#curls plus beard

[somedayillbepeterpan]

I would be so FERAL if Colin Bridgerton has a beard on S4

[secretaccountlol]

Loud!Reader x Mark.

This is inspired by this loud!reader by the wonderful and lovely : Nympheagaina

This is SMUT, 18+ only.

Synopsis: you’re quiet during sex, not because your boyfriend isn’t good, just wasn’t in your nature until now.

Words : 2,710!

Warning? : Soft!dom Mark x Sub! reader, sex toys, Mark does pin the readers hands, Reader has female body parts.

Uhmm proofread by my dyslexia ass plz don’t yell at me for typos! I always love readin’ yall comments and reposts!

Author note feel free to skippp :

Oh my god bro, I’m so rusty on writing and I was having such a hard time trying write mark “dom” - like because I just think he would show more thru actions then words .. also don’t think he’d ever be a “hard” Dom, always a soft Dom at that, coaching you thru it, or talking you thru it but also getting choked up as well? Yeah.. I love man whose crying while topping lol. Anyways enjoy.

Supple skin collided with his ears, your thighs flinched as his slippery tongue glided over your clit, one of your hands bury into his head, soft hair tickling between your fingers. 

Strings of salvia still connect you and Mark as he pulls away from your cunt. 

“H—hey?” Mark’s voice calls to you soft hums slip through your lips.

“H-hm?” your eyelashes are heavy as you stare at him, hazy.

“Am I good-?” He thumbs your clit, hiccuping a gasp from you, his brows tense as he watches your reaction.

“I-hm? Mark.. What do you mean?” Your spine crunches as you prop yourself up, head tilts to hold his gaze.

“Well- uh, you never y‘know moan when I go down on O-or even when I’m— fuckin’ you..” His fingers scratch his non-existent beard, his pouty pink lips make your fingers flex instinctively.

Your pupils shine in regret as you slide your hand under his chin, your thumb strokes his cheek. 

“Aw Mark, baby no you—you’re wonderful, I’m just — quiet..” your lips chap as teeth bite into your flesh. 

“Quiet?” 

“Yeah— I just…” heat builds up in your cheeks, as your voice squeaks.

“We’ve been together for a year now— you can tell me if I’m not good! I can improve, I promise!“ Mark’s pleads reel in your heart.

“ Aw, Mark, no honey. ‘m sorry I’m so used to being quiet after years of living with roommates and stuff, and I was like— using a dildo or vibrator so.” your body shifts as you bite your lips once more. 

“I— you’re the first person I’ve been with so, I’m still learning too. ‘m sorry again.” 

“Nononoo— I’m glad you told me, I’m just happy to know my stroke game isn’t weak.” A grin peeked through his mouth as you giggled at his stupidity, you planted a soft kiss on his toothy grin. Mark’s grin turns inquisitive as he hovers at you. 

“Hey, can— we try something?” 

“Depends? What do you wanna try?” Your brows furrow.

“Where’s the toy chest?”   

“I— Mark..?”

“Come on, Just— indulge me, hm?” 

Your hands pat his arms before motioning your head down, “U—Under the bed.” 

“Thank you” his body slinks off you, tentative hands slide the box from its hiding place. Eyes scanning your choice of toys, your body trembling as you watch him judge.

“Hey, why are you so nervous?” His hand caresses yours, snapping you out of your trace.

“It's just me, your lovable boyfriend.” He flashes another smile, disarming you, just a tad.

“Well, my lovable boyfriend won’t tell me what he's about to do plus- I— god. It’s embarrassing watching you fondle my toys!” Your butt wiggles against the bed as he giggles. 

“Oh, you mean like this?”

 Your hands slap over your eyes as his eyebrows wiggle, picking up a soft pink dildo, fingers sliding up and down its shaft.

“Yes! Like that!” Your back flew down to the bed, curling on your side away from your boyfriend. 

“I’ve never seen you this shy before, this is new.” He straddles you, turning your hips flat. 

Your hands pry off your pretty face as his breath ghosts against your ear, “I— I kinda like it.” 

“Maaarkkk! Plea—hn” A soft lick placed upon the shell of your ear ruptures a shiver down your spine.

“That was a pretty noise.“ Mark plants a kiss on your cheek, nuzzling your nose as he plants another on your lips.

“Yeah. A small one.” Your arms cross and an unimpressive frown adorns your face. 

“See, that’s what we’re gonna work on today, using your words— or uh, noises” 

You giggle at his shifts of confidence, “Hm, okay Mister. Make me scream then.” Your grin sent a surge down Mark's nervous system. 

 “Oh, you just fucked up biiig time.” His hands find your waist.

“Really? Did I noOW-!” You yelp as his hand yanks your ankle as he pulls your legs up, cold air hits your pussy as he watches your legs crack wide open, hands grip the back of your thigh. 

“Mark!” 

His saliva glistens against your pussy as languishing licks start assaulting your clit.

 “Mar-nnhn” your fingers grip your arms as your head tilts back. A whimper escapes as Mark plants more kisses upon your clit. 

“Mark- please your—“A sharp moan threatens to bubble your mouth, and a pleased hum escapes Mark. Nimble fingers circle your hole before one eases into your aching hole.

“Maa-holy shit.”

“Think you can handle another one?” It wasn't really a question, just an attempt to get you to speak.

“Yesyesyeyyes please-“ 

Torture wasn’t a good enough word to describe what was happening to you, your mind clouded your skin was running hot, too much, and not enough stimulation. A delicate huff falls from your mouth as his second finger stretches your cunt out. 

“Feel nice? Wan’ another?”

A high-pitched whine leaves your mouth as you nod rapidly. 

“You have to tell me what you want, I won’t know

If you don’t tell me..” He whispers your name at the end, earning another whine. 

“mor—!”

“Good..good you’re doing good! Keep talkin’ just like that.” 

“Pleaase!”

Your back arches off the bed as his third finger enters you, and your head throws back as your lips press into a thin line suppressing another moan.

“Oh go-“ you hiccup cut off with another whine. 

“You’re so wet, baby..”

The heat and pressure bubbles from the depths of the soul as Mark’s fingers pump in and out, “m— hnm, Mark! I—I can’t!”

“Can’t what?” His thumb rubs harsher circles on your clit as you buck up.

“ ‘m cu— oh—! “ your hands leave a bruising grip, as the world fades white and your hearing turns fuzzy.

Mark’s fingers slowly pump as you come down from your high.

“You.. okay?” His digits pull from your body slowly as you whine from the loss. 

“ ‘m great..that was— that was good.” 

“Really?”  

A happy sigh vacates you, as you lean to scratch his soft hair. 

“Yes, really good baby, thank you.” 

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Your hands slide to his cheek, as your brow furrows. “Mm, round two already?” 

“Mm, yeah haven’t made you scream yet.” 

Soft kisses elicit humming noises as hands roam against silky skin.

Mark’s velvety voice calls your name, “ Can I put it in?” 

You giggle as you nod, “It fuckin’ kills me with how sweet you are.” you press more kisses on his nose as he trails kisses down your tummy. 

His tip brushes against your clit, covering his cock with your arousal.

“Stoppp teasin’”

“Impatient.” 

Frustration peaks from you, “Shut u—!”

 Mark’s cock stretches your cunt as you watch your face twist in pleasure, mouth in a silent ‘o’.

“Cute..” His fingers rub circles on your hips, gripping them, pulling you flush against himself. 

Your knitted eyebrows relax as he draws back before slamming back into your hole, your hands fly to your mouth muffling your sounds.

“You moaned.”

You heaved before letting your fingers tighten then release from your mouth. 

“Uh- yeah, I’ve been moaning this entire time, Mark!” 

Mark smirks, like a full-blown grin, “no no no noo! You full-blooded moan— no little whimpers or whines. You moaned.”

“Wha— yeah! That’s what happens when you feel good!”

“Mmm—, I wann’ hear more please?” he captures your lips before slamming back into you, your breath hitches as you try to move your hands back to your mouth. 

Mark’s hands catch yours, his fingers intertwining before pinning them to the bed, his eyes hang low as he pulls back to look at his work. 

“Nuh-uh..Not this time!” A touching kiss was placed on your tender skin as your body wiggled under his body.

“Mar—!” your eyes flutter as the sound starts to rise from your pit.

“Pleas—“Another slam of his hips into yours makes you choke out a sob. 

“Co-come on, fuck—..hhn..” 

“I- I can’t— “ Heavy pants fill the room as Mark pounds into you harder.

“You— fuck… you can do it, baby? Plea-please for me? Please? Hhn—“ his hands release yours, both softly gripping your face. His hands steady your face as his eyes burrow into yours. 

Soft pink lips seeping soft breath against your breath as you stare back. 

“Please— I—I’m gonna lose my min— ah!” 

You see stars as your hands slide over his as your head tilts back. 

A beautiful cry of intoxicating velvet silky sound caresses Mark’s ears, a falter into a stutter, his eyes widen before they turn low in a sultry stare, his hands slip from your face to your hips as he leans back on his knees to take in your body. 

“Holy fuck..”

“Hu-? Mark why'd yo— HHN!” Your wrist shoved together held in place by one of Mark’s hands as his hips piston into you. 

“Oh- fuckfuck—! You so-sound so so good..fuck please I wann’ — wann’ hear m— hhn” Mark’s teeth graze your neck as his pink lips latch on, your body shudders as he sucks a purple bruise onto your neck. 

“Ma— ahhn! Plea— “ Your words seep in and our broken streams as you stir against the hold your boyfriend has on your wrist.

“You look, ah-  so fucking beautiful right now, oh god.” Mark whimpers as his hips snap into you, causing another burst of moans. 

“Yesyesyes— please..gimm’ mor—“ Mark’s whines cloud your ears as your eyes flicker as your mouth hangs open another moan rips through your throat. 

“M— I’m —“ 

“Yes, yes—  giveittome, please please—“ Mark’s buzz through your body as your head tilts back as your walls clench, “ohfuck—“

Your hands tighten into a fist as his seed spills into you. 

He milks himself through your high as your moans die down to soft whimpers again.

“Another round?” 

“M..Mark, god! I—.. Jesus just caught my breath!” Exasperated sighs hummed from your throat. 

“Please?“ Mark's brows furrowed, his face was more akin to a puppy than a human, his hands clasped together in a prayer hand. 

“Marrrkk…”

“Y-you just sounded so good, please, pretty please? I jus-just wann’ hear it again. Just one more round.” 

“One more round.” 

“One more r—“ your breath hitches as his dick swells in you again. 

“Damn your stupid vil—“

Vision grows spotty as his cock thrusts into your g-spot, his fingers dig delicate delight bruises into your hips as your sobs echo throughout your apartment. 

A loud knock freezes both of your movements. Mark’s eyes glance to yours, fingers pressed into an “Shh” as he pulled out of you, throwing on your pink robe that was hung on the door. 

You gather all the covers to your chest as you try to peek through the door, hearing persons mutter then Mark’s trademark embarrassed laughter, then your door groaning shut. 

His face comes back into your view, his face flustered as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“What was that about?” 

“Uhh— haha, your neighbor.. was worried about you— I explained we were ..uhm in an.. intense— ‘workout’ asked for us to be.. lil quieter with our ‘workout’. Also, she asked for the workout plan, so you’ll have to send that to her.” his shoulders shrug off your robe, putting it back on your door rack before shuffling onto the bed again. 

“Oh my god” your face buried into your covers, “I’ll never ever be able to look her in the eye.” 

Marks lips grace the top of your head before, tackling you back down to the bed.

“I mean, she was worried! I think that’s sweet.” His nose bury into your neck, inhaling your scent, then soft kisses peppering your skin.

“Just means we’ll have to be a tiny bit quieter.” 

“Wha- Mark!”  A wonderful hum slips through your lips as his finger rubs circles against your pearl. 

“You’re still soaked..”

“Mark, ahh-..” a whimper eggs him on as he watches your face twitch.

“Mark—“ your back arches as a sudden buzz assaults your clit, your hand searches for Mark’s wrist as he pressed the vibrator harder against your sensitive parts. 

“Oh— ! Markkk- ho-how’d Wher—?” Your hands slap his arm feebly. 

“Mm, when I put your robe back, I saw your toy chest in the corner,  I totally forgot I had wanted to use a toy on you. “ 

Another groan of frustration and desire slams out of you, “Please, show me more. I love hearing you like this.”

Your ears flicker between the buzzing between your thighs and his words as your body convulses in pleasure another shaking orgasm,

“Thatsss’ it, fall apart for me, please for me. baby?” Your hands clung to him like air, your sobs hiccuped through your throat as his vibrator still attacked your sweet spot.

A hazy waft over you as your body hums, breath swallows as you feel a familiar sensation of his cock.

“Ma..Ah!” Nothing prepares Mark for the blistering  harmonious moans that danced from your mouth as his cock buries into you.

“Good baby..Fuuckkkk, you’re perfect.” His thumb finds your clit as your back lifts. 

“I— can’t-!” 

“You can— fuck.. you can take me—“ 

His thumb applies delicious pressure to your knob, tears brim at your eyes as another yelp releases. “God, baby— I’ll have— mm!” Mark’s breath halts, “You don’t want your neighbor to—mm— come back right?”

Your head shakes as you whimper, “Noo..nonono— fee— good” 

“I know, I know. Can’t be — ahh.. Too loud, an-anymore” 

“I.. I- can’t! S’its too much-“ Your legs wrap around his waist as you sob his name more and more. 

“Mm, t—too much but you're wrappin’ your legs around me?” Mark’s chuckle sends another high-pitched wail from your mouth. 

“If y-fuck..! If you keep bein’ so deliciously l—loud I’ll have to gag you,” baby.” 

 “Can’t— s’quiet- Ma—“ your legs shake as another plays on the horizon. 

“S’loud- I’m—“ 

Mark’s fingers stuff themselves into your mouth, your tongue sluggishly engulfing his digits.  

Mark’s eyes burn with ferocious appetite, his hips stammer to a stop as he ogles your lewd display. 

“You really want to fuck the shit out of you, that’s the way to do it.” 

“Pleas-uh— ‘arder” Your head lifts to take his fingers deeper into your mouth, gagging on them before pulling away, “Mo—mooruh—pleas—“

“God” a stroke of his cock makes your head throw back Again, tears fall against the creaking bed, “W-who am I  to den— deny you that pleasure, hm?” 

More choked sobs are muffled through fingers as Mark’s punishing pace ruins you further, his breath ghosts the shell of your ear, nipping it with his teeth,

 “I hope you aren’t doin’ anything to—mmm—orrow, because I don’ think I’ll be able to s—stop tonight.” 

Another plea of mercy from you ignites to Mark’s dick. 

The sounds of your sloppy cunt drenches the room as your arousal pools on the bed sheets, your legs and Mark’s member sticky with endless sexual fluid. 

“Just one mor— gimmie one mor—“

It’s filthy, only whines and pants as you come again. Your mind is gone, filled with Mark and his cock, how it feels as release inside you finally, your tears have run dry. You can’t remember how many times he came in you, or how many times you’ve come either. 

“Maru—fuh” 

Mark's fingers leave your mouth with a pop, “Shh, I got you.” 

Open-mouth kisses decorate your face as you faintly as your chest rises and falls. 

“I’m gonna run a bath, okay?“

You hum in response.

“ ‘m sleepy..”

“I know, I’m sorry”

“You… owe me a massage tomorrow— imm’ be so soooree”

“I promise one massage coming up” 

——

A few weeks later. 

“Hey, You!” Your neighbor bumps your shoulder gently as you head up the stairs. 

“Oh! Hi Julie, long time no see!” 

“I know! Listen, I need your workout plan! You’ve been lookin’ sooo good lately, like glowing’ and I, sooo need that in my life right now. Oh and do you need a partner for it? I know you and your boyfriend usually do it together. I always know when he comes over now since the walls are sooo thin haha!” 

“I—“ your mind blanks, “Uh— I’ll send you the workout video!” 

You scurry to your door as you give a quick wave goodbye. 

Now, that was mortifying.

[riddlesbunny]

bad idea, right?

summary: A night of drinking with your friends lands you at your ex boyfriend’s apartment — which is ultimately a bad idea.

pairing: Modern!Aemond x Ex girlfriend!Reader

word count: 3k

warnings: Explicit smut, alcohol consumption, angst, brief mention of drug use, language, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, creampie, Aemond is a fuckboy. 18+ MDNI

note: idk how I feel about this but Modern!Aemond is my weakness, and the grwm of Ewan ruined my life. Feedback is appreciated! Feel free to send me requests!

If someone were to ask you your own personal example of girlhood your answer would be simple: getting ready for a night out with your girlfriends. While going out and partying with your friends was fun, you considered the act of getting ready together art in itself.

It was tradition, a ritual. Filled with laughter, inside jokes, excitement, and anticipation.

Glitter, hairspray, memories. It was your time to bond and let go of everyday stress.

And that’s where you found yourself right now: sat in front of your best friend’s vanity, large curlers in your hair. The sweet smell of vanilla coming from Rhaena’s birthday cake scented candle filling the room.

Six months had passed since your breakup with Aemond and the twins had declared that you had spent more than enough time moping. It was time to get you back out in the world.

“I’m so happy that us girls are going out tonight,” Baela said as she finished up applying her mascara.

You involuntarily scoffed at her comment.

“What?” She questioned, glaring at you.

“It’s not like it’s just us,” you say matter of factly.

“Oh, come on! You know Jace is basically one of us!”

She wasn’t wrong. If you had to pick a guy to be in your friend group, it would be Jace Velaryon. He was easy to talk to, kind, considerate. A breath of fresh air from what you were used to. You understood why Baela was into him. Plus, he donned a beautiful set of chocolate colored curls matched with an adorable, toothy, grin.

“Do not beat around the bush, Bae!” You admonished, “I know Cregan will be there too.”

Cregan Stark was Jace’s best friend. A rugged guy from the North. He had a thick beard and piercing gray-blue eyes. He had quiet confidence, basically a big teddy bear. There was no denying he was rather handsome. It’s not that you would be opposed to sleeping with him, per say, you just weren’t sure if you were ready yet; although Baela begged to differ.

Once the three of you were all ready to go and the Uber was on it’s way, Baela pulled you to the side.

“Look,” she began, holding each of your hands in hers, “I know you're nervous. You’ve been through a lot and it can be hard to put yourself back out there — but you deserve this. Aemond’s out living his life, you have to live yours! It’s going to be fine! You look incredible, we are going to have a great time.”

Baela, as usual, was right. You were enjoying yourself. You were now on your third drink, tapping your finger nails on the glass as you half heartedly listened to Cregan tell an embarrassing story about Jace from when the two of them were in high school when you felt your phone vibrate.

A text from an unknown number flashed against your screen, paying no mind to it you opened it immediately. Your stomach dropped.

Hey… it’s Aemond.

You swore that men had some kind of radar that would let them know when a woman was finally happy without them. When that radar went off, only then was it that they decided to try to contact you again. Not during the months where your heart was left in ruin, not when you would do anything for answers. Only once you were healing, on the brink of reaching that light at the end of the tunnel; they weaseled their way into your life once more to ruin everything — and Aemond was right on schedule.

