#and 3. i was writing it like a standalone for a while

[styxxsyringe]

chapter 1 of reassassination's nearly done script-wise! hopefully the next chapters won't take like 6 months of on-and-off work to complete lol

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - handle with care

warnings ; oral (f recieving), he hits it from the back, hair pulling, blue collar dick🚨🚨

prompt ; in which your landlord sends an electrician to fix your power, and you end up learning firsthand the magic of blue collar dick.

note ; if you are reading this.. this is a queue’d post while im in MEXICO!!!!! you horny little sluts really thought i would leave you alone for 5 days.. i would never. i figured — hey if i can’t post part 5 of tpod i can at least give a life lesson on blue collar dick, right? backstory here is that the other day my best friend and i had a conversation about our sexy ass landlord and that got me thinking… jungkook..? blue collar..? big dick..? so anyways this is the product of that convo! (and also a standalone one shot bc yall be loving these!)

Later, when someone asks you to recap this story, you’ll say that in your defense, you weren’t expecting the electrician to look like he walked straight off some cringy Pornhub set. You’ll say you just wanted your electricity fixed, not to be spiritually humbled by a man who smells like sawdust and pine.

Your apartment is the kind of place that builds character. And by character, you mean mild trauma.

The kitchen light flickers like it’s been possessed since the day you moved in. The ceiling creaks when your upstairs neighbor sneezes. Your shower only has two settings (arctic and molten lava). There’s a weird stain on the ceiling you’ve been ignoring for three months. And today, of all days, the universe decided to cut the last thread holding your sanity together: the power.

No lights. No working outlets. No WiFi. Which means you’re sitting on your couch, in a hoodie and shorts, trying to hotspot your laptop with 3% battery left while rage-texting your landlord like you’re filing an official grievance with Satan himself.

You immediately text your landlord, fully expecting a five-day delay and a $30 deduction off your next rent.

You: hi. respectfully. what the FUCK is happening?

You: i work from home. i pay rent. i have needs. pls fix ASAP.

He replies five minutes later like he’s doing you a personal favor.

Landlord: sending my guy over. 15 mins.

Your landlord is somehow both your greatest nemesis and your weirdest emotional support system. He’ll ignore three maintenance requests, ghost you for a week, then show up unannounced with a half-eaten bag of Hot Cheetos. You’ve threatened to sue him in writing and sent him a happy birthday meme in the same month. And you’re already halfway into a mental spiral about “his guy” being a 60-year-old with pants that don’t stay up and opinions about the current political climate when there’s a knock at your door.

You swing the door open, fully expecting to see a crusty old man with a clipboard and a wheeze, and instead, you see… (and you’ll remember this moment until the day you die.)

Lip ring. Tattoo sleeve. Tool belt slung low over cargo pants. A black tee stretched across broad shoulders. Jesus Christ, the hair. Dark, slightly shaggy, pushed back on top but long in the back, curling at the nape of his neck in a way that should not be allowed near unsupervised women.

“Hey’,” he says, like this isn’t a pivotal moment in your sexual awakening. “I’m here about the outage?”

You blink at him. You are officially unfit for conversation.

This man has a mullet. A tattooed, lip-ringed, mullet-wearing man is standing in your hallway holding a voltage tester like its foreplay.

Suddenly, your pajama shorts feel too short for this moment. You fumble with the doorknob, “Uh. Yeah. Come in. It’s, uh.. yeah.”

Brilliant. Shakespeare could never.

He steps inside, and holy shit, he’s even taller than you thought. The kind of tall that makes your ceilings feel shorter. The kind of tall where you have to crane your neck just slightly to look up at him, which is offensive because you’re not exactly short yourself. He smells like a mix of sawdust, a hint of pine, laundry detergent, and a 2002 Nissan Altima. It’s oddly specific.

He glances around like he’s surveying a battlefield. “Power cut out completely?”

You nod, shuffling behind him as he moves farther into your apartment with the kind of confidence like he’s somehow been to your home before. His boots thud across your hardwood floor, scuffed and loud. The tool belt clinks. His shirt rides up when he stretches his arm to check something near the ceiling and there’s a flash of golden skin and low-slung cargo pants and—

You’re not doing well.

He pops open the panel in the ceiling like it’s nothing. “Y’all been having issues with this before? Flickering? Dead outlets?”

“Sometimes the kitchen light hums like it’s possessed,” you say, which you regret immediately. “I mean, not literally possessed. Not like.. haunted. Just… you know. Buzzing.”

He chuckles. It’s a low, gravelly sound that sinks its teeth into your spine and doesn’t let go.

“Probably a loose connection in the junction box. Nothing too crazy,” he says, grabbing something from his belt that you will now dream about tonight. “You work from home?”

You nod again, helpless. “Yeah. Marketing.”

He glances back at you. “Tough with no WiFi.”

You turn around under the guise of “letting him work” but really just to text your roommate, Sana, with trembling fingers.

You: help. our power went out and the electrician we got sent is so hot

You: he has a MULLET. a mullet, sana. he said “junction box” and i almost moaned

You hear him grunt softly as he stretches to reach something and you nearly drop your phone.

Sana: SEND A PIC RN

You sneak a glance back — he’s perched on your step stool, arms flexing as he reaches into the ceiling. His hair is curling perfectly at the back of his neck, a little messy from the heat.

You don’t send a pic. You can’t. It feels criminal. You feel like you’re watching live porn with consequences.

Then he speaks again, casually. “You smell something burning last night? Or anything weird before it cut out?”

You nearly say “just my ovaries,” but God reaches down and slaps your mouth shut.

Instead, you clear your throat. “Nope. No sparks, no smell. It just… died this morning.”

He nods, focused. “Might be a fuse then. I’ll check the basement in a sec.”

He drops down from the stool with a casual thud and wipes his hands on that rag in his back pocket. That ass, that rag. This is no longer an apartment. It’s a crime scene.

You glance up just in time to see him walking toward your front door, lifting the back of his shirt to wipe his forehead. You black out for a second.

You: he just wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his shirt. i saw ab muscle. like cut definition. i think it smiled at me.

Sana: you need jail or a CONDOM stat. get his number???

You’re halfway through typing “I don’t even know his name yet” when the front door opens behind you, and you almost launch your phone across the room like it’s a grenade.

He steps back into your apartment with that casual, unbothered energy he’s so good at carrying. Hair slightly damp at the edges now, cheeks pink from the walk up your stairs, tool belt still jingling.

“Basement breaker’s fine,” he says, brushing his palm down the front of his shirt. “Might be a wiring issue. Gonna check one more thing.”

You blink. Nod. Attempt human speech. Fail. “Cool. Yeah. Check… stuff.”

Christ. You sound like you learned English from Duolingo five minutes ago.

He smiles then, actually smiles. Full teeth, little bunny front ones peeking out. His lip ring glints as he does it, and your brain goes completely static for a second.

“Want some water?” you blurt, and immediately hate yourself. “Or iced tea? Or, whatever I have in the fridge that isn’t expired?”

He huffs out a little laugh, shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks, sweetheart.”

You freeze like you’ve been slapped by a porn star. He walks past you again like nothing happened, reaching for something in his tool bag, completely unaware that your soul just evacuated your body.

You unlock your phone immediately, fingers trembling, and text in all caps.

You: HE CALLED ME SWEETHEART.

You: arrest him. make him marry me. i don’t care just make it LEGAL

You barely get the message out when he turns slightly and casually, and says, “So… you live here with your boyfriend, or…?”

You blink hard.

The question hangs there, just slightly too relaxed. Like it’s not loaded with potential. Like it’s not every Wattpad plotline you’ve ever read come to life in front of your half-broken Ikea bookshelf.

Your brain short-circuits harder than your kitchen socket. Is he flirting? Was that… are you being flirted with? It’s been a minute. Like, a long minute since you’ve had someone show genuine interest in you. You can’t tell anymore. He could be asking because he needs to know whose ass he’s about to get chewed out by if he knocks something over, or because he’s just curious.

You manage to croak out, “Just my roommate. Sana.”

He nods and doesn’t press. He lets out a low, distracted, “Hm,” like that’s useful information. Like it slots into place somewhere in his head and he’s okay with it.

You, meanwhile, are mentally drafting a will because you’re not sure your heart’s going to survive the rest of this visit.

He leans over your couch armrest to reach the outlet near the floor. His cargo pants pull slightly tighter around his thighs and you look away so fast you give yourself whiplash. You try to look normal, like a woman who isn’t catastrophically horny over someone adjusting your voltage.

You: HE ASKED IF I HAD A BOYFRIEND

Sana: I AM SCREAMING. I’M IN LINE AT TRADER JOE’S. OFFER TO MAKE HIM LEMONADE OR SIT ON HIS FACE IDK CHOOSE FAST

He stands back up, wiping his palms on that stupid fucking rag again, and glances over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t take much longer,” he quips with that lazy, dangerous smile.

You nod, eyes wide, pretending you’re normal. “Cool. Thanks. No rush or anything. It’s not like I need power to… survive.”

He quirks a brow at that, like he finds you kind of funny, or kind of tragic.

You sit on the couch, phone hidden in your lap like it’s a shameful secret. He crouches near another outlet, testing something with one of those little gadgets that beeps and blinks.

“So, marketing,” he says over his shoulder. “Like… ads?”

You blink. “Uh. Yeah. I work for a beauty brand. Mostly social media, some campaign strategy. Lots of pretending I know what I’m doing and hoping the algorithm doesn’t hate me that day.”

He chuckles. That low, amused sound that makes your toes curl. “That why you’re so good at talking?”

You freeze. “What?”

He glances back, smile creeping in slow and lazy. There’s an unfortunate amount of sarcasm behind his tone. “You seem to stumble a bit over words.”

You blink again, officially out of working brain cells. “Sorry. I—I can stop. I don’t mean to be annoying, I just—”

“I didn’t say it was annoying.” He doesn’t look at you when he says it. He crouches lower again, tapping something against the outlet. But you hear it anyway and feel it, low in your stomach like a dropped elevator.

Your phone buzzes in your lap, blessedly interrupting the moment before you combust.

Sana: girl. do i need to walk around the block or are you gonna fuck him. be honest.

You bite your lip so hard you nearly draw blood. He straightens up, wiping his palms again. “So do you like it? The job?”

“Oh. Um. Yeah. It’s… stressful. But fun, sometimes. I guess,” You scratch the back of your neck.

“You good at it?” He grunts out, looking for something in his toolbox.

Your mind blanks. “What?”

He turns to look at you full-on now, arms crossed, shirt clinging to the curve of his shoulders. “Marketing. All that stuff. You good at it?”

You let out a nervous little laugh. “I mean, I hope so. I’ve been doing it for a few years now, and nobody’s fired me yet.”

“That’s not what I asked.” His tone isn’t aggressive. It’s low and relaxed. But something about the way he says it makes your pulse skip.

“I… I think I am,” you say, slower this time.

He nods once as if that answer pleases him. “You seem like you’d be.”

You’re gonna die. You’re going to actually die. This man is being nice to you, and it feels like your body isn’t prepared for that level of stimulus.

You glance at your phone again.

Sana: WHY ARE YOU TAKING THIS LONG TO RESPOND??? IS HIS DICK OUT. BLINK TWICE

You look back up and he’s leaning against the doorframe that divides your kitchen and living room now, arms still crossed, lip ring catching the light. “So your roommate…?”

You nod, trying not to choke. “Yeah. Her name’s Sana. We’ve lived together since college.”

“She at work?” You swear he looks at your legs in your shorts, but could also be wishful thinking.

“Not right now. She works night shifts at the hospital 15 minutes away from here.,” You twiddle your thumbs in your lap.

He hums, still watching you. “So you’re here all alone today.”

It’s not a question. It shouldn’t be hot. It’s just a sentence. But, the way he says it? The tone? The slight lilt at the end, like it means more than it says?

You let out a strangled sound that you hope reads as a laugh. “Yeah. Just me. Alone. In this… apartment. Where you are. Currently.”

He tilts his head, smiling again. “You’re kind of funny for someone with no electricity.”

You hesitate. Then, blurting before you can stop yourself, “And you’re kind of cocky for someone who still hasn’t turned my lights on yet.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk slowly appearing. “Hm?”

You shake your head way too fast. “I mean—just—like, you’ve been here for a bit now and you’re fixing my power and it is taking quite long, but I promise I’m not mad about it.. I’m sorry.”

He lets out a real laugh this time. Full, low, and stupidly hot. He pushes off the wall and walks back toward the kitchen like he didn’t just wreck your central nervous system.

You take another breath and text Sana.

You: he’s flirting. he’s literally flirting. i want to crawl inside the oven

Sana: girl. jump on the counter and say “while you’re fixing things, i’m also broken.”

Almost like he was trying to prove a point to you, the lights come back on with a quiet click, a whirr of electricity humming back to life through your walls, and you swear the sound might as well be a death knell.

He steps back from the panel in your hallway, tapping the side of it with a knuckle like he just fixed your entire infrastructure. “There we go,” he says, “Should be good now. Might’ve just been a loose connection behind the breaker, it’s common in these old buildings.”

You nod slowly, like you understood a single word of that. All you really heard was competency and your brain whispered: breedable.

“That’s… great,” you reply, way too softly. “Thanks.”

He wipes his hands again on that same rag and starts packing up his tools, metal clicking together as he slips things back into place. His forearm flexes with every movement, tattoos shifting across his skin like they’re in on the joke.

“Need help with anything else?” he asks casually, not looking at you as he zips up the tool bag. His voice dips slightly.

Your heart stutters. You should say actually, yeah, my back is acting up and I think the solution involves that couch and maybe you using me like a handrail. But instead you go, “Nope. That’s all.”

Your phone vibrates against your thigh, dragging you back to earth.

Sana: have you ever heard of blue collar dick??? this is ur chance

You squint at that text, thumbs pausing mid-reply.

Blue collar dick.

The phrase unlocks something buried deep in your brain. A memory. A TikTok you watched half-asleep one night at 1:37AM, under the glow of your LED lights, while eating dry cereal out of a mug. The girl had looked straight into the camera, wide-eyed and deadly serious, and whispered: “Blue collar dick is not just a concept. It’s a lifestyle. It’s the kind of unholy grip someone develops on you after a man with calloused hands and a union paycheck fixes your sink and rearranges your soul in the same afternoon.”

You’d laughed. Scoffed, even. How dramatic.

He zips up the last pouch on his tool bag and stands tall, glancing toward the door like he might head that way but he doesn’t. He stays.

He rolls his shoulder a little, absently adjusting the strap, and you watch his fingers drag across the curve of his neck.

“You think everything working alright?” he asks, voice low and unhurried like he’s trying to fill the silence. Like he knows you’re still stuck in some sort of horny trance and he’s being generous enough to let you catch up.

“Yeah,” you say, breathier than intended. “Power’s on. Looks like the WiFi is back. I can check if my laptop came back to life.”

You gesture toward your computer like it matters. Like any of that is worth focusing on when he is standing six feet from you.

He hums, looking around your living room where you’re still on your couch. “Place is cute.”

You blink. “Oh. Uh. Thanks. It’s… falling apart slowly, but charming.”

He doesn’t really acknowledge that. “Anything else broken in here?” he asks, stepping away from the wall a little. “Leaky faucet? Shaky table leg? My dad taught me how to fix a ton of stuff, I’m pretty handy with anything. You want me to check something else?”

Your mouth opens and closes. Your brain struggles to find the words, and the words you want to say are not coming out easily, so you just respond with, “No. I mean… no, I think we’re good. You fixed the lights.”

His eyes flicker and stay on you just a second too long. Then he shifts slightly, sets the tool box down again with a thud, and stretches his arms overhead like he’s got nowhere to be. Shirt rides up just enough for you to see the line of his waistband and the shadow of toned skin beneath it, and you almost bite your tongue off.

“You sure?” he asks again, tone casual, almost amused now. “You looked kinda… bummed when the lights came back on.”

Your head jerks up. “What? No. I wasn’t.. I mean, not bummed. Just surprised. Happy. Grateful. Electrified, if you will.”

Electrified. You’re going to throw yourself off the balcony.

He laughs again, and you swear it vibrates in your chest. “I could hang out a sec,” he offers, and it’s not subtle anymore. “Just make sure everything stays stable. Sometimes the lights will turn back off randomly.”

Everything’s stable, you repeat in your brain like an idiot. I am not.

He’s leaning one shoulder against the wall now, lazy and relaxed, eyes still on you like he’s just waiting to see what you’ll say next.

Before your brain can stop your mouth from doing anything reckless, you blurt out, “Have you eaten?”

His brows lift. “What?”

You clear your throat. “Lunch. Have you had any?”

He tilts his head, eyes flickering down to your mouth for one half-second too long. “Not yet,” he says, “Didn’t get the chance.”

You nod like this is normal. Like offering food to electricians with tool belts and stupidly sexy mullets is part of your daily routine. “I can make you something if you want.”

His mouth curves, slow and teasing. “Yeah? You feed all the guys your landlord sends over?”

You roll your eyes so hard they nearly eject from your skull. “Only the ones who save me from having to live in darkness.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Then yeah. I’m kinda hungry.”

He walks over to where you’re sitting, drops his bag beside the couch, stretches with a casual groan that shoots straight between your thighs, and flops onto your couch like he’s done it a hundred times. Like your couch is a perfectly acceptable throne for his man-spreading, bicep-showcasing, very-much-staying presence.

You twiddle your fingers, “If i make you food, it’s only right if I get your name.”

Smooth. Real fucking smooth.

“Jungkook,” He looks over to you, trying to bite back a grin. “And yours is [Y/N], right? Saw it on the assignment sheet.”

“Yup. Cool,” You gulp down some saliva that was lodged in your throat.

You march to the kitchen like a woman on a mission, flinging the fridge open with the determination of someone prepping for an exorcism. It’s not that you want to impress him. It’s just that… okay. No. You do want to impress him. You want to serve this man a sandwich so good he files a formal complaint against your thighs for being too far from his face.

You find good bread. Not the sad white slices. You find turkey. Cheese. Lettuce that isn’t slimy. A tomato you aggressively pat dry with a paper towel like a psychotic housewife. You toast the bread and add a little mustard. You even cut the sandwich diagonally, because if you’re going to be delusional, you’re going to be domestically deranged about it.

Your phone buzzes for the billionth time.

Sana: DID YOU FUCK HIM YET

You ignore her. You grab a little paper plate with a cup of water and a napkin and present this meal like you are some Michelin chef. You walk it out carefully, feeling like you should have a white linen apron and one of those vintage Coke ads playing behind you.

“Damn,” he says when you hand it to him, voice warm with surprise. “You really went all out.”

You shrug, trying to act chill. “Just a sandwich.”

He takes a bite and groans.“No, this is next level. Wife-tier sandwich.”

Your face goes hot. You sit down beside him on the couch, one cushion away, legs crossed, heart racing. You grab your phone and finally reply to Sana before she drives to the apartment and physically removes you.

You: sana i need you to take a lap. actually take a five-mile lap. this house needs to be mine for two hours minimum.

Sana: i will literally be gone until sunset

You set your phone down and glance at him again. He’s halfway through the sandwich already, clearly enjoying the hell out of it, crumbs on his fingers, lip ring glinting as he chews.

“So,” you say casually, “how’d you get into electrical work?”

He swallows, wipes his mouth, and shrugs. “Started out helping my uncle with his crew back home. Learned enough on the job that I stuck with it. Took the exam, got certified, picked up my own clients.”

“That’s hot,” you say before thinking.

He pauses, blinks, then smirks again. “Yeah?”

You want to shrivel into the cushions. “I mean, just like the hands-on thing. Fixing stuff. Being good with your hands.”

He glances at you, faintly amused. “It’s a bold choice… Flirting with the guy who knows your wires inside out better than you ever could.”

You’ve made your decision. You’ve committed to the bit. You’re going to have him. You don’t care how. You don’t care if it’s a terrible idea. You’re already halfway there, and if blue collar dick is a myth, you’d like to be the one to confirm or deny it firsthand. You smile, tilting your head. “I like living on the edge.”

He finishes the sandwich and sets the plate on your coffee table with a little sigh. “Damn. Guess I should’ve been in this line of work sooner.”

You let out a soft laugh, glancing at him through your lashes like you’re not actively in the process of losing your mind.

He shifts slightly on the couch, one arm thrown casually along the back cushion, knee brushing yours now, and your whole body tightens at the contact. You look down at his hand, rough, calloused, fingers spread just enough to imagine what they’d feel like anywhere else.

Focus. Focus.

“So,” you start, aiming for casual but landing somewhere around unhinged, “do you, like… do this for a lot of people?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Fix electricity?”

You laugh too fast. “No! Well, yeah. I mean. Yes. But like… do you do this for one person a lot? Regularly? Like… someone special. Like a client. A consistent client.”

He’s still watching you, brows slightly raised, clearly trying to follow your logic. “Huh?”

You look down, embarrassed. Shit. Too subtle. You double back. “Sorry, I meant… like… is there someone who, you know, gets their power fixed all the time? Like a… girlfriend?”

Oh my god. Girlfriend. You say it like you’ve never spoken English before, like the concept of casual inquiry never existed.

His lips tugging up like he knows exactly what you’re asking. “Nah,” he replies. “No girlfriend.”

He reaches for the glass of water you’d set on the coffee table earlier, and you watch his throat work as he takes a slow gulp. His lip ring catches the light again, and your brain completely flatlines.

No girlfriend.

No girlfriend. That’s… fine. That’s great. That’s also dangerous.

Your heart is pounding so loud in your ears you barely register that he hasn’t looked away. When he sets the glass down again, his eyes don’t drift back to his phone or the room or the vague distance.

They stay locked on you.

You shift slightly, suddenly hyperaware of how close you’re sitting. His fingers are still relaxed against the couch cushion, a breath away from the curve of your shoulder.

“Should I expect a full background check with your next outage?”he says, voice low now.

You’re officially in the danger zone now with no intentions of stopping. “Already ran yours. Five star reviews all around. “

He chuckles, quietly. “I’m honored.”

Your breath catches. It’s a small sound. Barely audible. But his gaze dips lower at the sound of it, flickering between your mouth and your throat. He doesn’t hide it anymore. There’s no playfulness left.

“Stop staring” you mutter, trying to keep your voice even.

He lifts a brow. “I’m not.”

“Are you… thinking about kissing me?” This is worse than that one time in 10th grade when you got put in a closet with your crush and you practically slammed him against the door begging him to kiss you.

However, Jungkook doesn’t smile or smile. His gaze lingers on your lips still like he’s counting the seconds. “Would that be a problem?”

Your stomach drops. The air between you turns solid. “No,” you say softly. “It’d be the opposite of a problem.”

He doesn’t move right away, or lunge and lean in. He lets the silence fill with heat, with potential, like he wants you to feel the choice stretch out and make sure you want it just as much as he does. (Is he insane? Of course you do)

You want him to kiss you so bad it’s physically painful. Every nerve in your body is waiting for it, screaming for it, for the weight of his hand on your jaw, the feel of his lip ring pressing into yours.

You inch just slightly closer and your knee brushes against his fully now. Your face is tilted up toward his without even thinking.

“Are you gonna?” you whisper, voice barely there.

His eyes flicker again and then he smiles. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He leans in, not in some clumsy rush. He drags it out just long enough for you to feel your whole body tense with anticipation. His hand finds your jaw first, thumb brushing your cheek, fingers curling gently under your chin.

And then his mouth is on yours.

He kisses you like it’s his job, like he’s done this a thousand times but still finds something new in the shape of your lips. His mouth moves with intention, none of that awkward fumbling, none of the soft, shy hesitation. It’s confident. His lip ring drags against your lower lip and you actually whimper, because of course he knows how to use it.

He groans low in his throat when your fingers knot in the front of his shirt, tugging him closer. One hand slips around the back of your neck, the other finding your waist, pulling you across the couch and into him like he can’t stand even a breath of space between you.

He tastes like faint mint and the sandwich you made him. Your legs shift, tangling with his. His hand is already on your thigh, rough palm skimming under the hem of your shorts, gripping hard enough to make your breath stutter into his mouth.

You gasp when he bites down lightly, but enough to make you feel it. He soothes it with a kiss immediately after, dragging his mouth down your jaw, and murmurs into your skin, “You’re a good kisser.”

You could die. You could die right now and it would be worth it.

You tilt your head back to give him more access, voice breathless. “Yeah? You’re not so bad yourself.”

That earns you another groan, this one deeper, more possessive. His hand slides up your side, under your hoodie, fingers grazing bare skin and making your back arch instinctively.

He kisses you again, messier now and wetter. Tongues tangling, teeth clashing. His fingers sink into your thigh, pull you closer until you’re practically straddling him on the couch and you feel him, hard beneath his cargo pants, pressed against your hip like a threat.

“You sure you don’t need anything else fixed?” he murmurs against your mouth.

And all you can do is nod, eyes heavy, hands trembling against his chest as you whisper: “Hmm. I think my body is out of order. Needs fixing.”

Big hands grip your thighs, and with one swift, greedy motion, he’s pushing you back into the couch cushions. You land with a quiet gasp, hair fanned out, lips swollen, hoodie riding up over your stomach.

He’s hovering, body caged above yours, weight pressed into one arm braced beside your head, the other skimming up your waist and dragging your hoodie even higher. His silver chain dangles loose from his neck and every time he leans down to kiss you again, it smacks against your throat, cold and heavy, sending a shiver straight through you.

He groans when you arch up into him, letting your hips roll slightly, needy and desperate, and he feels it, feels how bad you want him and how worked up you are.

His bicep flexes beside your head, holding himself up so he doesn’t crush you but you kind of wish he would. You let your hand drift up, fingertips grazing the muscle slowly, shamelessly.

Holy fuck, he’s strong.

Strong in the way that makes your thighs press together, that makes you want to find out what else those arms can hold you down against. You squeeze just a little, test the resistance, and he grins against your lips.

“That’s what you’re thinkin’ about?” he murmurs, dragging his mouth to your neck now, teeth grazing your jaw. “My arms?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your brain is literally melting.

He licks a stripe up the side of your throat and bites, just enough to make you whimper, and the damn chain swings again, cold against the same spot.

“You like that?” he asks, “Hmm?”

You nod frantically, whining. You’re gone.

His hand slides down to grip your thigh again, hiking it up around his waist, and the angle has you gasping. His hips dip into yours just enough to make it obvious: he’s hard, and he’s not even trying to hide it now.

“You gonna let me take care of you?” he mutters, biting your earlobe. “Since you fed me and everything. Feels only fair.”

You nod again, breathless. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he says, lips brushing yours. “Been thinkin’ about kissing you since the second you opened that door.”

His hands are already slipping under the hem of your hoodie, thumbs dragging across the skin of your waist as he mutters, low and sinful, “Lift your hips for me.”

You do instantly and he slides your shorts down so slowly it feels like punishment. They snag slightly at your thighs before he gets them off, flinging them somewhere over the armrest, and then he just stares. Lets his eyes drag from your knees to the place between your thighs like he’s about to pray and commit a felony in the same breath.

You’re not even fully naked, but you already feel exposed. Every part of you twitching with anticipation because the way this man looks at you? It’s like he already knows what you taste like.

He lowers himself, right between your knees and spreads your legs open with two hands and drags your body closer to him.

“You’re already shaking,” he whispers, lips brushing along the inside of your thigh. “What’s got you so worked up, sweetheart?”

You want to answer. You try to answer. But then he presses a kiss right above your knee, then lower and lower. It’s like he’s savoring every inch of you, kissing a trail up your thigh like you’re dessert and he’s been starving all day.

When he finally gets to your underwear, he lets out a low hum.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, thumb dragging along the edge. “You’re soaked.”

You choke on your own spit. He hooks his fingers under the waistband, and looks up at you, eyes dark. You’re propped up on your elbows, watching him like you’re in a live-action fantasy, because that’s exactly what it feels like.

“Gonna take these off now,” he says, almost too gently.

You nod like a bobblehead. “Please.”

He tugs them down painfully slow, and when they slip off your legs and drop to the floor, he doesn’t even hesitate. He just dives in.

Tongue flat, broad, ruthless against you, dragging through your folds. You jolt, hips bucking off the couch, and his hands immediately slide up to pin you down, fingers bruising your thighs as he holds you in place.

He moans into you, tongue curling, lips wrapping around your clit with slow, maddening pressure. The suction makes you cry out, hand flying to grab at his hair, soft, messy strands you curl your fingers into.

“Fuck, J-Jungkook,” you gasp. His grip tightens on your thighs in response. He flattens his tongue again, licking long and slow, nose nudging against your clit just enough to make your legs shake. Then he shifts, tilts his head just slightly, and flicks the tip of his tongue in tight, fast circles.

You swear you see God.

He doesn’t stop, and it’s obscene how good it is. You can hear it. Mapping out every flick, every swirl, every suck that makes your thighs twitch and your head fall back in helpless, high-pitched whines.

He’s so good at it, it’s almost infuriating. Like he’s been training for this specific moment, like he knew your body before you ever laid eyes on his goddamn toolbelt.

“Shit,” you whimper, your fingers gripping the edge of the couch like you’ll fall off the earth if he keeps going.

He pulls back barely, enough to murmur against your soaked skin, “What’s that, sweetheart?”

You look down at him, wide-eyed and desperate, and the sight makes your stomach flip.

His eyes are dark, heavy-lidded, locked on yours with zero shame. His lips are wet, his lip ring gleaming, his chain dragging down your thigh. His hands are still gripping your legs tight. “You’re already shaking,” he taunts, “You gonna fall apart before I even get my fingers in?”

You let out a sound you don’t recognize. Your hips buck without permission, trying to chase more friction, more pressure, anything, and he laughs.

“Thought you were gonna take it,” he mutters, kissing your inner thigh again, right where it’s already slick. “Thought you were tough.”

“Jungkook,” Your voice breaks.

“Yeah, baby?” he smiles, “Want more?”

You nod frantically. “Please. Please, please.”

“Mmhmm.” He drags his tongue back up, slow and torturous. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want—” you gasp as he suckles your clit again, just hard enough to make your legs spasm. “I want your fingers please. I can’t—”

“You can,” he says, way too calm. “You’re gonna. Not done with you yet.”

He slides one hand down between your thighs, dragging his fingers through your slick folds, slow and unhurried. You feel the first press of his fingertip at your entrance and it’s over.

When he finally pushes in just one thick finger, your mouth drops open in a silent gasp. It feels so good, too good.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he notes more to himself than to you. “Fuck. Gripping already.”

He curls his finger and you practically wail. You slap a hand over your mouth but he sees it, and then lowers his mouth back down to your clit like he’s starving for it.

His tongue and his finger move in tandem. Circles and pressure and heat all at once, building you up, pushing you higher, dragging desperate sounds out of you that you’ve never made before.

“Jungkook, fuck, please,” you sob, grabbing at his hair. “Please, I need—”

“You need what?” he murmurs against you, adding a second finger slowly, the stretch perfect, his mouth never leaving your clit.

“I need, need to cum, please—”

“Nah,” he says, eyes flicking up to meet yours as his fingers start to fuck into you even deeper, “Not yet.”

You’re near tears at this point.

He flattens his tongue and moans into you, and your hips jerk off the couch. Your hands are clutching at him now, your stomach tightening, thighs trembling around his head as he talks you through it.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he exhales, eyes locked on your face. “All needy and loud. Fuck, baby. I could eat you all day.”

You’re so close it hurts. He can feel it, the way your walls clench around his fingers, sucking him in.

“That’s it,” he coaxes, voice hoarse against you. “Come on, pretty girl. Cum for me.”

And you do, embarrassingly hard. It crashes over you like a power surge, hot and fast and blinding. Your hips jerk, your mouth drops open in a silent cry, and you’re cumming so hard you forget your own name.

He doesn’t stop until you’re twitching, until your legs are shaking uncontrollably and you’re pushing at his shoulder with a broken gasp.

Still, he doesn’t let up. His tongue is relentless, fingers even more ruthless. You’re sweating, teary-eyed and so close you’re practically vibrating, when you finally snap.

“Jungkook,” you moan, throat raw. “I need you to fuck me. Please. I can’t—“

That gets him to cease. He pulls back, mouth soaked, lip ring gleaming. His hand lingers between your thighs for a second longer before he pushes himself up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, panting.

You reach up, fingers clutching the front of his shirt, dragging him down so you can kiss him. You taste yourself on his tongue, and it just makes it worse, makes you needier.

He stands up, stripping down as fast as humanly possible. The black tee comes off first, revealing a chest that’s all muscle, abs that flex when he tosses the shirt aside. Then the cargo pants get shoved down, and…

Holy fucking shit.

It swings free and heavy into his palm, and you gasp.

That’s what they meant by blue collar dick. Thick, veiny, the prettiest goddamn cock you’ve ever seen. Long, curved just right, flushed and leaking at the tip as he wraps his hand around the base and starts stroking himself, slow and lazy.

He tilts his head back with a low groan, lashes fluttering, chain swinging over his chest and you just stare.

You’ve seen good dick before. You’ve had great dick, even. This is different. This is the kind of dick that installs central air and breaks bed frames. The kind that fucks through creaky floorboards, says “good girl” like a prophet, and pays in cash everywhere.

