the-raindeer-king · 13 days ago
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The quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach.
That's how the saying goes. You never realized just how true it was until you started working as Captain John Price's assistant. It had started off innocently enough, bringing him a tea or coffee when he asked. Maybe scolding him whenever you found out he skipped lunch.
You had been baking brownies, trying out a new recipe, and you just needed someone to taste them (and maybe help you get rid of the batch if need be). So, you brought them to work, left them in a pretty box on Price's desk when you dropped off his coffee.
You certainly hadn't expected the rest of the task force to come around to your desk, begging to know why you didn't bring any for them. Turn out that not only did Price brag out your baking skills, he's refusing to share with the rest of the task force, despite the fact you had brought more than enough for all of them.
Looks like you're going to have to make more.
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arlertwhore · 5 months ago
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pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader
synopsis: you’re jealous and paige blows your back out to remind you she loves you.
warning (s): literally the nastiest thing I’ve wrote — smut, strap, pussy eating, finger sucking, choking, squirting, cervix play, dacryphilia, public stuff a little, nipple sucking, degrading, spitting, humping, drunk sex, Paige literally destroys you.
word count: 3k.
author note: been havin some terrible writers block so might be last post for a lil while — unedited, this sex is just so raw nd nasty I’m sorry bro I cannot pls read at own risk
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You found yourself at the draft afterparty, separated from Paige, your girlfriend, but you hardly noticed as you knocked back drinks one after another. Time slipped away as you chatted with your two closest friends, Mrs. Griffin and Mrs. Arnold, jokingly referring to yourselves as future NBA wives, with you as Mrs. Bueckers in jest.
As the drinks flowed, tensions rose. You were on your fourth shot in fifteen minutes when Aubrey's girlfriend remarked, "You know, I understand why you're so possessive, girl. If I were dating Paige, I'd be on edge too. She's quite the ladies-man." In your interpretation, her comment suggested that if she were in your shoes dating Paige, she wouldn't let Paige out of her sight. You had full trust in your girlfriend, without a doubt, but it was other girls you didn't trust. Knowing Paige's attractiveness and the constant flirtation she encountered throughout her life, you understood she might not always notice when a bitch wanted to fuck, leaving an opportunity for other girls to take advantage of the situation. Spurred on by the alcohol, you staggered to your feet and clumsily balanced on the chair you had just vacated. "Where is she?" you slurred.
"Over there," Aubrey's girlfriend pointed.
You spun back around, irritation evident on your face. "Oh, hell no," you spat, contemplating. "Should I go? Imma go!"
"Don't do it, girl!" your friends called out, but it was too late. Determined, you marched over to Paige, who was seated on the couch beside another girl, chatting and laughing, the girl's hand casually resting on her shoulder as she spoke.
There was absolutely no reason for her hand to be on your girlfriend. You were gonna crash-out.
"Paigeyyy!" you exclaimed, drawing most eyes in the party to you. "What... are you... doingg, babe?"
Paige smiled at you and exchanged words with the girl beside her, pointing in your direction. However, as you approached, her smile faltered, turning forced. You hovered over your girlfriend's form, pouting down at her. "Fix your face," she murmured softly as her hands found yours, holding them tightly. Your eyes darted towards the company Paige was keeping, silently hoping that after her subtle request to fix your expression went unheeded, she'd catch the hint as you focused on the source of your discomfort. "O-uhh, babe, this is Holly. She's my high school coach's daughter," Paige explained.
You smirked, subtly digging at her. "You're breaking a cardinal rule, Paige. Didn't they say the coach's daughter was off-limits?"
Holly's response hit a nerve, even more so if you were sober. "Well, that was back in the day," she said, still grinning politely.
You smiled, amplifying yours to mimic hers as you sat down. Not in-between them, however. You swiftly settled into Paige's lap, feeling her hands involuntarily wrapping around your waist, since she was still holding your hands before you sat. "So it's changed now, Holly? You're one for bending the rules?" you pressed. "When a boundary isn't visible, breaking it becomes effortless," she smoothly retorted, a subtle dig that undoubtedly rankled you, adding fuel to the fire of your annoyance. "Well, Holly, I'm right fucking here," you asserted firmly, the intensity of your words conveying both defiance and a challenge to her audacious remark. "Safe you made it in time. It was like I had a ticking time bomb, just waiting to explode," Holly remarked, subtly implying that any further delay might have jeopardized your relationship.
