#I HAVE A VISCERAL NEED TO SEE THESE TWO AS A PAIR!!

[whippersnappersbookworm]

I was recently watching kalank( yeah don't judge) and I maybe have a slightly controversial opinion. I think Roop and Dev had huge potential. I want someone to write an arrange marriage Au with these two!!!! Any writers if you are listening please write this!!!!

[lesbiansanemi]

*through gritted teeth* ppl can ship whatever they want and it’s fine it doesn’t affect you ppl can ship whatever they want and it’s fine it doesn’t affect you ppl can ship whatever they want and it’s fine it doesn’t affect you people can—

[ohcaptains]

𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

college! peter parker x fem reader.

18+ only !!! f! receiving oral sex. peter parker has an oral fixation i said what i said. in my spider-man era again.

peter was a weekly visitor at this point. sometimes, it was twice, but never more than three. three was pushing it.

Three said that Peter meant something to you, and you couldn’t have that. No, whatever this was between the pair of you was strictly transactional. It was Peter texting you late at night, the classic, you up? Gracing your screen, and every time, you would pretend to be annoyed.

As if Peter coming around to give you the greatest head of your life was an inconvenience. Tempted, the devil on your shoulder smirking, to type back, Jesus, again? but never doing it. Instead, you wrote: sure.

Still, it plagued your mind. He never asked for anything else.

It was as if he did this purely for himself.

“Oh fuck,” you mewled, clenching down tight. The hand that was wrapped around Peter’s brown curls clutched and tugged, and the unconscious movement earned you a chastised groan. It rumbled through your cunt, and the echo shot to your clit, making you close your eyes and lean back, wet mouth spilling his name into your dorm.

Peter liked hearing you.

Liked seeing you lose your mind with his head between your thighs, your pussy wet and throbbing from his mouth and fingers. It’s why he came around often. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even text, would just knock on your door -- looking sheepish from under his dark curls -- and just. Not. Say. Anything.

His silence was answer enough. You knew what he wanted. Or, needed, as you later figured out, as you saw how red he’d gotten when you told him he couldn’t come around for a bit. When you said something about focusing on exams, he’d come over anyway, whined, shuffled his feet and said, You can do your work, I just gotta…I’ll be quick.

The lack of explanation made your mind swirl. But regardless, you’d let him in and did your work with his head between your thighs. He’d tutored you, too, told you how to solve for x with his fingers inside of you. He’d said, if you let me make you come again, I’ll do your Maths work for the next week. After he’d left, you stared at the scene of the crime in pure silence.

Just…reflecting.

Peter fluttered his tongue over your swollen clit. Focused on swirling it around his tongue in sloppy, wet circles, and the thick desire that swelled between your thighs began to pool at your lower back, forcing you to arch up into it.

“Please,” you wept, even though he was giving you what you wanted. Flat on your back with his deft grip keeping your bare thighs open. It was 8 pm. He’d caught you just after your shower, so the smell of your shampoo and body wash wafted through the air – Lavender and pear.

Peter had spread you open and said you smelled like spring. You’d been far too turned on to comment on it. He grumbled into your cunt, and you managed to work out the word, more? You hummed, too drunk on him and wound tight to verbalise that yes, you wanted more. Wanted him to make you come, and come again, till all you could do was mumble his name and focus on your breathing.

He'd learnt how you liked it. Paid attention, and he was getting full scores as he pushed his tongue flat against your swollen clit and sucked. Your vision went white.

“Oh fuck – ohfuck, Peter—” you squirmed, but Peter was strong, and he held you to the bed with his vice-like grip, wordlessly saying take it take it take it.

He lapped at you, salvia drooling over your cunt and down his chin, soaking the sheets. He was always so careless. In moments like this, that nervous edge that always fluttered around him was gone, replaced by a visceral drive to either please you, or get what he wanted.

The two bled into each other.

His tempo was leisurely, but that didn’t stop the heat from washing over you all at once.

You clamped your thighs around his ears and moaned -- loud, so loud that you were sure the other students on your floor heard.

Still, the ache was erratic, “So good,” you sobbed, and you heard yourself, heard the near primal need in your voice, and the desperation made you embarrassed, made you cover your mouth with your palm and grip the sheets, willing yourself to cool it. 

“Move your hand, or I’ll stop,” he uttered against you, and your clit was so sore that the echo of his words made your eyes roll back. Peter must have seen, as he hummed a laugh, and kissed your inner thigh, “lemme hear you.”

Managing to gain some sense of sanity, you blearily blinked down at him, but all sense of stability you thought you had was wiped away when you saw Peter had his hand stuffed down his pants.

You dropped back onto the bed and sobbed.

You knew he got off on this, but Jesus Christ, you’d never seen that before.

“Gotta be kidding me,” you breathed, and Peter must have understood what you were referencing, as he buried his reddening face into your inner thigh. He let out a breathy chuckle, “’ M’sorry,” he mumbled, “usually I wait till I get home, but you’re just so hot.”

You had to stay completely still, or you’d burst. Usually, I wait till I get home?

Peter moved his face and began nuzzling the wet folds of your pussy. He bumped his nose against your clit, and you quietly choked.

Peter hummed, “couldn’t help myself.”

You figured he did something like that, but the admission made your thighs tense. You pictured him stumbling home – cheeks still wet with you – and tugging his pants down, quickly shoving his hands into his boxers and taking hold of his aching cock. Did he whimper when he came? Or was he silent, all tremors and low grunts? No. He definitely whimpered.

He was far too pretty to stay quiet.

The sudden desire to kiss him swept over you.

Reaching down, you tugged at his curls, wordlessly motioning him to move. When he did, you briefly saw the red of his cheeks and wet of his nose before you kissed him, all tongue, and tasted yourself on his pink lips.

Peter melted into you. Huffed your name like a sigh, and the sheer tenderness of it had you wrapping your legs around his back and pressing your bare cunt against his jeans.

He was rock-hard. Tentatively, you ran your nails over his chest, and dipped low, pressing between his thighs, cupping his bulge, and gently squeezing. Peter wept.

“Oh fuck,” he sobbed, as desperate as you imagined. With one hand in his hair and the other on his cock, you continued to kiss him, until the ache between your thighs became too much to bear.

“Make me come,” you whispered, “and I’ll put you in my mouth.”

Peter had never moved so fast in his life.

[lizthewriter]

get him back! / theodore nott

PAIRING  theodore nott x fem!reader

SUMMARY  after playboy mattheo riddle dumps you for another girl, your best friend motivates you to get the best revenge - be the girl he would always want, but could never have. you take things to the extreme when theodore nott offers you a deal you can't say no to.

TAGS  theodore nott x fem!reader, past!mattheo riddle x fem!reader, modern!au, university!au, ginny is your best friend, fake dating, college parties, gluna / linny, part 2?

QUOTE  "yeah i pour my little heart out, / but as i'm hitting send, / i picture all the faces of my dissappointed friends, / because everyone knew all of the shit that he'd do, / he said i was the only girl but that just wasn't the truth," - get him back! by olivia rodrigo

WORD COUNT 2.2K

WRITTEN  12.15.2023

hey, mattheo, how are you? i know it's been a while but i thought i'd -

No. What the hell are you doing? You hold the backspace, watching as the words you had just typed out disappeared. This was ridiculous - you couldn't keep doing this. Ginny would be so dissappointed in you. He had cheated on you, multiple times. He had spent all his time flirting with other girls. He lied to you and then his apologies were just fancy, elaborate gifts soaked in wealth and champagne. How could you still want him, need him, so viscerally?

"What are you doing?" You threw your phone over to your bed and turned around to face Ginny with a sickeningly-sweet grin.

"What? Nothing," you responded innocently. She narrowed her eyes at you in suspicion and made her way over to your bed, picking up your phone and glancing at the screen. You had forgotten to turn it off. Shit.

"Oh come on, seriously? Riddle? That douchebag?" She asked incredulously, sending you one of her famous looks of dissappointment. You got up and snatched your phone from her hand, only to crash on your bed.

"I know, I know," you responded with whine. "And I hate him too . . . but I miss him." You snatched one of your pillows and planted your face into it. The muffled scream was still louder than it ought to be, making Ginny cringe, but still rather satisfying. You let out a huff of breath. "I don't know what to do. I want to punch him in the face but at the same time . . . I want to kiss his stupid fucking face. That piece of shit."

You stared at his picture and let out a sigh. He was so damn complicated.

Ginny snatched your phone from you yet again. "All right, here's what we're going to do. We're going to come up with a plan to make Mattheo Riddle the most jealous man on the planet and in the process, find you someone new and much better. All right?"

You groaned. The thought of it sounded exhausted, but even you had to admit that there was a certain appeal to showing up at some party he was at, dressed to the nines, and bringing home another guy all while he watched. You sat up and stared at Ginny, before hesitantly saying, ". . . Go on."

-

"I know darling it's upsetting, darling, but . . . you're just not my kind of girl."

The words rang out in your head as you stood before a large mansion belonging to one of the many wealthy students at your campus. Cars were parked around the enormous driveway and the music from inside was booming so loudly that your could feel your bones vibrate with the beat.

Ginny slipped her arm through yours and flashed you one of her adventurous smiles. "Cheer up - you're going to be the prettiest girl they ever did see," Ginny said mockingly, pinching your cheeks. You barked out a laugh, playfully shoving her arm away.

"You sound like some posh grandma."

"But I'm your posh grandma," Ginny responded with a pout as you two began to climb the stone steps to the completely open front door. (I mean, seriously, who leaves the door to their house open? It's like they're asking to be robbed.)

The music steadily became louder upon approach, making it almost impossible to hear your own voice as you entered. The sleek wooden floors were bathed in a variety of disco lights, an odd contrast in comparison to the lovely home that looked like it belonged to some stuffy old Oxford professor.

"Hello ladies," said a jubilant man leaning against the doorframe leading to the foyer. He looked Ginny up and down before pushing himself off the wall and approaching Ginny. "Lovely to see you again." He sent a wink Ginny's way, which she responded to with a playful roll of her eyes. You finally recognized him - he was a sports major, friends with some of her older brothers. Lee, you remembered his name was. He was a flirt - he had tried with you once, when you were with Mattheo. It didn't end so well for him.

"I'm glad to see your nose is doing better, Jordan," you spoked with a friendly smile.

He pinched it and then looked down at his hand. "Good as new, I suppose, but there's still a scar on my heart," he claimed dramatically, walking wistfully away with the expression of a lovelorn, heartbroken lead in a Victorian drama. You and Ginny giggled and delved further into the lion's den. Numerous people greeted you, but especially Ginny (she had always been the popular one). A paticular boy, Harry, had his eye on her for quite some time. You wouldn't be one to say he was unattractive - he was fairly pretty. He was a Criminal Justice major and a pretty nice guy from your understanding. But you knew Ginny wasn't interested.

When Ginny stopped walking, you did too, as your arms were intertwined. You followed her line of sight and smirked at what - well, who - she was staring at. A wistfully odd girl with pale blonde hair down to her waist and an odd sort of dress adorning her body. People gave her odd looks, whispering to their friends. Why is she here? No one likes her.

You nudged Ginny multiple times to grab her attention once more. "Hey, you can go on without me. I'll be fine."

"What? No! I'm not abandoning you, you're my best friend and -"

"Go," you insisted. "I promise, I'll be fine."

She looked rather torn, glancing between the two of you before stomping her feet and letting out a groan. "I hate you," she whined.

"I hate you too," you responded with a grin. You turned her around, your hands on her shoulders, and pushed in her in the general direction of one eccentric Luna Lovegood. "Now go! Don't worry about me, we've been planning this for days!"

"Good luck!" She shouted at you before she disappeared into the sea of people. A few moments later, after much difficultly trying to see her, you saw her chatting up the girl. All right, my turn, you thought.

You scoured the room - you wouldn't say you were the most introverted person in the world, but you definitely weren't the most outgoing either. You needed to find someone who would really pull at Mattheo's nerves, make those prominent veins pop out of his head. You wanted him to feel the anger and the pain that you felt. You wanted to get him back!

There was no one on the bottom floor that caught your eye, so you climbed the stairs to where the more . . . elegant students were. (Rich, more like.)

They weren't anymore sophisticated than the people downstairs, but there was still that air of refinement that made you feel slightly out of place. You wandered around the many rooms for a bit before you found a kitchen (they had one upstairs and downstairs?) Grabbing a drink, you wandered around some more, making friendly conversations with some of your peers. As you were talking with Neville, a very kind boy from one of your general education courses, someone in paticular caught your eye and everything clicked.

Theodore Nott. He was the son to a rather rich Italian man, the CEO of one of the most well-known designer shoe brands in Europe. His mother died rather unfortunately of illness at a young age. He's been very prominent, especially in recent years. He's been a model for his father's company, he was in the top 5% of your class, and he's - well - he's known as the most handsome boy in your year.

You definitely weren't going to deny that - he was drop-dead gorgeous. His eyes were so . . . alluring. Dark and sexy, a pool of emotions shrouded by mystery. Okay, so maybe you were going far too overboard with your description of him, but for the love of God, was he attractive.

Somehow, he could feel your gaze upon him. He had been sitting on a couch, telling a story to a tight-knit group of friends, Mattheo included you noticed, that you had taken your eyes off of him. You felt embarrassed, pretended to look around the room, and then turned your attention back towards Neville with an encouraging smile that pretended that you had been listening to him rant all along.

"Excuse me," you heard Nott say, standing up from the couch. The champagne flute in his hand was rather empty so you deduced that he was probably going to go fill it. An educated guess, but an incorrect one. He did something you never expected. He approached you.

"Longbottom, I hear Greengrass has a question about a Geo-sci class you two share. She seemed rather distressed by it. I'm sure she'd appreciate your help," Theo told Neville - you glanced at Daphne Greengrass. She looked nowhere near distressed, but Neville perked up in excitement.

"R-really?" He asked nervously, wringing his hands. He gave you a sheepish smile. "Talk to you later, I've got to go help Daphne."

"Yeah, see you later Nev," you replied. Nott looked down at you for a moment before raising his glass.

"It seems we're both in need of a refill. Care to join me?" His expression was nothing more than emotionless, except perhaps the tiniest smirk that remained upon those rose-dusted lips. You shrugged nonchalantly, only just noticing the vacancy in your glass.

"Sure, why not?"

You followed a quite Theodore Nott to the kitchen again, where he poured himself champagne from a very specialized fridge unit filled with distinguished bottles of liquor - merlot and pinot noir and all those fancy alcohols you would have assumed people like him drank. He silently offered you some by tipping the bottle towards you. You offered him your glass, which he poured a fair amount in, not too much, not too little. Just right.

"I'm suprised to see you here."

You arched a brow in response as he took a light sip from the flute resting in a delicate balance between his two fingers. Precariously, a smile dained your face. "And why is that?"

"Your Riddle's ex-girl, aren't you?"

He asked in such a way that seemed as though he didn't care much at all.

The smile from your face disappeared, replaced by something much more bitter. You shrugged, but the action was much more passive-agressive than you had intended it to be. "So what? Does that mean something to you?"

He placed the flute down, the glass clinking against the marble countertop. "Riddle and I have a . . . complicated relationship."

"You mean, your dear old daddies are both relevant, rival shoe designers?" You said it so innocently. Nott smirked at you.

"Yeah, something like that. Listen," he leaned in close to you, leaning his arms against the counter in an attempt to lower himself to your level. He was rather lanky and tall, which you supposed was good for a model, but hard for when you want to actually talk to him. "You and I both want something from him."

"And what's that, Nott?" You asked with mock curiosity, placing your chin in the palm of your hands with a tilt of your head.

"Well, let's just say you didn't come here tonight, dressed like that, in the hopes that he would fuck you," he responded, quite bluntly. Well, you supposed that sort of honesty was an inherited trait. "Everyone knows what went down between you two - he aired out your dirty laundry for all to see. No, you came back here to get revenge."

"Astute," you said with a tone of disdain. Taking a sip of your champagne, you found that it actually had a much more delightful taste than any other alcohol you had. You smacked down the glass on the countertop. "Really, Nott, thanks for that." You began to leave but Theo grabbed you by the arm.

"Wait! Just . . . listen," he said, panting slightly. His brows were scrunchdd together in frustration - he seemed genuinely distressed. The only reason you stayed was because you realized something rather odd.

You turned towards him with furrowed brows. "Is Theodore Nott . . . desperate for something?" You asked with a disbelieving scoff. At the sight of his jaw clenching, his eyes avoiding yours, you let out a shocked laugh.

"Shut it," he muttered, sending you a dark glare.

"Now that's certainly out of character," you said, slugging off his iron grip. "All right, you've got my attention. What is it?"

"My father's been trying to score one over Riddle for years. Rumor is Mattheo's father wants him to marry a good woman, someone that won't tarnish his son's so-called good reputation. And well, you . . . slipped through his fingers like sand. Stealing him from you would make my father more . . . proud."

You crinkled up your nose. "You're not proposing to me, are you? Cause the answer is no."

"No, no. I'm just asking you to date me, at least for a bit."

The sound of it seemed ridiculous, but then you thought - you were both getting something out of it. It was nothing more than a partnership, and a good one at that. Either way, you'd be pulling one over Mattheo and that would be good enough for you.

"How much is 'for a bit'?"

-

"Everyone." Theo had walked back into the room, you snuggled comfortably into his arms. He had tapped a fork against his glass, gathering the attention of his friends. Mattheo's jaw dropped, the hand swung around some girl you had seen around slithering it's way back to his side. "I want to introduce you to my girlfriend."

That's right, you smug snake. I win.

part two coming soon . . . <3

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Five.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - Does absence make the heart grow fonder, or does it just make everything ten times more difficult?

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption. angst. mention of illness.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.7k

Author's Note - it's here!! as always, I can't thank you enough for your love, support and patience with this fic. us writers lead busy lives, and i've been trying my hardest to find the time to write whenever I can, so it means so much that you guys stick with me - even when things take longer than expected. love you all. you're angels. please feel free to spam my inbox with thoughts and suggestions - it always makes my day when you're all so passionate. mwah.

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

The sand is warm beneath your feet, cooling breeze cascading across your skin. The waves caress the shore in repetitive motions, lulling you into calm.

Sunlight beaming down, you shield your eyes and look up, sighing in contentment at the shades of blue that paint the sky.

A shriek and a laugh come from somewhere on your right. You look over and see a couple and their toddler running after each other, sprinting down the beach and into the ocean. The little girl can't stop giggling, tripping over her own feet as she chases her parents. Something tugs at your heart, deep and visceral.

It's been three months since you left home.

It's been three months since you saw Bucky.

He calls every few days, trying to give you the space you need while also keeping in touch. You have to resist the urge to call him every ten minutes. It's an improvement, at least. It was five minutes when you first moved.

He texts you good morning and goodnight everyday without fail, just to let you know he's there. You can't sleep until you get his text. It's like a lullaby, reassuring and soothing. Like a chamomile tea, warming and calming you from the inside out.

You think about him the most at night time. Your days are spent running around preparing for the bakery. Testing, retesting, writing up recipes, measuring out quantities. You want it to be perfect.

The baking is taking your mind off Bucky, for the moment at least. You've thrown yourself into your new role, eager and excited. Stella's ecstatic to have you around. You love that you're still just as close as you were, despite the time apart. Friendships like that are rare.

Lacie calls you most nights. She demands to know what you did that day, who you spoke to, what you made. It's like therapy, sitting and decompressing together over videochat. She's a lifeline, whether she knows it or not.

And of course, the most supportive people in your life - your parents. Your Mom is desperate to come and visit, begging that you let her know when you're less busy so you can show her around. She loves the sunshine just as much as you. A woman after your own heart.

On the nights when the doubt creeps in, unwelcome and dark, you remind yourself how lucky you are. Surrounded by people who adore you, support you, love you unconditionally. And then the night doesn't seem so dark. The light pours through the cracks.

You walk home from the beach, warmed and carried by the knowledge of love.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"This is ridiculous."

Stella's perched on the edge of your countertop, blush pink macaron in her hand.

"Good ridiculous?"

She scoffs, looking at you incredulously.

"Where did your confidence go? You never doubted yourself in school. Yes, good ridiculous. It shouldn't work, but it does."

Shouldn't work, but it does. Seems to be the story of your life at the moment.

"I need these on the menu."

"You don't think they're a little... pretentious? My best seller is a chocolate chip cookie. A honey and rosewater macaron isn't exactly a childhood favourite."

"Babe. That's the beauty of this. You can put whatever the hell you want out in your bakery. So what if they're unconventional? They're delicious. That's all that matters."

"Okay. Fine."

You relent, thinking about her earlier question. Where did your confidence go? When you graduated culinary school, you never doubted your abilities. Your technique, your flavours, your presentation - you had full faith in all of it. Now, you seem to be second guessing yourself.

You know it's because of your Tethering.

Before, you understood how the world worked. Good, bad, in between. Love, lust, the very clear difference between the two. You watched as other people found their forever person, and acknowledged their new journey.

And then you found Bucky. Or, Bucky found you.

Suddenly, the world you'd lived in before no longer made sense. The people, the places, the relationships, all impacted by the way you feel about your soulmate. Everything, everyone, everywhere, reminds you of Bucky. You're experiencing emotions you've never felt before. It's disorientating, confusing, complex. Your understanding of the world has changed completely.

It takes time to adjust.

No one ever talks about the way your Tethering turns your life upside down.

For some, it's completely positive. They enjoy the uprooting, revel in the change.

For others, it's a huge adaptation. One filled with tears, and confusion, and doubts.

Both are valid. Both are understandable.

You remind yourself of this every day.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"There's someone in the café that wants to speak to you."

The youngest waitress, Isabel, stands in the kitchen doorway, looking at you hopefully. You set down your piping bag and wash your hands, talking to her over your shoulder.

"Who is it?"

"No idea. Some guy. He's kinda hot. Brown hair, tall, beard."

Your heart skips a beat, breath caught in your lungs. Bucky jokes sometimes about coming to see you, but would he just show up announced? Do you want him to?

You can't feel it in your chest, you realise suddenly. You can't feel the ease, the relief, the knowing. Maybe being apart for so long has weakened your connection. The thought makes you strangely emotional.

You inhale carefully and thank her, before making your way out. It's almost closing time, and there's no one around other than the man stood with his back to you.

He turns around, and you realise quickly that your hope was misplaced. You've never seen this person before. He is handsome, admittedly. But he's not your soulmate.

"Hi."

"Hey. Are you the baker here?"

"I am."

He holds out his hand for you to shake, stepping closer.

"I'm Rafael."

You tell him your name, and he smiles, nodding.

"Forgive me if this is weird, but I had to meet you. To thank you properly, in person."

You don't say anything, so he continues.

"Let me, uh, explain. Sorry, should have started with that. My sister is sick. She's going through treatment currently, and it's been super hard on her. She's had no appetite whatsoever, and she's losing weight rapidly."

He takes a deep breath before continuing.

"A couple of weeks ago, I picked up a load of stuff from this place because my Mom was coming to visit. My sister tried your earl grey and lavender cookie, and ate the entire thing. It was the first time I've seen her eat for weeks. So, I came back and bought basically all of them every day."

You laugh, coming to a realisation. You wondered why those cookies were selling so well all of a sudden.

"I just wanted to say thank you. It might not seem like a big deal, but it's really huge for us. I also wanted to explain why all of those cookies were suddenly going missing at like ten in the morning."

You gesture at him to sit, the both of you taking a seat at one of the tables nearby.

You talk for almost an hour, listening intently to Rafael as he tells you about his family. He moved to California to be with his sister Maria when she got sick, no one else around to care for her. He asks about yours, and you tell him about your parents and their constant encouragement. He's also interested in how you got into baking, so you tell him all about culinary school, and the dreams your Grandma gave you when you were a kid.

"You're really talented, you know."

"I bet you say that to all of the bakers around here. But thank you."

His fingers brush yours where they're resting on the table, making you shiver.

"I'll make Maria her own box, if you like. I'll leave them behind the counter, just tell Isabel who you are."

"You'd do that for her?"

"Of course," you smile. "The idea that I'm helping someone with my silly little creations makes me really happy. We can work out a schedule, and I'll make sure I bake Maria some extras when I do my usual batch."

"You're incredible. Seriously. Thank you."

He squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. The two of you are sat in the café as the sun sets, orange glow illuminating the room. You didn't expect to make a friend today. You're glad you have.

