#this took about an hour to make i think. i don't know i wasn't counting

[dilf-docs]

Saturday But in Your Sunday Best

bfd!joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: joel has a co-worker's wedding in las vegas. everything that can go wrong, does.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., creampie, oral (f. and m. receiving), breast play, fingering, dacryphilia, degradation kink, ANGST (as in i've suffered so will my characters. this wasn't at all what i had envisioned at first for this part), hurt/comfort, a bit of fluff (that's new), pls be nice this writer's block shot me in the foot

word count: 11,121 words

side note: sorry this took so long. between movie watching for the oscars, my other works, midterms, pedro pascal horny hours, my wattpad fic, the max fic you citizens let flop (ĉüřşę ÿoụ āĺļ), the brat taming fic that made numbers among my oomfs on twitter, a very shitty date (the situational irony of letting a man ruin my women's day) a ptwt fic gc in twitter (love u frens), and uni again, i let the ttdik series collect dust, my bad. as compensation, take this girthy chapter altho it makes me kinda insecure IDK. this is why i don't do series okay!! i'm my worst enemy and i fear procrastination is a chronical disease of mine atp

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What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas

His foot taps anxiously against the marble floor, sound drowned by the bustling crowd.

People come and go. Some hug, others cry. And Joel? Well, he's just waiting for you to come.

He checks his watch, the one Sarah gifted him, and sighs. Should've known better.

It's been two months since the pregnancy scare, and ever since then, you have put a bit of a distance between yourselves.

It was slow, gradual: first the excuses then nights were you wouldn't stay or ask him to. And, even if your affair was that, just an affair, he missed sleeping in the warmth of your embrace. He also missed the way your nose would crinkle when you laughed. You didn't laugh that often anymore, and if you did, it sounded like you were holding in: as if you were afraid to let loose and let him see through you. And to be honest, it was killing him.

So when he reached out to you for this, he should've expected for you to say no. That you wouldn't show up after that I'll see if I'm free text: no, Joel Miller simply shouldn't have harbored that much hope for his daughter's bestfriend he happened to be banging.

If he hadn't confirmed his invitation, he'd probably gone home and layed down. Watch some garbage TV with Sarah and some beer in hand, but here he was, like a lonely loser, luggage in hand.

(Sarah helped him pack. He didn't even know what to wear to a wedding, and then she showed up with his old suit-- that still fit, somehow, albeit a bit more tight, from the dry cleaning. Joel would be lost without her)

The speaker announces his flight is about to leave. Joel gets up, trying not to be dissappointed about the whole thing. He's got no right to, after all.

"Joel?"

He'd end up breaking his neck by how fast he turned.

There you are, and it's like the weight he wasn't aware of, settling on his chest, had been removed.

"You made it" is the first thing that makes it out of his lips.

You softly laugh, "Hello, Joel"

He gets closer to you, slowly, like if he where to do it faster, he'd scare you off. Or you'd be gone, as if a dream.

(It'd be a nightmare, though, because you wouldn't be here)

"Sorry. I-" he cuts off, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. There's some tension lingering in the air, the same when you left his house a week ago. Joel had been too much of a coward to invite you then, rather hiding behind a screen.

But now you were here.

"I didn't think you'd come" he says after a beat of silence.

You tilt your head to the side, eyebrow up as if you hadn't been acting weird at all.

"Why wouldn't I?"

(Because it seems like being in the same room as me tires you. That your eyes don't shine anymore, and the starry sky looks like a storm when you dare search my gaze as we fuck. Every time you breath, its like breathing the same air as me burns)

He rather not press, so instead, he says:

"I'm jus' glad ya' came. 'S all"

You nod, not adding anything at all. Then, both you walk to your gate, side by side in silence, the same that had seemed to seep inside your romance for the past weeks.

Well, romance was definitely a stretch. An affair seemed more like it.

Of course, you're aware the change it's on you. It would've been dumb of you to think Joel wouldn't notice your withdrawal, or how more often than not you'd be stuck in your head. But still, he didn't comment on it, and like you, danced around the subject, afraid for different reasons as yours. Or the same. Yet, you'll never know. No, you're aware you both are too stubborn, and that whatever it started on that day, had settled in between like a burning flame.

(Had you been engulfed by the fire yet?)

You try not to think about it. After all, you had the option not to come. But a weekend away in Las Vegas after midterms? Too tempting to let go.

(And it's not like images of a stood up Joel in the airport, looking miserable, had made you restless the last couple of days after his text)

"Ya' can take the window" he says, even if it's his seat.

He knows you're nervous about flying, a little detail that came up during a post-sex small talk.

(What're you're dreams? Joel asked. You had answered that you'd love to travel the world after graduating, but that you had a fear for flying, despite having only done it once. It may have been because the first time you did, it was to fly for your grandma's funeral. Perhaps it was by association then, that the bad feelings about boarding a plane could be related to that)

"Thanks" you mumble, sitting down. You're avoiding his gaze, but know he's looking at you.

"What?" a little harsher than intended.

He looks taken back, looking at his lap as he let's out a soft whisper, sheepishly:

"Nothin'. Jus' thinkin' you look pretty today"

A light blush creeps up your cheeks as you huff out a Whatever.

Joel let's a breath of relief out his tight chest and allows himself to smile.

(At least, he's still got an effect on you)

The wedding Joel was supposed to attend is in the Ángel De La Guarda cathedral. You'd be staying nearby, at a hotel room Joel's coworker had paid for, the same where the reception would take place.

Being in the same room as Joel one night should be the least of your worries, but then the space is even smaller than it was supposed to (given by Joel's cursing as he paced around, anxiously), and the strain of your relationship settles in the air, physically so, tight around your throat.

Then, it's the bed issue: there's only one. It's not like you haven't slept in the same bed before, obviously, but there's a certain dread deep in your stomach about sharing the enclosed space when you're at your most vulnerable. He moves around a lot during night, and something tells you you'd wake up to his strong arms and hot breath fanning over your neck, hairs rising at the proximity, making it harded to calm your heart.

"You okay?" he's asking, dropping the bags in a corner.

"At what time is the wedding?" you ask.

He checks his watch. "In about seven hours"

The glass bounces a ray right into your face, and you have to close your eyes at yet nother reminder of why this is all so wrong.

Sarah.

"We should rest..." he says, plopping on the bed. His plaid t-shirt rises up at the same time the color of your cheeks does, when the glimpse of soft tanned skin reveals itself. He looks up to your stiff standing figure, bulk arms behind his neck as he rests his head on his biceps. "Don't 'cha think?"

Lay with me. Not outloud.

"No" you say, hastily so, not missing the way a flicker of dull akin to the pain of rejection finds its way to his brown eyes. "I..." your voice softens. "I'd rather take a tour of the place, you know? It's not like I'll come every weekend here"

He's about to raise up. I'm coming with you, again not out loud, in case you'd reject his offering again.

Which you do.

"I'm fine" you say, grabbing your purse. "Just... I need a moment"

Away from you.

"Suit yourself" but there's a sharp edge on his apparent kindness.

Closing the door behind you, it takes all of you to not turn around and see his face one last time.

You wander off through the bright lights and noisy hallways, walking until the sun of the outdoors filters a ray over the carpet through the glass doors. Strides take you to the pool area, kids giggling, parents sunbathing and youngsters chilling.

You sigh, dipping your feet in the pool, chlorine up your nose and water baterly grazing your sundress.

But you're drowning.

Drowning on his presence, every room he's in now smaller. Walls of the room collapsing, as the ones of your lungs, every breath tight if your nose catches a whiff of his scent lingering in the air. You'd wash the sheets almost immediately, crying when your head hit the pillow and it smelled like lavender and not Joel.

It was the only right choice: to erase him out of your life, because with every new kiss and thrust, he'd take another part of you with him, and you don't know how much more you can give of yourself without dying. A part of you dies every time he walks out the door, anxious heart pondering when will he walk out for good. When he'll realize the thrill is gone, that your escapades were all but a product of his crisis, and what started as a mutual use of bodies, ends in the waste of your heart.

Joel has become a drug for you: knowing it's destructive, but the high so addictive, you don't mind the crash. It's unevitable, and a small treacherous voice in the back of your head says you're just postponing a foretold death.

Yet Joel Miller makes you feel alive. Alive as a spring, grassbed full of blooming flowers. As sun carressing your skin: if you stay too long, the warm becoming burning.

A kid walks up to your sad lonely pensive corner, splashing water onto you.

"Hey!" but he's gone, and it's Vegas, so his parents are three mojitos down from the open bar, asleep under the sun. You curse, getting up and back to your room to change.

When you get to your room, is eerily quiet. And dark, the curtains closed.

You rumage through your suitcase, pulling out a change. The dress slips off, falling to the carpet with a pathetic drowned sound. You're about to change into the t-shirt when the lights flicker.

"You back?"

You scream, trying to cover yourself.

"Woah!" Joel covers his eyes, both your reactions ironically funny. Your cheeks burn as you finish dressing yourself up, and if he takes a small peak between his fingers, well, you'll never know. "Jesus, doll. If ya' wanted it so bad, could've asked"

Something akin to anger and deception morph into a burning flame in the pit of your stomach. Even after all this months, after this imminent fight, Joel can't bring himself to ask, dancing around the fragile line that barely holds on with the clap of skin against skin and sweat, as to replace the tears that will never see the light of the day.

"Right, because that's all I want"

He raises an eyebrow at your tone. "S' a joke"

"Jokes are supposed to make people laugh"

He shoots you a look, before standing from the bed.

"What's gotten into ya'?"

He walks closer, yet you give him your back, tossing the sundress with too much force in your bag.

"Don't know what you're talking about" as nonchalant as you can muster.

"Look at me" you keep the harsh packing going on. Joel grows impatient at your confusing demeanor, not just from today, but days ago. He's had enough. He spins you around, losing his cool as he shouts. "Damn it, y/n, stop actin' like a brat!"

"Don't touch me!" you yell back, pulling away.

"So that's how's it now?" Joel lets out a scoff. "Y' get on ma' bed but the moment I put a finger in ya', y'act all coy and angry?"

"Right, 'cause I'm a slut. That's what sluts do: we get on lonely men's bed and fuck them"

He grabs the bridge of his nose, breathing heavily. His voice is laced with frustration, and you know it's your fault.

"Never said that"

Why not talk it like adults? No. Too much of a coward to do that.

"Jus' tell me, doll. What's goin' on?"

I think I love you, and I'm fucking scared.

His voice is soft, pleading. In your lifetime, you never thought you'd see Joel Miller beg. You did once, but it wasn't like this. Please, he'd say. Now, here he is, standing before you like the smallest man who ever lived and not the unstoppable force you made him out to be.

It should be easy. But words never come easy. Not to you. Neither love, so foreign it makes you shiver with fear. So natural, one day you opened your eyes to him laying next to you, Sarah staying in another city for a soccer tournament, and decided that was what you wanted. All his mornings. His bed voice, thick from sleep. His droopy eyes and tired smile, facil hair tickling your face as he says Good mornin', Southern drawl never more prominent, kisses in between. Let's get sum coffee after, because he always had to drink the bitter liquid out of his owl mug or wouldn't be able to make it through the day.

You want him to be the first thing you see when you open your eyes.

You want Joel Miller. Want. Want. Want.

"I hate you"

You have ruined me.

He probably expected anything but that, given his crestfallen face. Joel wishes for time to go back, at the beach. He'd say no, push you away. Fought a little harder. Never gotten into your bed.

The worst part is, he's a fucking liar: he'd probably still choose the same, even if the end is near.

"You ain't mean that" not knowing if he's trying to convince you or himself. "Jus' wanna hurt me"

You don't humor him with an answer.

"I shouldn't have come" is what you say instead, the bitter taste of defeat and hurt etched in your voice.

Would've been easier to stop when we should've.

His words run through the tense air like a bullet.

"I agree"

Weddings had always made you cry.

You weren't even a romantic, but the whole thing-- the promise of forever, it seemed to move your heart a bit.

So, if your eyes shimmer when the bride makes her entrance and the groom, Joel's co-worker, tears up, you feel your chest tight and stomach drop. It clenches with something akin to dread and want, as if suddenly, all that mattered to you was love. A year ago, if you told yourself-- the one who got on her knees to suck Joel's dick at the beach that night, that you'd be here?

You would've laughed.

Falling for the grumpy old man who also happens to be your bestfriend's dad?

Right. Imagine that.

Except there is nothing to imagine. All of it is real.

From his quiet laughter, the sound foreign and not frequent by the way it rasps against his throat. But now the wrinkles around his eyes are more prominent, forbidden laughs marking his blushing face. as he looks away, embarrassed. You can laugh, you had said, I won't tell anyone, yet he made you swore like the sight of Joel Miller laughing was the worst thing in the world. So had become the grey strands on his hair, more sprouting each time, as his damp curls twisted in your fingers.

It is also in the way his sweat that drops over your body as he tries hard to last longer, to his grunts that fill the room as he fills you to the brim with his warm cum. How his rough seems to meet every inch of your soft skin, like pieces of a puzzle.

Something clicks when you're with Joel, and you can't help but feel it's your fault this rift has been created, aggressively peeling the white off your nails as some form of anxious torture. But, he too, aside from his initial Just glad you came, hadn't said a word about it again. Even if he had noticed it all, before Vegas too. Nothing. And then Joel told you it was best if you didn't come. Fucking great.

You feel him tense next to you, body stiff when your arm accidentally brushes his when you stand up from the bench, making you roll your eyes.

The fallout had been awkward. The elevator ride took forever, and then the space on the cab felt too small. He took you to the back, on the benches near the exit, like he didn't want to be seen with you. It got you fuming: why bother to invite you at all?

In all truth, you could've picked up your bags and left after the fight, yet you stayed. You wonder who's more of a coward. In this weird dancing around you've got going on, walking in circles over the words Stay and Leave, like both are too delicate to say out loud. Even as the couple speak their vows, amid the claps and tears, your mind keeps drifting back to one question: Which would hurt less?

It's not until it ricochets on your arm that you realize the tears are also your own. You brush it fast, but by the corner of your eye, you know Joel notices. Still, he doesn't say anything, which contributes to your spite.

The ceremony is over, and just as you can feel the anticipation of the reception's drinks to buzz your nerves down, someone blocks you the exit. A couple, more like it.

Before fully registering their faces, Joel's hand flies to your back, pressed in a firm manner that oozes protectiveness. It makes your heart flutter, no matter how much you try to suffocate the treacherous butterflies in your stomach. You try not to think too much about it as you take them in: a man, looking in his middle forties, probably around the same age as Joel, so as the woman next to him, who smiles warmly. Not like the man, who seems unwelcoming.

"Joel" he pronounces his name, manners coming out cold. "It's nice to see you made it"

His grip on your back becomes more firm.

"Mark" he uses the same tone. "Well, when ya' confirm, y'gotta come"

"And who may this be?" Mark's wife asks, not thinking there's harm in her words. You swear you can hear him snicker next to her.

"She's-"

Joel stops midtrack. How is he supposed to even call you?

"I'm his girlfriend"

You don't know why you did that but you did. You also don't know why it causes you such satisfaction to see their wide eyes and Mark's disdain.

"Oh, I didn't know you had a girlfriend. How lovely!"

His cheeks go pink. "Thanks, Laura"

"Yes, Joel. Didn't think you'd move on" but his tone isn't like his wife's. "I just assumed that being with someone wasn't on your list anymore, you know, at your age. Especially one so... young"

Laura shots him a look.

Maybe it wasn't your place to get angry, not after how you've subjected Joel to your silent treatment this past months. Not after the fight you've just had hours ago. But he is also the same man who held your hand after you thought you were pregnant. He was the one who stayed. It is too how his shoulders slump, like he believes it to be true. You can't bear to see him sad, as contradictory as that may sound.

"Mark, right?"

The man nods, still sickly smiling.

"To me it sounds like you're jealous. Which is awful, because you've got a lovely wife" she looks away embarrassed while Mark fumes. "Also, when I turn around, try not to stare at my ass. I saw you when we arrived"

There's nothing left to say, so you walk past them.

"I think that was funny. Don't you?"

He avoids looking at you.

"I called a cab. Should take us back to the hotel"

No thanks. Nothing.

"Alright" your tone is dry. "Do as you please"

He opens the door for you, but his movements seem stiff and unnatural. Like he's second guessing every breath and step.

The car begins to move. You lean against the window, seeing the hues of neon through the glass. Joel's eyes burn holes on your head, a glimpse of brown in the reflection.

"I liked the wedding"

Joel looks at you properly for the first time since the fight. Your hair falls gracefully in cascades, hinting at an effort that tries to pass as a nonexistent one. Your makeup is soft, but your lips are in a shade he can't quite name, yet manage to make them even more fuller than usual. God, he thinks of it smeared on his clothes and mouth, feeling dumb all of the sudden. Then there's the dress. He doesn't have a favorite color, but as of now, it may be red: specially if its the red that hugs your curves, pushes your tits up and gives a little peak of your leg with its open cut, dangerously close to the start of your inner thigh. Not appropriate to wear at a church, maybe not a wedding either, but fuck didn't he care. He'd even rip it off, if it was such a problem.

"It was beautiful" he agrees, softly. "Never been to one. Maybe's why I think so"

You remove yourself from the window, now holding his gaze.

"What?" your mouth drops in surprise. "What about yours? Weren't you married?"

He smiles, but it appears to be sad. "Never got time for a wedding thought"

Joel has told you things. Things he'd never say outloud to anyone else. So whenever he opens up, letting you in, you let him, feeling that familiar pleasing ache in your chest at the thought of being enough: enough to be trusted with a piece of him. Of Joel Miller's heart.

The rest of the ride is silent, your mind still on Joel's hand on your back, on his words, and how the sting never goes.

In every thought of yours, he is.

"What'appened to your nails?"

The question catches you off guard. You're surprised he even noticed at all. But your hand lays in the space between his and your dish, stiff, as if waiting for him to hold it.

"Oh" you remove it from the table, placing it in your lap. "I chipped the polish off"

"Why?"

You turn to look at him, brown eyes examining you curiously, as if he didn't know you. Like he hadn't almost whisper those three words you had been tettering around as well.

"Why what Joel?" tone brash.

He scoffs at the change again, shoulders slumping a bit. Probably in annoyance, perhaps in defeat.

"Dunno" he goes back to his dish, cutting the steak with a bit too much force. I thought we were okay again. "S'rry I asked"

Your chest tightens, as it had been doing lately.

Was this the only thing you knew how to do now? Hurting Joel?

"No, I'm sorry"

It's his turn to get back at you. "Sorry for what?"

You swallow the lump that's formed in your throat, avoiding his gaze.

"I-"

Your eyes nervously dart across the room, trying to ignore the churn of your stomach and knot on your throat. You then catch the perfect distraction.

"I think Mark is staring at us again"

"What?" Joel asks in disbelief at your change of topic.

"Mark is staring" you sigh, getting up and dusting your dress off. "Wanna put on a show?"

"I didn't come to a wedding and wore this dress to be seated all night" you extend your hand. A quiet truce settles in between. "Let's dance"

At some point he gets up and takes your hand. It feels good. For a moment, be it childish or foolish, your mind thinks this is how it is: with no one around to know you, you're his and he's yours. It's just the two of you, dancing and laughing under the lights. He'd know the song that's playing, and when you'd ask, unfamiliar, Joel would joke: how could ya' know it, if you ain't even born yet?

For just a moment, it feels like it could be.

The music is soft. It's some sort of rendition of Lady, Lady, Lady by the band Jim hired to play at his wedding.

Joel's clammy hands slip against your cold palms as you walk to the dance floor.

"Nervous?" you ask, biting back a smile.

He squints his eyes at you. "I'm just outta practice, 's all"

You laugh. "I would've never guessed"

He shakes his head, but the ghost of a smirk hides in his lips.

"Cheeky baby. Now you actin' funny?"

Joel's hand finds its place in your waist, holding firmly as the first verses go by.

Dancing behind masks, just sort of pantomime.

But images reveal whatever lonely hearts can hide.

"Maybe I'm just tired" you reply, placing your head against his chest. His heart starts drumming faster, and you hear him gulp.

"It ain't even midnight yet"

You close your eyes, feeling every breath of his chest against your cheek.

"You know that's not what I'm talking about"

Lady, lady, lady, lady

I know it's in your heart to stay

"Y/n-"

Lady, lady, lady, lady

"I'm sorry" this time clearer.

His body rocks yours slowly to the tempo of the music, and for a brief moment, amongst the sea of guests and the voice of the singer, time stops, and it's just him and you.

"Don't"

He can't bear it. Not tonight.

When will I ever hear you say

I love you

Not when your body feels so well against his, your head resting on his chest like all those nights ago, where Joel held you close, the silent promise of never letting you go on his warm strong embrace. Not when just the thought of losing you is too unbearable to even think of. Not when today, he can let his mind drift away and heart beat, dreaming of things that'll make him the butt of the joke. For a moment, you're not wearing this red dress that's making him insane. You're all in white and there's a ring in your hand, just as there's one in his. You'd dance and say I'm yours, forever. A giggle. You can't get rid of me. And he'd smile and reply a Good, wasn't plannin' to.

But now he feels like he's going to lose you forever.

"I missed you" it's your way of trying, again.

His head is a whirlwind of emotions.

"Yeah?"

You lean closer, until his cologne burns in your nostrils.

"Yeah"

Time like silent stares, with no apology

"Joel"

Move towards the stars, and be my only one

This time, he finds it impossible to shut you up. Not when you've raised your head until your eyes meet his, and the constellations he very much loves are ever present in your stare.

Reach into the light, and feel love's gravity

"Yeah?"

You pull in closer, and he can feel the whiff of champagne coming out of your mouth. Your lips are parted, and a shaky whisper is all it takes for his head to spin, drunk in love.

"Please"

That pulls you to my side, where you should always be

Your lips are so inviting. All he has to do is cut the centimeters separating your mouths.

But it's a wall. One filled with doubts, fear and the quiet rage of rejection.

His voice wavers when he starts speaking.

"I think-"

He hasn't even finished his sentence, but your heart is already broken.

No wonder why you've always treated it like a burden: nothing is worst than a heavy heart.

Maybe he'd come to realize just how absurd this all was. Him, much older than you and Sarah's dad. How could he let his daughter's bestfriend go this far. That he was a forty something guy, dancing with a twenty two year old girl. That love comes in all shapes and sizes, but there's no name for this you have going on since last summer. Perhaps, there'll never be.

"Please" you hear yourself repeat.

