#here comes mimosa no. 3

[bluemoon-fever]

needy

pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader

summary: steve rogers is a very needy man.

word count: 2.45k

warnings: fluff, smut, dub-con (reader is tipsy, but not drunk), unprotected sex, possessive steve, allusions to DD/lg (but not really), D/s undertones, daddy kink, soft!dom!steve, begging, hand job, oral (male and female receiving), rough sex, fingering, light choking, spitting, dacryphilia, praise kink, grinding, mention of safe words, nipple/breast play, cum play, creampie, aftercare, it's filth, but it's also fluffy MINORS DNI

a/n: so i've been having this in my head for over a week, and i'm excited to finally share. i also have something else planned with steve (maybe a mini series or something. i'm still planning). while all can read, i do write with black/poc readers in mind! i hope you all enjoy! Reblogs, comments, and likes are much appreciated! <3

not edited.

DO NOT COPY OR STEAL THIS POST. I do not give permission for my work to be posted on another site.

A symphony of giggles and clumsy steps lets Steve know that you’ve just arrived home. He’s at his desk, working on a new art piece. It’s a drawing of you sleeping soundly in your shared bed based on an image he snapped a few days ago. He goes to hide the drawing, wanting it to be a surprise for you when he’s done.

He hears you fumble with your phone and tell your friend through a fit of giggles that you made it home safe. Then, Steve hears the sound of you taking off your heels and walking into the kitchen. He sighs, waiting for you to finally finish up whatever you were doing and come back to him. It had been about three hours since he last saw you, and he had missed you.

On his days off, Steve cherishes your time together. It’s very rare that he gets days to be home, draw, and just relax, but when you told him you had plans to go to brunch with your friends, his mood soured a bit. He didn’t want to keep you from his friends, but he was feeling very selfish over you. He wanted you all to himself. This morning, he tried to convince you to stay in bed, but after about an extra 15 minutes of cuddles, you told him you had to get ready. He threw a pout at you that made you giggle, and you kissed his cheek all sweet before you got up to get ready. He watched as you got dressed and put makeup on which he constantly told you, “You don’t need it.”

“Thanks, babe, but I just wanted to be dolled up. It’s been forever since I’ve gone out.” Steve winces at your words. He had just gotten off a long mission, and since he had been back, he had been more focused on relaxing than taking you out on dates. Even though you never complained about it, he knew you were in need of a fun outing. That’s why he couldn’t be too mad that you were so quick to agree to brunch with your best friends. You knew he wasn’t in the mood to be out and about, and he didn’t want you to sacrifice your need for socialization just for him.

Well, he did, but he would never ask you to do that. Not when you’re his perfectly sweet, beautiful girlfriend.

Steve volunteered to drive you to brunch, but you said you already agreed to a carpool. When he volunteered to bring you back home, you shot that down (unintentionally). One of your friends agreed to be the designated driver. Steve held in a grunt, but his frustration dissipated slightly when you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and lips. “I love you! I’ll be back before you know it.”

And here you were, but what was taking you so damn long?

Steve was about to rise until he heard you slightly stumble towards the room. Your cheeks were flushed red, a sign of the bottomless mimosas he knows you downed at brunch. Your lipstick was long gone, leaving a slight pink tint on your lips. The rest of your makeup looked fine, and you were actually glowing. Your outfit, a black mid-length, bodycon dress, clung to your curves perfectly. Steve felt his dick start to stir. 

God, he wanted needed you so bad.

“Hi, baby,” you said. You held a bottle of water in your hand and took a sip as you walked in the room. You weren’t drunk, but he could tell you were tipsy. You threw a playful smirk as you sauntered towards him. “I missed you.”

For some reason, Steve didn’t want to give into your sweetness. While he had missed you and missed your body, he wanted you just as needy as he was. He wanted you to need him so bad you were begging for it. While his exterior remained stoic, something feral bloomed inside of him that he had to stifle his own smirk.

You moved directly in front of him and leaned down to give him a kiss. When you didn’t feel him return it, your face flashed concern. Did you do something wrong? Was he mad at you? You began to feel nervous under his gaze. Rather than say anything, you moved to straddle him and began to burrow into his lap. You faced him directly and wrapped your arms around his neck. When his expression didn’t budge, you buried your face into his neck and inhaled his scent.

God, you needed him so bad.

As you shrunk yourself in his lap, Steve gave a small smile. Seeing you become so little was making him harder. He knew after one drink that you were affectionate and needy. At events, you’d seek him out, attaching yourself to his side or finding some way to touch him. He had you right where he wanted you. You had mumbled something into his neck that took him from his own thoughts.

“What was that?” he asked, keeping his voice firm.

“How was your day?” you said softly, almost at a whisper. You turned your face and looked up into his sparkling blue eyes. You were so damn sweet he felt he was getting a cavity. “Are you enjoying being off?”

“It was fine,” he said, telling the truth. It was just fine. If you were with him all day, laying naked next to him, it would have been everything he needed. But seeing you concerned about him, being so sweet and kind, made him want to just pick you up and make sweet love to you in his bed. But a strong part of him didn’t want that; he wanted to ruin you and make you more pliant. “How was brunch?”

“It was nice,” you began, playing with the hairs in his beard. “But I really missed you, Daddy.” 

Fuck, he thought. Here you were, his perfect girl, wrapped up perfectly in his lap and pliant. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He gripped your face in his large hands and began to kiss you passionately. You didn’t even try to keep up, letting him push his tongue past your lips and claim your mouth. You began to whine, and Steve felt you begin to grind against his hard-on. He shifted his hands to your neck and pulled you back.

“If you missed me so much, baby girl, then show me.” Your eyes were blown wide with lust. Your lips swollen and pink. You nodded and began to pull his dick out of his sweatpants. You began stroking him, creating a steady rhythm that made Steve catch his breath. “Fuck angel.”

You shifted off his lap and moved his rolling chair back. You settled yourself between his legs. You began giving kitten licks to the tip of his cock before staring up at him with the kindest eyes; Steve had to fight the urge to blow a load on your face. You teased him a bit more with the licks before swallowing his own length down. Steve gripped the back of your head, pushing his length further down your throat. You struggled to take all of him, and the sensation of it made him pulse a bit down your throat. He pulled you off of him and took in your state. Your eyes began watering, your mascara starting to smudge under your eyes. Your mouth was wet with saliva. Steve wishes he could take a picture of you, seeing you ruined made further awakened a beast within him.

You reached for his cock, moving your mouth back on him. He watched in amazement as you tried to deep throat him on your own. You began looking up at him, your eyes looking as big as possible. How you managed to make yourself still look innocent while sucking his dick was something.

“Look at my pretty girl, sucking her Daddy’s cock. You’re doing so good.” You keened over his praise. He watched as you attempted to move your hand under your dress to gain some relief, but he grabbed both of your hands and held them above you. He removed your mouth off of him as gently as he could. You stared up at him waiting for his next words.

“Get on the bed.” He let your hands go and watched as you moved quickly to kneel on the bed. Steve didn’t even bother making it, leaving your bed sheets at the foot of your mattress. You placed your hands in your lap. He got up and cupped your face in his hand. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips before his hand moved to pull the thin strap of your dress down. “How are we feeling?”

“Green,” you told him. You gave a small smile. “I need you.”

“I know. Be patient, baby.” If that wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black…

He pushed your shoulders back as a sign for you to lay back on the bed. He moved to pull your dress off, you lifting your hips to help him. You were left in just a lacy pink thong and strapless bra. You moved to pull the bra off and placed it on the floor next to your bed. You grabbed his hand and placed it on his chest. You were so desperate for some sort of relief.

Steve began massaging your breast, his fingers pulling at your nipple. You let out a breathy moan from the sensation, happy to finally feel something. Steve’s eyes darkened when he saw your hand slip inside your panties, and you began to play with yourself.

“How bad do you need me? How bad do you need your Daddy?” he asked, almost mockingly.

“I need you s-so bad,” you cried out. “I’ve missed you so much. Thought about you the whole time at brunch. Please, I need you.”

Steve removed his hands, causing you to whine. When you looked up at him, you saw him frantically stripping out of his sweatpants and white tank top. He didn’t even bother with underwear, secretly praying that you came home exactly like this, and he would have easy access.

His mouth began an assault on your neck. He pulled your hand out and roughly pulled your panties down, flinging them somewhere in the room. He kissed down your body, spending precious time kneading and kissing on your breasts before he found himself in between your legs. Without asking, you opened yourself up to him. “Please, please, please,” you whined.

Steve dove in, essentially making out with your pussy. You cried out, and he placed his left hand on your stomach to hold you down. His other hand began to push into your core, finding that spongy spot that instantly had your hips bucking. He looked up at you through his thick lashes, watching your face contort into pure ecstasy. He found your bundle of nerves and began to suck while continuing to play with you like you were his favorite instrument (you were). You immediately began singing out, a sign you were close. It was music to Steve’s ears, your incoherent cries.

Steve lifted up, removed his fingers from your core, and watched as your face fell in betrayal. “If you’re going to come, it’s going to be on my dick,” he spat at you. “Open.”

You opened your mouth, and Steve spit down your throat. He captured into another filthy kiss, you grabbing onto his back to pull you into him, trying to become one. He lined up himself at your entrance before pressing in quickly, filling you up quickly. You broke the kiss to moan, tears spilling from your eyes from the pressure. Steve felt himself grow harder as he began to lick at your tears. You felt so defiled, so nasty, and you couldn’t get enough. You began scratching at his back, desperate for him to move, for him to finally let you come.

“D-daddy, please. Please move. Please!” you begged. “Please, I need it. I need to cum. Please let me cum!” Tears began to spill from your eyes. Your face was so utterly fucked out that Steve could have came right then in there. But you were giving him everything he wanted, and now, he finally could oblige.

He began roughly fucking into you, pulling your legs into his arm to change his angle. Your back arched off the bed, and your moans grew louder. Normally, Steve would cover your mouth, not wanting to face your neighbors after this, but he didn’t care. He wanted the whole world to hear him fucking his perfect, sweet girlfriend on this beautiful Saturday afternoon. You grabbed at your breast and Steve brought his face down to one, popping one of your hard nipples into his mouth. You clenched harder around him.

“Steve, I’m s-so close. May I cum? Please, may I cum?” you asked so nicely. 

“Yes.” You came with a cry, your body shaking as Steve continued to fuck into you. Seeing you fall apart gave him a second wind and he kept fucking into you. You fell into a second orgasm, your eyes beginning to close in exhaustion, but Steve didn’t relent. He pulled out and turned you on your side like a ragdoll as you laid limp on the bed. He immediately rutted back into you, his pace relentless. His release was building up. “Come on, baby. Come with Daddy. Just give me one more.”

Steve came with a roar. He looked down at your coated juices on his dick and fucked it back into you. He couldn’t wait to see himself leaking out of you. Honestly, if you gave him a minute, he could go again and have you filled with him for days. The idea of you filled with him, possibly making his child made him cumming again.

He collapsed on top of you, softly kissing your face. You started giggling before turning and grabbing his face in your hand. You captured his lips in a long, soft kiss. You whined as he pulled out of you, and Steve shifted next to you. Looking down at your legs, his eyes darkened seeing his spend leak out of you. He gathered it and pushed it back inside of you. You winced at how sensitive you were, but Steve knew you loved when he’d play with your mixed releases. 

Steve rose and grabbed your water bottle, making you drink a considerable amount before placing it on the nightstand on his side of the bed. He lifted you up and placed both of you under the covers of your shared bed. He pulled you into his chest as you lazily rubbed circles into his chest and him on your shoulders.

“I love you,” you whispered before softly kissing at his chest and closing your eyes.

“I love you too.” Steve was happy. His perfect girl was finally in his arms, just like he needed.

[featherandferns]

daylight - four

jj maybank x fem!reader | part 4 of the daylight series | read part 3 here

content warnings: mentions of sex

word count: 1.6k.

blurb: as JJ drives the two of you back from work, a small slip-up sends you spiralling.

A month into your life in Kildare, you land a job at the Kook Country Club. You’re the summertime photographer. Hired to loiter and snap shots of the guests so they can be posted on their Facebook and used in advertisements. When you told the Pogues (now a firm member of the group), JJ told you that he worked at the same place. Professional busboy, he remarked. He offered to carpool to and from work whenever possible, to save gas and effort. You had hoped your lack of elation didn’t show on your face. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like JJ. The contrary, actually. Despite spending considerable time with all of the Pogues, long enough to build friendships with each one, you and JJ were the closest. Perhaps it followed the first meeting, knitting you closer together. Or it might be the attraction that still lingers under the surface of your friendship. Since that night at the Chateau, neither of you had brought it up since. Not explicitly, at least. But you knew you liked JJ, and you knew he liked you too. Both of you had been caught stealing glances and flirting was hidden under banter and jokes. It dampened the weight of it: softened the truth. But it was getting harder to keep your feelings at bay. So, to say that you would have to face JJ even more at work didn’t exactly perk you up. 

Not that you’d ever say that to him. So, now you hitch rides with JJ to and from work everyday.

You hitch your tote bag up your shoulder as you make your way to the Twinkie. The memory card is full of photos of sun-kissed snobs, grinning in the sunlight, sipping on overpriced mimosas and martinis. What a way to live. JJ is lent against the side of the van, typing something on his phone. At the sound of your footsteps, he looks over. The background is something cinematic: a sky of swirling purple and blue as day turns to night. 

“Yo! Good to go?”

“Yeah,” you say. You climb into the van. JJ starts the journey home. The silence is filled with gossip and shit-talking about your least favourite co-workers. When that dies down, you say, “thanks for bringing me lunch, by the way.”

“Course. Maggie makes the best biscuits. Had to sneak you one.”  

And it’s things like that which drive you insane. He just had to bring you one, because you were hungry, and you forgot lunch, and he wanted you to try something tasty. It’s not fair. It’s confusing. Your infatuation with him makes you want to dive deeper into the hidden meanings; weaving between the lines to find strands that don't even exist.

About halfway home, the dashboard pings. 

“Shit. We’re low on gas.”

He changes course for the nearest gas station, eventually turning into a Seven Eleven. It glows fluorescent in the soulless streets. JJ turns off the engine after pulling up to a pump. He digs about in his pocket and passes you his card. 

“Go pay for me?” he asks. You take his card and it feels strangely intimate, you doing this. “Oh! And you get a free slurpee so make sure that you claim it!”

“Oh my God,” you mumble with a roll of your eyes, climbing out the van.

You head into the gas station and buy him half a gallon of gas and, sure enough, you get a free slurpee. You mix cherry with blue raspberry. When you return to the van, JJ’s placing the pump back into the hold. He looks at you and grins when you present the slurpee. 

“Sweet.”

He grabs it from you like a nine-year-old helping with errands and takes several gulps through the straw as the two of you settle back in the Twinkie. He passes it back as he starts to drive. You can’t take the quiet so turn on the radio. Whatever new Ariana Grande song has just come out begins to play. JJ makes grabby hands. 

“Lemme have another sip.”

“No, I’m still drinking.”

“Come on!”

“Just a minute,” you laugh, taking another drink.

JJ tries to wrestle it from your hold, keeping a steady, white-knuckled grip on the wheel and his eyes on the road. In the sloppy battle, his hand slips from the condensed cup. It somehow finds place on your chest. Your laughter catches in your throat at the weight of his hand on your breast. The moment his brain catches up, he snatches it away. He clears his throat, both hands now on the wheel. 

“Sorry,” JJ eventually croaks. 

You stare wide eyed at the road ahead. Take an almost comic sip of the drink to calm your burning body. One fucking fleeting touch and you’re alit, like he’s the match to your kerosene. Jesus Christ: you didn’t know you were so touch starved. 

The two of you don’t talk for the rest of the ride. He doesn’t try to take the drink back. Doesn’t have another sip. The van has hardly stopped moving when you dart out, heading to your house with a hurried thanks, bye. It feels like you’ve been holding your breath all the way to your bedroom. The second air gets into your lungs, you know what you need to do. 

Mimsy picks up on the second ring. The time zones have aligned nicely and it’s about six in the evening there, and nine at night for yourself. 

“Sup?”

“Oh my God, Mimsy. You’re not going to believe this,” you blurt. 

“Doubtful,” she snorts. 

“JJ just felt me up.”

The line goes so silent you wonder if the service cut out. When your ear drums are nearly blasted, you know that it hasn’t. 

“What!?”

“Well, kind of,” you clarify. 

“He felt you up!? In what way? Where? When? Why?”

“Just now. Like five minutes ago, in the car.”

“Were you hooking up in the car!?” Mimsy screeches. “Ah! You’re iconic!”

“I was not hooking up in the car!” you loudly reply, before remembering that your parents are both probably home. Clearing your throat, you lower your voice. “It really wasn’t that deep, to be honest.”

“Well, walk me through it. Gimme a play-by-play,” Mimsy says. 

“Well, he was giving me a ride home like usual. You remember me telling you that we work at the same club and stuff?”

“Mhm.”

“So we’re driving, driving, driving and the gas light comes on. We pull up at a seven-eleven, all pretty standard, and he gives me his card, right? To go pay?”

“Wait, he gives you his card?”

“Thank you!” you cheer. “That’s kinda boyfriend-ish, right?”

“Kinda, yeah,” she agrees. “Okay, so, you go in to pay.”

“Well, he also wants a free slurpee so I get us one and I head out and we’re sharing it, and start driving back, and then he tries to grab it off me. And this little play fight starts and bla bla bla and then BAM. Hand on tit.”

Mimsy goes quiet for a second time. “And?”

“Well…That’s it…” you mumble. 

Another quiet. “Girl, please tell me you’re joking.”

“No?”

“I’ve had a lamp post feel me up more than that,” Mimsy says. 

“What kind of lamp posts have you been walking past?” you mumble. 

“Not important, babes,” Mimsy replies. “Look, if you’re horny at this man grazing your tit then just jump his bones. Didn’t he say that he was into you, anyway?”

“He did but that was like a month ago.”

“So what? Men are simple creatures, babes. He liked you then, he likes you now. Probably more, actually, now that he’s really got to know you. Really had to pine and yearn.”

“Don’t feed my delusions,” you grumble, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“They’re not delusions when you have cold, hard proof that the guy wants to fuck you.”

“God, I love how you don’t hold back,” you sardonically quip. 

“Look, what is this? Why won’t you just sleep with the guy?” Mimsy asks, her tone more genuine. 

Your eyes flick down to the box under your bed. “I don’t know,” you lie.

“Is this because of Tyler?”

“Mimsy–”

“Because you’ve let that scumbag taint enough of your life,” she tells you pointedly. “And here’s a hot surfer bro who’s totally into you, and you’re punishing yourself for a crime you didn’t even commit!”

“It’s not like that,” you reply. Sitting on your bed, you hang your head. “I just…I think Tyler kind of messed me up. I don’t even know why, or how, but everything romantic now makes me feel sick. Hell, I cry every time I get myself off Mimsy because whenever I come, I just remember that last night with him and how fucking confused I was.”

Mimsy’s voice is low and soft. “Shit, babes. Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

“Because I was embarrassed,” you mumble. Tears slip past your eyes and you hurry to wipe them away. “I mean, you know that he never assaulted me. Never laid a hand on me without my permission.”

“And? You’re still allowed to be upset,” Mimsy gently says. 

You groan as more tears fall. “God this is so stupid! I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. Fuck, I just wish you were still in Vancouver. I’d be over at your house in five minutes and give you a hug,” Mimsy says. 

You give a soggy laugh. “Shit, me too.”

“Look, just take the night, get some rest and really think about this whole JJ thing. If you’re into him and he’s into you, then you two should quick beating around the bush and fuck. In the bush, even.”

“Charming,” you laugh, shaking your head. “But, yeah, I’ll have a think.”

“Okay.”

You wipe your face and smile at the floor. “Thanks, Mimsy. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she returns. “Bye babes.”

“Bye.”

Shutting off your phone, you step out of your uniform and crawl into bed. You spend the hour before drifting off trying to ward off thoughts of JJ and Tyler. It's useless though, because the sleep that you eventually fall into is haunted by them both.

read part five here!

taglist:

@princessuki21 | @psyches-reid | @heybank | @avengersgirllorianna | @rrosiitas | @yourmumstoy | @jjsfavgirl | @void21 | @fictionalcomforts | @gsp420 | @redhead1180 | @wearemadeofstardust0 | @mrs-jjmaybank | @ifilwtmfc | @heybank |

[yelenasdog]

vibrant, saccharine, his ☼ (fwb!mat barzal x fwb!fem reader) 

genre: filthy smut, fluff, angst with happy ending

summary: pretending is getting harder, for both of them. and after a hard roadie, mat’s not sure if he wants to pretend anymore.

words: 8.7k (WOAH)

warnings: cursing, excessive use of parentheses, friends with benefits arrangement, smut, unprotected piv, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, blood (reader bit lip too hard oops!), pet names (baby, sweetheart, pretty boy), reader is described as having sisters and a dog, food mention, idiots to lovers, misunderstood situation, reader uses she/her pronouns, and i think that’s it.

a/n: when i started this, i originally was just writing a blurb and then it turned into a full ass fic with a plot?? and fwb??? idk man, im nervy to post this since ive never published for nhlers before but oh whale! and ty to @eminems-skittles for reading this for me and checking it over 🤍 love u

“You played so good, baby.” She breathed, welcoming him home with open arms.

“Not good enough, apparently.” He responded, letting her fingers card through his raven locks. Soft, freshly cut. She loved when he grew it out, but yet again it was him, so anything worked.

She sighed, letting her thumb fall to his cheekbone, knowing what he was referring to. It had been the last stop of the road trip, he’d had a hatty and despite making it to OT, it wasn’t enough in the shootout.

He’d had to wait an entire flight and car ride afterwards to see her, only giving her a brief text when he got off the ice (“We lost. Had a hatty. Fucking Toronto.”) (like she hadn’t stayed up to watch the game) and another when he landed.

And after so long of whatever the two of them had going on, she’d known better than to try to send him some long and winded attempt at a pick me up message. She settled for just responding “I’ll be here.” She didn’t need to say it though, he knew she’d be there.

She always was.

To anyone else it would’ve been sad, how she waited up for him, late nights spent lonely with just her and her dog, as he jetted around North America. In her mind, he was no doubt giving himself away to whatever random puck bunny threw herself his way.

