced upwards, reading between the lines as always. “And emotionally?”

Again, you shrugged, tears tickling the back of your eyes at the soft, sympathetic look on Tess’s face. The pair of you leant back against opposite bulkheads of your bunk and Tess stretched her legs, softly bumping her knee against yours.

“Let it off your chest, Brit,” Tess encouraged. “Better out than in, as they say.”

A snort escaped before you could stop it. “I think ‘they’ were referring to vomit, Tess.”

“Whatever, the sentiment is still the same. You need to vent and I’m here for it.” Tess smiled, a little mischief glinting in her eyes. “Plus, I’ve known Joel a long time. I’m well aware of what an emotionally constipated fuckwit he can be sometimes.”

That drew a laugh from you, which you realized was her goal. “He really can be, yeah?”

“You have no idea,” Tess agreed with a chuckle. “He’s gotten a lot better with age, but he’s still a man, so of course he’s as dumb as a box of rocks when it comes to emotional intelligence and expressing himself properly.”

The two of you spent the morning chatting as you recounted your view of things between you and Joel and Tess shared some insights into Joel’s mindset and how he’s tripping all over himself to make things right again. It was an enjoyable morning, especially once the conversation moved away from Joel and more onto Tess’s life and what she like to do during off season.

As you chatted, you briefly thought back to the initial days on the yacht, how you thought she and Joel were an item, and how much that bummed you out. Knowing the both of them as you now did, the idea of them as a couple was laughable. Tess would run circles around him until inevitably driving him crazy.

Around mid-day, Sarah joined you both, bearing leftover sandwiches that Tess made yesterday. She squeezed in between the two of you, her back against the bulkhead wall. It was a tight fit with three grown women and the low ceiling of the top bunk looming overhead, but you all made it work.

The addition of Sarah raised your spirits further. She was such a spitfire, caring and witty, and always ready and willing to throw her father under the bus for one thing or another.

“My dad’s an idiot,” she blurted around a mouthful of food as you lamented once again on not knowing how to proceed. “But he’s an idiot in love, anyone can see that.”

That stopped you in your tracks.

Eyes wide and unbelieving, you stared at Sarah. “You think he’s in love with me?”

Meeting your gaze head on, Sarah nodded, dark brown eyes speaking volumes. “Oh, I know he’s in love with you. He told me yesterday. It’s why he’s so distraught over everything and why he wouldn’t let you out of his sight until now.”

“Geez, kid, you don’t think he’d want to be the one to tell her something like that?” Tess chimed in with a chuckle, shaking her head at the younger woman.

Still stunned, you just sat there staring between the two of them. Joel was in love with you. He was in love with you.

“I’m in love with him, too.” You didn’t even realize you spoke the words aloud until you noticed Sarah and Tess staring at you with bright, knowing smiles on their faces.

“Duh,” Sarah teased, patting your leg. “We already knew that.”

Nodding, Tess added, “Maybe it’s time for the two of you to sit down and have a very serious conversation. Get it out of the way before this next charter starts.”

An hour and a shower later, you found yourself making your way to the bridge in search of Joel. The girls were right, this would all weigh on your mind until Joel and you sat down and had a serious chat. But what would you say? How do you even start a conversation like the one you needed to have?

You practiced some openers on your way up the decks, mumbling them to yourself with each step. Joel, you great knob head… No, no, that wouldn’t work. Joel, you bloody prat… Why was everything your brain came up with some variation of a British insult? You did not want to sling insults at the man, just let him know how very hurt you were.

Before you knew it – and well before you thought of the right words to say – you found yourself at the door to the bridge. It was now or never. You opened the door with a shaky hand, stepping through only to find Frank manning the helm. Your face dropped before you could stop it, but your lips quickly tilted upwards into a smile, oddly relieved.

“Hey doll, what are you up to?” Frank’s warm smile immediately calmed your frayed nerves. “Looking for Joel?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I thought it due time to talk.”

Frank smiled encouragingly. “Yeah, it’s definitely that. You two have a lot to figure out. He’s in his quarters.” Gesturing around the corner with a supportive nod, he added, “Good luck, not that you need it. Joel might, though.”