It started as a plea for a kiss. You don't know what you're begging for anymore.

"No, baby-"

And Joel is the first to step back.

Lady, lady, lady, lady, I know it's in your heart to stay

The cold water of rejection hits you in the face, far from his warm embrace, the contour of his face, centimeters away, now meters.

"We can't"

An ocean away.

"Joel-" your throat tightens, panic bubbling in your chest.

"I think we should stop"

The whole world around you does as soon as those words leave his mouth.

Sorrow is quick to turn into anger, and all those months of guilt, rush, thrill, labored breaths, broken rules and promises you held to your heart as an oath, sweet whispered cons in your pillow that smelled like him. It all comes crashing down with force.

A dry laugh escapes past your lips. Joel winces at the sound.

"A bit too late for that, isn't it?"

"Baby-"

"Don't call me baby" you hiss, feeling your vision blurry. "Don't call me like you meant it"

"I do" the music has reduced to a buzz in the back of your head. His firm voice borders between desperate and pathetic. "Which is why am making 'tis"

"Fucking coward" you spit, feeling your skin on fire.

Don't give up. Please.

Fight for me. Fight for this.

For us.

"Coward?" it's Joel's turn to laugh. His dark chuckle sends shivers through your skin. "Y' shouldn't be talkin' 'bout that"

"Don't put all of this on me" you raise your shaky finger, accusing. "Don't you fucking dare"

"Thought Mark was watchin'. Or 's that 'nother one of y'r lies?" Joel seethes. "Or maybe ya' don't give a shit 'bout it. Jus' like you ain't give a shit 'bout us!"

"You think this is easy?" your voice raises. "You think I wanted this?"

You think I don't care? That I'm doing well? That I wanted to pull away from you? That I knew things would got as bad as they are?

You think I wanted to fall for you?

His eyes darken. "You started this"

Your heart stops beating. People laugh, the band is still playing and chatter bubbles like the champagne flutes waiters carry by.

But all you can hear is the moment your palm meets his face.

"I wish I never met you, Joel Miller"

And then you rush out the door, your heels burning as much as your eyes and chest. Far from the party, far from the world.

Far from him.

"We ain't done yet!"

You hear him bark behind you, yet your legs don't stop, despite the buzz in your ears and the slight stumble in your walk.

Your voice sounds like it doesn't belong to you when you hear yourself speak, without turning around.

"I think we are"

But Joel doesn't give up, making you feel trapped between wanting to hit him again and let yourself be held.

"Y/n!" he calls out just like he used to when you were a kid. Like you knew no better. Reckless. Berating. But now the taste of bitter mingles with his punishing demeanor.

You spin your heel, walking menacingly towards him.

"Don't call me that" you seethe, jabbing a finger to his chest.

"That's your fucken name!" he shouts.

Tears spring in the corner of your eyes. "You know what I mean"

"Enlighten me, doll" the nickname feels like a slap to your face, and for a moment, you wish he called you by your name again, instead of tainting the always sweet calling with his vitriol, as if the four letters meant something sacred he had profaned. "S'a matter of fact, why don't y'enlight me 'bout everythin' that's goin' on. 'Cause guess what? I'ont know what the fuck is happenin'!"

And it terrifies me.

His shout probably ran across the empty hallway. The music coming from inside sounds like a muffled heartbeat, mirroring your own.

To lose you. I might as well have.

"I don't know why you seem'a hate me now" quiet this time, like every word coming from his mouth take his voice little by little. "Why ya' get all sweet on me after weeks of leavin' me, pushin' me to the side... I'm old, doll. I ain't capable of takin' this anymore"

I'm not capable of surviving a broken heart.

The possibility of losing Joel, foever, had never crossed your mind, not even as you closed off, ignoring the way his brown sad eyes would search yours to try and find answers, maybe scraps of the... whatever it was you shared.

Now, it was real, and it shook you to the bone.

"Was fun while it lasted" closing off, trying to shut the doors he let you in, clawing back to that Joel Miller who couldn't be bent. The one Sarah deemed unbreakable. But it's the same that didn't know when to back down, now praying the price of his foolishness.

I don't regret it, but Joel doesn't have it in him to give you more of his heart for you to take. If he cuts it now, from the root, he'll spare his brain from saving more seconds of the image of you he'd have to get rid off: you, taking your coffee with two bags of sugar because you hated uneven numbers, and three seemed too much for your latte. You, standing on his room like you belonged there. You, on his car, the leather having absorbed some of the floral scent you seemed to carry with you. In your clothes, your skin, your hair. He'd have to go to bed knowing he'd never get to feel your strands in his fingers, tickling the remmanents of desolation he'd been carrying like a second skin ever since Sarah's mother walked away.

Your blood runs cold.

"Fun?" the words spill in a bitter incredulous tone, all the while you're trying to hold to him without raising your hand for him to take it, like just the thought of it would be enough to choose you. Words seem to fail you, and grasping at him feels like holding sand: it keeps falling from your fingers, a cruel reminder of your borrowed time. "Joel"

"Fun" he repeats the word, feeling sick. "As in, you'd marry someone who's worth for ya'. Probably choose Texas, maybe you'll stay away. 'Cause you're smart, and know what's good. But if ya' came back, livin' at the same neighbour, in the house across mine, you'd glance up and see my porch, thinkin' 'bout us, and this will become a joke with y'r husband, 'bout your rebel days. To your kids, summ cautionary tale. To you? An'scape of summ sorts of y'r other wise boring life"

Your shaking at this point, not knowing if it's anger, humilliation or sorrow.

I'm sorry. Please, don't give up on me. Stay.

"I'd be an experience. But to me? Doll" Joel chuckles, humorlessly. "You were everythin'"

A choked up sob bubbles from your chest.

"So that's what you think of me?" you laugh, a sound so hollow it makes his skin shiver. "That this is for the thrill? For the fucking anecdote?!"

"Trust me. I've lived long 'nough, kid. You'll understand later"

It's like all those months next to him meant nothing. Like pulling away from your lips was the easiest thing to do.

"Don't you fucking dare call me a kid!" you push him. "I'm not a kid"

"I know you ain't!" he roars back. "But you don't know shit!"

"Neither do you!" your quick to counter. "You think you've got me all figured out, huh? Bet you think that I'm some helpless naive idiot who doesn't know what I want. I don't know what I'm doing, that you're right. But I do know what I signed up for, the price I would pay" losing you or Sarah. Both. "I wanted it, and newsflash: so did you" you breath, running your hands through your hair, trying to comb some sense of normalcy to ground yourself while you try to recover your composture. His arms lay weakly by his sides, restraining himself from running to you and craddle you on his arms. "You chose this. You chose me, Joel Miller" each word pronounced with contempt. "I'm not a victim. Neither are you"

A dry chuckle escapes past his chapped lips. "What are we, then?"

(Two lonely souls who seek warmth. People who fell into the same bed. Shared time they shouldn't have. Selfish. Living on borrowed time. Always tettering around the edge, so easy to fall. History repeating itself. The dancing around. Dirty, like the Texan roads: and they all lead back to his bed)

"So do it" you shove him again, as if by doing so, you could push him away forever. From your mind, from your heart. From your life. "Say it"

He shakes his head, as if you'd insulted him.

"Sweetheart-"

"Say. It" you bark, tasting the venom on your tongue. "Say it!"

"I can't" looking so small, your resolve almost crumbles. Almost.

"Coward" you spit, repeatedly punching him feebly on the chest as tears stream down your cheeks. He tries to grab your hands, to stop you. "Don't touch me! Let me go"

"I can't" this time louder.

Tears sprout with more intensity at the desperate weight on his tone.

A single drop runs down when you say, defeated: "Quit me"

"I can't!" he shouts in your face, voice breaking slightly.

"Why?!"

"'Cause I fucking can't!" Joel breaks. He crumbles in your arms, body shaking as he buries himself in your reluctant embrace. He speaks again, this time softer, "I can't lose 'cha, baby. If that makes me sum goddamn coward, then so be it"

Something in you stirs. Like a lost boat, finding a lighthouse during a storm. Arriving to shore with gentle waves. Home, where it belongs.

"Joel-"

"I'm sorry for bein' selfish" between agitated and terrified, afraid of the silence and what you may say. "For noticin' your quiet and still carryin' on"

"Joel"

"Believe me, doll. I tried to stop. To leave ya'" he swallows, "but then I got invited and my mind went to ya'. Fast. You were the first person in my mind. Always are. I think that's when I knew. S'okay if you don't-"

"Joel!" you shout this time.

He raises his view from his little spot on your chest.

"It isn't just you" in a whisper that could easily pass as the wind that sweeps inside from the main door. Voice so fragile it hurts like glass. "I feel this too"

Just like that, he's both gone and back. His heart beats on his throat, voice raw when he searches for your eyes and asks:

"You do?"

The big unbreakable Joel Miller, looking at you not like a force to be reckoned with, but as a man, worn down by years of solitude and the weight of a secret.

You smile through the tears. "I've been many things, but a liar never"

He chuckles, softly. "Always was a bad one"

"See?" softly teasing, "you can attest to that"

"Twenty one years seem 'nough"

"Soon to be twenty two" pause. "And I would love it if you were there to see it"

A breath hitches somewhere in the middle of the new aphonia that's settled.

"You don't mean all'at. Think 'bout it-"

"I do" you interrupt him, firmly. You hold his gaze while cupping his face, the fright on his face mirroring your own. "You asked before, remember? There's your answer"

Joel is at loss for words. Was never good with them, less when it came to you: like your presence unsettled him in the same way tornadoes made him quiver when he was a child, rattling him to the bone. But there was a morbid fascination to them, in their destructive nature. Like beauty could be horror too, and he had learnt it thanks to your unforgiving winds that had swept him away from his feet.

He was flying. Fucking flying. Never quite landing. Afraid of the fall.

"I'm scared"

Joel leans in, forehead touching yours. His skin is warm, something about it soothing your nerves down.

"Me too"

You bite back a smile. "Big broody Miller, scared?"

"Y' know how'da disarm a man. I'll give ya' that"

You laugh, eyes crinkling while you swat his chest playfully. It's the same sound he missed so dearly. Joel can feel himself breath with relief.

"Now that's the story I'll tell my kids" could be our own. "The one where I won over Joel Miller"

A deep, rich rumble erupts from his chest as he pulls you even closer, this time, your head the one on his chest.

"I'll do you one better" he slowly moves his leg closer to the inner part of your thighs. "Wanna hear how it ends?"

"Jesus, Joel" laugh tense. Your heart pulses like his cock. Hard. "You sure are a mood killer"

He presses further. "But ya' want it, don't 'cha?"

You whimper, weakly. Truth is, you've been wet since you saw him dress on his rather tight suit. Now, after what you just confessed, you're not sure you can hold back any longer.

"Use y'r words, baby"

"Our room" the possesive adjective making his stomach rumble with need. "Now"

Stumbling feet. Whispered breaths oozing with drunk desire. Giggles. Buttons of an elevator pressed forcefully. A crammed space that felt even smaller. More giggles in a hallway full of doors that looked the same. Some mumbling, trying to remember the room. Grabbing the card from his pocket. You somehow make it to your room. Fumbling fingers. One swipe. Two. Try slower, but his voice is as urgent as strained. The door gives in. Finally, couldn't wait any longer. And he's chastising you, for being so impatient. Yet his eyes are all dark and sweet when looking it at you.

"We're here" and then the door closes with a loud thud. And Joel is yours again, just like he was that night, and forever was since.

You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him back fervently. You open your mouth and let his tongue get inside as you moan his name.

"Please" you whine.

"Please what?" Joel chuckles, enamoured at your hanging mouth and heaving chest. Fucking tease. "Use y'r words, doll"

"Please, Joel" and hearing your name fall out of your lips like it's the most sacred prayer brings him weak to his knees. "I need you"

(I need you, as in I need you here. With me. Now. To never let go and hold my hand, not only when we fuck, but also when we walk, side by side, hands brushing like a touch it's too much to bear. Because if we held hands, I'd never be able to pull back. I need you to look at me as you undress me, because I'm bearing all of me for you, scars, body and secrets, trembling like a scared child, because no one's ever had me. Not like you. Not like you)

"'S right, sweet thing" he drawls out in a husky whisper, like his slick tongue was coated in honey. He pulls your head back, nipping and sucking on your skin. "Say ma' name like 's the only thing you know"

And in a way, it is. Because you'd always call Joel, fingers itching at a number you've memorized until it's burned in your eyelids, like when you close your eyes, you can see him standing in front of you, Texan accent and heavy boots in your doorstep, later to be discarded and hidden beneath your bed.

He pulls back, making you involuntary whine at the loss of his lips and tongue on you.

"Tell me you want this" he's saying, and for a moment, past the fire and the need, you see Joel as not the man who can bring you to come two times in a row, but your bestfriend's dad, who's slept in a bed alone for the past two decades, who can't meet you in the eyes when he undresses himself, looking like the one who's got the more to lose when his lips press aginst yours in a soft manner, not out of tenderness but out of fear.

"I do" without hesitation, as if you would tattoo your promise and wear it like your heart on your sleeve. "I want you, Joel"

You want all of him: from his boring Sundays sprawled on the couch watching a rerun of some old sitcom to his greying hair, aching joints and creaking bones, that despite so, would still kneel and eat your pussy like a man starved, tongue sliding through your folds with a learned ache, pouring the same yearn, longing and hunger that he wears on his eyes when they land on you, no matter if his brown are miles away, because they'd always find your own, like a boat lost in translation and a sea of sorrow coming back home, as if you're the only important thing in the world. His anchor. The lighthouse of his vast ocean of forlorness.

"That's my girl" but no smirk adorns his face, rather a small smile that warms your chest, right as he pulls you back in. There's a shift in the aire as he kisses you know, as if not only his tongue is in your insides but his soul, without holding back this time, like all limits have blurred and melted into a pool of desire and affection.

Joel pushes you down onto the wide bed, climbing on top of you as he kisses your jawline, leaving wet kisses along your warm skin. You moan as every contact of his mouth sends shudders to your body, him taking his time as he works over your jaw, down to your chest.

"Such'a pretty doll. And's mine" his calloused fingers fiddle with your bra, unclasping the lingerie until it falls messily discarded next to the bed. "Got summ nice tits on you, baby" and Joel's eyes sparkle with excitement, lighting up like the neon lights of the Vegas sign, "don't 'cha think?"

Your back arches with his touches, mouth ghosting over your nipple, already pebbled at just Joel's breath.

"Fuck, Joel" you mewl his name, dragged with difficulty as he laps his tongue over your breasts greedily. You can feel Joel's cock pulse and throbb in your thigh as his body hovers over yours, lips still wrapped around your nipple as he suckles and nibbles at the tender flesh.

"'S sorry, doll" he's apologizing in a mocking manner as you whimper at the contact of him against you, suckling hard, tongue swirling and flicking over the sensitive bud as he drew it deeper into the wet heat of his mouth. "Ain't know you'd be so fucken responsive with just a lil' lick at y'r pretty tits"

As your body trembles and quakes, he speaks again.

"Open y'r mouth" you do so, because honestly, you'd never deny him a thing. "Want 'cha to suck on 'tis fingers, like the slut ya're. Get them wet so they feel good against 'tis greedy pussy"

You take the fingers as you'd take his cock, sucking on the skin that tastes like salt and gasoline, a slight bitter taste but you take them as deep as you can, until your lips brush his rough knuckles.

"Good greedy whore" he praises. "Now let me help ya' with that"

Joel gestures your damp panties, taking them off and putting them up his nose, inhaling like he did the first time you ever fucked, back at the beach house that summer that feels a life ago, seawaves crashing onto the shore as they drowned out your moans.

"Sweet" as if your arousal was his favorite dessert, gripping the sticky lingerine until his knuckles turn white. "Fucken wet and drippin', and s'all for me"

He feels your greedy hands fumble with his pants and belt, pulling him closer as the feeling of unfairness at his clothed figure dawns upon you.

"I like how you look in a suit, but right now-"

He laughs, a deep rich sound bubbling up from his chest.

"Ma' baby wants it that bad, huh?" you nod your head feverishly, a beg threatening past your lips.

"Please, Joel. I want to suck your cock" the dirty words come out as quick as a breath. "I missed it so so bad" not caring at all about how desperate you come across or the pitiful begging that's a plea away from drooling out of your mouth with an aching hunger.

"'S that what you want? Draggin' me out'a reception 'cause y'r greedy dirty mouth couldn't keep still? Bet you'd crawl on da' floor just to get a taste of this dick" every word makes you mewl. "Might have to see ya' beggin' for it"

"I'll do it" you beg, voice a wanton plea. "I'll do whatever, I just need to-"

"I see ya' really do"

He removes your hands from his body, chuckling as you pout and whine like a baby.

"Love hearin' ya' so eager fo'me" Joel says, tugging the pants finally down. Through the cloth of his underwear, it's impossible not to see the silhoutte of his hard throbbing dick.

The sight of him, hair disheveled, pupils blown wide, white button shirt now wrinkled and sticky with sweat, tie loose and that faint smell of champagne that clung to his mouth and scent like a second layer of his skin.

"Get on the floor. Now" he commands, and you're quick to obey. "Gonna fuck that dirty mouth of yours until my cum dribbles outta your cheek. S' now? Be obedient if ya' want a taste, slut"

You let out a small whimper as Joel frees his cock from his underwear.

"That's right, baby. Like what ya' see?" his cock is straddling your face in your current kneeling form. "Need that mouth to open wider"

You obey in an instant.

"Good girl"

Joel shoves his cock inside your mouth, giving you a few seconds to adjust before pushing a little further. You bob your head forward but the task proved to be hard when he was thrusting at the same time. His big hard dick hits the back of your throat, a gag dying past your busy lips. 

"'S it bad if I tell ya' I like watchin' you squirm and struggle with my cock? 'S fuckin' hot"

You narrow your eyes, struggling to keep your throat relaxed as he thrusts forward, fucking your mouth and throat. Your thighs clasp together, the slick pooling down your legs in the absence of underwear.

Joel's groans become raspier as his body begins to tense.

"'M gonna fuck y'r throat raw, doll. And then, I'm gonna cum. Down y'r greedy throat. 'S my girl okay with that" he can see the plea in your eyes as you choke on his cock once more. "S'alright then. Ya' know I love to spoil ma' girl"

As his body starts to edge closer, his tongue runs loose.

"Love watching you suck ma' dick" he looks down on you, eyes glossy, probably because he was drunk in alcohol and you. "Love how it feels. Love how you feel. Love- I love you"

(There's an involuntary gag somewhere)

Joel's body tenses and it doesn't take that much for you to feel the warmth of his cum go down your throat.

You choke again and he brings his dick out of your throat and let you swallow the rest. 

There's a beat of silence, as dense as his fluids down your throat. You avoid his gaze, heart drumming on your chest.

"Doll..." he whispers, the last bits of climax sweating off his skin; all that's left is shame. "C'mere"

(Say it back, he should plead. I know your eyes don't lie, but if I heard those three silly words out of your mouth, I could die happy tonight. A bigger man would beg, but he's never been good, even if he tried)

He helps you get up, wobbly legs not being of help when it comes to the shock of his confession.

I love you.

As much as a tender touch as a knife slitting your chest open in a clean cut.

(You're bleeding love)

Love.

Such a foreign word, one you've never felt before. Yet, what's scary is recognizing that latent warmth on every stolen glance; brush of a hand. The tingles provoked by getting the largest serving, even if his daughter sat at the same table. The flutter of your chest when he tried to be there for you when you thought you were pregnant, even if he was as scared as you. In every little thing he had done since you first started playing with fire, how you wore his heartbeat as an echo and his skin like a second layer to your own.

His lips are swollen when they take yours.

"'S fine" some kind of tiredness seeping through the cracks of his gruff exterior and composed rejected posture. "Ya' don't have to-"

"I love you" you croack out.

His voice comes out impossibly small as he whispers. "What...?"

A fireworks show explodes out somewhere in the background.

"I love you" you repeat, words dripping with an adoration only known to captain's going down with their sinking ships.

You're drowning, but the water doesn't burn your lungs anymore.

"Lemme help with that sore throat of yours" he's tugging down your bottom lip, fingers playing with your mouth to open it. He gazes at you with a look that tugs at your heartstrings. "Open, baby"

Your dry throat and warm mouth welcomes the spit he lands inside.

"There ya' go" and you swallow it, making him curse. "Fuck. 'S so hot seein' you do that, my lil' sweet slut"

"Joel" you whine, hands curled up in white fists as you grab him by the collar of his button shirt.

"Whoa, baby. What's goin' on?" he chuckles softly. "Use y'r words"

"Y-You made a mess-" you blabber, the wet slick between your thigh sticky. "I-It hurts, Joel"

"Hurt?" he cocks an eyebrow. "Care to show me where?"

You sit in the bed, parting your legs, finger pointing out the moist zone.

"Here"

His adam's apple bobs, and the gulp reverberates against the walls of the room.

"Fuck... I see" each word strained. "Don't worry, doll. I can help ya' with'at"

It's his turn to kneel, knees burying on the carpet.

He places one of his big hands on your knee, his calloused fingers tracing absent patterns over the skin. His other hand drums slighty against your trembling leg, so close yet so far. You're so impossibly eager, and a part of him, that fragile ego, is boosted to the roof at your (actual and very real) want for him.

All that glistening pussy was his work. Joel really disarmed you like that.

"If I do this, maybe it won't hurt anymore" his mustache and recently trimmed beard tickle against your sensitive folds as he presses a kiss to your core. You writhe, throwing your head back as your hands fly to his hair, gripping the greying loose curls tightly at the contact. "Will ya' let me eat out this pretty pussy, doll?"

"Please" you let out, breathlessly.

"Love hearin' ya' beg" and he dives in, strong hands holding your thighs on place as he sucks your clit lightly. Your hips buck, his face burying into your cunt to the point his nose touches the warm folds. You moan at the feeling, his tongue now circling against your center.

"J-Joel"

"Feels s'good, right? As good as I feel feastin' on this tight little cunt" and his deep voice sends jolts when it echoes against your walls. You squirm at the sensation, stomach tight with his sucking and licking, misntrations sending you to the edge.

"Joel?"

Barely above a whisper, voice tight.

He looks up to you, pupils blown wide. "Yes?"

"C-Can you finger me, please?"

"Fuck, baby" he whistles. "You really know how'da bring a man to his knees"

And you chuckle at his lame attempt of a joke, not laughing at him but with him.