Despite this, she was loyal, even though she had her suspicions about what he did when they were apart. And frankly, it wasn’t a part of the “deal” that they had to be exclusive, and it was none of her business. But truthfully, after so long, she couldn’t count on some washed up juniors player to give her even a fraction of the satisfaction he had.

So, she did this whole routine, whatever this was. She stayed up late watching his games, sitting on her couch in his sweatshirt he left. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but whenever she wore it, she liked to pretend.

Pretend that she was an obedient girlfriend wearing her loving boyfriends sweater. That as she sat curled up waiting on the corner of the beat up black sofa, 3 coffees in at approximately 1:37 am, she would be rewarded for her efforts come morning time.

That her and said loving boyfriend would lounge around together in bed (after he woke her up in the best way he knew how, showing her how grateful he was. Like I said, she loved when his hair was long enough to tug on, and even though she endlessly made fun of his patchy stubble, she couldn’t deny how delicious it felt burning between her thighs. Especially after they’d spent so long apart.) Then they’d go and grab late brunch, holding hands under the table as they sipped mimosas, which were Mat’s guilty pleasure only her and the waiter knew about, before heading home.

Maybe then they’d FaceTime his mom back in Coquitlam, an early riser with the 3 hour time difference. Mat had felt bad interrupting her morning routine, but she’d never pass up an opportunity to talk to her boy and the girl who she hoped was her future daughter in law.

After they got off the phone, she’d tell him how much she loved his mom, how her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. He’d tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, watching as she leaned into his touch.

“Missed you, Mat.” She’d say, closing her eyes.

“I missed you more.” He’d respond, his voice nearly a whisper. Her eyes would flutter open, and he’d recognize the look in them immediately. He felt his blood rush, and suddenly their proximity, which he’d never get used to, was very obvious.

“Oh yeah?” She asked. “I doubt that.”

He swallowed, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. Her eyes hungrily swept over them, wanting nothing more than to lean forward and capture them with her own.

But patience is a virtue, she supposed.

“Want me to prove it, pretty boy?”

Words failed him, and all he could do was nod. He relaxed into the sofa, watching as she dropped to her knees in front of him. Her hands were on either thigh as he fought the urge to lay his tired head back onto the beat up pleather behind him. It had been too long, he thought. And he’d be damned if he was going to miss out on seeing her do what he’d only imagined in the shower, or over the phone for the past 16 days.

She reached her hands up from the muscle of his thigh up to his tummy, her cold hands shocking him as she reached under his sweatshirt- the same one she’d been wearing before.

Her hands drifted, down, down, down, to the waistband of those damn Lululemon shorts she’d got him for Christmas. He held his breath, watching as they danced around where he needed her most and then-

The doorknob turns, and she’s brought back to reality. Sleep had almost claimed her, iced coffee left abandoned on the coffee table, a ring of condensation already drying on the glass. She attempts to smooth out her hair, hoping that her brief almost-nap hadn’t left her too disheveled.

Not that he’d care.

She stood to greet him as he opened the door, hockey bag, and garment bag, and duffle bag, and backpack, and- God, did he really need all that- and suitcase, dropped unceremoniously as he entered the threshold. He kicked the huge bag to the side, and it landed right under where her keys and her leash for her old mutt, Warrior, hung from the wall.

Above the leash hung a picture of her and her sisters, with her running shoes on the floor beneath it for easy access. They were nearly squished by the gear, and if it had been anyone else’s shit crushing her 160 dollar sneakers, she’d be angry. But the sight of his bag near her shoes was so weirdly domestic, she could’ve cried.

She, yet again, was snapped out of her fantasy by the closing of the heavy door, watching as the man in front of her shuffled forward, immediately allowing himself to be held by her. His head fell to her shoulder, and rather than the usual clash of teeth and shoving to get to her room, (they never went to never his place after a roadie. He needed to be away from the constant reminders of it all for awhile, just to be surrounded by her) she simply dropped a chaste kiss to his temple, letting her arm drop from his hair to his broad shoulders, squeezing once, twice, three times, on either one.

He stood up, and she led him to her room, though he knew the way well enough. Her hand in his felt nice, comforting, even, and he wasn’t going to complain. In the beginning of the arrangement the two of them had, touches like that had been normal. But as time went on, the barely there brushes and gentle caresses stopped all together.

He wanted to say something, wanted to ask her what was wrong, if it was something he did. But when he was off the ice, Mathew Barzal was not a man who liked to push his luck. So he didn’t. He let the touches slip away, and took what he could get from her.

Which right now, was toeing off his shoes, and crawling onto the plush comforter of her bed. It smelled like that sparkly ”fairy dust” shit from Lush he saw sitting on her bathroom counter once, cotton candy and bubblegum infiltrating his senses. That, and her favorite floral perfume he was all too familiar with on her pillow. A combination of scents he usually would find too much, sickly-sweet. But it was her, and that alone made it the most soothing aroma he’d ever known.

Initially when he’d gotten off the ice, the adrenaline had been pumping, and his anger had been rampant. All he’d wanted was to get home to her, have his way with her. To have an outcome he could control.

He’d kept himself relatively calm in the locker room, not having any outbursts towards Ilya, or anyone for that matter. If any of the guys had noticed he was uncharacteristically quiet, they didn’t say anything.

That is, until the bus ride to the airport.

He had been typing out his text to her, (Hatty, lost in OT, Toronto, you know the one), when he had felt a pair of peering eyes. Sitting in the back of the bus, he’d thought he’d done well to avoid such glances, but apparently not.

“Y’know, you shouldn’t be sulking so much.” A certain French-Canadian spoke, the brunette man’s tired eyes lingering over Mat’s hunched over form.

If there was one thing he didn’t need right now, it was more pep talks from Tito. He’d had more than his fill in the locker room. And though he loved the guy, he didn’t need to be told again how he “did everything right” and had a ”killer game”.

Because he knows, and that’s partly why he’s so mad.

Partly. As the other part is the fact that he wants more than anything to come back to NY to her arms. He was exhausted at this point, and rather than having his way with her, he now just wanted to be welcomed home into those ridiculously cozy sheets. He wanted her to light up all those overpriced candles she loved so much from Bath and Bodyworks, and for Warrior to snuggle up by him, stinky dog breath be damned. He wanted her to turn on ”Miracle” in the back as white noise, and laugh as she repeated all the lines from memory. (He may be Canadian, but he can appreciate a heart warming story told by Kurt Russell when he sees one.)

More than anything, though, he wanted her. And not just for an hour or two before he inevitably dragged himself out of those silky sheets that felt heavenly on his back, leaving her sleeping beside him. She looked peaceful in those moments, and he often wondered what she dreamt of. If she was dreaming of him as he did of her.

Bottom line was, Mathew was the victim of a series of unfortunate events. And the man to his left could recognize that it wasn’t just the hockey that was bothering him. (Though, that whole situation did suck pretty bad, he’d admit.)

So when Anthony told him he shouldn’t be sulking, he flashed him a tight lipped smile and a nod, before looking out the window at the Toronto sunset. The oranges and pinks were stunning, and more than anything their vibrancy reminded him of her. The smile she’d give him in her post-orgasm glow, or of the orange blossom on the bottle of perfume on her vanity. Beauvillier’s gaze never faltered, though, recognizing the deep train of thought his close friend was experiencing.

The screen of his phone had begun to darken, the draft of his message just barely visible. Tito’s eyes quickly shifted from the screen and back up to Barzy, opening his mouth and pausing momentarily.

“Who’re you texting?”

Mat quickly turned off the device, the “click” sounding out in the quiet bus cabin, most of the Islanders players catching some shut eye or watching that new Game of Thrones spin off.

Personally, Mat didn’t get the appeal.

“Nobody, just… a friend I’m visiting tonight when we get back.”

Anthony’s eyebrows went up, making a face of understanding as he slowly nodded three times.

“A friend, huh?”

Mathew nods, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and letting it go. “Yup.” He adds softly for good measure, popping the p.

“You visiting a friend after a game like that, this late, hm?” Another pause. ”Must be an important friend.”

“Yeah.” His voice is soft again, compassion coming across his features and he thinks of her again.

“Well“, Anthony starts, popping in his earbuds and opening his phone to his Music app. “I’d say whatever’s going on with this friend seems worth talking to her about.”

Mat‘s head snaps up, and he scoffs, shaking his head.

“I didn’t say that it was a she-“

“You didn’t have to, buddy.” Tito winks in the most annoyingly-Tito way, and chuckles to himself. He then lays his head back onto the navy material behind him. Mat “hmph”s to himself, doing the same. He turns his phone back on again, going to the chat between the two of them. The still blinking cursor seems like it’s mocking him as he runs a hand over his face, hitting send.

If there’s gonna be any deep, emotional shit, it can wait until he’s not 2500 miles away.

7 hours later when he finally crashes through her front door, he swears the relief he feels mixed with the sense of dread it all might be over in an hour, gives him whiplash. But nonetheless, she welcomes him in, and she feels like home.

Warrior watches from the couch, his tail lazily wagging as he observes his owner greeting the man who occasionally slips him bacon from his Starbucks sandwich. His old man (old dog?) body doesn’t find the arrival of the hockey player worthy of leaving his nest on the sofa, as to him that’s all Mathew Barzal is. The bringer of bacon.

To Warrior’s owner, though, he was so much more.

The trek to the bedroom felt like it took an eternity, and as he laid on her bed, he couldn’t help but wonder if it would be a bad idea to push his luck for once. Risk ending it all to gain everything.

She laid down next to him, and he shifted, going from laying with his arms crossed under his head, to one next to her head, the other keeping him stable from his position on top of her.

Her hand crept up to push an unruly lock out of his eyes, and she leaned forward, and he met her halfway. They paused briefly, taking each other in after so long, before finally closing to distance.

He tasted warm, like cinnamon and something she couldn’t place, and she wondered if at the airport he’d gotten one of those pretzels she knew he liked so much. To compliment his psychopath reminiscent black coffee, of course.

His hand went from where it had been cradling her face down to rest on her hip. The soft touch elicited a whimper, and at that he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.

She recognized that something was off, swimming around in that pretty little head of his. A small frown etched its way onto her face, and she lifted his chin up so he had no choice but to look at her.

“What’s wrong, Mat?”

He took in a shaky breath, looking over to his left, where the TV was on some random wallpaper, a sunset, he realizes. He scoffs, looking back at her.

“Can you just- can we- can I- fuck.” He mutters, slowly falling down so his body weight is nearly on top of her.

“Can you just… hold me?”

She swears she’s never heard him sound so broken.

“Yeah, baby, ’course. C’mere.” She replies softly, allowing him to fully rest on her. It was a miracle that he didn’t fully break down right there, at the feeling of her fingertips dancing over his skin, under his pushed up shirt. His nose was cold against her neck as he dragged it up against her to come to her cheek, pressing a kiss there. His eyes never opened, afraid that if they did, it would all just be another elaborate fantasy he’d created to pass the time.

“Is this a good idea?” Came her voice, cutting through the silence.

He sniffles. “What do you mean?”

“This. Us.” She says, not able to meet his gaze where he’s lifted his head.

“We’re going to get hurt. More than we already have.”

Oh. Oh, fuck this was happening right now. Mat sat up, feeling like a scared teenage boy. Damn you and the way you read people, Beauvillier. Maybe this would’ve been easier from 2500 miles away.

“We don’t have to.”

“What other option do we have?” She said, sounding defeated, like she already knows her answer and she doesn’t like it. “I-I can’t keep doing this no strings attached shit. Not when you do this. Not when you come here all beat up like some sad puppy.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. And he was.

“Don’t be. I should’ve known this would happen.” Her voice was soft, her eyes distant.

“That what would happen?” He questioned. She looked at him like he had two heads.

“That you’d leave, Mat. That this whole pretending bullshit wouldn’t be enough for me.”

He leaned forward again, catching her off guard.

“I’m not leaving you. I’d never leave you.”

She looked away briefly, mentally cursing herself for being so emotional as tears began to well up in her eyes. He fell to her side, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Do you really want this?” She asked, the tears rolling down her face illuminated a hue of pink from the salt lamp on the bedside table. Mathew reached out a hand, dragging his thumb over the droplet. He hated that she was crying, but fuck, she sure looked pretty while doing it.

His answer came without thought, he’d done enough of that on his way over.

“Yes. I want you in every way, if you’ll have me.”

A small smile came onto the corners of her face, and she nodded, shortly at first, but more exaggerated as they started laughing, a small “yeah?” escaping from Mathew. She responded with the same, and he took that as his sign to reach forward, closing the distance between them.

And like all the times before, they fell into their routine, her hands going down to his hips, lifting the gray material of his shirt over his head. He returned the favor, the two of them moving in sync as she lifted her hips and he gently slid off her shorts. He ran his palms along her bare thighs and she shivered at the feeling, a reaction that didn’t go unnoticed by Mathew.

“I missed you, y/n.” He admitted, running a hand through his, now, unruly hair.

Another vibrant smile came across her face, easing whatever nerves Mat had left over from his confession.

“I missed you more, Mathew.”

He shook his head, dipping down to leave sloppy kisses on her neck. Taken aback, she let a shaky breath escape. He pulled back, satisfied with the response he’d pulled from her.

“Not possible.”

In a moment of boldness (and a slight hope to allow a fantasy to come to life) she challenged him.

“Prove it, then.”

His eyes darkened, then, and he surged forward. Her remaining clothes, which was just his sweatshirt and a flimsy cami, were gone in an instant. She was left in just a pair of black undies, Mat nearly cumming on the spot at the sight, like he’s some horny teenager. His apparel soon joined the growing pile on the floor, as she made a remark about how it wasn’t fair he was still so covered.

She shamelessly raked over his naked form, save for the black boxers, with his firm muscles, sore from the roadie, prominent as ever. She might’ve been drooling, she wasn’t sure. He smirked, the effect he had on her not lost to him.

The two began to kiss again, and there was no other way to describe it other than that it just felt right.

Mathew wasted no time, allowing his hand to trail down and cup her clothed heat, his thumb passing over her clit and past her entrance with a feather light touch. She shivered, her hips lifting up to chase the brief sensation. He pulled her panties to the side, teasing her entrance with his middle finger.

It was immediately covered in her slick, as was the black fabric he’d moved aside. It made him groan just from the sensation alone, making her chuckle at his behavior. Her laugh soon was cut off as he sunk the finger in, giving her no time to adjust, not that she needed it with how ready she was for it, before adding another.

His palm just barely grazed her begging clit as he pumped in and out slowly. And as she continued to lift her hips trying to feel him deeper, push his hand closer to her clit, she fully expected him to push her down and put her in her place.

But this whole thing was about showing him how much he missed her, how much he appreciated her. To show her that he was staying. And him staying meant that he’d have plenty of chances in the future to be an insufferable tease, but right now wasn’t one of those times.

“Matty, please-“ it was more of a breathy whine, not intelligible to an untrained ear. But thankfully for her, that wasn’t Mat.

“You want more, baby?” He questioned, knowing the answer. She nodded, hair splayed around her like a halo on the pillow. She was still illuminated from the TV screen and the salt lamp, making her look like an angel of sorts, not of this world.

“Look at me then, sweetheart. Wanna see that I’m makin’ you feel good.”

Her eyes that met his were glazed over and doe like, and it melted Mat’s insides at just one look. He did his best to push down the mushy feeling that arose, before realizing he didn’t have to anymore. He could feel as sickeningly in love as he wanted, no consequences.

“You’re so beautiful, baby. So needy, fuckin’ perfect girl.” He remarked, adding in a third finger. She let out a borderline pornographic cry, and Mat picked up his pace. His gaze only faltered from her face, contorting in pleasure, back to where he was pumping in and out of her, unable to resist the urge to watch in amazement.

Though her legs were flailing, going from propped up to sliding down and spread, rustling the comforter, she somehow had enough mind to reach a hand down. She attempted to run tight circles around her clit, but not before her hand was pinned to her side by the center above her,

“No, baby. Lemme.”

His range of motion was wider and his thrusts harder as he curled his fingers to perfectly hit that spot inside her that made her see stars, fully trailing his hand over her sex. He repeated the action again, and again, and again- and fuck, she didn’t know how long she’d go on like this but she never wanted the feeling to stop.

He felt her tighten around him, and he picked up his pace, knowing she was almost there.

“Mat!” she managed to get out between strangled moans and panting breaths. He leaned down, kissing below her ear on the one spot he knew drives her crazy. She was halfway thinking, well, less than halfway with her state at the moment, that he would cruelly pull his hand away as she reached her peak. So she clamped her thighs together in an attempt to trap him, subconsciously more than not.

It didn’t stop him from grinding his palm against her like he had been, leaning down to capture her lips with his in a searing kiss.

Everything at once was just so much, the obscene sounds coming from both their mouths and her wet heat, the feeling of Mathew’s bare skin on top of her, the feeling of warmth radiating from his body, and oh my God, after so long it’s fucking finally happening-

He felt as her chest seized and she pulled away from the kiss, her head slamming back before falling to the side. She cried out, her orgasm hitting her like nothing had before.

He found her lips in the chaos beneath him, his hand parting her thighs as she went lax, lazily pumping in and out as she rode out her high. Her slick coated the inside of her thighs, and Mat pulled away momentarily and she whined, like the little brat she was allowing herself to be.

He only smirked, leaning down to kiss on her collarbone, letting his tongue sweep over the seemingly shimmering expanse of skin before him. He moved further down, savoring the taste of her, how it felt to be so close to her. No guards up, no shields, no screening involved.

She moved her ring clad hands to run fingers through his locks, that fucking smile coming across her face. He looked up from where his hands were holding either side of her waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh just enough to not make it hurt, but to say “I’m here. I’m not leaving.” His chin rested above her bellybutton, and he felt suddenly seen, bashful almost. He continued his trail down in a half assed attempt to hide his face, her breath hitching when he made it to her mound.

Her breath barely returned to her as he skipped over where she thought he was headed, instead opting to take her right leg over his shoulder, moving down the expanse of it to her ankle. He brought his eyes to meet hers, and a tender hand ran up and down the distance of it. He kissed the inside of her ankle, making his way up to the skin where her thigh met her already aching sex.

He lightly nudged his nose against the area, before attaching his lips. He started sucking on the skin there, licking her clean. Satisfied, he moved to the other side, beginning his good work.

“Mat,” she broke her silence, her voice splintered and low, “don’t tease. Please.”

He raised his eyebrows, seemingly in jest.

“I think we’re a little far gone from teasing, eh?” He asked, and truthfully, one mind blowing orgasm later, they were.

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever hotshot.”

“New nickname?” He questioned. “I like it.” He huffed, returning to his place between her legs. “But I fucking love this pussy, baby.”

And with that, he dove in. He immediately groaned at what he had found. (Which, obviously, caused her to tug at that perfect head of hair, eliciting another groan.)

If possible, she had become even wetter with the mix of his spit and her nectarine juices. It dripped down his chin, and he wanted to stay there forever. He’d found solace there, he thought. No Maple Leafs, no Tito, no hatty that meant jackshit in the end.

Just her and her consummate being. Vibrant, saccharine. His.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent drawing her closer and closer to the edge, but somewhere between repeated chants of praises and whatnot, he’d slipped.

“Fucking love this cunt, fucking love you-“

He hadn’t realized what he said, and if he had, he didn’t seem to care. But his words alone were enough to rip an unassuming orgasm from her. She didn’t allow herself long enough to think about if he meant to say it or not, or even to ride out the aftershocks rolling through her nerves. She grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him away from her glistening cunt and up to where she connected their lips.

A small sound of surprise, not reluctance, escaped from where they were joined. Her hands came to cradle either side of his face, and Mat thinks that he might’ve cried from the tender action. He wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to ask. Hey, it’d been a long day.

“You mean it?”

He realized what he had said, then, eyes wide and somehow his face even more flushed than before. He considered lying, like when Tito had asked who he was texting and he’d said a friend.

But where would that leave him, he wondered?

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I did.” He added after a beat of silence.

And in those few moments nothing had seemed scarier.

Not when he was 18, getting skipped over by teams in the draft, and that voice in the back of his head had told him that, somehow, everyone had collectively decided to skip Mathew Barzal. Not when he was 19 playing in his first game for the Isles, having to follow up Auston Matthews first NHL game where he had four goals. Four. Fuck.

No, all that was topped by this. By the same fear he’d had earlier when he’d been on the bus, or when he’d arrived at her apartment.

But all of that fear was dissolved in a second after her laugh sounded out in the small bedroom, her eyes crinkling at the edges. She pulled him down towards her, and the sound of her laughter pulled a radiant smile from the hockey player that he felt like hadn’t seen the light of day in a long time.

She rolled over on top of his chest, leaning forward and throwing her arms around his neck. His chain was glinting, now, in the light she had previously been bathed in, and it caught her eye as it rested against his milky complexion.

“You looooove me.” She regarded in a sing-song voice, and Mat rolled his eyes despite the smile growing on his face. She leaned down, and Mathew’s grip on her bare hips tightened, all too aware of the wet spot left on his stomach from her leaking sex.

She mirrored his previous movements down his chiseled body, a regular Adonis in his own right. She left open mouthed kisses, the wet patches from them adding to the thin sheen that covered his body. She made her way down to his boxers, the obvious tent making her stifle a laugh. He caught it though, of course, and rolled his eyes for what seemed like the millionth time.

“Laugh it up, babe. Laugh at my misery.” He commented, to which she only shook her head.

“Patience is a virtue, Mathew.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Well, he had a point there.

So rather than talk, she decided she’d put her mouth to good use. She pulled down his boxers at a painstakingly slow rate, watching as his cock slapped up against his stomach. Her mouth watered at the sight, the tip red and weeping, begging to be attended to. He kicked off the boxers, paying no mind to how they slipped onto the floor, forgotten. She didn’t either, as she was sure he had to have some extra in one of his gazillion bags sitting in her entry way.

Her nails scratched down his stomach, angry red lines puffing up and decorating around the expanse of his skin. They were accompanied by freckles and marks and scars that she could have mapped together with her eyes closed. She knew Mathew like the back of her hand. And with that, came knowing how to make him come undone in her hands.

She started leaving small kisses at the base of his shaft, before swiping the bead of precum from his head down to the rest of him. She pumped her hand a few times, and Mathew let out a strangled moan. She thought he couldn’t get any louder, feeling bad for her neighbors at whatever hour in the night it was, but she was quickly proven wrong.