Before you could speak, Paige intervened, diffusing the tension as she spoke up, "So, guys. Who can forget that buzzer-beater from last year's championship?" As Holly began to yap, you couldn't help but stir in Paige's lap. Your girlfriend always looked majestic, but especially now, under the spell of alcohol. You rocked your hips forward, feeling the stirrings of arousal. You were now horny. And while tipsy and horny, if there was one thing you didn't care to respect was the conversation. So, while Paige was mid-sentence, you turned and began to make out with her, your desire overriding any concern for the topic at hand. Paige kissed back at first, but with your chest pressed against her, she couldn't resist allowing a hand to brush against it, stroking your hardened nipples in the process. When she noticed your arousal, she pulled away slightly and whispered sensually, "We'll continue this later," before unashamedly turning back to Holly, seamlessly returning to the conversation.
Later? You were a wreck. If somebody who wasn't already in the loop with all the others had been at the party, they'd surely be filming this, and you'd be looking insane. Your drunken antics drew a bemused smile from Paige as you pressed your lips to her jaw while she tried to speak, your warm breath giving her chills. She gently tried to steer your body away, to steady your hips, but you had other plans.
It was as if you had forgotten you weren't in the privacy of your own home as your hand moved to your own chest, intending to let your tits spill from your top before Paige stopped you, concealing your intent with a quick, "Wardrobe malfunction?"
At her words, you remembered she had lips, and kissed them before whispering, "Want them off," into her ear, "Want your mouth on them." Her mouth watered as her fingers helped you fix said wardrobe malfunction, giving her an excuse to marvel at your hardened nipples through your dress, begging to be sucked. With a playful glint in her eye, Paige allowed herself to be swept away by the moment, ghosting her hands over them and eliciting a hushed whine from your lips. Reveling in the sensation of your bodies pressing together, the allure of the party gradually faded. Soon, she found herself leading you home, your fingers intertwined as you stumbled through the door, eager to continue the intimacy in the privacy of your own space. Once inside, the air crackled with electricity as Paige pulled you close, her lips finding yours in a heated kiss. Your hands roamed eagerly over each other's bodies, seeking out every inch of exposed skin with fervent desire. "You know, I'm starting to hate Holly," you muttered against Paige's lips, jealousy prominent in your tone.
Paige leaned in, pleased, as she whispered, "Well, jealousy looks sexy on you, babe." Clothes were discarded in a frenzy of lust, and Paige found herself above you on the bed with her lips trailing a path of wet kisses down your neck and chest. With tender care, she teased your hardened nipples, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from your lips.
Her hand trailed lower, down the curve of your stomach, before finally finding its destination between your thighs. With gentle strokes, she teased your clit, reveling in the slick wetness that greeted her touch. She brought her fingers to her lips, sucking them clean with a sinful groan before plunging them back into your eager cunt.
Deftly, Paige slipped a finger inside you, marveling at the way you clenched around her in response. But she wasn't content to simply watch from the sidelines. Leaning down, she captured your lips in a searing kiss, her tongue dancing with yours as she devoured you whole.
With hunger in her actions, touch, and eyes, she descended lower, trailing kisses along your thighs before finally finding her destination. With a flick of her tongue, she tasted your essence, savoring the sweet nectar that flowed from your core. With each stroke of her tongue, she brought you closer to the edge, her fingers working in perfect harmony to push you over. "More?" she asked, her voice breathy and gravelly, and you nodded eagerly from above her. "Please," you whispered, breaths catching in your throat. She smirked up at you. "Fuck, you're a slut." she moaned, pupils dilated as she arched her back, pressing her mouth flush against your pussy, closer, for a more precise to-the-clit angle. When you nod, "I am, mommy," you watch hazily as she indulges in you, her tongue tracing a slow, tantalizing path from your clit down to your folds repetitively. Up and down, up and down, up and down. Your body trembling with pleasure, Paige knew that she had finally proven herself to you. She was the only one who could satisfy your deepest desires. She wanted to be the only one. For her to eat you like this, so unapologetically, it'd stole all those seeds of doubt from your mind that Holly had planted. "Wanna eat this pussy every day," she speaks tightly against your pussy, so deep in your folds, and your eyebrows furrow at the slight pinch of her teeth against your clit. But she swiftly distracts you by recycling the saliva and wetness on her lips, spitting onto you, further soaking your already dripping cunt. The feeling of being soaked, then getting lapped up like a dog drinking water, was making your head spin. You grabbed your tits, squeezing them like your own personal stress balls, and the sight caused Paige to moan. "Play with them like that, ma, fuck." she groaned, her fingers pumping into you ridiculously nice, the perfect tempo to match her tongue work.
Your toes curled. "M' gonna—"
She nodded like, "I know," and watched as your body writhed, surrendering to the pleasure.
