#man deserved a better birthday than this

[dmitryanya]

you ever think about how far cass seemed to be willing to go in cassandra's revenge or is it just me :D

[ask-ozai]

Do you hold any degree ?

When I returned from my expedition to search for the Avatar (without the Avatar), I studied and graduated from the Specialized Academy of Economic Sciences. I will tell you a little secret, the second most powerful man after any ruler is his economy minister. So you will understand my despair when Zuko came to the conclusion that a blind thirteen-year-old earthbender was the most qualified person to fill that position in his court. Sometimes Zuko does things that are totally beyond my comprehension, it's like his goal is to destroy the country from within.

Since Iroh was going to be Firelord, it made sense for me to be his economy minister. But my father made me change my mind by reminding me that my talents were more useful on the war (his exact words were 'you are too stupid to do anything but throw fireballs, don't get in the way', but I was sure that with the time he would change his mind). I have the degree anyway, and it was useful when I became Firelord. I graduated at the top of my class. I know more than two hundred economic theories by memory, all the works of Mar Yal, Kei Nes, Es Mi, and even that idiot of Khal Mhaz.

I taught Azula everything I knew, which is why she was so excited about ruling Ba Sing Se and putting some of her own theories into practice. But that city is a complete mess, it was more practical to just burn it to the ground.

[destielwarmsthecocklesofmyheart]

oh dont mind me ill just be over here… slowly dying… kthnxbye

[bunnys-kisses]

so i was thinkin'.

you becoming a pen-pal with prisioner!simon. he didn't get convicted of a violent crime or at least not a crime that involved violence against people who didn't deserve it. you find a flyer in town with a service to send letters to prisoners. you think why not, the poor person could use the communication from the outside. enters simon 'ghost' riley, when you receive a photo of him. you're in shock!

he is very intimidating.

but in his letters, he's simply so sweet to you. he even send you some of the writings he did about his time in the military. he even attempted to draw you a nice card for your birthday! you grow close to him over time so when he finally gets let out of prison, you're there to meet him at the gates.

you melt the first time you hug him, if you didn't you probably would've sobbed. you haven't even met this man, but yet you feel such an affection towards him. and oh boy, does he show his gratitude for being there during the lowest parts of his life.

"i'm gonna be a good man." he purrs when he's slamming into your pussy. the first pussy he's had in almost three years, "be a good man for my wife." his voice is heavy and strong. you can feel his cock in the back of your throat.

this is a hell of a lot better than sendin' letters, don't ya think?

i'm callin' it the 'jailhouse rock au'. thoughts?

xoxo, bunny <3

edit: okay, okay okay... i'm a huge liar.

here's part one & part two

[back2bluesidex]

Darling, can I be your favorite? - JJK (18+)

Pairing: Jungkook X Fem!Reader

Theme: PWP, SMUT, Infidelity au

Wordcount: 1.4k+

Summary: Your close friend bagged a hot boyfriend. And that said boyfriend is more interested in you than her.

Warnings: Infidelity, Jungkook cheats on his girlfriend with the reader, mild flirting, make out, protected sex, oral (f. receiving), morally wrong. NSFW!!

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: been long since I have written an unhinged smut.

This is the third time you are meeting Jungkook. 

First time was when Nayeon introduced him as they started dating officially. 

You and Nayeon have known each other since you were in diapers. You can’t call her your best friend but she has been there for as long as you can remember. Even though you haven’t shared all of your miseries with her (she hasn’t either), you two have understood that the other one is having a tough time and have been there silently. 

So, it’s not wrong to say that you know her and how good of a human being she is. You guys are alike in more ways than you would like to admit. 

But when she introduced Jungkook as ‘the person she is seeing’, you were shocked to say the least. 

You don’t wanna be a bitch about it but Jungkook deserves better than her. He is everything a woman would want in a man. 

Jeon Jungkook is handsome, has a stable job as a graphics designer, has tattoos and piercings and is incredibly panty-dropping hot. He is respectful, sweet and doesn’t talk loudly. In other words, he is your ideal type of man. 

So, even when you were happy for your friend, you were a little bit jealous too. 

The second time was on Nayeon’s birthday.

She bragged about him all night to whoever decided to show up. You enjoyed the scene staying afar. 

The similarities between these two meets? Well, both of the times things were awkward. 

Especially because yours and Jungkook’s eyes met a lot more times than is socially acceptable. While you have hardly exchanged any words, you just knew things are going to be tense if you ever get to meet one-on-one. 

And that’s what is happening currently. 

“I- uh, hi.” you mutter awkwardly standing at the doorway of your friend’s home. 

“Hi, Y/N” your name rolls out of Jungkook’s tongue, sounding better than ever. The corner of his lips turn upwards into a charming smile and you suddenly feel jealous of Nayeon’s luck, yet again. 

“Is Nayeon home?” You try to take a look inside her apartment. In the meantime you feel Jungkook’s eyes boring into your skull and slowly dipping down, racking your figure.   

You want nothing more than to just hand the kimchi to your friend and run home. 

“No. She got called at work for some emergency. It’s just me.” Jungkook’s voice dips down a little and when you look at him, his eyes are full of mirth. 

“Oh. alright. I was actually visiting my mom and she packed some kimchi for Nayeon. Here.” you extend your hand for him to take the box. 

As he holds the small handle, his fingers overlap yours. You had to gulp once to resist the improper expression that was about to take over your face. 

“Thanks.” Jungkook whispers. 

“Not a big deal. I will take my leave now.” You turn your heels to leave the place only to be stopped by him. 

Jungkook’s hand wraps around your wrist a little too protectively, “why don’t you come in? Nayeon will be back in an hour or so.” 

His doe eyes turn bigger, as if he is pleading you to stay. 

Contemplating for a moment (and liking the way his hand feels on your skin), you voice, “should I?” 

“You know this place better than me.” Jungkook lets his remark sit in the tense air of the apartment. You chuckle at it while transferring the kimchi to Nayeon’s containers. 

“Yeah. I have been here for uncountable times already.” You add lightheartedly. Jungkook’s eyes stay focused on your figure as you work inside your friend’s kitchen so domestically.  

“But now that you have moved in, I will visit less. Don’t worry.” You speak again, finding him way too quiet. 

“What? No. I didn’t move in.” he chuckles, “We were just hanging out since it's the weekend but she got called.” 

“Oh. That’s bad.” 

“But I’m glad. Glad that you came.” again. Again that mischievous raspy voice that sends sparks through your body. 

You look up at Jungkook, finding him staring at you with a serious and somewhat dark expression. Not knowing what to do, you smile at him. 

“So.. are you seeing anyone currently?” He speaks with the same raspy voice. 

“Uh- no. not at this moment.” You reply, keeping the box of kimchi in the refrigerator. 

“That’s such a waste.” he says, taking tentative steps towards you. Eyes focusing on yours. 

“Waste? Of what?” you try to sound normal but your heart starts beating fast when Jungkook reaches close to you, gradually backing you up against the fridge. 

“Of this beautiful face. This- ” his eyes drop on your chest, “alluring body of yours.” 

“Jungkook-” 

“Honestly, I couldn’t take my eyes off you since the first day we met. I know it’s not morally right but I am a man after all. I DMed you on insta but you haven’t responded yet.” 

“Oh, I- I didn’t notice.” what the fuck! He dmmed you on insta??

“I was about to ghost your friend right after she introduced me to her friends but I stayed… because of you.” Jungkook’s mouth hovers right above your ear. His chest, now, touching yours. 

You lose your mind. All the sense of morals and rationals leave through the window of wants and needs. 

Your throat gets dry but you talk anyway, “why is that?” 

“Because I want you to be my favorite.” and then his lips are crashing into yours. You dive down into the feeling forgetting that you are making out with your friend’s boyfriend. 

“Fuck! How do you taste so good?” Jungkook moans into your cunt as he laps up every drop of arousal. 

“Jungko-” You groan in pleasure, finding it hard to keep your eyes open anymore. Your orgasm is only one step away. 

Jungkook presses the fat of his tongue on your clit as he forks two of his fingers inside your hole. Pressing down on one particular spot, he reaps out your orgasm from you. 

You let out a scream. 

“Shhh, baby. Do you want the neighbors to hear us even when the owner of the house is absent?” he teases you. 

But you are too gone to react to that.  

Jungkook sits on his knees on the bed, unbuckles his belt, pulls down his jeans and boxers at once and reveals his rock hard length. 

He pumps it twice using the lubrication of his spit before reaching for his discarded pants and fishing out a condom from it. 

When he is done with wrapping up his cock, he positions it on your already fucked out hole. 

“Can I enter?” he asks politely. 

Even though you know you will be overstimulated, you are greedy to have your friend’s hot boyfriend inside of you. So you nod a yes. 

And with that Jungkook enters you. 

He slides in smoothly at once. Giving you a little time to adjust, he starts moving. 

At first his pace is careful and mediocre but then it starts increasing bit by bit. One of Jungkook’s hands reaches for your throat, holding you there, not quite choking just yet. 

His other hand is busy playing with your clit to distract you from the inhumane pace he has adopted already. 

The bed starts creaking violently. Your moans know no bounds. Jungkook ain’t doing better as well. He keeps grunting and sprewling dirty shits in your ear. 

“I knew you would be a dirty slut the moment my eyes landed on you.” He says between the harsh thrusts. 

“Oh-fuc-junkoo-”

“Look at you, going dumb over your friend’s boyfriend’s dick, huh? Such a dirty cocksleeve!” his derogatory words bring out the best possible orgasm you have ever had. And you cum on his cock. 

“F-fuck! You cummed so much, you whore.” Jungkook groans cumming inside the condom himself. 

When you are done coming down from your high, shame comes crawling inside your mind. 

You just slept with your childhood friend’s boyfriend. You should just go and jump off a bridge or something. 

“This… This was completely wrong. We should have not. I - I am just fucking terrible.” You grab your hair out of shame lying naked in your friend’s bed. 

“Don’t worry. I was about to end things with her anyway.” He speaks casually, as if it’s no big deal to commit infidelity. 

Tossing the condom in the trash can (like he wants Nayeon to find out what he did) he says, “Shall we continue? Your place or mine?” 

You know you have fucked up a big time. 

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie

[sashaforthewin]

Multi-chapter fic on Ao3

Steve had been enjoying a nice relaxing lounge by the pool despite it being night. He had his hearing aid off and his fruity drink and a romance novel Robin had let him borrow. He was determined to have a good time despite the circumstances. 

Someone tapped his foot, scaring the crap out of Steve and making him drop his book and nearly knock over his drink. 

It was a fellow cruise passenger and he was saying something. Steve turned his hearing aid back on.

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked why you were out here instead of at the concert,” repeated the man with a smile.

“Oh, um. I’m not actually a fan of metal music. It gives me headaches if I listen to more than one or two songs in a row,” Steve admitted sheepishly.

This stranger was still clearly a metal head, but he looked significantly less scary than most of the ones he had seen so far that day. Everyone Steve met had been nice, but Steve hadn’t felt comfortable telling anyone he wasn’t a fan until now. Maybe because it was just the two of them out here and he was smiling so cutely. 

“Not a metal fan? Well damn, not to critique your life choices, but I think maybe going on a metal cruise wasn’t an ideal choice for you? I’m Eddie, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Steve.”

There were plenty of deck lounges around, all empty, but Eddie sat down on Steve’s right next to his legs. 

“Steve. So Steve, why are you on a metal cruise when you don’t like metal? These tickets were not exactly cheap and there’s no way you missed the theme, it was pretty clearly advertised,” Eddie asked teasingly.

Steve looked Eddie over, noting that he was actually pretty cute. Pretty eyes, nice full lips, dimples, and he was that type of lanky Steve was drawn to. He had good skin and his hair had some volume and texture to it, Steve could work with that. Bit of a fixer-upper, but a better starting point than most of the men that had flirted with him since his last failed relationship. He also had the vibe, so Steve decided this guy would be fine to open up to. 

“Well, Eddie, I bought this ticket for my dear friend Dustin for his birthday, but then the little shit went and outed me to my parents. Accidentally, of course, and he feels like shit about it. But still, that got me kicked out of my home so maybe I’m being petty but I decided he shouldn’t get to go on this cruise after all. I forgive him, it really was an accident, but still, gotta teach him a lesson.” Steve shrugged. “And I would’ve gotten the ticket refunded but the money would’ve gone back to my parents and they clearly don’t deserve to get anything back from me. So, instead of trying to figure out how to sell a ticket to a very niche interest cruise, I figured I deserved to just come and treat myself for four days before I have to go back to living in my ex-girlfriend’s basement. It’s actually pretty nice to have the ship to myself while all you guys are in there shaking your heads to loud music.” Steve gestured to the pool and the drink.

“Ex- girl friend’s basement?” Eddie asked.

“Shut up, I’m bi.” Steve smacked Eddie on the arm with his book. 

Eddie grabbed the book and looked at it as he replied, “Hey, just checking to make sure I’m not barking up the wrong tree.”

“Oh? Is that what you’re doing, barking up my tree?” Steve said, playfully.

“If you’ll let me,” Eddie flirted back.

“So how come you’re not in the show right now?” Steve asked, gently stealing his book back from Eddie’s grasp.

“Oh, I’m touring with those guys right now, I have heard them play the same set like fifteen times already. I’d much rather be out here getting to chat with you. You know you’re beautiful, right? How come you don’t live with your boyfriend? Or girlfriend?” Eddie asked, quite obvious in his fishing for information.

“I’m single and yes, I do know I’m beautiful, but I still like hearing it. Are you like a roadie or something?”

“Actually,” Eddie said, “I’m the lead guitarist in the headlining band. We play tomorrow night. Can I buy you another drink? Maybe dinner?”

“The, uh, the bill goes to our cabins,” Steve answered, too shocked that an apparently famous musician was asking him out to respond appropriately.

“Baby, I’ll put your entire tab on my cabin if you’ll let me. You are the most beautiful, and dare I say cleanest man on this entire boat. Metal heads are great, but they aren’t really my type.”

Steve takes a sip of his cold drink just to make sure he’s not fallen asleep and dreaming. The ocean is calm and the moon is full and he is most definitely awake.

“And what is your type?” Steve asked. 

“Handsome men with soft hands who will let me pamper them,” Eddie said, picking up Steve’s hand and feeling his lack of calluses. He placed a kiss onto each finger tip. “These hands aren’t meant for labor, let me spoil you rotten.”

Well, Steve reasoned, even if this ended up being just a weekend fling, it was going to be worth the price of admission.

[leclercmode]

happy birthday ☁️ charles leclerc

summary: posts for charles’ birthday through the years.

notes: hope u guys enjoy it!! :)

ynusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, and 17.972 others

ynusername i really hope you have the best of birthdays, char. always rooting for you! be happy, always.

View all 202 comments

charles_leclerc thank you, i am very grateful for your support and friendship 🥰

❤️ by author

user1 it's so cute how yn has always been there for charles

user2 there's nothing better than friends to lovers

user3 thank you for giving us these photos, yn!!!!

user4 @user3 she literally posted the best old pictures of charles

user5 “be happy, always” 😭💔😭💔😭💔

ynusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, and 23.082 others

ynusername the birthday boy! happy birthday il predestinato - keep killing it and paving the way for the rest of us. always proud of you.

View all 310 comments

charles_leclerc i would be nothing without you!

user6 @charles_leclerc wow!! a romantic.

user7 i just remember charles saying that he was in love with yn, but that he disguised it so she wouldn't notice. IS THAT DISGUISING IT?

user8 they were so in love with each other and only they themselves couldn't see it

user9 THE 2ND PIC

user10 i love them sm

ynusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, and 35.628 others

ynusername happiest birthday to you my other half, you deserve every bit of the amazing stuff coming your way. thank you for every single moment! 🤍

View all 368 comments

charles_leclerc cannot live without you

user11 i love how yn has always been behind the scenes

user12 “i would be nothing without you” to “cannot live without you”

user13 @user12 I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE

user14 @user12 😭😭😭😭😭

user15 i love their moments together

ynusername has added to their story

ynusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, and 48.972 others

ynusername pretty glad you were born. happy birthday, char.

