#this new ruin suit brought so much

[nikkilover1323]

These butterfly’s are my LIFE OMGGGG

[delulujuls]

thick thighs save lives (but ruin racing suits) | ln4, op81

hi! i got this idea from one tiktok i saw today. this one goes for my plus size girlies (including myself lmao) so please enjoy as much as papaya boys would enjoy some pair of thick thighs!

summary: lando and oscar never seen their friend with something tight on, so when it comes to try on new racing suits she have a big surprise for them

warnings: slightly disturbed perception of body image

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!mclarendriver x lando norris

Y/N sometimes forgot that she was a girl.

At the beginning of her career she tried to make an effort to look good, showing that a male-dominated sport wouldn't take away her feminine grace. Years ago she used to wake up early, style her hair, do makeup and spend a lot of money on fixing cosmetics but unfortunately everything was lost due to sweat, a balaclava and a tight helmet. So the girl decided that this fight made absolutely no sense - she decided to stuck only to lip balm and mascara.

Despite keeping her makeup to a minimum, even her mascara remained treacherous, smearing under her eyes after each race or training session, making her look like a panda. In terms of clothes, the girl didn't have much opportunity to show off either. Her clothes were largely either team tracksuits, a racing suit, or just a baggy orange T-shirt and jeans.

And just as Oscar and Lando looked great after the race despite sweat and messy hair, her post-race glow didn't really existed. On the contrary, she looked as if she had a hard, sleepless night.

It is known that when media days fell on the calendar, the girl tried to look her best. She had light make-up and nicely styled hair, but her body was still covered by loose layers of clothes. It would seem that apart from her physiotherapist and the team doctor, no one around her had any idea what kind of figure the girl really had.

However, everything changed when the break between seasons came. When places had numerous galas and events and you could throw away uncomfortable helmets and team clothes. However, as we know, everything comes to an end at some point and we have to return to the gray reality. This was the case, when the day came and it was time to try on new racing suits for the upcoming season.

Y/N hugged Lando and Oscar upon seeing them outside the entrance to McLaren's headquarters. The trio hadn't had the opportunity to see each other for several weeks, so there was a lot of joy. In a good mood, surrounded by conversation, they went inside and immediately went to the designated place. After a short presentation of costumes, everyone received theirs and went to change, only to come back after a while and report any reservations regarding comfort and range of movement. Y/N took her suit without thinking and went to change. She was surprised when the suit got stuck on her butt and refused to go up any higher.

"What the hell"

The girl muttered under her breath, gripping her fit tighter and jumping in it several times. When it finally slid over her ass, Y/N slipped her hands into the sleeves and zipped up the zipper, sealing the Velcro around her neck. Something was definitely wrong. The girl looked in the mirror at her reflection. The outfit was great and looked amazing, the only problem was that it was a bit tight. Which shouldn't be the case, because the outfits were based on last season's, so the dimensions shouldn't differ drastically. It was impossible to gain so much weight in three months, right?

The girl turned around, looking at the back of her body. The outfit was definitely tight. Just as it was still relatively tight on her chest, it was very tight on her thighs and butt.

Y/N covered her mouth with her hand, looking at her reflection. Have she really always had such big thighs? Did she actually gain weight during the past break?

She was brought out of her thoughts by a knock on the bathroom and the voices of Lando and Oscar outside the door.

"Are you ready?"

The girl felt her cheeks burning with shame.

"I think I have a problem"

Hearing this, the friends fell silent and looked at each other.

"Can we come in?"

Y/N agreed quietly, still staring at herself in the mirror. With each passing second, she became more and more confused about her reflection.

Oscar and Lando entered the bathroom, also wearing their suits. When they noticed their friend standing with her back to them, the first thing they noticed was her butt. Lando quickly looked up at the ceiling and Oscar walked over to the girl, trying his hardest to focus on the reflection of her face in the mirror.

"What happened?"

Y/N bit her lip in shame and silently turned towards them. Her friends involuntarily looked at her, pretending they didn't know what she meant. But as soon as they saw the material tight around her ass from the entrance to the bathroom, they knew exactly what the matter was about.

"My suit is too tight" The girl said quietly, looking at herself "It doesn't fit at all"

Lando wrapped his arms around himself and covered his mouth with his hand. He tried his hardest not to speak, because all he could think about were comments about her thighs and whether she could crush him with them. It didn't get much easier for Oscar. He put his hands on his hips and looked at his friend silently. He was afraid that he would be unable to comfort her in any way, because his mind was completely blank.

Piastri cleared his throat after a while, trying to return from the land of fantasy and behave as if the whole situation was really dramatic.

"Is it very tight?"

"Oh, just look!"

The girl spread her arms and spun around. Lando bit his lip and tilted his head back. Oscar held his breath, having no idea what to say. He was totally mesmerized by her curves.

"I- Uhm, I think it's just a mistake and they'll make you a different one without any problem."

"Different one?" Y/N asked, feeling tears in her eyes. “What if it's not a mistake and I've gained weight these past few months?”

"After all, the tests showed that everything was fine with your measurements."

Oscar said calmly.

Y/N turned to the mirror again and looked at her reflection.

"What a total shit"

"Hey, don't say that" Lando was immediately outraged "You look great"

"Great?" The girl snorted, "Come on, I look ridiculous."

"To be honest, I agree with Lando one hundred percent."

Oscar replied, looking once more at the back of the girl's body.

"My thighs are a disaster! What kind of racing driver has such big thighs?"

The girl burst out, turning again towards them.

"Max has nice thighs," Lando pointed out, thinking for a moment, "I'm sure his thighs are the national pride of the Netherlands."

Y/N wasn't in the mood to joke. Devastated, she looked down her body.

Oscar walked up to her and hugged her without saying a word.

"You look beautiful. And you have a really amazing figure"

Lando walked over to his friends and hugged them as well.

The girl felt a little better with the support of her friends. However, for a moment she forgot that men would be men and nothing would ever dissuade them from having dirty thoughts.

"I agree with Oscar, because you really look great," Lando started. Oscar looked at him, knowing full well what was coming and knowing that he wouldn't be able to stop it. "But with all the respect I have for you as a friend and as a woman in general, holy shit, I would pay extra for you to strangle me with your thighs. And man, that mad bunda, too."

Y/N didn't know what to say for a moment. She only felt a blush creeping onto her cheeks. Did she just receive the strangest compliment of her life?

She freed herself a little from her friends' embrace and looked at Lando's face.

"Seriously?"

He seeing that his comment was not received negatively, quickly nodded.

"You have such a body that-" "Lando meant that you shouldn't worry about what you look like because you look really great."

Oscar interjected, knowing full well that Lando's comments should be kept to himself.

The girl smiled weakly and sniffled. Her friends' words lifted her spirits a bit.

"My only concern now is how I will get this contraption off of me."

Lando and Oscar smirked, involuntarily exchanging glances.

"I think we can help you with that."

[gay-dorito-dust]

Remy fic for @littlekidsteve

It has only been a little while since you and Remy had managed to escape the void along with Electra, Laura and Blade before biding them farewell, all the while you and Remy took a long walk as you both tried to figure out what you were going to do now that you were free.

Out of everyone you and Remy were the closet and so the idea of saying goodbye to one another after everything felt wrong, Remy had become apart of you as you became a vital part of him, so much so to the point neither of you could fathom an life without the other being apart of it some way or another.

‘Got any plans now that we’ve escaped the void?’ You asked him and he hums while shuffling his playing cards, a habit you noticed he had whether he was in need of a distraction or in deep thought.

‘I have been in the void for so long that I didn’t think I’d ever get out mon Cher, nor would get out so I made my inescapable prison a home, so all this is…rather new to me.’ Remy admits as he looked over at you with a soft expression before nudging you with his shoulder. ‘You have lived a life before the void, I think you’d be better suited for that question.’

You chuckled as you rubbed the back of your neck. ‘Yeah well I’m pretty sure they’ve pruned it by now, so I’m just as lost as you are and I haven’t been in the Void nearly as long as you have.’ You told him and Remy couldn’t help but chuckle as he went to grab your hand, intertwining it with his own. ‘Then we shall find a way to navigate our new life, together.’ He promised as he then brought your hand up to his lips before softly kissed it.

‘You promise?’ You asked.

‘I promise mon Cher.’ Remy echoed and suddenly everything felt like it was going to be okay, the void was long behind you both as the future was on the horizon, waiting for your both to take it

And soon enough with time and patience you and Remy found yourselves in your own little apartment -that was funnily enough not far from where Wade, Blind Al and Logan lived- and living a quiet, domestic lifestyle, just like you had wanted for a long time but couldn’t due to certain circumstances. You couldn’t help but smile softly upon first seeing Remy with an peaceful expression on his face as he slept, he looked beautiful and at ease with everything that you found yourself admiring him in silence, not wanting to ruin this moment by sneezing or shifting your weight and waking him by accident.

‘Wade is right. You are beautiful.’ You muttered lowly as you memorised his face and the way the light from the window made his skin glow an almost golden hue, making him look ethereal, as you took the time to appreciate the way his eyelashes kissed the apples of his cheeks. Remy was a handsome man and you were in no shape or form to deny it when you were more then aware of this face since the moment you met, but it wasn’t his physical appearance that drew you in but more or less his heart and his ability to light up anything that he touched, and soon enough you found yourself falling for the Cajun Frenchman more then you’d originally thought.

Remy has consumed your every waking and sleeping thought, claimed your body and heart as his own with how his eyes never seemed to leave you the moment you entered the room, smiling at you warmly before cross over to stand next to you for the rest of the day while occasionally showing off a new card trick he learnt. Even during combat Remy would stay close by to keep you safe when he felt that someone was getting too close for comfort by throwing one of his kinetically charged playing cards at them, and when you look over at him he just winks at you and continues the fight.

‘I can sense you watching me mon Cher.’ Remy said as he smiles cheekily, opening one eye to look at you as he brought a hand behind your head, pulling you in for a brief but sweet kiss before pulling away to look at you. ‘Am I really as beautiful as you say?’ He adds in a whisper as though he didn’t want anyone else to hear your conversation.

‘You can’t be blind to your own beauty can you Remy?’ You asked as you moved a hand to rest upon his chest, tapping your fingers against his skin in an unheard rhythm.

‘I’m not, I just want to hear you say it.’ Remy replied as he found his eyes wandering across your face with fondness and admiration. You couldn’t help but laugh as you rested your head against his chest, nuzzling into him. ‘You are indeed beautiful Remy Lebeau, the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on.’ You admit as you look at him, pressing a kiss to his chin as you felt his arms tighten on you, restraining you from moving away from him.

‘You flatter me Cher, but it is you who’s the most beautiful.’ Remy says as he presses a kiss to the top of your head, breathing in the shampoo and conditioner you used and closing his eyes, never having the luxury of experiencing peace before in his life but finding himself falling in love with it as fast as he did with you. Remy felt as though he could stay in this bed forever with you but knew with your plans for later today he wouldn’t, though that didn’t stop him from doing whatever he could to keep you in his arms.

‘Wade, Logan, Laura and their friends are coming over soon.’ You murmured.

‘I know.’ Remy relied.

‘We should get up soon.’ You continued.

‘I know.’ Remy repeated as he kissed your head again, cuddling you further into his chest. ‘We’ll get up soon, but for now can we just…stay here, please Cher.’ He adds in a plea and you couldn’t help but feel yourself slipping into sleep the longer you stayed in Remy’s comforting and strong arms.

‘I guess five minutes wouldn’t hurt.’ You said as you nuzzled yourself into his neck, kissing it. ‘Then we’ll have to…to…wake.’ Before you could finish your sentence you had found yourself fast asleep as Remy smiled down at you. ‘I’m sure they won’t mind Cherie, they’ll understand.’ He says before joining you in dream land.

Bonus:

‘Where the fuck are they?!’ Wade shouted as he, Logan, Laura, Al, dogpool and the rest of his friends stood outside in the hallway to yours and Remy’s apartment after banging on the door for the past five minutes.

‘They’re probably still asleep, best we leave them be before we fucking wake the rest of the apartment complex.’ Logan said, side eyeing Wade as he sifted the welcome gifts in his arms.

Wade pouts and just as they were about to leave, a rugged and scruffy looking you and Remy opened the door to greet them as Wade laughs. ‘You two looked like as though we’ve interrupted something between you two.’ Wade the leaned towards you to whisper. ‘Is the French dick that good?’ You glared at him as you flicked him on the forehead, watching him as he winced and rubbed his forehead with a pout.

‘We may or may not have overslept thanks to someone.’ You nudged Remy in the side as he smiles cheekily and brings an arm to your waist, tugging you into his side. ‘Guilty as charged.’ He said proudly as you both stepped aside for everyone to enter your shared apartment before joining them, happy to have known such weird yet beautiful people.

[perfctvelvet]

can you do sabrina carpenter!!

Happy Fucking New Year; Sabrina Carpenter/Fem!Reader

Content: 2nd POV. Strangers, alcohol mention, semi-public (hooking-up in the bathroom of some rich person's house), making out, oral sex

No one wanted to be alone this New Years and you were no exception. The only problem was that your friend, the one who happens to the social butterfly brought you to a party where you don't know anyone here besides her. Everyone was dressed to the nines; shimmering dresses with make up to match and expensive suits. Having a friend who works in PR was an unexpected perk in her life, but having a friend who works in PR means when you're out they're always in networking mode. Coming here, to some random person's mega-mansion, was thrilling at first but the shine was beginning to dull immediately.

You had lost your friend somewhere in the fray of the fancy just less than an hour before midnight. Many people were here with partners, spouses, and lovers, and to you it seemed like you and your friend were the only single ones. You didn't let it get to you because you had her, but now she was gone. All you had was your too-small purse and a vodka soda you weren't a big fan of.

Just as the night couldn't get more painful, someone bumps into you. There was no love lost for the beverage that you spilled but now it was all over your dress. You may have been feeling alone, but your dress was the only thing you had. You got it one random day in the summer at the encouragement of your friend that she will give you a reason to wear it. You felt confident walking out of the car tonight and into the party. That was only two hours ago and oh how everything seemed to cave in.

"Fuck! I'm so, so sorry!"

This woman who bumped into you sounded sincere in her apologies. At first you thought you were being mocked, but the way she tried to wipe off your dress before it could stain seemed too real.

"I-It's okay."

You couldn't even bring yourself to look at her. Instead you were looking around you at the people who were beginning to look at the commotion. You were hoping to lock eyes with your friend so she could rescue you, but she was still nowhere to be found.

"Ugh! C'mon!"

Before you could register what was going on, you were being dragged away by the woman who ruined your dress. You were too relieved by being saved from the embarrassment to make a fuss. She lead you to one of the many guests bathroom in the house. She was bold, shutting the door behind you two and almost forcing you to sit on the counter. She grabbed one of the fancy, embroidered towels and wets it to continue her efforts to save your dress. Even though you appreciated her eagerness to fix her mistake, you can't help but be enamored and a little amused by the situation.

"It was just a vodka soda. Don't worry, it's not going to stain my dress."

It seems as if your voice is what gets to her. She slowly stops frantically wiping off the parts of your dress that is covered in vodka and looks up at you. She's stunning, so much so that you begin to lose your confidence.

"I hope I didn't take you away from whoever you cam here with." She finally puts the towel down and you get to hear her voice in a more relaxed state.

"No, no, I just came with a friend, but I lost her somewhere so I was just kind of by myself." You felt like a loser saying that out loud, but something lights up in the stranger's eyes at your confession.

"Glad I'm not the only one here feeling a little dejected."

"What do you mean?"

She points to the spot next to you, gesturing if she could sit beside you. There was plenty of space on the counter and she didn't have to ask, but you made space for her anyway.

"What was supposed to be a girls' night New Years Eve get together turned into us coming here, and just like you I have no clue where my friends with."

It wouldn't be shocking to either of them if their friends found someone gorgeous and well-off to talk to, but you were sure your friend was more concerned with making connections than the imminent countdown to the new year. You empathized with this woman, but still couldn't get over the shock that someone who looks like her was feeling the same loneliness tonight.

"I guess that's a common theme tonight. It's never really happened before so I think that's why it stings so much. I'm Y/n by the way."

"Sabrina," she sticks her hand out for you to take which you do. You two shake hands for a few seconds before breaking away. You felt like you had made a new friend tonight and you were a little proud of yourself. You were never the most sociable one in the room, so it's fitting that your main way of meeting new people is through an embarrassing moment.

"You said you came here with a friend? Just one? Are they a friend or a friend."

"Just a friend. We were roommates one year in college and I reached out to her when I moved out here to LA. She's always been primed for this kind of life, not me, so I needed her to guide me through the upsides and downs of living here."

"There are a lot of ups, like being invited to some rich ass dude's New Years Eve party. The downs would be the perpetual loneliness that seems like a requirement."

"I take it you've been in LA for years?"

"Almost two decades now. Feels like it's been a life time."

"Do you like it? I've only been here for two years and I'm still figuring out how I feel about it."

"Well, like you said, it has it's ups and downs. Some times there are more downs than ups, and vice versa. I would say right now that sitting in the bathroom of a boring party with a pretty girl who is being kind to me after I fucked up her dress is one of the ups."

You break eye contact with her to spare yourself the embarrassment. You feel a heat creep up your neck and beat you right in the face. You never learned how to take a compliment without completely crumbling. You already found Sabrina to be interesting and pretty, but now your heart was starting to beat out of your chest.

"And I hope this doesn't sound weird, but I'm kind of glad I literally ran into you. I saw you earlier in the party and I couldn't stop staring at you. I hope I don't sound like a creep."

"No, not at all! I'm just shocked to say the least."

What snapped you out of your shock was the sound of people cheering and getting rowdy outside of the bathroom. At first you feared someone was going to come in, ruining your solace. But then Sabrina checks her phone and sees that it's almost midnight.

"Two more minutes then it's 2024. I'll be honest, Y/n, I didn't expect to spend my last minutes of 2023 like this. I sort of feel like a klutz."

"Don't be sorry. Like I said my dress is fine, just a little sticky, but one wash it'll be alright."

The both of you end up getting distracted by the rowdiness outside the door. You were half tempted to get up and join them just to watch everyone ring in the New Year together, but you stay put. You notice how Sabrina isn't budging and you get the impression that she wants to stay with you in her last moments of 2023. Soon the start the countdown.

"10...9...8...7..."

In just a few seconds you feel fingers weave through yours and Sabrina grabbing your face. You let her control your body, turning your head to face her.

"6...5...4..."

It takes just seconds for your heart to flutter with an emotion you haven't felt in a long time.

"3...2...1...Happy New Year!"

Sabrina's lips meet yours on the very first syllable of "happy." For the first time in years you genuinely felt the meaning.

At first it felt innocent, just two lonely souls filling the void together, but Sabrina didn't want to pull away. She kissed you deeper, harder. The lust was radiating off of her and it was overwhelming. The last way you expected to bring in the new year was a bathroom hook-up, but surprisingly you weren't turned off to the idea. No one has ever come on this strong to you before and being in LA you were beginning to think you were a love repellant. This kiss left your breathless and starving for more. You grab onto Sabrina, unintentionally laying one hand on her breast in the process. Neither of you seemed to care as your tongues bumped against each other's. It was becoming a little sloppy, with Sabrina taking you there, but you enjoyed it. There is a hint of lemon on her tongue and you wondered why type of drinks a girl like Sabrina would drink. She was bold, yet refreshing.

Sabrina pulls away, panting and her lipstick smudged. She's looks a little messy now but she smiles regardless. She's so happy that you're receptive to her touch and that you seemed to enjoy the kiss too.

"Was that too much?" She wipes the edges of her mouth.

"I think we're beyond the point of worrying about what's too much now."

You're the one to lean in this time. You continue what Sabrina started, the blonde leaning into this time until she wraps her arms around your neck. You were at the point of no return and you wouldn't dare turn back. You wanted more; you wanted her.

"Do you think you can be quiet?" You ask her between kisses?

She hums affirmatively against your lips before you break the kiss. She moans breathlessly when your lips land on her neck. So much for being quiet because her moan fills the room. Of course the party outside still raged on as being in a whole new year put a new life into the party. The sound of the bass of the music thumped against the walls, but nothing could overtake the sound of Sabrina's sweet moans. You finally get between her legs, your knees pressed into the soft rug. She places her legs on your shoulders and you come face to face with her pussy. It didn't surprise you, but seeing her without panties made your face grow hot.

"I hope you don't mind, I left them at home," she says with a salacious tone.

You didn't mind at all, you were happy to have easier access to her wet pussy. You can't go another minute without it seeing what she tastes like. Sabrina whines when your face disappears between her legs under her dress. She pulls it up and catches the very moment your tongue meets her dripping sex. She moans so loud that she has to put her own hand over her mouth. You lick and lick and lick and somehow she's able to keep herself from screaming out in pleasure. It was like you knew her body and knew what buttons to press. She feels a rush run through her and she's on cloud nine. Never has a stranger made her so happy and feels so good. She moves her hand from her mouth and promises herself she'll be good and keep as quiet as possible. She knuckles turn white as she grips the edge of the counter.

"Oh Y/n that feels so fucking good," she whines. "I've been thinking about this all night."

The thought of someone being so turned on by you that they fantasized about it after seeing you once was astounding. You were shocked to have that power over someone, especially over someone so beautiful. You felt lucky, lucky to be invited here (the party and between Sabrina's legs). You pull away from her pussy and rub her clit.

"Did you want me so bad that you spilled a drink on me?"

Sabrina doesn't answer, just moans as she throws her head back in pleasure. You stop rubbing her clit to insert a finger into her pussy. When she feels your tongue back on her clit paired with the finger inside of her she almost cums. But she wants to savor the taste, feel this forever. She thinks she's strong enough to hold herself back, but your fingers are stronger than her will. You insert another one into her and her walls wrap warmly and tightly around the two. Your hitting the spot that makes her legs shake. Sabrina desperately wants to cry out loud, but she wouldn't dare risk getting caught and letting the moment end. She's so so close, tettering on that blissful edge. You kiss her inner thigh not once, or twice, but a few times. It makes her legs shake. She forgets about trying to hold back when she feels the 5th kiss pressed to her thigh.