"Fuck, Paige, please don't stop. You're amazing, oh shit," you moaned.
She didn't. Not for a second did she quit eating you like her life depended on it, and you cried out in pleasure until the moment you released all over her face and fingers, painting her in your cum. Your stomach contracted as she kept fucking her fingers inside you, pushing it all out. Not even a second later, she had turned you over on your stomach and whispered in your ear, "Looks like I need to show you your place again, don't I?" It might have been the alcohol in your system, but you swore you had never been this horny for anything or anybody before. There you were, sprawled out on Paige's bed, your legs spread apart with her in between them, to your utter dismay, the blonde doing absolutely nothing. You felt like you were about to burst as you nodded your head vigorously, turning back over to give her your puppy eyes. "Want it, baby," you whispered urgently.
She pressed herself flush into your body, her tongue eagerly exploring your wet lips, probing its way into your mouth as you whimpered desperately. Allowing you to speak, her tongue trailed up your neck, to your breasts, and as she sucked your tits gently, you whined. "Wanted this all night." "Please..." you pleaded, voice thick with need, "Please, Paige, don't make me wait any longer," begging for what you knew was merely inches away from your pussy, tucked away. Her finger, previously servicing you, found its way into your mouth, and she pushed the long digit into the warmth repeatedly, teasingly fucking your throat as you eagerly sucked and moaned around it, savoring the taste of your own arousal. It was so hard not to give in when you looked this way—just so fucked out and slutty, when nothing had even really happened yet. Breaking face, she pressed her lips against yours, and your tongues danced together in a manner that made you think Paige was genuinely trying to receive and keep your taste, eat you alive. By each passing moment, your bodies found themselves closer than before, deepening the connection between you involuntarily.
It was half-intimate and half-raw, and it felt all the way good. Way too good. When you finally felt the thick, hard piece of plastic against your pussy, you sighed into the kiss, tilting your head back as Paige began to grind it against you. Her hand, previously holding your thigh and pressing you into the mattress, trailed down your body with deliberate intent, settling at your hip. You tried to squirm away from the feeling below you both, but she effortlessly held you there, a showcase of her immense strength that only turned you on even harder. She continued to rut her hips against you relentlessly, dragging the member up and down repeatedly with slow, sharp thrusts of her talented hips. She groaned, the dildo on the other end vibrating, squeezing and fucking sequencly against her wet, warm, tight walls. "Feel that?" she murmured, her voice husky with desire. "You like it when I fuck you like this, don't you?" It was all euphoria—you were too spent to reply, but you managed to murmur, "Inside," Paige held the base of it with her hand, groaning your name as she watched your pussy slowly swallow it all in with her piercing blue eyes. "Look how that just stretched you out, ma, feel it," she moaned, pumping into you so hard your entire body rocked, and causing the dildo to slide past her G-spot precisely, coaxing a throaty breath from her.
All you wanted was to please her. It meant good for you in the end. She was in awe watching your incredibly tight cunt be stretched that wide, so you complied, reaching your hand down and feeling it with shaky hands. "Fuck," you gasped, "So big, baby, god." She smirked down at you. "Play with your clit, baby, let me watch you." and like a puppet, your hand falls to between your legs, rubbing yourself hastily. You're still sensitive from your last orgasm, but you keep going, the deepness of Paige's cock feeling like a punch and stab to your guts each time she plows down. But the pressure inside you and the one you delicately place upon your clit feel so, so good that despite the overcapacity, you find your other hand coming to her back, then to her ass, squeezing it as you plead, "Don't stop!" You're crying now, tears staining your cheeks, and all it takes is for Paige to really look at your face, seeing how hard you're working for her right now before the tension begins to mount. She tries to hold out, but everywhere she tries to look makes it worse. Her head dips low to avoid your face, and you're sluttily playing with your clit. At your mid-section, your tits are bouncing in her face. And she knows if she looks at you one more time, it's over. Her body falters, and she lays on you as she fucks into you so carefree of anything in the world. You cry out whinily as you feel her deeper, the tip placing kisses to your cervix, and her weight on your lower stomach pressing the bulge the strap makes DEEP.
"So good," you whimpered, clenching around her with each drag of her stroke against the depths of your body. "Take me, Paige, take all of me."
She loses it at that, growling out, "Open your mouth, sexy," and you stick your tongue out to meet a hot, thick glob of spit into it.
Without needing to be told, you swallow, knowing it's what she wants. Her impending orgasm is evident as she speaks, her voice filled with urgency. "Fuck, bae, I'm gonna cum. You gonna—" she waivers with a grunt, then continues, "you gonna let me cum in you?"