“Yeah?” he rasps, still jerking himself slowly, eyes dark as he looks down at you. “You want it, baby?”

You nod like your life depends on it. “Please. Need it so bad.”

He doesn’t waste another second. “Turn over,” he says, voice commanding. “Face down, ass up. I want that spine arched.”

You scramble to obey, flipping onto your stomach, shoving your hoodie up out of the way. You bury your face in the couch cushion, arms stretched forward, hips high in the air and the sound Jungkook makes behind you is inhuman.

“Fucking hell,” he licks his lips, hands gripping your hips, thumbs spreading you open. “Look at you.”

You feel him line up behind you, thick head sliding through your slick folds, teasing but not pushing in yet, and your whole body twitches.

“You’re perfect like this,” he says, one hand sliding up your back, pressing between your shoulder blades until your arch deepens. “Back all pretty, ass in the air, soaked for me. Fuck, baby.”

He leans forward, voice rasping hot in your ear. “You gonna take it for me like this, yeah? Gonna let me fuck you nice and deep?”

You moan out, whimpering into the pillow. “Yes. Yes, please.”

“Atta girl.”

He pushes in slow, allowing you to feel every inch. You feel the thick, burning stretch of him as he sinks in deeper, splitting you open around his cock. Your breath catches on a whimper, eyes rolling back as he fills you.

“Fuuuuck,” you choke out, voice strangled. “You’re so big.”

Behind you, Jungkook lets out a guttural groan.

“Yeah?” he rasps, still sliding in, forcing your walls to open around him. “That too much for you, baby?”

You shake your head, barely able to breathe, cheek pressed into the cushion. “No, no, it’s so good, just, fuck—”

He bottoms out, hips flush against your ass, and you swear you see stars. You’re so full it’s almost unbearable, like he’s in your stomach, You’ve never felt anything like it; your walls clenching, dripping, pulsing and he’s barely even moved yet.

He pulls out halfway and slams back in, then does it again… and again… and again.

His pace is brutal, deep, pounding thrusts that send shockwaves through your spine and bounce off the walls. Skin slapping, the obscene wet squelch of your cunt sucking him in over and over, the couch creaking beneath you. You’re a full mess under him, and he’s moaning now too.

“Fuck,”Jungkook growls behind you, breath ragged. “You hear that? You hear how wet you are for me?”

You do. The sound of your pussy squelching around his cock is loud, echoing with every thrust as your juices coat his length and drip down your thighs onto the couch cushions below.

“Fucking soaked,” he growls again, hips snapping into you.

His hand finds your hair, grabbing a fistful at the base of your neck and pulling. Your head lifts from the pillow you grabbed from nearby in a panic, back arched to its limit, body bent like a bowstring as he fucks into you harder now that he has you right where he wants you.

“Taking it so good, baby,” he pants, yanking your head back just enough to make you moan. He keeps pounding into you, dragging that cock so deep it feels like he’s carving himself into your soul, keeping your head held high by your hair, whispering filth that makes your legs shake.

“You wanna cum, don’t you?” he growls, tone thick and mean. “Wanna fall apart right here on my cock?”

You’re shaking too hard to answer, all that’s coming out are some babbles you nor him have any energy to interpret. Somehow, your brain flashes back to that fucking TikTok. That girl that described “blue collar dick” like it was some natural disaster.

Now you’re living it.

You’re bent over on your own couch, spine arched, tears in your eyes, unable to even think as Jungkook wrecks you with his cock and whispers filthy praise in your ear like it’s his job. This is blue collar dick. This is the goddamn thesis statement of that TikTok. You’re going to send that girl flowers.

“Please,” you cry, “Please, Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” he pants, breath hot against your neck as his fingers reach down and work your clit cruelly enough to keep you from tipping over. “That desperate for it, sweetheart?”

You nod, choking out sobs, your body twitching around him, clenching hard enough that he starts to fall apart.

“Fuck,” he groans, cock twitching inside you. “You’re so tight. Keep squeezing me like that and I’m gonna cum before you do.”

You moan loud into the pillow, your whole body wrecked and burning, still locked in this purgatory he’s created, his cock fucking you deep and hard, his fingers rolling over your clit with precision, holding you right there.

“Say it,” he growls, “Tell me how bad you need it.”

“I need it, please, I need it so bad. I can’t, I’m so close, please let me cum.” Your self -control has exited the apartment.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he grits out behind you, “Fuck, baby, feel how tight you are? How bad your pussy wants to cum for me?”

You can’t answer. You’re drooling into the pillow, gasping, your body jerking with every thrust like you’re being electrocuted.

“Let go,” he groans, voice shaking. “You’re gonna cum for me now, yeah? Go on, baby. Fucking cum.”

The second his thumb presses tightly just right against your clit, you shatter. It hits you like a wave. Your body locks up, thighs clenching, back arching so hard it lifts your hips even higher as your orgasm rips through you, hot and overwhelming. You scream as your pussy clenches around his cock, pulsing and gushing as you cum so hard your vision goes white.

Your arms give out completely. You collapse forward onto the couch with a breathless sob, ass still arched up as your cunt throbs around him, wetness dripping down your thighs in sticky trails. Your face is buried in the cushion, your legs are trembling.

“Oh my fuck,” Jungkook groans, “Just like that. You feel that, baby? Feel how good it is when you cum on me?”

He curses, pulls out fast and you let out a weak little cry at the loss, at the ache he leaves behind.

But then he’s jerking himself over you, his hand wrapped tight around his cock, wrist snapping fast, hips stuttering as he pants over you, chasing his own high.

His head tilts back, bottom lip tucked under his top teeth. A deep, broken moan is ripped straight from his chest as his hips twitch forward and he spills across the curve of your ass in thick, hot ropes. His chain swings with the motion, clinking gently as he fucks his fist through it, painting your skin in messy, perfect streaks.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” he groans, his eyes squeezed shut. “You’re… fuck, baby. You’re unreal.”

You’re too far gone to speak.

You stay face-down on the couch for a full minute post-impact, naked and glazed like a donut.

Jungkook exhales somewhere behind you, like he too is processing the life-altering events that just occurred in your living room. You hear his body move as he leans back, chest rising and falling, the distinct sound of a man who just came so hard he forgot his social security number.

There’s cum on your ass. Your hair’s stuck to your cheek. The throw pillow has a bite mark in it. You are not well.

You finally lift your head a fraction of an inch. “I think I just met God.”

Jungkook lets out a soft, post-nut laugh. “Yeah?” he rasps. “Tell him I said hi.”

You look over at him from where you’re sprawled out on the couch, now on your stomach. “…So do I owe you money, or…?”

He snorts. “For what?”

“For fixing my power?” You say it like it’s obvious.. which it should be.

Jungkook leans over and smacks your ass, casual, affectionate. “Nah. This one’s on the house.”

Eventually, he helps you sit up, grabbing the nearest clean towel in your bathroom like this is all completely normal. You look at each other and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry or call your landlord and thank him for being so aggressively useless.

You’ll deal with that later.

Right now, you accept the towel, take a shaky breath. You blink at him, dazed, legs still jelly. “So if I break something else… just a hypothetical, should I call you..?”

He smirks, tugs his pants back up without bothering to button them, and says, “Depends. If you break something else, I expect a personal invitation. No middleman this time.”

masterlist + request

[ilovolderman]

The Secret Notes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Bucky leaves little notes for you.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, cute doodles

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What". It doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5. thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

It all started one afternoon when you fell asleep on the couch, a book slipping from your hand. Bucky passed by and found you there, peaceful and unaware. Smiling to himself, he gently picked up the book and noticed the page you’d been reading.

With a quiet laugh, he scribbled a note on a scrap of paper:

“You stopped here. Heroine’s rule: naps first, saving the world later. - B”

He slid the note inside the book, marking the page, and placed it on the table beside you. As he left, he couldn’t help but smile at the idea of you finding it when you woke up.

The next day, you found the note in your book, and you couldn’t help but smile. It was silly, but it made your heart warm. You had to reply, of course.

Taking a fresh piece of paper, you wrote:

“A nap is a hero’s secret weapon, Bucky. Thanks for the reminder. If I do end up saving the world today, I’ll be sure to credit you. - Y/N”

You tucked the note inside his jacket pocket, hoping he’d get a good laugh when he found it. It felt so simple, so small, but the thought of sharing little moments like this with him made everything else seem a little brighter.

It wasn’t long before the notes became a daily exchange. They started off funny—sometimes quoting ridiculous lines from movies, or making playful jokes about the Avengers’ absurdly weird missions. You would find them in your locker, under your coffee mug, or tucked inside your boots. They never failed to make you smile.

Even now, after months together, he still took the time to leave you notes and little reminders.

After a particularly brutal mission, you found another note tucked into the pocket of your jacket. You nearly missed it in the rush to get ready for a debriefing. But when you unfolded it, you found it written on a torn piece of notebook paper, and a doodle of a sleeping cat at the bottom.

“You’re allowed to rest, you know. I’ll guard your coffee while you nap.”

You smiled before you could stop yourself, warmth blooming in your chest. It had been a rough couple of days—bruised ribs, no sleep. The note felt like a soft exhale in the middle of chaos.

Unfortunately, you weren’t the only one in the hallway.

“Whatcha got there?”

You spun around to see Sam squinting at the piece of paper now very obviously in your hand. And before you could shove it back into your pocket, the man had already snatched it like he was intercepting a rogue football.

“Sam, come on—”

He blinked and read it once. Then again. Then a third time.

 ““You’re allowed to rest, you know. I’ll guard your coffee while you nap”...and there’s a little cat at the bottom. Why is there a cat?! WHO DRAWS CATS?!”

You stared at him, trying very hard not to look like someone caught hiding a secret. “You done?”

“Oh, I’m so not done,” Sam said, holding the note like it was radioactive. “This is a nap-themed love letter, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s just a...friendly reminder.”

“With a doodle,” he said, as if that was damning evidence in a court of law. “Who writes you sweet notes about coffee and naps after a mission? That’s like—domestic.”

“Maybe I wrote it to myself,” you tried.

“You’re not a cat doodler. I know your vibe. You don’t doodle.”

You grabbed for the note. He dodged you.

“Sam—give it.”

“I will not. I’m onto something here.”

Just then, Bucky strolled around the corner with a cup of coffee in hand and a granola bar between his teeth, looking way too casual.

Sam froze.

You froze.

Bucky stopped mid-chew, immediately sensing the chaos in the air. “…Did I miss something?”

Sam, eyes narrowed like a detective in a sitcom, turned slowly toward him.

“Barnes.”

Bucky blinked. “Wilson.”

Sam raised the note like it was a badge. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you?”

Bucky looked at the paper. Then at you. Then back to Sam.

There was a half-second pause.

And then Bucky shrugged. “Cute cat.”

You choked on a laugh and immediately turned it into a cough.

Sam squinted. ��That’s it? That’s all you’ve got? ‘Cute cat’?”

Bucky popped the last of the granola bar into his mouth, completely unfazed. “You’re getting worked up over a doodle.”

Sam pointed at both of you, eyes wide with dramatic betrayal. “Okay, I don’t know what is going on, but something is going on. I feel it in my soul.”

You patted him on the shoulder. “Maybe you just need a nap.”

“I—NO! No, you don’t get to use the nap line on me! That’s part of the conspiracy!”

Sam was already walking away. “I’ll guard your coffee, Wilson,” Bucky called over his shoulder, deadpan.

The hallway finally settled into silence after Sam’s echoing footsteps disappeared around the corner. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

Bucky lingered beside you, coffee in hand. His eyes flicked toward you, and the smallest smile curved at the corner of his lips.

“So… cat doodles are suspicious now?”

You laughed under your breath. “Apparently. Next time, maybe draw a dragon or something. Keep him guessing.”

“Well,” he said, voice low and amused. “That could’ve gone worse.”

You glanced down at the note in your hand, then back at him. “I mean... he didn’t accuse you of writing love sonnets. So, yeah—definitely could’ve been worse.”

Bucky huffed a laugh, leaning casually against the wall. “Should I stop? The notes, I mean. I didn’t mean to... cause a scene.”

You looked up at him, warmth already blooming in your chest. “No. Don’t stop.”

His brow quirked slightly, curious. “No?”

“They’re one of the best parts of my day,” you said honestly, your voice soft. “They make the hard days easier, and the quiet ones feel full. I’d rather risk a hundred Sam-level interrogations than miss even one of them.”

A grin pulled at Bucky’s mouth, slow and sweet. “Yeah?”

You gave him a playful nudge. “Even if Sam tries to launch a full-scale investigation.”

Bucky let out a quiet laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Let him. He doesn’t scare me.”

Then, softer, with that familiar gentleness he always saved just for you, he added, “I’ll keep leaving them, then. Every note, every doodle... they’re little pieces of me. And you’re the only one I want finding them.”

Your smile widened, heart fluttering in that helpless, happy kind of way.

“I guess that makes you my favorite mystery author,” you said lightly.

Bucky leaned in, his shoulder brushing yours. “Only for you, doll.”

You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out a folded note—you’d planned to tuck it under his pillow later, but something made you decide to give it to him right now. You held it out to him, your smile a little shy.

He opened it slowly. Inside, your handwriting was a little messier than usual, but still clearly yours.

“You’ve got a way of making everything seem a little brighter, even when it’s a rough day. I’m lucky for it.”

Bucky looked up at you, lips parted just slightly. For a long second, he said nothing.

And then he stepped closer, closing the small space between you. His hand brushed yours, slow and warm, and he laced your fingers together.

“You’re gonna destroy me with these notes,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

You leaned into him, heart full and beating a little too fast. “Guess we’re even.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to your forehead—gentle, lingering, like a promise he never needed to say out loud. Then he tucked your note carefully into the inside pocket of his jacket, where all the best ones lived.

“Don’t tell Sam,” you whispered with a smile.

Meanwhile in the kitchen...

Sam sat at the table, muttering to himself with a pen tucked behind his ear and a spiral notebook open in front of him. On the top of the page in large, underlined letters:

Case #109: WHO THE HELL IS Y/N DATING???

Underneath it were four bullet points:

suspicious nap note

Bucky is too chill

cat doodle = code??

is Steve somehow involved???

This was war now.

And you and Bucky? You were winning.

taglist: @svtbpbts @cupids-mf-arrow @whitewolfluvr @cece2608 @yehfitoormera @yesiamthatwierd @poodleofstardust @poodleofstardust

next part

[thekinslayed]

Good As Gold

summary | You found yourself the object of the Prince Aemond's stares, the reason why, you knew not. (based on this request)

pairing | aemond targaryen x lady-in-waiting!reader

tags | fluff, awkward ooc aemond + shy reader, aemond has zero game, awkward courting, a spider is the ultimate wingman, Aemond With Kids!!!

wordcount | 4k

note | semester's over, i am FREEEE!! here's the first non-queued fic in over three weeks, so happy to be writing again! this one's short and sweet, and is the unofficial prequel to Sweet, Wonderful You! this is still a standalone fic but i wrote this with that fic in mind.

likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated! <3

(divider by @zaldritzosrose)

The prince was staring again.

His gaze was sharp, prickling your skin while you tried to ignore how the hairs on the back of your neck stood from the weight of his stare. You stood beside your princess, the quiet Helaena, while in court. Your fellow ladies-in-waiting whispered and gossiped under their breaths, but you could only listen, your body paralyzed under the constant stare of a certain one-eyed prince.

You knew not why he had taken such an interest in you; if you could even call it that. In your moons as his sister’s lady-in-waiting, you barely spoke a few words to prince Aemond, mostly in the form of formal greetings when your paths crossed. 

You came to King’s Landing with your father in hopes of finding a suitor for his only daughter. With your arrival, the queen welcomed you into the service of being one of princess Helaena’s ladies, spending your days with your fellow young women– sewing, singing, and accompanying the princess. When you were not called to your duties, your father introduced you to noble lords. You smiled and charmed them to the best of your abilities by your father’s bidding, which put you in many of the men’s good graces. There seemed to be no shortage of bachelors and unmarried lords within King’s Landing, both young and old alike, and so there was also an abundance of gifts delivered to your chambers. Be it flowers, books, or fabrics, there was always something new each day. The most extravagant gift you have received was a set of jewels, much to your astonishment. It was unclear who sent them; there was no letter from the sender and the servant kept his lips closed when he brought the present to your door. You couldn’t accept such fine jewelry with no idea of who it was from, and so you gently returned the present to the servant, sending your apologies to the mysterious suitor. 

The prospect of your marriage held little priority in your mind, blissfully enjoying your days with your sweet princess before you were to be whisked away by some lord. It was no secret within the court of the attention you have been receiving from the many lords of the Keep. You were young, quite fair, and the daughter of a respectable House, and many were vying for your hand. 

Perhaps that is why you have been subject to the heavy weight of prince Aemond’s stare as of late. Perhaps he thought the whole thing ridiculous, he was a prince of the realm, and it was beneath a man like him to spare any minute of his day wasting his time courting a girl like you, yet still, he stared.

You always felt it– at court, in the halls, even in the gardens. You wouldn’t dare confront him about it, but it irked you nonetheless. Did he know something about you that you weren’t aware of? Was someone spreading vapid rumors about you? Or worse, did he know of the time you had accidentally stepped on one of Helaena’s critters when she had gone to feed her babes? But you were alone!

Your thoughts ran wild as you walked to the princess’ apartments after she had called for you. The princess was heavy with her third child and often had no energy to entertain all of her ladies. Most days she only called for you, her favorite. You were much like her in a sense, quiet and reflective. Helaena enjoyed the moments when you both sat in silence, working on your embroideries or when you read to her while she lounged on the daybed, weary from the changes in her body to do anything else. Today seemed to be one of those days. 

Reaching the door to the princess's apartments, the knight standing guard knocked on the door to make your arrival known, before opening the heavy wood for you. 

“Princess,” you greeted her with a soft smile, though the surprise in your eyes was barely hidden at the sight of another silver-haired royal in her solar. 

“Prince Aemond.”

You curtsied to the prince who rose from his seat at your entrance. He only greeted you with a nod, the familiar sensation of his gaze upon you tingling your skin almost immediately.

“My apologies, I did not mean to intrude,” you started, but the princess only waved her hand in dismissal. She was only clad in her shift, her swollen bump covered by a robe. Her legs were extended on a footstool, and the exhaustion in her face was evident from the crease in between her brows. 

“Nonsense, my sweet. Come,” she beckoned you over. Prince Aemond moved away from his spot beside his sister to let you sit beside Helaena, settling on the settee opposite yours. The young babes, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, were on the carpet playing with dragon toys while their nanny watched.

“How are you feeling today, princess? The babe isn’t giving you much trouble, I hope?” you asked her. Helaena could only sigh, caressing her belly with a tired look on her face. “He is restless today. I can only hope he comes soon, for I can barely do anything without tiring myself out immediately after.”

“If I could do anything at all,” you offered, your features softening at your princess. She gave you a small smile, patting your hand on your lap and squeezing it appreciatively. 

“Having you here is more than enough. Your company is most welcome, and yours too, brother,” Helaena said, turning to Aemond who still sat quietly across from you. The corners of the prince’s lips lifted ever so slightly, a sight unfamiliar to you.

“It is the least I could do for you, Hel.” The prince’s tone was soft when addressing his sister, a sharp contrast to his austere demeanor. Aemond’s fondness for the princess was not well-known within the court, his cold looks and flinty nature preceding him. In the spare moments you found yourself present when the prince visited the princess in her chambers, you caught glimpses of the shift in his demeanor around Helaena. The sight was endearing, perhaps even bizarre to anyone else outside the royal family’s circle. He never stayed for long, departing with a kiss on Helaena’s hair and a formal nod to you. 

Today, however, it seemed that the prince found no disturbance in your presence within his sister’s sitting room. He listened along to your and Helaena’s conversation, lifting young Jaehaerys into his lap when the princeling crawled to his feet. 

“So,” Helaena started, shifting herself to sit up a little higher in her seat to turn to you. “Did your mystery admirer send you more jewels? Pearls, perhaps?”

Your cheeks burned at the princess’ words, wary of discussing the matter in front of the prince. Your eyes shifted to your lap, toying with your fingers shyly. You missed the way the prince’s good eye flickered to your form for a second, then to Helaena, before returning his attention to his nephew. 

“Oh, no. If he did, I would probably send them back again. I have no intention of accepting gifts from someone who does not make himself known,” you explained. Helaena giggled in amusement at your fluster, covering her lips with her ringed hand.

“Why not? I think it is quite romantic!”  You only shook your head at the princess, a shy smile lifting your cheeks.

“My affections cannot be swayed by jewels alone, I fear,” you said. Helaena only continued to giggle in amusement, her eyes flickering to Aemond and then back to you. You huffed along with the princess, though not quite catching what she found so funny. A clear of his throat cut through your chuckles, making you turn to the prince across from you.

“If I may ask, my lady, what would make one win your affection in gaining your hand?” Aemond asked. The question took you completely by surprise, leaving you stuttering for words as you struggled to give the prince a proper response. 

“W-well…” you stammered, turning to the princess who also awaited what you had to say. “I would like it if he would take an interest in me, as I will with him. If we are to be wed, I would want my lord husband to know what I like, and what I do not like. In return, I shall learn what pleases him and what does not. I would want our partnership to be fair, though I suspect that would be asking too much.”

“It is not,” the prince interjected. “A noble lady of a fine House should have her wants and needs met by the man who should take her as his wife.”

Surprise encompassed your features, taking on a bashful look at the prince’s words. You hadn’t expected him to take such interest in the matters of matrimony, especially yours. Aemond straightened up at the look on your face, awkwardly clearing his throat and turning to a grinning Helaena. “Don’t you think so, sister?”

“Oh, yes of course. I would like to see you happy in your marriage, and I think…” Helaena’s words were cut by a yawn, making her cover her mouth with her hand. Her evident exhaustion was only growing in the late afternoon, making you turn to her in concern.

“Why don’t you rest for a bit, princess? Supper isn’t for a few hours,” you suggested. The princess nodded but made no move to rise from her seat.

“That would be nice, but I would hate to leave Beth alone with the twins, they have gotten to be quite a handful to manage,” Helaena said, but you only responded with a shake of a head and a soft smile.

“I shall watch over the sweetlings happily, princess. ‘Tis no problem at all,” you gently persuaded her. The princess nodded, taking your hand to be helped up. As you accompanied her to her private bedchambers, the princess left a kiss on her brother’s cheek, who held a now sleeping Jaehaerys in his lap. You helped Helaena settle in her bed, lifting the covers to her chest. The tired princess let out a sigh of relief, letting herself relax against the cushions.

“I do hope my little critter is around here,” she mumbled. Your brows furrowed in confusion, asking her what she meant. 

“One of the spiders was gone from its jar this morning. I cannot recall letting it out, but I believe it cannot have gotten out of the apartments. Perhaps it is just crawling around.” 

You blanched at Helaena’s words, visibly gulping at her words. As much as you tried to indulge the princess in her interests, the little bugs she loved so dearly made your skin crawl. You willed yourself not to squirm every time Helaena made you take one into your hands, the sensation of their tiny legs on your skin unnerving. The thought of one possibly crawling by your feet made you unsettled, your eyes frantically searching the floors when you returned to the solar, so much that you didn’t spare a glance at the prince still sitting on the settee. You didn’t expect him to stay, but he seemed to make no move to leave.

“Is everything alright, my lady?” Aemond spoke up. You slightly jumped at his voice, before quickly composing yourself, flashing him a smile.

“Y-yes, my prince,” you responded. The nanny had taken the sleeping princeling from the one-eyed prince’s arms to return him to the nursery across the hall, while young Jaehaera continued to amuse herself with the dragon toys her mother had sewn together. You kneeled beside the young princess, taking one of the toys and playing with her, much to her delight. 

“You are good with her,” the prince spoke, making you turn to him. A bashful smile decorated your lips, closely following the princess who had started to waddle towards her uncle.

“They are adorable, I enjoy helping the princess take care of them whenever I can,” you smiled. Once Jaehaera settled into Aemond’s lap, she immediately took hold of the prince’s long silver tresses, pulling on them. The one-eyed prince merely groaned, but let his niece pull on his hair with no complaint, only pulling them away when she started to place them in her mouth. 

“No, no, sweet girl. Qȳbor ōghar iksis daor havor,” Aemond softly said, tickling the babe’s stomach. Jaehaera let out a squealing laugh, making you smile. The prince’s good eye flickered to yours when you chuckled at the sight of them, the corners of his lips threatening to lift at the sweet sound. (Uncle’s hair is not food.)

The young princess held out her arms to you, her small palms opening and closing. You stood from your place on the floor and walked over to the settee, dragon toy still in hand. You sat beside the prince, holding out the plush to the babe. She took them into her small palms, mumbling nonsense as she shoved it into Aemond’s face.

“The babes seem to be quite fond of you, my prince,” you commented, letting out another chuckle. Jaehaera managed to make herself stand up on her uncle’s lap, the prince holding her up by the armpits.

“Not as fond as I of them,” Aemond replied softly, planting a kiss on the babe’s plump cheek. You cooed when she mimicked him, planting open-mouthed kisses on her uncle’s face. The sight was utterly endearing, making you feel a warm twinge in your chest at the sight of the ice-cold dragon prince being melted away by his niece. 

Jaehaera soon managed to squirm her way off Aemond’s lap and onto the floor, returning to the scattered toys on the carpet. You stayed seated beside the prince, both of you keeping a close eye on the young princess. A silence encompassed the pair of you, the only sound in the room being Jaehaera’s wordless mumbles. Straightening his doublet, the one-eyed prince cleared his throat, turning his attention to you.

“I am aware your lord father has introduced many suitors vying for your hand. Have any of them managed to please you, my lady?” Aemond asked, his tone formal. You turned to find him staring at you, just as he always does. Your lips lifted into a downturned smile, while your fingers fiddled with your rings.

“They always do at the start, but their attention seems fickle. They ask the same things in hopes of getting to know me, and when I do respond it always floats into one ear and out the other,” you responded, earning a hum from the prince. His good eye flickered to Jaehaera and back to yours, his head giving you a small nod in agreement.

“And I assume the focus of the conversation immediately returns to them— their lands, their riches, yes?” Aemond asked, letting out a dark chuckle when you nodded in earnest. He grumbled something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch, though it sounded like his mother tongue. 

“Some of them aren’t too awful, and I am sure my father would want to find a respectable match for me,” you said, though you faltered at your own words. In truth, almost all of the lords who were courting you were absolutely dreadful to be around, and you couldn’t imagine spending a lifetime with the few that you found tolerable. Your hope for a good match was dwindling, making you realize that no fine gift can mask persuade you to make your choice.

“Earlier, you said you wished for your lord husband to be one to take interest in the small details to win your affections. What would that entail? How you take your tea in the morning and such?” 

You let out an awkward laugh at the prince’s words, though it seemed he had made no jest when his face remained neutral while he awaited your response. Your laugh died down to a clear of your throat, your cheeks warming in embarrassment.

“Y-yes, that would be a start,” you stammered. Aemond let out another hum, seemingly in thought. You bit your lip, turning away to check on Jaehaera, who continued to be lost in her own world of plush toys and blocks.

“And how do you take your tea in the morning, my lady?”

Your head whipped to Aemond, who stared back at you. In your shock, you gaped at him like a fish, your mind lost for words. The warmth in your cheeks spread over your entire face like a blanket, your pulse thrumming in your ears. His good eye trailed over your face, patient in his anticipation. 

Before you could formulate an answer, the door to Helaena’s chambers opened, Beth returning from the nursery. She informed you that it was time to put Jaehaera down for her nap as well, to which you nodded before she took the young princess away. The silence was deafening once the door closed behind the nanny, making you shift in your seat beside Aemond. The prince was the first to break the silence, his smooth voice slicing through the tension in the air.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“I–” You barely uttered a response when you saw a splotch of black and orange on the edge of your skirts. 

Just your luck.

You jumped up from your seat, covering your mouth to mask your squeals so as to not wake Helaena. The spider continued to crawl its way up your skirts, making you shudder in fright. You resisted the strong urge to slap the critter away, your self-control barely kicking in through your panic. You had already killed one of Helaena’s spiders, you certainly were not about to kill another one.

“What is wrong?” Aemond asked, alarmed at your sudden reaction. You pointed to the creature on your skirt. It was hairy, with black and orange stripes. It walked slowly up your skirt on its legs, the sight utterly menacing.

“Spider!” you whispered loudly. In your panic, you failed to register how you had practically jumped halfway into Aemond’s lap. You ungracefully leaned your weight on a hand clamped on the prince’s thigh, making him groan when you squeezed a little too tightly. The position you were in was highly appropriate, but your rational thinking had flown out the window to make way for fear. Aemond wrapped an arm around your waist on instinct to balance you, though you continued to squirm uncomfortably when the spider inched crept towards your waistline. 

“Aem– my prince, get it off me, please!” you squeaked, making the prince let out a huff of amusement in your ear. You could only hope you weren’t disturbing the sleeping princess. With a pat on your waist, the prince reached to scoop the critter in his free hand. 

You finally let out a sigh of relief when Aemond pulled away to return the tarantula to its jar, calming down when the lid was screwed shut to prevent the spider from escaping once more. You recollected yourself, though you grew flustered once more at the sight of the amused smirk on the prince’s lips when he returned to his seat beside you.

“I take it you do not like spiders, then?” Aemond spoke, turning to you. You were filled with humiliation; your outburst was the most cowardly and the way you touched the prince was highly scandalous.

“My deepest apologies, my prince. That was highly inappropriate, I am deeply ashamed,” you apologized, but Aemond only shook his head.

“No need to apologize, I am glad to help a beautiful lady in distress,” he said, the roguish smirk still plastered on his features. Your cheeks grew only hotter at his words, making you look away from him while he let out another chuckle. Another silence passed, the rush from the adrenaline dying down into something awkward and sheepish. 

“You still haven’t given me an answer to my question,” Aemond mentioned. You turned to him once more, and as your eyes met, the prince held a hopeful glint in his good eye, his demeanor turning serious once more while he studied you. 

“Why do you ask, my prince?” you asked, though the pieces were starting to fall together in your mind. The prince cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. His eye fell toward your hand that rested in the space between you, his gaze running over the length of your fingertips before resting on the sight of your ring finger, bare and unclaimed.

“I ask because… I want to know what pleases you and what does not, so in return, you may know of mine.”

“What are you saying?” you asked once more, your voice falling into a whisper. You wanted to hear him say it, to witness the words falling from his pouty lips.

“I wish to court you, my lady, to win your affections so I may ask for your hand,” the prince admitted. It was starting to make sense— the stares, his constant presence with you and Helaena.

“The jewels…”

“They were from me,” Aemond confirmed. You could only stare at him in astonishment, at the idea of a prince, the prince Aemond joining the other noblemen in their attempts to win your affections was something you had never imagined. You were confused as to why he hadn’t let his intentions known from the start. Was he embarrassed? Was he being forced by his mother’s bidding? You dared not cage him in a marriage that would displease him.

“I am not good at flattery nor in the ways of courting a woman, especially one as fair as you, my lady, though I wish to make my intentions known now before I lose my chance,” the prince explained, his hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. It was almost amusing to see him so shy if it weren’t for the state of stupefaction you still found yourself in. “I apologize if the jewels were not to your liking.”

“No, oh, they were wonderful, my prince! I just… I had no idea,” you replied. The prince nodded in understanding, to which you gave him a soft smile.

“If I may ask, my prince, w-why me?” 

Aemond looked at you for a moment, pondering his words. He couldn’t recall the exact moment when he had first taken an interest in you, perhaps it was seeing you with Helaena and how you brightened his sister’s days, or how you glided gracefully during the dances at the feasts, or when he would catch you in the gardens, soaking in the sun peacefully on your own. All Aemond knew was that you had enamored him, and it would be a great honor to take you as his wife. He struggled to put all of this into words, the ability to express his emotions was not a strong suit of his after all. You patiently awaited his response, bright eyes staring up at him.

“An alliance between our Houses would be greatly beneficial, and your father would be granted a place on the King’s council upon our union.”

Aemond all but kicked himself at his awful response. He saw the disappointment flash through your eyes, your lips muttering a small, “yes, of course,” and he could feel you start to pull away. His palm covered the back of your hand, his larger hand covering the entirety of your smaller one. Your eyes fell to where his touch met yours, its heat engulfing your hand.

“You are a fine woman, my lady. I come to you as a man, not a prince of the realm, and I can only ask for you to grant me the benefit of courting you for your hand in marriage,” Aemond proposed. When you made no move to retreat your hand from his touch, the prince took your hand in his, before lifting it to his lips and bestowing a kiss on your knuckles. A breath was hitched in your throat at the feeling of his lips upon your skin, and you found yourself craving the soft sensation. 

“It would be my greatest honor to be your husband. You shall be a princess of the realm, and you will want for nothing. I shall gift you the finest silks and jewels from far and wide, whatever you wish for, I will grant it. You will be well taken care of if you will let me, and we shall be happy.”