Joel slides one of his thick, calloused fingers through your soaked folds, feeling the velvet softness of your inner walls clench down on the invading digit, a demonstration of how impatient they were to take his cock. He circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves in tight, slow circles.

"Wanna hear you, y/n" just your name alone on his mouth makes you writhe, and Joel's encouragement as his finger dips lower to tease at your entrance. He slides a second finger into your cunt, pumping in and out of your tight walls in a steady, driving rhythm. You roll against his hand as he curls his fingers. "Fuck yourself on my fingers, baby. Wanna see you ride 'em 'til you come undone. Wanna taste your cum on my tongue as you scream ma' name"

He can feel your body start to tremble, pussy clenching down on his fingers as he fucks you with a relentless pace.

"Shit" he groans, tongue lapping firmly at your clit, "s' fucking tight"

"I-I can't help it" you feel the burning sensation in the corner of your eyes, "I-I feel every inch of you in me"

(Up to your body, head and heart)

"And you ain't even had my cock yet" he's quick to tease. "But I know you'll feel s'good, baby. Takin' my cock like da' good girl y'are"

Tears begin to stream down your face freely, the salty drops hot against your warm skin.

You sniffle, and Joel's movements stop for a bit.

"You cryin'?" but you know damn well he's aroused, by the way he licks his lips absentmindedly as his brown orbs stare back at you, dilatated. You still remember the last time you cried during sex, and how his reaction was practically the same, except this time, it's received with a grateful welcome home. "Fuck, baby- I love when you cry like a lil' cocksleeve over ma' dick"

Despite the lewd words, he's wiping your tears away with his thumb in a soft gentle touch.

"S'okay, baby" he coos, kissing up your throat and onto your chin. Then, you feel a wet sensation on your cheek: but it isn't the tears, yet his tongue, licking the hot stream. "I'll give ya' ma' cock if you want it so much. Now quit your cryin', yeah?"

But you keep sniffling, impossible to close the dam once it's broken.

"My sweet crybaby" Joel mumbles, "I love ya', doll"

"I love you too" each time you said it, a new flower blooming in your heart. It could be. "I do, Joel"

He smiles, the kind of smile that is painful to watch. The kind that says: Is this real? Do I deserve this?

"Y'know I'm bad with words, so lemme show you instead"

He's climbing on top of you as you push yourself into the middle of the bed, lips tangled into a demanding kiss, his tongue dominating your mouth like he wants to tame it. He drops his underwear again, but he's still wearing the goddamn shirt. You whine, and for a second, while over you, he stops.

"What is it, baby?" Joel pants.

"T-take it off" you huff, worked up. You let the tie loose first, starting to unbutton his shirt after. "I want to see you, Joel"

His hand is quick to fly and stop you from taking it off. Even in the dim lit room, you can see the faintest of a blush covering his cheeks.

"Sweetheart..." he mumbles, "I dunno-"

"Please" trying to remove his hand.

"You really wanna?" but behind his teasing smile there's both a hopeful and vulnerable glint to his voice.

You extend your hand, cupping his cheek. He leans into the touch, and for a moment, the world outside ceases to exist, and it's just you, your ragged breaths and the light tickle of his growing beard on your palm.

It could be.

"Because I love you" holding his gaze firmly. "All of you"

"Fuck, baby" Joel starts to get off the shirt, "ya' really made those fuckers downstairs drop their damn mouths when ya' walked in with me. Couldn't believe it, such'a pretty girl could be mine" he snarls, grabbing your face by the chin. "Hell, I'ont believe it either. That you could wanna be with me"

But then you're touching his now naked form before you, fingers slowly tracing through his face to his tense jawline. Then across his broad shoulders to his tummy, feeling the soft swell against your stomach as he leans over your eager form. It's the way you look at him, as if he's the most beautiful man in the world, that makes his breath catch on his throat, staggering.

Your sweet broken voice rings in his head.

It isn't just you. I feel this too.

(Scared. Confused. Happy. Grieving. Loving)

It should be his ego boosted and cock stroked, but when his eyes find yours, it's his heart that feels the fullest.

Fuck, he was too old for this shit.

"Look at 'cha, making lame ol' me a sappy motherfucker" he laughs, the same blush from earlier now more prominent. He leans down to kiss you, his moustache brushing your lips. "If ya' don't stop, I'll take ya' right now and we're gettin' married tonight by summ random Elvis guy"

"What If I wanted that?" you challenge as your mouth presses fluttering kisses to his caging arm, lips stopping on each spot and mole peppered through his thick bicep.

"Then get dressed" you feel him squirm under your insistent lips, "'cause I ain't gettin' married again while naked"

"Where you married, Joel?" you can feel the salt air up your nose of the first night again, asking the same questions. The fact that he's opening to you warms your chest in a pleasant way.

He looks at you absentmindedly, humming as to confirm.

"We were too damn young. Had to, for the baby on the way" he tells. You remember Sarah's aversion to the topic, and given his next words, it makes sense. "Then she left"

I would never leave.

"I'm sorry" you offer instead.

"Don't" the atmosphere is quick to change again as thise words leave his mouth. "Now, where were we?"

You're quick to spread your legs to him, gilstening cunt on full view.

"Good girl" he smirks, lining himself with your warm entrance. "If ya' keep behavin', I might give ya' my cum"

His tip against your clit for a few seconds before pushing down against your hole. Joel groans as his length sinks in your gummy walls, feeling the tightness from before.

"You feel s'good" grunting as he slowly pushes in, letting you adjust to his girth. "Always do" 

He presses a gentle kiss to your sweaty hairline. 

"Tell me how it feels"

"Good" you mewl. "Big"

"Ain't that right" he chuckles.

"Need it all. Please" and you grip his neck tightly, arms around it. His nose brushes against yours as he grunts out a You little minx. "Want it, Joel. I can take it"

He bottoms out. "Then do"

"Fuck" you curse, cunt stretched to adapt to his girth. You breath in painfully, and Joel's eyes lace with concern. "I-It's fine"

"Sure? I can wait"

"I’m okay" you assure him, moved by his care for you. You buck your hips. "You can move"

He starts by setting a slow pace, taking all the space insade your clutching heat. Joel groans at the sensation, your walls gripping him like a vice as he continues to move in a slow motion, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes. Yet, as his arms cage you by your sides and you look at him with certainty, he picks up a brutal pace, just as you like it, slamming into you over and over again, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the small bathroom.

"K-keep going" you grip his left arm. Joel lets out a hiss as your nails dig on his skin. "Feels so good"

"Good'nough for you to cum on m'dick?" he groans huskily in your ear, breath ghosting on your skin like a hot kiss. "Gonna fill you up, doll. I'll mark you as mine, now and for da' rest of y'r life"

The way his voice drips with dominance as he commands you, filled with a rough rich baritone tinted with a possesive hunger, his hips moving faster as he drives into you with force, pistoning harder is enough to set you on edge.

He leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss. 

"Cum f'me, baby. Let me hear ya' cryin' over my cock"

Tears. Stars. Grunts. Moans. Cum.

Your cry for his name against his lips is how you announce your orgasm, washing over you. Your walls flutter as Joel lets you ride slowly through your climax.

"There ya' go, baby. Go on, ride it" then, he pauses. His face strains. "Hold on tight. I'm gonna- I'm gonna cum. Right there, baby. Stay"

Somewhere along the moans and the writhes of your soft skin against his hard planes and soft belly, Joel asks where you want it. Inside, you hear yourself say, eager to feel all of him again, filling your insides, invading every inch of your body until a part of himself leaks into your heart. He's then blabbering as your walls and heart flutter, about kids and other things you both want but can't have. Tonight, though, as he Joel buries himself deep inside you, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he starts to come, grinding against you, making sure you feel every last spurt, every last bit of his release, you allow yourself to believe.

He pumps some shallows thrusts inside of your slick dripping cunt, emptying himself, before pulling out and looking down at you with a tired smile.

"I love you" he says again in fervent whisper, as if by repeating it, he could materialize it. "I love you so fucking much, y/n. And if ya' can't accept that, can't believe in that, then... then I'ont know what the fuck I'm gonna do. 'Cause I can't lose ya', baby. I can't"

"You won't" you don't know why it comes so easy, or why the promise slips as natural as a breath. "I'm here, Joel Miller. You won't lose me"

credits: divider @kodaswrld / gif @loregifs

[fnaf-flags]

The Bisexual Flag picked from Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Michael Afton, Mike Schmidt, Mike Schmidt's Paychecks, and Mike's Drawings!

Requested by Anon

[navybrat817]

Knock You Down a Peg or Two

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Someone learns the hard way that it's a bad idea to upset Bucky's wife.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader), protective vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I'm in a mood, lovelies. We can consider this in the same universe as Mr. and Mrs. Barnes and Handsome and Beautiful. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was no longer the Winter Soldier. He told himself every day he wasn't a cold killer anymore. He did his best to make amends and worked hard to clear his name. From time to time though, people pushed his buttons and got under his skin. You helped him brush it off. Their opinions didn't matter at the end of the day, only yours.

You mattered to him more than anything else. So, if someone bothers him, yeah, he could let it go. Someone upsetting you? He wouldn't stand for it.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he spotted the little weasel sitting at the table in the break room alone. A few hours ago, you called him to vent about how this guy repeatedly tried to make you look bad in front of your superior during a meeting. It wasn’t the first time either. Your tears of frustration were obvious by your tone on the other end, though you tried to hide them. You worked hard, harder than anyone else he knew, and you took your job seriously.

He saw red when he heard you sniffle and it was the only color he had seen since then.

“Give me his name.”

“Bucky, no,” you had argued. “The guy’s a prick and I just needed to vent, so you don’t-”

“Please, baby,” he whispered, knowing full well you could handle yourself, but you were his wife and someone took joy out of your day. Not just that, they made you cry. He took this personally and he wanted to defend you. “Just give me his name so I can take care of it.”

You softly gave him the name, and he made it a priority to find the asshole. It didn’t take him long. No one even questioned why he was asking. It must’ve been his “murder strut” and glare. You once said it could break even the strongest of people.

He headed toward the empty chair beside the agent, careful not to make a sound. His stealth assisted with that. Once he reached the chair though, he made it a point to scrap the chair across the floor to get the prick's attention. The annoyance in his eyes quickly shifted to fear when he realized who he was looking at.

Good. He hoped he pissed his pants.

He made a show of slipping off his leather jacket before taking a seat, making sure the agent got a good look at his metal arm. He also made a show of getting one of his knives out, one you gifted him. “I think we can skip the introductions since you know who I am and I really don't give a shit who you are,” he began, his voice low as he twirled the knife between his fingers. “But I understand you know my wife and, well, she’s the reason I’m here.”

The guy blinked when Bucky made eye contact, the blade still expertly weaving in his hand. “S-Sure. Everyone knows your wife.”

Bucky smiled softly, taking a second to glance at his wedding band. “I’m usually not one to brag, but I can’t help it when it comes to her. She works hard and deserves all the praise she gets, but she’s still humble. Appreciative. Loyal,” he boasted, still smiling before he glared again. “She’d never throw anyone under the bus, especially in front of a superior.”

The little weasel cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. He seemed to notice for the first time that they were the only two people there. “Look, I don’t know what your wife said, but-”

Bucky pointed the blade at him. “I would think very carefully about what comes out of your mouth next,” he snarled, his eyes as cold as ice.

There was a beat of silence as the guy squirmed in his seat and averted his gaze. Bucky wished you were there to see it. And Steve and Sam. “I may have run my mouth a bit. I just wanted to knock her down a peg or two, you know? She keeps getting promoted and…” he swallowed when Bucky’s eyes narrowed to slits. If this fucker even thought about implying that you slept your way to get where you were today, he may actually cut his throat. “Please, don't kill me.”

The silence after that statement may have been uncomfortable for some, but Bucky didn’t break a sweat. No, he was just thinking of all the different ways he could put him in the hospital for even thinking he had a right to put you down. Putting the knife away, he slowly got to his feet. “Get up,” he said quietly, flexing his hands in intimidation.

“Fuck.” The man nearly knocked his chair over as he stood. “Listen, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, putting his hands out in front of him. “I’ll apologize to her first thing tomorrow, I swear.”

“You think that makes up for it? And are you sorry for trying to make her look bad or are you sorry that you’re under my radar now?” Bucky’s stare remained steady as he knocked his chair out of the way, the piece of furniture nearly splintering when it hit the wall. “Everyone knows what I'm capable of, but do you know what happens to people who upset. My. Wife?”

Bucky refused to say that you cried. The asshole might take that as a sign of victory and he wouldn’t give him any sort of win. He didn’t deserve it. He didn't deserve to be in the same space as you.

The guy’s mouth parted as he took a few steps back on shaky legs. “I-It won’t happen again! I swear!”

“No, it won't, but how about I cut your tongue out so you can’t run your mouth again? Maybe pull out your teeth, too?” Bucky knocked the table away next as he advanced. “Or how about your eyes so you won’t look at her either. Hell, I’ll settle for taking your arm. We’ll match.”

The man let out what sounded like a whimper, his teeth nearly chattering from his fear. Scaring people had given him nightmares, haunted him, but it fueled his fire when he terrified anyone in your honor. “I won’t bother her ever again! I’ll tell my boss she deserves another promotion! I'll transfer! You have my word! I’m sorry!”

Bucky laughed after a moment, a bitter, chilling sound before he held up a hand. “I’m just fucking with you.”

His eyes were still wide with fear. “W… What?”

“I was just trying to scare you a little. You should see the look on your face,” Bucky chuckled again, lightly smacking the guy’s cheek. “Listen, you don’t have to transfer and I’m not going to torture you. Just apologize to my girl and we’re good, okay?”

“Okay.” He let out a breath and chuckled, too. “You really won’t torture me?”

“No, I won’t,” he grinned, grabbing his shoulders. “But I will knock you down a peg or two.”

The prick didn’t see the headbutt coming, but he felt it before he hit the ground. Bucky knew he’d feel it in the morning, too. He got off lucky.

“You know, after you apologize to my wife, I hope you do stay so you can see her continue to thrive,” Bucky toed the guy’s body with his boot. “And speaking of, I need to go buy her some flowers, chocolate, and wine. She deserves it.”

Grabbing his jacket from the broken chair across the room and brushing it off, he whistled as he left the room. He waited until he was a good distance away to call. You picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.” You sounded much better than you did earlier. “So, what’s the damage?”

“Hey, baby,” he smiled. “I headbutted the prick. And before you ask, my head feels great.”

The former assassin may get suspended for that and damaging the table and chair, but he doubted the asshole would have the balls to speak up about what happened.

“Bucky…” you sighed. You were probably pinching the bridge of your nose. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“You’re gonna let me eat you for dessert when I get home,” he smirked. Not that he needed an excuse to dive between your legs, but he'd take any chance he had. “Figure I'll give you at least two orgasms before dinner.”

“Is that right, Mr. Barnes?”

“That is right, Mrs. Barnes.”

The sound of your giggle spread warmth through his chest. Your happiness was his happiness. “Better not keep me waiting,” you teased, pausing for a beat. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he said. You always stuck up for him without question.

“Love you.”

His heart swelled more. “Love you, too.”

He’d have some more explaining to do once he got home and would probably have to pay for the damage he caused. He was also sure that you were plotting the demise of the man’s career and would tell him that he didn’t need to do anything, but he wanted to. He was no longer the Winter Soldier.

But he was your husband and he’d defend you with his life, no matter what.

Violence isn't the answer, but this is fanfiction and we all deserve a loving Bucky. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[streetlamp-amber]

never ending night

bruce wayne x femwife!reader

word count: 1.7k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: pregnancy, pure fluff NOTES: hello hi i’m ailís and i’ve been meaning to start a blog where i can post some one shots that i’ve been thinking of as a way to motivate myself to finally write down my ideas so this is it. i’ll be double posting my stuff on ao3 (which you can find in my bio) and will eventually make a masterlist as well as a navigation post with a list of fandoms/characters i write for. also, english isn’t my first language.

It was close to three in the morning when Bruce finally joined you in bed after a long night of patrolling and fighting bottom of the barrel criminals all night. He showered in the bathroom on the first floor of the manor to avoid making too much noise and waking you up, but when he finally walked in your shared bedroom, you were already awake, sitting up against the headboard.

“Darling, what are you doing still up?” Bruce asked you as he reached his side of the bed.

The room was dark par for the moonlight filtering through the gap between the curtains, meaning your husband had yet to notice the state you were in.

“Dick had a nightmare,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper due to how tired you were. “It took me two hours to get him to fall back asleep and when I finally came back here, this little one started kickboxing me and keeping me awake for another hour,” you continued rubbing your round belly in hopes of soothing your baby to finally catch some sleep.

“I’m sorry I wasn't here to help,” Bruce apologised, planting a kiss on your temple as he held you close to his body.

“It’s alright, Gotham needs you,” you dismissed, not at all angry.

“Still, you’re six months pregnant. You’re growing our child inside your body, you need all the rest you can get,” he softly argued. “I would've come home earlier but all the amateur criminals came out tonight.”

“Bruce, it’s fine,” you brought your hand up to his cheek and he leaned his head into your touch. “You’ve already been cutting your patrols shorter since we found out about the baby. As long as you keep coming back home to us, alive, then I’m not mad.”

Not knowing what to say – his gratefulness for having someone so accepting of his duty as Batman was almost overwhelming, even after all those years – Bruce kissed your palm while staring at you with the same look full of love that he has been sporting since the first time he met you six years ago.

“How’d I get so lucky to fall in love with the most understanding and selfless person I know?” He asked while grabbing your hand on his cheek, wrapping his fingers around yours and squeezing them gently.

“Now that’s a lie,” you rebutted, a loving smile on your lips, lowering your joined hands on the bed. “You’re more selfless than I am. You’re the most selfless man in the world.”

“Let’s not start this never ending argument again,” Bruce chuckled, now his turn to hold your face as he brought you in for a kiss.

You happily sighed against his lips, the feeling of home that overtook you every time you tasted them was a nice welcome in this interminable night. But the kiss was cut short as you felt your baby kick again and you let your head fall back as you groaned.

“She’s still kicking?” Bruce asked you, he couldn't see the movements under your skin due to the darkness of the room and your hand on your belly.

“We don't know it's a she,” you reminded him instead of answering. You had both decided to wait until the birth to know the gender.

“And I’m telling you, I know it's a girl,” your husband repeated for what could be the hundredth time.

You also secretly hoped it was a girl, but Dick really wanted a little brother. Bruce and you were still in the process of warming him up to the idea of a little sister and it was slowly starting to work.

“As long as she doesn't come in my room,” your eight year old son had said last week, with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his lips.

“I doubt she’ll be doing that for the first few years, chum,” Bruce reassured him, fighting off a slightly amused grin.

“And the baby will have its own room with its own toys,” you added.

“Will I still be able to play with the baby?” Dick asked after a moment, uncrossing his arms and a hopeful look filling up his blue eyes.

“Of course you will, bubs,” you said, your fingers threading through his black hair that fell over his forehead.

“But only with her toys at first, some of yours are not suited for a baby,” Bruce pointed out, ever the overprotective father.

Bruce had lowered himself down under the blanket so he could be laying head levelled with your belly, his hand now replacing yours over the bump.

“Hey trouble,” he whispered to your child and the baby kicked again, making him smile lovingly at the movement he felt under his hand. “You shouldn't be awake this late at night, you know.”

“You're one to talk,” you commented, tone almost reprimanding.

“She doesn't know that,” Bruce looked up at you as he defended himself before his gaze fell back on your belly. “Mommy is really tired,” he continued talking to your baby, his hand now rubbing soothingly over your round stomach, “and she needs her rest to do all the work so you can come out all healthy and beautiful. Well, you're definitely gonna be the most beautiful baby if you end up looking like your mother, but that's not the point.”

You smiled at the cheesy comment and your fingers found their place in Bruce’s hair, brushing through it and nails occasionally scratching his scalp.

“Your brother Dick can't wait for you to come around,” he carried on. “Said he will teach you all sorts of acrobatic tricks once you know how to walk. And he asked Alfred if he could help paint the nursery when we finally decide on a colour.”

“And I keep telling you we should do soft green,” you argued.

“I’m not changing my mind from primrose pink,” he told you with a sly grin.

“The room won’t be pink, even if it’s a girl. And that’s final,” you firmly said. Your husband will not be winning this one argument, no sir.

Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes before focusing back on your belly. “I hope you’re not as stubborn as your mother,” he whispered to the baby, as if he was having a private conversation with them and that you weren’t there. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s one of the many reasons why I fell in love with her, but I won’t be able to say no to you even when I have to, so it would save me a lot of reprimanding from Mommy if you’re not as tenacious as her.”

You smiled to yourself as you continued listening to your husband talk to your unborn child as you threaded your fingers through his hair, enjoying the softness it had after a shower. Bruce usually gelled his hair to appear more professional when he was working in the day, and then it would get all mixed up with his sweat under his cowl when he was working as Batman. When he would come back to you after the day was over, you would refuse to touch his hair until he had showered, the texture of the gel and sweat too gross on your fingers for you to ignore.

As Bruce continued talking to your baby, his voice started lulling the two of you to sleep. The baby hadn’t kicked in over almost ten minutes now, and the peace you had waited for so long to arrive made you aware of how heavy your eyelids were. You slowly lowered yourself down the bed, getting in a comfortable position with Bruce’s help where you could finally lay your head on your pillow and it didn’t take long for sleep to catch up on you.

At the sound of your soft, barely audible snores, Bruce turned his head away from your bump to find you asleep with your free hand raised next to your head on your pillow, the other one still tangled in his hair.

He planted a soft kiss on the exposed skin of your belly, eyes closed as he took a moment to absorb the fact that a baby that was half you and half him would be joining your world in a little more than three months. Bruce wasn't known to cry, the only time you ever saw him cry was as you walked down the aisle at your wedding, but tonight, a lonesome tear rolled down his cheek and fell on your stomach, where your child was growing, because Bruce never believed he would ever get to experience again the amount of love he hadn't felt since he was eight years old.

As he observed you, sleeping soundly with his child coming to life inside you, after you comforted Dick back to sleep, Bruce, for a moment, felt overwhelmed by all the love in his life. When he became Batman, he crossed out the idea of ever having a family (other than Alfred), of settling down with someone he loved and who loved him back.

But somehow, the universe put you on his path, as a miracle or a guardian angel or simply as an anchor to life outside of Batman, he didn't know. You walked into his home, into his life, to remind him that he, Bruce Wayne, was also deserving of love, of family, of happiness. Then Dick came along, rather unexpectedly but still no less welcomed, and Bruce started entertaining the idea of having children with you. He definitely wasn't opposed to it, but it wasn't something he wanted to jump right into, especially with Dick having just entered your lives. You were both young, he in his early thirties and you in your late twenties, you could allow yourselves a couple of years just the three of you (four with Alfred) before expanding the family.