Your arousal allows her to penetrate you insanely deep, even though she shouldn't be able to on a regular, non-drunk sex having day. "Yeah," you moan, your body ablaze with desire, "fill me up."
The room falls silent, save for the embarrassing squelching sounds of your cunt. The sounds your pussy makes are just embarrassing. Like pure water being swished, and you grip her dick so tightly it burns momentarily when her stroke falters back, but it meets your guts again within no time, and all feels way too good again. Your pussy's grip on her tightens, your body craving every thrust she delivers. Paige's hand tightens around your neck, restricting your airflow as she fucks the life out of you. She is genuinely killing you. Stabs inside your cunt, hand around your neck, toned body weighing down on you — petite below her. She's relentless, her motions driving the familiar knot in your stomach to form, but this time, with a little something different about it that you just can't place your finger on. You want to be concerned on why your pre-orgasm phase feels this way, but with each thrust, you can't help but surrender further into the pleasure, neverminding it.
As your climax approaches, you're overwhelmed. Your eyes shut tightly, your world consumed by white light. When you feel it coming, you want to scream, but you can't. Before you know it, your body is involuntarily pushing, and pushing, and when the intensity stops, blending into an orgasm, you realize you've just squirted all over Paige.
She's realized long before you, apparently, because she's left cumming herself with moans and exclamations of, "Aw, fuck, baby, look at that."
You guys have no time to tell each other you're cumming; it's just wet, hot, and heavy, both of your releases coating the sheets and the both of you too. Paige collapses on you, and now you really can't breathe, so you have to use your remaining energy the squirt took to push her off, the strap exiting you with the most empty feeling ever. Your hand, still on your clit, feels all the cum, and you exhale sharply, shocked. Both of your bodies are drenched, covered in sweat.
And as you catch your breath, Paige rolls onto her side, looking at you with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness in her eyes. "Is that attitude gone?" she asks, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
You meet her gaze, a mischievous glint in your eye. "If I say no, will you fuck me like that again?" you retort, a hint of a smirk playing on your lips.
Paige chuckles, reaching out to pull you close to her. "Guess you'll just have to find out," she replies, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss.
When you guys draw back, you're panting as you confess, "I can't believe I just... squirted."
Paige raises an eyebrow, offended. "I can. You doubtin' me?"
You've essentially been fucked back into sobriety and know not to test her. "Absolutely not," you assure her, and she relaxes at that. "You're gonna be hella sore tomorrow morning," she teases, "I literally went swimming in that pussy, deadass."
You smack her gently. "Stoppp," you protest.
She grins. "Ion feel bad tho. Maybe next time you get an attitude, you'll think about how dumb I just fucked you." And Paige Bueckers is absolutely fucking right. You will. Attitude or not.
MASTERLIST
A/N: might be some errors in posting and stuff!! i'll correct it later i'm rly tired now lol.
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gutsby · 7 months ago
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Cry, Baby
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Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader
Summary: Joel fucks you to the point of tears. That’s all.
Warnings: 18+. Dacryphilia (kinda). Unprotected p-in-v. Girthy, unspecified age gap. Daddy kink. Jealous Joel.
Notes: Sorry for using pussy pronouns. It will happen again.
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Joel Miller was a man of few words in most every place except the one where he found himself about to beat the brakes off your pussy. Then he never shut the fuck up.
“Uh-huh…just a little more…I know, sweet girl, I know.”
You had your hands at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel of his ‘71 Ford F-100, but rather than driving anywhere, your ass was comfortably parked on the front of his jeans—straddling his lap backwards while you rubbed your half-clad cunt over stonewashed denim. It was hell.
You’d been grinding against the bulge beneath those jeans so hard, and for so long, your white cotton undies had parted to the side, and your pleasure was nearly stretched commensurate with just how pathetic you felt.
Your head dropped between your two hands on the black molded plastic of the wheel, and you let out a whine.
“Joel—”
“Keep goin’.”
“This ain’t fair!”
Without hesitation, the hands that were holding your hips tightened their grip, and now Joel was raking your lower half over his. Rutting your core back and forth.
“You wanna know what ain’t fair?” he seethed.
He didn’t wait for you to answer.
“How much she’s been droolin’ over me all night.”
‘She’ meaning your unfucked cunt, of course.
Joel then punctuated his sentence with a particularly hard press of his palm—forcing you to lay flat on the steering wheel, hips tilted back to him. With just one callused finger of his other hand, he found you soaked between your folds. He dragged it from your clit to your aching hole, and you heard him sigh, as though sad.