She licked a long stripe from the bottom to his tip, before taking as much of him into her mouth as she could. She bobbed her head a few times, jacking off whatever she couldn’t fit with her hands. She hollowed her cheeks, and the rise and fall of Mathew’s chest quickened. The sound he let out was animalistic, and it sent another wave of arousal through her body. She moaned involuntarily, and the feeling caused Mathew to buck his hips.

“You’re doing so good, baby. ‘M not gonna last with you going at me- shit- like that.”

He brought a large hand down to the side of her face, lightly stroking her cheek. It was a moment of wholesomeness that reminded them what they were now, what he had said.

Mat could tell she was tired, her pace decreasing. The look in her eyes never changed, though. And as he went to speak to tell her it was okay, and she didn’t have to (and because since it had been so long, he was scared he’d bust his load if she wasn’t careful), she pulled off.

A string of saliva followed, and the sight looked like a thumbnail of a shitty porno. Her eyes were droopy and glazed over, and Mat’s hypothesis was proven correct.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to finish. Let me take care of you.” He repeated his sentiment from earlier. She only shook her head, continuing to jack him off with her hand. Oh. He thought. That’s not what I was expecting.

“S’okay, Matty. Wanna make you feel good.”

She ran her thumb over his tip again, her glassy and swollen bottom lip hanging ajar as she concentrated. The moans he was letting slip free could only be described as pathetic, the 190 pound hockey player putty in her hands.

“I’m gonna cum if you don’t, God, baby, shit! I-If you don’t stop.”

And then she pulled her hand off, and he let out a quick breath at the momentary relief, if that was even the right word. But it was short lived, and she managed to hoist herself up, dragging her folds along his cock, before stabilizing herself with hands on his chest. He slid inside of her, and the sounds they both let out echoed off her walls.

She started moving, and then it was “You’re fuckin’ amazing, you know that? So fuckin’ amazing. My girl, my perfect girl.” He rambled, the events of just that day alone scrambling his mind trying to keep up. Similarly to how she felt earlier, everything was just too much for the poor man. She felt like Heaven around him, and he watched in awe from below her as she moved, enamored by the woman he loves.

As she became more and more tired, her movement slowed, reduced to her grinding herself down on his cock. Mat was barely hanging on, trying to make it last as long as possible. He could tell she was close too, as she squeezed him like a vice, and put her energy into picking up her pace.

“Fuck, Matty. Feels s’good. Love you- shit! I love you so much, baby.” She told him, her eyes closed and her face screwed up as she chased her high. But something snapped in Mathew at her confession, and with a quick “fuck” under his breath, he flipped the two of them without ever leaving her.

He was relentless.

He slammed in and out, and at the sudden change in position and pace, she was blindsided. She thrashed around him, her hands everywhere at once. Her hair, his hair, grasping at his shoulders, scratching down his back. She settled for his biceps, as his hands were planted. One on the right side of her head, the other gripping her hip bone so hard, she was sure it’d bruise.

“It’s only ever been you, baby. I promise you.”

“Shit, Mat!” She cried, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She loosely draped her legs around his middle, allowing him to reach new depths within her. He was fucking her senseless, and they fucking loved it.

“It’ll only ever be you. I love you. Fuck, I love you so much, Y/n.” His hair hung in his eyes as he fought to keep them open. He shook it out of his eyes, wanting to see her as she came in all her glory.

“Love you, Mat. So much, baby. You have no idea.”

His pelvis snapped harder against her, just barely reaching up and grazing her clit in the most exquisite way. The rope in her stomach began to tighten for the third time that night, so close to breaking she could almost taste it.

Actually, she could taste it, she realized. She had been biting down so hard on her bottom lip she could taste the metallic tang on her tongue, and fuck, it was all the more delectable.

“Mat!” It was another exclamation, followed by more babbles. “‘S too much, Matty, can’t do it.” Her voice was small, and despite the nature of the statement, Mat felt his heart flutter.

He shook his head. “Yes, you can, baby. I know you’re tired, but you can do it, Y/n. You’ve got another one in you sweetheart, pull through for me. I’ve got you.”

And never one to disappoint, especially not her Mathew, she did.

She came, and she came hard. But it wasn’t dramatic the way you’d think it’d be, at least not outwardly. Her breathing stopped, her toes curled, and her nails dug into the skin on Barzy’s arms. It wasn’t accompanied by a loud scream, or a drawn out, high pitched moan. It was a breath of relief that left her when she came, her head falling to the side and her eyes closing. A quiet moan of Mat’s name, and she was clamping down on him.

The sweet way his name fell off her tongue, mixed with how she was so damn tight around him as she came, and he was done for. It triggered his own orgasm, and he felt the same feeling of peace wash over him that she had as he spilled into her. He fucked her through it, soft thrusts calming whatever aftershocks they both were experiencing. She had gone limp under him, her eyes opening as she gave him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

He stayed in her, lowering himself onto his side, then maneuvering them so she was laying on him. They were a cliché and they knew it, but they couldn’t seem to care. A few moments passed in comfortable silence, before it was broken by Mathew’s scratchy post-sex voice. Swoon.

“So,” he started. She raised a brow, wondering where he was going with this.

“You looooove me, too, then?” He mimicked her tone from earlier, and they broke out in a fit of laughter as she slapped his arm and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re alright.” She feigned annoyance, propping herself up on her right arm as she faced the man she loved. Mat scoffed, blowing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Just alright? You’re crazy, lady.”

“But you love me.”

Not a beat passed before “I do.”

She smiled softly, lifting up a hand to run a finger along his jaw. He caught it with his own, never breaking eye contact as he kissed her palm. Again, swoon.

“I know.” She responded, wanting to stay in that moment forever. But, she knew that if she stayed where she was too long, she’d more than likely fall asleep in record time. So, she pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, which he turned to catch before she could go, pulling her back for a “real” kiss at his protest.

A petulant child, that’s what he is.

She pressed one more to his lips for good measure, before pulling himself off of him. They both let out disgruntled sounds at the sudden losses, and it took all her energy to sit up on the edge of her bed. She felt a strong jaw on her shoulder, and she leaned into it.

“Where you goin’? Leaving me all alone isn’t very nice.” She could hear the frown in his voice, and even though she knew he was joking, it tugged on her heartstrings that little bit.

“Gotta pee.” She said, standing up and walking towards the connecting bathroom. “Sorry baby, no UTIs for me.”

The frown stayed cemented on his face.

“You should be grateful,” she threw over her shoulder, shutting the door. “No UTIs, more fucking, yeah?”

He chuckled at her bluntness, deciding to go and get her some water and maybe a snack. Shit, he didn’t know. What was he supposed to do? Usually when they fucked before, her or Mat would be out the door as soon as possible, still trying to ward off those pesky feelings. But now, he was allowed to feel said pesky feelings, and he’d be damned if he fucked it up.

So, snack. And water? Yeah, water, for sure. He was hungry and thirsty, why wouldn’t she be. He had no idea the way around her kitchen, nor how to, er, actually make anything, so this would be rough. But, first, a pit stop.

He would have walked butt-ass naked into her kitchen, really, but then he remembered Warrior was out there and he didn’t have a need to traumatize that dog any further than he already was.

(It was one time, okay? He didn’t know she had a dog, he’d been asleep on his bed by the TV when they’d gotten to her place. And at the time, Mat was too preoccupied to notice.)

He looked around on the floor for the offending clothing item, slightly grossed out when he did finally find them. It was only for a minute, tops, is what he told himself, as he pulled on the boxers from earlier in the night.

He tiptoed, for literally no apparent reason, through the dark apartment until he found the bag he was looking for. He grabbed what he needed from it, struggling with the zipper while trying to close it, before giving up. On his way back to her room, he gave Warrior a nod and smile, and he swore the mutt gave one back. Okay, actually, on second thought, he remembered the clock on her microwave saying it was 3:18 AM, so, maybe he didn’t.

It was late and he just had the best sex of his life with the woman he loves. Give him a break. So what if he’s delusional and thinks he can communicate with dogs? At least he’s pretty.

When he gets to her room, he pulls on the newer, clean, pair of boxers, setting the other pair he grabbed from his bag on the bed for her when she got out of the bathroom, along with an Islanders shirt that he’d secretly always wanted to see her in. Too soon? Maybe. But after so long yearning for everything domestic and wholesome and good that he was convinced he didn’t deserve with her, he was indulging a little bit. So sue him.

His next stop, snacks. And water, can’t forget the water.

The water was easy enough, he got lucky. He grabbed her “emotional support cup” as she’d called it before when she thought he wasn’t listening, and went over to the fridge. He got a few ice cubes and put them in, and then went over to her Brita. He stood there, pressing down on the little lever, watching the steady stream of water into the cup. It was almost laughable, how he stood there in the dead silence, concentrating so hard. He was determined not to somehow do something wrong, even though it was just pouring a cup of water. Cute.

He checked the pantry once the cup was full, with the lid safely screwed on top. The rustling about caught the attention of Warrior, who hopped down from where he’d been on the couch, moseying on over.

Mat, who still was slightly wary of Warrior, despite the fact the dog would cause him no harm, shook his head at the mutt.

“Sorry, buddy. I don’t have anything for you.”

He turned his head and gave him puppy dog eyes, pulling out all the stops. Mat sighed, looking back to the pantry. He saw a box of Milkbones, and looked back to Warrior, who was egging him on. (They’re telepathically connected, remember?)

He reached in the box, pulling one out, and tossing it down. Warrior gratefully accepted, taking his treat and waltzing off to his bed to chow down. Mat looked in the pantry, going to close the box, when he sees it, his saving grace.

White bread, hallelujah.

He can do toast. Mathew Barzal is a totally capable 25 year old man who can make toast. So, he takes the bag, going over to the toaster. And-

One look at all those fancy buttons, and he’s tapped out.

Okay, it’s okay, he can remember seeing a vending machine on his way into her apartment. Yeah, he remembers her telling him about having to sign off on some HOA form for it, even though she was just renting. Apparently, her landlord hadn’t signed, which made it her job. Whatever, that’s irrelevant.

He figured that there wouldn’t be anybody out in her hallway at 3:23 AM, so he grabbed his coat with his wallet, shrugging it on over his bare back. His slides were somewhere in his hockey bag and the last thing he wanted to do was stink up her whole place by opening that Pandora’s box. So, barefoot it is.

He does his best to sneak out the apartment, leaving the door ajar as he makes the short walk to the vending machine, grateful his search was over. He let out a long sigh as he stood, wondering what to get her.

For himself he decided on a bag of cool ranch Doritos, and a bag of those tiny cookies. For her, he racked every corner of his brain for potential options, before realizing how long he’s taking, and how long he’d been gone. So, not wanting to waste any more time, he elected for one of everything.

He punched in the numbers and paid, attempting to grab them from the machine. Trying to pick up the few that had fallen, he leaned down. His attention was called elsewhere by the ”click!” of a door a few units down. His head snapped to the source of the sound.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” He muttered under his breath upon what he saw.

A man probably not much older than himself, suitcase and backpack in tow, donned in, you guessed it, a New York Islanders hoodie a lá number 13.

The man had yet to notice the star player down the hall from him, and Mat was considering just making a run for Y/n’s place. But either way, he would have to go past the man, or the man would have to go past Mat to get to the elevator. Maybe he’d take the stairs? He hoped. Shit, who was he kidding, he’s not taking the stairs.

Starting his walk over, the unnamed Islanders fan lifted his head, stopping in his tracks. His jaw dropped, and if it wasn’t purely because of being in the presence of Mat Barzal, he had a hunch what it was.

Said hunch, was that it was due to the fact Mat Barzal was standing in front of him, in an apartment complex definitely not boujee enough for him to be living in, at 3:25 in the morning, naked, except for boxers and some fancy trench coat, holding several bags of snacks.

Mat would’ve laughed at the guys face, but he thought he wasn’t quite in the position to do so.

“Hey, man. How’s it going?” And a stupid bro nod, was all Mathew could manage.

-

While he was facing that debacle, Y/n was having one of her own.

After she’d gone to the bathroom, she decided to try to do her nighttime routine, too. She put on her robe from where it had been hanging in her bathroom, beginning her little routine.

When she emerged 10 minutes later, Mat was nowhere to be seen.

His bags were still by the door, albeit one of them hastily thrown open. Was he leaving and had gotten some clothes and an Uber? Did he have last minute regrets? The door to her place was left open, and an overwhelming sadness began to take over her system. As the tears began to well up, she looked over to Warrior, only to notice him chewing on… a milkbone? How the hell did he get a milkbone?

She sniffled, wiping her sleeve under her nose. She sat down on her couch, looking at where her iced coffee from earlier was still sitting, ¾ of the way empty. The tears started to flow freely again after that, and she stood up, deciding that she should at least shut the door. She didn’t need to deal with a robbery, too.

As she stood and turned, she was met with a very discombobulated and very underdressed Mat trying to shove his way through the door.

“Have a good flight, man. Enjoy Miami!” Mat called over his shoulder to what sounded like her neighbor Gian, based off of the “Thanks bro, good luck this season!” she heard back.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, trying to not bust out laughing at the sight in front of her. Hearing her snickering, he looked up gesturing to the bags in his arms.

“Hungry?” He asked, the smile on his face falling when he saw the red around her eyes. He dropped all the snacks on the couch to his right, making his way over to where she stood.

“Hey, hey, why’re you crying? What’s wrong sweetheart?” He questioned, and his sincerity made her smile widely.

“Nah, I’m all good, don’t worry about it. Just thought you’d left, that’s all…” A pause. “But I see now that you just had a case of munchies, apparently.”

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders pulling her towards his chest. His chin rested on her head, and she closed her eyes, inhaling his scent.

“No, baby. God, no, I’m not leaving. I just wanted to do this whole thing right, and I thought you might be hungry, and I tried to make toast- your toaster is really complex by the way,”

She pulled away from him as he rambled, her smile reaching her eyes.

“And I filled your water and set out clothes for you and I really did try, baby. I didn’t mean to fuck anything up, really.”

She giggled again, taking hold of the shoulders of his jacket, shrugging it off. She folded it over the back of a barstool, then turned back towards Mat.

“And Gian?”

“Oh yeah, he’s cool. Ran into him in the hallway and introduced myself. Going to visit some family in Miami.”

She raised an eyebrow, nodding her head in understanding. She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his middle.

“So, am I gonna have to compete with him for your attention now whenever you come over?”

He reciprocated the action, one hand coming up to rest on her chin.

“I mean, he’s gonna be gone for two weeks, but after that…” he shrugged, trailing off. She hummed, and he smiled at her, leaning forward. He searched her eyes for any remaining upset, unable to find any, before he pressed his lips to hers. It was sweet and gentle, with not a hint of rush or fervor.

When they pulled apart, she was smiling again. Her hands found their way back to his neck.

“And baby, you’re amazing. You didn’t fuck up anything at all, I promise.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” She whispered, leaning in again to connect their lips. She let her tongue sweep over his bottom lip, biting down just barely before pulling away. She pushed down the sleeves of her robe just a bit, exposing her shoulders. Y/n took his hand, and started walking backwards, letting it slowly slip out of hers as she did.

“Come on, hotshot. Come to bed. Snacks will still be there in the morning.”

She smiled again briefly, before walking towards her room, the robe slipping down as she went. Mat stood watching her in total awe, glued in place, until he was knocked out of his trance.

“Hurry up! And lock the door, too, please!”

He had never obliged to anything quicker in his life.

(And as for the snacks, they were not still there in the morning, thanks to a certain mutt who managed to rip open all the packets on the couch. The next morning was spent at the vet, who had told them Warrior would be fine, just fat. The vet had only said this, though, after Mat had consoled a crying Y/n, who was under the impression he was going to be poisoned.

The rest of the day after that? Making up for lost time.)

FIN.

YO idk if that was good or not i kind of feel like i imagined writing the entire thing and it was a fever dream. but. anyway! if you liked it, be sure to reblog <3 thank u i love u! go eat some protein and drink some water. 

xx, hj

[steviewashere]

Hi possible prompt for your ask box celebration (congrats on 330 btw!!)

Eddie is one of those street poets w/ a typewriter that will write people on the street a poem abt anything they ask for, in exchange for tips or like $5

& Steve walks by & asks for a poem & Eddie is immediately like 😍😍😍

& then maybe Eddie flirts outrageously through the poem, or he tries so hard to keep it #professional but he’s so goo-goo over this (Adonis of a man) guy that he fails miserably, or whatever direction you would want to take it

anyway Steddie meetcute street poetry 🥰🥰🥰

This was such a fun prompt. And before we get anywhere with this, I did have to write a little poem here and it does sort of suck. Apologies in advance for it. Steve Harrington is usually not my main muse, lol. But I still enjoyed this <3

Tags: Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Alternate Universe - No Supernatural, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Meet-Cute, Set in New York, Strangers to Lovers, Mild Angst, Fluff, Steve Harrington Has Self Esteem Issues, Brief Mentions of Car Accidents, Poet Eddie Munson, Muse Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington's Friendship, Eddie Munson Calls Steve Harrington Sunshine

Also on AO3 (because this one got long)

📝————————📝 Eddie Munson doesn’t sell drugs anymore. Nope. He’s a refined, renewed, reorganized man. That being said, he still needed to make money somehow. It wasn’t enough to do just mechanic work on the weekdays; something had to happen over the weekends, else he wouldn’t make it for his bills.

So he picks up a few new hobbies. Cycling, because that was the cheapest way for him to get around—he’s not particularly good at that one, but he still tries anyway. Photography, because his neighbor was selling his older cameras and the opportunity just couldn’t pass by. Then, there was his new found little business/career/dilly-dally.

Poetry.

On weekends, Eddie Munson, the guy who can’t afford to go to jail because of some rat-faced little tell-all not liking his product, writes poetry for a bit of extra cash. He sets up in Central Park with a little collapsable table and a few stools, a heavy as shit typewriter that his uncle off-loaded onto him, and enough paper to whoever is buying. There’s a tip jar dutifully set up by his feet. And the pay rate is whatever people can afford or want to afford.

One time, he wrote poems for a group of six giggly, drunk girls coming back from brunch mimosas—they gave him $30 each. Another, a little old man who had just beat a group of preteens at basketball—he could only afford the $3.50 that was rattling around in his shorts. Sometimes kids would come up and ask about getting a poem about their mom or their puppy or the little daisy they had just picked—they got theirs for free (they need to save their money for ice cream. And, also, he’s not going to get in trouble for a kid choosing to spend their lunch money. No sir-ee).

The weekends could be dry, though. They could get boring. But the sun hits him nice. And he usually sees a few beautiful pooches. And, well, he gets to work on his craft. A passion of his that he held onto since being a little kid. And people appreciate him for it, which is…nice to put it in simple terms.

This Saturday, though, is a rather dry day for customers. It’s overcast. There are less people out, though Central Park is never completely empty. And his tip jar is basically just flies and dust.

Until, fortunately, a man approaches him. He seems timid, a bit shy, even if his smile is all charm. His hair is swooped over and curling at his shoulders, brunette with blonde highlights. The man’s skin is tanned from the most recent summer, not quite fading into this early fall. Dotted with moles, poking out from the collar of his polo and the sleeves, down to his wrists, a few on his face. He has a gorgeous nose: greatly geometric and centered between all his features, sun kissed on the tip, a little crooked on the bridge—aquiline. His lips are a soft pink, a bit pouty, stretching wonderfully around his straight, white teeth. And his eyes are a tad downturned, hooded, shiny with excitement; hazel, but leaning more towards a light shade of brown, fanned by long, dark eyelashes, and squinting with his smile. He’s tall—probably around Eddie’s height, 5’11”. Pretty fit—his arms are toned and his hands are large and he’s broad on the shoulders, but he’s not bean pole thin like Eddie is, just a little chunkier. And, Eddie’ll never admit this out loud, but the dude’s got a great ass, perfectly squeezed in by a pair of Levi’s—light wash, edging on skinny, but not entirely form-fitting. His polo is a darling yellow ochre; rich and warm and perfect to his skin tone.

He doesn’t know what kind of poem he’ll write for this guy, but fuck him, he just wants to wax on and on about this literal slice of heaven that’s standing over him. Smiling. Hands clasped together in front of him. His bright, sunshine eyes. And…yeah, that’s a word to describe this guy.

Sunshine.

“Um—hey, you’re the guy that does the little typewriter poems, right?” The guy asks, his knuckles turning white as he squeezes his hands tighter together. He shifts from one foot to the other, a quick nervous tic that you’d miss if you weren’t looking at him. And now that he’s stepped closer to the makeshift “booth”, Eddie can smell him. There’s a rich earthy undertone to him—the bark of freshly wet pine trees, a drop or two of eucalyptus, and there’s a touch of citrus to him, too; orange or vanilla-lemon, it’s hard to tell.

Eddie wants to stick his nose in the crook of this guy’s neck. Wants to suckle on his skin. Lick a stripe from the underside of his jaw, down to his ankles, and back up all over his face.

But he just smiles, soft and pulling, and blinks up at him. “Yeah, that’s me,” he states softly. “Want me to write you one? It costs however much you’d like to pay.”

“However much?” His face goes a little complicated. The biggest, Muppet-esque frown Eddie’s ever seen, the pinch of his eyebrows, and a tilt to his head. He’s gauging the near empty tip jar, from where his eyes seem to trail. “Isn’t that a bad rule for business?”

Eddie shrugs. “I dunno. I know nothing about business. But…It’s kept me afloat most of the time, so it’s not terrible.”

The guy makes a short grunt of assessment. “Hm, okay,” he murmurs, “do I pay you now or after?”

“After.”

“Okay,” he murmurs again. Even his voice is doing things to Eddie. It’s all deep at the base of his throat. A little raspy as if he smokes cigarettes; probably does based on the curl of stale smoke Eddie smells from him as he settles into a stool. “I know that you usually do whatever prompt the customer gives, but I’m sort of…I’m pea for brains, so I can’t really think of anything. Is it okay if…Can you just pick something?”

Eddie tilts his head and looks off of the guy’s shoulder. Miffed at how downtrodden this stranger is on himself. He gazes back and asks, “Can I write about you?”

His eyes widen and he jolts in his seat just a fracture. “I mean, sure. If that’s really the muse you want to go with.” And then he gives a self-deprecating chuckle. Eddie kind of wants to shake him by the shoulders and scream to the whole fucking galaxy about how beautiful he is. But he restrains. “Nothing about the scars on the backs of my arms, though, please,” guy adds a moment later, so quiet that Eddie almost misses it. “It’s from a bad car accident and I—I’m just now getting back into the swing of wearing short sleeves.”