Your cheeks burned in timidity at Aemond’s words, ones you had never imagined to hear from him in your wildest lips. Your mind ran a mile in a minute, weighing your options. There was no denying that you found the prince utterly handsome, with his long hair, lithe form, and sculptured face. He was dashing, even more so when you caught him swinging his sword expertly in the Red Keep’s yard when he trained. You would be a fool to deny it, but you were quite taken by him. To be the wife of a Targaryen prince was every noblelady’s dream, a position surely beneficial to your House. Your children will be dragonriders, the thought already making you blush when you thought of the prospect of creating offspring with the prince. You would not have to part with Helaena as well, much to your delight. When you came to a decision, you shuffled closer to Aemond, your knees pressing against his. You took your clasped hands into your lap, rubbing his knuckles with your other hand, before bestowing your kiss upon his flesh. As you looked up at your prince, your lips lifted into a smile, bright and sweet.

“That sounds like the most wonderful prospect, my prince. I would like that very much.”

Aemond’s lips lifted to mimic your smile, before letting out a sigh of relief. 

In the days that followed, they were spent with your prince. You watched him train in the morn, walked through the gardens later in the day, and joined him for supper with his family. Helaena let her brother whisk you away from your duties as her lady-in-waiting, waving you off dismissively with a smile when Aemond came to fetch you from her chambers. Your father was most enthusiastic about the courtship, eagerly negotiating with Lord Hightower on the concessions that would come with your union. And on the day it was decided that you shall wed, a knock on your door echoed through your chambers. You opened the door to reveal your prince, holding a present for you. A look of astonishment adorned your features when you opened the box, revealing a shining sapphire necklace.

[shortnspidey]

BUSY WOMAN

Bucky Barnes X Fem!Stark!Reader || WC: 5.3K

SUMMARY: After successfully defeating the Flag Smashers, Bucky finds himself alongside Sam and his family at a traditional Louisiana cookout. For once everything’s peaceful, the only thing missing is you.

WARNINGS: SO much fluff, domestic Bucky, Falcon and the Winter Soldier scenes used, talks of Bucky's past, flirty banter, Sam being a little shit

A/N: Based on my Collateral Hearts series but can be read as a standalone! I will never forgive Marvel for deleting this scene from TFATWS series! Which is why I decided to write about it because writing Happy!Bucky is my absolute favorite version of Bucky to write! The Russo Brothers better not touch him in Doomsday! Hope y’all enjoy!! <3

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Despite the persistent hum of anxiety that clung to him like a second skin, Bucky was surprised to find that people were… actually nice. Genuinely nice. It wasn’t forced politeness or the kind of nervous courtesy he’d grown used to, this was warmth. Real, easy warmth that settled in the air like the scent of barbecue smoke curling lazily through the Louisiana breeze.

For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t seen as the Winter Soldier or even as a man with a complicated past. Here, on the dock behind Sam’s family home, surrounded by the chatter of neighbors and the clatter of dishes and laughter, Bucky was just a normal guy. The dock creaked gently beneath his boots as he stepped onto the worn planks, the breeze from the bay tousling his hair and carrying the scent of charcoal and sweet corn.

He spotted the boys first. “What took you so long!” Cass exclaimed, practically leaping off the lower steps as he barreled up the dock. His arms flailed upward in dramatic protest, like he’d been waiting hours instead of minutes. Just behind him, AJ surged forward with his signature seriousness, brows scrunched together like a tiny soldier on a mission. “Where’s Aunt Y/N?” Bucky’s grin unfolded without effort, soft and lopsided, as familiar warmth bloomed in his chest.

He slowed his steps to let them catch up, one hand lifting in surrender. “Hey, hold on,” He replied with exaggerated innocence, balancing a chocolate sheet cake while motioning toward the buffet table stacked with desserts. “I had to get some cake first. Priorities.” The boys burst into giggles, Cass bumping his hip into Bucky’s leg while AJ leaned in close, trying to get a glimpse of what kind of cake he’d chosen. But then, your name caught his ears.

The moment AJ’s words drifted into the humid air, the smile on Bucky’s face shifted, just slightly. Most wouldn’t notice. Not in a place so loud with joy and music and motion. But the change was there. A subtle tension that passed through his shoulders. A flicker in his eyes like he’d been caught off guard. “She wished she could make it,” He murmured, voice dipping into something softer, more sincere. “She was supposed to fly in last night, but got caught up at work.”

You’d been juggling more than usual lately, helping Kate Bishop get her business off the ground had turned into more than a part-time favor. Long nights, unexpected travel, meetings stacked to the ceiling. He admired your commitment, but it didn’t make missing you any easier. “Where is everybody?” Bucky stepped up to the long fold-out table covered in mismatched plastic containers and tinfoil-covered trays, setting the cake down carefully among the already overflowing dessert options.

No sooner had he done so than a small herd of kids swarmed the table, their eyes lighting up like they’d just struck gold. Sticky fingers reached out before a warning shot came from the other side of the yard. “Alright, alright, that’s enough!” Sam’s voice cut through the chatter, authoritative but unmistakably amused as he made his way over. “Real food first,” He continued, shooting a mock glare toward the mob of sugar-hungry kids.

A chorus of groans followed, along with one dramatic “aww man!” that drew a few laughs from nearby parents. Sam turned his attention to Bucky with a smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Keep messin’ around, and I’ll put you on that Winter Soldier diet. Rats and frozen protein pills and shit.” Bucky snorted, rolling his eyes as the memory of Siberian rations flashed briefly in his head. Chuckling, he stepped in for one of those shoulder-clasping, one-armed hugs.

Sam in return clapped him on the back. The teasing look in his eyes remained, though it was tempered now by something softer. Pride, maybe. Or just the comfort of knowing Bucky had shown up, again. “How’s Sarah?” Bucky asked, the corner of his mouth twitching with a hint of mischief. “She ask about me?” Sam froze narrowing his eyes at him across the table. His mouth twisted with disbelief, eyebrows rising slowly in that way he always did when he was about two seconds from smacking someone upside the head.

“There you go with that sense of humor again,” He muttered, waving the tongs like a warning. “Still not funny.” His jaw tightened just a little before he added, with that slow, deliberate drawl that only showed up when he was really laying it on, “Besides, what would your lady think if she heard you askin’ about my sister?” Bucky’s eyes rolled so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck. He pushed off the table and took a few lazy steps forward, smirking. “Relax, Y/N knows it’s a joke,” He countered, hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans.

“She knows I only have eyes for her.” Sam scoffed under his breath, barely masking the grin that threatened to take over his face. “Shut up and get your chicken.” He muttered with a shake of his head, shoulders still bouncing from the effort of not laughing. As both men piled food onto their plates, charred chicken, buttered corn, collard greens that had clearly been made with love, they strolled the short stretch toward a worn wooden picnic bench tucked beneath a string of sun-faded lantern lights.

AJ and Cass were already seated there, happily devouring their food with the enthusiasm only kids could manage, sauce streaking their cheeks and fingers. “What are y’all laughing about?” Came Sarah’s voice from just behind them, light with amusement. She lowered her plate onto the bench across from Bucky before easing down beside AJ, smoothing the back of his curls instinctively with one hand. Sam jerked a thumb toward Bucky without looking up.

“Uncle Winter Soldier over here trying to crack a joke,” He huffed, feigning exhaustion. “I told him it wasn’t funny.” Bucky lifted both brows with theatrical innocence, raising his beer in a lazy salute before taking a long sip. He didn’t even bother defending himself, just leaned back on the bench with that smirk that always got him in trouble. Sarah side-eyed him, but there was warmth behind it. “Mmmhmm.” Her gaze lingered a beat too long, brow lifting as she studied him closer. “Where’s your other half?”

Bucky hesitated just long enough to confirm what she already suspected. His posture shifted, a subtle deflation in his shoulders as he exhaled slowly. “Busy,” He sighed, his voice quieter now. “She’s in London. Helping her friend Kate meet with potential investors for Bishop Security.” He didn’t elaborate further, but his tone held the weight of more than just distance. It wasn’t the kind of answer that begged pity, it was matter-of-fact, and yet, it echoed of longing.

His eyes dropped to the plate in front of him, untouched. “Man was pouty the whole mission,” Sam threw in as he plopped onto the bench beside him, his grin practically shining with satisfaction. “Wouldn’t shut up about how her voice ‘sounds different on the phone.’” Bucky cut him a look out of the corner of his eye but didn’t fight it, because it was true. Every spare moment on that mission, his mind drifted to you. The sound of your laugh and the way you pulled him back to himself with nothing more than a quiet look.

It was hard being in a different country. Harder still to be surrounded by people who made him feel at home when the one person who was home to him was an ocean away. “Can Aunt Y/N come next time?” AJ asked, nudging Sarah. “I hope so, baby.” Sarah replied, her tone gentle as she reached for her sweet tea. “She keeps him in line better than we do.” That earned a rare, genuine laugh from Bucky, a soft, unguarded thing that caught even him by surprise.

The table buzzed with the kind of light-hearted energy only a summer evening could bring, kids cracking jokes between bites, Sarah chuckling softly while she dabbed barbecue sauce off Cass’s chin. And Bucky, for a moment, let the noise and the warmth and the food pull him out of his head. Yet underneath it all, beneath the beer, the banter, he still felt the space where you should’ve been. Bucky had just settled into a rare moment of stillness, his plate finally half-empty, fingers idly rolling a beer bottle between his palms as the sun began its slow descent beyond the treeline.

He’d tuned most of it out by now, lost in thought, mind drifting across an ocean, wondering what time it was in London, if you were thinking about him too. He barely noticed the soft footsteps behind him. Until— “Guess who?” The world stopped. A pair of hands slipped gently over his eyes, warm and familiar, fingers curling just enough for him to catch the faintest scent of your perfume, vanilla sandalwood and white jasmine. His heart slammed into his ribs as a chill zipped down his spine despite the southern heat.

Your voice.

Sing-song, teasing, and impossibly close to his ear. For the briefest moment, he was afraid to move, afraid it was in his head, some wishful hallucination conjured up by heat and homesickness. But your touch was real. The pads of your thumbs rested lightly at his temples, anchoring him in the moment. “Doll?” He breathed, voice hoarse and disbelieving as he reached up slowly, fingers brushing over your wrists. “W–What are you doing here?” His hands turned, grasping yours like he needed the proof.

You didn’t answer right away, you just leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, your smile curving against his scalp. “Kate kicked me out,” You finally whispered near his ear, laughter dancing in your words. “Told me if I kept staring at my phone waiting for your texts, I’d scare off the investors.” Bucky stood too fast, the bench scraping back beneath him. He turned to face you, still holding your hands like they might vanish if he let go. And there you were, just as he remembered, yet somehow even better up close.

Your hair was windblown from the flight, eyes tired but shining, and the corners of your mouth pulled into that familiar, soft smile meant only for him. “You really came all this way?” His voice barely carried over the noise behind him. His thumb brushed your knuckles in a slow, reverent glide. “For you?” Your eyes sparkled, teasing but true. “Always.” The grin that broke across Bucky’s face was wide, boyish, and completely unguarded.

He stepped into you, arms slipping around your waist as your hands slid up his chest, and pulled you into the kind of hug that said everything his words couldn’t. The kind that spoke of late-night phone calls, sleepless weeks apart, and the quiet ache of missing someone so deeply it hollowed you out. Then, without hesitation, he dipped his head and pressed his mouth to yours. It wasn’t rushed or desperate, it was deliberate. Firm. A kiss that said I missed you, I needed this, and I’m not letting go all in one breath.

His lips moved against yours with gentle pressure, slow but certain, like he was reacquainting himself with something sacred. There were kids nearby, and he remembered that, barely. So he kept it mild, even if everything in him screamed to deepen it. Instead, he let the moment linger just long enough to leave you breathless before pulling back, forehead resting against yours. Behind you both, AJ and Cass let out exaggerated groans, covering their faces with their hands.

“Ewwww!” Cass cried out, giggling. “Get a room!” Sarah chuckled from her spot on the bench, shaking her head. “Y’all forget there are children present?” Sam didn’t even try to hide the smirk plastered across his face. Sam didn’t even try to hide the smirk plastered across his face. “Look at him. Back to grinning like an idiot.” Bucky didn’t care. His arms stayed around you, your fingers curled into the fabric of his t-shirt like you weren’t planning on letting go either. He looked down at you with that rare, quiet smile, the one that only ever came out when you were near.

“Quit hogging her, Barnes.” The moment shattered, good-naturedly, of course, at the sound of Sam’s voice cutting through the air like a record scratch. His arms stretched out with exaggerated flair, a grin tugging at his lips. “Come here and give me some sugar.” Bucky stiffened beside you, his arm tightening just slightly around your waist. He didn’t even try to hide the warning in his voice. “Sam.” It was almost a growl, low and guttural, the kind that might’ve been intimidating coming from anyone else.

But Sam just snorted, completely unfazed, like he'd been poking this particular bear for years and was now immune to the teeth. “He’s only kidding, my love.” You murmured softly, brushing your fingers over Bucky’s chest in a calming gesture before slipping from his arms. You gave him one last, lingering look before rounding the table, where Sam waited with mock impatience, arms still wide. You embraced him with a warm laugh, the kind of sibling-like affection that was honest and effortless.

Sam gave you a gentle squeeze, lifting you off your feet for half a second before setting you back down. You continued down the line, exchanging hugs with Sarah, who squeezed you extra tight, then AJ, who nearly dropped his fork in excitement, and Cass, who practically launched himself into your arms. “Jeez, Buck,” Sam called over your shoulder, dramatically fanning himself. “Possessive much?” Bucky folded his arms and leaned back against the picnic table, jaw tight, lips twitching somewhere between a scowl and a pout. It didn’t take a genius to put it all together. His gaze narrowed across the table. “You called her.”

It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation wrapped in disbelief, aimed squarely at Sam, whose expression remained irritatingly smug. A slow, indifferent shrug lifted his shoulders. “I was tired of seeing you all mopey. You’re depressing, man.” You returned to Bucky’s side, arms slipping around his waist, tucking yourself into his side. “Technically,” You interjected smoothly. “It was Joaquin.” That drew a raised eyebrow from Bucky, whose frown deepened as he looked down at you. You continued, barely suppressing a grin.

“He called to check in, Kate overheard me on the phone, put two and two together, rolled her eyes, called us both whipped, and told me I should be with you.” Bucky blinked. “She said that?” You immediately nodded. “She also said if I didn’t go, she’d book me a flight herself and pack my suitcase.” You laughed, shaking your head. “She’s flying back into New York tonight. Told me she doesn’t need me anymore, that I was too lovesick to be of any use.” Sam beamed, clearly proud of the orchestrated ambush. “Takes a village.” Bucky looked between you and Sam, then back down to where your body was curled around him, grounding him.

His chest rose and fell with something like reluctant gratitude, though the scowl hadn’t completely left his face. “I can’t believe you teamed up with them.” He muttered, eyes narrowing at Sam and then over your shoulder, as if Kate might appear just to taunt him. You leaned in close, standing on your toes, whispering just enough for only him to hear. “You looked like you needed me.” His features softened immediately. The tension bled out of his shoulders, and the usual storm in his eyes settled to something quieter, steadier.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just rested his forehead gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours. “Always need you.” He admitted lowly, so only you could hear. But you felt it. Not just the words, but the weight behind them. The truth of it. Your breath caught, a subtle hitch in your chest as your hands curled tighter into the front of his shirt. Those three words meant more coming from Bucky than they ever could from anyone else. Because for so long, he didn’t let himself need anyone. Needing people meant vulnerability. Meant risk. Meant cracks in armor he’d spent decades reinforcing.

He used to flinch at the idea of depending on someone, used to keep his distance, even when everything in him screamed for connection. He didn’t trust himself, let alone anyone else. You remembered the early days, when he would stay quiet instead of asking for help, when he’d disappear into himself instead of reaching for your hand. And now? Now he said it without hesitation. Your chest tightened, heart blooming with something soft and aching and full.

You blinked quickly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentle gravity of the man in front of you, how far he’d come, and how willingly he now let himself be held, seen, loved. Needed. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and tilted your head just slightly, letting your lips graze his cheek as your hand came up to cradle the side of his face. His stubble was rough against your palm, his skin warm and grounding. Without much reluctance, you tugged him gently down onto the bench beside you. His body moved easily with yours, falling into that familiar gravity that always pulled him closer.

As he sat, his right hand settled on your thigh without a second thought, fingers splaying over the denim of your jeans, thumb brushing soft, absent-minded strokes against your skin like it was second nature. Like he’d been waiting weeks just to feel you within reach again. Sarah passed you a plate stacked with grilled chicken, slaw, and sweet potato fries, and you accepted it with a grateful smile. Bucky, on the other hand, just looked at you. His elbow rested lazily on the table, beer in hand, but his attention was fixed, eyes tracing every detail of your face like he was memorizing it all over again.

The crease near your eye when you smiled at something Sarah said. The way your shoulders swayed slightly when you laughed. The soft shine on your cheek from the sun still hanging low in the sky. It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen you on video calls or in pictures, but none of it compared to you in front of him. “Sadly,” You began, voice light but apologetic as you looked toward AJ and Cass. “I didn’t bring any new tech prototypes for you guys to try out.” Twin pouts formed instantly. AJ actually slumped in his seat. The reaction tugged your own smile downward, just for a beat, before you brightened again. “But,” You continued with playful emphasis.

“My amazing friend Kate let me bring some prototype bows and arrows she’s been working on, customized for training.” Cass practically bounced in his seat, mouth open in awe, while AJ’s jaw dropped mid-chew. “After you eat.” Sarah interrupted, lifting an eyebrow without even looking up from her food. “Yes, ma’am.” AJ mumbled, immediately shoveling another forkful into his mouth like finishing faster might make the bows appear sooner. “You’re too good to them, Y/N.” Sarah reached across the table and gave your hand a gentle squeeze, gratitude warm in her gaze. Bucky smirked beside you, proud but silent.

He gave your thigh a small squeeze under the table, like a wordless told you so. “Never let her go, Buck.” Sam piped in from a few seats away, smirking over the rim of his beer like he was stirring the pot just for sport. Bucky’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing in a slow, deliberate glare that only made Sam grin wider. It was a familiar exchange, one they had down to a science by now. But underneath the surface-level teasing, Sam’s words weren’t wrong. Not even a little. Of course Bucky would never admit it out loud, not here, not ever, but it wasn’t just about not letting you go. He’d already decided.

The ring was hidden, poorly, he’d admit, in the bottom drawer of his bedside table beneath a stack of well-worn notebooks. He really needed to find a better hiding place. Every time he opened that drawer for anything, his heart raced like you’d somehow know. But watching you now, in the middle of this warm, buzzing dock, sharing food and laughter and your whole heart with his found family, he knew there was no version of his life that made sense without you in it.

You glanced over and caught him staring again, head tilted with quiet curiosity. His gaze softened when your eyes met his. “What?” You asked softly, placing your hand on top of his where it still lay warm and protective on your thigh. He didn’t answer, just leaned in, lips brushing your temple with a touch that sent a wave of warmth rippling through your chest. “Nothing.” You opened your mouth to push just a little further, maybe tease something out of him, but you didn’t get the chance.

A sudden blur of motion and squeaking sneakers announced the arrival of at least four kids from different directions, their eyes wide and sparkling with mischief and excitement. “Can you lift us with your arm?” One of them burst out, practically vibrating in place. Bucky blinked, clearly caught off guard, before his entire expression melted into something lighter. Playful. “Absolutely!” He grinned. You barely had time to catch your breath before he leaned over and planted one last kiss on your cheek, quick, warm, but enough to make your skin tingle.

Then came the part that should not have been as attractive as it was. He shrugged off his leather jacket with one smooth motion, revealing the black and gold vibranium arm beneath. It caught the late afternoon light in flashes of matte steel and gilded seams, and for just a second, you forgot how to chew. He caught you staring, of course he did. A smirk tugged at his mouth, and he winked as if to say Yeah, I noticed. And then he was swept away by the flurry of children, who immediately latched onto his legs and arms.

He laughed, actually laughed, as he let two kids hang from his arm while a third climbed onto his back, their delighted giggles echoing over the dock like music. You leaned back in your seat, heart brimming. “He’s great with the boys.” Sarah commented from across the table, watching the scene unfold with a fond smile. You hummed in agreement, eyes still locked on the chaos. “You should see him with my sister,” You added, chuckling. “Kid worships him. Bucky’s around and suddenly I’m second choice.” Sarah shook her head with a warm laugh.

“I mean, just look at him.” And you did. Bucky stood there like he was meant to belong in this world, not the battlefield, not the shadowy edges of missions or haunted memories, but here. On a sun-warmed dock, holding two giggling kids with ease, while another attempted to loop a rope around his shoulder like he was some kind of human jungle gym. His metal arm, once an emblem of pain, of programming, of war, was now a source of wonder. These kids didn’t see it as a weapon. There was no fear in their eyes, just joy. It meant everything to him.

You could see it in the way his eyes softened every time one of them shouted his name. In the way he never flinched when little hands clung to him without hesitation. In the quiet smile he wore even when he thought no one was looking. Because for the first time in a long time, Bucky Barnes wasn’t being seen for what he had done. He was being seen for who he was. And watching that unfold… watching him be loved so freely, so innocently, made your chest ache in the best way. Eventually, the sun began to dip lower behind the trees, bleeding gold and rose into the marshy sky. You caught Bucky’s gaze from across the dock.

He was still surrounded by kids, AJ now trying to convince him to swing both him and Cass at once despite Sarah's protests. And Bucky, he didn’t look annoyed or burdened. He just looked happy. But then he glanced back at you, and his whole face changed. The light in his eyes shifted from playful to soft, like you’d pulled something to the surface that only existed for you. His smile was different now, smaller, secretive. He tilted his head just slightly toward the edge of the dock. You got the message loud and clear. Without a word, you stood, giving Sarah’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before weaving your way past the picnic table.

As you neared him, Bucky made a grand show of letting the kids “defeat” him, collapsing dramatically to the dock boards as they climbed over him victoriously. He chuckled as they ran off cheering, and when he pushed himself back up, you were already beside him, hand outstretched. He immediately took your hand, pulling you away from prying eyes, managing to slip away unnoticed, well, mostly. Sam clocked you from across the yard and lifted his beer in a knowing toast. Bucky flipped him off without looking back. You wandered down to the far end of the dock, where the lanterns didn’t quite reach and the water lapped lazily against the wood.

A few small fishing boats bobbed gently in the distance. The air was cooler here, tinged with the scent of salt and damp pine. You stopped beneath a crooked lamppost that hadn’t worked in years, and turned to face him. “You okay, tough guy?” You asked softly, brushing a strand of hair off your cheek as the wind picked up. He exhaled slowly, eyes roaming your face like he still couldn’t believe you were real. “Better now.” You glanced down at your arms, goosebumps already forming, and without missing a beat, Bucky unhooked his jacket from where it was still slung over his arm.

He held it open silently and you wordlessly slipped into it. The sleeves swallowed your hands, the shoulders a bit too wide, but the warmth was immediate, soft on the inside, worn in all the right places, and it smelled just like him. Like leather, cedar soap and something distinctly Bucky. When you glanced up at him, he was staring. Not just admiring, staring. Like he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life. “You’re looking at me like you just short-circuited.” You teased gently, tugging the collar higher as the wind tugged at your hair.

He blinked slowly, dazed. “I’m looking at you like I’m in love with you.” He corrected without hesitation. And just like that, your heart stuttered in your chest. Because he meant it. The way his voice softened when he said it, the way his vibranium hand hovered near your arm like he wasn’t sure he deserved to touch you, even now. He had walls, yes. He had ghosts and scars and years of self-doubt tattooed into the deepest parts of him, but when he looked at you, all of it quieted. “Bucky…” His hand reached up, gently brushing your hair back behind your ear.

Then his thumb skimmed across your cheekbone like he was grounding himself with each soft touch. “I didn’t know I could have this,” He whispered, barely audible above the gentle creaking of the dock beneath you. “Peace. You. All of it. I don’t know what I did to deserve it, but…” His voice trailed off. “You wear my jacket like it’s always been yours. Like I've always been yours.” You slid your arms around his waist, resting your head against his chest. His arms folded around you without hesitation, holding you like he’d been missing this exact feeling since the moment you left to London.

“You don’t have to deserve it,” You murmured against his shirt. “You just have to let yourself have it.” Bucky rested his chin on top of your head, his arms squeezing you tighter. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. You just stood there, wrapped in him, wrapped in each other, wrapped in the quiet kind of love that didn’t need grand gestures or fireworks to mean everything. The world around you faded into a warm, golden blur, the kind of stillness that felt sacred, like time itself had paused just for you.

You shifted slightly in his arms, your gaze lifting to meet his, eyes tracing every line of his face with quiet reverence. His expression was so open, so unguarded. You could feel the words unsaid lingering between you like a held breath. So you spoke first. “For the record,” You whispered, your voice barely more than air. “I love you too, Bucky.” His breath hitched. Just the smallest inhale, but you felt it, felt the way his heart stuttered beneath your hand like it was trying to memorize every syllable.

His eyes shone with something deep and overwhelming, something that rooted him there with you more firmly than anything else ever had. God, he'd never get tired of hearing you say that. He didn’t speak, he didn’t have to. The way his forehead dropped gently against yours, the way he held you like you were the one keeping him standing, that said enough. Just as your lips inched closer to his, your breath mixing with his in that quiet, suspended hush of a moment about to bloom into something more— “Aunt Y/N!”

The voice rang out across the dock like a pebble tossed into a still lake, shattering the silence with the unfiltered energy only a kid could bring. “Aunt Y/N! Can you show us how to use the bow and arrows? Mom said we can play now!” You both turned just in time to see AJ barreling down the dock with Cass close behind, arms pumping, eyes gleaming with anticipation. They skidded to a stop like a pair of excited puppies, practically vibrating at the thought of target practice. Bucky let out a long, exaggerated sigh and dropped his forehead to your shoulder, his whole body slumping against you.

His breath was warm through the fabric of his jacket now draped around your shoulders. “Duty calls.” You chuckled, fingers lifting to comb gently through the strands of hair at the nape of his neck. He hummed at the touch, eyes still closed like he was committing this moment to memory, your scent, your voice, your warmth. You tilted his head up with one finger beneath his chin, your eyes full of quiet affection. And then you kissed him. Just a soft, slow press of your lips to his, a kiss not meant to linger or tempt, but to ground. You pulled back just enough to whisper. “I bet I can hit a bullseye before you, Barnes.”

His eyebrows arched with that crooked smirk you knew too well, equal parts challenge and flirtation.“Oh, you’re on, Stark.” You mirrored his smirk, reaching down and took his hand in yours as you turned back toward the boys, fingers lacing with his. As the two of you walked hand-in-hand down the dock, the world felt whole again. Behind you, the last light of the sun dipped into the horizon, casting everything in golden amber. Ahead of you, AJ and Cass were already bickering over who got the blue arrow first.

Bucky looked at you again, not just with affection, but with certainty. You, in his jacket. You, laughing. You, promising him a future even when he didn’t think he could have one. And maybe, just maybe, later tonight, when the kids were tucked in, when the laughter died down, and when you were curled up beside him, he’d finally find the courage to tell you about the little velvet box hidden at the bottom of his drawer. But for now? He kissed the back of your hand, and challenged you to a rematch before the first arrow was even notched.

Thanks for reading! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! Feeling generous? Leave a tip!

[paisleypens]

idk if youve done something like this, but a you posted that with y/n and spencer and theyre having fun but theres an old tweet about how spencer likes y/n!! hope this makes sense <3

winter break stirred up some writing motivation, sorry to everyone who has expected more lol. this is a GENIUS idea anon, tysm <3