View all 403 comments

charles_leclerc i love you so so much! everyday im reminded of how im the luckiest guy in the world to have you in my life.

user16 @charles_leclerc CHARLES OMG IM CRYING

arthur_leclerc my favorite people in the world, i love to see you making each other happy 🤍

user17 loving the whole fandom stalking yn's birthday posts for charles

user18 @user17 FR!!! they are so cute.

user19 they were already dating? (new to the charles’ fandom here)

user20 @user19 yes!!! this post is from 2022, charles said they had their first kiss in 2018 and started dating in 2019.

user21 yn and charles are so in love with each other and i'm in love with their relationship

ynusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 130.727 others

ynusername il predestinato, my ferrari boy and my char! countless nights i have dreamed about our future together. you are the man of my dreams, and i am so happy that you are not only my boyfriend but also my best friend. from the moment we met, i knew we were destined to be together forever. i cannot wait for the day where we get to grow old and frail together. i love you. happy birthday 🤍

View all 567 comments

charles_leclerc you are my one and only, i love you so much!

user22 im so happy that they have each other

user23 “and i am so happy that you are not only my boyfriend but also my best friend” IM CRYING

carlossainz55 😍😍

arthur_leclerc love you guys !! 😘

user24 this couple is masterpiece

[yandere-sins]

Cupcake

Okay I will admit I've been soft-yandere yearning for a while now, but it's my birthday and I deserved them!! There’s nothing better than some self-indulgent fanfiction (;

Fandom: Call of Duty Characters: Yandere!Ghost x Reader Warnings: Yandere, Mentions of Punishments/Kidnapping, Forced Relationship, Emotional Distress

You didn't react to the sound of boots on concrete floor or the lock of the door clicking, hinges squeaking as someone entered the room.

Giving him attention was pointless.

You knew too little about him to get under his skin with words alone. Every bicker seemed to bounce off his broad chest with so much strength, it hit you right back in your face. You could never keep your arguments from sounding like childish complaints, and he chuckled at anything as direct as "I hate you!"

Instead, this man—"Ghost" you reckoned he called himself—seemed to bask in every minute of your putrid hatred. You could always assume the wisp of a smile beneath his mask, his eyes searching for yours no matter how much you glared at him. He possessed no inhibitions whatsoever, pushing, pulling, throwing you wherever he wanted, when he wanted, and not always gently mind you.

Yet, he pulled off his gloves before touching you, wiping the tears from your eyes and cheeks while he told you to stop crying now. That everything was okay and you shouldn't ruin your pretty face. He squeezed into the bed with you—the mattress too small for him alone, a coffin for both of you—shielding your body with his from the door so neither friend nor foe would see you first if they came inside.

Ghost made sure to top off your food with the ingredients you liked from his own plate when you were visibly upset. And on the nights when you were unconsolable, he pulled you on top of his chest despite the struggles, resting your head above his heart while he played with your hair or held your hand, intertwining your fingers.

It was hard to say what was going on in that man's head. His eyes spoke of wonders you couldn't see, but his punishments were so severe, so unforgiving as if you had personally harmed him in another life. You could be glad that you could still count ten fingers on your hands and ten toes on your feet, seeing how his mood shifted unpredictably at any moment you two were together.

So, it was best not to acknowledge him.

Even when everything inside you screamed profanities at this bastard, you tempered yourself with deep breaths. A deep inhale through the nose, and a long exhale through the mouth. Deep in, long out. Deep in, and a long breath out...

Zing.

The unique sound of a zippo reached your ear despite your meditation having been able to fade out his presence behind you. This sound was unexpected, new. Ghost and new impressions combined as well as fire and gasoline, so this was scary. You didn't know if he picked up a smoking habit or would burn you just from the sound alone.

You couldn't help the rather violent reaction to the fear that snapped your muscles tight. Jumping into action, you threw the blanket you had wrapped around yourself away, sliding into the farthest corner away from him. Your eyes widened as you took in the view in front of you, time coming to a brief halt as you mustered the absolute unit of a man in front of you holding a... cupcake.

Blue wrapping, yellow icing, and a flickering candle on top.

Ghost snapped the zippo shut after he had waited out your reaction, his shoulders relaxing after he concluded you wouldn't do something stupid. You had just been surprised. He let the silver square sink into his right pocket while the small flame illuminated his mask in a warm yet even more spooky way than it always was.

"Happy Birthday," he said, tearing you out of your state of shock. Your gaze jumped from the mismatched-colored cupcake to his eyes that rested on you, full of that disgusting, heart-wrenching adoration he harbored for you. Things were calm, too calm. Ghost was too relaxed, only holding the cupcake and not a weapon or anything remotely dangerous in his other hand. You couldn't trust the peace. Couldn't rely on his words or the actions you were seeing.

"Wait, what?" it suddenly hit you, your eyes widening. "Is it... Is it really my birthday?"

Prying your eyes off your captor, you looked to your right, to the small table across from the bed where Ghost had hung up a calendar for you. He'd been crossing off days diligently for you since you couldn't be bothered to keep up with the task on some days, Ghost knowing that time seemed to pass you by in weird intervals without a window in your room. And he was right. Damn.

Taking another step toward you, you didn't cower away, letting your guard down as you breathed out heavily. That meant you had vanished from the face of the earth for months now. No one would come looking for you anymore; the hope of your survival and return would have been smashed. What a depressing thought on your birthday, your family and friends surely heartbroken about your absence, just like you were.

The bed creaked as Ghost sat down, his weight shifting the mattress in a way that made you aware of his closeness. You collected your legs, keeping them away from him to not give him any chance of quickly grabbing you. But when Ghost held out his hand, it was filled by the cupcake stretched towards you, and he handed it over without another word.

Your eyes flicked back and forth between his and the pastry, but hesitantly, you picked it up, feeling the squishiness of it, a sweet smell drafting into your nose. The warmth of the ficker licked at your skin as you held the cupcake in front of you. So small yet so thoughtful. You thought a whole lot about this psycho, but to think he'd remember your birthday when not even you did? You couldn't even remember when you told him the date, much less expected him to prepare something for you.

Not like there was anyone else who'd care about it now.

Immediately, tears shot into your eyes as you realized you were truly alone. No one would come to save you, and nothing would change unless you could win against your captor. Even when he was with you, you were still alone. And even when you blew out the candle, wishing for these things to change, you knew the wish was wasted.

Sniffling, you bit into the cupcake, frosting getting stuck on your nose and lips, but you didn't care. Sugary sweet and buttery, the taste of homemade cupcakes like your mother would have made them coated your tongue and teeth, remaining there even when you swallowed, bitterness clogging your throat while the delicious treat produced enough serotonin to jump in joy.

You managed to devour half of it before the tears and stuffy nose caught up with you. Even your free hand couldn't wipe away all these emotions overrunning you. Fear, pain, hopelessness. The feeling of being stuck here and so, so alone. It needed two more hands, big, calloused, and warm, to gently hold your face between them, wiping relentlessly while hushing you softly.

"It's alright, darling," Ghost murmured, his voice invading your brain that couldn't detect all these phantom pains you were feeling but soothed them regardless. "I'm here. Everything will be okay, sweetheart."

It certainly wasn't what you wanted to hear, but it did the trick, keeping you from the panic attack that slowly built inside you. Wiping your nose with your sleeve, you took another bite, sniffling and with tears falling relentlessly still. But Ghost's hands never disappeared. Instead, his thumb began to wander, brushing off crumbs as you devoured the rest of your treat, leaving nothing of this kind gesture for him as you were unwilling to share what little happiness you had been given.

Crumpling up the paper around the blown-out candle, you threw the trash away, finally having both hands free to wipe your own face and get a grip on yourself, your vulnerable side having come out shamefully. But even when you pushed away his hands, Ghost's presence right next to you didn't vanish, his body now much closer than before.

"Happy Birthday," he said again, gripping your shoulders. You huffed lightly, feeling exhausted after your cry, but before you could react, the sudden feeling of lips against yours threw you off.

You hadn't even noticed him pulling up his mask to reveal his mouth, lips more greedy and desperate than ever finding yours. Teeth and tongue played and nibbled, not so gently asking for entrance, and you... gave up. You had no strength to resist. Play a game you were bound to lose anyway, Ghost always cheating. And immediately, feeling your surrender, his hands slid back to your face, cupping your cheeks so he could deepen the kiss.

It didn't help. Didn't soothe the aches in your heart and didn't make the tears stop, but the intrusion of his tongue and the sweet taste now coating it distracted your thoughts. Ghost seemed to try to tell you that no, you weren't alone. You'd never be. He'd always be with you like he swore up and down. He'd protect you, take care of you, and love you.

Kidnapping, locking you away, and forcing you to do what he wanted didn't exactly scream protection, care, and love to you. But an annoying, nagging voice started to speak up in the back of your mind. He wasn't wrong. As long as you had to endure this horrific living arrangement, he'd be with you. He didn't leave you alone, didn't forget your birthday. You doubted even that he spent a single moment of downtime without the thought of you on his mind, considering how obsessed he was.

It would never be enough to satisfy you, though.

There was no way he could ever mean enough to you to make you love him. You'd never forgive him, never submit to him fully, body and soul. But at least on that day, the day that grieved you so—a joyous occasion turned bittersweet by your suffering—you weren't alone. He was there with you. He cared. Did he care enough?

"You're not going to sing for me?" you asked him, half-joking, half-challenging.

Ghost mustered you for a long moment, then you heard him huff, amused. He shook his head before pulling you towards him. You allowed it, no strength left to struggle. "Only because it's your birthday," he reminded you, and you caught the corners of your mouth turning upwards before you reminded yourself not to be amused by his banter.

His heartbeat was calm and gentle, nothing like the things you knew he could do to you. Ghost turned you both over until he could climb into bed with you, laying you down on your side, facing him and not spooning you like usual. It was a tight squeeze, but with his arms around you, face nuzzled into his chest, it was warm and comforting. Safe—for now.

Happy Birthday to you.

Happy Birthday to you.

You almost didn't want to believe him when he began to sing, keeping his voice low. Ghost never wanted to rourse the suspicion of anyone else that possibly lived next door to you. His gruff voice didn't really fit the upbeat song, even with his accent tingling on every word. This time, you couldn't help but grin at the absurdity of the situation, but you listened, regardless, while being held in his arms as if you were meant to be there.

Happy Birthday dear darling.

Wearily, you closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat mixing with his voice. The man you hated the most was holding you and singing to you as if it was the most normal thing in the world. As if it was meant to be this way all along, almost making you forget the pain and suffering he had caused you in the past. But when he held you like a rare treasure, fulfilled your wishes, and went out of his way to care for you, you almost believed his version of love to be true. You almost started to believe the many times he said he was doing all of this for one reason only: "I love you."

Maybe he did.

Happy Birthday to you.

[deadsetobsessions]

Bruce didn’t come here often. Perhaps that was terrible of him but he couldn’t bear to visit his son’s resting place. It was difficult to equate his high-spirited son, bright as the sun itself and endlessly brilliant despite the more he grew up in, to the cold and lifeless stone engraved with his name and words that did not encompass everything his son was to him.

His hands were full of flowers, Jason’s favorite books, a round rock, and his son’s favorite foods.

Bruce didn’t come here often, because it broke his heart even more when he did, but today was a day that love and grief triumphed over his need to avoid.

He walked down the winding pathway, Alfred a silent sentinel behind him. He hated it, but he understood. Today was the only day Alfred allowed himself to be emotionally closed off. He’d lost a grandson.

Bruce didn’t come here often, but his son’s birthday was a day Bruce would remember how to love and live again, just for Jason.

“I will be over here, Master Bruce.” Alfred stopped at his designated spot, where Bruce had added a bench and a draping tree to shade Alfred as he stood vigil.

The first time they’d- it was April, and the sun- after the funeral, Bruce was lost in the throes of grief and had kneeled over the freshly tilled dirt for hours. Alfred had stood there, in that same spot, in the city’s rare blazing sun until Bruce came back to himself.

Bruce had almost lost his second father that day, and what good was wealth if it could not prevent that? And so, water, shade, a bench, and a space heater was added.

Bruce knows better than anyone how stubborn Alfred can be, when it comes to matters of the heart. After all, he didn’t have to raise Bruce after Martha and Thomas died.

“Alright, Alfred.”

Bruce splits from the haggard butler with pointed looks at the water bottles he’d prepared for today for Alfred (who manages, this time, a faint but amused raise of an eyebrow) and walks towards Jason Todd’s grave.

Here where his son is buried, the grass is kept green. In April, Forget-Me-Nots bloomed and dotted the place where Bruce’s world collapsed with bright colors. In August, it is still green, but the tin engraved with the names of the deceased stood out without the flowers.

Bruce kneeled and quietly arranged the flowers before placing them in the tin. He set the platters of food down and uncovered them. The scent of chili dogs made his heart stutter, flashes of a bright smile and book references blinding Bruce with their nostalgia.

He swallowed, grief building, and placed the stone he’d brought atop the gravestone. He sat back, gripping Jason’s book with white knuckles.

Bruce didn’t turn around when clothing rustled behind him. Alfred would have verbally cut down anyone that dared to approach them today, especially here. That he didn’t do so was telling of who it would be.

“I’m still mad at you, for not telling me as soon as you knew.” Dick Grayson sat down, hand over one of Jason’s school bag pins he had carefully attached to the front of his jacket.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“He deserved better. I should have been there.” Dick whispered, placing another bundle of flowers into the tin. It fit, but barely. “I would have dropped everything to come find him. Even if it wasn’t on time, even if it wasn’t enough, I deserved to be there when he was buried. We were family.”

“I know.” Bruce repeated, no less regretful. In his grief, he had wronged his loved ones. “I’m sorry.”

Dick casted a quiet, assessing eye at him. Bruce stayed quiet.

“It’s too dreary,” Dick said. He took out paints, little statutes of robins, bright birds, and bits and bobs Bruce knew Jason would have loved had he been alive out of his pockets.

“It should be more colorful,” Dick murmured as he placed them artfully against the headstone.

They sat there, for a while. Dick glanced at… at Bruce’s hand, and settled down.

It’d been a while since they’ve spoken, but he knew what the man intentioned to do today. This will be the most Dick will have heard Bruce speak outside of his civilian obligations.

Bruce took the cue and gently opened Jason’s book. He’d bought it for Jason- the first gift- and he’d read it to Jason every night. Dick had a similar book.

“Call me Ishmael. Some years ago- never mind how long precisely- having little or no money in my purse…”

——

A boy with black hair and blue eyes wandered amongst the graveyard. They’ve been here for a while, and the man’s low rumble was soothing to listen to. The shades that hung about the graveyard settled as he read out loud from the book as his son sat quietly beside him.

As the boy, invisible and intangible, brushed his hand against the gravestone, he wondered why they were reading to an empty grave.

——

Dick had left long before Bruce did.

And when it was time to go, as stars began to climb and as the cold began to nip at his fingers, Bruce heard a quiet voice.

“Do not stand at his grave and weep,” and Bruce turned, recognizing the poem. “He is not there. He does not sleep.”

But there was no-one.

[podiumnorris]

Paper Rings | L. Norris

In which they allow themselves to become undone in each other's touch, and enter a new phase of their relationship.

word count: 5,9k | warnings for mature content (18+); protected sex, fingering, a small nod to a breeding kink, inexperienced reader and lando (but they try their best), possible offensive language, other than that just lots of fluff | prompt(s) used: s35 and s31

Accidents. You hated them. But while normally associated with unpleasant events, for once in your life it had been good. It wasn't intentional that you met Lando Norris and became friends, but eventually, he had unexpectedly asked you out.

You had encountered the young Brit at a party of a mutual friend. You despised parties, and after you had arrived and greeted the birthday girl, you became to realise why; everyone was high off their asses.

It had barely been twenty minutes into the party, and you had already found yourself alone at the bar with a glass of sugar-free Coca-Cola. You did not like drinking alcoholic liquids, and you had thought you were the solitary person in this building to be feeling like this until you saw a young man sit about three metres away from you - most likely drinking the same exact drink as you did.

“I’m Lando,” he had said as he caught your eye, walked up to you and extended his hand for you to shake. “I take it you are not a frequent drinker either?”

Your rosy cheeks flushed while you shook your head, quietly confirming his thoughts. He looked stunning; bright eyes taking all of your attention from the loose blouse and neat trousers. And then to come back to the curls atop his head; you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

After talking with Lando for the rest of the memorable night, you ultimately felt your social battery run out and decided it was time for you to go, much to your dismay.

With his beaming smile and plumb lips shaping around his teeth, he gently assured you that it was no big deal, and if you had wanted to, you could meet up another time. There wasn’t a single doubt inside your mind when you have him your number, and he promised you he would send you a message after offering you a ride home, which you politely declined.

You had gone home that night, head in the clouds, and your fingers itching to look the youngster up on the internet. He had let it slip that he was a driver, though you weren’t certain for what. Was he a taxi driver? Bus driver, perhaps?