Nodding, Eddie says, “You got it. And hey—“ He takes the sleeve of his t-shirt and rolls it up. The shirt’s from an old club in high school, the Hellfire Club. Quarter sleeves to his elbows. But right above the crease of his left elbow is a long, scraggly, winding scar that creeps from the base of his neck. He even points to the side of his face, at the large swatch of scarring on his jaw. How Mr. Beautiful Stranger didn’t notice it, Eddie’s unsure. “—I understand,” he states gently. “Also from a bad wreck. It happens to the best of us,” he tries to joke.

And even his laughter melts Eddie. High pitched and unrestrained, giggles coming straight from his heart. “Yeah, okay,” he sighs. “Sure, I’ll be your muse.”

Eddie sets up his typewriter, at the start of the paper, two fingers down, not indented. “Do you care if I use your name as the title?”

“Steve,” he softly says, “and yours?”

The corners of Eddie’s mouth curl upwards lightly, just a little thing. “I’m Eddie. Some people around here will call me Ed, but you call me whatever you want.”

Steve hums. “How about Eds? Actually…Unless that’s—That might be stupid, never mind.”

Barreling, Eddie just asks, “How ‘bout I call you Stevie?” He grins with it. “We can be Eds and Stevie, the unlikely duo.”

Another little fit of giggles, Eddie’s never felt so full. “Okay, Eds and Stevie, The Unlikely Duo. Thanks for not making me feel dumb.”

“You’re only dumb if you’re a bigot. And, I could be wrong, but every aspect of you does not spell bigot. You seem like a nice guy, all things considered.”

Instead of a verbal response, all Eddie receives is a slow lull of silence. But when he looks up, Steve is staring right back. A soft, pleased smile on his face. Cheeks flushed. It’s like he’s bursting at the seams with the approval. Maybe he is, Eddie considers, maybe nobody’s ever told him that. And that thought gets shut down almost as fast as it formed, makes Eddie’s chest hurt just a little too much to work through.

“So, Steve, what’s got you out here this morning?” He works better with conversation, so hopefully Steve will give him this.

“Oh,” Steve softly exclaims as if he wasn’t expecting Eddie to talk to him. Or to acknowledge him. Or to even exist with him past this poem. “I come out here and feed birds on Saturday mornings. Technically, I don’t think I’m supposed to, but nobody’s stopped me. Just ran out of seed and was sort of wandering around and remembered that you were here. I’ve never had interest in coming over here, but I’ve seen you, so it was just what my best friend told me that drew me over.”

“Mm, word from mouth. All good things, I can only hope.”

Steve snorts. “Yeah, amazing things, actually. She said you were really nice to her. She had come home from brunch with a few of her friends and they were tipsy.” He sighs, chuckling through it. “It was noon on a Saturday when she came back to our apartment. And I could smell the alcohol on her. Think I was…I had been sleeping—I’m a heavy sleeper and I’m chronically fatigued all the time, so I tend to sleep in late. But she came into my room, shook my shoulder, and was a crying mess when I finally saw her. Asked her what was wrong. She just blubbered on and on about how a really nice guy wrote something really nice for her about her little friendship. And I just…I don’t know. I wanna read something that makes me feel better about the world and maybe also reduces me to tears.”

Eddie stops where he’d been softly clacking away on his typewriter. He tends to type loud, but something about Steve makes him stop and appreciate even the air around him. Something about him just soothes Eddie. Also, the fact that he rambles is cute. He’s good at silences. And he’s good at just talking.

“Well, I can’t promise that it’ll be the best thing you’ve ever read,” Eddie slowly states. “I can try, though. I can try to write something beautiful.”

“You’re writing about me, so I’m not expecting it to be beautiful,” Steve quickly says. He backtracks though, stopped in his seat and wide-eyed. His mouth is agape and his cheeks are completely red now. “Forget I said that. That’s—I struggle a lot with that and I promised my best friend that I’d stop being so hard on myself, but it just is…automatic.”

As nonchalant as possible, Eddie begins to type again. He confesses more towards his paper, trying to avoid the eye contact, “You are beautiful, so this’ll come easy.” And then he’s met with that same slow lull of silence. The romantic kind of silence that Steve seems entirely attracted to. And, yeah actually, Eddie kind of appreciates it. The curve of the silence and the warmth of its face, the plushness of its lips in the ways it kisses the both of them. If Steve is so inclined to sit in this silence after admittances like that, maybe Eddie can learn to love them. If Steve wants more than just this poem.

He’s at the final stanza when Steve begins to speak again.

“Have you ever written about yourself?”

“Mmm, no,” Eddie murmurs, typing away, “no I don’t think I have.”

Steve takes a grand breath. “Y’know, if you like writing about the beauty in things, you should write about yourself, too.” He’s fiddling with his hands, focus elsewhere, when Eddie is openly staring at him again.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. Steve nods carefully, eyes shiny with nerves now. He’s chewing on the inside of his right cheek. Eyes darting back and forth and back and forth. “You think I’m beautiful?” He meekly questions.

“Yeah, I think so. You’ve got these…huge brown eyes that pull me in and they’re sort of soft on your face, kind of like a deer, maybe a baby cow? I love those two, so don’t be insulted. And…You’re always sitting in the sun, but you’re still sort of pale and it makes it easier to see all the little freckles you’ve got. And—I, for one—love freckles. I think that your hair is just wonderful. And I—I don’t know, I’ve seen you around. Maybe I’ve thought about you a little too much.” His smile is sheepish and cute. Absolutely adorable.

Eddie grins. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re hitting on me.” He works the paper out of the typewriter, smooths the fine wrinkles at the bottom of the sheet, and then looks his writing over.

Steve gains a manly kind of confidence to him now. He leans forward, just a hair away from seeing what Eddie wrote, and talks low and smooth. “And if I was?”

He glances up, warming on the face. “I’d say that I like it and…y’know, if my poem doesn’t suck, I know a good cafe around here. Only if this is good and only if you’re interested.”

“Show me what you got, Eds. I’ll probably take you up on that lunch offer after.”

In the short few years Eddie’s been doing this, he’s never been nervous to present his work. But he hands the paper over, hands shaking and palms sweating. And waits, with bated breath, as Steve reads it over:

————— There is a glow to him. A cast of light that brightens the world as I know it. From just one glance of his smile—all pearl and pink and new I could tell there was something special to him.

He’s sunshine, I believe.  The very ball of light, the all encompassing warmth of a celestial body, the very thing that continues to sustain. There is love through him, within everything he does.

Just one look at him and I’m refreshed. Even with very little, even with just appearances alone. May he know the way I was drawn in—maybe that makes me Icarus. To want to know something so much, you’re ready for everything that comes with it; Even the chance to burn up, even the chance to merge with it, even the chance to only see it once.

May he know that before I knew his name, I knew his smile. Before I knew his name, I knew his trepidation. Before I knew his name, I knew his warmth.

It’s not enough, to say he’s gorgeous. That’s not a strong enough word. But he is. Oh, how he is.

He’s painted my world golden— I see sunlight with him.

May he know that I’ll carry his light in my chest, May he know that I selfishly want more. ————— Finally, Steve’s attention goes back to Eddie’s face directly.

“I tried,” Eddie says, “it got away from me, though. And I…I didn’t write exactly how you’re beautiful. But there’s something about you—Something so out of this world, beyond what anybody could ever possibly comprehend. You seem like somebody worth knowing, worth being around.” He swallows hefty when Steve continues to just stare. His face is completely unreadable. “You approached my table and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. Just sucked me right in, every part of you. Sorry if this…If this wasn’t what you were looking for.”

Though, when Eddie is only met with that silence from earlier, he takes the opportunity to stare a little longer. At the high flush of Steve’s cheeks. The fine sheen of his eyes. There’s a little pinch between his eyebrows and a twist to his mouth.

“My best friend,” Steve wetly murmurs, “she always tells me that I’m the light of her world. And I—“ He sighs, the sound a lot choked and stuttering. “—I don’t know. I’ve never been able to believe her. I always just thought she was biased or something.” He looks down at the paper again, his thumbs running along the margins reverently. Steve sniffles. “I used to not be a very good person. Used to say things just because I heard them, because I knew they were bad. And it took…God, it took so long to relearn everything. To find myself, to figure out who I was outside of my bigoted family. Even then, I always thought I was just…” He shrugs. “I thought that I was destined for a lifetime of loneliness or something because nobody wanted to be around me. Because they thought I was one way, when I was really the other. Or they could only see me as I was, not who I am.”

Steve looks up to Eddie again. There are tear streaks down his cheeks. Wet and glistening in the little bit of light breaking through the clouds. With the sunlight on him, he’s even brighter than Eddie anticipated. It’s sort of unfair, too, how beautiful he is even when he cries.

“Thank you for this, Eds,” Steve quietly says, “you have no idea how much this means to me.”

“You wanted to feel better about your world. I wanted to show you something that’s changed mine, I suppose.” Eddie sits slumped in his stool, hands between his knees, pulling and twisting at his rings. He chews on his bottom lip. “And I meant what I said earlier, Stevie. You seem like a really nice guy. A good guy.”

Slowly, and oh so gently, Steve places a tentative hand to Eddie’s left forearm. His gaze has softened, sweetened. He’s smiling this small, appreciative, pleased thing. And Eddie can already feel the sun burn developing. “You are, too. Really, Eds. You have no idea what your art does for the world, who you’re helping.” His thumb absentmindedly is stroking over Eddie’s skin. Hand heavy and warm and firm, comforting. Grounding. Sustaining Eddie. “If you meant the other thing you said earlier, I’d like to get something with you at that cafe. I’d like to get to know you.”

“Stevie, you’d be doing me an honor. Just let me pack up here, yeah?” He pulls away, hesitantly, unfortunately. And he begins to collapse all his equipment. Putting the typewriter in its case. The stools folded neatly under his arm.

“Oh, let me pay you first before you put—“

“Don’t worry about that. I’m getting a nice lunch date and a beautiful guy out of this, I don’t need the money.”

Steve grunts. He pops a hip out, crosses his arms over his chest with the poem still carefully held in his grip, and pouts. Eddie kind of likes that he’s a bit bitchy, too. Good guys can have fun, too. “Fine,” Steve huffs. “Let me pay for the lunch, though. My treat.”

Eddie gently rolls his eyes and smirks. “You’ve got a little spice to you, sunshine. I like that. Burn me up and maybe I’ll write more about you.”

“Keep it in your pants, Eds. We haven’t even left the park.”

“No promises.”

📝————————📝 Thank you again for this prompt, it was a lot of fun <33

[theragethatisdesire]

HELLO FROGGY >:P you knew id be here im youre lovely little bunny…i wanna submit my own prompt for your huge milestone event!!

“youre fucking eren jaeger? are you kidding me?”

do with that as you wish rage!! ILY

hiiiiiii my flower ummm firstly this prompt made giggle secondly i found it a bit challenging so i decided to go digging through my wips and ..... i discovered the morning-after drabble for ti penso eren!!! which ik you just said eren and it doesn't say your prompt exactly but also like. the energy is there. and it's really funny. SO YOU GET A VERY SPECIAL ARCHIVAL RAGE PIECE THAT'S ALSO QUITE LONG COMPARED TO WHAT I THINK THE REST OF THE DRABBLES WILL BE........ i hope it will suffice <3<3<3 i love you???

"you're fucking eren?" x ti penso! eren<3 this is a little continuation of this

-

“How are we doing today, folks?” A perky waitress approaches your table, smiling down at all of you. You pity her, really; no one at your table is exactly in the mood to return her level of enthusiasm.

Logically, you know how you’ve ended up sandwiched between Eren and Armin, trying to ignore the daggers Mikasa’s shooting at you across the table, but in the haze of your hangover and the intoxicating presence of Eren beside you, you can’t imagine what you did to deserve this fate. A memory flashes behind your eyes of Eren pinning you to the wall, licking up your neck. Oh yeah, that.

You and Eren had eventually managed to untangle yourselves from the bed when Connie and Armin had joined the raucous banging on the door, and you’d each miraculously found an old tshirt and a pair of Jean’s sweatpants to wear. Your face had burned when you met Mikasa’s withering glare, Jean’s look of horror when he caught sight of his sheets rumpled on the floor. Armin had corralled everyone into brunch of all things, deciding on behalf of the group that the rarity of seeing each other outweighed the painful awkwardness of the situation. Connie had whined and stomped his feet, demanding Ubereats on account of his hangover, but after some convincing, you’d all been dragged along to the restaurant a block from Jean’s apartment. Your foot, still wearing your heels from the night before that do not compliment the pair of Jean’s pajamas you’re wearing, jiggles incessantly under the table.

“Um, hi. We’re good, thanks,” Armin breaks the silence to answer the poor girl, looking down at his menu with pink cheeks.

“We need mimosas,” Connie says affirmatively, even though alcohol is likely the last thing that will aid this situation, “two carafes, and keep ‘em coming.”

“Connie,” Mikasa says sharply, “do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Hair of the dog,” Eren suggests, nodding at the waitress. “Make it three.”

“Shut up,” Mikasa snaps at him. Eren balks, you don’t dare to look at him even as you snicker. “I told you two–”

“I am an adult, Mika,” for the first time all morning, you snap and finally interrupt her scolding. “Do we really need to do this over brunch?”

“Did you really need to do that in my bed?” Jean makes a disgusted face. Eren rolls his eyes, stretching his arms only to land one around your shoulders; god, you wish he wouldn’t do that, add fuel to the fire.

“Sheets can be washed.”

“I’m burning them,” Jean deadpans, eyes narrowing at Eren’s arm around you. You want to die. You want to shrink into a little hole in the ground and die.

“I got laid too, if anyone cares,” Connie mutters. Armin cocks an eyebrow.

“Before or after you puked in the kitchen sink?”

“Before,” Connie answers, unphased, “in that hall bathroom–”

“Can my apartment please stop being the sex apartment?” Jean groans, letting his head fall into his hands.

“Oh, like you two weren’t fucking each other silly back at our place,” you counter, pointing an accusing finger between Jean and Mikasa. Jean’s face turns bright red, and Eren’s eyes fix on Jean, narrowing into something lethal. Mikasa opens her mouth to snap back, but the waitress has returned, three mimosa carafes and six glasses on her tray. On second thought, maybe you do need a morning pick-me-up. 

All of you, despite your protests, fill your glasses to the brim. Eren pours yours for you, smiling down at you adoringly as if you were on a lovely date, not a one-night-stand-turned-hellish-morning.

“Want more?” He asks, holding the carafe towards your near-full glass. You shake your head, mouth pressed into a flat line, not missing Jean’s gagging across the table.

“Whipped already, Jaeger?” Connie teases.

“After last night? Absolutely,” Eren says with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, wrapping his arm tighter and snuggling you into his side. Your face burns even hotter, and you smack his chest.

“Shut up, Eren!” You and Mikasa speak at the same time. Mikasa grants you a small smile at your synchronicity; it isn’t much, but it’s a start, and you venture into what’s hopefully a safe realm of conversation that will keep Eren preoccupied.

“So Mika, are you excited for Eren to move to the city?”

Your attempt at peace doesn’t go the way you’d hoped; Mikasa’s brows knit into a frown, and she turns to Eren, who’s blushing madly. “What?”

“When are you moving to the city?” Armin asks, nose scrunched in confusion. You’re just as confused as they are, turning to face Eren.

“But you said this morning–”

“I am in a few weeks,” Eren says, sounding very much like he’s just spitballing, “I just need to talk to Zeke–”

“What about my music?” Connie looks aghast, hands flying out to the side.

“Dude, I can still rep you from the city, and Zeke might not even want to move. He’s all wrapped up with Pieck anyway.”

“When were you planning on telling me you were moving?” Mikasa narrows her eyes, glaring at Eren accusingly. You realize you’ve put your foot in your mouth, exposed what may have been no more than a passing thought in Eren’s head. You haven’t even known him for twenty-four hours, but you can read Eren well enough to tell that he’s impulsive, maybe to a fault.

“Did you need to get laid so bad that you got one whiff of pussy and decided to pack up and move?” Jean looks amused, and you want to slap him. Thankfully, Mikasas does it for you, thumping him between the eyebrows. “Ow!”

“Don’t be crude.”

“Maybe.” Eren, for his part, simply smirks, tightens his grip on you. Your heart flutters despite your embarrassment; even if he had lied to get you back into bed for an attempted round two, it was a flattering thought. “It would be good for the business, though.”

“Come to think of it,” Armin rubs his chin, “it really would. There’s a lot more musicians that need representation in the city than back home.”

“You rep musicians?” You raise your eyebrows, surprised. You had assumed the family business was something boring, and you realize you never thought to ask. Eren shrugs.

“Sort of. We’re still getting it off the ground.”

“He reps me!” Connie waves excitedly at you.

“Impressive,” you give him a little once-over, seeing him in an entirely different light. In the sober eyes of the morning, he’s still beautiful, hair rumpled and messy and eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, but beautiful. You force your gaze away from him only to be met with Mikasa’s eyes, flitting between both of you, a curious look on her face. “What?”

“Nothing,” she hums, sipping her mimosa but not dropping the knowing smile spreading across her face.

[bowandcurtsey]

Hi! Just saw your requests open post and squealed. Could I please get headcanons of Fuegoleon falling in love with an extremely beautiful woman and how he goes about courting her?

Hi sweetie!! Thank you for waiting so long (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)

I hope you're still here and get to read this request! Hope 2024 would be filled with nothing but amazing things <3

My last piece of work in 2023 hehe! Here's some gentleman Fue for you Anony!

Characters: Furgoleon Vermillion x f! reader tw: unchecked works

When he first saw you, he was so mesmerised by your beauty that he started blushing.

Fuegoleon, the captain of the crimson lion was usually an eloquent man. But he started to stutter around you and found himself not being sure of what to say.

He actually thought of many ways to talk to you a little more but he couldn't think right at that moment.

When you both parted way, Fue found himself thinking about you all the time. He just couldn't shake you out of his head. He was mentally slapping himself so many times in the day everytime he thought about how awkward he was when he first met you.

He had to come up with an excuse to meet you again. He just had to.

And guess what? he organised an entire event for the village you stayed in, just so that he could see you again.

Did he have any plans when he met you again? no.

So he arranged a charity event in your village (and a few other villages as well for cover up of course), and he was there in person every single day.

And when he met you again, he goes tripping over his tongue again. It's like you're his kryptonite and his brain malfunctions when you meet.

Thank the heavens you spoke to him a little, else he'd won't get over himself again that night. You volunteered to help out at the charity event and of course he agreed without any hesitation.

In the next few days, he would bring you breakfast or some snacks, or water - anything that could increase his chance of coming to interact with you.

Slowly he would start to make more casual small talks and ask a little more personal questions.

As he interacted with you, he fell harder in love, not only because of your physical features, but also your inner beauty. Every time you laughed, he found himself smiling as well.

On the fifth and last day of the village charity event, fue found himself in low spirits. He thought about extending the event, but as a magic knight, he knew that there were other villages waiting on the help too. He had to move on to the next village tomorrow.

He brought you a small little bouquet of flowers. "as thanks to helping us out" he spoke in a low and quiet voice, but internally he was freaking out.

The smile on your face was everything to him. He would never forget the sparkle in your eyes and the rosy tint on your cheeks. But what you said next was even more unforgettable.

Because it would be the start of everything you had with Fue.

"would you guys need an extra helping hand in the other villages? I would love to volunteer"

WELL WELL WELL

it is safe to say he almost jumped in joy at that moment. But he had to maintain his composure else he'd risk looking like a total dork in front of you.

Now he would find himself having lunch with you daily. Bringing you water, breakfast and snacks are just the norm now.

Some days he'd even ferry you to and fro the village so you wouldn't even need to travel yourself. Because it's "the least I should do!"

Every week when you ended the charity event with a village, he brings you a brand new bouquet of flowers "as thanks" and they get bigger and bigger in size.

You guys chat about more personal things and share more stories now. He's starting to get comfy with you.

By now, the entire Crimson Lion knows that Fue is trying to court you. The dissing he gets from Leo and Mereo is UNIMAGINABLE. Soon, mimosa and kirsch knows about it too and they tease him about it as well. Poor Fue.

But nothing is going to stop his determination of courting you.

How could you resist a fine, charming man like Fue anyway? You knew you were starting to catch feelings as well.

Fue is not the time to spend lavish amount of money on you during the courting stage. He believes the best way to show his sincerity is through his actions.

Chivalry is Fue's middle name, so do expect a lot of opening doors, pulling out chairs, lending you a hand on simple tasks, helping you hold your dresses, etc.

After ALL the charity event at the different village (which spread across 6 weeks in total), Fue finally mustered up the courage to ask you out for dinner. The rest was history.

[kittysdiary]

Beauty Diary

Chapter 2: Building A Maintenance Routine

Let’s girl talk about how to build a maintenance routine, how to schedule, when to book appointments + understanding medical esthetic procedures.

How to Build a Routine:

Understand yourself and your beauty needs/desires. Do you want to start getting manicures? Are there any skin concerns you want to address + treat? Any enhancements you want? Are you ready to start keeping up with your hair? Once these questions are answered you can start building a routine!

Know what services can be done at a salon or at home.

Research for the best salons and spas near you

Take note of what you learn about yourself from your appointments so you know how to keep up at home. Ex.) Your skin type, curl pattern, hair porosity, ingredients that work best for you + your skin undertone.

List out what services you want done, how often you want them done and what you’re looking to achieve after each service.

Set beauty goals and plan to save for special beauty services.

Facials:

Basic facials should be done every 4-6 weeks.

When it comes to medical spa procedures they should be done at least once a month!

Here’s a short list of my favorite medical spa treatments to gain an understanding of what they are and how they benefit you.

Hydrafacial: a non invasive procedure that combines cleansing, exfoliation, extraction, hydration and antioxidant protection by removing dead skin cells and impurities while simultaneously delivering moisturizing serums into the skin. (Skin type: ALL) should be done every 4-6 weeks.

Chemical Peel: a solution applied to the face to remove dead skin cells and stimulate the growth of new cells. (Skin type: ALL. Darker skin complexions can experience post-inflammatory hyperpigmentation) should be done once a month.

Microdermabrasion: a minimally abrasive instrument is used to gently sand your skin in order to remove the thicker, uneven outer portion of skin. Best for light scarring, discoloration, sun damage and stretch marks. (Skin type: Skin prone to acne scars, age spots, unevenness, discoloration and sun damage.) should be done very 4-8 weeks.

