#happy wiggle dance party!

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Take it off

pairing: stripper!felix x afab!reader

genre: smut

word count: 2.9k

warnings: sub!felix, grinding, humping, fingering (m receiving), handjob, nipple play, edging, oral (f receiving), spanking, degradation for a sec, felix is called slut once, dacryphilia (lmk if i missed something), reader is older than felix

a/n: i'm writing a longer seungmin fic but felix just had to be a slut so this happened

~check out: Masterlist

This isn't your regular weekend night, where you curl up with a book and a blanket, some quiet music playing in the background.

No, your perfect peace was shattered as your friends begged, no made you finally go out to a club with them, going as far as also making you put on a short tight dress and heels.

You feel ridiculous, being almost in your 30s, too old to party like some horny teenager but your friends were adamant that you need to get out of your house and stop decomposing.

You wanted to argue but they shut down any excuse you had and you whined dramatically the whole ride to the club about a 'ruined weekend' and 'disturbed peace'.

When you finally walked inside the club, and saw how fancy it was and all the half naked men walking around, only then you realized what kind of club it was.

"Y'all. This is a strip club?"- your mouth fell open as one of the men walked by and threw you a wink.

"Yes. And they also provide some more intimate services."- one of your friends wiggles their eyebrows.

You groan loudly as they take you to a booth they reserved for the four of you.

"I can't believe you tricked me! I don't want some weird oiled up man to grind on me!"- you whine, your face scrunched up in disgust, making your friends laugh.

"Look around, y/n. These men are beyond beautiful. And everything is done with consent. Like we've been here multiple times and we always had a great time. You'll love it, I'm sure."

You sigh as your friend keeps trying to convince you that tonight will somehow change your life.

Some music starts playing which makes everyone cheer and scream, all eyes turned towards the stage.

"It's him!"- one of your friend giggles.

"Who?"- you ask curiously, wondering what's got all these people in a hold.

"The star of the show, Felix. He's like the prettiest man ever."- your friend swoons and you scoff.

How pretty can he be to put the whole room in a trance even before he steps out on stage?

You get your answer as soon as finally emerges from behind the curtain, your mouth falls open in shock, your eyes wide as you stare at the man smirking and walking sensually to the music.

You've never seen someone who looks so angelic, moving so sinfully at the same time, his body supple, every single movement purposeful as he strips the flimsy little shirt he had on.

Your eyes are glued to his chest and perky nipples, his abs and the barely noticeable happy trail and everyone around you cheers but your focus is on him.

His eyes land on you and he gives you a devilish smirk before his eyes change completely, they narrow and darken, staring deep into your soul as he dances and looks only at you.

Your friends are estatic, grabbing at you and saying things like 'Felix likes you', 'he's looking at you', they're freaking out and you're sitting there stunned and with arousal pooling on your panties.

He looks like a hunter and you feel like an animal that he's got his eyes on. It's obvious why he's the star of the show when he can take someone in his hold so quickly, before you even know it you're under his spell.

The performance ends too soon for everyone's liking and the pretty boy slowly makes his way towards you.

"He's coming here, oh my god!"- your friend screams as they grab at you and shake you.

"Calm down!"- you smack their arm, trying to calm your heart too.

"Well, hello there beautiful."- his deep voice shocks you and as he leans in closer, you can see his freckles and the glittery make up on his eyes, and the sweat trickling down his skin making him shine like the prettiest diamond.

"You finally brought your friend that hates going out?"- he looks at your friends and you scold them under your breath. Just how many times have they been here without you?

"Yep, we tricked her into coming out."

"Tsk. Sneaky, sneaky."- he snickers. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Y/n."- your voice is shaky as he stands in your personal space.

"That's a beautiful name, for a beautiful woman. My name is Felix, but you can call me whatever you like."- he flirts and you want to roll your eyes, but you don't even have time to think.

"You seem tense. How about I help you relax? Put on a little show for you?"- he asks, his hand on your chin and your eyes scan around to look at your friends, and all of them give you encouraging looks and nudges.

Oh what the hell, you think. You're a little buzzed and you're already here so might as well make the best of it.

"Do your best, pretty boy."- you smirk, shocking yourself and your friends at your sudden boldness.

That only seems to spur Felix on as he smirks back at you and starts dancing, moving his hips and ass tentatively in front of your face.

You feel hotness surge through your body, the way he moves is delicious, making you feel so hungry to touch him.

It's like he senses that, and suddenly his knees are on either side of your thighs and you gasp as he looks at you through his eyelashes as if asking if he should continue. You give a quiet nod and suddenly he's grinding on you, his hands running on his own body as he touches himself, fingertips brushing his cute pink nipples.

Your friends are screaming your ears off but you're drowning them out, only focusing on the beautiful man who's grinding on your bare thighs.

"You can touch if you'd like."- his voice is even lower as he says it quietly, only for you to hear. His hands are on yours and he brings them to his waist.

You wrap your fingers around him, his skin is smooth and slippery from the sheen of sweat on it and your pussy throbs for more.

His chest is in your face, his ass on your thighs and you can see and feel his erection growing in his pants.

"How about we move this to one of the private rooms?"- Felix smirks, a little out of breath.

You don't know what possessed you but you nod quickly.

"Let's go."- you say and he stands up immediately, reaching his hand to take yours.

Your friends cheer behind you as he leads you away to one of the rooms, the doors closing as you walk in.

It seems like different music is playing in there, more sensual and there's even a little bar in the corner. There's a couch and a bed and you gulp as you stare at it.

"Do you want a drink, beautiful?"- Felix's deep voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

"No, thanks."- you feel a little awkward suddenly as Felix pours himself a drink and chugs on it.

"Now, where were we? You're tense again, sweetheart. We can't have that."- he shakes his head with a smile as he gently pushes you to sit on the couch.

He stands in front of you as you look up at him, shivering in anticipation.

"You want me to take these off?"- he bats his eyelashes innocently, his fingers hooking into the leather pants he still had on.

You nod quietly, your mouth dry suddenly, wishing you actually had something to drink earlier.

Felix smirks as he unzips his pants, slowly sliding them down, making a show of it and you almost moan out loud when you see what he has underneath.

He's almost practically naked, the little black lacy panties revealing everything to you, his semi-hard cock tucked inside them straining almost painfully to come out, his balls cupped by the lace and a pretty little bush above his erection.

"See something you like?"- he says cockily and you look up at the prideful smirk on his face. Something stirs within you, you want to wipe that smirk off of his face and make this man cry and beg on his knees for you.

"Hm. Maybe."- you return a smirk before reaching out for him and grabbing his hips, yanking him down into your lap. Felix gasps from the sudden change from your shy demeanor, and you can see his Adam's apple bob up and down as he looks at you with a glazed over look.

You grip his hips, bringing him down on your thighs, his cock pressing into your flesh. A little moan escapes his pretty plump lips and your hands slide behind to grab a handful of his ass.

"Oh!"- he gasps, rutting against you.

"Tell me pretty boy. What do you want me to do with you?"- you smirk, flipping the figurative card on him and he looks at you hazily as you massage his plushy asscheeks.

"W-whatever you want. I-I'm here to please you."- he's become a stuttering mess suddenly and you're beyond turned on and sick of all the teasing.

You grip his face with one of your hands and crash your lips into his and he kisses you back eagerly and desperately, his cock popping out of it's confines and leaking onto your bare flesh.

"Eager, are we?"- you chuckle against his lips and he whines.

"Mm, yes."- he chases your lips but your hand tangles in his hair, gripping and pulling his head back. A broken moan falls from his lips as you attach yours on his skin, kissing and nipping at him.

Your hands are now on his chest as you run your palms on his nipples and he keens, arching into you, his chubby cock rutting in the spot where your thighs are pressed together.

You lick at his neck before sinking your teeth in his skin and sucking on it, your fingers pulling and pinching on his aroused nipples.

"Oh-h my- ah- please!"- he whines incoherently and you smirk against him.

You've never felt this kind of power over someone and it made you feel so turned on, your panties now soaked with arousal.

"You're so sensitive."- you say as you blow air on the red bruise you sucked onto his neck.

"Y-yes! Please touch me! Please!"- he begs and you have no idea if he's taking on a role or if he's usually like that but you don't care in that moment, any thoughts are thrown in the back of your mind as you grab his leaky cock in your hand.

He whimpers, hips lifting up into your touch immediately as he grips at your shoulders to steady himself.

Your lips kiss and bite wherever you can reach, his neck, his collarbone and finally his nipples as you run your tongue on the sensitive bud, your hand working his pretty cock that's leaking so much and throbbing in your hand.

"Ah!"- he whimpers when you bite down on his nipple before flicking it with your tongue harshly.

He's sputtering nonsense as he grips at you hard, his fingertips digging into your shoulders.

You detach from his nipples when they're red and swollen, slowing your hand down any time his cock twitches, edging him as you dangle the promise of cumming in front of his face before snatching it away from him constantly.

"P-please!"- he cries, tears framing his pretty face as he looks at you with desperate eyes, his hips dragging against you the whole time you play with his cock.

You only smirk, your other hand lifting up before you land a smack on his ass. Felix yelps, burying his face in your shoulder immediately.

"Ah shit! Please, please do that a-again!"- he moans and you chuckle as your hand speeds up on his length again, the flick of your wrist driving him crazy as you smack his ass once more.

"Mm, y/n!"- your name rolls out of his lips so prettily that you just have to smack him again.

"Fuck!"- his cock twitches hard in your hand as you keep the onslaught on his ass.

Your name keeps spilling out of his lips as he shakes on top of you, crying and whimpering as he holds onto you for dear life.

Another thought crosses your mind and you stop all movement only to have him cry out desperately.

"W-why'd you stop?!"- he cries, tears sliding down his cheeks as he looks at you.

"You look so pretty when you cry."- you smirk, gathering the pre cum on your fingertips before your hand reaches behind him.

"P-please let me cum. Please. I'll do anything!"- he really looks desperate and you almost feel bad.

Almost.

Felix gasps and jolts when he feels your fingertips slide under his panties and press against his little hole.

"Is that okay?"- you whisper and he nods quickly.

"Yes, yes!"- he moans as you circle your fingers, smearing the pre cum on him.

Your other hand grabs a hold of his cock again and this time you decide to finally let him cum as you sink your finger inside his fluttering hole, meeting a little resistance as he leans forward on you, grabbing onto your upper back and whimpering.

You start fucking your finger in and out of him, hitting his sweet spot as your other hand matches the pace on his cock.

Felix is falling apart in your lap, his mind cloudy, the only wish his body has right now is to cum for you.

He grinds into your touch, matching the movements of your hands and it doesn't take long for that familiar feeling to blossom inside him.

"Please, please, please-" - he mutters desperately and you chuckle, teeth nipping at a sensitive spot beneath his ear.

"Cum for me, pretty."- you say and Felix keens, his cock twitching before he explodes, spurts of hot white cum painting your black dress, his hole clenching around your finger like it doesn't want to let go.

You keep fucking into his prostate as you milk him dry and he cries and begs for you to stop.

You finally move your hands away when his cock goes completely limp against you.

You grab his face and kiss his lips, you can taste the saltiness of his tears on them and you push your tongue inside his mouth, circling it around his. You swallow all his moans before grabbing a hold of his hair and leaning him back.

"Get on your knees."- you tell him and his eyes widden a little before he scrambles to get up.

"You're getting a little reward for being such a good boy for me."- you smirk, caressing his cheek with your thumb as Felix looks at you dumbly, his mind completely gone from the pleasure he feels.

You lift up your ruined dress, and Felix moans at the sight of your soaked panties.

"Take them off."- you say and he does so, the sight of your glistening pussy makes his spent cock twitch miserably against his thigh.

"What are you waiting for?"- you grip his head and bring him closer to you as you spread your legs more.

Felix's eyes flutter and he wastes no more time as he buries his face between your legs. His plump lips leave kisses all around your throbbing pussy before he presses them into your clit.

Your breath hitches in your throat when he pushes the tip of his tongue into your clit and starts flicking it slowly, pressing into it.

"Mm"- you moan, hands gripping his hair. He grabs at your thighs and runs his tongue on your folds, moaning at the sweet taste of you.

You don't let him lift up as you slowly start grinding on his face while he laps at you greedily, his tongue fucking in and out of your cunt, he's drooling and making a mess out of you.

You smirk when you feel his hips push into your leg, his cock against your skin as he starts rutting against you like a dog in heat.

"What a desperate little slut you are."- you chuckle as you pull on his hair and grip his head with your plushy thighs.

He moans into your pussy, the vibrations making your core throb and you're close.

"Keep going. Make me cum."- you say as he keeps eating you out and humping against you.

You grind against him, dragging your pussy on his face before the coil finally snaps and you spill your release on his tongue and chin.

Felix mewls, his hips jolting as he cums untouched, his cum spilling on the floor right between the heels on your feet, a few drops landing on the straps.

He licks around his lips and looks at you, his eyes still glazed over and not a single thought in his head.

"Look what a mess you made."- you lean in closer to look at his face.

"Y/n..."- he whimpers your name, seemingly the only thing he knows right now.

"Came untouched."- you click your tongue. "You really are pathetic. But I'd still like to take you home. What do you think about that?"- you grip his chin.

He whines a little, his tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip as he leans into your touch.

"I'd love to. My shift ended anyways."

"Right."- you lean back suddenly. "How much do I-"

"No"- he shakes his head. "This was for my pleasure too."- he says, seemingly coming to his senses.

He stands up suddenly and the cocky smirk on his face is back.

"Take me home then. I'd like for us to get more acquainted with each other."

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong

[starsexplodeatnight]

Tf141 guys x Reader

Okay, Sooooo

I don’t know what this is per say, just

John Price x Florist!reader

Kyle Garrick x Dog-walker!reader

John Mactavish x Nurse!reader

Simon Riley x Preschool-teacher!reader

Price first!!!

This old dog is not having a good day. The first time you two meet? He’s looking to order a sympathy piece… a fallen solider. So, he’s not in the best mood when he enters your shop.

Then, you come out the back with your sweet smile. It feels like lip balm on chapped lips, soothing the cracks splintering his heart in this moment.

“Hi, I’m *Name*. Welcome, how can I help you?” With a soft look on your face.

Fuck him, he needs the kindness. You’re so understanding when he tells you, not overly patronizing just… kind. Understanding. You’d have to be, having to make arrangements and funeral pieces as much as you do.

While you’re quickly piecing the arrangement together you talk to him, just a natural flow of conversation. He does pause when you ask. “What do you want in the arrangement? What would you like it to look like?” “Sympathetic?” And you laugh. “Fair enough.”

He likes that laugh.

You hand him the arrangement and tell him how to take care of the flowers to make them last longer. Then give him this sweet, sweet encouraging smile…

Yeah, he comes back a week later. Up front asks: “You want to get dinner Love?” Makes you flush, your co-workers in the back giggling until you shoo them away. “That sounds lovely.”

‘Love really does bloom, doesn’t it?’ He muses.

Generally? Your life together is sweet.

You’re together for about a year before he proposed. He’s a man, he’s old enough to know what he wants. He wants to wake up with you ever morning with the safety of that ring around your finger. That, if anything ever happens to him? He could still provide even in his absence…

You hate it when he talks like that but, accept that you need to be realistic… deep down? It makes you feel loved. A painful, sorrowful, love.

He helps you when he can. Whenever he’s home? He’s at your shop helping you get any extra work done so you can spend as much time together as you can while he’s not deployed.

You need help assembling an arbor for a wedding? He uh- he has carpentry skills… let him help, love. He builds you the sturdiest arbor in the industry!

Deliveries? He’ll run those, he’s got time. He doesn’t mind. Warms his heart a bit to do some good delivering flowers to people… they get so happy when he shows up with flowers.

He helps you set up the flowers at weddings! He also refuses to do anything that puts him within the vicinity of the bride and her party! They mistook him as a stripper once, never again. Never again. He’s a happily married man, thank you very much!

What kind of male stripper wears a hat like his any way? Wrangler jeans and a L.L Bean shirt that’s probably older than the bride!!! It was actually very cute to see how steamed he was after that…

You make sure to give HIM flowers. Most men don’t get flowers until their funeral … You don’t want that to be John. He melts a little when you bring himself home flowers you arranged yourself just for him.

You’ve looked up and seen him leaning on the table with a rose between his teeth. As soon as you made eye contact, he wiggles his brows. It made you crack up, he did it just for that reason. A rare moment of silliness from your John.

Will judge other brides choices when you bring home the files for the weddings you’re hired for. But, nothing will ever compare to your wedding to him in his eyes because your wedding was the best. Ever.

He saved your bouquet, dried it and framed it. Gave it to you as an anniversary present.

He then played your wedding song and you two slow danced in a circle together…. Sigh…

Gaz!:

Kyle was on his morning run when he saw you. Across the street with a few dogs, you looked so fucking happy, that made you look so fucking pretty.

You’re wearing an over sized t-shirt, sweatpants and look frazzled as you wrangle 4 dogs at once. You don’t even notice the Adonis across the street as you try and regain steady footing as the dogs all do their best to keep you on your toes.

Brock the 3 year old yellow lab was a puller… and he is CHONKY so you didn’t have much time to pay attention to anything else.

Kyle now tries to ‘bump’ into you. Timing his run to make a meet cute happen. Fuck him if he’s already done his run and doesn’t see you only to spot you once he’s on his door step sweaty and gross! EVERY TIME!

He’ll try and go again even though his legs are burning. This? This stunt catches the dogs attention, not yours. You’ve got 5 today and they HAUL ASS to go see Kyle. And you’re just dragged to his feet.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! They’re all friendly, I swear!” You wheeze, Kyle laughs. “Don’t worry Luv! S’fine. It’s cute,” He’s not looking at the dogs, despite the Jack Russell ‘Shermie’ making eyes at him.

Ah ha! Kyle has ingratiated himself! He get’s so pumped as soon as he gets home! You invited him to walk with you! ‘Anytime!’ Fuck yeah! He does a fist pump and dances foot to foot.

He finds dogs are a good judge of character and, these dogs? They love you. And you are devoted to them despite them not being yours. He finds those qualities incredibly attractive.

Generally? You two are cute.

He’ll take the high energy dogs on jogs for you when you meet up. He can keep up with them! *subtle flex*

He despite his athleticism? He likes the small, slow dogs. Like the blind, cross eyed Shi tzu ’Louie’ and the grumpy old Bassett ‘Geraldine’

It gave him ample time to walk leisurely and talk to you… You, Gaz and Geraldine went on many walks together.

He love, love, loves whenever you send him a selfie of you and one of the dogs! He’s got a whole folder of them and the newest picture you send? That one is always his newest Lock Screen.

Has worn a dog papoose and, has carried a dog while wearing a dog papoose. He is not ashamed, you thought he looked cute. And he takes all compliments of any kind. Hell yeah he looks cute, thanks baby!

He loves those prissy little toys. ‘Teddy’ the Pomeranian is one of his favorites, Teddy just loves being held. Oh, Kyle looks so attractive holding that spoiled little poof… he’s so sweet and caring with it too. Fuck!

He holds you if one of your regulars dies. Losing an animal is hard, especially when you’d been walking that dog since it was a puppy… he’s here luv, it’s okay. His eyes are misty too because, he cared for that dog too.

He get’s a Bassett stuffed animal, ‘R.I.P Geraldine, you helped me find something worthwhile.’

He proposes to you that night.

You have a little Bassett hound topper on your cake as a small tribute to the dog that helped you get closer…

He will and HAS gotten between you and an aggressive dog. He doesn’t like hurting animals but, fuck if he was going to left anyone hurt his baby and her charges! Tries to beat the piss out of the owner.

His wedding gift to you? A dog. Not just any dog! He wanted to get you one that will keep you safe while he’s deployed and one that will help you handle your charges. So he get’s you a very highly trained Belgian malinois.

Her name is Gracie and she helps you both sleep better at night…

Soap!:

Oh, oh Soap. He get’s lambasted during a mission and gets put into hospital. His nurse? An over tired, over worked, grumpy woman who will not put up with Tom-fuckery during her shift.

In rolls in Soap: a battered pile of tenderized meat who immediately attempts a pick up line while she’s trying to make him comfortable. Oh, it’s going to be a long recovery.

Every goddamn shift! He’d light up every single fucking time you walk into the room! Oh, it makes you want to smother him with a pillow -cute aggression-

It’s not fair! You wanted to hate him! Be the grumpy bitch nurse and go on with your day! But, he makes it hard!!!

He seems so genuinely interested and not some creepy perv hitting on a nurse! He asks you how you are in such a genuine way, he leans in to listen, retains information! He does try and rile you up but, only because he thinks your ‘angry face’ is ‘cute’ the bastard! Who gave him the right to call you cute!?

And he loves, despite how angry you present yourself. You are the gentlest nurse, you care, you’re still a good nurse despite trying to act as jaded as the older nurses. You remember he does like certain foods, you get blood on the first draw and you always know what he needs…

God, it’s tumbling down the slippery slope faster than you ever imagined. You weren’t supposed to catch feelings! That’s not allowed!!! But when he’s finally discharged? He finds you, and offers to walk you home instead of going with his friends to celebrate his discharge.

He knew how much it meant to you for him to acknowledge what you’ve done for him… even behind the tough wall you put up.

He’ll always remember you stayed far past your shift to watch him when he spiked a fever and was critical…

You two are sour and sweet.

He rips those jaded glasses off your face and gives you a big kiss.

You’re kinda just- not codependent! but, something on the healthier side of that. You have a comfortable rhythm. He’ll go out with friends at night, stalling until you come off your shift and he can pick you up.

He gets to spend time with friends, you get to walk home knowing you’re safe at 2 in the morning… even if you have to steady him on the way home after one too many pints.

He has bought a sexy nurse costume for you. He mainly wants you to wear it, he has worn it as well…

He loves your stories! You have the best stories! He’ll sit you on the bar so you can regale his mates that story of that guy! “You know- that guy! The one that got that thing stuck up his ass!” “Which one?”

Sometimes you just, put your hand over his eyes. He looks at you with such fucking love it’s ridiculous. He just pushes further into your hand when you do this.

He will lie down and offer to be your dummy if you need a refresher on anatomy. Wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis.

It’s a personal victory whenever he makes you laugh.

He is lord and savior to the children in the hospital. He will come to visit the children’s care unit, full gear. You find him, and he is their god. They cling to his arms and legs, he’s still moving around, strong enough to keep on going even with 7 kids clinging to him.

He will use his little minions to his own personal advantage. Make them give you, like drawings and paper flowers just to see you smile. And for his own amusement.

It’s like Syd the Sloth and the tiny sloths.

He tells you he can’t wait until you have your own… you never imagined you’d actually ever get baby fever after working as a nurse again… Johnny makes that happen.

He makes you cry when he’s deployed. Wipes your tears away with his thumbs. “Oh, lass. Don’t cry! I ‘Ken you can put me back together if I come back in pieces.” He tries to joke, only makes you cry harder…

He holds you a little tighter after that one.

He never wants you to have to put you through that, ever. He cringes every time he remembers he said that… that he thought it was okay to joke about putting you through that.

Marries you after he comes home from deployment. He comes back in better shape this time too. He’s got to be careful now, doesn’t he?

Ghost:

This man? This man falls for a preschool teacher.

He’s just sitting in the park, minding his own business when he see’s you pass with your little class walking behind you like ducklings. Fuck, when was the last time he’d seen someone so pure?

Your preschool was just on the edge of the park and you, with a few other handlers, were letting the kids explore the park under supervision. Their ‘task’ is to find the ‘fauna’ of the park!

Imagine his surprise when more than 4 of the little crotch goblins run up to him specifically. He thought he was scary to the little kids, well apparently not! You rush over to his rescue when you see them using him as a piece of playground equipment.

Oh, he looked so confused. Frozen like a deer in headlights as you stifle your giggle, peeling the 4 year old girl off his lap. “I’m so sorry!” “No, s’fine… cheeky buggers.” The kids all giggle, eager to play with him again.

Ghost then adds it into his schedule to mosey past your school every afternoon. You always know when he does because it’s always at recess and all the kids (except a few) flock to the fence to say hello to ‘Mr Ghost.’

He feels like a celebrity… softens his prickly heart to see all these sweet kids admire him… he thinks so poorly of himself, then he looks at these kids and you? You all look at him with such adoration…. Makes him feel like a human being again instead of a war machine.

And you look at him with such love. You find it sweet he takes his time to come see the kids, graciously accepting their pictures they drew of him.

He was kind of awkward at first, he’d stood ramrod straight like he would with his old drill sergeant and informed you of his record. He wasn’t a creep, he was in the military, and this was his little… respite from all the bile he had to face.

You couldn’t turn him away. You welcomed him every time you saw him over the fence. He remained behind the boundary of the fence and was . He was very grateful you didn’t think he was a creep and trespassed him from walking by.

You two were blissful.

You asked him out on a date. He asked you how many children you wanted… so sweet. lol

He finds you absolutely beautiful, bouncing one of your students on your hip whenever he stops by. He can’t help it. He can’t wait until you have kids of your own, you’ll teach them to be such wonderful human beings. He’ll teach them how to defend themselves and he’ll keep you all safe.

He becomes a bit of a helper around the preschool whenever he’s not deployed. He’s certified in cpr- why not? He mostly just watches the class room to see if any kid is doing anything wrong and preventing anyone from choking.

Kids take turns sitting in his lap whenever he’s sitting. He acts like he doesn’t care but you know he adores it.

Little girls will bring him stuffed animals and by the time class ends he’s surrounded by every stuffed animal in class. He remembers all of their names too. Oh, you can’t help it you get cute aggression with him!

Will walk around with your lipstick prints all over his balaclava. He will dodge envy attempt to wipe them off. They’re his!

After a long day, he’ll help you clean up the class room. In his mind he’s playing this scenario out, like you two are cleaning up after your own kids.