Whatever it was, you were too curious not to look it up. He had to have a social media page somewhere, and with a name like that it shouldn’t have been hard to find. Therefore you eagerly searched for his name; Lando. You hadn’t quite gotten his last name yet, so after searching past a certain star wars character, you finally saw his familiar face pop up on the glowing screen. You frowned thoughtfully. He was a Formula 1 driver. You weren’t so sure how he had managed to avoid that topic altogether, but it caused you to appreciate him even more.

It was about two to three months and a few cat and mouse games after that, around Valentine's Day, that he had asked you out. In the few months of being friends, you weren’t entirely sure what you had done to deserve such a kind human being in your life, but you accepted his invitation, nonetheless.

Therefore there you were; happily together for five more months - except this time as a couple. And it couldn’t have been better.

The both of you decided to take it slowly; neither of you had a lot of experience, and you certainly didn’t want to rush things that didn’t need to be rushed.

He had asked you to accompany him at races a couple of times, but you kindly declined each time. You felt like it was invading his personal space, like barging into an office when someone's at work. He could dismiss your thoughts as much as he liked, but it wouldn’t convince you. ‘Some day,’ you had promised.

Denying his kind invitation to his home race felt wrong, but you just weren’t ready. And he accepted that. So, you had made a comfortable spot on your sofa, windows open, and an iced tea in your hands while you watched the race weekend on your television.

You practically screamed when your boyfriend put his orange and chrome car on the first row. The season had been incredibly harsh for both McLaren drivers, but it ultimately seemed they were getting close to where they formerly stood.

And then, the race. Never in a million years would you have thought he would lead a race this year. It only was for a couple of laps, but he managed to pass the reigning world champion during the start and was ahead of the Dutchman even before the first corner.

The race was intense, and you had long forgotten your prepared drink and snacks on the table. But when Lando crossed the line in second place, you almost felt joyful tears escape your eyes. You could contain yourselves, wanting to seem strong for nobody in particular.

In the middle of the podium ceremony, your mum sent you a quick text, ‘he bloody did it again’, and you could no longer contain your tears. You took photos of your television screen, acting as if you did join him during this race. And oh, how you wish you had.

He called you as soon as he was finished with the media duties, like he always does, and talked you through his racing thoughts of the past three hours. And you could do nothing but listen intensely.

He went straight home to you after he was no longer required at the track, your apartment being a small four-hour drive from Silverstone. You had told him he could take some well-deserved rest first, and visit you the day after, but he just desperately wanted to see you.

After a few hours of eager anticipation, you heard the door open, concluding your boyfriend had let himself in with the key you had given him just the week before.

You shot up to meet him in the middle of the living room, where his suitcase and shoes had already been long left at the door. Your socks-covered feet tried their best not to slip from underneath you, and you embraced Lando in an affectionate hug, his arms finding their way around your waist immediately, resting his hands on your lower back.

You took in his scent, cologne mixed with shampoo from his shower after the race. He wore a hoodie from his newest merchandise collection, and you mentally scolded him for dressing like that with the heat hanging over your country.

“I missed you so much.” You told him, and you had. You always had to miss him for a couple of weeks at the least with the races, but he promised he would come back to you. And he always did.

“I’m here, love,” he murmured into your neck, his warm breath causing a shiver over your back. “And so did I.”

“You did so well.” You whispered tenderly, trying your best not to sniffle right then and there. But he caught onto it.

“Hey, hey,” he pulled back from your embrace, causing your hands to slide down to his chest, his palms resting on your cheeks. “Are you crying?”

You chuckled. Of course, you chuckled. How could you not? This man made you laugh with almost every single word he said, even when he tried to be serious.

“Guess I’m just a little overwhelmed,” you looked him in the eyes, those mesmerising irises looking back at yours - concern mixed with a smile. “It’s been a tough mental day, but seeing you back on that podium again -“ you paused for a brief second, a lump forming in your throat, trying your best not to fully let your tears fall. “It was all I could have asked for this weekend.”

He smiled. Genuinely smiled. He could barely afford any other emotion around you than genuine happiness, and you reciprocated that feeling.

“I did it for you,” he smiled, thumbs caressing your cheekbones, and you suddenly felt weak in the knees. His intense gaze, perfect smile, and lips wettened from the times he occasionally ran his tongue along them.

You weren’t exactly certain what came over you, but you grabbed the collar of his sweater, pulled him down to your height and embraced his rosy lips in a loving kiss.

He was taken aback, sure. But it merely took him a few seconds to answer your gesture and deepen the kiss even more.

“You didn’t just do it for me, and you know that.” You giggled as you pulled back for air, and he could barely open his eyes, still captured in the haze of your presence.

“Well, I also did it for you.” He answered, in that tone that he has when he’s excited, where most of the internet won’t be able to decipher if he’s crying or just genuinely laughing. But of course, you would know.

You looked at him, lips red from your kissing, and you chuckled once more. You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you almost wondered if your eyes turned into heart shapes.

“Lando,” you breathed, his name being just a singular word, but it came out more shaky than ever. “I think I’m ready.”

He was at a loss for words. In the months you had been together, neither of you had initiated the following step of intercourse. And neither of you felt the need to. It’s not like you and Lando had never done this before. This undoubtedly wasn’t your first relationship. But you had thought this fell under the term of taking it slow, and the desire just had not been there yet.

Until now. And he didn’t know what to say.

“If you don’t want to, we can just-“ “No, no-“ he cut you off, trying to come up with the right words. He did want to, but it just didn’t come out. Your gentle smile started to turn into a frown.

“I do,” he started. “I want to, I-“ he was flustered. And slowly, your nerves started to fade, and a smile came back to your face.

“Lando,” it was now your turn to place your palms on his cheeks, resulting in his landing on your hips. “Easy. No need to get so nervous.”

He let out a profound sigh of relief, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

You clasped his dampened hand, leading him to your bedroom. It hadn’t been the first time he entered this part of your small apartment, and neither had it been the first time he had been in this bed. But this time it was different. And he wasn’t certain if he should be nervous or excited about this next step.

You looked outside the window above your bed, the moon coming to stand high in the unclouded sky as the sun said a quick hello to its other half before starting to strike the horizon and taking the light with it.

The golden hour had started, and somehow it made you experience all kinds of things for this intimate moment.

You sat down on the bottom end of the twin-sized bed, pulling Lando down with you so he sad next to you. You experienced a tingling sensation between your legs, but you weren’t entirely sure how to start acting on it.

And then you did. Unknown courage entered your body, whether it was lust or braveness, you weren’t certain. But you carefully placed your lips onto his, after which he immediately returned the favour.

You carefully stood up, Lando wanted to follow your eager actions, but you gently pushed him back down on the bed and sat on his lap, a leg on each side of him.

His graceful hands landed on your hips, your hands on his warm face, as you both battled it out for dominance into the kiss. It wasn’t rough, but both of you were desperate.

Lando decided to take a bit of control, messily picking you up and gently lowering you onto the soft covers of your bed, not breaking the kiss as he came to hover above you.

When you broke apart for air, you reassuringly smiled at each other and loving eyes never breaking contact.

“You know, Carlos told me the other day that -“ “Lando, shut up about Carlos right now.” You cut him off as you passionately kissed him again, this time hungrily trying to pry his hoodie off of him, but failing miserably.

He broke the kiss, lifting himself up and taking off his neon yellow piece of clothing, only to reveal yet another piece in the shape of a t-shirt.

“I swear to god, you are going to be suffering from a heat stroke someday.” You chuckled at the man above you, delivering him a look and he took the hint and undid himself from his shirt as well before leaning back down to capture you in another kiss with a smile.

He didn’t answer your humorous remark. But he didn’t have to. You knew he wouldn’t listen anyway.

You allowed your hands to roam over his chest, down his abdomen and towards his joggers. But, before you could reach the hem, he stopped you. He gently shoved your hands away as he reached for your shirt, and you took the hint to sit up and assist him.

Breaking the kiss for no more than a few seconds, his lips were on yours again after successfully removing your piece of clothing and you took off your bra before laying back down.

Nerves settled in your stomach and Lando could immediately sense it.

“Hey, love,” he broke the kiss to look into your eyes, barely glancing a single look at your exposed chest just yet. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I know,” you smiled at him and reached up to cup his cheek and gently stroke the area with your thumb. “I want to. But it’s been a while.”

He did nothing but smile at you. That warm, loving smile embracing all of the unique features on his face, the smile that got you head over heels for him in the first place.

“Okay,” he chuckled. “Can I?” He finally gestured to your chest, and you nodded before biting your lip and letting go of his warm cheek.

Lando gave you a final kiss to your lips, before finding a path down your neck, towards the valley of your breasts. He placed his tongue around your left nipple while taking care of the other with his strong fingers.

A contented sigh escaped your lips, and you could feel him smile against your skin as you let your fingers glide through his soft curls. The hand that was caressing your breast hesitantly left its spot, and like it had a mind of its own, travelled down to your own joggers. Lando loosened the knot in the strings which were used to keep them up, and his mouth left the spot on your other breast.

He travelled down, placing delicate kisses on your stomach on the way, causing your hands to glide from his hair and land next to you on the mattress.

He shot you one last questioning glance, and you slowly but eagerly nodded, and he grasped this as his sign to carefully undo you from your pants.

Much to your dismay, Lando took his time. Your joggers slid off your thighs with ease, and you felt his delicate and strong fingers glide over your sensitive skin. You shivered out of sensual pleasure, and your boyfriend looked up with a sly smirk. Your thighs were one of your most sensitive spots, and his gentle touch sent goosebumps over your body. He now knew that, too.

When one of the final pieces of fabric had been taken off your body, Lando gently tossed it towards the chair in the corner of your room, where his sweater and both your t-shirts and his hoodie had previously ended up as well.

You looked at him as he stood at the edge of your bed, and you couldn't decide what you desired to do more; hide yourself from his intense gaze, or let your mouth water at the sight of his trained torso.

Lando, however, didn't allow you to think twice and was soon quick to hover back above you and plant another kiss on your reddened lips.

His wet kisses went towards your neck, to a certain spot just below your ear, towards the place your neck and shoulder meet. You felt his tongue on your skin, rosy lips surrounding the wet sensation, as he forcefully sucked on the spot.

Your right hand flew towards the nape of his neck, right where his hair ended, and tried its best to eagerly grasp whatever it could find.

Simultaneously, your other hand ended on his side, your touch tickling his exposed skin, and he couldn't help but chuckle.

Another sigh unwillingly escaped your lips at the sensation, and he got back up to examine your eyes.

Your pupils were heavily dilated, your breath was unsteady, and sweat started to form on your forehead near your hairline. But he couldn't help but look at you adoringly.

"Can I touch you?" Lando asked, a charming smile still plastered on his face. You could barely answer. Your chest felt incredibly tight, and your mind was filled with just one word as you looked at the man above you; love.

It frightened you. Absolutely terrified you. Neither of you had shared the three most famous words yet, and you certainly didn't expect it would take this to deliver them into your mind.

Feeling like you've let your boyfriend wait long enough, you eagerly nodded before giving him one last kiss.

Lando looked at the purple reminder on the side of your throat with a proud smile before he let his hands wander down towards your underwear. His eager hands slipped into your panties, a quivering breath escaping your lips as his thumb put pressure on your small bundle of nerves when he found it.

With one final look of approval, he slid off your panties with ease and stashed them with the rest.

His fingers caressed your thighs before finding their way towards your core. He slowly made his way towards the part where you desired him most, but not before teasing the whole area, naturally causing you to let out a frustrated groan.

Lando chuckled. Actually chuckled. It wasn't the first time he had done this tonight, but you never believed sex could actually be funny. And it made the experience all the better.

He finally thought you had had enough teasing for the night, and he carefully entered you with his pointer finger.

To be absolutely honest, he had no idea what he was doing. He tried to memorise stories from others or books he had only half read and then tossed them somewhere randomly, but he never came close to doing it like that himself.

Anticipating your reaction, Lando added another finger when he noticed you clenching around the bare minimum. He moved, slowly but steadily, and small moans began to erupt from your throat.

"Is this okay?" Lando asked after a few strokes, looking up at you to await your reaction.

"Apply pressure with your thumb, right here." You informed him, moving his hand in the slightest and repositioning it to your liking.

And once he applied pressure to the part where you needed him most, and hit a good spot inside, you were almost done for.

Your head fell back into the pillows while he felt his fingers gain more wetness from your core, and your hands reached out to grab a hold of his hair but were met with nothing but air.

He took the hint of your desperate gesture, slightly moving his head towards the direction of your hands as they were still grabbing around for him- like a child reaching for its toy.

You pulled on a particular strand of his soft curls, and he wasn't certain whether he groaned out of pain or pleasure. But, after detecting the sounds that escaped your lips, he was sure it definitely must have been the latter.

"Y/n," Lando breathed as he looked up, meeting your distracted gaze. "Your pretty sounds are like music to my ears, and I could listen to them all day."

You let a slight laugh escape your lips as your head fell back, and you gave another loving tug to his hair.

"Lando," you mimicked his tone, another quivering breath leaving your lips as he continued his pleasurable pace with his fingers. "I- I kinda need you now, are you ready?" You could barely speak, too distracted by the feeling between your legs and the butterflies that erupted through your entire body.

"I think I am," he said as he retreated his fingers, awkwardly looking at them as he secretly swiped them off on his joggers. "Might need a few- uh- strokes. But I think we should be okay."

We.

This was the moment you were about to become one, the final parts of your bodied finally exposed to each other.

"Do you have any condoms?" He asked, and you recognised the minor change in his voice; he felt awkward.

And you totally reciprocated the feeling. There was barely anything more awkward than sharing this kind of intimacy for the first time, being new to each other's likes and pleasures, and having to find out what turned the other on.

You sat up and leaned on your elbows before pointing at the closet on the other side of the room.

"They're in there, uh, top shelf." you stated, and he clumsily walked over to the piece of furniture. His eyes widened at the sight when he opened it and felt a sudden wave of redness taking over his whole body.

"There's- you have a full box of them?" He said as he grabbed the box and turned to you. You fell back, hands covering your flushed face.

"Diane gave them to me a couple of days after her party," you mumbled, a sigh escaping your lips. "She saw us talk and, well, yeah. You know her." A simple 'oh' had left his lips before he grabbed one chrome-looking package from the box and placed the rest back.

"Well, at least we have them." He laughed awkwardly as he returned to the bed, a shaky 'yeah' coming from you as a response.

You retracted your arms as you saw him sitting next to you on the bed, the golden light from outside perfectly framing his features.

The golden hour was made for him.

And you were the lucky one that had him in their bed.

Lando undid himself off his joggers, not caring enough to put them with the rest- so he just left them where he took them off. His boxers followed soon after as he sat back down on the soft covers of the bed.

You barely dared to look, but eventually, you did. And you carefully reached for his member, gently wrapping your fingers around the length. You looked up to search for a look that would tell you he was uncomfortable, but it was the contrary. He sought his best intentions to hold in a moan, but as you started to move your hand, he failed miserably.

He, in turn, reached back between your legs to bring back that on-edge feeling you almost felt before he stopped.

Warming up to each other, Lando retracted his hand, grabbed onto the wrist of your hand that was working on his member, and placed it beside your head. His fingers felt slick, once more covered in the wetness of your own arousal.

Gently, he came to a position in between your legs, leaning on his knees and his hardened length halfway towards his stomach.

He messily tried to rip the foil package in two, barely succeeding but ultimately held the condom between his fingers before rolling it onto his member.

Lando leaned forwards, and he placed his hands on either side of your head, your legs locking around his hips and your hands finding their way to his sides.

"At any time, please tell me if you're uncomfortable, okay?" he said, and you nodded eagerly before responding, "Same to you."

You closed your eyes as he wettened his tip with your arousal and carefully entered you. It wasn't pain that rushed through you, but it did feel unpleasant. You placed your hands on his chest to halt his movements and took your time to adjust to the new feeling of your boyfriend inside of you.

When you opened your eyes, you were confronted with the most caring and loving gaze you had ever encountered. You knew Lando wasn't experienced, and neither were you, but he genuinely cared so much about your well-being. It made this new experience so much better.

"You can move," you told him after about half a minute. "God, please do." He smiled at you before placing a delicate kiss on your lips, and he carefully started to move.

The feeling soon turned into pleasure for both of you and suddenly, neither of you could get enough of each other's touch.

Kisses were messy, loose strands of hair were being pulled, and nothing could ever beat this moment of being intimate with your partner for the first time. Lando made it perfect for you.