So it was rather shocking when two months after you and Bruce had officially adopted Dick that you found out you were pregnant. It both took you by surprise but after talking through it together, you couldn't be happier. And the two of you haven't stopped being happy about this new little addition ever since.

Bruce rose up from his position next to your belly, your limp hand fell from his head as he did so, and he laid on the bed next to you. He delicately kissed your forehead, then your nose before falling back on his pillow and whispered “I love you” as he curled around your body, his hand resting on your belly as he fell asleep.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Fun Sized

Dark!Fairy!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: You save a tiny fairy. Gojo Satoru decides that you and him belong together, regardless of how little he is and how little you think of him. 

(Warnings: Yandere, not many warnings in this one ngl)

The fae are a dangerous bunch. You've heard more than enough stories to be spooked. Sirens will sing beautiful songs before dragging you into the depths. Dragons will burn you to a crisp before a second's thought. Nagas would make sure you were alive until the very end as they feast on your organs. Centaurs would use their powerful legs to stomp yours to mere twigs. Driders would suck your blood until there's nothing left but a husk of your body. 

You've never heard anything about fairies. They didn't live in your region. Their lands were high in the mountains, where humans rarely traveled. Also, they were so tiny, according to the books. The biggest seemed to be barely the size of your hand. They were harmless, you concluded. Harmless to humans. Harmless to you. 

He had been harmless. At first, you thought it was a cluster of leaves in the stream, but as the current drew it closer, you noticed tiny arms and a tiny face. He was unconscious; you didn't even know if the poor thing was alive. 

The Fae are a dangerous bunch, but saving one tiny fairy couldn't hurt, right? 

Your guest quickly proved to be a bigger hassle than you initially thought. 

When you brought him to your cottage, he laid in a basket of warm linen, asleep for hours near the warm fireplace. The blueberry pie was still hot when you turned around and caught him staring at you. 

It was silent for a while, and then you said: 

"Do you like sweets?" 

That's how your tentative friendship with the other kind started. Gojo Satoru (you later learned his name) was a boisterous thing. He did in fact like sweets, which helped bribe his friendship. You're surprised that he ate so much despite his stature. Did all faires have black holes for stomachs? 

He healed up rather quickly. At first, you were afraid that his wings had crumbled due to the prolonged exposure to water. But after stuffing himself full of the blueberry syrup, he smiled widely before flitting out your window. 

You thought that would be the end of it, but then he just came coming back. 

Apparently, your baking skills left an impact on the small creature. He didn't visit often, but when he did, you would always make sure you had something. Whether it be cookies, brownies, or that blueberry pie he was so fond of. Anything was good enough for Gojo's taste palette. 

"In the fae lands," Gojo said when you prodded, "sweets are too sweet. Yours is just enough."  You weren't too sure what he meant by that, but you took it as a compliment. You were sure the fae wasn't something who'd give praises so easily. 

It's not like you were upset at providing food for your tiny friend. Quite the contrary. You loved it when Gojo visited. You found him fascinating, the way he could fly miles and miles above your head. How tiny he was. The amount of times you had to hold yourself back from squishing him between your fingers because of how cute he was scared you. 

And you hoped you were fascinating enough to entertain Gojo. You had to be; you don't know why else he'd keep coming back. Even after gobbling down your cooking, he'd lounge around your home, entertaining you with his stories. You learned of the other magical creatures he was in contact with, the students he taught, and how fond he was of them. You don't know why he was so open about sharing his personal life with you, in the stories fae hated humanity, but you would never complain. 

It doesn't click as to why Gojo's so invested in you until he comes out and says it himself. 

"Instead of me coming back and forth like this, why don't you just come live with me?" He says, "I would cut down my flying time by a lot." 

You stare at him in amusement, sure he's joking. "I'm not sure how I'd fit in your house." You tease. "I'd probably crush all your furniture." 

"I can make my house bigger." He announces. "Don't worry 'bout it, just say yes." 

You stare at him, slowly realizing that he isn't as amused. He's still smiling, but there's no joke. 

"No," you finally say, "I'm not doing that." 

He cocks his head surprised as though he's never had someone reject him before. 

"What?" He asks, "Why not?"

"Well." You clear your throat. "For one, I'm human, and you're a fairie. I don't think Fae would appreciate a human wandering around in their lands." 

"Who cares about all that?" Gojo waves his hands around. "You'll be with me, anyways. It'd be fine." 

"I don't get why you're so fixated on the human realm." His mouth turns into a sneer. "It's all so boring. Nothing ever happens. And our magic is much more advanced than yours." It's true. You can't disagree with that. Satoru didn't wear clothes made out of leaves or vines, unlike the common fairy stereotype. His clothing looked much more advanced compared to your loose cotton dresses. A black shirt with intricate buttons and long sleeves. Along with black trousers. You wonder what material could make his suit so shiny. 

You laugh at his disgust. At that time, you saw Gojo as a tiny child clutching their mother's skirts, a cute puppy. You hadn't yet taken Gojo Satoru as the threat he was. 

"It's because I am human." You say, not offended by his remarks. "So I like being near other humans." 

He groans as though your logic makes no sense. "Yuji and the others ask about you all the time, though. They've been dying to meet you." 

"You talk to your students about the giant that cooks for you? I'm flattered." 

"You're dodging," he warns. You roll your eyes. 

"Satoru, I'm not coming to live with you. It'd be too much of a hassle." You finally say. "Besides, you're not my type." 

"I'm everyone's type." He argues. 

"Not mine." You smile, and then you make your first blunder. 

"I like my men a little taller." 

He stiffens, and you know you said the wrong thing. Your smile fades as does the cheery energy in your cottage. He says nothing, but he's zipping out your window before you can apologize. 

He doesn't return for the longest time. You count the weeks. Guilt weighs on your shoulders, heavy and burdensome. Every day you bake something even tastier than the day before. Not even that is enough to coax him back. 

You think you've lost him forever, when he returns on one sweltering summer evening. 

"Hi." You blink. He's watching you, sitting idly on the window, kicking his tiny feet. 

"Hi." He smiles. 

You're happy enough to grab him with one fist and hugging him to your chest, but as always, you stop yourself. Instead, a shy smile rests on your face. 

"I'm sorry," you say, "I really am...will you accept an apology pie?" 

He grins wider, and you relax. 

He eats, and you're grateful. Something you once cherished in your life has finally come back to you. You might not return Gojo's feelings, but you still care for him. You'd rather die than ever hurt him again. 

"No, you're right." Gojo surprisingly concedes when you apologize for the third time. "We're too different. It'd never work out. Not as the way you are, right now." 

You nod, grateful he's so understanding. "Exactly." 

He's finishing up when he announces he brought you a gift. 

"I've been working on it for the past few weeks," he cheerily says. "It took a while, but it's finally safe for human consumption." 

He takes out a tiny glass bottle filled with something swirling and blue. When he asks you to bring a glass of water, you acquiesce. To your astonishment, when the elixer is poured, the entire water becomes a swirling mass of a color comparable to none other than galaxies. You're so mesmerized by the color, it's enough to stump your voice. 

"For you!" He declares. "You've always been cooking for me; thought I might return the favor, just this once." 

"What is it?" You ask, amazed by the color. You admire the glance, unaware of the glint in Gojo's eye. 

"It's kinda like the wine you have in the mortal realms, but a little less poignant." He gives when you glance at him. "Go on, tell me what you think?" 

You're too trusting, and so you make your second blunder. 

Once you start, you can't seem to stop. The taste is otherworldly, addicting. You drink and drink, not wasting a single drop. You're breathing heavily once the cup detaches from your lips. 

"Amazing." You say before looking at him. His eyes are too wide, but you're too distracted by the taste still on your tongue. "Seriously, what was that? Can I make it here?" 

He scratches the back of his head. "Not really, the ingredients are pretty hard to find." He shrugs. "Besides, it's supposed to be a one-time use." 

Your eyebrows twist, and then the world sinks. 

You're falling. You think you are. You don't really know. Everything feels like it's stretching. The walls of your tiny little cottage get higher and higher and higher. The floor gets more and more warped. You're sinking, sinking through the air. When you scream, nothing comes out. You feel like you're choking because you can't breathe, and then your vision grows black. 

The next time you open your eyes. It's still dark, and to your horror, you realize you're buried underneath something. 

You panic, clawing and tearing your way out. The material gives away easily. It's fabric. Cotton. But there was so much, an undying ocean of fabric. You lift yourself up from the pile and that's when you realize you're completely naked. 

The mountain of cotton you just climbed to the top of was your old dress. 

Everything was gigantic—the table, the chairs. The windows seemed endless. The ceiling looked miles above you, and you know what happened, but your brain can't formulate it because it can't be—it just can't be.

There's a flutter of wings. You always thought he was so quiet before. Now, he's all you can hear. Immediately, you wrap your body with the cloth. It's hard to keep still; your body is buzzing with nerves and you still can't understand. You have to force yourself to look at him.

You don't know why you expected shock, guilt, something other than the pure manic glee on his face. Satoru towers above you, head tilted. He bends down, cupping your trembling face in his hand because he's big enough to do that now. 

"Just when I thought you couldn't get any more adorable." He coos. 

You can see him now. His skin isn't pale, it's borderline translucent. His canines are sharp and pointy. And his eyes. Oh God you've never seen eyes so terrifying before—an endless mass of blue, threatening to swallow you whole. 

He wasn't a cute little fairy. He was anything but that. 

"Gojo..." You start, heart squeezing. "What did you do.." 

You know. He knows. That's why he ignores your question entirely. 

"I'm surprised it worked." He says, mainly talking to himself. "Shoko said it might be a dud, and she was so sure of it, that I mostly believed her." 

"But now look at you!" He roughly pinches your cheek. "You're the perfect size now." 

"Stop." You blubber, pushing his hand off of you. "Don't touch me. Change me back. Change me back." 

He frowns. "Why would I do that? You being human-sized was always such a hassle. Lumbering around. Way too loud. Don't get me wrong, I adore you either way." He proclaims like it's something benevolent. "But this has its charm."

He leans forward, and you scuddle backward in fear. His grin widens. 

"So, am I tall enough for you, now?" 

[writting-stuff-sometimes]

Treat You Better - Lando x Fem reader

Summary: Y/n broke up with Lando a while ago. One night she overhears a conversation that makes her want to protect him.

Warnings: Slightly suggestive, bad words, alcohol consumption.

Word Count: 16K

Notes: Nosey me really wants to know what happened at that nightclub. I hope you like it, and as always, feedback and requests are very welcome.

____________________________________

You hated this situation, you felt so bad for Lando. You couldn't shake away the memory of the model walking in that bathroom with her friend talking about how Lando was going to be the best way to help her career, and that she just had to deal with all the F1 bullshit, his and his friends' childish behavior for a couple of months to get enough contracts, and then she'll try to find true love. Honestly, you couldn't believe someone like her could love anyone but herself.

“I think you should warn him”

“I don’t know. If he still hates me as much as he did when I left, he’s going to think I’m doing it out of spite, or that I want him back”

“And you don’t?” Your bff looked at you with a knowing look.

“Off topic” You took a sip from your wine glass.

“Fine. But don't you think it is super weird? What were the odds of you and her being in London, at the same restaurant, inside the same bathroom as she decided to spill her stupid plan?"

"I must be paying some freaking karma" You sighted drifting into your own thoughts,

"Ok, enough about this, are you ready for tomorrow?"

"Are you seriously making me go?"

"Of course! Y/N, you need something to keep your mind off things and I don't want to go on my own, I barely know the guy"

Ellie had met a DJ through Tinder and he had invited her to a private party he was playing at, in one of the Monaco nightclubs.

As much as you wanted to stay back and melt into the anxiety the situation had put you in for the last month, you agreed because that was the best friend thing to do.

_________________________

You got to the nightclub, it was a launch party for a cosmetic brand. As you were led to the DJ booth, memories rushed back. You had joined Lando for a couple of nights during his DJ era. Fuck, you had missed this, and you missed him. You needed to keep those thoughts away and an open bar seemed like a good solution... or so you thought.

It had been a few hours and a considerable number of drinks when Ellie grabbed your hand and pulled you to talk to your ear, a strange choice since the music wasn't even that loud, it was one of those parties where influencers and models try to get contracts and to get known by PRs.

"Please, promise me we're not leaving"

"What?"

"Please, promise me. I'm having a good time" She pulled the puppy eyes trick, but what was she talking about?

"Ellie, how drunk are you?"

"Look over there" she discretely signaled to a table towards the exit.

What was she doing there? Was Lando there too? You almost panicked, but he couldn't be. He had raced in Baku that same day. Yes, you still knew his calendar by heart. Usually, he would fly back home the next day. This explained why she was throwing herself at some guy on her table.

"Fuck"

"You promised"

"I didn't"

"Please"

You knew this was a bad idea, you already dreaded the girl, and seeing her hump all over some guy, as Lando was away, made your blood boil. You tried to stay and keep her off your mind but it was impossible, there was no amount of alcohol in this world that could make this situation bearable.

"I'm going home"

"Y/n, please"

"If I have to see her dry-hump another guy for two more seconds I might actually punch her"

"Don't go! C'mon"

"Elle..."

"Fine, let me know when you're home"

You hugged your friend goodbye and rushed towards the exit. On your way out her voice caught your ear, that voice you couldn't keep out of your head. Clearly, you had offended the gods.

"Oh no! I'm single at the moment. I'm sooo tired of dating man-childs, like, they're fun but it's so exhausting trying to have a conversation when all they can talk about is themselves and how cool their little toys are"

Before your brain could catch up with your body, you were already making a beeline toward her.

"Hi, sorry, can I steal her for a second?" You faked a smile to the PR as you grabbed Mila by the arm and pulled her toward a dark corner of the club.

"What the fuck? Let me go!" She tried to shake your hand away when she recognized you. You finally let go of her and stood cornering her against the dark wall.

"Listen to me, you're going to stop this nonsense about Lando"

"Why? Does your career need a boost and you want him back?"

"At least I have a career people can talk about, and not just who's going between my legs"

"Fuck you" She tried walking away but you blocked her path.

"No, you're going to listen to me, you little shit. You and your stupid friends can think whatever you want about Lando, but I won't let you damage his image just so you can have your five minutes"

"I don't know what you're talking about" Her shit-eating grin seemed even worse to your alcohol intoxicated eyes.

"Really? So it wasn't you who told one of your friends that you just had to deal with this F1 bullshit for a little while to get enough contracts?" Her breath hitched for a second but then the smug face returned.

"Please" she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. You wanted to punch her stupid grin away.

"Last warning, either you stop this nonsense, or everybody will know what a shitty person you are"

"Honey, no one's going to believe you, they will just think you're a jealous, bitter, ex-girlfriend"

"Are you sure? Have you seen the comments?" You pulled your phone from your bag waving it in her face " You don't seem to have the crowd on your side. So, listen, "honey", you want to date him, be my guest, but stop talking shit about him, he doesn't deserve it"

"Fuck you" She pushed you to the side and walked back to her table. You turned around and people were staring at you, also a few phones were pointing your way. Fuck, this was going to be all over the place.

_____________________________

You were still shaking when you got home. You hadn't been this angry at someone in a long time.

You took a cold shower to ease the heat inside you, took a sweatshirt from your closet, and went to bed.

_____________________________

"I'm surprised you didn't punch her in the face, you're such a grown-up" Ellie sat by your side on the couch.

"I wanted to, bad. But I'm not jail material. What about you? I was expecting Mr. Dj to be here this morning"

"We went to his house"

"And?"

"It was nice and all but you know I don't sleep out-"

A hard knock on the door caused a stinging pain in your head. Stupid open bar.

"I'll get that" Ellie walked to the door as you laid your head back on the couch and closed your eyes trying to ease the hangover pain.

"Please tell me Mr. Dj sent coffee"

"I guess you're in for disappointment" His voice made your heart stop.

You took a deep breath before opening your eyes and leaning back up to look at him.

"Can you give us a minute, Ellie?" He spoke before you could say a word. Your best friend who looked as shocked as you, turned your way. You nodded yes.

"I'll be over there. Nice to see you Lan" She walked to her bedroom and mouthed "Tell him" as she passed you.

"Care to explain?" You could hear a slight hint of anger in his voice, and like the psycho you were, it was making your heart rush. You were always playfully pushing his buttons to anger him enough that it would lead to rough sex, but sex was not the final outcome this time. So you had to take another deep breath to ease the heat inside.

"Y/n?" His saying your name did not make things easier. The space around you started to feel smaller by the second. You stood up and walked towards the kitchen.

"Coffee?" Your voice hoarse, as if you had been screaming for hours.

For a second his mind drifted off topic, your outfit being nothing but an oversized sweatshirt caught him off balance, even more when he realized it was one of his. A buzzing on his phone brought him back to reality and the name on the screen back to the topic.

Mila Where are you, baby?

"No thanks, I'm not here for coffee, I'm here to find out what the heck happened last night?" He followed you but kept a safe distance.

You started working the coffee machine, a cheap way to escape his presence, as a fight took place in your mind, should you tell him? Was he going to believe you?

"Y/N, I don't have all day, why did you attack Mila?"

"I didn't attack her" You finally spoke.

"That's not what the media says, and what the video shows"

"There's a video? You can't be safe anywhere" You joked.

"I'm being serious" He finally walked up to you taking the empty mug from your hand. "What the fuck was that? just because you don't have anyone in your life, it doesn't mean you have to ruin my relationship with Mila"

Low blow, Norris.

"Relationship?! Please, Lando" You spat before you could process the words.

"What? Just because you didn't want a relationship with me it doesn't mean other people won't want it either"

"What made you think I didn't want a relationship with you?"

"Umm, the fact that you ran away in the middle of the fucking night after ONE fight, ghosted me for two weeks, and just sent an "I can't do this anymore" text before blocking me from every single place? I'm not stupid"

"It wasn't just one fight. We had been fighting so much for the last month, and that last time the only difference was the volume"

"But that happens, just because we love each other it doesn't mean everything is going to be sweets and roses"

The word love sent lighting throughout your body.

"Lan, I didn't leave because of those fights. I left because you weren't happy with me, with us" Your eyes started watering, leaving him had been one of the toughest decisions.

"What?"

"You were lying to me, you were hiding. Does that seem like a happy relationship?" He stared at you confused "I knew about your nightclub and dinner escapades when I wasn't going to the GP's. I never minded you going to those things without me, I don't know why you started lying about them?" You could see it on his face he knew he had screwed up.

"But I never cheated or anything, I promise"

"I know, but it felt as if I was keeping you from doing stuff you wanted and that you felt the need to hide from me" You felt like he was being forced to be with you, like you were keeping him from things he liked.

"Y/n, I was so fucking happy with you, I just...I wasn't thinking. I saw how others got in trouble for going out alone and thought, I... I fucked up" He walked closer toward you and shily played with the hem of your sweatshirt.

"Lan -" His phone rang in his hand, Mila's name on the screen shattering the moment completely. You sighed and stepped back "Just be careful, ok?"

"Careful?"

"She might not be what you think she is"

"What are you talking about?"

You bit your lip still unsure about spilling it all out.

"Y/N"

"I heard her at Scully's a month ago. She was with some friends, I was in the restroom when she got in and I heard her tell her friend that she just needed to deal with F1 for a while to get enough contracts" You kept the details to yourself, they felt unnecessary.

He looked hurt but not surprised.

"I'm sorry" You whispered.

"Is that why you were fighting yesterday?"

"Yeah, basically" You weren't sure if telling him the "attack" had also been fueled by seeing her dry-hump two different guys was good, it seemed he had received the message.

"Why would you care?" He softly asked, his green eyes fixed on yours.

"Lan" You turned back to the coffee machine, the noise grounding you and keeping your mind from drifting into the romantic scenarios it was dying to go to.

"Tell me" He took a step closer. You could feel his body heat radiate towards you.

"Just" You knew where this was leading, what he wanted to hear, but you weren't sure you wanted to say those words.

"Bull" His hand landed on your hip. The electricity from his touch made you jump.

"Lando, stop it please" You stepped to the side escaping his touch.

"No" He took you firmly by the waist and turned you around, trapping you against the counter. "Why would you do that?"

"What do you want to hear?"

"Just tell me why did you do that?"

"Please just leave it" You closed your eyes and threw your head back, this situation and the awful hangover were killing you physically and mentally. But all Lando could see was your neck, it was almost begging him to kiss it, but he fought the urge, he needed you to accept you wanted him too.

"No, I don't want to" His voice was almost childlike.

"God Lando, damn it! I did it because I couldn't stand her talking shit about you. Yes, you can be stubborn, annoying, and sometimes such a child that I want to kill you, but you're also a loving, caring, responsible, smart and such a wonderful human being you don't deserve someone treating you like that. Happy?!"

"Yes" He pulled you from your waist and joined your lips.

His flesh touching yours felt like a breath of fresh air. You couldn't fight it anymore, and as much as you wanted to deny it, you loved him, you loved him deeply.

Your hands found their place behind his neck, softly playing with his curls.

His hands traveled down from your waist to your thighs, caressing them and indulging in the warmth of your skin. He then squeezed your ass and pulled you to carry you to the sofa.

He sat on it as you straddle him. He gave one last peck to your lips and started kissing down your chin, reaching that sensitive spot on your neck right below your ear as his arms pressed you harder against his body. Making you moan at the feeling of the bulging sweats under you.

"I've missed you, don't leave me, please" He whispered softly against your skin.

His phone buzzed again inside his pocket.

"Lan, wait" You pushed his head away from your body.

"What?"

"You're with Mila"

A breathy laugh made his chest bounce.

"C'mon, we were just fooling around"

"Does she know that?"

"Now you care about her?"

"It's not her. But I can't be a hypocrite. I don't want the bad karma"

"Fine" He took the phone from his pocket and dialed. After a couple of rings, you heard that damn voice coming from the speaker.

"Baby, I've been calling you for hours, where are you? Lucia and I are waiting for you to go to the marina, I promised her we would tan on the yacht today"

"Mila, we're done"

The line went silent for a few seconds. You could almost picture the shocked face on the other side of the phone.

"What?" Her voice was a thousand octaves higher.

"What you heard. Go find someone else to leach from. See ya" He hung up with the biggest grin.

"Happy?" He said as he turned off his phone and placed it to the side.