“It’s a cryin’ shame,” Joel said. Lamenting.
You were almost lost to the sensation of his finger rubbing you up and down, but somehow, you managed, ‘W-W-What is, Joel?’ in between soft, plaintive sounds.
Sometimes you forgot how much older he was than you. Sometimes you said he was just like the boys your age. Other times he had you pinned like this, breaths calm and cruelly measured while you damn near came apart beneath his hand, and then you remembered everything.
“You just couldn’t wait ‘til we got home,” he grumbled.
Using the same hand he’d been stroking you with, Joel laid a quick slap to your cunt, and you jumped. Your head narrowly missed the roof of his truck; still, you groaned.
“‘M’sorry, Joel,” you keened.
You weren’t. The old man knew you weren’t.
The hand that had been splayed over your back sank in. The force of that push pressed your belly to the chipped Ford logo at the center of the steering wheel, and with the added pressure went the blare of the car’s horn.
The sound might’ve lasted two seconds before you scrambled back, desperate, into Joel’s broad chest. A couple old-timers making their way from the bar to their cars in the parking lot cocked their heads curiously in your direction a couple yards away. Seeing nothing of note, they lost interest just as quick and kept walking.
“Sorry for what?” Joel said.
At the moment, he didn’t seem to notice, or care, that his truck was parked a mere stone’s throw away from the Tipsy Bison, and bar-goers were milling freely between the building and the cars all around you. His belt unbuckled all the same, zip came down in a blink, and his thick, veiny, throbbing, and angry cock came to rest between your cheeks. He started to push you forward.
“Sorry for— for flirtin’ with Tommy,” you stammered, sucking in a breath when you felt him run the head of his cock between your lips. You could hear a soft squelch.
“And Lucien?”
“And Lucien.”
“And—”
“And Dieter, and Frankie, and Javi, and Marcus.”
Rattling off the names of all the men you’d been flirting with at the bar to make Joel jealous and take you back home to fuck you became an embarrassing chant.
“And?”
“…and Mayor Garcia,” you completed, sheepishly.
Back in there, you hadn’t been too proud to stoop to a politician’s level, even. That was how needy you’d been to get attention, and now Joel was giving it to you.
As hard as he could—he didn’t wait for the ‘OK’ before seating you on his cock. You were simply pulled back from the wheel and into his lap, onto his stiff erection, and before you could steady yourself, he started drilling.
“Even through these panties—” Joel tugged at the cream-colored cotton he’d easily slipped past, “—even through that slutty little skirt, I could feel how wet she was.”
Your eyes squeezed shut, and your hands found purchase in the torn-up leather of the seat, fisting strings and patches of fabric in a helpless sort of plea as Joel took over. With the buttons of his dark green flannel searing a stripe down your spine and his grey-speckled chin coming to nudge between your neck and your shoulder as he fucked you, you felt content. Secure.
Spilling more for him, then. Seeping rivers down the length of his shaft as he breached your walls and made you his all over again. And again. Leaving trails of arousal with every thrust, and rolling your head, limply, into his.
“She cryin’ for me?” Joel breathed, “Or somebody else?”
As if on cue, his cock hit the most sensitive ridge inside you, and you felt yourself gush even more. Dripping now.
“You.” Your voice was raw.
“Me?” Joel’s degradingly sweet.
Before you could answer ‘you’ once more, the driver’s door cracked open beside you both. For one panicked, terrifying second, you thought someone from the bar might’ve caught you two—then you were stunned to look over and see it was Joel’s own tough, steel-toed boot that had propped the door open to the cool night air.
The truck was facing the bar’s front door, shielded only by some foliage and a hatchback car about half its size. Other than that, you were exposed to whoever happened to pass by the big, bay window and take a look inside.
Joel felt you tense, and he pressed a kiss to you neck. Then he slid you carefully, almost tenderly, to the left until you were perched over the side of the seat with your legs dangling out of the truck—still filled to the hilt with his cock and pressed tight to the front of his chest.
“Cry a little more,” he urged.
Then, when your pussy gave an involuntary clench and drenched him some more, he slipped a hand around your front and started toying with your clit. Your gaze was wide, almost frightened as you stared ahead at the bar and saw patrons making rounds about the tiny place, fearing one might see you and Joel, but it felt so good. And wrong. And reckless, having this man who was easily decades your senior bouncing you up and down on his cock and letting you soil the front of his Wranglers.
“Pussy’s fuckin’ soakin’ me, pretty girl,” Joel let out a chuckle and gave your shoulder a playful bite when you pulsed around him again, “Squeezin’ me real tight, too.”