"Well, I should probably go and clean up the kitchen. You know where to find me, if you need anything. It was lovely to meet you, Rafael."

He rises when you do, smiling at you earnestly.

"You too. Nice to finally put a face to the cookie, so to speak."

You chuckle and show him out of the door, waving as he walks down the street. Suddenly, he turns around, striding back towards you.

"I'm so sorry if this is forward, and please feel free to say no, but... are you single? If you are, I'd love to ask you to dinner sometime."

The answer to that question is much more complicated than Rafael could ever imagine. So instead, you say,

"I'm not. I'm Tethered, actually."

His brows raise in surprise, but he's smiling.

"You are?"

"Yeah, I am. He doesn't live here, though. He lives back home, where my parents are."

"You guys are married?"

"No! Not yet. It's, uh... a complex... situation."

"Ah," he says, gentle, knowing look on his face. "I thought Tetherings weren't meant to be complex. Isn't that the whole point? That they're easy?"

You laugh, but it's not malicious. You're thinking about how sweetly naive he is, how he's got a huge storm coming his way one day.

"He's my Dad's best friend."

You're not sure why you're admitting this to a man you met an hour and a half ago, but you are. It's almost a relief, to get it off your chest again - to tell someone who's completely neutral, who doesn't know either of you.

"Woah."

"Yeah."

"That... is complicated."

"Yeah," you chuckle. "Understatement of the century."

Rafael leans against the wall, watching you intently. He's curious.

"How did your parents react?"

"They don't know yet."

His eyebrows raise almost comically high.

"Wait, what? How did you hide that? I thought it was supposed to be impossible to hide that you're Tethered. Although, I guess I had no idea, seeing as I asked you out."

"We wanted to figure it out for ourselves first, before telling anyone. And then I moved out here, so we're doing long distance. Like I said, complex."

"Understatement of the century," he laughs.

You look at each other for a moment, before he smiles.

"I'm sorry I asked you out. I wouldn't have, if I'd known."

"Please, don't apologise. I admire your... courage?" you grin. "And I appreciate you coming to see me today. I have like two friends here in Cali, so it's nice to feel like I've made another."

He smiles again, wider this time. Someone's going to be lucky to be Tethered to him one day, you think.

"I know it might surprise you, given my good looks and... courage," he chuckles, "but I don't have many friends out here either. I've been so focused on Maria, I haven't had time to socialise."

"The Universe works in funny ways, huh?"

"Sure does."

You wander back through the door, ready to close up for good this time.

"I'll see you tomorrow, for the cookies. And I'd love to meet Maria one day, if she's up for it."

"I'm sure she'd love to meet you. I'll bring her by."

"Thanks, Rafael."

"Of course. Thank you."

"Of course."

That night, when your Mom calls, you get to tell her you've made a new friend. That makes the both of you very happy.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're testing out a recipe in the kitchen of your new apartment when your phone rings.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hey, kiddo. You doing okay?"

"Yeah, I am, actually. I'm settling in."

"Good, I'm glad. I don't wanna keep you on the phone for too long, but I wanted to ask you something."

"Go ahead, Dad. Anything."

"How would you feel about surprising your Mom for her birthday?"

"What kind of surprise?"

"I know you haven't been gone all that long, and I know it's kind of last minute, but, I was thinking you could come back to... be her gift? She really misses you, you know."

"I miss her too," you say softly, trying to keep your voice even. "I'll talk to Stella, see if we can figure something out. I'd really love to see you guys."

"We'd really love to see you too, sweetheart."

"I'll call you back later, when I've organised everything. Love you, Dad. See you soon, hopefully."

"Love you, kiddo. Proud of you, you know."

"I know," you smile. "I know."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The journey always seems shorter when you know you're going home.

You make it back in record time, salty ocean breeze whipping through your hair as you cruise along the roads. You take a deep breath and sigh it out, relief filling your lungs. It's good to be back.

You can't let your Mom see you, so you head straight back to your apartment. Your Dad told you they're in the process of renting it out, but they haven't made much progress yet. For now, it's still yours.

You inhale the familiar scent, smiling gently. There's something so particular about the way a place smells when you feel like you belong there. It's like home and comfort and ease all rolled into one.

You unpack a little, folding your clothes and tucking them into the dresser. You told Stella you'd probably stay a few days, wanting to spend as much time with your family as possible. You're rifling through the refrigerator and thinking about a grocery list when there's a knock at your door.

You know who it is.

A feeling of relief washes over your body, tension melting from your shoulders. Your lungs fill easier, your breath falls deeper, everything is a little brighter, a little more colourful.

You open the door to be met with the sight of Bucky Barnes.

He's in work pants and a white t shirt that's stained with grease and oil, heavy boots on his feet. He must have come straight from the Garage.

He looks at you carefully, as if he isn't sure that you're real. You rake your eyes over his form, trying to drink him in. All the pictures you've taken and saved don't do him justice.

He exhales, beaming grin appearing on his face.

"You're here."

You can't help but smile back, his happiness spreading through you.

"I'm here."

Bucky rushes forward and scoops you into his arms, enveloping you completely. He wraps himself around you as he tucks you into his chest, his grip tight and unrelenting. You breathe him in, overwhelmed with emotion and sensation. You didn't realise how much you needed this. Three months is too long.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, slight shake in his voice. He's holding off tears. So are you.

"My Dad wanted me to surprise my Mom for her birthday. It's all a secret."

He smiles, before leaning down to capture your lips in a knee buckling kiss. A kiss that says I missed you. A kiss that says I need you. A kiss that says please don't leave me again.

"How did you know?" you whisper when you pull away for air.

"I felt it. I think I knew the moment you arrived back in town. Thought my mind was playing tricks on me, for a second. But there's no mistaking that feeling. I had to come and see for myself."

"We're getting pretty good at this whole soulmate thing, huh?" you laugh, unaware of the tears running down your face. "I missed you, Buck. So much."

"I missed you too," he murmurs, kissing you again. "Didn't think I was going to survive, some days."

"Me too. Do you know how many times I stood with my car keys in my hand, ready to drive back to you?"

He chuckles and then sniffles, emotion dripping down his cheeks.

"I did exactly the same thing. So many times."

You wrap your arms around his middle, reveling in the way he smells like gasoline and home.

"How long are you here for?" he murmurs, worried he'll disturb the peace.

"I'm not sure. A good few days, at least."

"Okay," he breathes. "I can do a few days. We can do a few days."

"Sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I didn't know, to be honest. It was all kinda last minute."

"It's okay, pretty thing," he mutters into your hair. "It was a nice surprise."

"You're coming tonight, right? To my Mom's party?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

You stay wrapped up in each other for a little while longer, savouring his warmth. He rubs absentminded patterns across the skin of your back, committing the softness of it to his memory.

"I should probably get back to work. I took off with no warning."

"You're the boss. You're allowed," you chuckle.

He laughs with you, and the sound lights up your nerves, illuminates your bones. It settles itself in the hollows of your ribcage, tangles itself in your heartstrings. It's like medicine.

"Can't wait to see you tonight," you whisper. "Wear something cute."

"I always do," he winks, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Miss you already."

"Miss you more."

He looks at you, smiling.

"Man, we're the worst."

"Truly."

He kisses you once, twice, three times before finally leaving, reluctant to let you go. You spend the rest of the afternoon floating on air, relaxed and at ease. You haven't felt like this in a while.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Your Dad sneaks you into the house through the side door, hiding you in the kitchen as he ushers your Mom through to the back yard.

It's decorated with floral garlands and streamers, flowers in vases covering the table he's set up. The golden, warm fairy lights illuminate the space, keeping it soft and intimate. He's been watching, carefully observing the way that she does things. He's recreated her party style perfectly.

There's a few of her closest friends waiting for her, gifts littering the spare chairs. Your Dad walks her outside, hands covering her eyes.

"Surprise!"

You watch through the door as your Mom gasps, grin on her face.

"Oh my God! You guys!"

She runs into your Dad, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I can't believe you managed to pull this off," she says in disbelief.

He sets her back down on the ground and kisses her gently.

"I got you something. I hope you like it."

That's your cue. You sneak out as quietly as possible, standing behind her.

"Happy Birthday, Mama."

She whips around to face you, shock written across her face. Her eyes well up, tears threatening to spill. Yours do the same, bottom lip quivering.

She throws her arms around you, tugging you into her.

"I'm so happy you're here, baby girl. I missed you so much."

"Missed you. You look beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you! Look at you, all sun kissed and glowy. You look so pretty, sweetheart."

You grin at her and she does the same back, your Dad beaming at your identical smiles.

"You're the best gift I've ever received. Then and now."

You're overwhelmed, suddenly, by the realisation that no matter what happens, no matter what life throws at you, no matter how many miles are between you - your Mom will always be in your corner. Your Dad will always be in your corner. Bucky will always be in your corner.

You think, for a moment, that despite everything, you might just be okay.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The night goes off without a hitch.

You drink, you laugh, you sing. You and your Mom dance to ABBA, Bowie, Donna Summer. Your Dad joins in, and can't help but grin every time he watches his girls together.

What a life, he thinks. I'm the luckiest man in the world.

When everyone gets a little past tipsy, your Mom changes the music to something slower, jazzier, richer. Your Dad pulls her into his chest, holding her close as they move to the melody. You're sat at the table taking off your heels when Bucky slides into the seat next to you. He pulls your foot into his lap and undoes the strap, sliding the shoe off gently. He rubs his thumb into your sole, smirking when you groan.

"Have you been avoiding me tonight, pretty baby?"

His cheeks are flushed slightly, top few buttons of his shirt open. He's been drinking a little, his walls lowered more than usual.

"I have to."

"Oh yeah?"

"I feel like I'm gonna burst into flames every time you look at me," you whisper. "I kinda want to rip your clothes off, baby."

He groans at the nickname. You know exactly what you're doing.

"It only takes one look for a minute too long to figure out how I feel about you, Buck. They'll work it all out instantly."

"Dance with me," he murmurs suddenly. "Your parents are too busy staring into each others eyes. Come on, honey. One dance."

His big blue eyes bore into yours, and you know you're fucked. You're never going to be able to say no to him.

"One dance," you whisper.

He takes your hand and leads you to the decked area, brightened by the golden lights. Bucky slides a hand over your back, resting there carefully. You intertwine your fingers with his and step into him, embracing the warmth that rolls off his body.

I'll Be Seeing You by Billie Holiday begins to play, and the two of you start to sway gently, eyes never leaving each others. Bucky pulls you in closer, and you melt into him. You don't care about the repercussions anymore.

Maybe it's the wine talking. Maybe it's something else.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"That was close!"

Your Mom's giggling as your Dad holds her, having just saved her from tripping down the front steps. Everyone's giddy, both from drinking and from laughing.

"Sweetheart. Bucky. Come back for lunch tomorrow. Your Dad ordered too much catering, and we need help eating it."

"Mama, are you sure?"

"I want to see you as much as possible before you go, babygirl. You too, Buck. I feel like we don't see you as much as we used to."

"He'll be there," you reply before he can protest. "We'll carpool, and I'll bring a strawberry and cream tart that I made for you."

She kisses you on the cheek, your Dad leaning in to kiss the other side.

"Love you both."

"Love you," they say in unison, laughing and yelling jinx. "Get home safe, you two!"

"I'll take care of her," Bucky chuckles. "Always."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Why don't you see my parents much anymore?"

You and Buck are walking home along the sandy coastal path, fingers intertwined and sides pressed together. You look up at him, frowning slightly when he hesitates.

"Don't lie to me, James. I can feel it, remember."

You place a hand on your chest to remind him, and he nods.

"It's not the same here without you."

You weren't expecting the sincerity. It knocks you off balance a little.

You stop when you reach a wooden bench, sitting down and pulling him with you.

"So you're isolating yourself from the people who love you?"

He smiles, sadness rife in his eyes. Your tough guy act is crumbling.

"Not on purpose. It just kinda happened."

"You promised you'd talk to me, Buck. Especially if it got too hard. You need to accept support from people, or everything is going to come crashing down."

"I know. I know. But every time I go to their house, I'm expecting you to be there. Every time I go to the beach, I'm expecting you to be there. Every time I walk past your building, I'm expecting you to be there, waiting for me to pick you up. Even when I'm sailing, I can't stop thinking about that day we spent on the boat."

"The other day I had to make three batches of buttercream, because I messed up the first two. I was so distracted thinking about you that I split them both."

He laughs, then, wholehearted and genuine. You can't help but join him, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all.

"Bucky, you have to promise that you'll keep going, even without me. You have to see my Mom and Dad like you used to, you have to still sail and go to the beach. You can't put your life on hold for me."

He takes a deep breath, sliding an arm around your shoulders to pull you in closer.

"Okay. I promise."

You whip your head around to look at him.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that, honey. You're right. I've been waiting for you to come back, so I can start living again. But life is still happening, whether you're here or not."

"Wise words, wise man," you smile. "Not a minute goes by where I don't think of you. You know that, don't you?"

"I know. I feel it."

You watch as he brings your linked hands to his chest, placing them there. You rest your head on his shoulder, lulled into calm by the steady melody of his heart. You swear it beats to the rhythm of your name.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The two of you can't bear the idea of separating, so Buck comes home with you.

"Have you got a blanket?" he asks as he's kicking off his shoes.

"I have. What for?"

"The couch."

You process for a moment before it clicks.

"You're not sleeping on the couch, Buck."

"No?"

"No. I want your ridiculous, radiator-like body heat in bed with me."

He smiles, all giddy and lopsided, before striding across the room to you. Cradling your face in his rough hands, he kisses you with fervour. He's making up for lost time.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, tugging and pulling, smirking when he groans. He retaliates by grabbing your ass and picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He carries you through to your bedroom, lips never leaving yours.

Throwing you down onto the bed, he pulls his shirt over his head, watching you hungrily as you do the same with your dress. You're left in your underwear, leaving little to the imagination.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs. "Makes me want to cry."

You reach for him as he settles on top of you, your hand sliding along his stubbled cheek.

"I'm so glad you're feeling what I'm feeling," you whisper. "I'd think I was going insane otherwise."

Bucky kisses you again, before trailing his lips across your jaw, your ear, your neck. He's careful not to leave any marks, as much as he wants to. You glide your hands along the expanse of his shoulders, his back, his biceps. He's so strong, so broad. It makes you ache.

"So fuckin' pretty," he mumbles against your chest. "Like a goddamn dream."

You throw your head back as he attaches his mouth to your tits, nipping and sucking as he goes. Your hands are in his hair again, reveling in the way his groans vibrate through you.

Bucky slots his knee in between your legs as he kisses across your chest, smirking when you grind your hips into it. You chase the friction as best you can, moaning when it hits you just right.

"Needy baby. You don't want my fingers? My mouth? No? Just my knee?"

You nod, then shake your head. You're not sure what you're asking for, drunk on him already.

"Please, Buck. Anything."

"I'll give you whatever you want if you keep saying my name like that."

He makes quick work of pulling your underwear down your legs, swiping his fingers through your wet heat.

"Oh, fuck," he chokes. "Fuck, honey. Is this all for me? Hmm?"

"Yes, yes, yes."

"Yeah?"

"It's yours, Buck. I'm yours."

Bucky drops his head forward, bumping your nose with his.

"I think that's my favourite thing you've ever said," he mumbles against your mouth.

You reach up to kiss him, sucking his tongue before biting at his lips. You can't get close enough. Every inch of your skin is pressed to his, and you still want more.

Bucky crawls down the bed, situating himself between your legs. He nudges at you with his nose before diving in, lapping at you like a man starved.

You'd forgotten what people said about sex when you're Tethered, but it all comes back to you now. Everything is heightened, your senses on overdrive. It's like Bucky has the handbook to your body, and all he has to do is read the instructions the Universe has given him.

He's got you teetering on the edge in no time, right on the precipice. No ones ever made you feel like this. It feels like some sort of small miracle is happening, an otherworldly connection.

"Give it to me, honey baby," he murmurs into you. "Let me see how pretty you look when you come."

You tug at his hair as you reach your climax, the vibrations of his groan only prolonging your release. Bucky helps you ride it out, only ceasing his action when he's satisfied you're satisfied.

He rests his head against your thigh and looks up at you as you come down, breathing heavily.

"You good?"

"So good," you grin. "Never better."

"Me neither," he whispers, crawling up your body to kiss you again. You taste yourself and whine, desperate to feel closer to him.

"Need you," you demand against his lips. "Need you more than anything."

"I know, baby," he soothes as he smooths the hair back from your face. "Gonna give you everything you want. Anything in the world."

You're on the verge of tears again, completely overwhelmed. He's looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky just for him. You think maybe you would, if he asked you to.

Bucky slides home in one gentle thrust, easy as breathing. The both of you exhale, savouring the moment. It's like nothing either of you have ever felt before.

You pull his face down to you, resting your foreheads against each other.

"Buck, I-"

"I know," he breathes. "Fuck, I know."

"Need you to move, baby."

He nods and kisses you sweetly, before pulling his hips back and gliding forward. The angle is just right, both of you keening.

"Fuck, honey. So pretty. So tight. Fuck."

Bucky sets a steady rhythm, not too fast, not too slow. It's like he can read your mind, knowing exactly what you need. All you can say is his name as stars cloud your vision.

He slides his hand down your front, rubbing perfect circles on your clit with his fingers. You clamp down on him and he groans, low and gutteral.

"Need you to come, pretty baby," he whispers hoarsely. "Please. Waited so long for this. Please."

The desperation in his tone is what throws you into your release, muscles tensing and back arched. You grip his biceps, scratching your nails into his sun kissed skin.

Bucky can't hold on any longer, falling over the edge with you. The way he says your name as he does will be ingrained in your mind forever.

He drops his weight onto you entirely, no longer able to hold himself up. You wrap your arms around him, drawing absent minded patterns across his back. You're both sweating and panting. You're both completely content.

"Holy shit," he whispers after a while.

"You think it's gonna be like that every time?" you ask, grinning.

Bucky rolls off you and lands on the bed beside you, pulling you into his chest.

"Honey, just you wait. I've got moves you've never seen."

You snort, unable to hold in your laughter. You're floating on cloud nine, satiated and warm.

"You're the worst," you giggle, running your fingers over his abs gently.

The two of you stay intertwined for hours, enjoying the way your bodies fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. You both drift in and out of sleep, conversing in the gaps. At some points, you just lay in silence, completely comfortable. No one needs to say anything. You both know what the other person is thinking.

Eventually, the sun rises, casting the room in a golden orange glow. Bucky looks like an angel, illuminated by the morning light. You wonder for a second if he is, sent down as a gift to you.

Suddenly, you feel an intense sadness in your chest. You look up at Bucky from where you lay across him, and see a single tear drip down his cheek.

"I don't want you to go."

The only sound that can be heard is his sorrow hitting the pillow.

"I don't think I want to go."

He strokes your hair softly, taking a deep breath to try and get a handle on his emotions.

"You have to, baby. It's your dream."

Your bottom lip wobbles for a second, before the words come spilling out.

"You're my dream."

Bucky sniffles, and you continue.

"I could have nothing, but I have everything if I have you."

You sit up and Bucky does too, capturing your lips in a tear stained kiss.

"We'll be okay, my honey girl."

You crawl into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, letting his warmth bleed into your bones.

"I know," you say, unsure if you're trying to convince yourself or him.

You know you'll be okay. It just doesn't feel like it right now.

You wonder how many times you can keep leaving and coming back before one of your hearts breaks for good.

tag list part one

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff   @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara   @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen   @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance  @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

[moonlightsolo]

could you do neteyam and a human reader where he compares the difference between the two of you <3

YES SO CUTE. thank you for requesting this i’ve been aching to write some fluffy stuff!!! hope you don't mind i wrote it in like a hc format

neteyam looooooves how small you are.

actually the boy is quite obsessed with it.

na’vi girls are tough, and rigid compared to humans

you’re soft and squishy and so tiny compared to him

he loves how you barely reach his elbow

so obviously the top of your head is his designated arm rest

he always compares hand sizes

mostly bc his hand quite literally DWARFS yours

he'll hold your hand and yours will disappear into his palm

he also loves how easy it is to carry you around

whether you’re on his back, or in his arms

and when you can't keep up with him in the forest

or if you're taking too long to climb over rocks or logs

he will sweep you off your feet and carry you around instead

he looooves cuddling with you

you can quite literally use his body as a mattress

or just tuck into his side perfectly

the boy adores you so much

and he is obsessed with kissing you

he can't get enough of you

his head is larger than yours but that doesn’t stop him from anything

your lips are so tiny and soft and cute

he’s kinda obsessed with your height but he enjoys to tease you about it

he holds things up high out of your reach

"neteyam! stop it! give. it. back!" you whine in annoyance, reaching up for your research sample that he has grasped in his hand. he laughs at how you hop to attempt to reach it, "i like this stuff. i think i might keep it actually.." he takes a few steps away from you as he watches the glowing liquid thrash in the glass beaker. your hands tug at his tail to stop him from walking away from you, "neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan! give me it now or i'm going to tell your mother!" the sound of his full name leaving your lips makes a visceral shiver run down his spine, but he gives in and surrenders your silly little glass back to you.

neteyam just wants to watch you jump and beg him for it honestly

he's a sicko but in a good way

he is also prone to throw you over his shoulder and manhandle you (sometimes)

whenever he gets the chance he engulfs you

like bends over and consumes your body with his just to hear you squeal

it’s amusing to him

he likes how you have to angle your head all the way back to look up at him when he straightens his back

kinda spicy, but he loves how his hands look on your ass

#neteyamisanassman

his palms knead at your butt but his fingers are halfway down to your knees

like he can't get over how tiny you are!

he also likes to watch you eat pandoran fruit & how small it looks in your hands compared to his

sometimes he stares too much which makes you a bit flustered

he enjoys how different your expressions are compared to his people

he can’t read you as well since you don’t have a tail or a pair of pointed ears

he always visits your quarters back in the scientists shack

because its the only place he can properly kiss you (make out with you)

since you need an oxygen mask whenever you go outside

seeing the boy on your human sized bed is humorous

he is so lanky and overall way too big for your bed

but he insists he is comfortable and sleeps beside you the whole night

his legs all tucked up around you and his feet hang off the end

and his braids tickle your nose whenever he moves

he likes to play with your hair

he is actually very skilled at braiding

he adorns your hair and braids with beads and random trinkets he finds in the forest

your hair is so soft compared to na’vi’s he just can’t stop

he even made you a necklace when he was trying to court you the na'vi way

he forced kiri to offer to braid your hair so she could secretly get the size of your neck for him

it was odd for kiri to offer to braid your hair when neteyam always does it for you, but of course, you agree to it. the na'vi girl sits you down on a bed of moss while she stands on her knees behind you. she busies herself with braiding two strands in the front of your hair and pinning them back behind your ears, "so what made you want to braid my hair?' you question as you twiddle with your fingers out of boredom, "just cause." kiri simply replies, but the tone of her voice alludes to something else. the gears in your mind go into overdrive, trying to think of why neteyam would put her up to this. then something soft wraps around your neck, kind of tightly. the feeling startles you, making you turn around to see kiri with a blade of grass formed into a circle the size of your neck. "what was that for?" you ask with a laugh. "nothing!" she shoves the circle behind her back, "turn back around! i'm not finished!" she hisses at you.

a few weeks after the weird fiasco with kiri choking you with a leaf, someone knocks on the door to your bedroom. you expect it to be norm asking if you want food, but it's neteyam. "oh hey!" you chirp happily and step to the side to let him in. he ducks under your doorway, and as he passes you he pecks the top of your head. "hi, my love." he moves to sit down on your bed, that creaks under the pressure of his large body. you can't help but notice a bag that crosses over his chest and rests on his hip, "are we going somewhere? is that why you have that?" you ask and motion towards the bag.