yeah, i posted that... | spencer agnew x reader

gender neutral reader, second person, embarrassed spence, real tweets from the boys!!

~~~

You were all in for another shoot on the Smosh Pit set, and today was no ordinary one. The much-anticipated episode of "You Posted That?" featuring Spencer Agnew, Shayne Topp, and you, Y/N, had been scheduled for months. You’d joined Smosh not too long ago after building a successful career as a standalone YouTuber, and this was your first time competing on the popular show. Ian Hecox, as the host, was already hyping up the event with his usual mix of sarcasm and self-deprecating humor.

“Welcome to another episode of ‘You Posted That?’” Ian announced dramatically. “Today, we’ve got three contestants who are about to question their own digital footprint. Please welcome Shayne Topp, Spencer Agnew, and Y/N L/N!”

The small audience on set cheered, and you waved nervously. Spencer, seated next to you, leaned over. “You’re going down,” he teased, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Big words from someone whose tweets are probably all queerbaiting jokes,” you shot back, earning a laugh from Shayne.

“Let’s get started with Round One: ‘You Posted That?’” Ian said with the same exaggerated cadence. “Here’s how it works: we’ll show you one of your posts with a few keywords blanked out. If you can guess the missing words correctly, you get five points. If not, zero points. Got it?”

The first round began with Spencer. The tweet displayed read: “I've had the _____ ____ ___ stuck in my head all day, but only the part where ___ _________ says "___ _ ___ _ ______".” After laughter rang out and a few moments of squirming, it clicked and he guessed “Naked Mole Rat” "Ron Stoppable" and “can I get a booyah” Ian grinned. “Correct!” he exclaimed, as Spencer let out a celebratory “YES!”

Next up was Shayne, whose post read, “______ _____________ > Everything else” Shayne furrowed his brow. “It doesn't fit but... Raisin' Canes?” he guessed, earning howls of laughter when Ian revealed the actual tweet: “Nature Documentaries” Spencer groaned, “Next time just go outside and scream 'I'm smarter than you.”

Then it was your turn. The screen showed, “Me: 'I’m going to bed early tonight.' Also me at 2 AM: Watching _ _____ ______ _ ____ _____” After some thought, you guessed “a woman eating a live squid,” earning you a solid five points. “Weird, but correct!” Ian cheered, as Spencer gave you a playful side-eye. “Real quirky to watch mukbangs,” he muttered. "Look at the year posted!" You laughed back.

The second round of guesses brought even more chaos. Spencer’s next tweet read: “If you _____ ____ _____ while working from home alone, you are a cop” He confidently guessed “wash your hands,” but Ian burst out laughing as he revealed the true answer: “brush your teeth.” Spencer buried his face in his hands as Shayne and you doubled over.

Shayne’s second tweet was equally absurd: “there's no "I" in ____________” He guessed “Unfunny,” but the actual word, “peamupbubber,” had everyone in stitches at the duality.

When it was your turn again, Ian read out: “Why do my plants thrive but not my ______ ______? Asking for a friend.”

"To be clear, this was cute in 2016," and after some embarrassed sighs, you guessed “social life,” earning another five points. Spencer groaned. “Stop being good at this!” he joked.

Then came the final round of tweets. Spencer’s face turned pale as his last post appeared on screen. It read: “If ______ ever gave me a chance, I’d drop everything. Just saying.” The room went quieter, and all eyes turned to him.

“Oh no,” he muttered under his breath.

“Spencer,” Ian said, barely containing his grin. “Care to fill in the blanks?”

Shayne burst out laughing "Dude, don't die on this show of all of them", and you stared at Spencer, your jaw dropping. “Spencer, what is it?” you demanded, though you couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling up.

“It was a long time ago! Before you joined Smosh! I didn’t think it would ever come up... its Y/N.” Spencer stammered, his face turning bright red.

“Wait, so you had a little crush on me, huh?” you teased, unable to resist.

“Little is an understatement,” Shayne chimed in, wiping away tears of laughter.

“Well,” Ian said, looking at Spencer with a playful smile, “5 points!”

The room erupted into cheers as Spencer laughed it off, but the embarrassment was clear as day. You kept looking at him, trying to give him the hint, but anytime he saw your bright smile, he turned crimson.

The shoot wrapped up fairly quickly after that, with your other posts being just as recognizable to you. Being the rightful winner you walked out happily, nearly skipping back to your desk next to the games pod. You saw Spencer awkwardly approach your desks before you had a chance to sit down.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about that. I had no idea that tweet even existed anymore... it was just- I don't know. I just hope I didn't make you uncomfortable," He apologized.

You quickly rebutted, "No no not at all, Spence. It was really sweet actually. I have never told you this but I felt the same way when I first joined."

"Wait really?" Spencer looked up at you with surprise and unbelievable relief.

"Might still feel that way now. If you do too?"

"Yes! I mean, yes, I do. I never got over it."

"Your crush on me?"

"Yeah, I posted that for a reason."

[distantdarlings]

HIS OWN MEDICINE Pt. 2 // t. nott x e. berkshire x m. riddle

RATING: R / 7.1K WORDS

Mattheo Riddle x Theodore Nott x Lorenzo Berkshire x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* After Theo cheats on you one time too many, you go to his and your friends seeking comfort.

+ WARNINGS - (whoo boy, this is gonna be a lot) SMUT! Foursome (reader x 3 guys), Unprotected PIV, sub!reader, softdom!Theo and Mattheo, slightly roughdom!Enzo, oral (f! and m!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), fem reader, Eiffel tower moment, voyeurism, masturbation, mentions of weed, smoking weed, mentions of alcohol, drinking alcohol, mentions of Theo cheating, Mattheo talks about beating someone up (not graphic), language, not proofread (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

HEAVEN AND BACK - Chase Atlantic

***Can be read as a standalone, but I’d recommend you read Pt. 1 to have the full story! Read it here.

- - -

You hadn’t learned your lesson. That much was painfully clear.

After weeks of little to no issue from Theo, you’d rounded the corner on the way to class to see him—arm raised flirtatiously, with his nose almost pressed against some random girl’s. The way she giggled in response to whatever he said led you to believe that he was talking some smooth shit.

You could still feel the way your cheeks flushed with heat like a fire. Your fingers had gripped so tightly around your books that your fingernails had pushed back against their leather bindings. Blood had pricked at the edge of your cuticles.

How many times were you going to let him treat you this way? Pansy’s question flashed through your head. Obviously, too fucking many.

You set your books down on one of the stone benches that lined the hallways and stomped right over to Theo and that stupid girl. You shoved him away from her, childishly knocked his books from his hands, and slapped him across the face as hard as you could manage.

A collective gasp spread around you like wildfire, silencing the mindless chatter almost instantly. Your breath heaved ferociously.

“See if I ever try to make this work again, Theodore Nott!” You shouted. With one last huff, you turned, gathered your books, and pushed your way back down the hallways to your dorm.

By the time Pansy found you, your sheets were already soaked through with salty tears that slipped onto your tongue every once in a while. Your lips were reddened and swollen, as were your cheeks. You probably looked like you’d been hit by a train.

“Oh, honey,” she sighed, collapsing against the bed beside you. This time, she didn’t try to hold you or talk you through it. She just rubbed your back and listened to your quiet sobs. She must have heard what happened earlier. There was nothing that happened in Hogwarts that Pansy Parkinson didn’t know about.

“I finally did it,” you gasped. “I finally ended it. Theo pushed me too far. How many times did I beg him to stop acting that way? I mean, even if he wasn’t seriously flirting—he upset me, so why couldn’t he fix it?”

“I know,” Pansy sighed. “It sucks, but I’m glad you stood up for yourself.”

“Me too,” you sniffled, turning your head to look at her. At this point, you just wanted to change into your pajamas and drink a couple of gallons of Firewhisky with her.

She turned and leaned over the bed, reaching past the mattress for her bag. When she got ahold of the strap, she lifted it and set it on the sheets. She pushed it toward you.

“I figured you’d need a pick-me-up by now,” she shrugged.

You rummaged through the bag before producing one large bottle of Firewhisky and a box of chocolates. It was as if she’d read your mind. You smiled in relief.

“Only if you enjoy them with me,” you said. She smiled in return, preparing to pop the cork off of the bottle.

***

If you could have gone back and time and punched yourself in the jaw, you would. It seemed that, lately, you’d had a habit of doing things in the heat of the moment—whether that heat was actual passion or the influence of alcohol, it didn’t matter.

Because at this very moment, exactly two hours after you finished off the bottle of Firewhisky with Pansy, you found yourself parked outside of Theo’s dormitory.

Your hand was poised, prepared to knock. Embarrassingly, you’d been standing like this for at least a couple of minutes, debating whether or not you should actually do it. You were definitely one to handle your liquor, but, you had to admit, you were tipsy.

A pleasant warmth was spread throughout your chest, making all of the lights feel just a bit softer and all of your thoughts just a bit bolder. The effect that searing drink had on your confidence was always one of immense power.

Finally, you swallowed what pride and sobriety was still cooped up in your head and knocked on the door.

A few moments passed—enough so that you had almost turned to leave, retreat to your dorm, and lick your wounds with another bottle of Firewhisky. But, just as you decided to ramp up for your walk of shame, you heard footsteps, a thunk, then the door swung open.

On the other side, leaning comfortably against the door like he owned the place—which he sort of did—was Enzo Berkshire.

“Well, hi there!” He smiled cheerfully, eyes tracing quite conspicuously down the length of your body. You could see every ticking movement they made as they halted and started over every curve on your figure. Your cheeks burned. “Have you come to talk to Theo? Because he’s not here.”

Your face deflated like a sad balloon.

“Oh, well, I guess I’ll try to catch him later. I’m sorry to—”

“Why don’t you hang out with us until he gets back?” he interrupted, eyebrows flying up innocently.

“Who’s ‘us?’” you chuckled nervously, wringing your hands before your legs.

He pushed the door open farther and stepped out of the way to reveal Mattheo Riddle leaned up against his pillow—one hand thrown so nonchalantly behind his head and the other nursing a half-burnt cigarette against his lips. He was undeniably one of the most gorgeous boys you’d ever seen. The only other competitors in the lineup were your stupid ex and Enzo—who just so happened to be his roommates. It’s like they put all of the tens into a bowl, shook it up with no other options included, and drew them to be dorm mates. It was fucking irritating.

But, besides that whole fiasco with you fake-flirting with Enzo and Mattheo a couple of weeks ago, they were still your friends. You had gotten to know them quite well alongside your relationship with Theo. They were great, funny guys. They just also happened to be devastatingly good-looking.

“Er, sure,” you finally said, nodding your head politely. “You sure I wouldn’t be intruding?”

“Not at all—we’re just having a smoke. Join us?” Enzo cocked his head towards the other boy farther into the room.

“Sounds great. What exactly are you smoking?” you joked, allowing Enzo to lead you across the threshold and into their dorm.

No matter how many times you were in this room, you could never quite get used to the overwhelming ocean of cologne that ripped through the stone bricks. It was overwhelming, but at least it was a good kind of overwhelming.

Enzo pushed the door shut behind you and locked it back. You pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, waiting awkwardly on him. Mattheo’s eyes were burning through you from the corner, but you chose not to look over at him quite yet.

“Make yourself comfortable—you’ve been here a million times.” Enzo placed a large hand gently on the small of your back and led you toward Mattheo’s bed.

Besides the boy, there was also a multitude of objects strewn across the duvet. A couple of snack bags, a few cans of soda, a packet of cigarettes, three or four lighters—all depicting women of varying modesty—and a large wooden box with a collapsible lid that Enzo called his “rolling box.” It didn’t take a genius to deduce the contents within.

In fact, upon closer inspection, Mattheo wasn’t smoking a cigarette at all. Stuck gently between his fingers was a neatly-wrapped bundle of herbs that blossomed through out the end, creating a yellowish-tinted haze about his head. You inhaled, the familiar scent clouding your lungs.

How bad was it to drink and smoke weed at the same time again? You couldn’t remember. Without truly considering the consequences of the actions you were one hundred percent about to perform, you let Enzo sit you down on the bed beside him. Your back was pressed against the oaken footboard and your legs were crossed tightly against your body. Enzo threw an arm behind you on the footboard just like he'd done a million times before, but only this time, it felt different.

Whether it was the alcohol buzzing through your veins or the smoke that just filled your lungs through the joint Mattheo had leaned forward to place against your lips, you weren’t sure.

You inhaled deeply on the small thing, Mattheo’s fingers brushing your lips ever so slightly. His eyes watched you intently while his mouth parted slightly. You stared at the beautiful boy as he held the joint still for you.

Had they always been so affectionate and patient with you? Of course, they had. That's why you got along with them even when Theo wasn't around. You were pretty sure, anyway.

Almost immediately after blowing the yellowed smoke into the air, your vision started to haze over. Enzo had always had access to strong weed in general, but being a wizard came in handy, especially when there was a tincture he could brew to increase the potency of the already bold herbs.

Mattheo smirked as he watched the substance seep into your brain. He leaned back against the headboard and watched through lidded eyes. You could see the redness already blooming around them. You figured you weren't far behind.

Enzo shut his rolling box with a tight slam and placed a new joint between his lips. His fingers gathered a yellow lighter from the bed and snapped it a few times, slowly producing a flame.

With his free hand, he protected the light as he lit up. His jawline accentuated perfectly as it jutted forward to hold the blunt still over the fire.

The tension in the air stirred around like a heady blanket. Between all of the different things swirling in your system and the natural hormones firing off inside of you, you were just about ready to grab Mattheo and kiss him as hard as you could.

You'd had a thing for him since you met Theo and Enzo—Theo had just snatched you up quicker. But your relationship with Theo had only slightly dampened your desire for the dark boy. Perhaps that made you as bad as Theo. The main difference was that you would never have actively pursued Mattheo while still in the relationship. Except for the one time you were trying to prove a point. Even then, it was faked. Mostly.

But now, you were no longer in a relationship. You had free run of the boys of this school, though there was only one you truly had your eye on. And he was smiling lazily at you through the smoke, lighting a fire beneath your abdomen.

Though you'd only taken a single puff of the herb, you were already feeling the effects pretty excessively. Mattheo and Enzo however continued to take multiple drags, building up their high. They'd obviously done this much more often than you.

“How often do you guys smoke?” you asked stupidly, trying to make conversation.

“As often as we can,” Enzo chuckled, leaning his head back against one of the footposts. His eyes closed comfortably and his throat jerked with his laughs. You'd love to just take a bite out of him.

You shook that thought away and turned back to Mattheo. “Could I have another?” you asked, gesturing lazily.

“Anything for you, mama,” he whispered.

He leaned forward just as he had before. This time, he placed his free hand beneath your chin and tilted your face up slightly. Your eyes met his with a hard intensity. Balancing the blunt against his thumb and forefinger, he placed the end of it between your lips.

You inhaled again, feeling the buzz light up your head. When he pulled it away from you this time, he placed it directly into his mouth and traced a stray drop of saliva off of your bottom lip with his thumb. His fingers still cupped your jaw.

Liquid confidence overtook your body and you darted your tongue out to caress along the pad of his thumb. His signature crooked smile cracked across his lips. At the split of your mouth, he pushed his thumb in and pressed down on your tongue.

Muscle memory from Theo kicked in. That, mixed with the fuzziness in your mind, had your lips closing around his finger and sucking. Your eyes held contact with Mattheo’s.

He clicked his tongue and smirked. “There it is,” he whispered. “Good girl.”

“You called that,” Enzo said. Your lips released Mattheo’s thumb.

“Called what?” you asked.

“That you’d listen so well,” Mattheo answered. “I knew from the minute you started going steady with Theo. You were always so obedient and loyal to him.”

“I wasn't—” you started.

“You were, baby, but that's okay,” Mattheo cooed, fingers tracing your jawline. He placed the blunt between his lips one more time, took a deep inhale from it, before reaching across the bed to sit it down on the ashtray in the corner.

Enzo appeared behind you suddenly, your back nearly pressed against his chest. You gasped slightly as his hand came forward to gently brush your hair behind your ear.

“It’s more than okay—girls who are obedient are rewarded.”

As if testing the waters, he pressed a gentle kiss to the connection between your neck and shoulder. You softly whined at the sensation, not having expected it.

Then, Mattheo was reciprocating the action on the other side of your neck. Both boys graduated from light kisses to hot, open-mouthed ones that sent chills throughout your body. You shuddered.

“Wait,” you whispered.

Immediately, they both pulled away and looked at you, eyes widened and waiting.

“Am I meant to take both of you?” you asked shyly, nearly giggling in the middle of the question.

“Only if you want to,” Enzo shrugged, moving out from behind you to garner a discussion. “We can each do something different.”

“It’s up to you, sweetheart,” Mattheo whispered, moving back toward you. He placed a slow trail of kisses from your shoulder to your jawline, where he paused and spoke directly into your ear. “Though, I know Enzo has been dreaming of your mouth.”

You pulled away and looked at him. “And you?” you whispered.

“What?” he asked, eyebrows knitting together ever so slightly.

“What have you been dreaming of?” you ask. His eyes flickered down to your lips then back up again.

“Let me show you.”

He pressed his lips to yours suddenly, muffling a gasp of surprise on impact. His hands slipped along your jaw and curled into your hair. You sighed against him as he leaned you backward.

He caged your body in against the bed. There was no escape from him—everything around you was simply Mattheo. His scent, his taste, the aggressive outpour of his sweetened breath as his hands began to slide down your body.

Sneakily, his knee separated your legs at the thighs and began to claim its position there a bit more astutely. Just as he was about to make contact with your core just beneath your skirt, Enzo interrupted.

“Don’t be greedy,” he demanded, shoving himself into the space Mattheo had been in.

He hovered over you, overlooking your face with pupils blown absurdly wide.

“Have you been planning this?” you chuckled.

“In my fantasies, Mattheo usually wasn’t present. It was just me and you.”

“What were we doing?” you teased.

He leaned down and licked a stripe from the base of your neck to the shell of your ear. You shuddered at the feeling, eyes fluttering closed. “I was helping you forget all about Theo, baby.”

“Shut up,” Mattheo groaned, shoving the boy’s shoulder roughly. Enzo giggled in response before placing his lips against yours.

His kiss was worlds different from Mattheo’s and even moreso from Theo’s. Still, it almost wasn’t comparable. Enzo was bold and dominating in his body language and the way he acted in any social situation, and it was clear that he was a similar type of lover. At least, that’s what you’d gathered so far.

Your hands curled into his hair, tugging gently at the chestnut strands. His tongue slid against your bottom lip, forcing its way into your mouth. He tasted like butterscotch. It seemed as though you recalled a jar of sweets settled somewhere on the bed when you walked in.

Mattheo’s fingers suddenly sank through your hair to your scalp. He massaged them along your skin, sending shivers down your body.

“What was that about being greedy, En?” Mattheo said. Enzo pulled away with a growl and glared up at the dark boy. Your lips were already swollen and mourning the loss of his warmth.

You looked up. Mattheo hovered over you, eyes gliding down the rest of your body. It seemed that, no matter how confident the boys were, they couldn’t quite find it in them to tear into you. As nervous as you were, their obvious nerves seemed to spur you on just a bit. With butterflies swarming your stomach, you made a decision on what the next move would be.

“So, when were you planning on starting?” you laughed. Neither of them said anything. You rolled your eyes and reached your fingers down to place against your buttons.

Enzo stifled a gasp and you began slipping each one through its eyelet. Once the pieces of fabric were completely split, you pulled them apart, revealing your body to the two boys. Nerves pounded in your chest.

The both of them stared for what seemed like hours, before Mattheo leaned down to press his lips to yours once more and Enzo began sucking rough bruises across your stomach. The two of them slowly worked the nerves out of your system like a knot in a muscle.

You rolled and turned over, facing Mattheo head-on but refusing to separate your lips. At the change in position, Enzo leaned back briefly onto his knees. He helped you pull the uniform shirt down your arms, while Mattheo’s tongue split you apart.

Enzo’s hands softly glided down your back, tracing the shape of your curves with the tips of his fingers. They moved lower and lower until they reached the waistband of your skirt.

You could feel him linger for only a second when his warm fingers pursed against the zipper and began to pull it down. A sigh left you as the zipper hit its base and loosened the material just enough to slip it down your thighs.

Enzo’s hands wrapped around your hips and pulled you back onto all fours. Mattheo’s head craned to continue to press his lips to yours. His kiss was hungry and demanding, like you were sustenance he craved. His fingers cradled your jaw, keeping your head pinned upwards.

“Matty,” Enzo groaned. “I don’t think I can wait much longer.” His thumb slowly traced down your slit through your underwear. Your back arched against him, heat blossoming within your core. You moaned against Mattheo’s lips.

Finally, Mattheo’s fingers gently pressed to your chin and he pulled away from you. He wished you could see how beautiful you already looked—with your cheeks red, eyes lidded, and lips swollen with his saliva.

“You want her mouth?” he asked, looking above you. His hand was holding your jaw, lovingly stroking along your cheek. Your forehead pressed against his abdomen. His free hand moved to your hair, nails scraping lightly against your scalp.

You felt so submissive beneath the two of them, almost reminiscent of that of a pet. You couldn’t believe how willing you were to do whatever these boys asked of you.

As they conversed above you, you thought of nothing regarding Theodore Nott. The only thing flying through your mind was Mattheo’s hands in your hair and Enzo’s fingers massaging your hips. You waited silently as they decided how to fuck you. Merlin, you were pathetic.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Mattheo whispered, tilting your head up to look at him. “I’m gonna fuck you and you’re gonna suck Enzo off, okay? Is that okay with you?”

You nodded, eyes stuck on his. He smiled softly—the warmest expression you’d ever seen printed on his face. As soon as Mattheo had gotten a taste of your skin, something changed in him. He was softer, gentler.

Enzo kissed a slow line up your naked spine. “Ready for us, baby?”

You nodded once more and, at that, they began to rearrange their positions. Mattheo pushed to the back of you whilst Enzo replaced his spot just before you. His hands replaced the other’s, caressing slightly calloused strokes across your cheek.

His thumb travelled down your lips, spreading them slightly in the meantime. When he pushed through your teeth a little bit and towards the back of your throat, he didn’t miss the small gag you stifled. The pad of his thumb traced a line from the back of your tongue to the tip, before placing it on your lips again. He smiled roughly, all sharp canines and snickering laughter.

Behind you, Mattheo’s hands mimicked Enzo’s previous movements. He traced your hips and the curvature of your ass, massaging the muscle and acquainting your body with his touch. Subconsciously, you leaned toward him, bumping gently against his core. You could feel his hardened length brush against you. He sucked in a small breath through his teeth at the sensation.

It was already nearing an impossibility for you to breathe just as they teased—you were almost frightened for the effect they would have on you whilst actually fucking you. You swallowed thickly.

“Ready, baby?” Enzo whispered, placing a gentle slap to your cheek. You nodded pathetically, desperate to get a taste of them in any way.

His hands fell to the tie around his waist that fastened at the top of his pants. He wore graying checkered pajama bottoms that framed his growing length so perfectly. He looked to be about average length but he seemed way thicker than anyone you’d ever had before. The thought of him working his way down your throat made you nervous.

His pants dropped and his briefs were soon to follow. His length sprung free and pressed against his abdomen. He groaned at the relief of pressure and pressed his hand against himself, rolling the skin about gently.

There was a moment of silence when he pushed down on himself to allow the tip to brush against your lips that Mattheo also slid your panties down your legs. The cool air slammed against your heat like a wave.

As you moaned at the sensation, Enzo took the opportunity to push himself into your mouth. Your next sounds were muffled.

Not a millisecond after Enzo had bottomed out halfway down your throat, Mattheo pushed himself into you from behind. You yelped and subconsciously moved away from the sudden intrusion, only to shove Enzo further down your throat. You gagged around him as your nose brushed his abdomen. He moaned aloud and curled his hands in your hair.

“Fuck, you’re perfect. I can’t believe Theo’d ever let go of this perfect fucking mouth.”

Mattheo began to build a slow, deliberate pace. He was so much gentler than you’d ever imagined. The reputation he had managed to obtain was one of a rough lover who didn’t kiss and only fucked from the back, but rumors didn’t always carry truth. It seemed that care punctuated each of his thrusts into you.

You moaned against Enzo as Mattheo hit every spot Theo never could. The vibrations from your throat caressed the boy before you in a way he’d never felt before. He gasped at the sensation, fucking his hips against your face desperately.

His complete disregard for the integrity of your throat led you to push farther back against Mattheo, forcing him farther inside you as well. It was a deadly cycle.

The consistent thrusts you were getting from both ends were almost enough to prevent you from hearing the loud crack that echoed through the room. Almost. Your eyes opened and glanced to the side to see Theo standing against the door.

He must have Disapparated into the room. Perhaps he’d been knocking and the three of you just hadn’t heard. Though, through the rushing of blood in your ears, it was a surprise you could hear anything at all.

Still, you saw him and he saw you—being torn apart from the inside out by his two best friends. You could hardly move your body, let alone try to alert the two of them that you had an audience. They had clearly not heard him, as they both continued their previous paces.

Theo watched—eyes widened, mouth agape—as your eyes began to roll to the back of your head. Mattheo worked you closer and closer to your orgasm.

Your eyes peeked at him, tears pricking the corners, to see something wildly different than you expected. You had been sure you were going to open your eyes to Theo storming forward, ready to beat the shit out of both of his friends.

That is not what you saw.

Theo’s uniform trousers were unbuckled and split apart, revealing the edge of his briefs that had been tugged downward. His cock was pulled from its confines and clutched tightly in his fist. He pumped it rapidly as he watched the three of you. The sight itself was enough for you.

You cried aloud as your finish washed over you in a giant wave. The clenching of your lips and the vibrations from your throat pushed Enzo over the edge.

“Fuck, perfect girl,” he groaned to the air. His head tilted back, golden earring glinting in the candlelight that cloaked your bodies.

Mattheo worked you through every second of your orgasm, which worked Enzo through every second of his.

Once the boy in front had completely released his spend down your throat, he pulled himself from your mouth. You let him go with a gasp—thick strings of saliva stretched between your lips and his body.

“Such a good girl,” he whispered, cupping your jaw possessively.

Before you could manage to wipe the spit from your flushed cheeks or warn the boys that your ex was in the corner jacking off to your current escapades, Mattheo quickly flipped you over onto your back.

You squealed at the motion, having not been at all prepared. He immediately caged your body in, hovering over top of you with a snide smirk on his lips.

“Can I have you all to myself for a minute?” he whispered against your ear, placing a gentle kiss to your earlobe. You giggled at the sensation, chills being spread down your arm.

“Whatever, man,” Enzo said. “I’m gonna light up again.” He leaned back against the head of the bed and grabbed the abandoned blunt that was placed carefully on the ashtray in the corner.

Having almost completely forgotten about Theo—between the drug in your system and the boy on top of you—you wrapped your legs around Mattheo’s waist and tugged him in closer to you. Slowly, he reentered you with a soft groan. The sensitivity below pushed a whine from you.

He placed a soft kiss to your cheek. One hand grasped onto your thigh as he fucked himself into you. His nose hovered just above yours as he watched your every reaction to his movements.

With every gasp and moan you let slip out, he’d mimic your sounds softly, but not in a mocking way—more like in an agreement.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you?” he groaned. His pace was steady and unyielding. It was agonizing even, almost as if he intended on driving your pleasure out as long as possible.

“Do you know what it felt like watching Theo touch you every day? Watching him kiss you? Watching you sit in his lap?” he growled lowly, his nose brushing along yours with each thrust. You moaned at his words.

“That day you came up to me in the Great Hall…when you called me ‘Matty’…oh,” he groaned, crooked smile showing off his canines. “I knew I had to have you. Whether I had to wait a few days or months, I was going to have you.”

“Ugh, wrap it up,” Enzo said, holding his hand against his forehead, lit joint resting beneath his fingers.

You giggled just a bit at the stupid boy, before coming back to your senses a bit. Was Theo still in the corner?

Mattheo’s pace picked up a bit. Your head craned to look behind you. Enzo blew smoke toward the air. Your eyes attempted to adjust to the darkness in the corner where Theo had stood. Mattheo was hitting every spot you needed.

“Bite her neck while you fuck her.”

All three of you seemed to gasp. You paused and looked over, finally locating the looming boy.

“Shit!” Mattheo pulled out and scrambled to cover the both of you. Enzo tugged his briefs back up. You sat and stared, waiting for his next words.

“I don’t know why you’re all freaking out now,” Theo chuckled. “She saw me a good, long while ago. She knew I was watching.”

Mattheo and Enzo both looked over to you. You felt absurdly small beneath their huge gazes, like a little kid getting a slap on the wrist.

“I didn’t really mean to not say anything—I did try, I just tend to…forget things when I’m high.”

“And when you’ve got two dicks in you—ayo!” Enzo said, putting his hand up as if waiting for a high five from Mattheo.

The three of you stared at him in disbelief. At the realization that nobody was going to high five him, he shrugged and returned the blunt to his mouth.

“Yeah, well, did you enjoy the fucking show, you perv?” Mattheo scoffed, keeping the sheets pulled tight over you and him.

“What, you guys can have a threesome with my ex-girlfriend, but I don’t get invited?” he asked.

“Um, I think the important word in that sentence is ‘ex,’” Enzo piped up once again. You rolled your eyes and pressed your hands to your face. This had to be a nightmare.

“Ex or not, I still know what she likes,” Theo explained. “Now, if you want to make her cum quickly, you should bite her neck. Trust me.”

“Do you want me to ask him to leave?” Mattheo asked you, nuzzling his nose gently against the side of your head.

“No,” you said decidedly. You turned to Theo. “But, if you’re going to be here, you’re going to join.”

“What?” Mattheo and Enzo both echoed.

“I think it’s only fair,” you said. “Plus, it was you that suggested we have a foursome.” You pointed at Enzo. He shrugged and nodded as he recalled his previous discussion on the matter.

“I say, if everyone’s okay with it, he should join. Because if he tries to tell anyone, he’d have to mention he was a part of it. Or we could just tell them. He won’t tell anyone if he could criminalize himself.”

Theo’s eyebrows raised slightly. You didn’t want to admit that, after everything, you still missed his body and the familiarity he had with yours. But it was true. He wouldn’t tell anyone if he was a part of it. Granted, he likely wouldn’t have said anything anyway. Despite the end of your relationship, he still seemed to care about you. And you cared about him.

Mattheo and Enzo stared at each other, seeming to weigh their options. There was a moment of silence before they agreed. They nodded their heads.

You turned back to Theo. He approached slowly, eyes trained on you. Your stomach seemed to float within your abdomen as you recognized the look in his eyes.

No matter how many times he fucked you over in your relationship, he still knew his way around your body. He stopped before you. His fingers slowly lifted to cradle your jaw and tilt your face upward. His thumb slowly caressed over your bottom lip.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered. You shuddered beneath his touch.

It wasn’t long before nearly everyone fell back into the previous headspace. Enzo came up behind you once more and began pressing loving kisses against your neck. Theo kneeled before you and watched your eyes closely.

He gently moved the blanket covering your naked body away, just slowly enough so you could stop him if you needed to. His head dipped slowly between your newly exposed thighs, his hot breath lingering so closely to your core.

“Theo,” you whispered in a kind of warning. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Mattheo watching the boy with an iron stare.

After what Theo did to you, you’d briefly spoken to Mattheo about it. It was only a small conversation in which you were crying so hard you barely got the words out and Mattheo just listened and let you sob against him.

Mattheo was there for you when Theo had let you down. And the fact that Theo was preparing to pleasure you like he always had before had Mattheo’s jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might snap.

When his lips made contact with you, you gasped aloud. Your head fell back against Enzo’s shoulder, his mouth still sucking bruises into your flesh. His hands clutched at your breasts, massaging them strongly. The combined sensations were enough to make you lose your words.

Distantly, you could hear Mattheo huff. When your eyes opened to check on him, you noticed that he was looking toward the ground with his hands hovering between his knees. Jealousy pulsed through his body.

You wondered why he’d not been jealous until Theo walked in. You’d made it clear that you’d only included him to protect all of you. The last thing you needed was rumors of the three of you fucking each other floating around the castle.

He hadn’t cared that Enzo was touching every bit of you, because he knew that you didn’t care for Enzo in that way. But the wound from Theo was still raw, and your care for him still lingered.

“Matty,” you moaned, reaching your hand out to place against his cheek. He turned to look at you, eyes flickering over the pleasure contorting your face.

Enzo still rolled your breasts in his hands and Theo devoured you like a man starved. You reckoned Mattheo didn’t see a use for himself, but you did.

Sliding your hand down, you gripped onto the thin metal chain around his neck and pulled him close to you. Your lips pressed against his just as they had earlier. Your fingers tangled in his dark curls, urging him closer against you.

He pulled away from you. “‘Don’t want him touching you.”

You stared into his eyes, watching the affection in them swirl with anger. Theo’s mouth continued against you. You could feel your heat building to a point. Enzo had begun to roll his hips against your back, thrusting his length against your ass. He moaned lightly against your neck.

“He’s just getting me ready for you,” you teased, watching the flare light up in his eyes. You giggled softly, pressing your lips back to his.

Mattheo’s hand wrapped gently around your throat, caressing his fingers around the side of your neck. Enzo’s fingers delicately tweaked each of your nipples. Theo’s mouth consumed you openly until he pressed two fingers inside of you.

Your back arched and a moan left you at the sudden intrusion. Mattheo’s tongue split you apart as Enzo worked himself closer to his finish. You could feel his desperation in the thrusts he pushed against you.

Between the three men and the individual pleasures they each dealt, you found yourself closer and closer to your release. It felt like your entire body had been dipped in fire and storms echoed overhead.

Blood rushed in your ears as your brain began to shut off. Your eyes rolled backward as electricity sparked within your abdomen.

“I’m gonna—” you started.

Just as you were about to fall over the edge of your orgasm, Theo’s lips and fingers stopped. He pulled away from you.

You whined disappointedly and separated your lips from Mattheo. “Why?” you cried, your release teetering on the precipice. Your legs shook at the denial.

“Thought you might need a bit more,” Theo shrugged. He nodded toward Mattheo, and got to his feet. Was he serious? Honestly, you were a bit pissed at the thought of him passing you off like a gauntlet, but at this point, you just wanted to cum. It didn't matter who did it.

Mattheo stood slowly, letting the blanket fall away from his lap, and allowed Theo to take his place beside you. The dark boy settled between your legs, keeping steely eye contact. Your cheeks burned.

He slipped his hands beneath your thighs and gently perched them around his hips. He leaned in against you and hovered before you.

“Is this alright?” he asked. You nodded desperately, so ready for your release you couldn't stand it.

Finally, he pressed in and sank within you all the way up to the hilt. You moaned aloud, hands clawing at his back. Your eyes fluttered shut.