It had been months since he last contacted you, you felt as though your stomach was gonna fall out, your nervous system in a frenzy.

You could not let him ruin your fun.

“Let’s take a shot of something,” you suggested.

And then your phone buzzed again.

I know it’s been awhile, but I wanted to see how you’re doing?

Been awhile? That’s the understatement of the year. He didn’t care how you were doing when he broke up with you over a text. He didn’t care when the rumor of him sleeping with a professor spread around campus, humiliating you.

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.

Relief washed over you once you saw Baela return with 5 shots of Tequila in hand.

“Heard this makes your clothes come off,” she said as she handed you the shot glass, shooting a wink over to Cregan. You downed the shot quickly, ignoring her comment. The liquid burned down your throat as it settled into your stomach.

Slamming the shot glass onto the table, your head spun and you could’ve sworn you felt your phone vibrate again. You needed air.

“I’ll be right back, I need a cigarette.”

“I’ll come with you!” Rhaena chirped.

“No!” You shouted, almost too enthusiastically.

“No, that’s okay. I know you hate the smell of smoke, Rhae. I’ll just be a minute.”

With that, you frantically made your way to the patio of the bar. Just as you lit your cigarette a familiar voice called out to you.

“Ohhh shit! I knew that was you!”

Now you were sure that the universe was certainly conspiring against you. It was none other than Aegon Targaryen. Aemond’s drunken, perverted, older brother. Wonderful.

Turning on your heel abruptly and puffing smoke out of your nostrils you gave him a reluctant wave.

“Hi, Aeg.”

“How are you?” He asked, wrapping his arms tightly around you, “how have you been?”

Not sure if it was the liquid courage or the need for someone else to witness the audacity of your ex, but you just shoved your phone into his chest, eyes glued to him as he scrolled through the messages with his eyebrows raised.

“Damn, I never would have thought Aemond to be the type to beg!” he laughed as you shot him a look of disapproval.

“Listen,” he said before taking a long drag of his own cigarette, “Aemond means well. He was pretty shaken up after you guys broke up.”

Yeah, right. What was there for him to be shaken up about? He broke up with you.

“And if you ask me,” he continued through puffs of his cigarette, “you’re the best thing that ever happened to him.”

“Isn’t he seeing someone like, twice our age?”

“Not anymore.”

A pregnant pause filled the air between the two of you as he handed you your phone back.

The conversation was becoming awkward, so Aegon tried to comfort you the only way he knew how.

“I know you’re stressed and all… do you, uhhh, want a bump?”

His question took you by surprise.

“A bump? Um, I’m good, Aeg.. thanks.”

The blonde lifted his hands up in defeat.

“Good call, if you do go see Aemond, I doubt he would be happy about that.”

“I’m not going to see Aemond,” you answer flatly, hitting his arm lightly.

“Well, whatever or whoever you decide to do tonight I wish you luck!” he smirked, “but, I know our mom would be thrilled if you started to come around again.”

“She misses me?” you blurted out, the desperation clear in your voice.

“Yeah,” Aegon shrugged, “we all do.” He smiled as his large palm patted against your back before he made his way back inside the bar.

You stood in silence as you finished your cigarette, unsure of what to do when you received yet another text from Aemond. You responded with the first thing that came to your mind.

Have you been drinking?

No. Come over. I want to see you.

Your phone buzzed again, but this time it was a picture. A photo of his cat Vhagar. The elderly feline was sprawled out across his leather couch, the caption reading: “she misses you too.”

She did not. She only ever liked Aemond.

Well, I’ve been drinking so… can’t drive.

Where are you? I’ll come get you.

No. He couldn’t. You couldn’t risk Baela seeing, she would kill you.

Nah. That’s okay.

God, this conversation was going nowhere. Why were you entertaining him anyway?

Let me get you an Uber.

Buzz.

Please.

Gods, he was pushy.

Fine 🫠

Once you found yourself back inside the bar, you decided to use that last shot of tequila as your reason to leave. You had said something along the lines of the mixture of liquors wasn’t agreeing with you and that you were gonna head out. The girls were disappointed, but they understood. Baela’s only condition is that you were sure to text her once you were home safe. You bid Jace and Cregan goodbye, and even agreed to go out for drinks with them again in the upcoming week.

As you sat in the backseat of the Uber, your palms filled with sweat and your heart raced as you made your way to the other side of the city to Aemond’s new apartment. You couldn’t help but feel nervous, wondering how he might react and if this was the right decision. Your mind raced with thoughts and emotions, but you tried to stay composed as you you pulled up to the building.

Aemond was waiting outside the apartment complex for you. His expression was unreadable as he puffed on the last few drags of a cigarette, quickly flicking it to the ground and stomping it out so he could make his way over to you.

“Hey,” he greeted, offering a shy smile before extending his arms out to hug you. “I’m glad you decided to come.”

His scent alone was intoxicating. A mixture of nicotine, spearmint toothpaste and musky cologne. Being in his embrace again had your head spinning, you felt as if your heart was going to beat out of your chest. It was almost as if the two of you never parted ways, like he never left. Damn him, you thought to yourself .

“Well, this is my new place,” he said as he opened the door to the lavish apartment. It was absolutely was stunning. Beautiful, mahogany cabinets and stainless steel appliances. The living room was spacious with high ceilings and a giant window that had an incredible view of the city. It was very Aemond-esque. It felt familiar, safe.

You spotted Vhagar on the dark green velvet couch in the center of the room.

You watched carefully as one of her eyes opened, she rose from her spot almost instantly once she spotted you. Making a beeline to Aemond’s bedroom.

“I thought you said she missed me?” you asked playfully.

"I may have lied," Aemond replied, giving you a shy smile.

An hour had gone by and you had spent the majority of it arguing with Aemond about your past. You listened to him attempt to apologize, explaining that it wasn’t you, it was him. He made a mistake, he’s changed. You weren’t having it, and yet, in the midst of it all, you had found yourself sitting so close to him you were almost on top of him. Mid sentence he had crashed his lips against yours. A rude interruption, for sure — but now, all bets were off.

The kiss was rough and intoxicating, a clash of teeth and tongue. He grazed your bottom lip with his teeth before sucking it into his mouth. Your head spun.

"More," you whispered against his lips, "I need more of you."

Aemond took no time to pick you up and carry you to his bedroom, as he placed you down on his bed gently. You feel his hands tearing off your clothes, striping you down to your underwear. Your heart raced with anticipation and desire. The intensity of his touch sent shivers down your spine. He lowered himself on top of you, reaching his arm up over his shoulder to remove his own shirt.

As he leant back down over you, his tongue trailed from your chin to your lips. A soft moan escaped your throat as he sucked on your lips, taking control of the kiss.

Arousal stirred inside you as he nipped down at your neck, licking and sucking until you arched your back under him, desperate for his touch.

“Missed me baby?” he teased, “because I sure missed you”, his violet eye scanned over your body, blown with lust as he made his way down. His slim fingers ghosted along your stomach, then gripped harshly onto the meaty flesh of your thigh. Your legs parted, letting him know what you wanted. He didn't hesitate, pulling your underwear off with one swoop. Leaving you completely bare in front of him.

“I missed this pretty little pussy too, fuck,” he groaned before biting at your thighs just before lowering his head between them, licking a stripe up your slit. You bucked under him, pushing him harder against you, driving his face deeper into your center.

A low groan left your throat, his name falling from your lips as you tugged at his silver hair and held his face against you. His tongue circled around your clit, the small bud swollen from his attentions. His fingers found their way inside you, exploring your cunt.

His thumb replaced his tongue on your clit as he rubbed harsh figure eights against you. He continued to rub your clit harder. Your breathing quickened, and your body legs began to shake.

"Oh, there’s my girl. You gonna cum for me?"

The combination of his words and a few more thrusts of his fingers made your mind go completely blank. Your ears rang, your vision blurred so much you had to squeeze your eyes shut, eventually seeing stars. Aemond finger fucked you through your orgasm as you soaked his hand.

You laid there for a moment, total blackness surrounding you until your Aemond’s calm voice brought you back to reality.

“Holy shit. You good baby?”

You nodded your head eagerly at him, “More than okay.”

After giving you some more time to come down from your first orgasm, Aemond crawled on top of you, as he began to slowly drag his cock between your already swollen folds, swirling the tip in your wetness; almost pushing in, but not quite.

“Aem,” you moaned, “please, I need to feel you. All of you .”

“Still so needy, hm?” He teased as he buried his cock inside you to the hilt. You winced at the length of him.

“Littleeee bit of a stretch baby,” he said as he let you adjust to his size, “there we go.”

"Oh.. Gods," you moaned. You forgot just how big Aemond was. The stretch was almost unbearable and yet, you craved more. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper into you.

He began to rock back and forth into you, pumping his cock in and out. The louder you moaned, the harder he pounded into you. Eventually, the head of his cock pressed against your cervix.

"Please, please don't stop," you begged. He began to pound into you harder and faster, the lewd sound of his balls slapping against your ass filled the room. You felt your second orgasm of the night building inside of you as he continued to fuck you.

"Oh, Gods! Aemond, please, you’re going to make me cum again,” you babbled as your orgasm ripped through you once more. Your cunt clenched around his length as the tip of his cock bullied the spongy spot inside you without mercy.

Your slick coated walls contracting around him was all it took for him to lose control. He let out a loud groan as he spilled himself inside you, filling you with his seed as he bit down hard on your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned as the aftermath of his own orgasm coursed through him, his cock still twitching inside of you. After placing a wet kiss on your cheek he positioned himself upright, placing a hand flat on the headboard behind you to help keep balance, he slowly pulled his cock out of you. You winced at the emptiness, a pool of warmth leaking out of your cunt and onto the bed sheets.

“Oh, shit. Here, let me help clean you up.”

As you came down from your high, you also came to your senses. No. Him cleaning you up would be too intimate of an act — as if he wasn’t just buried inside of you.

“No, Aem. It’s fine, I need to go to the bathroom anyway.”

He shrugged, “there are washcloths under the sink if you need one.”

Your heart sank as the bathroom door shut. A red lacy bra, that definitely didn’t belong to you was slung over the door handle. Memories of your past relationship came flooding back, along with feelings of sadness and regret. You couldn’t help but wonder who the bra belongs to, your first thought was that older professor. It's a painful reminder that not only had Aemond had not changed at all, he also just took advantage of you.

This was definitely a bad idea.

[angrythingstarlight]

Tell me this isn't our sweet Baker!Bucky

That was Bucky that night he thought he was lost😂. The only thing he knew was that he wanted his sweet Peach.

Pairing: Chubby Baker!Bucky x Reader

Bucky will always flirt with you, especially when he's tipsy. You've learned not to joke that you're taken because drunk Bucky gets devastated at the thought of you being with someone else.

"You–you seein' anyone? You want a boyfriend?" Bucky asks with a drunken, hopeful grin. "I'm all yours if you want me."

You cradle his face in your hands, giggling when he melts into your touch. "I have a boyfriend," you tease, squeezing his soft, bearded cheeks. "Remember?"

Bucky's already asked you out twice tonight while at the new bakery's grand opening celebration and again when you were helping him into the house. You decided it was going to be too much trouble to make it up the stairs so you guided him to the living room couch instead, which is where the two of you are now. Somehow you ended up under him. But you don't feel trapped. His body on top of yours always feels right.

"Aw no." Bucky's brow furrow and his mouth flounders open for a second. He peers down at you with baleful blue eyes. "Who? You like him? Ya sure?"

"I am, Bucky. He's an amazing baker. An even better boyfriend. Thoughtful and kind and funny. Not to mention he's tall, so strong and he has this perfect chubby belly that I love to lay on and oh,"—you break into a low moan that sends a shiver down his spine, his rapt yet bleary gaze on your face. "He has a beautiful smile and the prettiest blue eyes. Plus he can do this thing with his tongue that is just sinful. He's the best man I know."

"I mean—," Bucky huffs, rubbing his face on your palm, savoring your touch. He moves closer until his warm, large body is pushing you into the couch cushions. "I guess he sounds okay Peach but I could be better," he grumbles. "I wanna be your man."

You know you should probably stop teasing him but you're too busy trying to not lose it at the fact that Bucky doesn't recognize that you're describing him.

"I don't know, my James is pretty amazing. I don't think anyone could be better than him." Laughter laces your tone, your composure crumbling when he groans. "Is there anyone else you want?"

"Only you." Bucky drops his head on your shoulder, his lips brush over the curve of your neck as he repeats himself. "Only want you. I can wait."

His voice is so soft and sweet and sure that it makes your breath hitch. And just like that, you can't tease your baker anymore not when he's gazing up at you like you're everything to him.

You turn so you can kiss him. Again and again. Each kiss is slower and more passionate than the last, the taste of his peach sangria sweeping across your tongue. His moan preening in his throat, his arms curving around you in a tender embrace.

You reluctantly break away, giggling softy when he follows your kiss swollen lips, silently asking for more. "Bucky?"

"Hmm?" He replies distractedly, wondering how to get you to do that again.

"I'll always choose you. It will always be you Bucky," you whisper softly, running your thumb across his bottom lip to wipe away the lipstick smeared there from your kiss. You watch your words sink into him, his brilliant sapphire eyes finding yours.

The dizzy, off-kilter sensation he feels has nothing to do with the cocktails coursing through him and everything to do with you.

Your words lit a fire within him and despite his drunk haze, he knows one thing for certain. "I love you so much, Peach. With everything I am."

A moment passes.

Bucky nestles into your side, his warm body curling protectively around you. His lips are on your neck, peppering lazy kisses wherever he can.

"Peach, Peach," he whispers, an adorable crooked grin stretching across his face.

"Yeah?"

"Now we gotta tell your boyfriend about us."

[witchywithwhiskey]

How about Bucky and “what are you going to do? punish me?”

Maybe we want something from our favorite super solider but can’t say the words and try to provoke him instead.

tempting fate in the park

pairing: father's business rival CEO!bucky barnes x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, fingering (f receiving), handjob, come play, come marking, public play, little bit of exhibitionism, dirty talk, light degradation, praise kink, pet names (darling), unspecified age gap, fluffy ending

word count: 4,000ish

a/n: i realized far too late that i didn't incorporate your premise at all, so sorry about that!!! also for everyone else, this is the fic where i was looking for a trope like 'dad's best friend'. i ended up going with 'dad's business rival' as a trope because it gave me a fun dynamic to play with!! hope y'all enjoy!! ♡♡

tempting fate in the park (part 1)

tempting fate on the terrace (part 2)

tempting fate in the CEO's office (part 3)

It was a beautiful spring afternoon and you were taking a slow, meandering stroll through Central Park, a sly smile on your face as you delighted in the knowledge that you had a secret. Beneath your flirty little sundress—the one you’d worn because the day was bright and warm and gorgeous—you were as bare as the day you were born. 

The hem of your dress fluttered around your thighs, the cool breeze wafting through the park teasing you with the prospect of flashing some unsuspecting stranger with a salacious view of your most intimate place. Just the thought of that news getting back to your powerful CEO father had your smirk deepening. After all, it was fun to tempt fate.

But then, your afternoon took a fascinating turn when you spotted a familiar face walking down the same path as you, going in the opposite direction: Mr. James Buchanan Barnes—Bucky to his friends. 

But you weren’t his friend, you were the daughter of his business rival. And it was a bitter rivalry. 

You’d heard your father rage about Bucky on a number of occasions—cursing out the younger CEO for stealing some business or other from him. You were certain it didn’t help that Bucky was at least 10 years younger than your father, making his slights cut all the more.

Still, that didn’t stop your father from inviting Bucky to all his charity events and galas, always pretending to make nice with the younger CEO before whispering cutting remarks behind his back. It all seemed so ridiculous to you, but you didn’t mind the moments you were able to chat with Bucky.

He was handsome, after all—and single, if the rumors amongst New York City’s elite were to be believed. Plus, Bucky had an impish sort of charm that appealed to you, and you often wondered if perhaps he might be the man of your dreams, if only he wasn’t your father’s business rival.

But your father was nowhere near Central Park on that warm spring afternoon, and as you strolled casually down the path, your eyes watched Bucky closely as he walked in your direction. You didn’t think he’d noticed you yet, so you took the moment to appreciate the older man’s attractiveness.

His brown hair was swept back from his handsome face and styled in such a way that begged to have someone sink their fingers into his soft locks—and you wanted desperately to be that person. Trailing your gaze down his broad and tall body, you couldn’t help but think that Bucky looked distinguished, even with his slightly scruffy beard, and polished in a gray t-shirt, dark jacket and dark slacks. 

Your eyes were only just wandering back to Bucky’s face when they snagged on his bright blue gaze. A devilish smirk curled Bucky’s soft lips and you knew you’d been caught gawking at the older man. Heat flamed in your cheeks—and other parts of your body—as Bucky approached you. But you refused to be embarrassed, so you lifted your chin and fixed a playful smile on your face, waiting for Bucky to come to you. 

He stopped a polite distance away and greeted you with a nod of his head, his blue eyes sparkling and the edges of his mouth curved in a smirk. You did your best not to appear flustered as you exchanged pleasantries, noting how Bucky kept his eyes fixed respectfully on your face. That is, until he didn’t.

When the conversation lulled, Bucky’s gaze drifted down your body, taking in the way your dress hugged your curves, the neckline dipping low on your chest and the hem riding high on your thigh. The soft cotton fabric was molded to your body in a way that you knew would be obscene if the cut of the dress wasn’t so sweetly innocent. Your body warmed in response to Bucky’s attention and you swayed closer to the older man. 

“That’s a pretty dress ya got on, darling,” Bucky rumbled, his voice going deliciously low, luring you in closer so you could hear him. 

Your feet shuffled forward of their own accord and you watched intently while he finished his perusal of your body with a lingering look at your plush thighs. When Bucky’s gaze finally lifted back to yours, his blue eyes were sparkling in the bright spring sunshine, and he had a pleased smile on his handsome face.

“Why don’t you give me a twirl,” Bucky suggested, some of that impish charm in his tone. “Let me see how pretty it looks from every angle.”

You were about to do as Bucky said, but then you remembered what was beneath your dress—or, rather, what wasn’t beneath it. Heat rose to your cheeks and your gaze darted around, taking in the sheer amount of people who were in Central Park in the middle of a weekday afternoon. There were a lot of strangers who’d be treated to a view of your pussy if you twirled for Bucky.

It was one thing to go for a walk while not wearing any panties beneath your dress. That was tempting fate and hoping the springtime breeze didn’t make a spectacle of your nakedness. But it was another thing entirely to actually, purposefully, flash the busy city park just to give your father’s business rival what he wanted. 

Steeling yourself, you returned your gaze to Bucky. “I don’t think that’s the best idea, Mr. Barnes,” you murmured in what you hoped was a playful conspiratorial voice. You lifted the corners of your mouth in a smirk that hopefully looked more mysterious than nervous, and hid how much your heart was racing.