"no, no. i actually have something for you." he clears his throat, and turns his attention to rummage through the sack. you watch how the boy gulps nervously, and tucks an unruly braid behind his ear. his lips are pursed together in concentration, before he pulls something out. it's a necklace. a beautifully weaved one with three shiny blue stones as the centerpiece. "for me?" your face lights up when he nods at you. "i made it for you."

it fit you perfectly btw and you never ever take it off

he loves when you sleepover

he sleeps in a hammock so you can either curl yourself into his side or lay on top of him

neteyam thinks his only purpose is to protect you from the harsh environment of pandora

he knows your vulnerable from your size so he likes to keep an eye on you

especially when you’re researching things in the forest

you'll be with norm's avatar and max but...

he will silently lurk above in the trees

like a little stalker

just waiting for any predator to dare to attack his yawntutsyìp

(little loved one)

he dedicates himself to you completely

and after you two finally make your relationship official

he brings you to visit the tree of souls

as you approach the spiritual tree, the atokirina', the wisps or seeds of the tree, surround your tiny human body

indicating that the forest has accepted you

neteyam almost cries from pure joy

he practically treats you as if you're eywa herself

his deity, his goddess...

it saddens him that he cannot make tsaheylu with you

but he knows that you see him and he sees you

he just loves you so much honestly

everything about your cute lil sky demon self

[bitchlessdino]

I have this in mind, maybe svt member x reader where they are classmates from college, they are close but not THAT close lol. Until one day they started talking about house prices and how the rent is so expensive, but still with the desire of living alone, so he (maybe hoshi or woozi) proposed that they should find a place together to split rent. It started as a joke, but then they found a really good place and decided to try to live together for at least one semester.

so yeah at first everything is great since both of them are always busy, so they dont really see each other that often around the house.

until it could be that they are sexually frustrated and start a friends with benefits relationship (but in secret, so their circle of friends dont know about it). However, reader always had a big crush on him, but never said anything. idk what else to say

Pairing: college roommate!soonyoung x afab!reader Genre: smut Word count: 5.9k tags: pwithplot, established friendship, roommate au, friends to fwb, pining, pervert!reader, pervert!soonyoung, mentions of alcohol, mutual masturbation, blowjobs, missionary, doggy, praise kink Summary: When it comes to the economy and needing a roof to live under, having a roommate is your best option, especially as any desperate college student. When arrangements are made with Soonyoung, a friend you admittedly have a visceral lust for, things take a turn one messy night. Making this arrangement more of an edible arrangement. author note: so i may have run wild since hoshi posted those thirst trap photos haha. im very proud of the header i made for this. this was something i planned on posting before my unprepared hiatus, and hopefully i'm still in spirits on continuing this. please anticipate more of me and remember that writers love interaction, criticism or not <333

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @wonuhour @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun

“That’s funny, Soonyoung’s looking for a place too.”

You looked over at the man in question to see him mid-feast on a sandwich bigger than his face as it puffed his cheeks full like a common squirrel. “Why are you looking for a place? I thought you made plans with Seokmin?”

The man struggled to swallow down the larger-than-life bite, barely managing to do without scratching the back of his throat before answering. “His parents convinced him against it. I should’ve known he’d back out when he didn’t know how to do his own laundry.”

“Do you know how to do your own laundry?”

“I know there are colors and whites, detergent and softener—I’d figure it out.”

“I’m hearing a no…”

“Youtube exists. How hard could it be? But yeah, I’m looking for a place.” He set his sandwich aside to lean in closer, washing down any remnants with a swig of his Jihoon’s stolen Coke Zero, who at the moment couldn’t be more distracted with Physics paper. “It’s not easy that’s for sure. A single bedroom is way too much on its own and anything bigger I can barely cover half of.”

“Here’s an idea,” Mingyu suggested like it wasn’t on his mind for the fifteen minutes you’ve been complaining about being essentially homeless, “Why don’t you guys figure something out together?”

“Really? Me and Soonyoung?”

Your counterpart couldn’t help the offense washing over his face. “What’s wrong with me?”

“I don’t know if you’d be a good roommate.”

“What makes you roommate of the year?”

You rolled your eyes. “We’ve known each for what, a semester and a half, and I don’t know what your living habits are. I’ve basically lived alone all my life with my parents working all the time. How do I know you won’t push all the housework on me?”

Scoffing, his lips twisted up in a cocky smile. “You’re looking at the flail youngest of two who did almost a decade of housework for a hundred dollar allowance for a week. I don’t waste Pinesol, I hand wash dishes, and I keep my 50 pairs of shoes neatly out of the doorway and in pristine condition.”

“You can do all that and not operate a washing machine?”

“The buttons and colors confuse me.”

“So,” Mingyu interrupted again, “How about it? Sounds like you guys a both a little desperate. The housing market isn’t getting any lower.”

“I guess you don’t sound all to bad to live with then,” You replied with a tinge of a tease.

“What do you bring to the table?” Soonyoung interjected.

“Discounts for food at my work, a Netflix account, a pack of scrub daddies, and a decent amount of disposable income for half an average month's rent and fun stuff if we ever get bored. Down?”

Soonyoung stroked his chin as if to think, but his head, the deal sounded as good as it can get. If he was being honest, he was desperate, but after the berating, he couldn’t let you know that. “Add in some salon-quality shampoos and conditioners and we have a deal.”

You groaned. “Fine, for a semester for now, but you’re getting laundry stuff and learning how to use the machines.”

You hadn’t expected to be apartment shopping with Soonyoung looking like a pair of newlyweds, but here you were doing exactly that. There wasn’t anything particular about him that bothered you, (except maybe the harboring attraction you had for him since freshman orientation that you blanketed over with over argumentative banter and an aloof attitude when he was around).

But as far as you knew, you were morning and night.  Sure, you’ve gotten along in social situations, but you knew how drastically different your lives were. When you aren’t working, you were a homebody and he’d bring bodies home. He lived differently than you did to put it plainly.

And perhaps the idea of waking up with him every morning possibly shirtless and/or naked frankly made you both terrified and aroused all at once.

The moment you shook his hand to agree, you were already feeling some regret, but hey, maybe that’ll actually do you some good. Maybe you’ll finally get over this school crush on this unattainably hot guy after seeing how disgusting he is leaving his underwear and socks in every corner of the place. It’s inevitable things can only go down from here, right? Right?

“A few ground rules should be in order.”

Soonyoung nodded, putting away the remainder of the edible arrangement gifted to you by your collective friends in the fridge. “Like what?”

“Chores should be switched off every week so we know how to handle all types at all times, but we do our own laundry. No exceptions. Dinner is a group effort. If we get takeout, always tell the other at least an hour in advance and costs are split. Groceries are bought biweekly with a set budget.”

“Strict, but ok. I’ll do my best to follow them. Anything else?”

You were reluctant to bring up this last one. You cleared you through, taking a second to properly form the words before letting them out. “If we have someone that we’re getting involved with, it’s either done at their place or in an empty apartment with plenty of notice.”

Soonyoung can’t help but bust out a wide and perfect grin, crossing his arms seeing the timid expression on your face. “Fine. I’ll make sure when I have sex with someone, it’s under those guidelines.”

“Ha, thanks,” You awkwardly respond, “I’ll abide the same.”

His eye narrowed at you dubiously. “Wait, you’ll actually get around?”

“Why are you doubting me?”

He chuckled, shrugging smooth broad shoulders through his black sleeveless tee. “You just don’t really seem about that. There’s nothing wrong with it, but—“

“You don’t know every detail of my intimate life so butt out.”

His arms rose up in defense, nodding along. “Alright, okay. If that’s all, I have a few rules of my own.”

“Okay. Have at it.”

He mused to himself for a few seconds. “Bathroom schedule: first come first serve.”

You nodded, easy enough.

“At a few hours of the day, the living room becomes an at-home gym when needed.”

Okay, that one had a little kick to it. “Alright.”

“And we have a safe word.”

You blinked back at him, heart pounding a little louder than it should, legs clenching as if they were being pried apart, and sweat burning the temple of your forehead with the unnecessarily dirty thoughts running through your mind. “A w-what?”

“A safe word,” he repeated as a matter of fact, “a word we can use when there’s conflict and something wrong and we just completely stop what we’re doing.” He grinned a little. “It’s not just for sex you know.”

You shoved him, earning his chuckle. “I know that, jerk. But fine, what do you suggest?”

“…Tiger.”

“How did I know that’s what you’d say?”

“Because we’re good friends.”

“How about ‘hamster’?”

He frowned. “No.”

“But look how effective that was.”

For the most part, things went smoothly. It helped that things got busy and tasks barely needed to get done with the exception of laundry. You saw each other more in your friend group gatherings than at home in your shared arrangement, and despite everyone knowing you live together, neither of you made it a point to make a big deal about it, even if everyone else does.

The countless times you had to fight Seokmin, Jeonghan, or Jihyo about the possibility of something developing between you and your new roommate romantically pained you with their inaccuracy. It seemed left and right that’s all everyone could talk about since it was arranged. It seemed as if there was nothing better up for discussion. Soonyoung dealt with it all the same, being constantly asked what kind of nefarious doings are being done behind closed doors that no one knows about. It always came as a disappointment when it was broken towards them that nothing was happening and that nothing ever will.

Even to you. Surprising enough.

If you learned anything from living with Soonyoung, it was harder than you expected it to be, especially with a still festering crush that is only developing into something almost tangibly heart-wrenching and stomach churning. It seemed to have taken a turn for the worse when Soonyoung started to take advantage of the home gym more due to the massive heatwave in town. 

The damn pull up bar.

You’ve only realized the time you’ve wasted after hearing the kettle whistle you put out apparently ten minutes ago. Your mind was too clouded by the flex of his biceps lifting his body in the air. Or the contracting and releasing of his shoulders that were lightly misted by perspiration. Or were too preoccupied with wanting to lick off the veins of the poor man’s lower abdomen. Or thinking about what those arms could do flinging you upside a—

“Oh, early class?”

“Uh, yeah. There’s a lot more traffic today, so I'm getting there earlier than usual.” 

His feet landed on the ground with a thud and he grabbed a towel to wipe over the sweat that was making his body glisten like glaze on a smooth buff donut. “I’m guessing you have no time for breakfast then?”

“Unfortunately,” you respond, quickly pouring your tea into your thermos before getting to your shoes, “I was gonna grab something at the Starbucks on campus after.”

“Here.” He tossed something from a box behind him and watched as you flimsily caught it from the front door.

“Oh.” A protein bar, a good one from your experience of raiding his side of the pantry. “Thanks.”

“And cancel all previous engagements. Dinner’s on me tonight.”

You squinted at him, “Why?”

“We’ll have something nice for once tonight,” he grinned, “be home at 8 tonight.”

Soonyoung’s plan for dinner was a free courtesy of Mingyu who found a nice little gig as a sous chef in a trendy place uptown. The whole circle celebrated together and you only got around to knowing after Soonyoung kept you updated on news knowing you’d be too busy to look at the giant groups chat you’re in. You should’ve been appreciative. That should’ve been your first instinct, not…entitlement. Not envious of him making eyes and flirting with the waitres. Not embarrassment for expecting something more from his brazen invite to dinner with you.

So, by then you’ve had a bit to drink. Okay, a lot to drink. Just enough to drink to have you stumbling on the center dance floor that garnered the attention of prying eyes. At that moment, nothing really mattered. You knew where lines lie, but lines eventually blur.

One second, you’re alone swaying to Britney Spears’ “toxic”, another second, Seungcheol’s crotch is up against your ass. It was a nice sentiment since you were definitely craving a bit of attention tonight, although you weren’t sure if you could look your friend in the eye again after that. Fortunately for you, it only got so far until a shapeless, but familiar, body pulled you away from the scene, forcibly putting you away in a bright yellow car. With your many failed protests, they managed to reach the footsteps of your building and finally reached for keys in their front pockets to open up your apartment.

“Hold still. Please…God, I am not sober enough for this.”

“Soonyoung….” You whined like a lost child.

He gripped you tighter by the arm to lock you in place, preventing you from falling. He was used to being taken care for and the grass was not greener on the other side. He has a lot of people he needs to apologize to. “Almost…okay, okay. I’m in. Go. Go shower and sober yourself up.”

You tugged him at the wrist, pulling him towards you. “Shower with me…”

He scoffed, a smug smile forming on his face. “You have no idea what you’re saying. Go before I make you, and I really don’t wanna have to make you.”

“Fineee…”

Logic flew out the window tonight. Not paying it a second thought, you began stripping yourself of your clothes in the middle of the living room, from socks to immediately your shirt. Soonyoung’s eyes nearly shot out of his skull as he scrambled to cover you in your abandoned shirt before it almost hit the ground.

“Undress in the bathroom please.” Even in your intoxicated state, you could feel the tension of his muscles brush against your back, causing the heat to creep up on your skin.

You let yourself melt into him giggling, turning your head back to meet his cautious eyes. “Maybe you’d like to help with that.”

You can see the bit of shock in his eyes, fluttering back to something more composed once he internally reminded himself this was the ramblings of a drunk person. “You really don’t know what you're saying.” He then pushed you inside the restroom, holding the door by its knob, “Shower and brush your teeth. I’m not letting you out until I’m sure you’re done.”

“Soonyoung…”

“Please, just do it.”

Eventually, he finally convinced you to do as he asked and he hears the shower running, but a mere second later a thud follows. You busted out in a fit of pain, slipping on the already wet floor and immediately your roommate comes running in concerned. “What happened?”

He turned his head the second he processed your fallen body on the ground was bare naked. Shower water poured down on your head, drenching you from head to toe, and glistening your body like a wet dream. Your eyes lit up at him in a timid demure, barely covering your intimate parts with your arms and hands. He coughed dramatically, pinching himself to find restraint, and repeated his quarry of concern with avoidant eyes before you pointed out the obvious, “I fell.”

“Hold on to the rails, that’s what they’re for,” he groaned.

“Sorry.”

He sighed, slightly glancing. “Do you need help?”

You shook your head even when he wasn’t looking. “No, I think I’m good.”

“Good. Just be careful and tell me when you’re done.”

And you’re alone again.

You pulled yourself up from your pathetic state and then the warm water run through your features, letting out a loud sigh. You finished up the best you could, ridding yourself of a night full of grime. Grabbing a towel on the rack, you wrapped it around your damp nude before letting Soonyoung know from the other side of the door. He finally let you free from his handmade prison before watching you go scurry to your bedroom in a concoction of drunken embarrassment.

You muttered to yourself scoldings for letting something like that happen, clenching your legs together in bed the moment you hear his round of shower hit the tiles through the thin walls. A groan unexpectedly sounds off abundantly clear, and your shameless thoughts take action while he’s preoccupied. 

Still naked, you let the towel fall to the ground and you crawl under the sheets of your bed, not caring in the slightest about your hair getting your pillows wet. Your hands slowly trail down to your chest, ghosting over your skin until the pads of your fingers finally found what’s between your legs. You moaned at your self-discovery. Filming your fingers with your filthy arousal, a smile derived from self-indulgence shaped on your face. There you let your fingers slide between your folds and you shudder.

Meanwhile, Soonyoung couldn’t get your image out of his head. The glimpse alone was enough to make him think of you in compromising positions. Lips around his angry stiff cock, your tongue sliding against the veins of his shaft. He’d then hear the wet suction, the vibrations of your mouth humming around his skin, moaning his name like the perfect dessert you were. He groaned again to himself, pressing his length against his abdomen, not thinking you’d hear.

But you do. In fact, it’s so coherent, it makes you wet enough seep past your thighs, trailing down your legs. Your fingers plunged in you deeper while the palm of your hand rubbed against the shape of your clit. Your hips heave up from the mattress, pressing deeper into your palm as the image of Soonyoung’s face stayed a constant in your intoxicated head.

Soonyoung could hear your moans through it all, even if you didn’t think they did, and you only further fed his imagination. He braced against the wall behind him, thrusting into his fist with gritted teeth. The squeeze he had on his girth was merciless and all he had to rid of his overwhelming sin. In his head, you batted your pretty eyes back him, trailing your hands over his body, mouth gaping that looked ready to be filled one way or another. He threw his head back, whispering your name softly. “Oh, baby…you look so good swallowing my cock.”

You felt tears soak your eyes, swallowing a desperate breath.“Mmh, fuck…just like that please…”

“Gonna fuck your pretty pussy…” His thrusts roughly pulled himself at his base, clenching the life around it.

“You’re so deep, fuck, you feel so good—“

“You’re gonna make me cum—“

“Shit, I’m gonna cum—“

“Shit—“

“Shit—“

Simultaneously, you both were freed of your tension, a sudden release of breath escaping your lungs. The spilled cum fell at Soonyoung’s feet, melting in the heat of the water before it followed down the drain, while you fell slumped in bed in your own filth. You lazily reached out for your towel to clean the rest of the mess, tore away your dirty sheets, and settled into a tired slumber.

Soonyoung, overwashed with shame, hung his head down as he quietly cursed to himself. He shut off the shower head and reached for his towel. He finally concludes this evening, having taken a load off. There wasn’t much left on his mind that night, only teh thought of wanting it to be over.

The morning comes sooner than you realize and you find yourself at the mercy of a shirtless Soonyoung like most mornings, except this time he wasn’t doing pull-ups. Instead, he walked to you, a vigor to his stride and he decidedly met your eyes, while you were still focused on his body.

“You’re not very good at hiding things,” he said with a knowing smile.

“Soonyoung—“

“Should I just give you what you want? Should I fuck the shit out of you until all I can hear is my name?”

An answer was caught in the tightness of your throat when he lifted you off the ground and instinctively made you wrap your legs around his bare torso. The heat of his body is all you could focus on until he planted you flat on your kitchen counter, parting your legs to reveal the sudden bareness beneath your oversized t-shirt.

He licked his lip, tensing up his abdomen excitedly before he found home between your thighs. Your fingers threaded through his hair, crying out in soft breaths, and pulling his head back to meet his pretty eyes glossed over with lust. 

He mumbled into your skin, specifically one thing. And he said it over again and over again. Unable to make out what he says, you asked him to repeat it more clearly. It was then he rose up to the surface, a sticky sweet sheen of your arousal in his lips before he drew them close to your ear. His breath fanned your skin, shivers running down your spine, and finally what he says makes sense.

“Wake up.”

Your eyes ripped open like the ground beneath you should’ve. You ran a hand over your face, groaning at your own dismay. “What the actual fuck…”

It took a minute for you to pull yourself out of bed, groggy and with a raging headache to blow over throughout the day, only to be met with nearly an identical circumstance you met in your dream. Your roommate’s bare back stared back at you as brightly as the morning sun. You shrunk back at the reminder of your dream, walking on eggshells towards him to reach the fridge. “Morning.”

Soonyoung coughed on his water recognizing your presence, timidly greeting you back.

“Plans today?” You asked.

He nodded, “Yeah, classes in the afternoon.”

The silence couldn’t be more deafening.

“You.”

“Yeah, me too. Will be back at home at 9 after work.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

And soon you parted, embarrassed that encountered ever happened.

The rest of the day, there was much of seeing each other like most days, but this particular instance felt there was more of a reason to it. Even when it came around to your mutually available time at lunch, you made the extra effort not to run into him. How could you?

After making a pass on him and making the half-conscious decision of touching yourself to him while he was in the shower?

You’d be insane to go about things as if they were normal. They weren’t. 

When you came home that night, he was home like he always was, yet nowhere in sight. You knew he was home when you noticed his bike locked up where it normally was and shoes placed at the front of the door. You were tempted to call out his name but refrained when you reminded yourself you were yet ready for that confrontation yet.

Unfortunately for you, you didn’t have a choice in the matter as  Soonyoung seemed to be already walking out of his room, shocked to see you actually home despite it being the time you said you’d be home by. “Hey…”

“Hey.” You let your stuff down before heading to the kitchen. “Did you eat yet?”

“Uh, yeah. I got pizza with a few Chan and Seungkwan.”

“Cool. I’m just gonna make myself something real quick.”

“Alright.”

“Did you need something?”

“Hmm?”

You pointed to his door. “You came out of your room.”

“Right,” he quickly scanned the floor before claiming nearly finished bottle of water on the couch's corner table. “W-water. I got thirsty.”

Obviously, it was an excuse, but you weren’t going to point it out with your lack of backbone. “Okay, well, I’m out here if you need anything.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Before he retreated back to the room, a halt was squeezed out of your throat, catching him in his eager steps. He turned to you with unfocused eyes, hard swallowing in an attempt to calm himself down. “What is it?”

“I need to get this off my chest. Yesterday…I’m really sorry for everything yesterday.”

He sighed. That’s what all that was? “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Also. Shit, um. I don’t know why I’m saying this because it's not like it matters. Well, it does a little bit. It could totally come off wr—“

“Hey,” he interrupted, “I doubt it’s as big a deal as your making it out to be, and I’m okay with not knowing.”

“But you should know actually.” You steadily approached him, letting out an exaggerated exhale. “Yesterday, you were showering and I don’t know what got over me. Well, I was drunk, so I guess there was that bit. Anyway, I heard you, you know, and I guess I—“

“Touched yourself when I was in the shower?”

You shut your eyes, preparing yourself for the worst. “Okay, we’re getting right into it, but yeah. It just felt weird not telling you, I just—“

“You knew I was masturbating?”

“Well, yeah? It was obvious if I’m being honest. Not the point. I invaded your privacy and indulged in it. I don’t know, maybe it’s been a while since…I just want to apologize.”

“For what, overhearing me whack myself off,” he took a step closer, eyes a lot like your dream meeting yours, “or for cumming to the thought of me?”

You breathed out through your nose. In and out. Your eyes for the life of you could not stay steady. “B-both?”

“If we’re being honest here, I should come clean too, shouldn’t I?”

Your hand steadied on the couch, almost letting the force of gravity pull you down along with your sanity, but tried maintaining eye contact as if that would change the dynamic even a little bit. “About what?”

Soonyoung finally found the humor in the situation to smile, one that caused the stagger in your step. “About how your face would come up when I touched myself in the shower.”

“Soonyoung—“

“You can be mad at me, but I won't be mad at you for doing the same thing I did. I don’t regret it because that was the best orgasm I’ve had in mon—“

You silenced his lips with your own, launching you into him until all you felt was the heat of his furnace of a body. His hands claimed the small of your back before pressing your curves into his hollows. He received your lips feverishly, moving against you as if in heated debate, and crashed your body into the furniture closest to you. 

“Didn’t know you were this eager,” he mumbled, “you should've told me.”

Your hand gripped his hair, your teeth taking his bottom lip between and pulling, emitting illicit whines that filled your stomach with warmth. Your leg propped to his side, embracing him hungrily there wasn’t even space to breathe. His hips knocked back into you, his bulge grinding against your clothed heat as he arched you over the back of the couch.

“You’re a bit mean. I like that.” He giggled.

“Shut up,” you mumbled.

“May I remind you, you kissed me.”

“And I can back out right this second.”

“Oh, but we can’t have that,” he utilized his upper strength to lift you off the ground looped tightly around his torso, a gasp leaving your lips. You reunite with his eyes that are now leveled with yours. You’ve looked into them before but it shocked you with how dark they are, how earnest they look. “You see it, don't you? How much I want you? I see it in your eyes too.”

“T-this a tactic you use on all people you sleep with?”

He shook his head. “Just you, and only because I really want you.”

Your hand planted against his cheek, the curve of your palm hugging his jaw. His breath hitches from the mere tenderness in your eyes. His body has ever only told him he was you carnally and raw, but that gaze. If he would just bottle that gaze and show off like a trophy.

Your hand crawled over to the nape of his neck, there your digits ran up his hair, pushing him innately close to yours, and you whispered cautiously, “We can never tell the others.”

“I’ll take this to my grave if it’s what you want.”

You nodded. “Good boy.”

He transported you to his room, dropping you on his mattress with him to follow. Your lips stay glued together a perfect mold, tongue clashing in a union that you’ve only even dreamt of having. Soonyoung only briefly pulled away to reveal his torso. He was firm, flushed to the touch, and heaving under the heat of your palm.

You gasped as he pressed his body against your touch, smiling against your skin as he asked if you liked what you were seeing. All you could do was nod, somehow lost in the trance that you never wanted to escape. His mouth took your neck, roaming starved as his hands undressed you down to your underwear.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” He slipped you out from your sleeves and made skin contact. Chest to chest, waist to waist, hips to hips. You sense his want through touch alone and for once being wrong felt so incredibly right. What a relief to know, he felt what you did. “I never wanted someone this badly before.”

“Soonyoung…”

He nipped your neck, teeth scratching against your skin. “You say my name like that, I’ll have no choice but to ruin you. Be careful around me. Or don’t. I’d show you a good time either way.”

“You’re—mmp—such a…ah—s-sweet talker.” You could hardly talk back. He made love to your skin as if he’d done it before, touching every pressure of your body like a skilled lover, both attentively yet without remorse.