It was like your body was beyond your own control. You scarcely even realized your cunt had him gripped with such force, much less made a mess of his old denim. He just held you to him and kept pressing rough, stubbled kisses to your shoulder, reminding you over and over how sweet you were, how well you were taking him, how nice and tight and goddamn pretty that pussy must’ve looked gushing around daddy’s cock—maybe we can fuck in front’a the mirror so we can see it later, huh, baby?
You would’ve said yes to anything he said, you reckoned.
Especially when his arms moved over your front and you felt him grin, and he hugged you while he fucked you—nobody made you feel quite as special while they were splitting you open. Nobody’s balls felt quite as heavy and firm and full while hitting your ass by turns, and certainly no one but Joel could make you cum just as quick when he leaned into your ear and said, ‘Let go for me, darlin’.’
You did, and you felt his warmth follow inside you with the friction of just two more thrusts. Your head fell back on his shoulder, a moan clawed out of your throat, and the warm, euphoric feeling of release washed over your senses in waves, one trembling sensation after the next. Joel’s groans were quick to spill into your own, and, likewise emptying himself, he held your hips to his and made sure every drop stayed right where he wanted it.
His spend was always heavy, but this load felt larger than usual—like he’d been aching to fuck you full of his cum. Just as you both were coming down from your highs, you couldn’t help but key in on that soft, sticky warmth, likely to come oozing as soon as Joel pulled out of you.
In fact, you got to be so focused that you jumped when you felt something press to your cheek a second later.
It took another moment to register it as a kiss from Joel.
Then his tongue, dragging softly up the side of your face.
You started to laugh, about to ask him what the hell he was doing, when you felt a tear slip out of your other eye. With the sudden, sharp influx of pleasure, the moisture had leaked out without you even feeling it. Joel grinned.
He gave your cheek a light squeeze, wiped the other tear with the pad of his thumb, and kissed you again before mumbling in your ear, almost teasing as he said it:
“Crybaby.”
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redroses07 · 6 months ago
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real shit
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d0llfaac3 · 6 months ago
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If totally psycho why sexy??
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ky-landfill · 1 year ago
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If a machine is expected to be infallible, it cannot also be intelligent.
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a-reverii · 6 months ago
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⭑ 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 + 𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐒 ⭑
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— 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑.
sirius black
tulips. ⇢ @amiableness
safe place. ⇢ @/amiableness
don't delete the kisses. ⇢ @that-bwitch
regulus black
time to pretend. ⇢ @delicrieux
the arranged marriage or regulus's dreams. ⇢ @ellecdc
see me. ⇢ @mmoonysgf
hold her! ⇢ @kquil
secret admirer. ⇢ @itsbuckytm
remus lupin
clandestine. ⇢ @spncvr
sirius the matchmaker. ⇢ @fishley
his girl. ⇢ @opalesquegirl
our band. ⇢ @wzrd-wheezes
james potter
boundary less. ⇢ @wicchyy
no boundary!james. ⇢ @ddejavvu
best friend!james. ⇢ @/ddejavvu
personal trainer. ⇢ @fourmoony
about you. ⇢ @ma1dita
and i love her. ⇢ @dilf-lover99
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— 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘.
neil perry
if i fell. ⇢ @sorencd
two of us. ⇢ @/sorencd
art class. ⇢ @/sorencd
charlie dalton
orlando (first kiss). ⇢ @dearsnow
under the neon glow. ⇢ @augiewrites
secret admirer. ⇢ @/augiewrites
todd anderson
todd can't help the way he feels about you. ⇢ @writersmacchiato
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— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍.
peter parker
new york private life. ⇢ @astxroiid
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← back to fic rec masterlist.
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 1 year ago
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This one is dedicated to @shirokokuro, who made a lifeguard AU fic to fill the void where there was none.
Read it here! It's great: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51598429
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jina-juhi · 8 months ago
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Feels like
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you can love again.
Pairing : Johnny × fem!reader
Rating : 18+
warning: smut with plot, protected sex, i tried fluff? fluffy sex? and heart break. and basically all things sex. oh alcoholism. cute sex? plus doggy style plus face sitting:) oral m/f
word count : 4.5k
summary : I could fuck you, right here, right now, but only if you'd ask.
[if you wanna skip to the smut part just go straight down]
Tumblr media
Playlist
all too well, Taylor Swift
you heard me, Heather Sommer
1 step forward, 3 steps back, Olivia rodrigo
graveyard, halsey
right where you left me, taylor swift
wouldn't come back, Trousdale
ghost of you, Selena Gomez
company, Justin Bieber
yours, Raiden
crushing, illenium
begin again, Taylor Swift
feels like, Gracie Abraham
link
When all is said and done, and the person you loved is no longer there, what's left to do? How do you cope when you've given your all, only to find yourself empty, a mere shell of your former self? It's like being left with nothing but bones and muscles, a broken machine barely keeping you going.