Flashing Frank a grateful half smile, you edged towards Joel’s room, knuckles rapping on the door twice after a deep breath. Maybe you should have asked Frank for pointers on how to start the conversation. Too late now. You’d just have to go with whatever came out of your mouth and hope for the best.

The door opened to reveal Joel, dark curls awry and thick glasses framing his red-rimmed eyes. In a word, he was a mess. You wondered if he even left his quarters since you returned to yours. Glancing around, it didn’t look like it. That made you feel better. He was as wrecked about things as you.

“Hey,” he greeted, eyes apprehensive and distressed. “Everythin’ alright? Is your headache back?”

Even a mess, his broad frame taking up the entire doorway was a sight to behold. God, he was too handsome for words. And his obvious worry over you only made him more so. Clearing your throat, you reminded yourself why you were standing in his doorway mere hours after insisting you needed space.

“Can we talk?”

His brows darted up in surprise. “Uh, sure, yeah, of course.” Joel eyed you for a few moments, clearly uncertain about what to do or say, before adding, “Do you, uh, want to talk here or go somewhere less…”

Your lips tilted up as he trailed off, knowing his brain was working a mile a minute to find his words. “Here’s fine. It will give us privacy.” Your response visibly stunned him. He obviously wasn’t expecting that response from you.

Stepping back after another long moment, Joel ushered you into his private space. The bed still unmade from when you left first thing that morning, you opted to sit in the chair at the desk along the bulkhead, leaving Joel to take a seat on a corner of the bed. You stared at each other for a while, neither knowing how to start, until you couldn’t take the silence anymore.

After a few false starts, you were finally able to find your words.

“Joel, I’m in love with you, but you hurt me. Like really hurt me. And I don’t know how to come back from that.” You watched the expression on his face vacillate from awed and hopeful to wounded and regretful.

“Sweetheart –” he started, his dark eyes round and wet and not quite meeting yours, but you cut him off.

“I know that morning was hard for you, that you were hesitant to start anything with me during season to begin with, but you made the conscious choice to take things further. You did that and still you made it out to be my fault the moment something didn’t go right. You made me the fall guy. That… that really hurt. And it wasn’t fair.”

You paused, already feeling a heavy weight lifted from your chest at having spoken your peace, giving Joel the opportunity to respond. His beautiful brown eyes were large and glassy, lips in a pout as he searched for words to justify his actions, but there were none, you both knew. He was silent so long, dejectedly staring at you that you opened your mouth to say more when he finally found his words.

“I’m an utter asshole, sweetheart. I told you the other day, I won’t do you the disrespect of giving you poor excuses. I was completely in the wrong. I know it, you know it, everyone on this damn boat knows it – believe me, I’ve heard it from nearly every one of them. And I’m glad they feel comfortable enough in this environment and with me to defend you and put me in my place.”

Your lips quirked at that, causing his own to tilt upwards slightly. “We have great people on this crew,” you admitted fondly. Joel’s smile widened ever so slightly.

“I never meant to hurt you – never intended to treat you like I did. I’m ashamed, plain and simple.” Joel cleared his throat, hands running up and down his thighs in a nervous tick. “I can only promise to do better because I love you, sweetheart, and I never want to be the cause of your pain.”

Your eyes leaked fat droplets of saltwater down your cheeks. “You love me?” Even though Sarah basically told you already, it was completely different hearing those words directly from Joel’s lips, the rough timber in his voice matching the sincerity in his gaze.

He nodded, flashing you a watery smile. “I love you like I’ve never loved anyone before. I don’t even know how it happened so quickly, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Even if you don’t forgive me, I’ll never regret falling in love with you.”

“Joel…” you drew out his name in a long sigh. “I love you, too, but you can’t ever treat me like that again. It’s perfectly fine to be nervous or scared, but we need to communicate rather than snap and push each other away. Okay?”

Joel stood, nodding solemnly as he moved to kneel before you. “I understand. I promise to never treat you like that again. I promise to work on my communication skills. I promise to spend every day proving that I’m worthy of your love.”