Bucky seemed intrigued by your refusal and he shifted forward, his eyes dragging slowly down your body as if he was looking for the reason you’d said no. When he couldn’t find anything amiss, he lifted his gaze back to yours.

“What’s the matter, darling,” he asked in a warmly teasing voice. “You worried it might get back to your father that you flashed a peek of your panties in the park?” There was a challenge in his gaze, one you were all too happy to meet, even as your body heated with desire.

“Why, of course not, Mr. Barnes,” you murmured breathily, playing up the innocence in your voice, trying to make yourself sound more sultry. Leaning in, you pressed a hand to his broad chest and pretended you were confiding in him, your head tilting back to hold his gaze. “I’m worried I’d flash much more than my panties if I twirled around in my dress.”

You felt Bucky’s stiffen beneath your fingertips and delighted in the way you felt him suck in a sharp breath, sizzles of desire zinging through your body and making you feel like you’d swallowed a whole bottle of champagne. Bucky’s eyes darkened as they roved over your face, like he was trying to discern whether you were telling the truth.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, darling?” he rumbled, his voice low, sending a deliciously dangerous shiver down your spine.

It was difficult to keep the innocent look on your face, but you managed, even if the corners of your mouth fluttered with the smirk you wanted to set loose. Instead of answering Bucky’s question, you cocked your head to the side, pretending you didn’t understand what he was asking. 

“Are you telling me you’re not wearing panties?” he asked, barely leashed emotion in his voice. It was deep and dark and you thought it might be anger, especially when he continued on in a voice that was as rough as gravel. “In the middle of a busy park, where anyone could look up your skirt—or touch you?” 

A snort left you before you could hold it back. You couldn’t help it, Bucky’s words sounded like a chastisement, which was silly because you were a grown woman and you knew the risks of going out without panties on. So you gave him the bratty response you felt his words deserved. 

“What are you going to do? Punish me?” you snarked, giving him a sweetly patronizing smile.

But it seemed you judged Bucky wrong because he only pressed closer to you, looming above you, a wicked smirk spreading across his face. 

“Darling, I’m not your daddy, I’m not gonna punish you,” he rumbled, holding your gaze captive while his fingers brushed against your though, trailing up under your skirt ever so slightly. He watched your chest heave as your breath hitched in your throat and slipped his hand between your legs, teasing the inside of your thighs beneath your skirt. “But you might have to worry about a public indecency charge given what I’m gonna do with you.”

“What’re you gonna do with me, Mr. Barnes?” you asked, unable to catch your breath for all the warmth and riotous sensation flooding your body.

Bucky gripped your chin with his other hand, holding you still so all you could do was stare into his sparkling blue eyes. “I’m gonna do whatever I damn well please, darling,” he said in a low, firm voice. Then he ducked down and pressed a hot kiss to your lips that felt like you were sealing a deal with the devil.

Before you could even hope to catch your breath, Bucky had wrapped one arm around your waist and the other around your upper arm, walking you further into the park, keeping his pace quick. Your feet stumbled along with him, and you wondered dazedly what exactly he was going to do with you.

It wasn’t long before Bucky had led you into one of the more wooded areas of the park, finding a path that was deserted before he looked both ways and tugged you into the trees. He pulled you deep enough into the foliage that you were obscured from view of anyone on the path, then turned to you with a look of greedy hunger on his handsome face. 

Pressing you up against a tree, Bucky’s mouth descended on yours and he set about devouring you. 

His lips were soft, but unyielding, and possessive in the way they plundered your mouth, his hands just as demanding, tugging down the front of your dress beneath your tits so they were pushed up in an offering to your father’s business rival. Bucky accepted them eagerly, groping your soft flesh and plucking at your nipples until you gasped loudly into his mouth.

“Shh, darling,” Bucky muttered with a teasing smirk, “you’re gonna have to be quieter than that.” His free hand wrapped around your throat and pinned you to the tree, a wordless threat in the loose way he held you, but didn’t choke you. Yet.

It made a delicious heat flare through your body, and again, you rose to the challenge in his words. Lifting your chin, you looked Bucky dead in the eye and murmured, “Make me, Mr. Barnes.”  

Bucky’s eyes darkened and his fingers squeezed a little tighter around your throat, digging into the sides and making your heart race as you hiccuped a gasp of desire. 

“You’re such a filthy girl, darling,” Bucky rumbled, pressing a kiss to the apple of your cheek before dragging his mouth to your ear. “Makes me so fucking hard.” His hips bucked against yours and you felt the truth of his words.

Trailing your fingers down Bucky’s chest, you teased along the hem of his pants, wanting desperately to take him into your hand, but you paused. Catching Bucky’s eye, you let him see the wordless question in your eyes. It was only when he nodded that you eagerly unbuttoned and unzipped his fly, reaching inside and wrapping your hand around Bucky’s cock. 

“So big,” you whispered wondrously, stroking his thick cock in your hand. You flicked your wrist, squeezing the tip and watched as Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut, the older man letting out a restrained groan at the feeling of you jerking him off. “Now who needs to be quiet, Mr. Barnes,” you teased, smirking up at him.

That had Bucky’s eyes snapping open and in the next breath his hand slipped between your legs, trailing up your thighs until his fingers brushed against your bare pussy. You were practically dripping for him, and you were certain he could feel it from the way his blue eyes darkened, pupils blowing wide with desire as he cursed.

“Fuck, you really aren’t wearing panties,” he bit out on a low groan, a little bit of surprise in his tone. Still, he seemed pleased by the revelation. His fingers dipped into your slit, his eyes watching your lips part in a soft moan while he teased your hole until your knees trembled beneath you. His expression shifted to one of affection, even as he rumbled, “You’re trouble, darling, d’you know that?”

Heat and pleasure swirled through your body so furiously, you were afraid you might collapse to your knees, even with Bucky’s hand wrapped around your throat and his other teasing your soaking wet folds, but you managed to shrug nonchalantly. “I’m only trouble if I get caught,” you replied blithely, giving Bucky a mischievous smile. 

He chuckled, the sound low and raspy and devolving into a groan when you stroked his cock harder, your fist gripping him firmly. He gave you a heated look, then pushed two fingers into your tight hole and choked you at the same moment. It was a good thing he did, because his hand cut off the loud moan that would’ve spilled from your lips at the delicious intrusion of his fingers.

“Let’s make sure we don’t get caught then, darling,” he rumbled, fucking you with his fingers, his palm slapping quietly against your clit as he set a fast, hard rhythm. Pleasure spun through your mind, so sharp and delicious it made you struggle to keep up with the older man, your fist working his cock at the same furious pace he set. 

All the while, Bucky held your gaze captive with his own, his eyes every so often drifting down to watch the way your chest heaved with panting breaths, your tits bouncing out of the confines of your dress, or the way your lips were parted as you tried to get enough oxygen to your lungs through his squeezing hand. 

You, too, watched your father’s business rival come undone right before your eyes. His handsome face was flushed, his cheeks pink above his beard, his blue eyes darkening even further, and his soft mouth twisting in a snarl of pleasure. When his hips began thrusting into your hand, you suspected he was close, which he confirmed with his heated question.

“Where d’you want me to come?” Bucky ground out through clenched teeth, his hand loosening around your neck to let you speak. But he didn’t stop pounding into your cunt with his fingers and it was difficult to think. You were halfway lost to pleasure, which was your only excuse for the answer that slipped from your mouth.  

“Come on my pussy, sir—please,” you begged, your voice husky and as quiet as you could manage with the way a pleasured cry was building in your chest. Rucking up your dress with your free hand, you stared into Bucky’s eyes as you murmured, “Mark me with your come.”

Bucky choked off the moan that threatened to fall from his lips, shoving his fingers deep in your cunt and pressing against a spot that had you seeing stars. Pleasure coiled tight in your core, but when he ground his palm against your clit, you were lost to him. 

Your entire being shattered apart as you came on his hand, your mouth dropping open and your body shaking from overwhelming sensation. Thankfully, Bucky choked you hard enough to silence the scream of pleasure that wanted to break free, the restriction of air making you feel the pleasure of your release more acutely.

It was only when darkness began to creep into the edges of your vision and the waves of your orgasm began to abate, that Bucky loosened his hold on you. His hand fell away from your throat entirely and he kissed you fiercely, his lips praising you wordlessly.

You were so distracted by his mouth that it took you a moment to realize his hand had dropped from your throat to wrap around yours. He was guided your fingers up and down his cock, helping you stroke him fast and firm.

Ending the kiss with a low gasp, Bucky pressed his forehead to yours and looked down between your bodies to where he was using your hand to jerk his cock, like your fist was his own personal fleshlight. The sight was so erotic, your pussy fluttered around Bucky’s fingers, which were still inside you. 

“Ya want me to come on your pussy, darling?” Bucky huffed, his chest heaving with heavy breaths even as he managed a teasing tone. “Want your daddy’s biggest business rival to mark your cunt with my seed, huh?”

“Yes, sir, please,” you begged in a breathy voice, wanting nothing more in that moment. You didn’t know where the desire came from, but you didn’t question it—only gave into it.

“Gonna make a mess of you, darling,” Bucky rumbled in warning, though his words only succeeded in turning you on again. Your pussy clenched around him again, making him huff a laugh even as he went on. “You’re gonna be dripping with my come for the rest of the afternoon.”

God help you, but you wanted it. You wanted to feel his come splash against your soft skin, you wanted the dirty, delicious knowledge that you were covered in his come beneath your dress while no one was the wiser. You wanted it so badly that you begged again, “Please, Mr. Barnes, please come on my pussy—I want it.” 

Bucky closed his eyes like he was in pain, like your words were his undoing, and then he captured your lips, using your mouth to muffle his sounds of pleasure as he came. You felt the warm ropes of Bucky’s come spray against your mound and lower belly, rolling down your body. You kissed Bucky back fiercely, swallowing down every grunt and groan he uttered while he unleashed himself. 

When he finally finished, he pulled away and you both looked down your body, watching where Bucky’s come caught in his hand cupping your pussy. He used his palm to rub his seed into your skin, making your cunt even messier than before. Both of you moaned at the sight, your body clenching tight a the debauchery of the moment.

“Fuck, darling, I can feel the way your pussy’s squeezing me,” Bucky muttered, looking up and catching your eye, giving you a charmingly devilish grin. “Makes me think you want me to dump my next load deep in your cunt.”

Your head fell back against the tree behind you and you let out a low, filthy moan of delight, making Bucky’s eyes darken again. But before either of you could say anything more—before you could beg your father’s business rival to come deep in your pussy—the sounds of people walking by on the park trail not too far from where you stood broke through your private moment. 

Realizing the precariousness of your situation, Bucky quickly, but gently, eased his hand from your pussy and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his fingers clean. You were too dazed from pleasure to move yet, but when he swiped it against your belly, cleaning his seed off your skin, you whimpered in disappointment. 

“Shh, darling, I just wanna get us out of the park without getting that public indecency charge,” Bucky murmured comfortingly, pressing a kiss to your temple that made you smile and stop your protests.

He pocketed the dirtied handkerchief and tucked his cock back into his pants, then helped you fix your dress. Easing you away from the tree, Bucky shed his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders to hide the scratches and indents from the bark.

You leaned heavily into Bucky’s side as he walked you back through the park toward the entrance near which you’d first spotted him. It was only when Bucky guided you to the passenger door of a nice looking car that you found your voice again. 

“Where are we going, Mr. Barnes?” you asked, a little teasing tone in your voice. When you looked up into Bucky’s handsome face, you wore an impish smirk, hoping he wasn’t done with you yet.

Bucky pushed you gently back against the side of his car, his hands on your hips beneath his jacket and his body looming over yours. A shiver of delight raced down your spine and you reached up, carding your fingers through his soft brown hair like you’d wanted to when you first saw him. Bucky turned his head and kissed the inside of your wrist before pinning you with his intense gaze.

“I’m taking you back to my place, darling,” Bucky murmured softly, a smile on his lips that turned amused. “Did you think a little fooling around in the park was all I wanted?”

You squirmed in his arms, feeling young and insecure all of a sudden under the weight of the older man’s fierce stare. Dropping your gaze to his beard, you avoided his eye as you spoke. 

“I don’t know what you want, Mr. Barnes,” you confessed, realizing only after the words fell from your lips that you meant more than just what Bucky planned to do with you that day. Feelings rushed through your body, your heart pounding in your chest and you felt shy in front of Bucky for the first time. 

But he seemed to know exactly how to handle your sudden change of mood. Curling a finger under your chin, he tilted your face up to look at him. His blue eyes were sparkling with a warm affection that made you settle a little. 

“I want everything you’re willing to give me,” he rumbled in a gentle voice before ducking down and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. When he broke the kiss, he didn’t pull back far, keeping his face close to yours. “And please, call me Jamie,” he murmured, a tenor of vulnerability in his tone that surprised you.

You smiled against his mouth, finding it easier to tease him again. “I thought all your friends called you Bucky,” you whispered, your body lighting up at his continued closeness. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your chest to his, enjoying the way your nipples dragged against his t-shirt.

Bucky chuckled and you could feel the sound reverberate in your chest, sending heat curling through your body. “Darling,” he said, his tone affectionately teasing. “You’re much more than a friend, wouldn’t you say?” 

At that, you managed a cheeky smile, leaning back to let him see your happy expression. “Yeah, I would,” you said, leaning in to kiss him again. That time, it was your turn to devour his mouth, enjoying the taste and feel of him as you made out against his car. 

When you finally pulled away, it was with a sigh of, “Jamie.” 

With a pleased smile on his face, Bucky helped you into his car, his hand immediately settling possessively on your thigh once he’d sat in the driver’s seat. You relaxed into the soft leather seat, unable to think of anything else except how content you were with the turn your spring afternoon had taken. 

Perhaps you’d been tempting fate by walking around the park without anything on under your dress. But it seemed fate had led you straight into the arms of Bucky, so you couldn’t feel even a little bit remorseful for your reckless behavior.

Especially not when Bucky squeezed your thigh and flashed you a charming smile that had you thinking your father’s business rival might just turn out to be the man of your dreams after all.

tempting fate in the park (part 1)

tempting fate on the terrace (part 2)

tempting fate in the CEO's office (part 3)

[tokkiwrites]

𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑾𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔 | oldman!logan × f!reader

𝒯okkis holiday extravaganza. [results from this post]

tags ♰ smut, pwp, some fluff, established relationship, logan is in love, unspecified age gap, afab reader, unprotected p in v.

▪︎ you asked for sex by the fire with old man logan and i delivered !! It's pretty short and not my best piece, but i have been working on other requests as well, so this is my early holiday gift for you all ! not proofread, so if you see any mistakes, just close your eyes. okay ily!!!!

The wind carried the song of winter through the pines, its breath sharp and alive, threading between branches bowed low beneath the weight of snow. The world outside the cabin was a landscape muted to perfection, softened by frost and silence. Snowflakes brushed the glass panes like hesitant fingers, melting against the faint glow of firelight that escaped into the darkened woods.

Inside, Logan bent over the hearth, striking a match with ease. The sulfur flared briefly in the shadows before catching on the kindling. He coaxed the flame, his breath steady, the faint crackle of wood splitting in the heat breaking the stillness. Firelight gilded his features. weathered, rugged, but softened now by the quiet you two had.

As the flames grew, filling the room with flickering light and a spreading heat, Logan straightened, brushing ash from his hands. His gaze drifted toward the small signs of your presence scattered through the room: the scarf you had left draped over the armchair, its wool bright against the aged wood; your coat hanging next to his, the faintest imprint of your shape still lingering in its folds. By the sink, two mismatched mugs stood side by side, their rims chipped but perfect in their imperfection.

“Fire’s goin’, angelcakes,” he called, voice rough. “Should take the chill off soon enough.” In the kitchen, you paused, a knife poised over an orange. The blade caught the light as you sliced it into thin, translucent rounds, releasing a burst of citrus into the air. Cinnamon sticks and cloves bobbed lazily in the pot of wine warming on the stove, their aromas weaving a fragrant dance that curled into every corner of the cabin. You glanced toward the window, watching the snow swirl against the glass, your cheeks pink from the stove’s heat.

Logan’s boots creaked on the wooden floor, a familiar sound that drew your attention just as his arms encircled your waist. His embrace was warm and solid, the weight of his chin resting lightly on your shoulder as he pulled you against him. His voice rumbled low, a gentle vibration you felt more than heard. “You keep makin’ the place feel like home, plumcheeks. I’m gonna start thinkin’ I don’t deserve it.” You smiled, tilting your head to brush against his. “Don’t be ridiculous, realx” you murmured, your tone teasing but firm. “You earned every bit of this. Plus, you did lot's todayㅡ the firewood, the shoveling, all of it. I saw that pile you chopped this morning. You could keep us warm till spring.”

He chuckled, the sound rich, unhurried. “All in a day’s work, darlin’." He nodded toward the stove, his beard grazing your neck as he spoke. “Smells like you poured your heart into it.”

“And what if I did?” you asked, turning just enough to meet his eyes. They were unguarded, their depths reflecting the firelight. “Then I’m the luckiest bastard alive,” he said simply, voice grounding the moment. Your laugh was soft, the kind that warmed him more than the fire ever could. “If that’s the case, old man, why don’t you prove it by pouring us some?”

He grunted in playful protest but didn’t let you go right away. Instead, he lingered, pressing a kiss to your temple before moving to fetch the mugs. He filled them with care, the red liquid steaming upward, before gesturing you toward the fireplace.

The two of you settled onto the thick rug in front of the fire, its padded surface a welcome cushion against the floor’s cold. Logan pulled you close, his arm draped around your shoulders as you tucked yourself into his side. The fire crackled softly, its light painting shifting patterns on the cabin walls, while outside, the snow continued its silent descent.

Logan stared into the flames for a long moment, his expression pensive. Then, his voice came, quieter now, almost as if he were speaking to the fire rather than you. “You know, I spent most of my life thinkin’ this kind of thing wasn’t for me. The quiet, i mean. Someone like you, who’d put up with a man like me. Figured I’d just keep on movin’, never settlin’...never havin’ this.” His hand found yours where it rested on his chest, his thumb tracing slow circles over your knuckles. “But here I am. And it don’t feel like somethin’ I earned. Feels like a damn miracle.” You tilted your head to look at him, your gaze soft as you searched his face. “You earned it, Logan,” you said, your voice steady. “You earned every piece of this. And if it’s a miracle, wellㅡ then I’m glad to share it with you.”

His lips quirked into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite mask the emotion in his eyes. “I love you, plumcheeks,” he said, unshakable. “Don’t think I say it enough, but I do. With everything I got.” You leaned up, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, your hand coming to rest against his cheek. “I know,” you whispered. “I love you. Always.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the crackling of the fire and the muffled whisper of snow against the window were the only things accompanying your ragged breathing. Logan tightened his hold on you, as if anchoring himself in the warmth of your presence. the world felt perfectly whole—fragile, fleeting, and utterly, beautifully yours. and you were beautiful, like this, right now. his.

without hesitating, Logan leans in, capturing your lips into a kiss. The kiss was slow, like he was savoring every second of it, every taste and feeling as if it might disappear the moment he let go. His hand cupped your cheek, rough and warm, grounding you even as the world seemed to tilt beneath you.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the tiny space between you. He looked at you, and in the firelight, his eyes held a quiet kind of intensity, the kind that spoke louder than any words could.