Your left hand blindly reached for Theo’s waist. When the four of you had begun to discuss everything, he'd pushed himself back into his trousers. He seemed to get the message, however, and pulled himself from his waistband.

Your fingers wrapped around his length and began to pump as Mattheo worked your orgasm back to its peak.

“Matty, I'm—so close,” you moaned aloud.

“Me too,” Enzo groaned against your ear. His hands gripped your hips as he fucked himself against your back.

Your thumb swiped over the top of Theo’s cock a few times, building that sensitivity he was so vulnerable to. If the four of you came at the same time, you imagined the room would start floating or something like that. Theo groaned at the sensation.

Then, seemingly taking Theo’s advice, Mattheo leaned in as close as he could go on the opposite side of you as Enzo and began to pound into you harder. His canines closed around the softest part of your neck and sucked. The sensation sent jolts of lightning down your body. You gasped aloud and arched into him.

Like a train, your release hit you harder than ever and spread across Mattheo’s stomach. Your eyes whitened for a moment, rendering you blind to everything that was not him.

Before you, Mattheo released a choked groan against your jaw and came within you, mixing your spends in a hot storm. You whimpered at the feeling, your nails scraping against his flesh.

Theo groaned as your hand rolled over his tip for the last time before his release was spurting against your hand and the bedsheets.

And finally, behind you, Enzo had rutted himself against you enough that he came against your nude back. He moaned breathlessly against your ear, his fingers stuttering restlessly on your breasts.

Several minutes passed before any of you even attempted to move.

Theo had fallen to his side on the bed and was borderlining a sharp snore. He rested with his hands splayed out and his shirt still partially buttoned.

Enzo had laid back with his arms spread above his head and sweat glistening down his chest. Deep pants pushed from his body. The way he had leaned had caused you to fall back as well. Your head rested against his thigh.

Mattheo had collapsed on top of you, his breaths heavy and lips pressing soft kisses to your chest every now and then. Your fingers absentmindedly brushed along his hair.

The boy laid over you waited until gentle breaths came from Theo and Enzo to start talking. When he was sure they were both asleep, he turned his head and rested his chin against your chest. His eyes watched you.

“Are you angry with me for asking Theo to join?” you asked softly, fingers still tracing through his hair.

He shook his head. “No, mama, I'm not mad at you. I understand why you did it.”

His fingers reached up to trace along your arms and collarbone. Again, his gentleness came as a bit of a surprise to you.

“What I don't understand is how you could keep going back to him when he kept treating you like that,” he scoffed. You sighed, leaning your head back against Enzo’s thigh.

“I can't explain it. He made me feel…special. I never felt that way unless I was with him. It was like… I felt like the only girl in the world until I got proof that I wasn't. But, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get that feeling from anyone else. So, it was to stay with Theo and feel on top of the world for a while, then occasionally get my heart broken. Or I could be in a relationship I didn't feel good in, and constantly think of him.” You sighed, embarrassed at how pathetic you sounded. You never wanted to rely on the boy, but your self-esteem had aligned itself with Theo’s loyalty.

“Hey,” Mattheo whispered. You glanced down at him. His eyes were trained on yours. “As many times as you've probably heard it, I would never do that to you. You are everything I have craved for months and for every time I shoved that dumbass against the wall and threatened to beat the shit out of him—”

“Wait, what?” you interrupted.

“What, you think I just sat by and let him act that way? I tried to beat some sense into him a thousand times over, but he just didn't listen. The fucker was persistent with his disloyalty, I’ll give him that.”

“You defended me?” you asked, laughing just a bit.

“Of course, I did. Even if I didn't have the hots for you, I can't stand that shit,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

Finally, he rested his head back against your stomach and you swore you felt him smile against you. He seemed pleased that he'd finally admitted to all of those things.

And, though you'd just participated in a fucking foursome with some of your best friends and would quite literally never live it down, you felt pretty good where you currently rested.

- - -

Tag List: @lilymurphy03 , @mypolicemanharryyy , @angelfrombeneth , @clairesjointshurt , @bunbunbl0gs , @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303 , @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw , @yhiiil, @xxrougefangxx , @thatblackthorn, @robinyx , @starsval , @jolly4holly , @blvebanisters , @chgrch , @ilovehotmenandwoman , @smutnyrobocikwrakiecie , @synicaljah , @abaker74, @2dloveshp

[iwritefandomimagines]

WELCOME DISTRACTION — STEVE HARRINGTON

masterlist

part one | part two | part three (soon)

[can be read as a standalone]

pairing: scoops!steve harrington x bookstore worker!reader

description: since that first time steve came into your store, he’s become something of a permanent fixture. and you wouldn’t have it any other way… even if you were still not quite sure what this thing between you was.

tags/warnings: teasy flirty friends to lovers, dustin being a ynsteve truther, bit of hot n heavy kissing but that’s the furthest it goes

author’s note: already obsessed with writing bookstore!reader and steve so bad lol i hope you all enjoy this part two!!! it’s a lil short but pretty please let me know what you think <3

you don’t need to have read part one to read this, but it will be a kinda series so u may want to!!!

———

“Well if it isn’t my favourite customer!”

The smile that lit up your face brought an even bigger one to Steve’s, even though it wasn’t directed at him.

“Oh, Steve’s here too,” you giggled as Dustin turned to poke his tongue out at his friend, “Hey Harrington. Dustin.”

Steve feigned upset as his hand left his pockets, “And here I thought we’d progressed past last names.”

He’s not in his Scoops uniform today, and you chuckle at the effort he makes not to wear it when he visits you — at least whenever he can avoid it.

“Whoops, sorry Stevie,” you quickly put down the book you’d been reading before their arrival — quiet shift, as usual — and propped your elbows up on the counter as they approached, “But to be fair, it’s Dustin who spends his money in here and you just spend my patience…”

Steve’s hands fly to his mouth, “Ouch, sweetheart. I thought we had something special.”

Dustin waves his hand in the air frantically, “Please can you save the flirting for when I’m not here or just, like, stop?”

You tut, “C’mon, me flirting with Steve? I’d never.”

Dustin scoffs.

The way you smirk and bite your lip reassures Steve that you’re only joking and this relieves him.

With all the progress your relationship had made to teeter on the precipice of something more than friendship, he couldn’t bear the thought of you not actually seeing him as anything but friends.

“You two are painful to be around, you know?”

“You wound me, Henderson,” Steve pouts, his arm lingering dangerously close to yours as he leans on the counter with his back to you to face the teen, “You’d never tell since you spend all your time hanging around us.”

Dustin scoffs, “Not true.”

“Need I remind you of the old woman who somehow thought we were your parents the other day,” you quirk your brow at him, “Given you were practically hanging off my arm asking me to rent you movies you’re too young for.”

“Fine, I hang around. But you only care because you want alone time to fawn over Y/N privately,” Dustin points at Steve as he raises the pitch of his voice, “Oooh Y/N you’re so pretty. Oooh Y/N I might even have to learn to read to impress you because I obviously can’t. Ooh Y/N please stop being just my friend and gimme a big fat smoochie smooch.”

While Dustin begins making kissy noises and pulling out a rented comic from his bag to return, you watch Steve’s face turn crimson.

It takes everything in you not to burst out laughing, “Wow, Dustin, your Steve impression is spot on. It’s like he’s in the room with us.”

“Uh, thanks, he is,” Steve huffs, nudging your arm and standing back up straight again, “I can obviously read. And I do not talk like that or fawn over Y/N. She fawns over me, actually.”

You scoff, raising a hand to your chest, “You got me. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

Your reference is met with blank stares, and so you roll your eyes, “Pride and Prejudice? You uncultured dinguses!”

Steve makes a mental note to do some kind of research on the book to understand your references going forward.

“Anyway,” Dustin coughs, “I’m heading next door to the arcade and you two can pretend you’re not totally in love whilst also being sickeningly clearly in love in like 30 seconds, I just wanted to return this.”

He plops the comic down on the counter and you make quick work of filing it in the returns box and filling in the returns sheet in front of you.

“Gonna ignore your comment and be professional,” you hum, “Can I interest you in borrowing anything else while you’re here?”

He shrugs, “Not today. I’m already late since someone was too busy making sure he looked good to come to the bookstore soooo.”

Immediately he’s turned on his heel and out the door, leaving you to laugh at a cherry red Steve.

“Aw, you get yourself all dolled up and pretty for me do you Stevie?” you flutter your lashes as he shakes his head at you.

He turns fully to face you now, eyes twinkling as you soak in the prolonged silence between you.

“I do not, I’m always pretty and you know that,” he flips his hair and leans in closer to you, “Like you don’t top up your lipgloss when you know I’m swinging by, huh?”

You roll your eyes, fighting back the blush because he is so right and you didn’t think Steve Harrington would ever notice that.

You subconsciously rub your lips together for a second, “Not true. Besides, why would I? Not like you’re gonna do Dustin a favour and finally beg me for a smoochie smooch.”

“Do you a favour, more like.”

“Ding, ding, ding, bang on the money.”

He pokes his tongue out at the sarcasm in your tone and your grin widens, “You’re a welcome distraction in this bore of a place, but don’t get too big for your boots now Romeo. People might really think I’m in love with you or something.”

“Duh, you totally are,” he beams.

“So sure of yourself, huh?”

“Hey, you love it,” he shrugs, “Hard to believe you don’t do stuff to tease me, by the way. Y’get all close and smell like cherries and pout your lips and make it, like, so hard not to kiss you.”

You still, no longer laughing but instead feeling your face burn red and your heartbeat increase.

He isn’t stopping now he’s started, and you’re now aware of just how close he is to you, “And you flirt with me so openly and then get flustered when it crosses the line of teasing into something real.”

Your lips are parted, ‘o’ shaped, your eyes never leaving his once as he steps towards you.

He cups your face with his hand, voice barely above a whisper, “But I think you’d go on like this forever, toeing the line, if I don’t do something about it. God knows I’ve wanted to forever. Can barely hear myself think when it’s not about you.”

“A bit obsessed, hm?” your voice betrays your real feelings as you try to mask them with yet more teasing.

He laughs, “If you ask the kids, yeah. But I can see by the look on your face it’s totally reciprocated and you’re happy I’m finally making a move.”

You quirk your brow at him, a challenging gaze in your eyes.

“I’d hardly call stating our blatant feelings making a move, Steve,” you swipe your tongue over your lip and watch his eyes follow it.

He tuts, “Right, so what do you consider making a move?”

His hands were still on your face and his head had dipped even closer now, wetting his own lips with his tongue as he waited for your reply.

“You could start by begging for that kiss.”

“Like I’d have to beg,” he scoffs, “Besides, you saying that is basically you begging me.”

You roll your eyes, pulling back from his grip, but the smile never leaves your face, “You’re impossible.”

Steve is quick to pull you straight back in again, “Oh no you don’t.”

His lips are on yours then, hot and feverish and desperate and you lean into his touch without a single second thought.

For just a second he pulls back, reaching to grab you by the waist and hoist you over the counter. You let out a little yelp, but the giggle that follows is music to his ears.

Once you’re settled on the counter, your legs now curled around his waist, he wastes no time reattaching your lips.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” he mumbles, and his earnest tone swells your heart, “It’s even better than I could’ve imagined.”

You draw your head back to look at him, your cherry lip balm on his swollen lips and his eyes twinkling back at you.

You can tell that he’s serious.

He’s watching you carefully, as though waiting for you to confirm that you really do feel the same as he does.

You grin, “Me too.”

His smile widens more than you think you’ve ever seen it widen, and you can’t help but place a small peck on the corner of his lips at the sight of it.

“As nice as it is to, uh, finally have you like this,” Steve smirks slightly as he references the way you’re practically straddling him and your arms are latched onto him, “Maybe the counter of your workplace isn’t the best place for it.”

You laugh, “Such a gentleman.”

You hop down from the counter, the friction of your body against his only brief before you gently nudge him backwards.

“Y’gonna take me on a date then, pretty boy?”

For a second his face had faltered, his focus on the way you’d practically been pressed up against him just seconds ago.

He drew in a breath and recomposed himself, “If you insist, pretty girl.”

Rolling your eyes yet again, you place your palms on his chest and tiptoe to kiss his cheek, “Well you go figure out where you’re going to take me and gimme a call when I get home tonight, yeah? I’ve got a delivery to sort out this afternoon but I’m all yours then.”

“All mine, I like the sound of that.”

“Course you do, Romeo.”

———

thanks so much for reading !!! i hope you liked this. i lost my way a bit and once again am not super happy with it but pls let me know what you thought!!! <3

also i love writing bookstore!reader and steve so PLEASE send more ideas u have for them (i already have lots lol) bc i’d love to keep writing them now it’s established

[saltcxrcle]

foggy glasses ── . ✶ s. winchester

summary: sam loves it when you wear your glasses

pairings: established sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x gn afab!readerノwc: 1.4k warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, fluff, loverboy!sam, reader described to have glasses/contacts, smutty, making out, tit sucking, glasses kink? (i have no idea if that's a thing lol), praise, reader is called 'good girl', a follow up to heart-shaped glasses but can be read as a standalone, kinda edited; all mistakes are my own a/n: wrote this in two hours last night bc i got inspired to write this from mads' feedback on my other fic that i posted yesterday and i couldn't resist making it smutty LOL so thank you @tusk-rumours for inspiring me for this <3 sam winchester masterlist

SAM LIKES—NO, HE LOVES IT WHEN YOU WEAR YOUR GLASSES. 

Not that Sam didn’t like you without them. He loves any and all versions of you—you consumed every thought of his regardless of the situation. But there was something about the sight of you in your glasses that made something inside of him wake up. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but he did know that he didn’t hate it one bit. 

Sam always stole a kiss from you when you had them on. Whether it was when the two of you were in the kitchen quietly making breakfast, clothes slightly wrinkled from sleep, or if the two of you were alone in the library and sat right next to each other. Hell, he even stole a kiss from you when you were walking past him in the hallway as you made your way to the bathroom. 

You didn’t exactly understand why he’d kiss you at random times but never protested having Sam’s lips against yours. You didn’t think that it was because of your glasses, but you proved wrong when you were relaxing in your shared room with him. 

You were lounging in bed, just wearing your pajamas that you didn’t bother to change out of for the day since there wasn’t a hunt, and you didn’t plan to go out that day. You were reading a book that you had been meaning to read. You were so absorbed in your book that you didn’t notice Sam leaning on the door frame, looking at you with a fond smile as he took in your relaxed form. 

You glanced away from your book for a moment, your eyes catching a body in the doorway, and you smiled when you recognized your boyfriend staring at you. 

You pushed your frames up your nose bridge. “Hey.” You smiled at Sam before looking back down at your book. 

God, you look so beautiful right now. Sam thought to himself before kicking off the door frame and making his way further into the room and towards the bed. 

You paid no mind to Sam as you were reaching the end of the page you were on—before the book was swiped from your hands. “What the hell?” 

You looked up to see a satisfied smirk on Sam’s face as he slid your bookmark into your book—he must have grabbed it while you were reading and placed your book on the nightstand. 

You let out an annoyed noise. “Excuse me? I was reading that.” You let out an amused scoff, letting Sam know you weren’t mad at him. 

“Really, I couldn’t tell? Besides now you’re not.” 

“Yeah, because someone grabbed my book from my hands.” A huff escaped you as Sam turned from your nightstand to face you. 

Sam let out a chuckle. “Sorry, honey.” Sam was sitting on your side of the bed, by the edge, as he leaned towards you, his eyes filled with mirth. 

You rolled your eyes. “Sure you are.” 

“How can I make it up to you?” Sam was in a playful mood tonight, which never failed to make you smile. He grabbed your hands as he looked at you with a small pout on his lips—his hazel eyes were wide and pleading, but a glint of amusement flashed through them. 

“Hmmm.” You pretended to think for a moment. “You can make it up to me by letting me finish the page I was on.” You sent him a mocking smile. 

“I can do anything but that.” 

“Well then, I’m out of ideas.” You shrugged. 

A smirk pulled at Sam’s lips. “I can just show you.” 

“Show me?” You questioned with a raised brow. 

“Yeah, show you,” Sam repeated as his eyes darkened, and a jolt of anticipation went through your spine at the familiar glint in his eyes. 

“Then show me.” 

Sam smirked before bringing your left hand up to his soft lips, pressing gentle kisses on your knuckles. His lips slowly trailed up your hand, leaving a burning trail in his wake as he made his way up your arm, pulling your loose shirt off of your shoulder and pressing hot kisses along your skin.

Your breathing became a little heavier as he left sloppy kisses on your exposed collarbone and neck. His lips eventually made their way to your face, kissing your jaw and cheeks before they hovered over your lips, brushing against him. 

He was teasing you, and the both of you knew it. You met Sam’s heated gaze as his eyes raked over you. 

“Still want me to show you?” Sam breathed against your lips. 

“If you don’t I’ll leave the room right now.” 

A low chuckle rumbled from Sam’s chest as he finally placed his lips against yours, instantly drawing you in for a passionate kiss that lit the familiar fire that Sam’s lips never failed to ignite within you. You responded with the same fervor that Sam had—leaning up to meet him, and your right hand found its way into his hair. You pulled at the chestnut strands, pulling a groan from him. 

Sam’s lips never failed to make you feel like he was consuming you—his tongue swiped at the seam of your lips, and a soft sigh left you at the feeling of his tongue dancing against yours. The feeling of his lips against yours made you lose any sense of time or space. Every sense was dialed up to ten and drowned out anything else, leaving you to just focus on Sam. 

The familiar burn in your lungs signaled that you needed air, but you didn’t care, wanting Sam to devour you whole as the two of you kept kissing. Sam eventually pulled away from you, a small whine leaving you as you chased his lips. An amused chuckle left Sam, pressing soft kisses on your jaw and down your neck. Your eyes were closed as your head rolled back against the pillows. 

Sam’s hand grabbed the hem of your shirt and slowly pulled it up, revealing your bare skin underneath it. You peeled your eyes open to help him take your shirt.

Somehow, during your heated makeout session, your glasses had fogged up slightly, and you could barely make out the fact that your position had changed and Sam was hovering over you now, in between your open legs. 

You made the move to take them off, but you felt Sam grip your wrist before you could. 

“Keep them on.” Sam’s voice was thick with desire as he looked down at your heaving bare chest as you tried to regulate your breathing. 

“What?” 

“Keep them on. Please.” Sam let go of your wrist as your own hand fell from your glasses. 

Your mind was spinning before it clicked. “You like me in my glasses don’t you?” You said with a sly smile on your face. 

“Yeah, I do.” Sam kissed you hard and rutted against you—being able to feel his hard cock pressing against the denim of his jeans. 

“Who knew you had a thing for glasses.” You said when his lips made their way to your breasts, a soft moan escaping you as you felt his warm mouth lick and start to suck at one of your nipples, his free hand kneading at your other boob. 

He took the hardened nub in between his teeth, biting at it lightly before letting go. “I have a thing for you in glasses.” He clarified before switching to your other breast. Sam sucked at your breast for a moment before kissing his way down your body, nipping at your skin occasionally. His hands found the hem of your sweatpants and pulled them off as he reached your core. 

Sam clicked his tongue at you. “Hey. Keep them on.” Sam ordered sternly when he saw you trying to take your glasses off again when you noticed them beginning to fog up from the amount of heat your face was emitting.

You hesitated before sliding them up your face again—you wanted to feel Sam’s mouth on you. Who needed to see when you had your boyfriend’s talented mouth on your soaked cunt.

Sam kissed your inner thighs before pulling your damp underwear to the side. He pressed a small kiss to your clit, making you jolt slightly at the sensation. 

A slight smirk appeared on his face as his eyes flicked up to look at you. “Good girl.”

[trashytracktales]

Heyy there loved your latest post about the reader’s struggle with mental illness and it hit so close to home, you wrote it beautifully. I especially loved how lando mentioned it would be a process to help her heal, because it truly is. It made me want to see a follow up of their lives after her struggles where out, I think Lando would definitely hover over her and be afraid whenever she isn’t close. I also think that the fact that she kept it a secret for so long and the thought of what could’ve happened if he didn’t get there terrify him. How about you write a continuation where he is so intense about it that the reader gets upset and they get into a fight where lando reveals his concerns and how he has been feeling after the revelation and the reader realizes how much this has been affecting him. I would totally understand if you don’t want to continue this fic since the one you wrote was very complete and well written, however I think it would be amazing to show how it feels to love someone that suffers from depression and how painful it is.

Aftermath | LN⁴

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝟮 𝗢𝗙 𝗦𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗦 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘

*can be read as a standalone, but I reckon it makes more sense if you have some background story

🤍 summary ──── In the messy aftermath, they are forced to realize that healing isn’t about going back to who they were.

🤍 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

🤍 rating ──── mature

🤍 word count ──── 3.5k

🤍 warnings ──── 16+, heavy angst, emotional distress, references to self-harm and feelings of worthlessness, mentions of guilt, codependency, and emotional burnout, swearing, sexual references, depiction of a supportive but emotionally intense relationship dynamic, comfort after pain.

Please prioritize your well-being while reading, my lovelies. If you click on the link to SEASONS CHANGE, you’ll find at the warnings section some (I’d like to think) useful resources.

🤍 date ──── Jun. 3, 2025

🤍 a/n ──── Listen. In theory, I don’t do part 2s. But clearly, I love emotionally wrecking myself (and all of you), so here we are. Please take this as a gentle threat and not an invitation to request multiple parts, because if it tickles my brain even slightly, I will spiral (and write it when you least expect it).

I am once again begging you on my knees to check this song out after finishing reading (not because ATL is one of my favorite bands, pfff 👀). But it brings me to actual tears has such good metaphors + it fits sooooo well from Lando’s POV ♥︎

SHE KNEW LANDO would change after what happened. She expected him to, but only to a certain extent. What she didn’t see coming was how incredibly fast he did it.

She noticed it in the smallest things at first. Like the way he asked her if she’s eaten, not like he used to, with a teasing grin and a slight suggestion to order takeout, but like he was checking a box on a list; like there was a right and wrong answer.

His kisses didn’t taste the same. He held her hand, brushed the hair behind her ear, and each move, without a doubt, was carefully measured.

Lando used to be spontaneous and loud around her, messy in a way she loved. Watching him was her favorite pastime, no matter what he was doing. Sometimes his socks weren’t matching, his texts were full of typos, and he used to laugh at her in the sweetest manner if her hair looked funny after napping or her shirts were stained with coffee or make-up.

Now, he’s precise. Hesitant. Clean and controlled. His texts look edited, manicured and made to reach a level of seriousness so uncharacteristic of him. He walks on eggshells around her, like any sudden movement might crack her open and reveal her darkest parts. He feels like someone who read an article on How to Support Your Mentally Ill Partner and took it to heart.

It simply breaks her.

Her new Lando opens doors, gently asks how she slept, brings her tea when she looks tired. Candies when she’s pissed off for whatever reason. He gives her space when she seems out of place and asks if she wants to talk when her voice is too quiet.

He was doing those things before, but now every action holds a different meaning. She knows it should make her feel cared for, but all it does is make her feel guilty.

Ashamed.

High maintenance.

The worst part is that she is aware that Lando is trying. She knows he’s doing it because he loves her. Because he’s worried. Because he’s new to this. Because he doesn’t want to take a step in the wrong direction.

But watching him tiptoe around her like she’s fragile doesn’t make her feel loved. Quite the opposite. It makes her feel like a burden, and it makes her want to scream. In his face. Loudly. With a megaphone, perhaps, to make sure he hears her loud and clear.

All she wants is for things to go back to normal — their normal. But every thoughtful gesture and every careful word is a reminder that they can’t go back there anymore. That she changed things. That she made him this way. And sadly, she doesn’t know how to tell him that his kindness is hurting her and all his trying is making her feel more alone than ever.

She catches Lando looking over his shoulder with pity.

She feels it in the way he touches her with more intent when he holds her hand, in how his fingers tighten ever so slightly when they intertwine.

She notices it in the way he hesitates before leaving, before heading to the airport and she’s not with him.

Her boyfriend is no longer the carefree, easygoing person she fell in love with. He’s tense, always on edge, always watching. He doesn’t sleep properly, doesn’t laugh the same way, as if there’s something stopping him.

It’s her that’s stopping him.

At least, that’s what the voice inside her head tells her.

She never wanted that. Never wanted him to lose himself in the mess of her mind, where things are rarely quiet. Lando is supposed to be the one and only thing in her life untouched by her ugly side, the one place where she doesn’t feel like she needs to pretend.

It makes her sick that every time she looks at him, she sees how much he’s carrying, and how much of her weight has settled onto his shoulders. It isn’t fair, and it makes everything worse than before.

Their night out was supposed to be a break from everything. An enjoyable excuse to forget about everything that happened, and just let go. That’s what she had told herself when she agreed to go out with their friends. It was supposed to be normal. Just a couple of drinks, a lot of laughter, a few hours where she could trick herself into believing that their lives are this perfect all the time.

She had wanted to see Lando relax, even just for a little while. But he hadn’t.

Instead, he had spent the entire night guarded. Not in the way he used to when they were going out, stealing glances across the room, his eyes lighting up when she caught him staring. This time, he had been tracking her, every movement, every shift in her expression, every time she excused herself from the table, and every sip of alcohol. It made her want to scream right there, in the middle of the crowded bar.

So, they left early.

Back at their apartment, the silence is deafening.

She follows him into the bedroom, their movements mechanical, as they start to change. Lando pulls his sweater over his head, tossing it onto the bed at the same time she unzips her dress, the fabric slipping off her shoulders, pooling at her feet.

“All good?” he asks in the same careful tone she’s already used to; the same tone she hates.

She nods, even though he’s not looking at her yet. “Yeah. You?”

The dry exchange of words makes her cringe. It’s like they don’t even know how to talk to each other anymore.

“‘Course. Why wouldn’t I?” he tries to shoot her a smile over his shoulder, but it’s weak and she doesn’t buy it.

“Maybe because you looked like you were being held hostage most of the night,” she shrugs.

Lando chuckles, “Was I?”

“I don’t know,” the girl replies. “You didn’t look like you were having fun. You had that face on, you know? The same one you’ve been wearing a lot lately,” her voice is laced with sarcasm, but there’s a sharp edge underneath, and he knows it’s meant to cut deeper than the surface.

Lando’s smile fades away as he exhales through his nose, clearly fighting his inner demons to keep his tone level.

“Well, I was having fun,” he insists, finally turning around. “It was nice to just be out with everyone for a while. With you.”

“You sure?” she shakes hear head in disbelief, her eyes wide. “Because it felt more like you were trying to monitor me than actually enjoy yourself. It’s suffocating,” the words are harsh, but she can’t stop them from leaving her mouth in a frustrated manner. More than that, she doesn’t even want to.

Lando’s hands pause at the hem of his shirt that he wore underneath, “What?”

Irritated, she runs a hand through her hair, while struggling to get her shoes off. “You haven’t stopped looking at me like...,” her voice trails off for a quick moment. “It’s like you’re always one step away from putting a leash around my neck. It’s suffocating,” she repeats.

His expression doesn’t change, but Lando looks genuinely curious when he asks, “Can you blame me?”

She laughs, but there’s no humor behind it. “No. I am blaming myself,” she admits it out loud.

Lando finally gets rid of his shirt, throwing it next to his hoodie while keeping his gaze on her, and all she can see behind his eyes is more fucking pity. So, she closes hers for a second, channeling every ounce of patience that’s left inside.

“I just wanted one night where I didn’t feel like some soft thing that you have to take care of.”

“I’m your boyfriend. I signed up to take care of you, and I love doing it,” he reminds her like it’s the most obvious thing.

She exhales slowly. “I’m better, Lando. I told you I am.”

Lando nods, unconvinced. “Clearly,” he says, slightly annoyed. “You promised you’ll talk to me,” he points out, “But then you started acting like nothing ever happened. Excuse me for being vigilant.”

His affirmation hits her like a slap.

Vigilant. Adjective. Carefully observant or attentive; on the lookout for possible danger.

She swallows, forcing herself to meet his gaze once again. “Yes, because I’m a ticking bomb that can go off at any moment, aren’t I?” her voice is cracking towards the end, tears flooding her eyes.

“Come on, baby. No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he insists. “Wasn’t I clear when I told you I’m all in? All I asked—”

She shakes her head, throwing the shoes on the floor, cutting him off in the process. “I am asking you to stop. I know you want to help, and I appreciate you for it. But right now, I just want to go on with our lives, and forget for just a couple of hours how extremely fucked up in the head I am. I never wanted you to change for me.”

“Yeah, but I had to!” his voice rises, irritation boiling over. “You think I can just go back to who I was, knowing what I know now? I can’t allow myself to be that blind again and just act like nothing happened. Baby, I can’t,” he says, pressing his hands together in a desperate gesture, as if he’s praying. “I won’t.”

Her jaw clenches. “It’s fucking bullshit. We were good before all this.”

“No,” Lando contradicts her. “I was good, because I had no idea you were at your lowest point, until I found you on that balcony. I was good,” he repeats, pointing at himself. “You were struggling. With me next to you, you were struggling. Do you understand how fucked up that is?”

The silence between them stretches for too long, and they both know that is about to snap at any moment. She can’t say anything right away, though. Can’t even look at him without bursting into tears.

“I get it,” she hears him speak again. “You didn’t want to worry me with all the stuff I have going on at the moment. Fine. But do you know what that feels like? To know you were falling apart and I didn’t even notice?” asks Lando, his own voice cracking now. “I feel like a fucking idiot.”

“This isn’t about you,” she points out, finally looking back at him.

“It is,” Lando contradicts her.

Her mouth opens at his audacity, but he keeps going, words tumbling out too fast for her to put an end to it.

“Because whenever I struggled, you were there. Every time I felt lost or panicked or like I couldn’t breathe, you stayed and made sure I was cared for. You always stayed,” he reminds her, his chest rising and falling quickly. “And when it was you? You hid it from me. You smiled through it. You lied to my face.”

His accusations makes her feel like a fraud. Like everything they built over time is cracked because of her silence.

She trusts him more than anyone. But somehow, the way it all played out, it doesn’t look like trust. It looks like deceit. Like fear. And that’s the part that stings the most: the idea that he might believe she didn’t let him in because he wasn’t enough, when the truth is she didn’t let him in because she was afraid she wasn’t.

And that’s what fear does to people: forces them to shut down. Isolates them.

“I never lied to you, Lando,” she says it more like a warning, stepping forward now, eyes wide and filled with unshed tears.

“You never told the truth, either.”

Suddenly, every bone in her body softens. They’re both half-naked, standing in the fragile quiet of the bedroom, the air thick with his dizzying scent and her sweet perfume.

Lando brushes a strand of hair from her cheek, his touch gentle. She leans into it without thinking, and his palm, broad and warm, cradles the side of her face lovingly.

“You were fighting for your life, and I was out there talking about work and planning stupid trips,” his words drip now like honey, unrushed yet accusing. “That’s on me. My fault.”

She shakes her head vehemently, “Baby, stop saying that,” she whispers, but Lando doesn’t stop.

“I missed it,” he continues, as if he’s mostly talking to himself. “You were right in front of me and I didn’t see you. What kind of person does that make me?”

“The kind who couldn’t have known, because I didn’t let you,” she replies without hesitation, taking a small step back.

“Yeah, because you’re so smart, is that it?”

“Lando,” she warns him, but he doesn’t seem to want to listen to her nonsense anymore.

He turns away at her subtle attempt to put distance between them, pacing toward the window and gripping the back of a chair like it might keep him steady.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” he admits, and it almost makes him laugh; the man who thought that he can do anything, has no idea how to save the only thing that matters most. “I don’t know how to stop feeling like if I look away for one second, I might lose you for good,” his voice has a different inflection, caught between defeat and the irrational urge to beg her to never leave him.

She can see how much he’s struggling to make her listen to his side, and even though she acknowledges it, she can’t accept it without denying hers.

Slowly, she walks to him and wraps her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her cheek against the heated skin of his back. He’s warm and solid under her touch, and it makes her feel so safe. She closes her eyes, holding him tighter, like if she stays there long enough, she can absorb some of the ache he’s been carrying solely because she threw it at him in a moment of weakness.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, but isn’t sure what she’s sorry for at this point.

Lando turns around to face her, and the look in his eyes scares her now; it’s too raw, too painful. “You think I have a choice?” asks Lando, his breathing ragged. “I wake up every day wondering if you’ll ever going to let me in again. And I walk through the door every time wondering if you’ll still be here when I come back.”

Even in the dim light of the room, she can see how his eyes are now sparkling with tears; another dagger to her heart.

She sighs, knowing this is her only chance to make him understand. “I love you,” she says, the affirmation forcing Lando to look away and shake his head, knowing love won’t help this time. “But this isn’t helping me, Lando,” she cups his chin, redirecting his focus back on her. “And if I’m being honest, it’s making it worse.”

Lando exhales sharply, dragging a hand over his face. “Alright. Good. Then what do you want me to do? Because I sure as hell won’t pretend I’m not fucking terrified all the time. Or is that what you want?”

“For fuck’s sake, Lando!” the word bursts out of her before she can stop it. “Yes! If you have it in you, lie to me. Pretend. Because every time I see you like this, it just reminds me of why. And I hate it. I hate that I did this to you. You fucking pity me,” she accuses him with disgust in her voice. “You treat me like I’m a child. You don’t act the same way. You don’t laugh anymore. You don’t even kiss me like you used to. And you sure as hell don’t fuck me the same way either.”

The words hang in the air like a bullet caught in slow-motion, and he freezes. She wants to push him away, but Lando wraps his arms around her waist, making sure she’s not running anywhere now that she dropped so many bombs on him.

His face twists in hurt and anger, disbelief flickering all at once. “You think this is about pity?”

The girl nods once, but determined. “I feel like I’m not your girlfriend anymore. Like all of this has become just an obligation to you.”

His arms tighten harder around her. “Yeah? You think I don’t want you?” he spits the words, incredulous. “That I don’t crave you all the fucking time?”

She has to swallow the lump in her throat before shooting her response at him, but Lando beats her to it. His jaw clenches against the side of her face, and for a second, he just breathes her in. Then he presses his lips to her cheek, and when he finally speaks, his voice is low enough to send shivers down her spine, blistering with certainty.

“Don’t you ever say that again,” he warns her. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. You have no idea what you do to me. Even now.”

She tries her best to win her right to conversation once again, but it’s like he’s casting spells, and his despair never sounded more beautiful.