She fears that you might get turned off by how hard she cums, but you enjoy it very much. She closes her eyes, bites her lip, and tosses her head back in ecstasy. A tear runs down her rosy cheek too. Her make-up is probably too fucked up for saving, but no one is going to care, so neither does she.

"Earth to Sabrina...you here with me?" You tease her. You're not sure if she likes that, but she just let you eat her out and finger, a little teasing is harmless in comparison.

She opens her eyes a few seconds later and a sweet, relaxed smile forms on her face.

"People are probably looking for us," you say to her when she finally looks down at you.

"Let them look."

[ghostofhyuck]

Deja Vu

It’s been months since you two broke up and Jeno got a new girl now. She’s pretty, nice, and exactly his ideal type. And yet, the ghost of you still lingers, maybe because Jeno brings her to the places you two used to go. 

Deja vu? Maybe. Or it’s just Jeno’s not over you. 

Word count: 2.2k

Tags: angst, fluff, ex to lovers (?) cheating if you squint really REALLY hard.

Song inspiration: Deja Vu by Olivia Rodrigo

AN: TDS3 D3 Jeno went topless and it was a sign for me to finish this fic. 

Also this is part two of this fic. Read it so that you can have more context, but this can still serve as a stand-alone. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“So, where is this ride going?” you asked. 

“If I told you, it’ll ruin the surprise,” Jeno replied. A smile plastered on his lips as he took a quick glance at you before focusing on the road. 

It was five in the afternoon. The sun’s slowly setting, and the sky’s painted in its godly gold. It’s bright and warm, as the sun’s shine passed through the window of Jeno’s Ford Mustang. You just finished your last exam for the semester. After nights of cramming and chugging down coffee, you’re finally free from the semester. Vacation is just around the corner, and what’s the perfect thing to celebrate the end of semester other than celebrating it with your boyfriend?

You watched as Jeno drove smoothly across town, going down the coastal area where the sunset’s more pleasing to watch. You slide across the bridge and the next thing you know, the sun’s following you through the long bay of your town’s beach. 

Jeno knows how much you love the beach. It’s a safe place for you where you can get away from your university. So you two just usually hangout around the coast. 

Your boyfriend parks the car near the baywalk. He quickly turns off the engine, and just like the usual thing he does, he leaves the car first and opens your car for you. 

“You don’t always have to do this, you know that?” 

“But I want to,” he said casually just like the way his arms wrapped around your shoulders immediately, pulling you closer to him. You only smile as he gives you a small kiss on the head. 

“So, where are you taking me?” you asked once again. 

Jeno only hums as he stops, that’s when your eyes widen at the shop in front of you. 

“No way!” you shouted. 

“They just opened yesterday, so why not celebrate with a cup of yoghurt?” Jeno smiled. 

“Oh my god, I’ve been craving for it for so long!” you shouted. 

Jeno only smiles, internally patting himself good job. He knows everything about you, and he knows how lately you’ve been obsessed with yoghurt. Whether it be a drink or served in a cup, you’ll love it somehow.

“Did I ever tell you that I love you?” you asked your boyfriend who only lets out a chuckle before stealing a kiss on you. 

“I love you too bub, now come on, it’s a do-it-yourself, so get as many toppings as you want.”

When you entered the shop, you immediately separated from your boyfriend, eager to have a cup of yoghurt. Jeno watched as you grabbed a large cup before going to the yoghurt machine. He was smiling ear to ear as you moved to the topping and sauce section, picking carefully your toppings because you’re still a picky eater nevertheless. 

Eventually, he joins you as he grabs a medium cup and picks some toppings that suit his taste. After weighing the cup and paying for the dessert, the two of you went out where an al fresco area can be found. You two sat at the corner, digging on the delectable treat that you two are having. 

The sun is setting and you’re halfway on your cup, you could only stare at the sun. feeling overwhelmed but in a good sense. You finally finished your semester and your boyfriend brought you to a yoghurt shop. You couldn’t help but to smile. Things are better and you just feel so lucky to be here right now. 

“Having deep thoughts again?” Jeno asked, knowing that you tend to space out sometimes. 

“No, no deep thoughts,” you told him. “Just happy right now.”

“Oh really?” Jeno teases, “can I ask why?”

You only smiled, “of course because school’s over, and I have my handsome boyfriend treat me my favorite dessert at the moment.”

Jeno only smiled, gazing at you lovingly. He wonders if days are going to be like this. He likes this life of his. In this town where it’s just you and him, in a small yoghurt shop, with the sun setting on the background. 

And as Jeno stares at you, he couldn’t help but be in awe. Thinking how lucky he is to have a girlfriend like you. 

Your attention shifted to him, making him stare at you even more lovingly.

“Jeno,” you called out. 

“What?” 

“You’re spacing out,”

“What makes you think of that, yn?” 

“Yn?”

Jeno’s eyes widened. 

“Who’s yn?” 

The girl in front of him is not you. Her hair is in a different shade, falling along her shoulders, unlike yours who you usually tie in a messy ponytail whenever you’re eating something. She’s pretty, definitely pretty that it can make anyone turn their head. 

They stared at each other for a minute. That’s when Jeno realised that your name slipped onto his lips. 

Fuck. He thought. That’s when he remembered. It’s been months ever since you two broke up. Months after that night that was full of frustrations and arguments. Jeno barely recalled what you two argued about but he knew that you were crying and instead of comforting you, he stormed out of your place.

You two didn’t break up that night officially, you called it quits over a text three days later. Instead of calling you, Jeno lets it be. Thinking that you two were just never meant to be. 

Unlike you, Jeno found it easy to get over you. He’s a charming guy, so it was quick for him to find another girl that he can love again. 

Or so he thought. Because as he stared at the girl in front of him, he couldn’t believe that he called her by your name. 

“Nothing, it’s nothing, sorry,” he quickly apologised. Shifting his attention to the melted yoghurt on his cup. 

Maybe it was his fault. For bringing her to the places you two went. Jeno knows that there are a lot of places where he can bring her, but why does he always end up in the coastal area? On a particular yoghurt shop that you love? 

Jeno couldn’t help but to question it. He thought that he’s over you but it seems like the ghost of you still keeps on haunting him. 

You who’s always cheery. You who always have a certain sweet treat every semester. You who loves bringing your polaroid camera and taking photos of the people you hang out with. 

You, who was there for Jeno. Who loved him despite his flaws and even though he is lacking in some parts, you ignored it and loved him nevertheless.

He wasn’t perfect, but you weren’t looking for a perfect boyfriend. You love Lee Jeno no matter what. And you always say that to him. 

“Hey Jen, I’m done here, should we get going now?” Jeno snapped out once again when she spoke out again. 

He stares at his yoghurt. It’s all melted and doesn’t look appetising at all. He then glances at the sun and it’s barely touching the sea. If it was you who’s with him, you two will wait until the sun sets and set out when the stars are in the sky. 

But you’re not with him anymore, and he’s with a new girl. Who’s pretty, who’s nice, and is exactly his ideal type. Jeno had accepted it, after all. It’s not only him who’s moving on. He knows that Mark Lee’s making a move on you. He watched as you laughed with him over a cup of coffee a few weeks earlier. 

So it seems like you two are moving on. Good for you. He thought. You deserve someone better than him. While he knows that there are no other girls that can surpass you, Jeno hopes that at least for his side, he can be a better man for his new girl. 

The ride home was nothing but an awkward tense. Jeno keeps on glancing at her, who’s too busy on her phone. If it was you, your eyes would linger on the view outside — even though you’ve grown up in this area, you always love staring at the view. But at some time, you’ll shift your gaze at Jeno, who’ll reciprocate your giggles with a soft chuckle. His free hand lacing around your fingers, never letting you go until you reached your place.

“Watch out!” and luckily, Jeno stepped on the brake quickly. His eyes staring at the dog that just passed by. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t —” 

“No, of course not! The dog suddenly jumped out of nowhere,” she said in a soft tone, smiling as she pats Jeno’s shoulders. “You prevented it too, and there’s no accident that happened, so it’s okay.”

Jeno could only let out a sigh. Somehow, he feels like blaming himself because of the incident, if it wasn’t him thinking about you, then maybe he’ll be more concentrated on his drive. He tried to focus on the road, but you’re in his mind no matter how hard he tries to shake the thought of you. 

He didn’t notice that he just reached her place. It was as if he was driving out of instincts. 

“Thanks for dropping me off,” she said, smiling. 

“No worries,” Jeno only said, and before she left, she gave Jeno a soft kiss on the cheeks. Jeno watches as she gets out of the car, walks through her apartment and closes the door. 

But Jeno couldn’t move from his seat. He doesn’t know what to do. Frustrated, Jeno lets out a sigh as he rests his head on the headboard. He doesn’t want to fuck up. He already ruined your relationship, he couldn’t bear to ruin another one too. 

“I’m so stupid,” Jeno whispered. He opens his eyes and looks at the road. He knows that deep inside, he’s not yet ready to enter another relationship. It’s too soon. 

Not when you spent three years together, and broke up abruptly. Throwing everything you two had. Never had a decent closure or even a proper apology from each other because of what happened that night. No. The only thing Jeno wants more is to find closure from you, and perhaps, in the better light, 

you two can finally move on and find someone better. 

Jeno knows that partly, it’s his fault that things went downhill. So it's up to him to fix everything. He turned on the engine, and without any hesitation, drove to a familiar route that he memorised by heart. It was a gamble, but Jeno was willing to see the outcome of his indecisive decisions. 

As he reached your place, Jeno didn’t hesitate to turn off his engine, leaving his car as soon as possible. 

He walks towards your apartment, a sense of familiarity welcomed him. It felt like home and Jeno tries to brush off that feeling — that odd sense of missing a place that has been a home for him for years. 

Jeno stops in front of your door. He lets out a deep sigh before knocking on the door. For a minute, no one answered.

He knocks once more. Two, three, four loud knocks, in hopes that it can be enough for you to open the door. 

But within a minute, no one answered. Jeno took it as a sign. That maybe closure isn’t for you two. Jeno tried to ease his beating heart — he didn’t even notice that it had been beating abnormally ever since he arrived at your place. 

So he turned his heels around, walking a few steps when he heard the door open. 

“Jeno? What are you doing here?” 

As he turned around, Jeno was shunned. 

There you are, with your hair in a mess, wearing your favourite cinnamoroll-patterned pajamas. He saw how your round eyes became wider as he made eye contact with you — both yearning for something. 

“I…I —” Jeno decided to go near you. “I just, want to ask you how you have been.” 

That was stupid. That was so fucking stupid. Jeno’s mind was barely functioning when those words slipped out of his mouth. 

But you didn’t take it into something. You were just surprised. Jeno’s in front of you. The sense of familiarity to the man in front of you is still there. His scent, presence, and the feelings you had for him. It’s all still there. 

And you don’t know why, but maybe you just wanted to see if he still loves you. 

Because instead of answering him, you grabbed him by the neck and smashed your lips onto his. 

But in a quick second, you realised that what you did was stupid. You broke out of the kiss, and yet your hand remains on his. 

Jeno’s gaze shifted from a surprised one to something more familiar. Lovingly. You knew that stare, you’ve always loved that stare of his. You know that because you’re the only one who he gave that gaze with. 

And the next thing you knew, his lips crashed onto yours. You couldn’t help but to kiss him back with more intensity. His arms instinctively hold your waist as you attempt to balance yourself. He pushes you backward, making you two enter your apartment without breaking the kiss.

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Lucifer x Reader - Trapped (NSFW)

I needed to write a little something based on @the-other-soup’s ask that she got because it has been living in my head rent free!

****

Your relationship was fairly new; at this point you two decided to keep it under wraps for now

But even though it's only been a few months, it's been nothing but absolutely wonderful

And the activities in the bedroom were no exception!

You two felt like hormonal teenagers when you were alone together; there were times you wouldn't even sleep at night because you were too busy bringing each other so much pleasure!

One night after a drink or two at the bar, you decided to get a little bold and touch Lucifer while you knew no one was looking, gliding your hand up and down his thigh

Lucifer gave you a wide-eyed look, a small golden blush creeping across his face

It didn't matter that this angel was thousands of years old with eons of experience, he treated every intimate act with you like it was his first!

You two snuck away a little bit later (a few minutes apart of course as to not raise suspicion) and met at the elevator that would bring you to his penthouse suite

Once the doors closed, you grabbed his face and kissed him passionately; you couldn't wait to ruin him!

But then suddenly, there was a sharp screeching noise and a bang; the elevator had stopped dead in its tracks

"What the...? Oh come on, don't tell me we're stuck in here!" you pouted

Lucifer only shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the predicament you found yourself in "Ahh, well, that's a bummer! Guess we'll have to get someone to...GAAHHH!"

You decided you weren't going to let a dysfunctional elevator ruin the fun you had planned, and you let Lucifer know that when you began to palm his already half hard cock through his pants

"Uhhh, sweetie...honey...darling...w-what are you doing?!"

"Taking care of you, Luci.~"

You dropped to your knees in an instant, wasting no time unhooking his belt and pulling his pants down to his ankles and freeing his already leaking member

"L-Love, you don't need to do that! I'm fiiiiIIIII-FFFFUUCK"

The head of his cock found its way into your mouth as you began to lick tghe precum that had already formed

"I want to!" you responded with a sultry smile. "Nothing's gonna keep me from making you feel good.~"

"O-Oh golly..." the devil murmured

You opened your mouth wide, taking in as much of his throbbing cock as you could, letting it hit the back of your throat with utter delight

You bobbed your head down on him rapidly, pulling out the cutest moans you've ever heard from the man above you

Even though you were alone, Lucifer couldn't help but try to stifle the pathetic sounds he was making, praying to anyone that would listen that no one could hear their sinful act

But after only a few minutes, Lucifer pulled you from his cock, lifting your head to meet his gaze

You whined but Lucifer only smiled back as he effortlessly lifted you up and forced your back against the elevator wall, your legs wrapping around and clinging to his waist

The fallen angel wasted no time pulling you panties aside, not bothering to undress you fully; he needed you just a s badly as you needed him

Slowly he lowered you down on his aching cock; pushing inside of you so easily from how wet you already were

Your moans echoed in the small chamber you were trapped in as he filled you up completely

"L-Lucifer, please...need you...please move..."

"A-Anything you want, my dear.~"

Lucifer fucked you against that wall like his life depended on it; you muffled your screams by biting into his neck as his paced quickened with every thrust

Lucifer could only choke back so many sounds before they inevitably escaped his throat; his body refusing to deny the euphoria he felt when buried so deep inside you

With a few more thrusts, he brought you over the edge; you screamed his name as your sensitive walls pulsed around your lover

Lucifer's orgasm followed yours almost immediately when he felt you squeeze his cock, emptying his cum inside or your needy cunt

Once you both caught your breath, Lucifer set you back down on the ground, making sure you could stand on your own and pulling up his pants once more

And then suddenly, the elevator sprung back to life as it began its ascension again

"Oh, well, that's fortunate!"

"Y-Yeah, very fortunate..."

Your head turned immediately at his suspicious response. "No...Lucifer, you didn't..."

"I uhh, well...you see, I..."

"YOU STOPPED THE ELEVATOR ON PURPOSE?!"

"Please don't be mad! I-I thought it would be a funny little prank! I didn't expect you to...that wasn't my plan at all!"

"So you're telling me when could have gotten out of here at any time?!"

"Yes, I guess technically. But you know, sweetie, I could have just teleported us out of the elevator at any point, you know?"

"...Okay, I'm gonna be honest, I completely forgot you could do that. That's on me. But you're still an ass!" you joked, pushing him gently.

The elevator stopped as it reached the top floor

But before you could step out, Lucifer scooped you up in his arms with ease, causing you to squeak

"Please forgive me, my love, let me make it up to you! I think I'll start by using my tongue to clean up the mess I made. And it may take me all night.~"

[ladyelissarose]

Hello! I really loved your miguel o'hara works , and i would like to make a request,about headcanons of miguel with a sweet and shy housewife reader ,like ,she is always in home ,cooking ,cleaning and taking care of the house in general ,and always welcomes miguel saying how proud is of him and his job,if youre comfortable you can include a nsfw part but if you dont want to you can just make the fluff part , i hope its okay and have a nice day!

Miguel O’Hara x housewife reader

Warnings: there’s the SFW & NSFW headcannons!! Fluff and alll…

Authors note: Thank you for your sweet words hun!! I wish you the best!! And of course I added down NSFW! I had to- it’s Miguel we’re talking about!! But yes.. I hope you enjoy and I met your expectations:)

•Ever since the start of your relationship, you knew Miguel was the Spider-Man of Nueva York, after he saved your life and kissed your scared tears away. He instantly felt a connection with you and knew he had to have you.

•You were very shy tho, and kept to yourself. Only had trips to the library and to the flower shop- you were basically a home-body.. not a fan of being around or in large crowds.. but Miguel made you feel safe instantly and he took you safely home through a path that was quiet and not around much people and noise.

•Miguel was gentle and didn’t push you to do more than you wanted too, and he was the first person that made you feel comfortable with yourself. That’s why after countless dates and swinging trips on his back, you’re happily married to him and are kept safe in your guys’ home. Where you live with and for him while he keeps the beautiful city safe.

•Everyday he’d come home with a new book or a bouquet of fresh flowers, showering you with things that made you happy, to earn him your gorgeous, shy smile. He’s seen all of you and loved you entirely, yet he was proud on how he made you blush everytime he brought something home, and he lived for kissing that cute pouty smile you had.

•To make up for all the gifts he gave you- tho he said payback wasn’t necessary because you were his love and life. You still worked to give him the best life in your shared home. It was only fair since he sheltered you and your heart, and kept your city as safe as he possibly could.

•During the time he was gone, you clean up your home, doing the laundry and fixing up his backup suits that got ruined on missions. And you found comfort in doing such, as they all smelled like him, no matter how much you washed them.

•And he liked it that way, he stopped asking Lyla for remakes of his suit when he found out your cute hands fixed his suits perfectly. He always kissed you deeply and called you ‘his good girl’ once he had it on and it was good to go. Your hands also got sweet kisses as he praised you for your work.

•The city was messy and dark all the time, even while saving the world it had its dark places that were messy and particularly smelly, burning Miguel’s nose sometimes. But when he came home, he was met with the aroma of your sweet scent, it smelled like home and it was his favorite. And one of the best things, it was clean and orderly.

•Miguel loved seeing things in order and perfectly clean, and he had asked you if you had a maid to get all done perfectly- to which you said no. And he found out it was true (not that he didn’t believe you) when one night he came home earlier than usual, and you were up dusting all the little trinkets on the shelf ever so delicately and efficiently.

•His favorite thing to do was come up to you quietly, wherever you were cleaning, and sweep you up in his arms, chuckling to himself when he heard your squeals as he held you up kissing your neck. Praising you for your time to keep things nice, but scolding you for not being in bed resting well and keeping the bed warm for him. Or if it was during the day he’d ask why you’re not reading or enjoying the afternoon.

•Oh and when you cook? OH- that makes Miguel the happiest (besides you and everything that involves only ‘you’) He’s always starving after a long mission or day at Alchemax. So when he comes home smelling your homemade meals, he’s falling in love all over again. His heart growing twice it’s size at the sight of you singing lowly and stirring the pot... or kneading the dough for the empanadas.

•He tried telling you a few times that it was ok for take out once in a while, not wanting you to cool all the time, worried that you might think he only wants that from you if not. But you were always happy to make something new or his favorite, it made you proud when Miguel wore a smile while he ate, complementing,

“...mi amor, esto es delicioso.” (My love, this is delicious)

•You always let him know how proud of him you were. In actions or soft words, and he’d beam proudly and smile sheepishly. A tight hug and good kiss made it onto his lips everytime you caught him coming in through the door or fire escape. You wouldn’t let a word escape until you both were out of breath from crashing lips, you was always the first to break to say how much you missed him- but he’d chase your lips like a mad man. Whining,

“Dejame besarte!” (Let me kiss you!)

NSFW!

•He occasionally grew hard at the sight of you doing something that screamed ‘wifey material’. The cleaning, cooking, fixing, even resting on the couch reading a book- just everything about you made him crave you instantly at sight. So he’d take you wherever it was you were, of course if you wanted to- but you’ve yet to say no (I mean who would-)

•Over the couch he’d take you from behind, whispering praises while kissing your neck, after he caught you reading your new book while resting over the armrest. Your little dress was so cute and gave him access to have you right away, pounding into your pussy slowly yet roughly. Letting his love for you sink in deeply. He loved marking your neck and caressing your sides as he did so.

•Since you were quiet and shy most of the time, even around him, he’d do the most open things to make you blush and push your buttons of pleasure to make you moan out loud, as you were shy at first. One day you were painting a picture of you and him, a replica of a photo you two took at the library, but soon- Miguel was digging his face in between your breasts kissing them softly while he fucked you against the incomplete painting, legs wrapped around his waist tightly. And you couldn’t care about the painting- you didn’t like it anyways after you messed it up earlier (after getting distracted by eyeing the picture too closely)

•One of Miguel’s favorite things to do was eat you from behind while you were tip-toeing trying to reach the top shelf to clean it. You hold onto it tightly while you felt his tongue swipe over your pussy and dig into you, making you pull his hair closer to you as he drew your high close right away, not relenting in eating you out like he starved for your taste. He lived for you coming undone on his face. And when he stayed home afterwards he’d kissed you to taste yourself on his lips, or when he had to go to work, he wear his mask over his coated lips with your juices- either way he leave himself full of you.

•And the kitchen was a good place- HIS FAVORITE PLACE TO FUCK YOU RAW. He was excited already to see his gorgeous, sweet and quiet house wife cook his delicious meals. But soon you became a moaning, crying mess, begging for him to fuck you harder as you were laying on the kitchen table, holding onto his shoulders tightly as he fucked you deeply. And you knew he was in to fuck you in the kitchen, when he’d come from behind you and lower the heat on the stove, if not turn it off.

•Let’s just say Miguel found a perfect wife in you, you completed him in every way and made him happy. From keeping his home warm and happy, safe and bright, to his heart held, loved and cherished- and beating wildly while he took you under his spell and ride of pleasure.