PRP aka Vampire Facial: a procedure that involves drawing the clients blood, spinning it and injecting it through microneedling to increase collagen, reduce fine lines/wrinkles, improve moisture retention and enhance skin tone + texture. (Skin type: typically ACNE PRONE SKIN) should be done every few weeks and maintenance sessions are done 2-4 times a year.

Hair Removal

There are many types of hair removal procedures to invest your time and money into. Waxing, sugaring, threading, laser hair removal and electrolysis. It’s best to go in for a hair removal service when your hair is the size of a grain of rice.

Waxing: every 2-5 weeks. face, underarms and bikini can be done every 2-3 weeks. hair length should be 1/4 of an inch.

Sugaring: every 2 weeks. hair length should be at least 1/8 of an inch.

Threading: every 2-3 weeks.

Laser Hair Removal: every 4-6 weeks done in about 4-6 treatment sessions. maintenance treatments can be done once every 6-12 months.

Electrolysis: every 2-4 weeks done in about 8-12 treatments. can take any where from 8 months, 12 months and 2 years to complete the treatment.

Cosmetic Injections

Cosmetic injections tend to be a yearly treatment routine. I recommend investing in packages in order to get more treatment sessions for a certain amount of money. They can also include a free treatment. Packages can be used for medical esthetic procedures such as laser hair removal packages, body contouring packages and tattoo removal packages as well.

Participating in Botox parties are also a good way to get a discount and purchase Botox packages. I used to assist hosting botox parties which included champagne, mimosas, cute desserts and discounts for clients if they brought a friend!

Botox: once every 4 months.

Lip Filler: once every 12-18 months.

Chin Filler: once every 1-5 years.

Non Surgical Rhinoplasty: once every 6 months.

Nails

During the summer time is when I go into the nail salon more often than usual to keep my nails and toes ready for the sunshine.

Gel Manicure: every 3-4 weeks between fills.

Gel Pedicure: 2 weeks to 1 month.

Acrylic Nail Set: filled every 2-3 weeks. every 8 weeks to replace fake nails.

Hair

Your hair should be healthy and kept in good maintenance by using an effective salon routine.

Hair Color: every 4-6 weeks between each hair coloring session.

Haircut: every 6-8 weeks or every 3-4 months.

Extensions: glue and tape extensions every 4-8 weeks, sew-in extensions every 6-8 weeks and micro-link extensions every 2-3 months.

Wig Installations: every 1-6 weeks.

Other

Lash Extensions: every 2-3 weeks.

Lash Lift: every 6-8 weeks.

Lash Tinting: every 4-6 weeks.

Bow Tinting: every 4 weeks.

Brow Lamination: every 4-6 weeks.

Microblading: touch ups 1 or 2 times a year.

Appointment Layout:

Week 1: hydrafacial & extraction session.

Week 2: eyebrow wax & tint.

Week 3: hair cut & color.

PSA:

How often you get any procedures done depends on you, your budget, your skin, your hair, your nails, your stylist, your esthetician or your health care provider. Please build a beauty routine that fits you and your life style the best!

[lloromanic0]

drunk sex with bill or tom i don’t mind 😆 (if ur comfortable)

Hii thank you so much for the request as always I hope you like it! <3

!Smut MDNI!

Content: alcohol consumption (obviously),regular smut descriptions.

Drunk sex with Bill

Bill had been telling you how much he wanted to go to this new bar,he sat down next to you showing you some pictures of it, lights were almost inexistent only some red and blue lamps here and there, on the other side of the building there were some private rooms with black leather couches and small tables,two dance floors and a common drinking area which appeared to be the only one with decent lighting.

“I don’t know Bill…”

“Oh cmon y/n it will be fun, I can’t remember the last time we went out on our own.”

“I mean you’re right..”

“See! I swear if you’re not having fun we’ll go home right away.”

“Okay okay fine.”

Bill jumped from the couch in excitement, leaning down to give a really tight hug and kiss you all over your face. You rolled your eyes playfully at him as he walked out of the room smiling at you. Bill loved matching his outfits with you whenever you guys went out and today was no exception, you decided to keep it more on the casual side with some low rise flared dark grey jeans, a black top and a leather jacket each one of you individually picked your favorite accessories.

After a 20 minute drive you arrived at the bar, Bill held your hand as you walked in the front door making your way through the crowd.

“This is actually kinda nice.” You shrugged.

“See I told you! Do you want something do drink?”

“Some caramel licor would be nice to start with.”

“Okay my love, find a table and I’ll be right back.” Replied Bill as he walked to the bar.

You found a table to sit at, burying yourself in the dark red sofa waiting for your boyfriend to come back.

“Here you go!” He extended his hand to you giving you the drink. You sat up and thanked him. Bill got himself a fresh Margarita, you tried each other’s drinks before finishing the whole thing. For the next hour Bill was practically glued to the bar counter, a few mimosas,mojitos & martinis between each song the Dj played. Now you were most definitely having fun, you didn’t even notice Bill disappearing in the middle of your dance, just coming back to surprise you with more drinks.

“You need to try this Tequila Sunrise!” Exclaimed Bill. You took a sip of the cold beverage the orange flavor and the strong alcohol taste melting on your mouth as your body temperature kept rising and your head felling fuzzier. You placed down your drink and grabbed Bills hand so you could whisper in his ear.

“How about we go into one of those private rooms you told me about.” He looked away from you shyly,his face was completely red, you weren’t sure if it was due to the embarrassment or because he was most definitely drunk. You grabbed his hand guiding him to the other side of the building, his flimsy steps following behind you, you asked for a key at the reception desk and looked back at him, Bill could never hide that he was drunk his body language was all you needed to observe, the way he couldn’t maintain eye contact with you and his body felling both light and hot.

You pulled him inside the room closing the door behind him, there was a large black couch,a short table,a small cabinet with water bottles and a TV with speakers. The lights were low and warm,which made a lovely contrast with the dark red carpet that covered the whole floor. You pushed Bill on the couch getting on top of him right after, he placed his hands on your waist moving them up and down your sides as you lowered yourself onto him. You kissed his neck hungrily, bitting it a few times making Bill hiss and moan in pain & pleasure. The music from the dance floor echoed through your ears as you kept exploring Bill’s neck with your mouth. You took off your jacket throwing it in the floor along with your shirt, his hands reached up to cup your breasts making you smile as he squeezed them together.

“You’re so beautiful babe.” Said Bill with a soft voice his eyes half opened, he sat up unclipping your bra.

“You have cute tits.” He spoke, pinching one of your niples, you slightly jump at the light pain he inflicted on you, his mouth got close to your breast sucking on your left nipple while squeezing the right one, you softly moan as he kept licking and sucking your tits. He pulled away from them with a pop sound.

“Take those off for me.” He muttered softly,playing with the waist of your pants, you got up taking them off slowly, putting on a show for him as his outline of his hard cock made his pants look almost see through.

“Fuck baby you’re such a tease.” He murmured getting up from the couch, his tall figure approaching yours. He grabbed your hand guiding it to his aching boner, you palmed him through his pants making him throw his head back.

“Please Y/N let me fuck you, I need it.”

He couldn’t even look in your eyes, his mind felt fuzzy and his body boiling the only thing he knew is that he needed to fuck you more than anything.

You bend over the couch looking back at him, swaying your hips seductively in a way to invite him. He came closer to you slapping your ass somewhat hard but not enough to actually hurt you, he would never do that. He pulled down his pants along with his underwear his cock sprung out lightly hitting his lower stomach, you bite your lip at the sight. Bill placed his tip over your entrance, stroking it up and out teasing you a little more rubbing circles on your clit,making your legs tremble at the sensation. He grabbed you hips forcefully, his cock now slowly entering your warm hole,you moan lowly at the contact adjusting to his size every time he inserted an inch in you. The rush of the alcohol and horniness began to take over your body as Bill thrusted into you.

“Fuck…you’re so tight oh my god you’re milking me…”

You moaned in response fucking your hips on his cock matching his pace.

“You’re enjoying this so much baby so eager..”

Bill wasn’t that much of a talker during sex, just the regular stuff, asking if you were fine or if you were enjoying it, but today due to his reaction to alcohol he wouldn’t keep quiet for a second.

“Bill- you’re talking to much just fuck me please~”

“Aren’t you desperate babe?” He asked slapping his hips hard on you.

“Fuck! aaahhh-“ you exclaimed loudly.

“Is that what you want to be fucked hard by me?” He questioned fucking you harder with each thrust.

“Answer me!” He demanded.

“YES! Bill yes fuck me hard just like that mmhhmm~” the pace he was using to penetrate you making hard to make up any sentences.

“That’s a good girl.” He grunted loudly.

Ramming his cock harshly in your pussy as you moaned and screamed in ecstasy and pleasure, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix as your pussy clenched around him making him exhale loudly.

“Gonna cum for me pretty girl?”

“Y-yes Bill mmhmm fuck-“

“Cum for me baby, cum all over my cock.”

His thrusts became deeper hitting your g spot, his hand moved in front of you to rub circles on your clit, the double stimulation making you shake and moan loud, one last thrust was all you needed to cum undone on Bill’s cock.

“Good job baby, just take it a little longer for me yeah?”

“Y-yes Bill.” You muttered.

His movements became sloppier as his orgasm approached, in a minute you felt your cunt getting filled with his warm semen as he fucked it back into you slowly. He stayed inside you for a few seconds before finally pulling out, making you collapse on the couch.

He opened a water bottle from the cabinet offering it to you, you thanked him taking the bottle to your lips,the cold liquid refreshing your dry mouth. He got one for himself and sat down next to you, you placed your head over his thigh as he stoked your hair with his fingers.

“You did have a good time after all.” Said Bill in a playful tone.

“I guess…” you smiled back at him.

Even if the moment was enjoyable for now and none of you got sick from the alcohol exaggeration you both knew that the next morning headache and dehydration would be unbearable, but for now you just enjoyed the warm of each other’s bodies.

————————————————————————

Note: idk if you think this is long💀 I think I get carried away with descriptions sometimes anyways I hope you liked it💕

[lewkwoodnco]

but daddy, I love him! - lockwood x reader

George tipped Lockwood out of his chair with surprising ease while Lucy started yelling at him. The two boys twisted around in their scuffle until George finally pinned Lockwood down and raised a fist above his head.

"Give me ONE good reason why I shouldn't punch your pretty face right now."

Lockwood's scratched and mildly bruised face split into one of his winning smiles, his whimpering temporarily ceased.

"You think my face is pretty?"

George reared back for the punch and Lockwood started shrieking incomprehensibly while Lucy started telling them both off.

a/n - vfvhkefrhu woooo this took a little more time than I anticipated heheh but here it is! <3

warnings/tropes - lockwood x socialite!reader, lil bit of angst, mostly fluff/humour!

word count - 3.8k!

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

Right here, on this plush velvet couch, was where they were going to find her body. They were going to have to scrape her off bit by bit.

It was a dim Saturday morning, and Y/N was rotting in her courtyard living room with two of her friends. Sarah was preening in the full-length mirror, trying to decide if her nose was too small. Hannah was sipping a mimosa on the sofa opposite her, going on about this boy from two towns over who took her to the movies - not that she would ever be seeing him again, given that he was below her station. Y/N thought it was a shame; she couldn't remember Hannah ever showing this much of an interest in someone other than herself.

So there she sat, some unknown frustration distantly bubbling away as she was bored out of her skull. Maybe it was an ungrateful thing to say, but her fashionable lifestyle could feel glamorous for only so long. It was starting to grow stale - as stale as Sarah's obsession with her nose. She stifled a yawn, her eyes wandering to the higher floors, when something made her sit up. There it was again, a little flicker of light reflecting off of something. She mumbled something about a powder room and clumsily got to her feet, excusing herself from her inattentive guests.

It took her a while to figure out exactly where the flash was coming from, but she eventually located the corridor down where she could hear some noises. She heard a set of footsteps approaching her and turned, nearly running straight into a lanky clothes-hanger of a boy laden with all sorts of gizmos, wearing the most horribly ridiculous pair of goggles she had ever seen.

He let out a short scream and clung onto his goggles, and she reflexively caught the supplies that slipped from his arms.

"Who the hell are you?"

He owlishly blinked through his shiny, reflective goggles a few times, before reluctantly slipping them off. All thoughts about his strange attire flew from her head, replaced by one annoyingly nagging thought - he had kind eyes. Soft, trusting, kind eyes, the kind that momentarily knocked the breath out of you.

"I am so sorry..."

Don't be, she wanted to breathe out, transfixed on his eyes. He paused a little and awkwardly gestured to her arms. She glanced down and remembered where she was, hurriedly returning his supplies.

"That's some, um, interesting equipment you have."

He gave a brief smile. "Thank you. Anthony Lockwood, Lockwood & Co."

She frowned. "Lock-wood & Co. That sounds familiar."

"Well, we are a very up-and-coming psychical inv-"

"Oh! The agency that burned down Sheen Road!"

The boy's face took a faint tinge of red, and she immediately regretted putting her foot in her mouth.

"I mean - uh - you have some very interesting equipment."

He opened his mouth to respond when two more figures emerged from the shadows behind them, a girl guiding another flailing and mildly bruised boy, both of whom had donned matching goggles.

"Lockwood, I can't see shit without my glasses. How much longer do I have to make an arse out of myself? 

The girl looked at Lockwood with an injured expression. "And you said these came free from Satchell's."

Lockwood huffed irritatedly at the other boy. "Snitch."

"Boo-fucking-hoo. I told you these wouldn't work." He sucked in a breath to continue but stopped short as he finally registered Y/N. "Hang on-"

"She's alive."

"Damn."

Lockwood gestured carelessly towards the other two. "My associates, Lucy Carlyle and George Karim."

"So you're here about the third-floor Visitor?"

"Yes. We received a report about some footprints..?"

"Oh, right. Those are just below my room. Here." She led the trio to the landing at the foot of the flight of stairs leading up to her room, which was stained with a quickly disappearing smattering of bloody footprints. The other boy knelt and considered the substance.

"Ectoplasm."

Lockwood turned back to her. "How often does the Visitor make an appearance?"

"No clue; I'm blind as a bat to anything supernatural. But the footprints only show up every couple of days, so it might be a while before they show up again."

His associates started examining the scene, and he bid her farewell with a grateful smile. By the time she had returned to the courtyard, she had been gone a bit too long to have her absence go unnoticed by her friends.

"And where did you run off to?"

"Told you, the powder room." She picked up a stray magazine, keeping her tone light. "I ran into some agents on the way back."

"Ooh. From Rotwell's?"

"Lockwood & Co."

Sarah peeled herself away from the mirror, mystified. "Who?"

Her giddy glow faltered. "An agency. Mr. Lockwood was there too. I was just...having a small chat with them."

"What for? They're working class."

"Don't be rude, Sarah." Hannah turned back to Y/N, a pinched expression still lingering on her face. "But...she's not wrong."

Y/N bristled defensively. "I'll have you know they're perfectly respectable company." Better than you lot, she wanted to add.

"Why? They're...poor."

"Y/N, we only want what's best for you," Hannah added in a nauseatingly simpering voice. "And that's...not...with people like them."

She tossed her magazine aside flippantly.

"You know, I wonder how the two of you bear it."

"Bear what?"

"Walking around with your noses stuck in the air all the time."

With that, she exited the living room, fuming. Yes, she was being childish, and yes, it wasn't news that her friends were prone to arrogance, but for some reason, their attitudes were particularly grating today. They hadn't met Lockwood like she had, of course they wouldn't understand. She replayed the feeling of watching him remove his goggles for the first time - unexpectedly climactic, and somehow...familiar.

She was sure of it. They would never understand.

For the next few nights, there would be a Lockwood & Co. employee stationed at the landing, complete with iron chains, flares, and salt. They'd bring along something to occupy themselves, like a book or a 3D puzzle, but it still felt nice to have a short chat with them before she went up to her room. 

With Lockwood, the chats always lasted a little longer, and maybe she stayed up a little later than she ought to on those nights, but really, it wasn't anything special. Little by little, they pieced each other together. She's restoring her father's old radio. He likes his orange juice with pulp. She has an older brother she hasn't talked to in months. He visits his family's graves on the first Tuesday of every month.

The more time she spent with Lockwood, the more she realised how uninteresting she found everyone else. Somewhere between their stilted whispers and muffled laughter, she started to desire something...more. 

"Hey."

Lockwood looked up from his magazine from where he was sitting cross-legged, encircled by his iron chains. He glanced at his watch, startled.

"You're back early."

She wrinkled her nose. "Wasn't enjoying the fundraiser."

"What about your friends?"

"They wanted to stay."

"So they let you leave? All by yourself?"

She bit her tongue. "Nothing wrong in that."

"No, of course not." As he was on the first day they met, Lockwood was quick to be an agreeable companion. But this trait added weight to the few times he chose to disagree. "But...nothing right either."

"It's alright. I'd hate to spoil their night." She sank onto the carpeted steps. "How's the investigation going?"

Lockwood glanced at the temperature sensor placed slightly outside the iron circle. "Temperature's dropping more than usual. Could just be because it's chillier today, but you never know." He looked up, and the moonlight illuminated his starkly pale face. "Do you not have any Talent?"

She hesitated. "A little. Not much, mind, certainly not enough to be an agent. But it was never something I needed to consider. I know people have it bad out there, but I'm just..."

"...too rich."

She gave a wry smile. "What gave it away? Besides the skyscraper ceilings, of course." They laughed briefly, before quickly sinking into a jagged silence.

"What's your home like?"

"It's...it's hard to describe. I don't think I could do it justice. You should come see Portland Row sometime. Have dinner with m-us. Us. Once we're done with the job. If you'd like."

"You should come see Portland Row sometime. Have dinner with m-us. Us. Once we're done with the job. If you'd like."

Lockwood was staring very hard at his sneakers. She found the whole thing highly amusing.

"Lockwood, I'd leave with you right now if I could. Really. It's just...my father..."

Her father would sooner have an aneurysm than let her 'play hooky,' as he would put it, especially with this less-than-glamorous ragtag team of misfits. While it had occasionally been a source of mild annoyance before, she never resented him as much as she did right then. And all that was without considering all the eyebrows that a guy like Lockwood would raise.

The faint moonlight was enough to make out the glimmer of his teeth, the curve of his face, the shadows settling around his deep-set eyes. She ached to know the look on his face, to know how he was feeling. The sprigs of lavender she had weaved into the hem of her dress were heavily perfuming the air, heady enough to make the evocative pull of his gaze strangely irresistible.

She peered at him through the railings, whose shadows marred his face, painfully reminiscent of a prison cell. She slid her hand along the bannister, gripping it firmly. It was moments like these when the rest of the house was quiet, too quiet, that she felt something flutter in her chest. Some compulsion flickering through her tendons to reach out through the railings, brush her fingers across his cheekbone, to have and to hold-

"It's getting late." Lockwood put his coat back on and started gathering some of his equipment. "I think I'll call it a night."

She hurriedly got to her feet too, suddenly embarrassed for some reason. "Yeah. No, me too. I should...I should get some rest."

Still, she lingered at the foot of the stairs long enough for Lockwood to pack away the chains. As he straightened, he turned to her as if he could feel that she was brimming with...something. She wanted to tell him how much she had enjoyed this night, and every night before. She wanted to tell him how happy he made her.

But she couldn't find the words.

"Good night," she said softly.

That was the last of their secret late-night rendezvous, as the Shade finally reappeared the following night and was safely put to rest by Lucy, along with any hopes of a budding romance. 

Five days after what Y/N had thought was the last time she'd lay eyes on Anthony Lockwood (not that she was keeping count), she was quite happily proven wrong. Lockwood and George had paid a visit to collect their payment from her father. 

She was not-so-casually lounging at the opposite end of the living room with her friends. The magazine she was holding upside down wouldn't have fooled anyone if they were paying attention, especially coupled with her relentlessly staring at Lockwood. She had been a little on edge when he had first walked in, hating how their last conversation had ended. But all it took was one of his easy, soothing smiles as he discreetly glanced at her to calm her down. She buried her nose deeper into the magazine as if she hadn't seen it, failing to hold her smile back.

When she had sufficiently composed herself, she peeked over the edge of the magazine to see the boys having some sort of disagreement as her father was writing out a cheque. Lockwood seemed to want to do something and George seemed to be holding him back until the cheque had been written.

As soon as her father had handed the cheque to them, George accepted it with a hurried thanks and a funny bow before practically running out. Lockwood took a deep breath before launching into some kind of monologue while occasionally glancing at her. Openly. Her father's face remained impassive. 

She put away her magazine, mystified as she tried to make out what he was saying, trying to keep the dread creeping into her at bay. Even her friends had picked up on something being amiss as they followed her line of sight.

Her stomach sank as she caught a glimpse of the hard look on her father's face. By now, it couldn't have been more obvious that Lockwood was asking him...about her. She wanted to shake him, yell at him to run away, but some kind of morbid fascination, or perhaps a deep-seated fear, had locked her limbs, forcing her to helplessly watch as the events cruelly unfolded. She knew her father, and she knew Lockwood would never be able to change his mind. At least, she was quite certain.

She snapped out of her haze and leapt to her feet, but it was too late. By the time she had reached the pair, her father was already bidding him a stern farewell.

"...and if you ever talk to my daughter again, I will personally make sure that you never find work another day in London."

Lockwood turned sharply and briskly walked out, his facial features carefully schooled, seemingly oblivious to her hurrying over, or her gasp of despair. He took long strides that made it difficult for her to keep up with him, and he didn't stop until he joined George outside, closing the wrought iron gate between her and him. She clutched one of the bars and he almost immediately wrapped his hand around her.

"Lockwood - "

"You should go back inside before your father sees us."

"Please, listen - I'm really sorry."

"It's alright. I understand."

"My father's never been the understanding type, far from it - "

"I know - I knew that."

"This is all my fault. I should have warned you."

"No, don't...you didn't know I was going to do this."

"We could have kept it a secret."

"And have you sneak around? Lie to your father? Y/N, I'm not above taking the easy route when the situation calls for it, but not in this case. I wanted to do right by you."

Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath. Lockwood looked as outwardly poised and calm as ever, but with the two of them this close, she could see the frustration simmering in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry - so mad - that he threatened you like that."

"To hell with my agency." He sighed and pressed his forehead against the gate, lowering his eyes to where their hands were clasped together in some pathetic pseudo-embrace. "I know how much his approval means to you. I just wish I could have gotten that."