"She's going to kill you"

"Good thing I have my own personal bodyguard" He buried his face on your chest, inhaling your scent, he had missed so much.

"Oh, now I'm your bodyguard?"

"Yup, fuck Jlo's bodyguard, now I have the hottest one"

"You're such an idiot"

"As long as I'm your idiot I don't care about anything else"

You pulled him to kiss again. His hands sneaked under the sweatshirt, caressing the soft skin inside it.

"Nice outfit by the way" Hi said against your lips.

You turned to look down at it and then realized you were wearing one of the sweatshirts you had stolen from him. You had worn it nonstop for weeks after the breakup until his scent had faded.

"I'm sorry I stole it"

"It looks way better on you"

He pulled you back to resume your makeout, as your hands played with the curls at the back of his head.

"You've been awfully quiet over here..." Ellie said out loud walking the hallway. "I just want to make sure you've not killed each oth-" She stared at the scene with a terrified look on her face.

"Please tell me you weren't having sex on the sofa"

"You're about a year too late"

"Ew, please tell me that's a lie. I really, really like that sofa and I don't want to have to burn it" She stared at you, disgust all over her face.

"He's joking" You punched his side playfully.

"Promise?" she asked

"Promise"

"Ok. And, as much as I'm happy you two are back together, please take it to the bedroom and give me five so I can be far far away before you start your unholy activities"

"Three is the most we can give you" Lando stood from the sofa carrying you.

"Two" he said kissing your neck and walking toward your bedroom.

"Nooo, c'mon, stop it" Ellie rushed to her room "Just let me get dressed and I'll be out of here, please!"

"You're mean" You smiled against his lips.

"And you're mine" Hi bit your lower lip closing your door with his foot.

"Send me a message when you're done and I can return"

"See you next week!" Lando yelled back. He returned his lips to your neck, removing the only piece of clothing covering you.

"Very funny!" Was the last thing you heard before the front door slammed.

As much as it sounded like a joke, Lando was determined to make up for lost time.

Tag List: @wtrmlnsgr94, @ricsaigaslec, @ironmaiden1313, @formulas-bitch,

[redeemingvillains]

ps i love you - mattheo riddle ft. the slytherin boys

summary: mattheo plans an unexpected valentine's day surprise for you

word count: 3.3k

a/n: honestly, this healed me a little bit. this is for anyone that just needs a heaping dose of love from our favorite boys, all of whom are absolutely head over heels for you. ♡

Your eyes fluttered open slowly and you smiled as you curled into your soft sheets, yawning and stretching your sleep-heavy limbs, enjoying the sacrosanct moment of a new morning, before the noise and thoughts from the day invaded you.

But the feeling faded almost as soon as it came and within moments your brain switched on and you felt a pang in your chest as you remembered...today was Valentine's Day and despite the devilishly handsome curly haired boy that had stolen your heart and claimed you as his own, you would be spending it alone; his father had whisked him away to something urgent, and he wasn't the type of man to argue with.

Mattheo had all but disappeared last night with quick but searing kiss and a promise to make it up to you. And how could you possibly be angry with him when you melted at his touch, at the look in his amber eyes, at the feeling of his lips against your own which you sensed even now as you ran your fingers over them?

You sighed, slowly dragging yourself out of bed despite the weighted sadness you felt and began readying yourself for the day.

You were in no rush to see the rest of the castle gushing over the holiday; the Great Hall would inevitably be awash in red and pink, filled with flowers and owls delivering love letters. There would be the predictable wave of students dosed by love potions, and an obscene amount of PDA that you would have loved to participate in that now made you sick to think about. Ugh. That alone made you want to stay in your room, but you took your time getting ready, grounding yourself as you did a full self-care routine.

Once dressed, you wandered down the corridor by your dormitory into the common room and found a tall, lanky figure leaning against the stone wall, eyes focused on his feet which he shuffled back and forth as he twirled a toothpick in his mouth.

"Enz?" you asked, as you got closer.

His eyes shot to you as they widened, brightening.

"There she is!" he said excitedly as he straightened up and righted his suit jacked. "You look divine today. Simply beautiful" he winked.

You blushed as you shoved his shoulder in reprimand and laughed at him.

"You're sweet" you conceded.

"You're sweeter" he cooed. "And I could keep this up for hours, babe, but it's my honor to escort you to our breakfast date."

"What?" you asked through another laugh as your face scrunched in confusion. Surely he has to be joking, you thought. Mattheo would strangle him with his bare—

"Oh! Shit! Yeah, uh here" he said, reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket and handing you a sealed envelope.

You narrowed your eyes skeptically at him as you reached for it until you recognized your name scrawled in Mattheo's small script on the front and eagerly tore it open.

Good morning. You look gorgeous. I don't have to be there to know that you do. I love starting my days with you, and it kills me not to be there this morning especially. Enz will have to do. Tell him to stop laying it on so thick, this isn't a hallpass to eyefuck you all morning—

You peered over the top of the letter to see Lorenzo smirking appreciatively at you and smiled.

—And tell him if he steps a single toe out of line with you, I will take sincere pleasure in rearranging his face.

You laughed quickly and covered your mouth with your hand. Lorenzo's eyebrow quirked inquisitively but you shook your head, dismissing it.

Tell. Him. It's for his own safety. Enjoy breakfast. PS, I love you

You folded the letter slowly, unable to contain the smile on your face, absolutely giddy at the penned words you held and the notion that Mattheo had planned something like this.

"Gorgeous?" Enzo said as he offered you his arm.

You linked arms with him cheerfully, a new pep in your step as he led you through the common room and into the castle.

You received a fair share of confused glances which Lorenzo reveled in, beaming at everyone who did a double take at the two of you together, knowing full well who you really belonged to.

"Wonder what's for breakfast?" you mused as a pair of Hufflepuffs shuffled to get out of your way.

"Oh, we're not going to the Great Hall" Enzo clarified as he took a last-minute turn down an unfamiliar corridor.

You looked up at him, surprised, and he caught your eye.

"And have you eat with these peasants? Please" he scoffed, stopping in front of a door you'd never seen before. "No, Matty boy flew you breakfast, from Paris" he said with a flourish as he pushed the door open wide and you gasped at the scene in front of you.

The doorway opened to a small balcony with an astonishing view of the grounds, the myriad pine trees frosted with snow and the Black Lake that was shimmering like a sheet of obsidian in the cold.

Despite the wintry scene, there was a small table laden with steaming cups of hot chocolate, a mountain of pastries, macaroons, croissants and treats all the way from France. Gods I love magic you thought to yourself as Enzo pulled out your seat and handed you a blanket from a large pile which you took eagerly as you wrapped your hands around the warm mug in front of you.

The hot chocolate was rich with a large helping of whipped cream that warmed you all the way through to your toes and brought you right back to the time Mattheo took you to Paris himself and you sipped on the decadent drink by his side. Your heart ached briefly at the memory, but Enzo was quick to pick up on it, and eagerly began chatting away with you about classes, quidditch, and even the Ravenclaw he had his eye on and you realized how nice it was to have this time together to sit and really talk to one of your closest friends, to hear how he was doing.

"You didn't want to take your crush to breakfast?" you teased, kicking him gently under the table.

"And miss this? Babe. This is the highlight of my month, maybe my entire fucking year" he said as he smirked at you and popped another macaroon in his mouth.

You knew he was laying it on thick, but there was a hint of truth to it too, and the knowledge that he valued your friendship that way made you awash with emotion.

His eyebrow quirked as he looked over your shoulder and smiled sadly.

"Well, my lady, this is where I leave you. Our love shined bright though brief."

You turned to see Blaise and Draco behind you, each carrying an extraordinarily large bouquet of flowers that they were peeking out behind with equally large smiles.

"Guys! This is so sweet!" you exclaimed as they set the bundles down and embraced you, your feelings starting to bubble to the surface again at the amount of love and affection you felt.

"Of course, darling, Happy Valentine's Day" Draco said as he kissed your cheek.

"Here you are, love" Blaise said, flourishing a letter that sent your heartbeat soaring.

Another? You reached for it eagerly, tearing into it haphazardly, craving Mattheo's words.

Did you like the hot chocolate? I hope it reminded you of our trip to Paris. I'll never forget how happy you were, the way you shined brighter than that whole fucking city... And what we got up to in the hotel that first night, when you wore that red lace set... Needless to say, don't let any of these idiots read these letters—

"Soooo, what's he writtennnn?" Blaise asked, peering over page.

"Nothing!" you replied, bending the top of the note protectively as you kept reading.

You deserve breakfast from Paris and everything your heart desires. The boys have my credit card, go get whatever you want in Hogsmeade. No smutty books, though, you have a real boyfriend that's better than any book boyfriend. And no clothing that's too revealing, unless it's for me... in which case, you should know, I'm partial to red lace... PS, I love you

Your eyes twinkled as you looked up at Draco and Blaise with excitement.

"It's fucking on" you said, as they cheered.

You went into every. single. store. Lollipops, chocolate frogs, candy hearts and pumpkin pasties from Honeydukes, the most divine stationary and a new set of quills from Scrivenshaft's, and then cue the full montage of you trying on outfits for hours while the two boys sat amidst a pile of shopping bags, enjoying their candy and eagerly goading you on.

"Yes, babe."

"Smashing it!"

"Absolutely."

"You have to get it, get both actually."

"Love, you're wearing it better than the fucking model."

Until Draco turned, finally, yelling over his shoulder to a passing attendant.

"We'll take the lot!"

And gods help the people in the bookstore. Draco could barely see over the bags and boxes he was carrying and now Blaise's arms were laden with every single book you've had on your TBR list, chatting excitedly with you about them.

"Nooo, isn't that the latest one in the series? Didn't that come out like, yesterday?!" he exclaimed as you held the hardcover book in your hands like a holy relic and nodded.

"Can I borrow it when you're done?" he asked quietly.

"We'll just get you one too!" you said excitedly, grabbing a second.

Both of them followed you without complaint, cheery and upbeat, treating you like the princess Mattheo saw you as, they all saw you as, as you made your way back to the castle in the pending twilight, high on candy and your shopping spree.

Mattheo had undoubtedly pulled out all of the stops today, so surely there had to be a something big for the evening?

You tried every way you knew how to coax it out of Draco and Blaise but they held strong, insistent that you be patient as they led you through the castle, down a first floor corridor you hadn't been down before as you continued to question them incessantly.

Was it a five-course meal from your favorite restaurant in London? A private concert from Taylor Swift? I mean, what could possibly top the day you'd had already? They stopped in front of a plain door and pushed it open to reveal... the kitchens, large, industrial-looking, and decidedly...not what you had expected.

But then your eyes swept the space and landed on Theo, in an apron, working diligently at the counter on something as Enzo moved quickly around him, in an apron of his own, a dash of flour on his cheek.

And then you saw the small wooden table just big enough for the five of you, replete with mismatched chairs and a few floating candlesticks.

And then the smell hit you.

"Bella!" Theo shouted, waving you over in flurry of Italian you couldn't follow.

You approached slowly, taking in the scene of him rolling homemade pasta with practiced ease and the steaming pot of sauce on the stove that smelled divine, like fresh tomatoes and roasted garlic, and your stomach growled in response.

"You're cooking for me? you asked, your voice a hoarse whisper at the overwhelming gentleness and kindness, the domesticity of it all.

You'd seen Theo break someone's nose, you'd seen him put puking pastilles in someone's goblet and trip a first year just for the fun of it, but you'd never seen him do anything so... tender.

"Yeah" he said quickly, acknowledging you. "And if you don't start rolling, we're not eating, tesoro" he said, tossing an apron at you, which you caught with a laugh, tying it on eagerly as you moved next to him, bumping his shoulder as you copied his movements and the gentle rolling of his hands.

Draco and Blaise poured wine and helped set the table and the three of you shared stories about your afternoon, all of you chatting about your day, about everything and nothing in the way a family would, natural, easy, unforced and relaxed.

Theo wiped his hands with a towel and then reached into his back pocket, brandishing your letter, which you unfolded and read as you leaned back against the counter, shifting into a world where it was just you and Mattheo's words.

Gorgeous - Theo promised he'd make you something good for dinner, and if I trust him with anything, it's food. Fuck. This one's hard. Because it should be me with you tonight. Please know there's nowhere else on earth I'd rather be than right there with you, right now. The boys will do the best they can, I know they will. Try not to laugh too hard when Theo tells you about the time his Nonna ran from the cops in Sicily. He thinks it's hilarious, and it's his way of trying to impress you. He knows how much you mean to me. Enjoy, my 'bella donna' PS, I love you

You smiled at the familiar last sentence, tracing your fingers over the ink, like you could feel him through it and you realized you were biting your lip to keep from crying. You had kept the feelings at bay all day, but this, being here tonight without him, was hard on you too. You missed him so fervently it was like your whole body ached.

"Ok, ok" Theo said, gently putting his arm around you as he guided you towards the table. "Sedere, sit down, now we spoil you."

You sniffed and swiped quickly at your eye as you settled into your chair and the boys followed suit, surrounding you. And then Theo placed the most perfect bowl of pasta you'd ever seen in front of you, more beautiful and better plated than any restaurant you'd ever been to.

"Theo, this is..." you said, looking up at him, at a loss for words.

He nodded his appreciation. "It's my Nonna's recipe. Best fucking sauce in Sicily" he said as he scooted his own chair in across from you and winked as he raised his glass in a toast.

"To the most beautiful girl in Hogwarts" he said as you all raised your glasses alongside him.

"Here's to cheating, stealing and drinking. May you cheat death, steal hearts and always drink with me!"

The boys cheered and you laughed as you clinked glasses and settled into your meal.

You twirled the pasta and delved into your first bite, the most incredible taste taking over your tastebuds as your eyes fluttered closed.

"Mmmmm Theeeeooo" you said.

"Fuck. That was hot" Enzo whispered as you opened your eyes to glare at him.

"I'm telling him you said that to her" Draco muttered as Enzo kicked him under the table.

"It's soooo good!" you exclaimed, ignoring them all as you dug in for your next bite.

"Did I ever tell you about the time Nonna dodged the cops?"

Your eyes watered with tears at his story, just as much from laughing as from the overwhelming joy you felt at Theo telling it to make you happy, to impress you, consistently eyeing your reaction to his every word.

After awhile you gestured around the room with your fork, savoring the last bites of your meal.

"It's hard to imagine that the heartthrob of Hogwarts himself isn't doing this for one of his girls tonight" you said, teasing Theo.

Theo put down his wine glass and looked at you like you'd asked him if he wanted to be a muggle.

"This?! Bella. Please" he said, shaking his head. "This is marriage shit right here. I don't just do this for anyone. Matty boy loves you, that's for fucking sure."

You smiled and nodded as you looked back down at your plate.

"Yeah he does" you agreed, thinking to yourself just how much he'd proven that today.

You sat around the table for hours, listening to the boys talk and laugh and joke, the night washing away in a haze of a perfect meal, a full belly and a couple of glasses of wine. You eventually dropped your head onto Blaise's shoulder comfortably.

"We wore her out boys" Enzo said affectionately, tilting his head to mirror your own and smile at you.

"Let's get you back" Blaise said, standing with you.

The two of you walked with your arm wound around his in amiable silence all the way back to your dorm, and it wasn't until you were nearly there that Blaise whispered, "Did we do alright?" with a sense of vulnerability you'd never heard from any of them before that stopped you in your tracks.

"Blaise" you reassured him, grasping his arms as you looked up at him. "I was dreading being alone today, I think you could all tell I was teetering on the edge of a breakdown the entire day..."

He nodded his head sadly.

"But each of you completely swept me off my feet, and made me feel so loved, so cherished, and so special. I couldn't have asked for four better stand-in-Mattheo's" you said, smiling widely. "Thank you" you whispered, pulling him into a warm hug.

"You deserve it, and more" he murmured against you, squeezing you tightly. "Sweet dreams, YN" he said, as you unwound from each other and you made your way towards your room.

The warmth you'd felt throughout the day carried you up to bed, lingering with you as you crawled into your pajamas and under your covers as you reached for Mattheo's letters, reading and re-reading his words as you traced your fingers over his script.

I love you, I love you, I love you he'd written and you marveled at how someone could be so far away yet still make you feel so deeply cared for. Your heart squeezed, the sadness you'd felt throughout the day numbing to a dull ache as your eyes fluttered closed.

You slipped into a deep sleep, lost to all sense of time when your mattress dipped, rocking you awake. You turned slowly, groggily to see Mattheo crawling under your covers, his eyes bright, cheeks flush with exertion.

"Matty?" you whispered hoarsely, your heartbeat quickening as you tried to wake your brain, your body up fast enough to respond.

"Gorgeous" he whispered, with a sigh of relief as he reached for you, pulling you quickly into his arms and nuzzling into you as your limbs intertwined with his, your heart resting against his own.

"How are you here right now?" you asked.

"Told 'em to fuck off, he didn't need me anyway" he replied quietly.

You pulled back to look at him, the confusion clear on your face.

"Alright, not exactly like that — it doesn't matter, I'm here and I'm so fucking sorry about today, I had this whole thing planned for us and —"

"—Matty—"

"—You deserve everything, gods everything you do for me—"

"—Matty—"

"—I just love you so fucking much, please don't be mad at me—"

And finally you leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lips and winding your hands up to grasp his face, to center him, to force him to hear you, to feel you, and within a moment you could feel the stress leaving his body as his shoulders fell, and his body molded against yours, his hands wrapping around you as he slid you beneath him and kissed you back earnestly, passionately.

You pulled back for just a moment, meeting his twinkling brown eyes, taking in his lips, swollen from your kiss.

"I missed you every moment of the entire day" you whispered. "But there wasn't a second I didn't feel completely loved. Thank you."

"I love you so much" he said, his head shaking slightly as his eyes met yours and he brushed the back of his fingers over your cheek. "You really have... no idea."

You blushed, nibbling at your bottom lip.

"Actually, I think I do" you said, pressing your lips to his again.

@kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @chelawrites @loverliner @smut-anarchy @locknco

[peanutalergy]

would you write something where Spencer finds reader's lost cat and brings it back to her then they keep in touch + they both develop a little crush on each other?

your writing is wonderful!! <3

-🪲

tags: fluff fluff fluff but there's making out (?) idk if that counts as anything; also lots of cursing lowkey; reader is lowk penelope garcia coded

w/c: 1.8k

a/n: tysm for the req that's an adorable idea unfortunately not such great execution from my part also I wrote this in like an hour I'm so exhausted I should go to sleep but whatever I also don't know if this what you meant anon I'm sorry if it's not 😭 yeah I hate this sorry idk what to say it sucks

MISSING CAT

orange, green eyed, really chubby cat, last seen at ~3:30pm on november 9th. he will answer to garfield or little fucker; most likely the latter, despite that not being his name. he's very clingy, he’ll probably come up to you and start rubbing on your leg like the little freak he is but he's actually just a baby who needs his mom (me) so please call this number if you find him.

reward: $10 and a kiss maybe if you’re nice enough

spencer chuckled when he reached the end of the text and saw the adorable picture of a ginger fat cat. he read over the number on the poster, making sure to keep it stored in a folder at the back of his head along with the image of garfield as he returned to his walk.

not even an hour later, when walking past a not-so-nice smelling trash can, he heard some loud purring coming from one of the boxes surrounding it.

if it were any other day, he would have ignored it, guessing it's just another stray cat, but he was still thinking about garfield and his seemingly interesting owner.

“garfield…?” spencer called out from afar. silence. he took a few steps closer, trying to peek over the box while keeping his distance so as to avoid getting jumped at and attacked. “little… fucker…?” he choked over the nickname.

immediately, the animal that had been in his mind since seeing his picture jumped out of the box, purring louder as he started rubbing on spencer’s legs. he chuckled despite being scared.

garfield wasn't nearly as well kept then as he was in the picture, due to the days he had been on the streets. still chubby, but dirty and with a few patches of dried blood in his fur. spencer tried to move away, seeing his pants getting smudged, but the cat just started following him.

spencer pulled out his phone and started dialing the number seen on the poster, still trying to avoid the animal. after a few rings, you picked up.

“hello?...”

“hi, is this garfield’s, uh… owner?”

“yeah, why? have you found him...?”

“i think i did, yeah.”

“oh my god, wait, actually? is he okay? are you serious?” you mumbled excitedly, sitting up from the position you were comfortably lying in, the show on your tv already forgotten.

“i am serious, yeah. i'm just out on a walk, and, uh… he was in a box near a trash can. he's all dirty and bloody, but he seems okay.”

“my poor baby” you said with a pout “where are you? wait– who are you? who do i owe my son’s life to? my savior, my hero?”

“oh, i’m just… just spencer, really.” he said with an awkward chuckle, giving in and leaning down to caress the cat, who immediately leans into his hands as if he's never been pet before, “spencer reid.”

“mm, cool. anyway, where are you? i’m going to pick him up. tell him mommy’s coming. actually maybe don't. don't refer to me as mommy, please.”

“uh, well, i wouldn't mind dropping him off at your place, if you want.”

“i thought you were on a walk? you're gonna walk all the way to my apartment with that fucker in your arms?”

“yeah, so… yeah, actually. does he… is he fine with being carried?”

“oh, totally, he loves uppies, but it's–”

“sorry, what? uppies??” he cut you off, confusion and disbelief clear in his voice.

“yeah…? uppies… like… when you carry an animal? in your arms?...” a bleach and tone, like???

“oh, okay…”

“yeah, so, he loves uppies. but it's just inconvenient, no? carrying him like that? where even are you, dude? is it not far?”

after you tell him your address, spencer decided it's close enough to walk there with an overweight cat in his arms. however, when he took forty minutes to show up at your door, panting and sweaty, you realized that probably wasn't a good idea.

“jesus, man, you could've just said you can't walk that long with this fucker.” you said as you opened the door, letting him in and taking the cat in your arms, talking to him in that tiny, baby voice. “oh my god, my baby, thank you so much. you poor thing. where were you, sweetheart? i missed you so so so much…”

spencer stood awkwardly in the doorway, wiping away the dirt that the animal left in his shirt, as you kept mumbling to him.

it must have been around another half hour before you set him down on the ground again, but when you did so, you looked at spencer and gasped, “oh, where are my manners? i'm so sorry, i forgot you were there. come in, jesus, come on in.”

he walked in, and after offering him a glass of water, you led him to sit on the couch. settling awkwardly beside you, he said “so, uh… is he alright? hurt..?”

“no, he's okay. i mean, as far as i can tell. not a vet, or anything. i don't think the blood is his… although that doesn't make it any less worrying. i'll give his vet a call. maybe stop by the clinic. yeah, i should probably stop by the clinic, shouldn't i?”