•And you? Could never get enough of Miguel, something of him was always on you, around you, and in you.. sometimes he’d leave his cum dripping from your pussy while you finished your things while he was gone. It made you blush crazy to know only he could pull that out of you, but he was your home and made you confident around him.. so why not?

[russellsppttemplates]

Hi love ☺️hope you’re feeling better.

I saw the video of Charles buying a family ferrari and was wondering about a blurb where he surprises reader eith a family ferrari car when she is pregnant.

I totally get if you need time and your mental health comes first, so whenever you are feel like writing🫶🏻

Note: thank you for your understanding! Everyone has been so lovely about it, it really warms my heart 🥹🤍 I am feeling better, yes ✨️

"Merci", you thanked the driver who brought you and Charles to the stand where he was getting the new car from.

"So, before the do the unveiling - remember how you always joke that we needed a new car for when the baby came if I kept wanting to be the cool dad driving a Ferrari", he chuckled, "I have been looking for the right one for us and our growing family and I found the one that would suit us most", he smiled before pulling you close to him and signalling the staff to pull the red veil.

The car was different than any of the ones he had before, but your family was changing, and this was another step for you. It still looked sleek and elegant, but you couldn't help but giggle as you stood next to it, "what's so funny, mon coeur?", he asked.

"I won't have to bend down and feel like it laying down whenever I'm in the car - not on this one when I'm pregnant anyway!", you did a little cheery dance as one of the staff giggled with you.

"I also had them put the ISOFIX locks out already so we won't have to look for those in the future", Charles pointed to the details on the back seats, "do you like it?".

"I do! I'm a little freaked out at a little one ruining these, but they seem fairly easy to wipe", you shrugged as you rubbed your bump.

"I really sold you on the SUV cut, didn't I?", your husband chuckled.

"Honestly? Yes - it's a beautiful car, don't get me wrong, and you know how much I enjoy our road trips, but I can do this", you said as you got into the seat and got out without much help and bending down, "on my own, so I'm more than happy", you giggled, "this is really nice, thank you, Charles", you hugged him before one of the staff proceeded to explain all of the details on the car.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[cy-cyborg]

Disability Tropes: The disabling change of heart

When a character in a story becomes disabled, they'll sometimes experience a trope that I like to call "the disabling change of heart". This is when the character goes through a massive change in their outlook, their personality, their goals or even roll in the story, specifically because they became (or are about to become) physically disabled. Sometimes, this will be in relatively small ways: the happy-go-lucky comedic relief character might become bitter, angry and jaded after getting into an accident that caused a spinal injury, or the severally depressed and nihilistic character might suddenly start acting more cheerful and hopeful, stating that loosing their leg has "put things into perspective and showed them what really matters". In other cases though, the impact is much larger, the heroic character you've been hearing about looses an arm thanks to the main character's actions, causing them to become consumed with anger and self-loathing which they take out on everyone else, eventually becoming an antagonist as they seek revenge for what the main character did to them. The morally grey or even villainous character is injured by their own scheme, giving themselves a permanent disability in the process, which prompts a change of heart and leads them to turn their lives around and become better people, maybe even deciding to team up with the heroes.

Now, having a character go through a personality and goal change due to a major life event, such as becoming physically disabled, isn't inherently bad. A lot of writers are told to tie major shifts in your character's development to major life events, because realistically, something like becoming newly disabled will at least impact how you view the world around you. I very frequently talk about how if I didn't loose my legs, I would have become a vastly different person, but the issues with this trope depends on how it's used and the reasons behind these developments, and whether or not the change suits the character in question.

Before we get into things, I would like to specify that in this post, I'm only going to be talking about how this trope is used with physical disabilities and other easily visible forms of disability. It does show up with characters who develop disabilities under the mentally ill and neurodivergent umbrellas, and is actually a bit more common than what I'm talking about today, but the specific ways its utilised are so different that it's more or less a separate trope, and one that deserves much more attention than I could give it here as this is already going to be a pretty long post. So for today, I'm keeping to it's use with physical and visible disabilities, and we'll talk about how this trope is used with neurodivergence and mental illness another day.

The main thing you need to be mindful of is ensuring that you, as an author, are not including your ingrained biases about disability into the reasoning behind the change. Let's look at one of the examples from before, an evil character who, after loosing their arm (because it's almost always loosing an arm for some reason) becomes a villain and wants revenge against the main character. In a story like this example, the character who became an amputee often views this new disability as something that has ruined their life. It's something that has caused them to suffer, and they want to make the main character (or whoever has "wronged" them) suffer like they did. Stories like this example portray disability as something that is not just horrible, but life-destroying, especially with villains who become all-consumed by the misery this disability has brought them. Many stories that utilise this version of the trope also often perpetuate the idea that if you become disabled, you'll have to give up all the things you love and your goals, even when this wouldn't necessarily be true for the character in question.

Let's say your character was a knight, and the main character cut off their arm in a training accident. obviously you can't be a knight with only one arm because you can't fight anymore, so they left their order. Now this character has become a villain and has found power that "makes up" for their disability, perhaps magic or some other force that doesn't exist in the real world, and are back to get revenge on the character for ruining their lives. Here's the thing though, the loss of a limb, or at least, the loss of an arm specifically, often isn't the career ender people think it is, even back then. In fact, there are many historical records of real amputees continuing to serve as knights and other similar military roles after loosing an arm or at the very least, continuing to fight in other ways. One such example was Götz of the Iron Hand, a mercenary knight who lost his arm to a cannon. Götz had fought as part of the Roman empire's military in 1498, but shortly after left to form his own mercenary company. He lost his hand in 1504 and continued his career as a mercenary with the help of an iron prosthetic capable of holding his sword and the reigns of his horse, among many other things such as writing, for another 40 years. Götz wasn't unique in this though, several suits of armour from the same time period have been found with integrated prosthetic hands, though the names of their owners are unknown. There was also Oruç Reis (aka Aruj Barbarossa), A privateer admiral who served the Ottoman Empire in and around the Mediterranean who lost his left hand - earning him one of many nicknames: Silver-Hand, thanks to the colour of his prosthetic. Oruç, like Götz, continued his career for several more years until he was eventually killed in 1518.

My point in bringing this up, is to highlight how important it is to double check that the reason your character's whole motivation for turning to villainy, isn't just based on your ideas about what a disabled person can or can not do. Actually double check it, research it, especially if it's important for your plot.

Even in the cases where the disability in question actually would stop someone from being able to do something, the incorrect assumptions can still occur and cause issues in different ways. For example, a character in a more modern setting who looses their arm due to an accident the main character was responsible for while serving in the military would be discharged, ruining the character's plan to become a general some day. This absolutely would be devastating for a character like that, and they realistically could struggle to adjust, both in terms of getting used to their disability and finding new goals for their life. They may well feel anger at the main character, however, if you are portraying just living with a disability, in the case of this example, living with an amputation as inherently "suffering" for no other reason than they are disabled, it is still perpetuating those really negative ideas about disability. I've said this a few times in other posts, but villains who are evil or even just antagonists purely because they're disabled or are trying to avoid becoming disabled is a trope all its own and one that is best avoided if you yourself aren't disabled, as even outside of spreading these negative ideas about life with a disability, it's just an overdone and overused trope.

But what about when this trope goes in the other direction? when you have an antagonistic or even just morally grey character who becomes disabled and this is the catalyst that turns them into a good guy?

For the longest time, I knew I usually disliked this version of the trope too, but I couldn't put my finger on why. With disability being the reason someone became a villain, the underlying reason it's there is often able to be boiled down to "I, the writer, think being disabled would be terrible and life like that is inherently suffering, so this character is angry about it," which is obviously an issue (the "inherently suffering" bit, not the anger). However, when a character becomes good due to becoming disabled, the reasoning is usually more along the lines of, "this is a big change in a character's life that has caused them to reconsider and revaluate things" (or at least, that's what I thought). This isn't bad, nor is it necessarily unrealistic. Hell, as I already said, I do consider my disability to be a catalyst that made me into who I am today. I also know plenty of people who, after becoming disabled later in life, did have a big change in how they viewed themselves and the world, and who consider themselves better people since becoming disabled. It's far, far from a universal experience, mind you, but it does happen. So why did this version of the trope still not sit right with me?

Well, I think there's a few reasons for it. The first being that there's a tendency for non-disabled people to think real disabled people are just incapable of evil deeds, both in the sense that they aren't physically capable of doing them (which is bad and not even always true for the reasons we already discussed), but also in the sense that there's this idea that disabled people are, for some reason, inherently more "good" and "innocent" - As if breaking your back or loosing a limb causes all evil and impure thoughts to be purged from the body. This is a result of many folks viewing disabled people as child-like, and thus attributing child-like traits (such as innocence) to them, even subconsciously. This is an incredibly common issue and something disability rights organisations are constantly pushing back against, as this mentality can cause a lot of unnecessary barriers for us. With how often I and many other disabled people are subjected to infantilization, I would be honestly shocked if it wasn't at least partially responsible for people thinking becoming disabled is a good reason to kick off a redemption arc.

This infantilization isn't unique to physically disabled people by the way, in fact it's way, way, more commonly directed at people with intellectual and developmental disabilities - or at least, people are more open about it, but as I already mentioned, how that is reflected in tropes like The Disabling Change of Heart is vastly different and deserves a post of it's own.

That's mostly just speculation on my part though, since that infantilising mindset does show up a lot in media, but not usually as part of this trope specifically.

However, it's not the only reason I wasn't a fan of it. When the disabling change of heart is used to fuel redemption arcs, I think, once again, that the disability itself being credited with causing the change directly is another factor. When this happens, it's usually because "it put things into perspective for me and showed me what really mattered."

This sounds better than our previous example on the surface, but stories that use this logic are often still portraying disability as an inherently bad and tragic thing, something so bad, in fact, that it makes all the other (legitimate) issues they thought were massive before seem so small by comparison. This is a type of inspiration porn: content made to make non-disabled people feel inspired or just better about their own situation. It's the mentality of "well my life is bad, but it could be worse, at least I'm not disabled like that!"

In a fictional story, this might look like an athlete character who dreamed of making it big so they could be famous and get out of poverty. They were a dick to anyone who got in their way but only because they were worried about not being able to make rent if they don't constantly win. One day though, they overworked themselves and got into a car accident on the way home because they were too tired, and now they're in a wheelchair and can no longer walk, which is (supposedly) absolutely tragic and way worse than anything else they were already going through. But they end up becoming a better person because it has put things into perspective for them. Yeah they were struggling to make ends meet, but at least they weren't disabled! Now that they are, they know they shouldn't have cared so much, because money doesn't matter when compared to not being able to walk, right?

As well as portraying disability in a negative light, these kinds of stories dismiss and diminish the other struggles or challenges the character is experiencing, placing the status of "not disabled" above all else.

There's also the fact that, when a lot of real people say their disabilities had positive impacts on their lives, they don't usually mean the disability itself is directly responsible for the change. There's exceptions of course but for myself personally, and most of the people I know who say they are better people because of/since becoming disabled, the disability has been more of a neutral catalyst than the actual cause of positive change. Meaning, it opened the door to allow those changes to happen, but it wasn't the direct cause. For me personally, becoming physically disabled at a young age didn't make me a nice person like people expect, I was still a little judgemental asshole for a lot of my childhood. However, because I was disabled, I had to travel a lot, initially because I needed medical treatment that my local hospital wasn't equip to provide, and later, because I started competing in disability sports. because of both of those things, I met people I never would have otherwise who made me reconsider what I'd been taught on a wide range of subjects, and made me question where those beliefs had come from in the first place. When I say my disability played a part in who I became, it wasn't because my disability itself change me, but it helped me meet people who were positive influences on me and my life. but when creatives make characters who experience arcs like this, they ignore this, again, defaulting to the "this was a bad thing that just put all my other problems into perspective" reasoning.

Some iterations of this trope also use disability as a kind of "karmic punishment" where the disability is portrayed as a rightfully deserved punishment for an evil character's deeds - usually something relating to the disability they acquired but not always. An example might look like an evil tyrant who punishes the rebels they captured by cutting off their hands. Eventually, this catches up with him, maybe the friend or a child of one of the rebels is able to capture the tyrant and cuts his hands off as payback so that he gets a taste of his own medicine, a taste of the suffering he imposed on others. Now facing at least one of the same realities of the people he subjugated, he realises the error of his ways. With some pressure from the main characters, he has a change of heart and surrenders himself, steps down to let someone else take his place, or perhaps he decides to start changing policies to be more in-line with these new morals until some other character usurps him, becoming an even bigger threat than the previous former tyrant.

Once again, stories that use a disability like this are still portraying the disability as an overall inherently bad thing, but there's the added layer at play in this example. The thing is, there are a lot of people in real-life who actually believe disability is a punishment from God. I remember one time when I was over in the US, an older lady came and sat down on the seat beside me on the bus and started asking me about my disability and specifically, how I became disabled. This isn't an unusual interaction, it happens fairly regularly whenever I use public transport, but on this particular day, the conversation suddenly shifted when I told her I became disabled when I was very young. This woman, despite the bus-driver's best efforts to get her to stop, ended up lecturing me for an hour and a half (during which time I couldn't move due to how my wheelchair was held in place) about how my disability was punishment from God for my parent's sins. She then tried to convince me to attend her church, claiming they would be able to heal me. And the thing is, this isn't an uncommon experience.

A lot of disabled people are targeted by cults using this same method: they'll convince people their disabilities are a punishment, make them believe they deserved it, that they just weren't good enough, but don't worry, if you repent and come to our specific church we can heal you. There was even a case in Australia recently that uncovered a cult called Universal Medicine, who taught that disabled people were reincarnations of evil people, and that being disabled in this life was their punishment, as well as that parents who have disabled children were being punished for other sinful behaviours. They were found to be operating a disability care service named Fabic that was being paid for by the NDIS, a subsection of the Australian government funded healthcare system that specifically aids disabled Australians by paying for and subsidising treatments, technologies (such as mobility aids) and other services relating to their disability. Fabic was found to be stealing excessive amounts of funding from their disabled clients under the guise of therapies and carer services, but was not actually helping their clients at all. Whether it's just taking advantage of them to get their money, or actually using this logic as a justification to mistreat them, this mentality of "disability is a punishment" actually gets real disabled people hurt or worse, and so seeing it come up in media, even if there is no ill-intent, can be very distressing and uncomfortable for disabled audiences.

So with all this being said, is the disabling change of heart a trope you should avoid in all it's forms and versions? No, but it does need to be handled with extreme care. I do think it should be avoided as a reason for a character becoming evil for the most part. If that really can't be avoided in your story though, at the very least, ensure that you foreshadow the change. Your happy little ray of sunshine, embodiment of sweetness and innocence type character probably isn't going to turn murderous and want revenge for an accident for example. A character who is likely to be driven to that kind of extreme of wanting revenge for their disability, so much so that they become a villain, probably already had at least a few traits that would predispose them to that line of thinking already, before becoming disabled. As for when it goes in the other direction, and you have a character becoming a good guy, avoid using the reasoning that "the disability put things into perspective for me". Instead, if you must use this version of the trope, use the character's new disability as the reason they encountered other people and situations that challenged their views, things they wouldn't have encountered otherwise. No matter the reason though, be very careful to avoid inspiration porn, and as always, try to find a sensitivity reader to give your story a once-over, just to make sure something didn't slip under your radar.

[Thumbnail ID: An illustrated image showing the same elf character twice. The picture of her on the left shows her laughing evilly, two tiny horns protruding through her brown hair. She is wearing a black dress and red shoes. On the right shows her in a yellow dress, sitting in a bright pink wheelchair with her head held eye and her eyes closed. The horns have been replaced with a glowing halo. In the centre is text that reads: "Disability Tropes: The disabling change of heart." /End ID]

[loliwrites]

The One You Need | four

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin’ love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need🎶

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader  rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni  summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, unannounced visitors, actual daddy issues, would-be suitor being forceful, perceived b&e, handgun [not used], SMUT, slight resistance kink, mild choking, fingering, oral [f receiving], slight degradation [one usage of whore] unprotected p in v sex, praise kink, aftercare, terms of endearment [sweetheart], THEY SHARE A BED, female reader, no physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 8.0k joel miller masterlist | part three a/n: we're doing the thing, y'all!

This was new for Joel. When you’d dodged him for nearly a month after he’d put your bed together, he just figured that was the action of a new neighbor from the west coast. He never figured you’d waltz your way back in with your faulty refrigerator. But this wasn’t that. This was post-sex when you all but fled his home. And for having told him one night stands weren’t your style, he thought you were doing a mighty fine job of making them your style. 

It had been three days since that night and he hadn’t heard a peep. Not a check in, drive by, or walk through. It was as if your presence in the neighborhood had been a figment of his imagination. The only reason he knew it was real was because he was missing one of his shirts – the one you’d left in. And for three days hadn’t even done as much as slingshot it back to him or send by way of carrier pigeon. The amount of times in the past three days he thought he’d walk over and ask for, or demand, an explanation surpassed the amount of digits on his hands. But every time he talked himself out of it, telling himself all you needed was time.

But time only brought you one thing. A boy. In some automatic, foreign car. He rolled up the night of that third day and stepped out in a well-pressed black suit. Joel wasn’t spying, no… he just happened to mosey out to the porch and saw it all happening. He even witnessed you leave your house in a long red dress. Saw you descend the porch with this new boy, how he opened up the passenger door for you, and how you ducked into it. As that foreign car drove away, Joel turned and punched the post by his porch steps. The post was left unaffected. Joel’s hand, however, throbbed for the next three hours.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Staying out of Joel’s space had been intentional but the date had not been. This guy; he was a friend of a friend of a third cousin and he popped up out of nowhere. You hadn’t even really wanted to go out at all, let alone on some random date. But when you were shown a picture of the guy, he was… cute. He looked like the type of guy you normally let ruin your life, so ultimately you agreed. You hoped and prayed that Joel didn’t see you leave with this guy. And you spent the rest of the evening hoping and praying Joel would forgive you if he had. This wasn’t how you wanted it to go. The plan wasn’t to bed your neighbor and then leave him on the curb like trash. The plan wasn’t even to sleep with him, but given that you had, the rules to the game had changed so quickly. 

And Chad… Brad… whatever the hell his name was, he was just… what you expected he’d be. He was attractive and he knew it, but he had nothing on Joel and he had no idea. He had blonde hair cut into a neat and tidy style but it had no story. Joel’s unkempt graying curls told you of his age and the unwillingness to burden his life with things as menial as primping himself. This guy had bright blue eyes, but they didn’t leave you searching their depths for the meaning of life like Joel’s had. Clean-shaven, baby-faced, uncalloused hands… There were any number of things that he was that Joel wasn’t, and staying present in the moment with him proved to be a challenge when you hadn’t even processed everything about Joel yet.

When the date finally ended, and you were escorted home, you peeked over at Joel’s house, wondering if you’d see him out on his porch, strumming his guitar. You hoped not. Please, on everything that is holy, don’t let him be out there. And when you couldn’t quite tell if he was or not, you decided to count your lucky stars and work with the assumption that benefited you most.

Chad… Brad… walked you up to your door and stood eerily close to you while your back was to him, unlocking it. Heat radiated off of him, and unlike the heat that came from Joel, you didn’t quite like how this one felt against you. Door unlocked but foregoing opening it just yet, you pivoted in a tight circle so as to not brush up against him as you faced him.

“I had a good time tonight, thank you,” you murmured, staring at his face to get a read on if he was going to lean in for a kiss you were going to have to dodge.

“Y’know, I didn’t get to see your place when I first got here,” he said as if that were a totally normal thing for him to have done. “Maybe you can give me a tour,” he reached around you and went for the handle.

You pushed against his arm with your hip before he could get his thumb on the latch, “maybe another time.”

“You’re gonna cut the night short?” he smirked and closed the practically imperceptible gap that was between you anyway.

Trying to back up, but running out of room as your back hit the door, “yeah, I’ve got an early morning.”

“What I want won’t take very long,” he leaned his hips forward, pressing them up against yours where it was oh so very clear he was sporting a semi. “C’mon, I bought you a fancy dinner, the least you could do is put out,” he still reached around you and pressed on the latch, nudging open your front door.

“Hey bud,”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Panic. Or was it relief? And managed to escape from Brad’s (or was it Chad?) hips, tugging your door shut again as you side-stepped away. He turned around and found Joel, climbing the porch steps coolly.

“I think you should leave,” Joel said, resting his hands on his hips. He even smiled at his suggestion.

“Who are you?” Your date asked and looked back in your direction as if he’d be able to grab you again, but you’d already moved to the side.

Joel flicked his eyes at you as if inspecting to see if any hurt had been done, then looked back at the would-be suitor. “Doesn’t matter, I think it’s time you got outta here,”

“Dude, she was just inviting me in,”

“Dude, no she wasn’t. I don’t wanna have to call the cops, just get goin’,”

Your date chuckled incredulously. He turned to you with what looked like mild fury in his eyes, “your pussy’s not worth all this.”

You nodded in agreement, “it definitely is not.”

Joel waited until he was gone – watched him all the way to his car, and until it took off down the street, before he looked back at you. You’d already made it back to your front door and were backing into it, leaning against the frame.

“Thanks,”

He nodded once and turned. Then over his shoulder, “your pussy is worth it.”

You laughed and shook your head, “thanks!” 

Back, safe and sound in your house, you locked the front door right away and carried on through the rooms, first into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, then back toward your bedroom. There was a brief thought about how Joel must’ve been outside when you’d arrived back home, and now there were new lucky stars to thank. But that thought was pushed aside when you glanced into the den as you passed it and it made your heart stop. It was the only room left to be unpacked. You’d eventually use it as an office, but right now it was just a handful of cardboard boxes and pictures that hadn’t been hung yet. But the mess wasn’t what gave you pause. It was that it was the room with your back door, and that door was currently wide open.

You ran back through the house, set your glass of water on something, and bolted back through the front door. “Joel! Joel!”

He was gathering his things from the porch, getting ready to go inside when he’d heard your panicked calls and immediately ran off his porch and toward you, meeting in the middle of the street.