His hands clutched your waist by the time he finished speaking. You ran your fingers through his thick curls, mussing them further as you pulled him in for a kiss. The press of his lips against yours soft and sweet, it almost felt like the first time again.

Your heart still hurt, but the pain ebbed away with every soft touch and loving word from Joel. Everything in you told you to forgive him but not let your guard down fully, still wary of getting hurt further. As if he could sense your hesitation, Joel held you close, asking you to stay the night in his quarters. You couldn’t deny him, wanting to connect physically to ease the residual emotional ache.

Joel spread you out on his bed, his mouth tasting every inch of your dewy skin with reverence, as if he needed to sear the taste and feel of you into his memory. He worshiped your body from head to toe, no spot left unexplored. You longed to return each kiss, each tender touch, but Joel insisted this evening was all about you. There would be plenty of time to explore him later.

“I adore you,” he whispered into the soft skin behind your knee.

“I ache for you,” he murmured against your belly.

“I. Love. You,” he said with finality before his lips connected once more with yours.

Shooting stars flashed across your closed eyelids when Joel slipped his cock inside you. Rocking with the gentle flex of his hips, he moved inside you, cock caressing that spongey spot that set you ablaze with each thrust. His mouth alternated between fervent kisses to nibbling on your earlobes and whispering lovely, naughty things in your ears.

It was so different from the other times you had sex together. It was softer, sweeter, and somehow more intimate and meaningful than the other times combined. This… this was making love, you thought. Something you’d never experienced before, and you wondered how you ever lived without it.

You came hard at the realization, giving into every feeling Joel drew from you with his movements and words, the fluttering of your walls around him nearly choking his cock. He came shortly after, stilling as he spilled inside you with a drawn-out cry of your name.

You stayed just as you were, your body beneath Joel’s, his cock still sheathed inside you, staring into each other’s eyes and seeing right into the very essence of each other. This was love. The caring, the forgiving, the open vulnerability… the cracking wide open of your souls to admit that you were hurt or scared and finding the strength to admit flaws and love in spite of them, or because of them.

Life and love were imperfect, and there was beauty in those imperfections.

“I love you, Joel Miller,” you whispered into the night, falling asleep with your head tucked into the curve of his neck, his warm skin blanketing you better than the warmest down comforter ever could.

The echo of your name sounded far away as Joel whispered the words back to you.

This. This was love.

The final weeks of the charter season passed in a blur with long days of work and longer nights of pleasure. The two of you could not get enough of each other, not caring about the exhaustion from limited sleep. You never returned to your cabin for sleeping after that night full of confessions and new beginnings with Joel. It was no surprise to any of the crew, really. There were no secrets on the yacht, nor any talk of impropriety or special treatment. Every person on that boat could see the love practically floating in the air between the two of you as if it was a tangible thing you could hold in your hands.

To demonstrate their approval of the two of you together, the crew placed bets on how soon you’d move to Austin, how soon you’d get engaged, how soon you’d get married. Those little buggers bet on everything when it came to you and Joel. They didn’t bother to hide it either, flaunting the board in your faces with Tommy proudly taking the lead as bookmaker. You couldn’t even be mad about it. They were all just so damn happy for you both, it was infectious.

Once the final round of charter guests departed, Joel took the yacht back out to sea for one last day and the crew celebrated with a party on the sundeck. Tommy and Jake emptied the lazarette of all the water toys for the crew to enjoy. Tess cooked up some delicious tapas on the barbecue. Sammy played DJ with the massive collection of songs on his phone And Sarah, sweet Sarah, made sure the sundeck bar was fully stocked with everyone’s favorite alcohol.

After racing around on a jet ski with Joel, the pair of you settled into the hot tub, sharing a bottle of wine as you watched Tommy, Ellie, Tess, and the interior crew dance around the deck in cheap, fake grass skirts they dug up from who knows where. Frank and Bill sat on the loungers sharing their own bottle of wine, Bill scowling away at the raucous behavior of the others. You would miss every single one of these people who became friends who were more like family to you in a few short months.

You marveled at that. Everything moved faster on the yacht, but what was time, really, when you forged such connections that would last a lifetime?