After a couple of strokes, you experienced a vaguely familiar sensation building in the pit of your stomach and a tingling feeling coming from your core.

But, you weren't quite there yet. Therefore, you grasped one of his hands and assisted him towards the part where you needed him the most. He took the hint, placed his thumb on your clit, and started making figure eights on the little bundle of nerves. It wasn't perfect, but it worked, and his name started rolling off your tongue more than once.

And it was the same for him. Watching you unravel in pleasure caused by him, your breasts bouncing with each move of his hips like you were a machine tangled in each other. And at that moment, it felt like you only worked with each other.

Your soft walls gripped around him, and he was afraid he wouldn't last much longer, but for you, he would try. For you, he would do everything.

"Lando, please move faster." His unique name escaped your sensual lips in a hurry, a mix of sighs and groans barely making it clear what you were saying. But he understood and got on with it.

"You feel so good," Lando said as he started building up a quicker pace. "Please tell me what you want. What you need."

"Anything, everything," you breathed, grabbing his hand that was working on your clit, and gently pulling him back up to get him into your line of view. "Kiss me. Kiss me like you mean it."

And so he did. It wasn't pretty; teeth clashing, lip biting. But it was everything you could wish for.

When Lando started to chase his own orgasm, he instinctively picked up his pace and twisted it into a couple of rough trusts. He wasn't certain what came over him, and for a second, he was anxious this might not be as pleasurable for you as it was for him. But all his worries faded as soon as you pulled him into an embrace, and he fell atop of you, his face buried in your neck, and you vaguely mumbled a couple of words;

"You can have my babies." You told him. He wasn't entirely sure where that came from, but simultaneously, he wasn't complaining.

You, on the other hand, felt embarrassed. You clasped a hand over your mouth and mumbled a scared 'I'm sorry' to your boyfriend.

He retreated from your passionate hold with a reassuring smile, caressing your rosy cheek with his strong fingers. His pace slowed down a bit, but he didn't stop. And that eased your worries the tiniest bit.

"Don't apologise," he chuckled. This man, you thought. He can laugh about everything. "Though I'm not entirely sure where that came from, it might be a little too soon to be thinking about babies."

"No, please, I don't,-" you desperately sighed after taking your hand from your lips. "I don't want any babies. It just happened, I felt hot and my mind took me somewhere else and I just-"

"Ooh! So you have a breeding kink!" Lando exclaimed joyfully, and you felt your face redden at his blunt words. His movements halted, his hand returning towards the back of your neck as he rejoined your embrace.

"Do not fucking speak about this," you said as you hugged him back, feeling his bare skin against yours increasing the pressure between your legs. "In fact, don't mention it for another while. I don't want to think about it."

"As you wish." he smiled, and you were internally grateful he made no big deal about it and didn't find it the biggest turnoff in the bedroom. Everyone has their kinks. You just didn't expect yours to come out during the first time with your current boyfriend.

Lando picked his pace back up, and the feeling in your stomach returned as quickly as it faded before. You let your hands roam through his hair, caressing the back of his neck, as he started pushing in with stuttering thrusts, each of them slow and deep instead of harsh and sloppy.

You tactically moved your hips, trying to find that little fiction from his pelvis against your bundle of nerves, but your desperate movement caused him to reach that spot inside of you.

"Oh- oh my god." You instantly moaned, and Lando came back slightly to look at you, asking if you were okay.

"Definitely. More than alright," a faint sound of a passionate sob escaped your lips as he continued hitting your pleasantest part, a smirk forming on his lips. "Right there, right there."

He felt satisfied with himself. For a second, he was that proud boy who couldn't handle losing. And he felt like he had just won his favourite game.

"Right there, huh?" he teased you, and you quickly nodded before he kissed you again. However, because of your shortened breaths, neither of you could maintain a kiss as Lando picked up his pace and tried to both chase his own high and bring you to yours.

Your foreheads touched, lips just inches away from their other half as the both of you breathed through your mouths to get more air.

Lando shot a brief glance to where your bodies met before he could barely hold on to his pace and started to get sloppy.

You thanked nobody in particular that you had randomly come across a professional athlete. Because no other boy had ever even come close to the stamina the one above you had. nobody gave you the right amount of pleasure. None of them listened to your needs, and most importantly, none of them had ever given you relief.

Your walls tightened, white noise filled your ears, stars came through your vision and you softly clawed on Lando his arms as your high washed over you.

This was how it was supposed to feel.

Lando let out a particularly deep groan, grunting in your ear as your name left his lips, and he released into the condom. The feeling of your orgasm was simply too much for him, but he wished this moment would’ve lasted forever.

For a precious second, everything went quiet. No sounds filled the room except for your shortened breaths, and you took the time to just look at one another. Both of you were smiling contently, and you caressed his cheekbones with your fingers. Lando closed his eyes, simply enjoying your touch, and you looked at the spot where his lashes met his glistering skin.

“Lando,” you started, and he opened his eyes to meet your loving gaze. “I think I-“ You could barely let it out, afraid of what might change. Did he even feel the same way? Did you feel that way? Or was this just the heat of the moment for you, and would you wish you could take back your words right after you said them?

“I love you, too.” Lando finished your sentence, adding the last part to let you know he did feel the same way. You chuckled and pulled him down towards your lips, giving him a kiss that held more words than you could ever speak.

You quickly became to realise Lando never pulled out, and his sudden movement caused you to tremble lightly, suddenly feeling overstimulated by the feeling between your legs.

“I love you, but I’m getting a little overwhelmed here.” You grinned up at him as you pulled apart, after which he replied a quick ‘right, sorry’ and carefully pulled out of you immediately.

A gentle sigh mixed with a moan left your lips at the friction, but Lando got up and went over to your bathroom to toss away the condom and returned with a dampened washing cloth so you could clean yourself.

You looked at him with adoration as he re-entered your room, eyes lingering on his trained abdomen and once more realising how good looking this man actually was.

“See something you like?” Lando said as he handed you the cloth, and you carefully cleaned your core and made sure not to touch any sensitive spots.

“Certainly,” you said as you got up and headed towards the bathroom as well, causing your boyfriend to frown in confusion. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’m just going to pee. Does wonders for your health.” You gave him a wink as you turned the corner while biting your lip to contain another laugh.

You were happy

Lando laughed at your remark before putting his boxers on and turning on the nightlight next to your bed. He slid under the covers, quickly checking his phone, though he didn’t find anything worth replying to.

Once you returned, you also put on some clean panties and joined him under the covers of your warm bed.

You shot a glance at your phone on the nightstand, lighting up with multiple alerts of missed calls and messages, but you weren’t worried about them for a second. The only thing you saw was the name of your friend in the notifications and decided to briefly look at what she needed but didn’t care about responding.

Please tell me you finally fucked.

He ended p2!! P2 darling!!

That has to be the perfect moment for a celebration.

She was unbelievable. Of course, this had to be her way of asking, so blunt yet totally in her style. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“What is it?” Lando asked when you put your phone back on the nightstand and snuggled into your pillows, your gaze pointing at the ceiling.

“Diane,” you simply answered. “I don’t think any more context is needed.” He let out a small chuckle at that, immediately knowing what you were implying.

“I take it she knows her box came in handy, then?” he replied, and you just nodded.

You looked over at him, laying on his side and not breaking his stare at you. His head fit perfectly in the pillow underneath him, and he looked so comfortable that you could nearly cry.

“I love you.” You said, this time officially and quietly, and he was happy to respond.

“I love you, too.”

You hated accidents. Except when you went from friends to this.

[snapnov4]

marry me | gojo satoru

synopsis: a bad idea disguised as a practical joke turns into something way deeper than you intended it to be.

wc: 1.1k

cw: just good ol fluff!

a/n: happy late birthday to my baby daddy and man of my dreams gojo satoru. i have to marry this man. i have to i have to i have to. anyways. enjoy reading this cute little fic i wrote, meaning i thought abt gojo proposing as a joke and vomited this out. enjoy!

it starts, like all things involving gojo satoru, with a bad idea disguised as a practical joke.

you're sitting across from him, in a restaurant that’s not too fancy, more of a family-type deal. he's forgone his blindfold in favor of his square-framed glasses, but his uniform is still on. he insisted on treating you to dinner after you exorcized an unregistered special grade on your own. however, with gojo, things can't always be so easy; he always adds his patented gojo twist to things, and this time the twist is this terrible joke.

“come on, it'll be funny!” he whines, from across the table.

“you want to propose to me in this restaurant for free food? when you make well over six figures a year? and have full access to thousands of years of old clan money?” you ask, incredulously, reaching to take a sip of your drink, suddenly wishing you had gone with a stronger option.

“yes, exactly. what's not clicking?”

“uhmmm, all of it?”

“look it'll be funny. you could even say no, then you can run out and i get free food as pity points,” he smiles at you, and you find it hard to keep saying no. “i mean, they'll probably all call you heartless and tell me i deserve better but that's fine.”

“okay and if i say yes, what about a ring? or the fact that we're not even together? how is anyone going to believe you?” you ask, thinking you've backed him into a corner, until he just sighs softly, keeping an easy smile, and reaches into his pocket. he pulls out a black velvet box, and shakes it a bit by his head.

“you think i hadn't planned for that?” he asks, smirking in your direction, trying to hold back laughter at your aghast expression, you drag a palm over your face, finally conceding.

“okay. fine! fine! just…try not to embarrass me. please?”

“no promises! also the waitress is coming this way, so get ready. tears are optional but preferred.”

you roll your eyes at his statement, your gaze following him closely when he stands up and walks over to your side of the table. you look around desperately hoping that no one will actually have their attention drawn to you but the thing about gojo is wherever he goes he commands attention. consequently, when he stands at a whopping 6’7 everyone’s already looking, and when he drops down on one knee in front of you, holding that little velvet box in front of you, you catch people’s smartphones shooting up immediately, great. and you're sure the vision of jujutsu’s strongest sorcerer, taking off his sunglasses and holding up a ring box to you would haunt you forever. you think right under reverse cursed technique in his list of talents, they should add acting, because the look in his eyes almost feels real.

the way your name falls so delicately from his lips, before he clears his throat, feigning nervousness. the way he struggles at first to look you in the eyes, the ring sparkling in the dim lighting. he starts:

“you are truly the most beautiful woman i've ever met, inside and out. to know you and love you is a pleasure too great for words, and i want to continue living in it every day. will you marry me?” you roll your eyes, but the smile across your face is genuine, maybe he was right, maybe this is funny. so you have no issue, saying yes, throwing your arms around his neck as he spins you around, delicately sliding the ring onto your finger. the two of you giggle all the way back to jujutsu tech, containers of your free leftovers in hand.

and so it becomes a tradition.

satoru continues to propose to you every time the two of you get the chance to have dinner together, and despite all your better judgment, you laugh and say yes every time.

and what started as a joke, turned tradition, starts to morph into something else.

satoru notices it on a summer day. you're out with the students, supervising them as they spar. the sun’s been beating down for days, he's standing beside you his eyes trained on your hands. your left ring finger has a tan line, it's from that ring. you're not wearing it, you returned it to him last night, forgetting to give it back after dinner and then desperately trying to get your schedules to align for at least five minutes, but he'd been out of town for a week and when he finally got back late last night to find you working on paperwork in your office, he didn't know why it felt like his heart sank when you slid the ring off and put it in his hand.

now, the box feels heavy in his pocket (when did he start carrying it all the time?) and he looks at you with so much adoration that had his blindfold not been on, he'd look like a love-struck puppy to any passerby. you'd been wearing the ring so much it's left a mark on you, it's obvious you'd been wearing it, the tan line a stark reminder that it was there; and something about it makes satoru wish he could make the next proposal permanent. you turn your head to him, smiling softly.

“the first years are something else this year, gojo, did you see yuuji and maki spar? they're going places,”

and he's not sure why but before he can stop himself he's blurting out:

“let me take you on a date.”

you sputter and falter, turning fully to look at him, “are you being serious?”

he nods, that goofy smile of his making you weak to his every whim, it's the same one he gave you that night at that dinner table; the same one that made you start this tradition.

so he takes you out, and then that becomes a tradition. still every day, he thinks of the way that ring looked on you whenever he slid it on your finger, and how he felt rejected every time you gave it back. he'd clear his schedule if he knew he could have dinner with you, just to see the smile you couldn't stop whenever he got down on one knee.

satoru doesn't propose anymore. he figures the next time he does it, he should be serious about it since you're his girl now. on a tuesday night, you're sitting with him on the couch, your legs are thrown over his lap and he looks at you, focused so intently on a book you've been dying to finish, the bookmark always staying near the end as you get called into emergency exorcisms, and he knows. he fishes that ring out of his pocket, the same one he gave you in that restaurant almost two years ago, and there's no fanfare, no cameras, no theatrics. he just opens the box, looks at you, and says,

“hey baby, let's get married.”

and just like the first time, you smile and say yes.

[sporadicbeans82]

Reader’s dad has really high standards for her like impossibly high for just a 16 year old, and she overworks herself to the point she passes out and all the girls are really concerned and she’s just like no i have to keep going i have to be better i have to be enough and then they all press her for more info and then when she eventually tells them about how she’s feeling they all comfort her and tell her playing pro soccer at that young is amazing and that she’s enough]” Barcelona Femini (mainly Alexia Putellas) or Arsenal WFC

You 100% do not need to write this just would love to see your talented writing skills give this a shot���

Enough || Barcelona Femení x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, toxic family relationships, lack of self care from reader, Swearing (probably?)

Word count: 4.3k words

A/N: I lied, this was next. Feel free to make more requests. I hope that this is alright, anon! I kind of strayed from the plot.

“You should have scored more, you didn’t try hard enough,” Your father’s voice was flat, the comments made offhandedly as if he were talking about what you were having for dinner. As if he weren’t stabbing you in the back with his words, the comment digging deeper and deeper and cracking your heart open. “That header was yours, you disappointed your team by letting that one go.” 

Growing up, you’d always dreamed of playing professional soccer, and so your parents had supported your dreams. They drove you to each of your games and training, and helped pay for you to go to an academy. They helped you get to your national camps, made and packed nutritious food for you, and supported you in each and every way that they could.

You stuck to your dreams and overcame so many challenges to get to where you were. You’d learned from the best, had run into injuries, had laughed with friends and had lost those friends as they’d given up the dreams that all of you had had. You’d thought about giving up, too, especially when your mother had been diagnosed with cancer.

She’d fought tooth and nail to stay alive, working hard to still help you become the best player that you could. She continued to support you with your father, up until the point where she was far too weak to continue doing so. She’d gone to every single one of your games, even when she felt sick or like she didn’t have the energy, and for that you were determined to make it worth it for her. Little did you know that watching you was your mother’s greatest pride, and she would not allow her sickness to keep her from supporting you.

And so you stuck to the sport, even when your friends did not, and it had all paid off in the end. In the summer, you’d signed for Barcelona Femení, the day after your sixteenth birthday. Your mother was there for your signing, beside your father. That day, she promised you that she would watch your first game with Barcelona no matter what.

She hadn’t made it that long, dying only a few days later. You’d taken the loss hard, but it was your father who had taken it the hardest. Your father had hardened in ways that you hadn’t anticipated, becoming cruel and harsh. He seemed to have given up hope, the bags beneath his eyes dark and puffy. 

He was a shell on the man that he’d once been, and it showed in the way he now treated you. After the loss of your mother, he’d drawn into himself and away from you, and you found yourself so much lonelier than you had ever been.

The team had been there for you, allowing you to take time off and letting you know that they had psychologists and people to talk to if you had needed it. It took you a week to return.

When you were finally mentally ready to move on and begin participating in training sessions, it was now your captain, Alexia Putellas, who drove you to practices. 

Your father no longer attended your matches, no longer worked hard to ensure that you got all the support that you deserved. Instead, he sat at home and mourned the loss of your mother. The truth was, you were both hurting, but you had to be strong in hopes that your father would soon bounce back.

He never did.

You hadn’t told any of your teammates, but the stress of the situation was getting to you. It showed in your performance and the way you trained in all of the worst ways. You were exhausted, emotionally and also physically as you had troubles sleeping at night. You wanted a hug from your mom, wished that she was there to tell you that everything would be alright.

But she wasn’t there, which was the entire problem, and she would never be able to do that again. 

And so things continued as they were for several months. The pressure grew onto you, far too much for your young shoulders to carry on their own, but you forced yourself to remain strong. You worked harder than you ever had in your life, attempting to be enough for your father and to try to make your mother proud as you’d promised her. 