Hates the moms. He hates every single one of of the moms. They’re annoying. They’re coming after his fine ass because they didn’t find a man that treat them right, like he does you and he’s not putting up with it!

Asks you to give him hickeys once. ‘‘But love, yes.’’ After you tell him ‘‘no!’’ “We work in a preschool!” “And? They bite each otha’ all the time.” “Simon!”

He is their god, part 2.

They laugh at all of his stupid jokes, which in turn makes you laugh and now he’s a smug bastard.

Vibes with Bluey, you two watch it together. Aims to be like Bandit when he’s a dad. Takes it as a compliment when you tell him. “You’re pretty much a dead ringer for him already love.” Like, stunned for a second before he’s kissing your temple.

He hates deploying now.

All the kids cry when he does, it’s awful. Then, it makes you cry too. You were trying so hard to be strong and now you’re crying along with them.

Makes him feel like a worse monster than he thought he was.

Tada! Idk what this was! But there ya’ go! Enjoy!

[writing-with-moss]

TF141 with neurodivergent!gn!reader

(authors note) I have autism and adhd and I tried making it as diverse as possible bc autism and adhd is a spectrum :p have fun reading my funky dudes, love, Moss

Ghost~ Ghost is a quiet support kind of guy. when he found out about your autism he decided to research it, ending up going on a deep dive into the internet. He quietly slips you tiny things, restocks the pantry in foods you like. Ghost isn’t a picky eater, he isn’t picky with anything. This man would wash his entire body with dish soap if it’s all he had, but he knows your sensory issues so he tries his best to accommodate. And the first time you had a meltdown he sat there quietly with you, letting you calm down with his weight pressed against your chest. He’s not a cuddly guy, but to calm you down? He will be anything you need. “You want just plain toast for dinner?…okay. I’ll just put beans on mine.”

Soap~ Soap knew about your adhd, I mean c’mon, you were bouncing off the walls ever since he met you. And he’s very supportive of you? Random dance battle to get the wiggles out? This man is breaking it down (much to the dismay of his achy breaky knees). Constantly matching your vocal stims so it’s just “SQUAK!” Across the house back and forth. Constant shaking your shoulder when you space out. Happily playing loud music or children’s shows when you need input. “Dammit bonnie…It wiznae funny, ah wiz pure greeting over a ejit blue dug…” (dammit bonnie, it wasn’t funny, I was crying over a stupid blue dog)

Price~ Price is a service man, we all know that, so of course he services your every need. He happily sits down and lets you infodump on about your special interest- he truly knows nothing about what you’re saying but you look so cute stimming away while you ramble. The military gave him a need for strict timelines and routine, much like you, so he can relate to a point. Always going over what the plan is for the day, just making sure you know everything in advance. “Look at y’a…yer so cute with those ear defenders luvie.”

gaz~ Gaz likes how quiet you are, he found it quite peaceful with your routine. Learns how to cook your food exactly how you like it, follows you around in sensory museums and is happy to go to the same restaurant every time with you. When he says he loves you, he means all of you. Including your autism. He likes it when you get spacey, your eyes looking off, lips gently parted. He’s happy to leave a social place and just hang out at home instead.

“Let’s watch that one movie, y’a know the one y’a like. The party? Nah, I’d rather stay at home with you.”

[kayhi808]

First Crush - 15

Steve, not knowing what Abby likes or didn't like, played it safe with pepperoni pizza. She said she liked the red round circles, so that was a safe bet.

Steve watched as she climbed up onto her chair with the booster seat. She made him nervous with some of her near misses. He was ready to move quick if she tipped over the chair or lost her footing. "You need help there, Abs?"

"No need. Tank you." She finally plops her bottom in her seat and Steve's able to release the breath he was holding. Earlier, she had instructed him on where to find the plates and glasses in the kitchen. And where to get her favorite cup for her juice because she can only drink out of that one. The other cups made her juice taste funny.

"I liked the stuff on top," picking off all the cheese and pepperoni and leaving a naked slice in her plate.

"I don't think your mom likes you to eat like that."

Nodding and licking her hand, "Uh huh."

"Abbbyyy." Steve gives her a pointed look, trying to look serious.

She cackles, hiding her laugh behind her hands, getting more pizza sauce on her face. "I almost tricks you!" She rolls up her naked pizza slice, holding it in her little fist and eats it like a churro.

"You can't be tricking me like that. I don't want to get your Mama mad at me. Do you want me to be in trouble?"

"No. I's just tricks you."

"If I get your Mama angry with me, she won't let me watch you or come over anymore."

Abby let's out a dramatic gasp, "No. I's sowwy. You my uncle. You needs to visit me now."

Steve smiles. "That's right. I'm your Uncle."

Suddenly Abby bites her lip and looks close to tears. "Uncle Steve? I did bads."

"What's wrong, Abby?" Steve patiently waits for her to continue. "I tricks you before. Mama only let me have 2 stories before sleeps. Not 3."

"You know what? I think we can make this a special treat tonight. I'm ok with 3 stories."

Abby squeals, jumping down off her seat and running around the table to Steve. She tugs on his arm so he can lean down and she gives him a greasy pizza kiss on his cheek. "Tank you so much!!"

Trying to dodge her sticky hands, he plops her back in her booster. "How about you finish up your pizza for me?"

Abby does a happy little wiggle in her chair and continues to eat. Steve grabs another slice for himself but can't help but pick off a couple pepperonis and added it to Abby's plate. "Tank yous!"

After dinner, Steve tried to clean Abby up the best he could. She had pizza sauce everywhere. He even had little red handprints on his shirt.

She had her little dance party after dinner. "Awexa? Play Abby's Dance Party, pwease." It's a mix of Disney and her favorite pop songs. Steve's personal favorite was a song "I'll Make A Man Out of You," because Abby insisted on singing to him along with a reenactment of the movie. He adds "Mulan" to his list of movies to watch. Steve also got a quick tutorial on Taylor Swift. He was also surprised she had music from the 1940s. "Oh, Mama needed to learn new dances." Abby shakes her butt, "like dis."

"Oh, like that, huh?"

"Yup."

******

You and Bucky return to your apartment. Steve is on the couch watching TV. You scan quickly to see if Abby is around. "How'd things go?"

"Great. She's in her room. Asleep." You walk down the hall to check on her. She's tucked in, all snug.

Returning to the living room, worried, "Did she give you any trouble?" You notice the hand print on his T-shirt.

"Not at all." Looking down at his shirt smiling. "She's a little aggressive when eating pizza. It'll come out in the wash. It's nothing. We drew and colored, had dinner, a dance party and got ready for bed."

"Thank you so much for tonight."

"Of course. Anytime." Bucky gives you a kiss, promising to call you in the morning and they head home.

******

"Mama! Yous home!" You open your eyes and Abby is up close and in your personal space. You grab her and roll her across you to plop her on your bed.

"Of course I'm home. I was only away for a little while," snuggling with your baby. "Did you have fun with Mr. Captain last night?"

"Oh, Mama, guess what's."

"What?"

"He's not Mr. Captain. He's Uncle Steve. He says so."

"Oh, yea?"

"Mmhmm. I told him, my family is you and me. And you know what he tells me?"

Your eyes fill with tears, "What did he tell you?"

"He says now I had a new Uncle, too!" Abby claps for herself. "I has more family, Mama! We not alone!"

"Yea, baby," pulling her close and tucking her under your chin. "We're not alone anymore."

@waywardhunter95 @wintrsoldrluvr @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @crazyunsexycool @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @ozwriterchick @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @samsgirl93 @buckitostan @blackbirdwitch22 @littleredwolf @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05

[trumpkinhotboy]

honeymoon | j.b

pairing. jacob black x reader

type. requested (thank youu)

warnings. none

word count. ~ 2000

a/n. i just had a twilight marathon and uhm yeah 🧍‍♀️ my obsession with jacob black and this whole universe is very much so still alive lmao. got this request and it made me want to scream and cry and throw up because can you imagine marrying him??? RAAAH anyway, hope you all will like this mwah xx

Ever since you had said I do to the love of your life, a permanent smile illuminated your face. So much so that your cheek muscles felt sore but you wouldn't trade that pain for anything else in the world.

The reception had been everything you could have ever wished for. It was intimate, only your families had been invited, people from the tribe and a few friends. You had the wedding on the reservation, and Emily made sure the whole setup had been turned into a magical fairy ambiance and you danced the night away surrounded by your loved ones. Jacob seemed on top of the world, his eyes never leaving your face, pure adoration shining in them. When the night came to a close, your excitement only grew as you headed to your own little home. It was a project you had been working on all summer. A quaint house, built in the woods of the reservation, close to your family. It was the house of your dreams and your heart squeezed in your chest at the sight of it and the future it promised you. Jacob carried you in his arms from the party, bridal style, insisting on holding up with the tradition. You crossed the threshold and stared adoringly at the scene in front of your eyes. Your friends had decorated the whole house with flowers and little presents to make sure you would feel all their love and happiness for your union.

You looked at the man holding you up like you weighed nothing, his eyes already locked on your face. The softness and intensity in his gaze made your organs quiver. "Aren’t you going to put me down?" you asked quietly.

"I'm not quite ready to let go yet," he murmured with a little grin.

"We’re married now, I really can’t escape you anymore, you know," you teased but felt his hands imperceptibly tighten on your body at your words. You smiled softly, lifting your hand to cup his warm cheek. "Not that I would ever want to." He nodded before you brought your lips to his, unable to wait any longer. You melted into him, feeling his grip tighten as you deepened the kiss while your breaths synced perfectly. You felt him start to move and hoped he would bring you to the room of your desire. When you heard the door of your bedroom open and felt him sit on the bed, you smiled in the kiss. Softly he pulled away, his breath ragged and fast.

"You okay there hubby?" he nodded with his eyelids shut tight, as if he was trying hard to focus. "Jacob, look at me." He finally opened his eyes and what you saw in them wasn’t what you expected. Fear and uncertainty tainted his gaze. In a heartbeat worry replaced your prior elation. You wiggled in his arms until you were sitting on him, straddling his legs with your wedding dress trailing down. "Is everything okay? Are- are you happy?”

The twinge of uncertainty in your voice seemed to shake him out of his previous state. "Of course I am." He trailed his hands up your arms in a reassuring motion.

"Then what’s going on?"

"I can’t believe this is real. I’m still not grasping the reality of it, I think." Your hand wandered in his short hair, softly pulling at strands of it. "But it is real," you insisted.

"I know, but this is all I've ever wanted. Never in my deepest dreams have I ever thought I could get this, that I could get you."

Ever since Jacob and you started going out he had trouble believing any of it was real. You didn't mind, you would tell and show him over and over again how much you loved him. Even if you didn't think he would still doubt your feelings or the depth of your relationship on your wedding night, you understood what he meant. Even you felt that 'pinch me' urge a few times in the night. "I’ve been in love with you since I was old enough to know what being in love means. I also have a hard time believing this is real. But it is Jake, we have our whole lives in front of ourselves and I can’t wait to do it all with you by my side."

This time he initiated the kiss, his strong hands applying soft pressure on your shoulder blades to bring you as close as possible to his body. You felt his hand on the zipper of your dress and shivered at the thought of him undoing it but he waited and looked at you for a second before you nodded your agreement. Softly, he untied your dress. You stood as he helped you step out of it, leaving you in nothing but your white lace underdress. With his eyes glued to your body, he sat there motionless. You giggled and stepped between his legs to slowly undo the bow at his neck. Once that was done, you unbuttoned his shirt, loving the way his breath accelerated with every touch of your fingers on his tan skin. You softly kissed his neck and chest as you pulled the shirt from his body, feeling your core tighten at the sight of his muscular body. You wished to kiss every inch of his plush skin and promised yourself you’d get to do it.

"I- I've never done this you know."

You stopped to look at him, "Me neither but we can figure it out together."

He nodded at that, his hand trailing the curve of your back. "Are you scared I'm going to hurt you?" He stopped the movement to bring his hands palms up on his thighs. You slid your smaller ones in his. You always loved Jacob's hands. They were strong, diligent hands. Yes, they were able to break and hurt things if needed, but these were also soft and delicate hands able to give the best and warmest caresses and hugs.

"Not even a little bit." Bringing one hand to rest on your cheek, the other to your mouth, you closed your eyes and rested in the warmth they diffused. Jacob was completely silent, hypnotized by the frenzy every touch from you started in his body. "We'll guide each other, okay?"

"We can do that,” he agreed in a hushed voice.

Big hands slid down to grip the back of your thighs, bringing your chest flush to his titled up face.

One kiss on your sternum, another on your ribs, another on your belly. Shivers danced on your skin, head lolling back as you surrendered to his touch.

[battymommastuff]

The Loop [Happy Birthday]

Batmom x Batfamily

Prompt: Your husband and children decide to throw you a surprise birthday party. What could possibly go wrong?

TW : DARK THEMES AND DEATH

When it came to your birthday, it was more you treating your family. Instead of breakfast in bed with a bouquet of flowers, your family was greeted with a massive breakfast. Every time they told you that it was unnecessary; They were more than capable of making you breakfast. 

Every year you never asked for anything for your birthday. You had everything you could ever want. What more could you ever need? 

"Breakfast was amazing Y/N!" Barbara said as she sat in the kitchen with you while you washed the dishes. Another tradition on your birthday was to give Alfred a day off. Sometimes he wondered if it was his birthday instead of yours. 

"Thank you, darling." You said with a small laugh. While Barbara kept you company, down below in the batcave; The rest of your family were hard at work. 

"Father, I think this object can wait. Mother's balloons need to be blown up." Damian said as he held a purple balloon in his hands. He, Dick, and Jason were busy blowing up balloons for the surprise party tonight. Almost everyone in the city had been invited, and it was going to be the party of the decade. Everything had to be perfect for you. 

"There was a reason that Ra's wanted this, and I'm going to figure it out." Bruce said as he studied the mysterious object in his hands. Damian felt a slight twinge in his heart after hearing his grandfather's name. Being here so long, he sometimes forgot about that part of his life. He preferred this one so much more. 

"There's plenty of time to figure it out. I'm sure the mystery will still be here after tonight." Duke said as he took the object from Bruce. He examined it curiously then set it down on a nearby table. He was the only one that hadn't been there that night when it was taken from the League of Assassins 

Bruce let out a huff before he turned around and looked at each of the people he'd come to see as his children. 

"What do you need me to do first?"

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No one will ever know how she managed to do it, but Cass somehow got you to dress completely formal. She managed to do this while not giving away the surprise. She just acted like she wanted to play dress up with you as a way to bond. Next, she was dragging you down the hallway to 'take a picture'. When you got to the top of the staircase, you were met with a decorated room and a large crowd. 

"SURPRISE!"

Your hand flew to your chest as you looked at everyone in shock, then back to Cass who held a smirk on her face. "You sneaky little thing." You cooed while squishing her cheeks between your pointer finger and thumb. You were soon joined by your family in a massive group hug. Damian was in high protest to this idea, but refused to be the one furthest from you. He wiggled his way into your arms causing Bruce to be pushed out of the way. 

The party went on perfectly. Each one of your children danced with you to a different song, and your smile didn't leave your face. This was a night that you were going to remember for the rest of your life. It was another reminder of why you loved your family so much. Your final dance before you would take a little break was with Barbara. 

You held her hands as the both of you swayed as best you could with her in her wheel chair. At first she denied your request to dance for that very reason, but you wouldn't let her skip out on the fun. 

Barbara was the first to notice a little red dot climbing it's way up your body. Jason was the second, "Mom! Get down!" He yelled as Barbara put her hands on your hips to push you down. It was too late...

The sound of glass shattering halted the entire party as a bullet whizzed into the room and headed right for you. 

The blood...

The screaming...

The chaos....

Every Wayne family member stood frozen as they watched your body collapse to the ground. A bullet hole right between your eyes. Such accuracy. Your family couldn't shake the shock they felt. This couldn't be real, you couldn't be dead...

Barbara being the closest to you looked down at her dress which had a small blood splatter on it from the bullet entering your body. Her eyes are as wide as saucers, and her skin paler than snow. She watched a pool of blood form around your head and the front of her wheelchair. Her ears ringing from the shock she felt having witnessed this so close. 

Dick was the first one to you after he found the will to move. He collapsed on the ground, not caring if blood was staining his suit pants. "Mom? Mom!" He cried out hoping that you were somehow still alive. The bullet went clean through, and he could see the blood pool through the hole. He clutched your body in his arms hoping that you would hold him in return. 

One by one your children crowded around your corpse. Each one of them saying their own prayer in hopes you would come back. Each one of them talking to your lifeless body hoping for a response. All they got was a lifeless stare. 

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Jim Gordon approached Dick slowly. He had Damian tucked under his arm as the young boy hid his face in his older brother's chest. He didn't want the news to see him crying, but everyone knew that he was. "We have to take her body in for an autopsy. Can you get him to let us take her?" He asked gently then gestured to Bruce. 

He was sitting in the drying blood pool with your body in his arms. Tears streamed down his face as his mind flashed back to the night he lost his parents. Him holding his mother's body in the same way that he was holding yours.  He blamed himself for his parent's death, and now he was blaming himself for yours. If he hadn't married you, then you would be alive. You would be safe. Of course he wouldn't be. He wouldn't have the love of his life, but your fate wouldn't have been this. 

"Bruce? They need to take her body." Stephanie said as she crouched down next to him. Her hand hesitantly rested on his shoulder. She watched as Bruce shook his head, and held you closer to his chest. He heard them unzipping the body bag, and he couldn't bring himself to let you go. Stephanie looked to Tim, who had been standing with Jason and Duke. Jason hadn't said a word since the police arrived. Duke was staying by his side to make sure he wasn't going to do something reckless. 

After some more convincing, Bruce finally allowed himself to be separated from you. He watched as they picked your body up, and put it into the bag. He felt the bile rise into his throat as the zipper slowly covered your body. 

The family gathered around each other to comfort one another. They found themselves in the same group hug, but instead of laughter and love, it was filled with sorrows and sobs. 

"S-Sir...this was left for you." Alfred said as he held a music box in his hand. His hands were shaking as he tried to hold himself together. Alfred knew someone had to be strong, and he wasn't going to let it be any of the people he called family. Bruce stepped forward to take the music box. He opened it, and a clock slowly lifted up and the hands started spinning. A sweet song filled the air, and the Batfamily felt their eyes start to droop.

"What's going on?" Tim asked as he leaned on Stephanie for support. Barbara was the first one to succumb to the powerful feeling. Her body slumped and then fell out of her chair. Dick tried to get to her, but he passed out as well. One by one each member fell to the ground seemingly in a deep sleep. Bruce was the last, he collapsed to the ground with the last thing he saw being the music box. 

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Bruce shot up with a gasp, and looked around frantically. He was in his bed, in his pajamas. He looked at the time, and it was six in the morning. He looked over to your side of the bed where he saw that it was messy. As if you had just gotten up. His eyes then moved to the bathroom door where he could see the light on. 

"Y/n?" He called out, and felt his heart drop into his stomach when he saw you step out with a sleepy smile on your face. Your smile turned to concern when you saw how your husband was looking at you.

"Bruce? What's wrong?" You asked, crossing the room to sit on the bed with him. Bruce wanted to tell you everything. He wanted to tell you how he watched you get shot in the head. How he held your lifeless body, but it didn't matter. It was a dream...all a dream.

"Nothing, just a bad dream." He said then kissed your shoulder. You gave him a weird look, but shook it off and kissed his cheek. 

"Go back to sleep, I'll wake you up after I make my famous birthday breakfast." You said and did a little dance. Before Bruce could react, the door slammed open, and you saw each of your children staring at you as if they'd seen a ghost. 

"What is wrong with you guys?" You then stood up with a slight pout, "Don't tell me you beat me to breakfast, I wanted to make it." You hoped that breakfast was the issue. Soon after you said that, you were nearly tackled by several people. You didn't know why your children were so happy to see you when they saw you a few hours ago. 

After peeling yourself away from your family, you left to make your birthday breakfast. You had no clue what had gotten into any of them, but it wasn't going to stop your birthday tradition. 

[imaginaryf1shots]

My Girls | Liefje

WC: 1.5K

Summery:(REQUESTED) Just Max being a girl dad

Warnings: None

A.N: Could be read as a stand alone or a part of the series.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Max Masterlist

Nattie is the apple of Max’s eye. To Cecilia, sometimes it feels like Max is only with her because he loves her daughter. The smile he gets every time she calls him daddy.

Nathalie knows how much Max loves her. She felt it before she began calling him daddy. She's the one that asked him to call her daddy when he loved her like a dad would. When he treated her like a dad would. Nathalie, in her 20s, will always say thank you to Max for being the perfect dad that she always wanted the first few years of her life. Nattie knew her powers and her hold on Max the moment he'd do

anything for her even when her mum told her no.

One time Cecilia wouldn't let Nathalie stay up and watch a movie, she left the house for a girl's sleepover at Charles's house(he was kicked out). The moment Cecilia was out of the door, Nathalle turned to Mas and pouted and that's all it took for the girls to stay up and watch movies with Max.

From that moment they always did whatever Nathalie wanted. Max properly memorised every children movie ever made, from how much Nathalie would make him sit down and watch with her, because she doesn't like watching alone.

"Daddy" Nathalie shouted from her bedroom, Cecilia and Max were sitting together having some snacks with the TV playing, they were half paying attention half talking.

“Go on then, daddy" Cecilla teased and prepared herself to not have Max for the rest of the day.

"What's not my fault I'm the favourite Max teased his girlfriend kissing her cheek before walking off. Cecilia swats his butt the moment he turns around, making her boyfriend look at her over his shoulder and glare.

"Charles is still the favorite!" She calls and he disappears down the hallway, grumbling to herself how both her daughter and boyfriend prefer Charles. The moment Max is in the bedroom he knows what he's in for Nathalie has her toys all sitting on the small toy table in her room, there's a ‘teapot’ on the table with ‘mugs’.

"Daddy, it's a tea party" Nathalie exclaims and Max smiles at her, any idea of him trying to wiggle out of it is thrown out the window instantly, her excited face has him in a chokehold. "I’ll give you tea."

"What kind of tea is it?" Max said and Nathalie stops to think for a moment, a cute look on her face.

"What kind does momie love?" Nathalie whispers, leaning forward in her chair.

"Chamomile" Max whispers, and Nathalie frowns.

"Ch-cam" She says and looks up at Max with wide expected eyes.

"Good job! My favourite kind of tea "Max raises his cup for her to ‘pour’ some tea in, and thanks her before he 'sips' on the tea. "Hmm, so delicious, so much better than momie’s, just don't tell her I said that” Max raises a finger to his lips and Nathalie giggles and copies him.

Cecilia could hear the laughter from her place in the living room, smiling to herself.

Max and Cecilia were scheduled to arrive at the track at different times, with Cecilia having to leave early Nathalie was to go with Max. The driver was given a car to drive for the weekend, Nathalie was strapped in, in the front seat, being old enough to sit in front now. The windows were down, the music was playing and Nathalie was singing to her heart's content, Max mouthing the lyrics with her to appease her.

The girly music is something Max will never be caught listening to, if Nathalie wasn't with him, but here he is arriving at the paddock with the music blasting for everyone to hear and they heard it, they had Nathalie singing and saw Max Mouthing the words.

Nathalie continues singing even when they're out of the car, she's in such a happy mode, she skips and dances as she walks, she even holds Max's hand for him to twirl her around. The driver is caught smiling as he looks at his daughter.

Once more, Cecilia has a work function that is wrongly timed, Nathalie has a show in school. She wanted both her parents there. She asked Max first to come before HE reminded her to ask her mum as well. When she was told of the work event she wasn't the saddest, having Max there was more than enough for her, and they'd do the same show next week and Cecilia would be there, Max will be at both.

Max dropped off Nathalie earlier in the day, so the kids could change and get ready. The Red Bull driver arrived earlier than most to take a good seat to watch and film his daughter. The smile he had on his face when the curtain opened and his daughter was standing there. Nathalie's eyes ran over the crowd before they settled on Max's face, her smile mimored his, she gave half a wave before she remembered that she had to be acting.

When Cecilia was watching the videos, she heard Max giggling at her mishap and then cheering loudly for her, shouting her name when they bowed at the end of the show.

Max made his way backstage with a bouquet of flowers in hand, Cecilia's favourite, which also became Nathalie's favourite seeing as how it's the kind Max always buys.

"Thalia!” Max exclaims and the girl turns around and runs into his arms for a hug, the grin on her face permanent. "You did so good, liefje, I’m so proud of you.”

"Thank you daddy." Nathalie said and pulled back her eyes falling onto the bouquet, she looked up at Max with big eyes waiting for confirmation.

"Theses… are for you." Mas hands her the flowers and she squeaks taking them, a few parents standing around laugh at her cuteness

"Do you want me to take a picture?" A mother comes and asks Max, he instantly agrees, they take a few poses with each other and then he takes way more pictures of Nathalie alone. You best believe it's his lock screen photo for a long time, Cecile raised a brow at the lock screen, the one before it was her and Nathalie

"Daddy!" Nathalie runs into the streaming room, before Cecilia could stop her, Max glances at her before he goes back to the game.

"What's up, did you guys do face masks?" Mas asked, seeing the green mask on his daughter's face. Cecilia told him they'll have a spa night.

"Yes! Momie, said I can't put some on you, but I want to, so can I please, please, please.” Nathalie begs, pouting with that look on her face that she knows will get her whatever she wants.

"Nathalie, he's streaming, we can do it later.” Cecilia stands out of the camera shot, wearing a robe to hide her bralette and short shorts underneath. Max looks between his girlfriend and daughter and before he could even say anything, Cecilia groans.

"Can you do it while I'm steaming?" Max asks Nathalie and she grins nodding.

”I can, I promise, I won't bother you, I swear" Max then nods and Nathalie nuns out of the room.

"You spoil her way too much" Cecilia could be heard saying before she leaves the room, Max shakes his head.