They were silent for a moment. There was only a gentle breeze but no rustling leaves, and even George seemed sorry for his best friend. It was quiet enough to feel like they could hear each other's heartbeat but from opposite sides of the gate. 

"I'm still sorry."

Lockwood bowed his head. "So am I."

He brushed his lips against her knuckles before pulling his fingers out of her palm and walking out of her life. She watched the two of them walk away, unable to leave the gate and come to terms with what had happened. For a moment there, before her father's expression had shifted, she had felt a glimmer of hope for her happy ending.

But reality had struck, and now all she could do was go up to her room, walk through the empty landing, and sob into her pillow as her heart screamed for the life she ached for so desperately.

She allowed herself the day to grieve, but by nightfall, she had already started plotting her next steps. The next day, she decided to broach the topic at the breakfast table, where her friends were already seated, whispering furiously until she walked in. She sat opposite her father as usual, who was reading the day's newspaper.

"Dad. I want to talk about yesterday. With - with Lockwood."

He gave no indication of having heard her. She could feel her friends' hawk-eye stares boring into her skin. Against her better judgment, she pressed on.

"I think...you should give him a second chance."

She could practically hear her friends salivating in excitement, flinching as her father set the paper down. He had a bit of a temper, no more than her, but it was never unwarranted.

"And why is that?"

"He may not have much, but he's capable, hard-working, resilient-"

"I know exactly the type of person he is, and before yesterday I thought you did too. Or have you forgotten Sheen Road?"

She nervously fidgeted with the buttons on her dress, suddenly feeling trapped and suffocated. This was going to be an uphill battle, she could see that, now that her blaze of self-righteousness was beginning to fade. "That was a one-off," she mumbled.

"Not quite. I rang up DEPRAC afterwards, and they said in no uncertain terms that his agency was one good accident away from being shut down. He's known to behave recklessly and rarely per the law - "

"Have you stopped to think why he might act this way? You've spoken to him yourself - doesn't seem the irrational type, does he?"

He sighed irritatedly.

"Is this really the type of person you want to throw your whole life away for? To tarnish your reputation?"

"It's my life and it's my name. If I wish to burn my life to the ground or throw my name in the mud, that's my choice. You don't get a say in that."

"To do all this over a washed-up, good-for-nothing-"

"But Daddy, I love him!"

"I don't - "

"And I'm having his child."

Sarah shrieked and dropped her compact. Even Hannah was rendered speechless, nervously pulling at her braid. Her father's eyes looked as though they were about to fall out of his head. An uncomfortable, prickling silence followed.

"Okay, I'm not, but you should see your faces."

Sarah gave a dramatic sigh of relief as Hannah released her braid. "Oh my, what a mess-"

"Don't you start." She turned back to her father, fresh out of all the hope and ammunition she had walked into the room with. "Please, Daddy. Never...never once have I complained about any of your rules. Can't I-" her voice broke off as she struggled to hold back a sob. "Can't I please just have this one thing?"

Her father looked unmoved.

"You listen to me, Y/N - stay away from him."

She glanced around the room desperately, trying to figure one last way out. One last way out. That was all she needed.

She found it.

"Fine. Maybe you're right. Maybe he is crazy. Maybe...maybe he is bad news."

She stood up, wrenching her anxious fingers away from her buttons, poised to run out of the room.

"But I love him anyway."

Lucy and Lockwood were at Portland Row going over the floor plans of the house of their next case. Lucy was trying her best to keep Lockwood on task, but she had never seen him this disinterested in their work. 

She was struggling to hold his attention while he was fidgeting with a pen not very skillfully when they heard an insistent tapping on their kitchen window. They looked up to see Y/N waving at them frantically, gesturing towards the front door. Lockwood leapt up from their kitchen table, nearly stabbing himself with the pen, and joined her outside. There was something very nervous about Y/N's body language, especially since she started talking a mile a minute as soon as Lockwood stepped out.

"God, your eyebags look horrendous in the light. Do you ever-?"

The door shut behind the two of them. Lucy waited at the table for a minute or so, but once it became apparent they weren't about to finish anytime soon, she fetched a book and started to read. About ten minutes later, the front door opened again, but this time it was George returning from the Archives.

"Oh, George, can you tell Lockwood to come back inside?"

"What?"

"Lockwood."

"Where?"

"Outside."

"...outside where?"

"Outside, George. Don't be daft."

George stared at her cluelessly.

"He is still outside...?"

The realisation hit them both at once as they tripped over each other on their way to the front door. They looked out into the half-empty street, and the empty parking space in front of their house.

"George," Lucy asked, feeling majorly peeved by now. "Where is the car we rented for the weekend?"

Over the next month, neither Lucy nor George heard a word from Lockwood. After a particularly intense discussion that day, they decided not to alarm anyone by filing a missing person's report. But he had been absent from public view for a suspiciously long time, and Barnes was starting to find the story they concocted about Lockwood's debilitating illness less and less convincing.

Lucy and George had just arrived home after their latest case, which they were lucky enough to finish early. Lucy flicked on the kitchen light and there, sitting at the kitchen table, as he was nearly a month back, was Lockwood. He looked a little taller and a little less gaunt than they remembered. The three of them stared at each other for a moment, speechless, until the two of them launched themselves at him.

George tipped Lockwood out of his chair with surprising ease while Lucy started yelling at him. The two boys twisted around in their scuffle until George finally pinned Lockwood down and raised a fist above his head.

"Give me ONE good reason why I shouldn't punch your pretty face right now."

Lockwood's scratched and mildly bruised face split into one of his winning smiles, his whimpering temporarily ceased.

"You think my face is pretty?"

George reared back for the punch and Lockwood started shrieking incomprehensibly while Lucy started telling them both off.

"Wait - WAIT - you'll crumple the invites!"

"What invites?"

"To a - uh - how do I put this..."

"Spit it OUT - "

"Wedding!"

"Whose?"

Lockwood brought his arms down from where he was shielding his face, smiling bashfully. The three of them exchanged looks ranging from congratulatory to homicidal.

"What about -"

"He came around. We had lunch with him earlier."

"Wow. That's...congratulations. I just can't believe..."

"I know, we can't either."

"...that you didn't come straight home?"

"Geo- look, George, I wanted to, believe me, I - not the face, NOT THE -"

TAGLIST: @neewtmas @ahead-fullofdreams @mitskiswift99 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @elenianag080 @mohinithoughts @avdiobliss @snoopyluver20 @mischivana @dangelnleif

[its-in-the-woods]

Down the Rabbit Hole Chapter 15

Chapter one here, two here, three here, four here , five here, six here, seven here, eight here,nine here, ten here, eleven here , twelve here , thirthen here, fourteen here

master list

Pairing: Walton Goggins x You

Rating/Warning:  As always minor get out. Like why are you even here leave. Alcohol use, pool sex, exhibitionism if you squint, anal play, teasing, edging, fluff, cuteness, sub/dom themes, older man/younger women, DP kinda, overstimulation, fingering, pnv,

Synopsis: Updated synopsis, Sunday comes in and it's time to try something new.

Note: These are going to be spaced out going further as I have a fallout AU I want to start releasing. But these will still be coming out every 2-3 days <3  Thank you for all the love and support it's greatly appreciated!Keep reading

*Plot will be coming after this.. maybe.. kind of.. sort a.. there will always be fluff and some angst I got ideas. *

Walton is diving into the pool like the two of you are not stark naked in the backyard. There are fences, hedges, and trees that aptly cover you both but it still makes you feel a little unsettled. Pushing that out of your mind as you sip on a mimosa that you’d asked for, little liquid courage never hurt anyone. You take a breath and let yourself go under the water, the cool water is a balm against the LA heat. You sit under there for a moment. The only thing you could hear was the water and the steady beat of your heart. Opening your eyes you see Walton gracefully swimming by, you push yourself off the bottom of the pool and follow him down to the end. You pop up for a breath and let your tiptoes touch the bottom as you wade over to him. He dives under the water, feeling him wrap himself around your middle pushing you up and out of the water with a squeak. You flop back into the water, surfacing with a gasp, Walton laughing in the background.

“You’re such an ass,” You grumble and swim back to him. He grins and pulls you against him.

“Like you won’t have done the same to me,” He chides, blowing raspberries on your shoulder. You splash water at him, which gets you dunked again. 

He pulls you out and you glare at him before you push on his shoulder so he is also submerged. A mad stream of bubbles breaks the surface, as the two of you wipe water off your faces. You come over and kiss him.

“You were saying?” You can’t help but tease him, he grins, kissing you more. The water makes you lighter and you easily wrap your legs around his hips. 

He groans, turning so you are deeper in the water and he can pin you against the side of the pool. Lips start to trail along your neck, down over your shoulder to your collarbone. The fact he likes that spot so much, he nips there and you groan. A near Pavlovian response has your head tipping back and hips rolling as he holds you in place. You can feel his reaction to that movement, and do it again. He fumbles a little, but you wrap your arms around his neck leaving your own trail of kisses. You make sure to not leave any marks on his skin, despite wanting to. His hands find your face and you are kissing him deeply. You lick at his lips, as he sucks yours into his mouth, the taste of mimosas drifting in. The kissing has sparked the heat in your stomach, and it’s getting hard to ignore the fact that he is getting hard beneath you. Walton ruts up against you, dragging his swollen cock through your folds. You whine in the back of your throat as he pushes his tongue in. His rubbing against you is not enough in the water. 

“So needy this morning,” He grins as he continues to move slow enough that you are barely getting any sensation from it. 

You bite your lips, trying not to come back with a sassy remark, trying to riggle down onto him. Unable to let go of his neck as you’d risk slipping completely off of him. One of his hands slips down between the two of you, and his fingers easily find your opening, as he pushes himself inside you. A strangled cuss comes out as he stills, you want him to move so bad but he won’t. His eyelids flickered closed as he steadied himself, the stretch making you clamp down around him involuntarily. His finger starts to move against your bud, it’s sensitive and at the same time, the water makes it almost not enough. You keen, burying your face into his neck as you do your damnedest not to beg him. 

He stills and you are already on the edge, “Don’t stop,” You push out, pouting a little when he doesn’t do what you ask. 

“What if I want to stay like this?” He murmurs against your ear. “Just have you full of me for the whole day.”

You can feel your face going red, your cunt fluttering around him at just the thought of him keeping you full all day. His hips stutter a bit at the sensation, knowing that you are both on the edge. A game of chicken is being had, and you aren’t sure if you will win this time. Licking your lips you grab his face and pull him hard against your mouth. You might be pinned but that did stop you from moving your hips as much as you could. His hands grabbing your hips, he’s holding on so tight it’s verging on being painful. Trying to stop you from moving by pulling away, but you are following him, his mouth is gone so you are licking across his jaw down his neck. Feeling his resolve start to crumble as you taste his skin, a groan leaving his lips. 

“God, damn.” He cusses and you grin back at him. You’re back against the side of the pool and he’s bitten against your collarbone. You turn to let out a groan as he finally starts to move, eyes rolling as he pumps into you. The sound of the water is ridiculous, but you don’t care who hears you now, just that he is moving. Hands gripped onto his back, digging in as your head tips back as you enjoy the ride. 

Then he’s moving away, “No,” You grumble, you feel him leave as you slip off of him. 

“Got to learn,” Walton grins, kissing you as you mumble under your breath. “You don’t get to make the choices here.”

Wrinkling your nose you huff, “But -” His fingers touch your lips, eyebrows up. 

“Another rule, so to speak,” He licks his lips watching you squirm under his gaze. “I decided when and if you are allowed to come.” 

The way he says the last word makes you shiver, and nod your head. 

“Use your words,” He whispered, fingers running over the mark on your collarbone. 

“I understand,” You say quietly, eyes focused on the water droplets running over his shoulder. “I may not like it though.”

He chuckles, his hands find your hips looking down at you, “Well, I am pretty sure we can come up with ways for you to listen.”

You swallow remembering how red your ass still was this morning, “I will do my best,”

His hand reaches and rubs over your ass, damn man could read thoughts. “I am sure you will. For now, why don’t we get out of this pool.” 

You do as he asks, floating to the end and walking out. You get to the top and watch him come out of the water. The droplets flowing over his tanned body has your mouth dry, and the way he moved up towards you left your heart pounding. As he came right up to you, his eyes flowing over you much the same as yours had looked at him. 

“Like something you see?” Walton drawled, his big hands running up your ass to rest against your lower back. 

“Might get myself in trouble if I say anything,” You lick your lips, as you lean against his hand. 

“Better get us inside then,” He grins, gently pushing you towards the door.

***

You’re laid out on the bed face down, as Walton massages something into your muscles. His hands work down over your shoulders, moving along your spine. Making you feel like a melted stick of butter. As much as you had enjoyed the teasing this was nice. The man loved to take care of you, he had paid extra attention to the marks around your wrists and neck. 

It had started with you just sitting on the edge of the bed as he ran his hands over your hands up your arms, over your elbows, and around your shoulders. Then he had you lay back moving to work on your scalp, down along your neck over your shoulders. His thumb’s playing with the marks on your collarbone. He shuffled you so that your head rested on his lap, with a promise you won’t try anything. Hands run down across your breast, purposefully avoiding your nipples. He goes down across your stomach over your ribs, then along your hips before going back up in the same direction. 

You flip over when he asks, and now he has gone down your legs completely ignoring your ass. It does feel good, his hands are strong and easily kneading into each knot and strained muscle that covers your legs. Then he pushes your legs open, you suck at your cheek trying not to make your movements too obvious. His finger moves up and tracing along the different lines of bruises that now mark your butt. He has straddled your thighs, the heat of his body, adding to your heat. 

He’s stopped touching you before his fingers come back colder. One hand spreads open your cheeks, the other finger with some kind of cool gel pushed at your ass. You can’t help yourself moving yourself up on your elbows. It’s a strange but not unwelcome feeling, you’d never really thought of playing with yourself there. At the same time, you could feel how it made you wet. Sucking your lips into your mouth and letting out a little whimper as one of his fingers slips inside. 

“That okay, beautiful?” Walton asks, his voice drops and it makes your spine tingle. 

“Umm.” You swallow, trying to relax against the intrusion. “Just, ahh, never tried this before.”

“Try to relax and breathe, if it’s too much say so,” He chuffed, the desire evident in his voice.

You feel the cold gel again and his finger starts to move in and out slowly. Then his other finger is rubbing against your swollen pussy. The duel feeling makes your mouth fall open, it’s electric. You can’t help but start to push back against his fingers. The finger in your ass pops out before you feel two start to push in. 

“Oh fuck,” You whimper at the feeling, it feels good but also the stretch burns some. The two sensations paralleled themselves like fire and ice. 

His fingers that rub at your folds slip inside, the sensation of both holes being full is so much. You whimper fists clenches are you try not to beg him to just fuck you like this. Body vibrated at the feeling, who knew you were into anal play. He starts to move his fingers in opposite directions, one going in  and one going out. 

A stream of words is coming out of you as he starts to fuck both of your holes. Your eyes roll back as your head falls forward. It was like a small fire had been ignited and it was burning you up from the inside. Your body moving on its own, leaning against the pressure. 

“Holy shit, that feels good,” You gasp out, hands scrambling to clench into the sheet as he starts to move quicker. 

“Mmmhm, so tight,” He growls lips kissing across your ass, licking at the bruises there. 

As soon as it started it stopped, you let out a gasp rolling to look back at him. A shit-eating grin on his face as he uses a towel to clean his fingers. 

“But,” You pout, jaw clenching as he comes over to kiss you, “That is evil and you know it.”

He chuckles, leaning in to hold your face and kiss you deeply, “Patience. I promise it will be worth it.”

“My pussy would disagree,” You huff, trying not to throw a fit over the fact that both of your holes were now throbbing. Not to mention there was no doubt stuff leaking out of you, and not the stuff you wanted either. You go to move and Walton is stopping you, it takes everything in you not to glare at him.

“On all fours,” He clicks his tongue, you hesitate but do it anyway. Partially hating how easily you do what he asks, but you also hoping he’d give you the release you were close to begging for. 

Once in position, you hear the man rustling through the drawer, he had all sorts of stuff stashed in the bedroom. More gel went over your asshole, making you hiss at how cold it was against you. Then something colder. You freeze for a moment, unsure exactly what is going to happen. Walton’s hand rubbed against your lower back, words of praise falling out as he slowly pushed the object inside. You let out a small gasp as it pops in, you can feel the tapered end resting against the outside of your hole. You feel weirdly full and turned on at the same time. 

“Mmm, you took that so well,” He whispered, kissing one of your buttcheeks. “Think you can move around with it in.”

Shifting a bit, it is starkly clear how much you can feel it inside you. The heavy cold weight of the toy pushing against your walls. As you slowly slide yourself off. You unintentionally clench around it which has you letting out a small gasp. 

“Oh that, umm, that is different,” You stand up and wobble a bit, your body is telling you to push it out, but the way you can feel slick between your legs is saying otherwise.  

Walton holds out his hand, and you take it, giving him a quick squeeze, as you try and let your body relax. Standing makes the feeling more obvious, your skin so sensitive to every touch. 

You follow him out of the room, still feeling completely off balance. Your brain is only able to focus on the sensation that is sitting between your legs. He pulls out a chair and you stare at it. The thought of sitting is far from your mind.

“I am not going to be able to sit down,” You swallow, you are sure you are moving like a duck at this point.

“You can stand, whatever is comfortable,” Walton states, the mischievousness in his eyes making your breath hitch.

You move back and forth from your heels to your toes. Trying to find a spot that is comfortable, your feet stick to tile, would it be worse to sit? Your lips are going to be raw by the end of this. Moving some more you can see Walton puttering about the kitchen. The man was never not moving, something you loved about him. Everything he did looked easy, a practice movements he’d done hundreds of times. 

Sweat has broken out on your forehead, you take a few more breaths and work on sitting. You carefully lower yourself down, surprised that it’s somewhat comfortable. It is actually better than standing, the weight not as heavy. Walton comes over and plies you with another drink, which makes eating the quesadillas easier. You’ve almost forgotten about the plug as you relax against the seat. The food is good, you hadn’t realized how hungry you are. 

“Better?” He asks, watching you finish off your food. You can’t help the way your ears burn, as you take a sip of the drink. 

“It’s very sensitive,” You swallow, shifting slightly. It moves and you let out a groan as the pressure pushes inside you. Your hands grab at the table for something to grip on.  “Oh, fuck,” You keen leaning forward slightly to take the pressure off, somehow trying not to look as awkward as you feel. 

“We got a couple of options,” Walton says, rubbing at your back, his warm hands stark against the coolness of your skin. “We can go back to our bedroom, or we can go outside and see how long you can wait.”

You ponder this for a moment, your body tense line of flesh, the sensation of his hand on your skin making your brain foggy. You needed to do something, but going back outside did not sound appealing. Moving again, the plug moves and you’re moving onto your feet. 

“I think bedroom,” You gasp out, brain short-circuiting at the movement, the sensation making your skin tingle. 

Walton has you up and moving, everything feels like too much and not enough. He has you back onto the bed, on all fours. His hands rubbed over your back, then down over your ass. You lean into the touch, your body begging for more stimulation. The plug is pushed on and you gasp, surprising yourself as you push back against it. 

“Please, I can’t wait anymore, please,” Words tumbling out, you’d do just about anything to be able to come

He doesn’t reply, instead working the plug in and out. Another set of fingers slides inside your cunt. 

“Oh fuck, so full,” You gasp body holding still as you adjust to the feeling. 

Walton waits until you start moving against him, and then he moves the plug and fingers. Your whole body is arching into it, sparking as you feel that heat to build. It never had left, just keeping you on edge, just under the surface. 

“Please,” Your voice wrecked as you fuck back onto his fingers. But of course, he is moving his fingers away, “Ugh, no, please don’t stop.” 

You feel his cock push at your entrance, body going still. “Deep breathes, darling”

You can hear the need in his voice, almost as wrecked as you. He holds himself just inside you, hands on your hips, you guide yourself down with a gasp. Everything is so full and stretched and you are seeing stars. He holds you still, you can feel him vibrating against your ass. Rocking forward he slides out of you with a groan. Clear evidence that the sensation was affecting him too. 

You sink back down, and his hands dig into your hips. “Just fuck me already,” You cry out, 'cause you are going to explode if he doesn’t start moving. 

His rhythm is sloppy as he starts to move in and out of you, you can barely move, head falling onto the bed pushing back against him. Your eyes roll, stars shooting behind your eyelids. You can feel how close you are, you just want to touch your clit. It’s throbbing and you know your not suppose to but fuck this sensation is driving you insane. 

“Please,” You whisper, the sounds of your body moving together rattling something. 

He slows down, and you want to yell at him. Then one hand is leaving your hip as his pace steadies. Purposefully going slow hands rubbing over the skin of your stomach, his mouth leaning down to kiss along your spine. The slowness has made the heat build further, as his hand moves down over your mound and then down between your fold. The way he opens you has you close to collapsing his fingers tapping on your clit. 

“Oh you fucker,” You bite out, and if you weren’t a melted puddle you’d be turning around on his teasing ass. 

He leans over his mouth right by your ear, “You want to come?”

You groan, just the word sending spirals down through you. “Yes, I want to come.”

“You didn’t say please,” He teases, his thrust picking up the pace, fingers rubbing all around your clit but not touching your clit. 

Inwardly screaming, you lick at your lips trying to drag out the words that aren’t laced with sass. “Please,” You can barely say it. “Please, let me come, Walt,”

His hips stutter at his name, and you can’t help the small smile at that, “Walton, please. I am so close. Please let me come.”

You can feel him coming close to breaking, his finger falters before starting to work at you the way he knows you like it. You can’t help the noise coming out, your hands grabbing at the bed. You can feel everything so tight and full and pushing just right. The way he is rubbing at your clit is going to send you over. 

He’s pulling you against him, leaning down so you can feel his breath against your neck. “Come for me,” Your name covering his tongue. 

Something animal is pulled out of you as you cry out his name. Coming and shaking as he keeps fucking into you. It keeps moving his fingers against your clit and you’re trying to pull away but he isn’t letting you, hands keeping you where he wants. So over sensitive and overwhelmed. You are so close to calling it, but then you feel it start up again. You shutter as he brings you over the edge. His hips stutter as you squeeze around him, the plug pushing just the right way. The sensation keeps going and going, breath caught in your throat until you feel him coming inside you. He finally stops rubbing you and you fall onto the bed a sweaty mess as he keeps working inside you until he is finished. 