“I’ll kiss you until there’s no air left in your lungs. Until you forget every single voice in your pretty head that ever made you doubt yourself,” he says it with enough confidence that it actually makes her believe him this time. “And if that’s what you need, I’ll fuck every insecurity out of you. Repeatedly, until you’ll beg me to stop. Do you understand?” his last question sounds so melodic in her ears, and all she can do for now is simply nod, lips slightly parted and palms traveling up his flexed muscles until they end up around his neck.

She pulls him in, and the second their lips meet, everything else is put in time-out. The kiss is tender, sweet, a little hesitant even. It’s not rushed or rough; it’s the kind of kiss that says I know you see me, I see you too.

By the time she pulls back, her lungs are indeed burning, and his forehead rests against her, breathless, with the ghost of his mouth still lingering on hers.

Then, as if there’s someone out there that could hear them right now, Lando speaks in a whispered voice, “I watched you sit on the edge of the balcony and I didn’t know if I’d be fast enough. That was my first thought, and then my mind went blank.”

She’s breathing hard now, so is he. But not because of the kiss anymore. It’s the weight of reality that makes them both stop and realize the gravity of the situation.

“I’m so sorry, Lan,” she whispers back.

“I lose sleep because I’m having nightmares about it,” the knife keep twisting, putting hole after hole in her heart. “I don’t fucking pity you,” says Lando matter-of-factlty. “I love you. But I am scared. That’s it.”

That’s it. The simplest way to put it.

“So stop trying to push me away,” he continues, his eyes locking onto hers with intent. “I told you then, and I am telling you now: I’m not leaving. I don’t care if we have to figure out a whole new way to be together, or if we have to relearn how to do this.”

She exhales slowly, the kind of sigh that carries months of silence and years of ache. Her eyes hold his, glassy with tears, as if she’s still trying to catch up with the weight of everything he’s just said. Every word he’s poured out tonight folds into her chest, and only once it settles does she speak.

“I know that most of the time it doesn’t look like it, but I am trying,” she says. “Even when my own mind tries to convince me it’s not worth it,” her fingers graze his jaw, tentative, like she’s afraid she doesn’t deserve the contact. “I can’t promise I won’t fall back into it sometimes, you know that. But I can promise I won’t let it win. Not like that. Because you mean more to me. Always.”

For the first time since they got back, she sees an authentic smile on his face. It’s small, but it’s there, and it gives her all the strength to continue.

“Like, promise-promise, pinky promise?” asks Lando, tilting his head, searching her face. He sounds like a little boy asking for reassurance in a world too big. It makes her want to cry and laugh all at once.

Instead, she lifts her pinky between them.

Without hesitation, Lando hooks it with hers like it’s a contract written in unicorn blood and stardust and glitter. And then, without warning, he grabs her by the waist and lifts her off the ground, making her yelp before he drops her gently onto the bed, her laughter breathless and real for the first time in what feels like forever.

He hovers over her, curls falling into his eyes, the smallest grin playing at his lips; there’s so much love behind his piercing gaze.

He kisses her then.

And she lets him in, again and again, even though they know it isn’t over. Not even close.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

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© trashy track tales, 2025

[aureatelys]

too busy being yours

pairing: jesse/fem!reader w.c.: 5.8k a/n: part 2 to lover's fever, requested here. thank you so much anon! i had so much fun for someone who said they will never write a pregnant reader LMAO also i have never been pregnant before so apologies in advance for any inaccuracies. can be read as a standalone idc

summary: You're 20 weeks pregnant. Jesse is insatiable.

c.w.: 18+ MDNI, porn no plot, pregnancy kink..., possessive/jealous!jesse because of a creepy guy, established relationship, f oral, unprotected p in v, spooning position mhm, dirty talk, theyre in love your honor, reader has hair, no y/n

read below or on ao3 here <3 [part 1]

When you first started having symptoms, you seriously debated strangling him.

You heard all the horror stories; you’ve even seen some of them if you’re at the mess hall at the same time as a new mother, how they would powerwalk to the restrooms with a hand over their mouths as soon as the smell of food hit them. You remember all the things the other ladies in town have told you about: the stretch marks, the nausea, the dramatic increase in sex drive.

You thought they were pulling your leg, that there was no way in hell that you’d even want to think about sex when you were hunched over the toilet bowl and your eyes were burning just from Jesse heating up dinner. Your stomach lurched and your heart broke every time you even thought about beef stew, one of your favorites during the cold months.

What they didn’t tell you was how you were always so tired as soon as noon hit, you would get annoyed at every little thing, and you had to pee all the fucking time.

By the time you managed to crawl into the second trimester, your symptoms vastly improved.

You could finally step into the mess hall without feeling the familiar stirrings of nausea and had so much more energy now, finally able to work in the greenhouse all day like before you got knocked up.

And you were horny. God, were you so fucking horny.

You and Jesse already had a healthy sex life, clearly. You already felt like you couldn’t keep your hands off of him before you were pregnant, often times already on your knees and grabbing at his belt buckle before he even closed the front door or his hands shoving themselves down your pants after sneaking away into the bathroom during a dinner party.

But now? You were raring to go at least twice a day, every day.

Before you were even able to rub the sleep out of your eyes, your hand would already be snaking underneath Jesse’s boxers to find him already stiff with morning wood. You’d already be completely soaked by the time he opened his eyes and be seconds away from straddling him to slide his cock inside of you.

If you’re lucky, you’d be able to sneak another one before he left for the day for a council meeting or patrol, either Jesse’s thick fingers plunging into you while you sat at the dining room table and your eggs were getting cold or in the shower with your leg propped up on the edge of the tub.

And then, whether Jesse liked it or not, you would go about your usual day at the garden or at the store. It was already a challenge to get him to be okay with just that, even with your promises that you would be careful and not be on your feet too much. It was nice to get out of the house and be productive, especially on those days you had that extra energy thrumming through you since he had taken you off patrols as soon as the two of you found out you were pregnant.

But then Jesse would stop by, either to check up on the gardening supplies or to get a quick snack at the store, and you swore your pussy would actually start throbbing, wetness quickly gathering in the gusset of your underwear at the mere sight of him.

But if you thought you were horny, Jesse was absolutely fucking insatiable.

If you had your hand down his boxers as soon as you woke up, he would be rolling over to yank your underwear down your legs and his mouth would be expertly working you over the next second. If you were in the shower by the time he got home, he would hurriedly strip his muddy clothes to join you, his chapped lips already mouthing along your pulse point and rough hands caressing your swollen breasts.

You thought all those things he had said the very first night you decided to have a baby was impulsive dirty talk, that it was the heat of the moment and his brain was just overwhelmed from how much he loved you, from how much he wanted to start a family with you.

You were starting to think he wasn’t joking about how much he wanted everyone to know you were his.

You were waiting outside the mess hall while Jesse was finishing up with a meeting. You knew he wouldn’t want you to wait for him outside, especially since the sun was setting and bringing in that winter chill that still hasn’t quite gone away yet, but you’re sure he wouldn’t mind if you were taking advantage of the crisp fresh air.

It had been another productive day at the bakery; you were having a good week and had enough energy to help with the desserts for the swap meet tomorrow. Although you missed being able to go out the front gates and the steady rhythm of your horse underneath you, you really couldn’t complain that the hardest decision you had to make was whether to bake more strawberry or vanilla.

The smell of roasting meat in the air, something that made you immediately nauseous only a couple of months ago, was now making your stomach growl, the hum of the dinner crowd floating out the doors with every swing. You smiled at each passerby, secretly glad that it was pot roast night since you knew no one would stop and talk to you and ask about the baby, too fixated on getting a bowl of tender meat and roasted potatoes.

You’re leaning against the wooden pillar, kicking at the gravel underneath you and debating on if you should just go ahead and snag a table because your lower back was starting to ache, ankles twinging in your deflated and worn tennis shoes that Jesse traded one of his winter jackets for. But then you hear your name being called and all the hair on your arms raise.

Because Michael, an older man from your original group when you first arrived at Jackson with the inability to leave you the fuck alone, was jogging up to you with a greasy smile slathered all over his face.

You heave a sigh, mentally preparing yourself, before giving him a forced smile. You had been doing a decent job avoiding him, because not only was he normally a creepy old man, you couldn’t imagine how much worse he could get now that you were pregnant.

You didn’t necessarily have a reason to be uncomfortable; Michael has been essentially harmless to you for as long as you’ve known him. He’s just been known to make slightly gross comments, eyes lingering on you for too long to be an accident. You remember the number of times he would try to protect you out in the city and inevitably cowering behind you when a Clicker would traipse by.

“Hey,” he says, out of breath from jogging over to you. The acrid smell of him, cigarettes and strangely like cat piss when you don’t think he even has a cat, overwhelms you, causing you to take a discreet step back. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“Yeah, I’ve been keeping busy. You know, just trying to help out wherever I can,” you reply, not so subtly letting your eyes flit behind him in search of Jesse. What is taking him so damn long?

And then Michael’s eyes drop down to where you have your hand instinctively hovering over your belly. “So, I hear you’re finally pregnant. Congratulations.”

And just like that, the beginning stirrings of nausea kicks up in your stomach, your heart starting to race as something akin to panic began to crawl up your throat.

You clear your throat, shifting your weight back and forth as the ache in your back grows stronger. What did he mean by finally? “Thanks. I’m about 20 weeks now.”

He whistles, his beady blue eyes roving over you more blatantly now, as if trying to catch the swell of your belly underneath your dress or determining whether your chest had gotten bigger yet. “I knew you’d always look good pregnant, or at least, better than all the other ladies around here.”

You suddenly wished you had the forethought to bring a cardigan from the house to cover yourself up from his prying eyes. Instead, you cross your arms over your chest, even feigning a shiver.

You would’ve thought that since you’ve been with Jesse for the last couple of years, Michael would’ve lightened up with his advances, but if anything, he seems to have gotten bolder, more insistent. And you don’t really have the energy to bite his head off like you’ve always wanted to.

Luckily, you don’t have to, because you spot Jesse coming around the corner. He’s searching for you through the dinner crowd that’s started to pick up, forehead pinched in concern, and when he meets your gaze, his face splits into a grin and his eyes light up. You don’t even realize you’re breathing a sigh of relief until you feel your shoulders marginally relax.

But then his eyes catch on your body language, as if you were trying to make yourself smaller, and then to Michael who was nearly towering over you, stepping into your space as if he was deserving of your attention.

You recognize the immediate change in Jesse’s face, his posture, because his eyes narrow and his mouth twists into a scowl. His pace quickens, nearly stomping over to you, and you try to bite back your pleased smile.

Michael nearly jumps in surprise as Jesse sidles up next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and tucking you into his chest. The smell of pine and something uniquely Jesse engulfs you, a welcome comfort as you bring an arm around his back underneath his coat.

“Hey baby,” he mutters into your hair, pressing his lips at your crown, before straightening his spine and glancing the older man up and down. “Michael.”

You’re honestly surprised that Jesse hasn’t started barking like a dog yet as his arm tightens around you and Michael’s slimy grin falls from his face.

Jesse was already naturally possessive, but somehow, he’s gotten even worse ever since the two of you huddled around that plastic stick in your restroom. He’s the one who immediately stripped you of patrol duty and tossed around the best place to station you that didn’t involve being on your feet too much despite only being a couple of weeks along.

He held your hair back whenever you were bent over the toilet, even when he knew he was going to be late. He massaged your feet after dinner despite just barely stepping through the front door himself. He was nearly attached to your hip on his days off, fingers lacing with yours whenever you had to pick up something from the library or underneath the table at dinner.

It would’ve been annoying, overbearing, if you didn’t absolutely secretly love it.

“Hey Jesse,” he smiles, somewhat shaky. “I was just saying congrats on the baby.”

His arm tightens around you, bringing you into his embrace even further and nearly causing you to lose your balance. When you place your hand on his chest to steady yourself, the unwavering rhythm of his heart, detectable even through the several layers of fabric he was wearing, was soothing.

“Thanks man.” And then, even though your bump was barely visible, Jesse places his palm on your stomach.

It’s something he’s done hundreds of times now. He’d place a broad hand onto your stomach when he would squeeze by you in the kitchen or when he’d kiss you good night and good morning. The weight of him when you’d undoubtedly wake up in the middle of the night to pee and the way he’d immediately curl around you when you got back into bed, tucking his hand back against your sternum, made your chest ache.

He was absolutely obsessed with you and the act, something you could predict by now, always brought a smile to your face.

But this time was different.

Jesse’s touch over your belly lacked the usual warmth, the reverent affection, as he would ghost his hand over you. Now, his hand was slow and deliberate, holding Michael’s gaze as if to make sure there was no mistaking the meaning behind it. His nostrils flared, jaw tight, as he pulled you closer into him like that’s where you’ve always been, where you’ve always belonged.

The sudden spike of arousal shooting down your spine and pooling in your stomach catches you by surprise, replacing the sour nausea from earlier.

Jesse can tell immediately; the audible hitch in your breath, the way your body gravitates towards him, and your hand on his back tensing. His arm, still wrapped around your shoulder, tightens, and his hand on your stomach drops lower until his pinky finger was able to trace the waistband of your panties through your dress.

Michael doesn’t notice anything amiss, which is why you internally brace yourself when you hear the next words fall out of his mouth.

“I was telling your girl how great she looks pregnant. Damn, you are one lucky fella.”

“Do not talk about her like that,” he growls, nearly not letting him finish his sentence, before he’s grabbing your hand to tug you away. “Come on, let’s go home.”

You don’t even get the chance to see the comical way Michael’s face drops before you’re out on the street and having to keep up with Jesse’s long strides back to the house. You’re a little dazed, the low hum of Jesse’s voice still bouncing around your skull as the dampness between your thighs makes itself known with each hurried step down the streets of Jackson.

Jesse doesn’t say a word the entire way, but you could tell just from the back of his head and his tense shoulders that his mind was racing, anger and adrenaline pumping through his veins.

And, you don’t know why, but it was really hot.

Not even the fact that he stood up for you when you could have easily done so yourself, but that he was almost territorial with it. With you.

He wanted everyone in town to know that you belonged to him and that no one could put their hands on you, couldn’t even glance in your direction.

You’re nearly stumbling over yourself to keep pace with him, but luckily your house was right down the block. You don’t even care that your stomach was beginning to grumble with hunger, that you were missing out on roast night, because as soon as you’re over the threshold and the front door clicks shut, Jesse is turning around with a blaze in his eyes.

Placing his large hands on your hips and lighting you from the inside out, he gently pushes you until your back hits the wall before he’s kissing you.

Where his hands are tender, thumbs rubbing against your hips, his mouth against yours is rough, immediately licking into you until you part your lips with a soft gasp.

You could feel the hard line of his cock through his jeans as he crowds into you further, the weight of him firm and heavy. Your face feels warm, your pussy beginning to incessantly throb when he grinds against your thigh and starts to press open-mouthed kisses along your jawline and down the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Asshole thinks he can look at you like that,” he mutters against your neck, voice ragged, before scraping his teeth at the spot underneath your ear that causes goosebumps to rise along your skin. “As if you’re not carrying my fucking baby.”

You almost want to laugh, make fun of him for being so unnecessarily jealous, but then his hands are at your tits, swollen and sensitive, and your mouth drops open in a broken moan as he thumbs over your aching nipples over your dress. Your hands weakly grasp at his shoulders, fisting into the fabric of his coat. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“Yeah?” His mouth trails down past your collarbone before he’s leaning back to yank your dress down your shoulders and past your hips, letting it pool at your feet and leaving you completely bare besides your modest panties. “I’m the only one who gets to make my girl feel good, huh?”

He leans down to mouth along the slope of your breast, his tongue flicking once at your nipple before wrapping his plush lips around it. Your knees buckle at the sight of his blown pupils as he peers up at you, eyes dark.

You try to agree, however a strangled noise rushes out of you instead. Your entire body has been so sensitive lately, your nipples especially, and the orgasms Jesse has coaxed out of you ever since you left the first trimester in the dust had your mind often turning blissfully empty, body melting into the mattress. Or the couch, or the dining table, or one time, even in the restroom of the mess hall.

His broad hands knead at your flesh, silently appreciating how much they’ve grown in the past several months, while he runs the flat of his tongue along you before sucking hard and causing you to gasp.

He pulls away and immediately tilts his head to briefly suck on your other nipple, just enough to have your back arching off the wall to chase the warm heat of his mouth. His palms brush down your sternum, gravitating towards your stomach just like you expected.

And then Jesse drops to his knees, his breath ghosting along your skin as he presses his mouth to the barely detectable swell there. When he gazes up at you, eyes wide and hungry, all the air leaves your lungs and you’re secretly glad he’s there to keep your knees from buckling even further.

“I’m the only one who gets to taste this pretty pussy, fill you up.”

“Yeah.” Your face heats up, your cunt aching and clenching around nothing as your hands tangle in the smooth strands of his hair, scratching at his scalp. “I’m all yours.”

You watch as his shoulders relax, corners of his mouth twitching at the sweet sincerity of your voice as if his mouth wasn’t inches away from the throbbing heat between your thighs.

But it’s true; you’ve been his the second you stepped through Jackson’s gates all those years ago and noticed his soft smile, eyes crinkling at the corners as he showed you how to properly brush a horse. 

Your heart surges as he kisses your belly again, innocent, before he’s mouthing along the elastic of your panties and bringing you back down to this very moment. He tucks his fingers into the waistband before tugging your panties down and off your legs. You barely get the chance to kick them off in some random direction before Jesse’s wrapping a hand around your thigh to place on one of his broad shoulders.

The new position opens you up, baring yourself completely to his intense stare. He licks his lips at how soaked you are, your wetness smeared all over your thighs and your folds glistening and begging to be tasted. He uses two fingers to spread them apart, drinking in the sight of your puffy clit and your hole twitching underneath his stare.

“Fuck, baby,” he exhales, and the warm puff of his breath against your core has you whimpering, jerking in his grasp while his hand was wrapped around your thigh to keep you steady. “You get this wet just from knowing that you’re mine?”

“Yes, fuck, just hurry up already,” you breathe, irritation coating your words as your leg still planted on the floor begins to tremble. Your back is starting to ache and this is the longest he’s teased you, deprived you of his perfect hot mouth and tongue, but like hell were you not going to take advantage of your boyfriend on his knees.

He doesn’t even bother with a snarky response, just another gentle press of his lips to the apex of your thigh, before leaning in, flattening his tongue to drag achingly slow up your entrance to your swollen clit.

Your head falls back against the wall with a thud, a moan ripping from your throat as your knees threaten to give out from the heat spreading underneath your skin.

Jesse immediately brings the hand that was spreading you open to your hip, essentially pinning you to the wall as his eyes briefly flicker up to you before leaning in to part your folds with his tongue. He’s taking his time to taste you, gathering your slick that’s been steadily building for the past hour, and he groans deeply between your thighs.

“God, you always taste so fucking good.” He squeezes your thigh and then he’s fully diving in, eagerly sucking and licking at your needy cunt. He knows you like the back of his hand, knows how to tease you until you were bleary-eyed and trembling, begging for him to let you come.

But he’s not teasing you now, too focused on how to make you feel good, reminding you that he’s the only one who can, as his tongue deliberately flicks against your clit in a way that had heat coiling immediately in your belly. Your fingers tug on his hair, pulling his mouth closer and grinding your hips up against his face at the same time.

He lets you, tongue fucking into your aching entrance as his nose nudges against your clit, and fuck, you’re somehow already close and barreling towards your orgasm in record time.

You blame it on your body changing, your orgasms often melting together when Jesse really took his time with you on his days off. Neither of you were exactly complaining.

He devours you, perfect mouth working over you sloppily like you always crave, his tongue circling around your clit as you continue rutting against his face.

When you dazedly glance down, your vision foggy at the edges, he’s already watching you. Eyes wide, intense, drinking in the heavy swell of your breasts rising in rhythm with your pants and your bottom lip bitten raw as he coaxes those incoherent noises out of you with his tongue.

He wraps his lips around your clit then and sucks, causing your hips to stutter and your hands to tighten the death grip you already had on his hair. He grunts at that and the vibrations run up your spine, lighting your nerves on fire.

He’s shifting on his knees before sucking harder, releasing his hold on your thigh to bring a finger up to press against your entrance. He’s barely pushing in, your pussy stretching around him, before the band of pressure in your lower stomach snaps.

Your mind blissfully goes empty, the tension of the day that’s gathered to weigh heavy at the bottom of your spine melting away as your body locks up, your breath catching on a wrecked moan as you grind desperately against Jesse’s face. Your pulse thudding in your ears drowns out the filthy noises of him lapping up your release, the breathy whines you make as your clit becomes too sensitive.

You’re distantly aware of him kissing the soft skin of your thigh before standing, his hands still having to hold you up against the wall as your legs tremble like a newborn faun. He’s wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, not catching all of your wetness as it clings to the entire lower half of his face, and there’s a shit-eating grin spreading across his pink-tinged face.

He licks his lips, catching your gaze, and even though you’re still gasping, you throw your arms around him to pull him in for a kiss.

He goes willingly, eagerly, pushing the length of his body against yours as the taste of yourself on your tongue causes your brain to short-circuit. You don’t even realize he’s still wearing all of his clothes, hasn’t even taken his boots off yet, until the warm press of his cock digs into your bare hip.

“Bed?” You mutter against his lips, teeth clacking together, and you both smile when he nods.

His lips don’t detach from you as he pulls you towards the bedroom, walking backwards with his hands on your ass while he nips sharply at your jawline. You’re giggling the whole time, making sure he doesn’t bump into the wall or the coffee table as the two of you stumble through the living room.

He’s knocking the bedroom door open with his shoulder before pulling his shirt off, toeing off his boots and yanking his pants and boxers down. He’s efficient and quick, already on the bed and hovering over you as you’ve just barely crawled up to the headboard.

He leans in to kiss you again, and again, broad palms coming to knead at your breasts like he can’t get enough of you. His hard cock hangs heavy between you, a drop of sticky precum landing on your belly when you let out a whimper as he thumbs over your nipples. Despite your limbs feeling pliant from your earlier orgasm, you didn’t feel sated, your needy pussy clenching around nothing as evidence of your arousal continues to cling to your inner thighs.

Jesse’s making his way down your chest again, most likely too engrossed to get his mouth on you, when you’re tugging at the hairs at the nape of his neck to grab his attention.

“Need your cock in me already,” you whisper, not even caring if you sounded like you were whining.

He grins, eyes growing darker and his cock twitching. “Yeah? Your poor pussy needs my dick that bad?”

You nod frantically, eyes roaming over him to admire the wide breadth of his shoulders and the translucent scars littering his chest and stomach. “Please.”

He hums, his hand trailing from your chest to your stomach again, groaning when he dips his fingers between your thighs to find how ready you already were for him. “Since you asked so nicely.”

He pushes at your hip until you’re laying on your side, him nestling in right behind you with his hand wrapped around the base of his cock.

It’s not the most ideal position, especially since you always loved being able to witness the way his jaw would drop when he’d push his cock into you or whenever your walls would flutter around him when you came, but it was the best that you had. Any other position put too much pressure on your stomach, making you feel particularly bulky, or caused too much strain for your back.

But it’s been slowly climbing up the list of your favorites, with the warmth of Jesse’s body against your back and the huff of his breath fanning over your nape and causing goosebumps to rise. The protective swing of his arm over you, either wrapping over your chest and his hand ghosting over the base of your throat or over your hip to rub tight circles around your clit.

Your chest feels weightless now as his nose nudges along your neck as he notches the head of his cock at your entrance and wordlessly pushes into you.

The stretch is immediate, your breath catching on a low moan as your pussy adjusts to the girth of him. You’re not sure if it’s from the pregnancy or having already come but you swore you could feel every pulsing vein of his cock, every glide against your fleshy walls as he buries himself until you’re stuffed full of him.

Jesse curses underneath his breath, his mouth brushing against your skin as he wraps his arm around your abdomen and resists immediately fucking into you to let you adjust. His cock twitches inside of you when you let out a breathy exhale, the slight burn already melting into pleasure.

“Fuck…” you moan lowly, your head tilting back.

“That feel good, baby?” He asks, voice rough and low, dripping down the length of your spine. He begins to move, picking up a steady but deep rhythm that leaves you gasping and clutching at the sheets. “Fuck, yeah, your pussy always squeezes me so tight.”

You cry out as he fucks into you harder, his hips slamming against the flesh of your ass and causing your breasts to bounce with each thrust. Jesse groans heavily from behind you, his hand coming up to squeeze one of them.

“No one else can fuck this pretty pussy, fill you up the way I can.”

And that low possessiveness in his voice again, tinged with a hint of jealousy, has you breathless, your entire being washed with affection at the reminder that you do belong to him. You try to weakly grasp at his wrist, but his hand snakes down past your belly, narrowly missing your clit to hook his hand underneath your thigh to bring up.

The position opens you up further, lets his cock fuck into you deeper until he’s hitting that fleshy spot inside of your used cunt that has your toes curling and your jaw slackening.

“Oh fuck—” you gasp, body tightening as he props your thigh open into the crux of his elbow. “Right there.”

He grunts, hips slamming into you unrestrained, his thick cock driving you closer and closer to the edge. “God, you make the prettiest noises, baby.”

He feels impossibly deep with your leg propped open, dragging repeatedly against that spot that has you seeing stars, and it somehow gets you hotter, wetter, because the absolute filthy squelching of your cunt echoes through your bedroom. You rock your hips back into his, meeting his thrusts to try and get more of his cock inside of you. Moans continuously spill out of your mouth, every thought in your brain fizzling out as you just take what he gives you.

You feel that telltale tightening in your gut, your swollen clit almost forgotten until you shakily weave your hand down between your thighs. Your fingers slide along your folds from how slick you were, gasping sharply when you start rubbing tight and desperate circles over your clit.

He can feel your walls flutter around him, causing his hips to falter before driving into you harder. He pants harshly into your ear, “Gonna let me fill up this pussy again? Come inside of you until you’re dripping with me, keep you pregnant?”

You make a choked noise, faintly aware that you could have been drooling on the pillow from Jesse’s cock fucking you speechless. Your cunt clenches around him like a vice, your muscles tightening as you helplessly teeter on the edge of your second orgasm.

“Or I can pull out,” he grunts, maneuvering you until your knee is nearly pressed to your chest as his hand comes to splay out on your belly. “Come all over that pretty stomach?”

You cry out as you come again, your pussy frantically squeezing around him, your hips convulsing as you attempt to close your legs to no avail. Jesse’s arm keeps you spread open, hard cock still fucking into you and drawing it out.

Your thigh is trembling in his hold, your pussy aching and bordering on oversensitivity as you gasp for air. You tilt your head back onto his shoulder, barely able to catch the concentrated furrow in his forehead and the frenzied glint in his eyes as his hips stutter against yours.

He mutters a litany of curses before his face contorts and he grinds into you, spilling and filling you up with every single drop of his come like he promised. His cock twitches with each warm rope painting your insides, causing you to moan shakily as you clench down on him.

Jesse brings your leg down and you’re secretly grateful, your hip and thigh starting to cramp up, and his hand gravitates to your stomach again to spread his fingers out over you. He hums contently, his chest vibrating against your back, as if staking a claim on you.

You were already hot, sweat causing your hair to plaster to your face and the column of your neck, and Jesse’s tendency to run warmer than usual wasn’t helping, but the weight of him over your stomach and the growing bump has you breathing out a sigh. A different kind of warmth settles over you as he kisses at the nape of your neck, transferring the sweat from his upper lip to your skin.

And then he’s teasingly licking a long line up the side of your neck, causing you to squeal and squirm in vain against his hold on you. His half-hard cock is still nestled inside of you and you whimper when you indirectly rut against him, arousal weakly sparking down your spine.

“You are insatiable.” You roll your eyes despite him not being able to see it, but you know your words lacks conviction as soon as you push back into his embrace.

“Takes one to know one,” he mutters into your hair, breathing you in, before slowly pulling out of you and sitting up with a grunt.

He climbs off the bed to retrieve a wet washcloth from the bathroom and you peek one eye open to watch his extremely impressive backside and the dip of his waist. He wipes you down tenderly, apologizing when you flinch away at the cold because your water heater was acting up again, and then nuzzling back behind you.

If you thought you were needy, post-coital Jesse was much, much worse.

You flip over so you were facing him, smiling when you notice he was already seconds away from falling asleep, drool and all. “You know you’re going to have to apologize to Michael tomorrow.”

He groans, face scrunching up cutely in disgust but his eyes remain closed. He knows you’re right; he has a reputation to uphold and all. “As long as he stops looking at you like he’s thinking about bending you over, sure.”

“If it’s a boy, let’s name him Michael.”

“Let’s not.” And then he catches you by surprise, eyes flying open to clamber over you. His mouth over yours tamping down on the shriek you let out as his knee knocks your legs apart, thick fingers dipping past your navel and in between your thighs where you’re already dripping of him.

He immediately swallows your startled moan, your hands flying up to grasp his broad shoulders, and any other name besides the one belonging to the man hovering over you completely flies out of your head.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Stress Relief

Summary: After a recent promotion, Javi has had a lot on his plate. Thankfully, you know just what to do to help him de-stress.

Word Count: 2.8K

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n, post season 3)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (make safe choices pls), oral (m receiving), creampie, size kink (ish?), praise kink, sex as stress relief, Subby, whimpering Javi because giving him a surprise blowjob when you know he's stressed would make him crumble, this is literally porn without a plot WHOOPS

A/N: Shoutout to my job for having a system wide data outage today so I didn't have to work and got to write this instead 🤪 Poor bby cow eyes deserves all the stress relief in the world, and who am I to deny him 🤷🏼‍♀️ Also proud of myself because this is the first thing I've written without an obscene breeding kink in God knows how long, gold stars for me LMAO

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

“You’re still working?” 

“No, I just really like sitting here and going through all this fucking paperwork for fun.” Javi sighed, sarcasm oozing out of his words as he leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

As thankful as Javi was for his much more structured, low risk job at the Laredo Sheriff's Department compared to his time back in Colombia, his recent promotion had put way more on his plate than he had expected. 

Begrudgingly, Javi had been bringing work home with him most nights to make up for what he couldn’t finish in the office, leaving him in an exceptionally sour mood that he was spending his nights finishing paperwork instead of spending time with you. 

“Sorry, I’m not trying to be an asshole, Querida.” Javi huffed, upset with himself that any ounce of him was resorting to taking his frustrations out on you. “I just- I’ve just been really stressed about trying to get all this shit done.” 

“Really? I can’t tell. You don’t seem stressed at all.” You quietly teased, your sarcasm enough to at least crack a small smile out of his pouted frown. 

Pushing the office door open, you softly padded into the room, placing yourself behind Javi’s desk chair and draping your arms around his shoulders, gently resting your chin on his shoulder. His hands reached up to wrap around your arms now resting against his chest, his thumbs rubbing soft circles onto your skin as he let out a heavy sigh, your presence flooding him with at least a little bit of calm amongst the chaos.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” You asked, pecking a soft kiss onto the scratchy stubble of his cheek. 

“No, it’s just some paperwork shit.” 

“You sure?” 

“No, thank you though, Hermosa. I promise I’ll be done soon, baby.” 

Javi assumed his reply and gentle pat to your arm still wrapped around him would have enough to send you back out of his office so he could finish the rest of his work, but as your lips began to slowly travel from his cheek to down his neck and back up to nibble at his ear while your hands slid down his chest, he slowly realized that your offer to help had nothing to do with the actual work he needed to finish. 

“You sure there’s nothing? It sure seems like you could use some stress relief, Javi.” The tone of your voice shifting from sweet and innocent to low and sultry, the whisper of your words dancing in Javi’s ear and fingertips raking lower across his stomach and thighs making his breath hitch in the back of his throat as he realized what kind of “help” you were planning to offer him.

You smirked as you watched the bulge in his slacks begin to stiffen, your hand just grazing along the seam of his crotch while you kissed his neck, sucking at his pulse point and nipping at his skin. You could practically feel Javi melting into his chair at your touch, hoping that your plan would provide your husband with some much needed stress relief. 

“Pobrecito (Poor thing). You’re so tense. And so hard,” You laughed quietly to yourself, hand now cupping the full blown erection in his pants, “You gonna let me help you, baby? Help you get rid of some of this stress?” 

You began to swivel his desk chair to face you, Javi’s lips already parted for his heavy breaths as his hungry gaze met yours. Slowly, you climbed into his lap, your legs straddling over his hips as your hands ran up and down his chest, toying with the buttons of his dress shirt to expose his soft and tanned skin. 

Your mouths met in a hungry clash of tongues and teeth, capturing Javi’s muffled moans as you kissed him with an electric intensity that already had him needily bucking his hips up into you, desperate to ease how painfully hard he was from the few short moments since your proposition. 

Javi could barely find it in his mind to string together a coherent sentence, frantically nodding his head in agreement to your question between sloppy kisses, letting his hands roam down your back until they were grabbing your ass, kneading the plump flesh in his grasp. 