"They always put me in the middle, these too" Max tells the chat, and finishes the game, the rest of the red-line team tease him, but he ignores them. Nathalie comes with the tubin hand and the spreading tool, she carefully starts applying the mask on his cheeks, before making him turn to face her when he's between games. To her credit, Nathalie, didn't make a mess, she was clean and as precise she could "Thalia, when do I need to washi

"In 15 minutes, amour." Cecilia calls from another room, and Max glances at the time.

"You boys got 15 minutes of making fun of me, before I end the stream.” Max tells the stream, and Nathalie sits on his lap after she's done to watch him play, Cecilla comes for her when her 15 minutes are over and they leave Max to finish the stream alone

Cecilia walks in the bathroom to Max washing his face.

"Amour, you spoil her too much, really" Cecilia tells him and sighs, Max continues to roughly wash his face in the way men always do. "Why are you so rough? Slow down."

“I can't help it when she looks at me with those big eyes, that look like yours by the way, I can’t say no, and she says daddy in that tone, and it’s just game over for me.” Max explains and Cecilia rolls her eyes.

"You need to take some lessons from my dad." Cecilia says and sigh

"don't think it help, your dad isn't strong, it's you mum that stops him." Max says and Cecilia pauses before she agrees.

"True, but you got to say no, when I say no, I don't want her to grow up spoiled and feed to everything the wants"

"She won't." Mas finishes washing his face and turns to look at her

"How can you be so sure?”

"Because you're not." Cecilia smiled and pecked his lips.

"Your daughter wants you to tuck her in!” Cecilia giggles and leaves the bathroom.

Taglist:

@luciaexcorvus . @vellicora . @tpwkstiles . @belennasif . @eugene-emt-roe . @fanboyluvr . @fangirl125reader . @christianpulisic10 . @belennasif . @itsjustkhaos . @crashingwavesofeuphoria . @mynameisangeloflife . @mirrorball-6 . @skynel09 . @barcelonaloverf1life . @lilipiggytails . @rebelatbay . @christianpulisic10 . @ironmaiden1313 . @dark-night-sky-99 . @amalialeclerc . @bborra . @allsouls-emma . @buckybarns4life . @distancedss . @xoscar03 . @aquangxl . @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy . @theseerbetweenus .

[the-californicationist]

Hey🐻❤ Can i say something ? Yeah ? Sooo

Price and Reader have sex in an abandoned parking lot after going to a bar🍻

That's all I had to say 🙇‍♀️❤

omg hot!!! hope this is kinda what you were looking for. im so sorry for the wait. thank you for being patient with me!

The After Party

The MacTavish wedding was the party of the century, and you were feeling the effects of their pricey Brut champagne. Your husband, John, had stolen a bottle for you, and you were nearly half-done with it, carefully pulling it up to your lips and letting the tiny bubbles pop on your tongue. 

Even though it was almost dawn, the party was still raging inside the bar Johnny had rented out. John had taken you aside and whispered into your ear,

“C’mon. Have a smoke with me, missus.”

While the newlyweds were distracted by their guests, so you and the captain had made a break for it, sneaking out of the reception undetected. You smiled, following him out back into the parking lot, admiring his ass in those silky black slacks. He always looked so fit when he got dressed up, even if he hated every minute of it.

John headed to his truck, popping open the door and digging around for another cigar. You leaned against the tailgate, trying to find some relief for your aching feet. John noticed your discomfort,

“Those heels botherin’ you, love?”

“Yeah,” you sighed.

“Here,” he helped you up onto his tailgate, sitting you on the cold metal, “Let’s sit for a while. Give me a chance to enjoy this.” He wiggled the fat cigar in his hands, smiling at you. 

“Aren’t they gonna miss us?” You nodded to the bar, listening to the sound of muffled dance music coming from its bright, glowing windows. 

“Ah, I’m sure the happy couple is plenty distracted.”

John hopped up on the tailgate with you, puffing on his cigar, making sure the tip was evenly lit. When he was happy with it, he offered it to you. You took it, sucking the smoke into your mouth and tasting its sweet tobacco and vanilla notes. It was a huge cigar, so too much of it and you’d really be wasted. The champagne was already enough to make your cheeks hot. 

You closed your eyes, trying to sober up a bit. John’s hand rubbed your bare back, fiddling with the straps of your low-cut dress as he fussed over you. 

“Is my girl a little bevied up tonight? Maybe I should take that bottle back,” he laughed at you, teasing you good-naturedly. 

“No,” you clutched the bottle like a prize, playing with him, “Pry it out of my cold, dead hands, mister.”

He held his hands up in mock-surrender, 

“Alright, alright. Just don’t blame me when you get into trouble.”

“What trouble?” You took his cigar from him again and purposefully took a long drag, challenging him, trying to goad him into flirting with you. 

He fell into your trap, chuckling as he took one of his fingers and traced his way from your sparkling gold necklace all the way down into the cleavage of your dress, making you gasp, 

“You know what trouble,” he leaned in for a smoky kiss, stealing his stick back, “My woman, dressed like that, gettin’ sloshed on champagne… I know where this path leads.”

“Oh?” You giggled, running your palm across his heavy thigh, feeling his muscles through the expensive cloth, “Where’s that?”

“I’ll show you.” He raised his eyebrows, getting a little smart with you, and hopped off of the tailgate. He stood in front of you, cigar bitten in his mouth, and used both of his hands to pull you closer to him, forcing your legs apart to accommodate his wide body. 

You giggled, letting yourself be man-handled, enjoying every moment of it. 

Then, he reached both of his warm hands up under the glittering hem of your dress, tracing up your legs, feeling their shaved smoothness, until he found your hips. John smiled, balancing the cigar expertly on his lips, enjoying the surprised look on your face. His fingers twirled around the straps of your thong, and he pulled it off of you, guiding it over your knees and past your strappy heels, admiring the gold lace that filled his palm. 

He brought the panties to his nose and dodged your half-hearted kick as you admonished him, 

“John!” 

“What?” He was incredulous, “I know this smell.”

He had the audacity to sniff them again, and you smacked him on his chest, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him react. John smiled, recoiling, teasing you, 

“Smells like sloshed, horny wife, so it does. Mmm.”

“Oh, my God! What if someone saw you?” You hissed, laughing in pure shock at your husband’s actions. 

“And?” He put on a serious face for you then, pocketing your panties, spreading your legs, and tucking his body between them again, getting right up in your face and taking a long pull from his cigar, letting the smoke linger between you, cascading down his full lip. He snarled, “Who’s gonna stop me? Did you see any bloke in there bigger than me? Stronger, hm?”

You shook your head, feeling your heart race with excitement at his sudden dominance. Even if you knew he was just trying to get you riled up, it was working. 

“Did you see anyone who would have the bollocks to stop me from touching my woman…” His hands were wandering, rubbing your smooth thigh up and down, pulling on the tight muscle of your calf, “Whenever, or wherever I want?”

You shook your head again, biting your lip, leaning back into the bed of the truck, letting your breasts lift towards his face, taunting him with your skin. 

He took one of your shoulder straps and pulled it down, letting it dangle across your arm. As it did, the top of its delicate fabric triangle folded, lower and lower, until the top of your breast was exposed, falling almost as low as your nipple. 

His eyes narrowed, giving you a hard stare,

“Give me your hand, missus.”

You held out your hand, palm up, submitting to his whim. 

He took it in his and pulled you forward, lowering your arm until your fingers felt the rigid marble cock he was concealing behind his zipper. John pressed your palm on him, flexing his muscle for you, letting you feel his desire.

You were leaning so far over that his face was right by your ear, and he whispered to you, menacingly, 

“If I wanted to, I’d have taken you in that bar, and there’s not a fuckin’ man alive who could stop me.”

“So,” you said, staring him down, showing him your fearless hunger, “Take me, then.”

It was his turn to wear a mask of surprise on his face, but it quickly turned to joy. He hopped up into the truck bed with you and pulled you inside, lifting the tailgate closed with a loud slam. 

John kept a thick blanket in the truck bed for emergencies, and he folded it up, laying you down on it, making sure you were comfortable. He kissed your neck, but he wasted no time in peeling down the top of your dress, exposing your nipples to the night air. You took the cigar from him so he could suckle on your flesh, leaving little hickies where he wanted to, something for you to admire later. 

You smoked his cigar, letting it get you high as your husband fondled you. His mouth was hot and greedy, and you realized John was a little more worked up than you had previously assumed. You could feel him thrusting against you absentmindedly, not realizing he was doing it, rubbing himself against your beaded gown.

You caught his furry jaw in your hands, pulling him away from his delicious work, dragging him up to kiss your mouth. You shared his smoke between you, letting it fill your senses. You’d take a drag in, share it with him, letting it fall into his lips, and then kiss him through it, tasting each other among the warm notes. 

“John,” you whispered between his wet kisses, “I need you.”

“Need to work up to it, love. Don’t wanna hurt you,” he whispered, rucking up your dress. 

You smiled, knowing he would realize the truth in just a moment. Indeed, as soon as you felt his fingertips dip into your pussy, his eyes shot up in shock and wonder. He breathed in a gasp, dipping his finger into you again, not believing what he was feeling, 

“You are so wet for me. Naughty girl. So ready for your man’s cock, hm?”

“I told you,” you kissed him, feeling his finger sink deeper inside of you, drowning in you, “I’m ready for you, John. Don’t make me wait.”

He brought his hand to his mouth and sucked you off of his skin. Then, he went back for seconds, dipping his forefinger into you like you were the batter of a cake, sugary sweet and forbidden. 

Then, once he had his fill of your taste, he fumbled with his slacks, raking his black leather belt off in one long pull, letting it clatter somewhere in the metal bed of the truck. His fingers pried open his button and yanked down his zipper, freeing his fat rod and jerking it with his hand. 

Unceremoniously, and in a bit of a rush, he mounted you, rucking up your dress even further. You spread yourself for him, wrapping your legs around his strong glutes, feeling them squeeze together to help him thrust into your hungry core. 

It was a tight fit, as usual. John was always so heavy and thick; you had a hard time working up to his size. But, you took a deep breath and let your wetness glide him in. His ragged sigh of relief was intoxicating. 

“Oh, bloody hell, missus.” He furrowed his brow as if in pain.

“You alright, John?” You tried to relax, but you could feel your body responding without you, pulsing around him with a warm, eagerness. 

“You’re warm, baby. Just what I needed. So fuckin’ good to me.”

He ducked his head into the crook of your neck and began to thrust into you, deeper and deeper until he found his end. In the back of your mind, as you gazed up at the sparkling stars, you hoped no one could hear you, but your husband’s earlier dominance made you care a little less. And as he built you up to a frothing orgasm, you found yourself caring not at all. 

Suddenly, the music from the bar got louder, and you heard the door slam closed to the bar. John stilled above you, covering you with his body, watching over his shoulder for someone to come by. Your heart was beating hard in your chest, and you gave his cock a squeeze from inside of you, pulling at his shaft with your muscle. He looked down at you, smiling, and gave you a quick pulse in return, teasing you. Both of you were clearly excited about the prospect of being caught. 

Footsteps made their way through the gravel lot, the loud jingle of keys, a door opening and slamming shut. Then, their engine revved and they pulled away, leaving you alone again. 

“Filthy little thing,” John whispered, picking up his pace again, “Squeezin’ me like that. You tryin’ to get caught, missus?”

“Just wanna make you feel good, John. Want to feel you come in me.”

“Christ,” he lamented, clenching his teeth and fucking you faster, obviously heated by your words and your wet, sticky desire, “Squeeze me again, then. Yeah… ungh… just like that. Keep doin’ that, pretty girl. You’ll get your wish.”

When he thrust into you, you tried to relax, letting his cock slip inside. Then, when he tried to leave, you twisted your muscles against him, pulling him in, trying to milk his come from his swollen head. It was driving him wild. His eyes fluttered, rolling back into his head as he thrust into you, harder and harder, chasing down your orgasm with a vengeance. 

He put his fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself, growling at you through clenched teeth, 

“Suck.”

You grabbed his hand with both of yours, feeling your tits bouncing as he fucked you, holding his fingers in your mouth, and you began to suckle on them dutifully. You could smell and taste your scent, and it was making you feral. You let your tongue loll between his fingers, sucking hard on his sensitive tips, watching his face as his jaw fell slack. 

Then, he pulled them away from you and used them to rub against your clit, one finger on either side, making tight circles and teasing you until your legs began to shake. 

“Holy fuck,” he said, watching you fall apart, “Such a good girl for me, aren’t ya? Gonna come on me, baby?”

You nodded, plucking at your nipples, squeezing your breasts as they shook from his thrusting. 

“Good girl. Come on me. Let me feel it.”

You felt your body go rigid as the bright, flashing pleasure coiled its way into your belly, and you couldn’t help but let out a deep moan. Quick as a flash, John kissed you, letting you moan into his mouth instead of into the night air, quieting you as you exploded underneath him, shamelessly bucking against his hard length as you rode out your pleasure. 

He kept kissing you, sucking at your tongue and bottom lip, talking to you through your bliss, 

“That’s it. Just what I needed, pretty girl. Love this fuckin’ pussy.”

“I love you, John,” you said, suddenly overwhelmed with your emotions and the deep sensations he was giving you. 

It caught him off-guard, and he smiled from it, 

“I love you too, baby. You ready for me, hm?”

You nodded, whispering a yes into his neck. He looked at you with a pleading expression, 

“Tell me.”

“I need your come, John. Come in me. Fill me up, please. I want you to come in my pussy.  I want it running down my legs.”

“Oh, fuck!” He raised his voice just for a moment, but you didn’t care.

As you watched him tumble into his orgasm, shuddering between your legs, nothing would distract you from that gorgeous scene. His face twisted and then relaxed, exhausted from his efforts, a half-smile painted on his lips.

He looked down at you in surprise, breathing heavy and recovering. He slid himself out of you, leaving you with a terrible emptiness. You felt his cream drip from your body, and he wiped his cock on your thigh before he tucked himself back into his dress pants. 

John collapsed next to you in the truck bed, staring up at the stars for the first time, resting his head on your breast. 

You were wrecked, and you pet his hair, softly soothing yourself with him. 

He looked up at you, that playfulness returning to his eyes, 

“Runnin’ down your legs, hm?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes, 

“Yeah, so? You seemed to like the idea, mister.”

“I do,” he kissed your breast and took your nipple into his mouth, watching you squirm from being overstimulated, “In fact, I think it’s a good idea.”

“You’re not serious,” you gasped. 

“C’mon. No one’ll notice.”

He sat up, checked the surroundings to make sure the coast was clear and then helped you up. He lowered the tailgate and helped you stand. Your feet still ached in your shoes, and you had to catch yourself on his strong arm. He steadied you, making sure you were alright before he grabbed your hand and led you back inside. 

“I can’t believe we’re doing this, John,” you felt your cheeks blush bright red. 

“Be brave, missus. I’ll make it worth your while later.”

His face suggested more of his dirty fun, and you nodded, crossing your fingers no one looked at you too closely. 

Luckily, no one had noticed your absence. John helped you into a booth and ordered two more glasses of champagne, sliding into the seat beside you. All night, through the slit of your gown, he rubbed your leg, getting little drops of his come and playing with it on your skin, working you up and teasing you in front of all of your friends, secretly smearing his gift into your thigh. 

All night, and during the drive home, you couldn’t keep his hands off of your legs. He kept playing with you, getting bolder and bolder by the minute. When you got into the house, he stripped you, leaving your gown abandoned on the kitchen floor, carrying you straight into the den and laying you on the couch, not even bothering to make it to the bedroom.

He had a burning look in his eye as he commanded you, taking off his clothes as he barked his orders, 

“Spread your legs, missus. Let me see you. Wider.”

You did as you were told, your mind reeling from his threatening tone, eager to submit to him again. 

“Mm. You are fuckin’ gorgeous covered in my come. It’s everywhere,” he stared at your pussy and your inner thighs with wonder, using his hands to feel the shining fluids coating your skin. 

Then, to your shock, he bent to lick you clean, sucking on your folds and lapping at your wet hole, wriggling his tongue deeper and deeper, trying to eat himself out of you. 

“John!” You gasped, “What are you — ungh, fuck!”

His fingers fucked you as he ate from you, swallowing what your body gave him, licking up his mess from your legs and lips like a hungry dog, ignoring your cries of protest. 

“You want me to stop, missus?”

You shook your head, petting his scalp and scratching your fingers through it.

“Aye,” he grinned, “Didn’t think so. Hope you’re ready for round two.”

If you enjoyed this story, please consider a reblog! Thank you!!

AO3 Link

[jeonsbabygirlsworld]

CHAMPAGNE CONFETTI

SUMMARY: It was supposed to be a perfect night to spend with Jungkook and his mom, though you are nervous Jungkook helps you to calm down but after a few hours the things take a toll on you both .

PAIRINGS: FWB TO LOVERS (rockstar Jungkook x Reader)

WORD COUNT:2.1k

WARNINGS: AGNST, SMUT, FLUFF at the end kind of not really...? also Jungkook rides a bike, has a beef with his brother. Reader slaps Jungkook once .

SMUT WARNINGS: Unprotected sex, Fingering in elevator, oral m,f , missionary, cream pie as always, fingering, so many kisses, squirting, making a sex tape for like 2 minutes?

A/N: oh god 3D jungkook has an effect on me you guys I hope you enjoy this . As always please like, comment, follow and reblog sweet pies. <3

“I don’t know Jungkook are you sure about it?” You ask nervous about the fact he had invited you to his mother's birthday party. 

“I’m sure baby, please come. I'm sure she would love to have you there, also wanna have champagne confetti there?”He said and you just know he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Fine kook I’ll get ready. Can you come and pick me up, also I’m always up for it”You answer him chuckling right away.

“Yeah, baby I’ll be there in a few get ready yeah baby, and great.” Saying goodbye, he hangs up. 

Present

You get ready soon after his call doing a slight makeup, hair styled in wavy curls and wearing a new dress you saved for a special occasion the dress ends right above your knees. 

There was a knock you heard while wearing your black heels. Opening the door, you meet with the site of Jungkook dressed in a suit his hair-sleeked blazer resting in his hands and a few buttons unbuttoned. 

“Hey pretty girl, you ready?” Jungkook whispered while extending his right hand, nodding at him you allow him to guide you to His bike. “Hop on pretty girl,”he says giving you a helmet. Make sure to not ruin your hair. 

“Hold on tight baby,” he says starting his bike, the speed of his bike fastened while you reach the venue safely “Kook I’m nervous what will she think about us,”you say nervously while jungkook walks you into the elevator“Relax she is gonna love you,”he says huffing out a chuckle “I’m just stressed,” you say entering the lift and staying by the railing. 

“Can I do something to make you relax baby?”Jungkook says pressing his body to yours “Jungkook you crazy” you answer not believing him “Come on y/n we’re going 28, you’ve got 25 floors to come” he heaved “fuck go for it, kook” you say his fingers coming up to circle your clit rubbing them in eight shapes and inserting his fingers “cum baby” he said while you whined “oh my god gonna cum” you say slightly griping his blazer not wanting to ruin it. 

“Gonna cum jungkook” you moaned yeah’s leaving your mouth soon cumming on his fingers and removing them he sucks on them “mm came so much” he teases you “Shut up let’s go”You kiss his cheeks. 

While the elevator Dings and opens to the Room directly, holding his hands he guides you to meet his Mom woah she looks amazing you say loudly in your mind “Hi, good evening Mrs. Jeon, Happy Birthday” you say a bit cheerful “Oh hello dear and Thank you so much” she says hugging you both “Son make her comfortable all right?” She stated “Yes Mom don’t worry”Jungkook exclaimed. 

Now both you and jungkook and his mother were sitting on the sofa chatting about the new song he was going to release “Hey Kook let her listen to the song you going to release”you say excitedly “ Yes here you go Mom”he smiled. 

In the middle of the song buzzing he gladly told his mother to dance with him “Oh Mom, I love you” The room was completely filled with laughs and giggles while saw them happily dancing while his mother called you too “Come here honey, join us” she says forwarding her right hand accepting it you both started dancing “oh twirl sweetie “she says while Jungkook stood there looking at both of you with a wide grin. 

“Oh, looks like someone is having a great time over here”Then there came someone whom Jungkook wished never to see. His older brother. While you squeaked a tiny “hi” to him. Jungkook stopped the music looking at his mother “Mom? You said it was going to be only us, didn’t you?” He hounded “I said it because I knew if I told you he was going to come you wouldn’t have come here” she said grabbing his arm “Leave Mom I don’t wanna stay” he said removing her hands, Jungkook eyes his brother “Oh she’s the new one kook? Good taste indeed” his brother laughs “You always bring someone new, you going to push her off too soon? Using her just for her body, right?”He says with a whiskey glass in his hand “Baby get your purse we are leaving” Jungkook warns “Did I get on your nerves, Kook, you had one girl, but it was too boring right? So two girls are cool for you?”  His brother laughed away. 

It happens really quickly Jungkook grabs the glass from which he was drinking and hits him luckily his brother misses it his mother yells “Jungkook are you crazy?” She says raising her voice, never batting an eye he grabs you by your hand while you stand still scared “y/n get it together let’s go” he growls. 

Getting back to your senses you “Jungkook are you fucking stupid? What would have happened if it would have fucking hit your brother?” You bombard him with questions only to receive a low groan “fuck”. 

Jungkook had it even with you asking him questions “Y/n can you shut the fuck up, please?” He says pinning you to the elevator railing and grabbing your cheeks making your lips pout out. “Be quiet, can you? I know what I did” Shutting you up you were scared to see Jungkook like this.

Exiting the elevator you follow Jungkook who is walking at a fast pace “Jungkook wait” you call out “Walk fast y/n we are going back to my place” he says handing you the helmet “Jungkook no, you need to tell me first what the fuck happened up there” you exclaimed, oh boy that was his last straw “fuck y/n can you not stay calm for a fucking second I know what I did and who are you to ask me this stuff you're not my girlfriend and that’s right I keep you for your body , and your acting as if you didn’t knew I have many girls , you anyways will get boring ” he exclaimed, hearing this made your blood boil you slap him across his face and leaving from there. 

Tears run from your eyes, and you call for a taxi you go home crying, you and Jungkook were fuck buddies but staying with him didn’t feel like you were just using your bodies, you went on dates, play dates with bam, showering together, hell you both have gotten so close to each other he has a fucking tattoo of your initials( “or maybe it was just an illusion, and it's just the initial letter of all his fucks”) on his Adonis belt and the aftercare made you more than just fuck buddies.

Reaching home, you unlock the door and collapse on your knees you cry loudly when you hear a continuous ring of the bell and a loud banging noise. “Open the door baby I know you in there, I’m sorry baby, and I know I messed up listen to me, will you?” Jungkook banged harder and pushed open the door finally, instantly getting on his knees hugging you.

“Baby I’m sorry I didn’t mean that at all baby” Jungkook said kissing your forehead you cried harder in his arms “That really hurt Jungkook, you saying you use me just for your pleasure hurt me like shit I know that’s the point of our deal but still” you speak in between the sobs. “I know baby I’m sorry I really didn’t mean it, you can yell at me, curse me, just don’t leave me” he says his face levelling yours while you slightly chuckle at him through tears.

You slightly peck his lips not intending on making it last longer, but Jungkook grabbed your chin and kissed you roughly the kiss soon turned into make out when he carefully takes you in his arms and kisses you.

He lays you down on your bed coming to kiss your neck leaving wet kisses and also sucking on few hickeys on his way down towards your pussy. Fuck you were already wet, his fingers soon finding your clit he groans “Fuck baby wet already?” He says rubbing them over your panties. Going face to face he removes your panties whining when he sees your slick connecting a string to your panties.

“Fuck Jungkook I’m so wet need your fingers now” you grab onto his hair already whining “yeah baby? Moan my name I like it when you say it” he smiles teasing is finger in your pink hole “mm put it in” demanding he inserts one “what a sight y/n” teasing you with his long fingers he fastens the speed hitting your g-spot making you moan loudly “kook right there” you say, “here baby?” He asks making sure just to hit the spot right after.

The feeling of his fingers inside you was overwhelming “too much” you whine when his tongue comes to press kisses on your clit “no kook sensitive” you cry “No y/n it’s never too much cum, pretty baby going to squirt?” He teases you knowing damn well Jungkook and his work with his fingers “cumming Jungkook” you say while squirting all over his fingers “that’s write made you a fucking mess” he growls.

Hovering over you his slick covered fingers make way in your mouth you suck like how suck his pretty cock removing his cloths his cock was now out of the boxers the tip swollen and red begging for attention when you slightly palm him.

Pushing him you were the one on top of him kissing him on the cheeks you make your way to his abs licking them and laying kisses all over them and pressing bunch of kisses on were your initials are tattooed “Fuck kook they look so hot every-time I see them” you moan now giving attention to his cock “take it in your mouth baby "you palm him giving kitten licks on the tip and fastening your pace “ oh shit” Jungkook groans his head moving backwards because of pleasure while your left hand comes near his to choke him  while hand hands make a ponytail for you hair  Such a head pusher “ fuck y/n, no baby going To cum inside you” he says swatting your hands in few seconds .

“Come on sit up on the bed yeah show me that pussy again yes baby?” He says while you’re slightly confused while he goes and grabs his phone asking for your consent “can I baby?” He asks while you verbally consent him “yeah go-ahead kook” his fingers coming back to your pussy he slightly rubs in between your lips while you grab in his palm telling him to touch you there, and he angles his phone perfectly “oh yeah kook” you murmur “moan baby moan” he praises you. Your pussy makes wet sloppy noises.

You grab on his hard on gently circling his tip. “Now want you inside kook” you say grabbing his phone and throwing at the end of the bed “hm lay on your back come on ready for some real champagne and confetti? “He asks giggling.  “Yeah, always ready for it” Missionary his favourite

Jungkook rubs his swollen tip sliding them in your pussy lips to wet himself enough to not hurt you. “Fuck such a tight fit” mumbling he starts delivering rough thrusts while your pretty manicured nails claw on his shoulder, his fucking sliver necklace swinging in front of your face makes him look ten times hotter than he already is.