“I’m only saying what I’ve been thinking. Like how desperate I am to feel myself between your thighs.” He tugged down your underwear to your feet and let the fall to the ground, allowing your legs to hook around him. “Or how your lips taste like caramel coffee, the candy you eat every time you need a ‘pick me up.’”

“You pay attention to that?” You asked, fiddling over the button of his pants.

“I don’t make an effort to, I just do.” He found your hands, aiding you in your efforts, soon you heard the sound of fabric hitting the floor. He held your gaze still, guiding your hand over his hard cock, taking from the base up to the shaft. You swallowed memorizing his shape, his length, his weight. There was so much you wanted to be able to share with this part of him alone. “Now it’s your turn to pay attention to me.”

Your lips stretched over your cheeks. “What makes you think I don’t?” 

You trace over something particular with your other hand, something that bulges at you even with his pants on. You lifted yourself to sit up, folding your calves behind your thighs. Stroking his length with one hand, you admire your veins leading down his lap with the other. “I’ll have you know, my patience is admirable. It took a lot within me to blatantly ignore these pretty veins you have on your stomach.”

“Someone’s never called them that before,” he chuckled, “no one’s even acknowledged them before.”

“I guess no one’s been privileged enough to see them as often as I do. Lucky me.” You thumbed over the blue, scrapping over its stroke as you lowered your head and your lips wrapped around the head. You covered his underside, tugging  your lips around him, and watching his jaw drop lower when you began covering more of his length.

“I’m the lucky one,” he acknowledged, his hand dropping to the crown of your head before caressing the length of your hair. “You should see how good you look sucking my dick right now. I’m never gonna see this image without wanting to cum on the spot.”

You steadied yourself at his hips, tongue gliding over the underside, and you hugged your cheeks tighter around his girth. Eyes fluttered back at him, and you wretched to take more of him, already felt him hit the back of your throat. When you heard him moan, it fed you more encouragement, giving your best efforts to fit all of him. You coughed at the tightness in your throat but remained resilient. The vicious substance of your saliva coated him from tip to base as your hand stroked him repeatedly, pushing him deeper into you until your vision grew weary. 

Soonyoung told you to take it slow, stroking the back of your head with a gentle hand. You inhaled him for as long as you could, the sounds of your efforts growing dim the deeper he made it past your mouth. Ultimately, tears ran down your cheeks, oxygen cut from your airways, and you felt no choice but to pull him out, resting his cock between your fingertips as you gasped for breath.

That breath was quickly stolen when Soonyoung dived in to claim it, his body caging yours. His weight against yours was comforting, enticing, addicting. He moaned your name sweetly like a song, and it filled your stomach with embers of desire. “You’re so hot…I’d make you do that again if I wasn’t worried about killing you.”

You pathetically scoffed in an attempt to cover up discomfort. “That? Pff, I’m fine.”

He grinned, kissing you long and deep. “You’re so cute when you lie. I’ll make sure to return the favor now.”

Pulling at your thighs, he dragged them towards him, barely touched your eager heat, and his twitch urging you to pull him close. He leaned over somewhere behind you to tear open a condom, rolling it over himself. As he drew closer, so did you, feeling the inviting head of his cock glide over your wet cunt, you trembled in thought. Soonyoung, just—

“Put it in me.”

“Now, now. I’m not going anywhere,” he smiled cheekily.

“Soonyoung,” You whined.

Your impatience is rewarded when he plunged himself in slowly, but completely, embracing the stretch of your walls as he filled you out. “So…needy...”

His initial thrust is deep, strong, and then he landed another, quickly adjusting to the plush of your pussy. You held your thighs back to your chest, and spread your legs wide for him. Your pretty lips weren’t shy with praising him, asking him for more of his pretty cock, and earning just as you ask. “You’re mind-numbing, shit…what a good fucking pussy…”

“Your cock’s so g-good in me…you feel so good inside me, Soonyoung…”

“Fuck, say my name like that again.”

He flipped you on your stomach, pressing his fingers into your as he found his pace from behind you, ramming into you until your cunt has tasted every inch of his cock. You gasped as his hand maneuvered you to push back against him, like a toy to be played with he used every bit of you, your energy, your sexuality, and he embraced it. You felt amazing. 

“Soonyoung, I’m—ah—I’m gonna cum.”

“You’re gonna cum around my cock? Hmm? Is that it? My cock fucking you that good?”

You bit into his cheeks nodding, in the urge to respond before the wave of arousal crashed into you. You were clenching your stomach as his name came in tidal waves, grinding towards him to prologue the high. Loudly, you cursed, balling the sheets underneath you into fists. 

Soonyoung nodded proudly, the shaky view of your body trembling beneath him fuels his ego and it’s not long before he orgasms, filling the condom until it nearly burst. He pulled out of you finally, quickly discarding the trash before he joined you in bed, hugging your fatigued body to his side and there was silence. Only silence.

And breathing. Mainly Soonyoung’s. And that went on for a good fifteen minutes until someone spoke again.

“I’m glad I waited for that.”

You looked up at your roommate curiously, the smile on his face felt warmer every time you saw it. “What was that?”

He met your gaze, hand softly moving over your hair. “I feel like I’ve gotten closer to you. I always wanted that.”

“Really?”

He nodded, planting a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Who knew sex would make us closer friends?”

Your body ran cold, in the distance you could hear the shattering of glass far off from reality. You stayed frozen under his touch as he embraced you closer to his naked body, hooking his chin over your neck. “We should do this again. I wouldn’t mind getting used to this.”

That’s what you were scared of. Getting used to this. To this arrangement. To the sensation of his cock inside you. To the sense that it’d never be more than you hoped it would be. You’d never have Soonyoung be yours, but you knew somehow you’d always be his.

[fandomxpreferences]

Fighting About A Funnel Cake

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader

TW:none

Summary: You're mad at Rafe, and much to your displeasure, he figures out the real reason.

Word Count:1k

Few things have ever scared Rafe Cameron. He's had guns held to his head, fist-fought his own father, and been in business with people who have the power to make him disappear. He never even flinched. 

The few things that have scared him, were nothing to do with him and everything to do with you and your life together. 

He was struck with deep visceral fear when he found out about your son, James, and down petrified when he found out about your daughter, Eleanor. 

He was drowning in fear driving you to the hospital as contractions ripped through you, and he almost threw up the first time your son got an injury. 

However, nothing elicits terror all the way in his bones as much as that look in your eyes or the fire in your voice when you're angry at him. 

Usually, he knows he did something and gets ahead of the storm. He buys you something nice, plans a date, and prepares an elaborate apology. 

You see it from a mile away, but it usually works. Tonight, however, he's blindsided and has no clue what's gotten you so worked up. It's always worse when he's clueless about his fuck up.

He has no doubt he did something; he screws up all the time without realizing it. But knowing allows him to have a game plan and tailored approach. 

Right now he's floundering. 

"Kids, go to your room. I need to talk to your father." 

There's thinly veiled rage in your voice as you try your best not to show it in front of your children. They stand to leave and Rafe's frantic voice rings out. 

"No, kids stay. Please." 

Your eyes narrow as your seven and nine-year-old falter and look between the two of you. 

"Go." 

They start walking again and Rafe stops them. 

"No, stay. I'll pay you each $50 if you sit back down." 

Your son looks at his sister and they seem to have a silent conversation when you speak through gritted teeth. 

"Go, now.' 

Your daughter starts to leave while your son stays in place and Rafe tries to grab her arm as she passes by. 

"Eleanor, stay!" 

His pleading falls on deaf ears as she beelines for the stairs and he turns to your son that's now moving in the same direction. 

"James, don't go!" 

He watches as they both disappear and calls out after them. 

"Kids, don't leave me!"

He turns back to you with a timid smile and shrinks back when he sees the storm brewing in your usually bright eyes. 

"Hone-" He starts but you cut him off. 

"Don't, Rafe."

His mouth snaps shut and he waits for you to continue. The ball is in your court, it always is. You're the only woman that's ever been able to put him in his place, and while it's the reason he fell for you, it's also the reason he fears for his life sometimes. This is one of those moments. 

Your eyes bore into him for a few moments and you take in the genuinely clueless look on his handsome features. 

"You have no idea why I'm mad, do you?"

His silence is all the answer you need, and you huff. 

"Were you going to tell me you took the kids out of school for a joyride in Charleston?"

The words come down on him like a hammer and his eyes flutter closed. Fuck.

"Don't be mad."

You scoff and cross your arms. 

"I think we both know we're well past that." 

He does know that, but he figures it couldn't hurt to try. 

"They've been begging to go to that amusement park, and our weekends have been so booked up we haven't had the chance. I felt bad, and my dad never did stuff like that with us. I just wanted to make a memory with them." 

You feel yourself deflate a bit at his reasoning, but it doesn't make it okay. 

"I understand that, Rafe. But their education is important. When you do stuff like that, especially behind my back, it makes me look like the fun-sucking parent. We promised when we found out about James that we wouldn't do that."

He nods his head and you feel the anger dissipate at the genuine sorrow in his eyes. 

"I know, baby. I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

You stand still with your lips pursed for a moment before nodding. It's silent for a few seconds when a smile breaks out on your husband's face. 

"Wait, are you really mad about that? Because we've done stuff like that before. Or are you mad that you missed out and didn't get a funnel cake?" 

The way this man sees right through you gets on your nerves sometimes, and you scramble to hide the fact you've been caught. 

"What? No, of course not. That's ridiculous." 

His smile only grows as he stands and wraps his arms around you. You stare up at him with defiance and he tilts his head to the side like a puppy. 

"Is it?"

You roll your eyes and will yourself not to give in. 

"Yes." 

He nods with a shit-eating grin and lowers his face to nip on your ear. 

"Would you still be mad if I told you we can go back this weekend and you can get all the snacks you want?"

He nuzzles into your neck when he feels your smile on the side of his face before pulling back. 

"Really?"

His heart warms at the way you light up like a little kid at the idea and he nods. 

"Really." 

He sees the moment your walls come down and you return his embrace. 

"Can we play the games too?"

He chuckles and kisses your temple softly. 

"Anything you want." 

The last of the fight leaves you and you surrender to him completely.

"Okay, fine. You're forgiven."

You squeal as he spins you around and loud laughter bubbles from your chest. 

"That's my girl. I love you."

You grin as he sets you back down and nudge his shoulder. 

"I love you too. Even if you do piss me off."

[syoddeye]

more reading recs

because one post isn't enough. we are hashtag blessed with fic.

as requested, i've highlighted fics with noncon and/or dubcon elements in orange. beyond that, you are responsible for reading tags, warnings, and summaries.

pairings are indicated, although these may change or may not be established yet.

there is no method to this madness, no specific order. these are listed here as my brain remembered them.

i've checked all the links maybe three times, if they're broken, i blame tumblr's formatting.

without further ado...

Slasher Handler by @dragonnarrative-writes - Ghost x Reader

"Simon does serial killer things. What a rascal!" Another fantastically written Simon, with wonderful dashes of Gaz and Price. It's put the term 'romance knives' in my vocabulary. There are many quotable bits and moments that made my blood run cold with how normal the ~situation~ feels, but everything has to be experienced firsthand.

The Far Shore by @deadbranch - Soap x Reader

DB's fic collection is rich, and The Far Shore is no different. I fucking loved Pacific Rim, so when I saw her first mention a PR AU, I did imaginary backflips. DB's Readers are some of my favorites because of how complex and realistic they feel, and when combined with the visceral depth of the neural handshake AND Soap? Compelling. The dynamic between them is fascinating. I almost can't wait for it to be finished so I can go back and dissect it.

Falling into Place by @mortuarywriting

Morg's brought the first COD Isekai AU I've read, like a little treat, with A/B/O to boot. The first chapter hooked me and cracked me up. Their dialogue reads so well, it truly feels like I got sucked into the universe. The panicked ramblings, the over-explanation, the 'oh shit, we don't even have a shared cultural touchstone' moments. I cannot wait for more.

Carvings by @femalefemur - Price x Reader

Cyn's got this amazing thing going on called 'Top Quality Worms' where she takes me by the hand and leads me down a rabbit hole I didn't know I'd find so cozy. Carvings is one piece from her incredible list, featuring a bloody, possessive Captain Price. Somehow, out of this entire piece, Price snapping a pen really did it for me. Did someone say loss of control? Oh no, not my kryptonite!

Under Your Spell by @groguspicklejar - Gaz x Reader x Soap

This fic had me at the pairing tag. Lured me right in. No hope for me, and I'm not mad about it. The way Gaz and Soap play off of each other in Under Your Spell is spine-tingling in more ways than one. The definition of scaroused. Kelsi writes a wonderful Gaz. The first two paragraphs in part two, Split My Skin, describe him perfectly to me.

Chokehold by @ccrites - Soap x Reader

Chokehold is a chef's kiss read. Starts off as a cute and sweet gym read, and uh, well, it does get sweeter, in a way. Without spoiling anything, there is a brief cab ride that made me take a lap before things got really going for Reader. CC's Soap is a delightful tease that is tender all at the same time. I'd join his gym in a heartbeat.

Knight/Princess AU by @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world - Price x Reader

I've read and re-read this AU series a dozen times. It's so gd cute, I might need to see the dentist about how it's rotting my teeth. Seriously, it makes ME want to be a princess. Specifically Price's princess. Bear writes such a sweet and gruff Price, catch me holding a hand over my heart and just sighing. I'm also a big fan of multiple POVs and the insight into each character.

Martyr in the Making by @eilidh-eternal - Ghost x Reader

I had a tattoo touch-up the other day, and while waiting, I thought about this fic: the dream and nightmare of being tattooed by Simon and the rest of the 141. It's a dream for obvious reasons (probably unhealthy for me) and a nightmare because of, well, you'll have to read the story. Getting a tattoo can be such an intimate experience. You put yourself into someone's care and get something permanently etched onto your body. When Reader sits for Simon, you're right there with her, the two of you on an altar.

Liquid Smooth by @cordeliawhohung - Gaz x Reader

Bodyguard!Gaz save me, save me, bodyguard!Gaz. Ugh, Gaz is fucking incredible in every flavor, but there is something that hits different about the guy when he's flexing those 'VIP protection' skills. There are several tiny moments in Liquid Smooth that made me audibly whisper, "God, I wish that were me." If you have a conifer tree allergy, you might not be able to handle the god-tier pining. (I'll see myself out.)

pornstar!Gaz by @cordeliawhohung - Gaz x Reader

Gotta include the series that I drop everything for whenever I see an update. Another fantastic depiction of best man Kyle Gaz Garrick. The charm, the jealousy, the care...My personal favorite installments are Whispers and Threesomes.

plus size puppygirl!reader / Simon & Reader / Punishment by @secretsynthetic - Price x Reader x Ghost

Ghost gets his Captain a puppy, and Synth gives us a tasty Price x Reader x Ghost story. I've linked the intro and a Simon x Reader snippet, but my personal favorite is Punishment. Punishment is a deeper dive into Price the disciplinarian: "how the hell do i get a mutt like you to fuckin’ listen?" I'd gush about it, but again, this is another one to read and experience firsthand. One of my favorite recent explorations of a PriceGhost dynamic.

~~

i'll probably cobble another one of these together in may 2024. my fic backlog is something else. i blame it on all the massive talent. mwah.

[toorumlk]

Hi I'm so freaking obsessed with your twitter.

Also what's your favorite Romione moment in the books and why?

ohohoho thank you, friend, i’m quite proud of some of the stuff i’ve posted on there B)

and as for my favourite romione moment in the books, when i read the question i first blanked out for a couple minutes, thinking of a bunch of smaller, sillier scenes. but then i remembered that i do have a favourite and it’s from chapter 11 of DH, when remus visited the trio at grimmauld place and filled them in on he goings on of the war -including the implementation of the muggle-born registry. ron’s response upon hearing this (after his immediate outrage) was

and it’s not just the hand holding and the “‘you won’t have a choice’ said Ron fiercely” that played out so vividly in my head like this:

but this scene demonstrates so perfectly the political weight of this pairing (muggleborn/blood traitor) which i think is the immovable narrative foundation of romione. all of their silly moments and idiosyncrasies aside, there is genuine narrative purpose behind this love. ron has always had an astute understanding of the blood supremacist politics of the wizarding world (need i remind that he was ready to curse shitco at the ripe age of 12 for calling hermione the in-universe slur) and just how wrong it is. ron is a pure-blood wizard and by design has so much privilege in this society bc of it, but by virtue of having parents like arthur and molly, he’s grown up knowing the importance of fighting against blood supremacist ideology. always.

so, after hearing about the completely horrifying muggleborn registry ("People won't let this happen," said Ron. "It is happening, Ron," said Lupin.), he immediately turns to his muggleborn best friend and love of his life and says “i’m making you a family member, i’m going to use the protection my family-name has and use it to protect you from the awful injustice of our situation, no you won’t have a choice but to let me help you”

i remember having such a… visceral reaction while reading this scene like holy shit .. these kids, THESE KIDS!!!!! this is the bone-marrow-deep love that makes me feel insane. this dynamic of the blood traitor/muggleborn always there, from CoS all the way to the epilogue. We get to see that romione is the story’s pure blood/muggleborn that finally made it (rip jily and tedromeda :(). we see it in hermione keeping her muggle last name after they get married (oh my god these two actually got married) and we also see it in the hyphenated Granger-Weasley (granger being first!) in their kids’ last names (oh my gof these two had TWO kids). they are a true symbol of change and progress in their world.

also this is one of those moments where i’m so glad that our only window to romiones relationship development is through harry’s narration because it so brilliantly shows the readers this blossoming love story instead of just telling us about it because harry obviously doesn’t have access to the inner thoughts of his two best friends, he can only witness them fall deeper in love. showing the audience acts of love is always more powerful and my god is this an act of showing your love to your beloved.

(and not to go on an unrelated tangent, but this is exactly why i could never ship my girl hermione w any DE or DE-adjacent character. no fucking way. not when the concept of a muggle-born registry exists in this universe, not when the antagonists in this story wish to eradicate people like her from their society. idk about the rest of y’all but im going to keep taking the narrative seriously bc the worldbuilding obviously has real world ties/implications and i like engaging with the canon. tangently to the tangent, i saw someone (a ron basher) on twitter say that ron, OUR RON FROM THE ABOVE EXCERPT, was “one bad day away from becoming a death eater” ohhhh ohhh i ought to beat you with sticks bc HUH? this is the same kid who said he would’ve boarded the train back to kings cross if he got sorted to slytherin, the house notorious for birthing DEs, at the tender age of 11)

anyways, all this to say is that romione is incredibly, realistically, materially romantic and i love them and i love their love <3

[streamingcolors-gvf]

Skin Deep - Part 8

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader x Jake Kiszka

Word Count: 14k

A/N: This took forever. I’m so sorry, guys. I really struggled with repetition in this one so I apologize in advance for that. Hope y’all enjoy! (Also this is pretty filthy so 👀)

As always, I love and appreciate all the support and feedback ❤️

Special shoutout to my lovely girls Nessa and Hannah for carrying my ass through this chapter. I wouldn’t have been able to get it done without them.

Warnings: cursing, drug use (marijuana), smoking, angst, sexually explicit content - MINORS DNI! 18+ (oral f!receiving, oral m!receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, edging, dirty talk, breeding kink, public sex, somnophilia - scene has been edited out

Masterpost

“I think we need to have a serious conversation.”

You release your arms from him as if the surface of his skin is scorching hot to the touch. Your vision blurs, making it feel like you have blinders on — tunnel vision. The entire world you’ve been blissfully living in for the past hour shrinks to the size of his bedroom in a matter of seconds. That high, the euphoria, the oxytocin surging through your veins has been sucked away as soon as the words left his mouth. It tightens in your chest like a vice grip, turning your stomach sour with regret. You’re not sure what scares you more, him being upset with you, or your visceral reaction to it. With a flick of his lighter, he takes a heavy hit while you sit on the bed behind him still as a statue. 

Things have been left unresolved since that afternoon at the tattoo shop, and sex clearly didn’t keep it swept under the rug for very long. This issue between the two of you weighs you down, keeping your body fused to the mattress. 

“Okay,” you finally mutter out a meek response as he blows the cloud of smoke above his head. He stays silent for far too long, leaving you to stare at the muscles of his back — each petal of his inked mandala — contracting with each breath he takes.

His head falls from his tense shoulders, and he disrupts the uncomfortable quiet by sending his words to the floor between his feet, “Do you just want to fuck Jake?”

The distant sound of his voice causes the guilt to swell like an overinflated balloon in your chest. You haven’t done your best to convince him of different intentions, and while the question itself seems within reason given the circumstances, it takes you by surprise nonetheless. “What?”

A defeated sigh tumbles out from his chest before he answers you in a tightly wound tone, “If you don’t want to keep fooling around with me anymore, that’s okay.”

“No!” You blurt out, panicked that you’ve torched whatever this is and that all you’ll be left with is extinguished embers. “No. Wait…what?” You dip your knee into the mattress to move closer to him. You shake the thoughts swirling around in your head for a coherent explanation. “Listen, Josh, I’m sorry for how that went down in there. I didn’t think Jake was going to say all of that and—”

The razor-sharp edge to his voice cuts off your desperate rambling, “I didn’t fuck that woman.”

He’s slammed a proverbial door into your face. It causes you to shrink in on yourself, making you accept that you haven’t been fair to him. You haven’t been transparent, even if you don’t exactly know what you’re supposed to be honest about. Your voice weakens just merely above a whisper, “I know… I’m not sure why I said those things. I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t respond to your apology. Instead, he fiddles with the glass bowl of his bong, giving away that he’s just as anxious and uncomfortable. You dare another touch his back, but this time he relaxes to the feeling of your fingers. It’s the subtle reassurance you need for you to add, “I liked the flowers by the way.”

He peers over his shoulder enough to see you in his periphery. “You did?”

Your fingers slip into the fallen curls at the nape of his neck.“Yeah. They’re beautiful. I have them sitting on my table in my apartment.”

“I’m glad.” He smiles, but it fails in comparison to what it normally is. He stands and sets the glass piece on his dresser. There’s tension in his rigid movements like he has something else weighing on his mind. 

You watch his unnatural demeanor, beckoning him to look into your eyes again. He avoids them by casting his own to the floor, making it feel as though you’re an intruder. It’s hard to ignore, like the grating hum of electricity through a poorly wired outlet. You decide to shimmy toward the side of the bed and ask, “Should I go?”

You mentally prepare yourself for his answer the best you can while he brings his gaze back to you. “No. I want you to stay.” The words are not as believable for you as they should be, and from the look on his face alone, he knows they’re not convincing enough either. Before you can make another move, he rushes to crawl back onto the bed to sit before you. “Really.”

He places a hand on your bare knee and that’s when you notice the red marks around his wrist from where the handcuffs rubbed his skin. You gasp, taking his hand to inspect them closer, “Oh my god, Josh! Are you okay?”

He glances down at them like you’re pointing it out to him for the first time. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

You rub your thumb over the tender skin apologetically. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put those on you.”

He laughs, giving you a sense of relief now that the tension is starting to finally break, “Don’t be sorry, baby. I liked it, actually.”

You quirk your brow. “You did?”

He watches you massage his wrist and shrugs, answering matter-of-factly, “Yeah, but I probably would have liked it a lot more if it was just the two of us.”

He slips his hand away from you only to lean forward into a kiss. You instinctively fall backward as he moves, laying across the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. “I’ll make a note of that.”

“Good. Add it to the list,” he hums, smiling into the kiss as his lips meet yours. His movements are soft and gentle — far more affectionate than the ones you had shared minutes prior. 

Before the kiss has a chance to deepen, he breaks away to say, “Lay with me for a while.” There’s a vulnerability in his request that makes you ache from the need to comfort him. You answer by lifting your dress over your head and reaching out for him. 

He lowers himself with your guiding pull until his head rests against your bare chest. You cradle him in your arms while he wraps his own around your waist. His body fits along yours seamlessly, and within seconds, his tight muscles begin to loosen. You lay in silence, listening to his rhythmic breaths as you draw shapes on his back with calming caresses of your fingertips.

Minutes go by, perhaps even hours without a single word spoken between you. Exhaustion is setting in and it doesn’t take long for the ever-changing patterns traced along the muscles of his shoulder to lull him to sleep. Soft snores flutter across your chest and as you run your fingernails lightly over his scalp, sleep coaxes you in as well. 