“You have no idea what you do to me, baby" he murmured, voice low and husky, a hint of wonder slipping through his usual confidence. Your lips parted, but no words came. What could you possibly say to that? Instead, you reached up, brushing a strand of his hair back, your fingers lingering against his temple. He leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut for the briefest moment. "Fuck me, Logan." you say before thinking too much. His breath hitched, just for a moment, before he let out a soft laugh that sounded almost disbelieving. “You’re not even going to make me work for it?”

“Maybe next time,” you teased, your fingers tracing a lazy path along his jaw. “Tonight, I just need you like this. right now." he laughs again. "whatever the princess wants..." Logan’s fingers trailed idly up and down your back, and you let your eyes drift shut, leaning closer into his touch. the smell of cinnamon clung to your hair.

He throws his lips at your neck, your soft whimpers filling the cabin. Logan wastes no time and pulls the blouse you were waiting over your head, the warmth of the fire kissing your exposed skin immediately. He was staring at you as if it was the first time he'd seen you like this. "My gorgeous girl..." With one hand he caresses the top of your head as his lips trail down to your collarbone. His other hand pulled down your pajama shorts along with your panties just enough so he could see your core. 

He could see it your eyes. You were impatient, the way you gasped at the smallest touch he lays upon your burning skin. Logan smiles down on you as he hurriedly discards the clothes he has on, and for a moment he stands like that. "Logan.." you whine, and he can only chuckle. "You're just so cute when you're desperate." he settles back down besides you, his strong arm wrapping aroun you, pulling you on top of his bare lap. You shudder once you feel his hardened shaft between your puffy lips, and you look up at him like a guilty kid that's made a mess. "Quit it." but you tilt your head. "What?"

"Quit starin' at me that way unless you want a baby in ya." that doesn't sound so bad though. You kiss him. Hungry. His calloused palms settle onto your hips and he groans when you start rolling, the friction making his swollen tip to drip more precum. "C'mon..." you plead. Was it the wine? The fire? Or was Logan utterly too perfect to ever let go? Maybe all three. "Up." he speaks softly, making you rise yourself a little, enough so he can grab his manhood and align it with your fluttering entrance.

Logan smiled as his cock was sliding into your pussy “big stretchㅡ look at you taking it,” he muttered, his right hand rubbing circles on your clit as he began to thrust. He stilled for a moment enjoying how perfect this moment was. Your chest heaving heavily as you peered at him with glazed eyes, the fire wrapped around you in a red and orange blanket. This was perfect. You were perfect.

He lets you adjust before rising his hips, making you bounce in response. he laughs somberly before plunging straight into you. your tongue luls out, tears on the brink of your eyes as you cand only squeal out pathetic moans and incoherent pleads. "shit.. squeezing me so good, baby."

and he goes at you, diving deeper and deeper with each hit of his hips, one palm holding your hip and one pressing down onto your tummy "like that?" you can't hear him, you barely make out his words; your eyes roll back and your spine stays arched as he plummets into your cunt. "I think yes." Logan snickers, feeling your walls squeeze around him as he takes one of your palms and places it right on top of your belly too. "feel." and, god, you feel. his cock reaches so far into you it bulges through your pelvis. you feel it and you're jelly all over again.

he takes both his palms and digs his nails into the plush of your hips, hit after hit sending you deeper into oblivionㅡ and you can only moan and cry as you feel your orgasm approaching. desperately, you clench around his cock. "wanna come, baby? tell me." he's stern and rough with his request. "y-yes, plea-se..." you don't know if you're crying because you feel too good or because of how desperately you need to come. your legs could barely hold you on top of him anymore, which didn't really matter since Logan fucked up into you just fine.

"come then, baby." you writhe as the knots in your core begin to untie, shaking on top of him. it hits you like a wave of warmth and frost all at once and it doesn't take long for him to reach his limit as well.

"need'a come, baby. where, tell me where baby?" You feel him so deep, you're drunk on him, vision blurry and mind fogged up, you can faintly feel the warmth of the fire behind you. you usually don't say this. "Inside, please.." You beg, and you don't wait more than two seconds for Logan to spill his warm seed into you. your knees finally give out, and you falter onto his chest. "Did so good, baby." he kisses the crown of your head, and you smile stupidly, rolling your hips against his. you weren't stopping until that fire gave out.

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 1 - Breast Worship

Price x F!Reader - 1.5k (on ao3)

summary: Price pays special attention to one of his favorite parts of you. (Reader's POV)

cw: soft piv sex, price has a big dick, reader is plus-size with big tits

The slide of John’s cock inside of you is just on the right side of painful, your head thrown back against your pillows and your eyes screwed shut as he fills you slowly. 

“There we go,” he rumbles above you, calloused palm stroking your hip. “Takin’ me so well, hm?”

Your breath hitches as he bucks forward, sliding another inch deeper. “Fuck, John, yes–”

He swats your ass once, light for him but still stinging, tsking. “Language, love.” His hand drifts down further, groping at one soft thigh and petting you, your skin sensitive to the rough texture of his fingertips.

You nearly choke on a cry as he continues pushing forward, his heavy balls settling against your cunt a relief in spite of your difficulty getting in your next breath. You feel him in your guts. “Oh, God.”

He settles himself against you, chest warm and wide. Your breasts are squished a little uncomfortably beneath him, but the skin-to-skin contact more than makes up for it as he runs his hands up either side of your body, tracing all your dips and curves and giving you his weight. 

You run your hands down his back, nails scratching along his muscles as you grip him tight with plush thighs and breathe through the sensation of him so deep inside of you. Your body adjusts quickly, well-experienced at taking him inside of you even if it's always a stretch, and it only takes a few heartbeats for you to be nudging him with a foot, urging him to fuck you.

He props himself up on one hand above you, cupping your face with one massive paw and stroking your cheekbone. “Alright, love?”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him down so you can press your lips to his, sharing his breath. John takes the chance to ravage your mouth as he wants, tongue stroking along yours as you leak steadily around him, cunt holding him tightly.

He tears himself away from you, head dropping to rest between your breasts, his head rising as your chest heaves. “Goddamn, sweetie, the way you squeeze me…”

You press your hand to his face now, stroking through his beard as he looks up at you, tits pressed against both of his cheeks. ”Fuck me, John,” you say, voice throaty and rough with need. 

He groans, burying his face back in your neck as he pulls out, forcing himself to go slowly if the way his grip against your hips turns nearly bruising is anything to go buy.

You cry out when he bucks back into you, filling you to the brim again. You can’t keep yourself from tearing up as he settles into a steady pace, only pulling out about halfway before burying himself to the hilt again and again, cockhead brushing your cervix on every thrust. You let the tears fall, know that John only gets more aroused the more of a mess you are for him. 

“John!” You cry at a particularly rough thrust, burying your nails into his shoulder.

He’s panting as he pushes himself above you, hands fisted against the mattress on either side of your head as he fucks you that much harder, lips twisted up in his own pleasure. His stomach presses against yours, his hair just long enough to feel soft instead of ticklish. 

“Sweet fuckin’ thing, aren’t you?” He asks, pulling nearly all the way out on every thrust now, sweat dripping down his neck. “Jesus, look at these tits.”

You gasp as he buries his face back in your chest, quickly moving to your right breast and taking as much of it into his mouth as he can. Your gasp melts into a moan at the hot suction against your nipple, fingers curling tightly through his hair and holding him close as he echoes your moan against you.

“John, John,” you pant, eyes squeeze shut as he continues to fuck you, the combination of a thick cock in your pussy and a hot mouth on your tit enough to make you feel like you’re melting. 

He’s drooling around the mouthful he’s got, pressing himself as deeply into you as he can. When he first pulls back he looks nearly feral, pupils blown wide and lips slick with his spit. He leans back just enough to look at his work, fucking you a bit more slowly now.

He grunts a moment later, shifting so one hand can cup the underside of your breast and lift as he slows to something just above grinding inside of you. You huff, the feeling of sweat-slick skin being exposed to cool air not something you particularly relish.

“Look’it that,” he breathes, brushing the irritated skin just below your nipple with a thumb.

“Beard burn,” you supply, feet twitching as you contemplate the best way to get him to move again. “Not quite as bad as chafing, it won't last long.”

He nods but you get the sense he’s not really listening, his thumb still stroking the bit of skin that’s nearly back to its normal color. He shifts then, scooting down your body now so he’s looking at your chest instead of your face.

You open your mouth to complain, needy and ready to be fucked again, but before you can get a word out he pulls his cock nearly the whole way out of you before burying himself back to the hilt, knocking any thought of speaking from your mind. 

The pace he sets now is quick and deep, the head of his cock rubbing against your g-spot on every thrust and kissing your cervix, your slick making the glide of him inside of you feel unimaginably good. Your thighs grip him tightly, knees locked around his ribs and holding on for dear life. 

He presses his open mouth to your breast, almost rubbing himself across your chest as he kisses every bit of your skin – your tits are far from small, he’s got a lot of area to cover. His spit cools quickly on you, making you shiver beneath his assault as he does his best to suck your entire tit into one mouth.

You scratch his scalp, pulling as he massages your unkissed breast with his hand, cock still fucking you open quickly enough to keep your eyes unfocused and your mouth limp. Your pant openly as he rubs his face against you, the extra sensation of his beard only driving you closer and closer to your peak. 

“Feels s-so good, John,” you pant as he moves to your other breast, kissing and biting his way across as he shifts his weight, hips never pausing. You whine a little when he massages the tit he was just abusing, the feeling of his rough hand on sensitive skin making you clench down hard on him. 

He groans above you, hips snapping against yours that much harder. You squeal when he bites your nipple, back arching into him for more as you writhe beneath him. “John!”

He’s close to feral above you, chin digging into your soft skin as he nips you with his teeth, leaving his marks behind as he seemingly tries to cover your entire chest in his saliva. The quick bursts of pain combined with the way his hands are massaging you yanks you right to the edge of orgasm, your breaths hiccupping.

“Close, close, John, ‘m close–” you gasp, nails digging into his scalp as you push against him as much as you can on your back, teetering on the edge. 

When he bites one nipple and pinches the other at the same time, you fly off it, vision nearly whiting out as you moan and squeeze him tight. Your nipples are throbbing but it only adds to the pleasure, a sharp bite of pain to contrast the sweet squeeze of him inside of you.

He loses all coordination a moment later, face dropping to rest in your cleavage again as he fucks you without thought, rough and nasty as you start to come down. You whine and cry a little more, the overstimulation wracking your body and sending goosebumps down your arms.

“Fuck, fuck,” you hear and feel him grunt into your skin, his hot cum spurting inside of you as his hips slow down, his thrusts slowing until he’s just grinding into you, cock buried as deep as it will go.

You hold tight to his shoulders, heaving beneath his heavy weight. A moment later he pushes himself up, cupping your right breast and examining it closely. 

“Pretty,” he purrs, running his thumb over the indentations of his teeth patterned over your skin. 

“Felt good,” you say, melting beneath him.

“Yeah?” He looks up at you, pupils blown and lips swollen. He glances down at the other side of your breast, smacking it lightly enough that it could almost be a tap. “Should make this one match then.”

You’re already moaning before his lips even touch your skin again.

[its-time-to-write]

happy new year, ig

don’t hold me like you know me

“Remember when you broke up with me and suddenly my instagram feed was all about how you fucked a model?”

Jamie grimaces. “Do you have to bring that up every fucking time we’re together?”

“Yes,” you reply. “It’s funny to me. And it’s my revenge for you being stupid.”

“Pretty sure you and mum are the only two who find it funny,” he grumbles.

You snuggle closer to him. It’s cold outside, but you’re both bundled up and under two blankets. Plus there’s a fire going and sure, it’s warmer inside where your families are, but it’s quieter out here.

You say, “Nah, Simon thinks it’s hilarious too,” and Jamie groans. 

“I’m a fucking idiot, okay? I get it.”

Your mum looks out the window and you pretend like you don’t notice. Yeah, you probably shouldn’t be out here with him. But she’s the one whose friends with Georgie and she’s the one who made the plans to spend Christmas together knowing full well what you and Jamie had been up to for the past year.

So she can’t really say anything.

It’s stupid. 

It’s so, so stupid. You swore off situationships but apparently Jamie is the exception and you rationalize it by saying you know exactly what you’re doing so it’s fine.

It’s fine.

You’re only here a few days and then Jamie’s going back to training and you’re going back to work.

“Got any plans for the year?” you ask. Jamie shrugs and it moves you around.

“Nah, got some brand deal shit Keeley’s set up but mostly just keep training. Got the fuckin’ World Cup this summer, so…” he trails off.

What he doesn’t say is, so I’ll be near you. You let it hang in the air.

Instead he says, “What about you?”

You watch the flames from the fire curl into the sky. “Yeah, I’ve got a lot going on, I guess. Mostly work. And I’m moving to London in the fall.”

Jamie makes a noise. “Don’t read into it,” you warn before he can say anything. “It’s not for you.”

He sighs. “The fuck are we doing? Shouldn’t be this hard. We both fucking like each other. What if we tried again?”

You laugh. “Jamieee. Absolutely not. We barely made it out last time. I’m actually not sure we did, to be honest. And our mums would be fucking pissed if we messed it up again.”

He’s quiet at that. Too quiet.

“How’s Roy Kent?” you ask in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Hairy old prick,” Jamie mutters out of habit. “Wants us to fucking win the Prem and the Champions League, like we ain’t fuckin’ trying.”

You laugh. “I’m assuming he’s also thinking about the World Cup?”

Jamie groans. “Don’t fucking remind me. I want to win all that shit too, but Royo’s sadistic. Got us training extra. Beard isn’t any better, either. Always got his nose in some fucking book.”

He’s complaining, but you know he doesn’t mean it. He loves this shit. And you’re glad the team’s stable from Ted’s move back to America.

“Got you something,” he says after a few more minutes of silence. He gently pushes you off him so he can reach into his pocket. 

You take the box from his hand and open it. It’s surprising. You’d already finished opening gifts, nothing particularly extravagant, and you certainly hadn’t expected anything else from Jamie. And definitely not as direct as this.

“Jamie,” you breathe, “how did you know?”

He grins as you look up to meet his eyes. “Asked around,” he replies. “Knew you’ve been wanting that bracelet forever and you’re too fucking stubborn to get it for yourself, so.”

He motions for you to hand it back to him, and you do. He takes it out and you extend your wrist. He fastens it gently. “You’ve gotta do more shit for yourself, yeah? Promise me.”

“Maybe,” you whisper, and he gives you a look. “Fine. But Jamie-”

“Kid,” he sighs.

“Don’t call me kid,” you warn. “You’re younger than me.”

“That’s why it’s fucking hilarious.”

“Jamie,” you try again. “Do you actually want to keep doing this? We see each other at the most random, inopportune times then we… you know…” you trail off.

“Fuck,” he interjects and you smack his arm. 

Ow, he mouths.

“Look. You never date anyone. Everyone’s always speculating about it, and you never do. And I just wonder- I mean, I don’t want to presume but it seems like-”

“It is,” he says. “Can’t fucking be with someone else when I think about you all the time, can I?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Jamie Tartt. That is the stupidest line you’ve ever pulled.”

He’s already shaking his head before you’re done speaking. “Ain’t a line.”

Georgie looks through the window and smiles at the pair of you. It’s getting colder, and you’ll have to go inside soon, but you want to finish this conversation. You aren’t sure when you’ll have Jamie like this again.

“Why did you break up with me?”

He looks away at the fire, the sky, anything that isn’t your face. “Dunno.”

“Liar.”

He looks back. “You need someone better. I got scared. Same shit as always.”

You wrinkle your nose again. “That’s shit. Try again.”

Jamie toys with the bracelet on your wrist. You should slap him away, you should.

You don’t.

“I did get scared,” he says again. “Fucking… terrified. Been in love with you since I were eight and following you around, weren’t I? Everyone says shit like I don’t know what I’m doing, I fucking need to play the field or what fucking ever, and I guess I… listened. Then felt fucking guilty as shit.” 

Neither of you are crying. It’s not that type of conversation.

“So.”

“So,” he echoes.

“We’re getting married,” he comments when you don’t say anything more, and that makes you laugh.

You push yourself out of Jamie’s arms and head to the door. “That’s ridiculous of you to say. And I’m cold. I’m changing and then I’m going out, want to come? Luiza texted.”

Jamie looks at you, and you can tell he’s debating his options carefully.

“Sure,” he finally says, the words puffing out of his mouth into the freezing air. “Sure.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 13

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

Bucky's mouth finds yours. You murmur in surprise, unprepared after the day for his onslaught. There's a need in that contrasts your lack of. With that, a flicker of guilt sparks in you. You should not be so ungrateful. He did exactly as you asked.

Besides that, he is a formidable match. A man of stature and power and wealth. He is far above anything you could expect. As your father told you over and over, you do not deserve a real man.

You squirm as he leans into you, his hand curling around your head, trapping you as he growls and devours you. His lips smear across your cheek as he drags sloppy kisses down to your jaw. He once more grazes your neck, the hair of his beard sending a chill up your spine.

You clasp onto his sleeve and brace yourself. You know better than to stop him. You latch on, squeezing him but nothing else. He hooks his other arm around you and pulls you snug, nuzzling down to your collar.

"Doll, how can you say you're not for me?" He snarls against your shirt. "All this, any other man don't deserve it."

"Bucky," you moan his name, breathless. "I... I can't--"

He hushes you and drags his hand away from your hair, caressong your face as he snakes down to your chin. He trails along your throat and gropes your chest roughly as he digs his fingertips into your cushy flesh.

His smothering embrace scalds you and you wriggle with a helpless fervour. That feeling. You hate it. Like ice is freezes you up. You can only stay still as you watch yourself fall to the whim of a man. That same thrall that took over when your father raised his voice or his hand.

You untangle your arms from between him and slap his shoulders. The eruption of panic has you flailing. Your hand bounces off his jaw and he recoils, cradling his face as you nearly throw yourself onto the floor.

"Please," you put your palm put to shield yourself, huddling down as you brace for payback, "please, please..."

You close your eyes and cover your face, shrinking as small as you can. You steel yourself for the first strike. You wait. And wait. And wait.

He grunts softly and shifts on the seat. You press yourself to the interior of the door and whimper. "I'm sorry, I didn't..."

You don't know what you did or why you did it. It wasn't you, it was something inside of you. The little girl hiding in her closet, sobbing.

"Doll," he drawls and his gentle touch makes you wince. He runs his fingertips along your sleeve and grips your shoulder lightly, kneading tenderly, "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"S-s-sorry," you fold over your lap as a swell of nausea roils in your gut. "I don't know..."