“There’s– my door– open–” you took a deep breath just to fill your lungs with substantial air. “I think someone broke in,”

In the same instant, Joel reached behind his back and pulled a handgun out of his waistband. He side-stepped you and went toward your house, knowing you’d be right behind him.

“You had that on you the whole time?!” He didn’t answer. Just kept laser focus on your house. “Were you gonna shoot him?”

“Maybe,”

“Joel!”

Finally, he turned toward you, and even in the darkness you could tell the glare he shot you was something icy. “‘M’gonna need you to be real quiet when we go through your house, okay?” He waited for you to nod, obediently. “Stay right behind me. Hand in my pocket or finger in my belt loop, got it?”

You nodded again, and when he turned around you tucked your fingertips into the back pocket of his jeans. Even as he began to walk and approach your home, you stuck close, feet falling in rhythm with his to practically meld yourself to his body. He held the handgun poised in front of him in both hands, only lowering one to push your door open. With a clear line of vision inside, he paused and listened before carrying on inside. All of his movements, searching and clearing each room, were deliberate and methodical. He took his time. Reaching around your back to hold you close to him when he needed to turn or pivot, making sure you remained fully behind him at all times. 

Without searching every room, he made his way back to your bedroom. No one was standing there, or hiding under the bed, and with the closet being the only other place to hide in the room, it was one of the easier one’s to search. The closet, he soon came to learn, wasn’t a viable hiding place as it was still only partially unpacked, stacks of luggage and boxes obscuring the floor. He shut your bedroom door and lifted your hand out of his pocket.

“I’m gonna search the rest of the house. Stay here and lock the door,”

“Joel, what if–”

He held up his hand and shook his head, “don’t worry about it. Lock the door. Don’t open it until I get back.”

That was it before he went back out. You ran up and locked it behind him, then quickly backed away, to your bed, nervous as all hell, and fighting every urge your body had to break out in a sob. It seemed to take forever. His absence made the worry inside you grow. If only he’d just come back. You’d say or do whatever he wanted to make things better again. To not have him shooting daggers your way. To just live as harmoniously as you needed to, to not make the neighborhood unbearable. You’d become a hermit and never see another man in all your life if that’s what it took. Not that that didn’t seem like a great option at this point.

Three gentle knocks on your door, “it’s me. You can open up,”

You ran to it and turned the knob, the lock clicked back on itself, and you came face to face with Joel once again, finding him completely unharmed. He tucked the handgun back into his waistband, “we had some strong winds earlier. Might’ve blown the back door open. Did you have it locked?”

Thinking back, you couldn’t be sure. You’d been in and out of it so frequently, throwing things in the trash that the likelihood of it having been left unsecure was relatively high. Shrugging, you looked up at him with timid eyes, hoping to find a little bit of comfort there. But they were still cold, thwarting off any advance you might be making for warmth.

“Well, the latch is busted now so you’ll have to get someone in here to fix it,”

“You can’t fix it?”

He tilted his head to the side. After what you’d put him through in the last few days, he was surprised you even asked that at all. You were the one who apparently didn’t want him around. That is, until you needed him for something. “You ignore me for three days after we sleep together and are only talking to me because you need me to do you a favor,”

“Joel,”

“I’m not some fuckin’ toy you get to play with whenever it’s convenient for you,”

“You scare me!”

“Why?!”

The argument had gotten loud and you hadn’t wanted it to. That was too much like home. You just wanted peace and quiet. But even if your surroundings could be, your brain never was. And it hadn’t been for the last three days. It had been loud and persistent. “Because what if this keeps going?! Whatever this is, it keeps going. We keep fucking. And you keep fixing things. And suddenly we’re staying the night at each other’s places sporadically. And then I’m meeting your daughter. And your brother. And you’re learning about all my fucked up stuff. And we keep doing this thing for however long. And then we give it a label. And we’re a couple. And it just keeps going.”

Having grown baffled at the road your brain had traveled down, Joel furrowed his eyebrows and studied you. He folded his arms over his chest, and only when you’d stopped talking did he offer any response, “so?”

All that and a one word answer? You could’ve slapped him silly. “What if we never break up?”

He laughed and rolled his eyes, “sweetheart, I don’t think that’d be an issue. You seem difficult,”

You shoved your hands against his chest as he continued to laugh. “I mean it! And then I’m like… dependent,” you nearly gagged at the word, “on you like some sad, servant housewife that’s just waiting in her window for her husband to get home so she can fix his meals and wash his clothes.”

He let out a breath that almost sounded like another laugh, “you’re fuckin’ insane, you know that?” Swinging at his chest again, he caught your wrists this time and held them against him tightly. “First of all, a wife’s not a servant. Second, I wouldn’t want you to cook for me anyways. Campbell’s soup in a can for the past week! And lastly, if we never broke up – which I assure you we would because you’re nutty – then you’d be the person I get to come home to and fall into your arms, and relax with! And I’d take the trash out to the bins, and pick the flowers in the yard for you, and pull your fuckin’ hair out of the shower drain when it clogs. And yeah, you might do my laundry every now and again, but we’d do it because we’d love each other. Your shit would be my shit, and there’s nothin’ I wouldn’t do for you.”

You stood, mouth agape, not blinking, staring up at Joel. He let go of your wrists and all but pushed them away, but you were back on him in a second. Hands replaced on his chest, this time with the utmost care, fingers curling into the fabric of his cotton t-shirt.

“I’m not trying to take your independence away. Not tryin’ to trap you. Hell, we don’t have to call this anything, just don’t ignore me.” He only stared, as if allowing himself to live in the feeling of your hands on him, pressing down on his chest but really into his soul. “If you want a man and not a boy, you got one, but it requires you to be a woman and not some scared, little girl.”

“I can be,” you assured, eyes dropping down to where your hands lay on his chest. Then once looking back into his eyes, your hands drifted further south, blazing a trail over the fabric of his shirt until you felt the rough denim of his jeans.

“Y’know,” he smirked almost devilishly, as if daring you to continue on, “you’re just a dog with a loud bark, but you got no bite.”

“Did you just call me a dog?” You grinned back, playfully squinting your eyes.

“No bite at all. You just fold and turn over on your back like a pup,”

“I got bite,”

Joel’s eyebrow quirked but his eyes didn’t waver from yours. Not even when you lowered a hand to his crotch and gave it a squeeze. He gave you no reaction, just tilted his head to the side as if he was waiting for you to amuse him.

And it got your mind spinning. What did bite look like? What did he think that meant? That you’d get on your knees and give him the sloppiest head this side of the Mississippi? Because to you, bite looked like everything you’d ever been to him. It looked like stubbornness or as he liked to call it brattiness. Last time, he’d fucked it out of you. A tried and true method. But if he wanted ‘bite’, he’d get it. Your way, on your terms.

So you swiftly undid his jeans, making quick work of the button and zipper as if they were only the slightest of inconveniences, and slipped your hand into his pants, giving him another generous and firm squeeze. By the looks of it, he was the one that nearly folded. But something else kept him preoccupied. It was then you remembered the handgun he’d tucked so haphazardly in his jeans. He reached around his back for it as you’d created a less secure space for it. And though it gave you pause as he pulled it out and glanced down at it to ensure the safety was on, it didn’t deter you completely from continuing. You removed your hand from his pants and pushed against his chest, sending you both in opposite directions. With the growing distance as you rounded to the side of your bed and a premature feeling that you’d somehow won, a smile passed over your lips. It was there and gone in a matter of milliseconds. No sooner than you’d felt it stretch across your face, Joel had closed the gap between you, lifted his free hand to your throat and with a firm hold on it, pushed you backwards. It wasn’t until you’d run out of real estate, pressed up against your closet door, that he stood over you with an almost playful glare like a cat who’d caught a mouse to toy with. He bent over and set the handgun down on the bedside table, then returned his complete focus to you. Fingers applied the softest of extra pressure to the sides of your neck and catching your gentle nod, he pressed them into a tighter squeeze.

Annoyance emanated from you – for you – that you liked it so much. That you enjoyed him having control over you, and effectively taking yours away. You hated that you wanted to give him control, when in every other aspect of life, you clung to it like a life raft in the ocean. Maybe thinking that that was all you had, there was no other fight or bite left, Joel’s fingers loosened from around your neck. And as though you hadn’t quite learned the lesson yet, thought you’d gained back some of the control, grunted and pushed on his chest again with all your might. It only sent him backward one step, and he retaliated with a searing grip on your wrist with one hand, and the return of his other hand to your neck for a cautious squeeze as his hips lowered to yours, effectively pinning you motionless.

“That was cute,”

You wriggled beneath him, trying to break free, but quickly found it pointless. His weight kept you where he wanted you and his hand on your neck was the decision-maker now. You let out a sigh of surrender, body fully collapsing and giving up beneath him.

Joel felt the fight leave your body and released your neck and wrist at the same time. With his hips still buried into yours, and now absently rubbing against you, he ducked his head to the side and planted a series of soft kisses to your neck where his fingers had just been.

“You just wanna be a good girl, don’tcha?” He could feel your pulse quicken against his lips on your neck. The only response he got came in the form of a needy whine and he set his hands on the closet door at either side of your head. “You don’t want to have to bite, huh?” He was almost goading you now, grinding his growing length against your waist. “Just looking for a bigger, badder dog to lead the way for you,”

You weren’t sure why, because except for in a sexual sense, it wasn’t necessarily true, but you nodded anyway. He could have control here. You liked not having it here if it meant you got to retain it in other aspects of life. At your acceptance, he laid a kiss on you. As good of a kiss as he’d ever given you; made sweeter by that fact that you’d made sure you’d gone without it for the last few days. Just as a headrush began, he pulled away, and it had you leaning forward as much as you could to try and get his lips back.

“I want you to get undressed and lay down on your back for me.” He thought you’d get going, but he was confronted with a pout instead. Smacking the side of your hip, “get going or I’ll put those lips to better use,”

“Is that a threat?” You smirked, reaching behind your back for the zipper on your dress.

“‘S’a promise,”

You couldn’t even really relish and appreciate his promise as at this point you remembered the trial in gymnastics it took to zip up your dress in the first place. It started far too low on your back and ended far too high to be accessible for a single human to do on their own, and at one point, you’d seriously considered just letting your date into your house without dinner just so you could stay naked and save the trouble. In hindsight – small blessings that you’d managed to get it zipped up.

“Help,” you murmured to Joel and spun around in the same moment, pressing your ass back against his crotch. Setting your hands on the closet door for more leverage to rut against him, you pressed harder, feeling the form of his growing length against your backside.

Joel didn’t waste too much time in helping you, opting to tug the zipper down in one quick fell swoop instead of taking his time with it. But as soon as your back was exposed to him, he snaked his arms around your torso and pressed one large, strong palm over your belly while the other found your clit. He cupped your sex and gently bit down on the back of your shoulder. Then as if he remembered what he’d previously been doing, he removed his hands from you and tapped your ass.

“G’on, lay down,”

You obeyed him and delicately let your dress fall from your shoulders and to the floor. He was pleased to see you already without a bra, and by the time you turned and laid back on your bed, Joel was at the latter part of pulling his t-shirt over his head and throwing it to the floor with your dress. He descended upon you as you’d moved up to rest your head on the pillows. But that wasn’t in his plans yet. He grabbed you by the ankle and pulled you down along the duvet until your legs hung over the end of the bed.

“Joel,” you gasped, finding yourself immediately repositioned. He hadn’t even bothered with a kiss to your lips or a check in, but opted for migrating straight to your breasts. 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he kneaded your soft flesh in his hands and knelt to the floor at the end of your bed.

You heard his knees click on the way down, and truly wanted to say something about it this time – maybe that it was time for a couple knee replacements – but found yourself cut off again when he gripped onto the thin line of your g-string and began to pull it away from your center. “Joel, wait…”

And to his credit, being face to face with your wet slit and already sporting a hard on, his fingers stilled immediately. Quit their pursuit of ridding you from the underwear that was barely there anyway, and opted for bending in to kiss the inside of your thigh.

“I don’t think…” your voice trailed off as he sucked on your inner thigh, surely leaving a mark. Then steadfastly, kissed the skin again.

“I like you like this,” he murmured against your thigh before moving an inch higher and kissing that fresh skin. “Soft,”

A whimper died in your throat, only barely emitting soundwaves into the space between you. But your gaze remained locked on him for any sudden movements.

“I got you, you know that, right?” He kissed your opposite thigh when you nodded. “You can be soft, and small; I got you,” he smiled when you nodded again. “Can I take this off?” his fingers toyed with your g-string again, “can I taste you? And give you a couple brain-melting orgasms,”

“Where’s that horn,” you giggled and looked around the room as if searching for it, finding it bought you some time and distance from having to look directly in his soul-piercing eyes. But he grazed his teeth against your inner thigh again like a horse chomping at the bit, and that got you locked on him again. “You can try. A little bit,”

His hands got back to immediate work and carefully slid the miniscule fabric past the curve of your ass, down from your core, trying not to get lost in the way a bit of your arousal connected you to the fabric for a second longer until he pulled it further away, down your thighs, past your calves, and finally, off completely. He lifted your legs, set them atop his shoulders, positioning himself right in the center of where he yearned to be, and kissed your inner thigh again, this time higher than he’d previously been. His hands found their way to your hips, fingers digging into the flesh as he worked you into a more comfortable state before lips would meet your slit.

Nerves bubbling up to the surface, realizing you’d have a helluva time trying to dissociate from this, you reached down and clawed at the back of one of his hands. He flicked his eyes up to you in time to adjust, releasing your hip and allowing you to take his hand in yours. He moaned against your skin as he moved higher, now to where your leg and hip met, and laced his fingers with yours. You squeezed his hand and he took it as approval for the next step. Of laying a wet kiss on your clit. Thighs briefly squeezed closer to his head, releasing just in time as he licked a broad stripe from your entrance up to your clit. 

A high-pitched groan fell past your lips and he shook his head against you when his mouth made contact with your clit again. He hummed too, sounding beyond elated with his current position. A noise you hadn’t ever quite heard with such enthusiasm. As if everyone in the past had been doing it cursorily instead of out of sheer desire.

Joel flicked his tongue over your clit repeatedly, then lowered his mouth to your entrance and rimmed the tight opening. The feeling of you squirming beneath him was all he needed by way of encouragement. He guided your hand up to his head, not completely satisfied until you released his hand and grabbed hold of his hair. Only then did he move his hand up over your belly and pressing his palm flat against it to hold you still, while his other hand moved from your hip and hooked around your thigh.

“J-Joel… please,” you breathed out, lifting your head to look down at him. But his eyes were closed, getting lost in his ministrations that were unending. You let your head drop back to the bed, “oh my god, please.”

In the past, there had been a worry about the amount of time it took, or how long a boy would be willing to go to get you there. Now, you weren’t quite sure what time was. Or how much had passed. Maybe it had been only a few minutes, maybe it had been fifteen. But your eyes snapped open and made contact with your bedroom ceiling because Joel pressed his middle and ring fingers against your soaked entrance. “Joel,” you whimpered again.

For the first time since he’d begun, he pulled his mouth off you, though his eyes remained on his fingers for the time being, “I got you, girl. Bein’ such a good girl for me,” as he knew it would, your body reacted to his praise. Relaxed. And he slowly urged his fingers inside you, gaze now flicking upward to watch your expression. Jaw slack and eyes rolling back until they shut, he evenly pulled his fingers in and out of you. “Look at you, sweetheart. Like my fingers inside you?”

You nodded emphatically, choking out a sound with a throat that had run dry.

“This pussy’s so good,” he leaned back in and licked your entrance where it met his fingers and continued up to your clit, “tastes so fuckin’ good.”

Thighs closed around his head, muscles twitching and spasming on their own volition. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop,”

He smiled against you, softly sucking your clit into his mouth and rolling his tongue flat against it. The mewls it drew from your lips sounded like the sweetest song he’d ever heard. You didn’t need to tell him not to stop. He’d keep doing whatever it was that got that sound to come out of you. 

Joel moaned against you and it sent a vibration up through you that was the last thing you really needed to get you to your first orgasm of the night. It had been on a nonstop incline since he’d started, and the release was just there at the edge. You were sure Joel could tell. His fingers moved more hastily, his mouth and tongue not ceasing for even a second. But then – your brain entered the picture. Took center stage. Reminded you that some man was in between your legs, his mouth performing pure magic… and though your orgasm still neared, your brain fought for distance. 

Your hand had been nestled snugly in his hair, holding him against you, begging him to stay put. But now you were using it to push back on his head. Your release was there, centimeters away, and you desperately pressed against his head, trying to pry him off of you. “Joel, no, please. Stop,”

He pulled his mouth away, though his fingers remained pumping inside of you, and with a growl, he leaned forward and moved his free hand up to your neck, getting a soft grip on either side of it. “Come on, right here,” he curled his fingers inside you, “come all over my fingers.” 

But you only whined and writhed beneath him, now frustrated that you’d pushed away his mouth – the very thing that had been getting you to your climax.

“Got you moanin’ like a whore with my mouth… Push me away…” He shook his hand with his fingers deep inside you, rocking the entire lower half of your body, “c’mon, give it to me.”

The hold he had on your neck tightened and without his mouth, that had been your undoing. You came with a scream, back arching off the bed, chest spasming. Joel removed his fingers from you before you’d ridden out the entirety of your climax, and slapped his hand down on your clit at the tail end of it. You whined a little louder when that sent rippling shock waves through your body. Chest heaving, your sex, already red and swollen, Joel still got up from his knees and leaned over your body for a kiss. You could still taste a hint of yourself on his tongue and it made you want to ravage him more.

“Want you to fuck me,” you begged against his lips, pushing his underwear down past his waist. At some point while he was on his knees, he’d pushed his jeans down and had been able to step out of them when he stood back up. However it happened, you didn’t care, as long as it got him inside of you sooner.

Joel smiled against your lips and tapped your hip as he stood back up and rid himself of his underwear. “Turn over,” he ordered as he stroked himself, smearing the precum that leaked from his tip down along the length of his shaft.

Instantaneous obedience rushed over you and you clumsily turned over to your stomach and got up on your hands and knees. Joel’s hand returned to your skin soon thereafter. Fingers splayed over your ass cheek, digging into the supple flesh. It was the gentlest of the actions you’d feel over the next few minutes. Just enough time to relish in the expanse of his hand before he was using his other hand to guide his length to you, sliding his member over your wetness and then finally pushing himself inside of you.

The air evacuated your lungs with the feeling of him sinking into you. Relentlessly. Until he’d worked himself balls deep, nestled tight in your core. A throbbing overtook the lower half of your body and you allowed yourself to collapse, chest and head now resting on the bed while your backside remained up for Joel to use. And that he did. The thrusts you remembered from the first time together had felt deep, and were, no doubt. But they paled in comparison to the feeling of this, of his length actually splitting you in half, like an axe to a piece of wood. You released a long, lingering cry that changed into a breathy moan when his thrusts picked up, nothing but the sounds of your shared labored breaths and skin slapping together. 

“Shit,” Joel groaned, gripping onto your hips with a bone-crushing hold. His hips faltered for just a second. 

If you hadn’t been paying such rapt attention to the feeling of each inch inside you, you likely wouldn’t have noticed the stutter of his movement for the slightest of seconds. But it was impossible to ignore how he felt inside you. A fullness you sure was indescribable – at least indescribable by any sense that would do it justice. And a heaviness that was all-encompassing. It seemed to seep into every cell, weighing you down in the most delicious of ways. On shaky arms that seemed unlikely to be able to bear any weight, you pressed up from the bed to return to your hands and knees. 

But no sooner than you’d risen, a hand left your hip and migrated to the center of your upper back, pushing you back down until your chest was flush with the mattress again. “Stay like this,” his jaw dropped open when you squeezed around his shaft, and he very nearly doubled over. “Just like this,”

“Joel, I can’t–”

As though he was a mind reader, he slid his hand down your back and enveloped it around your hips; the pads of his fingers making contact with your clit again. Your body went soft for him again, malleable to whatever course of action was to come next.

“Yes. God yes,” you pleaded like God was in the room with you in the form of Joel.

“Feel fuckin’ incredible,” he moaned and offered a particularly hard thrust. One that had caught you off guard, and your knees slipped, sending your stomach down to the bed as well. 

He managed to follow you down, keeping himself sheathed deep inside you, and with hand still curled around you, kept you lifted enough for his fingers to continue massaging your clit in small, quick circles. Now with only your ass left above the rest of your body, he straddled your legs and scooted himself up closer. His thrusts now deep but short, you let out a shriek and curled your fists in your sheets.

“Takin’ this cock like a champ,” he bared his teeth into his bottom lip with a thrust that had his tip pressing against the opening to your cervix. You whimpered again, which only made him smile. “Yeah, you like that? Tell me about it,”

“Love it,” you panted. Legs pressed together, feeling fuller than ever with his hands on your clit, coil in your stomach was winding up. Tighter and tighter, and you knew it was only a matter of moments before you’d snap. “Fuckin’ love your cock, Joel,” 

Just expressing the sentiment made you throb, and you knew he felt it. Knew it when he replaced the circling of your clit with a couple quick taps to it which made your body jerk. He smiled again and reset his hands on your hips, using them for all the leverage he needed for what would end up being the last of what you’d be able to take. 

“Joel,” you cried and unwound a hand from the sheets to reach back for his hand on your hip. You curled it around two of his fingers, “I’m gonna…”

“Yeah, you are. Gonna be a good girl and come all over this cock?” He groaned after your body responded to his praise, “let me have it, sweetheart.”

You felt his hips falter again and thought if you could just hold out for a while longer, you’d both hit the peak together. So you stiffened your body, and tried to stave off the snapping of the spring inside you. Tried to blur out the pleasure for sheer focus. But all that did was send a shot of discomfort through you which settled in your chest and your body purged it with an animalistic growl.

Joel pressed his hands to the bed on either side of you and rested himself against your back, cautious to not lay all of his weight on you. He bit into your neck, “don’t wait for me. Go on, I’ll be right behind you,” his jaw slackened when your muscles clenched around him, sucking him in deeper and milking his length. 