The Sandman had been a little heavy-handed last night, keeping your eyes sealed with sleep. You exist within the realms of your dream and reality, lucid enough to be aware of Josh shifting his weight beside you. You don’t react to the dips of the mattress, letting the luxury cotton sheets swim across your naked skin as he settles between your legs. 

You feel his warmth before his lips make contact with the top of your thigh. It’s a careful kiss, testing whether it's enough to wake you. You hum, permitting him to shower your legs with those barely-there kisses, so faint you wonder if you’re imagining them. That’s until he starts to suck his mark on the thin flesh of your inner thigh, dragging you into consciousness once again.  

Your hips writhe as a sleepy groan rumbles in your throat. The tempting heat of his breath tickles you, making you spread yourself for him without a second thought. 

You peek through your stubborn eyelids, mumbling while your eyes struggle to focus on him, “What are you doing?” 

He answers you by licking a stripe up your pussy before sucking your clit into his mouth. The surprise of his pointed tongue and the strong suction jolts you awake. Before your vision has a chance to clear, you react by clamping your eyes shut in response. After hearing your hissed curses, he releases it, giggling against your throbbing skin, “Good morning, baby.”

The sleepy rasp of his voice drowns your self-control. You push out a forceful sigh as you fall back into the down-feather pillow, huffing sarcastically, “That’s one hell of a way to wake up.” 

He chuckles to himself and skims his fingertips along your leg, giving you a few more kisses.“I’m sorry, would you like me to stop?”

The thought of him suddenly stopping is almost enough to cause panic in your lust-addled mind. You want it so bad you’re vibrating with anticipation. “Oh fuck, no. Please keep going.”

That cheekiness you’ve become well acquainted with reappears. He coos, close enough that the words flutter across your clit, “Do you need it, baby?”

The pet name has never sounded so sweet. You want to bask in it, clutch onto the way it bounces from his lips with your clenched fists.  Your hips lift from the mattress in the blind search for his mouth. You find one of his hands resting on your stomach and grasp it with more strength than you intend. “Oh my god, yes. Just please don’t tease me, Josh.”

You claw at the sheets, wrinkling them by your sides to add emphasis to your plea. He smiles and brings himself even closer to you — less than an inch above you. His eyes fall, and as if he were sharing a secret, he whispers softly, “You like it when I spoil your little clit? Should I be nice to her?”

You respond with a whiny moan and reach for his head buried between your thighs. The tufts of his tangled curls act as reigns between your fingers. You pull him forward by their roots, guiding his mouth back to you. You brace yourself, expecting the same intensity as before, but all you feel is the blooming warmth of his mouth. It blankets you as his tongue pets your clit, lapping across the swollen bud with the slightest pressure. He gives just enough for you to notice the cold metal ball of his piercing teasing you with every roll.

He breathes you in, and licks his lips through a low groan, “Fuck, you taste so good.”

You mumble something, but it's incoherent. You’re too lost in the feeling of his lips sealing around your clit to even bother repeating yourself. He just goes on to create the perfect vacuum with his flattened tongue. He holds it there, babying the most sensitive part of you in the safety of his mouth — as if it was made solely to pleasure you. 

It’s decadent — this feeling. Like that extra slice of chocolate cake eaten at some late hour of the night barefoot in your kitchen. It’s rich and heavenly, flooding your brain with oxytocin. He’s unlike any partner you’ve experienced, and it would be borderline insulting to even compare. There’s not a hint of obligation in sight. What he’s giving you is pure adoration. Unabashed, selfless worship. He’s taking his time, not even rushing a single second with you.   

He’s making sure you feel. He’s learning your body more and more with each passing minute, maybe knowing you better than you know yourself. Like magic, the slow-building orgasm churns wildly in the depths of your belly. Only for it to be disrupted by him suddenly lifting his head, breaking the seal. “I want us to do something today.”

Your mouth is bone-dry, causing you to stutter, “W-what?” 

He shifts his weight between your legs, propping himself on an elbow. Before you can complain out of frustration, he asks nonchalantly,  “Where do you want to go?”

Your mind is too busy reeling trying to process the casual tone of his voice to think about an itinerary for the day. He doesn’t seem to mind your pause and waits patiently for an answer with a smile on his face. After a huff and a roll of your eyes, you throw your head back and comb your fingers through your hair. “Fuck. I dunno, Josh. I think I work today.”

His response is mumbled through the kisses to the inside of your leg. “Then call off. You can do that, can’t you?”

The trail of his tongue and the teasing nips of his teeth distract you. Just like that fateful afternoon the day you first met at the shop, he’s able to convince you of anything he desires. “Yeah…yeah. I think so.”

“Good.” His middle finger slips through your folds —  rewarding you. He’s playing, exploring the intricate details of your body to see your reactions in real-time. He watches your hips lift off the bed from the feather-light touch, how your chest rises and falls with each panting breath, to the changing expressions on your face. With his hooded eyes completely transfixed between your legs, he asks, “How about we take some edibles and go to the aquarium today?”

Despite the overwhelming urge to close your eyes, you fight to keep them open. He’s breathtaking, so effortlessly beautiful soaking in the filtered morning sun. You doubt the fact he’s real like he’s a still from a movie that’s been locked away in a memory until now. There’s a fear that if you blink, he might disappear and you’ll wake up from this perfect dream. 

You’re determined to capture the sight of him — a moment so natural it makes your heartache. The dark shadow of stubble growing back where his mustache draws your attention down to his kissable lips. They’re flushed bright pink, glossy with your wetness. 

He swipes his thumb across your clit, watching how your body spasms at the feeling. You hum, finally allowing your eyes to close, “Mmhmm.”

His voice floats across the tides of your conscience, “Are you listening, baby?” 

“Yeah,” you answer back through an airy sigh. In reality, you’re not convinced you even heard him correctly. The words evaporated into the air between you. They don’t matter in the slightest, he could suggest anything to you if it meant that he would make you finish. 

He kisses your inner thigh before dragging the tip of his tongue higher up. “How does that sound?” 

The kitten-licks along the crook of your leg make you choke on a breath, “S-sure.” He giggles at the broken sound, burying his laughter as he searches for your clit. “We can go look at some fish — ah fuck!”

He swirls his tongue, coaxing your orgasm into the refuge that is his mouth. You find his hand gripped across your hip. The contact serves as a substitute for the spoken words that are failing to form, touching praise that tells him you’re right on the cusp of your release. You feel across the dips and contours of his knuckles, tracing along the soft planes of each finger grasped onto the supple flesh of your waist. 

If you were aware of your surroundings, you would notice his hips grinding into the mattress for friction knowing he could’ve easily added his fingers and made you climax minutes ago out of impatience. The whine laced within the ragged breath is the only indicator that he’s just as desperate as you. “Are you close, baby?”

You moan loud enough for the sound to pierce through the thin walls of their house. If Jake was here, there’s no question that he heard you. However, the thought of the confrontation he’ll have with you is fleeting. Josh, still hell-bent on maintaining the resemblance of a conversation, asks you, “What do you want to see the most?”

“Josh,” you groan, swallowing harshly to wet your parched tongue.

“Yeah?”

“Please shut up.” 

He smiles, pressing the sharp edge of his teeth against your clit. As much as he loves to tease you, the urgency in your tone is enough to flip the last switch. The lazy movements are abandoned, replaced with the rapid flicks of his tongue. 

“Holy sh-shit!” You cry out, clawing at his hands that are latched around your legs. Every muscle in your body tightens like an over-spun coil ready to snap any second. You fall past the tipping point as he drenches you in intoxicating bliss like you’ve been submerged in a warm bath. 

He brings you down carefully, licking and kissing until your legs start to shake from overstimulation. Peaceful silence falls between you as your breathing calms and your heart rate returns to normal within a few minutes. You expect him to crawl up your body and slip himself inside you, but he doesn’t.

He lifts himself from the bed, throws the duvet off to the side, and stands to his feet. His nakedness sends your eyes to his obviously-hard cock bouncing against his belly as he moves. He catches you staring, and the confusion painted on your face. 

You’re completely dumbfounded, as Josh doesn’t strike you as the type to pass on the opportunity for sex. The strange behavior might have made you question things normally, but the certain glint in his eyes tells you something is brewing in that brain of his. 

A tiny smirk forms on his face as he makes his way to the dresser, giving you a direct view of his ass. The way jiggles and bounces as he walks is enough to distract you momentarily. You know he’s doing it on purpose, and you hate the way you fall for it. He digs out his clothes from the drawers, tosses them onto the foot of the bed, and starts to get dressed in front of you. 

You wish you had your phone to snap a picture of him, even for your own selfish reasons. The collection of vibrant tattoos flowing with the lean muscles of his body deserves to be admired. The dichotomy of wanting to appreciate his beauty while wanting to ravish his cock that’s twitching with the steady beat of his heart wrecks your brain.

 Realizing that you’re gawking, he looks up and flashes you a full smile. “So I was thinking we could grab a coffee and some breakfast on the way. My treat.” 

Stunned, you watch him pull his boxer briefs up his legs with his cock standing at attention more than ever. Your pussy throbs for him, craving the full feeling he gives you. Unbothered, he grabs himself with a firm hand and tucks it away into the confines of his underwear. The heather-gray fabric does little to conceal it, taunting you with the prominent outline. 

“Uh…about that,” You begin just as he slips on a pair of jeans that does nothing but hug his crotch in all the right places. It takes every ounce of energy for you to look away. “I need to stop by my apartment today. I have to check on my cat and get some clothes.”

He pauses with his t-shirt in hand. “You have a cat?” After seeing you nod, he scoffs in disbelief, “How did I not know that?”

You sit up, snorting a laugh as you scoot to the edge of the bed. “I don’t think we’ve spent our time actually getting to know each other.”

“Hmm,” he hums, making his way toward you. He steps between your legs and leans until he’s just about eye level. “I beg to differ. I think I’m getting to know you very well.”

You peer up, hoping not to fall headfirst into those amber irises. “So well in fact that you didn’t even know I had a cat.”

“Hey,” he scolds playfully while tipping your chin up with a finger and lowering himself even farther so his lips hover above yours. “In my defense, I was a little busy getting to know another kitty of yours.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you huff, but he catches the back of your neck before you can pull away. 

He nips at the spot below your ear, making you suck in a breath.“Utterly moronic.” You whimper at the silken quality of his voice. “Now get dressed, baby.” 

You want to tug him close by the collar of his white t-shirt and kiss him. Lost in the sheets until the sun sets again, but he straightens, breaking the hold you have on him. 

He finishes getting ready while you dress and gather your belongings around him. You take a chance opening the door to his bedroom to see that Jake’s wide open. He’s nowhere to be found, but you spot your overnight bag sitting on top of his bed, reminding you how things were left off with him. 

You walk into his room, taking cautious steps toward the enormous four-post bed. Once you’re a few feet from it, you see a garment wrapped in a plastic covering beside your bag. You recognize it immediately. It’s the dress you wore to your tattoo appointment with Jake, dry-cleaned and laid out neatly for you.  

You’re not sure what to make of the gesture. It’s a level of care and detail that you weren’t expecting from him. It leaves you confused more than anything. There’s no note with your things, and a glance at your phone screen shows no messages from him.  

You hear Josh’s footsteps approach before he knocks against the door frame and calls into the room, “You ready?”

“Yeah, I think so.” You snatch your bag from the bed and head toward him, leaving the dress behind. 

He ushers you out of the front door of the house, locking it behind you once you step to the side. You follow him down the stairs, along the concrete path, and to the driveway where his beloved Camry sits. 

Up close, and now that you’re paying close attention to it, you can see the evidence left by the years from a type of tough love that would blur the line of abuse. The car has stood up to the test of time, proudly wearing every scratch along the chipped red paint and every dent punched into its exterior.   

As you walk around its battered hood, you note the metallic blue fender piece around the front passenger wheel well. You smile to yourself, as it's not a surprise that he’s the type of person to barely care if there was a fender attached at all.

You imagine each point of damage created by teenage Josh — each mark having its own ridiculous story for him to share with you one day. 

You also know that there’s a strong likelihood that some of these could have been made within the week. The thought of it causes a giggle to break free, “How old is this thing?”

He chuckles, manually unlocking the driver-side door with the key. “It’s an ‘03.”

You wait as he slides into his seat, expecting him to hit the unlock button on the inside of his door. He stretches across the passenger seat and pulls up the locking mechanism. 

You pop the handle, pleasantly surprised that it opens with ease, and peek inside. A pile of old cassette and CD cases litter the floor of the front seat. Layers of stickers that probably span over the years cover nearly every square inch of the plastic beige dash. The worn upholstery seats have been mended by hand and stitched back together in a rainbow of threads. Upon further inspection, you notice the tiny, circular cigarette burns that haven't earned their own patch. “Don’t you think it’s time for a new car?”

While you throw your bag into the backseat, he turns the key in the ignition. The idling engine emphasizes his answer. “Why? This baby runs perfectly fine.”

You scoff a laugh, “Josh. Your side view mirror is held on by duct tape and a prayer.”

“Hey!” He wags a pointed finger with his quirked brow before patting the center of the dash affectionately. “There’s nothing duct tape can’t fix. It hasn’t failed me yet.”

You glance over at him, watching him lift his ass from the seat so he can empty his pockets.“How much shit in this car is held together by duct tape?”

He bites back a smile, tossing his pack of cigarettes onto the dash, and sets his phone in the center console. After putting the car in reverse, he holds your headrest to look behind him, but his gaze lingers on you. “Do you want the real answer to that?”

“It might be better if I don’t know.”

Music plays through the speakers just low enough that the lack of conversation becomes noticeable. You’ve tried to distract yourself, but the plastic army men superglued to his dash can only keep your pestering thoughts from wandering for so long. 

He appears anxious, picking aimlessly at the woven steering wheel cover and bouncing a knee for the last few miles. After stopping at the next red light, he finally reaches for his pack of cigarettes resting on the center of the dash. With his free hand, he flips the top and pulls one out with his lips before tossing it back. Your eyes follow the bent pack of Marlboro Lights sliding into the corner of the windshield. After rolling his window down and using his knees to steer, he lights the cigarette and pulls a heavy drag. “Hey.”

“Hey.” 

He glances over at you and takes a steadying breath. “I know I said we should have a serious talk last night, and well, we didn’t do as much talking as we probably should have.”

His anxiety becomes contagious, infecting you in an instant. You stiffen, taking cautious verbal steps, “Okay. What did you want to talk about?” 

Noticing your sudden change, he reaches out and gives your knee a reassuring squeeze. “Relax, baby. Everything is okay. I promise.”

“But something is still bothering you.”

You study his expressions and body language. He’s hesitant, thinking over each word carefully. The sigh he releases and the way he’s rubbing his thumb across his bottom lip makes your chest tighten. “I want you to know that I’m not trying to fuck around.” He quickly clears his throat to clarify his thoughts, “I mean, I’m not really looking to hook up with other people. And…and I think I wanted you to know that I’m just about you right now.”

You don’t answer him right away, letting each word replay in your head over and over. It takes a moment to process, deciphering what he’s truly saying past the surface level. You question if this is a conversation about exclusivity and the implications that go with it. He hasn’t looked back at you yet since he’s spoken, keeping his focus locked on the road.

“Josh?”

Your voice breaks his attention long enough for him to glance over at you. “Yeah?” 

“Are you trying to say that you want me to stop sleeping with Jake?” 

You try not to think about how much the proposition affects you because deep down you know the feeling will act as a stubborn stain on your heart that will never wash out no matter how much you try. You’ve thrown it out into the open and there’s no reeling it back in. It settles between you, more so than the iron weight in the pit of your stomach. You have to acknowledge your hypocrisy when you stood there in their driveway, holding your ground about not wanting to create jealousy between them. 

He winces as he takes another drag, pushing out the question through the blown smoke, “Do you want to stop sleeping with Jake?”

You’re quick to snap back, “Don’t dodge my question.”

“I’m not,” he huffs defensively.  “Look, I’ll be the first person to admit that our situation is…less than conventional. But I like you. I hope that’s obvious.” A smile breaks through the last part, but the expression stays controlled. “All I’m worried about is you being happy and comfortable. Knowing that you’re having fun, but I don’t have any expectations, okay?”

He waits for your nod before continuing to talk. “If having fun for you is hooking up with me, or with the both of us like we’ve been doing, or even if you just want to be with Jake… that’s okay too.”

Before you can open your mouth to reassure him, he adds, “It will be a bummer, but I’ll accept that.”

The pained flick of his thumb across the filter of his cigarette reveals more of his emotions than his chosen words. His exterior is calm and collected — an undeniable contrast to the outburst in the shop office. Out of the corner of your eye, you see how close you’re getting to your apartment building, and the last thing you want is to leave things off on a bad note. “You know I still want to sleep with you, right?”

His shoulders immediately relax and his face lights up as soon as the words leave your lips. That reserved smile blossoms into a full grin. “I might have had a feeling.”

As much as the sight gives you that fuzzy feeling, there’s still a tinge of embarrassment that you’re not handling this as well as you should be, making you confess, “This is new for me.”

Josh’s hand wraps around your thigh once more. “Me too. But we’ll figure it out.” His fingers and thumb begin to knead small circles into the bare skin. The touch is electric, sparking desire like lightning between your legs. “One last thing though. Can you just tell me you’re mad at me next time? I don’t know if I can handle much more of you fucking him to get back at me.”

Despite ending the last sentence with a laugh, it’s not because he finds it humorous. Guilt resurfaces, revealing your immaturity over the last week. You knew that’s how he felt, but to hear him say it acts like salt to the wound. You play it off, throwing in a touch of sarcasm. “So honest and open communication about my feelings?”

He bites at his lip before giving you that smile of his.“Crazy, I know.”

“I’ll try.”

Josh parks behind your apartment building in your designated space. To your relief, your roommate’s car is missing from its spot, giving you the clear to bring him up without having to deal with an awkward introduction. Before you can unbuckle your seatbelt, he snatches your bag from the backseat and slings it over his shoulder as he makes his way out of the car. 

He follows you through the narrow alleyway toward the front door of the building, causing a new, unfamiliar feeling to brew in your chest. In the past, bringing people back to your place has always been a rare thing, especially in broad daylight. You’ve found that you’re more comfortable at their house, coming and going on your terms. Now with him, a half-step behind you, seconds away from your door, is starting to feel like this is developing past the casual hookup phase and you’re not entirely sure where to place that idea in your brain. 

You unlock the heavy door and give it a strong push to break the seal of old paint that keeps it stuck within its frame during warmer months. Since it’s an older building, the musty air sticks to your lungs as you ascend the staircase. 

“How long have you lived here?” Josh sparks small talk from behind you. 

You keep your voice quiet to keep the sound from traveling into the other apartments. “About three years. It’s not quite up to code but the rent is cheap and my landlord is super cool so I can’t complain.���

Josh chuckles, “You know what they say, ‘A little asbestos builds character’.”

You laugh at his joke, stopping on the landing to search for your apartment key on the metal ring. “Can’t be much worse than all the cigarettes you smoke.”

He steps in front of you and blushes, releasing the strained breath he’s been holding in. “Hey, I’m trying to quit.”

You take the next set of stairs while throwing the bratty remark over your shoulder. “Oh? How’s that going by the way?”

Sarcasm seeps into his tone, making him exhale with a dramatic wheeze, “Fantastic. Can’t you tell?”

As soon as you’re standing in front of your door, a sudden wave of anxiety washes over you. This is the first time he’s going to see your place —  a part of you that’s remained a mystery to him until now. Accepting that there’s no turning back, you turn the key in the lock, praying that nothing embarrassing has been left in plain sight. 

“Well, this is it,” you announce into the empty apartment with open arms. 

You drop your keys onto the side table while he walks in and shuts the door behind him. After sliding your bag off his shoulder and resting it on a nearby chair, his eyes scan over the quaint living room. “Wow. It’s quite cozy in here.”

Thankfully, your roommate had kept the place pretty tidy overnight. Crocheted throw pillows are propped up nicely, a folded blanket is draped over the back of the couch, and stacks of books and an unfinished puzzle sit on the vintage oak coffee table. The late morning light casts through the large plate glass windows, giving your family of houseplants their daily dose of sun. 

The commotion wakes your sleeping cat, making him lift his head from his spot on the couch and give you both a welcoming chirp. With a childlike wonder, Josh beams with excitement, calling out in a soft voice, “Hey buddy!”

He slowly drops to a squatting position and holds out his hand. “Pspspsps.” 

You stand back, pleasantly surprised that Josh can gain his trust so easily. The orange tabby does his post-nap stretch before jumping off the couch with a thud, landing on all four paws. He trots over, causing his low belly to swing with his stride, and rubs his face into Josh’s open palm. “What’s your name?”

Not knowing what his reaction will be, you answer sheepishly, “Tater tot.”

Josh throws his head back and lets out a loud cackle, filling the quiet room with his vibrant energy. “Tater tot. I fucking love that.” He scratches under the cat’s chin, earning himself a purr. “You kind of look like a tater tot, don’t you?”

You move through the living room, placing your stuff down as you reminisce over the distant memory. “I found him by the dumpster at work when he was just a tiny kitten. Poor guy was covered in fleas and so hungry that he ate tater tots that I had with my lunch right out of my hand. And the name just stuck ever since.”

He gives your cat’s rotund frame an affectionate pat. “What a cool dude.”

You linger for a few beats of time until you clear your throat. “I’m gonna go get ready. You okay out here with him?”

He makes himself at home on the lounge chair next to your couch and releases a comfortable sigh, “Take your time, baby. Ol’ Tater and I will catch up.”

You rush back to your bathroom and freshen up as quickly as you can. Not long after you left the twins’ house, you texted Katie about covering your shift this afternoon. Thankfully, she was able to without much of a battle, leaving your day wide open to spend with Josh. 

After applying some makeup and doing your hair in a simple style, you repack your overnight bag and look for an outfit to change into. You pick out a simple, linen sundress from your closet that’s going to be comfortable enough for you to walk around in.

Josh doesn’t hear you come back into the living room, and keeps his back turned. In your short absence, he has scooped your cat up into his arms and started rocking him like a newborn baby. He hums a song that’s stuck in his head while pacing around the space, studying the art, little thrifted trinkets, and knick-knacks to the collection of books sitting on the shelf. You watch from the edge of the hallway, noticing how well he seems to fit in here — like he’s meshing seamlessly with your existing life. 

The romantic in you pines for a different reality, because at this moment, seeing the peaceful innocence makes you wish that he had asked you out on a proper date the first day you met. That way, you could have gotten to know him under different circumstances. After weeks of dating, you could’ve introduced him to friends, maybe even brought him to meet your nightmare parents. 

But the way things are with him seems as though it’s far too good to be true — an exciting fling that’s destined to fizzle out as soon as the summer ends. You’ve learned this lesson before. Don’t get too emotionally invested in a guy like him. 

Before getting swept away in the emotions of it like an incoming tide, you interrupt, “I’m shocked he let you pick him up like that. Usually, he hates being held.” Josh is startled by your voice, turning on his heels with the biggest smile on his face. “He must really like you.”

Your beloved cat continues to rub his face across Josh’s defined jaw, purring so loud that you can hear it from across the room. Proud that he’s won his affection, he can’t help but crack a joke, “What can I say…pussies love me.”

You groan with a dramatic roll of your eyes and walk to the door with your bag in hand. Josh laughs from behind you, only to be followed by the sound of Tater Tot’s paws returning to the wood floor. “What? What’d I say?”

You let the smile creep across your lips as you grab your purse and keys. “Sometimes I wonder why I hang out with you at all?”

He hums in thought, standing behind you as he watches you lock the deadbolt. “It could be the big dick and the free weed.”

You scoff and turn to the stairs knowing that he’ll follow. Before you can take the first step, he reaches out and hooks your upper arm in his hand, tugging you close. “Hey.” He abandons the teasing banter, taking on a calm sincerity in his voice. “You look beautiful, baby. Thank you for spending the day with me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re right. Those flowers do look great in your apartment.”

With the weight lifted between you, the drive to the aquarium was far more relaxed than the one on the way to your apartment. Like a road trip planned with your best friend, the miles fly by quicker than you thought. The last hour was spent laughing and playing music from the scattered tapes and CDs strewn across the car. 