“Use your words, Javi. You want me to take care of you?” You cooed, grinding your hips into his lap as you watched his head tip back against the chair, jaw going slack and mind running blank as you rubbed against the straining fabric of his pants. 

“Fuck. P-Please, baby.” He moaned, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he gulped, trying to use any ounce of composure he could to somehow make words travel from his brain to his mouth. 

“Good boy.” You smirked, placing one last kiss on his lips before climbing off his lap to settle yourself between his legs on the floor, letting your fingers toy with the clasp of his belt buckle until it broke free.

“Fuck me.” Javi whispered to himself under his breath, watching you free his belt to carefully unzip his slacks, lifting his hips just enough to help you pull down his boxers to reveal his aching cock, tip already red and precum weeping from his slit. 

“Maybe if you behave and let me take care of you, then yes.” You teased before letting your kisses trail up his thighs, inching closer and closer to his length, only making him groan more. His hand ran through the dark locks of his thick brown hair, trying to center himself enough to keep from busting right then and there. 

Your hands ran up and down his thighs as you scooted closer to him, kisses trailing behind the gentle graze of your fingertips up towards his length. You couldn’t help but smirk at him with a devilish grin, seeing how needy and worked up he already was without you even touching him yet. 

Letting your lips inch closer and closer to the base of his cock, your hand wrapped carefully around him, your thumb swiping over his tip and collecting the precum that had been leaking from it, sending a shiver down his spine and a low groan in his chest.

Slowly, your kisses made their way up his length, your lips replacing your hand, tenderly licking at sucking at his tip, eliciting a low groan from deep within his chest. “Relax, Javi. Let me take care of you, okay?” You cooed, letting his cock tap against your tongue before licking a long strip from base to tip, the sensation making him shutter. 

“O-kay. Fuck- Yeah, okay, baby.” He managed to stammer out, looking down at you perched between his legs, beginning to sink your mouth down on his length, hollowing out your cheeks until you could feel him hitting the back of your throat, coming back off him with a pop and a satisfied smile, batting your lashes at him. 

Javi’s head hit the back of his chair as you began to repeat the motion, slowly taking the full length of his cock in and out of your mouth, letting his tip graze the back of your throat with each movement.

Letting your tongue drag up his shaft, your lips wrapped around his tip, sucking and flicking at his most sensitive spots. One hand was wrapped around his cock and working in tandem with your mouth, while the other grasped at his bare thigh, fingertips digging into his skin. 

You began to pick up your pace, shifting your hand to cup his balls so you could take him back into your throat, sinking down just enough to let the deep, musky scent of the curls at the base of his shaft tickle your nostrils. 

You couldn’t help but let a small smirk form between your lips as you worked at his cock, seeing and hearing just how wrecked Javi was from the short time that you had gone down on him, quiet whimpers and moans escaping from his lips, followed by muffled whispers of mixed expletives in Spanish and English to himself in any attempt to keep from spilling down your throat just as soon as you had started. 

“Jesus fucking Christ… F-fuck me. You feel- mierda- you feel so good, Hermosa.” Javi managed to stammer out between gasps, looking down at you nestled between his legs with a desperate expression painted across his face, already feeling his balls beginning to tense and stomach start to swirl. 

While you knew it wouldn’t take much more to get Javi to your intended point of stress relief, you selfishly couldn’t deny the fact that you were now also in need of your own relief, feeling the arousal that had been pooling in your underwear, coating the inside of your thighs and forcing you to squeeze them together in attempts to ease your growing ache. 

Pulling off Javi’s cock and planting a soft kiss to his tip, you peered up at him with a devilish grin, phrasing your next proposition as a question, even though you undoubtedly already knew what his answer would be. 

“You wanna cum down my throat, or cum inside me? You choose, handsome.” You cooed, fingertips grazing the inside of his thighs as your kisses trailed behind, teasing Javi to the point you were half convinced he might cum just like this, considering his half coherent babbles as he tried to string together words to form any sort of thought. 

“I-inside. Fuck- Let me cum inside you, please.” He stammered, nodding his head frantically in confirmation of what you already knew would be his answer. 

Gripping your hands around his thighs to push yourself up to stand, you reached down to tug the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, quickly followed by your bra, both now crumpled in a pile on the floor. 

You couldn’t help but let out a little giggle at how Javi was gawking at you and your now bare chest, eyes bulging out of his skull and jaw hitting the floor as if he was a goddamn cartoon and it was the first time he had seen you topless in his entire life. 

Your bottom half slowly followed the same fate as your top, pants and underwear shuffling down your hips and legs until they were pooled around your ankles, leaving you completely naked as you began to crawl back into Javi’s lap. 

You let your legs straddle over his hips, your cunt ghosting over his cock as you placed your hands on his stomach, letting them slide up his chest until they were buried in the thick locks of his dark hair, gripping and tugging his curls while your mouth engulfed his in an electric kiss. 

A soft moan rumbled in your chest as his firm grasp found a home on your hips, his fingers digging into the meat of your stomach, holding on for dear life while he felt you hovering over his length. 

“Please, Hermosa. I need to feel you, baby.” He whispered into your ear, now all but begging for you to sink down onto his cock and let himself get lost in the mesmerizing warmth and wetness of you. 

Reaching below you, you wrapped your hand around his cock, positioning it beneath you to lower yourself down, whimpering at the sweet stretch and sting of his girth, letting his tip kiss your cervix as he filled you with every inch of himself that you could take. For as many times as you had found yourself in this position, you were convinced that you would never get over just how full you felt with Javi inside you, and how breathtakingly incredible it felt. 

Cupping Javi’s strong jaw in your hands, your forehead rested against his as you let your hips start to grind into his, long and languid circles of your lower half, rolling back and forth, burying Javi’s cock deep inside the warm, wet walls of your cunt. 

“Fuck me. Holy fuck.” Javi groaned, his hands snaking up your front to grab your breasts, kneading the soft flesh greedily in his hands. His fingers reached for your pebbled nipples, rolling them between his thumb and index finger, the new sensation sending a jolt of pleasure to your core. 

That, combined with the hairs at the base of Javi’s cock rubbing deliciously on your clit and the way Javi’s cock punched against your g-spot was already making you see stars, vision going white and brain going blank from just how good he felt buried inside you.

Instinctively, you rocked your hips faster, feeling an all too familiar tingle begin to build at the base of your spine. Almost as if Javi could sense the way your cunt was starting to clench around his length, he couldn’t help but buck his hips up into yours, his thrusts filling you in a way that had you absolutely reeling and breathless, the two of you both teetering on the brink of collapse to chase your own highs. 

“You feel, oh shit- you feel so good, Javi. Feel so good inside me. I’m close, baby.” You whimpered, burying your hands in the sweat curled hairs at the nape of his neck, lost in your own pleasure as your stomach swirled faster and faster with arousal. 

You could tell Javi was close, too- The gritting of his teeth, the wild and wanting look in his sweet brown eyes, the sloppy pace of his dick pounding into you and nearly incomprehensible babbles were all the tells you knew far too well to realize he was quickly about to come undone. 

“Yeah? F-fuck, I love being inside you. So fucking wet and tight, holy fuck.” 

You could feel your walls beginning to tighten around him, moaning as you buried your head in the crook of his shoulder, fingernails digging crescent moons into his skin as you braced yourself for the wave that was about to crash through you. 

 “Fuck baby, don’t stop- ahhhh- please don’t stop.”

“I know, baby, I know. Let go for me, Osita. Wanna feel you soak my lap before I fuck you full of me. Gonna cum so deep inside this tight little pussy.” Javi reached down so the pads of his fingers rubbed along your clit as you rolled your hips, sinking yourself deeper onto his cock with each thrust, your vision going white as you could feel yourself come undone. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckkkkkkkk!” You cried out as you felt your orgasm pulse through you, pleasure shooting through your body as you came, clamping down around Javi’s cock and gushing with your arousal, your body melting limp into his as he followed suite. 

“That’s it, baby. I’m gonna- fuck- g-gonna cum too. Fuck me, gonna fill you so full of me you’re- oh shit- gonna be dripping out of me f-for da- Oh fuckkkkkk-” With a final stutter of his hips, Javi thrust up into you, letting the warm rush of his spend coat your walls, milking himself of every last drop before carefully pulling out, letting the rhythmic breathing of your chests rising and falling sync together. 

“Holy fuck.” Javi sighed, kissing your bare shoulder before letting his plush lips peck across your neck and jawline before meeting yours. “I think it worked.” 

“Think what worked?” You asked, still trying to come to in your blissed out state, gently combing your fingers through the sweat ridden curls of Javi’s hair, giggling as he knowingly ghosted his fingers across your stomach, smiling to himself at your ticklish laughter. 

“The stress relief. God, I love you. I’ll never know what the fuck I ever did to deserve you, but I won’t question it. Thank you, baby.” Javi grinned, softly swiping his thumb across your cheek, leaving his other arm to wrap around your waist and pull him closer to his chest. 

“I love you, too, Jav. Glad I could help. Hopefully this was enough motivation to get you through the rest of your work.” 

As you started to scoot yourself off Javi’s lap to clean up the mess of arousal, clothes, and a few scattered papers you had left in your wake, you were taken aback to feel his grip tighten around you, holding you in place. 

“It’s gonna be a long night, because I’m not even close to being done.” Javi smirked, his tongue darting between his lips as his eyes darkened with a hungry gaze. 

“Then you need to let me get off you, you goofball. Last time I checked, your naked wife sitting on your lap isn’t helping anyone to get paperwork done.” You teased, playfully crossing your arms over your chest, tilting your head at Javi in a mix of sass and confusion until a shriek of surprise escaped from your chest as Javi stood up to set you on top of his desk, caging his broad body over yours. 

“Oh I’m done with all of this shit,” He paused, gesturing to his desk before letting his kisses lazily trail down your body until he was on his knees with your legs draped over his shoulders, spreading them open to reveal the swollen and glistening mess still between your thighs, “but there’s not a chance in hell I’m done with you.” 

Taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @purpleprincess75 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[starsinthesky5]

you are in love: fast times and fast nights || joe burrow x reader

description: covering the events of F1 Miami and the Met Gala

a/n: a little standalone smau fic for the series to hold you over while I work on the second part of the grammys/honors fic! p.s. there is no faceclaim for this series. i choose photos based on the aesthetic i am going for. there is a mix of photos & some writing in this one!

universe: you are in love

taglist: (ask to be added): @joeyfranchise @joeyb1989 @joeyburrrow @softburrow @burrowbarbie @yelenasbraid @lovelyburrow @majestic87 @grittysbiggestfan @definitelynotdomanique @burrowswomen @lilfreakjez @fourburrow @ladyluvduv

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📍miami, florida

liked by: joeyb_9, sydneysweeney, f1, taylorswift, sabrinacarpenter, lahjay10_, y/bsf_21, jenfinch_12 and others

tagged: joeyb_9, y/bsf_21, f1, joeandthejuicemiami

y/n_y/ln: you were drivin' the getaway car, we were flyin', but we'd never get far

comments:

joeyb_9: didn't know i owned a juice bar in miami

——— y/n_y/ln: i knew the guy behind the counter looked a little too familiar 🤨

joeyb_9: proving once again i am the best photographer

——— y/n_y/ln: i'm about to kick you off the bed 🧍‍♀️

fan393: JOE AND THE JUICE MENTIONNN. excellent choice y/n

y/bsf_21: baddie baddie shot o'clock 🥂

——— y/n_y/ln: going from playing beer pong in your parents basement at 2 am to drinking espresso martinis in miami. look at us go

fan42: this reputation aesthetic on the feed is eating SO hard

y/bsf_21: thanks @joeyb_9 for returning her to her original lover aka ME

——— joeyb_9: hate to break it to you but...

—————— y/bsf21: is this your version of a hey girly text

sabrinacarpenter: cuties 😘

joeybfanpage: joe in that last pic just barley touching her ankle because he needs to feel her 🥲 boy is GONEEEE

fan2020: patiently waiting for more album crumbs 🍽️

y/nforlife: wait…“we were flyin’, but we’d never get far”??? IS THIS A LYRIC??? new album coded.

f1: paddock royalty 🏎️🏁

fan2: can the season start already i need to see her wag fits so bad

——— fan39: we say this, but watch her pull up in his hoodie and plain black leggings

sydneysweeney: loved seeing you this weekend <3

——— y/n_y/ln: missed you so much

fan22029: this gave me a will to live thanks queen 😍😍😍😍

loverofbridges: every time y/n posts, a queen on pinterest somewhere gets her wings. QUEEN of aesthetics

tatemcrae: glowing.

——— y/n_y/ln: sports car was on loop this weekend

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📍f1 miami

liked by: y/n_y/ln, alomen, samhubbard, ryland_1, quinn_ski, bengals, NFL, killatrav, ybsf_21

tagged: alomen

joeyb_9: Traded playbooks for pit stops in custom @alomen

comments:

alomen: fast times 🏎️

y/n_y/ln: you look like you're wearing my silk pajamas

——— joeyb_9: thanks i know i look good 😁

—————— y/n_y/ln: joe i swear if you don't stop

samhubbard: i blinked and joe turned into a damn model

lahjay_10: what the helly is u wearing

NFL: fastest hands in the league meets fastest wheels off the field

bengals: cartier glasses i ain’t even peak at you

quinn_ski: you know damn well you don’t even like going fast grandpa

——— y/n_y/ln: get him for me quinn 🙂‍↕️

—————— quinn_ski: i gotchuuuuu. why have a porsche if you're not going at least 90 on the highway in it

————————— joeyb_9: unlike you two, i would prefer to live to see the day we build a civilization on mars

fan91: y/n is the luckiest woman on the planet because ?? you're telling me she wakes up to this everyday

fan8282: joe and his wristbands. a lovestory

rulethejungle5: my qb at an F1 race wearing pink silk pajamas. what a time to be alive

fan249.2: 😍😍😍😍😍

y/n_collective: i spy a reputation wristband 👀

fan4857: hot 🤤 (said respectfully because i love y/n)

fan535_: i love seeing him and y/n go at it in the comments LMFAOO

——— fan221: old married couple energy radiating off the screen every time 💘

fan8182: his hair HIS HAIR

y/nlover: i know she freaked when she realized he was growing it out again

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y/n_y/ln via instagram stories

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joeyb_9 via instagram stories

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📍ZZ's Miami

liked by: tmz, y/ncollective, rulethejungle5, jenfinch_12, enews, and 1.3 million others

tagged: y/n_y/ln

gridback_news: She’s back in the fast lane.

Superstar singer-songwriter Y/N Y/LN was spotted last night leaving dinner with friends at hotspot ZZ’s Club in Miami’s Design District. The Grammy winner kept it effortlessly cool in a black long-sleeve leather jacket, black top, and denim shorts, paired with her classic red bottom heeled boots & her 'J' necklace. Styled to perfection, Y/N looked relaxed but radiant as she laughed with friends and slipped into a waiting black SUV around 11:40 p.m.

👀 While out with the girls, sources confirm her boyfriend Joe Burrow wasn’t far—insiders say the NFL quarterback and music icon have been in Miami for a few days ahead of this weekend’s F1 Grand Prix, where they’re expected to attend several events together. It’s Y/N's first time at the Miami GP, and fans are already buzzing about a potential grid walk moment with the couple.

💿 As for what’s next? Whispers around the industry suggest that Y/N has a new single set to drop this Friday, marking her first official release since her double single drop the night of the Grammys. Insiders close to her team say the announcement could come as early as tomorrow morning, with a special rollout to follow.

The insider adds that a major source of her peace and confidence lately has been her relationship with Joe. “They’ve found a really strong rhythm together. He’s her safe place. He gives her space to create but never makes her feel like she’s doing it alone,” they say. “He’s been there for the highs, the low moments, the all-nighters in the studio. He knows this song by heart. It's one of his favorites,”. Y/N is reportedly “happier than ever” and “incredibly proud” of what’s coming. One source tells us, “This song is the one that changed everything. She’s telling her story exactly how she wants to,”.

Keep it here for the latest updates on the queen of cryptic captions and slow burns. 🖤🏁

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y/n_y/ln via instagram stories & via twitter

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💿 now playing: call it what you want (y/n)

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tagged: joeyb_9, jackantonoff

y/n_y/ln: lost film: late november.

my world fell apart more than once. quietly, sometimes publicly. and for a long time, i thought i’d never feel safe in it again. this song came from the version of me who was learning how to rebuild—slowly, softly, and with someone by my side who never once asked me to be anything but myself.

“call it what you want” is about finding peace in the wreckage. it’s about the moment you realize you don’t need to prove your love to anyone. it’s not about grand gestures or fairytales—it’s about trust. about someone who builds a fire when the world goes cold. someone who walks toward you, every time. someone who sees you at your worst and doesn’t flinch.

i wrote this in the quiet. no pressure. no expectations. just a girl in love, healing. just a girl who finally let herself feel safe.

this one means more than i can say. it’s yours now 🤍

comments:

joeyb_9: you did more than one thing right. proud of you always 🤍

fan209: the first photo :(

——— fan665: the SECOND photo :( babiesssss

jackantonoff: this one gutted me. you’re magic. honored to be part of it

fan29: WHY IS A CHAIR ON FIRE LMFAOOOO

——— y/ncollective: is this the fire joe built for her im rotfl 😭

taylorswift: this is so beautiful. watching you step into this chapter has been the greatest joy. love you

fan38: THE BICEP PHOTO? look at the way she's latched on that's HER man y'all

fan22: i want whatever this is

fan000: she had bangs...and we DIDNT GET TO SEE THEM? OH WHEN I CATCH HER EX

——— fan8: and when we lock him in a cage like joe goldberg.

fan9: joe took half of these and i'm saying this with no proof but like i just know

sabrinacarpenter: this made me CRY. you’ve never sounded more like you 🥹🖤

oliviarodrigo: my baby’s fit like a daydream?? you’re insane for that line omg

y/bsf_21: ah, the grown out blonde highlights and bangs era. my favorite.

ryland_1: joe's gonna be unbearable after this. man’s floating rn 😭

quinn_ski: she really said “here’s my entire heart” and walked away. elite drop ma'am

enews: this one is already making history 💿🔥

gridback_news: starry eyes sparkin’ up my darkest night? we’re never recovering

fan383: you’ve survived so much and came out of it with a love like this. you deserve it all 🫶

tourupdatez: she said “he doesn’t own me, he knows me” and i fell to my knees in the middle of the dog food aisle

trevortherevver: 🙌

fan2020: this is the first time in history a qb has been the muse for a lyrical masterpiece. joey b you icon

fan39: “loves me like i’m brand new??? how do i recover from that???

——— fan221: we simply don't

joe&y/nupdates: she made vulnerability sound like a love letter. i’m so proud of her i’m sobbing

loading 43,286 more…

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gridback_news: Spotted: music’s reigning sweetheart and her superstar QB boyfriend trading touchdowns for home runs in the city that never sleeps 🗽❤️

Pop powerhouse Y/N Y/LN and NFL golden boy Joe Burrow were seen getting cozy at the Yankees vs. Reds game last night in New York City—proving that even when they’re technically behind enemy lines, their loyalty (and love) runs deep.

The couple arrived hand-in-hand, both dressed in sleek, head-to-toe black with lowkey nods to Cincinnati—Y/N sporting a worn-in Reds cap over loose waves, and Joe in a vintage Reds bomber with her initials stitched inside the collar (yes, fans zoomed in). We’re told they kept a low profile in a private box, but still managed to steal the show with their trademark blend of lowkey affection and total “main character” energy.

According to eyewitnesses, Y/N was seen leaning her head on Joe’s shoulder between innings, and at one point, the two were caught sharing a kiss behind Joe’s cap when they thought no one was looking. Spoiler alert: we were. 🧢💋

The sighting comes hot on the heels of Y/N’s emotional new single “Call It What You Want”, which dropped last week and has already been dubbed “her most vulnerable work yet.” The timing hasn’t gone unnoticed by fans, many of whom believe the song is a love letter to Joe, with lyrics that reference “building a fire to keep her warm” and wearing his initial “on a chain ‘round her neck”—which, yes, she was also wearing at the game. The 'J' necklace remains undefeated.

And if you think this is the peak of their Big Apple love tour, think again. Word on the street is that the couple is gearing up for their first joint Met Gala appearance this Monday. With Joe making his Met debut and Y/N returning after a two-year hiatus, insiders say the pair have been working closely with major fashion houses for looks that are tailored to them, while also telling a story only they can read 👀✨

Until then, we’ll be over here watching the game footage like it’s a rom-com.

#YN #JoeBurrow #MetGalaRumors #NYCspottings #Reds #Yankees

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📍the mark hotel, new york city

liked by: y/n_y/ln, joeyb_9, y/ncollective, joe&y/nupdates, enews, vogue, jenfinch_12

tagged: y/n_y/ln

versace: Power, polish, and pure Versace.

Y/N wears a custom silk corset gown from the Atelier, structured elegance with signature edge. Paired with opera-length leather gloves, a statement necklace, and the kind of attitude only a true muse can carry.

#VersaceWoman #VersaceAtelier #VersaceAtTheMet

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[VOGUE ON THE MET STEPS — TRANSCRIPT]

Interviewer: Emma Chamberlain

Guests: Y/N Y/LN and Joe Burrow

EMMA: [smiling wide] Ohhh my god, you look insane. Stop. I’m obsessed. Welcome back to the Met, Y/N!

Y/N: [laughs, smoothing her gown] Thank you, Emma! It’s so surreal to be back. I’m kind of trying not to fall on these stairs right now because I forgot how many there were and overestimated the comfort of these heels, but otherwise—I’m great.

EMMA: Totally relate with you, my feet are legit killing me right now [laughs, watches Joe come up the steps] Oh, but at least you have a knight in shining armor to carry you up the stairs! Look who you brought with you! Mr. Joe Burrow himself—welcome to your first Met Gala!

JOE: [grinning, pressing a quick kiss to Y/N's cheek] Thanks, Emma. I’ve been hearing about this for a long while. It’s definitely living up to the hype for sure.

EMMA: You two are matching on the lowest of keys I see. I don’t want to freak out but, Y/N, your eyeshadow and center stone of your necklace are literally the exact color of his suit. Who planned that?

Y/N: [laughs, shooting a look at Joe] It may or may not have been my idea. I told him, “If I’m putting myself through fittings and five-hour glam, you’re coordinating with me in some way,”.

JOE: [nods solemnly] She told me I didn’t have a choice.

Y/N: [teasing] And yet you loved it. He saw the final look and was like, “Wait…I look good,”.

JOE: [shrugs] I mean—she’s not wrong.

EMMA: I love it. Your looks feel very intentional. There’s a softness, but there’s edge, too—what’s the vibe?

Y/N: We wanted something simple and classic, but also uniquely us. It’s all storytelling, but nobody really knows the tale yet. I’ve been kinda calling it the "calm after the storm,".

EMMA: Ooh, I like that. That feels…metaphorical. Is this look...Reputation coded?

Y/N: [smiles coyly] Maybe. You’ll have to wait and see.

EMMA: Speaking of Reputation—Call It What You Want dropped Friday. The internet exploded, like seriously. People are saying it’s your softest and most honest song yet. How does it feel having it out in the world?

Y/N: I’m honestly overwhelmed—in the best way. This era is different. It’s not about spectacle, it’s about what’s real. I wrote this whole project during a time when I was trying to figure out who I am without all the noise. The love, the stillness, the safety I’ve found…I think people are starting to feel that.

EMMA: [glancing at Joe] I feel like I’m looking at part of the inspiration.

Y/N: [glances at Joe too, eyes soft] Yeah. He’s a big part of it. This one song in particular—it’s the heartbeat of the album. It wouldn’t exist without him.

JOE: [clears throat, trying not to smile too hard] I’m just happy to be here.

EMMA: He’s so chill but the entire internet is screaming every time you two breathe in the same vicinity. Do you read the comments?

Y/N: [laughs] Sometimes. I saw someone call us “the most unproblematic it couple” and I was like…wow. That’s the dream.

EMMA: Well, you two look incredible. Have the best night inside, and please give us more music breadcrumbs soon. The people are starving.

Y/N: [grinning] They won’t have to wait long. Let’s just say…I have a few more tricks up my sleeve!

JOE: [smirking] She never stops.

EMMA: And we love her for it!

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liked by: joeyb_9, vogue, y/bsf_21, taylorswift, sabrinacarpenter, lahjay10_, y/bsf2, jjetas2, and others

tagged: versace, metmuseum

y/n_y/ln: i once believed love would be black & white 🖤🤍 thank you for an unforgettable night @metmuseum

comments:

joeyb_9: that’s my girl.

——— y/n_y/ln: always yours 🖤

joeybnation: joe really showed up in the comments like "yeah i know she’s THAT girl"

y/ncollective: i need this look in motion. in 4k. in my dreams.

fan9_92: the queen of the met gala is BACK bitches ANDDDDD she brought her king

huntershafer: we’re not calling this a look anymore. it’s a moment.

y/nlover: HOT. HOTTT 💘

luxurylaw: it’s the drama. the silhouette. the restraint. flawless styling.

taylorswift: the lyric…the look…the power.

——— y/n_y/ln: love you forever 🤍

fan473: OH MY GOD?????? HELLO

donatella_versace: bellissima! my muse forever. you wore it like it was made just for you, because it was. 🤍

fan202: is that caption...more lyrics. Y/N. honey.

fan221: watching the stream and seeing joe lead her up the steps and making sure she doesn't trip is so 🥲

sabrinacarpenter: you ATE this up and left nothing but corset bones y/n_y/ln: and leather gloves xx

y/bsf_21: never letting you live this down btw. i need a warning next time you serve like that.

vogue: a vision in structured silk 👑 met gala royalty.

teehiggins: 🔥👑

lahjay10_: nah this is the move idc idc. lookin' fly yet again 🔥

——— y/n_y/ln: this is why you're my favorite ❤️

—————— teehiggins: yo? i was gone for 2 seconds and you forgot 'bout me?

jjetas2: she said 90s supermodel villain and she meant it

——— y/n_y/ln: the brief was “make them regret breaking up with you in 2017”

theestallion: bitch. i had to zoom in 3x just to process all that glamour.

versace: Pure goddess. The Atelier lives for moments like this.

——— y/n_y/ln: honored to be part of the house 🤍🖤

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📍met museum

💿 now playing: met gala (gunna)

liked by: vogue, y/bsf_21, y/n_y/ln, lahjay10_, samhubbard, quinn_ski, max_w11, ybsf2, jjetas2, jenfinch12, and others

tagged: gucci, metmuseum, getty images

joeyb_9: Met Gala 2025

comments:

y/n_y/ln: great caption joe🧍🏻‍♀️

——— joeyb_9: you were showering okay i was on my own for this one

quinn_ski: bro you look like you just closed a million-dollar deal and walked straight onto the carpet

——— joeyb_9: had to match her energy

y/n_y/ln: 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤 you look goooooodddd

y/ncollective: HAIR? CHAIN? oh I KNOW she is losing her mind right now. well done joseph

samhubbard: tell me you’re in love without telling me you’re in love 😭

——— fan383: nah cause the way he was looking at her the whole time 😭😭😭

fan721: my qb at the met? are pigs flying? did aaron rodgers retire yet?

y/bsf_21: i was NOT ready for met gala boyfriend reveal oh my goddd

fan2383: that soft smile in the first pic? yeah. y/n's goner.

killatrav: 🔥

gucci: 💙

jjetas2: clean as hell sheist. except for them damn shoes

——— lahjay_10: boy you had one job. you was supposed to yank em off his feet

max_w11: joey franchise in gucci??? give the people what they want!!

teehiggins clean. boy is CLEAN.

vogue: a quarterback in custom gucci. a moment.

bengals4ever: this man is in his soft era and i’m here for it. he never would've went to the met if it wasn't for her

joe&y/nupdates: y/n liking this in 0.2 seconds is killing me 😭

rulethejungle5: another new side quest

burrowsource: she was whispering in his ear half the night. he’s GONE.

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joeyb_9 via instagram stories

y/n_y/ln via instagram stories.

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📍casa cipriani, new york city

liked by: tmz, y/ncollective, joe&y/nupdates, jenfinch_12, enews, and 934.1 k others

tagged: y/n_y/ln, joeyb_9

gridback_news: Joe Burrow and Y/N seen leaving the Cartier Jewelry afterparty at Casa Cipriani in NYC last night, and let’s just say, love was louder than the flashbulbs ⚡️

Y/N turned heads in a cream-toned two-piece embroidered with delicate florals, cinched at the waist, and showing just enough skin with a subtle side cutout. She paired the look with a vintage baby blue clutch (some fans ID’d it as archival Prada), her go-to strappy white heels, and soft curls pinned into a low, romantic twist. A Custom Cartier bracelet shimmered on her wrist—rumor has it, a recent gift from Joe.

Joe kept it clean and classic in all-black. A relaxed short-sleeve button-down, tailored slacks, and loafers (a nice change for him)—topping the look with a vintage gold Rolex and subtle chain. And of course, his real accessory? The way he never let go of her hand.

According to one insider, the pair arrived fashionably late (no word as to why 😉), entering through a private side entrance and heading straight to a tucked-away lounge space where they sipped martinis and people-watched from a velvet sofa. “They were whispering, laughing, completely in their own little world,” a source told Gridback. “She adjusted his chain at one point, and he leaned in to kiss her shoulder. It was so soft and natural, not performative at all, even though everyone had their eyes on them. Those two, they were only looking at each other.”

Another partygoer caught them slow-dancing to a surprise jazz set in the back bar room, Joe’s hands resting low on her hips as she tilted her head back and laughed like a little kid at something he whispered in her ear. One blurry but beloved fan-taken clip already has over 1M views with the caption, “This is what love looks like.”

Sources inside also say the night was nothing short of a lovefest for these two. Think sweet kisses in shadowy corners, lingering touches under the dim lights, and whispered words that no bass drop could drown out. Unfazed by the flashbulbs and chaos around them, the lovebirds stayed locked in their own world 💘

🕊️✨ Couple goals, but make it Cartier-certified.

#YN #JoeBurrow #MetGalaAP #NYCspottings #Cartier

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tagged: joeyb_9, y/bsf_21, y/bsf2

y/n_y/ln: holding onto the memories so they can hold onto me 🎞️

comments under this post have been limited:

joeyb_9: holding onto you very tightly

——— y/n_y/ln: oh but I thought you had small hands 🤨

—————— joeyb_9: ...you and me both know that's not true

————————— y/bsf_21: am i interrupting something 🧍🏼‍♀️

————————— y/n_y/ln: joseph lee burrow.

y/bsf_21: you’re so unserious for dropping this and not warning me. you were in your main character with a disposable camera era and i support it fully 🎞️📸

tatemcrae: what camera is this because i NEED

——— y/n_y/ln: olympus om-d e-m10 series <3

jackantonoff: film hits different when it’s curated by a lovesick poet. i said what i said.

sabrinacarpenter: the first pic sent me into cardiac arrest. your grip on the aesthetic girlies is UNREAL.

jenfinch_12: 🤍🤍🤍

lahjay_10: thx for giving me more ammo to tease joe with

——— y/n_y/ln: this is my actual job

oliviarodrigo: love love love this

ryland_1: come to athens soonnnn

——— y/n_y/ln: duhhh. who else is gonna help you & quinn win beer pong against joe, trevor, & max

bengals: 🧡

y/bsf2: the way you’re glowing. like you know he’s obsessed with you or something 😌

——— joeyb_9 because i am obsessed with her

—————— y/bsf_21 : god joe you're such a simp 😪

————————— y/bsf2 : and we love him for it

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y/n_y/ln via instagram close friends stories

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joeyb_9 via instagram stories

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--The End--

[jirsungs]

first halloween... gone wrong? | dms drabble #4

word count: 1.6k words

pairing: drummer!jisung x girlfriend!reader

synopsis: halloween was never your favorite. you would choose christmas over it in a heartbeat, but with your dorky drummer boyfriend who absolutely loves it never leaving your side, you might just tolerate the spooky holiday. (set in the drum me, stupid universe but can be read as a standalone!)

warnings: a knife is mentioned, the dms!couple is flirty and GROSS, but most of this is just fluff.

a/n: HIIII 😭 jirsungs nation, rise! it's been 2 weeks since any story related post has been uploaded, and i just want to deeply apologize for not being here ): i missed writing and putting my delusions down in a google doc. but i hope you guys enjoy this short drum me stupid drabble and missed these cutie patooties as much as i did ☹️ as always, feedback is ALWAYS loved and appreciated! happy reading <3

You were never fond of Halloween. Sure, you loved being able to go all out in costumes and go to Halloween parties with your friends, but you knew immediately that once those plans were over, you were left in your own accompaniment once again.

Some people would be joyful with spending the rest of their nights after parties and such alone, but you? You were used to the party scene and loved it when it never ended. Lucky for you, your dorky boyfriend of a few months, Park Jisung, always kept the party going.

“Hey, have you guys seen Ji?” You asked Ningning and her boyfriend, Jeno, after finally spotting them dancing together on the dance floor. Your voice was louder than usual due to Michael Jackson's Thriller bumping from the party speakers.

“No, we thought he was with you." Ning looks over to Jeno. “I thought he came with you and the guys.”

You both wait for Jeno's reply, but he just shrugs. “He was supposed to, but he was the last one to get ready. If anyone knows where he is, that's Chenle.”

You click your tongue. “I figured. I'm going to keep looking for him. Thanks, guys!”

Ning’s shout of “Good luck!” was the last thing you heard before you committed to walking through the crowd of musty bodies. You were surprised at how many people went all out on their Halloween costumes this year. Your surprise wasn't a bad thing though; if anything, you loved it.

You almost second-guessed your choice of costume. With you and Ning being the only girls in the group, you felt that it was right if the both of you matched. The angel costumes were cute; you were wearing a black tight dress while she wore white, but taking a look at the decided costumes this year, you began to feel basic.

Once you're out of the crowd, you spot Haechan, Mark, and Yeonjun in the corner. You take notice of Yeonjun trying his best to impress some girl while the two boys next to him silently judge, taking occasional sips out of their red solo cups. 

Haechan, in his Pennywise makeup and attire, sees you walking towards them, tilting his head at your costume. “What are you supposed to be? A demonic angel?”

Mark snickers at his friend's comment, which you pout at. “No. I'm just an angel who happens to wear black. And says you, Pennywise, isn't your costume like... super basic?”

Haechan gasps, his hand on his chest for the dramatic effect. Mark rolls his eyes and answers your question instead.

“Every year, the Rockway guys do a group costume. This year, we somehow decided on iconic horror movie killers.” 

“Ahhh… So, that explains your Leatherface mask.”

With a nod of his head, Mark replies with a “Yup.”

You glance back at the party, and the sudden remembrance of why you came up to them in the first place hits you. “Oh! By the way, have you guys seen Jisung? I literally can't find him anywhere.”

Your body physically sulks at their answers, telling you they haven't seen him in a while. With your hope slowly decreasing and the urge to ditch the party increasing, you decide to call him one last time. If he doesn’t answer, you’ll cut the party short and head home, unfortunately finding the comfort of your bed more enjoyable than being here. You loved the company of your friends, but it bummed you out that you haven’t seen your boyfriend all night after him telling you that he’ll be here.

After bidding your goodbyes to the group and giving Jeno the responsibility to get Ning home safely, you make your way to your car. It's late October with the breeze finally coming through, resulting in you rubbing your arms in hopes for warmth. As you walk, your ears pick up on the sounds of your heels clicking against the sidewalk cement until they pick up another pair of footsteps near you. At first, you don’t sweat it, already aware of the scattered groups outside of the frat. 

But as you walk more down towards your car, the shuffling footsteps don’t leave you. Okay, you’ve had enough of this. Your slight irritation was slowly increasing due to this sudden interruption of your plans to waste the rest of your night away by changing out of this angel get-up and watching comfort films.

The only person you craved to see you in this costume was nowhere to be found, anyway. Finally turning around, you face the person but stay near your car for safety reasons.

“Who are you, and why do you keep following me?” You ask.

You didn’t mean to have your words come out sharply, but when you found out your culprit to be someone in a Ghostface costume, it only made you roll your eyes.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but if you’re just here to mess with me, is it okay if you can choose someone else? I really don’t have the energy for this.”

A beat passes and still no response from the person. It was almost as if their feet were stuck in the cement; you were starting to feel chills at the creepy mask staring back at you. But then, your brain starts to put the pieces together.

The replay of what Mark told you earlier back at the party plays in your head. “Every year, the Rockway guys do a group costume. This year, we somehow decided on iconic horror movie killers.” Would it be a coincidence that Jisung, who you haven’t seen all night, just happens to be right in front of you?

Your face softens at the thought of the mysterious Ghostface being your boyfriend. “Ji, baby, if that’s you, I’m going to smack you. Where have you been all night? I called you three times.” 