Foolishly, you dreamed at night that you could bring your father out of the deep pit of depression he’d fallen into. Maybe, if you tried hard enough, he’d realize that you really were good at soccer. Maybe he’d wake up and realize that you needed him still, but the truth was that a part of him had died when your mother had, and you would never be getting him back. 

You’d basically forced him to come to your match, begging him for weeks on end to come to at least one. Ironically, it was the first time you were being trusted to start for your team as well. It was supposed to be a special match, commemorating everything that you and your parents had ever worked for.

You’d hoped that he would come out of his shell if he returned to a little bit of his old life. You��d been wrong, as the second you’d stepped into his car, he was throwing insults and critiques at you. 

He was nothing of the man you’d grown up with, and it hurt you like no other pain you’d felt in your life. Even breaking two bones in your leg at thirteen didn’t compare to the pain in your chest, hollowed out by month after month of loneliness and pain. You felt like your heart, once full of love, had been scraped empty of any positive emotion that it had once felt, and your father held the scalpel. 

You tried arduously to tune your father out, trying to focus on the positives of the match as your father drove. 

You’d won the game!

“You relied on the other defenders far too much to cover for your careless mistakes.”

You’d made an amazing tackle on a player who had skirted past Ingrid Engen! It had earned you a shower of applause from the watching fans and a proud peck to your forehead from Ingrid herself!

“You were too slow, you need to be faster, like Batlle.”

Alexia had told you that she was proud of you!

“You aren’t good enough for this team, God knows why they chose you.”

You weren’t aware of the tears which fell down your cheeks, and your father ignored them. You didn’t know why he was so intent on breaking you down after years spent building you up. You missed how life was before.

You missed your mom.

As your father pulled into the driveway of your childhood home, you hopped out. Before a sob could break free of your quivering lips, you were bounding up the steps to your room and closing the door behind you. You flopped down on the bed, all of the emotions which had bubbled beneath the surface coming out in ugly, whiny gasps and cries. 

Your heart burned, as if scorched. You had never felt so empty, so dark, and so lonely. You wanted someone to hold you, and you didn’t know who to turn to anymore. You cried yourself to sleep, although you only managed to get a few meager hours of sleep before you were awoken by some recurring nightmare.

-----

You barely managed to drag yourself to training, exhausted. The dark bags beneath your eyes stood out starkly against your pale skin. You were dressed in a jumper and sweatpants, both of which used to be an appropriate size but which now hung off of your tired frame. 

As Alexia picked you up, she noted your exhaustion with a small frown. 

“Hola, chiqui. Estás bien?” Her voice held a certain concern which was almost enough to break down your walls. You yearned so badly for a sense of comfort, and the which Alexia looked seemed to offer that.

You forced yourself to turn towards the window, not wanting to break down in front of your captain. Your father’s words from the past few months wore heavy on your mind. You were a disappointment and a burden, and you didn’t want Alexia to tell Jona that the team didn’t need you and decide to release you. You wanted to be enough, and you had promised yourself every night that you would be better, you just needed a little bit more time. 

Alexia frowned harsher, nearly locking the car and forcing you to talk to her, but deciding against it. She didn’t want to push you, but she’d noticed that you weren’t okay for a while. 

She’d taken note of the way you always did extra laps and repetitions of each of their workouts. She watched you participate in extra opportunities to practice penalties and how you stood behind after each training for at least an hour to do more work. She knew you were exhausting yourself, could see it in the way you could barely stand. 

She didn’t understand why you pushed yourself so hard, given how good you were. She tried to give you advice, to compliment you whenever she could and saw how you absolutely beamed under any sort of praise or compliment, as though you didn’t get it enough. 

Over the last few months, she’d taken on almost a mentoring role to you. You looked up to her, and she could see how you held each of your teammates in such high regard. For whatever reason, however, it just didn’t seem to stick in your mind that you were of the same caliber as each excellent athlete within the team. 

As she watched you turn away from her, she realized she would need to confront you soon. It was obvious that you weren’t taking care of yourself, but she didn’t want to do it now, not when you were blocking her out as hard as you could. She would need backup, probably from the other captains of the team, and made a promise to herself that she would do it later that day.

Instead of confronting you like she yearned to do, she stayed quiet and allowed you your peace. She watched as, ever so slowly, your shoulders sagged and your body untensed. You’d fallen asleep, and Alexia turned the music down a little bit to try to make the atmosphere easy to sleep in. 

Alexia noticed how the harsh lines in your face relaxed as you slept. You looked more peaceful than she’d ever seen you. She hated that she had to wake you up as the two of you arrived at the training center. 

She parked as gently as she could before reaching over and gently shaking you awake. You groaned as she did so, almost turning away in such a careless, teenage way that Alexia had never seen you do. You always seemed so much more grown up than you were supposed to be, even more so than Claudia or Pina or Vicky, all of whom were older than you. 

“‘M not ready yet, Mom.” You rumbled, and Alexia froze, the frown on her face deepening. She’d tried to be there for you, having lost her own parental figure in her father. She knew the pain that you felt all too well.

 So not to be mistaken for the woman who you’d just lost, Alexia spoke up this time as she shook at you again.

“Despiértate, nena. We are here.” You startled awake, the barriers which had dropped as you slept appearing once more as your face tightened again, a frown set upon your face which mirrored Alexia’s.

You thanked her quietly before climbing out of the car, purposefully walking ahead of Alexia so that she couldn’t ask you any questions about your slip up.

You entered the locker room near-silently, the hood of your jumper up to cover the vast majority of your face. You ignored the looks you got from each of your teammates in favor of quickly getting dressed for training.

As you went to tie your shoes, you realized you were, yet again, crying.

You’re too emotional. Words of your fathers’. Your teammates wouldn’t like you if you showed emotion in front of them. You pushed the fabric of your sleeve against your cheeks, leaving red marks behind with how harshly you rubbed at the salty tears. 

Then, to try to remain inconspicuous, you bent over to tug your shoes on to your feet. You thought you were successful, but hadn’t anticipated how much you’d struggle with your laces. Your exhaustion mixed with your lack of breakfast had caused your hands to shake.

Each time you’d try to make a loop, your quaking fingers would pull too hard or drop the lace altogether. 

All of your teammates noticed your struggle, but it was Paños who stepped in. The older woman knelt down at your feet, hands wrapping around your own and holding them for just a second. Her eyes looked up into yours, noting the tear stains on your cheeks and giving you a comforting smile. 

Then, she refocused on your shoes and began to tie them for you. The rest of your teammates watched on anxiously, although they continued to prepare for training and tried not to stare. The truth was, everyone could see that something was going on with you and that you weren’t okay, but they were scared to upset you by saying anything. You already seemed too tiny and isolated and they walked on eggshells around you.

Each of your teammates yearned to be there for you, but they didn’t know you well enough to know how to be there for you. 

Paños finished with your shoes before standing, holding both of her hands out for you to take. She tugged you to your feet easily, one arm wrapping around you in almost a motherly manner.

The woman was usually seen joking with the younger kids, but with you she had taken a different role, like Ale. 

“Listos, nena?” The goalkeeper asked you, voice soft and comforting. Like Alexia, her voice nearly caused you to break down. You felt your shoulders shake beneath the weight of Sandra’s arm and resisted the urge to turn and hug her like you would have your mother.

You wanted comfort, but your father had convinced you time and time again that you didn’t need it and that you’d be a burden if you sought it out, and so you nodded and pulled away.

You walked out onto the field and began to stretch. You kept your head down, suddenly more numb than you’d felt in months. You ignored the way your stomach clenched with hunger and the way your head had begun to ache and sting from your lack of sleep, proper nutrition, and all of your crying. 

You didn’t look up, even as more of your teammates filtered out to join you. Claudia and Patri stretched next to you, trying to provide jokes for you to laugh at. They didn’t stop even as you didn’t react, continuing to try to cheer you up in the only way they knew how at the moment.

When a whistle sounded to signal the beginning of warmups, you stood instantly. Too fast, however, as your world tilted and spun around you. It reminded you of the first time you’d ever tried alcohol on your fifteenth birthday. 

An arm wrapped around your waist and you regained your balance against the firm body of one of your teammates.

“You okay?” You heard someone ask. Looking up, you caught the concerned glance of Ingrid Engen, who had also taken you under her wing when you’d joined the team. You nodded, pulling away from her, too.

So many people had touched you in the past hour, more than you’d had since your mother had passed away. You almost didn’t know how to react to all the comforting touches and glances, having not received them in so long. 

Ingrid watched on sadly as you walked away from her, the concern which swirled within herself increasing as she watched you wobble away. Ingrid had noticed how out of it you were, how tiny you had been in the clothes which had fit you a month ago. You were pale, more than normal, and the way you’d nearly passed out showed Ingrid that you were not fit to practice. 

The Norwegian caught Alexia’s gaze from across the yard, shaking her head at the Spanish captain to try to convey that you shouldn’t be training.

Sensing that something was wrong, Alexia began to make her way over to you. As she did so, however, your legs finally seemed to cave in from underneath you.

None of your teammates would ever be able to get the image of your crumpled figure on the turf as Alexia and Ingrid both ran to you. The rest of your teammates watched on as the medics were called over.

You were turned on your back by Alexia, one of her fingers touching at your throat as they attempted to find a pulse. It was thready and uneven, but there, and Alexia wanted to cry. She cursed herself for not confronting you sooner, more worried than she remembered ever being as the medical staff pushed her back to give your crumpled form more room.

Alexia had been the one to recommend you to the team, having attended one of your matches for Spain’s U17 match. You’d played up and had still outclassed so many of your teammates, a solid wall in the backline which your teammates depended upon. She’d seen the glimmer of excitement and determination in your eyes, one that you’d lost since the passing of your mother.

She felt like this was all her fault. If she had just spoken to you sooner and had investigated what was going on with you… then, maybe, you would have been okay. She felt as though she had failed you and her responsibilities as a captain to ensure your safety.

You’d become a skeleton of the incredible human that you’d once been, and had watched all the life drain from you while being unable to do anything about it. As you were placed upon a cart to be carried off the field, however, Alexia promised that she would be there for you.

You were wasting your life away, and Alexia was determined to figure out why.

-----

You awoke in a dimly illuminated room, your throat dry and your eyes feeling like they’d been doused with sand. You groaned, attempting to lift your hand as you slowly game through to try and brush at your forehead. You felt cold and sticky all at once– you didn’t feel well at all.

Your hand was caught on something, and you attempted to bat at it only to have your hand caught by something else. As the room slowly began to swim into your vision, you caught the familiar brown eyes of your captain. 

“Hola, capi.” You rasped, and Alexia’s concerned face brightened ever so slightly, a small smile gently pulling her lips upward.

“Hola, chiqui. Como estás?” Alexia inquired, her voice far gentler than you’d ever felt.

“Not very good,” You whispered honestly, feeling like shit. You were tired of fighting, tired of feeling like you weren’t enough. You were ready to be honest about how you felt, no matter if the people around you would stop loving you as your dad promised that they would. “What happened?”

“You passed out.” This voice was different, coming from your left. Slowly, your head fell sideways and you caught the glance of Ingrid. The girl looked more worried than you ever had seen her, and you felt truly terrible for worrying the older woman. 

“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say to that. You knew that you hadn’t been feeling very well for a long time, but you’d been too scared to mention it to anybody but your father. The man who was supposed to keep you safe had failed you in all ways possible, but you didn’t see it that way.

You felt like you weren’t enough and that it was you who had failed, and that you didn’t deserve comfort or love because of it.

Alexia sat up, the motion causing your gaze to come back to her.

“Do you want to tell me why you haven’t been taking care of yourself?” Alexia speaking English took you by surprise. You supposed that it shouldn’t have been that surprising, but you knew that the girl seemed to almost avoid speaking the language. Her voice was still low, comforting, and still worked at lowering your barriers ever more.

You had to resist the urge to throw yourself in her arms and blubber like a baby. You reminded yourself that they would remove you from the team, that they wouldn't accept you, that they would see you as weak.

However, the way Alexia held your hand, her grip comforting and sure, made you think that… maybe… your dad was wrong. Maybe they did care. 

“I…” you hesitated, and felt someone put a hand on your shoulder. Glancing over, you realized that Paños was there, too. You caught her concerned gaze, the small smile on her face, and heard her tell you that it was okay. 

It was then that you realized, all of the adults that you trusted most in the world, that made you feel better when you were at your worst, were there for you. They were here for you when you were lower than your lowest, and if they hadn’t left when you’d fallen on your face on the field, then they wouldn’t leave now. 

That thought gave you the courage to tell the truth, and so you did. 

The girls listened throughout your story. You told them how low you felt, how scared you were. You told them that you missed your mom, but so did your dad. You told them that he’d become a shell of the man he’d once been, that he’d become cruel and harsh– everything that your dad was not. The girls’ faces were stormy, but still they worked to comfort and reassure you in every way that they could.

By the end of your retelling, you were crying, but so were they. 

You were utterly exhausted as a yawn broke through, revealing your exhaustion to the other girls. It was Alexia who spoke first, frowning at you.

“We are here for you, no matter what. We will fix this.” Her words were hard, but not harsh. They were a promise, one that you trusted. “Sleep, we will be here when you wake up.”

“I’m okay.” You retorted. Truthfully, you were terrified. You were scared that they would leave after trusting them with the information and words that had burdened you for months, just as your father had promised you.

Sensing your nervousness, Alexia gently slid up and onto the bed, taking her time and giving you plenty of room. 

As soon as the older woman had sat herself up, careful of the IV in your hand, you moved. You buried yourself against her, an arm wrapping around her back as your face buried itself in her shoulder. Alexia, ever so carefully, wrapped her arms around you in return. 

She pressed a warm, careful kiss against your forehead, and allowed you to cry into her shirt. She did not care about the way your tears wet the material, reassuring you in a spattering of both English and Spanish words. Ingrid and Sandra stepped out to give the two of you privacy, although they would be back for you. They would never leave your side, not now that they knew what you’d been going through.

Alexia continued to hold and comfort you in the ways that you’d yearned for months, her touch gentle. 

That was how you fell asleep, and how you woke up hours later. Despite the amount of time you’d spent in the spare room of the training center, Alexia had stayed. She had not allowed anybody to wake you up, having come to the conclusion that she would never allow your father to speak to you ever again. 

That night, she took you to her home, which she shared with her girlfriend, Olga. There, they cared for you.

Alexia made sure that you spoke to a therapist, and that you never saw your father again. She supported you in the ways that you deserved, and in the ways that you'd lacked since your mother had passed away.

Slowly but surely, Alexia saw you return to the kid that you’d once been: determined, carefree, and stronger than you’d ever been. 

Freed from the confines of your father’s sorrow, you were able to soar. You rose to levels of success that you’d only ever been able to dream of, and you stayed true to your promise.

You made your mother proud.

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Happy 107th Birthday

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -> “𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.“

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 -> 1941 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -> 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

𝐀/𝐍 -> 𝐃𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 @imtryingbuck. 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡. 𝐒𝐨𝐨𝐨𝐨 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇, 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐄.❤️❤️

𝐀/𝐍 -> 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 107𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 107𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 107 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐥𝐝. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 @buckybarnesevents 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲𝐬 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲. 𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐲 @firefly-graphics.

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 -> 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲𝐬 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐡 | 𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐖𝐒 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲, “𝐈’𝐦 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.“, 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 @buckybarnesevents

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

His ocean blue eyes finally light up again when he smiles. His lips curl up, and it reaches his eyes; the way he smiles is real; and all that because he has his beautiful doll, who loves him more than he could ever have wished for. The way the giggles leave his plump lips lets you shiver, and when he laughs, he makes people around him laugh too. Who thought that the broken man he was could turn into the happy and cute man he is now? His brown hair is short, his muscles are glistening with sweat, and when he turns around to face you, he has the prettiest smile on his face you have ever seen.

“Have you seen that, doll?” he asks, happy and excited while he holds up the engine for Sam’s boat.

He just lifts it off the trailer and places it next to it on the ground. Sam rolls his eyes playfully while you laugh.

“Yeah, Buck. She doesn’t even get her eyes off of you,” Sam says, laughing but with a playful, disgusted expression.

The man picks up some smaller things and brings them from the trailer to the boat. Bucky is still standing in front of you and smiling widely. You giggle and blush softly, especially when Bucky walks closer to wrap his arms around you.