“yeah, probably. does he have all his vaccines?”

“of course.”

“still, there's a chance he would have caught a disease or eaten something that could have been infected. it's always good to make sure.”

“yeah, i know. i’ll give them a call, see if they can see us today.” you said, to which spencer replied with a nod, the two of you falling silent for a moment. “oh, right, the reward.”

you stood up and walked to the table, taking your wallet and a $10 bill from it. “there's no need, really… it's okay. don't worry about it” he argued, shaking his head when you offered him the money.

“no, oh my god, no, this is the least i can do. you walked so far, with that little heavy fucker. please, just take this. actually, you deserve more. i can barely handle to hold him for more than a few minutes, i'm not sure how you–” you look him up and down “–managed to walk with him for so long. just take the money.” you mumble, taking another bill from your wallet and handing it to him.

"no, no, really, it's fine, i swear."

"no, stop it. you're not leaving until you take this money."

he took it with a scoff, seeing how you won't take no for an answer.

“i should give you the other part of the reward, too.” you said with a chuckle as you sat back down beside him.

“what, the kiss?” he stammered, shaking his head as his face goes red and his eyes widened slightly.

“yeah, you want it?” he started stuttering when you said that, so before he got a proper word out, you added “nah, man, i'm just joking. i put that there to be funny, i'd never kiss a stranger like that.”

“oh, yeah, that… that makes sense.” he laughed shyly, nodding.

the cat showed up again, and you went back to talking about him, until spencer decided it's time to go home, which was only around a few hours later.

now, you're not sure when that turned into what it is now, but you're glad it did.

maybe it was the day after that, when you took garfield to the groomers, and sent spencer a picture of him when he got home, wearing the cute tie they always give him.

maybe it was when you started sending every picture you took of garfield to spencer.

or maybe it was when you started talking about things unrelated to the animal.

you're not sure. but now, spencer reid is at your place again, wearing a colorful hat and singing happy birthday to your cat.

of course, he's the only other person at the party. he's the only friend you were certain would show up. and that he did, after rambling about how the cat didn’t even know it was his birthday.

“woo hoo!! happy birthday, baby!” you exclaim when the song is over, taking the cat in your arms and giving him kisses.

“yay, happy birthday, garfield!” he says with a chuckle, petting him.

as soon as he starts getting fussy, though, you put him back down on the ground with a giggle, “yeah, yeah, off you go.”

“i did tell you he doesn't know the date he was born in.”

“well, yeah, but at least he's getting plenty of treats.” you shrug as you throw yourself on the sofa along with spencer, taking off the birthday hats and tossing them to the side. “he knows he's loved.”

“i'm sure he does” he mumbles, smiling at you softly.

“thanks, by the way” you mutter after a beat, turning to him and giving him a nod.

“for what?”

“finding him.”

“that was ages ago, you've thanked me 63 times since then.” he says with a laugh.

“it's not enough, though. he's a stupid little cat, i doubt he would have survived more time out there. you saved his life, probably.”

he nods, staying quiet for another moment.

“y'know, there is one way you could thank me.”

“yeah…?” you already know what he's talking about, he already knows that you already know. the blush in his cheeks that showed up as he said that, his fidgety fingers, the way he started avoiding your gaze.

“the, uhm… the other part of the reward…”

you'd tease him, make him actually say it, if it weren't for how anxious he looks. it physically hurts, how awkward he is.

so instead, you move your hands to his shoulders as you lean in to press your lips to his. for a second, you're scared this isn't what he was talking about. you're wondering if you've just screwed up a friendship, until he moves a shy hand up to your face.

he feels scared, at first. he holds your jaw, fingers gently tangling in your hair as he hesitantly kisses you. but when a moment goes by like that, and you move to sit on his lap, straddling his hips, it's like something within him changes.

he starts kissing you like you're the first and last thing he'll ever touch, his hands roaming down your body as he slides his tongue into your mouth. he bites and sucks at your bottom lip while his arms wrap around your waist, and your own arms go around his neck.

but a man can't live only off of his beloved’s lips. unfortunately, humans do need oxygen. so when he needs to pull away to breathe, he does so with a groan.

panting, you stare at each other with a smile, and pressing one quick peck to his lips, you whisper, “thank you.”

"no, thank you.”

[malereadermaniac]

Boyfriend Experience - Rodrick x Male reader

Long-form(ish) headcannons for dating Rodrick; from the start of it to the smut of it Top!Rodrick x Bottom!Reader word count: 1k Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

The first time he really paid you any mind was at his party. As more and more people left, everyone kinda chilled out and decided on playing a big game of spin the bottle with a dare twist. As the only openly gay guy out of the many players, of course your dare had something to do with a guy; drunk young adults are constantly horny, so makes sense. Rodrick really took notice of you when you were made to sit on his lap for the (long) remainder of the game; and as to avoid any awkwardness, you two made quite a bit of conversation as other people kept doing dares. And after only really talking for half an hour, when the bottle landed on Rodrick, the two of you were dared to kiss - which you did do. And you both enjoyed it.

Rodrick started to crush on you after that party, he'd already debated whether or not he was straight, that experience with you just confirmed it for him really. You also started to crush on the man, who wouldn't though? He's a pretty hot guy and in a band as the drummer! Smash. However, a problem that arose very quickly into the talking stage was that Rodrick did NOT KNOW HOW TO FLIRT. It's not exactly that he didn't have the confidence to try, Rodrick was more than happy to to make many moves on you, they were all just a little awkward or corny - but you couldn't help but find that shit cute. The rocker would always walk you to classes and act as if your class was on his way, even though he wasn't even in your building. And when you'd ask him about it, Rodrick would take the opportunity to more blatantly flirt, but whatever words would come out of his mouth would always make you laugh rather than blush... "I go outta my way for ya 'cause a face like that is worth a thousand words~" "Haha... that doesn't even make sense" Rodrick's flirting did seriously improve after the two of you started dating; or maybe you're just seeing it through rose-coloured glasses. The man's flirts are still dorky or stupid but they tend to make more sense now; plus, Rodrick prefers to show his affection via physical touch anyways. You two will be at a party and your emo-of-a-boyfriend will already be hugging onto your waist and pulling you onto his lap; his arms snug around your waist, with either his head resting on your shoulder or your arms around his neck 'for balance'.

Rodrick's ego get's a ridiculous boost whenever you come over and watch his band practice, getting very excited on the inside but never letting it show (or at least he thinks he isn't letting it show...). But you don't complain, you have to admit that watching your boyfriend go ham on some drums while looking all cool and hot wasn't something you hated. It also makes your heart skip a beat when the drummer glimpses up at you as he beats the shit out of his drums, sneaking in a wink and a smirk, then going back to whatever loud ass song he was playing.

Contrary to popular belief, Rodrick is not some sex-god! Bro was a virgin before you! Sure, his confidence did fool quite a few people (you included), but confidence alone doesn't necessarily mean you pull... In fact, your boyfriend was such a virgin, that he had to wikihow tips on sex in the lead up to asking you to fuck! That being said though, after the first couple of nights together, where you mostly had to teach your boyfriend the ropes and be patient, Rodrick really got the hang of it! Like, really well, too well! His love for physical touch crosses over into intimate moments between you two, so expect many kisses along your body, fingers gliding over your skin, soft bites, a tight hold on your waist or hips or thigh. Oh and once Rodrick really gained some confidence when having sex with you? That's when your boyfriend became a fucking man, talking you through it like a pro; praising you, holding your leg up onto his built shoulder as he slowly thrusts into you, lowly singing you praises and chanting your name through his panting - holy shit this man knows how to get you off!

It's quite funny that Rodrick's mum really likes you. She finds that you're his only friend that's a good influence, meaning that Rodrick can do whatever he wants as long as he mentions you being there! You're also the only friend allowed to sleep round his; that being hilarious, because you're the only friend which Rodrick is fucking every other night. You're boyfriend's mum is blissfully unaware of you and her son doing ungodly things under her roof, and it's kind of a turn on for the both of you... Rodrick will be fingering you whilst shouting a 'goodnight' to his parents like it's nothing! Turning back around to you and giving you a small smirk and a 'shush', 'cause you wouldn't want his parents to hear you? Would you? You wouldn't want them to know how loose Rodrick gets you, you wouldn't want them to hear your hole making phallic sound of squelching, or to hear your pants and moans of their son's name. But that goes both ways! Rodrick would die if his parents heard his moaning and groaning of your name, if they saw his disheveled look as his fingers curled into your hair whilst you sucked his dick ever so nicely.

Cute little bonus: Rodrick gets suuuuuper jealous but doesn't know how to really express that... Which usually just leads to the man being a little emo in public and trying to show off! Emphasising the tiny height difference between you two by resting his head on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist, and even flexing his muscles; Rodrick pulls out all the stops in order to show off, in aims to get any small compliment from you so that he'll feel less jealous and inferior. In private though, his jealousy does come out a little more, your boyfriend becoming a soppy mess about some guy flirting with you; but don't worry, Rodrick's jealousy turns into horniness real quick!

[mrsfancyferrari]

Heavy Love

Summary: Carlos got a surgery of his appendix but that doesn't stop him from treating his girl how he usually does

Song: Heavy Love - Odetari

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 4.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

The fluorescent lights of the hospital room hummed, a sterile symphony that did little to soothe the anxiety churning in your stomach.

Carlos lay in the bed, pale but smiling, a testament to the surgery that had sliced through his appendix just days ago. You sat beside him, a vigil, your hand hovering just above his, afraid to touch too hard.

"You okay, babe?" he asked, his voice a little weaker than usual, but with that familiar teasing glint in his eyes.

"Yeah, just... thinking," you replied, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Thinking about how much better you're going to feel when you're fully recovered."

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made you wince internally. "You think I don't feel good now? I've got you here, fussing over me like a mother hen. What could be better?"

You shot him a playful glare. "Don't get cute. You nearly died. A burst appendix is not a joke, Carlos."

"I know, I know," he conceded, his smile softening. He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. "But I'm here, thanks to you. You got me to the hospital in time."

You squeezed his hand gently, relief washing over you. "I was so scared."

The days that followed were a blur of cautious optimism and tireless care. You transformed into his personal nurse, meticulously following the doctor's instructions, making sure he took his medication, and preparing bland, easily digestible meals.

You read to him, watched movies with him, and kept him company during the endless hours of boredom.

But a strange tension had settled between you, a quiet distance born out of your fear. You were so acutely aware of his fragile state, of the stitches holding his abdomen together, that you hesitated to be the same way you were before.

Intimacy, once a natural and joyous part of your relationship, now felt like walking on eggshells.

He noticed, of course. Carlos always noticed.

"You're being weird," he said one evening as you were settling him in for the night.

"Weird how?" you asked, avoiding his gaze as you adjusted his pillows.

"Like you're afraid to breathe too loud in case I shatter," he chuckled.

"Don't be silly," you mumbled, fiddling with the remote control.

"Come on, be honest. You're acting like I'm made of glass. I appreciate the care, I really do. But you're treating me like I'm some delicate porcelain doll."

You finally met his eyes, your own filled with a mixture of worry and guilt. "I just… I don't want to hurt you. You're still recovering. What if I accidentally put pressure on your stitches, or something?"

He sighed, reaching for your hand again. "You're not going to hurt me. I know you're being careful."

"But…" you started to protest.

"But nothing," he interrupted gently. "I miss you. I miss us. And I'm not talking about running a marathon or anything. I just miss being close."

Your heart ached at his words. You missed it too, more than you could say. You missed the way he would pull you into his arms, the warmth of his body against yours, the feeling of being completely and utterly safe.

But the fear was a powerful force, a constant reminder of his recent brush with mortality.

"I don't know, Carlos," you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. "I'm just so afraid of doing something wrong."

He pulled you closer, his arm carefully encircling your waist. "Hey," he murmured, his voice soothing. "Look at me. I know you're scared. But I'm okay. I promise. And I trust you. I trust you to be careful."

He leaned in and kissed you softly, a chaste, lingering kiss that sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn't the passionate, all-consuming kisses you were used to, but it was enough to remind you of the deep connection you shared.

"Please," he whispered against your lips. "Don't let this surgery change everything between us."

Over the next few weeks, you started to relax, to trust yourself and trust Carlos. You still took precautions, of course. You avoided strenuous activities and made sure he didn't overexert himself. But you also allowed yourselves to rediscover the intimacy you had lost.

Slowly, tentatively, you began to rebuild the bridge that fear had threatened to destroy. You started with simple things – cuddling on the couch while watching movies, holding hands during walks, sharing gentle kisses.

You talked, really talked, about your fears and anxieties, and about the importance of physical touch in your relationship.

One evening, as you were preparing dinner, Carlos came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You stiffened slightly, your muscles tensing in anticipation.

"Relax," he whispered in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "I just want to hold you."

You leaned back against him, letting his warmth seep into you. "Are you sure you're okay?" you asked, your voice still laced with concern.

He chuckled. "I'm fine. You're not going to break me by standing here."

You closed your eyes, breathing in his familiar scent. "I love you," you whispered.

"I love you too," he replied, squeezing you tighter. "More than a functioning appendix can ever express."

You laughed, the sound lighter and more joyful than it had been in weeks.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked.

You smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached your eyes. "You don't have to ask."

He leaned in and kissed you, a slow, passionate kiss that deepened with each passing moment. You ran your fingers through his hair, relishing the feel of his body against yours.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, he looked at you with a hopeful expression. "Can we…?" he started, then hesitated. "Can we be… closer?"

You knew what he was asking. The fear was still there, lurking in the back of your mind, but it was no longer as overwhelming as it had been. You trusted him, and you trusted yourself.

"Yes," you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest. "But we take it slow, okay? And if anything hurts, you tell me immediately."

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with joy. "Deal."

"Wait until after dinner though," you muttered, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "I don't want to get distracted and burn the food."

Carlos pouted, his eyes drifting to the tray of hospital cuisine that had been delivered earlier. "But I hate this hospital food," he begged.

"Nope, you have to eat," you said firmly, placing a hand on his cheek. "Do it for me." You tried to make it sound like a playful dare, but the underlying concern was clear.

He groaned, his eyes drifting to the tray of hospital food that looked as appealing as a soggy cardboard box. "Come on," he whined. "You know how much I hate this stuff."

"I do," you said, your voice laced with amusement. "But it's part of the deal. You want to get better, right?"

With a dramatic sigh, he picked up his plastic fork and poked at the lifeless pile of food on his tray. "Fine," he grumbled, taking a tiny bite. "But you're going to pay for this later."

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension between you momentarily easing. "How about I make you a deal?" you suggested. "If you eat all of this, I'll give you a little something extra to make it worth your while."

His eyes lit up. "What kind of extra?"

You leaned closer, your breath tickling his ear. "The kind of extra that involves me, you, and a lot of gentle touches."

He swallowed hard, the food suddenly seeming a bit more palatable. "Deal," he said, attacking the meal with renewed enthusiasm.

Each bite he took was a silent declaration of his love and desire for you, his stomach grumbling in protest but his resolve unwavering. You watched him with a smile, feeling a thrill of excitement building in your core.

As he worked his way through the meal, you couldn't help but let your mind wander to the promise you had made. Your body grew warm with anticipation, and you felt the familiar ache between your legs.

You had missed this, the thrill of the chase, the delicious buildup to something so much more satisfying than any meal could ever be.

When the last bite was gone, he looked at you expectantly. "Well?"

You took a deep breath, your hand shaking slightly as you reached for the tray. "Alright, you win," you said, setting it aside. "But only because you ate all your food."

He grinned mischievously. "I'm not just playing for fun, you know," he murmured, his hand sliding down to your waist, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip.

You felt your cheeks flush as you turned to face him. "What do you mean?"

Carlos' grin grew wider, his eyes darkening with desire. "I mean, I've missed feeling your body against mine, your breath on my skin, your touch driving me wild."

His hand moved to your cheek, his thumb tracing your jawline. "I want you, all of you. But we're going to take it slow, just like you said."

Your heart raced as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, tentative kiss. His movements were cautious, as if he was afraid to startle you or cause him any pain.

You melted into him, the gentle pressure of his mouth on yours sending waves of need crashing through your body. Your hands found his shoulders, holding him close, as you deepened the kiss.

"Carlos," you murmured against his mouth, your voice filled with a desperation that had been building for weeks.

He pulled back slightly, searching your eyes for any signs of doubt. "Are you sure?"

You nodded, your pulse pounding in your throat. "Yes. I need this. We need this."

He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes. "Okay, then. But…" he paused, his brow furrowing slightly. "We have to be careful. I don't want to rip my stitches."

You chuckled, relief flooding through you. "Believe me, I'm acutely aware of your stitches. We'll take it very, very slow."

He nodded, his eyes still filled with that hopeful look that made you want to do anything for him.

You moved closer, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose before trailing your lips down to the corner of his mouth, feeling the stubble of his unshaven cheek against your skin.

His eyes fluttered closed, a contented sigh escaping his lips as you continued to explore his face with gentle pecks.

"I've missed this," he whispered, his hand moving to the small of your back, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

You nodded, feeling the same longing. "Me too."

Taking his hand in yours, you led him to the bedroom, the dim light of the hallway casting shadows that danced across the wall. The room was filled with the faint scent of his cologne, a comforting reminder of the life you shared before the surgery.

You helped him onto the bed, his weight shifting the mattress beneath you as he settled in, wincing slightly at the movement.

You took a moment to admire him, his strong frame now marred by the surgery scar that snaked under the bandages across his abdomen.

The sight of it brought back the fear of that night, the helplessness you felt as you watched the doctor's face grow grim with the news of his condition. But here he was, alive and with you, and that was all that mattered.

"Lay down," you instructed softly, your voice a gentle command that made him comply without question.

The bedroom was a sanctuary, a place where you had shared countless moments of passion before the surgery. Now, it was a battleground of nerves and anticipation. You approached him with the grace of a gazelle, each step measured and careful.

"I'm okay," he reassured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through the air. "Really."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the last few weeks slowly lifting from your shoulders. You straddled his legs, his hands coming up to rest gently on your thighs.

The fabric of your pajamas was the only barrier between his skin and yours, a barrier that was suddenly unbearable.

"Can I take these off?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"If you promise to be gentle," he said with a hint of a smirk.

You nodded, your fingers trembling slightly as you began to peel back the bandages. The stark white of the gauze was a stark contrast to the tanned skin of his stomach.

You took a moment to examine the neat line of his incision, the skin around it slightly pink and tender. You kissed it softly, feeling the warmth of his body under your lips.

"Careful," he warned, his eyes half-closed with pleasure.

You nodded, taking in the sight of his body before you. You had seen him naked countless times before, but this was different. There was a newfound respect, a newfound gentleness in the way you regarded his body now.

Each scar, each imperfection, was a testament to his strength and the life you had together.

You began to kiss him again, starting at his forehead, moving down to his cheeks, his neck, his collarbone. Each kiss was a declaration of your love and your care, a promise to be gentle, to cherish him.

Your mouth found the pulse at the base of his neck, his heartbeat a steady rhythm that matched yours. You felt his breathing quicken, his body responding to your touch.

He reached up, his hand cupping the back of your head as he guided your mouth back to his. His kisses grew more insistent, his tongue sliding against yours, a silent plea for more.

You felt your body come alive, the ache between your legs growing more intense.

As you kissed him, you felt his hand slide under the fabric of your shirt, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin of your back. He groaned, the sound resonating through your body like a physical caress.

It was a sound that had always made you melt, a sound that had always meant he wanted more, needed more, and now it was back, a sweet reminder of the passion you shared.

You pulled away for a moment, looking into his eyes. "Are you okay?" you asked, the question almost redundant as the desire in his gaze was answer enough.

He groaned, not from pain but from pure need. "More than okay," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

Encouraged by his response, you allowed his hands to roam, feeling the warmth of his palms as they glided over your skin.

They traced the contours of your body, exploring every curve and dip with a reverence that made you feel cherished, desired despite his weakened state. His thumbs grazed the sensitive skin of your ribcage, sending shivers up your spine.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours.

You blushed, feeling vulnerable and exposed. "You make me feel like it," you whispered.

As your kisses grew more fervent, you became acutely aware of your weight, the softness of your body that you had always loved, and sometimes loathed. You shifted slightly, trying to balance yourself so that you weren't putting too much pressure on his stitches.

The thought of causing him pain was unbearable, so you carefully placed your hands on his chest, using your arms to hold yourself up as you kissed him.

"Put all your weight on me," Carlos murmured, his eyes open and searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You bit your bottom lip, feeling the heat of his body beneath you. The urge to give in was strong, but the fear of causing him pain held you back. "I don't want to hurt you," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

"Trust me, I've got you," he said, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer. "I can handle it."

You took a deep breath and did as he asked, feeling the softness of your flesh pressing against the firmness of his abdomen. The sensation was strange at first, a mix of fear and excitement.

But as he kissed you harder, as his hands roamed over your back and his hips began to move slightly beneath you, the fear melted away, leaving only desire.

You felt the heat of his skin, the steady throb of his heart against your palms. His breaths grew quicker, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.

The sensation was exquisite, a gentle reminder of the passion that had always burned between you. You could feel his erection growing, pressing against your center, but you held back, not wanting to push him too far, too fast.

"We can stop," you whispered, your voice laced with concern.

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. "No, please don't stop." His voice was thick with need, the words a desperate plea.

You leaned back slightly, breaking the kiss to remove your shirt, revealing your braless breasts to the cool air of the room. His eyes followed the movement, dark with desire.

You watched as his hand hovered over the fabric of your pajama pants, his knuckles brushing against the swollen bud of your clit. You gasped, the sensation sending shockwaves through your body.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his voice a strained whisper.

You nodded, unable to form coherent words as his hand slipped under the waistband, his fingers finding your slick heat. He stroked you gently, his movements tentative and careful, as if he was worried that even the slightest touch would shatter you.

But as he grew more confident, his touch grew bolder, his thumb circling your clit as his fingers delved deeper.

Your hips began to rock against his hand, the pleasure building with each stroke. You moaned into his neck, your teeth grazing his skin, leaving a trail of kisses along his collarbone.

His breaths grew shallower, his hand moving faster as he matched the rhythm of your movements.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his voice filled with amazement and hunger. "You're always so wet for me."

You felt your cheeks flush with heat at his words. "It's just… you make me feel so… alive."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your chest. "Good to know I still have that effect on you."