Josh chooses a parking deck close by, but because of it being in the center of the city, the first three floors are filled. He eventually finds a spot on the last level, kills the engine, and digs around for something in his backseat. He retrieves a small plastic container, pops the lid open, and offers you a red gummy placed in the center of his palm. 

You giggle, plucking it from his open hand, “You’re such a bad influence.”

“The peer pressure must be killing you.” He teases, tossing back three into his mouth. 

Even though you’ve already started chewing yours, you stare at him in disbelief and snatch the container from him. “How strong are these?”

He chuckles around his own gummies, answering before you have a chance to find it on the label. “They’re only twenty.”

Your eyes widen as you swallow down the THC-infused cherry-flavored juice. “Oh, great.”

He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and places a sweet kiss on your cheek. “Relax. You’re going to be fine. I got you, baby.”

“I fucking hope so.”

You both make your way through the parking deck and out onto the street. It’s early afternoon, and the summer sun is at its highest point in the sky. Thankfully, the trek to the aquarium is roughly a ten-minute stroll. You follow behind him as he walks up to the ticket counter outside of the building. 

“Hello,” Josh greets the employee behind the glass.  An older woman looks up from her computer and stares blankly at him. He waits a few seconds for her response, but when she doesn’t, he adds, “Can I get two adult tickets, please?”

You catch her glare before she redirects her attention to her computer. “That’ll be $105.89.”

Josh fishes his wallet out of his back pocket, waving you off when you reach into your purse. “I got it, baby.” He pulls out a credit card and slides it across the metal counter through the opening of the glass window. 

The woman's judgemental eyes lock onto his hands pushing the card toward her. You’re confused as to why until you realize that she’s staring at his finger tattoos. A look of disgust contorts her aged features as she reaches for it. You glance over at him, seeing the same friendly expression he’s been wearing despite this woman’s blatant rudeness toward him. 

She inspects the card between her fingers and looks up at him. “I need your ID to verify this card.”

You cut in, showing your frustration, “Are you serious? Is that necessary?”

“It’s okay,” He mumbles softly, placating you while handing the employee his driver’s license. He manages to keep his discomfort contained and hidden beneath the surface. Anger ignites and burns like wildfire within your body, but you stay silent as the interaction plays out. 

The old woman compares the names on the credit card and license in front of her before finalizing the payment. She reluctantly pushes both back to him, along with the receipt and printed tickets.“You know those things are permanent, young man.”

Josh forces out an awkward laugh as he slides both cards back into his wallet, “I would certainly hope so with how much I paid for them.”

Being in this employee’s presence makes your blood boil, and you can’t fathom spending another second in it. You hook your arm around his and usher him toward the entrance until you’re out of earshot. “What the fuck was that about?”

“What?”

You shuffle into the line and turn to him. “The ticket lady? She was so rude to you, Josh.” He doesn’t answer, but shrugs his shoulders, clearly not matching the same feelings you have about the ordeal. “Do people treat you like that a lot?”

“It happens. Sometimes you can’t change people who think like that.” There’s a hint of defeat in those words, a hidden sadness that he’s trying to mask. The experience knocks you down because you’ve only ever seen the art inked into his skin as beautiful. His brows pull together when he sees your frown and the hurt in your eyes. “What matters is that you think they’re cool, right?”

You blush instantly. “The coolest.”

“Fuck yeah. Now let’s go check out some fish.”

Another employee scans your tickets and points you in the direction of the main lobby. You let Josh take the lead, following the trail of painted blue arrows on the concrete floor to the closest exhibits. 

Walking through the open space, the recognizable smell of seawater from the rows of tanks drifts along the air and into your senses. Since it’s the middle of the week, the crowds are smaller — just a few people passing by every couple of minutes. 

You find yourselves before this massive tank that wraps around a circular shaped room. The serene ocean hues drench you in its blue light. As you read over the descriptions of the animals in each enclosure on the plaques, the edible you ate in the car starts to take effect on your body. You’re becoming highly aware of Josh standing beside you, and your focus moves to him. He’s taking it all in, admiring life’s simplest and more intricate details captured behind the wall of glass. 

 The calm silence is making it hard for you to concentrate on the animals. You’re becoming more restless only to feel his fingers brush against yours. It’s a testing touch before they weave tightly between them. It’s not much, but the public display of affection sends your heart racing. 

You’ve been questioning whether or not this is a date, or if it’s simply friends hanging out together. Friends that happen to have the wildest sex you’ve ever experienced. 

He points to a large fish swimming by, but you don’t catch any of the words he’s saying. The only thing you can focus on is the feeling of his warm fingers squeezing around yours from his excitement. 

You stand like this for a while staring at all the sea life, but the way his thumb rubs against your hand keeps distracting you. “Josh?”

“Hmm?” He hums but keeps his gaze on the tank. His hazy eyes sparkle as they dance from fish to fish. 

“Do you come here a lot?”

He snorts a breathy laugh, “No. Can you believe that? But I’m glad we did.”

“How come?”

The question finally causes him to break away and look directly at you. You want to kiss him, snuggle up in the comfort of his hoodie, and stay like that for hours. He smiles wide, bringing out the dimple on his left cheek. “I think we needed to get away from the bullshit for a while.”

“The bullshit?”

He lets go of your hand and steps closer to the glass, now a couple of inches away. “Yeah. It’s healthy to step back from all the chaos and connect with nature when you can. Forget our problems for the moment to remember how delicate and beautiful life is. That we are just one facet in the great cosmos.”

You lean in, whispering so others can’t hear, “How high are you?”

He giggles with a sigh, “Pretty high.” You pull him back by a handful of his sweatshirt, making him bump into you. “I’m serious though.”

Even with the closeness, he keeps his touches appropriate. You stretch on your toes and give him a soft peck on his lips. “I bet, but I wanna check out the sharks.”

You look for the shark exhibit, following the path of blue arrows through several escalators and moving walkways. Everything is going well, but the aquarium is far colder than you anticipated, and now you’re cursing at yourself for not bringing along a sweater like Josh. 

Your violent shivers are too difficult to hide, and he’s quick to notice. He pulls off his hoodie and hands it over, “Here.”

“Thanks.” 

Although the look of it over your sundress isn’t the best fashion statement, it’s the least of your worries. It envelops you like a comforting hug. You nuzzle into it while he looks away, breathing in the fabric that holds his scent —  a calming mix of his cologne, and laundry detergent with the faint smell of cigarettes. 

A few minutes pass as you navigate your way to see the sharks. He’s fidgety, rubbing up and down the length of his bare arms. He then hugs himself as if to hide the tattoos without much success. You’re undoubtedly high, which only makes you hyper-aware of his uneasiness.

Josh has been nothing but confident since the day you met him. He’s never faltered, acting like the tattoos were simply an extension of him. His restlessness — whether it’s weed-induced paranoia or tucked-away self-esteem issues, affects you greatly.  

The behavior is unlike him, and you’re sensitive about it. He holds himself like you’ve stripped him bare and left him completely exposed for judging eyes. You’re not sure what to do other than gently pluck his fingers from his arm that has been pressing into the flesh so hard they’ve created indentations. 

Your touch breaks the spell he’s in, making him swap hands with the one that is closest to you. He squeezes your fingers tightly and gives you a grateful smile as he whispers, “Thank you.”

You study the expression on his face, but his bloodshot eyes zero in on your moving lips. “You okay?” 

He leads you in with his hand, closing the short distance between you. The kiss is deeper, and richer than previous ones today. Even with the tip of his tongue ghosting across your lips, it doesn’t feel sexual. He eventually pulls away, and happily sighs, “Much better.”

After leaving the aquarium, you must have walked around the city for hours. Hand-in-hand, swept away by each other’s presence. By the time you made it back to the deck, the sun had fully set in the sky. Once nearly full to capacity, the deck remains borderline desolate. A few vehicles are scattered amongst the first few floors, but as you climb to the fourth, you spot Josh’s Camry sitting alone. 

Now that the euphoric buzz from your cherry-flavored gummy is starting to settle in your system, the desire to have him is so bad that the hour-long drive seems torturous to think about. Besides the few chaste kisses placed on your cheeks, and the one shared on the escalator, he has yet to kiss you today with the same passion you’re used to. 

You’ve been craving those risky touches, the curious grazes of fingertips under the hemline of your dress. You wished for the lewd, sexual comments whispered against your ear when people were around. Those memories of his mouth roaming across your body have been invading your mind ever since you walked out their front door this morning. His undivided attention, the pin-you-against-the-wall kind of attention is what you’ve been wanting all day. You just never would have thought that him on his best behavior would drive you this mad. 

If he feels the same way, he’s been hiding it better than you. Unbothered from the casual stroll to the car, the goofy grin plastered across his face, to the way he’s belting out random notes into the open space just to hear them echo back. 

After both of you step into the car and get settled, he asks, “Do you wanna go to the bar?”

He pops open the lid of the center console and starts searching for a particular CD to play. As he roots around, you realize that looking at anything other than his lips proves to be a challenge you can’t overcome. 

You forget to answer. He’s still rummaging around the junk crammed in the center console, but your silence makes him laugh, “Or should we head back to the house?”

You shift in your seat toward him, whispering, “Josh.”

“What’s up?” His eyes flick up, meeting yours. 

While you’re not usually the one to make the first move, giving in to a temptation that’s been gnawing relentlessly for hours never felt so rewarding. Your lips crash against his, abrupt and unrestrained. Your kiss is heady, starving for even the faintest taste. Impatience doesn’t even begin to explain what you’re feeling. You take the initiative by licking into his parted mouth, searching and demanding for what’s been so out of reach. 

He meets your tongue with his, greeting you with a matched passion. That subtle sweetness, the crisp bite of mint gum — it cuts out any forethought you might possess in an instant. You know you shouldn’t be doing this, venturing further with him when there’s a possibility that an onlooker can walk right on by. The risk of being caught becomes meaningless, lost in the orange glow of the outside lamps.

The hungry kiss might have been the end of this moment — left with a palmed breast and a few nips of teeth. The whine through a bated breath with the following moan tumbling right into your mouth changes everything. It’s what propels you forward over the console and onto his lap. The crawl to him is less than graceful with your clumsy limbs knocking into everything in your path. 

As you struggle to get settled on his legs, he leans back against the headrest with open arms. He watches with a prideful smirk, confidently basking in the knowledge that you were the first to break. You’ve already braced yourself on his shoulders and started to grind your ass over the rough denim in hopes of catching his hard-on. Amused, he tilts his chin up, keeping his lips barely an inch from yours. “Hi.”

Breathless, you scold, “Shut up and kiss me.”

A deep exhale bellows from his chest while his hands knead the flesh of your thighs beneath the bunched-up fabric of your dress. He ignores your request, biting back the lip you so desperately want for yourself. Frustrated, you roll your hips in an attempt to send his open hands closer to your ass. 

Your sense of control wavers with the whimper, “Josh, please.”

 A curious hum resides in this throat and his fingertips ghost the delicate edge of your thong stretched across your hip. At this point, you would do anything to have him. That gummy from this afternoon fails in comparison to the drug that is him. You bury your face into the warmth of his neck, sucking at the tender skin below his jawline. 

He giggles as if the feeling tickles and sends one hand up the length of your back instead of between your legs like you want.“What’s got you so worked up, baby?”

“You,” you mumble, tightening the hold you have on the nape of his neck as if you could somehow bring yourself closer. The tight space of the driver seat confines you, heightening every movement tenfold. 

“Me?” The cockiness in his voice reminds you of Jake more than you’d like to admit, but the single word spoken into your temple makes you tremble. Driving yourself further into his groin, you end up clenching around nothing but the memory. “I got you so desperate that you can’t even wait until we got home?”

The hints of his erection, knowing that it’s there but hidden from your grasp destroy every facet of your self-control. He’s right. The thought of waiting for him is truly unbearable. You lean back on his legs, giving yourself the space to reach between you and find the button of his jeans. You’re able to pop it open before his hand clasps around your wrist, stopping you. “Baby, I’m shocked. I didn’t take you for the public sex type.”

“Are we going to fuck or not?” It was supposed to leave your lips with power but hit the air between you as a pathetic plea. 

Just like the words acting as the ripcord to his own urges, he tears apart your thong between his hands in a swift pull. After hearing your stunned yelp, he bares his teeth to the vulnerable skin of your throat and lets a laugh flutter across your ear, “Oops.”

He flings your shredded panties somewhere into the backseat and cups the curve of your ass with a firm hand, lifting you enough so he can work himself out of the leg of his jeans. Unlike the teasing banter seconds before, he wastes no time dragging the head of cock through your wetness. 

The way his teeth sink into the thin flesh covering your collarbone gives away how badly he wants this as well. After a less-than-gentle pass and in a single thrust, he pushes his entire length inside you. 

“Oh fuck!” You cry out, the sound low and guttural. He stretches you and crashes into your cervix before you have a chance to adjust to his size. He keeps himself there, allowing the stinging pain to subside within seconds, replacing it with that addicting full feeling. 

If you’re being honest with yourself, you welcome that pain — a reminder of how you’ve been acting lately. It should be no surprise how quickly your body remembers him despite how long it’s been since he’s been buried inside you.

He sighs into the hollow point of your neck, muttering the sweet confession, “I’ve missed this.” 

You settle your weight on his lap, only allowing him to rock his hips in the seat. You tighten around him, soaking his cock in your pleasure. “I missed you, too.”

He stops moving to drink you in, kissing and licking a path along your shoulder. “Fuck, I love your pussy so much…best I’ve ever had.”

Your heart skips a beat from the thought alone, but you’re greedy for his praise. You push yourself back with your hands placed on his chest, giving yourself room to see his face. “The best, huh?”

That smug grin reappears while his heavy-lidded eyes drift slowly up to yours. You take in the details of his face, how the shadows accentuate his sharper features. “Yeah…would I lie to you?”

He flusters you, making your line of sight fall from his glazed eyes down to your restless hands. You watch yourself play with the fraying neckline of his t-shirt, asking, “Would you?” 

He tips his chin, keeping his focus solely on your lips before bringing his own close enough to whisper, “Never.”

In a matter of seconds, his hands skim across the fabric of your dress to find the thin straps. Hooking them under his thumbs, he slips them down your arms, taking the front of your dress with them. In a frantic need, he yanks the cropped, black t-shirt you’ve been wearing under your dress up over your chest. 

Now that it’s freed and exposed, he sucks your naked breast into his mouth and licks a broad stripe across your hardening nipple. You force yourself to look up to check if anyone is walking by, only to see that the windows are beginning to fog from the heat of your shared breaths. They’re clinging to every inch of your skin, causing a sheen of sweat to collect across your furrowed brow. And yet, a chill climbs up the length of your spine from his tongue rolling over your bare tits. 

The uncomfortable position is posing a unique challenge for you both. Since both knees are wedged and starting to ache from plastic digging into your flesh, you’re unable to ride him the way you want. Josh, however, doesn’t let the restrictions of the Camry ruin the moment if he can help it. The moans tumbling from your lips act as his cue to wrap his arms around the small of your back, locking you in place.

It should’ve been a warning to you. 

Something animalistic suddenly possesses him, shredding any remaining innocence. He snaps his hips up, thrusting into you with a strength you didn’t realize existed within him. He takes on all the work, holding you above him while you’re left to brace yourself in any way you can. 

Pornographic sounds —  sounds you wouldn’t dare make in the past break free from your chest. He’s thriving off them, knowing that if he was fucking you without these limitations you would be reduced to an even more pathetic, incoherent mess. 

He’s not shy about making his own noises. His rumbled growl vibrates between your breasts. Primal grunts are trapped behind his clenched teeth. It could be because he’s out of breath or that he’s closer than he thought, but he starts to slow his pace, shifting to more of a grinding motion. 

“Oh my god. You feel so fucking good,” You pant. Half-whines, half-barely recognizable curses fall from your open mouth. “Please, please, please.” You’re rambling, blurting out any broken, strung-together thought you can. “Josh…I… I…fuck—don’t stop. ”

His raspy laugh pushes through strained vocal cords, “I’m listening, baby.”

He tries to move and adjust to get a better position, sending the edge of the steering wheel into your lower back. “Ow!” You hiss, rubbing the spot with your fingers. 

“Shit. Sorry, baby.” Although he gives you an apologetic look, you can’t help but giggle at his expense. He returns it, huffing, “Fuck it. Get in the backseat.”

Without more protest than a pained groan, you lift yourself off of his cock and stretch out your weak limbs before clambering over the center console into the backseat. You’re not forced to live with your awkward tumble into the seat for long. He quickly follows, climbing over with far more agility than you.

His twitching, glistening cock pulled out from his unbuttoned jeans, and those sweaty curls sticking to his forehead is a sight you’ll never forget. You watch him as he reaches into the front passenger seat for his sweatshirt. He balls it up and places it under your head as a makeshift pillow. 

“Acting like you’ve done this before,” you tease, clutching the golden sun that hangs from his neck.

He laughs, lowering his head with your guiding hand. “I’ve had to get creative a time or two.” 

“Such a slut.” 

He places a kiss on your lips, mumbling, “Don’t forget…” He breaks away, taking the sloppy kisses along your jaw to your ear, making your stomach flip as if it were an Olympic gymnast. “You were the one that jumped me.” 

He kneels on the seat, kicking your open legs with his knee while pushing your dress to your stomach. Taking his cock in his hand, he lets a trail of spit fall into himself. With a few pumps of his fist, he shudders out a heavy breath, “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me not to fuck you this morning?”

He lets the head of his lubed cock slide across your clit. You lift your hips, chasing him. “I wanted you so bad.”

He lines himself with your entrance and glides in effortlessly. The gratification it gives you is instant. He finds a rhythm and braces himself with each hand gripped onto your thighs. “I know, baby. Trust me. I’ve been thinking about you all week… I’m so addicted to you.” 

You let him stare, watching how his eyes bounce with your moving tits down to his cock sliding in and out of your cunt. As much as you love it, you need him close. You have to feel his warmth and the weight of his body on top of you, have his scent fill your delirious brain, and have those sounds fan across the shell of your ear. 

You find his wrist and tug him to you, gesturing for him to fall forward. He repositions and hitches your leg around his waist while planting his foot on the floor. 

He slides an arm beneath you with his other hand gripping onto the cushion for balance. The change in angle makes him feel deeper than before. You hug him, silently pleading with him to stay. A satisfied pur echoes in his throat, transferring the sound to your wet lips pressed against his skin. “You want it, baby?” 

You reply with a hushed whimper, hoping that he can hear, “I’m so close.” 

He breathes you in and sends his voice directly into your ear. “I can’t wait to fill you up the way you deserve.” You didn’t understand how spoiled you have become until he deprived you of it. So much so that it had turned you into a creature of pure depravity. You clutch onto his damp t-shirt, wrinkling it in your fists across his back. 

“Please, Josh. I need it,” you choke out in a pitiful sob.

He comforts you with a reassuring shush, brushing the tacky hair from your temple. “Look at you. So perfect. Begging for my cum like a good girl.” 

His cock slips inside your pussy with a taunting drag. He talks to you, peppering the words with a sweep of his lips across your cheek, “You’re gonna be so full of me, swollen and beautiful.” Being vocal with you is nothing new, but tonight he can’t seem to hold himself back.  “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop.” 

You say his name over and over like a mantra. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans through a deliberate roll of his hips that pushes the head of his cock against your g-spot. “If you weren’t on birth control I swear I’d get you pregnant so fucking fast.” 

He says it with such conviction making you think that it’s not something he accidentally blurted out in the moment. It shocks you into silence at first. The incredibly slim possibility has never been brought to your attention before now. It’s a thought that should scare the shit out of you, but somehow it doesn’t. If anything, it nearly sends you crashing over the edge. 

He lifts his head to look into your eyes, searching for your thoughts within them. “You like that idea? Me filling up your pretty pussy and getting you knocked up?”

You nod and smile at him— albeit a fucked out one. Maybe you’re too afraid to say the full confession, so you only respond with a hum, “Mmhmm.”

He kisses you, slipping his tongue over yours like an expertly-timed dance. A teasing flick of it followed by a nip to your bottom lip transforms you into a puddle beneath him. “Just say the words, sweetheart.” 

“I…I…” You start to stammer before eventually stopping yourself. You know that there’s not a chance in hell you’ll be able to come up with anything coherent for him.

He draws the pad of his thumb across your chin while continuing to talk through his languid thrusts, “You’d be breathtaking. Belly round with my baby… those perfect tits of yours filled with milk. Fuck. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you.” 

The fantasy he paints for you overrides your mind. You have to look away and blink back the tears clouding your vision. For a second, the only thing you can process is the view of the roof of his old Camry. 

“I’m so close to cumming just thinking about it,” he admits, bringing his hand between your legs to find your clit. His lust-drugged fingers slip through your slick in the blind search until you jolt at the feeling. The heat of your building orgasm has been pooling between your legs and now you’re mere seconds away from plummeting right over the cliff. All you can do is accept fate as he circles the bundle of nerves with a gentle pressure. 

He traces your favorite patterns while gracing your conscience with that sinful lilt of his, “One word and I’ll give it all to you.” He pushes you to the tipping point by matching the rhythm of his fingers with the glide of his cock. “If it were up to me, baby? I’d have you full and dripping with my cum every fucking day of the week.” 

“Please.” 

Right as you claw at his flexed shoulder blades and drive him deeper with your locked legs, he gives a final request after speaking your name, “Let me hear you. I deserve that, right?” 

He does, and you’re beyond willing to give it all to him — the embarrassing groans ripping through your chest, the pitched whines and the delicate moans that chase them. Your walls flutter around his cock, tightening around him through your orgasm. 

“You’re so perfect.” Is his final praise into the tacky skin on your neck. It leaves his lips through a faint whimper as you slowly milk him dry. As the warmth spill into you, he continues to gently fuck you through the waves of your release.

After slowing a stop and carefully withdrawing his softening cock, he breaks the hold you have on him by sitting back on his heels. Looking down at your pussy through drowsy lids, he sweeps his middle finger through your slit and brings them to his mouth. You watch in awe as he passes it over his flattened tongue to lick them clean.

“You look so fucking hot,” he mutters with a ragged breath. Even though the words are crass, stripped of anything remotely poetic, they’re honest. He glances up, sending you a wink. “Better keep all of it in until we get back.”

You wish you could lay in his bed with him, letting the shared high come down peacefully. But reality comes crashing in, reminding you that time is not on your side. He takes a minute to collect his breath and collapses against the backseat, running his fingers through his soaked hair as he pushes out a dramatic sigh, “Well that’s new.”

You haven’t dared to move — not even a single inch from the fear of adding another stain to the cushion beneath you. “So…is that a kink for you?”

He blows a raspberry with a shake of his head, blurting out, “I guess…maybe. Yes? I dunno. Did I freak you out?”

You snort a laugh, “Surprisingly, no.”

He takes a long pause, and you can feel his eyes on you while he tries to decipher your reaction. “Interesting.”

“What?”

He buttons his jeans and plucks the pack of cigarettes from inside the cup holder of the center console. “I just— and don’t take this the wrong way — but can you imagine getting pregnant from this?” 

Before you can think about it, quickly adds, “I mean, in my shitty car in a parking deck after we spent the day at an aquarium high off our asses.” You can only stare at him, which does nothing but make him more nervous. Embarrassed, he mumbles around the filter of his cigarette, “Forget I said that,” 

You interrupt by extending your hand. “Lemme have one.”

You catch the surprised rise of his brows before he scrambles to light the one hanging from his lip. He then offers it between his fingers, and he watches you take a slow drag and cough out, “Jake would be so furious.”

You both burst out into a fit of laughter, releasing any tension that might have settled between you. Smoke starts filling the car, pressuring you to finally make the move to sit up. He shuffles around, finding another t-shirt from the floor before climbing to the front of the car. Once in the driver’s seat, he lays it out across the passenger seat for you as you make your way over. 

You settle while he starts the car, pulling in a second drag now that the window is down. It burns, leaving a pungent taste that trickles down your throat. “You would be a terrible dad by the way.”

He looks out and drums his fingers against the top of the steering wheel. “I think I could hold my own? Teach the little tike a few things.” Silence falls as he drives through the levels of the parking deck. His voice softens with the following sentiment, “You would be an incredible mom though.”

“Really?”

He takes a hand off the wheel and reaches over to rub your shoulder. “No doubt in my mind.”