So, how do you restart? How do you function when they've taken everything and left you with nothing? How do you shift your mindset to believe that this is all for the better? And most daunting of all, how do you open your heart to love again?
It feels like trying to breathe without air, as if the very essence of life has deserted you, leaving behind a jagged landscape of shattered pieces. It's dangerous to get too close to those sharp edges, so you stand alone and don't let anyone close. Trying to find yourself again.
Stand alone and contemplate what you've gotten yourself into and what you've done to yourself. How could you have ignored the warning signs? They were crystal clear. How could you have not predicted it? Too innocent.
Too gullible to let him in.
Thinking about it now feels pointless. "He was a nice guy, but he was too caught up in himself. He never really saw me. He claimed he did, but I never felt truly understood," you confide while he brews your coffee.
"I never felt loved by him," you add, as he sets the mugs on the counter—one for each of you. It's a chilly evening, and the cafe where he works is quieter than usual. You're a regular here; it feels like a safe haven, a place where you can find comfort in familiarity. You accept your coffee in silence, opting not to say more.
"Take a deep breath," he urges, his voice gentle as he nods, trying to seem strong and supportive. "How?" you reply absentmindedly, staring out the window where the fog thickens by the second. The ache in your heart grows, and despair overwhelms you as you fall back into the familiar trap of negative thoughts.
"He wasn't giving you what you needed. You shouldn't have to beg for love. Believe me when I say it's for the best that he's gone." He says.
"I loved him."
"You did, Maybe you still do, but people change," he interjects gently, his gaze fixed on the coffee between you, his words carefully chosen. "In different ways. You may have promised forever, but forever is a long time. Sometimes you grow together, and sometimes... you grow apart. It's nobody's fault in the end. You just drift away, lose that connection, maybe take each other for granted, and before you know it, the fights start."
His voice falters slightly, betraying the depth of his emotions. "I know it might not make sense right now, but what I'm trying to say is... you deserved more than what he could give you. Trust me, you're better off without him."
You inhale deeply, shaking your head in resignation. Raindrops cascade down the window, distorting the glow of the city lights outside. His words echo in your mind, and as you take another sip of coffee, its comforting aroma envelops you. Yes, he's right. You're undeniably better off without him, yet the ache lingers.
Why does it still hurt, months after the breakup? Why does the pain persist, stubbornly refusing to fade away? Days blur into months, but the heartache remains a constant companion. People change, move on. But the pain always stays. It gets a little better each day. You learn to accept. You learn to love yourself. Yet, just when you think you've moved on, something triggers that familiar ache, dragging you back to square one.
But life doesn't pause for heartache. Despite the pain, the world keeps spinning, and you move forward, one step forward and three steps back, hating, crying, wanting, but never stopping.
~~~
A year and almost a half have passed since then. Things have been getting better. The clouds are clearing up, leaving behind a little less hurt and a lot more clarity. There's a sense of hold, of something stirring within—gratefulness, perhaps, or hope. Or maybe its the sound of a familiar ring at the door. You turn around to see a familiar face, a smile lighting up your face as you recognize Johnny.
"A latte, please," you say as he approaches, his presence bringing a comforting warmth to the room. Johnny nods, his gentle demeanor never faltering as he starts to brew your coffee. Johnny's a gentleman, and a law student. He works part-time in this cafe, not because he's broke or anything. He simply lives the high life. Gym first, then college, and then in the cafe followed by late nights of studying. He's a quiet guy who keeps to himself. Disciplined and courteous. Doesn't really like to waste his time on the things undeserving of his attention.
Your friendship with Johnny began in this very place. You remember it must have been around 10 o'clock at night, you had just split up with your ex. It was a stormy night, It felt like the world was collapsing around you and someone was sucking the breath out of your lungs, alone and broken, you found this cafe nearby. The rain was pouring nonstop, so you decide to take refuge, sitting in the corner, your tears flow with the raindrops tapping against the windowpane.
Jhonny brings you a cup of coffee and a napkin with words of reassurance, "It'll be okay, just hold on."
He saw you when you felt invisible to the world, and he understood you when no one else could. In Johnny, you found not just a friend, but a shimmer of light in your darkest moments.
You still have that note.