“Fuck Jungkook, so big” you moan getting closer to your orgasm “kook cumming” you say while he backs away to look at the creamy mess between you both the white ring of your slick makes him thrust back even further roughly “fuck y/n, love fucking your pussy, love you baby “in the heat of moment you say it back not minding while you both soon chase your orgasm.

He cums right after you pulling out to make a mess with his spilling cum pushing it inside. He backs away collapsing next to you while you hug with your legs tucked on his

“Did you mean what you said Jungkook because I meant what I said” you asked hoping he would mean it too “Yes baby I’ve been in love with you like forever now but I was bit scared to admit it” he says hugging you tightly. 

“And about what happened in the door don’t think about we usually never cross paths but yeah he did get on my nerves” he explains so you would calm down about the matter “But kook it would be really dangerous if it would hit him on the head,” you said worrying “yeah baby I know I’ll talk to mother tomorrow morning let’s sleep? I know you are tired” he tucks you down and kissed your lips. 

Good night baby …. Jungkook whispers slightly humming a tune good night Jungkook hugging out a breath. Jungkook is left there thinking all night about the events.

Taglist : @babybella337 , @jungk97kwife , @kimmingyuswifee .

[e1dritchjackal0pe]

𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔳𝔬𝔴'𝔰

Summary: It's been a few months since that haunting morning at Saltburn, and life hasn't gotten any easier. You aren't sure if either of you have truly left that day behind, even though your bodies are miles away from those grand, boundless walls.

But together, you know you'll both survive.

Warnings: 18+, MDI! Oral (F! receiving), Face sitting, unprotected sex, AFAB, American!Reader. Some decent amounts of angst. Farleigh is going through it after Saltburn (follows canon and Felix's and Venetia's death's), but there's some corny, domestic fluff to take the edge off. A little small dose of jealous Farleigh. Mentions of alcohol and (implied) cocaine usage as a means of coping (but it's brief).

Notes: 16.9k words. Not proofread yet. @saradika-graphics, placed on Halloween night because I'm already missing fall and I'm completely shameless. Thank you to everyone who has ever left a comment and praise - it's always very much appreciated! Seriously, it makes me so happy! And I am sorry to anyone who I may have kept waiting for this. I hope you enjoy.

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦- 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦

You could still taste the party on your tongue; the scent of the alcohol that had been in the air, pungent and sharp. It was like the blaring music was still playing, vibrating across your skin from the volume of the stereo system instead of the mellow country classic faintly warbling out of the diner's tired speakers. It was a harsh juxtaposition and your brain, still a little sluggish from the chaos of the night is still trying to catch up. You could still feel the sweaty bodies bumping up against you own, smelling with the salt of sweat, the artificial fragrance of face paint, and that sweet plastic scent of fake blood. It was practically embedded in your nose, even with the warm plume of steam wafting up from the plate of food sat directly underneath your face. 

You had scarfed down most of it already. You were practically starving after all of the dancing you had done. It always manages to make you hungry, regardless of the previous meals you've had. You've forgone a sense of decorum in your famished, sensitive state and shove the entirety of your last piece of toast into your mouth, leaning over in case any of the jam wiggles loose and falls. Oh, course that's when the server makes another appearance. When you're wolfing down a mouthful of food. You try to smile up him around your chewing, awkward and apologetic, before lifting a hand up to hide your mouth. 

"Need a refill?" He asks, gently shaking the pitcher of water in his hand while he looks down at you with a polite smile of his own. He's making an odd amount of eye contact with you too, but you try to tell yourself that it might just be the light adrenaline induced buzz humming through your veins making you a little hyperaware. Something about his mannerisms seem strangely familiar, but your slow-moving brain comes up empty when you try to chase after that thought. Instead, you just nod wordlessly, humming out a short "mm-hmm" in lieu of a verbal response and nudge your glass closer to him across the scratched and Sharpie defaced tabletop to make it easier for him to pour. 

The few quick seconds that pass seem entirely too long, and the sound of the flowing stream of water seems to enunciate the time passing by. It feels embarrassing for no reason, and in your effort to shed some of the shame prickling over you, you glance over at the other end of the table to Farleigh. 

It's then you notice the way that he's outright glaring at the waiter without even trying to conceal the look. His mouth is twisted into a scowl as he props himself onto the table with a single elbow, and he takes another drag of his cigarette like he needs it to keep him tethered in place. His habit has skyrocketed these past couple of weeks in the absence of his other vices. You aren't a particular fan of the indoor smoking, but you'd seen the cook pass by a few minutes earlier on the way to the bathroom with a lit cigarette dangling between his lips, so it didn't seem to be a problem. Not to mention, the server had even provided him with a tiny little ashtray which he promptly flicks the embers of burnt tobacco into.  

You send him an inquisitive glance, but he's too caught up with glowering to notice. All you can figure is that they may have some kind of history, but then you can't help but wonder why he'd let you drag him to this particular diner if that were that case. 

The server - Daniel, you note, and the name is familiar too - hasn't seemed to notice Farleigh's displeased expression, and he's gone just as quickly as he had appeared, conveniently just as you're able to swallow your toast. You chase after it with your water before settling your attention back on Farleigh who still looks just as grumpy. Sure, his mood had admittedly dampened a little bit while you were both out celebrating, but that could go the same for you as well. As much as the both of you tried to shrug it off and move on, parties of all kinds have become a little bitter, a little raw after . . . 

You clear your throat, shifting in your seat, ignoring the way the polyester cushion clings to the bare skin of your legs despite the chill in the diner. He perks up a bit, peering at you from over his mug as he takes a sip. 

"What was that about?" You ask, but he just raises an eyebrow at you like he's confused. Even while he looks so disgruntled, you can't help but muse how adorable he looks with those dark kitten whiskers smeared across his cheeks, made from your eyeshadow pallet. 

"What do you mean, 'what was that about'?" He sits his drink down on the table, letting himself recline against the backrest of the booth. 

You shrug, letting your eyes rove over the window beside your shoulders and the cut-out paper decorations pasted to the glass; retro styled Jack o' Lanterns and ghosts. Though it was probably the condensation from the since passed storm that's really keeping them secured to their places. "I don't know. It seemed like you may have known him." 

His brows perk up, almost unamused while he shakes his head. "No. Not really," he responds cryptically.  

He doesn't seem to be lying. Farleigh's ability to be convincing when it comes to concealing the truth is sort of on a spectrum. No matter the scope of the lie, he's never great at hiding them. His eyes can get shifty, or he'll get a little too animated like he forgets how to express himself normally, becoming too self-conscious. It's obviously the smaller ones, the white lies usually, that he's able to be a bit more convincing with. But whatever this is, it's enough for him to be a little restless, fidgeting with the handle of the porcelain mug like he needs to distract himself. But from what, you aren't sure. And despite claiming not to know him, there must be some reason why his mood had taken even more of a decline since seeing the server. 

"He does look familiar though," you mumble absentmindedly. 

"I'm sure he does," Farleigh replies lowly, like the comment was only meant for him. But you hear it regardless and it's said with a kind of snark that you hadn't heard aimed at you in a long time. 

The expression on your face is incredulous. For a second you just stare at him silently and the music drifting across the quiet does little to make the atmosphere feel any less foreign. The old, florescent panel lights flicker above and buzz in an insistent drone, making everything even more bare and alien than it already is. You hadn't taken the brunt of Farleigh's ire in a long time. Okay, 'ire' might be a little dramatic. Irritation is probably more accurate. But it feels so weird - uncomfortable - to have him genuinely annoyed with something that you've apparently done. You're used to his sarcasm and quips, you're on the receiving end of them on a daily basis, just like he's on the receiving end of yours. It's normal. It's a part of your dynamic, and your shared, taunting and impish kind of humor is how the both of you grew close. Long before either of you had even realized. You can count on a single hand the number of times that you've had an actual disagreement or argument with Farleigh. But you don't enjoy them in the slightest, so you'd like to find out the root of this little problem before it builds and blows up in both of your faces. 

"First of all, what is that even supposed to mean?" You ask, pulling back to cross your arms. "And secondly, what's wrong?" 

He shoots you an exasperated look, like he's unconvinced of something. You don't reply aloud. You just shrug, openly confused. 

"Seriously?" He says with what sounds like disbelief. 

"What?" 

He scoffs and pins you with a glare that's simultaneously annoyed and relieved. You can see the minute way that his shoulders seem to relax, shedding the bit of stress that had been winding his body up tight. "You really don't recognize him?" 

The question makes you feel a little dimwitted. It prompts you to lean a little in your both, towards the end of the seat and you let your eyes move away from Farleigh. Scanning the diner, searching for the sight of the waiter in the hopes to toggle free that sense of familiarity that shrouds him. Maybe you'll finally be able to remember just who he is. It's been searing at your brain all night, and Farleigh's insistence that you know him just drives the urge deeper. You finally spot him behind the C shaped bar, refilling the salt and pepper shakers that he must have collected from the vacant tables. There is something there. The kind of acquaintance that comes with seeing the same cashier at a gas station more than once, or noticing the same neighbor trimming the bushes in their lawn when you go out to check the mail. But there isn't anything more than that. The sharp jut of his chin and the tattoo peeking out from underneath the short cut of his sleeve are features that you know that you've seen before, but you just end up drawing another blank. You'd like to blame it on alcohol, but despite having spent the entire night dancing and singing at the top of your lungs in a party, you haven't drank a single drop. 

You tilt back into your seat and return your focus to Farleigh with a lost shrug. 

"Jesus Christ," he huffs. "He's served us at least four other times." 

"Oh, that's it?" You say, a little indifferent. You were expecting something more . . . exciting than that. Maybe some drama involving a drunken fight that you couldn't remember at a bar or house party, and he had been the culprit. Literally anything other than he was just you're regular server. Plus, you hardly found that enough to warrant the heavy scowl that Farleigh had been giving him earlier. 

Farleigh sags even further against the cushion of the booth, and the expression on his face is outright petulant and soaked with annoyance. When he speaks next, his voice is at this odd cross of defeated but passionate. "He flirts with you all the time." 

Ah, there it is. 

You want to counter the argument. You yourself have been a waitress who's been accused of flirting with customers boyfriends just because you had come across as overtly friendly when asking for a drink order or dropping off the bill. An exhausting symptom that seems to come with serving the public and insecure lovers out on dates. But that little comment does manage to jog something free. Vague memories of said waiter - Daniel - staring at you for a little longer than necessary or brushing his fingers along yours whenever you'd hand him a cleared plate during past visits. But that's about all. Just subtle, otherwise harmless interest that he's apparently garnered for you. "Well, clearly he didn't do a very good job, because I hardly remembered him." 

The stormy expression doesn't slip from Farleigh's face, and as much as you're trying to joke, you know that this little bout of jealousy has stemmed from something deeper. Sure, he's always had an inclination of being a little possessive. You've caught glimpses of it in the past with his old flings and exes, but the way that he grips you is entirely different from that. He makes sure to touch you in some capacity when in public; a hand on the back of your waist to guide you through crowded areas, keeping his fingers laced with yours on walks, or pulling you into his lap whenever he's able to. He always makes sure to stake his claim on you somehow. Especially whenever he feels as though someone could be a threat to your relationship, even though you do your best to talk to him and placate those insecurities. On any other occasion, you would have been annoyed that he felt intimidated by some random guy at an IHop, but for whatever reason, this just feels off. But you know that this is different. Tonight is different. 

You had seen the shift in him at the party. It was just some get together for Halloween that one of his old friends had thrown for the holiday. It was meant to be small, and that was really one of the only reasons that you had agreed to go. You had wanted to stay inside your apartment for the night, as lame as it may sound. To just spend time curled up on the couch with him against your back while you both gorged yourself on candy and junk food and watched a few horror movies that you had rented from the Block Buster down the street. But Farleigh had insisted that he wanted to go, complaining that spending the entire Halloween night inside was lame. 

A part of you had been a little reluctant. The first weeks after Saltburn had been particularly hard on Farleigh. He had been on a path of self-destruction, like he was insistent on punishing himself for Felix and Venetia. He had made sure to frequent any and every party that he could manage, drinking and snorting whatever he could get his hands on. For a moment you thought that you might have lost him too.  It put a strain on you both. With you constantly voicing your concerns and him always insisting that he was fine. It had all come to a head one night when Farleigh had made a snarky comment towards someone he shouldn't have. Despite all of his sarcasm and harsh words, Farleigh isn't a fighter. At least, not in the physical aspect. But that's all it had took. Some drunken, scathing remark, that honestly, you can't even remember. But you do remember the fist that came after it. How it had cut through the air, and the loud thump of bone hitting bone, leaving a tender bruise, blue and purple in its wake. 

Even then, you could still see the temptation in his eyes while you had dug around in your freezer for some a makeshift ice pack, the temptation to curl back into a bottom of a bottle and never come back out. Finally, you had been the one who broke down, right in the middle of your kitchen, clutching a pack of frozen peas in your hand while the anger, and fear, and anxiety welled up to the surface. He had been quick to jerk up from his seat at the table, crossing the space between you and pulling you from the fridge and into his arms with broken, "I'm sorry's" spilling from him. 

"I can't lose you Farleigh," you cried, burying your face into his chest, breathing in his scent like it might vanish. "I can't."

His self-hatred and the blame that he held his cousins didn't just clear up overnight after that. There were times where you could still see the temptation and loathing glimmering in his eyes, but he was getting better. He was starting to work past it a little bit at a time. To finally let go of all of the booze and writhing, dancing bodies; the sound of laughter and streamers drifting down in the air. The reminders of that summer night back in England, and the morning after, when Felix had failed to show up to the breakfast table. It was hard for both of you. The vacant, bleeding wound that was left in his absence. The pain that comes with it. But even worse, was the reminder that if you must be hurting from the loss, that the sheer agony that Farleigh feels is something that you'd never truly be able to understand. The anguish and torture that must weigh over him every waking moment from his cousins' unexpected death - the death that he had been blamed for in the eyes of James, all because of the words of a stranger. 

Farleigh holds you like you're a ghost. He holds you like you might disappear if he doesn't. That you'll vanish and turn to smoke, or you'll turn your back on him like the Catton's - his family - have. God, even Venetia. Sweet Venetia is gone too. That's what Elsbeth had said to Farleigh when she reached out in a phone call one random evening. The last call - the last favor, she had said that Farleigh would ever receive from her. He had been inconsolable after that. Collapsing on the floor with violent, heaving breaths tearing from his chest after she had hung up on him. He had gone completely still before the flip phone had slipped from his hand with a harsh clatter. That was the only warning that you got before he had looked up to you, and the tears threatening to spill from his eyes had ripped your heart in half. It was the pained, lost sob that tore from his chest that ripped you from your shock and had you dropping down beside him and pulling him into your embrace. 

You can't recall how long you had sat with him on the carpet, clutching him to your body while he cried and gripped at your arms, and shoulders, and back like he didn't know what to do with himself. It had been your turn to cling to him like he might have been the one to disappear if you hadn't, doing your best to swallow back your own tears as he cried into the junction of your neck. 

You know that's all that his jealousy is. Fear that you'll leave him behind like the rest of his supposed family has. Sure, he has his mother and his father. But truthfully, he's always been saddled with the responsibility of keeping the relationship between them cordial; perpetually caught between the both of them. And his relationship with his mother is strained at best. Taxed by his constant worries for her recklessness with her monetary spending, and her inability to keep track of her expenses and bills. A defect of growing up wealthy, you suppose. 

So when Farleigh insisted that he wanted to get out of the apartment. To go out and celebrate you were reluctant. You voiced your concerns about it, but you didn't fight him on it. You knew that he needed the distraction. A break from all of the loneliness, misery and pain. You both had come to the agreement not to touch any sort of alcohol or drugs during the duration of the little Halloween get together, and that was enough for you. You trusted him completely. 

The first few hours at the party had been great. Even when way more people than planned arrived; all of them bringing friends and those friends brought their own until the house filled to its maximum occupancy. The floorboards and walls had practically been pulsing with the volume of the music blasting. Everything from Rob Zombie's Dragula to old Halloween classics like Thriller and The Monster Mash had blared out from the stereo system hooked up the living room. It had been nice to just let go and relax, letting yourself enjoy the first positive party experience in close to a couple months. For a while you allowed yourself to dance, grinding and moving against Farleigh, soaking in his heat and scent from around the chaos, feeling the warmth of his palms sweeping underneath your skirt and gripping onto your hips. It had been peace despite the excitement and havoc tainting the air like a sharp, heady buzz. But you knew something was wrong when you felt the brush of his lips pause over the skin of your neck, and his body had stilled against yours. It made you stop in turn, looking over your shoulder to check him with the confused whisper of his name on your tongue. And when you caught his eyes, locked onto something past your shoulders like a deer staring into the headlights of an approaching car, you wordlessly turned to track his sight. 

It was a pair of wings. Tinted in shades of a fiery orange and violet from the lights strung around the circumference of the room. Their true color must have been a shade of soft white, but some broken part of you waited for them to shift into a rich, glint of gold. And in that moment, for a quick but painful second you could remember the scent of the summer air. Tinged and damp with dew and sweet with pollen and the alcohol that had been spilt across the lawn. The shifting bodies around you weren't people at all, they were the looming hedges of the maze, and the soft leaves sweep and scratched at your skin. It wasn't a girl in an angel costume wearing those wings, but Felix, dead and sprawled out on the lush grass while the heavy music mutated into the anguished cries of Venetia and Farleigh - 

Farleigh. 

You had snapped out the trance with a gasp. You had turned to him as quickly as you could. Gripping onto his forearms firmly, strong enough to break him from his lost stare. When he had looked down at you then, he was so broken. You could see a layer of tears glittering over his eyes from the cast of the lights; lost and defeated. "Let's go outside " you had said, sliding a hand down to thread your fingers into his own, gently tugging to lead him towards the front door, weaving through the shifting, wild throng of people who were caught up in the night. 

You left without warning, desperate to get outside to breathe in the crisp autumn air. But once you both had made it out onto the front porch, neither of you stopped. You had both kept walking with your hands tightly fastened to each other as you set off down the street, vacant now that all of the trick r' treaters had long since purged the houses of all of their candy and turned in for the night to gobble down their bounties. Soon the loud pulse of music projecting from the house party faded into silence, and the only sound was the sharp clap of your heels and the thump of Farleigh's shoes against the damp concrete while the insistent barking of an unsettled dog a couple of blocks away range out distantly. It was still. Calm. And you just walked with no particular destination in mind, focusing on the feel of each other's presence underneath your hands. You would glance up at him every now and again, silently checking on him and you could tell by the look in his eyes that a part of him was still there. Still trapped in Saltburn; seated at that grand table in a room bathed in red. 

And you suppose that you're still there too. Trapped in that chair, looking across the space that separated you to try and meet Farleigh's shocked, unseeing gaze. And so now you did your best to be there for him. Reminding yourself that you aren't there anymore. You're in the present now. You both are. You did what you could to remind Farleigh of that as well. Talking about anything that would pop up in your head to try and draw him out. You rambled about work, particularly your coworker Joy (which had to be the most ironic name ever) because he's always interested to hear the newest scoop of drama that comes from working with her. He hates Joy even though he has yet to meet her. He dislikes her just because you don't like her. It's always the highlight of your night to come home from a shift and just being able to sit down at the tiny kitchen/dining table for two and venting to Farleigh about your day. He always hangs onto each word like your gossip is an update on his favorite reality TV show. It's ritual of sorts that you'd usually save for at the night, when you were both unwinding from the day, but you found yourself rambling regardless. 

You ranted about today's most recent bout of drama. Drama that he had already heard before when he had gotten home from his own shift, but it didn't keep the story from spilling in some desperate attempt to get him to come back to you. You reiterated how Joy had been caught sleeping with two of her ex's close friends without either of them being aware of it. Adding minute details that you had previously forgotten in an attempt to liven up the story. Retelling the drama that had blown up quite fantastically this morning, with both the both of her boyfriend's showing up to confront her, with the sort of coincidental timing that should have been impossible. You and the customers scattered around the store had been quite entertained for a good ten minutes before your manager had grown privy to the situation - mostly due to the loud shouting match that broken out between the scorned men - and threatened to call the cops on the pair. 

"She deserves it," Farleigh had responded. The sound of genuine mirth had been enough to put you at ease and a quick glance had confirmed that he was smiling. It was faint. Hardly there, but you could still see the light impression of it perking at the corners of his lips. It motivated you to keep talking. About anything and everything that came to mind.  But this time you felt less anxious to get the words out. Less worried. It was all relaxed and at ease as you strolled down the street, idly admiring the decorations strung up the houses along the road, burning string lights in varieties of purple, and green, and orange bordering their roofs. There were quite a few cemeteries made in the front lawns this year; fake Styrofoam headstones with skeletal arms propped up beneath them to mimic the dead rising from their graves. 

But it seemed that your gut had other plans when you eventually found yourselves coming to a stop in familiar fractured parking lot belonging to a frequented IHop. One that could easily be mistaken as abandoned with its faded yellow paint dividing the parking spaces and the sun damaged pylon sign; muted to a dusty robin blue from all the years in the weather. You supposed that it wasn't all that odd that your subconscious brought you here. It was you and Farleigh's go to spot after a night of bar hopping. 

Before you could even ask Farleigh if he was hungry, he was already leading you across the parking lot towards the double front doors with those corny decals stuck on the windows in the shape of witches on brooms and the silhouettes of soaring bats. 

Now you watch Farleigh with a bittersweet smile on your face, tracing over the shape of the cat ears secured into the thick of his curls. It was some random headband of yours that he had dug up from the depths of your closet. To be completely honest, you aren't even sure where it had come from, but you're glad that he found them. You never knew that seeing Farleigh in a pair of cat ears was something that you needed to see. 

It's in your blatant admiration that you realize that you're being watched as well, and it's enough to break you from your trance to look back over to the main dining counter where Daniel is finishing up with refilling the pepper and saltshakers. His stare catches yours and it catches you off guard how confident he seems. There's a playful, assured glimmer in his eyes while he watches you from behind the bar. You can't help but wonder just how long he's been staring at you for, and he makes it even worse when he winks at you. 

Ugh. 

Okay, Farleigh hasn't been wrong about the flirting you suppose. 

You don't even bother hiding the disgust that seeps into your features, pulling your mouth into a scowl and you can see the way that he deflates with disappointment when you pull your focus from him and back onto Farleigh, who thankfully hasn't noticed the exchange. With the hand that balances the lit cigarette between its fingers he's absentmindedly fiddling with the handle of his mug, shifting the cup around like he's studying the way the porcelain glints underneath the pale glow of the fluorescents. You don't even think when you shuffle from your side of the booth. Farleigh watches you curiously when you step around the table to slip onto his seat until your nestled up against his side, smushing your cheek against his shoulder. A wistful smile lifts at the corners of your mouth when you feel him tilt his face onto the crown of your head, going lax against your body with a soft, inaudible sigh. You drag in his cologne in a lungful, taking in the warm spice of it, amber and cigarettes; infused with the subtle saccharine notes of vanilla and it has you relaxing even more. And with a full stomach, the influence of sleep is already beginning to pull at your limbs. 

"We should head home," you suggest, tilting your chin up to peer at him from underneath your lashes - or you look at him as best as you can with him still leaning his cheek on the top of your head. "It's getting late." 

"It's barely three," he counters. You can hear an amused puff of air leave his chest, but his tone almost sounds playfully offended, like he couldn't believe you'd propose such a thing. You just barely fight off the urge to roll your eyes. 

"Don't you have work tomorrow?" You ask, reaching for his coffee to steal a sip, drinking down the sugared beverage without a shred of remorse. Even though you can practically feel the way that he's side eyeing you. 

"Thanks for reminding me," he grouses with no real bite. 

"You're welcome," you reply easily, tone lightly teasing and good-natured. You let your head roll back onto his shoulder, knocking his chin free from its perch so that you're fully able to look at him. He's already focused downward to watch you; the dark of his eyes glittering underneath the harsh glow of the fluorescents, highlighted with flecks of honey and bronze. "C'mon, you can't say that being home right now doesn't sound at least a little bit nice. We could be curled up underneath a warm blanket right now, watching bad scary movies. And we could finally knock out that bag of candy I bought," you tempt. "Or maybe you're just blowing it off because you screamed like a girl that last time we watched horror." 

"I did not!" He denies, sounding and looking wildly offended. 

Your eyebrows perk up, an unattractive snort leaving you. "You absolutely did." 

You can recall that night quite vividly. You'd experienced Farleigh's . . . eh . . . incompatibility with horror films in the past, during movie nights and little get togethers at theaters with friends. So you had done your best to try and pick out something else to watch but he had been insistent that he could handle the movie. Unsurprisingly, he had flinched every time the harsh sound of that iconic chainsaw had blared through the speakers and had tensed up every time the camera had panned off the characters to imply a jump scare or oncoming attack from the unseen slasher. You had given him your hand to squeeze for moral support, but he had decided about midway through the movie that it wasn't enough and had practically begun to use you as a human shield, trying to wedge his body between you and the couch. His excuse had been that he just wanted to hold you, and for a moment you had believed him with how he had all but scooped you into his lap. But the way that he would nearly hide his face into the crook of your neck during the gory parts of the film was pretty telling. And when he wasn't using you as a buffer, he had tried to preoccupy himself by pointing out any plot holes and the dumb decision that any of the characters made. Not that you minded. His commentary is actually pretty hilarious when he gets nervous. 

"That's not how I remember it," he counters confidently, prompting a light laugh from you. 

"My mistake then," you reply softly, voice low but jesting. "I must have remembered it wrong." 