“Promise?” you squeaked out, the beginning of your orgasm gearing up deep in your stomach. 

He smiled against your neck and nodded, “yeah, I promise. C’mon, sweetheart.”

It didn’t take too much more coaxing than that. One more thrust and you unraveled beneath him. Body trembling involuntarily with an endless string of moans filling the room. He grunted behind you and pulled out before you’d even finished. Stroked himself just a couple times before his own muscles flexed and released, releasing his come over your lower back and ass. You turned your head to the side when the feeling of his come hitting you finished, and smiled breathlessly at the sight of him giving his length a couple more tugs. He let go of his member and let it rest along your ass, taking deep breaths to steady himself.

Joel leaned down, his cock sliding to your lower back. He nestled his nose against your cheek and kissed your jaw, “you’re a good girl, huh?”

You grinned, cheeks growing hotter, and lifted your hands up behind you to tangle them in his hair.

“Yeah, you are,” he pecked your cheek once more then pushed himself off you. “I’ll be back, lemme clean you up.” He only waited for you to nod before he was off.

Left alone in your room, you leaned up on your elbows and looked around. It was pretty sparse and impersonal, like the rest of your house still. Nothing like Joel’s. In his house, everything screamed him. It was lived in, worn. The things that were out of place had been so for so long that their lack of a place became their place. He’d spent years making it a home while you were still just in a house. You wondered what it would take for your house to become that. Time? Maybe a dog? Or worst case scenario – a man?

Joel re-entered your room, towel in hand, and crawled back on the bed to you. He gently wiped away his spend until your skin was clean again. “Couldn’t find a washcloth,”

After he threw the towel to the floor by your bed, you rolled over onto your back, “don’t have ‘em. Got these,” you lifted her hands and waved them about.

He scrunched his nose and you swatted at his chest as he laid down beside you. With a hand holding yours against his chest, he maneuvered his other arm around you, behind your neck and shoulders, and pulled you into him. You rest your head down on his collarbone and focused on your fingers, running them along his tanned skin leaving invisible doodles in their wake. If you could just stay here like this, in the post-sex afterglow, you could almost convince yourself that the closeness wasn’t freaking you out. It was a lot so quickly. A far cry from your status quo.

“Can you stay tonight,” you asked in the same moment Joel kissed the top of your head. And because he didn’t answer right away, you felt the need to justify yourself. “If it wasn’t the wind and someone did bre–”

“I’ll stay,” he shook you reassuringly, “‘cause you’re nicer to cuddle up against than my old pillows,”

You wrapped your arm around him tighter, “this doesn’t mean anything.”

“Of course not.” For just a moment, he let his fingertips dance over the skin at your bare hip, smiling to himself at the goosebumps that erupted across it. Then he tapped your hip, “you should go to the bathroom,”

Ah, yes. Your delicate pH balance. Apparently it was on Joel’s mind more than it was on yours. You willed yourself out of bed and carried on into the bathroom, whereupon looking at yourself in the mirror, it was impossible to ignore the seemingly permanent smile on your face. You tried to get rid of it; tried to turn your lips into a straight line, but it wouldn’t leave. It was there. Etched deep and sure. And you knew it had very little to do with the fact that you were in your own home, a thousand miles away from family drama, and very much to do with the man waiting for you in bed.

If you from two months ago could see you now, you were sure there wouldn’t have been the slightest chance of recognition. While to most, and maybe even to Joel, a change had scarcely happened, you saw the leaps and bounds of apparent progress. Two months ago, you’d closed on the house and had swore off boys altogether. Like a form of housekeeping, you swept those ideas into a dustpan and deposited them in the garbage. Boys were superfluous. Intimate relationships were superfluous. A couple lousy boyfriends had taught you that, but they hadn’t been horribly awful people. They’d just been boys. Perhaps the worst of it was that your father had taught you that. Taught you that the man who was supposed to love you unconditionally, couldn’t, or just flat out didn’t. Taught you that romantic relationships looked like prison sentences. That a man would never be able to evolve and understand his own emotional range, let alone yours. And worst of all, that despite being obviously unhappy with everything, that he’d never leave, never let you leave; and instead hold you hostage in a relationship that everyone could see had failed, but he refused to admit for the sake of his own delicate ego. 

You grinned, thinking about how the only delicate thing about you was your pH balance.

“Y’alright?” Joel asked as you re-entered your bedroom. 

You figured you’d looked pretty spaced out upon returning. Not entirely sure how you’d made it back there from the bathroom. Still, you pressed a smile and crawled back into bed, immediately curling up into his side. Back in only his underwear, his skin against yours gave off tremendous heat and for the first time (perhaps in life), you really found yourself hoping that Joel was all the things he said he was, and that it wasn’t just performative.

“What’s this?” He held out a lone bolt in his fingers.

You tilted your head back from where it rested against his chest, “where’d you get that?”

“Side table,”

“You’re snooping in my stuff?”

“Yeah,” he nodded and jiggled the bolt in his hand again. “Where’d this come from?”

You shrugged and lowered your head, rubbing your cheek against his bare chest to get comfortable again. “Found it when I was Swifferin’ beneath my oven,”

The bolt stopped moving in Joel’s fingers and you peeked back up to find him stunned. “‘S’truly amazing your house hasn’t exploded yet,”

“What?” you whined, “it works and it’s not like I smell gas. It was probably an extra part,”

“Since when do ovens come with parts you don’t need?”

“Joel,” you whined again and wrapped your arm around his belly, holding him close.

He leaned over and set the bolt back down on the side table. He’d fix that tomorrow. Along with your back door. And maybe give everything else in your house a once over to make sure you wouldn’t combust.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Sun rays filtered in between the slits in your blinds and you cursed yourself (yet again) for not having invested in black out curtains. One of these days you would and maybe then you’d get a restful night of sleep. With a groan and an aching in your hips, you turned onto your back and looked to the side where Joel was still asleep, his back to you. Generally, sharing a bed with someone resulted in you having the worst night of sleep known to man. It was as if your brain could never really settle knowing someone was beside you. And while you had slept some last night, you couldn’t wait for Joel to not be in your bed the following night. 

After having slid out of bed, successful in not rousing him, you padded down the hallway to the kitchen and squinted out the front window where the neighborhood was slowly coming to life. A couple kids were riding their bikes in the street. Mr. Cole was hobbling down his driveway to pick up the newspaper. Your routine was coffee first and after a night like last, where your hips weren’t the only thing sore, but your thighs and core, too, coffee was supremely necessary.

The slowness of the act was almost meditative. You could turn off your brain. Grab the filter, scoop the coffee grounds, add the water, hit the button. At least on a normal day. What you didn’t know at that moment, but came to know halfway pouring the water, today was not to be a normal day. Not at all. Because a knock on your front door had you spilling some of the water down the side of the machine instead of within the well. 

You turned, confused, and then were riled into action when the knock happened again, this time more insistent. Perhaps one day you’d learn to look through the window first, or install a door with a peephole, but on this day, you simply tugged the front door open and felt your heart drop into your stomach.

“Mom? Dad?”

[lokigodofmyheart]

DATE NIGHT

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Words: 2.8k

Summary: Y/N and Tony go out on a date night and he has a little surpise for her.

Warning/Content: smut, toys, public vibrator.

MASTERLIST KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

Tony looked at his watch while he sat in the living room waiting for his girlfriend. Y/N was getting ready for their date night. It had been almost and hours and he got ready in less than 20 minutes. He looked at his wristwatch again with a little annoyance "C'mon, Y/N. How much longer do you need?" 

From the bedroom, she heard his complaining and rolled her eyes as she had just finished applying the red lipstick. She gave a last check in the mirror, seeing the little black dress hugging her body, she was happy with the image and left the bedroom, walking to where Tony was waiting her. 

 Stark’s jaw slightly dropped, his eyes trailing up and down his girlfriend. He was practically drooling at the sight of her in the new outfit. He stood up from the couch and walked to her "You look... absolutely stunning, babe..." 

“Thank you.” Y/N smiled and looked at him, dressed in a nice suit and gave him light kiss to not ruin her lipstick “You’re not so bad yourself. Ready to go?”  

"Absolutely. But I have something for you first." Tony said cheeky smile. 

She knew pretty well that expression on his face and it made her suspicious “What is it?”  

He grins, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a little box, opening and taking out a small pink vibrator. Y/N raises an eyebrow, looking at the toy and back at him.  Stark chuckled lightly at the confused look on her face "It's a remote-controlled toy." 

Oh. She finally understood “And you want me to wear this tonight...?” 

Tony smirks while he nodding slowly, leaning in to whisper in her ear "I want to see you try to keep a straight face during dinner, darling." 

A shiver run down her spine at his words and as the image that went through her head. Stark noticed the reaction she had and he was more than pleasured "Are you up to this, baby?" 

Y/N gave a slow nod. Tony reach under her dress, pulling her panties aside and rubbing the toy on her folds, before slowly inserting into her. A small gasp left her lips at the feeling of the toy inside her. Tony fixed her panties back on, slipping the control on his pocked “All good, sweetheart. Let's go." 

They headed out to the car and got in, Tony starting it and pulling out into the road, a devilish smile on his face as he drove them to the restaurant. He helped her out, opening the door for her like a true gentleman and lead her inside to a table in the corner. 

Tony took the menu, ordering her favorite and the best wine from the restaurant.  The waiter was quick to bring them the wine and serve the couple. Tony and Y/N took a sip of it, enjoying the taste.  

While they were waiting for their food, Tony's hand went to his pocket, fiddling with the remote and turning the toy on a low setting. Y/N gasp as the toy started to vibrate inside of her, almost chocking on the wine.  

“A little warning would’ve been good.” She says, trying to keep her voice down and act naturally. 

Stark chuckled, shrugging with a smirk "Where's the fun in that?" He turned the toy up a bit more, glancing at her to see her reaction. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This would not be an easy dinner. He kept the toy on the medium setting as they wait for a minute more while Y/N struggles to keep a composed face.  

Soon the waiter brought out their food at the table. Stark thanked the waiter, Y/N gave a small smile, still trying to keep a neutral face, before Tony turned his attention back to Y/N, who was noticeably fidgeting in her chair. He turned the toy off while they eat.  

The couple talked a little, Y/N a little relieved from the break, but now she could feel how her panties was starting to wet. 

When they finished, the waiters took the plates off the table and Tony ordered desert. Stark gave Y/N a wink as the waiter walked away, turning the toy on again, this time on the highest setting. 

A small gasp escaped her lips, not expecting that.  He smirked, reaching for his wine glass and taking a drink to cover up the little smirk on his lips. “Are you okay, babe? You seem a little...hot." 

Her mouth felt dry when she swallowed, trying to prevent a moan “I'm...fine...” 

Tony hummed, turning the toy on and off a few times to tease her as he leaned in a bit and placed his chin on his hand “You sure? You look like you're about to come apart." 

Y/N nods, closing her eyes to concentrated before opening it again to look at him. Stark chuckled, setting the toy on a low, constant vibration as he kept staring at her, enjoying her trying to keep it all together "You're doing so well, babe... I'm so proud of you..." 

The waiter brings them their dessert, and Tony thanks him, his hand in his pocket, turning the toy up to a different setting. This time he didn’t turned off the little pink toy "Go on, baby...eat something. Wouldn't want you to lose your strength." 

“Tony...” Her voice almost sounded like a low moan “I can’t...” 

Stark grins, enjoying the whine as he looks at her, still playing with the toy. He motions to the food in front of her with his hand. "Eat something, babe. C’mon.." 

Y/N struggled to eat the small desert in front of her. She was sure she was squirming in the chair, rubbing her legs together as the thing kept vibrating on her. Stark had that damn smirk on his face the whole time, enjoying the way she was struggling to eat and to keep quiet. By the time they had finished dessert he decided to turn off the toy, wanting to make her wait a bit longer before he brought it back on.  

A complaining whine left her lips as she was too close to her orgasm, but she was also relieved “I think we can go home now...” 

Tony shakes her head and chuckles slight “Not yet, baby...I still want to finish the wine.” Stark motions for the waiter to refill his glass. A few moments later the glasses are refilled and the waiter leaves them alone. Again, he turned on the toy. 

A small moan escaped her lips before she could stop it. Y/N was too worked up now and she was sure her panties were drenched. 

Stark heard the small moan and grinned “Be careful, sweetheart...wouldn't want you to make a scene...” 

“Tony...” She didn’t know if she was complaining or moaning his name anymore, everything feeling too much after being tease with that vibrator for almost an hour now with no release and no possibility to moan.  

He smirked, looking around to see the other patrons in the restaurant were too busy with their own meals to pay them any mind. He leaned in close to her again, the toy still vibrating against her "Are you close, babe? You look close..." 

She could only nods while she bites her lower lip, preventing any sound from coming out of her mouth. Tony noticed how much she was trying to hold it together and he could also tell it was getting harder and more difficult for her "Are you gonna come for me, babe?" 

Her eyes started to roll back and she closes it. Stark smirked again while he turned the toy up the slightest bit more, while his hand moves up her thigh "That's it, baby... come for me, right here in the middle of this restaurant." 

The way her breathing was becoming more and more labored showed him she was close. Y/N's face contorted in pleasure and she was thankful she had her back to most people in there. A small moan leaving her lips as the toy finally made her reach her orgasm while in the restaurant. 

Stark was satisfied, and also somewhat hard, seeing her face as she came and hearing the moan she let out. He turned the toy off after the fact, just watching her with a grin as the wave of her orgasm passed through her in the middle of the restaurant. He finally signed to the waiter to brings them the check. 

While Tony was paying, she almost drank her glass at once after her orgasm subside. Stark set the money down and thanked the waiter, standing up and holding his hand out to her "C'mon, baby. Let's go home." 

Once they were out of the restaurant and at the car, Tony opened the door for her and let her sit down before he went around and got in on the driver's side. He started the car up and started driving, keeping one of his hands on her thigh as he did so. 

Y/N watches as he drove, a comfortable silence settling between them. She wanted to get back at him somehow, just a small tease, so her hand went to the bulge on his pants, rubbing her hand against him through the fabric of his pants.  

Tony was surprised when he felt her hand on his bulge, letting out a small gasp at the feeling of her touching him “Y-Y/N...we're still in the car...” 

“So?” She looks at him innocently while she still teased him slowly.  

A quiet moan was heard from Tony, his gripping the steering wheel tighter as he tried to focus on driving while she continued teasing him "F-Fuck... baby... we're almost at the penthouse..." Stark was struggling to focus, trying to drive as fast he safely could to get them to his penthouse. He bit his lip every time he felt her hand move and he almost let out moan every time she gave a squeeze. 

After what feels like forever to the billionaire, finally he pulled up to the penthouse and parked, shifting his legs to adjust his now-noticeably-tighter-pants. He glanced at her, noticing the smirk on her face and the way her hand was still on his bulge. He groaned when she rubbed it again before he spoke "Inside. Now." 

This time, she didn’t wait for him to open the door. They exit his car and Stark practically shoved her into the elevator and slammed the button to the top floor, barely able to wait the few seconds it went up.  

Once they were at the penthouse, he didn't waste any time before pulling her body to him and kissed her. She kissed him back, the kiss being messy and full of lust. Soon she was pushing his suit jacket off him, throwing somewhere in the ground.  His hands went down to the hem of her dress, lifting it up above her hips as he walked her to his room, without breaking the kiss. 

There was a trail of clothes from the living room to his bedroom: jacked, shirt, dress, pants, shoes, heels, socks. Until they finally hit the bed, with only their underwear on their bodies.  

Stark breaks the kiss and takes in the view of her in her black set of lingerie, his breath getting caught in his throat as he sees her "God, you look absolutely perfect, babe." He pushes her back gently onto the bed, crawling on top of her and beginning to kiss her neck, his hands roaming over her bare body, tracing the lace on her bra. 

Y/N’s hands were on his hair and his neck, teasing him with her nails. Stark continues to leave kisses down her neck, moving down to her chest. He opened her bra before he slides the straps off her shoulders, moving to kiss her breasts.  

She moans slightly feeling his tongue circling her nipple and his mouth sucking it, before he did the same with the other. He kept kissing down her body while his fingers traced the lace of her panties. She lifts her hips to help him take it off, eager for more. 

Tony chuckled at the eagerness, moving off her for a moment so he could slide the panties off, removing them and throwing them somewhere in the room. He spread her legs, the pink toy still there.  

He pulled the toy slightly off her before pushing in again, making Y/N moan. Stark grins, doing it again, pulling the toy in and out painfully slow. 

“Tony...” She moans his name, as he did it again.  

He chuckles, looking at her as he continued his slow pace with the toy "Yeah, baby? What is it?" moans his name, 

 "Stop...teasing...” 

Stark stop, but he kept holding the toy still inside of her "It's not even on..." 

Another moan came from her lips “Please...I need you...” 

He pulled the toy out completely, pulling his boxers down and moving his body above her, settling between her legs. His hands roam over her body, feeling her soft skin under his touch. He looks into her eyes with a smirk, and she can feel his hard cock pressed up against her "Is this what you need, baby?" 

“Yes.” The work came out as a breathless whisper from her lips. He leans down to kiss her, his body resting on top of hers.  

One of his hands moves down to position himself at her entrance, rubbing the tip against her wetness, making her moan against his lips. He smirked hearing it. After a moment of teasing her, he slowly slid himself inside her, his hands on either side of her head to support his height. 

She moans, and she had to fight to keep her eyes open, because the look on his face was too hot. Stark closed his eyes when he bottomed out inside her, letting out a low groan while his lips were parted.  

He opens his eyes, looking down at her face with a smirk. He slowly pulled all the way out, before pushing back in, starting a slow pace. Y/N moaned at each thrusting, their eyes locked.  

Tony started to speed up his pace, wanting to hear her more and more. One of his hands moved to grip her thigh, giving it a squeeze as he adjusted to go faster. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her as he did so.  

Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist, making him reach deeper in this new position. It felt so good as his cock was going faster and hard on her. It didn’t take long for her to start tightening slightly around him, feeling her orgasm approaching. 

“Tony...” 

The way she clenched around him almost made his eyes roll to the back of his head, a groan escaping his lips at the feeling and at the sound of his name on her lips "Fuck..." 

His thrusts started to get sloppy and harder. He was close too. It barely took Y/N a few more seconds before she came, her walls clenching around his cock as his name came out of her lips in the most sinful way.  

Feeling her tighten around him, combined with the way she was saying his name...it’s all it took for Tony to finally cum, spilling his warm seed inside of her. 

Y/N looked at him, with a tired and satisfied smile as she tried to catch her breath back. Tony smiled down at her, before pulling out of her and rolling over to the side, pulling her into his arms.  

Stark pulled the sheets up over them to cover their bodies as he held her close and kissed the top of her head, his hand rubbing up and down her back "I love you." 

“I love you more.” She smiles, looking at him as her body relaxed even more.  

He smiled back, moving his hand to brush some of her hair out of her face "That's not possible. I pretty sure I win at loving you more." Y/N chuckled softly, knowing it was no use to argue over this, he would always win. He chuckled back, enjoying the way she laughed as he ran his hand through her hair. It was quiet for a few moments, both of them just enjoying each other's presence before he spoke again "Did you like the toy? At the restaurant?" 

She nods “It was...interesting.” 

"That's a good way to describe it...” He paused, enjoying the feeling of her in his arms for a moment and tracing figures on her back with his fingers before speaking again. "Would you...want to do it again in public sometime?" 

“Yeah, why not?” She smirks slightly “Maybe next time I’ll tease you.” 

Tony chuckled at that, liking the idea of her teasing him in a public place "Sounds like a plan, darling." 

[luveline]

i have a request idea! maybe aaron x reader where the reader is bullied/ being maltreated by her roommates like that one remus headcanon you filled? i love protective hotch but i get it if you don’t think this goes with him! your fics give me sm comfort thank you for writing them <3

thank you my love. fem, 1.5k

cw bullying/ unfriendly roommates

You can't believe it's Aaron's car. No way is his timing this bad. There's just no way he's home from a case, that he's chosen to visit without calling first, today. Right now. 

He's out of the car before you've so much as wiped your cheeks dry. You've never seen him park that fast. 

"What are you doing out here?" he asks, looking you up and down. "Let me help you up, sweetheart." 

Sweetheart so soon after seeing you —you must look terrible. You take his hand and stand up off of the floor, unperturbed as he brushes down your butt and thighs. 

"Why are you sitting on the floor?" he asks, soft, "It's wet, honey, you're crying– What's wrong?" 

You remember suddenly that you have someone on your side. Shaking, you tuck your arms under his and cross them behind his back, the fabric of his suit jacket familiar under your trembling fingers. You feel like a kid again at the mercy of other people's cruelty, but this hasn't been something you could run away from. The meanness takes root at home. But now Aaron's here and he's holding you, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head delicately, his voice a murmur as he reassures you, "It's alright." He presses his cheek to the plane just adjacent to your eye. "Honey, please don't cry." 

"They smashed my vase," you say into his chest. 

"Who?" 

"My roommates, Aaron, they don't– don't like me." The vase was a gift. Special to you, irreplaceable, you've brought it safely from one place to another without ever having broken it. It was in the kitchen, housing your most recent bouquet of flowers from Aaron. "Macy said it fell over, but they were laughing, and they said the same thing about my bag, my– my sketchbook. They keep ruining my things, they throw away my food, and they laugh at me all the time, even when I'm not doing anything. I know they are."  

The laughing is honestly the worst part. Like your reaction isn't even worth considering, it doesn't bother them that you're upset, they just giggle and tell you to feel better. Sometimes they apologise like it wasn't them. Sorry about that, maybe don't leave it somewhere it could get ruined? with a smile that hardly counts as sympathetic. 

"How long has this been happening?" he asks. 

Months. "Since we met, at least." 

Aaron makes a noise you don't understand. You wait for him to say more, but he only rubs your back diligently for a time before ushering you into the car. A bag of takeout has gone cold in the passenger seat, the backseat busy with his go bag and a new bouquet. He's very, very good to you. 

In the car, he reaches across the console to fret over you, stroking your damp cheeks and rubbing your shoulders. You feel as though all your energy has been stolen. All you can do is lean into his hand as he wipes away your quiet tears. 