He slips out and comes crashing down beside you, you both a melted puddle on the bedcovers. You slide onto your side, your muscle aching, fluid leaking out of you. So blissed out you can barely think. Moving over you lay your head on his chest. His heart is pounding underneath you. You let out a breath, you can feel how sore and achy you’re going to be. A smile pulling at your mouth, the idea of feeling him for days after makes your heart twitch. 

“That was. Intense.” You mutter hand playing with the hair on his chest. 

Walton nods, eyes closed, and his breath has slowed down. His hand comes and rubs up along your shoulders before bringing you closer. 

“M’proud of you,” He whispers against your head. “Almost lost my cool when you let me put my fingers in you.” 

You feel your face flush, the weight of the plug still making your inside ache. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

Walton chuckles, “First time? Is that in the column of doing again or ?”

“Hmmm,” You hum, pretending to think about it, “I think I’d do it again, it really enhances everything.”

“It sure does,” He relaxes, “Maybe, I will try it one day.”

***

Like it? Love it? need to reblog? Got a comment let me know! Your words keep me going. Thanks for coming along for the ride down the rabbit hole.

Chapter sixteen

[bluepallilworld]

The sun goes down and the creatures...

It is time...

Welcome to the party!

Here's the dark cream shipkids halloween collab!

Warning for blood, halloween music and some horror themed background elements ;3

Close-ups! (Click)

------------------------------------------------------------

Credits time!

The kids:

-Mimosa and Mu are mine

-Celestial Star and Luna Light belong to @help-im-a-gay-fish

-Estrella belongs to @shinechermont

-Aim belongs to @zu-is-here

-Ruby and Meridix belong to @orange-dreamzer

-Ares belongs to @puddle-of-creativity

-Nightingale belongs to @catlover31

-Soltice belongs to @laf-e-taffy

-Diaphanous belongs to @amarald

-Mirage belongs to @ari-cuno

-Mager belongs to @faeroviolet

-Fenzo belongs to @im-to-good-for-names

-Andromeda and Eclipse belong to @dragon-tamer-1

The background+ team (look at how big it was this year!!!):

- @diofasolia did the music (spooky scary skeletons :P) (I did some singing), the customized pumpkins, the bloody chair and the lovely lady coming out of the tv

-@orange-dreamzer did some bats, the big cake, a... flower a bit special and empty wrappers

-@pmd-appreciation did seats (pumpkin pouffe, dusty stool, skeleton armchair), the cauldron of snacks, horror movie poster, string of bats, the window, the drinks, the candles

-@amarald did the table, the black cat, the chocolate cherries and a witch hat

[isolaradiale]

. . . . .

"Mmhm, I see, I see... Your father did tell us you had a bit of a mishap with your art project. We couldn't help coming to give some advice." Solaris muses, circling the diorama of the city. Currently, it's been moved to a coffee table.

"Yes, he told me I should try and spin it as if I had done such a thing on purpose. But I don't see how I could possibly..." "Oh, we had an idea for that!"

Mimosa flutters from behind, resting her hands on Janus' shoulders. The glint of mischief hiding in her rosy glasses does not escape his notice.

"We could help you mirror it in the city proper, you know!" "What?" "It's an interesting theory. The structures you made still stand, but what gives them life and personality has been greyed out." "I wouldn't say that--" "So how do you fix it? Do you paint them with the hues and values they're supposed to be, or do you pick something new?" "What do you do with the spots where the paint bled together? Do you paint over that, too?"

As the two bounce back and forth in this terrible game of brainstorming, Janus begins to put his hands to his cheeks in mounting horror.

"Oh, no. No no no. Absolutely not--" "If we make someone look like an old black and white movie, what happens? Will they try to change to technicolour?" "Would they paint themselves the colour palettes they're used to? Maybe it's something entirely different. If we make those hues correspond with their personalities..." "I--I'll have no part in this! The last time something like this happened, everything--" "Ah-ah, don't worry."

Mimosa leaves Janus side to twirl next to Solaris, who makes an artful pose himself, as if framing the splotchy mess of a diorama in his hands.

"We have this one completely under control. Not like last time." "I'll make sure of it. Just a little bit of editing... ah, Mimosa, what if we..."

Janus can only move his head as the two take their leave, watching them scheme and snicker. He turns back to look at the model of the city. And in a scramble that almost makes him trip over his own feet, he rushes to his boxes of paints.

"--I have to at least put the base coat back on, or they really won't have anything at all!"

. . . . .

Welcome to another zany event for the fall season! It looks like Mimosa and Solaris aren't done causing trouble, but this time, it should be harmless. Right? (Right...?)

Taking inspiration from a creative mishap, the Stars have decided to effectively render the city in greyscale--including the people residing in it--to see what really makes everyone so colourful. Thankfully, most people will start with a base hue.

What does that mean, though? Here's a handy-dandy list of notes!

As soon as it strikes midnight that night, your muse will find that they've been completely greyscaled, save for one colour that represents who they are at their core, and only that colour! - Think of it like those 'what colour is your soul' quizzes. If your muse was only one hue, what would it be? For example, a character that is inherently cheery might turn completely yellow or pink, while a hot-headed character may turn red or orange to reflect their personality.

Your muse cannot help but feel and act whatever hue/personality they seem to be. However! The more your muse interacts with the people around them, the more colours (and feelings/facets of their personality) will open up to them. This will also physically reflect on them. - If your cheery yellow muse bumps into a sad, blue muse, you'll both have a new colour to express. Now you can feel happy (yellow) AND sad (blue)! And perhaps a sort of melancholy joy, like watching your best friend win that prize you wanted instead of you. Of course, you're happy for them, but sad you didn't win. - Or maybe those two colours mix into being green with envy... And suddenly, you have a new colour ;3

Any inanimate object your muse interacts with (except their Island Issued Cell Phone) will take on your muse's hue. Every step you take will leave a colourful footprint in its wake, every hand rail will have colourful handprints. More on that later.

With enough interactions and perspectives, your muse will be back to their old selves in no time! If, that is, they want to go back to their old selves at all. Maybe another colour palette suits them better than before...?

"It can't be that easy, though."

And, you're right! The experiment did more than reduce everyone to solid (or no) colours! Some other strange things are happening, too. Such as...

The NPCs of the city have not escaped unscathed. Unlike you, though, they have no hue to them at all. However, they'll absorb colours from your muses by proximity and action. - If your deep-green jealous muse is around, NPCs will turn deep-green too, and may want what you have--and might try to take it by force. But a calm mint-coloured muse may just leave you alone and soak up some vibes. - This extends to creatures of the island, too, so watch out!

Sources of water in the city (the ocean, lakes, ponds, swimming pools, etc) will wash away at least one colour from you. (You can still drink and cook with it without any effect, though.) Better not get caught in a rainstorm any time soon!

To combat this, you can find paint cans with a random colour paint in them around the city. You never know what you're going to get, though!

The city itself is completely greyscale, so navigating it might be a challenge without any colourful landmarks to stand out. That being said, your muse will leave colour wherever they go, like they're a giant paint roller. And so will everyone else's muses! Figuring out populated areas will be Very Easy, but you might get disoriented in places that don't get a lot of foot traffic.

These are the major issues...... for now :)

FAQ

"Do I have to pick a hue at the beginning? I can't decide on one."

It's entirely possible that your muse can start in greyscale, and just has No Personality. In that case, they'll take on the hue of the first person they interact with.

"What do we do if a colour has multiple associations with it?"

Each association of that colour is a valid one, and there are no incorrect colour associations. Each colour is whatever you need it to be in the moment. The definition of "red" for your muse may not match the "red" of your RP partner--and that's okay! What may be helpful is to make an event info post explaining your colour choice, how you interpret it, and how it would affect your character!

"Do we have to stick to basic colours like red, yellow, green, blue, etc?"

Nope. Maybe your muse is a mauve, emerald, beige, or aquamarine. Pick any colour you think is best for the moment!

"In theory, could we use the paint cans laying around to add hues to others by splashing them with it or something?"

PVP is enabled, if you want to be a menace! (with mun permission, of course)

"Is the comic in black and white for plot reasons?"

No, I'm just lazy :c

Have a question you don't see on here? You can message the Masterlist!

See you in a week! Make sure to get as many colour perspectives as you can, okay? :)

[604to647]

Safest with You - Ch. 5 (The Courtship)

2.7K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: A week's time passes before your next date with Din and you can hardly wait.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please), Just more fluff (but horny fluff?), lots of making out again, reader is horny as heck, mention of alcohol consumption (reader gets a little tipsy), usual pet names (pretty bird, sweetheart, pretty girl, etc.), ONE "good girl", ONE dick joke.

A/N: Can you tell my love language is acts of service? 🥰 As this takes place over the course of a week, I'm using a brand new divider by the wonderful @saradika-graphics to help denote the passage of time. Thank you for all the support! Sorry for the slow burn!

Optional musical soundtrack: Seven by Jung Kook & Latto (Clean version)

Series Masterlist

“He wants to court you?!”

Hands covering your blushing face, you peek through your fingers, “That’s the exact word he used.”

“I thought you said he was in his 40s, not from the 1840s,” jokes Bea.

The usual brunch group dissolves into fits of laughter. “I felt like a silent movie villain twirling my mustache, trying to steal his virtue,” you giggle, “He was so sweet about it though, I think it might be kind of nice… to not… get railed.” The table roars.

Rory looks serious, “Honestly, babe.  Any way he makes you happy, as long as you’re happy…”

“I’m happy”, you smile dreamily.

“…but next week you better come to brunch with a sex limp.”

Your mortified waiter chooses this moment to set down the mimosas and you cry actual tears from laughing so hard.

The next week turns out to be crazy busy for you at work; a project deadline gets pushed up to the Friday and you know all your week nights are spoken for.  You share with Din your disappointment that you won’t be free for a second date until the work week is over. 

“I’m sad too, pretty bird.  How about I plan a nice relaxing date for Saturday, help you decompress after your hard week?”

You almost say that you can think of something specific he could do to help you decompress, but you think Monday morning might be too early for you to be so horny.  Instead, you thank him for his thoughtfulness and tell him you can’t wait, “It’s a date.”

Your day is so full of meetings and review that you barely leave you desk; the periodic messages in the GC or from Din checking in on you are some of your only moments of reprieve during your hectic day.

At 6:30 pm your stomach rumbles, and you realize you haven’t eaten all day; groaning, you realize you’re looking at at least 3 more hours of work before you can go home and heat something up.  You hear your name and you look up to see one of your team members escorting Din off the elevator and pointing towards your office.

He’s a sight for your tired eyes and you melt into his open arms, ““Hi! This is a nice surprise.  What are you doing here?”  Din’s arm wraps around you, then reaches up to give your tired shoulders a brief but deep massage before he pulls back to show you the brown bag he has in his other hand.

“Know you didn’t eat lunch today, pretty girl. Thought you might be in danger of forgetting dinner, too.”

You could cry from the gesture.  Pulling him into your office and closing the door, you kiss him quickly but tenderly, “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“My pleasure. Now eat.”

Din sits and waits for you to start digging in before getting up to go.  You ask about his dinner, and if he wants to share yours – but he lets you know he understands you have a lot work and he doesn’t want to distract you; he had been worried he was overstepping by showing up unannounced at your place of work, but seeing how ravenous you are for the food he brought, he’s glad he came.  You wave off his concerns, and give him your approval of his takeout choice in between big bites.  When he hears that you think you might not be able to get away until close to 10 pm, he frowns, “Text me when you’re 5 minutes away from leaving, I’ll come pick you up.”

“It’s oka—”

He stops you with a kiss on your forehead, “I’ll feel better if I can see you safely home at that hour.  Can you do that for me, pretty bird?”

You nod, touched.

At 10:10 pm, Din is waiting outside your office, leaning against his truck and watching you wave goodbye to your co-workers, joke crying that you’ll see each other again in less than 10 hours.  You’re so tired you close your eyes and lean your head against Din’s shoulder as he drives; he holds your hand the entire way home.

Din waits downstairs while you go in and get Al, walking him with you the same way he did the other night. Before sending you upstairs afterwards, he wraps you up in his arms, once again running his hands firmly over the stiffness in your back from sitting at your desk all day, kissing you long and hard.  Barely keeping his breathing under control, Din whispers, “Missed you today, baby.” You pull yourself closer to Din, tilting your head back far enough to rest your chin on his chest and look deep in his eyes; playing with the curls at the base of his neck, you mouth, “Me too,” before opening up your mouth to his one last time before going in.

The next day, Tuesday, Din brings you lunch (“Can’t have you missing your lunch again, sweetheart”) and sits with you while you eat at your desk, watching you answer emails and the occasional question from a colleague who pops into your office.  You don’t have to work quite so late today, and are able get home at a reasonable hour (8 pm?) to have dinner.  Din still comes by later that night after closing up the gym to walk the dog, and also to bring you another surprise: your dry-cleaning from Peli’s.  So glad to be spared the errand, you thank Din with a grateful kiss before asking him how much you owe him.  Din gives you a look, to which you respond with a look of your own before sighing, “I’m too tired to do this right now, but this isn’t over, Djarin.”  Din puts his hands up in mock surrender and grins, “Anything you say, pretty bird.”

Before parting for the evening, the two of you make out like teenagers: hurried and excited, sometimes clashing teeth and bumping noses from impatience, then giggling before crashing your mouths together again. 

On Wednesday, Din brings you dinner again and this time, brings enough for your whole team.  After accepting their copious thanks, at your insistence that he isn’t a distraction, he stays and eats with you this time.  You happily let yourself escape a little from work through easy conversation with Din; he’s also easy on the eyes tonight in casual sweats, and you try to maintain a modicum of professionalism at work by not letting your eyes and thoughts drift down past the waistband of his sweatpants.  For being semi-successful, you allow yourself a few less than professional kisses after dinner.  His visit leaves you rejuvenated, and you power through the remainder of your work, missing Din already and eager to see him again for your nightly dog walk.  Al has adapted quickly to the new routine, and after the walk, lays down on the sidewalk, seemingly waiting for you and Din to have your nightly make out session.  Tonight, Din has you cradled against his shoulder, hands running over your body and face in long gentle strokes.  He knows you’re exhausted from work, and wants more than anything to relax you so he can send you upstairs pliant and languid, in hopes you’ll fall into bed right away and get the rest you need.  Your kisses tonight are unhurried, long and sweet.  You’re already half asleep when Din finally releases you and sends you in with a gentle pat on your rear.

Thursday turns out to be you and your team’s longest, hardest day, the last full work day before the Friday deadline.  Din picks you up very late from the office, and you take up your usual position, resting your head on his shoulders while he drives.  This time though, you’re wide awake, jazzed up from your team’s progress and how close you all are to pulling everything off.  Din holds your hand just like the drive on Monday, but periodically brings it to his lips to pepper your knuckles with light kisses.  As he drives, you can’t help but stare at the hand that rests on the wheel, and how it flexes as he steers one-handedly.  You can barely conceal how much you want this man to touch you; you steal glances at Din’s handsome profile as he concentrates on the road, squirming in your seat the entire drive.  Heat and desire bubble below your stomach as you hope that same hand grips your body hard tonight when his mouth ravages yours.

As if you were clairvoyant, tonight’s post-dog walk make-out session is hungry and intense.  At one point, Din has you pressed up against your building, heavy breathing while his hands roam up and down your sides, close to but never groping your breasts.  You’re worked up and needy and you let Din know by moaning into his mouth as he kisses you.  Din looks sternly at you, panting, “You can’t be making those pretty noises, baby.  You’ll drive me crazy.”

Giving him a little smirk, you push up on your tip toes and kiss him open mouthed, this time making sure to press your core against his thigh and give him a drawn out, throaty groan.

Din breaks this kiss by gripping the hands on your waist tighter, and placing you firmly back on your feet, “Now, I thought you were going to be my good girl.”

Your eyes widen, his words shooting straight to the throbbing spot between your legs; “Fuck,” you breathe.

Din hadn’t expected this reaction, but he quickly catches on, “Oh you like that, do you?”

“Mmmhmmm,” you whimper, as you close your eyes and Din slots his mouth over yours again; neither of you even trying to stop your moans this time as the kisses get deeper and harder.

“Fuck,” whispers Din when he finally comes up for air, “I’m in so much trouble.”

You look up at him, slightly stunned and unfocused, “Me too.”

Din gently cups your face and looks at you with seriousness, “Pretty bird, I hope you know just how much I want you.  You feel so good. And sound so good, too.  You’re also… precious to me; I want to take my time with you, okay?”

“Okay,” you murmur as you pull him back in for a series of soft kisses, “Al says you can take your time.”

Friday passes in a frenzy with last minute prep for the deadline presentation.  Everything goes off without a hitch, and the whole team ends the day early, opting to go out for afternoon drinks and then dinner to celebrate hard work and a job well done.  When you talk to Din before heading out, he gives you a hearty congratulations and tells you to have a great time, offering to give you a ride home after (extending the kind offer to your co-workers as well),  “Have a good time, pretty bird.  You deserve it.”

Afternoon drinks plus dinner wine, plus post dinner celebratory champagne have you feeling giddy and buzzed by the time you ask Din to pick you up.  You’re not drunk, but you’re carefree, happy and your inhibitions are definitely down.  And all you want is Din.  You want to see his lazy grin.  You want to run your hands over his broad back as he hugs you.  You want his hands and mouth on you.  You want him.  You practically climb into his arms when you see him waiting for you outside the bar.

Din laughs warmly, “Had a good time, sweet girl?”

“Mmmmmhmmmm,” you hum, face buried in his neck. Fuck, he smells good. 

Brushing the hair away from your face, he takes in your goofy grin and bright eyes, trying to assess if you’re drunk, but is cut short when you pounce and kiss him with hurried eagerness.  He grins against your mouth; yep, you’re tipsy.  And it’s making you even more incorrigible and adorable than usual; Din isn’t sure he can resist you like this, but he’s going to try, “Okay, let’s get you home, sweetheart.”

Din helps you into the car, and after you buckle yourself in, he gives you a chaste kiss on your head before closing the door.  While he is rounding the car, you can’t help but pout a little.  Din said he wants you, but you feel like you definitely want him more – you can barely keep from jumping him at every opportunity, and he seems to remain ever calm and sometimes unreadable, resisting your (albeit mild) advances with little to no effort.

Holding your hand again as he drives, Din notices you don’t rest your head against his shoulder like usual; he looks over and observes a somewhat melancholy look on your face as you look out the window.  He gives your hand a little squeeze, “Everything okay, pretty bird? Why do you look kind of sad?”

Even under normal circumstances you consider yourself a fairly direct person, preferring to address things rather than let them simmer, but the alcohol tonight is making you downright brave, and you let your feelings pour out ineloquently, “Don’t get me wrong, Din - I don’t mind waiting and taking things slow. And I think it’s really sweet you want to, so I’m not trying to put any pressure on.  But…I guess I’m just feeling kind of sad that I’m the only one who finds waiting hard."

Maybe you are drunk; your words sound a little bratty even to your ears, but you don’t know how else to express your likely unwarranted feelings of rejection.  Feeling a little embarrassed for being so needy, you look down at your lap.

If you didn’t have such a sad expression on your face, Din might have laughed at the idea that it’s been easy for him to keep his hands off of you.  At every turn, your charm and pretty face threaten to make him snap, and it consistently takes every ounce of his discipline and self control to not break his resolve and take you hard on the closest available surface.  All he wants to do, all he thinks about is making you feel good; not a night goes by where he doesn’t imagine what you might look like underneath him, crying out his name while he gives you every ounce of pleasure that he can.  The car idles at a stoplight and Din reaches over to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and then trails his fingers down you jaw, gently pinching your chin and turning your face up to look at his.  “Sweet girl, please don’t feel that way.  It’s not true,” he grins bashfully.

“It isn’t?”

“Not at all. You’re not the only one; it’s hard for me too.” He tilts his head down, nodding slightly at his lap and you follow his gaze to the crotch of his pants.  Your eyes widen at what you see.  It’s a monster.  You clasp your hand over your mouth to stifle a nervous laugh; how is that suppose to fit??

Din starts moving the car again and, in a way that’s clearly tongue in cheek, teases, “Excuse me, missy.  Are you laughing at my erection?”

You giggle and can’t pass up the opportunity, “You said ‘it’s hard for me too’,” and laugh so hard, you snort.

Din’s laugh booms throughout the car.  And just like that, your little crisis of self doubt is averted, and the two of you are laughing uncontrollably, grinning like idiots.  It’s not lost on Din how amazing this feels: even with dumb dick jokes and the promise of no sex, he is completely enamoured with you.

Tonight, the kisses are positively sinful.  Deep and passionate; you’re pressed up against the wall again, but this time Din has you caged in with his forearm braced above your head, possessive of your body.  His other hand cupping the back of your head, pulling you in for kiss after kiss: hungry kisses on your lips, hurried kisses down your neck, breathy kisses behind your ears.  Your hands are fisted into his shirt, both of you pulling each other in for more, more. More.

You’re the one to pull away first, needing to catch your breath; Din touches his forehead to yours, “See you tomorrow for our second date, pretty bird.”

Dazed, you remember it’s only been a week and one date with Din.  How are you ever going to survive this man?

[arielburrow]

California Love

description: Joe pops the question at your favorite spot in the world 🫶 (little bit of smut but not too much)

“up up up!” you shake your boyfriend awake excited to get the day started.

“Joe the plane leaves in 30 minutes, i’m going with or without you my love!” your voice trails off as you enter the bathroom packing last minute essentials. Looking around you double check to make sure everything is packed; deciding to throw in the fuzzy handcuffs last minute, cause why not?

You hear Joe’s morning groans and can’t help but smile to yourself. You loved your annual summer trips, they were always so perfect, Joe was off from football for some time now and you two really got a chance to just soak up time together. This year he wanted to take you back to California, it’s been a while since you guys have been but he knows it’s your favorite getaway spot.

“babe do you know where my grey jeans are?” Joe joins you down stairs as your pour a coffee.

You quickly turn your back to him trying not to give away the fact that you donated them to goodwill last week. “mmm no haven’t seen them, but Joe were staying on the beach anyway i don’t think you’ll need jeans.”

He pouts as he head back upstairs to grab the last of his belongings. Smiling to yourself you yell to him. “I’ll start packing the car!”

The two of you arrive to the landing strip where the jet was waiting. In all honesty you and Joe were not frequent private jet passengers, it always felt like a waste, but he insisted that we took the jet this time. Crew members greet the two of you, helping you unpack the car. Joe takes your hand as you approach the plane, the small action still bringing warmth to your body even after being with him for years.