His hand crawls over your back and he rubs circles against your jacket, "damn that man," he grits. "Good riddance."

You hiss and suck back a heave. You can't cry. Not with him. You lift your head slowly and make yourself sit up. Your hand shakes as you clear your throat and stretch your fingers against your chest.

"He's gone. I'm fine," you insist, a quaver breaking through.

"You don't gotta be, doll--"

"I am." You're not.

You can't understand what happened. Why suddenly the world collapsed and you were plummeting into the past. It doesn't matter what or why. There is only now and him.

"Well," he tugs on your coat as he fixes the collar, "we're here."

The car is idle. It's only then you feel the stillness. You glance out the tinted window and back at him. He nods and turns to open the door on his side. He slides out and beckons you after him.

You follow and he offers his hand. You accept it and let him help you to your feet. He shuts the door and guides you around the car.

You approach the large house, grey brick with black trim, old world and ominous. He keeps a hold of your hand as he urges you onward. He's greeted at the front door by a man in a black suit. They loom around always, as if waiting on him.

Inside, the decor is a blend of tradition and sleek touches of modernity. You leave your shoes by the door but he keeps his soles on. He can likely afford someone to sweep up after his mess.

He takes you through a large archway, then another. In the room with a sofa with a clamshell back and matching chairs, there waits another man. He is not in black, rather a pale shade of powder blue. He greets you with the only genuine smile you've seen that day.

"Ah, Mr. Barnes," the man approaches and offers his hand. "I must say, I was right about the cut on you."

Bucky shakes his hand then retracts his arm to touch his own lapel. "And I was right about the fabric."

"And this must be the one," the man turns to you and holds his hand out still. You shake it gently. "Forgive me, I'm Castro. No, I bear no relation to whom you think. Merely a coincidence," he titters and lets you go. "I am Mr. Barnes' most prized tailor."

"He can cut a straight line," Bucky scoffs.

"Tailor?" You utter.

"Well, a new bride requires a new wardrobe," Bucky says flatly.

"Right," you agree.

"I only need measurements," Castro assures. "It won't be very long."

"Measurements?" You echo and the man takes out a tape measure, tugging its end from the shiny metal case. "Oh."

"Here," he waves you forward, "where there is room. Stand here."

You obey and go to the centre of the patterned carpet. Bucky goes to the sofa and sits, legs wide, posture casual, eyes set on you. Castro hums as he circles you.

"Raise your arms, please, miss," he says.

You do as he says and he begins his work. He loops the measure around your chest, your waist, and hips. Bucky watches unflinchingly as your skin sears with self-consciousness. You don't like it. He will see truly he's chosen wrong.

"Very nice proportions," Castro praises, "I've the perfect velvet for you, dear.”

[andy-15-07]

could you write dad!pedro. anything. surprise me! 🫶

Built from Nineteen

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 1432 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

A/n:Hi, I thought I'd make a fic with Grandpa Pedro, I hope you like it.

You slide on your sunglasses and glance over at Pedro, who’s tapping the steering wheel with a restless energy only he can sustain. “You sure you don’t want me to drive?” you tease, gripping his hand.

He shakes his head, a grin spreading beneath his scruffy beard. “Nope. Today you’re the co-pilot, Mrs. Pascal. Our granddaughter’s here.”

Your chest tightens at the words. Granddaughter. It still feels surreal. After thirty-one years of marriage,married at nineteen, you remind each other often,life has an uncanny way of looping back on itself. Now, at fifty, you’re both waiting outside the maternity ward while your eldest, Isabella, welcomes her first child into the world.

“Want to talk about the others?” you ask, nodding toward the backseat where your two youngest are sprawled on the folded-down seats of the SUV. Lucas, twenty-six, is texting, already plotting a visit to the hospital; Diego, twenty-three, is reading some sci-fi novel, head bobbing as the car idles. And Mia, your fifteen-year-old, is asleep in the middle, her long hair splayed across both seats. You both laugh quietly,Mia’s Sunday afternoon naps are legendary.

Pedro shifts to look at you. “What about the way you made me ask your father for permission to marry you?” His eyes twinkle with mischief.

You roll your eyes, smiling. “He was terrifying. I almost begged you to drop me off at home and call it off.”

He grins wider. “Then you would have denied me the best twenty-seven years of my life.”

You squeeze his hand. “Twenty-seven years married, plus the two years we were engaged. Twenty-nine! You did wait for me.”

A sudden vibration: your phone buzzes. You glance down. A text from Isabella: Pushing now. Wish us luck! You breathe in. “She’s starting to push.”

Pedro exhales. “Here we go.” He hits the lock and pushes the car door open with a flourish. “Let’s greet Grandma and Grandpa Hotel!” he declares, making you laugh as you both hop out.

Inside the brightly lit corridor of the maternity ward, the sterile scent contrasts sharply with the warmth of anticipation bubbling in your chest. You approach the nurses’ station; the young woman behind the counter welcomes you by name. “Mrs. Pascal, Mr. Pascal, she’s doing great. They’re prepping the newborn for a quick check before you head in.”

You exchange a glance with Pedro, who looks just as giddy as you feel. Behind you, Lucas and Diego tumble through the doors, scanning for you with sleepy eyes, until they spot the Pascal trademark excitement. “Wait, we get to meet our niece?” Lucas asks, straightening in sudden alertness.

“Your niece, yes,” you confirm, tapping your son’s shoulder. “But more importantly, she’s our first grandbaby.”

Diego’s jaw drops. “Grandbaby. Dude.”

“Seriously,” you say, brushing past him. “Fifty years old. Four kids, and now the next generation.”

Mia, who’s rubbing sleep from her eyes, leans forward. “Why do I feel like I’ve been waiting nineteen years for this?” she murmurs, voice drowsy but face lighting up.

Pedro chuckles. “You’ve got the right idea, kiddo.”

The nurse returns with a swaddled bundle,pink and soft and Mom and Dad peek around the corner of the nursery window. Your heart lurches as you step forward; Pedro puts an arm around your shoulders.

There she is: a tiny head crowned with chestnut hair, little fists curled against her cheeks, slated for greatness. You catch Pedro holding back tears; his voice cracks as he asks, “Isabella? Can we...can we see her?”

A nurse lifts the cover and opens the door. “Just for a minute,” she says gently. “She’s doing well.”

You step in, Pedro just behind you. Your eyes meet and you both let your hand rest on the incubator’s edge. “Hey, little one,” you whisper, leaning forward. “I’ve been waiting nineteen years for you.” You reach in, careful to slide on the tiny glove, and touch her tiny palm. She grips your finger.

Pedro clears his throat. “I’m ...I’m Grandpa Pedro.”

You laugh softly. “You’re Grandpa Pedro.” Turning to him, you add, “You did promise to go by Grandpa Pedro instead of Pop-Pop.”

He nods gravely. “Important distinction.” He shrugs, eyes brimming. “Pop-Pop is too… cat-like.”

Mia scoots up next to you, peering at the baby’s face. “She’s perfect.”

Diego shuffles in behind her. “She’s got Mom’s cheeks.”

Lucas ducks in by Pedro’s side. “And Dad’s strong grip.” He lightly squeezes her hand, marveling.

Isabella appears in the doorway,pale but triumphant,supported by Chris, her husband. She’s crying; you rush forward to embrace her. “You did it,” you whisper into her hair.

She nods, tears falling. “She’s healthy. She’s ours.”

Chris offers a sheepish smile. “We named her Emma.”

Emma. Simple, sweet. You feel a surge of emotion. “Emma,” you repeat. “Welcome.”

Pedro bends, kisses Isabella’s forehead, then Chris’s shoulder. “We are so proud.”

Behind you, the nurse clears her throat. “Time’s up. We’ll be bringing baby Emma back in a bit.”

You step out of the nursery, your arms still full of joy. The hall seems to glow, as if the fluorescent lights are basking in newborn radiance. Outside, you find a visitors’ chair; Pedro seats you, and you sink in, letting the moment wash over you.

“Can you believe we’re grandparents?” you ask, and he wraps an arm around you

“I can,” he says, “but it still feels like a dream.”

You smile against his shoulder. “Do you remember our wedding day?”

He chuckles, voice soft. “You telling me to look confident even though my nerves were betraying me.”

“You had that ridiculous grin.” You sit up. “Tell them what happened.”

He grins at your prompting, then clears his throat for effect. “So I’m standing at the altar, right? And then I suddenly realize… I forgot the rings.”

You laugh, high and delighted. “Oh, God! You were mortified.”

Pedro nods solemnly. “I literally patted every pocket before, and then,nothing. I whispered to you, ‘They’re missing.’ And you just looked at me and said, ‘Give me your jacket.’”

You grin. “I found them in your boot.”

He chuckles, warm. “The one with the scorpion embroidered on it.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. “We were married in a blaze of improvised vows, the rings slipped on with tears and laughter.”

“Exactly,” he says, lifting your hand and kissing your knuckles. “We’ve been winging it ever since.”

You nudge him. “Agreed. And look at us now: winging it with four kids, a granddaughter, a 15-year-old who steals our snacks…”

Mia’s voice drifts from down the hall: “Mom? Dad? When can I meet her?!”

You grin, standing up. “Right now."

Back in the nursery, you’re the first to circle back in. The room feels quieter than before, shadows dancing on the walls. Nurses bustle softly, and Emma is swaddled in a pastel blanket. You approach with reverence.

Pedro steps beside you. He whispers, “Her little face wrinkles when she sleeps.”

You nod, enchanted. “She seems peaceful.” You lean forward and hum a lullaby,one you sang to your own children,which earns a tiny twitch of Emma’s finger.

Pedro watches, eyes shining. “That sound… it’s us, you know? It’s our family echoing

You rest your hand on his, pressing it to your heart. “All those years ago, we never imagined this moment.”

He smiles. “But we always believed it.”

The door opens and Isabella slips in. “Mind if I join?” she asks quietly.

You wave her forward and she sits on the little rocking chair. Chris stands behind, hand resting on her shoulder.

Isabella’s voice is soft. “I’ve dreamed of this day since I was ten.” She looks at Emma, tears glistening. “She’s exactly what I hoped.”

You squeeze her arm. “You’re a mother. My girl… you’ve grown.”

Chris speaks for the first time. “Thank you,both of you— or everything.”

Pedro squeezes Chris’s hand. “No, thank you for making us grandparents.”

It feels like a promise,an unspoken pledge that the circle continues. You glance at your wristwatch. “We should get back and tell the others.”

Isabella nods and stands, cradling Emma. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s go say hi to Marco and Lucia, too.”

You follow her out into the hall, but pause at the doorway. You turn to Pedro. “Hand in hand, like always?”

He offers his arm. “Like always.”

You link yours through his, stepping out together, hearts full. Outside, you’ll meet Lucas, Diego, and Mia, full of excitement, and everyone will crowd around Emma. But right now, in this fleeting quiet, you share a look that says more than words: nineteen-year-olds dreaming big, now fifty-year-old keepers of a legacy, welcoming the next generation with open arms. And it is perfect.

[luvrgirl4roman]

When Desire Strikes

Roman Reigns X Malika (Plus size Black OC)

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: 18 +, Smut, cussing, creampie, daddy kink, unprotected p in v, Oral (woman giving and receiving), restraints being used.

My apologies, I barely proofread. I hope you enjoy 😊

Malika looks in the mirror, takes a deep breath, and drops her head. As her curls hover over her face, she whispers, "It's just a date." She's usually not nervous, but she hasn’t entertained a man in over ten months. Roman moved into the neighborhood about five months ago, and they frequently run into each other at the grocery store, the gym, and Tropical Smoothie. She first laid eyes on him at the gym; he was using the bicep machine, and she couldn’t stop staring. He had salt-and-pepper hair in a messy bun, a matching thick beard, and wore a black tank top with matching shorts. Whenever he did a curl, he let out an animalistic grunt as the veins in his muscular arms bulged. As sweat dripped from his forehead, nose, onto his chest, Malika was so entranced that she almost fell off the treadmill. She quickly regained her balance, continued her workout, and went about her day.

She couldn’t get him out of her head for two days after that. With so much sexual frustration pent up, he made her feel feral. They went from nodding at the gym to saying "hey" at the grocery store and then to small talk. Malika was taken aback when he stopped her in the Tropical Smoothie parking lot and asked for her number. Surprisingly, he was a great texter—he kept the conversation interesting and never let more than five minutes pass without replying. He was very flirty without being creepy or sending unsolicited dick pics. They set up a couple of gym dates, during which he would spot her for barbell squats. The sexual tension was definitely high. The way his hands hovered over her plush, thick frame and hips took her mind to dirty places. It had been ten months since she felt a man's touch, and her body was screaming for Roman. One day, after one of their gym dates, he finally asked her out on an actual date.

"It's a nice lounge that I frequent, and I would love for you to be my date. We can order food, have some drinks, and talk," he says.

"I-I would love to," Malika replies, shuddering over her words.

"Great! I'll pick you up tomorrow around 8 PM."

She was so excited that she could barely sleep that night. After passing out, she was awakened hours later by her usual good morning text from Roman. She couldn't help but think that he would be saying "Good morning" tomorrow from her bed. She replied to his text and drifted back to sleep. When she woke up the second time, she checked her phone; it was 12:30 PM. It was her day off, so she usually slept in. She got up, washed her face, brushed her teeth, and fixed a late breakfast of spinach, eggs, and toast. She could barely eat from excitement and nerves. She didn't need to do any maintenance for the date since she had done so earlier in the week; all she had to do was figure out her outfit, shoes, fragrance, and accessories.

"What's the attire for tonight?" she texted Roman.

"Casual, nothing too dressy. I can't wait to see you tonight, by the way," he replied.

"I can't wait to see you too, handsome." she responded, grinning at her phone.

Time flew, and soon it was time for her to get ready. She wrapped up her hair and hopped in the shower. After showering and exfoliating, Malika headed to her closet and found a gorgeous, mid-thigh, spaghetti-strap black sundress covered in pink and red roses to wear. She pulled out her black platform sandals and accessorized her look with a beautiful gold necklace featuring a heart pendant and hoops. She releases her 26-inch curly sew-in from her bonnet, puts on deodorant, applies mascara, body cream, lip gloss, and sprays on FORVR Mood's "You Remind Me." As she checks herself in the mirror, Roman texts her that he's outside. She grabs her black crossbody bag and keys and heads out the door. Roman is standing next to his black 2024 Maserati Quattroporte, its tinted windows gleaming. He wears a black collared shirt and black slacks, and his hair is neatly tied back in a bun. “You look beautiful,” he says as he opens the passenger door for her.

“Thank you, you look great,” she replies with a smile as she climbs into his car, and they head out. She glances over at him as he drives; he looks and smells incredible, with his hair perfectly styled, a full luscious beard, soft lips, and muscular arms filling out his black collared shirt. They arrive at the lounge and enter. The place is dimly lit, with music playing at a respectful level. The soft hum of patrons lounging in their chairs fills the air as they engage in conversation over drinks and food. Roman and Malika make their way to the bar, where the bartender greets them and asks what they would like to eat and drink. Roman orders a surf and turf meal with his steak cooked medium-well and a whiskey neat, while Malika requests Chicken Alfredo and a Blue Motherfucker.

“Your usual spot is available,” the attendant says as he leads them to the quietest area in the lounge. The lounge chair feels soft against Malika's skin, and the dim red lights create a sensual atmosphere.

“I'll go grab your drinks now,” the attendant adds.

“Thank you,” Roman and Malika reply in unison.

“This is an amazing spot; I’ve never been here before,” Malika remarks.

“Yeah, I love it here. I've been coming for about a year now; it's a nice place to unwind at the end of the day.”

“I definitely understand.”

After some small talk over drinks, their food arrives. A comfortable silence envelops them as their forks scrape against the plates, followed by the occasional eye contact. As Malika slurps up her fettuccine noodles covered in Alfredo sauce, Roman’s eyes meet hers, and he smiles. For a moment, Malika wishes it was Romans dick that she was slurping, but she quickly reels her thoughts back in. They finish their meals, and Malika orders a round of tequila shots. Roman declines, citing his need to drive, so Malika takes his shot as well. It felt as if that shot went straight to her core; she could feel a tingle anytime Roman did anything. The way he licked his lips, the way he spoke to the attendant, the intense gaze he held while talking with her—she couldn't take it anymore; she wanted him now! "I can't hold this any longer. I want you to take me home, please," she said softly not breaking eye contact.

"D-Did I say something wrong? I'm so—"

"You've nothing wrong, I want you to come home with me tonight," she said, grabbing his hand.

" I would love to," Roman grinned. He paid the tab, and they headed out to his car. He opened the sunroof, and as she looked up at the clear night sky, the moon shined bright, and the stars were clear and beautiful. The summer night air flowed through her hair and grazed her skin. She closed her eyes, and for the first time in months, she felt stress-free. 

She looked over at Roman, eagerly anticipating their night ahead. They arrived at her apartment, and she stumbled out of the car. Roman grabbed his gym bag from the back, which held toiletries and a change of clothes, and they headed for the door. As soon as she put the keys in the lock, Roman began pressing his manhood against her ass. She opened the door and dropped everything at the entryway. Roman trailed behind her as she pushed him against the door, locking it while standing on her tiptoes to reach his lips. They helped each other rip off their clothes, moaning into each other’s mouths as they kissed.

"It's been a while since I've had sex, so I might be a bit aggressive at times. Is that something you're okay with?" Roman asks, completely naked, his eight-inch brown member and balls hanging free. Malika feels a rush of excitement as she imagines him invading her throat and insides. "It's cool with me; I like rough," she replies. They move over to Malika's dining room, where he bends her over the sleek brown marble table, her breasts pressing against the cool surface, her nipples hardening. He grips her voluptuous waist with his left hand and with his right hand slaps his cock against her clit, the sound wet and sticky. "You ready?" he asks in a deep, sultry tone. "Yes, please," she moans back. "Oh shit, you're already wet for me; I love that." He slides his into her slowly, grunting as he gauges how much she can take. She lets out a moan as her body tenses from his girth entering her.

"Fuck, you're so tight. I don’t know if I can fit; let’s try," he mutters, pushing his entire length deep inside her. A whimper escapes her as he fills her completely. "You like the way I stretch you out, huh?" he growls, delivering a sharp smack to her ass. "Yesss, big daddy," she moans, as he grabs her curly hair, quickening his rhythm. 