��

Hotch watches you cry in his passenger seat and feels pretty angry. It's not often like him to turn to anger when the people he cares about are upset. He's more of a problem solver. But when it's as bad as it is now, he doesn't bother restraining himself. 

He knew there was something about your roommates that you weren't telling him. Obviously, as the partner in the relationship who doesn't have roommates, Hotch hosts the majority of your 'sleepovers'. It's easier and awards more privacy most of the time, and honestly, he's not at the age where he's very interested in bumping into people on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. He'd prefer to be home, and much prefer to have you there. 

He was wondering about asking you to move in, but there never seemed to be a good time, and right now your answer would likely be influenced by the insecurity of your home rather than true desire to live with him. He knows one day, he'll ask, and one day you'll say yes, (or he hopes), and so he keeps it in mind but otherwise proposes a temporary arrangement. 

"Let's go get some of your things and you can stay with me for a few days," he says. 

"Are you sure?" you ask. "What about Jack?" 

"He'll be happy for the company. Trust me." 

Hotch isn't shallow, but he likes being that little bit taller than you, and he's no brute, either, but he knows he's intimidating at times. He'd never use his position to scare private citizens in civilian disputes, but seeing the amusement in the eyes of your  roommates turn to nervous recognition when he follows in behind you makes his day. 

She's not alone, he thinks, putting his hand to your back. 

He might put their behaviour down to jealousy. Not so much that they wish they were with Hotch, there's hardly been any desire for him coming from either woman, but your happiness. You're a nice girl, a good girl, good in the sense that you don't need to knock others down to be happy. He treats you accordingly. 

He pointedly doesn't greet them as you show him the corridor down to your room. Your door is ajar, which he doesn't like, but you don't say anything about your things. 

"What do you need?" he asks.

"How long will I stay?" 

"However long you need to. If you want time to feel better while we manage this, or you need to move. I'm with you." He again thinks of the lack of a lock. "I'd say bring your valuables, honey. So nothing miraculously breaks." 

He ends up packing for you. He knows you well, and he's more than aware of what you'll need to survive for a week. What clothes, which pyjamas you favour, even your skincare. He has a career in identifying small details, but it's a better duty knowing you so well. He does that for fun. 

You stop by the door and turn into his side, hesitant to leave. He hates seeing you wilted, usually so bright. "They're talking about me." 

Your roommates are indeed whispering in the kitchen and Hotch would bet money that you're correct, but he doesn't want to encourage that line of thought. It could easily become a seed of doubt that leaves you anxious and paranoid. 

"I'd hope they were discussing their own bullying," he says. 

You rest your forehead on his arm. "What did I ever do to them?" 

"You're happy. You're grateful and loving, and some people can't stand it. They can't rope you into their misery," he guesses. "Have you considered the possibility that you're a bad roommate?" 

You laugh into his jacket reluctantly. "You know I'm not."

"Maybe you behave with me," he says, rubbing the top of your shoulder. Your laughter draws a silence in the kitchen. Hotch can't help himself. "Don't forget to turn your security camera on before we leave," he says, holding a finger over his lips. 

You smile. "Oh, I almost forgot about that." 

Your roommates aren't so full of cheer as you go. At least without a lock on the door, Hotch can be confident that his… bending of the truth will buy your possessions a few more days of safety. You don't have to tell your roommates that you're leaving, evidenced by your bags, but Hotch is feeling awful, and he says, "Do you have your bathing suit? Your passport's in the bag." 

"What is wrong with you?" you whisper through laughter as the door closes behind you both. "I had no idea you were this quick to tell lies." 

Hotch pulls your bag further up his arm to take your hand. "I wasn't lying about anything, your passport is in the bag, and I asked a question. If that question implies that you're about to have a fun weekend, that's coincidental." 

He doesn't want your roommates thinking they have any power over you. Not an inch of it. And he doesn't want you thinking that they do either, knee deep in plans for the forthcoming days. He's going to spoil you to death if he can, starting with a new vase for your waiting flowers, and a good squeeze on the way down to the car to prompt you into relaxing. 

"Sorry about all the fuss," you say. 

He kisses you twice. "Don't think of it that way." Rather boss-toned, he softens, "I'll deal with anything for you. I'm sorry they've been cruel." 

You exhale. He can tell from the tug of your eyebrows that it's partly for his benefit, and the more lax set of your shoulders that it's partly genuine as you brush it off. "Doesn't matter. Just an excuse to spend more time with you, yeah?" 

"Yes," he says immediately. "You're right, honey. Exactly right." Starting with one of his clumsy neck massages and a much more practised kiss, he thinks. 

[iamthemain-character]

Dragon Bite

draco malfoy x reader she/her TW: highly suggestive (no smut), biting, draco is lowkey insane, i put 5k words in this bad boy, this was written for my favorite critic so i couldn't get her to proofread this is a request. you know who you are. <3 image used was found on pinterest, linked in the image :)

harry potter masterlist

Draco is a constellation in the far northern sky. Its name is Latin for dragon. It was one of the 48 constellations listed by the 2nd century Greek astronomer Ptolemy, and remains one of the 88 modern constellations today. The north pole of the ecliptic is in Draco.[1] Draco is circumpolar from northern latitudes, meaning that it never sets and can be seen at any time of year.

In some settings, dragons tend to guard hoards of treasure — typically by lying on top of it.

It was one kiss. And not even a real one. Being drunk on firewhiskey and giving into a dare didn’t count. Everyone had a Spin the bottle or Seven Minutes in heaven story, nobody was more stupid than sixth and seventh year Hogwarts students. And you were no different. It had been one of the illicit parties happening in the Hufflepuff common room, with drinks and magical concoctions flowing far too freely. But everyone was ready for graduation, high on life and the prospect of the future. So when a dare–or maybe it was a game, you couldn’t really recall–had pushed you and Draco Malfoy together, your usual logic and apprehension were absent from your thoughts. What you did remember, however, was his lips. They were soft, which had surprised you, and much like his skin, they were a little cool. But things had heated up plenty in the moment, as he had taken charge, maneuvering your mouth together in a way that was far too good for a casual kiss. You could remember the way his hand had cupped the back of your neck, ringed fingers catching in your hair as he directed you. You couldn’t recall if the kiss had lasted a second or an hour, but when the two of you had broken apart, he was gone in an instant, leaving nothing but a tingling sensation on your lips. 

Your heart had given you plenty of trouble after that night, fluttering frustratedly every time you saw him after that. But he had never acknowledged it, had never even so much as looked at you again, so you stuffed those feelings away, refusing to let one kiss with a snobby boy ruin your life. And after graduation, you moved on, and it became easier to forget the blonde boy with the delectable lips. 

That was, until now. 

After leaving Hogwarts, you had become an author, receiving notable acclaim with your most recent book documenting the history of potion making and how it differed according to the geographical region. The newfound fame and fortune had certainly been overwhelming at times, but you were grateful for the new doors and opportunities your success had brought. What you weren’t enthralled about, however, were the numerous events you suddenly had to attend. Your agent assured you it was good for publicity, but you honestly didn’t care for the rooms full of stuffy air and stuffier people. Though it was a good excuse to get glammed up with professional makeup and designer dresses. 

The glitter and satin soon lost their shine as you sat in the crowded ballroom. The aesthetic hors d’oeuvres sat half touched on your plate, the little delicacies not nearly as tasty as they looked. And even if they had been delicious, your stomach was currently housing a storm worthy of the anger of poseidon. To top it all off, the room was hot, the sea of black suits and neutral toned dresses taking up too much space, a little too close to you. Even your agent had abandoned you to do some “networking”. 

Unceremoniously, you threw back the last of your champagne, rising from your little spot of isolation to try to find a restroom. You bore your clutch as your shield, protecting you from the stray elbows and backsides of the crowd. Eventually, you emerged on the other side, quickly exiting out the side door. 

The hallway was darker, and much more quiet than the ballroom. A few stray people lingered here and there, but they were much too engrossed in their own conversations to pay you any mind. As you wandered around the hall, however, you soon realized that this elaborate building had no signs. Countless doors lined the hallway, leaving you clueless as to where a restroom would be, not to mention if it was even in this section of the historic house. 

Taking your chances, you opened the first door you saw, slipping inside. Inside was not a bathroom, but rather a study, with ornate carved wood shelves lining the walls. Antique books filled every space, stirring delight within you. In the middle of the room there was a dark mahogany desk, the carefully placed decor indicating it was more for aesthetics than real use. 

On the far side of the room was a tall window, the delicate panes allowing the moonlight from outside to shine in. The moonlight was silhouetting a figure standing by the window, back leaned against the alcove. The white light was bright as it highlighted the figure’s nearly-white blond hair, neatly combed back, brushing the collar of their suitcoat. It was a picturesque scene, but you had no interest in making small talk, so you reached for the handle behind you. 

The figure, however, took notice of your presence. Turning their head, green-gray eyes land on you, and your heart suddenly meets the pit of your stomach. There was only one man who had ever had eyes like that, eyes that lingered deep in the back of your mind, reminding you of a “meaningless” kiss. 

“It figures Lady Anorak would find her way into a library.” The taunting tone remark only solidified the identity of the glowing figure. 

“Draco Malfoy.” You greet, straightening your shoulders. It had been years since you had last seen the man, and the time had been kind to his features. His bone structure was strong and sharp, his lips still perfectly pink as they curled into his signature smirk. His eyes once again brought butterflies to your stomach, the way they shamelessly glanced you up and down. You couldn’t quite tell, however, if he was checking you out or judging you. 

“I’m surprised to see someone like you here.” Draco remarks, pushing himself off the wall, sauntering over to you. 

You huff, crossing your arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

His amusement only grows as he gazes down at you, an unreadable expression behind his eyes. “Usually these events are for notable members of society. Stuffy, boring, too long. Not for someone as...free spirited as you.” 

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms defensively in front of you. “You’ve lost your tact with insults.”

“Who said I was insulting you?” Draco replies, his face not giving away any insight as to what he was really thinking. 

“So you’ve grown out of that now?” 

His smug smile grows, tugging up one side of his mouth.You can see the sharp little points of his canines, giving him a slight vampiric look. “Only as much as you’ve grown out of being such a wonk.” 

“Well, being a wonk happens to be the reason that I’m here in the first place.” You retort, tossing your head a little. It's infuriating, how easily Draco is riling you up again after all this time, but you just pray that your old crush on the man doesn’t return. 

“Is that so?” Draco asks, lifting one of his brows, looking a little curious. “And how is that, Lady Anorak?” 

“I wrote a book.” You explain, summoning all of your pride to fuel your confidence. “The Melting Pot: A study of potions across the globe. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? It was featured in The Daily Prophet.”

The corners of Draco’s mouth turn down as he considers your words, turning them over in his mind. “Was that you? I suppose you have a bit more acclaim than I gave you credit for. But it's still a very bookish bore thing to do.” He glances back at you, taking in your body for the second time. “You don’t seem to be basking in the evening’s glory, however.” 

You grimace, thinking of the suffocating room you had just fled from. “I wasn’t aware there was much to bask in other than excessive egos and endless champagne.” 

If you hadn't known better, you would have said the slight shift of Draco’s chest would have been a laugh. But his face remains unchanged, that damned small smile on his lips. “And so you decided to come steal my hiding spot?”

You roll your eyes, uncrossing your arms and meandering over to the desk, leaning against it. You could feel Draco’s eyes watching your every step, eliciting a strange feeling of both attraction and nerves in your chest. “I didn’t know it was your hiding spot.” 

Draco just shrugs, running a hand over his hair, slicking back a small piece that had fallen out of place. “Well, now you’re trespassing, so if you’re going to stay, you’ll need to pay the fine.”

Now it's your turn to lift your eyebrow, your stomach giving a little flip as you think of just how many things you could give Draco Malfoy. “And what is this mysterious price for such a grievous crime?” 

Draco takes a few steps closer to you, his eyes burning up your skin as he looks over you a third time. “Trespassing on my personal hiding spot, and you’re unremorseful. I’m going to need substantial repayment.” He says, his voice lowering a little. 

Your stomach twists, and you mentally scold yourself that it's in desire and not in anxiety. Yet when you look into those gray eyes, their greenish hue glinting in the moonlight, you can’t help but feel that pull towards him you felt all those years ago. 

But just like that moment all those years ago, the moment is cut short by a female voice at the door. “Draco? Are you in there? The Vickorat family wishes to congratulate us on the engagement.” 

Your stomach twists, a feeling of nausea burning your insides, replacing the excitement that was just there. 

Draco’s face immediately is schooled back into a blank, calm and even expression. “Coming Astoria.” He says, his tone lacking any of the warmth or playfulness it had just a moment ago. He looks back at you, his eyes study yours. “It seems I will concede this time, Lady Anorak. Enjoy your books.” With that, he turns and leaves, walking out of your life for the second time. 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The intense interaction between you and Draco didn’t leave your mind in the coming weeks, but you packed it away with the other memory of him. Instead, you threw yourself into the preparations for your second book.

You were sat in the aesthetic office of the publishing house you went through–Bramble Sons & Co.-sitting in front of a woman named Christine, who had been working with you since your first book. 

“We honestly think your ideas for the second book are great, but we did have a few questions from the editor about the manuscript.” 

You sighed deeply, steeling yourself for the critiques to come. You already second guessed your writing constantly, and going through the editing process had nearly broken you last time. Still, you straightened your shoulders, preparing for the barrage of comments. 

As you did, however, movement caught the corner of your eye. You glanced over to the hallway outside the office, spotting a man walking past the large glass windows who looked suspiciously like Draco Malfoy. 

“Excuse me one moment.” You said to Christine, getting up from your chair, trying to subtly speed walk over to the hallway. 

As you glanced after the disappearing figure, you spotted the familiar combed back blonde hair, and your heels clicked on the wooden floor as you approached behind him. 

“Draco.” You called, and you almost misstepped as he turned around, looking down at you. 

His damnable suit adorned his lean figure, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Lady Anorak.” He replied casually, as if his presence at the publishing house you worked with wasn’t odd. 

“What are you doing here?” You queried, arching your brow at him. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to calm the pounding of your heart. 

Draco shrugs, irritatingly composed as he continued to gaze down into your face. “Am I not supposed to be?”

“You and I both know that this is not a place you regularly frequent.” You retort, your tone unamused as you glared at Draco. “So why are you here?”

Just in that moment, Ms. Wasthdrop, the manager of the publishing house, stepped out from her office. She smiled brightly as she saw you, approaching and coming to stand beside Draco. “Ah, Mr. Malfoy, I see you’ve met our new star author.”

“Indeed I have,” Draco says calmly, but you see the glimmer of mirth in his eyes. 

“I actually was going to reach out to the authors today.” Ms. Wasthdrop continues. “We have exciting news to share. Mr. Malfoy is the new owner of Bramble Sons & Co.” 

Of all the reasons you could think of Draco being at the publishing house, this was not one of them. “Oh.” Was all you could manage to say, trying not to let your confusion show through your expression You could almost see the ghost of a smug smile dancing on Draco’s lips. “Welcome...Mr. Malfoy.” You add, trying your best to seem polite. 

Draco gives a small nod in return. “Thank you. I look forward to seeing more from our...star author.” 

Your cheeks flush, and you watch as Draco and Ms. Wasthdrop disappeared into the latter’s office. You weren’t exactly sure how to feel about working with a company that Draco now owned. It felt odd, like he had some sort of claim over you. You couldn’t yet decide if you liked the feeling or not. 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It just so happened, however, that the universe gave you an out. You received a letter from an alternative publishing house, Thornston’s, offering to buy you out. They were offering a better cut of the profits to you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if this was your chance to remove yourself from Draco. But at the same time, did you really want to do so? He hadn’t changed anything with the publishing house, hadn’t made any new demands for your books. Maybe he was just into investing suddenly. 

It was with these warring thoughts that you agreed to meet an associate of Thornston’s to discuss your possible switchover. 

“I am so grateful you’ve taken the time to meet with us.” The rotund man you’d come to know as Mr. Peasley stated, folding his hands on the table. “Unfortunately, I cannot say I bring good news. We recently had a change in ownership, and our new owner has informed us to retract our offer.” Mr. Peasley stated, looking genuinely a little guilty. 

New owner? You pause, leaning your head towards the man across the table. “Did Mr. Richmond retire?”

Mr. Peasley shakes his head, looking eager to share the gossip as he also leaned in. “That’s what he’s claiming. Yet I heard from his assistant that our new owner offered Mr. Richmond a substantial sum of money to sell immediately.” 

You tried to keep a nonchalant demeanor as you continued digging. “So, who is this mysterious new benefactor?”

Mr. Peasley glances around. “Well, it’s supposed to be kept hush-hush, but…”

You place a hand on the man’s arm, offering a friendly smile. “I promise, my lips are sealed.” 

Mr. Peasley returns the smile, his excitement evident. “The young Mr. Draco Malfoy purchased the firm.” 

The confirmation of your suspicions fills you with a myriad of emotions. You kept your expressions carefully schooled into casual interest, not letting the surprise nor the irritation show. “Oh, really?”

Mr. Peasley nods, continuing on with little encouragement. “The strangest part is that Mr. Malfoy doesn’t seem to be doing anything different with our company. He simply just up and bought it.” 

“How strange.” You remark non committedly. Inside, your mind was a whirl of activity. First, Draco purchased your original publishing house, also seemingly for no reason. And now he purchases the one you were switching to, but forces them to retract their offer. No matter how you turned it in your head, it felt like he was trapping you in a corner, and you didn’t appreciate it. 

By the time you bid farewell to Mr. Peasley, you were pissed. You weren’t sure what game Draco was trying to play, but he was mistaken if he thought you’d simply lay by and be a piece for his amusement. You got in your car, immediately heading for his townhouse. 

The elegant building sat in a row of similar townhouses, the neighborhood having belonged to rich pureblood wizards for decades. The door of the Malfoy flat was painted a dark green, a gold M swirling with snakes. You had always noted that the door was indicative of the dramatic nature of the family who it belonged to. 

Now, however, you didn’t give a second thought to the decorative entrance nor the snakes that hissed at your approach. You knocked on the door–the harsh sound echoing in the quiet neighborhood–and you tapped your foot impatiently as you waited. 

To your surprise, it wasn’t a house elf that answered the door, but Draco himself. You took notice of his black slacks that sat temptingly on his hips, slouching a little with the lack of a belt. Additionally, his white shirt was tight across his pecs and shoulders, his lean muscle flexing as he crossed his arms. “Lady Anorak, to what do I have the plea-”

“What the literal fuck Draco.” You snap, eyes dark with anger as you glower at him. He may have looked attractive always in this moment, but you weren’t going to disregard his blatant disrespect for your literal career. 

He raises his eyebrows, smirking a little at your spiteful words. “Something amiss in your potions, darling? Mixed up a real worm with wormwood?” 

You push your way past him, and he just smiles more as your shoulder brushes his chest. He closes the door, looking over you as you stand in his foyer, displeasure written in the wrinkle of your brows. “Care to explain why you’re trying to ruin my career?”

Draco quirks an eyebrow, sticking his hands into his pockets. “Last I checked, I’m helping you publish your books, so-”

“I know you bought out Thornston’s.” 

Draco’s expression flickers, his smile fading and being replaced with a stony blank expression. “Who told you that?” 

“Does it matter?” You scoff, irritated at his lack of remorse. “You purposefully denied me the opportunity to have greater pay, to possibly advance my career. What could I have possibly done to you to make me want to suffer this way?”

Draco straightens up, his green eyes shadowed in the antique lighting of the hallway. “Oh, I’m sorry that I’m ruining your life, keeping you loyal to the company that gave you your career.” His voice is low, a little rough as he speaks. “And here I thought the Lady Anorak would be smart enough to know a good business opportunity when she sees it.” 

“Don’t try to make this about some nonexistent morals!” You snap, annoyed at him trying to make you feel guilty. “This is about me having the opportunity to do more than just get by. Though I suppose someone who was fed with a silver spoon his whole life wouldn’t understand that.”

His sharp jaw twitches, and he strides forward, quickly towering over you. His eyes seared into you, as if he could read your beating heart. “You want money? Fine, you have it. I’ll double whatever portion you receive. You want more creative freedom? I’ll fire your editor. You want to run the damn house? We’ll put your name on the door. Right under mine.” He leaned in even closer, his face dangerously hovering over yours. “You work for me, and only me. You don’t get to go run off and sign with a different publishing house. I’ll buy out every last company in London if I have to.” His words were a growl by the time he finished, his eyes narrowed on you. “You’re mine.” 

Your anger was dwindling, being replaced as you became more perplexed by his actions. It didn’t help that his words stirred up a flutter in your lower belly, heat blooming up to your ears. You jut your chin out, looking up defiantly. “I don’t belong to you.” 

He lets out a dark laugh, his hand coming up, caressing your hair back, then grasping it at the back of your head. “And that’s the problem. I need you to belong to me. My Lady Anorak.” He murmurs, his eyes glancing over your features, as if he’s drinking in a piece of fine art. 

Your heart gives another treacherous leap, your skin tingling as the cool touch of his fingers in your hair burns into fire in your veins. “You shouldn’t say things like that.” You say quietly, your voice firm. “The only woman that belongs to you is Astoria.”

Draco’s jaw twitches again, the sharp edge even more apparent as he tenses. “Astoria doesn’t belong to me, or with me.” He takes in your surprise, giving a little huff. “Do you really think I could keep her after I saw you in that study? Looking so fierce, so alluring in your perfect little dress. I couldn’t keep my ring on another woman��s finger when all I could think of was if your lips still taste the same.” 

You feel like the breath has been taken out of your lungs as you blink a few times, your lips parting in surprise as you hear Draco’s words. “You...you broke up with Astoria?” 

“The same night. I may be an arse, but I know when I can’t be loyal to another woman.” He replies, his hand moving to your neck, his thumb running over your lower lip. His pupils almost swallow up his green irises, the flame of desire evident as he stares at you. 

“Because you...” You can’t bring yourself to say the words, feeling like you can’t trust the feelings brewing up in your chest.