He hums lowly in agreement and there's the hint of a smile on his lips. With the way that your faces are angled towards each other the points of your noses brush just a bit. You can feel the gentle warmth of his body heat wafting over your skin and sinking in deep. For a second you forget that you're curled up the booth of some ratty diner, that it isn't just the two of you in the world. You think that you could stay here forever, huddled up against him with the scent of coffee and his cologne in the air. His head angles closer to you, and you can feel the hint of his lips on yours making your lashes lower, threatening to slip closed. 

"Let's go then," he says suddenly, and the gentle sensation of his lips vanish. 

You jerk back with a look of betrayal on your face, but he doesn't seem offended in the slightest. If anything, there's a sort of satisfaction and mischief glinting in his gaze. You want to offer some kind of retort, but your brain is sluggish, a little addled with the desire to sleep and the waning influence of alcohol that nothing smart makes its way to the tip of your tongue. But you do pass a cursory glance at the table and the empty plates scattered along the countertop. "What about the bill?" 

He looks at you like the answer is obvious, a sassy "really?" type of expression, leaning back against the backrest, stretching his legs out to give himself the leverage to reach into his pocket to retrieve his wallet.  "We eat here all the time, and you always order the same thing. I know how much the bill cost." 

"Damn, all right then," you mumble, watching as he throws a couple of bills onto the table between the plates and cups. Then he's nodding his chin at you, silently asking for you shuffle out from the booth, snuffing out the end of his cigarette and wedging what's left of it between the divot made into the edge of the ashtray. He's quick to follow after you with his body nudging along yours as you both slide from the seat. He tucks his wallet back into its place once he's up on his feet, already reaching to take one of your hands but the sudden projection of a familiar voice rings out, making you both pause. "Do y'all need the check?" 

You turn to see Daniel who's leaning himself away from the bar and pepper shakers like he's ready to move and make his way around towards your table. Farleigh passes the server a look that seems nonchalant, but you know him well enough to still be able to notice the subtle curl of his top lip, judgmental and unimpressed. You just barely resist the amused urge to roll your eyes at the display. 

"No, we're good," Farleigh says as he shrugs off his tux and then he's twirling the jacket around so that he's able to drape it around your shoulders in a single flourish. It's an obvious way of him trying to put a silent claim on you, but you find yourself exchanging smiles regardless; soft and almost private. He steps closer to you, and you turn on your heels to face the exit as he secures one of his arms around your waist, tugging you close against the warmth of his body. "Money's on the table." 

He gives Daniel one last glance as you press one of the double doors open; it's just a pointed as the last and the smile on his face is just a little bit smug when you lean into him. But you don't let him revel in his gloating for long before you subtly grip the hand that he has around your waist and tug him out from the cozy shelter of the diner and into the night, tossing a quick, courteous "have a goodnight!" to Daniel from over your shoulder. 

The walk back to the house seems quicker than the one before it, and before you know it, you're both slipping into the little Civic situated along the curb. Farleigh had rolled his eyes when you had expectantly held you hand out for the keys, which he had relented you to you with a small scoff. It's all for show. There's nothing he loves more than being chauffeured around; sitting in the passenger seat to tell you when the light has turned green and where to turn (even though he might just be one of the most directionally challenged people you know). 

You take the backroads home, ignoring the main drags in an effort to avoid the scattered throngs of traffic that still occupy the popular streets. It's a short drive, but that doesn't stop Farleigh from digging around in the CD binder for music. The song only gets to around the halfway mark by the time you're sweeping the car into the designated parking space underneath a glowing streetlamp, decorated with one of those Halloween tensiles with those tiny pumpkin silhouettes. He doesn't let you turn off the engine, having you let the vehicle idle until the chorus of the song is over. Then and only then are you allowed to shut off the car. Not that you can complain much, you're always more than content to hear Farleigh sing. 

Before you know it, you're both jogging up the steps of the second floor, passing by the door of your close neighbor; bordered with a garland and decorated with a Christmas wreath, already in preparation for the next big holiday. A juxtaposition to the Jack o' lanterns posted outside of your door like guards. The both of them are complete opposites of each other, with the face that Farleigh had carved in his made from smooth, seamless lines. Yours on the other hand . . . is a little less fortunate. To put it lightly, it looked like you had been under the influence of every drug and alcohol known to man and went at the pumpkin while you were seeing double; all jagged edges and overlapping corners. Carving had never been a particular talent of yours. 

You have to wiggle the key into the lock when you twist it, the damn thing always sticks and snags on some inner mechanism that you don't know anything about. And when you nudge the door open, you have to firmly push it with the point of your shoulder to help it swing on its hinges because it always drags over the threshold. But you feel nothing but relief when you step inside with Farleigh closely trailing behind you, making sure to close the door and lock it once he's inside. 

It was a comfort to be home after such a long night out, and the fragrance of a candle that you had burned earlier, fusing with old traces of laundry detergent and the distant scent of the Eggo's that you had toasted this morning (still somehow going strong) feels inviting. It's a small space. Hardly enough room for two people. But you and Farleigh happily make it work. The tight walls feel cozy, decorated with pieces of you both; framed photos from vacations and past road trips, and that painting of a gorgeous golden field that Farleigh had reluctantly gravitated towards at a thrift store (he had snubbed his nose at buying anything second hand for a while, but you had gotten him to come round to it eventually). It was your home. A safe space, a shelter from everything, and everywhere you look there are little hints of him. 

After landing back in America from that awful flight from England with James' cold, harsh words still echoing around both of your skulls, you and Farleigh had practically become inseparable. You clung to each other. You were buoys for each other, keeping yourselves afloat with the unforgiving torrents flooding through your minds. That night at Saltburn feels like a dream. A ghost story. And no matter how hard you tried; you couldn't get that morning out of your head. The flashes of golden feathers; the sight of limp, pale skin; those wine-red curtains pulled over the windows, dousing the room in an awful crimson light, making the streaks of tears pouring down Farleigh's cheeks glitter lowly, his face pinched with confusion and anguish. The memory always has something bitter and sharp washing over your tongue; your chest tightens like your heart might rip in two and burst. 

It had been you who had suggested moving in together. Only a few weeks after returning home from Saltburn. You and Farleigh had practically been cinched at the hip since then. It was odd for everyone on the outside looking in. You had always been at each other's throats before, lashing out with insults and sarcasm, but ever since returning back from England, neither of you could manage to pull away from the other for long. It was clear to see that something had happened during the trip, something to cause a fundamental shift between you and him. But neither of you ever bothered explaining much more past the fact that you had both "made up," so to speak, back in England. And you only told the necessary people about what had happened to Felix, such as Graham, who had built somewhat of a friendship with the Catton during his visits to the States. But that was all.

For a time, you struggled to find your rhythm in everyday life, to get out of that strange, muddled rut that your brain had sunk down into since Felix and Venetia's passing's. Farleigh, obviously, had struggled more than you. The cloud that loomed over him was thick and suffocating, and you could tell that it was threatening to tear him down and burry him underneath its weight. You made more of an effort to be near him, doing you best to visit him, to keep him out of his head and his guilt whenever you had time off from work and personal affairs.

He had, for the most part, moved in with his mother. Not because he had to, Farleigh had been able to save up a small cushion of money when he was still in the good graces with the Catton's, but because he needed it. He needed to be close to some part of his family. A part of it, no matter how small, that hadn't turned their back on him. Frederica did her best to console him too. But it wasn't always a help when she would often wind up just as equally as distraught as he was. Just as ravaged by grief of her niece and nephew's deaths and the hurt of her own brother fully cutting ties with her and Farleigh and renouncing them as part of the family. 

As a result, Farleigh would often spend most of his spare time with you back at your old, shared apartment with Graham. Sometimes you wouldn't even talk. You just sit quietly and feel. Soaking in each other's warmth and scent. Reminding yourselves that you were both okay. That you were still present and here. That Saltburn hadn't taken you from each other and eaten you alive. It was one quiet night just like that, with Farleigh curled up in your arms while you reclined on the old outside couch on the balcony, gazing at the neighboring complexes and looming office towers with that particular question heavy on the tip of your tongue. Your eyes idlily skipped along the glowing windows of another nearby apartment building, taking in the sight of distant silhouettes shifting within them. Of other people going about their task, glimpsing into people's lives. Like the man pacing along his living room floor, angerly shouting into his phone; a young woman a few floors above him gently rocking her infant within the cradle of her arms as she halfheartedly watched something playing on the TV; but what caught your attention the most was an older couple shuffling along their carpet, arms wound around each other in a firm but soft embrace as they danced. Just enjoying the other's presence. Like they were the only two people left alive. 

It had that question back with a vengeance, searing your tongue with the insistence to get out. But you held back. From fear, reluctance, anxiety. You weren't sure if he was ready for a step yet. The timing was admittedly a little awful. He was still mourning. Still bound and wrapped in grief. But you still couldn't help but hope that maybe this would be just what he needed. Maybe this could help to soothe him. It wouldn't heal his wounds. Not entirely. Only time could do that. But maybe it would be enough to let him know that he wasn't alone. That you weren't going to leave him. That you wanted and needed him just as much as he wanted and needed you. 

The lease was coming up in about a month. Something you and Graham had talked about extensively before, mostly because he was planning on moving out to Nashville. Something about his music career because L.A. wasn't panning out how he had imagined it to. He said that he has put out an ad for possible roommates if you wished to stay and keep the apartment. But truthfully, you didn't need a space that expensive, that big. A fresh start was in order, a place to make new memories. And you knew exactly who you wanted to make them with. Who you wanted by your side. All you had to do was ask. It was just a simple question, that's all. But it really wasn't, was it? You don't just ask your boyfriend to move into an apartment with you after not even a full two months of dating. Especially after two of his family members died and his uncle disowned him. But you have known him for years, to be fair. 

"Farleigh?" You spat it out before the anxiety could seal your jaw shut. For a second you had thought that he'd fallen asleep; the puffs of his breathing are warm and steady against your neck. You felt it more than you heard it, a low inquisitive hum that reverberated across your skin. You contemplated about lying, coming up with some kind of excuse and pretending that your question had never existed in the first place. Your silence must have caught his attention or concerned him, because he was shuffling himself back, nudging himself along your body and curling up along the sofa as best as he could without falling off of it, so that he was able to peer up at you from his place on your chest.

"What is it?" He asked, eyes glinting softly in the warm, pale lights strung up along the ceiling of the balcony. You saw something flash in them. Something vulnerable and worried, and you knew then that his brain must have been leaping to the worst possible scenario, hardwired in after all of the misery and tragedy that's fallen over him since Saltburn. It hurt you to know that he was jumping to the most horrible conclusion because of you, as unintentional as it was. It was more than enough incentive for you to spit it out. 

"Do you want to move in with me? " You nearly cringed when you said it, and you made an effort to look anywhere else but him. You were afraid to see even the faintest possibility of hesitance or disgust cross over his features. "Not here. I mean it's fine. The rent and the utilities are honestly insane, and the landlord is kind of an asshole. So, maybe we could try something new? A fresh start for the both of us. I just - it's just an idea. You don't have to agree, obviously. I know it's a lot to sort of just ask you." 

You tensed up when he moved himself fully off of you, and you adjusted yourself against the arm of the couch, drawing your knees close to your chest so that he had room to sit himself up beside you. It felt too stifling. Suddenly everything had been too loud. The sound of the traffic humming down below, the sharp honk of car horns and the squeal of bad brakes. The gentle breeze suddenly felt like it was howling and deafening in your ears. 

"You're serious?" Farleigh's voice split through the chaos, drawing you attention onto him. The expression on his face had struck you. It didn't look betrayed or uncomfortable; it was hopeful, if not a little disbelieving. All of the anxiety lumped within your chest had thawed in an instant, vanishing like it had never been there at all, melting into something warm. 

"I'm serious," you answered, the slight shake in your voice shifting into something firm and assured. 

His throat bobbed, eyebrows slightly furrowing as he stared at you like he didn't know how to react. You wanted to say something. To tell him that he didn't have to answer so soon, or at all for that matter. He didn't have to agree or disagree with you. Either would be fine. His lips parted, the corners quirking with what might have been the faint pull of a smile. "I -" he drew in a short breath like he was trying to ground himself. His throat bobbed, while his gaze roved over your features like he was searching for something. The hint of a lie or a joke maybe, but he found none. "Yeah, " he answered, wincing slightly before correcting himself. "Yes. I'd love to." 

It had only taken a couple of weeks to find something that seemed promising. Though it did help that neither of you had too many requirements to meet. As long as it was affordable (a near impossible condition to meet in a place like L.A. unless you want to live in a complete hole in the wall, but you got lucky - somewhat), and Farleigh also wanted a place that was close enough to his mother, and something that wasn't too far of a commute from your either of your jobs. Not much later, something had come up. It was . . . quaint to say the least. The size of the space was nowhere near the amount of room provided in your past apartment, nor Farleigh's old place. Something that he was less than enthused about when you were given a tour by the landlord, but it was something that he would eventually look past. Mostly. It wasn't perfect. On some nights, you can hear one of the neighbors practicing on their piano - luckily, they're pretty good at it, so it's more of a nice background music than a nuisance - and it takes close to a good ten minutes for the water to heat up, but it's yours. And with Farleigh with you, it's your home. 

And now that you're finally back after a long night out, your first goal was to change out of your costume and clean up the makeup and grime of the night. You and Farleigh went about your usual routines, putting away your clothes and somehow the both of you wind up jumping in the bath together for a quick rinse. Exchanging soft kisses while basking in the warmth of the water and sneaking gentle touches under the guise of spreading bodywash along each other's skin. It didn't surpass any further than that. Not even with that delicate warmth and longing smoldering along each and every touch, the potential to become something more. You can see it in Farleigh's eyes too, glinting like something eager and hungry. But it's also soft when he looks at you. It makes you feel cherished and so wholly wanted, that for a moment, it's almost like your chest could burst open and all of the love and devotion filled up inside might come spilling out. 

It's always been these little private moments between the two of you that you really hold dear. That you cherish and replay over and over again during idle moments throughout the day; quiet lulls in your work shift or when you're home alone. You can only hope that you can offer the same solace for Farleigh. A reprieve from his anguish. His guilt. He feels responsible for Felix, and by proxy, Venetia. You know that he does. You've seen it in his eyes, heard it from his mouth when he's distraught with the tears that come and go. He still jolts awake some nights, harsh enough to rattle and pull you from your sleep. He'll be disoriented, hazed over and still caught within the stubborn hold of sleep and bad memories. His eyes are always a little wild, glassy and damp from tears that have yet to spill over. On others, he does his best not to disturb you, doing his best to swallow down his quiet cries and slipping out of bed. But it's almost like your body can tell that he's gone. Whether it be the loss of his body heat, or the absence of his weight nestled beside your own, you never fail to wake up, slipping a handout over his side of the mattress to check for him. Clarity always rushed over you whenever you feel that he isn't there. Thankfully the panic has finally left after the first couple times he's done it, but the drive to find him never goes away. 

He's usually in the living room, absentmindedly watching the TV. Or sometimes he's at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee or tea while he looks through old pictures on his phone. You always announce yourself with a small 'hey' as not to startle him, and he'll always greet you with a smile. Sometimes it reaches his eyes, sometimes it doesn't. But you always refuse to leave his side. Not until you're able to get a genuine laugh from him, not until you can see some sort of peace reflect in his eyes and you know that the horrors of that morning in the maze finally release their claws and sink back into the recesses of his mind. Not entirely gone, but not at the focus at least. 

"What are you thinking about?" His voice pierces through the reminiscent fog clouded over your brain, drawing you from your thoughts and onto him. You have to tilt your head at an angle from the way that you have yourself tucked towards his chest with some of your back nudging against the chilled enamel of the tub. There's amusement flickering in his eyes, glittering like a dark bronze and molten honey underneath the glow of the warm bathroom lighting. 

"You." A bit of a corny response maybe, but an honest one, and it comes out low and gentle. 

"Sap," Farleigh smirks, an amused huff rising from his chest, but he presses his forehead against yours, sighing deeply when your skin brushes over his. A smile tugs at your lips, but you can't find it in yourself to form a response to his light teasing. Not with the dull lull of sleep in your system. The water is too warm, too pleasant, making your limbs pliant and heavy. And the feel of his body pressed against yours doesn't help fight off the sense of ease weighing your body down. "Come on," he calmly urges. "Let's go watch those movies you've been harassing me about all night." 

"Don't act like you don't want to," you grumbled. "You even picked out one." 

He doesn't verbally reply to you, but he does make sure to land a slap on your ass when you rise up out of the bathtub to slip into the clothes you had left on the sink. You shoot him a playful glare over your shoulder, but all you get in response from him is a cheeky smile.

That's fine, you'll tag him back. You're patient. He's quick to pull the drain on the tub before rising up and stepping over the enamel boarder, and you're hyperaware of his movements, quietly waiting for an open window to strike. You go about your business, trying not to make your anticipation obvious as you apply lotion over your body before slipping into your comfy clothes, all the while watching him out of your peripherals as he towels himself off. But he's still fully facing you, running the thick linen over his damp skin. He must pick up on your focus because his eyes skirt up to you, suspicion flickering in them and he squints at you with a smile curling on his lips. "What?" 

"Hmm?" You hum cluelessly, doing your best feign ignorance with a light shrug. "Nothing." 

He doesn't seem to be fully convinced, but he doesn't speak on it. For a quick moment you forget about your revenge completely. Getting caught inside the intimate atmosphere built within the bathroom; the humid cloud lingering over the space, perfumed with the fragrant notes of your bodywashes and lotion; vanilla, nutmeg, and cardamon. It's warm in here from the moisture, not uncomfortably so, but soothing like a rich balm. And with Farleigh here, it just helps to make the mood that's settled over you feel even more private and placid, like being wrapped inside a familiar blanket. But as peaceful as this is, you can't forget that easily, and a moment presents itself when he turns away from you in favor of reaching for his sleep plants, slightly bending over to tug them up and around his knees. You don't wait, reaching out and cracking your palm down on the soft swell of his cheek just before he manages to tug his sweatpants over his hips.

His head turns in your direction so quickly you briefly fear that he might get whip lash, but you see the warning flash in his eyes before he even moves, and luckily your body is quick to jerk into action before you have to consciously make an effort for it. You dart out of the bathroom, making sure to keep your footing and not slip on the tiles as you all but leapt out onto the carpeted junction situated between all four of the apartment's spaces. You could practically feel him coming up on you, even without the rapid patter of his feet tracking across the distance between you. There's a quick, playful shout of your name, urging you to make a split-second decision and you sharply veer off into the living room, just narrowly escaping the reaching fingers of one of his hands; you could feel them brush over your back as you flinched out of their grasp. 

An excited, breathless laugh bubbles up from you, triggered by a combination of delight and an unserious sense of nerves; a primal instinct urging you to just move and avoid being grabbed. It guides you to swing around the end of the coffee table furthest from the entrance of the room just in time to see Farleigh bolt through the threshold. He's stops himself short before he could all but slam into the coffee table, and his body is pulled taunt, muscles bunched in preparation to sling him around the small piece of furniture and in your direction at any given moment. It has you on edge, even more so than that competitive glimmer in his eyes. "You know I'm gonna catch you," he taunts, leaning forward with a type of confidence that pisses you off. "So you should just give in now, and cling onto what little bit of dignity you have left." 

You can't hold in the scoff that leaves you, the way that your mouth twists into a playful scowl. "Like I'd give in so easily." 

You know realistically, this game isn't going to last long. There's only so many places to run to in the apartment. He's going to catch you at some point, but that doesn't mean that you can try to avoid it for as long as you can. He's growing impatient, you can tell by the way that he keeps shifting to different sides of the table, trying to trick you into flinching close enough for him to reach out and grab you. But that's fine. It's good even. You use it, pretending to jerk over to the left when he moves, prompting him to lurch forward to get ahold of you. But you anticipate the move, darting back on your feet and rounding around the side of the table before he can so much as blink. A loud surprised swear rings out behind you, a strained 'fuck' as you bolt towards the open threshold. 

There's the hope that maybe if you get to the kitchen, you can hold him off better. The space isn't massive by any means, but the sparing amount of furniture provides more of an open area to move around in. The table there is bigger than the compact one in the living room, making it a better shield to provide distance. Your heart rate spikes with excitement as you dash towards your chosen destination, intent to put as big of a gap between you both as possible, tearing across the floor with a laugh. You come up on the kitchen in a matter of seconds, but before your feet can step from the soft carpet and onto the fake, vinyl flooring a sturdy arm snakes around your middle and pulls you into the firm expanse of a chest, ripping a sharp gasp of his name from your lungs. 

It's his turn to laugh now, but it sounds smug and mocking as he backs up deeper into the living room. Every step just drives in your loss. You make idle efforts to get free, squirming and shifting in his grip, but his arms might as well as be steel bands around your abdomen. "So much for putting up a fight," he teases. But you don't get time to make a comeback before you're being spun and shoved down onto the couch. The push was light, but the fall steals the air from your lungs regardless, and the abrupt change in perspective leaves you a little disoriented. It's the sensation of the cushions around you shifting from someone's weight that reorients you, forcing your eyes to focus on the figure that sweeps over your body. His body heat rushes over you with the smell of amber and spice that has you sinking further into the piece of furniture when you should be trying to shuffle out from underneath him to escape. 

The expression on his face is fully gloating, dark eyes twinkling with mirth, and the sight of it is enough to finally have some sort of retort spilling from your mouth, as delayed as it is. "Fuck you," you snap, but it does nothing to snuff out his apparent delight. If anything it seems to amplify it. 

"Careful," he warns, dipping his voice down that low rumble that you love. His hands are placed on either side of your head, keeping you comfortably trapped underneath him. He angles his head with a teasing smile, the tip of his nose ghosting over yours. The shift in mood is obvious, but not jarringly so, nor is it unwelcome. It falls over you both as easily, and suddenly the intention of calming down for the night and enjoying a horror movie marathon leaves you just as the air from your lungs has. "I might just take you up on that offer." 

"What makes you think I was offering?" You query, tilting your head so that his lips brush against yours, soft and inviting. The little amount of space between you gives you enough mobility to rearrange your legs, lifting to them to wrap securely around his waist, and he lets you draw him closer into the gap between your thighs with a light nudge. His eyelashes flutter, a minute gesture that you just barely catch underneath the intimate, dim glow of the lamp in the corner. Farleigh can hardly resist, draping himself against your body until his hips and stomach are pressed along yours and you can feel his body heat radiating from both of your clothes. Your body shifts in its own accord, softly rolling against his in a desperate motion to seek out more of him, and the thrilled look on his face makes a dull sense of embarrassment prickle at your cheeks. 

"Call it a gut feeling," he answers and the pout of his lips whisper of yours when he speaks. 

You fleetingly contemplate on taunting him back, but you toss that train of thought out the window. Instead, you tilt your chin to seal your mouth over his, swiping your tongue over the delicate skin, sweet and bitter with coffee and the smoke of a cigarette. He moans into you, light with what almost sounds like relief, and the noise, as simple as it is, is more than enough to have a dull throb of heat ripple down your spine. You slip your hands up his neck, reaching to scratch your nails up the base of his neck near the curls there, and it you're gratified to pull the desired response from him, satisfaction flaring in you when a pleasured shiver goes down his back. He licks into your mouth, languid and hungry. 

His hips grind over yours, drawing a gasp from your chest when you feel the shape of him, already hot and heavy, through the material of both of your pants. It's more than enough to get you to chase after the sensation, working your own in a desperate attempt to build the warmth smoldering deep inside the base of your abdomen until you're both humping at each other on your living room couch like a couple of teenagers. One of his hands moves to your thigh, drawing it up higher and spreading it further open so that he can lean more of his weight, dragging himself across your clothed cunt meanly. You're already a little wet, slick between your thighs, but even then, you don't feel any urgency to rush. You just want to feel him. To focus on the press of his body against your own, and to breathe in the scent of him. 

But the clothes you both wear serve as an irritating barrier. A buffer that dulls his warmth and the sensation of his skin on yours. The only thought swirling around in your head is that they need to be off, gone and tossed somewhere across the room. You slip your hands underneath the edge of his shirt, wadding it up within your hands and tugging. It earns you an amused laugh with him breaking the kiss to pull back and look at you, but not without a teasing bite against your bottom lip. "Is there something you want?"

"Yes," you say, voice almost petulant and determined. "Off. I want it off." 

You don't stop trying to slip his shirt off, shooting him a glare when it hitches underneath his armpits, and he doesn't make any effort to assist you in shedding his clothes. "Okay, okay, " he relents, shuffling on his palms to readjust himself but he must have caught onto your hair because it has a stinging heat blossoming on the side of your skull, tearing a surprised yelp from your mouth. "Fuck! Hair - you're on my hair!" 

"Wha - shit! Sorry!" He jerks back onto his haunches like you had struck him, thankfully drawing his hands back. The relief is near instant, but you can still feel the side of your scalp throbbing from the pain making you swear lowly. His gaze roves over you like he's expecting to find some kind of visible wound, and the concern in his eyes has affection curling in your chest despite the sharp tenderness echoing throughout your skull. That's what you get, you suppose, for trying to make out on a couch. 

"It's okay," you assure, and the gentleness in your tone has him relaxing. A smile makes its way on his face, and he leans down again, this time making sure to be mindful of your hair, to place soft kisses across the expanse of your face. Peppering the cushion of his lips over your cheeks, your nose, your chin; each one an apology. Neither of you can hold in the small puffs of laughter that spill from you, lighthearted and close. You stroke your hands back up his neck again, curling your fingers over the nape to draw him in closer to return your own bout of kisses along the corners of his mouth and jaw. 

"Still, I do feel bad," he says. That familiar cadence is back already, dipping low into a smoky rumble that you swear you can feel thrumming over your skin. "Let me make it up to you." 