At this point, he's thrusting into her so hard that her ass creates a rippling effect against his abdomen. Each stroke hits her G-spot, sending her legs shaking. Her entire body feels electric as goosebumps spread across her skin. As she lets out a deep moan as she's being filled up with Romans rod. The intensity of pleasure and slight pain has tears falling from her face as she senses he’s close to cumming; his breaths quicken and his moans grow louder. "You gonna let me cum inside this pussy?!" "Yes, please, cum inside me, baby!" he begins to jackhammer her, the table moving rhythmically with each thrust. She’s pretty sure the screws in the table are loosening. She feels his manhood pulsating inside her as he releases himself. "Ohhh shit, this pussy feels amazingggg." Once he slides out, he says, "Let's take a shower and get ready for round two" She detaches herself from the table, his seed slowly run down her leg as she begins to lead the way to her bathroom. As they enter her bedroom, she grabs the LED remote and dims the lights, bathing the room in a soft red glow. She guides him into her spacious bathroom, where the scent of Glade Vanilla Passionfruit lingers in the air, being met with the plushness of the black fur rugs. The bathroom features a two-person tub and a 4 person walk-in shower adorned with black tiles and glass doors. Roman sets his bag down on the sink, pulling out a fresh washcloth, Dior Sauvage deodorant, and the matching body wash.

“Do you want to take a shower first?” he asks.  

“We can shower together to save time and water,” she replies, doubling up on her shower caps. He turns on the shower, takes his hair out of the ponytail, and steps in. 

Malika stands in awe at the sight of the beautiful man soaking wet in her shower, knowing she is going to let him have his way with her tonight. His body and hair glisten under the falling water, and she can't help but admire how sexy he looks. She joins him and offers to wash his back. Grabbing a washcloth, she begins to lather it over his stunning back tattoo. He turns around, gently grabs her chin, and kisses her deeply. A tingling sensation ignites in her core from his delicious lips, and he offers to wash her back in return. She takes her washcloth and Olay body wash as he drops to his knees. He starts lathering her legs and thighs, cupping her thick, brown ass in his large, strong hands before moving up to her back. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he says, his hands gliding over her breasts as he grabs her waist. “I can’t wait to wear that pussy out,” he adds, locking his beautiful brown eyes with hers. After finishing the shower, they grab towels from her towel warmer. He gets dressed in her room while she heads into her walk-in closet to find some lingerie. It’s the perfect moment for her red strappy open-cup bra set with heart accents over her nipples, paired with the matching thong she bought from Torrid, along with her black diamond-studded platform heels. She applies pineapple body oil all over her body, puts on a black lace sheer robe, lets her hair down, and struts back into the room. Roman is there, his long, wet black hair framing his face, wearing only red Nike boxer briefs as he tries to connect his phone to her Amazon Echo. “Can I play my playlist from YouTube?” he asks. She turns on the TV and shows him how to connect, and the first song he plays is “Juicy” by Pretty Ricky. He hasn’t seen her outfit yet, as her robe remains closed, but he notices her shoes and her red-painted toes, prompting a smile as he leans back on the bed.

“What you got for me, big mama?” he asks, his bulge growing larger. She stands up, drops the robe, and his eyes light up.

“Damn, you look amazing in that,” he says, biting his lip. 

“Thank you, big daddy,” she replies, swaying her hips and turning around to bend over. He quickly leans up and bites her ass cheek. She pushes him back down onto the king-size memory foam mattress with black silk sheets, climbing on top of him. With his muscular built, she's confident he can handle her curvy figure.

"You smell so good," she whispers as he leans up to bury his face in her neck, kissing it softly. Their lips meet, and it feels like fireworks are going off in her head. She begins to trail her tongue from his neck to his broad chest, down to his stomach, and finally to his rod. She starts by teasing his thick mushroom tip with her tongue, then wraps her hand then her lips around it, sliding her mouth down his shaft, hearing him grunt and moan. He grips her hair and says, "Look at me." She looks up at him, her mouth full. "Ahhhh, you look gorgeous with my dick stuffed in your mouth. Come on, I know you can take more," he moans, sliding his length further down her throat. Tears well up in her eyes, and spit rushes down his shaft as she strokes him deeply with her throat. She detaches her mouth from him, pulls him down onto her black shag rug, and lays him flat. Hovering over his waist, she squats down, moving her thong to the side, guiding him inside her warm, wet pussy. Once she’s fully impaled, she gasps, making sure she has her balance in her heels. “Mmmm, good girl, fitting all of me in there. I want you to ride me like a good slut, okay?” he says to her. “Yes, I will.” With her heels on, she's securely planted, lightly burying her fingers in his chest as she begins to slide up and down on him. Her tight walls conform around him, and she starts to speed up the pace. While his thumb plays with her clit, Malika’s breasts bounce and she feels her G-spot being hit; her legs turn to noodles, and her body begins to shake. Roman’s hands are now planted on her waist, guiding her movements. Sensing he’s about to come, he stops her mid-ride , “I’m not trying to cum yet.” They stand up, and he pushes her onto the bed. “I don’t want you running from me this time. I want you to cream all over my dick. Do you have anything I can use to tie your hands up?” She gestures toward the second drawer of her nightstand, where she keeps two pairs of handcuffs, a whip, a blindfold, and rope.  “Are you a dominatrix or something?” he asks, staring at her drawer full of goodies. “Nope, I like to be dominated. They’re used on me,” she chuckles. He takes each of her hands and cuffs them to her metal headboard. Starting by pressing his lips against hers, he sucks on her bottom lip, kisses her neck, and then removes her bra. As her breasts are revealed, he begins to suck on them, squeezing them together. He continues his journey down to her stomach, caressing it before coming face to face with her soaking core. He sticks out his long, thick, wet tongue and softly teases the tip against her pearl, then flattens his tongue and flicks back and forth. “You taste so good, baby,” he moans. As his tongue moves in a circular motion on her clit, as he begins sucking, she lets out a loud moan, squirming beneath him. He looks up at her, a moan escaping his lips, as her legs start to shake.

“I’m about to cum—” 

“Oh no, not yet, baby,” he replies.

He gets up on his knees, places her thighs around his waist, and enters her. As he slowly strokes, filling her up, he grabs her full breasts for leverage, running his thumbs over her nipples. With every thrust, she lets out a cry. 

“Big... Daddy... please... I don't know how much—”

“Come on, big mama, you got this," he says as he leans down to kiss her, silencing her moans with his mouth. He places both his hands on her head and begins to slow his rhythm inside her, which drives her crazy. 

"I've been thinking about fucking you for weeks," he says, his voice low and intense. "You were acting shy, like you didn't want to talk to me. Now look at you—cuffed and completely at my mercy." Their eyes lock, and a rush of ecstasy overwhelms Malika. 

"You want me to fuck you harder?" he asks, leaning closer. 

She nods

"What? I didn't hear you" Roman growls

"Yes, sir. Pleaseee." Malika replies

He places both of her feet on his shoulders and pushes himself deeper inside her, intensifying his thrusts. The only sounds are his knees hitting her back thighs, the headboard ramming against the wall, the clinking of the handcuffs around her wrists, his grunts, and her moans. At this point, her body is tingling and shaking, and she feels her peak is near. 

"Come on, baby, cum on my dick," he moans. The room begins to spin as their bodies shiver and they climax together. He looks down at her and says, "Good girl, let it all out," as her body shakes uncontrollably. When he pulls out, his cock is covered with her juices and his cum. She's unable to form words at this point due to the fact her intense orgasm has robbed her of speech. Afterwards, she sits back as her heart rate returns to normal and her body stops twitching. When she goes to clean up and returns, Roman is sound asleep, stretched out on her bed. She curls up next to him and falls asleep.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hi my love, may I please request angsty/smut with either ghoap x reader or  John Price🤍

.⋆｡Almost Lost｡⋆.

John Price x plus size reader

The mission went sideways because of you but your captain is not going to let you go

Warnings: blood, injury/getting shot, passing out, older man/younger woman, power imbalance, getting stitches, no smut this time but maybe a second part in the future, insecurity and self-doubt, teeny bit of possessive price, angst, implied smut WC: 1.9k Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You couldn’t stop shaking. The adrenaline, the pain, the miles you had to run to escape— you knew, subconsciously at least, the crash your body experienced would be bad but you didn’t think it would be like this. The concrete wall you were wedged against kept you from falling over but the rough surface was like thousands of little blades slicing into your back. You felt hyper-aware of everything around you, from the smell of gunpowder from the explosion that clung to your clothes to the way your captain was breathing heavily from his own corner of the safehouse.

Without meaning to, you focused on the older man, needing some semblance of comfort that his presence usually gave you as your captain and man you endlessly admired. A dark pink flush colouring the pale skin of his neck and cheeks, blooming out from his unkempt facial hair that was slowly growing into a salt-speckled beard. His eyes were squeezed shut, accentuating the deep smile lines that seemed to grow more prominent every year. He was hunched over, hands on his knees, somehow folding the mass of his muscular and hardened body into a tight ball leaning against the opposite corner of the room. Rusty brown blood was smeared up his left arm and onto the limp hat still somehow perched on his head. 

You tried to move your legs as your nerves buzzed angrily, but instead, you crumpled to the floor with a whimper. A flash of burning pain shot up your side, nestling into the back of your skull like a migraine. The world swam as you parted your chapped lips to call out to him, but no sound escaped you. Something warm pooled into your hand.

“Fuck.” Price groaned, finally straightening up. Even through the loud ringing in your ears, you could hear the way his joints popped as he stood. “Fuck.” He repeated, something in his back shifting. You knew somehow that he was thinking of how it had all gone sideways — there was nothing there, no target, no intel, only a bomb and a gunman with impeccable aim.

Black dots began to bloom across your vision. You had known that this mission was risky and you were nowhere near as skilled as it required but Price needed your knowledge and you were not one to say no to your captain. Perhaps you should have insisted that he take Gaz because now, as your fingers dig into your ribs where your flesh had been sliced open by a wayward bullet, you knew you would only be a burden to him.

Your boots caught on the rough ground, keeping your knees up and bent, pushing your hand harder against the steady flow of blood. 

Golden sunlight streamed through the ratty curtains at the front of the house, bathing Price in a warm glow. You could take some peace in the view of him, his solidness filling your tunnelling vision. “John.” The syllables of his name rolled over your chapped lips like syrup, sticking behind your teeth and clinging to your wavering breath.

Blue eyes snapped up, catching the light. Your lips quirked up as if to reassure him that you were fine or maybe that he shouldn’t have to worry about you but then the blackness curled around you, pulling you under as the night closed in.

——————

Pain was the best alarm clock you found. It rocketed through you, searing your nerves like acid and forcing you into consciousness even when your brain so desperately tried to keep you asleep.

“Fuck. C’mon you gotta wake up.” The whimper of agony that rattled through your dry throat seemed to redouble the pressure on your stomach and the vengeful searing of your torn flesh pushed in deeper. “Talk to me sergeant, I sure as shit can’t do this alone.”

“Thought you preferred when I shut up, cap.” Your eyes rolled around your head but you still spoke, unwilling to disobey him even now. You gasped as he down pressed, forcing even more pain into the softest parts of yourself and yet, Price’s constitution didn’t waver. 

“I only do when you’re bein mouthy during training.” Your fingers searched for anything to cling to when he pulled your body up and into his own. The smell of cigars and the tang of his sweat washing over the pain, letting you feel a tinge of something other than the slice of the bullet that had cut right through your side.

You slumped into his arms, letting the older man lift you from the ground without any more fanfare. “You love it.” You gasped as he readjusted his hold on you, sending another jolt to your overworked nerves.

Price grunted, the movement of his chest forcing your head to loll into the crook of his neck, your nose pressing against his fast pulse. “Sure as hell like it more than Soap’s jabbering.” He mumbled, the deepness of his voice rumbling across your pallid skin. Your body jerked with each hesitant step he took towards the only other room in the dilapidated safe house.

“That’s good to know sir.” You groaned, your voice wavering with the effort to stay awake.

Moonlight leaked into what you could barely call the bedroom; an ancient mattress rested on a hastily constructed bed frame that looked like it would give out with the slightest weight put on it. But Price didn’t hesitate to lay you down flat onto the creaking springs, his calloused hands tracing the length of your body as if he were checking that you were still physically there and not one of the ghosts that haunted him.

Your teeth sank into your lower lip, slicing through the cracked flesh to keep your screams at bay. Your stomach stretched uncomfortably, as if your skin was too tight upon your bones. Price settled to his knees beside you, thick fingers plucking at your blood-soaked shirt before tenderly pulling it over your head, finally seeing the extent of your injury.

“You didn’t say you were hurt.” He didn’t sound like himself, his words were as unsure and brittle as the wood beneath you. He sounded human.

You let him press your skin back together without protest, barely even wincing as he doused your skin in disinfectant from the small first-aid kit you religiously carried with you. You briefly thought about how he would’ve had to practically feel you up in order to find it in the discreet pocket in your vest next to your heart.

“Didn’t realise till we stopped.” He fell silent, his mind far away as he began to stitch the wound closed in the way he did when he was overwhelmed with rage. Tears pricked at your waterline. It was almost pathetic, you took a bullet and kept running, you faced death without so much as a sniffle but the second you realised that your captain was mad at your incompetence, you wanted to cry like a little girl.

If he had brought someone else with him, the mission would’ve been a success. You knew that too well, you were barely a part of the 141, an unwanted addition to the team because of politics and a favour Laswell owed you. It was clear that no matter how hard you worked, you wouldn’t be able to measure up to your teammates and this only proved it. “‘M sorry sir, it’s all my fault.” His head snapped up, blue eyes wide with something you couldn’t quite read. “I should've been more aware of my surroundings, of the mission. I’ll send in my transfer request when we return.”

“No.” With a particularly rough tug on the medical thread, Price tied off the stitch and shoved the supplies back into the bag he had pulled them from.

“But I messed up, the mission was a failure because of me.” You could have begged. You didn’t find the intel on Graves that should’ve been there, nor the bomb that was so plainly sitting outside the warehouse you had broken into. You didn’t see the sniper scope on the roof, didn’t listen to your gut. You had just followed Price like a lost duckling, watching his back in the most literal sense. You have to leave the 141, you have to leave him.

“No it didn’t. Mission was fucked from the start, just unlucky.” Price stood, his joints creaking audibly as he did so. He towered over you, casting a massive shadow across your broken body. “It happens.”

“But if Gaz-“

“No. Wouldn’t ‘ave mattered if the whole fuckin team was here. It was a trap and you got hurt. It’s my fault, I’m your captain, I didn’t keep you safe.” His face crumpled. “I didn’t keep you safe.”

Soft taps of rain onto the tin roof echoed hollowly through the room, steadily getting louder and louder until it was a white noise. Price’s shoulders fell with the rain until he was curled in on himself, his head in his hands, looking so uncharacteristically lost. The dulled pain in your side didn’t stop you from sitting up and shuffling closer to the man.

Proximity and closeness were two vastly different things in the special forces; you were constantly in the personal space of dozens of soldiers a day, you saw each other at your worst yet there was always a mental wall that had to remain standing through it all. But now, as the shock began to waver and the adrenaline faded, there was nothing left to keep you apart. Price was always closed off, he had to be when he shouldered so much responsibility. He was a captain, a soldier, a tool of the British government, in that order. 

Your shaking hands grasped at his own, making him look at you. In the grayscale of the storm descending around you, he was just a man.

“I kind of knew what I signed up for when I joined the SAS in the first place.” You attempted to joke but the smile died on your lips when his grip tightened. The bedsprings screamed in protest as he planted his knee in between your own, guiding you to lay back as he followed. “Price-“ 

“You said my name.” Your eyes widened but before you could begin a tirade of apologies, he let his knuckles run along the swell of your cheek. “You were dying and all I could think was how you had never said my name before and how badly I needed to hear you say it again.”

“It was just a graze.” You muttered and he grimaced.

“But it wasn’t. I chose to bring you here and I put you in danger just so I could have you close. I’m damn selfish and you got hurt. I almost lost you, I’m never letting that happen again.” His nose nudged against yours. “I’m never letting you go.”

As the bright white light of a lightning strike flashed across your bodies, Price finally pressed his lips to yours, silencing the roar of pain in your stomach and the venom of doubts in your mind. It didn’t begin soft or gentle, his tongue immediately delved into your mouth, stealing your breath. His shirt rode up, the skin of his lower stomach connecting with yours as he continued to remind you that your place was beside him.

“You’ll always be mine.” He grabbed your hips and, mindful of your injury, lifted them up so he could settle your legs onto his own hips before reaching for your belt. 

“I’m yours John.”

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ꜱɪʟʟʏ ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏꜱ - (ᴋɪᴛᴀ ꜱʜɪɴꜱᴜᴋᴇ)

Rrring rrrring !!

The alarm went off for 6am. Kita groaned, shuffling the blankets and turning to look at you.

He didn't have to wake up so early today. His only class was an afternoon class. Plus he stayed up last night with you, binge watching movies and cuddling on the couch.

It was around 2am when he woke up and realised how you both had fallen asleep on the couch. His neck was bent at a very uncomfortable angle.

He had craned his neck to look at you.

Only to coo at the sight of you curled up beside him, mouth drooling a huge patch onto his chest. He would keep it a secret, obviously predicting how mortified you would be if you were to know.

Now, as he stretches a hand, successfully stopping the alarm, he remembers a little something you had told him before the movie last night.

"I wanna make you breakfast in bed." You had pouted.

He could understand your complain. Every time he stayed over, he was the one making breakfast the next morning. It was a habit. And the bonus was he got to see your sleepy smile as you woke to the smell of the food.

He looks down at you, cosy and cuddled in the blankets, slightly snoring.

And he decides - five minutes more sleep won't hurt.

With one hand he laboriously sets the alarm for five minutes.

This time when the alarm rings, Kita lets it ring away, eyes shut closed. After the fifth ring, you wake up. For a second he feels you freeze against him.

And then you quickly sit up, like you remembered something.

Kita feels your palm, patting his face. He almost snorts when you bring your finger under his nose, probably checking if he's breathing. He keeps his breathing slow and steady, putting his hundred percent into the act.

You giggle. Slowly, you get up off the bed, hopping off to the kitchen, murmuring all the things you had planned to make to surprise him in bed.

And as the bedroom door closes behind him, Kita covers his face with his palms, rubbing hard against his cheeks and five o'clock beard. As he replays what happened, he grins, rolling around and burying his face in the pillow so his laugh is absorbed by it.

You just might be the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

[hellishjoel]

ungodly and unprofessional

5.6k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader

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summary: who said anything about falling in love? you're just co-workers. warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), smoking, descriptions of food and drink, reader is described to have hair (not descriptive of what color/length/etc.) and wears a waitress uniform, explicit smut, consensual somnophilia, swearing, pet names, allusions to bad parenting/parental abuse, descriptions of a parent abusing drugs and alcohol (please heed these warnings and do not read if you are concerned these may be triggers), lastly not beta'd (lmk if you're interested!) A/N: five or six months later, who really knows. believe it or not, I was never not working on this or thinking about it for all of those months... which is crazy. I completely wing these chapters which is probably why it takes so long but you guys don't mind, right? enjoy these cuties falling deeper <3 I almost forgot - shoutout to BistroHuddy on TikTok because one of their segments inspired something in here (but no spoilers!)

“To love someone is firstly to confess: I'm prepared to be devastated by you.” Billy-Ray Belcourt. 