“Because I need you.” Draco breathes, and you can smell the mint of the tea he must have been drinking. A smell that haunts you every time you’ve brewed amortentia. His hand tightens slightly on your jaw, his nose brushing against your cheek. “I need you in my life, in my hands. So no, I’m not sorry for preventing you from leaving Bramble Sons. I’d do it again if it means I get to keep you close.” 

The words make your body feel warm, that spark of hope you tried to bury long ago rising up. Draco continues to hover his face tantalizingly close, his eyes flicking over your features like he’s deciding which one to kiss first. “Do you have any idea what you did to me at that party?” He murmurs, his voice husky. Your heart skips as you realize he thinks about that drunken kiss as much as you do. “Walking away from you that night nearly drove me insane. And I have been losing my mind more and more, haunted by how it felt to have you. And then, you walked back into my life, looking so perfectly beautiful in your little dress, with your smartass remarks and incredible mind. And all I have been able to think about is having you again. And I’m not walking away this time.”

He’s ridiculous. And a little crazy. But you’d always known that, and yet your heart still flutters for him. So you don’t leave, instead taking the small step to close what little remaining space was between the two of you, your chest pressed up against his. “You could have just asked me out like a normal person.” You murmur, leaning up, his lips just a touch too high to meet. 

He smiles, giving a huff of laughter. “It’s much easier to get you to say yes if you have no other option.” His voice is a low rumble, pride clear in the quirk of his lips. 

“I wouldn’t have said no either way.” You tell him, your hands sliding up his arms, resting on his biceps. 

He shivers at the sensation, closing his eyes for a moment before they refocus on you. “No? You agree then, you’re mine?”

Your heart squeezes in your chest, the words that have lingered on your tongue unspoken for six years ready to pour out. “All yours.” 

What little restraint Draco was practicing snaps at that. He dips down, pressing his lips against yours. His hand shifted, the thumb and pointer finger that had been framing your jaw sliding downward, until he was holding your neck firmly in his grasp. His lips demanded yours to part, his own pulling at your lower lip a little. He kept moving your mouths together, as if he couldn’t quite settle, craving more, needing more.

Draco pushed you back, until you were pressed up against the wall, his other hand coming up to grasp your hip. His fingers dug into the soft curve, like a dragon’s talons staking claim of their treasure. Your hands went to his chest, clinging at the thin white material, trying to ground yourself as Draco’s demanding kisses turned any thoughts into hazy ideas. He growled at the touch of your hands, his hands slipping down to your thighs, grasping them firmly as he lifted up. You wrapped your legs around his hips, using the wall and his hands support your weight. His desire was obvious as your center pressed against the front of his trousers, a jolt of desire running through you as you feel his hardness. 

He groaned, and he pulled his lips away from yours, moving them over your jaw, pressing a trail of open mouth kisses down your neck. His teeth scraped over the tender skin, and you could feel his two pointed canines pressing into your flesh. Before your brain could register any pain, however, he was soothing the spot with his tongue, swiping it over the red marks. He kept working downward, not stopping until there was a path of love bites from your jaw to your collarbone. He smiled proudly, his eyes dark with possessive admiration. “So beautiful.” He murmured, running his fingers over the tender spots. 

“Oh, so now I’m beautiful?” Your voice was breathless, but your teasing nature couldn’t even be hampered by the heat Draco elicited in you. 

The sound that escaped him was caught between a growl and a groan, and he pressed his body into you again, his hand tightening on your throat. “You know damn well what I mean. You’re fucking breathtaking.” 

“Do I know?” You continue, your voice and eyes challenging him. You know you’re playing with fire, but you’re too lost into the moment to really care. 

Draco’s eyes darken, and he pulls you away from the wall, moving to the stairs. “You’re going to know exactly what I think about you by the time we’re done.” 

He carries you up the stairs, not lessening his grip on you until he throws you onto the bed. He doesn’t hesitate a moment, crawling on top of you, caging you in with his arms, his hands on either side of his head. “You look so fucking good like this.” He murmurs devouring you with his eyes. “I should have done this a long time ago.” His hands slip under your dress, running up your thighs, playing with the waistband of your underwear. 

Heat flares in your body, a little tremble of excitement running through you. “You should have. Now you have to make up for lost time.” You breathe out, your heart delighted with the fact that you finally are in this moment with Draco. You reach out to the top button of his shirt, undoing it, watching his reaction. 

Draco’s hands tighten on your hip, his eyes intensifying with hunger. “That is an incredible idea.” He murmurs, his voice husky with desire. “But only if you want me to.” He’s aching to have you, but he refuses to let go fully until he’s sure.

You lean up, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I want you to. I want you.” 

Draco groans, and he dives deeper into the kiss with you, finally letting go of any hesitation as he lets himself take you. Your clothes quickly end up scattered around the room, the air hot with the movement of your bodies. 

By the time the passion calms down, the two of you are thoroughly blissed out, your bodies feeling the delightful ache of being known. Draco lays down on top of you, pressing his face into your neck, his lips administering sweet kisses. “You’re so perfect. So beautiful, so smart. God, I’m never letting you go again.”

You smile, running your fingers through his hair. The pale strands are soft to the touch, deliciously messy from your touch. It's such a contrast from his usually perfect slick back, filling your heart with warmth as you relish in the fact that you alone get to see him like this. “I think I’ll let you keep me.” You tease. 

Draco smiles, lifting his head so he can gaze down at you, his hand drifting over your waist and hip. “You better. Or else I’ll have to keep you locked away, all for myself to indulge in.” 

You softly laugh, your smile growing. Your heart feels light, content and happy in this tender moment, your bodies warm together in the sheets. “Only if I get to keep you too.” 

Draco’s eyes soften, and he nods, dipping down and pressing a soft kiss against your lips. “Always.”

[redrose10]

hii for the prompt game thing: how about 5, 5, and 55 or 60 with Yoongi! I just love how you write Yoongi, but it's up to you if you want to change the member!

I hope this is what you were looking for! I’m so sorry if it isn’t.

< Beauty and the Frog >

CEO Yoongi x Female Reader

Warnings: Swearing, cheating, very slightly suggestive, Yoongi is pretty mean in this one

CEO, Unrequited love

#55 “That’s not very nice.”

#60 “I fail to see how that is my problem.”

*******************************************************

You had known Yoongi since you were in elementary school. You had seen him around the building but the first time you really interacted with him was when you were partnered up together in your 8th grade biology class. You refused to dissect a frog and even after the teacher threatened you with an F and a trip to the principal’s office you stood your ground. Yoongi admired that and followed suit earning you both after school detentions. It brought you guys together and you were best friends from that moment on.

Freshman year was intense. Lots of changes and new stressful situations but you had Yoongi by your side so it made everything a little easier.

Tenth grade was better. You had gotten the hang of things and were able to navigate life. You and Yoongi were still best friends and stuck mostly to yourselves. Many rumors went around the school about you two but you always ignored them.

You were in the eleventh grade when you realized your crush on Yoongi. You hadn’t seen him for much of the summer because he went to stay with his grandparents in the countryside. When he walked into the school on the first day your mouth dropped open. He had grown a few inches taller. Most of the baby fat in his face had disappeared leaving him with a chiseled jawline. He had let his hair grow out and he seemed to have bought some new clothes with the money he had earned at his part time job. The first thing he did was walk towards you and wrap you in a hug giving you the first feeling of how much more muscular he had become while working on his grandparents farm. When he said your name his voice was considerably deeper than you remembered. You locked away your secret crush for the whole year not wanting to ruin anything between you two. The thought of loosing him forget was too much to handle.

Senior year of high school was flying by. Yoongi was captain of the basketball team. You took a position as the teams water girl after he begged you too just so guys could get to spend a little more time together. You had decided that after the final game of the season you were going to ask him to Prom. Your nerves were out of control as you waited for Yoongi to come out of the locker room but minutes and minutes went by. Every other member of the team had already left leaving you wondering what was going on. As you exited the school there were mumblings and whispers about two people hooking up in the parking lot. You felt a knot in your stomach as you walked outside only to see exactly what you had feared. Yoongi exiting the backseat of his car with his zipper down and his belt still undone and the head cheerleader following behind while still pulling her skirt back down. When Yoongi came walking over to you asking if you were ready to hit up your usual after game pizza place you declined telling him you weren’t feeling well. He offered to take you home and hang out there but you shook your head accepting a ride from Hoseok instead much to Yoongi’s disappointment. Yoongi went to prom with the cheerleader while you skipped it all together deciding to never let him know about your crush.

College was much of the same only you didn’t feel a soul crushing sense of sadness whenever Yoongi would bring a random woman back to your shared apartment. You had learned to accept it for what it was. The ones he actually dated hurt a little more than the one night stands but you got through it, even having a few romantic adventures of your own.

Graduation came and went and Yoongi started his own record label with some money he and received as an inheritance. You were so incredibly proud of him and excited to see him succeed as the CEO and Owner of his own business.

It took a few years but DTown Records slowly became one of the hottest companies in music while producing nearly every hit on the radio.

When things got too crazy Yoongi offered you a job. He wanted you to become be his Chief Operating Officer. At first you declined saying you didn’t know much about the music industry but Yoongi knew you had a degree in business and he trusted you. So eventually you gave in and became his partner.

It was a lot like the old times. The two of you spent countless hours together all the while your old crush was blossoming more and now to the point you started feeling like you loved him.

Then Yoongi introduced you to Mia, an up and coming artist he had met at some big industry event he had gone too. Immediately you didn’t like her. It wasn’t all jealousy. She just gave you bad vibes. She was a little too quick to use Yoongi’s credit card any time she wanted to purchase something. She was constantly flirting with other men when he wasn’t around. And she definitely did not like you. She had one too many glasses of wine or coffee “accidentally” spilled on you by her way more times than could happen accidentally. She was always conveniently having emergencies any time you and Yoongi tried hanging out. You also heard from Jin, Yoongi’s assistant, that one morning she was giving Yoongi reason after reason to fire you.

You tried to talk to Yoongi but he was having no part of it even going as far as you call you jealous and told you to grow up. A little crack formed in your relationship for a while until he announced his engagement to Mia. He looked so happy and so in love that you put on your best act and pretended to be happy for him even though you were devastated.

The night before the wedding you were laying in bed trying to mentally and emotionally prepare yourself to watch the love of your life marry someone else when there was a knock at your door.

Since it was 3am you were nervous to answer it until you heard Yoongi on the other side. He greeted you with red eyes and sniffles before he broke down in your arms and sobbed.

Through his distress you learned that Mia was in her suite at the hotel so that they wouldn’t see each other the night before the wedding. He had snuck over to her with flowers and a song he’d written wanting to be romantic and surprise her. Only he was the one that was surprised when he found her naked riding some wannabe rapper as she moaned his name loudly into the air. The wedding was called off and Yoongi was devastated. You did your best to comfort him while forcing yourself not tell him you told him so.

Yoongi took a few weeks off to recover so you were in charge and things went smoothly. You were excited for his return only to be horrified at what you were met with.

The once happy and full of motivation Yoongi was replaced with the shell of man who was spiteful and outright mean. His heart melting gummy smile was replaced with a nonstop scowl. He fired people left and right and talked down to his employees. He wasn’t the Yoongi you’d known all these years. His broken heart had changed him to an unrecognizable person. But you still knew deep down that the Yoongi you knew was in there so you stuck around.

Bit by bit you snipped away at the barbed wire that surround him. His favorite coffee, lunch from his favorite Thai Restaurant. Tickets to see his favorite basketball team. Your secret fresh baked cookies that he had always loved.

One morning he came into work to find a brown stuffed poodle that looked exactly like the dog he had when he was in middle school. You saw the faintest hint of a smile at that one and you thought maybe you had finally got to him but then he took the toy and stuffed into the bottom drawer of his desk to be forgotten and started barking out orders to people in the office.

Then one morning Yoongi called you into his office, something he didn’t do much of any more.

“Y/N, I’m moving the headquarters for the label to LA.”, he said after you took a seat.

“Wh-What? You can’t do that.”

He scoffed, “It’s my company. I can and I am. I need to get out of this city and start new. I can’t stay here any more.”

“What about the employees here? What about me?”, you questioned.

“We’ll keep a small team here the rest we’ll have to let go and as for you…I want you to move to LA with me.”

Your mouth dropped open, “Yoongi that’s the other side of the world. I have family and friends here. My whole life is here. I can’t just pack up and move.”

“I understand Y/N. I can’t force you to go but I really want you to. I need you to come with me.”, he said barely above a whisper.

So you agreed. And within a couple weeks you were packed up and goodbyes were said and you were moved to Los Angeles. It was a difficult decision but you would do anything that Yoongi needed and/or wanted.

The company was doing incredibly well while making record profits. Things were also going great between you and Yoongi. You were closer than you had been in a while. Your feelings began blossoming fuller and fuller as time went on now that things didn’t seem so tense.

One afternoon you walked into Yoongi’s office. He was on the phone with someone so you took a seat to politely wait.

“Mmhm I’ll be there.

I know I know it’s been a while.

Yeah my flight leaves at noon.

I know babe I’m excited.”

You rolled your eyes hearing him use the pet name. He smiled when he noticed your reaction before quickly hanging up the phone.

“Going on a trip?”, you asked.

He looked nervous as he fidgeted with a pen, “Actually Y/N, that is something I wanted to talk to you about.”

You nodded letting him know you were listening.

He took a deep breath, “I’m moving back to Seoul.”

“What?!”, your mouth dropped open.”

He nodded, “I’ve been talking to someone, her name is Mae. We met at the Valentino show a couple months ago. She’s a model based out of Seoul so I’m going to move back there.”

You shook your head, “Yoongi I��you can’t move back. I gave up everything. I moved all the way to the other side of the world to follow you.”

He scoffed, “I didn’t force you to move here. You came here on your own Y/N. Just move back with me.”

“Yoongi I can’t just keep moving around the world whenever you have a new fuck buddy.”

He looked offended, “Mae is not a fuck buddy. I love her.”

You could feel tears begin to form, “You don’t love her Yoongi. You love that she puts out whenever you demand it. If she loved you she would come to you, not the other way around. Like I do. I’m always here for you. I do everything for you. I love you Yoongi.“

He stared at you for what felt like forever. Finally he slammed his laptop down, “I fail to see how that is my problem.“

His coldness shocked you. He had never spoken directly to you in that way. “That’s not very nice.”, you whispered through sniffles.

Yoongi softened at the sight of you realizing just how harsh he had been. He took a deep breath, “I’m sorry Y/N. I’m sorry for speaking to you that way. I’m also sorry that I don’t feel the same way about you.”, he packed up his things and headed towards the door, “I’m leaving for Seoul tomorrow. You can stay here and run this sector of the company or come back to Seoul. It’s up to you. I don’t really care.”

He walked through the door letting it close behind him.

He moved back to Seoul as he had said. Him and Mae got engaged three months later. They were married the following year and divorced by the next one.

You remained in your position as the COO through all of it, mostly because of the pay and travel perks, because your relationship with Yoongi had become strictly business after you confessed. You stayed in Seoul to run that location while he moved back to LA. It hurt for a while and it took a lot for you to move on from him.

But eventually you did.

And when Jungkook got down on one knee and proposed the first person you called was Yoongi. He didn’t answer. He never responded to the text either. He didn’t come to your engagement party. He declined the wedding invite. All you got was a generic card in the mail that you could tell had been filled out by Jin. Eventually you gave up and decided to put in your resignation because you and Jungkook were moving to New York. He didn’t contact you even then.

It wasn’t until almost three years later that you heard from him again. There was a package that arrived for you.

A card read, “Congratulations on the birth of your daughter. I wish you all nothing but happiness... I’m sorry I couldn’t be the one.- Min Yoongi.”

In the box was a stuffed animal. A wide smile formed on your face as you took the bright green frog with a pink bow on its head and placed it in the crib next to your sleeping daughter before joining Jungkook in the kitchen to finish up dinner.

[richeeduvie]

hey👋 😊🤗

where’s wedding bells pt.2 😠😾🔫

Wedding Bells (Part Two)

Stewy H. x Reader, Roman R. x Reader (complicated), Kendall R x Reader (minor, minor as in what Baby was when she was groomed by him) here yall go damn!! (jk it's been long overdue after my failures I love u guys)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

PART ONE (OUT OF FIVE), AUTHOR MASTERLIST After assuring Roman that Stewy being your date was nothing but a platonic necessity for Shiv's wedding, the start of the night has decided on proving you wrong. It's much to your dismay...maybe not so much Stewy's (for the most part), but most certainly Kendall's. Knowing the aspects of the "DogandBone!AU" do help add content to both parts of this story, but you do not need to read anything prior to understand it. If you would like to, you can go onto my masterlist linked and browse through the masterlists/content of my succession characters. All are content for DAB!AU. Or you can simply search up the tag. (Stewy's POV next!)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

The ceremony was beautiful, vows mandated. Knowing Tom as your technical boss, you're sure he wanted to say something from the heart. Knowing Shiv...Shiv, Shiv, your only girl friend Shiv...you know she wouldn't have that.

Roman took to looking bored next to Tabitha. You caught him making quips to her and you hate to wonder what he was saying, if he'd tell you the same things if you were his date.

Or maybe there's just some different with you that you wouldn't get the default comments out of Roman. Something just for you.

Maybe that's true for the past, before Tabitha and the now. You hate to think that, you think to not be over it already - you were asking Roman the what ifs of finding someone for you and you've got nothing to show for being ready to find that someone. That not-Roman.

Almost. Not really. No, you won't say you do have something to show for you. That something being taking looks at Stewy in the aisles.

Feeling your heart skip when he caught you taking those looks.

You were to not figure what the fuck Stewy was thinking at your stares when you were supposed to be gooey-goo over the new marriage of your friend. You were and are to not think about the way he met your eyes. You were to not notice the way Roman's head quickly, curtly snapped to follow where you were looking.

And now it's time for pictures!

"Has new, tanner dick brought you cause to lie to me?"

Roman kicks the grass, cut and too green underneath the both of you. What he's wearing isn't much different than his suits day to day at Waystar, but he looks nice. You don't know how to feel about how you don't feel the warm roll throughout your body at the sight of him handsome. Like he's not your boyfriend anymore.

He never was, he wasn't ever anything but the only person you've ever been in love with. Felt your loins on fire for, if you want to be gross about it.

You tilt your head.

"What?"

They're flashing pictures of just the bride and groom and it leaves Roman to whine to you on the sidelines. Stewy...in fact him and Kendall are nowhere to be found. You just know it's got something to do with whatever will ruin this family again. It'll be by tonight and forgiven in two weeks. At least the way you've grown into Roman over the years isn't something of a complete waste, you get understand the family you're working for for the rest of fucking time. Life.

Frank waves to you, you wave back.

"Ow! What the fuck?"

Roman's slapped your hand down mid-wave.

"You told me you just needed a date and you were too stupid to go with the obvious three-way Tabitha and I offered. Okay. I accepted that like I wasn't being fucked, but then you're fucking Stewy with your eyes, opening legs with your irises at my sister's wedding. Bridesmaid gangbang."

"...Are the bridesmaids gangbanging Stewy?"

Roman's brows are perpetually down, nose flared. You've shat on the grass, basically. The joke's bombed.

"You. Stewy...and his of color cock and his smarmy eyes. You think you can find out the number to his shaft shade by now? With all the times you've-"

Your eyes dart to where his fist opens and closes, then to where his neck rolls and head jolts. It's like a visual cough.

"Jesus Christ, you know what? Let me just not quip bullshit, I can be serious. I think I deserve that, maybe?" He sniffs.

And there it is...or there it isn't. No automatic, instinctual rush to comfort Roman and hold him or punish his insecurities with teases or insults punchier than his. Nothing.

Because you see Stewy coming up behind him.

You've always noticed he holds himself well, ever since you were younger. But now...no.

But then, you look into Roman's eyes, brown - facing rejection or no-care he's always so sure of. You sigh.

There it is. The rush.

Roman leans into your palm on his bicep.

"I'm going to ask if you've been keeping track of how many times you've ridden him. Or he's ridden you. You've taken to American Paint Horses."

"...When the fuck did you know pony breeds?"

"When you started fucking the brown kind."

Jesus. Roman.

"Roman! Fucking cool it. You're being...like, racist. Cartoonishly racist over something that you've made up in your head."

"It's not racist. Stewy's brown. Shocker. You went from me, not brown, to him. That's a fact. I didn't press negatives onto the color of his cock or our cultural differences in...fetishes."

Roman blinks, he turns to Stewy smiling at you before he's talking to Kendall.

"And did I make it up? Really."

You blink. You sigh.

It just slips out.

"You went from me to Tabitha. Should I whine?"

The words already leave a bad taste in your mouth once they leave it. They're not even particularly jealous-sounding, it's more of a casual tease to bite Roman and his hypocrisy. Still, it reeks on your tongue - it's a gag of admittance and by Roman's smug fucking face, you know he knows it too.

It's a slow growing smugness, too. First it's comprehension of what you said in the first place, then it's realization - life breathed onto his face.

Complete satisfaction.

....She still likes me. Wants me. Fuck it, knew it. Her vagina cares enough to be jealous. Knew it, knew it. Knew it. Thank God, I thought I was fucking done for and ready to be shot out back.

"I'm joking, but it's also a genuine question...because you're doing that over something you're making up in your head, Rom."

Roman puts his hands on his hips, lips pursing out.

"I just question the stares, you baby. That's all I'm doing. It's fair, they were like - fucky eyes."

No.

You don't know what they were.

"No. They weren't. And I-"

"Okay, now the family together!"

You turn to the photographer, Roman doesn't.

"I don't think you get to think over who I stare at, may-"

"Fuck you. Of course I do. I don't deny you from commenting on Tab's love for me as a result of pussy envy. I don't. I won't...and we..."

Roman turns to his family gathering, Shiv's blinking quick at him. It's like she's cursing at him to hurry the fuck up. He turns back.

"We can talk about it. Past the bullshit."

...Really?

"Really?"

The word on your tongue is more sarcastic than it is in your head. And there, in the pause...it's like Roman's pulling back from the openness of himself. Taking what he's put out away.

"Me and Tabitha and you...sure."

"...Mm. Shiv's waiting for you."