You could get lost in those words. The thoughts and the emotions that accompany them —  they could all bubble up and spill out if you let them. Instead of falling into the depth of that rabbit hole, you choose to add levity like you always do. “Would be one helluva cute kid.”

A wave of attitude is brought to the surface, making him pipe up with a pointed finger. “I’d give you the cutest fucking baby to ever exist.”

You smack his hand down playfully. “Josh, you’re a twin.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m the better looking one anyway,” he blows out the sassy remark through a cloudy exhale. 

“You know you’d have to quit smoking if you ever became a dad.”

“I know, I know. I gotta quit,” he grumbles, flicking the ash off his cigarette out of the window. He looks over at. you, giving you an affectionate, knowing smile. There’s something in those eyes you can’t quite place, making your heart ache too much to try. “You hungry?”

“Fucking starving.” 

TAGLIST:

@gretavanbitches @dannyandthekiszkas @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @asparrowofthedawn @ageofnations @welightthefire @garbagevanfleet @lvnterninthenight @pennylanefics @writingcold @alexxavicry @gvfficrecs @jakeyboiiiiiii @doodle417 @richjaaasss @pr41sethemoon @gretavanflowerpowerrr @joshskittytickler21 @jakekiszkasbabymama @tripthelightfatality @maddie-van-fleet @sarakay-gvf @josiee-gvf @milkgemini @sammiejane22 @gretavanbear @capturethechaos @welllauragvf @averagemisfit03 @myownparadise96 @givemeyourtots2 @gretavangroove @autopsy-im-ill l @objectsinspvce @myownparadise96 @feilores @josh-iamyour-mama @givemeyourtots2 @joshkiszkasbigtoe @lightmylove-gvf @mydarlingdanny @shutupdevvie @twinszka @busybeingtrash @carlybubs @demonrat444 @high-fidelity1

[stargirlfics]

Misbehavior

Joel Miller x Black F!Reader

Summary: It’s the first and last time you ever talk back to his face

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, post-outbreak, Joel and Ellie are settled in Jackson, established relationship, brat tamer!Joel vibes, smut: rough sex, unprotected vaginal sex, orgasm denial, hair pulling, spanking mentions, dirty talk

Word Count: 3.1k

Cannot stop thinking about Joel’s sick little smirk here! I want him to put me in my place so bad, hope you enjoy this one!

It’s the way Joel Miller looks riding his horse, a hunting knife on his hip and a rifle held expertly along with the reigns in his broad hands that makes your skin prickle and your breathing deepen. 

Spring is still yet thawing the cold woods ahead of you but you only feel heat staring at his sturdy shoulders, sturdy everything actually, that you knew to be a fact, smiling to yourself about it as your own horse trailed closeby just a few feet behind him. 

Being paired with him and being with him period felt right, natural, like somehow this was always where you were meant to be in this life. 

You trusted each other now, able to move in silence like this, with his steady and well adjusted trigger finger and your sharp eyes, pointing out tracks, watching for signs of life, listening for infected or raiders, the two of you undoubtedly working well together. 

In fact everyone in Jackson said so, especially Ellie, but if any of them knew just how much of a brat you’d been to him in the beginning they’d be surprised you were together at all. 

It’s not that you and him got off on the wrong foot, but keeping him just on the edge of aggravated kept you at a safe distance away from acting on your distracted, midday, late night thoughts about him. 

He was wary of strangers anyways and back then you were unknown to each other and gaining trust had taken time but eventually you stopped keeping each other at arm's length.

Started seeing each other around the stables more often, or rather you saw Ellie there and quickly learned that wherever she was, Joel wasn’t too far behind. 

You remembered showing her the way around the barn, where supplies were kept in case she ever needed anything, noticing her interest in the animals, encouraging it, indulging in her never ending questions because you only wanted to see her smile. 

In retrospect you think that’s why Joel tolerated your game of push and pull, why he warmed up to you in the end, because you were someone his kiddo approved of. 

Funny how things could change, how a relationship could form in between quiet glances and soft smiles, weathered walls falling at the brush of his hand against yours and that smooth drawl saying your name as if it were sacred. 

That was then and this was now, patrolling the perimeters together in the moonlight. 

A soft toned whistle that loosened from his lips caught your attention, spine straightening at the signal that was just for you and him. 

“Hm?” came your distracted hum, huffed in response while you picked up speed so your horses were walking almost side by side then. 

“I heard you went out on patrol completely on your own the other night, yeah? While knowin raiders have been close, ain’t that right? So I’m only going to say this once…start explaining.” 

His voice is clipped, a quiet, contained anger in them reminding you of his sharper edges, the ones you’d only caught glimpses of, heard whispers of, that visceral part of him that only raged to protect the people he loved most. 

Joel would never hurt you, if you were certain of anything it was that, but there were times where you wanted to feel even just a fraction of his wrathful touch, to be reminded of what he’s capable of, knowing he could make it hurt in the best way.

It’s the thought along with the shiver rolling through your limbs that makes your pace falter, as you scramble for words and then for air next when all you were met with was dark eyes cutting a pointed glance your way. 

“Fuck…ok yes, I did but it was only because there was already a group of us nearby, it felt safe. They sent someone back to get a message to me that they found tracks, a stag, just needed my help finding him. Then one of Tommy’s guys escorted me back, it was fine.”  

“Doesn’t mean you should have gone on your own, I  don’t give a damn how safe it was.” 

“Hey! I’ve been hunting and going on patrols by myself long before you showed up,” you shot back at his harsh retort, suddenly feeling defensive. “I know these woods like the back of my hand, I could be blindfolded and still come back with more game than you, old man.”

He scoffed at your insult, another heavy glare coming right after. 

“I don’t doubt that for a second, darlin. Just wish you would have told me is all I’m sayin.” 

There’s weight in his words, a deeper meaning you pick up immediately and you know he’s right and there’s no denying that you’d be chewing him out ten times worse if he’d done the same, the risk of losing each other an easy nerve to strike after all that’s happened. 

A beat of silence punctates the air before you’re speaking again, tone much softer, apologetic. 

“I hear you. I should have at least told you and I’m sorry I didn’t, I wasn't really thinking in the moment. Thank you, by the way, for caring about me enough to say something.” 

You hoped he could hear the guilt laced in your words, and the gratefulness of them too, still getting used to someone so wired to protect which never failed to make your heart flip. Nobody told you it could feel like this. 

“S’alright, of course I care. I don’t wanna downplay how skilled you are either, I just hate thinking of something happenin and not being there you know.” 

That had you smiling a little, pulse fluttering at the reminder of your feelings for each other, the gravity behind what he was saying. 

Gently you let your leg nudge his, both your horses slowing as you came to the edge of the perimeter you were watching.

“I promise it won’t happen again.” 

The softening edge of Joel’s eyes were visible now as he looked at you, giving you a firm but approving nod. 

Silence settles between you again, only lighter this time with feelings eased and things smoothed over though for you, there was a leftover kind of excitement stirring in your tummy. 

Your ears were still ringing with the gruffness of his voice, an antsy energy in your limbs at how stern he had been. Heated distraction lodged itself front and center in your mind, thoughts of Joel handling you just as harshly as his glares had been making you squirm in your saddle. 

A low chuckle interrupts the tiny sparks of a dirty daydream you didn’t even realize you’d fallen into until now. 

“What’s so funny?” you feign innocence. 

“Nothin, just think it’s cute when you get that look on your face, only happens when you’re hungry…or when you wanna be fucked.” 

Again, you were left scrambling for words for the second time tonight, heart hammering in your chest at the way the last few words slid from his lips, dripping with some unspoken invitation. 

“I-don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Disagreeing is pointless when you know he can see it written across your face but you refute anyways, adding a bit of attitude to your tone. 

Joel huffs another laugh, clicking his tongue while he encouraged his horse to move again, back in the direction you’d come. 

“Hm, you were so ready to agree with me just a minute ago, now you’re back to sassin me?” 

“Maybe I am. What’s so wrong about that?” you shrug and roll your eyes for good measure. 

He was opening up all the right doors and you were almost too eager to walk through them, craving the part of Joel you knew could get mean.

“I’m really gonna have to do something about that mouth of yours, huh,” he sighed, amusement curling around the edges of his lips. 

Butterflies danced in your core as you smirked back at him, finding your footing quick, “Oh I should hope so, I’ll be waiting.” 

It’s what you leave him with as you surge forward, not straying too far from his line of sight, but enough so that he has some distance to cover. 

Joel gives you a few seconds, lets you think you’re gaining some kind of upper hand before he sets out after you, a tick in his jaw and a hungry itch in his hands. 

–

It’s only a day later that you realize how screwed you are, facing down the stark reality of this little game you started. 

He had cornered you, finding you in the hall leading to his bedroom, a dark glint in his eyes when he tells you it’s an empty house tonight, just you, him and unfinished business. 

The tip of his boot moves to give your heel a light tap then, prompting you to move. 

“Want you in bed, sweetheart. Now.” 

There’s a suspended moment before you’re sealing your fate, pushing the pendulum fully in his direction.

“I don’t really feel like listening to you though, so I guess you’ll just have to make me…if you can even handle it,” you tip your chin up, trying not to be intimidated by the way he’s crowding your space. 

Your skin tingles, never having talked back to him so flat out before. 

Then you realize he’s already got you where he wants, strong hands snaking around your middle until he’s got one on your hip and the other reaching for a fistful of your hair, gripping firmly before he’s moving you forward, pushing you through the doorway. 

A sharp gasp bubbles up from your chest and he’s laughing darkly.  

There’s no use in resisting or struggling but you do anyway, finding a thrill in how easy it is for him to keep you locked in his grip, liking the aggressive pinch of his fingers as he moves your limbs for you, bringing you over to the bed, forcing you to bend over it.

Shaky hands reach for purchase against the sheets as Joel slides his palms over your ass, humming to himself. 

“I keep thinkin bout spanking this pretty ass of yours raw but you’d probably enjoy that too much wouldn’t you?” 

All you can do is whine, too worked up to think of anything witty to say which is probably for the best. 

No time was wasted, nothing held back, no teasing to be had, the two of you desperate now, needy. 

The heated skin of your thighs meets cool air as Joel strips you down, yanking at your clothes carelessly, so what if the fabric tears in his hands, he just needs you bare and underneath him already. 

You work on your top half, wriggling out of your t-shirt, tossing your bra to the floor, moonlight setting the brown of your skin aglow; Joel would have called you an angel if he didn’t know just how wicked your sweet self could really be. 

It’s not long before your cheek is pressed to the bed, hips high in the air, the dripping mess that you are on display as he fits himself behind you. 

He grins, undoing the buckle of his belt with one hand while the other braces against your hip, pressing down, deepening the arch in your back. 

Fuck. 

The arousal swirls achingly across your body, thighs clenching as you watch, his worn flannel falling the ground next to your jeans, your eyes feasting on the expanse of his shoulders, down over his chest, down to where he was drawing himself out, already stiff, flushed and aching to be buried deep. 

“Remember how to tell me if you wanna stop?” His question is one you’re expecting, nodding with a soft whine when he moves to grind his cock against where you’re wet and eager, your hand reaching back to tap a sequence against his skin. 

He seemed to approve of your demonstration, his free hand coating the rest of his length in your slick with a few dirty strokes of his fist before pressing against you, the tip catching and your walls yielding, letting him sink inside. 

“Oh..Joel!” your moan is strained, punctuated with a gasp as you stretch around him, tenderly accomodating to his size. 

There isn’t much time to adjust before he’s rolling his hips and pulling back, pushing an exhale from your lungs when he thrusts back in, nudging deep. 

“Goddamnit, sweetheart. Look at you.” 

There’s so much reverence in his voice, big brown eyes sparking wide with pleasure, so much so you think he just might have forgotten about your earlier insolence. 

But then he’s pulling his hips back and snapping them forward roughly, setting a steady pace that has you panting and crying out, peering over your shoulder at him as he starts to pound into you. 

It’s a sight that makes you clench around him, your ass bouncing back against his hips, the muscles in his forearms, his biceps, tensing from the effort. 

You feel your mind going hazy but a sharp smack to your thigh catches your attention and you realize there’s nowhere for you to run as Joel curves over you.

“Uh uh, it’s not gonna be that easy. You wanted to be a brat so bad, now I’m gonna fuck you like one.”

The hand that had been on your hip smoothes up your back, gripping the back of your neck with a firm squeeze before letting his full weight drive his hips down hard. 

Your teeth bite at his covers, loud pleas and moans barely muffled as he finds that spot, the one that always makes tears well in your eyes. 

Joel relishes in how your body trembles when he keeps himself angled there, watching you choke out apologies and pleas for more all in the same breath, his handprints bound to leave bruises on your skin from the way he’s holding you.

He knows you’re already sensitive, and your body already spent from keeping yourself upright through his thrusts, ones that still weren’t faltering, but he also knew you liked that it hurt so good too. 

“Joel, please I’m gonna-” you begin to sob, feeling the pressure in your core deepen only for it to dissipate as you’re eased off his length a minute later. 

You let your body sink, collapsing onto your tummy with a defeated cry, turning around to face the man who so rudely denied you an orgasm, whatever valid reasonings he had be damned. 

Stepping out of his boots and jeans fully now, you open up to him completely, no longer shy about wanting this so bad, encouraged by how much he seemed to be having fun too, more arousal dripping from your swollen folds at the intensity, the security in knowing he’d take care of you. 

You’d pissed him off with all your sass but you knew he’d never push you past your limits and it’s why you give in so easily now. 

Coherent thoughts fade from your head when Joel finally pulls you down towards the edge of the bed by your ankles and moves between your legs to guide himself back inside you easily, rough hands shoving your thighs back towards your chest so he can split you open and watch as he does. 

Any sense of time or day melts away, your only focus being Joel, only able to feel him, what he’s doing to you, whimpering out curses and moans as he bounces you on his cock, thick fingers reaching down to find your clit. 

The bliss and the pressure build again, making everything hazy once more, eyes fluttering with each thrust now cause you’re too fucked out to concentrate on anything but how good he feels. 

But Joel is watching, studying the pretty faces and sounds you make, one of his hands quick to find its way into your hair again, grabbing a fistful and pulling firmly and slowly, tilting your head up so you can’t do anything but look at him.  

“No, no you focus, right here. Right here, darlin.” he grits out and clinging to his forearms is all you can do to keep yourself steady. 

His other hand leaves your clit to grip at your jaw for a moment, strong legs spearing his hips into you over and over all the while, the wet gush of your pussy taking everything he gives you makes heat settle in your cheeks and spread across your chest. 

Wrecked moans are swallowed by messy kisses, the prickly stubble of his beard against your neck driving you crazy. 

Everything about him makes you clench, your thighs threatening to tighten around his waist the more he gives you. 

But you wanted him to be mean and he hadn’t forgotten, delivering a few searing smacks across your inner thighs, a warning that told you to be good and keep them spread. 

“That’s it, now she’s learning ain’t she. Just needed me to fuck those disrespectful thoughts out of your head, huh.” 

“Yes, yes, fuck yes! Need it so bad!” your wanton cries make his teeth clench while your toes point and curl. 

Everything in you burns molten, succumbing to Joel’s coarser treatment, his fingers, his lips, his cock knowing all your sensitive points and playing to them expertly. 

There’s no reprieve, no break in how soundly he fucks you, the bedframe creaking noisily from the movement, both of you sweaty and breathless but loathe to stop, so much desire washing over you at the frenzied passion in the eyes of the only man that could touch you like this. 

It was everything you had been daydreaming and craving, sobbing into your palm by the time Joel finally let you have what you wanted. 

You came hard, the pleasure drawn out for so long the climax of it shattered you, leaving you feeling soft and weightless against the mattress as he chases his own release, finding it swiftly after you. 

-

It’s much later that you’re tucked against him, a dreamy and well satisfied tilt to your lips as you sink into his touch, those deadly, brilliant hands of his caressing soft circles into your skin, against the places he knows he gripped with force tonight. 

He checks in with you now and then, making sure the comedown doesn’t hit you too hard, only soft words and praise for you now, a few sweet kisses left along your shoulder as you drift in and out of sleep together, exhausted and content beyond words. 

In the quiet of his room you giggle that you swear you’ll never be such a brat to him again but even you can’t deny that if this was what the consequences were, you just might have to talk back to him more often. 

Joel knows it too, gleaming eyes narrowing as he warns that your wicked little mouth is next in line for a lesson if you so dared. 

Oh..well maybe you’d be catching an attitude again much sooner than you thought. 

---

A/N: Eeep it is here! This one took me some time to write just cause I feel like I get in my head about writing Joel correctly a lot of the time and with this including rougher sex it was a little bit of a struggle to write at times but I like how it turned out in the end and I hope this was steamy and fun and hot and that it feels real to the character too! Thank you so much for reading!

Let me know what you think, pls thirst with me!

some tags, no pressure! @eupheme @wyn-n-tonic @ozarkthedog @moreofem @fagen @black-fairy3 @persona-enthusiast @fluffyprettykitty @earlgreychiffon @tarrenterror25 @federalchickensoup @jolly-polly @inklore @babiiface95 @targaryenvampireslayer @chezamanda @simplykenni @allaboardthereadingrailroad

[drewsbuzzcut]

I really really wanna see a chaotic thanksgiving at the barzal’s. Like it’s baby Sloan’s first thanksgiving and she is the star of the show so AJ and Nolan pull some shenanigans to get the attention. I love love love the series and I hope you never end it!!!

Thanksgiving Shenanigans

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

warnings: alcohol consumption, a curse word or two, and I think that’s all (ALSO THIS ISNT EDITED SORRY)

As you’re adding the finishing touches to your outfit, you hear a soft banging and hushed whispers as small footsteps bound up the stairs. Thinking it’s either Nadia or Liana, you dismiss it.

“Look at Miss Sloane, isn’t she beautiful? Just like her mommy,” Mat comes up behind you, Sloane in one arm as his other wraps around you, right under your boobs.

You lean into his chest, turning your head to see Sloane’s beautiful face. She’s dressed in a maroon and cream plaid dress, paired with dark tights and a white, furry vest.

“Oh my goodness! She is so very beautiful. The most gorgeous princess I’ve ever seen,” you coo, gliding your thumb over her cheek.

She coos back, her face scrunching up in delight and you instantly melt. She looks so much like Mat and you love it.

“Mommy!” When you and Mat turn at the sound of Nolan’s voice, both of your eyes widen in shock.

Nolan is standing at the entrance of your walk-in closet, barely holding AJ in his arms with one of the decorations from the dining table clutched in his hands. He has a shy smile on his face while AJ looks anything but pleased with his brother carrying him.

“Oh shit,” Mat blurts out without thinking about all the little ears around him.

“Don’t say that,” you say, moving away from him to pull Angel out of Nolan’s arms.

You bend down so you’re eye level with your oldest.

“Nols, you cannot carry AJ. He’s too heavy for you,” you softly reprimanded.

He looks at you with a pout and part of you feels guilty, but you know you have to right his wrongs. He hands you the fake foliage from your table setup, almost as an apology. You accept it, but you also let him know that she shouldn’t take things from your table because he can get seriously hurt. You don’t even know how he got up to the table without falling off the chair, or doing something else to hurt himself.

“But it’s pretty like you. We wanted to give you a surprise,” he explains, his R’s sounding like W’s.

“And that’s very nice of you and your brother, but I don’t need you guys to get hurt, so please don’t do that anymore. I love you,” you kiss his cheek.

“Love you,” he whispers, his head down as he walks away.

-

“Y/n, she’s so gorgeous,” Sydney says as she holds Sloane, sitting next to you on the couch.

Some of Mat’s teammates and their families, as well as his parents and sister, are here to have a little thanksgiving celebration. It’s an early one being that they have a roadie the next day. Everyone has just finished eating, and are now relaxing in various spots in your house.

“Thank you! She’s my precious girl. I was so excited for today because I just knew her outfit was going to look so adorable on her,” you exclaim, cheeks starting to hurt from all the smiling.

Right behind the couch, there’s a plotting Nolan, sitting with his little brother right next to him.

“Angel, we’re gonna go ‘RAHHH’ to, Lo,” he whispers to AJ. Lo is what Nolan calls Sloane.

Angel, who doesn’t have a clue about what his big brother is saying, just giggles but it’s enough for Nolan.

You don’t hear what your oldest is saying, just the soft murmurs and Angel’s giggle.

“What’s going on, handsome. What are you and your brother doing?” You are totally unaware of what Nolan is about to do as you look behind the couch.

“Nothing, mommy. Love you,” he says with his cute smile, blowing you a kiss afterwards.

He waits for you to turn around before he drags AJ by his hands, getting him to crawl with him on the floor. They both jump up in front of Sloane and roar like dinosaurs. Well, Angel just copies Nolan’s actions. Sloane jumps in fear, her eyes growing teary and her lips wobbling.

You’re surprised because Nolan is usually really nice and relatively quiet, so you have no idea why he did what he did.

Sloane’s piercing cries startle Mat, so he quickly makes his way over. You’re already attempting to console her in your arms, but her cries don’t seem like they’re going to stop anytime soon.

“What happened?” Mat asks, sitting next to you and rubbing his baby’s back.

“Nolan just scared her and well we all know that AJ loves to copy his big brother,” you inform him.

Mat calls out for Nolan and AJ follows him as well.

“Why did you scare your sister?”

Nolan just stays quiet.

“That was very mean of you, and you know better. You better not do that again,” Mat says, holding onto Nolan in a hug while caressing Angel’s hair.

You sit there, watching them and wondering why Nolan chose today of all days to act mischievous. Although you're continuing to discipline him, you can’t deny that his little expressions of determination are cute. He gets this little furrow in between his eyebrows and his little tongue pokes out from between his lips. He’s exactly like Mat.

The next time you get up to refill your drink, you see a blur of two shirtless boys rush into the living room with Nolan’s mini sticks in hand. Nolan is shouting as AJ tries to be just as loud. You take a few gulps as you watch them in amusement. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Nolan so hyper. You don’t even know when Nolan took off his shirt; you literally just took him to use the restroom. You’re also assuming he took off Angel’s.

When the group of hockey players come back inside- including your husband -they join your sons and start playing together. Nolan starts going crazy, though. He crawls through one of your husband’s teammates legs and then starts climbing up Mat, initiating a fake wrestling match that slightly annoys you. When AJ starts trying to reenact his brother’s moves, you put a stop to their activities.

“Hey, Barzal!” You shout and both Mat and Nolan look at you.

“This isn’t the ice and it sure as heck isn’t the ring, so stop the roughhousing. I don’t need you guys to wake up Sloane,” you chastised.

Nolan wiggles his way back down, running off again with his hands raised in the air. As expected, AJ follows in his footsteps.

You smile, finishing the rest of your wine. You’re going to need it with how lively your sons are- especially because you’re in heels.

“They’re so cute,” Mat whispers in your ear when he pulls you into a hug.

“They’re so hyper today. What did you feed them this morning?” You playfully ask, smacking at his ass to get him to squirm.

“Stop,” he warns you but you continue.

“Your ass is so smack-able, though,” you giggle until he starts tickling you. Now you’re the one squirming.

“Get used to it, it’s only going to get crazier as they get older,” he says, wrapping his arms completely around you.

“I can’t wait,” you say and you mean it.

“As long as we’re a team, we’ll be just fine,” he kisses your lips and you’re reminded that everything is perfect.

It’s not even an hour later that you hear Nolan’s and AJ’s loud giggles and soft hushes. When you go to find them, you see them in the kitchen and they’re both covered in cranberry sauce. They freeze when they notice you staring at them, their little eyes widen in shock. As you’re about to speak Nolan runs off with Angel following right behind him. You throw your head back, silently laughing at their antics. Not wanting a mess all over your floors and furniture, you chase after them. However, they’re good at crawling and moving through small spaces, so you end up losing them.

“Barzy, your two little spawns ran away from me and they’re covered in cranberry sauce,” you say a little out of breath and clinging to Mat.

Mat stifles a laugh but joins you in your search. After your husband almost slips in the kitchen, thanks to the mess left on the floor, Nadia meets you in the foyer with both of the messy boys in her arms.

“I think these little Mats belong to you,” she laughs.

“You’re so right, they are little Mats. This is the most crazy I’ve seen them,” you say, accepting AJ while Mat grabs Nolan.

“Hey! I was a good kid,” your husband defends himself.

You and Nadia bust out in laughter.

“Shit!” Nolan says, a hesitant smile on his face, waiting to see everyone’s reaction.