He never thought he would deserve or find someone who loved him. Someone who never even dared to think about judging him, someone who understands his anxiety, his nightmares, and his past. A woman - like he says, - as pretty as the moon and the stars. Who's smile shines brighter than the sun, which can light up the darkest nights. Bucky needs you like the moon needs the sun to glow. When your fingers trail softly over his body, or every time he is around you, he feels that tingling feeling he has only with you. When his lips meet yours for the softest kisses the two of you can share and your arms are wrapped around his waist, all those small gestures of yours mean so much more to him. Bucky enjoys and loves those, and especially you, like nothing else. He never dared to imagine that someone would touch him in a soft and loving way, that someone would accept him and support him in the way he is.

“You’re not better than me, Sammy,” you shout, and you make Bucky chuckle against your neck.

“Don’t call me that,” Sam laughs and turns towards you; he then smiles mischievously. “I’m not screaming his name while I come all over his dick.”

“She doesn’t just come over my dick. My doll has at least two orgasms before she gets my dick to scream my name when she comes over it,” Bucky says, proudly of himself.

You gasp, looking at him with wide eyes and red cheeks. Sam laughs loudly and winks at you, making you blush even more. Before the two of you were together, Bucky would never have talked about his sex life or personal things in general like that, but the way you make him a better person lets him talk and make jokes about his sex life. Bucky’s arms slide up and down your sides, and he leaves kisses all over your neck. Then he looks into your eyes, and you get lost in them, the sun reflecting inside of them, making them even brighter, and the smile on his face grows. His hands slide higher until he reaches your face, capturing your cheeks softly before he presses his soft, warm lips on yours. Your stomach tingles, letting you smile into the kiss. Your hands find their way to his waist.

“Get a room,” Sam says, rolling his eyes, while he walks closer to the two of you.

Bucky looks up and smirks. One of his hands slides down your back until he reaches your ass, and he squeezes it softly.

“Buckkkkk,” you squeal.

You make both of the men laugh, and Bucky kisses you once again.

“We’re going to dance tonight, so we’re going to change clothes now. Come on, doll.”

You smirk and walk with Bucky to Sarah’s house.

“You look so beautiful; you know that, do you?” Bucky asks, his suit fitting perfectly and his eyes brightening in the light.

You giggle softly, walking closer to him. Before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you as close as possible, his lips trail along your jawline and your neck. His hands are warm, making you melt in his embrace. His kisses and the way he looks at you are almost hypnotizing, but full of love.

“Thank you; you’re beautiful too,” you mumble, making him chuckle against your soft skin.

“Ready to dance with me?”

You nod, taking Bucky’s hand in yours, and then the two of you walk out of the house. He kept his eyes on you the entire time, admiring you. It feels like the lights show just the two of you; everything around you is quiet while you walk to the club where he asked you to go out with him. His big hand is around yours, warming your skin; his warmth is rushing through your body; and you can’t stop yourself from smiling. When the two of you reach the club, he opens the door for you and lets you walk in first before he follows you.

It’s just a small room, but there's enough space for a bar and to dance. The music is perfect for Bucky, while the air in the club is warm and smells like alcohol. You immediately pull Bucky with you to the dance floor and place your hands around his shoulders. His hands find their way to your waist, and the two of you move slowly to the sound of the music.

“Not a drink before we dance?”

“We can drink later, but it’s one of your favorite songs, Buck,” you mumble, and you smile even wider when his eyes light up because you know it’s a song he loves.

He doesn’t say anything; he just leans closer to kiss you before he places his head on your shoulder. Your head rests against his shoulder as well, inhaling his scent. His embrace feels like home, and you know you’re safe with Bucky. It’s just the two of you. The love of your life and you. The two of you dance a while until he pulls you along with him to the bar, ordering your favorite drink and some snacks.

“Doll?”

You look around, meeting his beautiful blue eyes. He suddenly has an expression on his face where you don’t exactly know what to think of; he looks unsure, like he used to do before he met you. His smile is real, but his eyes don’t brighten the way they used to when he looks at you.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you ask, worried.

“Nothing, i-it’s. I really thought it would be easier to ask that,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck.

You smile, waiting for him to continue talking about whatever he wants to ask you. Your smile is kind, not pressuring. And Bucky can’t help, but his smile grows when he admires you. He then swallows harshly and runs his fingers along his neck - like always when he gets nervous.

“I- You know I love you, do you?”

“Yes, and I love you too, Buck,” you say, softly laughing.

His eyes light up, his smile grows, and he feels stronger than ever before. He feels finally complete with you.

“And- Oh, Doll. I mean- In front of the mirror, it was easy, but now I feel like my tummy is going crazy,” Bucky mumbles, smiling shyly. “I love you so much, so much that I feel like I can fly when I’m around you. When we first met, I never thought you would love me the way I am. I never thought someone would love me in general. But then there was that beautiful, nice, and most adorable woman I have ever seen - you, my doll. My heart was beating so fast, and it’s still beating fast when I’m around you. With you, I’m able to be the person I always wanted to be. I’m happy, and that’s because of you. I would probably still be a grumpy old man if I hadn't met you. But happily, we meet, and you love me the way I love you- I- I still can’t believe how happy I am with you. You’re the love everyone is wishing for, but only a few people will find it.”

Bucky smiles, taking your hands and getting on his knees in front of you. Your mouth immediately falls open; his blue eyes are piecing in yours, and the smirk on his lips makes you shiver slightly. Your breath hitches, and while he takes something out of his pocket.

“And I wanna ask you if you- my doll - do you want to marry me?”

Tears fill your eyes suddenly, and your hands are shaking while Bucky opens the small box and exposes a small, shining ring. Everything around you is quiet, and everyone is staring at you, waiting for you to respond.

“A-Are you sure about it? I mean, y-yes I want to, but Bucky, please don’t feel you have to. I love you an-“

“Yes. I just finally know what I have to do, and I know in my heart that it’s right,” he says confidently, taking the ring to slide it on your finger.

“Buck-“

He interrupts you when he gets up and captures your cheeks with his big, warm hands. He leans closer and smirks before he presses his soft lips on yours. The moment your lips meet, something inside of you, like a soft sigh and a shiver, runs through your body. The tears that are streaming down your cheeks are nothing but pure joy.

“I love you so much. You make me so happy,” he says, his light blue eyes shining like the sun.

“I love you too, Bucky. So much, and-“

You interrupt yourself by kissing him. That kiss says more than words could ever do, the love, the trust, the happiness, and the warmth between the two of you. The people around you are cheering loudly, and then the music turns on again. Yours and Bucky’s favorite song, and he immediately pulls you with him on the dance floor, holding you close and dancing slowly.

When it’s midnight, you lift your glass to look around. All your friends are there, and Bucky stands in front of you. His smile is bigger than ever, and while he looks at you, there is pure adoration and love in his eyes.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SOLDAT, THANK YOU FOR JOINING THE 107th. HAPPY 107th BIRTHDAY, MY FAVORITE GRUMPY MAN!” you shout and smirk at your fiancé.

He shakes his head but presses kisses all over your face, while the others laugh and congratulate Bucky as well.

“Thank you,” he mumbles. “Do I get my present now? I would like to have you naked in our bed. What do you think?”

“But you need to unwrap your presents.”

“I will. Or do you wanna take off your clothes by yourself?”

When you shake your head, his lips trail along your neck, and his fingers dig into your soft skin while he guides you out of the bar. Bucky licks his lips, hitting softly into your neck and smirking when Sam says something like, “Have fun, but don’t scream too loud, while you cum at least two times before you cum all over his dick.”

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨

𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬

┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛

Taglist: @sergeantbarnessdoll @kandis-mom @nicoline1998enilocin @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @bucky-barnes-lover @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @lives-in-midgard @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry

[proxima-writes]

I’d like to request a boyfriends dad fic where reader is on vacation with their family and Joel gets handsy with her but she convinces herself it’s okay. Then when her boyfriends ditches her Joel fucks her. Bonus points if boyfriend comes back super drunk while Joel is fucking reader and Joel just puts his hand over her mouth and continues fucjing her and bf passes by them but doesn’t notice 🤷🏻‍♀️

Just some thots…if it inspires you a fic/Drabble would be awesome

I may have....gotten carried away with this one.

title: karma is my boyfriend's dad

pairing: boyfriend's dad!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6588

summary:

Your boyfriend, Sean Miller, is an asshole. The one redeeming thing about him?

His dad, Joel Miller.

And he's just invited you along on the family vacation to Panama City Beach, Florida.

author’s note: thank you for the request!! this was a fun one. my 1000 follower mark is quickly approaching and i cant wait to do something fun for it! thank you for all your support and love so far 💕

content warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, alternate universe - boyfriend’s dad, age difference (21F and 56M), power imbalance dynamics, infidelity, asshole boyfriend, alcohol use, sunscreen as a flirting mechanism, reader wearing a bathing suit, touching in public, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, almost getting caught, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), thigh riding, sex against a door. let me know if any are missing!

Sean Miller is a shitty boyfriend. He constantly ditches you to hang out with his frat brothers, he’s left you at parties by yourself, he’s forgotten birthdays and anniversaries and, to top it all off, he’s never made you come. You’ve been with the guy for two years and not a single orgasm in all that time. 

You deserve better. You deserve orgasms. 

The only redeeming thing about Sean is his dad, Joel Miller.

Joel is the textbook definition of a DILF. He’s tall and broad with dark curly hair streaked with gray and kind brown eyes. Even approaching the upper fifties in age, he’s built like a tank. Wide shoulders and biceps that stretch his flannel shirts to the point where you’ll sometimes sit there willing a thread to pop, his thick thighs and a tight ass always hugged by the most sinful pair of Levi’s. 

But besides looking like sin, Joel is kind. There’s been more than one occasion where Sean had forgotten your plans, leaving you waiting at his house where he still lives with his dad and Joel would always take pity on you and invite you to watch a movie with him, the two of you sitting on opposite sides of the couch while he played a comedy to cheer you up. On your birthday, he sent you a Starbucks gift card and a text when his own son didn’t even remember. When you would update him on how school was going, he’d always pat your shoulder and say, “‘Atta girl.” 

That last memory in particular always makes your tummy erupt with butterflies.

In the last few months, things with Sean have been especially strained. He’s started hiding his phone from you, flipping the screen face down anytime you’re within arms reach of him. On the rare nights he spends at your apartment, he’ll get calls that he insists on taking privately.

Honestly, you were more than ready to end it before Joel caught you in his kitchen one day and asked if you wanted to come with him and Sean on their vacation to Panama City Beach.

“Really? I thought this was supposed to be, like, a guy’s trip?” You ask. You stayed the night last night and Sean was still asleep, always one to sleep until noon if given the opportunity. Joel is making coffee while you sit at the bar.

Joel shrugs. “I’m sure he’d want his girl there. You two can party and leave the old man behind for his bedtime,” he says with a playful smile that makes your heart flutter. 

“I appreciate the offer, Mr. Miller, but there’s no way I can afford a ticket to Florida right now.” You reach for the cup he offers, only for him to pull it back out of reach.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover everythin’,” he replies. “Say yes and you can have your coffee.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t want to be a burden.”

Joel’s fingers brush against yours as he hands you your warm mug. A shiver runs down your spine at the contact.

“I’m positive, darlin’.”

________

Joel knows that his son treats you like shit, and he fucking hates it. He’s tried to talk some sense into the kid but all his wisdom just goes in one ear and out the other. He has to pretend that he doesn’t hear him bringing other girls over and it eats him up inside because he wants you to know, wants you to have better, but if he tells you, he’s severing the one tie he has to you and what then? He’s fifty-six, over thirty years your senior. He’s lived over two lifetimes in the course of your one. There’s no way in hell you’d look at him twice, and that’s not even including the fact that he’s your boyfriend’s dad.

Joel’s not sure what possessed him to invite you on vacation. You’re right, it was supposed to be a guy’s trip, a gift from Joel to Sean for his twenty-first birthday that was unfortunately right in the middle of his finals. He knows damn well Sean is, in fact, not going to be happy that you’ve been invited along. He’s certain the younger man fully intended to turn his hotel room into a revolving door for women he picked up at the bars along the beach, one time flings he could write off before returning home to a sure thing.

He tells Sean about the change of plans that evening over dinner. His son whines petulantly, slamming his fork down on the table.

“Dad, seriously? Why the fuck would you invite her, this is gonna ruin everything,” he says. 

“Shouldn’t be talkin’ ‘bout your girlfriend like that,” Joel admonishes. Sean rolls his eyes.

“She doesn’t even put out anymore, I don’t even know why I keep her around. I should just break up with her before the trip.”

Joel’s jaw clenches with frustration. “I already bought her ticket. She’s comin’ whether you like it or not and that’s final.”

“Fuck this shit,” Sean says, chair scraping across the floor as he stands. “Whatever. Won’t stop me from having a good time.”

Joel’s counting on it.

________

Joel and Sean pick you up from your apartment at 4 am for the 7 am flight to Florida. Your boyfriend is passed out in the front passenger seat, but Joel shakes him awake and tells him to get in the back. The younger man grumbles but does as he’s told while Joel helps you load your luggage into the bed of the truck. The trip will last four days, so you’ve squeezed everything into a single carry on and your backpack. 

After all, it’s Florida. You plan on spending every day in a bikini.

Sean passes back out as you settle in his vacated seat, placing your travel mug of coffee in the cup holder besides Joel’s. He gives you a polite smile as he puts the truck in reverse, placing his arm on the back of the seat and twisting to look out the rear window, his other hand deftly turning the wheel. 

You can’t help but squeeze your thighs together, your core already aching at his proximity. 

You’re in for a long four days.

_______

The three of you make it through airport security quickly, the early hour lending some reprieve from the crowds. 

“Why is this flight so fucking early?” Sean grouses, slumped in one of the uncomfortable terminal seats. 

“Did you want more or less time in Florida?” Joel replies, flipping through his newspaper.

“Whatever,” Sean replies with a roll of his eyes, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up and burrowing into it.

You return from your quest for breakfast at that moment, a white paper bag in your hands and a bright smile on your face as you sit between the two men.

“I got you a bagel,” you say to Joel, pulling a plain bagel wrapped in wax paper from the bag.

“You get me anything?” Sean asks, peeking from beneath his hood. Your shoulders drop.

“Oh…no. You don’t usually eat breakfast,” you reply. Sean groans. “We can share mine?” You offer.

“No, it’s fine, whatever. Thanks for thinking of me.”

Joel’s brow pinches in irritation, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he watches your smile fade into a frown as you look at the bag in your hands. He nudges you with his shoulder.

“Hey, I appreciate it,” he tells you quietly. You give him a tentative smile.

He misses the bright one.

________

“I call window,” Sean says when the three of you have boarded the plane, flopping into the seat after haphazardly tossing his bag into an overhead compartment without waiting for a reply. 

Joel fixes his son’s bag before settling his own beside it and turning to hold a hand out for yours. You hand your duffel over to him with a quiet, “Thank you.”

“Which seat do you want, darlin’?” Joel asks you.

“I can sit in the middle,” you offer, scooching past him in the tight space. Your back brushes his chest and he catches a whiff of your strawberry shampoo, the scent making his mouth water.

He sits beside you, tucking his backpack beneath the seat in front of him. Your thigh brushes his as you get comfortable in your seat, the row a tight squeeze for the three of you. 

“How long is this flight?” You ask, pulling a pair of headphones from your backpack. Sean’s already unconscious again, his head tilted against the window and his mouth open in a snore.

“‘Bout two hours,” Joel says. You nod, shifting in your seat again. Your shoulders knock into his when you do, and you give him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. Tight fit,” you tell him. He swallows around the lump in his throat.

He can think of something else that would be a tight fit.

The flight attendants go through their pre-flight duties and take-off occurs without any issue. When they give the green light to use electronics, you pull out your phone, cursing when the screen remains black even as you hit the power button.

“My phone died,” you explain. He smiles sympathetically.

“You wanna watch a movie on mine? I downloaded a couple,” he offers.

“Sure. We can share my headphones?”

“Good idea.”

Joel plugs your headphones into the jack on his phone and passes you the right earbud before sticking the left one in his own ear. He queues up a movie, some action film called Triple Frontier that seemed interesting based on the synopsis, and holds the phone on his lap. You lean into him, that strawberry scent settling over him once again.

You keep fidgeting in your seat, twisting and readjusting your upper body against the arm rest between your seats. After the third time, he reaches down and flips it up, your body slumping closer to his. When he looks down at you, your face is tilted up towards his and he has to concentrate very hard to keep his gaze trained on your eyes. 

“Thanks,” you whisper before returning your attention to the movie. “Hey, that guy kinda looks like you.”

________

The flight passes quickly, much to Joel’s dismay. He would have liked to keep sitting pressed up beside you for longer. 