You leaned down to kiss him again, your tongues dancing together as your bodies grew more in sync. His other hand found your breast, his thumb brushing against the tightened peak of your nipple, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

As you reached down to undo the button of his pants, he stopped you, his hand covering yours. "Let me," he said, his voice strained with effort.

With trembling hands, he managed to open his fly, the sound of the zipper echoing in the quiet room. His erection sprang free, a testament to his desire.

You felt your own need growing, a warm ache that spread from your core to every part of your body. You reached out tentatively, wrapping your hand around his length, feeling the pulse of his blood beneath your fingertips.

"Careful," he warned, his voice tight with arousal.

You nodded, stroking him slowly, savoring the velvety feel of his skin against your palm. His eyes fell closed, his head tilting back into the pillow as he let out a low groan.

You watched him, memorizing the way his chest rose and fell, the way his abs tensed with each breath. You felt a strange mix of tenderness and hunger, a desire to both protect and claim him.

The sight of his scar, a stark reminder of his vulnerability, only served to fuel your passion.

As you worked your hand up and down his shaft, you leaned in to kiss him again, feeling his hips shift beneath you, urging you closer. The kiss grew deeper, his tongue sliding against yours in a silent demand for more.

Your body responded, arching into him, seeking the contact that you had been denied for so long.

"I need you," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

You nodded, understanding the desperation in his words. You leaned back, sliding off his pants and boxers, exposing him fully to the cool air. His cock stood at attention, a silent plea for your touch.

You kissed your way down his body, your mouth worshipping every inch of his skin. Your breasts brushed against his thighs as you moved, sending waves of sensation through you.

Positioning yourself above him, you hovered, your pussy mere inches from his erection. His hands tightened on your thighs, urging you closer.

You paused, looking down at him, his eyes full of need. The weight of his gaze was almost too much to bear, but the fear was still there, whispering in the back of your mind.

"I'm okay," he assured you, his voice strained with want. "I need you, baby. I need to feel you."

You took a deep breath and allowed yourself to sink down, feeling the tip of his cock press against your opening. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt through your body.

You hesitated, waiting for any sign of pain from him. When he only moaned in pleasure, you began to lower yourself, inch by delicious inch.

His cock slid into you, filling you completely. You bit your bottom lip to stifle a moan, feeling a mix of pleasure and relief. It had been too long since you had felt this connection, too long since you had been this intimate.

His eyes never left yours, his expression one of pure adoration.

"Oh, Carlos," you murmured, his name a prayer on your lips.

He groaned, his hips lifting slightly to meet yours. You began to move, the rhythm slow and steady. Each movement was a declaration of your love, a gentle dance that you both knew so well.

You could feel his cock stretching you, the sensation of fullness that you had missed for weeks. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and valley with a tenderness that brought tears to your eyes.

You leaned back, sitting up straight as you rode him. The new angle allowed you to take him deeper, the feeling of him inside you making you dizzy with pleasure.

Your breasts bounced with each movement, the tips tightening with every stroke. His eyes never left you, drinking in the sight of your body, his hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs playing with your nipples.

The friction grew, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. The ache between your legs grew stronger, your body begging for release. You leaned back further, placing your hands on his thighs for support.

The new angle allowed you to grind against him, the pressure building with every move. You watched his face, the way his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth gritted with each thrust.

"Mi amor," he whispered, the Spanish endearment rolling off his tongue like a warm caress. His hand slid down to the small of your back, guiding you, urging you to move in a way that brought him the most pleasure.

You felt a warmth spread through your body, a gentle wave of passion that grew stronger with every beat of his heart. You knew he was holding back, trying not to let the pain of his recent surgery overwhelm him.

But you could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed with each movement. It was a dance you knew well, a delicate balance of pleasure and pain.

Leaning forward, you kissed him again, your mouths moving in a silent conversation of love and lust. His hands found their way to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he urged you faster.

Your breasts pressed against his chest, the friction of your bodies setting your nerves alight. The room felt like it was spinning, the only anchor the warmth of his cock inside you.

"Más," he murmured, the word a plea that sent your body into overdrive. You picked up the pace, your hips moving in a rhythm that was as natural as breathing.

His breath grew ragged, his grip on your hips tightening as you rode him. His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours. "Te amo," he said, the words a declaration that sent a shiver down your spine. "I love you."

You felt the orgasm build, a coil of pleasure that grew tighter with each stroke. You whispered the words back, the English translation feeling inadequate next to the Spanish. But you knew he understood, knew that your love was as deep and vast as the ocean.

His eyes searched yours, the depths of his love and desire reflecting in their dark pools. You felt his muscles tense beneath you, his cock swell even further inside you.

You knew he was close, could feel the tremor in his hands, the way his hips jerked with each movement.

"I'm going to come," he warned, his voice tight with restraint.

You nodded, feeling the same urgency building within you. Your walls tightened around him, the sensation of his impending release sending you hurtling towards your own climax. His eyes never left yours, the connection between you palpable.

You felt the muscles in his abdomen contract, a silent promise of the pleasure to come.

With a final, deep thrust, you felt him release inside you, his warmth filling you completely. Your own orgasm crashed over you, waves of pleasure that made your vision blur and your body quiver.

You collapsed onto him, your chest heaving as you both fought to catch your breath. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly as if he never wanted to let go.

The feel of his heart hammering against your cheek was a sweet symphony that only the two of you could understand.

"I love you," you murmured into his neck, feeling the sticky sweat on his skin.

"Te amo," he replied, his voice hoarse.

You remained still for a moment, basking in the afterglow, the fear of his fragility forgotten in the face of the overwhelming love you felt. But as your breathing slowed, the reality of his condition began to creep back in.

You lifted yourself off of him, careful not to cause any discomfort.

"How are you feeling?" you asked, your voice filled with concern.

He winced slightly as you moved, his hand coming to rest on the bandage across his stomach. "I'm okay," he assured you. "A little sore, but nothing I can't handle."

You kissed the spot gently, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric. "Thank you," you whispered. "For letting me… for being so patient."

He chuckled, the sound a little strained. "What can I say, I'm a trooper."

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension in the room dissipating like mist in the morning sun. "Yes, you are," you said, your eyes sparkling with affection.

The days that followed were a gentle reawakening of your love, a rediscovery of the passion that had always been there, simmering just beneath the surface. Each touch was a declaration of your care and desire, each kiss a promise that you would always be there for him.

One morning, you awoke to the feeling of his hand on your hip, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin. You rolled over to face him, his eyes already open, watching you with a soft smile.

"Morning," he murmured, leaning in to kiss you.

You returned the kiss, feeling the warmth of his breath on your cheek. "Morning," you murmured back.

He shifted, his hand sliding down to cup your ass, pulling you closer. "Ready for round two?" he asked, his voice filled with mischief.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling despite yourself. "You're not going to let me have a break?" you said, feigning exasperation.

Carlos' grin widened, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "What? You don't want to?"

You playfully slapped his chest, unable to resist the flirty banter. "You're insatiable," you said, your voice filled with affection.

He chuckled, his grip tightening on your ass. "Only when it comes to you."

You felt a warm blush creep up your cheeks. "Well, if you promise to be gentle…"

"Always," he assured you, his voice a low, seductive rumble. . . .

[soulwrencher]

Hi!!!! I don’t know if you take request.. but I can’t stop thinking about vi coming home from the gym, or reader going to meet vi at her gym? But her sweaty abs? Those back muscles? Those arms? 😩 and vi just being so smug about it because she knows the effect she has on reader 😭

yesss i like this! note: i don't really workout at the gym (embarrassing i know...), so if this is super unrealistic just... gawk over her body! be horny!

also you should totally read this by my fav writer ever if you haven't already, you'll be OBSESSED. kisses n hugs @vampiefemme 😘

1, 2, 3, 4,... were you counting your own reps or vi's? your mouth was practically on the floor, eyes ogling at her back from afar. there's quite the distance between you and where she is working out at, but that doesn't stop you from dislocating your neck to watch her do pull-downs.

there is just something about the way she's built, tattoo climbing down her neck as well as the usually headache inducing overhead lights making the sweat on her traps shine, and her big, to drool over, triceps. and fuck were they moving with every pull too, actively flexing underneath her drenched tank top. absolutely soaked, (you or her?) vi takes her tank top off, you almost slam the weights. feeling the blood rush through your body from the embarrassment of just almost pissing people off (and the fact that you've been staring for full 5 minutes), your mind carries you away, to your bed, underneath vi, who's doing pushups over you and then smiles at you, how dreamy.

and then she smiles at you. wait, what? a small but very potent 'fuck' escapes your mouth. she's done with her sets and quickly redirects her focus to cleaning the machine.

vi is grinning like an idiot, it's hard to stay oblivious when she literally felt something (your pretty eyes) burning into her back. and besides, it was super hot watching you too. she overthrew her whole workout routine just because of 8 little words:

'heyyy i heard you go to the gym?☺️'

it took her an hour to reply, Yeahhh I do, erase, We should go together, erase, I think you're really cute, erase, I'm going this Friday you wanna join me cutie? send. vi wasn't stupid, it takes two to play a game. and you were going to lose.

"you looked distracted," vi chuckles, sweat dripping down her forehead.

slam. "oh god, that startled me, haha." you look around, 'i'm sorry' plastering your whole face. you feel the heat rush up into your head and accumulating there. what the hell.

"is it fun watching me?" she continues. she's facing you, arm stretched out and resting on the leather of your seat. you're fucked.

"i was just trying to see when you're done—" you pause to look at her, but vi's eyes are elsewhere, further down, was she checking you out?

"—not sure if i'm doing this right," you say as your eyes wander to her stretched out arm, suddenly you feel warmth spreading from in between your thighs...

she hums in response, scoff-laugh following. vi gathered that you weren't going to lose easily.

"can i?" she asks and you nod, hot palms adjusting your foot placement on the board. you like how her hands feel, they were rough and calloused but still so, so warm.

you press against the board, small grunts and groans escaping your lips. fuck, you sound a little too good, vi totally did not just imagine all possible (well, rather a small selection) of scenarios where you'd make exactly those noises.

she tries to distract herself from her thoughts where you are moaning her name, so she strokes your left hamstring to make sure you're... to make sure what exactly? you immediately look up, but the way vi is looking at you... you can't help but get lost in her eyes, you wanted her to get lost in you. and she couldn't ignore the throbbing that was practically begging to be taken care of from just looking at you and touching your skin.

one thing leads to another and her fingers are filling you up and pumping into you as slick gushes out from the sides of her fingers. iiiiin the bathroom of the women's locker room. gross, absolutely, but you're too busy trying to swallow your moans.

"not sure if i'm doing this right." vi whispers into your ear. you roll your eyes, she's obviously mocking your awful attempt at covering up the fact that you were staring.

"'doing, mhmmmh, just fine," you slur.

fuck, you were driving vi insane. she throws her head back, hard nipples graze against the fabric of your workout top as she thrusts her body against yours, pressing your back against the stall wall. and she's still inside you, vi is still curling her fingers against the walls of your gaping cunt. you dig your nails into vi's back, "more," you whisper.

"fuck, i—" vi slowly slides out her fingers, you successfully flustered her, she's completely worked up, cute. and then, seemingly out of nowhere, she brushes a lose strand behind your ear, it feels like you're dripping onto the gym floor. kinda gross, but whatever, because vi's hand is right there where you want it, cupping your face.

"let me take you to my place," she then says, voice low. she watches a small smile appear on your face. "sure, show me your home workouts," you wink, causing vi to turn the same color as her hair.

got you.

[riddlesbunny]

Watermelon Sugar

summary: Family brunches are boring, Aegon makes them more fun.

pairing: Modern!Aegon Targaryen x Niece!Reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: Explicit smut, alcohol consumption, incest in a modern setting (whoops), fingering, p in v sex, semi-public sex 18+ MDNI

note: This is a repost …. Feedback is appreciated!

The warm sun illuminated your skin as you reluctantly made your way over to your seat for brunch. Viserys had planned it — his own feeble attempt to bring your fractured family together, even if it was only for a brief moment. For the most part, it worked. Everyone tried to behave themselves, though gatherings like this usually ended in a confrontation of some sort.

Before you even arrived at your seat, you felt a hand wrap around your waist, tugging at the hem of your sundress.

"Whew! Who are you all dressed up for?"

Aegon asked as you batted his hand away, shooting him a look of disapproval.

There was an unspoken thing between the two of you, everybody knew it. However, you didn't need him pawing at your waist in front of the entire family.

"Charming as ever I see."

He flashed a grin at you in response; that boyish smile of his made you weak in the knees.

"Here," he handed you the mimosa that was in his hand, "you're going to need it," he whispered before making his way back to his own seat.

You kept your eye locked on him as he retreated to his designated spot. Noting that Aemond was muttering something to him as he sat down.

"What?" he retorted, "I can't say hi to our niece?" Turns out, Aemond wasn't the only one annoyed with Aegon's show of affection.

"You'd think he would know better than to encourage you to drink at this hour," your brother admonished you, nodding his head toward Aegon in annoyance.

"It's brunch, Jace," you say before taking a large sip of the mimosa, "live a little."

"Right. Because Aegon needs an excuse to drink at noon."

"Please," you pleaded, "don't start."

"I'm not," he huffed, before shoveling a forkful of eggs in his mouth, "I'm just saying."

Thankfully your brother's comments ended there and so far everything was going well. Lucerys was sat next to Daeron — as far away from Aemond as possible, which was key to any family event running smoothly. The two young boys were talking loudly about a video game. Your mother and Alicent were giggling amongst themselves, talking so low you couldn't decipher what they were saying. Aemond sat stoically in his seat, occasionally stealing a glance at Helaena, who was tapping aimlessly at her phone, playing some sort of trivia game that you could only assume had something to do with bugs.

Every so often Aemond would glare at you, and then at Aegon who was now three mimosas deep.

If you could make it through brunch peacefully, you would find yourself back at the keep with your family later that evening. And if you played your cards right, you'd get your claws into Aegon.

It didn't take long for you to figure out that family gatherings such as these served to be rather boring when there was no fighting involved.

Staring down at the plate of fruit in front of you, an idea popped into your head. Maybe you could make your own fun.

You plucked a piece of watermelon from the plate and took a small bite, allowing the juice to run down your chin onto your chest. Rubbing your thumb along your bottom lip, swirling the juice in a fake attempt to clean yourself up. Innocently glancing over at Aegon through your lashes. His eyes were fixated on your breasts, flicking them up to make direct eye contact as you began to suck on the fruit. His lips parted in anticipation as he watched you.

But, Aegon wasn't the only one watching, Aemond's eye was also locked on you. He was hard to read, but he looked disappointed by your actions. Feeling heated and a bit flustered you decide to go freshen yourself up.

"If you would excuse me, I’m going to go to the restroom," you announced to the table before making a beeline to the other side of the restaurant.

As you went to shut the door behind you, a hand shot through and Aegon made his way into the small space with you.

"What are you doing?!" You hiss.

"What am I doing?! What are you doing?" He spun you around and wrapped his arms around you tightly, pressing his bulge against your backside.

"What are you doing? Huh?" He repeated as he inhaled the sweet scent of your hair. A mixture of apple from your shampoo, and vanilla from your perfume.

"Gods, you're going to be the death of me," he groaned in your ear.

"This dress," he rasped, releasing his grasp on you to tug at the hem of it, "that little show you put on out there." His large hand came down and smacked your ass harshly, causing you to yelp.

Aegon wasted no time and lifted you up onto the marble counter with quickness, kissing you deeply.

Against your will, a moan escaped your lips.

Aegon took this as an okay to continue. Snaking his tongue into your mouth, pushing your legs apart so he could settle in between them.

He tasted so good — remnants of orange juice, champagne and a subtle hint of tobacco filled your senses. His hands dug into your thighs with such force, you were sure his rings were going to leave marks, but you didn't care. He nipped at your your neck and kissed down your chest, licking the sticky remnants of the watermelon juice from the valley of your breasts.

Once he made his way further down, he began to began to take his time. Lifting your dress slowly, the pads of his fingers ghosting your thighs. The anticipation was killing you.

"Mmm, Aeg. Please," you whined.

He chuckled at you and lifted your dress up, bunching it around your hips to reveal your underwear. He took a minute to admire the damp spot that was forming in the center, and you felt a slight blush form across your cheeks. His thick fingers finally made contact with your pussy, rubbing them against the thin, lacy, material of your panties. He looped his fingers through the sides and quickly ripped them down your legs, exposing you to the cool air. He took no time to slide his fingers through your folds, gathering your slick.

"Oh look at you," he purred appreciatively, "so naughty, baby."

A loud moan erupted from your chest as he used his index finger to slowly trace around the opening of your cunt, each swipe had you silently begging he would slip it inside.

That devilish grin of his flashed across his face once more as he looked up at you.

"Don't get desperate on me now. l've barely even touched you. Gotta keep quiet, huh baby?"

A simple nod in response was all you were able to give him.

"Good girl" he drawled as he pushed his finger into you.

"Fuck, Aeg. Feels s'good," you whispered.

His tongue darted out to lick his lips as he began to move his hand faster, adding a second finger in. The pleasure was so overwhelming you forgot where you were. In a cramped, unisex bathroom, with your entire family seated at a table not too far away from the door.

All you cared about was that you wanted more, no, needed more. You squirmed against him, trying to get his fingers deeper into you.

He took the hint and obliged. Pressing them harder into you, pumping in and out with vigor.

He used the calloused pad of his thumb to push violently against your clit. He reached the spongy spot within your walls and pressed firmly into it, his free hand pushing down on your stomach as he continued to thrust his fingers. Occasionally scissoring them, stretching you out even more. It soon became too much for you. You felt your stomach drop and your walls tighten as your cunt squeezed around his digits.

"Thereee she is," he sing-songed. That's it, good girl."

He continued to fuck you with his fingers through your orgasm. Your ears rang, your vision blurred and white-hot electricity pumped through your veins. When he finally removed his fingers from your pussy he brought them up to your mouth, watching with bright eyes as you sucked your release off them, pushing them down your throat causing you to gag a little.

Releasing his fingers from your mouth you shimmied off the bathroom counter, fumbling to unbuckle Aegon's pants.

"Uh uh, baby. We will have time for me later. We have brunch to get back to.

As eager to please you as he was, Aegon was not one to usually turn down his own pleasure. You were unsure if he was being serious, or if he just wanted to hear you beg for it.

"Aeg, please."

He didn't need anymore convincing.

"Put your hands on the counter," he demanded as he spun you around. Unbuckling his belt, sliding his jeans and boxers down his legs with quickness; allowing his already hard cock to spring free and slap against his stomach. Lifting your leg before shoving himself between your folds. You groaned and tried to push yourself closer to him. He let out a laugh and smacked your ass, causing you to jolt forward.

"Be still," he growled.

You nodded your head eagerly, the palms of your hands resting against the cold marble. He filled you to the hilt with one single thrust, spearing you open.

As he began to move in and out of you, his hands tugged at your hips. "Oh, fuck!" you mewled loudly before his palm slapped over your mouth to keep you quiet.

He leaned over you, panting with his breath hot on your ear.

"What would Jace think," he whispered, venom in in his voice, "knowing that his precious little sister is a whore for my cock, huh?" You bit down your lip and squeezed your eyes shut, trying not to cum for a second time from his lewd words.

"Or Aemond?" he taunted, "our prim and perfect niece bent over for me like a dirty little slut."

Agon bit down hard on your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin, causing you to moan and arch your back, meeting his thrusts. He makes direct eye contact with you in the mirror as he continued to pound into you.

"Oh, you like that, huh? You like being my dirty little slut?" You nodded your head feverently, the walls of your cunt contracting, sucking him in.

"You gonna cum again for me baby? Gonna make a mess on my cock?"

"Fuck, yes. I'm gonna cum! Aegon, please, please make me cum."

Your nails dug into the counter as he fucked into you, the head of his cock pressed against your sweet spot with precision. He reached up, grabbing your breast, pinching your nipple roughly, pushing you over the edge one final time.

Your second orgasm washed over you with such intensity, it was almost painful. Your cunt squeezed around Aegon's cock, threatening to pull his own release from him.

"Shhh, that's it, there you go," he cooed. With a few more harsh thrusts against your cervix, his cock twitched inside you, pearly ropes of him coating your walls.

You could feel his heart beating through his chest, as his breathing slowed down. He kissed your neck and nuzzled his head inyour hair before quickly pulling out of you, immediately pulling his pants back up.

"Holy fuck," you breathed as he handed you back your underwear.

Whatever train of thought you had was interrupted by a knock.

"We're leaving! And you guys are assholes!”

Aemond's voice called from the other side of the door.

The two of you burst out laughing before making your way out of the bathroom.

[vanesycho]

• drunk bsf!san x f!reader | m.list

| you're alone on valentine's day with your best friend

warning | smut, drunk san being needy over reader, unprotected sex, p in v

word count | 1,1k

a/n | late 14th february post, enjoy reading!

Laughter filled the living room as San took another sip of his drink "no, really. why didn't you go with Seonghwa? he's a nice guy, you could have had a great time." you paused for a while at his question. he had invited you to an amusement park this valentine's day but you weren't sure you wanted to be with him. It made more sense to spend time with your friend San instead.

"I just didn't want to. besides..I'm not sure If I want to date with him, I'd just be toying with his feelings." San made a noise of agreement, leaning his head back on the couch and looking at you for a long time as you poured new drinks in front of him. the moment you turned around he gave a short smile, took the drink you offered him and unexpectedly kissed your cheek "thanks, I guess? now I'm not alone either." you chuckled and punched his arm mockingly "you know I wouldn't leave you alone."

almost an hour passed. San was already tipsy. his arms were tightly wrapped around your waist and he kept mumbling something "who told you to drink so much? look at you." he ignored your angry tone and looked up at you with a slight smile. his narrowed eyes, cheeks red from drinking and lips puckering when he spoke caught your attention. at that moment you tried to understand if the burning sensation in your body was from drinking or him.

"can I kiss you?" the sentence he mumbled made you swallow hard. "what?" his eyes went to your lips for a moment, "whatever, I'm sorry..I guess I'm drunk." he buried his head in your neck and let out a small whimper. you, on the other hand, pushed him away from you before you could get over the shock of the incident. "do you want to kiss me?"

San was silent for a while, his hand went to his hair nervously "I mean look at us, we're getting drunk on valentine's day as two friends, who would believe this?" his voice wasn't too loud but his anger was obvious "what do you want us to do?" he let out a breath in response to your question, then slowly approached you, he seemed cautious, he was trying to measure your movements but he couldn't stop himself either. "I don't know..I can't think straight right now." his eyes momentarily fell to your lips again, he supported himself with one hand on the ground and reached for your lips, you just realized at that moment that you were holding your breath.