And even with the little slip up and the brief shift in mood that had come from it, it isn't enough to have dampened that coil of desire and want that burns in the cradle of your hips. Not in the slightest. The look in his eyes is consuming, dark and glinting with hunger and longing type of want. It's a look that never fails to weaken you, it's one that you've yet to build an immunity against, and you don't think that you ever will. It's honestly a little embarrassing how quickly it never fails to make you crumble. "I can't say no to that." You try to sound collected and unbothered, but there's a pale quiver in your voice regardless; a gasp nearly catches in your throat. 

The smirk that tugs across his face is impish, entirely too complacent and a little mischievous for your liking. It's the type of gaze that you've been pinned under probably close to a hundred times already, and it's one that spells trouble and pleasure all in one. Just a pleasure that's always given on his time. But maybe . . . if you play your cards right, you might just be able to him underneath you instead. 

Not just yet though. 

"Atta girl," he purrs. 

He moves himself off of you in a nimble blur - a complete opposite of the guy who had just awkwardly caught onto your hair earlier, to situate himself down on the floor. He doesn't wait for you to follow. Choosing to grip you by the hips and tug your body to face him, threatening to pull you right over the edge of the old polyester cushions and sending you ass first onto the carpet. But you manage to get a good grip on the headrest of the sofa to secure your seating. Which proves to be helpful when Farleigh hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and underwear in a single pull and begins to jerk them down without fanfare. His movements are impatient but fluid, working the fabric from your legs in fast rush, balling them up and tossing them across the room. He hardly gives you any time to process anything before he's grasping both of your thighs and spreading you open by hooking your knees over his shoulders. 

The tepid air brushing over the damp heat of your cunt is almost jarring and the gasp it pulls from you shudders across your ribcage. The anticipation welling up inside of you is already unbearable despite having done so little to warrant it; some dry humping and making out. But when it comes to Farleigh, you're damn near insatiable, and even the simplest things about him can set you off and dangle you over the edge. His scent, sweet and syrupy with the subtle notes of vanilla, but also warm from amber and cardamon. There's that spiced musk of cigarettes always on him too. It's never been a habit you've liked, a smell that you've ever enjoyed, but coming from him it still manages to make your mouth water. And then there's his eyes; expressive and bright despite their dark shade; dipping from what almost looks like a near black to a heated bronze, glimmering with flecks of copper and gold depending on the strength of the casted light. The sight of them pinned on you always has your body humming like a live wire and watching them skip around a room or from the faces of people, animated from the fervor of his passion or opinions never fails to make you flood with an array of emotions: peace, happiness, adoration. And then there's the sound of his voice and all of the various shades of it, from the soft, nonchalant rumble it takes during day-to-day conversations; that inflection that hits it in a playful spike when he's feeling particularly mischievous or sardonic; how low it can dip when he's got you malleable and eager underneath his palms, just like he does now. 

You love all of it. All of the various sides of him and all of his qualities and imperfections. You could blame it on the honeymoon phase. That it'll just all wear off once the freshness of your relationship has worn off and sunk in. But truthfully, everything about Farleigh has always set you on fire, practically from the moment you met him, and you don't think it'll ever go away. That the sheer amount of heat and desire that you feel for him - that the aching way that you crave him will ever dampen or dull. 

It's a realization that you've come to a while ago, but it still never fails to surprise you from the sheer scope of your feelings and adoration. Just how much you love all of him. From something as simple as waking up next to him every morning. Especially when he's asleep while the city is still sluggish and casted with the lavender and champagne hue of dawn, giving you time to admire him while he's relaxed and safe from all of his troubles. How expressive he is, all snark and sarcasm and sharp, quick-witted comments that never fail to get a laugh from you. He sometimes uses British terms and slang when he talks, and every now and again you swear you can hear a little bit of an accented lilt on his words when he speaks - especially if he's upset or impassioned in some way. And it even though it pisses you off to no end and you've given him plenty of ear full's about it, you can't find it in yourself to hold it against him when he's rarely able to keep track of time. Not even with red little watch secured around his wrist or the alarms on his phone; dates and schedules always seem to slip his mind. But he's gotten better. He's made and effort to try. And you love that little fact about him, because it's a part of him. Of who he is. And you love him so much that you wonder if it might just eat you alive and light you on fire. God, you really do love him. You love - 

"Farleigh," you nearly whimper. He snags the tender skin of your inner thigh between his teeth and lips, nipping and sucking to tease you and wind you up. 

"Be patient," he says, dragging the point of his tongue next to where you need him the most, leaving a blazing trail along your flesh in its wake." I haven't even started." There's that smug amusement saturating his tone, and you want to snap at him. To say something. But then he's slipping his hands underneath you to cup to the swell of your ass within his heated palms, slipping his thumbs towards the front of you to spread you open even more. You can feel how wet you are, smearing a little along your skin, leaving it chilled. Shame doesn't even register for you. You're already too worked up, too desperate. At this point you just want him to touch you. You know that begging him won't really get you anywhere. Not when he's like this. All you'll end up doing is stroking his ego, but you can hardly care about that right now. 

"C'mon, Farleigh, pleas-" you fully choke on your words when his tongue drags over you, dipping into your entrance before dragging up to your clit in a single stroke. Your legs twitch from the surprise and you can't help but reach out to grasp onto his hair, threading your fingers into his curls as your lungs swallow down a moan in a shaky breath. He's working his mouth against you like a man starved, like he's desperate to drink down your taste and savor every bit of you. Sure, you've been with passionate lovers in the past, people who genuinely enjoy the act of eating someone out, but the enthusiasm that Farleigh always has when he goes down on you never fails to shock you. It takes every bit of conscious effort not to cry out. You do your best not to be loud, reminding yourself that it's got to be around three a.m. by now and you have neighbors. You've already had to deal with that once before. A little after the first week you and Farleigh had moved in, he had made it his mission to fuck you on nearly every available surface in the apartment, and it's safe to say that you two had been a little louder than intended. It had made checking the mailbox compartment outside near the front desk and taking out the trash to the dumpster unbearably awkward with all the side eyed glances and glowers you had gotten. Not that you could necessarily blame your neighbors for being a little disgruntled. Still, it's safe to say that you'd rather not do that again. 

But it doesn't help that Farleigh seems to take your silence as some sort of challenge. You see it flicker in his eyes when you glance down at him, catching sight of his eyes from between your arms and the frame of your thighs. The look that glimmers in them is lethal and almost defiant, but it isn't something that you can brace for. He's always been talented with his mouth. The first night that you had hooked up on that stone balcony back at Saltburn you're pretty sure that he had damn near killed you with his tongue. And in the few months you've been together, somehow, he's gotten even more dangerous with it. He's had time to learn everything about you. How to take you apart piece by piece. What makes you twitch, and shudder, and scream, and you can tell concentrated glare that he has that he's going to do his best to pull you apart by the seams. 

He curls his tongue around your clit and sucks hard, making you jolt and then he's laving the muscle down to sweep it along your entrance. That's the only warning you get before he slips inside, dragging it slow to make sure you feel every bit of it. He's only just started, and that molten heat is already curling down your spine and building between your hips. His hands slip upward to grip onto your thighs, squeezing the sensitive skin there and mushing them against his ears. He moans against you, sending vibrations across your cunt that makes your toes curl. But even in the midst of the bliss searing at your body, your brain is still able to cling onto the fact that the noise he made almost sounded doleful. It's with a ragged gasp that you force yourself to pull your focus onto him, trying to center your attention through the low haze that's already clouding your brain. You can see the way that his eyebrows are pinch closed, almost like he's displeased or annoyed. But before that nervous flutter in your gut can become anything serious or unignorable, he's jerking away from you, forcing a mournful whine to spill past your lips from the absence of his mouth. 

"Far, what -" 

"Sit on my face." 

His request - command, really - comes out a little ragged. Breathless. And he all but flops back on the floor, letting his limbs sprawl out carelessly. But his eyes don't drift from your in his descent, they remain locked onto you with a sort of depraved yearning. For a moment your brain seems to lag, and in turn your body straggles behind, leaving you lie across the couch and stare. Too caught up in the sight of Farleigh. His breathing is already slightly labored, causing his chest to rise and fall, forcing air from his lips, which are glistening and smeared with your arousal. And you don't miss the fact that he's already hard, heavy and straining against the burgundy fabric of his sleep pants. Even with of tempting of image that Farleigh is spread out in front of you, there's still a question on your tongue. He must have been able to see your hesitance, something in your body language or a glimmer in your eyes because the look that he fixes you with is steadfast and maybe even a little exasperated. "Sit. On my face." He enunciates the words slowly, like he's giving each of them time to really sink in through your skull. 

That's really all it takes for the majority of your doubt to waver. Farleigh isn't one to ask for things that he doesn't want. And in your small time together you've already managed to build up a strong level of trust between each other, especially in regard to sex. It's enough to give you the confidence to slink off of the couch, kneeling yourself down over his legs to work yourself along his body until your hovering over his chest. But even with his anticipation palpable in the air, you still can't help but be a little bit nervous and the torrent of thoughts raving your mind does nothing to ease your concerns. 

What if you smother him? What you're too heavy? What if - 

"Hey." 

His voice gives you something to cling to, centering your thoughts with something as simple as its sound. His hands cup your thighs, gripping them with their warmth and caressing the skin with their fingertips. It pulls your focus downward where he gazes up at you from between the apex of your legs, eyebrows raised and the hint of an amused smile perking at the corners of his lips. "You've literally choked me before." 

The comment has a small bubble of laughter leaving you, despite its truth. He isn't wrong. It's not like breath play is a new development between the two of you, so you honestly aren't sure why the idea of sitting directly on his face seems so daunting. Just two taps against your thigh. That's all it would take, and then you'd be pulling yourself off of him in an instant. This really isn't unfamiliar territory in the slightest. It's just nerves, is all. That little realization, no matter how small, is enough to have excitement and heat burning through your veins; flaring and needy. 

"Ready?" You ask, trying to swallow down the faint flutter of nervousness in your stomach. 

The expression that flickers across his face is absolutely delighted, if not a little wicked. "Fuck yes," he pants, sending a warm puff of air across the slick that's smeared across your inner thighs. His hands clench around the grip they have on you when you adjust yourself forward and begin to lower yourself downward. Apparently, you were going much to slow for his liking because he's lifting his head up to meet you, tongue first. It feels as though it's been doused with liquid heat when it lashes along cunt, forcing a sharp cry from your lungs from the pressure of it. It's enough to catch you by surprise, making the muscles of your thighs twitch and give out. The full brunt of your weight would have collapsed onto his head if you hadn't managed to grab onto enough awareness to catch yourself with your palms. 

"Farleigh," You hiss, equally elated and scolding. 

All you get from him is a moan in response, but it sounds purely happy. Almost euphoric. The vibrations of it thrumming over you and the pressure of his nose nudging across your clit fully douses over what little reservations you have left. His fingers flex tight, and his strength bears down on your legs to fully seat you on his mouth, sealing the heat of it over you. If it wasn't for the fact that you're already supporting your weight on your arms, you probably would have doubled over from the sensation of it. It's completely involuntary when your hips begin to roll, seeking out the friction of his nose and tongue. You can't even find it in yourself to be worried about crushing him or cutting off his breathing with the wanton groans that start to pour from him in an uninhibited stream. It's almost as though he's the one . . . 

That trail of thought has you leaning yourself back, just barely managing the coordination and thought it requires to pull your weight into your thighs again and off of your arms. You turn your head to glance over your shoulder and the sight of his hand stroking up and down his cock is enough to tear a whine from you. Your cunt clenches around nothing, achingly empty while he laps and sucks at your clit, stroking molten bliss throughout your veins. You aren't sure when he had pulled himself free from his pants, and you aren't sure how you didn't manage to hear the low wet sound of his palm dragging over his length, slick with the flow of precum, but you're unable to pull your attention away from the sight of it now. 

You can already feel the pressure of that sultry heat coiling deep inside of you, dangling you precariously close towards that delicious edge. You mouth drops open in a silent whine when his tongue slips inside, lapping deep like he's trying to drink you down. Pleasured tremors zip up your thighs and stomach with each drag and suck from his mouth, threatening to make your eyes roll. Even then, you still have enough clarity and drive to want to return the favor. You reach behind yourself, managing a cursory glance over your shoulder just long enough to be able to grab ahold of his cock, just above his own hand. The position is admittedly a little awkward, and you can feel the strain of it simmering along the taut muscles of your back as you squeeze his length and twist your wrist over his heated skin. But it isn't enough to get you to even consider stopping. He whines against you at the feel of your palm on him, and his hips jerk up into both of the holds you have on his cock, desperately seeking out more friction with fervent thrusts from his hips. 

The two of you easily fall into a unanimous, rhythmic pace, and his hand brushes against your own as they both slip and down his girth. You make sure to squeeze the head of his cock with each upstroke, pulling a frayed moan and another flow of precum with each tug. The broken, sharp moans that spill from him help to hurdle you towards that rising, frenzied tide of bliss. The way that his tongue works inside of you makes your muscles seize, threatening to sweep you under quickly. A little too quick. You don't want this to end just yet. On just about any other time, it wouldn't have been a problem, but you don't think that you have more than one round in you tonight. Not with all of the dancing and partying you had done earlier; the emotions that had run; the small glimpses back into Saltburn and wounds that had reopened with just the small glimmer of a pair of Spirit Halloween costume wings. You wanted to feel him. You needed him. But you had to stop now before the smoldering warmth licking across every nerve and cell in your body lit up and engulfed you entirely. 

"Farleigh - wait." You gasp around a choked moan, trying not to mourn the loss, to focus on the heavy ache that racks through your body at the absence of his tongue. "Wait, wait, wait." 

Even though you can feel the hesitance in his grip he allows you to pull your cunt from his mouth, but there's a torn whine from his chest and for second he chases after your hips before letting his head plop back down on the carpet with a defeated sigh. There's a confused furrow set between his eyebrows, though you're sure he's getting mixed signals based on the way that you haven't paused or released the grip you have on his cock. 

"As much as I'd love to cum from your mouth, I need you to fuck me." It's then that you remove your hand from him.

"Okay - fuck - please, yes." He nods his head vigorously and the look that burns in his eyes is bright and eager. Suddenly the hand that he was jerking over his length is now on your waist, following as you begin to shuffle down his body until you can feel the crown of his cock drag across the heat of you, spreading your lips open around the shape of it and dragging along your clit in a delicious grind. You both moan at that little bit of friction, and as worked up as you are, you can't help but stay that way for a moment; slipping a hand down to grip the base of him so that you can roll your cunt over him with tight circles from your hips. His head tilts back against the floor and the expression that melts over his features looks tortured and dazed all at once. You take the time to just watch him; the mixture of his spit and your arousal that gleams over his lips like a perverted sort of balm; the short, almost labored gulps of air that shudder across his ribcage, only concealed by the fabric of his T-shirt; and you can see the light of the lamp glittering dimly across his hair, showing up like streaks and winks of amber and cinnamon. 

"Don't tease me," he complains, hitching his waist up to thrust the head of cock against you in a way that has you crying out in surprise; sending a smoldering shot of lust into your veins. Even then, you can't hide the amused smile that stretches across your lips. But that's as much as you bother to taunt him considering that you're already plenty of worked up yourself. You don't bother with any smug comments or sarcastic quips. Instead, you're taking ahold of him and lining him up with your entrance. And you don't bother giving him time to breathe before you sink down around his girth, taking him in with a single motion that makes him choke on an inhale. Maybe it's a little mean of you, not letting him catch up and adjust to the sensation, but the sheer delight that burns in his eyes lets you know that he isn't bothered in the slightest. 

That doubled with the flexing grip he has on your hips lets you know that he doesn't want you to stop. You press your palms flat on his chest, not enough to be crushing, but enough to provide you the leverage that you need to rotate your hips over him in smooth, deliberate rings that have you both quivering and plunged in an ecstasy that frays your senses and pulses over your nerves. He helps you along by meeting the shift of your hips, thrusting into you with deep, heavy strokes. He's insatiable, running his hands all over you. Like he's afraid you'll vanish, and he has to commit you to memory before you slip through his fingers. It has you dipping your head as low as you can without disrupting the rhythm you've built, and he props himself on his elbows to meet you so that you're able to lock your lips with his. You come together with the brush of teeth and tongue. It's clumsy and messy, but even then, it has nothing but pure want melting over your bones like wax and honey. 

The hold his hands have on you is greedy and fervent, like he wants to soak your warmth in through his palms and keep it to himself. He slips them underneath your shirt, coasting along your skin until they meet the swell of your breasts, kneading them with his fingertips. It's enough to have you keening aloud and fucking yourself on him like you'll die if you don't. Each stroke tips you that much closer to burning alive, and you can tell by the way that Farleigh's muscles tense with each grind and push from your hips, that he isn't that much better off either. You're both going to pull each other under into something alive and lambent until there's nothing left of yourselves but heaving, wrecked pieces clinging to each other. And you want nothing more than to singe and ignite with Farleigh. 

The thought alone gives you the motivation to work yourself on his length, squeezing the walls of your cunt over him, making him groan and swear under his breath against your lips. It has his head tipping back, severing the press of your mouth against his. But you don't have time to mourn the loss when he all but whines into the air, pitched and raucous like he's been overstimulated. Though the near bruising grip he has on your tits and the way that he vigorously meets your thrusts lets you know that he's far from at his limit yet. 

But you can already feel it, rising up and threatening to take you apart. You can taste it on your tongue; sweet and electric, and you chase after it with a desperation that might knock you into oblivion. And God, do you want that. It's so selfish, but you want nothing more than it to be just you and him, tangled together for eternity; caught within the push and pull of reaching limbs and constant desire and love; suspended in time - in this moment permanently. You try to warn him as best as you can, but it comes out as a jumbled pile of mess and a breathless sob when your body seizes tight around him like it wants to take him for all he's worth. It zips up over you like something white and hot and consuming. Stars blanket over your vision, sweeping over your limbs and spine with a weight that knocks you down into his chest despite the hungry grind of your hips. 

It's with a worn gasp of your name that you feel him pulse deep inside of you, filling you with a warmth that you swear settles so far in the pit of your stomach that it has you going boneless. The colorful array of stars blinding your vision blot out and fizzle like you're staring into a sky full of fireworks as pleasure fizzles and wracks through your body bone deep. You seize over him, clamping down on his cock one last time and you distantly register him hissing lowly like he's been wounded. You aren't sure how long you lay like that. Suspended and doused in pleasure and heat, floating above your body. But when you come to, Farleigh's panting beneath you, drawing in heavy lungful's of air while his fingertips run along your ribcage, tracing over the bone. 

You take him in. The moment: the weight of him still nestled within your cunt; the scent of his cologne and sex in the air and the sound of your labored gasps. This is peace, you decide. Just him and you. His heat, his presence. Him. 

"I love you." 

The confession hangs heavy. For a moment you don't register who spoke it. If it was you or him. But the tone of it, smoky and rumbling, paired with the vibrations of a voice thrumming throughout the chest pressed underneath your ear let you know who had spoken. It has you lifting your head to look at him, but his gaze is focused on the ceiling like he's afraid to meet your astonished stare. Your lip's part, ready to speak and assure him. To share a confession of your own and let him know that his feelings are returned but then his voice is drifting out again, cutting you off before the words even leave your throat. 

"I've been wanting to say it for a while," he says. Something flickers across his face, vulnerable but steadfast. "But I waited. I just . . . I didn't want you think I was saying it because of what happened - because I was hurt." 

The admission breaks something it you. It isn't angry but sympathetic and loving. It's warm - gentle. It guides you to prop yourself on your elbows so that you're really able to look at him, and it draws his attention enough to have his eyes flickering onto your face. "It's . . . I have regrets from that night. That morning -" he pulls in a deep breath to steel himself and you move a hand to cup his face, hoping that it'll help to center him somewhat. You feel a bit of relief when he leans into your touch instead of pulling away, and some of the tension in his muscles slip. His eyes suddenly seem as though they're pinning you in place; dark and certain even though there's the hint of tears welling up around them. - " things I would have done differently. You aren't one of them." 

You can feel tears of your own threatening to spill over. But these are of joy. You swear you might actually burst. That the sun might appear within your chest and eat you alive. "I love you too." 

The smile that breaks across his face is euphoric and light. Like the weight of the world has just been lifted from his shoulders from your words alone. It has you dropping your head forward until your forehead nudges against his own and you're breathing his air. His hands sweep up to cradle your face, guiding you to look at him. And for the first time in your life, you truly know what it means to be gazed upon like you had hung the stars in the sky. Like you had suspended the moon in its dark cradle and lit the sun alight. To be looked at like you are everything. "Say it again." 

"I love you," you answer without hesitation, and all you can do is hope that your own eyes convey the sheer magnitude of your own feelings. That your voice properly projects the scope of your love for him. 

"Again," he begs like he's been starved, placing soft kisses along your face. 

"I love you, Farleigh Start. I always have." 

You hardly get time to register the fact that he's flipping you over, swapping your positions with a single move until your back is pressed into the cushion of the carpet. Suddenly he's taking up the entire expanse of your vision; dark eyes twinkling and alive. The laughs that leave you both are chiming - almost musical. Airy and entirely carefree. His lips brush over yours and his breath coasts over the shape of your face, and the only thing that you can smell, and feel is him. The warm, soothing weight of his body and the familiar scent of vanilla and cigarettes. 

"We're gonna get a noise complaint one of these days," you warn without any bite. 

His eyebrows raise, and the smile that stretches over his face is entirely unapologetic. "If the dude with the piano hasn't gotten any shit yet then we should be fine." He runs his nose along yours, nudging you to angle your head so that he can brush his lips over yours. "Fuck 'em." 

You can't hold back the small bout of laughter that puffs from your chest, even as you playfully roll your eyes. "Fuck 'em," you agree just before you meet in a burning kiss. 

[digitaldiarystuff]

Cut Out For It

pairing: Pablo Gavi x Y/N

summary: Pablo is getting more and more female attention every passing day and his response, or the lack of it worries you

genre: angst/ fluff

————

You were currently watching your boyfriend Pablo from across the room. He was only now coming back from his injury and you couldn’t be prouder, tonight was supposed to be a little party to celebrate his return but thanks to Balde, who’s hosting, it quickly turned into a full on party with a sea of people. You didn’t even know half of them.

Don’t get it wrong, you were happy to be here with him and so happy for him but the only thing was the brunette hanging off his arm all night. There were actually two and you didn’t know any of them. As soon as you arrived with Pablo and everyone cheered for the golden boy, Balde came and collected him. You thought they probably had some catching up to do so let them do their own thing while you went to sit with the girls and it was going fine until you saw those two girls hugging your boyfriend and his friend. Balde was single, he could do whatever he wanted with whoever you knew that but it was the lack of effort from your boyfriend that hurt you. Everyone could tell the girl was shooting her shot at bagging a footballer, who’s very popular among women, but Pablo kept his place and chatted with her without a glance at you. You tried calming yourself down with a cocktail, then another one and reassured yourself that you had nothing to worry about. You knew Pablo and you knew he loved you, he told you the night of his injury and he meant it but the intrusive thoughts ran through your mind. What if this is how it’s going to be from now on? He was young, handsome, smart and Barcelona’s star. Of course he’s going to get attention but why isn’t he putting a stop to it?

“Earth to Y/N! What’s going on girl?” Sophie asked laughing, she was sitting with you at a sofa placed strategically facing Pablo. She followed your gaze and her smile faltered.

“Oh I see. But, you know it’s nothing.”

“No, I know.” you said trying to fool you both. “It’s just, he hasn’t even looked my way in the past hour Sophie.” you sadly added.

“Why don’t we go to him? Maybe you’ll dance a little and remind him what he’s missing.” she suggestively said but you were in no mood to dance.

“I don’t think so. Let’s get another drink.” you stood up and made your way to the kitchen but when you stepped back to the main area your ears started ringing, the girl put her hand on Pablo’s biceps laughing a little extra probably saying something corny like ‘omg you’re so fit i can’t believe it’ It took everything in you to not ruin the party and drag Pablo out but you knew he had to do it himself or you couldn’t trust him to do it when you’re not around. This was your biggest concern, they went out to celebrate or to parties a lot all over the world and you couldn’t monitor him like a child. He has to be able to walk away from attention seekers to come to you but it doesn’t look like it.

After a hour and 15 minutes Pablo finally remembered he had a girlfriend and tried to find you asking around. You were still in the same spot and when he finally found you he sweetly pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Are you having fun?”

“Are you having fun?” you reversed the question to him.

“I mean, it’s alright don’t you think?” he was so clueless it made you want to kiss and kill him at the same time.

“Yeah, yeah it is.” you forced a smile and he noticed.

“Does your feet hurt, we can go now if you’d like.”

“No Pablo, it’s your night. Have fun. I need to use the loo.” you said and got up trying to escape his interrogation because you knew you would’ve exploded.

“Y/N, bebe what’s wrong?” he caught up to you holding your arm but you really needed him to drop this if he didn’t want to fight.

“Nothing Pablo, I’m just going to pee.” you tried to wiggle out of his grasp but he tried again.

“Y/N please, what happened?”

At this point you knew there was no point of trying to remain calm and this argument was bound to happen so you held his hand and pulled him by the cuffs into the first room you saw which appeared to be a guest bedroom.

He tried to hug you from behind thinking you were in here for another reason but you quickly smacked his hands.

“Okay seriously tell me what’s going on?” he pressed.

“Look, I’m not a controlling girlfriend and you know it. I don’t want to control you or monitor your moves because I want to trust you.” you started pouring your heart out but also clarifying you’re not being a jealous bitch.

“I know.” he nodded

“But I can’t feel but disrespected when you’re out there chatting with random girls at a party I’m here with you. I mean, if you can do this with me here what are you doing when I’m not?” you finally snapped and you could see his eyes widen with the accusation.

“Do you really think-

“I don’t know Pablo, I’m asking you. Do you really think this is okay? Is it a celebrity thing where you flirt with whoever but it’s all harmless?”

You knew you were pushing his buttons, Pablo hated being called a celebrity. He always said he is a boy who loves football and that’s it.