“It!” Angel copies to his best ability.

Everyone’s eyes widen and you can tell they want to laugh but know they shouldn’t.

“Yeah, definitely Mat’s sons,” Nadia confirms and you agree.

Later that night after your babies are bathed and tucked in, you sit beside Nolan and card through his hair. He’s very calm now, a completely different kid compared to how crazy he was earlier.

“Nols, you were really… active today. What was going on?” You ask softly, kissing his forehead so he knows you’re not upset with him.

“Missed you,” he mutters, eyes turning sad.

“What do you mean, buddy? I’ve been here all day.”

“You were with Lo! And you held her the entire day,” he explains and suddenly it all makes sense. He was trying to get your attention, and now you feel bad because clearly you aren’t meeting his needs.

“I’m sorry, little man. It’s your sister’s first thanksgiving and it’s so special to me, so I got really excited to dress her up. I love you, Nolan. You’re my first baby and no matter what I will always love you. All you have to do is ask for me to hold you, or cuddle you and I will. Do you want kisses?” You soothe him, bringing his body into your arms.

He nods his head and you give him kisses all over his face until he’s laughing. His precious giggles make your chaotic thanksgiving worth it, and even though your boys were being rascals today, you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. Those are memories that you will look back and laugh at.

a/n: This was very hard for me to write and idk if you can tell, but I hope y’all enjoy! Thanks to whoever requested this cute idea<333

[lurkingshan]

After reading this post from @waitmyturtles about her read on Fire and Dynamite, I was thinking a bit more about the way the show has handled their story and what I love about it. And I think it comes down to a crucial point: Cooking Crush, unlike most Thai bl, is NOT in the bubble, and the presence of homophobia, both internal and external, cannot be separated from their story. This is a queer narrative to the core.

Both Fire and Dynamite are shaped by their sexuality and their experiences or fear of rejection because of it. Dynamite is out and proud and unapologetic about what he wants, and as we learn when his backstory is revealed to us, this is a direct response to the familial rejection he experienced when he came out. Dy is defiant and in your face with his desires because he has already experienced the worst kind of rejection and is always bracing for more. So he dares people to do it right out of the gate. He likes to know where he stands with people, so he’d rather be his brashest self and suffer the loss early before getting attached. He deals with fear by daring people to prove him right.

Fire takes his fear in the opposite direction, denying who he is and rejecting anything that makes him think too hard about the aspects of himself he does not want to deal with. Even without Dynamite in the picture, it was clear that he was trying to talk himself into liking Jane in a way he simply did not. Once we got to know his mother, the source of his fear became crystal clear, and it was easy to see why he worked so hard to suppress himself. Fire was unhappy living that way, and Dynamite was a constant reminder of what he was trying to keep down, so it’s no wonder he reacted so viscerally to him.

But that’s exactly why their story works. Fire needed someone who he couldn’t ignore to draw out his true self, and because Dynamite is so unwilling to put up with mixed messages and half-hearted declarations, Fire had to work himself all the way out before Dy would accept him. One of the genius things this show did in their arc was have Dy pull away as soon as Fire began sending mixed signals. Dynamite was fine in the face of Fire’s firm rejection—it as what he always expected to get from him along with everyone else. But he wouldn’t allow Fire to run hot and cold on him and play with his emotions, because that was where he knew he could get really hurt. And this boundary that Dy set forced Fire to figure out what he actually wanted and communicate it clearly.

Which is why we saw Fire change so much as soon as they were together, because in the process of deciding what he wanted from Dynamite, Fire had to make some decisions about who he wanted to be and how he wanted to live. And he chose to embrace his queerness and live a more authentic life. He is a new man in this relationship because he is being himself for the first time ever, and he’s finally breaking free from the weight of his own internalized homophobia. It’s a positive change and one that is clearly making him happy, and part of him must feel grateful to Dy for pushing him into figuring out what he wanted.

But crucially, that is where Dy’s pushing ends. He is utterly unwilling to make any further demands of Fire regarding coming out, to the point that Dy puts his own friendships at risk to hide their relationship and protect Fire until he’s ready. He understands the fear of rejection Fire is still dealing with because he lived it. And he has already proven that he’s up to the task of handling Fire’s mother whenever Fire is ready to face her. These two are still early in their relationship but they have already fallen into a very natural and easy pattern of providing each other emotional support and stability, and we can see them shoring each other up. They make a great pair and theirs is a story that can only exist between queer characters.

I just love that in this show that feels so light on the surface they have made room for such depth in the storytelling. Watching Cooking Crush feels like a warm hug because even though it’s gentle and funny and often silly, there are real emotional struggles to ground us, and the story takes them seriously. We’ve seen this consistently in the main storyline with Ten and Prem, and Fire and Dynamite are no exception.

[eleonoraalbright]

 Happy Thoughts

Pairing: Peter Pan x fem!reader

Summary: You think of a bit of an embarrassing (but happy) thought to fly when Peter Pan shares some of his pixie dust. Fortunately for you, he seems to have his suspicions of what it is.

You shifted your position on the damp ground. A heavy dew covered grass and dirt underneath, making it uncomfortable to stay sitting in one place for too long. A rare, peaceful silence reigned over the early morning of the island, punctured only by a Neverbird’s solemn cries on the distant shores every few minutes.

Not even a jaguar’s yowling was heard to disturb the tranquility that blanketed the jungle. Your eyes darted around the forested area, waiting for a single action that would change the quiet environment into the wild and tumultuous atmosphere once again.

Nothing happened, causing your apprehensiveness to increase second by second. You blew out a long breath to calm your frayed nerves and focused on your task. Your spear shaft had split in two the day before when fishing; it broke when you slipped on the slick rocks in the river and fell on the weapon.

Repairing the spear was tedious, but you counted yourself lucky that it was a broken spear and not a broken rib instead. Such an injury would be a death sentence here in Pan’s kingdom as he wasn’t the most caring person when it came to tending to the wounded.

You jumped slightly when a strong hand gripped your shoulder. You glanced to your left to see none other than Peter Pan himself. His lips were twisted in his usual sly smirk; he seemed to take enjoyment from startling you.

You tilted your head away from him in an effort to put distance between you two. Were your eyes playing tricks on you in the dim light, or did he move an inch closer to close the gap? 

He said in a low voice, “You’re rather tense today.”

You gave him a halfhearted smile. “Gotta stay vigilant to keep outta trouble.”

“That’s probably a good attitude to have here.” He edged near and his lips brushed against your ear as he continued, “Still where’s the fun in not getting into any trouble?”

You grinned back. “Now’s the time for work, not trouble–” You held up your splintered weapon. “–Unless you wanted to play a trick on the boys while they’re sleeping?”

“No, not this morning. I came here because I need you to do something for me.”

“Okay, what is it?” You placed your broken spear on the ground and stood up, dusting off your clothes. When Pan asked someone to do a task, it came first. To your surprise, he offered his hand to you. You took it with a little hesitation as he had never done this before.

His fingers intertwined with your own and he led you away from the slumbering camp. He followed a well-beaten trail which you realized led to the cliffs on the Eastern side of the island. He talked as you both plodded along the path. 

“Are you familiar with pixie dust?”

You racked your brain for any possible information on the subject so as not to appear ignorant in front of your leader. “Uh, fairies make it and it’s important?”

“That is the general gist, but do you know why it’s valued?” You shook your head no. Why was he asking you these questions? Did he have a plan involving pixie dust? While pondering a feasible reason for his sudden interest, you came out of the jungle to the cliffs.

Pan released his grip on your hand and breathed in the ocean’s salty air. Clouds stretched across the horizon, blocking the dawn’s rays. You heard the waves crash far, far below. It was a magnificent sight to behold. Pan spoke which caused your attention to snap back to him. “Do you?”

“Um, I’ve heard rumors that it can find gold or silver if sprinkled over a pickax.” 

“That’s rubbish.” The visceral disgust with which he said it made you wince. Well, that had been the wrong thing to say; it’d be best to keep silent except when you knew the answer for certain. “It gives one the power to fly.” You gasped at the information. The ability to fly, how wonderful! 

You had often daydreamed of soaring in the sky like the birds did. Why was he telling you this? Was it possible that he had acquired some? As if in answer to your unsaid question, Pan untied an unremarkable pouch from his belt and raised it to eye level. “As it happens our dear friends, Hook and his crew, have procured some for my use.”

“That’s great, but what’s this got to do with me?”

“That’s what I like about you, wasting no time and always getting to the heart of the issue.” Pan tossed the pouch in the air and caught it. “Once you pour the dust over yourself, you must think of a happy thought to fly. Would you like to try it?” Wow, you didn’t think he’d offer. You opened your mouth to say yes, but paused.

You would love to fly, swoop in and out of the clouds, and see the entire island from high above. It was too good to be true. Peter Pan didn’t seem like the type to share such a glorious experience. What was the catch? He must have noticed your misgivings because he said, “Do you think it would be wise to rebuff my generosity?”

You took the hint (or threat) and reached into the bag and pulled out a handful of green glittery dust. You pondered on Pan’s next instruction: Think of a happy thought. You liked romping around with the Lost Boys, but was that a happy enough thought?

You liked laying on the beach, soaking up the warm sunshine. That was restful, but were you truly happy or just content? It wouldn’t do if you messed up this opportunity by not thinking of a happy enough thought. Pan wouldn’t be pleased if you wasted his pixie dust. You cleared your throat. “Does it have to be a happy memory or…”

“It doesn’t have to be a memory, just a happy thought. What’s the first one that comes to you?”

Your gaze fell upon his lips and the thought of him kissing you flew into your mind. Butterflies flitted around in your stomach; if that wasn’t a happy thought then you weren’t sure what was. Smiling, you flung the dust on yourself and concentrated on the thought of Peter pressing his lips against yours in a tender kiss.

You felt a tingling sensation overtake your entire body. It was as if a dozen feathers danced over your skin, causing goosebumps, and a laugh escaped you at the ticklish feeling. You floated a few feet up in the air. It was similar to how you floated in the water, but a thousand times lighter. 

You twirled in circles and moved your arms in a swimming motion to move forward. You maneuvered over the cliffs, looking down at the ocean below. Peter grinned at the sight and he sprinkled some dust onto himself as well.

He started to hover in midair too and taking your hand, flew higher up. You and Pan glided through the sky; the jungle beneath you was a dark green mass with colorful spots of flora sprouting up at random. 

You spied what you assumed was a wolf pack drinking from a small pool of water, and the camp where the Lost Boys were now waking up. You swept past the tree tops and heard the monkeys chattering in surprise at the fliers.

Pan pointed upwards and flew higher and higher up until he was lost among the clouds. You followed him the best you could, but it was clear that he had more experience in this. 

Seeing his boot poking out of a bunch of clouds, you flew towards it. As you came closer, he popped out to drag you into the cloud, thus soaking your clothes. He let go and disappeared again. It became a game of hide and seek, Peter concealing himself within the cloud puffs and you attempting to catch him. During the game you and Peter came across a flock of birds you had never seen before. 

They were about your size and had long, thin beaks. Their plumage was a dazzling rainbow ranging from a deep scarlet to a pale lilac color. Peter plucked a feather from one of the poor birds who gave a loud squawk and tried to peck him. Paying it no mind, Peter gave the feather to you. Thanking him, you stuck it in your hair and soared off to plunge once more into the clouds. 

After a while, you were out of breath from the exertion of flying. Who knew it would be this tiring. You decided to lay on your back and simply float and he joined.

It was so relaxing you didn’t notice the pixie dust wearing off, however, Peter did. Enjoying the weightlessness and the tropical breeze blowing by, your eyes closed and you slipped into a light nap as he carried you down. 

While Pan hung a few feet above the ground, he looked at your dozing form and dropped you. Landing with a big thump on the ground, you woke up. “Ow!” You rubbed the back of your head where you felt a small bump already growing.

Pan smiled as he lowered himself with far more gentleness. That’s what you get for falling asleep in Pan’s arms. You were just lucky he didn’t drop you from a greater height. 

Peter snickered and sat down next to you. “Have a good time?” 

“I did. The last bit was a bit abrupt, but all the same… Thank you, Pan, for sharing the pixie dust with me. It was a terrific thing to be flying and I’ll never forget it.” You were positive that every night after this would be spent trying to recapture the absolute dream that this morning was. 

“I’m glad it worked. I wasn’t sure if Hook was telling the truth about the dust. I half expected it to turn you into a worm.” It wasn’t shocking to know he used you as a test subject; this wasn’t the first time nor would it be the last, such was the price to live in Pan’s domain. You were never safe in Neverland but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any fun to be found. He asked, “Tell me, what was your happy thought?”

You froze at the innocent question. You had to lie to him. It would be disastrous if Pan discovered your happy thought was locking lips with him. Pretending to be indifferent, you stretched yourself on the grass and answered him. “A big feast. One with lots of good food.”

Pan scoffed, “Food? Really? That was your happy thought.”

“What? Food can’t bring happiness? Food’s delicious and you can’t survive without it. Anyway, it worked, didn’t it?”

“Granted, it can bring happiness but not the amount that the pixie dust requires. Do you wish to know mine?” You shook your head no and began to say that you didn’t when he drew nearer. He placed his hands on either side of your reclined body.

He said, “I thought of you.” Your eyes widened at his confession and your astonishment grew as he continued saying, “Your smile in particular. Did you know that it's the most beautiful sight in Neverland? Not even the mermaids can hold a candle to it and they’re quite the charmers too you know.” His head dipped lower until his lips were a hair’s breadth away from yours. 

You remained motionless in case the smallest movement should have him reconsider the action he was seconds away from doing. Your eyes fluttered close as Peter pressed his lips against yours in a delicate kiss. Your heart was beating so fast it seemed it would burst from all the excitement and ecstasy it was experiencing. 

The kiss was exactly as you had imagined it would be but better because it was no longer a silly fantasy to be indulged in late at night when you were alone. This was reality; the most marvelous reality ever. Feeling him start to pull back, you cupped the back of his head to prolong the kiss. You wouldn’t be satisfied by a mere peck. Peter had no qualms about this and even grazed his tongue along your bottom lip. 

He sank down so his body was parallel to yours. You encircled your arms around his neck to bring him closer. How long you remained there, coiled within each other's heated embrace was a mystery. It felt all too short yet the longest period of your life. A rustle from the bushes caused you two to break apart. 

The wind picked up and a strong gust rushed through the forest. You cursed the stupid air currents for their poor timing. You would have wanted to carry on with kissing except Peter took the opportunity to say, “Are you still sure it was food you thought of to fly?”

You ran your fingers through his hair which had been your dream for a long while. “It seems there is no keeping secrets from you, Peter Pan.” In this one instance, you were grateful for his insatiable desire to know all the going ons in his island.

“You could have been honest with me the first time I asked. We needn't have gone through this to have the truth.” Peter rolled over to his side and traced the outline of your nose and the curves of your lips.

“Yes, but I prefer it this way, don’t you?”

His only response was another kiss.

[midnightcrw]

Running away

Chapter 6

Opia

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem!reader

Summary: Life really had it in for you. Just moving to a new apartment seemed to unleash a brand new hell

Warnings: non (please, tell me if there actually is anything triggering)

a/n: It's been a while since I've continued this story. So please tell me if I messed up anything storyline-wise, as I really hate rereading my own stories (it just gives me second-hand embarrassment). But I still hope that you all will like it.

"Laswell?"

The moment, her name left your mouth, you were about to slam the door shut. Your hand made its way to the door handle, ready to yank it shut. However, before the door could yield to your command, her hand intervened, stopping the impending closure with a firm grip.

"Running away won't make it disappear," her voice, a resonant sound, cut through the charged atmosphere. Her confident stare bored into you, as if challenging the very notion of avoidance. Laswell was no stranger to confrontation, a fact you knew all too well.

Ignoring any potential response, she invited herself in, rounding the shards of shattered glass on the floor. "I will-" you began, wanting say you were going to throw the shards away first, but Laswell, was more about busisness as the words began to leave her mouth, taking control "You won't do anything. Sit down."

You sighed heavily, you hated it when she was demanding. Especially now, when she just invited herself into your apartment as if she owned it.

But nonetheless, you complied as you made your way to the sofa. Seeing you move, Laswell crouched down to gather the sharp remnants in her hand. And while she was distracted with that, you studied her.

The sight of her stirred a visceral reaction in you. You hadn't expected to see her again after what had happened. It only made sense that the two of you buried the past six feet into the ground. Yet, there she stood, invading your life once more.

And she looked the same as she did that day. Still blonde with a hint of brown mixed in, and the bangs didn't leave either. Only the length of her hair had changed. It had been much shorter then, just under her chin, and now it seemed much longer.

Her eyes were still as strikingly blue as you remembered them to be. Possessing an almost soul-penetrating quality, that's what it felt like to make eye contact with her.

The only differences, were the few wrinkles on her face, probably from all the stress of her life. Just like back then, you thought.

Laswell was known to work herself into the ground, far too goal driven to ever slow down. But that was, what made you two get along. You both shared a common drive, a relentless pursuit of success that, unbeknownst to you, painted a target on your backs.

Pretty much dangerous, though. People knew the two of you would do anything to succeed, and that was your doom. They had their eyes on you from day one, but you just didn't realise it. And the realisation itself came much too late.

"How have you been doing?" The sudden question yanked you out of your thoughts, prompting an involuntary flinch. Laswell had already finished and was sitting next to you at a cautious distance.

"Alright, I guess," you replied, not at all wanting to have a conversation with her, emotions stirred by her unexpected reappearance. You hadn't expected for her to come, and you were more than willing to show your distaste for it.

Hearing your reply, Laswell leaned back a bit, looking you up and down. You had changed since you last left, and it was more than obvious to her why you changed.

"I know that coming here without forewarning isn't pleasant, but I need to talk to you about something," her initial confidence faltered, replaced by a hint of uncertainty. She almost seemed afraid to tell you more, and that made you wary.

In the years of your acquaintance, Laswell had never been the one to show her insecurities, not even to you. "Laswell," you tried to interject, but she interrupted you, and you were beginning to get fed up.

"Call me Kate," and that made you feel some type of way. You hadn't called her by her first name in so long, and it brought back memories that you wanted to leave behind.

You enjoyed her company, you always have, but it's different now. You had cut off contact for a reason, and it seemed that no one would ever respect the boundary you had set. But you pulled yourself together, clenching your right hand into a fist as you let her speak.

Sighing heavily, she looked into your eyes "I know that you're probably going to get angry, but I need you to come back," that was it. Your eyes widened as you scoffed in shock and disbelief.

You could almost started to laugh, that's how hilarious it sounded. "Laswell," you began, dismissing her first name, "you came here just to tell me this? After all these years, you thought I'd return to that hellhole? I thought you knew me better."

Your words dripped with venom, each syllable an assertion of your resolve. "I-" she attempted to speak, only to be silenced by you.

"No, Laswell. I'm speaking now. You came here to bring me back, knowing how much I hate this fucking place. Every single day, I'm left with nightmares, and you walk in here as if you own this place.

I left for a reason. I told you to burn everything down for a reason. Do you know how pathetic it feels to endure each day, knowing it was my fault? Oh, of course you don't know, because all you care about is your profits.

The whole time we were working together, all you cared about was yourself and what you could get out of it." You ranted, almost breathlessly, as you suddenly got up from your seat and walked toward your closet.

Laswell didn't even make a single move in her seat, seemingly ashamed of herself. But you didn't care, you just wanted her gone, and when you finally found the box, you took it and walked towards her.

"Take it, you told me to keep the memories," presenting it to her with a forceful push as the box laid on her lap and you waited impatiently, wanting her to actually open it up and see what you had been carrying with you for years.

Tears welled up and blurred your vision as you blinked them away. Completely frustrated with everything as your hands trembled. "Open it," your voice broke in mid-sentence as you remained standing.

Even Laswell seemed to become emotional as she bit her lip, trying to remain calm. And with shaking hands, she slowly opened the box to look at the contents. You let her look while you averted your eyes and looked at Simon's jacket as you made your way to it.

The conversation was already too much for you, taking the black jacket into your hands as you made your way to your room. You only did this to get some distance from the current situation and for Laswell to take it all in.

The material of Simon's jacket, cradled in your hands, offered a brief respite as you laid it on your bed and looked at it. Memories of the rooftop lingered in the back of your mind. You still had to give it back to him, and you would do so today.

Breathing in and out slowly, you ran a hand over your face in frustration, a headache already making its presence known as you walked back into the living room.

Laswell's eyes scanned the contents of the box, her index finger touching its surface, almost as if to reassure herself, and when she heard your footsteps, her wavering blue eyes met yours upon your return, while you remained standing, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed.

"How did you find me?" You asked quietly, leaning your head against the door frame. You had almost forgotten to ask the most important question, and it bothered you now. Even though you had made sure that no one could find you, Laswell still found her way to you, as if you hadn't moved several times across the country.

Laswell carefully placed the box on the coffee table, the lid resting beside it as the contents were exposed to anyone who wanted to take a look. "Just some research," she said, as if it were the easiest thing she had ever done.

Your nails dug themselves into your arms, probably leaving crescent moon shapes behind as your face grew stern, "Did you tell anyone?"

Your question almost made the woman sitting on your sofa laugh in mockery. She would never do that, and you knew it, but you could never be too careful. "Of course not. I came here on my own," her voice was serious, and she stood up as she approached you.

Your eyes never left her as you watched her hand take a card from her pocket, "Call me if you change your mind or just to discuss what this is about," she said as she took your right hand and placed it in your palm, conveying a silent plea.

With that, she made her way to the door to leave, and before she walked out, she muttered, "I missed you," and with that, she was gone.

You almost wanted to smash your head against the wall in frustration as you looked at the card. It had her name and phone number written on it, having already planned on giving you this as you looked at her handwriting.

It still looked the same, clean and neat as always. You felt the urge to throw it away, but you didn't. You took the card and slapped it unceremoniously on one of the shelves of your bookshelf, causing a few books to fall to the floor with a thud.

"Could this day get any worse?" You wondered in anger as you crouched down to put the books back in their place and heard a knock at your door.

"Come in!" You called, not wanting to walk to the door at all, expecting it to be Laswell, who had probably forgotten something. As you picked up a book, you heard the door open, but no footsteps.

With a furrowed brow, you looked over your shoulder and saw Simon standing next to your sofa. Surprised by his sudden appearance, your gaze dropped to the book in your hands. A blush of embarrassment colored your cheeks as you met his piercing brown eyes.

"You're probably here for your jacket. Sit down if you want, I'll get it once I put the books back on the shelf," you muttered as you picked up the books from the floor, only the sound of the sofa being crushed indicating that Simon had sat down.

It was quiet inside of your apartment, almost being uncomfortable as you had a frustrating conversation with Laswell and Simon coming in wasn't something you had planned at all.

Getting up from your position on the floor, you quickly put the books back on the shelf, wanting to be left alone as soon as possible, and with that, you made your way to your bedroom with slow and steady steps.

It was the first time that Simon saw your apartment, he looked around the place to find you crouched on the floor and when you told him to sit down, he made his way to your sofa and complied.

His eyes wandered around the place and found their place on the box that laid open on the coffee table, he wanted to look away, he didn't want to pry into your private life, but he couldn't.

The box was filled, but there were two things that caught his eye, widening a fraction as he examined the pieces.

On top was a dog tag with your name engraved on it and a picture of you with some other people and a familiar face. You were dressed as people in his profession would be, and Laswell was standing next to you. Her arm was around your shoulders as you leaned against her with a smile on both your and her face.

The more he looked at the dog tag and the picture, the more his eyebrows furrowed as several questions found their way into his mind.

But before he could delve deeper into the box in front of him, your returning footsteps echoed through the room. With that, he rose, putting a respectful distance between himself and the box.

When you came back, you were surprised to find Simon's piercing brown eyes. He's really quiet when it comes to moving around, you thought.

Simon, dressed in his usual black attire. His hood cast a shadow, partially hiding features that held a peculiar allure. The mask that hid his slightly crooked nose and his full lips with the scar etched on the left side of his mouth. His face was still imprinted in your memory from the previous night, and you could not forget it.

Pulling yourself out of your thoughts, you held up his jacket and muttered a "thank you" as he took it in his hands.

Simon nodded in subtle acknowledgement. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, almost examining you, before he left without saying a word. The door closed behind him, leaving a lingering sense of unresolved tension.

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