At the car rental facility, Joel gets handed the keys to a Jeep Wrangler. Sean’s eyes light up when he sees it.

“Can I drive?” He asks. 

Joel sighs. “Fine, just be careful would ya?”

Sean lowers the soft top before hopping in the driver’s seat. Joel insists that you sit in the front passenger, because he’s a gentleman, but he quickly regrets the choice.

With the top down and the music blaring, Sean is in a relatively good mood. He’s smiling at you and even reaches over to grab your hand, pulling it towards him to press a kiss to the back of it. Joel can feel the tug of jealousy in his gut as he watches you smile back at him but there’s nothing that he can do about that.

After all, you’re Sean’s girl.

And he’s just going to have to live with that.

________

Sean is standing behind you with his hands on your hips, lips trailing kisses along the exposed skin of your shoulder in your tank top while Joel is speaking with the hotel clerk, checking into the rooms. You squirm away from Sean’s attention, the man dropping his hands from you and frowning.

“Why are you being such a prude?” He snaps. 

“I’m not being a prude,” you say with a sigh. “Your dad is right there.”

He tries to pull you back towards him with an arm around your waist. “Come on, babe. He’s probably already heard you moaning my name,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Not likely, you think. 

“I just don’t think it’s appropriate.” You step out of his grasp again as Joel approaches, holding three key cards.

“Room 102 for the two of you,” he says, handing two of the cards to Sean. “And I’m in 104, if y’all need anything.”

“Great,” Sean says, grabbing your hand. “Come on, let’s go put our stuff away.”

You trail behind Sean, but can’t help looking back at Joel.

You’re surprised to find his dark gaze already fixed on you.

________

“Come on, let’s go find a bar,” Sean whines. You’ve just left the bathroom after changing out of your travel outfit of leggings and into a bikini and a sheer cover-up dress.

“It’s so early. I highly doubt there are any bars open. Besides, I need to charge my phone,” you tell him, packing a tote bag with your sunscreen, a book, your copy of the room key, and your sunglasses. “Why don’t we go to the pool?”

“It’s PCB, babe, there’s bound to be a bar open,” Sean says with a roll of his eyes. “But if you wanna be boring then by all means, go to the pool.”

You sigh. “You do whatever you want, Sean.”

He grabs his wallet from the nightstand, shoving it into his pocket. “Fine. I will. Come find me when you’re done being such a fucking bitch.”

The door slams behind him as he leaves, the sudden noise making you jump in surprise.

You can’t even find it in yourself to be upset.

________

Joel’s just opening the door to his room when he hears his son’s raised voice across the hall. He freezes, the door half open as he listens.

“Fine. I will. Come find me when you’re done being a fucking bitch,” Sean says before slamming the door. 

Anger courses through Joel’s veins as he listens to his son’s heavy footsteps echo down the hall. He takes a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth, before opening the door fully and crossing the hall to knock on your door.

When you open the door, you look surprised to see him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Joel has to make a conscious effort to not let his eyes wander your body. He can see the neon pink strings of your bikini tied around your neck and god does he want to see more.

He clears his throat. ���Hey. Everythin’ alright?”

“Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine. I was just about to go to the pool,” you tell him.

“I’ll come with you,” Joel immediately offers without thinking.

“If you’re sure. I don’t want to get in the way of any plans you had, Mr. Miller,” you mutter.

“I’m sure.”

________

Joel sets some hotel towels on loungers positioned beside each other on a sunny part of the pool deck. The pool is fairly busy and to your surprise there’s a live DJ and a bartender is already making a steady flow of drinks behind the poolside bar. The pool itself is huge and even boasts its own lazy river that you’re looking forward to floating down.

Your attention is dragged to Joel once more as he reaches for the hem of his t-shirt, lifting it up. Your mouth goes dry as you watch his back muscles work, rippling beneath miles of tan skin that you want to trace with your fingertips. 

You shake your head free of thought and remove your coverup while his back is still turned, stuffing it into your tote bag you’ve dropped beside the lounger. You pull out your sunscreen and sunglasses, slipping them over your eyes to combat the harsh Florida sun.

When you look up, you’re surprised to find Joel already watching you, gaze fixed squarely on your chest. You clear your throat, wiggling the sunscreen bottle at him.

“You want me to get your back?” You offer. 

“Sure. Thanks,” he replies, voice rough. You have to fight the urge to rub your thighs together for relief from the ache between them, your brain conjuring scenarios of that deep timbre in your ear telling you how good you feel around him. 

He sits on the lounger with his back to you, waiting for your next move. You squirt some sunscreen into your palm, rubbing your hands together before smoothing it across his back. His shoulders tense briefly at the first touch of your hands before he goes lax against you, his head dropping as you smooth the lotion on him.

You get lost in the feeling of his skin beneath your fingertips as you drag your hands over the broad muscles of his back and shoulders and down his spine. In a moment of bravery, or stupidity, you let your fingers drag the tiniest bit beneath the elastic of his navy swim shorts, just enough that it could be passed off as an honest mistake. 

When you’re finished, you hand the bottle to him over his shoulder. He takes it silently, lathering the rest of his body while you adjust your lounger flat and lay face down. You reach behind your back, tugging at the strings of your bikini until they fall to the side.

“Could you do me next?” 

________

Joel takes a seat on the lounger, his hips brushing yours. He’s hard as a fucking rock in his swim shorts, has been from the moment you opened your hotel door wearing your sheer coverup, pink bikini taunting him beneath.

It was a stupid fucking idea to ask you to come to the pool with him. He was clearly thinking with the head in his pants and not the one on his shoulders because he didn’t stop to consider that he’d be getting a front seat to the soft skin of your thighs and tummy, the curve of your waist and ass and breasts on full display for him to commit to memory. 

And now you were asking him to touch you. Giving him permission to have his hands on the same flesh he imagines when he’s gripping his cock roughly in his palm and chasing an orgasm that offers hardly any relief. 

He swallows nervously before uncapping the sunscreen and squirting it directly on your back. You give a little yelp of surprise, the lotion no doubt unexpectedly cold, but you settle back down when he smooths a palm across your back. 

You’ve untied the strings of your top, leaving him with no obstacles as he works the lotion into your skin. He loses himself in the repetitive motion, smoothing his hands across your shoulders and down your spine like you had done to him. He lets his thumbs press into the divot of your lower back, fighting the urge to drag them beneath the scant bit of fabric covering your ass.

As he finishes, he drags his hands back up your sides, his fingertips dragging across the soft skin of the exposed sides of your breasts. He feels the hitch in your breathing as he does and he worries for a moment that perhaps he’s gone too far. 

“Thanks,” you say, voice breathy. “Would you mind getting my legs for me? I don’t want to get up.”

Joel thinks he should mind. He should absolutely mind being asked by his son’s girlfriend to rub lotion into her back and legs. The action is too intimate, it’s crossing a line and he knows this.

He just can’t bring himself to give a fuck anymore. 

Wordlessly, Joel squirts some more sunscreen into his palm, this time warming it between his hands before smoothing it on your legs, starting with your calves. He slides his palms up your legs, high enough that his fingertips brush the crease where the curve of your ass meets your thigh. Your legs spread just the slightest bit and Joel lets his thumbs drift toward your inner thighs.

He’s playing with fire now as he presses his thumbs deeper, higher, the tip of one even grazing your bikini bottoms. He desperately wants to slide it beneath the elastic, to drag his thumb through your slit and find out if you’re wet just from the touch of his hands.

But Joel pulls his hands away and stands, moving over to his own lounger and laying facedown on the towel covered cushion. His dick presses uncomfortably into his thigh and he uses that discomfort as a means to will the hardness away.

He’s in for a long four days.

________

Your pool day with Joel runs from the early morning to the late afternoon. Neither of you hear from Sean during that time, but you can’t find it in yourself to be bothered. Not when Joel Miller is sitting beside you in an inner tube, floating down a lazy river as you talk about everything and nothing, drops of water clinging to his skin and catching the light. You could stay in a moment like this forever so long as he’s there, too.

As the intensity of the sun starts to wane, Joel suggests finding somewhere to get dinner.

“Pick somewhere nice, though. My treat,” he says as you’re parting ways at your hotel room doors. He doesn’t give you a chance to reply, shutting his door and leaving you smiling in the hallway like a girl with a crush.

You let yourself into your hotel room, not surprised to find it empty. Your phone is still sitting on the charger with no new notifications. The part of you that’s been in a relationship with Sean Miller for two years feels a pang of sadness at your boyfriend’s silence.

The part that wants to fuck his dad doesn’t give a shit.

You shower and change into a sundress before slipping your sandals back on. Checking the time, you grab your bag and head to the lobby to meet up with Joel.

Joel’s already in the lobby, leaning against the wall near the exit and scrolling through his phone. He’s wearing a light blue short sleeve button down that hugs his biceps deliciously, the tan of his skin popping against the fabric, his usual boots, and khakis. You were almost certain this man didn’t own anything besides perfectly broken in Wranglers. His hair is combed back, still damp from his shower, and he looks so good you have to consciously stop your jaw from dropping.

“Hey, you pick a place?” Joel asks as you approach, slipping his phone into the pocket of his pants. 

“There’s an oyster bar nearby that looks good,” you reply. He holds the door open for you, broad palm ghosting across your low back as you exit the cool hotel lobby and out into the hot Florida night. The traffic on the sidewalk is thick, people moving like the nearby ocean as they ebb and flow from place to place. 

“You hear from Sean at all?” Joel asks as you navigate the crowds, his arm brushing yours as he sticks close to your side. You shake your head and Joel sighs. “I’m sorry. I love the kid, I do, but goddamn if he doesn’t piss me off sometimes.”

You sigh. “It’s not your fault, Mr. Miller. You don’t have to apologize for him.”

You’re both quiet after that. You don’t know what’s going through Joel’s head as you sneak a glance at him and catch only his furrowed brow and tense jaw. 

You nearly pass the restaurant in your distraction, but Joel catches you by the arm, tugging you with him to the entrance.

It’s a cute little bar and restaurant, the kind of place that’s cozy without being horribly cramped. The lighting is dim and booths line the walls while tables sit in the middle, candles flickering and casting shadows on the walls and across the white tablecloths. 

The hostess seats you at one of the booths, tucked away in the corner. You sit across from Joel, setting your bag beside you after digging your phone out from it. When the waitress walks away without leaving menus, Joel looks adorably confused. 

“You have to use your phone,” you tell him with a giggle. “They have the QR code menus.”

“I’m gettin’ too old for this shit,” Joel complains. You roll your eyes, standing and moving over to his side of the booth, settling beside him. His thigh presses to yours and you’re acutely aware of the contact as you lean close to share your phone screen with him. 

When the waitress returns, you place your drink and food orders. Joel opts for whiskey, neat, and a medium rare steak because you can take the man out of Texas but you can’t take Texas out of the man. You order a spicy pineapple margarita and a plate of herb crusted oysters.

You should probably move back over to the other side of the booth, but you don’t want to. The feel of his body pressed to yours lights up your nerve endings in an unfamiliar way, his clean woodsy smell settling over you like a comforting blanket. He doesn’t say anything about how you remain seated next to him, just turns his head to talk to you.

The drinks arrive first. The sour tang of the pineapple makes your face pucker when you take a sip, making Joel laugh. You might be imagining it, but you think his gaze lingers on your lips for just a beat too long to be coincidence. You cross your legs beneath the table, squeezing your thighs together for some semblance of relief from the ache between your legs.

A second round of drinks is ordered and delivered while you talk about a TV show you both enjoy. This drink leaves you feeling pleasantly fuzzy around the edges. Joel makes a joke about one of the recent episodes and it makes you laugh so hard you’re leaning against him for support.

You place your hand on his thigh close to his knee. Joel tenses beside you but doesn’t say anything, his eyes dark over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip. You can’t bring yourself to look away but you’re also frozen in place, not daring to drag your hand further up. The spell between you is broken when the waitress drops by with your trays of food, setting them on the table and walking away with a request for another round of drinks from Joel.

“These look amazing,” you say, squeezing lemon over them. Joel’s started to cut into his steak, inspecting the center and giving a tiny nod of approval that makes you smile. “Hey, did you know oysters are an aphrodisiac?”

Joel coughs on the piece of steak he’d been eating, reaching for his whiskey and tossing the rest back as he swallows. “They’re what now?”

________

“Aphrodisiacs. They increase your sex drive,” you say, your lips wrapping around the bite poised on your fork. Your eyes flutter shut as you let out a little moan of satisfaction. “God, these are better than sex.”

“Must not be havin’ very good sex, then,” Joel immediately responds without thinking. His hand freezes halfway between his plate and his mouth, his eyes going wide as his brain catches up to his mouth. “Sorry that...that wasn’t appropriate.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Miller,” you say, patting his knee. Your hand lingers there again, the second time this evening, and it makes Joel’s brain misfire. This whole dinner has been a test of his self-control and he is quickly fraying at the edges the longer you sit pressed beside him, that god forsaken strawberry scent flooding his senses. 

The waitress delivers the third round of drinks and your hand leaves his thigh to pick yours up and take a sip. His eyes track the way your lips wrap around the straw, mind wandering to something else he’d like to see them wrapped around.

He takes a sip of his own drink, letting the burn of the whiskey down his throat distract him. The third drink is making his mind spin, a voice in his head urging him to trace his fingers along the exposed skin of your thigh beneath the table. He sets his hand on his own thigh, casual as can be.

You’re telling Joel a story about the time a guy in one of your classes was so hungover he fell asleep in the middle of an exam but Joel can barely concentrate. His eyes keep lingering on your lips and trail lower, lower, lower, over the delicate line of your neck, the dip at the base of your throat, the swell of your breasts.

Joel stretches his pinky, the tip of his finger barely skimming the soft skin of your thigh. He watches your face for a reaction and finding none, he feels emboldened. He inches his hand closer, his ring finger joining his pinky in caressing you. 

He’s focused on your face, watching for any indication that you notice what he’s up to beneath the tablecloth. He holds his breath as his fingers dip beneath the hem of your dress. You stutter in your story, tripping over your words and Joel’s fingers pause in their exploration.

Joel shouldn’t be doing this. He should pull his hand back and forget any of this happened, forget the silky smooth feel of your skin beneath his fingers, forget the way your smile lit up your face as he floated down the lazy river beside you. 

Then you’re tilting your head, eyes boring into him like you can see right through him, see every depraved thought running through his head and your knee presses more tightly to his, your legs spreading beneath the table and Joel’s hand sliding to your inner thigh with the movement.

“Can I get y’all anything else?” 

Joel rips his hand from your leg and swallows guiltily as he looks up at the waitress standing beside the booth. You sit up straighter, your heat leaving his side and he curses the interruption.

Perhaps it was for the best, though. 

You’re still Sean’s girlfriend, after all. 

________

Your skin is buzzing with the liquor in your veins and the phantom feel of Joel’s touch on your thighs. The man is quiet on the walk back, brooding even. His brow is furrowed, jaw tense, hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants like it’ll stop him from touching you again. 

The thought makes you downright giddy.

“Thanks for dinner, Mr. Miller,” you say as you stand in front of the doors of your respective rooms. 

He gives you a tight smile. “‘Course, darlin’. Have a good night,” he tells you before disappearing into his room, the heavy door shutting behind him and echoing in the hall. 

You swipe the key for your room, opening the door to find it still dark, everything the same as you left it. You drop your bag on one of the beds, pulling your phone out to check if you have any missed messages and finding none. 

The silence from Sean is the answer to a question you didn’t know you were asking.

You leave your room, crossing the hall to knock on Joel’s door. The man answers a moment later, already changed into a t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. 

“Everythin’ alright?” He asks, opening the door wider. 

“Left my key in the room,” you reply. “You mind if I stay with you for a bit?”

You can see the struggle flash across Joel’s brown eyes, but it’s just as quickly swallowed by a shade of lust that makes your breath hitch. 

“Sure, darlin’,” he finally says, stepping back and making room for you to cross the threshold. 

You turn to face him when the door shuts. You can’t tell who makes the first move, only that one moment you’re staring at each other and the next your body is being pulled against his, thick fingers digging into your hair and pulling your mouth to his in a bruising kiss.

He turns your bodies, your back hitting the door as his mouth continues to explore, his tongue dipping between your lips to tangle with yours. He tastes like whiskey and feels like sin, his broad body pressing against yours. Your arms wind around his shoulders, pulling him towards you desperately like he’s the air you need to breathe.

“Fuck,” Joel groans against your mouth. “Been wantin’ to touch you so goddamn bad, you have no fuckin’ idea.”