“But maybe I should’ve excepted this. I mean, it’s not easy to be 19 and handle fame.” you said and he was getting more and more shocked with every second.

You could see he was ready to defend himself at first but now, he was just sitting on the bed with his head low while you paced around in the room accusing him.

“Do you really think I couldn’t handle being recognized?” he asked and if you weren’t furious you would see the sad pouty look on his face.

“It certainly doesn’t look like it.”

“I’m sorry you feel like that.”

You looked at him for the first time, he was completely distraught.

“Pablo, I-

“No you’re right. I should’ve been more careful.”

“Pablo I’m sorry if I hurt you, I just, I was just angry.”

“No I understand, I knew I wasn’t cut out for it anyway.”

“No no no please don’t say that. I didn’t mean it like that. I was just jealous.”

“You were jealous?” he asked with a small grin, this was the first time you showed any emotion about it.

“I see you’re enjoying this, but seriously-

“You don’t have to say anything, I’m sorry for everything Y/N. I love you more than anything and promise to be more careful. And yes, I like when you’re jealous, it’s hot.”

You playfully shoved his chest.

“Pabs!”

“What? I’m just saying, we’re completely alone in a bedroom sitting on a comfy bed.” his hands started to make their way around your body.

“We can’t” you started giggling.

“Yes we can.”

“I love you so much.” you said and leaned in, he got the message immediately and laid you down continuing to show you just how much you mean to him.

————

[mattypattypinky]

Could you please do some romantic joy headcannons?? I loved the other headcannon one you did!! :D

I'm gonna assume you mean what she'd be like in a relationship!! so, I'm gonna do that

Romantic Joy Headcannons <3

Okay so, I think Joy would be extreemely big on PDA. . .

If you're in a relationship with Joy, everyone knows it, and she makes sure they do - and she's very very open about how much she loves you. You're the moon to her sun, the jelly to her jam.

She flaunts you like you're her proudest prize, and she tries to make sure everyday you have a smile and a good day at HQ...

She'd make you cute little gifts anytime she gets freetime, and she'd definitely try to make you laugh, or smile...

She'd ask you to dance with her at random. Even in unfitting moments... She's super giddy, and enthusiastic, and nothing makes her happier than to dance with you.

BUT, I think her dancing wouldn't be slow dancing, it would be goofy or silly, and fast paced. She might accidentally step on your feet mid dancing and then suck in through her teeth and apologize frantically, all while still doing some goofy boogy with her hands.

I feel like she'd be a little bit of a biased partner. If you were in the wrong about something I think she'd still defend you tooth and nail.

Her sweetheart could NEVER do anything wrong!!!

Um, physical affection is unintentionally condescending, as I said in my last Joy post.

Cheek pinches, head pats, hair ruffles, cheek cupping, chin grabbing, big smothering hugs, nose boops, back pats etc. She does alllll of these things to you.

If you two are openly dating in HQ, which if you were dating, it would be open because Joy can't keep a secret to save her life I think - she'd flirt with you in front of everyone.

Her flirting is definitely a feigned attempt to be smug and sly, but she just looks super goofy... You know that fake ass smile she does at Sadness? Yeah. She pulls that type of face a lot when trying to flirt, its kind of cute and funny.

She's the type to do incredibly dramatic eyebrow wiggles when using a pick up line she read from a pun book. She can embarrass you sometimes...

She's actually so corny by the way. You can not not get embarrassed by her. She'll find a way.

She'd randomly joke and slack on the job whenever you two are together at the Panel. I'm talking, making stupid jokes and giggling and sprawling herself across the panel and slapping her knee - Elbowing you and bringing up something stupid funny that happened a few minutes ago, etc.

She's actually super duper giggly around you. She's giggly regardless but it's so much worse around you. When she's with you, anything remotely funny you say, she'll hoot and holler. She finds you absolutely hilarious, even if it doesn't make sense.

She'd let you sleep with her in her bed, and when you need to, she'd bundle herself into a ball and cuddle up to you. I feel like she'd try to fight over who's big spoon though, she definitely wants to be the bigger spoon.

I feel like, even though you two are dating, she'd be more keen to forehead and cheek kisses. And if she really wants to get to you, she'd take your hand and kiss the back of it, along your knuckles. She likes when you fluster, it gives her a little wee bit of a confidence boost.

I think her ideal date would be something vibrant and energetic, like listening to upbeat music, having a little party or sleepover, or being in charge of something exciting at the panel together.

I think if you both were using the panel, she'd hold your hand when you touch the panel sometimes. She just likes doing that, it makes her feel happy to lean on or over you and hold the back of your hand while you click a button.

I feel like she'd... sing in the shower about you.

Or come up with stupid, terribly written songs of the top of her head about you.

She is a corny girlfriend. 💛

[adore-laur]

RENDEZVOUS

— a steamy flashback from the dadrry universe about harry as your fiancé 💍

——

After another shot of vodka went down the hatch, you still didn't qualify yourself as drunk. Tipsy was the more accurate feeling since every shot you had taken in the last ten minutes hadn't quite affected your bloodstream yet. The fifth one was being poured already. Or maybe the sixth. It didn't really matter since letting loose was what bachelorette parties were made for.

The event was being held in a small theater in downtown San Francisco, occupied by you and your friends, to celebrate the last few weeks before you officially became a married woman. A drag show was the extravaganza for the evening, and it was currently the intermission, so everyone was out of their seats drinking and catching up with each other.

You and Harry had needed a getaway amid the final phase of wedding planning. The both of you were staying at the Ritz-Carlton for the weekend, and it was nice to take a breather from the stress of the big day coming up. In the weeks leading up to the mini vacation, you had decided it would be perfect to have your bachelorette party in the scenic city. Most of your friends lived in surrounding areas, so you sent the invites out and hoped everything worked out. It clearly did because everyone was buzzed and having the time of their lives. 

Your throat hurt from loudly cheering on the drag queens who had just performed. The tiara on your head with a tiny veil attached was slipping off, and the bride-to-be sash across your body was getting wrinkled, but you couldn't care less. Happiness and love exuded from your friends who had come to carouse with you.

Harry had proposed a little over a year ago after he cooked a fancy New Year's Eve dinner and led you to the backyard at midnight to get down on one knee, popping the question with shaky hands and watery eyes. You were incredibly thankful it hadn't been a grand display in public. It had been just you and him at home under the string lights, with butterflies breaking loose in your stomach.

In planning the wedding, you had vowed to him that you wouldn't be a bridezilla. You'd allow him to have equal insight and let him completely take the reins regarding the food that will be served since it's his forte. Overall, the process hadn't been too draining. You worked well as a team, and he was always open to suggestions and last-minute changes of plans. The final touches would be put together once you came home from the trip. Then, it would finally be time to marry him.

"Did you leave Harry alone in the hotel room?" asked your friend, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Yeah, but I'm sure he'll find something to do," you said. "He can never sit still for too long."

She carefully fixed your tiara. "When's his bachelor party?"

"Next weekend. He's having it at the restaurant he works at."

"Not at the strip club?" she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

You laughed. "He's mature enough to understand that I find it suspicious when guys go there for their bachelor party. Some call it their last night of freedom. How weird is that?"

You had nothing against strippers, but you thought it was reasonable that you'd rather have Harry spend his night somewhere else to celebrate his, you know, commitment to you.

"You're marrying such a gentleman. It makes me jealous," she said with a playful nudge. She wasn't wrong, so you just shrugged smugly and sipped your fruity cocktail.

Gasps and excited clapping suddenly stole your attention. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at the stage, watching the red velvet curtains draw back once again. Shuffling to your table, you smoothed down the back of your dress and sat.

The lights dimmed as people who worked at the venue began rolling a black piano onto the stage. You wondered what it would be used for since the drag queens earlier had strictly danced and lip-synced to music booming from the speakers. Other instruments were also being brought out—guitars, drums, and even a saxophone.

Growing more confused by the second, you turned around and stared at your friends around the room to see if they knew what was happening. All you received were mischievous smiles.

Before you could ask questions, you were abruptly pulled out of your seat and led to the front of the stage as people situated themselves by their respective instruments. You leaned into your friend and asked, "What's going on? This doesn't look like a drag show is about to happen."

She smirked and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Let's find out."

You didn't reply because the band started playing jazzy music as the stage lights turned on, revealing quite a modern setup for what you knew was definitely not a drag performance. A spotlight shone, and it began to move toward the left wings, where a silhouette of someone was waiting.

"Please give a warm welcome to Harry Styles!" introduced the saxophonist.

You just about choked on your Mai Tai.

Your vision finally focused on Harry as he strutted out wearing yellow trousers and a button-up under a suit jacket. A tiny microphone was clipped to his collar, and you couldn't even begin to guess what he had planned tonight. He gave you no inclination that he'd be here. No subtle hints had been dropped in conversations with him, and no sneaky clues had been given by your friends. It was actually shocking, considering he was usually awful at keeping secrets.

Everyone cheered for him; whistles and encouraging hollers were thrown his way as he held his arms out and walked toward center stage. You were too taken aback to join in as you watched him cut the band off with a gesture before facing the room with his hands behind his back.

Was his hair parted down the middle?

"Thank you, thank you," Harry said with a bow, his deep voice echoing throughout the theater. "It is so great to be here hosting a bachelorette party for the first time."

Wow. He had jokes up his sleeve, apparently. Was he about to do a stand-up routine?

The applause and praise continued as you shook your head in disbelief, letting a huge smile take over your face at the unexpected surprise.

"This is new territory for me," he said. I'm very excited to step back from my chef duties and do some comedy tonight."

There was no way he was going to do a comedy bit. You couldn't believe he crashed your party with a fancy suit and a routine ready to go. He was talking to your friend group in the audience like he was giving a Saturday Night Live monologue. You were going to lose it if he started playing the piano.

"You see, my fiancée and I go way back. We met about three years ago at a bar." He finally looked at you. "I ordered a lemon drop martini, and she ordered a strawberry margarita."

A stagehand brought out a clear martini and set it on the piano, and another one came down the stairs and placed a pink-colored margarita on your table. Your face heated at the simple yet thoughtful act.

"We talked for hours until I drunkenly asked her on a date. You know what she told me?" A plethora of whats were screamed from the crowd. "She said, 'Ask me again when you're sober!'"

Everyone laughed, and you hid your face in your hands. That wasn't even a joke; you had genuinely said that to him. You were blown away that he remembered such a tiny detail.

"Ultimately, I'm a very serious partner," Harry continued as he began sauntering toward the piano, "and nothing says serious partner like learning how to play the piano to impress my fiancée."

Taking a sip of your margarita, you glanced behind you. Some of your friends were recording him with their phones, and you were glad this could be something you could watch repeatedly.

Harry sat on the bench and exhaled. "Ooh, that feels good."

You had to wave one of the fans the drag queens gave out to cool down. He looked unfairly handsome, he was playing the goddamn piano, and he kept giving you secret looks that made you sweat.

"Now... I don't know if you've heard, but I'm not a boyfriend anymore." He stared straight at you. "I'm a fiancé now." Whistles from your friends caused him to proudly smile. "I'm also going to be dad," he casually blurted. "We're going to have a baby."

The entire room gasped, and you gaped at him with wide eyes. "We're not," Harry added after a short pause. "Wouldn't it be crazy if we were, though?" Your friends were now shaking you and battering you with questions. Harry smiled before his face dropped comically. "We're not."

He teasingly raised eyebrows and smirked at you as if to signify that you were actually pregnant, although you were drinking alcohol. Hopefully, everyone knew that you'd never be that stupid. 

The girls were gawking at you, but Harry rolled his lips in and shook his head to remove the confusion. He continued playing the piano, and your cheeks hurt from laughing so much. He was doing such a great job, and you were genuinely trying to figure out how he had pulled all of this off.

"I love my fiancée; she's my best friend," he said smoothly. "She's hilarious, honest, caring, fuckin' beautiful"—he trailed off and furrowed his eyebrows—"and, uh... good in bed." You rolled your eyes as he puckered his lips at you, more cheers filling the room.

"Yeah, that's right." He blew out a relieved breath. "I'm so grateful she doesn't live with her mother anymore."

"Oh my God, Harry!" you yelled with a surprised laugh.

It was a more private joke that no one understood fully, but it was funny nonetheless. You had used to live with your mother when you started dating Harry, and you always had to be quiet when he'd come over because, in his early twenties, testosterone needed to be having sex with you at the most inconvenient of times.

He winked at you before resuming. "However, for me, it's not about how my fiancée is in bed, even though I'd consider myself very lucky in that department. It's about her soul and her heart. And in all seriousness," he added as the laughter died, "I truly believe her soul is my love language."

Coos and squeals echoed at his statement, and you shyly smiled. You were the one who had taught him about all the different love languages; he had told you once that he thought your entire soul was what his was.

"Maybe some of you aren't convinced I'm a serious partner. You may be asking yourself: Did he really take secret piano lessons to do this? Well, if in doubt, just ask the maid of honor."

Your head whipped toward your maid of honor, sitting at a table behind you. She waved with a proud smile, and you gasped when you realized he must've done piano lessons with her since you knew she had played the instrument for several years.

Harry hummed loudly while closing his eyes, bringing your attention back to him. "I love being here in San Francisco. So much history."

The band behind him cheered as Harry dramatically sipped his martini. You'd never seen him so in his element with something besides his job. The confidence in the delivery of his jokes, the comedic timing, the professional stage setup—it was something you'd never forget.

"I've learned so much this week. Here's a few secrets about the hotel we're staying at," he said gaily. "Did you know they gave us the haunted room because of how pale I am?" He shook his head with a boyish smile. "That is funny."

You chuckled at the awful joke because he was actually paler than usual. It was the end of January, and he hadn't gone outside much since it'd been cold and gloomy by the coast where both of you lived.

"The bed in there is so creaky that it sounded like that one night in Mexico!" 

Shocked gasps and bursts of laughter rippled throughout your friends in the audience. It was a harmless joke about how you had all gone on a couples trip a while ago, and your friends had heard you and Harry getting down with it in the hotel room. It had been terribly embarrassing.

Harry laughed. "Everybody thinks we're a couple that has a lot of sex. We don't; that's why she sleeps in a different bed than me at home."

Okay, now that wasn't true.

"Except tonight!" he shouted cheekily while pointing at you. "I mean, I think I'm just about ready to take her home with how she looks right now."

The girls at your table nudged you, and you began to get flustered. He was giving you that look again.

Harry cleared his throat and stopped playing the piano. "All jokes aside, thank you so much to everyone for celebrating with her tonight. You've all been wonderful friends over the years, and I can't wait to see you all at the wedding. It'll be terrifying, but I'm so ready. Also, thank you for bearing with my terrible jokes. Have a good rest of the night!"

You applauded along with your friends, some of them throwing leftover confetti from the drag performance earlier toward him. He brought his hands together and bowed politely as the band played a closing song.

Harry's cheeks were as pink as your strawberry margarita when he walked down the stairs with one hand behind his back and the other adjusting his suit jacket. He locked eyes with you and pursed his lips, trying to hold back a smile. Everyone stood from their seats to greet him, and the band came down holding bouquets of white iris flowers, passing them out to each of your friends.

You met Harry halfway and instantly wrapped your arms around his waist as he tilted your head up for a messy kiss on the lips. He coaxed and smacked kiss after kiss out of you until your friends started making fake gagging noises from behind. He eventually pulled away and removed his hand behind his back to hold out a bountiful bouquet of red roses that matched the color of your dress.

"For my lovely fiancée." He gave you the bouquet and then turned your head so his mouth was by your ear. "I've got a taxi picking you up after this is done."

You nodded and ran your fingers across his stomach. "Sounds perfect. That was so incredible, Harry. And the piano? I'm impressed."

"It wasn't too much?" he asked, shyly rubbing a knuckle under his eyebrow. "I didn't know if you'd appreciate me crashing your girls night."

"Are you kidding? That was the best thing I've ever seen. I'm so proud of you."

Harry blushed, and you lovingly pinched his cheek. "Thanks. I was nervous because your friends always make fun of my jokes. I thought they wouldn't laugh."

"We were cracking up. You did so good," you complimented. "How did you keep it a secret from me? I had no idea."

"I'll never tell," he said with a cute shrug.

You lightly slapped his chest. "I'll get it out of you one day. Are you staying for the rest of the show?"

"It's your night, baby. Go enjoy it with your friends," he said. "I'll be waiting in the hotel room. You should stop by for a little rendezvous."

Your tipsy mind missed his attempt at a joke entirely. "We're staying in the same room, though."

"Bloody hell," he said with a laugh. "How much alcohol have you had?"

"Excuse me, not even a lot. Mind your business. I'm having a great time."

"I'm glad you're having fun. That makes me happy." Harry adjusted your tiara and then softly pecked the corner of your mouth three times. "I'll see you back in the room, okay?"

"For our rendezvous?"

"Our top secret rendezvous," he murmured against your temple. "Don't go around telling anyone, all right?"

"Sure thing," you replied while squeezing his sides. "You can go now."

An offended scoff escaped him, and he cradled the back of your head and leaned in. "Watch your mouth. I expect you to behave when you get back."

You puckered your lips and hummed contemplatively. "But it's my special day; you said so yourself. I can say whatever I—"

Harry cut you off by pressing his lips to your bottom one, biting it with his teeth before pulling back. "I love you so much, but that attitude isn't going to fly with me tonight."

You rolled your eyes. "Okay, dad."

"I'm leaving before this gets weird," he said with a smile. "Be safe, have fun, and call me if you need anything."

"Now you literally sound like a dad."

"Shush," he said. "I love you. I'll see you soon."

You pecked his lips one last time, tasting the sour lemon residue from his martini. "Love you."

"Have fun, ladies," he called out to your friends. "Take care of her, yeah?"

They all nodded, and Harry hugged you before heading to the stage to shake hands with the band. Soon after he was gone, the lights in the theater dimmed again, and the curtains opened for the final portion of the show. You headed back to your seat, feeling exceptionally giddy.

The rest of the party went by in a flash. Wigs, pop songs, and glitter invaded your brain, and now you were ready to return to the hotel. The tone he'd used earlier had made a shiver run down your spine. Low, insinuative, and almost impatient.

It was a tone that suggested you were in for a treat when you got back.

——

The key card swiftly slid into the slot. Two chirp-like beeps sounded, indicating that it was unlocked. Opening the heavy door, you stumbled inside the hotel room in the black heels you had already started to unclasp in the back of the taxi. There was confetti stuck to the bottom of them, and it nearly made you slip on the hardwood floors. That, and there was also a trail of rose petals and tea light candles weaving throughout the presidential suite that you didn't remember seeing when you had left earlier. 

You giggled to yourself as you followed the trail to the bedroom. Oh, Harry. You had almost forgotten he was here.

When you walked through the doorway, the king-size bed came into view. So did your fiancé. Harry was sitting pretty on the silk sheets with a flute of champagne in his left hand as he looked out the window at the San Francisco skyline. He was wearing the same outfit from his surprise act not too long ago, but his hair had become messier, and his eyes were glassy from the bubbly liquid you noticed was already half gone from the bottle on the nightstand.

You crawled toward him on the bed, setting your bouquet down. "Hi. I'm back."

His gaze was focused on you. He granted no response as his lips took a sip of the pale and fizzy drink he held so delicately, the gold engagement band on his ring finger gleaming from the moonlight illuminating the room. A low groan escaped his mouth when you straddled his thighs and applied pressure to his already hard cock. He wasn't saying anything, but you knew exactly what would get him to speak.

"What's got you so hard, baby?" you asked softly, tutting. "Were you thinking about me?"

His lips twitched as he finished the champagne and set it on the ground beside the bed. "Like you don't fuckin' know. Look at yourself, darling. It's honestly a shock that I wasn't on my knees for you at the theater."

Your hands rubbed up and down his thighs. "I had a feeling you'd like this little number."

It had been a struggle to get through the door to leave since his touch had been all over you the second you put on the red satin slip dress.

"What about me? Do you like my outfit?"

Such a narcissist, you thought to yourself. You ground against him, and he let out a breathy moan. "I do. Apparently, no boxers are part of the get-up."

Harry closed his eyes and smirked. "I might have no boxers on, but there's something else you might find. I went and did some quick shopping while you were gone."

Your slowed thoughts tried to catch up to what he could have been hinting at. "Shopping, huh? What did you buy?"

His large hands kneaded your ass. "Take a look."

He leaned forward and guided your hand to the button of his trousers. You quickly flicked it undone as he removed his suit jacket and began undoing the button-up. His body lifted on the bed so you could slide the garment off easier, and he hissed when it brushed past his cock.

Slowly but surely, his legs underneath were revealed, and your face heated to a thousand degrees. Fishnet tights. His leg hair and tiger tattoo peeked out from under the crosshatch material stretched tight against his skin. The redness of his cock looked painful from its restraint under them.

"I might've bought a little something too," you admitted as you scratched his skin through the thin fabric.

"Yeah?" He jerked his hips when your fingers grazed the head of his cock. "Show me, then. Go on."

You sat on your knees and lifted your dress to reveal the baby pink garter around your upper thigh. "It's your favorite color."

Harry licked his lips as his fingers delicately rubbed the lace. "I see that, sweetheart. Anyone particular on your mind when you bought it?"

"Was there anyone on your mind"—you snapped the waistband of his fishnets—"when you bought these?"

He bit his lip. "You're the only one I think of. The only one I would wear these for. I would crawl on my knees to you wearing them if that's what you wanted."

"Is that so? Quite the visual."

"I'll do it if you want me to." He paused, a smile slowly creeping across his face. "We can practice the garter toss for our wedding."

You made a noise of protest. "We are absolutely not doing that in front of our families. It'll be so humiliating."

"Don't have to, because we can do it right now," he suggested. A nip was given to your neck before he climbed off the bed and grabbed a chair.

Your eyebrows arched. "What are you doing?"

"We're doing this the traditional way," he explained with a nonchalant shrug. "I have to go under your dress and take it off."

"Will you be nice, or will you tease me?"

"Which do you prefer?"

You swung your legs over the bed and sat in the chair. "I prefer the way that gets you inside me as soon as possible."

"Well, I'll let you know once I'm between your thighs," he said, kneeling on the carpeted floor and waving his hands for you to spread open for him.

"No tickling, or I'm staying in another room," you warned as you slid off your heels and parted your legs.

Harry started crawling toward you with his tousled hair and day-old stubble, only wearing his fishnets and unbuttoned dress shirt. He never broke eye contact with you until he reached where you were sitting.

Your satin dress was then lifted over his head. You could instantly feel his hot breath against your legs, his lips grazing every patch of skin he could find. He left an open-mouthed kiss over your underwear that was already damp, and you moaned when his facial hair rubbed against your inner thigh.

You suddenly felt his teeth grab the garter as he pulled it down to your ankle. He took it off the rest of the way with his hand, bringing it over your shoe and moving out from under your dress. He stuck it between his teeth again and removed his button-up. Green eyes stared at you, and you clenched your legs under his intense stare. His tattooed torso was on full display. He was so, so beautiful.

Harry grabbed the garter and slid it on his bicep before saying, "Stand up."

You got up and switched spots with him, standing in front of him while he sat in the chair. He crossed his legs, his thighs thickening even more under the fishnets. You walked over and parted them so you could straddle him. The chair was thankfully wide enough to fit both of your knees on either side of him. You could almost feel his cock throb as you started desperately grinding against him to offer relief.

"Baby, slow down. Shit, slow down," he said quickly, his hands gripping your waist. "I need to last. You'll make me come right now if you keep doing that."

Slowing down, you took your time with each grind on his thigh. The pressure of the muscle felt like heaven as your core clenched around nothing. "Is that better?" you asked, raising your dress to see how his body reacted underneath you.

"Yes," he choked out, his neck straining. "I need to be inside you so bad."

"How bad?"

"So bad. I'm fuckin' throbbing for you. Please get on the bed."

You squeezed one of his balls through the fishnets, his hips bucking. "Where does it ache? Tell me how to make it better."

"Get on the bed," he gritted. "I'm not going to ask again."

There was the dominance you wanted. You nipped his earlobe and crawled off his legs. He immediately stood, hissing as he palmed himself through his tights. You helped him take them off.

"Top or bottom?" he asked while closing the curtains. "My fiancée's choice."

"Neither. I want it from behind."

"Say less." He turned around, gripping his cock and squeezing it once. "On the bed. Now."

You quickly slipped your dress and underwear off and knelt on the bed, facing the headboard. Harry got in position behind you, his cock resting on your lower back. He moved your hair to one side and whispered, "On all fours."

You placed your forearms on the bed and arched your back so he had a good angle. "Open your mouth," he commanded. You tilted your head up and to the side as he leaned in to spit in your awaiting mouth. His saliva pooled on your tongue, and you swallowed it down willingly. "Good girl."

Harry then reached his arm out to hold onto the headboard. The engagement ring on his finger caught your eye, as did his veiny hand that tightly gripped the burgundy wood.

The first thrust was divine. Searing pressure filled your walls, and Harry whimpered into your neck at your instant clench around his cock. He continued deeply thrusting into you as he took the garter off his arm and put it around your wrists so that they were restrained in front of you. Your hips burned. Harry's other hand squeezed your breast.

"Go faster," you said as his hand trailed down to your stomach, his long middle finger lightly grazing your clit.

He pounded harder, his skin slapping as the headboard creaked from the force. He was hitting all the deep spots, his pelvis meeting your ass each time. Your hands gripped the sheets when he glided his fingers up and down your dripping core. His head was nestled in your neck, muffled groans and pants leaving him when you pushed up your hips with each new thrust.

He removed his fingers that were coated with your arousal and spread his palm on your lower stomach. "Can you feel me there?"

You nodded fervently, crying out when a deep trust had you literally feeling him in your stomach. "Holy shit, Harry. I feel you. Please don't stop."