"Like, do I have to stop playing bits here and be fun for you to actually still have fun with me-"

"Roman, hurry the fuck up, dude! Seriously."

"Cool it! I don't care that it's your wedding, Shivy Ginge. I'll set fire to your minge."

He taps into his British roots there before he's off. Not before he kisses your knuckles, though.

"I just fucking miss you, weirdo. I want conversations. I just...I don't like...do things in spite - not towards you, even though you're being fucking weird. I don't make wounds and shove my dick into them as a gotcha."

It's said as he moves off. They take photos - the Roys...your Roys. You smile at Kendall when he smiles at you. Your thumb rubs your knuckle, you won't think about his kiss.

"Tabitha, just get it here."

But you don't think anything at all when they let Tabitha into the frame. It's easy for her. Rightfully so, but it's on your skin on a knife and you don't feel that's right.

But you don't feel it go away.

It hits you like the first time you cried as a child. It's a childish hurt and you can't make it go away as you watch the camera flash and Roys and Tabitha smile, as they bring Rava into the picture taking. Rightfully so.

It's a nail in the coffin, the confirmation what Roman has with Tabitha is real.

Your love, it still here thumping at your heart, is not.

Why are you about to cry?

"Hey, you."

You turn to the dark-haired, clean bearded man at your side. His knowing but soft voice.

"Hey, Stewy."

"What's with the glossy eyes?"

The burning is against the sudden, unwanted warmth you feel. You don't want to feel warmth at how Stewy's so close to you. You've been close to him before and nothing - nothing like what you feel with Roman.

But here, everything with what you feel with Roman. Maybe something new, something giddy that differs because Stewy isn't Roman, he's Stewy. He exists differently.

And now Roman exists away from you.

"Weddings, you know?"

Stewy smiles thin, brown eyes light.

"...Yeah. No. But even if it was yeah...I don't think it'd be Mr. and Mrs. Wambsgans getting me leaky. How's your legs from your formal-attire workout."

"...Upright planking?"

"Exactly."

You are sore. "It was a workout. At least I didn't have to listen to DIY vows. That would've been the real challenge."

Stewy leans you. You try not to breathe, you don't know why.

"I don't know, I think it'd be fun to see a Roy attempt romantics in public. Do you remember Ken's wedding with Rava?"

Yes. You won't be mean in your thoughts, genuinely.

"Yeah. The singing during the dinner was cute, I'm glad he chose to put that stunt there instead of the altar."

Stewy puts his hands in his pockets.

"Isn't that fucking right." His voice is warm, almost teasing - well...always teasing, even if the conversation is genuine. You know him well enough to know he's not fucking with you, laughing at you in the bore of small talk. It's just how he talks.

You also know him well enough to know his cologne is wearing off.

"You're not going to join the happy family photoshoot?"

"No. Have no reason to."

You and him haven't been facing each other in your talk, eyes to the Roy family with Tabitha and Rava as the reception beings to bustle inside.

You wonder if Stewy feels the tension too. If you're crazy - if you're childish for thinking he does or if you're both for feeling it yourself in the first place.

"That's a same, you're basically a fifth child. Which makes whatever you had with Roman incested. Which makes it less hot. I know, I'm weird, not...illegally weird, though. For the most part...so, the honorary incest is not hot, now that I think of it."

Stewy takes his hand out of his pocket. You see it out of the corner of your eye and you feel his touch on your back a couple seconds after.

You don't see how he pauses, you couldn't know how he thinks about how this touch is going to feel on his skin.

What the fuck happened, man? What happened that now things are...fucking coiling inside him. Like he's a boy - or no. Gross, cartoonish to describe it like...now it's just different with you. What fucking happened?"

Stewy smiles.

"You're perfume is disappearing on us. I don't want to be sniffing up on your sweat follicles while we're dancing, princess."

You shiver.

Why the fuck are you on fire in the best way possible?

"What a bore, right? Let's get inside."

Shiv fixes the waist of her dress.

"Yeah, honey. Photos are a bore, but important for our memoralization of our love...tonight, right? And I think we're supposed to let everyone go in first before we come crashing as bride and groom."

Photos are done. Everyone separates and even in the fire, you look to see if Roman's watching the flames. And....

Of course he is. But then you realize that you didn't tell Kendall that Stewy's your date. You didn't think you had to, but his eyes catching to where his best friend holds you is where you remember that yeah, Stewy's his best friend. The only reason why you know Stewy is because he's Kendall's best friend that he introduced when you were 14. You'll give him more leeway than you give to Roman. Even though it's still a date you needed, it must be weird for Kendall to see without context.

"I think you looked very beautiful up there."

You turn to Stewy, heart beating quick. Too quick for you to judge yourself for it.

"For Shiv's sake, I won't say you outdid her but...you were the closest bridesmaid to doing the out."

You smile to break away from that tension - between him and between how Kendall's hand drops from Rava's waist, how his eyes blink low from afar.

"You were examining all of us up there to figure that out?"

It's a joke you think warrants another smarmy-charming reply.

But all Stewy does is just hold his head up with something....serious along his face. Nothing under a tease, just eyes not blinking before he looks to the grass.

"No."

You can't stop your smile from falling before the photographer comes up to the both of you.

"Hey, you two want a photo? Cute couple."

"Oh, we're jus-"

"Sure. Have at us."

Stewy says it as charming as he says everything before he pulls you close by the waist.

"Oh, I can smell you better now. Smile, princess."

You do with every roll of fire on your skin. Your stomach turns over.

Maybe it's not childish...it's just new, it's just how you feel. What you hate is that you do, that it's Stewy. You have a right to new people, a new person to feel like this for...but not Stewy.

But it is, for some strange, new reason.

The camera shutters on you and him.

"Can I kiss you? It'll be modest. Cheeky."

It doesn't take you more than two seconds for it to slip out.

"...Sure. Yeah."

"Alright, yeah."

Stewy says it quietly before he kisses your cheek.

Oh, God.

The camera shutter, you might be...shuddering. You smile anyway. The photographer smiles too.

"Alright, make sure to catch the bouquet!"

They walk off and Stewy doesn't let go of you. You realize that he was holding it before the photographer came up for photos.

...Just breathe, just breathe.

And you do, Stewy's face doesn't stop you from breathing, you're able to breathe into it. Because of it - suddenly.

With his smile, with his smile.

...Maybe you'll indulge, maybe you have been indulging.

"I-"

You were going to, just before there's the sound of immense gagging. Vomiting.

"Fuck!"

"Rome?"

"Roman? What the fuck?"

Stewy turns to the commotion, brows rising up.

"Oh...oh. Fuck. That's disgusting."

It's Roman puking chunks onto the grass. Tabitha stands over him, complete ohs and rightful confusion on now knowing what to do. His father, Logan just looks completely disappointed.

Roman's hunches over. He's holding his head in what you know to be complete pain.

What the fuck?

"Roman?"

Of course, he doesn't answer you. You go to go up to him, but there's a hand on yours.

"I think we can go inside. Roman's vomit breath will meet us there, it looks like he's got enough people to check on him and his insides."

"I don't th-"

Even after everything, or because of everything, you still try and go to Roman. But Tabitha's hands rubbing his back stop you.

It takes the breath out of you.

Yeah, it's just...he'll meet you inside. Roman's got comfort, he decided it wouldn't be you and that'll stop hurting.

Roman will stop hurting a lot easier than you, you're sure. It'll be okay, you've got the rest of your life to take his insults of tonight.

"Okay, yeah. Let's go."

You hear the last of the gags as you and Stewy head inside to the start of the reception.

"I think they got my favorite desert, actually. I don't know how. If I'm feeling sultry and you're feeling consensual, I'll fork it into your mouth for you to try."

"...Sounds sultry. Okay"

You neither lean or move away from his hand on the small of your back. You let him pick something out of your hair.

"Roman, what the fuck? You okay, bro?"

"That was...you okay, son?"

You won't catch how Roman can't catch his breath. He can't recover. He can't come up from his knees. He actually lowers.

Tabitha's hands feels like bees, unfuckingfortunately. Roman crawls away and jolts at her palm finding him again.

"Stop! Just- it's fine. Stop. Sorry, sorry, Tab's. Dad, I'm good. I'm-"

He hacks. He can't breathe.

He knows why he can't breathe, but where are you? Where are the hands that actually feel like life digging back into his lungs?

Roman looks up.

What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?

Where are you?

"Roma-"

Whoever's talking to him gets interrupted by more vomiting. He's choking on it.

"Oh fucking Christ. I'm going, I'm going inside, Pinky. Someone get him water. Absolutely disgusting."

He would say he doesn't know what he did, but he does. He just doesn't...but he's sorry.

Where did you go? Why don't you come back?

"Roman, baby-"

"Don't fuckin-I said! I said stop. Sorry, you'll touch me later. I'm sorry."

He really fucking is, but someone else will be. If Roman sees Stewy in there...the bullet in Roman's head will be his to blame. That'll make him feel better.

Roman wipes his mouth, his eyes. He sniffles.

"Are you cry-"

"No! Tabitha, stop! Shiv - go get banged, it's your wedding day."

He can feel eyes. So, he's right. Staring does mean things.

"Fuck off!"

[rahuratna]

Nanami Kento: Relationship Headcanons (now a fic), Part 8

Contents: relationship, establishing feelings, angst, first arguments.

Warning: MDNI!! Content warnings will be given for the relevant chapters. But before that ... the angst.

Your assurances that you had enjoyed what had happened in your office sparked something new between the two of you. Every time Kento saw you, his fingers were seeking out yours. His hand was always on your waist or lower back, sometimes unconsciously. You were beginning to learn just how much he was a man of restraint, how he reigned in so many of his natural instincts on a daily basis. He seemed to be wearing the armour that the world demanded of him, but as time passed, that same emotional apparel was shed, bit by bit, when he was in your presence.

The concept was so foreign to him, that Kento seemed to be surprised by how he had no control over those aspects of his personality that you brought to the surface.

For instance, on the evening that you had your first argument with him.

He had returned from a mission, covered head to toe in the foulest combination of sludge and rancid water, his suit ruined beyond repair and various bruises already blooming on his skin.

It had been a solo mission and several higher grade spirits had been present. Although not badly injured, Kento was exhausted, sore and in a foul mood over the lack of detail in his prior briefing. Showered, dressed in a mismatched set of clothes borrowed from Gojo, purplish discoloration spreading up from his collar, he paced your office.

"Is it too much to ask that they simply confirm mission parameters? That they provide us with updated blueprints? That we get back-up in case of emergencies? Oh, don't get me wrong. I've always known how little our lives mean, how they spend us like cheap currency, but this... this is just shoddy and lax and poorly planned - "

You brewed him tea as he ranted, a certain heaviness, a razor edge that dug into some deep part of you, furrowing your brow as you glanced back at him. He was right, of course. The rarely seen higher-ups often used their sorcerers like pawns in chess games, sometimes losing sight of the value of human life from their rarefied strata.

You waited for the tea to reach just the right temperature, choosing your words carefully. In a pause in his speech, you asked the question you already knew the answer to.

"Do you really think it's a coincidence?"

He stopped, facing the far wall.

"Why do you mean?"

"Do you think I don't know what happened on Takuma's mission?"

Takuma Ino, a young sorcerer, going so far as to deny himself a grade one sorcerer class unless his recommendation came from Kento, had been the victim of similar incompetence just last week. Kento turned to you now, and his expression was carefully blank in a way that made you want to grab his shoulders and shake him.

"Ah. You know about that?"

"Of course I know. You called an intervention. You were angry, and you made them look incompetent. This is retaliation for that, Kento, however you look at it. They can't interfere to the extent where your life may be in danger, but look at what they did."

His body was now rigid, his mouth set in a tense, stubborn line.

"And what did you expect me to do? Sit back and let them get away with placing young sorcerers in danger?"

The teaspoon clattered into the saucer as you spun around to face him fully.

"What? Why would I ever question your need to do that?"

"Well, it certainly sounded like a criticism."

"That's because it was a criticism. But not of your intention, Kento. Are you being wilfully obtuse?"

"Then what did you expect me to do?"

"Handle it better. Are you telling me you don't know how their egos would have been affected? That's you didn't know how that could have backfired?"

"Am I now to be responsible for the failings of others? Am I suppose to pander to these ... these ..."

It was testament to his rage that he couldn't even come up with adequate words that would convey his disgust for these people. You closed your eyes and passed a hand over your brow.

"No. I don't expect you to do that. Never. But Kento, sometimes your temper does get the better of you. You do make rash decisions, especially if it's on matters that are ... very personal to you."

You knew, of course. Once he'd mentioned the name Haibara, you'd looked through the records. The crisp, clinical phrases on the yellowing pages of the autopsy report spoke volumes on what had been omitted.

The range of emotions that crossed his face surprised you, almost making you wish you could take the words back. But it had been the truth. He looked taken aback, the surprise chased shortly by anger, and then a flash of something deeply pained, a small twist of the knife.

"If that's how you feel, then - "

"Don't finish that sentence, Kento."

Your voice is quiet, firm, and he actually pauses.

"Because I haven't finished what I was going to say. Please listen. You took that decision, and I understand your anger. I understand it completely. But you did it with no sense of self-preservation whatsoever. Do you think I don't know how little you think of yourself when others are in danger?"

You took a steadying breath, willing your voice to remain even, to reign in the emotion that threatened to roughen the edges of what you had to say to him.

"You had every right to stand up for Takuma. But in future, if you want to do things like that, at your own expense, run it by me first. Because it seems like I'm the only one who has your best interests in mind. You certainly don't."

"My best interests? I - "

He seemed at a loss in terms of how to respond to this. His jaw worked in furious frustration, but then he stopped, strode to the door and flung it open, his heavy footsteps carrying him away from the office, away from you.

You released a breath you had been holding and clutched the edge of the table, a horrible vice closing around your throat. You had always hated confrontation, and this was no exception. But this time, you hadn't been able to help yourself. It was as if something tenacious, something steel-clad and oblivious to your fear had risen to the surface. You couldn't have let him go without hearing what you really thought, even if you wanted to.

And now, you were left to face the consequences. Sinking into your chair, you let your head drop wearily into your palms.

Is this what caring for someone meant? Was this the bereft ache that you were supposed to feel when he was angry, when he was hurt, when he was gone? How had you gone through your whole adult life and still found yourself so ill-equipped to deal with the feelings he left scattered around you? Feelings that you now gathered up and hoarded in a protective layer around yourself, clinging so desperately to the idea that what you said hadn't been wrong.

Had it?

Someone was approaching the office and you straightened hurriedly, taking a deep breath, attempting some form of composure before you had to face your professional demands.

Kento strode back in, as precipitously as he had left, this time closing the door behind him and locking it. You stared at him, dumbfounded, steeling yourself for what he had to say. He regarded you in silence, and you took him in, fully this time.

His eyes were slightly red-rimmed, raw looking. The ugly abrasions stood out more starkly against his skin. His hair was completely out of its usual style, falling softly around his cheeks. Those same cheeks that you had traced with such tenderness now seemed so shadowed, so gaunt. His plain grey work shirt, the spare he'd kept at the Tech, clashed with the black trackpants that Gojo had provided, lending his dignified bearing a distinct pathos. There was a tender, bruised quality to the set of his mouth, a vulnerability in his glance that you had never seen before.

You realised, then, that in his own way, he was letting you see it, all of it.

Wordlessly you held your arms out to him and he came forward, almost child-like in his direct approach. He got down on one knee and his head drooped slowly into your lap, a heavy sigh escaping him as your embrace enclosed his shoulders. You held him tightly against your chest, feeling the solidity and power in his frame, wondering how long it had been since anyone had leant him their strength.

Time passed, your time at work. You thought of your employers, sitting in comfort while this man fought with every silent breath for some semblance of justice, for something good in this world. You breathed in the warm scent of his scalp and held him tighter as shadows lengthened in the room. If your time and livelihood were also currency to them, then let it be spent like this.

He apologizes for his outburst, of course, and this time there is a wariness there, as if he is aware of just how much he has shown and cannot believe that you will actually accept it. He avoids coming to your office, stating that he distracted you from your work enough with the issues he brings and wanted to keep your meetings strictly outside of work, or in the break room, where your interaction would be one of forced professionalism.

If he had been any other kind of man, you might have found it frustrating. There was something else here, though, some subtle message (maybe one that even he was unaware of), an indication that something needed to be proven. You were determined to rise to the occasion.

And so, you made your plans.

You called him one evening, on a Thursday. You had not seen him at work. You decide to forgo messaging, because you missed his voice. He picked up almost immediately, speaking your name, his tone slightly surprised, but warm.

"Kento, I need to know something."

"Yes, dear?"

"Are you busy this Sunday?"

"No. I was going to ask you to spend the day with me."

"Well, I'm asking you now."

"To spend the day together?"

"Yes."

He pauses and a soft chuckle reaches your ear.

"Does it make a difference who asks?"

"Yes, it does. For this Sunday."

"And why is that?"

"Because I've made plans for us."

"You have?"

"Absolutely. You can't always be the one planning our dates."

"I see nothing wrong with that. But, pardon my curiosity, where are we going?"

"It's a surprise, Kento."

"Oh no."

"What do you mean 'oh no'?"

"Nothing at all."

"Explain."

"A slip of the tongue, my darling."

"A slip of the tongue, my foot."

"And a most delightful foot it is."

"Stop slithering your way out of things."

"I take offense to that word."

"Anyway, I'll give you a hint. Since I'm an exceptionally kind person."

"I'm eager to hear it."

You clear your throat.

"Dress for the outdoors."

"Are you sure about that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when you say that to me, I imagine tough trousers, hiking boots, a walking stick ... "

"Oh no. None of that."

"Ah. So you mean outdoors, but your kind of outdoors."

"My kind?"

"Lazing in the sunshine and eating grapes."

You let out an incredulous laugh.

"You're awfully cheeky today, aren't you?"

His voice immediately takes on a lower, smoky tone.

"Am I going to be punished for that?"

Oh no, you don't, sir.

"Yes. I'll punish you. With a large quantity of grapes."

There is a short silence.

"Hmm."

"Aren't you going to ask me what I'm going to do with those grapes?"

"Maybe I'll wait for Sunday, after all."

Sunday comes and you feel both excited and a sense of nervous anticipation. You've never planned a date to this extent before. You've hired a car from the Tech for the day, one of the company cars that are always available for employees. You're aware that you might just be abusing the privilege, but you've never used this particular perk before and you're feeling slightly rebellious.

You've picked the perfect spot for a picnic, in a private piece of land owned by an old family friend. You'd spent many childhood days there when times were better and your mother had still been with you. The land was now cared for by a third party, but you were one of the people who still had access, and you could imagine the place clearly in your mind's eye.

Food, of course, played an important role in this. You'd thought out the menu well in advance and purchased all the ingredients you'd needed the previous day. You were going to prepare his special sandwich, of course, along with a green salad with fresh corn and avocado, onigiri with various fillings, croquettes, marinaded artichokes with parmesan, some of those store-bought honey cakes, coffee jelly, along with a small tribute to your mother's simple favourite, sandwiches with mature cheddar, cucumber and the mint chutney she had taught you the recipe for. Champagne and bottled water would be carried carefully along in the hamper, along with glasses, cutlery and plates.

You'd made sure that you'd woken up early and prepared everything that needed to be made fresh. When it was time, you sent Kento a short message, telling him that you'd fetch him from outside his apartment, and headed there. It had been a while since you had driven, but the muscle memory was there, the steering fluid under your fingers, and you'd re-adjusted in no time. You felt somewhat proud, and confident that today would go off without a hitch.

Kento was waiting on the street corner, and the sight of him momentarily stole the breath from your lungs. The collar of his white shirt showed above a simple, plaid sweater, light colored jeans emphasizing his long legs, rugged brown shoes and his customary watch, glinting from beneath his sleeve, completing the ensemble. There was no sign of the dark glasses and his hair was not slicked back, lending him a relaxed and casual air. As you drew closer, you could see the remaining yellowish traces of bruising against the side of his neck.

His eyes travelled over to the car, and when he spotted you behind the wheel, they softened and creased at the corners, with a warmth that you still couldn't believe was directed at you. He climbed into the passenger seat and your fingers met his, naturally.

"Good morning, handsome."

He coughed and shifted in his seat, still not accustomed to your teasing, but heartfelt compliments.

"Good - well, hello."

His warm grasp was now trailing along your arm, belying the awkwardness of his words, and you laughed.

"Shall we?"

You shifted gear and set the car in motion. Soon, you were out of the city limits, the clear autumn air crisp and warm enough for you both to let down the windows at intervals, taking in the breeze. Kento's hair caught the morning sunlight, the shorter strands at the nape of his neck suddenly, tenderly visible. You want to run your fingers over them, but you knew you'd get a scolding for not paying attention to the road.

He spoke, not taking his eyes off the scenery.

"The other day. In your office."

"Kento. I told you that everything's fine between us."

"I know it is, but there's still something I want to say to you."

"Go ahead."

The effort with which he forms the next words tells you how difficult it is for him to express thoughts like this.

"When you ... held me, I felt ... different. Like something had changed in my life, so profoundly. I felt as if ... a heaviness I had been carrying for so long had lifted a little. When I went home that day, I ... I remembered my friend. I let myself think of him. Of happy times. I've never really been able to do that before."

You're smiling softly and his fingers are tracing the shape of your arm again.

"That's good, right?"

"I think so. For me, that is. But I need to know ... "

"You need to know if those same burdens are not being passed to me, correct?"

He looks at you, and from this angle, you can see something of the wonder in his gaze. You laugh.

"It's already pretty obvious when you're with Yuuji. All that darkness you want to keep away from him. From all the students. I know, Kento. I know the kind of world we live in. I know that you can't protect everyone forever. Those burdens are not yours to give, or take away. At some point, you have to trust that ... it is enough."

"That what is enough?"

Love. That's what you want to say to him. That love is enough to carry you through the worst of what the world has to offer. But you don't. This time and place isn't right. Instead, you turned your eyes briefly to the sun shining through the trees ahead.

"Today is a beautiful day, isn't it?"

"It is."

@tsukimefuku @g-kleran @actuallysaiyan @kentocalls