His hands drag up your hips and over your waist, fabric of your dress bunching in his fists. He looks down between your bodies, watching as he slides a thick thigh between your legs, the sudden pressure against your sensitive core making you gasp. You rock against the hard muscle, unable to fight back a whimper at how good it feels.

“That feel good, baby?” Joel asks, lips close to your ear. “Come on, darlin’ move a little faster for me, that’s it.”

His hands grip your hips, urging your movements over his thigh. Your head tips back against the door with a thud as you gasp. His lips trail hot kisses across your jaw and neck, his teeth nipping at the skin just over your pulse point. One of his hands drags the strap of your dress down, exposing your breast to the cool air of the room, your nipples going tight with equal parts chill and anticipation. 

Joel rubs a thumb across the tight bud, almost reverently, before bringing his mouth to it, pulling it between his lips and swirling it with his tongue. The sensation makes your hips move faster over his thigh and you can feel how slick you are in your panties with each thrust.

“You have any idea,” Joel groans, other hand leaving your hip and ripping the opposite strap down so that he can give your nipple the same attention, “how fuckin’ hard it is, huh? To keep my fuckin’ head on straight when you walk around lookin’ like an angel that a devil like me don’t deserve?”

“Joel,” you moan, your chest heaving with strained breaths as just this man’s thigh brings you closer to relief than your boyfriend ever has. “Joel, please!”

“Please what, sweetheart? I’m already in this deep, you gotta know I’d give ya anythin’,” he says. “You wanna cum, baby? Wanna soak my thigh for me, get these pants all messy so that I can’t think of anythin’ but you when I gotta wear them for another three days?”

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, your orgasm cresting unexpectedly. Your legs clamp tight around his thigh, the aftershocks coursing through you with surprising ferocity. When your grip on him loosens, the man drops to his knees, looking up at you with a wicked gleam in his dark brown eyes.

“How’d that feel, baby?” He asks, running his hands up the outside of your legs until his fingertips find the elastic of your panties, easing the fabric down your thighs while he waits for a response.

“G-good,” you mumble, feeling a bit self-conscious in the aftermath. You’d just come from nothing but grinding against this man’s thigh for crying out loud. You reach up to fix your dress straps, but a pinch to your inner thigh has you yelping in surprise.

“Nuh uh, wanna see those gorgeous tits when I look up at you,” Joel admonishes. You can feel your cheeks heating, blood rushing to your face from just his words. 

He lifts your leg, draping it over his shoulder. The position leaves you a little off kilter, your hands landing on his head for balance.

“I’m gonna eat this pretty little pussy now, okay?” He says, rather than asks. He gives you no time to respond, leaning in to lick through your folds with a deep, satisfied groan. You cry out from the overstimulation to your sensitive clit, your fingers pulling against his hair. He hums, the vibrations pulsing through your bundle of nerves and making you damn near sob at the sensation.

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” is all you can manage to say, a slur of his name as his tongue circles your clit and dips inside your entrance, messy slides of it through your folds as he drinks you up. You look down briefly, only to find him staring right back at you, his heated stare making your blood boil.

“Gimme one more, baby, and then I need to get you on my cock,” he groans before doubling his efforts, licking and sucking and nipping at your flesh until you’re sobbing out his name as you come for a second time. “Fuck, that’s it. Good fuckin’ girl,” he growls.

He stands, shoving his pajama pants down his thighs, his cock bobbing free. The thick length of it makes your mouth practically water as you watch him give it a few rough tugs. He smirks at you, reaching down to lift one of your legs, holding it up with the crook of his elbow at the back of your knee. The position leaves you spread wide for him as he takes his cock in his other hand, positioning the thick head at your soaked entrance.

“Tell me you want this,” he demands, the tip barely pushing inside of you. 

“I want this,” you repeat dutifully. He shakes his head.

“No, sweetheart. Wanna hear you say you want my cock.”

You whine, the sound damn near pitiful to your ears. “Please, Joel, I want your cock.”

“There’s my good girl,” he says with a smile, finally easing into you with a burning stretch that makes you gasp. “Christ, you’re so fuckin’ tight.”

You moan as he bottoms out, hips pressing to yours. He kisses whatever skin he can reach as he gives you a moment to adjust before pulling out nearly all the way and thrusting sharply back inside, punching the air from your lungs as his cock drags against your g-spot with each thrust.

There’s a pounding at your back and a shout of your name, followed by, “Dad! Where the fuck is everyone?”

Your eyes go wide and Joel’s hips slow but to your shock, they don’t stop. He brings a hand to your jaw, fingers pressing to your cheek as he slips his thumb between your lips and shushes you.

“Haven’t seen her,” Joel shouts back, even as his eyes never leave yours. Your walls flutter around his cock as he continues to thrust, sharp but controlled so as not to make a lot of noise that can be heard on the other side of the door. “You should check the hotel bar. Said she might get some drinks there if you weren’t back when we finished dinner.”

“You guys went to dinner without me? That’s fuckin’ bullshit,” Sean whines. “Fine, whatever, I didn’t even want to see her anyways. Found me a blonde that I can bring back to the room instead.”

Joel’s eyes flash with rage and you shake your head gently. When Sean’s footsteps indicate he’s left, Joel’s hips resume a more punishing rhythm. He withdraws his thumb from your mouth as his hand slides lower, circling your throat possessively instead. You gasp, moaning loudly as your body relents to a third orgasm that leaves your vision fuzzy at the edges.

Joel’s own movements stutter before he’s pulling out, his cum splashing against your tummy as he grinds his cock against your hip, finishing with a gasp of your name.

You lean against him as you catch your breath, enjoying the feel of his hands smoothing over your hair.

“You okay?” He asks.

You grin at him. “Never been better, Mr. Miller.”

Sean may have found a blonde, but you’ve found your way into bed with his dad.

Karma’s funny like that.

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[mymegumi]

SHOULD BE ME, GIRL ෆ KAMO CHOSO

⠀ word count: 0.9k ⠀ warnings: DARK CONTENT!—stepbrother!choso ⠀ (stepcest), afab!reader, masturbation, unknowing ⠀ voyeurism, choso listens in on stepsis!reader having sex, ⠀ choso fantasizes abt reader, protective!choso, reader says ⠀ daddy, choso calls you babygirl in his head ⠀ note: @doobea welcome to my mind may u enjoy this as ⠀ much as u can hehe

sometimes, oftentimes, choso has to wonder if sharing a wall with his stepsister is a curse or a blessing.

a curse—he can hear you crying over your boyfriend missing your birthday, the loud music trying to drown out the sounds of your crying whenever he dumps you, or the constant arguing on the phone whenever the two of you end up back together a few days after he’d left you. the guy wasn’t good for you, and despite being not blood-related for the last half a year or so, choso felt as if he was intruding. had it been itadori or any of his other friends or family having any sort of bad relationship, he wouldn’t have had a second thought for saying that they deserved better.

with you, however, everything is and remains to be different with you.

choso feels… mildly guilty about his less than innocent feelings for you. it’s not his fault that your father had fallen for his mother and the two had gotten married, nor was it his fault that he found his stepsister to be the most alluring being on the earth. everything about you had been exactly as if he’d dreamed it himself, but he had to make do with the fact that he, by law, couldn’t have you.

the walls on the house are thin, and it’s times like these that he considers sharing a wall with you a blessing.

‘oh—! oh—!’ you moan, your voice carrying across the drywall separating yours and choso’s rooms. ‘please, i love feeling your cock in me!’

pressing the palm of his hand into his cock he groans so softly, so strained, that it feels desperate even to him. to imagine feeling what the soft, silkiness of your pussy clamp around his cock—he shudders at the mere thought of it.

choso is practically humping his own hand, desperate to feel any sort of friction on his cock as he can feel his moans leaving his mouth, but he’s trying to be good, to be quiet. grabbing the hem of his shirt, he pulls it up to his mouth and clenches down on it, pressing an ear against the drywall to get a better listen in on you and your boyfriend.

‘fuck me,’ you swear loudly, well aware of the fact that you and your partner were supposed to be alone in the house, ‘you love when i ride your dick like this, baby?’

his eyes slide closed as he worms his hand into his briefs, cock straining against the material and it’s sweet relief when his hand wraps around the base of his cock. he’s hard—he’s been listening to the two of you fucking for about twenty minutes already—and just the image of you, riding his cock with your breasts on full display before him, makes his dick grow just a little bit larger.

behind his eyelids, he imagines you with your hands sliding on your waist, your thighs gripping his hips as you bounce yourself up and down on his cock. he watches as his hands slide from your knees, to your thighs, fingers gripping your thighs and his hand uncontrollably grips his dick just a bit tighter. tightening his legs, he lets his shorts drop to the ground with his underwear. he squeezes gently when his hand reaches the tip, but lets it glide down his shaft smoothly and the sensation leaves goosebumps along his spine.

‘d-daddy!’ you whimper, ‘can i come?’

of course you can, babygirl. he thinks to himself, eyes opening as he watches sweat from his exertion trickle down his abdomen, disappearing in the line of his dark pubes. but only for me.

he hates to think it, but it doesn’t matter who you were riding—the only man who could please you, who knew you inside and out, was choso. your boyfriend would fuck you, but he knew that you’d never experience a true orgasm unless it was by his hand—by his cock.

he just wanted to protect you. your boyfriend was bad news, sleeping with other girls and probably calling you all sorts of names to his friends when you weren’t around. choso wouldn’t ever treat you like that, he’d treat you like the princess you were. choso would treat you like a goddess.

with a burning desire to protect you, to keep you safe from other men’s carnal instincts and unearthly desires, his hand begins to speed up, his grip tightening ever so slightly to, hopefully, send him over the edge. with his teeth bearing down on his shirt stuffed in his mouth, shorts pooled at his ankles and hand rubbing vigorously on his cock, choso listens to you ride your boyfriend in the other room.

he listens to you get yourself off, straining to hear every whimper and moan coming out of your mouth and imagines that it’s his cock you’re riding, that he’s the one eliciting those sounds. when he hears your soft, desperate admission that you were about to come, he feels his own heart stutter.

choso gasps, shirt dropping from his mouth as he lets his come splatter against his side of your shared wall, wishing he could’ve been coming inside of your squidgy pussy, instead. he stands still for a moment, head rested against the wall as he lets his heart rate calm down, his breathing return to normal before he begins to make himself presentable again.

this isn’t the first time he’s come to the thought or the sound of you. it is the first time you send him a knowing smile and wink in the living room a mere ten or so minutes later, which sends a zing straight to his dick.

ʚ reblogs greatly appreciated! ɞ

[angelic-muse]

unforgettable

a/n: i couldn't not write anything for his special day, so enjoy, and happiest of birthdays to my silly mosshead man. this was written with both anime and opla zoro in mind so feel free to interpret it as either.

pairing: roronoa zoro x gn!reader

warnings: just fluff, not proofread

summary: it's your lover's birthday, and what better way to start the celebration than to stay awake and surprise him at midnight?

...that is, if you can stay awake.

must stay awake... must stay awake.

the sentence replayed itself in your groggy head like a mantra, a broken record stuck on repeat, a toy train running in slow circles around your brain as you fought the urge to tip over the line between wakefulness and sleep.

zoro deserved more than that.

"my birthday? never really done anything for it," he'd grunted the day before after you'd brought it up. the swordsman had frowned, scratched his head. "kinda forgot it was tomorrow, actually."

and it was then that you decided to make this birthday — and all his next ones, for that matter — unforgettable.

so after some pleading with nami that then lead to careful rearrangement of night watch schedules (despite the crew's grumbling), zoro would be set to finish his shift at midnight — exactly midnight.

and what would he find when he returned to his room? you, of course, waiting for the moment he stepped through the door to shower him in love and birthday wishes, followed by a day of celebrations just for him.

well, that was your plan.

but the actual staying awake hadn't been part of it.

since your shift for night watch was the last one, just before sunrise, you were lucky enough to be able to sleep soundly all night till then. which meant you were not at all used to being awake at this time and your body was slowly but surely losing the fight to fall unconscious.

you yawned, blinking heavy eyelids as you turned to squint at the sky, the gentle moonlight washing the deck of the going merry in its milky glow. it wasn't quite yet at its highest point — still not midnight.

surely a little lay down before zoro returned couldn't hurt, right?

don't fall asleep, you promised yourself one last time as you settled into his own hammock, breathing in the lingering scent of him with a sigh. don't fall asleep...

zoro muttered angrily as he stomped across the ship back to his room, not bothering to soften the loud thumping of his boots against the planks, swords clanking noisily at his hip.

"serves 'em right if they wake up," he groused, "putting me up there at this time all of a sudden for no fuckin' reason—"

he cut short as he shoved into his room, raising a brow at the sight that met him as he rid himself of swords and shirt. there you were, curled up in his spot, sleeping soundly like a contented cat.

"the hell you doing in my hammock?" he grumbled under his breath, but zoro slid in beside you anyways, throwing an arm over your shoulders and folding the other behind his head. he didn't mind that you were here — he never did. sleeping beside you was nothing out of the ordinary anymore. he liked it, enjoyed the easy comfort and security that came with you tucked against his side; hearts beating in time, every breath shared.

it was right when zoro was beginning to drift off that he felt you stir awake. cracking open one eye, he watched as you sat up, blinking tiredly. "zo... zoro?"

"what got you up?" he murmured as you yawned and stretched your arms overheard. "m'here, get back to sleep." get back to cuddling me.

"the smell of a pirate who hasn't showered in a week," you joked groggily, rubbing at your eyes. then you froze. shit.

shit!

"no, i fell asleep!" you groaned, burying your face in your hands. how could you? you promised yourself you wouldn't, for him, and now... "fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck... i'm sorry." you peeked back up at him, lower lip stuck out.

zoro frowned. "huh? what the hell you apologising for?"

"i was meant to stay up," you said sadly. "to say happy birthday to you. at midnight. that's why i got nami to change your watch..."

rubbing a hand across his face, zoro sat up to look at you properly, blinking sleep away. you went to the trouble of getting his night watch changed and stayed up in his room just to say happy birthday to him? seriously?

he'd be surprised, but really, that was just the kind of stupid, endearing thing you'd do.

and so he laughed.

you blinked at him as his wide shoulders shook with mirth, head tossed back. an embarrassed warmth crept up your neck and you folded your arms, attempting to glare at him even as you fought to hold down a smile. "wh— it's not funny!"

"nah," he grinned at you as his laughter died down. "it's just cute. c'mere."

you yelped in half-protest as zoro grabbed your head to pull into his chest, laying back down with a sigh.

"you don't hafta... stay up until midnight or do shit like that just for me." he uttered after a moment of quiet, brushing his fingers through your hair. "you need your sleep, and i need mine. so just... just wait until morning next year, yeah?"

"i... okay," you sighed, trailing a finger across his chest, drawing mindless patterns over scarred, tawny skin, making him suppress a shiver. "i still have stuff planned for later, though."

"yeah? let's hear it."

"i'm not ruining the surprise, silly. but... i did get you some presents and convinced sanji to bake you a cake. among other things."

zoro snorted. "bet that shitty cook did it for you more than me."

"probably," you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. "don't get jealous that he might love me more than you, it's okay."

the swordsman scoffed, turning you both on your sides with a grunt. "maybe, but he'll never love you as much as i do."

you chuckled, tucking your head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent; steel and sweat with an earthier undertone somewhere beneath. "i love you too, even though you still smell like you've never showered."

zoro barked out a laugh, tightening a thick arm around your waist to pull you further into him. "i'll take a shower for your birthday, how's that sound?"

you peered up at him and wrinkled your nose. he grinned.

"you're gross," you muttered with a smile even as you snuggled further into him. he kissed your forehead and you could feel his own smile against your skin.

"and you still love me."

"lucky you, huh?"

zoro exhaled softly, closing his eyes. "yeah, lucky me."

slowly, quiet draped itself over the two of you like the softest blanket, comforting and warm as the sounds of your breathing lulled each other to sleep after gentle whispers of goodnight and wishes of good dreams. and he rocked you in his arms, like how the gentle waves rocked you from below, mother nature's cradle for her sleeping children as they rested in an embrace so tightly woven with nothing but pure love not even the sharpest sword could ever hope to sever it.

and that morning, when zoro awoke to his dear lover smothering his face with kisses as they pulled him from his sleep with the promise of birthday gifts, he knew with clarity, such a deep, resounding clarity it made his heart ache—

that you, on this day and every other, were the greatest gift he could ever ask for.

nia's ask box is open!