It didn't take long before you felt his warm, alcohol-soaked lips on you. his hand immediately found your neck and pulled you closer to him, pulling you into a hungrier kiss. his wet kisses moved to your neck after a while, slowly laid you down and lay on top of you without putting too much of his weight on you. every spot he kissed seemed to burn your already hot body "can I take off your shirt?" the way he asked and his innocent looks did not match what he said at all. the hunger behind the sweet gazes had already driven you crazy, so you took off your shirt yourself.

San swallowed hard, he wasn't sure about bringing his hand closer to your bare chest, but when you grabbed his wrist and guided him, he breathed a sigh of relief. while one hand lingered on one of your breasts, he made eye contact before wetting the other with his tongue. then his tongue started to move slowly on your nipple, after the small tongue strokes, he took your breast into his mouth, made sure to wet it enough and erection your nipple, then lifted his head and placed a wet kiss on your lips. "take off your pants, please..."

you did as he said without making him and yourself wait too long. In the meantime, San had also taken off everything he was wearing, watching you with hunger. then he quickly took you in his arms and laid you on the couch next to you, spread your legs apart and got between them, then without breaking eye contact, his hand went between your legs. his fingers moved through the wetness to your hole and without waiting too long, San thrust his fingers inside you. "ah..you feel so warm and tight.." the sentence he mumbled to himself was enough for you to hear. he started moving his fingers inside you without waiting too long, waited for you to get used to it but he didn't know how much his erect cock with pre-cum flowing down could take it.

"san..." the moment you said his name it was like the world stopped for him, even though being heard so needy embarrassed you, you didn't break eye contact. "please...I want you" he was taken a back at first but it didn't take long for him to pull his fingers out of you and direct his cock to your hole. he put one hand on the side of your head for support and leaned over you, his cheeks were still red, his lips were slightly parted and he was breathing in ragged breaths, his eyes continued to look into yours with need. you let out a loud moan with the fullness that came when he started to put half of his cock inside you "fuck- I'm sorry.." San watched your reactions to whether he should continue or not, after getting used to the fullness inside you for a while he didn't hold himself back when you moved your hips towards him and pushed all of it inside you and started to move slowly.

the inside of the living room was now surrounded not only by the smell of alcohol but also by your moans and the smell of sex. San breathed hotly on your neck, the kisses he placed in between made you feel even more embarrassed that his cock was inside you right now. "you're so..good..you're so beautiful..I..fuck- I-I love you." even though you couldn't understand the words he said between his moans at that moment, the last sentence made you pause "what did you say?"

San lifted his head "Is this a wrong time to say it?" a loud moan filled the room as his cock hit your pleasure spot, he smiled slightly and continued to hit the same spot. hand found yours and intertwined your fingers, after a few strokes he made sure you were cummed and then after he came on your stomach. as you both try to catch your breath, he rested on top of you for a while, your hand found his hair and mumbled "I love you too." a giggle was heard from him, he looked into your eyes one last time before pulling you into a long kiss.

[snoopyhq]

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ i want your drama, the touch of your hand

type: viktor x reader

summary: making up with viktor after a particulatly nasty fight

warning(s): suggestive/borderline nsfw content after the red line divider !!!

word count: 1320

a/n: literally had this thought occur to me while i was boxing at my job yesterday and bad romance came on shuffle on my phone, MAN... the original version but also think the moulin rouge "backstage romance" version MWAH

Hour two, still no talking. The atmosphere within the apartment was heavy with unspoken resentment and hurt. Both of you had woken up in particularly bad moods, and it seemed that being in each others' presence simply amplified that.

Every little thing he did 'wrong' was ticking you off, and everything you said that was slightly unpredicted or off in tone would set him off, and it finally boiled over during dinner.

"I don't like lemon zest. I thought you knew that," he commented. He twirled a strand of the linguini through the fork, pushing the food around on the plate. In that moment, he looked like a petulant, petty brat, and it took all your strength not to reach across the table and slap it out of his hand.

"Maybe speak up next time. Or better yet, you could cook for a change then, since you seem to always have a smart remark about it!"

Viktor set down his fork. The lines between his brows furrowed.

"Don't speak to me that way please," he said, meeting your gaze. "I understand you may be frustrated, but I was just stating my preference. Something I thought you would know, since we do live and spend much of our time together, do we not?"

Anything else he may have said after the first statement didn't matter. You were already in an angry mood, and very much did not appreciate being told how to act.

"Don't police my fucking tone, Viktor. I'll speak however I want to dammit!"

He said nothing, picked up his fork again, and ate the rest of his meal in silence. The wall was slowly rising between the two of you once more. Viktor didn't wait for you to finish your food. He took his dishes, stood up, and walked off, the sound of his cane tapping against the tiles echoing too loudly in the space. You did your own dishes that night, and he did his.

Now there was a warmth lacking, even as the mattress dipped and sighed with every toss and turn. You were doing your best to keep your back to the other. It hurt, but your prides were nearly as sharp as your minds.

One of you had to break. You didn't want it to be you.

The loud banging noise from your upstairs neighbor finally did something.

"Goddammit, that idiot dropped something again," you complained.

"Someone please ban him from buying anymore hideous garden statues. That balcony is straight out of a post-apocalyptic nightmare," Viktor agreed.

You snorted, and quickly tried to cover it by clearing your throat.

"Am I only useful when I'm entertaining you?" he asked softly.

"Shut up. You know that's not true," you finally turned to face him.

"Then..."

"Viktor, I swear."

"That denial implies you care for me. Please, show and not just tell me," he requested sweetly.

"Oh yeah? Show you how, exactly?"

"I'm cold. I miss your warmth. You are cruel when you take away my routinely expectations."

"Fine. Come here," you finally reached out, and clasped his hand in yours.

This wasn't going to completely fix all the underlying emotional distress you were both dealing with, and it certainly wasn't going to fully rid what had transpired. But it was a start, made all the more worth it when he closed the gap, arms already wrapping around you tightly.

"I hate it when we fight," he whispered.

"Me too. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken out my frustrations on you."

"I'm sorry too. I should not have nitpicked so much, and I should have realized policing your tone wasn't going to make things go well."

NSFW AHEAD !!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!! MINORS DNI PLS !!!

Viktor gasped, the sound breathy as it fell from his beautiful lips, now slightly swollen from how much you'd kissed and nipped at them. Your hands were in his hair, and you delighted in his reactions with every sharp tug. His amber eyes were dark. They gazed up into yours, practically begging for more more more.

You were happy to indulge.

"Tilt your head back a bit more for me," you rasped in his ear, pushing him back against the pillows. He complied easily.

"Please...," he groaned.

You pressed another kiss to his pulse point. It was one of his more sensitive area, and wasn’t helped when you followed it up with more kisses on his beauty marks.

He sighed.

“You always kiss me like you’re discovering oxygen for the first time again.”

"Because you always take my breath away." You murmured in response. You knew he was going to tell you off for such a stupidly predictable statement, and he did. You shrugged and kept kissing him again and again, silencing any more protests he had with your choice of words.

He nipped at your lower lip, enjoying the small little hiss you let out. He loved that. It never grew old.

His lips left yours, reluctantly, but moved on to your flushed cheeks and down your jaw. Viktor’s hands began gently trailing down your body, tracing and touching and feeling, committing you to memory. Everything about you was perfect, and he was in awe of it all.

As if to translate his thoughts through touch, he squeezed your thighs. He especially had a thing for them, always had. It was like they were made for him to hold.

“You’re so touchy already, Viktor? Insatiable,” you teased.

"But you love it when I can’t keep my hands to myself. You can't lie to me about that,” he cooed in a soft, lilting tone. His fingers traced along your thighs again, digging into the soft flesh.

“Yeah, yeah. enjoy that smug look while you still can,” you grumbled, not denying his words.

You suddenly lunged at him, kissing a trail down his body, giggling to yourself at his surprised yelp.

"Hey!" he laughed breathlessly, his stomach doing somersaults as you kissed along his body. His eyes fluttered closed as he felt your lips press to his skin. He loved when you did this, especially when you would leave soft little marks on his hips.

And speaking of that. You were currently working away at his hips now, trying to hold back the urge to just sink your teeth into him.

He couldn't stop the soft sighs and moans that escaped him. Gods, the touch of your lips on his delicate skin was sending shivers throughout his body.

"You don't have to be ah�� gentle all the time." he murmured breathlessly, his fingers now the ones tangled in your hair.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. Just bite me already, coward," he demanded.

He liked when you were a bit more rough with him. In fact, he preferred it. You not treating him like he was fragile. It made him feel better than being treated like a priceless doll, hidden away behind locked glass.

“Fuck, finally.” With his permission explicitly given, you finally sink your teeth down into him.

He let out a sharp moan, his hips rolling up a bit automatically.

"Keep going, please." he whispered. “Keep proving to me you’ll keep me warm for the rest of our days.”

You looked up at him, so wonderfully vulnerable and so violently true. His emotions were etched onto every angle of his face. Viktor was never once to mince words when it came to acts of passion, and you were fully reminded of exactly why you adored him so.

“I will. You’re forgiven,” you smiled. “Consider this worship my apology to you, and your acceptance, yours to me.”

You slowly pushed his legs apart, practically aching with the reverence and love and affection you felt for him. You could feel his breath hitch as yours ghosted over his inner thighs.

If this was how you two were to make up after a fight, maybe you should engage in conflict more often, you mused to yourself. It was going to be a slow, feverish night.

[landosjpg]

chicken shop date | ln

the one where your boyfriend gets invited to the chicken shop date and you’re not really happy about it.

lando norris x gender-neutral!reader

word count: ~1.1k

warnings: just reader being a tiny bit jealous and insecure & fluff at the end

note: based on this request. took me a little longer than it should had but i wanted to watch the interview before to know how to approach it, but hope you enjoy it!

"i'm just not really fond of the idea!" you huffed, sinking further into your boyfriend's couch, dramatically crossing your arms under your chest with pouty lips.

your reaction got a laugh out of lando and he let his body plop down next to you, looking over at your saddened expression with a soft smile on his lips.

"baby, come on. i'm gonna be late," he cooed, his fingers trying to reach for your chin to get you to look at him so he could give you a kiss goodbye, but you easily managed to turn your face in the opposite direction before his lips could touch yours.

this gesture got a sigh out of lando, making him drop his hand to your lap in defeat.

"it's gonna be alright," he said, his voice still sweet as he tried te reassure you, knowing that under your over dramatic reaction lied the anxiety of him getting even more popular.

just the previous evening, his team had informed him that he was scheduled for a new interview in the morning. when he finished telling you all about it after hanging up the phone, your eyebrows were furrowed and the pout you made hadn't left your face since that very moment.

the chicken shop date.

you usually watched the show, so you knew how big of an audience it had. it wasn't the fake dating part that worried you, but the huge amount of fans it would get him.

it was a little stupid, you knew, considering that he was one of the most popular faces of the sport. but you couldn't help the little insecurities that surfaced from time to time, thinking that he could find someone to replace you at any given minute.

lando's hand squeezed yours softly, making you get out of your mind and look back at him. he knew what you were thinking, so he gave you a reassuring smile before bringing your hand up to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles. so you gave in.

"just don't be funny. or nice," you said, trying your best to forget about your worries and trust that nothing would change. "don't be cute, either."

"i can do that," lando chuckled, and with your hand still in his, he leaned closer to you to finally peck your lips.

"good, cause i don't want to share my boyfriend with any more people," you added, making him smile as he pulled away and got up from his spot next to you.

he found your overprotectiveness rather cute sometimes, and every single time he tried to comfort you, reminding you that you were the only one he wanted.

with your little act over, you looked up at his figure in front of you as he gathered his things before leaving the house. he looked extra good; you had noticed how the color of his hoodie was bringing out the blue of his eyes a few minutes earlier and how his curls were still a little damp from his shower, one of them perfectly falling over his forehead.

he turned to look at you one last time, leaning to kiss your forehead and whisper an "i love you" before he left the apartment in a rush, your little tantrum surely making him arrive a good couple of minutes late.

୨୧

lando had asked you to join him in australia so you could spend a few days exploring the city before he had to go back to work. and naturally, you had accepted.

as any other day, you woke up in his arms, limbs tangled under the bedsheets and your cheek softly pressed against his bare chest.

you lazily turned around, trying not to wake him up, to reach for your phone to check the time. that was your intention, but as you saw your phone blowing up with notifications, you remembered.

the episode had come out only a few hours earlier.

not wanting to spoil yourself scrolling on social media, you quickly opened youtube and looked it up, feeling a little uneasy once again. you weren't sure what you could expect, lando hadn't said much about it when he returned home that day.

you couldn't help the smile that creeped up to your lips the second he appeared on your screen, his soft spoken voice warming your heart and making you snuggle closer to him, your back against his chest now.

you felt the grip around your waist getting a little tighter, his knees tucking behind yours.

"are you serious?" his voice was hoarse, his breath on your skin as he hid his face on your neck.

"you didn't think i wouldn't watch, did you?" you giggled when he pulled you closer to him, only getting a soft groan from his lips as an answer.

he didn't say anything else, just kept pressing soft kissis to your skin as you finished watching the interview, your smile growing wider at his shyness.

once you were done, you put your phone down and turned around to face him again. your eyes met his under the soft morning light, the corners of your lips moving upwards at the beautiful sight in front of you.

"it wasn't that bad now, was it?" he whispered, clearly referring to your tantrum the day of the filming.

"it was fun," you admitted, running your fingers through his curls slowly.

he hummed, letting his eyelids flutter close once again at your touch.

"i'm still not happy about sharing my boyfriend with new people," you playfully added after a few seconds, the little pout on your lips, but lando was quick to kiss it away. "and i could've asked you those questions myself," you sassed, making him roll his eyes with a chuckle at your words.

"maybe you should go on a date with me if you want to ask me those questions so bad," he said, trying to nuzzle his face on your neck again to hide his smirk.

"smooth," you giggled, wrapping one of your legs around his body and pulling him a little closer to yours. "i'd love to go on a date with you, baby."

he smiled at your murmured answer, kissing your jaw before mumbling himself, "tomorrow night then?"

with a slight nod of your head, you hummed and let your eyes shut close to enjoy a couple more minutes in bed with your boyfriend before the alarm went off.

[auroralwriting]

clean 1

tfatws! bucky barnes x stark! reader (no use of y/n)

after the fight with john walker, you can tell bucky's arm was bothering him. so, you make a trip to see him.

word count: 1.6k | warnings: strong language, multiple parts, part two

Your suit was practically scarp metal after the fight with John Walker. He had tried his hardest to absolutely obliterate your suit. Thankfully, Tony had done a great job of designing it. With a few hours of repairs, it would be good as new.

The one thing you worried about was Bucky's arm, specifically the metal one. You saw how Walker had thrown Bucky across the room into wiring, causing it to shock Bucky's whole body. It made you uneasy to think about wether or wether not the arm was in tact, that and the fact that if it wasn't, it could very well lead to a lot of pain for Bucky.

So, using Friday, you found Bucky's new address. He'd taken residence in a small apartment in Brooklyn, thankfully, not too far from where you were reclaiming the Stark Tower. One car ride later, and you stood outside Bucky's apartment feeling more nervous than you thought you would be.

While Bucky and you weren't on bad terms, it was fair to say he was still uneasy around you. I mean, he had killed your parents, and your only living relative (minus the small Morgan) was also dead. You'd been a baby when The Winter Soldier killed Howard and Maria, so how could there be any bad blood between you and Bucky? You didn't even know what you had lost. That and you were more down-to-earth than Tony, realizing quickly the guilt and shame Bucky felt for his mind-controlled actions.

Using up the last bit of confidence you had, you knocked on Bucky's door. It took less than a minute, and Bucky's surprised face was staring back at you.

"Uhm, hi," You said awkwardly.

"How'd you know where I live?" Bucky asked, confused.

You held up your phone, Friday's screen appearing. "Just a quick scan of all James Buchanan Barnes in the area. Not very many," Your joke fell flat as you stood awkwardly while Bucky processed what was happening.

"Why're you here?" He asked.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay after the fight with Walker." You replied. "I saw you get thrown into all those wires, I saw all the sparks."

Bucky gave a small shrug, "I'm alright."

You eyed his arm suspiciously, "That arm causing you any pain?"

Both eyes now fell on Bucky's arm. You looked back up to Bucky to see him staring at it still. "It's been better," He sighed, his reply honest.

"I can fix it if you'd like?" You suggested. Bucky's eyes nearly popped out of his head at your words, "Or not!" You quickly added. "I, uh, don't want to make you feel weird..er than you probably already do."

Bucky went to move his arm, and you saw the traces of pain etched into his features. "It'll be alright."

"Our fight isn't over yet, Bucky." You argued. "You should be at your best." You took a deep breath in, finding more confidence from deep within, "I promise I won't judge you if that's what you're worried about. I mean, Tony literally had a hunk of metal plunged in his chest, and he made me clean it out all the time, it was really gross and-"

"Alright, alright," Bucky held his hands up. "I don't wanna hear about Tony's gross chest-hole. Just, come on in." The door opened all the way as Bucky walked inside. You trailed behind, slowly shutting the door behind you as you observed the apartment. It was really empty, just a small couch and a coffee table in front of it. The kitchen looked rather bare, too.

You took a seat on the couch, Bucky sitting next to you. You set your toolbox down in between the both of you, putting some space between your bodies.

"I need to see the connection point, if you don't mind?" You said softly, looking to Bucky's covered shoulder.

"Oh, yeah, yeah," He muttered as he hesitantly slipped off his shirt. You quickly noticed the healing scars on his shoulder, all around the joint, but you made sure to pay no attention to them as you hovered your hand over his arm. "It's fine," He said, watching your hesitantcy.

The metal was cool on your hands as you felt around it, looking for the weak point. Once you found it, you grabbed your tools and began to work at it. You weren't used to working in silence, so you tried to make some conversation.

"Steve, uh, used to tell me a lot about you." You said. Bucky raised a brow at you as you continued. "You were his knight in shining armor, or something of the sorts."

"I guess I was," Bucky gave the smallest hint of a smile. "How'd you learn how to do this anyways?"

You shrugged as you grabbed a new tool, "Tony taught me everything I know. Engineering, chemistry, physics, you name it."

"It must've been hard, just you two." Bucky said softly.

Looking up, you shook your head, "Don't start that," You said.

"But it's my fault-"

"For the last time, Bucky, that was the Winter Soldier, not you. I do not blame you, there's no reason to keep hurting yourself over this." You cut Buck off, voice slightly sharp with intention. Bucky's eyes fell on the other side of the room as you sighed, "Tony would have forgiven you, too. He just needed time."

Bucky scoffed, "He had five years."

"Of which we were gone," You countered. "I forgive you for him and myself, okay?"

“Don’t say that,” Bucky shook his head. “Just.. don’t?”

You set down your tool, staring at him. “Do you want proof?”

This gained Bucky’s interest, “Proof?” He asked, voice laced with doubt. “What proof?”

“Who do you think protected your whereabouts in Wakanda?” You asked, “Steve and Sam were on the run. Of course Tony knew you were there. I remember when he got the call. He just sat there for a while, thinking. When we talked about it, he said he was glad you were getting help.”

“What else did he say?” Bucky said with a knowing look in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, “It’s Tony, Buck. He says anything and everything and means almost none of it.” Bucky didn’t expect you to use his nickname. He liked the sound of it coming from your voice.

“That doesn’t mean he forgave me.” Bucky said.

“Well I do, okay? So stop being such a grump. I’m trying to be your friend, just let me, would you?” You sighed as you began to work on his arm again.

The soldier gave a small sigh, “Stop wasting your time on me when you have a company to run.”

“Stop trying to push me away. Also, Pepper’s helping me run it, so I have all the time in the world.” You argued.

After a brief moment of silence, Bucky spoke again. “I’m still not sure I’m safe to be around,”

The honesty surprised you, making you glance up at him to observe his face. “I’m literally face to face with your arm, tool inside it, and you wanna say you aren’t safe?”

Your comment made Bucky give a small chuckle, “That’s not really what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” You asked.

Bucky gave a shaky breath, “In Madripoor, when I had to take down those guys when I was pretending to be.. him,” Bucky explained, “It’s like I could still feel him trying to break free.”

You set a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, making sure to avoid his scars. “Bucky, Wankanda said you’re a free man. The Winter Soldier’s gone.”

“Maybe I’m just so used to violence now.” Bucky offered, “Maybe it’s who I am.”

“No,” You replied quickly. “You are Bucky Barnes. You’re Steve’s best friend, Sergeant Barnes. You’re Sam’s friend, my friend, and you’re a survivor. You’re one hell of a fighter, you’re a victim who pushed through all his pain and suffering to become a better man, and that’s exactly who you are.” Your words left Bucky feeling like he could cry, but he just looked away. You didn’t know whether what you said was right or wrong.

“Thank you,” Bucky muttered as you began to work on his arm again.

“It’s no problem, Bucky.” You responded. You silently worked, trying to ignore the burning sensation of Bucky’s eyes poring holes into your head.

"This world doesn't deserve you," Bucky muttered as you worked. You simply hummed in reply, making Bucky's forehead crease. "I mean it, Stark. You're one of the best people in this world."

Rolling your eyes, you put away the last of your tools. "Bucky, I'm just being a decent person."

Bucky's eyes burned with a new passion, "No decent person would do all you've done for everyone you've ever come across." Before you could protest, Bucky's metal hand grabbed your chin softly. "Don't even try to argue, I know it can be hard for a Stark but can you hold your tongue?" When you didn't reply, Bucky continued. "You're so humble, so fuckin' sweet. I mean, you came all this way just to fix my arm."

"And to check on you," Your voice came out babbled as Bucky's hold on your chin was still present.

"I don't deserve your kindness," Bucky admitted, "But here you are, giving me all of it." His eyes bore into your own, his own actions betraying his mind as he slammed his lips tightly onto your own. It took you by surprise, but you happily returned the heated kiss as Bucky's hand slithered behind your neck.

"You deserve all of it, the whole world," You mumbled as you pulled away breathlessly. "The world did you dirty, and I'll be the one to wash you of it." With your words, Bucky felt his eyes water as he kissed you passionately again.

Once you pulled apart, Bucky wiped your lips with his thumb, a small smile on his lips. "Does that mean you're gonna stick around?"

"Yeah," you giggled, "I think it does."