Still no answer, but now they were slowly walking towards you, revealing what they were holding behind them to be a knife. From where you’re standing, you couldn’t tell if it’s real or a fake replica, but that doesn’t stop your grip on the driver seat handle tightening, ready to pull on it and get the hell out of here. 

But you try one last time. “Okay, quit it. This isn't funny.”

By this point, the wondering thoughts of whether this was Jisung or not cloud your mind. You’re now close to each other, and the Ghostface still hasn’t said anything. 

You know what? Fuck it! You’re not dying today! 

You tug the car door open, ready to rush inside, but the masked John Doe shuts the door before you can. Their gloved hand doesn’t budge on the door, making their body lean against it and impossible for you to get inside.

The fact that they haven’t shoved the knife into your body by now has you suspicious and less frightened, but more agitated. Finally, they remove the mask from their face, revealing— 

“Hi, pretty angel.” 

Your stupid, cheekily smiling boyfriend. 

He has no time to lean in and give you an apologetic kiss on the lips before you smack him on the chest and punch his arm. “You motherfucker!”

“Ow! What the hell was that for?” 

Your eyes squint at him asking you that, resulting in another punch to his arm. “Don’t ‘what the hell was that for’ me! You scared the shit out of me!”

You’re about to smack his chest again, but Jisung’s reflex hits faster than yours. Not giving you another opportunity to hit him, he’s quick to take hold of both of your wrists, which you immediately try to get out of. You hate (love) how strong he’s been getting. With his constant drumming and going to the gym with the guys on the side, it became more and more difficult for you to get out of his grip. 

With your hands unable to move, he takes the chance and plants quick kisses all over your face. Your face flusters quickly with you trying to move away from his lips. He knows he got you when your tugging to get out of his hands stops and you start giggling.

“Ji, stop it!” Your giggles only increase when his kisses do, leading him to drop your hands and place his on your waist instead. 

“I missed you. I’m sorry I didn’t answer; I wanted to keep up the bit of scaring you.” He says after giving you a big cheek kiss and pulling you closer to his chest.

You can’t stop the giddy smile forming on your face. “It’s okay. Just never scare me like that again or I will—” you point your pointy finger on his chest, almost in warning, creating some space between you two, “cut your balls off.” 

But he pays no mind to your threat, smiling down at you like a loser in love. “Yes, ma’am. Never again.”

You encircle your arms around his waist, looking up at him doe-eyed. “Now, can we please go home and watch comfort movies?” 

“Can I first admire how fuckin’ gorgeous you look in this and then go home?”

Oh. You forgot you had this costume on.

Your cheeks heat up at his words. “Language, Park. You could’ve admired this all you wanted earlier if you didn’t leave me alone the whole night.”

He pouts, “Will I at least see this costume some other time, baby?”

"Hmm.” You pretend to think. “I guess, you just have to wait and see.”

“Why wait when I can see it on you tomorrow?” There's a glint in his eyes, and you know it can only mean trouble.

“Easy, drummer boy.”

Little did he know that his almost insulting prank on you sparked an idea in your head. But it’s best to save that for next year, right? 

You guess, with Park Jisung by your side, you wouldn’t mind waiting another year to see what other Halloween pranks he has in store for you.

[azrielbrainrot]

You Take Me Higher

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: What happens when you run into Azriel at a bar after a long mission?

Warnings: Smut, Public Sex

Word Count: 4220

Rating: 18+

Notes: This is basically pwp except it's part of a new universe I'm working on. Still, you can read this as a standalone since there's no actual plot here. I just felt like writing mindless smut since "She Laughs Like You" is so plot heavy. Hope you enjoy <3

Spy!Reader Masterlist

You normally don't come to Rita's, preferring calmer bars to the loud and suffocating club, it's too much of an assault to your senses. But your friends had invited you enough times for you to accept, not wanting to turn them down again. You hadn't seen them in a while after a particularly long mission outside of the Night Court so it was nice to catch up with them even if it meant dealing with the headache that always follows your trips here.

You'd seen the High Lord and his Inner Circle as soon as you arrived. Their commanding presence allowing your eyes to find them immediately among the rest of the club goers. Upon seeing them, seeing him, you almost regretted coming out, not knowing how to act around him outside of work or your escapades and definitely not wanting to do it in front of so many people.

You decide on a simple wave, nodding discreetly at him and the rest of his family, turning your attention back to your now gushing friends after they wave back politely, making sure you didn't linger on his hazel eyes or the unbuttoned silk shirt, keeping up with the “friendly acquaintances” narrative you've crafted for yourselves. Intending on keeping away from him for the rest of the night.

Azriel seemed to have a different idea as he signaled for you to follow him not even an hour later. And, as soon as you excused yourself from your friends and stepped out into the hallway, he grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers and discreetly guiding you through a back door, to a dark alley behind the popular bar. Your back was against the wall and his lips on yours, hands roaming all over your body, before you could even question him or get a good glimpse at him under the moonlight.

“Azriel,” you whine, trying to get his attention away from your neck, where he has been leaving tiny bites followed by soothing open-mouthed kisses, effectively making you lose your mind. Your hand tightens around his collar at a particularly hard bite, one you're sure left the imprint of his sharp canines on your supple skin.

Just when you were about to call out to him once more, thinking he didn't hear you or was choosing to ignore you, the shadowsinger finally lets out a hum against the column of your throat, at last acknowledging you were trying to talk to him.

You swallow before speaking, trying to get rid of the dryness in your mouth. This backfires as it only makes him use his grip on the back of your neck to pull you even closer to him when he feels the movement, and a moan leaves your mouth before you find your words.

“Someone could see us,” you push through the desire steadily building inside you, trying to be the voice of reason, but you barely get the words out as he keeps nibbling on the soft skin of your throat, making you struggle to hold onto your composure.

When he simply lets out another amused hum before continuing to mark up your neck - to the point you're not sure the glamour magic you can use will be enough for covering them up - you tangle your fingers around the strands of dark hair and pull hard, effectively getting his attention. He grunts softly but allows you to move him away from your neck, and you're finally able to meet his eyes for the first time since he's taken you to the alley.

Your heart stalls in your chest when you take him in. Pupils blown out behind half-lidded eyes, the beautiful hazel almost imperceptible in the midst of all the desire. Dark hair messy, falling into his eyes, and shirt half undone from your tight grip on his collar, the illyrian marks you've grown to love peaking through. He was breathing heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly as he took advantage of the break you've given him to catch his breath.

The sight almost makes you forget your protests, brain going numb at the raw hunger reflected on his face. He's always been mesmerizing, you've been caught by his beauty ever since the first time you met him all those decades ago, but in moments like these you sometimes have trouble believing he's even real. He's like a God walking among mortals.

Azriel smirks when he notices your eyes glazing over and your scent deepening with arousal, taking the opportunity and leaning down for another, slower but equally passionate kiss. He's been so focused on your neck that he barely even tasted you since you've been outside. He wants to take his time with you for a moment.

Your mouth opens for him immediately, melting into him and releasing the grip you had on his dark locks in favor of grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you, needing to feel all of him while he explores your mouth.

Eventually, you break the dizzying kiss again, your senses catching up to you in between the desire fogging up the air. He lets out a sound suspiciously similar to a whine and leans his forehead against yours, barely moving a breath away from your lips. Resigned to hear what you have to say before being able to continue indulging in your enticing taste.

“We'll get caught if we stay here,” you whisper, lips brushing against his soft ones with every word.

You needed to keep your head leveled, wanting to avoid getting caught in such a risky position by any of the drunk party goers or, even worse, your High Lord. You don't even let yourself wonder what anyone would think if they found you tangled up with someone who is technically your superior, outside of a bar of all places. You'd both be in a lot of trouble.

“I won't let anyone see us,” he assures, and as the words leave his mouth, the dark shadows always accompanying him start swirling around the both of you, as if corroborating the statement. “I can keep us well hidden.” He finishes the sentence with a chaste peck on your lips and moves back to look into your eyes, searching for any doubts and waiting to see your response. Always so respectful even in the throes of pleasure.

You bite your lip, holding his gaze as you realize what he's implying. It's not that you would consider yourself a prude by any means but you've never done anything like this in public. Well, aside from the first night that started it at all, but the circumstances had been completely different then. Drunk fae could stumble out through the back door at any moment here, it could even be one of your friends or his. There was no anonymity in one of the most popular bars in Velaris. This might be the most irresponsible thing you'd do.

And, as much as that's true, you can't deny the heat spreading in your belly at the suggestion, the wetness pooling between your legs.

Azriel is looking at you like he could eat you whole, and you're more than aware of his abilities, of the delicious pleasure he can bring you. He wouldn't lie to you either, if he promised he'd keep you hidden then you know he will follow through with it. You'd trust him with anything.

Without the danger of really getting caught, what's stopping you from letting this irresistible male have his way with you right here? You'd be a fool to deny him and yourself the pleasure.

Your lips are back on his before you can talk yourself out of it, wrapping your arms fully around his neck and letting him take charge. He gets the message quickly, grabbing your waist and pressing you against him, letting you feel his bulge on your stomach, so close to where you need him most, making you both moan into the kiss.

Azriel has never been anything short of passionate when fucking you, always giving it his all and completely drowning you in mind boggling pleasure, but today he's acting differently. His rough touch is hungrier, greedier, as if he couldn't get enough of you no matter how much he took. It feels like he's untamed in his desire and it just so happens that he desires to have you.

His hands move all over your body, soon finding their way under your dress so he can grab at your thighs and pull you closer. You let yours wander down his chest, taking advantage of the mostly unbuttoned shirt, raking your nails softly over the tan skin.

When he abandons your mouth and starts leaving kisses down your jaw, moving to the slowly healing love bites, you notice the shadows have thoroughly covered you when you try to look around, suddenly aware of the loud music.

They're acting as a protective barrier to the outside world, the same way they hide him when he's in enemy territory fulfilling his Spymaster duties. Any last bit of remaining doubt evaporated with the realization. He's never been caught after all.

You let your head fall back against the brick wall, letting out a breath that soon turns into a moan when he bites into your throat hard at the same time his hand finds your folds, teasing the sensitive skin through the drenched fabric of your panties. Feeling him grin against your skin at the reaction he pulled from you.

“Always so ready for me,” he praises and then licks a stripe up your throat, tilting your head further back to reach your chin and connect your mouths once again. You accept him greedily, grinding down on his hand, needing him to touch you properly.

After all the attention he's been giving you and the thought of trying something new with the enticing male, your underwear is absolutely soaked through and you need him to take responsibility for it already. You feel like you'd been doused with hot oil.

Thankfully, he seems to take pity on you, pushing your panties to the side, moving up and down to gather some wetness before slowly starting to circle your clit in time with each lick of his tongue into your mouth.

He's swallowing the desperate sounds trying to escape past your lips and your nails start to dig into his shoulders, trying to ground yourself somehow. You'd be embarrassed at how close you already were if this wasn't Azriel. Each stroke of his scarred thumb against your sensitive clit was taking you higher.

He stops his movements as if sensing how close you were. You were about to protest when he also breaks the kiss, needing him to keep touching you, but hold your tongue when he pushes your dress up to your waist, exposing your soaked underwear to the cold night air. He curses softly as your scent reaches him.

“Keep this up for me, pretty.” His voice was deeper, rough with pleasure and restraint.

Your body catches up to the order before your mind has the chance to, doing as you're told and holding onto your dress so he can have an unobstructed view of you. He breathes out a “good” without ever taking his eyes off the wet fabric clinging to your folds, the praise and need in his eyes only adding fuel to the fire burning inside you.

Azriel gets down on his knees between your legs, now eye level with your cunt as he pulls the panties right to the side, his other hand reaching up, encouraging you to part your thighs so he can feast on the mouth watering sight in front of him.

You can't help the cocky smirk when he lets out a low groan at the sight. You had bought the white skimpy lace in hopes he'd be taking it off, you just couldn't have predicted it would be happening in a dark alley behind this bar.

He looks up at you then, holding your gaze as he leans closer to your heat, licking you from hole to clit, making a show of moaning at the taste. Your hands move to grab at his hair instantly, letting your mouth fall open in a silent moan as he repeats the action.

Your legs threaten to give out when he starts kissing and sucking, not wasting a single drop of your wetness. His thumb circles your hole as he moves to tongue at your clit, swirling it around once, twice before his finger is filling you up.

He throws one of your thighs over his shoulder, diving into your cunt. Soon adding another finger and pumping both into you, getting you ready for him. You start grinding your hips against his face, chasing his fingers, his mouth, the mind numbing feeling he's giving you. He hums into you, the vibrations making you tremble and let out an embarrassing mewl of his name.

You don't know how he can have this effect on you, this male could probably make you melt into a puddle with a simple look. He pulls away with a harsh suck so he can watch his fingers move in and out of you, can watch the wetness almost dripping down your legs and his wrist, replacing his tongue with a scarred thumb, the rough texture so different from his wet tongue, adding an extra bite to the pleasure.

You only notice your head was thrown back against the wall, eyes closed as you chase your orgasm, when you hear him call your name. Eyes moving down to meet his dark ones again.

“I need you to cum on my fingers so I can fuck you, alright?” You nod, half delirious already, even though he's barely gotten his hands on you. You'd do anything he told you to.

It doesn't take long before a familiar knot starts tightening in your lower belly, your walls clenching around his fingers. He starts nibbling at the soft skin of your thigh, leaving marks similar to the ones decorating your neck and chest. Mumbling sweet praises against your skin, words you can't even focus on with the blood rushing through your ears.

Your orgasm catches you by surprise, making you almost lose your balance as your eyes roll to the back of your head and your mouth opens in a silent scream, hands trying to find purchase on his shoulders and his hair, forgetting about the dress and holding onto his instead. His hand abandons your clit so he can grab onto your waist, helping you stay up.

He keeps his fingers moving slowly as you come down from your high, breathing heavily and letting out soft gasps. As your mind clears up, he leans over to leave one last kiss against your heat before taking his fingers out carefully and standing up. Grabbing your chin so he can kiss you once more, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

You pull away with a tug on his lip. The orgasm only made you hungrier, you wanted to feel him inside you, stretching you out. “I need your cock, Az.”

“So greedy,” he moans, though you can't figure out if disapprovingly or otherwise. He moves one hand to start unbuttoning his pants so he can free his painful erection at last. You follow the movement, saliva gathering in your mouth involuntarily at the tantalizing sight of his hard, leaking cock. He pumps his fist around it, relieving some of the need. You swallow, moving up to meet his gaze when you feel the intensity of his stare.

He's probably thinking the same thing as you. Remembering how his heavy cock feels against your wet tongue, moving down your throat. You see him grab the base of his cock harder, internally debating if he wants to let you suck him off or fuck you. Your cunt clenches at the thought and apparently the sentiment is clear on your face, the desire written there enough for him to make his decision as he grabs onto the back of your thighs, lifting you up against the wall.

The movement has his cock press right against you, feeling the hardness slide across your sensitive heat. You grab hold of him, not resisting giving him one teasing stroke before guiding him to your hole, needing to have him inside you desperately.

Azriel starts pushing in slowly, stretching you out deliciously. It doesn't matter how many times he fucks you, it will always take you by surprise. You've never had anyone fill you up so well, it almost seemed impossible how he even fit inside you sometimes.

He takes his time filling you up, knowing your body well enough to recognize any twinge of discomfort. In this position, it feels like he can go in deeper, the angle hitting every sensitive spot.

When he finally bottoms out, Azriel presses his whole body against yours, holding you up with his own hips and moving one of his hands over your chest so he can tug the front of the dress down and give your neglected breasts some attention as you adjust to him.

You can feel your walls flutter around his cock, moaning out his name when his mouth finds its way over one of your nipples.

Feeling more than ready for him, you push your hips against him, urging him to finally fuck you. He chokes out a breath, taking a vengeful bite at your nipple, as you move yourself on him, pulling his hips back to thrust back into you, feeling you clench around him. His mouth abandons your chest and meets yours again, hands tightening around your waist as his thrusts' rhythm increases.

It's like all the hunger from before comes back tenfold, his grip most likely bruising your skin as the sounds of wet skin slapping against each other fills the alleyway, your moans rising in tempo with each snap of his hips.

Just as you start losing yourself in the pleasure, one of his hands comes up to cover your mouth. You still let out a muffled whine when he slows down to warn you, whispering in your ear, “The barrier the shadows create isn't completely soundproof. You need to be quiet for me.” You whine in response, making him add, “Alright?”

You almost forgot where you were, and that anyone could walk by you at any moment, but in the heat of desire, the fact only makes you wetter, hips moving of their own accord against him, prompting him to pick up the pace.

“You said we wouldn't get caught.” The last thing you want to focus on right now is to keep quiet when he's making you feel so good.

“We won't,” he moves back to look into your eyes, “Unless you want us to.”

Maybe it's the drinks from before or the way his cock throbs inside you, but you almost wish someone would see you, so they would know you're the one this bewitching male chooses to fuck, you're the one making him cum time and time again, it's your name he moans out in pleasure.

The possessive feeling coils around your heart, a feeling you have no right to have. You have no sort of claim over him after all, but luckily he doesn't let your linger in such thoughts, and starts fucking you hard and fast again, effectively pushing all thoughts out of your mind.

“Gods, you feel fucking perfect,” he growls against your ear, making you let out a long muffled moan. He draws his cock out almost completely before slamming back into you, just so he can hear the gasp that still escapes through his fingers, before picking up the pace again, keeping to shallow thrusts.

His hand moves from your mouth eventually, confident you won't scream too loud, or simply not caring if you do anymore. Both of you get lost in the feeling of each other, tongues battling inside your mouth, your hands roaming all over his shoulders, coming up to tangle in his silky hair. Time almost stands still around the two of you as you hide in his shadows, completely separated from the outside world.

You start getting closer, and knowing you won't be able to hold out for much longer but wanting him to finish with you, you move your trembling hand down his back, finding the raised skin where his wings meet his back and tease them over his shirt.

Illyrians are extremely protective of their wings and you know how sensitive they are, so when he let you touch them around their base for the first time, you were more than flattered even though you can't fully run your fingers over the leathery skin yet, and you're almost sure this isn't the most sensitive spot. You know this is a big step for him, considering all the trust issues you've seen him display, so you don't mind being patient.

Your fingers barely make contact before he's growling and his pace falters, nails digging into your skin. You'd caught him off guard, but he recovers too fast, pushing you even harder into the wall and speeding up, fully intent on making you both fall over the edge now.

“I'm so close,” you breathe out, feeling yourself right at the precipice.

“Me too,” his thrusts turn even more erratic, confirming his words. And with another snap of his hips, you're falling over the edge, moaning out his name with no care for who hears it.

He follows you soon after, thrusting deeper and grinding into you, pumping you full of his cum as the both of you ride out the mind numbing orgasms. You don't remember the last time you came so hard, every nerve on your body is alive with pleasure, if it hadn't been for his hold on you, you don't think you would have been able to stay up.

His lips find your pulse point after a bit, leaving soft kisses around as you massage his scalp, watching with amusement as his wings twitch softly. You would stay in this position for the rest of time if you could, everything just falls into place in these soft moments between you two.

Unfortunately, you get a stark reminder of your surroundings when you hear the back door open, the music filtering through it. You tense immediately, suddenly hyper aware of your compromising position. Azriel leans away from your neck to look into your eyes, his serene expression and the way his wings cocoon around both of you calming you down.

Just as he promised, whoever stumbled out of the bar didn't even suspect you were hidden in the shadows, walking out onto the main street as if they were alone. When you don't hear any footsteps anymore, you let your head fall back against the wall, finally relaxing and breathing a soft, “Fuck.”

He watches you for a moment before speaking up. “We need to get out of here. People are starting to leave,” he tells you, a glimpse of amusement behind his words.

You nod in agreement, knowing he's right but, even after your scare, still hesitant to let go of him, reveling in the warmth of his skin against yours and his soft touch for as long as possible.

The longer you've been sleeping together, the harder it is to accept that outside of the bedroom you're nothing more than acquaintances, you wouldn't even call him your friend. Aside from moments like this or the rare occasion of running into him when you're working, you don't see or talk to him at all.

You always find yourself missing him, not only his body. That's something you need to hide from him, the implications would be enough to have him call off this agreement between you. There is no space for feelings in it, both of you made it very clear from the beginning. You should do yourself a favor and end it before the fluttering of your heart morphs into something more dangerous but you can't bring yourself to even consider it.

He pulls out of you gently, none the wiser to the internal conflict raging inside you. Getting you down from his hold and carefully helping you stand on unsteady legs, muscles still spasming faintly. A rag appears through his shadows and he helps you clean yourself up with it before even worrying about himself, making sure your dress falls back into place as well. You were truly playing a losing game with him. How could you not fall for Azriel?

When you're both decent enough, he calls his shadows off and you put up a glamour around yourself, hopefully masking his male scent clinging to your skin.

“I need to find my friends and let them know I'm leaving.” You try to think of excuses, knowing they'll know you're running off with someone but praying they can't figure out who.

He nods at you, looking over your body with an indecipherable look in his eyes as he takes note of his marks disappearing. “I'll wait for you here.”

“What?”

“My family is used to me sneaking off in the middle of outings,” a smirk grows on his face as he adds, “And I'm not done with you quite yet.”

taglist: @tinymarklee

[thehouseofurmotha]

In all honesty, I'm such a fan of the bakugo x aizawas daughter!reader series (if i can all it that)

I'm in NEED of new oneshots basically anything will do

AHH PLEASE TYSM @kitthefanfickat FOR REQUESTING THIS I LITERALLY LOVE ANY EXCUSE TO WRITE DADZAWA <33

Pt. 3 to loud blonde <3 (as for all of them could be read on its own as a standalone one shot.)

Pt. 1, pt. 2

Summery: y/n starts feeling really left out of her father's life, and her loud blonde boyfriend is there to comfort her and fix the pieces of her that have broken.

Warnings: swearing, angst, mommy issues!! Mentions of mental abuse snd neglect,

You loved your father, and you knew how much he did for you. But sometimes you couldn't help but feel left out of his life. Recently he's started spending the little free time he has training a kid in your general studies class.

Hitoshi Shinsou, you've talked to him on more than one occasion. You and him have a very similar personality, and in reality he kind of reminds you of your father. Which is why it makes sense that he took a liking to the kid. But fuck did you feel like shit.

You knew that your father loved you too, and that there wasn't anything that he wouldn't do for you. But you still, couldn't help but feel left out of his world. The world of being a hero, you suppose.

You've never once regretted your decision to not become a hero like your father. Maybe it was from your mother drilling it into your head as a child that hero's are bad, and you should never want to be one.

For the first 5 years of your life you were raised by a mother who simply did not care about you. Maybe she saw to much of your father in you to ever truly love you. She had left your father before you were born, as a child you fantasized about him coming to save you and take you away from your mother. But even as a child, you knew the chances were unlikely as the chances he knew you existed were very slim. Your mother would tell you that, all the time. She would constantly remind you that no one loved you, and nobody was coming to save you.

For a long time you couldn't come to terms with the truth that your mom was an awful person. You wanted to hate her but she was still your mother. No matter how much she neglected and manipulated you.

The day of your 5th birthday, your mother finally snapped. She hadn't been taking care of you in months, you were practically skin and bones. Your hair was in one huge mat.

As a child, most kids were excited for their birthdays. Not you, your birthday just reminded your mother more of 'mistake' she made by not getting rid of you. You woke up and made your way to the kitchen in hopes she would have made herself breakfast and you could steal whatever scraps ended up left.

You were lucky that morning that she did. Or so you thought, she had went to the couch to watch her show while she ate. And you saw this as the perfect opportunity to eat a little bit of the food she had left over, even if you couldn't have much it was better than nothing.

You quietly dragged a chair over to the stove and picked at the extra eggs and bacon lying in a pan. You thought your mother had been preoccupied, but she must have forgotten something, you didn't really know.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" She screamed some how louder than she ever has at you before. You immediately burst into tears stuttering an apology over and over again.

"I was just so hungry mommy I'm so sorry- I- I won't do it again-" She looked at you with burning hatred as you begged for her forgiveness. You didn't understand what you had done to deserve this.

"Get the fuck out of my house." You sob even harder at this. You were just a kid where were you supposed to go.

"Mommy please-" you beg, you don't want to get kicked out. You just wanted her to love you.

"Get out. Now." She was unnaturally calm while saying this. You kept sobbing and sobbing as you stood on your tippy toes to reach the door handle. Suddenly you were no longer in that house, and surrounded by a cold uncaring world.

You don't know how, but you managed to make it to a police station. You knew that these people would help you. You just wanted to be saved, like the people your father helped. Why couldn't he help you.

You push the large doors open, not without struggle though. You see a pretty woman sitting at a desk in front of you with a kind smile.

"Hi honey, where are your parents?" Her comment makes the tears that had previously stopped come back even harder. No body had ever been that gentle with you.

"M-mommy kicked me out-" You sob and hiccup throughout the sentence and the lady gives you a look of pity. She quickly gets up from her desk and wraps you in her warm arms.

"You're safe now sweetie, you're safe." You shove your face into her chest and sob harder. Never having felt such loving touch. "Can you come with me honey? We just need to ask you some questions so we can figure out how to help you."

You look up at her and give her a small nod. You're brought back into an interrogation room, but the kind lady never leaves your side. She sits in the chair next to you asking if you need anything. She offers you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"don't know what that is.." It's hard for you to admit, you really didn't know what anything was. It was a miracle that you had learned how to talk at all.

"It's a very yummy food, and it'll help you feel better." She adds the second part after heading your stomach grumble. You not giving her approval, "I'll be right back honey." She says this as she walks out of the door leaving you alone.

You pull your knees to your chest. You were so scared, you just wanted your mom to love you.

You wake up from the nightmare, if you could even really call it that. It was nothing but the truth, the harsh reality you had to face that your mom had abandoned you.

You hazily make you way out of bed, tears gently falling from your eyes. You make your way straight to your father's bedroom, it's a Saturday so he should still be in bed asleep. But he's not and an overwhelming panic sets onto you. You go and search the rest of the house hoping that he just woke up early today.

As you're searching you find a letter on the kitchen counter, and it reads

'Hi hun,

Left to do some training with Shinsou, I'm not sure when I'll be home. But if you want me to pick up food or anything on the way home just text me. Have a great day.

Love, Dad'

The letter only manages to make you sob harder. You just wanted your father, and he was just with another kid. With this thought, you started to spiral. With the thoughts that your father's going to leave you, just like your mother did. Maybe you should have become a hero, maybe he'd like you better. You start thinking of all the things you could've done wrong, all the things that could make him hate you like she did.

Eventually you start to recognize that you are not in the state of mind to be alone. But texting your father asking him to come home now seems like the scariest thing ever. So you settle on the next best person.

As soon as you had just simply said please he knew something was wrong. You never invited him over without telling your father. You respected your father to much for that.

As to his promise, Katsuki arrived 15 minutes later. He pounded on the door until you opened it; you weren't sure if it was because he was worried, or this was something he would always do if you didn't wait outside for him. But today you simply didn't have the energy.

You walk over the door quietly unlocking it before sitting back on the couch. Your boyfriend obviously hears you unlock it cause he's bursting through the door a second later. He scans the room looking for you and as his eyes land on your disheveled body, with tears still running down your face.

He gently wraps you in his arms, holding you as close as he can. "Talk to me doll what's goin on?" He just wants to know how to help you. The softness in his voice seems to only make you sob harder.

"He- he's gonna leave me- he's gonna leave- I'm not good enough he's gonna leave-" This only left Katsuki with more questions. Who was 'he'? It couldn't be your father would it? What would he have done to make you feel like this, Katsuki thinks he may kill your father if it was him.

"Who baby? I need to know so I can help you, I just want to help you." He gently rubs your back, the soothing motion help you to start sobbing a little less. But in the moment Katsuki thinks that any progress is good progress.

"My- my dad- he's gonna- he's gonna leave me just like she did-" Katsuki's suspicions are confirmed with this. It was about your father, and he could only assume the she was your mother. He knew a little bit of what had happened. He knew that you didn't have contact with your mother, but that was pretty much the extent to what you had told him. He really didn't know what to do, so he texted the one person who might.

"You good sensei? You look even more miserable than normal." Shinsou and Aizawa have always had a sort of playful banter while sparring. And even though they're on a water break they normally keep it going. And when Shinsou noticed that Aizawa was staring at his phone with his brows creased, of course he was gonna do some teasing.

"Sorry to call it quits early, but I have to go kid. Something's going on with my daughter." Aizawa is really panicking internally, wondering what he could have done to upset you. He doesn't know, he thought you had been fine. But obviously not.

"Oh you're all good, I didn't know you had a daughter Sensei." Shinsou was a little taken aback by that comment. Never having heard about this mysterious girl.

"Yeah.. have a good day Shinsou I'll see you Monday morning before classes."

"Alright see you then sensei, thank you." And with that Aizawa gets in his car has fast as he can. Thoughts racing, he just wants to know what's wrong with his daughter. What he did, so he can fix it.

He doesn't want you to feel like he's going to leave you like your mother did. He never would. He definitely speeds a bit on the way back to your guys apartment but honestly, he doesn't care. He just wants to hold his daughter and tell her that everything will be okay.

He quickly arrives at your guys apartment, due to the fact that it's not very far U.A. He rushes up the stairs to get to get to your apartment.

As he opens the door, he's greeted with the sight of you sobbing into Bakugou's chest. The boy looks up at him with a puzzled look on his face. This tells Shouta that he's made no progress figuring out what sparked this.

Quickly he makes his way to you and picks you up out of Bakugou's lap. The boy goes to resist it but he just sends a glare at him and the boy takes the hint. Allowing him to carefully cradle you to his chest, the way he would when you were upset as a child. This action causes you to only sob harder.

"I'm not leaving hun, I'm not going anywhere's. I'm not leaving." He just keeps repeating that he's not leaving you. And this manages to get you calm enough to form semi coherent sentences.

"Msorry- I was just being dramatic- I'm sorry-" you mumble this out with your face shoved into his chest.

"Honey, if you're this upset it's not dramatic I promise. I need you to tell me what's wrong hun, please. Let me fix this." With a sigh he holds you closer, he just wants to make you feel better.

"I just- I had a dream- more a nightmare I guess- of um- the day my mom you know- kicked me out- and then you weren't here.. and you've been spending so much time out of the house. And I know your training Shinsou and he's a nice kid and would make a good hero- but I don't know- I feel like he's taken up the little bit of time that we would spend together- it's stupid but part of me thinks you like him better because he wants to become a hero and I don't.." Once it starts to come out you just couldn't stop. You had told him everything you had been feeling. He looks at you with a look that makes it impossible to tell how he feels.

"I'm so sorry, kid. I should've thought about you would feel about this, but I need you to know nothing you could do could ever make me love you less, or love someone else more. I need you to know that I'm not going to leave you, not ever. I will not abandon you like she did. I promise I'll make extra effort to hang out with you, I'll call out of patrol tonight. Me and you, as well as Bakugou if you would like, can all hang out and have a movie night. Or whatever you want to do, anything to make you feel better. I'm so sorry." You start to cry again, but this time more of relief than anything. You had finally gotten the reassurance from him that you needed.

"Also hun, I don't care about you not becoming a hero, all I want is for you to be happy and do something you love. And I know analysis is that thing."

"Thank you dad.. but you um- you don't have to call out tonight I'll be fine."

"Nah it's alright, I'll just get Hizashi to cover and he'll do it no complaints." This causes you to giggle, you truly do love your father and Hizashi's relationship.

"I love you dad." You say this with a smile on your face looking up at him.

"I love you too kid."

The two of you sit in silence for a while before you're the one who breaks it. "I think that I want to try and contact her.." You whisper this not knowing how your father will feel about this.

"If you think that's what you need to do, then I'll support you 100%." The reassurance that he's not upset at the idea is comforting.

You notice that at some point your boyfriend had left. You figured that he just went outside, to the benches at the front of the building. Because you know that Katsuki would never leave you with out saying bye.

You spend the rest of the night sitting between your two favorite people feeling more content than you had in a while. And even though there was anxiety about trying to talk to your mother, you know that they would get you through it. And that was all the comfort you needed.

Okay so I definitely meant to finish my Shinsou x reader one shot before I finished this, but I got a little carried away when I started- soooo! Anyways I hope you enjoy! Happy reading <3