He pressed down and rubbed your stomach, the knot from your orgasm growing and bubbling up quickly. In one swift movement, he brought you to a sitting position as his cock continued stretching your wet walls. His thighs were touching yours, and you could feel them tense and tremble as you got closer, clenching hard around him.

"I'm going to get your name tattooed on my thigh right here," he said, taking the garter off your wrists and moving one of your hands to touch his right thigh. 

You were too submerged in ecstasy to reply to his random confession. A couple more thrusts had you blindly reaching back to grab his hand so you could come. He held it tightly as you unraveled, arching against him from the pleasure leaving you.

"That's my girl," he said in your ear. "My love, my love, my love. So gorgeous, coming for me like this."

Your ears were ringing, and Harry eventually spilled inside you while you still clenched from your remaining orgasm. You felt his warm release shoot inside you, his hand still holding yours and his body falling on top of you as he groaned hotly against your cheek. Heavy breathing was coming from both of you. Harry finished coming but kept his cock inside you, with throbs and twitches happening every so often.

"If we weren't engaged already," he started, "I'd propose to you right now because that was the best I've ever felt. Wow. My body feels all tingly."

You groaned, his dead weight on top of you making it hard to breathe. "Get off me. You're sweaty."

Harry rolled over and stared at the ceiling with his hands clasped on his stomach. The dim light illuminating the room and the perspiration glistening on his skin accentuated the carved outline of his abs, and you couldn't help but trace them with your fingertips.

"Shower?" he asked.

"Please."

He got up and carried you toward the bathroom. Everything in there was white marble, and the brightness hurt your eyes. The shower was small but comfortable enough to fit both of you. You already took one in the morning, but it would feel nice after a long, eventful night. It would also help you sober up as much as possible so you don't suffer through a terrible hangover tomorrow.

After laying down a towel and setting you atop the sink, Harry turned on the shower. He took off both of your engagement rings and then stood in front of the mirror. He inspected his stubble while he waited for the water to heat up.

"Should I shave?"

"Why?" you asked with a sharp tone that had him immediately raising his hands in surrender.

"All right," he mumbled with a teasing smile. "Blimey, woman. Don't get your knickers in a twist."

"What are you even saying?" you asked languidly. "I hate it when you speak old-timey British to me."

"Are you cheesed off at me now?"

"You're literally speaking gibberish." You hopped off the counter. "I'm getting in the shower. Goodbye."

Harry followed you and dove under the hot water, trapping you in a hug from behind. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" The soft skin of his stomach against your back had you melting into him.

"I don't want you to divorce me before we get married," he explained, kissing your jaw. "I'm just playing it safe."

"Harry, you're the only person who can annoy me and make me endeared at the same time."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Yes," you replied, picking up the shampoo bottle you brought and handing it to him. "It makes me want to marry you right now."

He spurted a dollop of shampoo into his palm and began massaging it into your scalp with gentle and soothing motions. "I can't wait to marry you, either. Gonna treat you like a gentleman."

You lulled your head back, resting it on his collarbone. "You already do."

"I'll do it even more when I'm your husband, though. Make dinner for you every night and take you out on the town." He gravitated one hand toward your stomach. "Give you so many babies."

"Not so fast," you interjected with a dreamlike smile. "No babies anytime soon."

Harry filled the shower cup with water and poured it over your sudsy hair. "I hear you. Just know that I'm ready whenever you are."

"Let's get married first. I want you all to myself for a while."

"You always have me. That'll never change."

You turned him around so you could wash his hair next, opting for the same shampoo since he liked to steal it for himself anyway. After a prolonged yet comfortable silence, you asked, "Were you serious about tattooing my name on your thigh?"

"I'm dead serious," he replied. "I might even do it at my bachelor party. I work with a guy who's coming, and he does tattoos in his free time."

"But why on your thigh? It seems like a risqué place for it."

Harry turned his head and gave you a blank stare. "Would you rather me get it in a corny place like over my heart?"

You laughed, lathering shampoo in his curly hair. "No, not really. I guess you're right. It's kind of a secret spot for only us to know."

"Not unless I wear shorts all the time."

"Yeah, but thankfully, you wear pants every day at work. I don't want your coworkers to see that."

"Why not? I can't show you off anymore?" he teased, reaching back to pinch your side. "Wow, you propose to a woman, and suddenly she wants to be anonymous."

"Shut up," you muttered through a smile. "I honestly don't care. Just please don't get it inked in an ugly font."

Harry moved under the shower head, closing his eyes and slicking his hair back. "Well, it's a good thing I was going to ask if you'd write it out for me."

"Seriously?"

"No," he said in a deadpan manner, spitting out some water that had gotten in his mouth. "I'm thinking Comic Sans."

Poking the soft skin under his belly button, you said, "You think you're so funny now because you did a five-minute comedy routine."

He didn't provide a retort, but you saw him grin as he washed the rest of the shampoo from his hair. His nose was scrunched while he scratched his scalp and cleaned the foamy residue off his face.

After a peaceful moment of nothing but the sound of the shower water beating down, Harry opened his arms and brought you in for a hug. "I love you. You know that?"

You kissed his collarbone. "Where did that come from?"

"Dunno." He shrugged and cradled your head with his hands. "It hit me that we're getting married in a month."

It had been hitting you as well. You'd been waiting so patiently for the special day to arrive. "I love you," you said quietly. Thank you for tonight and every night. You make life worth living."

"Are you trying to make me cry?"

"Yes."

"Cool."

It fell silent as you stared longingly at each other with growing smiles. Harry slowly started getting closer to your face, his dimples carving deeper until his eyes crossed from how near he was. His forehead dropped against yours, and you rolled your lips in when he attempted to steal a kiss from you.

"How about another rendezvous, but this time we get in bed and fall asleep?" you suggested, reaching around him and shutting the shower off. Sporadic drips and exiting warmth greeted you.

He pouted. "Only if you kiss me."

"We've done enough of that today."

"You're really not going to kiss your fiancé after I just told you I'd give you babies? That's dire."

You laughed and admired a water droplet cascading from his pointed nose. "If you blow dry my hair for me, I'll reconsider."

Flinging the shower curtain open, Harry yanked a fluffy towel from the hook on the wall, then gently wrapped it around your body before grabbing one for himself and tying it low on his hips. The blow dryer next to the mirror didn't have a long cord, so you sat on the counter for easier access and squeezed any remaining wetness from your hair into the sink. Meanwhile, Harry covered the top of his head with a towel. He looked like the Virgin Mary.

You gave him a comb, and he took the blow dryer with his other hand, turning it on and gesturing at you to ensure it wasn't too hot on your skin. For the next ten minutes, the sound of the loud dryer filled the space. It would have been a stressful sound in any other situation—trying to dry soaking wet hair from the pool before dinner reservations or untangling knots from yesterday's sleep. This time, it was relaxing. Domestic. A moment in time.

The soothing scratches Harry gave to your head as he combed through every citrus-scented strand could have put you to sleep. The hotel room's air conditioner was cold and crisp, but occasionally, he'd lower the dryer so it blew warm air on your arms.

Before you knew it, the dryer clicked off, and peaceful quietness surrounded you. Harry's hair dried much quicker than yours, so he took off the towel on his head and tied some of his damp curls up in a ponytail for the night.

His hands planted themselves on either side of your legs. "Kiss time," he whispered, his arms taut.

You slid off the counter, finding yourself trapped by his body—not that you minded. Grabbing his left hand, you raised it to your lips to kiss his ring finger, then put his gold engagement band back on.

"My mouth is up here."

You grinned. "And? What about it?" Harry annoyingly pushed his forehead into your cheek, grumbling something incoherently. You pushed it away and asked, "What did you say?"

"I said I think I'll die if you don't kiss me," he repeated dramatically.

"What kind of kiss do you want?"

He once told you that he had favorites for different situations: a nip, tug, peck, tongue, or the type where you both smile so big that the kisses become messy and mixed with giggles. The latter was your personal favorite.

He hummed, his nose wrinkling as he pondered. "The one where you do all the work."

You laughed softly. It wasn't necessarily a joke he was making; he genuinely enjoyed it when your lips moved against his. Sometimes, he just wanted to be kissed silly. It was never awkward, nor did it feel like a chore. He was the most kissable person to roam the earth, so resisting was hard.

"Okay," you said, draping your arms over his shoulders. "Only for a little bit, though. I'm exhausted."

Harry nodded and lifted you, setting you on the counter again. Your legs circled around his hips. "I'll return the favor tomorrow," he said.

The towel on his waist was hanging on for dear life. His eyelids were lazily drooping from tiredness, and his skin was flushed from the steam. How could someone look so pretty in hotel bathroom lighting?

Your hand on his cheek gently guided him to your mouth. His lips were damp and plush from the shower, parting naturally with each of your doting kisses. With his nose nudged against yours, pleased hums came from his throat as you alternated between his top and bottom lips. Kissing him never gets old. It could be soft or rough, long or short, brought about by love or annoyance. It was a cure all the same.

After a slow and innocent onslaught of kisses, you pulled away before you ended up making out with him until morning. Bruised, aching lips could wait.

Harry whined in protest. "That was only, like, five seconds."

"Guess what?" You trailed your fingertips along his neck. "You have the rest of your life to kiss me."

He yawned while shaking his head. "That's not enough time. Give me forever."

"I'll try," you said fondly, sliding your engagement ring back on.

You would until children of your own were born, which required you to share that love. Until your children's children withdrew even more of it. Yet, despite that, Harry would always be the first person you had given your heart to completely. He had never taken advantage of it. He had never made you doubt his love for you. It was the kind of love that was immortal. It would never die out and would remain the greatest feeling you'd ever felt in this life and the next.

If evermore was attainable, you liked to believe it was made possible by loving him.

——

[short-honey-badger]

Morning Cuddles

Happy birthday my dear @ezzydantes! I hope you enjoy what I've whipped up for you. It's just something cute and sweet.

Pairings: Mihawk x Reader x Shanks

Summary: The boys wake you up with a nice birthday breakfast in bed.

“Is she still sleeping?” Mihawk whispers when Shanks escapes from the bedroom. It had taken the redhead longer than expected to wiggle out of your hold on him, and you had looked so innocent and cute in your sleep that Shanks hadn’t been able to stop himself from peppering your face in kisses and snuggling into your embrace. Today was your birthday, after all, so you deserved all of the sweet things. 

“Out like a light,” Shanks assures the other man and follows him to the kitchen. Mihawk starts the kettle and sets out mugs for the two of them. They hoped you’d stay sleeping until they finished up their surprise for you. It wasn’t anything big, they learned that you didn’t appreciate grand gestures the hard way, and so planned to have a small party with just the three of them. But, first, breakfast.

They worked around one another, an old song and dance, and soon the scent of a hearty breakfast wafted through the castle. Mihawk cooks and Shanks arranges the plates, carefully placing them on the tray beside the stove. Tea and coffee are next, and the redhead holds open the door for the older man when everything is finished. 

The warlord and emperor lope back to the bedroom, and you are still curled up right where they’d left you. Mihawk sits the tray on the bench at the end of the bed and then crawls over the blankets. Shanks follows, settling in on the other side, and reaching out to ease the blankets down from where you've got them tucked close to your chin. He leans in, kissing your brow and then further down the bridge of your nose and to the corner of your lips.

Mihawk watches the sweet exchanges, long fingers drifting forward to stroke along the length of your throat, and then up into your hair. He joins Shanks in peppering you with little pecks, tongue sneaking out to taste you, lips sucking little marks into your flesh. Dracule’s free hand pulls the covers away, tossing the heavy fabric further down the bed. With that out of the way, his hand finds your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh. 

You wake with a soft grown, eyes fluttering open and catching the attention of both men. Shanks comes into view first, handsome face close and dark eyes full of affection for his treasure. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” He greets, and then his lips press against yours in a quick, soft kiss. The hand in your hair turns you up, and then Mihawk is kissing you next, plush lips just as perfect as his partner’s. 

“Morning,” You murmur, voice rough with sleep. You reward your boys with a smile, nose scrunching when you get a whiff of breakfast, “What’s that?” 

Shanks snickers softly, unsurprised that breakfast had caught your attention. He shares a look with Mihawk, and the other man huffs as he releases his hold on you so that Shanks can drag you up the bed with him. The two of you rest against the headboard, and you raise a hand to rub the sleep from your eyes, squinting as you take in the tray of food that Dracule sets in front of you. 

“Breakfast in bed for the birthday girl,” Shanks murmurs from where he sits beside you, and you light up at the reminder that today is your birthday. The grin on your face widens and you turn to pull Shanks in for a quick kiss, and then do the same for Mihawk when he settles on the other side of you. 

“What would you like first, Darling?” Dracule purrs beside you after you release him from the kiss. He gestures to the platter before you, an assortment of breakfast foods and fresh fruit, along with hot tea and coffee. You sit forward to make your choice, when Shanks wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you back to rest against his chest. 

“Let us, babygirl. We want to spoil you today,” Shanks whispers and you shiver when his breath ghosts over your ear. You nod easily, feeling a little dazed by the intimacy,”

Mihawk hands over a cup of tea, and it is made exactly how you take it. The men watch you sip, and when you seem content, Mihawk takes it away only to replace the mug with a melon slice that he presses to your lips. 

“Open up for me, Angel,” Dracule orders and you part your lips without a second thought. The melon is soft and sweet, melting in your mouth, and you hum at the taste. 

“Good? Want another?” Shanks asks and you nod, licking your lips of any leftover juice from the fruit.

Mihawk feeds you savory meats and cheeses, sweet fruits, and fresh vegetables until you are nice and satisfied. You hum quietly to yourself as you finish off your now lukewarm tea. Shanks presses soothing circles into your hip from where he still holds you close, lips pressed to the back of your head. He watches his partner clean up and then settle back on the bed, pressing close to your side and looping an arm around your extended legs. 

“Happy Birthday, dear one,” Mihawk whispers, and Shanks repeats the sentiment quietly from behind you, arm tightening around your waist to keep you close. 

This is just the start of the day, and the two men have plenty of other things in store for you, but for now, Shanks and Mihawk are content to wrap themselves around their treasure and hold you close.

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Your dorm or mine? (Felix Catton x reader)

synopsis: You went to the party only to make your friend happy. In the end it is you who gets the happy end.

warnings: innuendo, making out, afab reader

word count: 1.7k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by me

The bass of the booming music fills out the entire room and runs through your body to make for a stuffy atmosphere. People are drinking and dancing all around or sitting to the side to either attempt conversation over the noise or making out. And you would lie if you would ask yourself why you were here. Despite belonging to the ´popular crowd´ at Oxford by extension this wasn´t your usual scene. Yet when your friend begged for you to come out to the Halloween party thrown by some students, you decided to indulge her. Ignoring the way, she wiggled her eyebrows as she mentioned that there would be more than enough cute boys attending to get your mind away from the bits that you hated about going out. However, your face does begin to burn the smallest bit at the thought. You are aware that she really means that one specific boy, that she had seen you looking at for weeks now. One of the only things that made you truly like every other girl on campus. Felix Catton. Yet how could you not. Whenever you saw him, he was smiling so genuinely. He was kind and surprisingly smart and sure he had that old money not having to care about anything vibe surrounding him, but no one was entirely free of fault. So, what? You are convinced you have never seen your friend smile brighter than in the moment you agree to go. Except for maybe when she more or less drags you along to look for matching costumes and finally finds the one. It´s stereotypical almost. Her as a devil and you as an angel, but you don´t complain about that. With a bit of luck, it will give you the benefit of getting lost in the masses. When it came to parties, people always seemed to go crazy. Going all out for the event. No matter if it was Halloween, Christmas or any other occasion. Even if it was just a random weekend. You highly doubt some of them even spend half of the energy they put into partying in studying, but luckily that wasn´t your problem. Your problem was the insufferable pain spreading slowly from the metatarsals throughout the whole foot, caused by the high heels you had been handed to wear along with the costume and the incessant dancing.

Yet you don´t get a break either. Right as you manage to convince your friend to take a break and sit down at the side to get a drink, you get approached by an impossibly tall figure, but even in the flickering lights and with the cowboy hat pulled down to hide his eyes you know instantly who it is. Felix gives you one of his signature, and to your detriment very charming, half smiles.

“Hey.” He says just loud enough to be heard over the music.

Even over the smell of sweat from the people around you you can detect his aftershave. One of the most alluring scents in the world.

“H-hey.” You answer though you can´t hide the stutter, giving away the surprise at him talking to you. Something that had never happened before and you thought scientifically impossible of ever happening, but here you were.

“You wanna dance?” Felix holds out his hand towards you, to be able to pull you onto the dancefloor should you accept his request. Unsure what to do you look back at your friend, who nods enthusiastically and holds both her thumbs up to signal that she would be fine on her own.

“Yeah, sure!” You smile widely at him and take his hand.

The next thing you know is being surrounded by people as you get pulled close Felix´s body. He guides your hips with his large hands to sway from side to side to the beat of the music that now vibrates all throughout your body. All the pain and tiredness from before is forgotten as you feel the vibration from the improvised dancefloor through the soles of your feet and up your spine and the firm grip Felix has on your body. You let him lead you willingly until the two of you are close enough to breathe in the air that the other has breathed out. You look up into his eyes only to find them already looking down at your lips. You pull your lower lip between your teeth and turn around in his touch to dance up on him some more, rubbing your backside against his front. As you do so, you can feel his excitement fit snuggly between your ass cheeks. One of your hand sneaks up to take it´s place in his neck, pulling him down ever so slightly.

Felix gets the hint and leans down the rest of the way himself to meet your lips with his. The kiss only lasts for a short moment, but the way he nips at your lower lip has you craving more instantly. How could you not be instantly hooked on the feeling his impossibly large hand holding your face by the chin. The room around you gets cut off from the little bubble you are in when you turn around again to press your chest to his, your hands cupping his face to keep him close, but no matter how much you try to stay away from him just to tease, you fail. Even with the added height that the heels give you, you have to stand up on your tiptoes to claim his lips again. This one lasts longer, each of you pushing and rubbing your bodies against each other as it goes on, getting more and more worked up. All you can feel is his stubble underneath your palms and his hardness press against your lower stomach. The noise, the people it all gets relocated to the furthest place in your brain. There is only him and you for the time your lips crush together, tongues exploring each other’s mouths until you feel like you know it like the back of your hands. When you part, your panties are staining heavily and his pants couldn´t possibly get any tighter. Your eyes straying upwards to the hat he wears gives you an idea.

You steal the cowboy hat from his head onto your own and smile at him, with him laughing back at you as it slides down from being a bit too big.

“Do you know the cowboy hat rule?” He mischievously mutters into your ear.

“Of course, I do. If you steal a cowboy’s hat, you have to ride him.” You recount the rule, running your hand over his shirt up and down his chest.

“So… Do you want to go to your dorm or mine?” Felix ponders as he takes both of your hands into his ready to lead you away.

“Let´s do yours.” You answer almost a beat too fast, making him chuckle again.

“I´m starting to think that you and your friend should have switched costumes. You are at least only half the angel you dressed up as.” He jokes, but every one of his words lights the fire of need in your core further.

Multiple times along the way to his dorm you two stop just to make out for a few moments before being able to continue. Even after you leave the initial party the air between you continues to stay thick to a point of almost being unbreathable. The only breaks of air you get when his lips are on yours. It also serves well to work the two of you up even further.

When you do finally arrive at the destination, Felix cages you up against the door with his much taller frame.

“Finally.” You breathe out in relief.

“I don´t think I would have been able to hold back another minute.” Felix agrees. “I would have had to fuck you right in the middle of the hallway.”

You poorly bite back a moan at the thought, letting your head rest against the wood of the door to give him more space as he begins to trail his lips down your neck.

“You like that thought, hm? What a dirty girl.” He acknowledges your reaction.

“Technically we still are in the hallway.” You giggle in response. “So, we haven´t entirely made it yet.”

Felix lays a hand on the small of your back to stop you from falling and with the other opens the door behind you. Walking you inside like this, your eyes are captured by his. The only indication for where you are is when your legs bump against the bed. Turning the two of you around, you gently push Felix to sit on the edge of the mattress. Giving him a show of undressing yourself, while he impatiently disposes of his shirt, touching every new patch of skin that you expose of yourself. Left in only your panties, you kneel between his legs to open the button of his jeans, pulling them down along with his boxers. As you climb onto his lap to straddle his hips, you feel Felix grab onto your hips once more. Fingertips digging into your skin from the sheer neediness of the touch.

The next morning, you wake up with a pounding headache and a ringing in your ears, but also deeply satisfied with one of Felix´s long arms laid over your middle. It seems as if he is still sound asleep, chest rising deeply and regularly, and even more angel faced than when he was awake. Carefully, you place his hand on top of the blanket that hangs loosely around his hips while you stand up. Hurrying around the room as quietly as possible to get dressed and out of there before Felix catches you. You are in such a hurry that you don´t hear the rustling of bedsheets behind you.

“Leaving already?” Comes the muffled, bleary voice through the pillow. Signalling that your efforts had been futile.

“Y-yeah.” You zip up the dress and turn slowly to face him. “I thought you were still asleep.”

“And yet here I am, awake.” He takes in a deep breath and turns his body to face you as well. Letting the blanket slide further down in the process. “I know you were just about to grab the rest of your costume and sneak out, but how would you feel about being invited to a cup of coffee or tea or whatever?”

The offer floors you quite a bit. Thinking about it for a second with what feels like only half of your usual brain power however leads to the same answer any other day or circumstance would have lead to.  “Uh, sure. I´d like that.”

[em1e]

weddings | emma and draken get married before you and shin question mark

⿻ mini series ft. you dating shinichiro and whatever chaos that comes from that !! ✕ fluff !! implied fem!reader but no gender-referring pronouns ♡ series m.list

it doesn’t surprise you when emma informs you of draken’s proposal to her. 

the two had been pining after each other for as long as you could remember, and really it’s cute that he’s decided to propose to her at the age of twenty-two. emma is elated as she tells you and her now maid of honor hina what plans she has for the wedding. 

she’d been preparing for this since she was twelve, (you know because you helped her put together the scrapbook in her hands) and you and hina assist her with picking between some of the old, replacing certain things with more in-date styles. 

she decides the theme to be soft and pink, and it fits her really well, you decide, when she shows you bridesmaid dress options, and you and hina are there when she picks out her wedding dress style. mitsuya, mikey’s friend and fashion designer, takes it upon himself to create and design and fit emma’s dress to her perfectly, and when she twirls around in it, you can’t help the swell of pride that blooms in your chest at how much she’s grown, at how happy she is. 

she asks you to be one of her bridesmaids, with shinichiro being one of draken’s groomsmen. mikey is his best man, to no one’s surprise, 

your boyfriend -  yes, boyfriend, shinichiro helps in any way he can to give what little advice he can offer on the subject, and for the next few months makes it a point to ignore the way you imply being surprised that the two are getting married before you and he. 

“i just think it’s so cute they’re getting married so early in life.” you begin, laying in bed beside him, and shinichiro knows where the conversation is being directed from your tone alone. 

“it is,” he agrees, “very cute.” 

“kinda amazing, too, huh? they’re so young and so in love.” you hum out, arm wrapping around his waist with your head falling against his shoulder. 

“mhm.” he hums out, rubbing your back, “pretty amazing.” 

“can’t believe it’s all happening tomorrow,” your fingers drum against his stomach, wiggle their way under his shirt and leave goosebumps in their wake, “you excited?” 

“‘f’course,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, “super excited.” 

“d’ya think our wedding will be as nice?” you mumble out, fingers stopping their dance as you await the answer. 

“even better,” you can feel his smile against your hair, “but don’t tell emma.” 

the wedding is, as you’d expect, beautiful. emma’s dress fit her perfectly, draken cleaned up nicely, and everything went even better than anyone could have hoped. 

during the party, hours later, emma and draken are tipsy as they dance with one another. most of their friends have left, either to get back to their home lives or to keep the party going at a nearby bar, but you and shinichiro stay at the venue, watchung as the two newlyweds sway back and forth to a soft song playing on the speakers. 

you sip on your wine, just over the line of tipsy, with shinichiro pulling you into his side, fingers pressing into your hip. you think he might be further gone than you, from the way he sways with the music as well, but he’s hardly drunk any from what you’d witnessed. 

“let’s dance.” he whispers in your ear, pulling you from your assigned seat before you have time to protest, and soon you’re a good two meters away from draken and emma, lost in your own world when he pulls you close and rocks you back and forth in tandem with the music. 

“love ya lots,” shinichiro is still whispering as he pulls you impossibly closer, arms at your lower back to keep you against him. 

your own wrap around his neck, head tilting up with that smile he just adores, absolutely eats up, on your lips, “i know ya do. i love you too.” 

“just don’t think i say it enough,” he continues, forehead bumping softly against your own as his eyes close, “don’t think i’ve ‘ver loved someone as much as i love you.” 

the words have a flush creeping its way up your cheeks, but you scrunch your nose at him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, “s’good to hear. don’t wanna have to split that love with anyone.” 

he laughs a little, pulling away from you slightly and digging into his pocket. your brows furrow at the loss of contact, pausing your dance (if you could even call it that) to question him instead. 

“you can’t smoke in here, you know? s’a private building-” 

“i know that,” he laughs again, cupping your face in with the hand not digging in his pocket. his thumb runs against the bone, looking at you with such an admiration that leaves you melting into the touch, eyes fluttering closed for only a second until he’s moving again. placing the opposite hand between you as if showing you something so top secret, so confidential, it has your eyebrows furrowing and head tilting out of his touch. 

“i wa’na spend the rest of my life with you,” he starts before you can ask, and your brows furrow even further at the implication, “was gonna wait for us to be back home, but you look so pretty right now, ‘nd i really don’t think there’d be a more perfect moment than now.” 

“shin . . .” 

“i love you,” he repeats, voice still just above a whisper, “so very much.” 

and when you look down at his hand between the two of you, you can make out the small, velvet box sat in the middle of his palm.