You have this silly poetry book someone gave you as a birthday present or holiday gift exchange a few years ago. You’ve never picked it up until now. You’re shocked to say all of these cheesy love quotes and poems make you think of one very specific person: a guy with dark curls, a scruffy beard, amber eyes, and the perfect smile. Francisco. 

Falling for a man like Frankie feels like growing up— a sign of maturing compared to the ghosts of terrible boyfriend's past. 

Come to find out, it’s easier to go for the wrong guys, easier on your heart in a way — you don’t feel like you are actually losing anything. 

That’s why you would bet on losing dogs. Invest your emotions and need for romance in those who don’t reciprocate. The ones who despise commitment or lack emotional availability leave you in a state of disappointment. 

Better that than full-blown heartache. Better than ripping yourself open at the seams for another, only to be the one to sew yourself back up again. But not better than winning. 

The letter Frankie’s father sent him weeks ago had been burned into your brain. Every single word, each break of a new paragraph, lines of apologies, and convincing stories of ‘the good times’ they used to have. 

Frankie appeared to be just as wary about the letter as you were, neither of you so easily trusting. Frankie didn’t trust his father, but you did trust Frankie—end of story. 

You’ve never known Frankie to be so tightly closed about something that bothers him. He was the type of man who wears his heart on his sleeve, an open book. 

Aside from allowing you to read the letter, you two have barely spoken about it. And not due to your lack of trying. 

There wasn’t a need for you to bring clarity to the situation, it wasn’t up to you to encourage Frankie to allow his father back into his life. But there was still a lot of emotional trauma that he carried that he didn’t have to bear alone. You just wanted him to know that you support him in whatever avenue he decides is best. 

To forgive or to forget. 

Frankie releases a sigh from his parted lips, squeezing his eyes closed tighter as your alarm chimes from your phone on the bedside table. He hates the fucking morning shift. 

The air is sticky and thick, and the fan on his bedroom ceiling is doing little to help. Late August is still taking its toll on Texas and its residents, but he’s reminded that this time last year, he sunk down on his knees in the back kitchen and tasted you on his tongue for the first time. Can’t believe it’s been a year since then. Plus all the events that have transpired since. 

There’s no label between you two other than the fact you are exclusive— putting your focus on each other and not seeing other people. It was good, better than nothing with you. 

His eyelashes finally flutter open, seeing you shift in the dark to turn off the alarm, only to dig your face deep into your pillow. He thinks you’re fucking adorable. 

Frankie is by no means a morning person, but waking up beside you has changed his perspective. Your hair is a scattered mess, the ponytail having fallen loose in the tosses and turns of last night. The sunlight peaking through the blinds highlights the slope of your nose and Cupid’s bow. Arms tucked into your front, leg hiked up like a ballerina.

His mind starts to swirl at the conversation you shared recently, that you wanted to try something… new. To be surprised. To be taken by him in your sleep. 

He was shocked to hear you say it, all shy and meek - it’s not a side of you he sees often. But it’s the vulnerability talking, advocating the trust you share together. 

“I want to wake up with you inside me.”

Frankie had to blink a few times, his large hand cradling your jaw as you spoke in whispers between the sheets. “You— I didn’t know you’d be into that sort of thing.”

“We don’t have to if it’s not your thing. But there’s something about you moving me where you want me to be, being completely under your control, even a little helpless,” you pause, uncertain if your words would scare him off. 

The exact opposite. Frankie was intrigued. 

“The thrill of trying not to wake you up.” He continues, watching your glowing smile return, indicating that Frankie understands why this would feel good to you. 

“My natural reaction, trusting you, knowing that you’ll be careful, knowing that you’re using me— it’s hot, Frankie. You have my consent, I wanna try.” 

Frankie’s stomach churns with excitement, butterflies spreading through his abdomen and up to his chest, his heart thunking eagerly. 

He was slow and methodical, not wanting you to stir from your sleepy state. Nipping at his lower lip, teeth piercing the skin, he works up the courage to touch you. A rough and calloused hand travels up your side, pushing up your sleep tee and watching goosebumps line the tips of his fingers.

Frankie presses slow kisses to the top of your shoulder, feeling his cock swell against the plump of your ass in all of the excitement. He whispers your name, soft and raspy with the morning hour. Other than a small twitch of your nose, you’re out cold. 

“Shh, s’okay angel, m’gonna make you feel good.” The desire stirs in his stomach, urging him to please you in your sleep just like you asked. 

With two crooked fingers, he curls them around the band of your panties and slowly drags them down your soft thighs. You let out a slow sigh between your parted lips, Frankie pausing to watch as you settle once more. 

 Slipping two skilled fingers between your legs, he slowly massages up and down your folds. He’s surprised to already feel the slick between your legs, a low groan of approval leaving the depths of his throat. 

There’s a shift, your hips squirming for more of his touch. You’re so perfectly pliant for him, causing the embers low in his belly to grow with anticipation, the blood rushing to his cock as it hardens against the curve of your ass. 

“Good girl,” he remarks as you let out a little whimper upon the pads of Frankie’s fingers finding your swollen clit. “Even asleep, you’re nice and wet for me, princess.” 

Goddammit, he thinks, how does she have this much of an effect while perfectly asleep? He can’t stand the feeling of not touching her, the carnal need to take her was strong like a magnet, forcing their bodies together. 

One yank and he was out of his briefs, chewing on his lower lip in concentration. He needed to move you, to perfectly fit in the nook of your body, you’d have to be good and yield to him. 

Frankie hikes up your leg and fills in the spaces between your bodies, stroking over himself as he slowly lines his leaking tip along your entrance. Just as he notches his tip inside, a quiet and sleepy gasp leaves your perfect pillowy lips. 

“Right there, baby, you just stay right there for me,” Frankie growls against your ear, his hips flush with yours as he slowly lets inch by inch of him be swallowed by your warm cunt. 

After that, there wasn’t a lot of nicety to him. The level of control he carried was lost. He just wanted to take and take, feel and fuck. He wants to use you like his own personal toy; do whatever he pleases with no resistance. You were his to devour. 

He’s still inside you, but he’s gotten this far, and you’re still out. Even in sleep, you’re pulsing around his cock, so fucking tight around him that it steals the air from his lungs. There’s a hint of discomfort in your face, a quiet gasp held within your expression. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, the hand he holds firmly on your hip now moving under your sleep tee. 

You were so fucking accessible to him, so beautiful, so peaceful being fucked raw. 

He rolls your nipple between his thumb and index finger, getting the reaction he’s been waiting for all morning. A sweet, slow moan tumbles loose from your throat, your hips reeling back to grind against Frankie’s lap. 

He’s somewhat pleased he knows you this well, knows what gets you worked up and gushing. The fact that even in your sleep, you have this reaction towards him makes the fire burning inside his abdomen grow. Maybe a deep part of him gets off on knowing you so well. 

Frankie lets out a sigh at his own thoughts, lightly nipping the skin of your exposed shoulder as he slowly rolls his hips back and glides in again, feeling the drag of your tight pussy keeping him lubed up and warm.

If he weren’t so desperate to fuck you, he’d love to just sit inside you like this all goddamn day. It would probably give him the same comfort as the first cup of coffee. 

He gives your breast one more firm squeeze before returning the attention back to your clit, all desperate and tingling with each eager circle he gives you. 

“So fucking perfect,” he whispers against your ear, his hips continuing at a steady pace until he simply needs more. He hikes up your leg once again to allow himself more movement, smirking as your ass smacks against the front of his hips with each thrust that now jostles your body. 

You’ll surely wake any moment, shocked and sleepy and startled at his cock so deep inside your perfectly spent cunt. 

You whimper each time he fills you, your face digging into the pillow as you moan against the cover. Frankie’s efforts grow needy and demanding, fisting your hair out of his way as he sucks marks into your neck; teeth and tongue massaging the skin before leaving a bruise in its wake.

A sweet little sob exits your parted lips, Frankie groaning at the pretty little noises you make. 

“Take me so well, princess. You want me to keep fuckin’ you, huh?” He snarls against your neck, smirking as you hiss at the sensations you’re feeling all throughout your body.  

Suddenly, your eyes flutter open. They absorb the settings around you and it all clicks. A long, desperate moan crawls from the depths of your throat, your movements sluggish but your hand eventually clasps onto Frankie’s forearm, his fingers still swirling around your clit. 

“Ohmy— Frankie, fuck,” you gasp as you feel the full force of his cock drilling deep inside your pussy. Your voice is still thick with sleep, eyes cloudy with lust, and skin-prickling sensations that you had never felt before; a million emotions, but the standout being desperation to come undone like this with a man you trust. 

“This what you wanted, angel? Wake up with my cock stuffed between your legs?” Frankie smirks as he presses his lips against your cheek, jaw dropping against your own as you ride out the high together. 

You cry out something wrecked, a garble of syllables as your spine arches against his front. You weren’t given the pleasure of feeling the orgasm build and build; you woke up at its high heat. 

In an instant, your skin was clammy, hair sticking to your skin as desperate pants filled the room, along with broken moans of Frankie’s name. 

It’s exactly what you wanted, maybe better. Yes, way better. 

You’re so tight, literally clinging to every single inch he gives you as your slick drenches his cock. Your nails dig into his tan skin, feeling the muscles and tendons work to play with your clit. 

A whimper leaves you as the warmth in your stomach boils over, turning your head over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of his face. His eyes are dark, cast over with lust as he stole you in your sleep. In an instant, he meets you with a messy kiss, your bodies and the bed still jolting with each rough thrust he gives you. 

“Please,” you moan against his lips, nodding your head as you look into his eyes. “Come inside me, I wanna feel it, please, give it to me, Frankie,” your words turn into a whine as he begins to fuck you harder, deeper, his tip tickling your cervix as you damn near blackout from the pleasure. 

The pleasure inside of you finally reaches the surface. The feeling was like a wave breaching over your rocky shores, washing over you both in pleasure as your cunt spasms around his thick cock. 

Frankie spoils your clit as his hips snap against your ass, one, two, three more times before the feeling of you overcomes him. He braces you tightly in his arms, panting against your shoulder, eyes clenching closed as he lets out broken grunts of release. He paints your insides with his spend, both of you relaxing in one another’s hold as you slowly descend from heaven. 

“Jesus Christ,” Frankie breathes, shaking his head with a tilted smirk. “You don’t know what you do to me.” He remarks as you look over your shoulder in a haze. 

You whimper as you pull him in closer, fingers weaving into the curls at the back of his head and encouraging him to meet your parted lips. 

The words are at the tip of your tongue, and you can feel them spread heat throughout your body. You can hear both of your hearts beating, thundering against the human flesh, and signaling the feeling of being alive. 

Frankie waits for the words. The feeling of anticipation has been lingering for quite some time. Your touch of nervousness was welcome, expected even. A moment in time when your heart feels exposed but also overwhelmingly full. Only hoping that the other person feels the same way, yet uncertain of how they will respond. A game of chicken of who will say it first and who will have to respond. The leap of faith one will be forced to make and the right words the other will have to find.

Both roles are downright frightening. 

You’re risking everything, the biggest gamble one can make without physical currency. 

But he sees the panic behind your eyes, the nervewracking feeling of saying the sacred words to someone, maybe even for the first time. And he knows that they will be worth it to hear. 

“I know,” he whispers against your lips, shaking his head in a way that tells you he knows what you’re thinking. “I know.” 

You don’t attend church, so you have one question: why the fuck is God sending people to get brunch after Sunday’s service? Why is that their beck and call? 

Every Sunday morning, like clockwork, a flock of people flood the diner with their church clothes and a hankering for waffles and Frankie’s house lumberjack skillet (you wanna know what’s in it, don’t you?)

Frankie’s Secret Ingredients:

Potatoes: 1/4 lb (about 4-5 small potatoes)

Olive Oil: 1/2 tablespoon

Breakfast Sausage Links: 3 oz (about 4 links)

Onion: 1/8 of a whole onion, chopped

Red Pepper: 1/4 of a whole red pepper, chopped

Jalapenos: 1/2 jalapeno, sliced (omit if person looks too old to handle)

Butter: 1 tablespoon

Hickory Maple Seasoning: 1/2 teaspoon

Eggs: 2 large eggs

Milk: 1 tablespoon

Cheddar Cheese: 2 tablespoons, shredded

Anyway, Tommy’s Diner is slammed by mid-morning, and you’re working up a sweat. You’re wiping at your neck and forehead every few minutes, and the sun filtering through the windows does little justice to cool your skin. Tina called out sick, which is code for hungover from Saturday. It’s overwhelming. Your brain feels like the scrambled eggs you just plated for that family of four.

“Enjoy,” you whisper a little breathlessly, tucking your notepad into the front of your apron, rubbing at your temple with the heel of your hand as you walk past the rest of your tables. 

By the time you lift your head, you see a large potbelly man who is waving an arm up above his head, fingers already snapping incessantly. He looked like a chubby rat, with a large dark-haired mustache and a shirt that didn’t fully cover the beer gut he was sporting.

“Uhm, hello? Miss, can we get some service over here?” 

Jesus fucking Christ. Your jaw tightens a few notches, pushing your hair out of your face and wrapping around to their table. You remember them; you took their table’s order a bit ago now - shit, did you forget their plates? No, you didn’t. 

Stopping at the head of their table, you smile politely at the large family. 

“Hi, can I get you something while you wait?”

The man scoffs and snaps, “Uh, yeah, our food.”

Taking a deep breath wasn’t enough; you were a ticking time bomb. “Sir, do you see how many people are in the diner? We’re at capacity with a line out the door. I understand you’ve been waiting, but our kitchen is backed up and-” 

“Bull-honkey-bullcrap, little miss,” the man raises his voice, spitting violently with each syllable, “This is ridiculous! We’ve been sittin’ here for nearly an hour. How hard is it to make some eggs and Mickey Mouse pancakes, huh? You just that stupid? What the hell is goin’ on back there? Are you people completely incompetent, or are you just ignorin’ us?”

Worse things have been said to your face, but you’re at your breaking point. You can feel your face flush with warmth radiating throughout your body. Now, the entire diner is staring at you from all the commotion. Your lungs feel tight, a headache casting heavy behind your face. Tears line your eyes, but you don’t dare let them fall. 

“Again, I’m really sorry, but like I said, the kitchen is backed up.” But apologizing isn’t enough. This guy just wanted someone to take his punches. 

“Don’t even try to apologize. I don’t wanna hear your pathetic excuses. How hard is it to cook some damn eggs? This place is a joke. You must be the worst server I’ve ever dealt with. ‘Nd I swear, if I wanted this kind of useless service, I’d go to a fast food joint. Is this how you treat payin’ customers, or ya’ll just this lazy? Do your job, or I’ll make sure everyone knows how worthless you and this diner is.”

You clutch the empty coffee pot tightly, biting your tongue. Turning swiftly, you head straight for the back swinging door. You don't intend to contribute to the chaos or the bustling mess in the kitchen, but here, in the safety of the back section, you allow a few stray tears to escape.

Shoulder blades hitting the cold brick, you wish to blend into the wall. It feels like the air’s been knocked out of you, your chest heavy and tight. Every sound around you blurs as the man’s harsh words replay in your mind, louder and louder each time. Your hands shake just enough to want to hide them behind your back, feeling afraid to have eyes on you in such a vulnerable state. Exposed. You’ve absorbed the anger meant for something or someone else, so now, it sticks to you, something you can’t wash away. 

Your name echoes once, twice. 

“Hey,” A calm amongst the rushing waves - it’s Frankie. You blink him into focus, bleary tears slowly fading away. His red bandana is tied tight around his forehead to catch the sweat from his forehead and hair. His face is laced with concern. He wipes his hands off on his apron, gently capturing your face as he shields you from the rest of the kitchen. 

And just like that, life returns to your body. You can feel the tips of your fingers, previously tingling, wiping under your eyes as you hiccup through your breaths. Frankie knows this high-traffic area will only make your anxiety worse. 

“It’s okay, take a deep breath and tell me what happen.”

The eyes of the kitchen staff are slowly starting to turn to you, asking if you’re alright and why you’re upset. Shaking your head dismissively, you blink away your tears and look down at the grubby floor that probably hasn’t been mopped since the invention of flip phones. 

“I’m fine. This customer just got pissed and yelled at me. He was upset that his food was running behind, and I tried to explain that the kitchen was backed up.” You part your lips to continue, but the jaw drops of the kitchen staff signal shock by your words. 

They all start honking in unison like a flock of geese. 

“He what?”

“Which fuckin’ table?”

“You okay, sweetheart? Fuck them.” 

Frankie's back straightens stiff, having previously been craning to see your face, now strict with annoyance. 

“Is that him?” Frankie asks as he walks to the window between the kitchen and the back counter, narrowing his eyes on the rat man and his family. 

“Frankie, please don't,” you huff, already refilling your pots of coffee and hoping to just forget the whole thing ever happened. "It's okay, it happens."

But it’s not okay. Because this guy made you cry, and what the hell was it for? Some scrambled eggs and bacon on delay?

The rest of the line cooks have abandoned their food to gawk at the asshole who thinks he can get away with yelling at one of their own like that. 

Frankie tightens his bandana and peels off his gloves, slapping them down in the trash. 

His boots thunder across the linoleum, catching the attention of many of the patrons on his way to the booth by the window where the rat man has continued to reside angrily. Even worse, he chuckles at the sight of Frankie. 

“Take a load of this guy," the rat man appears to mutter to his wife who looks between them both with startled eyes. "Okay, okay, just bring back the pretty waitress. I’ll tell her I’m sorry.” He sneers, shaking his head. 

“No, you’re done with her. You’re dealin’ with me now.” Frankie snags an empty chair from a nearby table, turns it around, and straddles the seat as he gets in the burly man's face. 

“I just feel terrible that we’re not meeting the quality of service you expected. So what exactly is the problem?” Frankie asks with a hint of venom lining his words. 

“Well- we’ve been waitin’ here for half an hour and-”

“Right, and what did the pretty waitress say?”

The man scoffs lightly, feeling embarrassed with all the eyes on him not once but twice now. “Well, she said the kitchen was backed up.”

“That’s right, that’s right, well, I’m the fuckin’ kitchen. You wanna yell at someone? Well, I thought I’d give you the chance to yell at me since, hey, I'm in charge of the kitchen today. Please, tell me your honest review.”

The rat man stares blankly, looking from left to right in surprise, but his family all gawks at Frankie. 

Frankie waits, eyes unblinking, face hardened as the man sputters up something weak in response. 

“This is ungodly and unprofessional,” he gargles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

“You’re absolutely right!” Frankie says, smacking the table with his closed fist before pointing at the rat man, the tip of his finger inches from his face. “I am unprofessional, but that’s because I don’t have the great customer service skills of our waitresses. That’s her job,” Frankie juts a thumb backward towards the kitchen in your direction. “So now, instead of cookin’ you and your ugly wife and kids some food, I gotta come out here and knock some sense into ya since you seemed to have lost your manners. So you gonna let her do her job so I can get back to mine?”