Taking your seats, a crew member hands you a mimosa to which you graciously accept.

“Let me know if I can get you two anything else, enjoy the flight Mr. and Mrs. Burrow, we’ll be in Laguna beach before you know it.” The man finishes as he exits the main cabin. You turn your head to Joe to see his reaction to the name mix up, but his eyes are glued to the runway, hand still grasping yours. You just giggle to yourself and pull out your headphones, shuffling your playlist and lying your head on Joes shoulder. You close your eyes as you feel the plane begin takeoff and feel Joe lie a kiss on the top of your head.

“y/n we’re here” Joe nudges you awake.

“you slept for the entire flight, I was so bored.” he frowns as you two exit the plane.

“Well I was up until 3am packing your bag you swore you wouldn’t forget to pack” you respond poking him in his side.

An uber picks you both up from the airport, dropping you off at the beach resort. It was easily the most jaw dropping resort you’ve ever been to and the suite was absolutely stunning.

Dropping your bags on the floor Joe pulls you onto the balcony, “Look at this view, we can see everything!” He excitedly scans the shore line below seeming full of anticipation which kind of surprised you. Joe usually was laid back when it came to vacations and typically found a way to incorporate football into them, which he promised he was avoiding these next 3 days. He even assured you he had an itinerary in store which you were excited to see play out.

“I know it’s so beautiful, we have so much of the day left cause of the time delay, what should we do?” You both walk back inside the suite and Joe wraps his arms around you from behind.

“I could think of something.” He smirks at you in the mirror and you playfully push him off.

“No Joe not right now, later” you laugh “i need sun! The uv is 10!”

He dramatically rolls his eyes, “fine let’s go to the pool, but i can’t promise i’ll be able to help myself if you where that blue bikini.” He smirks giving you hopeful eyes.

“oh don’t you worry, i’ll wear my wet suit” you wink.

After a long day of sitting at the pool and even doing some shopping, you and Joe enjoyed a beautiful dinner overlooking the ocean. Dating Joe has obviously come with so many luxuries, but no matter how many experiences you too have, there’s just something so special about being in his presence. Knowing that no matter how busy his world gets, he always comes home to hold you through the night. It’s nights like these when you look back upon the span of your relationship and how far you two have come together, it could bring tears to your eyes just thinking about your future together.

Entering the suite, you notice a vase of flowers left upon the dresser. You smile at Joe and he brings you in for a kiss.

“You’re being so lovey dovey Joseph I don’t know what’s gotten into you.” You giggle between kisses. He unzips your dress not daring to leave your lips, pushing you back unto the mattress.

“You just look so beautiful tonight.” he purs against your neck as your dress hits the carpet. Within seconds he has you against the pillows, moving quickly down the center of your stomach with kisses. You giggle as you feel his scruff against your soft skin. you arch your back as you feel his fingers dragging across your body as he continues to leave marks along your thighs.

“Joe, please I need you baby.” You arch your back at his actions.

With that he slips a finger inside of you, causing you to moan instantly. He adds another one as he begins to thrust into you, increasing his pace.

“you like that baby?” he pushes on, knowing damn well you do.

“Yes joey please don’t stop,” Your moans only increase when he presses his tongue to your clit, lapping at your sweet juices.

You feel your orgasm building up as you tug at Joes locks. His hair was growing out so quickly and it felt like every time you had your hands in it now, it was a little longer. You gave it one hard tug which Joe expectedly moaned in response to.

“Cum for me y/n” Joe rapidly pushes into you smirking against your center.

“Oh Joe!” you yelp

As your climax hits you feel him lapping up the residue of your orgasm. He brings himself up to your lips once again, not wasting any time. The rest of the night consisted of several rounds of Joe making you scream which you couldn’t complain about.

The next morning your eyes fluttered open at the view of the sea from your balcony. You felt the rise and fall of Joes chest as you laid there for a few moments. You feel a hand run through your hair and look up with a smile to Joes morning face.

“Good morning Joey.” You stand up heading to the shower when Joe reaches out for you.

“Hey wait I have a surprise for you,” he says reaching into the end table. He pulls out a pamphlet and hands it to you. It’s a certificate for the resort spa, the best in orange county.

“Oh my gosh Joe I needed this, thank you my love.” You pull him into a hug and he smiles.

“Go pamper yourself today my love, we’re going to dinner later too.” he stands gathering some things.

“Awh, what are you going to do all by yourself today?” you feel bad realizing Joe will be on his own.

“Well…um i know i said no football…but i kind of planned to get some throwing in today, I know you wanted a football free trip but it’s only a couple hours and-”

“Joe babe it’s okay” you giggle, “I know a trip without training in unheard of. Go have fun, i’ll meet you back here later.” You kiss his check and head off to the shower.

The next few hours were absolute heaven. Filled with facials, massages, pedicures, and lots of mimosas. You felt like an entire new person walking out of the spa and hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. It was already four by the time you had left.

“Joe you here?” you call out entering the suite.

“No” he responds

“Hey you!”You join him in the little living room, sitting with him on the couch.

“Was the spa everything you dreamed of and more?” he asks pulling you into him.

“Yes it was, how was your workout?” you ask.

He pauses almost looking confused for a moment, “oh! it was good, great actually.”

“that’s good.” You snuggle into his lap, but he abruptly stands up.

“No ma’am we have a dinner to get to” he commands.

“Joe” you laugh, “where are we going?”

He leans down close to you and smiles, “cant tell you, it’s a surprise.” He kisses your cheek and walks off into your shared room.

“Joe!” you yell, “We don’t do surprises! How do i know what to wear?”

“Come look on the bed!” he yells back.

Walking into the room you smile at the gorgeous red dress he had laid out on the sheets. It was strapless and had the most perfect slit to it, you couldn’t believe he picked this out.

“And these”, Joe comes out with a pair of Prada leather slingbacks that went perfectly with the dress.

“Joe this is unreal” you respond so shocked at the gesture.

“Where are we going dressed like this?” you question again which he of course doesn’t respond to.

You slide on the dress and applied your makeup, carefully curling your hair, making sure everything was perfect. Dressed like this, nothing could be out of place. Joe joins you in the bathroom to touch up his hair and you couldn’t help but to be taken aback by the button down and slacks Joe had someone figured out how to wear. You thought for sure the Looney Tunes sweatshirt or Seinfeld sweatpants would make an appearance.

“Wow…you look fancy” you say leaning in for a kiss.

Joe gives you a wink and takes your hand, guiding you to the living room.

“Let’s take a walk before dinner, I want to see the sunset.” He says. You notice a slight change in his demeanor, not a bad one, just an unrecognizable one.

As you both slowly stroll through the resort and out to the beach, the sky becomes breathtaking. You lock arms with him and walk along the pavement adoring the view.

“Isn’t it so beautiful Joe?” You look up to him with a smile, but he just nods in return, eyes glued to something in the distance.

“You okay?” you ask, he turns his head down and smiles.

“Never better my love”

You continue the walk passing few people along the way, you figured Joe would want to turn back soon, but instead he makes a turn, leading you onto a paved path that led to the shore. You weren’t familiar with this spot but figured maybe Joe had seen it at some point. You feel him squeeze your arm a little and you giggle at the gesture. There was no one around, this felt like a little escape for the two of you, it was beautiful.

As you near the end of the pathway, you notice flowers, so many flowers. Scattered along the pavement, they picked up a bit with the wind. Each petal had its own glow with the reflection of the sunset. That warm hue the sun lets off as it ends the day reached the both of you, making you feel as if you were the only two people in the world. Distracted by the scene infront of you, you didn’t even notice that you two had stopped walking. Joe picked up a flower and put it behind your ear, bringing a blush to your cheeks. You watched his body so carefully, his face was so full of love, you just wanted to kiss him; but before you could do so, he was down on one knee.

“y/n…” he opens the top of the little velvet black box.

You couldn’t tell if your heart was racing or skipping beats.

“These past 5 years have been full of so many experiences, and the whole way you were always right there by my side, you’ve always been my person. I know I don’t always say it enough, but I love you so damn much, I wouldn’t even be close to the man I am today if it wasn’t for you. I’ve know since the beginning that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and spend every last moment with you in my arms. y/n will you marry me?”

“Yes” you can barley weep out. Joe instantly slides the ring on your finger and brings you into a kiss. You both have come together like this so many times, but this time was different, this time felt like the force of all those other kisses coming together in one.

You pull away cupping his face and wiping his tears, him doing the same. He picks you up spinning you around as you squeal. This was easily the best moment of your entire life.

After watching the sun finally set in each others arms, Joe reminds you of dinner. You both follow the path back up to the sidewalk and continue on towards the restaurant. As you walk up the steps, you notice far too many familiar faces at once.

You’re smile widens as both of your family’s surround the two of you in hugs and tears. Both sets of parents were in instant tears at the sight of the ring. You look up at Joe with a silent “thank you” and he smiles.

As everyone sits down for dinner the conversation starts about how Joe managed to pulls this off and the little white lie he told about his training this morning. Your mom explains how he had to figure out a way to pick up everyone from the airport and set up the proposal without you finding out.

You couldn’t believe any of this was happening, it all felt like a dream. Looking around at the group of people all cheering and laughing with one another, you realized you were looking at your new family all together.

“You’re my fiancé now,” You turn to Joe with a smirk.

“No, You’re my fiancé now,” he says pulling you closer to him.

[thatgirlstrawberry]

Sick Surprise pt. 14 — Something Old and New pt. 2

In which it’s finally the wedding day!

Warnings: fluffiness(literally so much), a tiny bit of angst, smut!!!,

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Waking up in a hotel without her fiancé was strange. Instead, Eloise was cuddled into her side with her mouth hanging open and small little snores leaving her mouth. Y/N inhaled deeply and turned over to shut off her alarm.

Penelope, JJ, Emily and Y/N’s mother had all gotten joining rooms in the hotel they stayed at so they would be ready to get going as soon as they all woke up.

Eloise was starting to stir in her sleep and Y/N knew exactly what that meant. It was time to get ready to marry Spencer Reid.

She inhaled deeply and exhaled, thinking about what it is she’d need to be doing first. “Mommy?” She heard Eloise’s quiet voice.

She turned her head to look at her with a big smile. “Yes, baby?”

Eloise squeezed her eyes shut and yawned before sitting up. “Is it time to get dressed up now?”

Y/N smiled and nodded her head into the pillow. She stretched and yawned just like Eloise had done. “Yep! We have to eat first!”

“And guess who just bought breakfast!” Garcia’s voice came through the joined door and Y/N laughed and got out of bed going to open the door.

When she did, García stood there with a bag of food, a box of more food and a jug of orange liquid that Y/N assumed was a very large portion of Mimosas.

“I brought breakfast mommy juice!” She squealed. Y/N raised her eyebrows asking her a silent question. “Yes, I’ve been up since four AM but never mind that!” She shouted, Emily groaned in the background. “It’s your wedding day! Let’s get this party started!”

She practically pushed passed Y/N and into the room. The woman smiled to herself and wiped the sleep out of her eyes. “It’s… my wedding day.”

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Meanwhile, at the apartment he was running around trying not to step on Eloise’s toys and listening to Derek and Rossi try to cook breakfast. Hotch was trying to get Jack dressed before they had to leave so it was one less body they had to worry about.

“Y/N wanted us at the venue to get dressed in the groom’s suite and we’re officially late!” Spencer called.

Derek groaned. “Come on, Reid! I’m burning pancakes here!” Spencer gasped.

“In Y/N’s favorite pan!? Please tell me not in her favorite pan!”

They spent the next fifteen minutes trying to scrape pancake batter into the trash can and trying to gather their suits and shoes and everything they needed so they could leave.

In the car, Spencer was silent but his eyes were speaking volumes. They were darting around the streets and the people in the cars that passed them by.

Rossi placed his hand on his shoulder. “Kid, everything is gonna be fine.”

Spencer sighed. “We were supposed to be at the venue 3 minutes and 42 seconds ago.” He blurted.

The older man huffed. “Reid, Y/N’s not even there yet. She’ll never know.” He shrugged. “Now, listen, I’ve been to enough weddings— we’ll I’ve been in enough weddings as the groom.” He cringed. “I’ve got this covered, okay?” Spencer let out a breath and nodded. “And look at that, we’re here.”

The car slowed to a stop right in front of the entrance of the wedding venue. Spencer paused before he reached for the handle of the door. “Guys, I’m getting married today!”

All of the men whooped and hollered, patting him on the back.

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Hours passed and there was about forty five minutes until the ceremony. Y/N was in her dress and getting her hair done.

She licked her lips and watched Eloise play with a clean makeup brush through the mirror. “Mommy, when do I get to be marryin’ someone?” She asked, brushing her cheeks with the brush.

Y/N giggled and JJ who was doing her hair finished and stepped away. “When me and Spence tell you you can.”

There was a knock at the hotel door and García gasped, setting down the flowers she was arranging. “Reid, if that’s you, I’m going to strangle you with these bouquet ribbons!” She shouted.

“No, it’s just the mother of the bride!”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Ooh, let her in! Let her in!” She smiled widely. Garcia squealed and went to the door. She let the woman in and Y/N stood from the chair, her dress pooling at her feet.

Her mother paused in the doorway and covered her mouth with her hands. The room was silent.

“I know, grandma! Ithn’t she smokin’!?” Eloise giggled and clapped her hands.

“Darling,” Her mother gasped. She held her arms out and walked towards her. “You are beautiful.” She shook her head and carefully hugged her, avoiding the newly done hair and makeup.

Y/N smiled. “Thanks, mommy.” She whispered.

Her mother pulled away and looked her over. “He is a lucky man.” She laughed. “And I am a lucky mother. And I’m sorry for all of the years I’ve spent away from you.”

The bride let out a breath. “Mom, don’t make me cry. Please, where’s dad?”

She chuckled nervously. “Well, he’s downstairs looking for Spencer.”

Y/N gasped, shutting her eyes and laughing. “Oh God.”

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Spencer stood in front of the lit mirror straightening his tie.

“Okay, everyone! T-Minus 15 minutes!” Rossi clapped. “The guests are all in their seats, ready to watch the union of you and the love of your life!” He clapped his hand on Spencer’s back.

Spencer’s eyes widened and his chest inflated. He looked at Rossi through the mirror. “Oh God, I’m getting married.” He let out a breath.

Derek walked past, fixing the cuffs on his shirt. “That’s all he’s been able to say for the past six hours.” He chuckled. “Better fix the kid before it’s time to do vows.”

Hotch nodded. “It’s All right, Reid. Just breathe a bit.” He smiled.

There was a knock at the door. “Spencer? Spencer, it’s your father in law! I need to talk to you.”

He looked around. “I-I’m getting married!” He called back.

“Yes, I know, Spencer! I need to talk to you!”

Derek was close to dying from how hard he was laughing. Rossi sighed and rolled his eyes, going to get the door.

A few moments later, Y/N’s father stepped up next to him. And he gave him a father in law to son in law talk. The usual, you hurt her, I’ll kill you blah blah blah.

There was another knock and Hotch opened the door. “Okay men!” That was Penelope’s voice. “It’s time to move I to the ceremony room! I hope everyone has all their clothes on, if not you’re walking down the aisle naked!”

She walked into the room and looked around at all of them. “Oh, Boy Wonder, you look so handsome!” She squealed. “But no time for compliments, it’s time to get you married.”

Spencer looked around with a smile but then stopped. “Wait— me? Married?”

“Yes, you! Go! Go! Go!” Derek and Rossi pushed him out the door, Y/N’s father following close behind.

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

This was it. The music was playing, the guests were buzzing, the venue was absolutely beautiful. It was perfect.

Except one thing, Y/N wasn’t walking down the aisle yet. She was supposed to five minutes ago and now Spencer was getting nervous.

The doors opened and in ran little Eloise in a lavender colored dress that matched the bridesmaids. Emily ran in after her, heels clicking hard on the floor. Spencer furrowed his brows.

“Uh, Spence, Y/N would like to speak with you…” She shrugged and looked around waving at the people who were confused as well.

“What?”

Emily cleared her throat. “I don’t know. She just got all nervous all of the sudden and said she needed to ask you something.”

Spencer swallowed and nodded, waving to his mom and assuring her that everything was fine before walking down the aisle.

He opened the doors and there she was, standing with her hands folded in front of her. He remembered that he wasn’t really supposed to be seeing her yet so her choked on air and covered his eyes. “Holy shit, you’re beautiful.” He let out. “I— i mean not that i saw you or anything but I just think you’re beautiful anyway—“

“Spence,” She laughed.

“Sorry, what did you need to ask me?”

“You’re gonna say I do, right?” She asked quickly. “Because I thought you would but then I just kept thinking about the fact that you might not and then I just did all of this for nothing and you never—“

“Y/N, Can I look at you?” He asked.

She sighed. “Okay but you better save your tears for the aisle.” She joked.

Spencer chuckled and slowly peeled his hand away from over his eyes. “I love you.” He stated. “I practically need you and Eloisey to live, I’m gonna say I do. I swear.”

“I love you.” Y/N smiled. “Now get your ass back in there so I can marry you.”

Spencer smiled and nodded. “Okay, I’ll see you in there. I love you.”

.•.•.•.•.•.•.

All of Spencer’s worries washed away when the doors finally opened after all of the wedding party walked in. Her smile was as big as ever. Her heart was beating two times as fast. Eloise insisted on standing right by Spencer, holding onto his leg.

The officiant said all of the boring stuff and then it was time for the vows. Y/N could already feel herself starting to get emotional from the way Spencer was looking at her as she pulled the piece of paper from Penelope’s hands.

“Sp-Spencer, I never thought I’d find anyone I love so much after I got pregnant and left high and dry.” She glanced up at him. “I didn’t think anyone could love me so much but, you’ve proved time and time again that you do. Not to mention, you’re really hot!” The guests laughed and so did Spencer. A tear rolled down her cheek and Spencer didn’t even think before he reached forward and wiped it away with his thumb. “I fell fast and hard and I’m so glad that you could be here with me. And I’m so glad that you and Eloise are so great together. I knew that I couldn’t be doing this with anyone who didn’t love Eloisey as much as they loved me.” She looked down at the girl who was smiling big and winked. “Long story short, the day I met you in the coffee shop was the day my life changed. And it was for the better. I love you Spencer Reid, forever and I love you, Spencer Reid always.”

His eyes pooled and he shook his head. The officiant smiled. “Spencer, your vows?”

“I know your competitive so, I’m gonna try to beat you at vows so here we go.” There were more laughs. “I kept a list of dates that I think were a significant point in our relationship.” Y/N but her lip. “April 1st, one year ago, the day I met you. That day, I wasn’t planning on meeting the love of my life. The second you asked me if I wanted to switch lids on our coffees I just knew that I had to see your beautiful face again.” She giggled. “April 17th, when you and I had our first real date. We ate cheese fries in a car on top of a cliff. That was an eventful evening but the way you looked at me and told me that you liked me— I just— I think I knew then that you were it for me.” He paused. “The first time we said I love you, May 23rd. I mean that speaks for Itself. I have so many more but today June 17th, I just— our wedding could be underneath a bridge and I’d still be the happiest man on earth. I love you, Y/N L/N and I’m so happy that you’re about to be a Reid.”

Y/N was fully crying now but tried to keep it together. “Oh my God, fuck you, you won!” She shook her head.

Then officiant began to speak again but Spencer stopped him. “Wait just one second.” He looked down at Eloise who was still hugging his leg and knelt in front of her. “Eloisey, I wanted to ask you something.” The girl tilted her head.

“I don have all day, Spenther…” She tapped her imaginary watch and the audience laughed.

“I love you and I wanted to ask if I could be your dad. And if you would be okay with me adopting you so you could be my daughter.”

Eloise’s eyes lit up. “You be my daddy forever!?” She gasped.

“Forever.”

“Okay, you got it! Adot me, baby!” She shouted.

.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Lips, teeth, tongue, hot heavy breaths. “Be— fuck! Be quick, baby we gotta be on time—“ Her hands gripped his back as her legs squeezed his waist. His hands squeezed her waist and his lips attacked her jaw and neck.

Now, they fully could’ve waited until after the reception but it was too hard (literally) to wait. “I can’t baby, gotta take my time, feel too good.” He sputtered.

“Don’t stop!”

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Y/N and Spencer giggled as they entered the reception hall. She changed into a much shorter dress before their little detour to the bathroom. People were dancing and drinking and eating.

Everything was perfect.

She squeezed his hand as they walked through a crowd the guest. “We just got married.”

“We just got married!”

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

HEYYYYYYYYYY THANKS FOR READING

The next two chapters are gonna be of the honeymoon!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Love ya bunches ❤️❤️❤️

Taglist:

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[kstewdeux]

@inukag-week

Entire Series | InuKag Week 2024 Prompts

Past InuKag Weeks | 2020 | 2021 | 2022 | 2023

Other Challenges | Inuvember 2021 | InuKag Fluff Week ‘23 | Halloween Bang 2021

July 1. Yearning

Ao3 Link |Summary: Inuyasha misses ramen almost as much as he missed Kagome. When Kagome tries to satisfy his craving it goes horribly wrong.

July 2. Moonlight

Ao3 Link | Summary: Miroku tells his children a bedtime story.

July 3. Bickering.

Ao3 Link to Inuyasha has 99 problems but trivia ain’t one series

Summary: Modern Trivia AU. When the gang decides to go out for a brunch trivia event, bottomless mimosas strike.

July 4. Seasons/Cherry Blossoms.

Ao3 Link | Summary: A cherry a day keeps the doctor away…unless you swallow the pit.

July 5. Personal Space.

Ao3 Link | Summary: After slaying a demon, Inuyasha gets swamped by villagers and he does not like.

July 6. Sacrifice.

Ao3 Link | Summary: Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect.

Note: Very loose inukag. Very loose adherence to prompt.

July 7. Contrast.

Ao3 Link | Summary: A village has lost its color but the issues started long before. TW: References to Suicide & Suicidal Ideation

Note: Even looser inukag. Predominately MirSan. Even looser adherence to prompt.

AND BECAUSE THE LAST TWO WERE SO LOOSE AND FAST HERE ARE PRIOR INUKAG STORIES THAT FIT:

For Sacrifice:

Link | Summary: Inuyasha gets a second chance to fix the mistakes of the past by making different mistakes.

For Contrast:

Link | Summary: Kagome notices Inuyasha's human body is riddled with scars