You can only watch from the window in shock, hand over mouth, unblinking eyes - but it’s like a car crash you can’t look away from. The man is shocked into an embarrassed silence. 

“We’ll just… we’ll wait. There’s-uh-there’s a lotta people here.” 

Frankie sighs and smiles with fake relief. He stands from the chair, looking around the quiet restaurant. 

“Anybody else have somethin' they wanna say?”

They all seem too scared of Frankie to complain again to the psycho chef. Chants of ‘Everything’s great!’ or “Thank you!” echo through the dining room. 

You smile warmly, forcing yourself to turn away from the scene and clean up your teary makeup in the bathroom. But all you can think about is Frankie. Francisco. Stupid Catfish. Stepping in like that to protect you, to make that jerk take accountability. It makes your heart flutter knowing how much he cares. And you feel the same way.

It’s about time you tell him. 

Knuckles wrap against the bathroom door, and an echo of, “You okay?” follows. 

He comes in without a response, somewhat relieved to find you adjusting your hair and wiping at the smeary makeup. Your eyes soften at the sight of him, watching in the reflection. He looks disheveled and annoyed, shaking his head as he starts ranting about rat man. 

“I don’t get how people like that- the God-loving church people- come in here and act like they weren’t just told at a sermon to love thy neighbor or whatever bullshit.”

He continues, but all you do is stare.

A part of you thinks he defends others due to his childhood. No one picks on the people Frankie cares about. That letter riled him up, maybe more than either of you had realized. He’s thinking about those times of the past, the innocent hurt by the deviant. 

“You didn’t deserve that, I’m sorry, he’s a fucking dick. You don’t have to take his food out, I’ll do it. Honey,” he breathes, hand resting on your shoulder as he gently turns you around to face him. “Are you mad at me? I know you told me not to go out there, but no one makes you cry if I can help it, y’know? I don’t want him to think he can get away with that.”

Once Frankie starts ranting, it’s really hard to get him to stop. 

“Frankie,” you breathe out, resting your hand over the one he holds on your shoulder. 

“I mean, does he really think that it’s smart to be rude to the staff? I’ll spit in his food, and it will feel really good because he’ll have no idea.”

“Frankie,”

“You’re a good fucking waitress! Doesn’t he see the entire breakfast bar and all the booths filled with guests? The line out the door wasn’t an indication of how busy it is? Get a fuckin’ brain, I mean-”

In an instant, you tilt your chin up, catching his gaze just long enough to see the shift in his eyes before your lips meet. Your hands slide around his neck, fingers weaving into the soft curls at the nape, gently tugging him down toward you. The kiss begins with an urgency, part playful, part to silence his words, but mostly, it's to thank him in a way that words never could.

Frankie’s initial surprise fades quickly as he melts into you, his breath hitching for a moment. His hands travel to your waist, sliding around until they lock just above your hips, anchoring you to him. He presses closer, his touch firm yet tender, and slows the kiss, savoring the warmth of your lips. You feel the way his body relaxes, how he leans in, letting the world around you both fall away as he holds you, close and unmoving, like he’s never letting go.

It takes every ounce of courage in your body to pull away, your lips lingering against his for a heartbeat longer than necessary, as if tethered by an invisible force. Slowly, you break the kiss, your breath shaky, heart racing. His forehead rests against yours for a moment, his eyes still half-closed, unaware of the words hanging on the edge of your lips.

You gently pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers still laced in his hair, trembling slightly. His eyes search yours, soft and expectant, filled with something unspoken but unmistakable.

With a deep inhale, you let the words slip out, vulnerable and raw, barely louder than a whisper, but heavy with meaning.

“I love you.”

The world stands still as the words hang in the air, your heart pounding as you wait for the weight of what you’ve just said to settle between you.

And then he smiles like an idiot. And you’re joining him. 

“Did you say what I think you said? Did you say that you love me?" His voice is soft, teasing, as he presses his forehead against yours, capturing your lips with a few playful, quick kisses between his words. “Come on, say it again.”

You feel your heart flutter, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Frankie’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “I heard you say it. Now you can’t take it back,” he adds with a grin, pulling you tighter, his arms leaving no space between you.

You giggle, your hands pushing lightly against his shoulders, though he doesn’t budge. “Stop, that was really hard,” you huff, breathless, as though the words had stolen all the air from your lungs.

Frankie just shakes his head, his smile fading into something softer, more real, as the weight of the moment catches up with him. “I’ve thought about better places or times to tell you this, I wanted to wait until you were ready,” he whispers, his voice hushed with disbelief, eyes locking onto yours, “but I love you more than you’ll ever know. More than you’ll ever understand or dream. I love you.”

His thumb traces the curve of your cheekbone, a gentle, affectionate touch that sends shivers down your spine. The intensity in his gaze mirrors your own, both of you lost in this shared vulnerability, your hearts speaking in unison.

“I love you, too,” you breathe, the words falling effortlessly this time, as if they’ve always been waiting for this moment.

So, yeah. You sort of love your co-worker Francisco Morales. 

The sun is blinding—orange and yellow streams of light as it is forced to set along the horizon. It’s slow but noticeable, sinking into the land beyond what you can see.

The sun goes down in Texas once again. 

Frankie raises his cigarette, its glowing tip mirroring the fiery hues of the sunset.

His neighborhood is tranquil, lined with single-story homes and tree-bordered streets where autumn's touch is just around the corner. Children ride bikes, joggers and dog walkers pass by, and new parents push their baby strollers—a picturesque scene that feels meticulously arranged yet somehow distant. Frankie, too, feels out of place here.

"You got pretty worked up today—more than usual," you say softly.

Frankie lets out a dry chuckle, cigarette between his lips as he leans back on his elbows, squinting at the fading sun. "Yeah, maybe. You think I’m off right now?" He tilts his head, genuinely curious, as if searching for what’s changed.

You shrug, glancing at him with a fond smile. "I think that letter from your dad has you more rattled than you realize. I found it in your sock drawer this morning."

Frankie’s gaze drops to his lap, a flicker of shame crossing his face.

"I thought you said you were gonna toss it?" you muse gently, watching as his mind churns, cigarette hovering at his lips before he sighs deeply.

"You’re too observant," he smirks. "I don’t know why I haven’t crumpled, burned, or shredded it into pieces by now. I have every right to."

You rest a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing the tension there. "But you didn’t. Why?"

Frankie bites his lower lip nervously, glancing your way. "At the end of the apology letter, he asked to take me out for my birthday. Put down the time, place—everything. Said he’d wait for me."

Your expression softens, letting him know you’re here, really listening. "And you’re thinking about it?"

"Yeah… I guess so. But I don’t even know what I’d say. I’ve only seen him once or twice since I moved out. It’s been years. And when I do see him, I’m thirteen all over again, just yelling at him, so angry. I see his face, and it’s like a switch flips. And that’s not me. You know that’s not me," Frankie stammers, panic flickering in his eyes.

"I know," you whisper, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He pulls you closer, resting his head against yours as the weight of it all settles.

After a deep breath, Frankie gathers himself. "He used to bring out the worst in me. I don’t know if I still hate him as much. Time’s passed, maybe he’s changed. But I’m not holding my breath."

He’s an adult now, more guarded, wiser to the people who’ve hurt him. He’s fought through battles and traumas you don’t even know about. Yet, in his eyes, there’s a flicker of hope. Maybe his dad has turned a corner, maybe he’s cleaned up, seen his mistakes. But you know better than to trust in maybes.

And you’d protect him from being let down again.

"Do you want me to go with you?" you offer quietly.

Frankie’s eyes snap to yours, wide and searching.

"Okay," he says after a long pause. "Let’s do it."

[breezy141]

hiiiii idk if ur still doing caseoh hcs/short scenarios but i would LOVE one where like he takes you to your first irl event and its like the first time everyone sees yall as a couple and you’re nervous but hes so sweet and happy to be with you 🫣🫣🫣 no worries if not + im obsessed with the other ones youve written !!!!!

i love the thought of this! i apologise for the slow posts. uni is EATING ME UP. but you ask and you shall receive! 💌

masterlist.

STREAMY AWARDS - caseoh

for the first time ever, you were about to go into public with your boyfriend, case. some may say it’s classed as a ‘hard launch’. no one really knows about your relationship, which the both of you agreed on, it was reassuring to know that the relationship was private and that you didn’t have to deal with people creating rumours and getting to simply avoid hate.

but, you realised the more you’d be spending time with each other people would soon catch on, so its best to just come out with it now.

as you stood in front of the mirror, admiring the dress you had chosen for tonight. it was a beautiful black fitted dress, with an open back and a slit down the side, you looked absolutely gorgeous. you had paired it with some black chunky heels, case had bought you for your anniversary one of the years.

to complete the look, you slipped on some jewellery, rings, bracelets and necklaces. you had hoped you weren’t TOO overdressed, but at the end of the day..this was the streamy awards.

“hey hone- woah..” you heard next to you, turning your head to the bedroom door, you saw case. he was wearing some smart trousers and a simple black button up. it was unusual to see him wearing something to smart, but god he pulled it off.

his curls were probably cared for and styled, thanks to you, and his beard had been cleaned up a little and blessed with oils and cream.

“you look beautiful!” he exclaimed as he walked over to you, placing his hand on the small of your back and looking down at you. keeping his eyes at a respectful level.

“you don’t think i’m too overdressed?” you asked, a little uncertainly laced your voice.

case frowned at you ��overdressed? absolutely not. you look perfect, like you always do” and with that he pressed a small kiss to your temple.

“now let’s go before i change my mind and take a nap” he spoke as he booked us and uber to the venue. he was adamant on taking his truck, but you knew the both of you would have a drink or two and drink driving is, in fact, illegal.

on the way there case noticed the way your knee bounced, and the way you chewed your lip. he placed his hand on your knee and squeezed it gently.

“hey, don’t be stressing yourself out lovie. it’s no biggie, if people have stuff to say then, let them say what they want. their feelings and opinions won’t change the way i feel about you baby” you softly smiled at him, you knew case loved you dearly and he was right, no matter what anyone said, this man loved you unconditionally.

“thank you, im just nervous that people won’t like me too much…” you admitted, he nodded a long as you spoke.

“i know i know, but let them think what they want. it won’t change anythin’ , you are a beautiful woman with an even more wonderful personality. plus, you are stressin’ over something which won’t even happen. they are gonna love you”

before responding you had arrived at the venue, he stepped out the car and came to your door, he opened it and took you by the hand. you flashed him a generous smile and wrapped your hand around his bicep.

“just show em that pretty smile baby” he spoke as you both walked into the main lobby.

the rest of the evening was extremely nerve wracking for you, but case was right. everyone who spoke to you LOVED you, you were a delight to be around, not only that but people saw how much you genuinely cared for case.

case adored the way you effortlessly made conversation with people no matter how nervous you were, he loved the way you looked in the light, he loved the way you smiled, he loved how you’d glance at him every so often to make sure he was okay. he just, loved you.

and, god, he was glad he was here with you. the impression you left on everyone was nothing but good.

once again, case was right.

[dc418writes]

Trial & Error

Summary🪄: Joel tries to help you get some rest

🚨: no outbreak!Joel, minor age gap (reader is late 20s, Joel is mid 30s), AU with no Sarah (pls don’t hate me 🫣) pretty much all fluff💕

A/N🎤: this is my submission to @beefrobeefcal ‘s Married Joel Sat on Me challenge (please check out the other works and/or submit your own if you’d like☺️!), and I hope you guys like what I came up with✨

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest. Although my writings are imagined with a black reader, anyone can read and enjoy😌*

“Baby,” Joel drawls in that deep voice smooth like silk that always makes you melt, “you should be sleeping.” His lips sweetly press against your forehead after carefully tilting your head back so your doe eyes would be on him.

He wasn’t surprised to see your silhouette through the front curtains as his black pickup pulled in the driveway. The living room illuminated with flashes of blue as you watched something he couldn’t quite tell - if he had to guess, probably one of baby Morgan’s favorite shows you tended to play so she could calm down.

It had been a bit of a habit now with your newfound insomnia. And having to take care of a sick five-month-old while being under the weather yourself didn’t help.

“I’m not tired though.” Even upside down, it was obvious to see the exhaustion in those pretty features that had him addicted from the first time he saw you. The darkened puffiness under your eyes. The dull look to your usually bright skin.

“But you need sleep. The past couple days you’ve only been gettin three, maybe four hours.” Although calm, you could feel his concern. Knew he was stressed that his two girls were dealing with things he couldn’t seem to help with. Especially not with this new house taking up all his time.

“I don’t know what else to do.” You sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder as he sits beside you draping his arm around the back of the dark sectional. Any other time, his overall presence along with the warmth emanating from his wood and leather scented skin would have you relaxed enough that you could easily find rest. Now it was just one of a long list of futile attempts.

“Wanna try those sleep gummies again?”

“I think my body’s used to it since it didn’t work that first night.”

His deep hum rumbles under your fingertips on his sternum. “Tea?”

You shake your head, “Being sick made me all tea’d out. Plus I think the chamomile’s gone.”

“Could always try warm milk?,” he suggests with a slight grin. He already knew your answer, but he loved watching your cute, button nose crinkle in disgust.

“I’d rather be knocked over the head,” you answer making your husband deeply chuckle. “Let’s face it, this is just how things are for now. I’ve tried pretty much everything.”

Joel wasn’t one to easily accept defeat though thanks to his stubborn nature.

“I uh was talkin’ about it with a buddy on the job. He mentioned something about a..weighted blanket? Said it works for his kid so I tried to find one at the store, but the lady said they’re all out for now.”

Tilting your head up, a soft smile curls along your lips meeting Joel’s cocoa gaze focused on you. It shouldn’t be anything surprising at this point of your relationship, - being together for three years and married for two - but you can’t help how your heart flutters at how caring he could be. If a certified cure was revealed today or tomorrow, you know he’d make a way to be the first in line.

Leaning forward, you peck his lips once before moving to his bearded jaw, “Thank you for trying.”

His mouth finds yours again easily sliding your hips, with his thick hands, to sit across his lap making you giggle between each nip and press of your lips against his. “I’ll stop by tomorrow to check again. Try that other store across town too.”

As if feeling left out from all the love, Morgan first whimpers then cries from her nursery just off from the living room. You mentally groan dreading how long it’ll take to get her back to sleep.

“I got her,” Joel states leaving a last kiss on your forehead. “You try to rest.”

“No it’s okay, I got her. Plus I’ll have to check her temp-,”

His hands only tighten on your hips preventing you from standing. “Baby I can do it. Relax.”

“What if she’s hungry?”

“I can warm a bottle.”

“I can at least help though,” you pout trying to wiggle free. Instead, you’re manhandled to lie down with your husband sitting on your lower back and butt pressing you into the plush cushions. Turning your upper body as much as you could, your eyebrows slightly furrow in shock and amusement while Joel just crosses his arms as if you’re now permanently part of the furniture. “J-Joel! Wha-?”

“Ya left me no choice. It was the only way I could get you to stay.”

“By crushing me with your big ass?!”

You could be so dramatic. “Hey, this big ass is your fault,” he laughs. “Fillin’ me up with all that food and pastries.”

Marriage had been good to Joel. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline. His once toned abdomen now a pleasant pouch and thighs a bit thicker causing him to go up a size in his jeans - and even then they still hugged tight.

Not that you minded. You loved Joel’s new ‘dad bod’ just as much as his more slender form. Sometimes even more as you watched him get ready for work or walk around in his sweatpants as he carried and played with Morgan. If it wasn’t for your current situation, you might even be pregnant with baby number two you were so attracted to him.

“Sure, it’s my fault and not that burger and fries you get every day for lunch,” you playfully huff trying to shimmy your way from his hold.

He slightly tilts his head from left to right knowing you had a point, “Alright fair.” Eventually, you finally submit to the fact you weren’t leaving letting your arms extend in front of you. And dare you say, it even began to feel comfortable. “Now, if I get up I trust you’re gonna stay here?”

“Yes seeing that my back is broken,” you reply rolling your eyes. That earns you a warning - yet always playful - smack to the back of your thigh as he stands now leaving you to the cold, open air. “Good girl. I’ll be right back.”

The softest of smiles forms of your lips rolling onto your back to watch him happily stride to tend to his baby girl. “Hey love bug! How ya feelin huh?” Her cries instantly silence into hiccups as soon as she’s lifted to lie on his chest. She even babbles as if having a full conversation while he presses the back of his hand to her forehead. “No fever that’s good.”

A certain, familiar smell clues Joel to what the issue is though. “We gotta get this diaper off you babygirl,” he states moving to lie her on the changing table. “That’ll make you feel better right?” It’s like she understands every word reaching her chubby arms up with a short giggle. They grow into excited squeals as Joel takes turns blowing raspberries onto her bare stomach and tickling that spot under her chin between cleaning her up with baby wipes.

Such a daddy’s girl through and through.

It takes maybe ten minutes more of coos mixed with rocking and bouncing before Joel has her asleep again; carefully lowering her into her crib for the night. ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ playing on a low, constant loop from her star projector to make sure she stays that way as he eases out her room and shuts the door behind him.

His ebony eyes are trained on you now padding the short distance to the couch and leaning over your body. That one curl at the top of his head tipping forward. “Alright, your turn princess.”

You only lift your arms with a smile letting him lift you over his broad shoulder to carry you down the hall to your shared bedroom. Luckily you’re already in your pajamas when you gently flop against the brown comforter. He leaves you to get comfortable - shifting under the covers and wiggling to find that sweet spot - while he discards his clothes in the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth.

In a few minutes, he’s appearing through the misty doorway with wet almond strands still trying to dry and a pair of black boxer briefs over his hips. The little “ooh” that slips from your lips as he slides into bed makes him furrow his brows in confusion while you twist to lie on your stomach reaching back to pat your bottom. “I got an idea.”

“Yeah?,” he smirks wetting his bottom lip. “We definitely haven’t tried that before.”

“Jesus, get your mind out the gutter. I mean crush me again,” you laugh.

Although he scoffs in faux offense, he still does as you say positioning himself so half his body covers yours and long leg nearly straddles your back. His nose mere centimeters from yours blowing steady streams of air as you practically share your pillow. “What’s your plan here?”

“Well, until we find one, I was thinking..maybe you could be my weighted blanket,” you shyly explain. “I know it’s probably dumb, but earlier-,”

“Worth a try,” Joel winks closing the small gap to peck your nose then lips. His fingertips tracing soothing lines back and forth along your neck.

For a while, you both just lied there talking about your respective days or whatever came to mind. Around one in the morning, Joel could see your blinks become slower and slower until it was an apparent struggle to keep your eyes open. Your words even beginning to slur and answers sound like adorable nonsense.

You hadn’t even realized you eventually drifted off until the next morning when you were woken up by Morgan’s cries through the monitor. The sun shining a bright golden hue through the crack in the curtains.

A note on the nightstand is the first to catch your attention - clearly written by your husband from the tilted and slightly mushed together handwriting - making you tiredly smile.

‘Glad to see you got some rest xx’