Jhonny could hardly fathom the possibility of falling in love, especially with someone as uniquely eccentric as you. Little did he know, his heart had already been quietly captivated by your presence over the passing months. As you walked through that door, disheveled and drenched from the rain, the only word that echoed in his mind was "beautiful." From that moment on, an unspoken longing stirred within him, urging him to reach out and connect with you. He extended that napkin, not just to offer solace, but as a gesture of his desire to understand you, to unravel the mysteries you hide behind those smiles. There was an enigmatic force pulling him toward you, compelling him to take that first step.
You became a regular at the café, grateful for Johnny's caring nature. It seemed like nobody else noticed you like he did. Unintentionally, Johnny had fallen deeply in love with you over the past few months. He paid attention to everything about you - your likes, dislikes, comfort songs, and movies you could watch a 100 times.
He became your confidance, your best friend, always there when you needed him. Watching you cry over someone unworthy filled him with the desire to show you wat true love actually is. Late at night, he found himself thinking about you, wondering if you were okay, if you had eaten, or if you were thinking of him. He felt your sadness as if it were his own and rejoiced in your happiness. But despite his feelings, he couldn't bring himself to confess his love.
Simply put, Johnny wanted you. He wanted to show you what true love was, and that no girl deserved to be treated the way you were, left alone in the middle of nowhere, weeping in the pouring rain. Hearing about your past hurt him, but it also revealed your strength and resilience, which only made him love you more. He wasn't drawn to the roses and smiles you showed the world; he was captivated by the scars and bruises you tried to hide.
The more Johnny got to know you, the deeper he fell.
However, he made a conscious decision to hold back because he didn't want to become a rebound love. Instead, he wished for you to heal from the wounds of your past relationship, to move forward and see him for who he truly was, not just as a replacement for what your ex lacked.
He longed for the day when you would accept him completely, with no remains of the past clouding your judgment. So, he waited patiently, hoping for your heart to mend. Hoping for you to let go. Hoping for you to see him.
Time passed away, six months turned into a year, yet you still struggled to let go completely. Though it was getting better, the ghost of your past still lingered, haunting your thoughts and emotions.
How could you not feel shattered? Johnny was just too good for you, too kind. But when you've been hurt before, love becomes terrifying. Trying to piece things together while pretending to be okay is exhausting. It's hard to focus on anything when you're struggling to keep it together. Knowing you love someone and they love you back, yet being unable to fully embrace it because you're afraid of losing them, of getting hurt again - it's paralyzing.
And then there's the guilt. Even though your past relationship ended a year ago, the promises made still weigh heavily on your conscience. How do you reconcile having Johnny in your thoughts while someone else occupies a part of your heart? It feels unfair to him, but you can't shake the feeling.
How are you supposed to let go and move forward when your heart is still stuck in the past? People say "move on" like it's easy, it's anything but easy. It feels like an impossible task, especially when nobody seems to understand what you're going through.
Except for him. Johnny. He understands.
It's so damn difficult," you thought to yourself, feeling the weight of your emotions. Letting go seemed like the simplest solution, but in reality, it was anything but easy. As Johnny led you towards his flat, the thought lingered at the back of your mind.
He mentioned the party he was hosting with his friends at him appartment, someone got a job or something. The atmosphere inside was luxurious, yet simple. with crimson sofas exuding a regal aura in the soft golden light. The air was filled with the sweet scent of vanilla candles and the sound of champagne being poured, it was cozy.
The gathering was intimate, with only the chosen few invited. Amidst the fancy party, all you could think about was Johnny. You wanted to tell him how you felt, that you'd fallen for him too, about the guilt that shouldn't be feeling. Johnny was the best guy you'd ever met, and you couldn't just let him go because you were scared. Even though your past hasn't been great, you didn't want to hurt him because you knew he loved you too. Since the day you met, he's been there for you. And he still is, always there in every little thing. It feels like you're stuck in between, torn between your feelings for him and the uncertainty.
As Johnny left momentarily, you found yourself walking towards the balcony, away from the small talk and pretense inside, with a bottle of champagne. all you needed was a stunning view of the city's glittering skyscrapers, illuminated by the twinkling lights.
You craved peace of mind, a moment to quiet the storm raging within you. Being around Johnny, even for just an hour, had a profound effect on you, all the thoughts and insecurities on one side, and all the feelings of desire and lust, unlike anything you've ever experienced before.
There was no rush of blood and getting all hot and bothered every time your prior partner looked at you. You would never have felt this shy and nervous in his presence. Yes, there was attraction, but nothing like this, but with Johnny, it is the exact opposite. His mere presence left you weak-kneed and breathless, yearning to surrender to the intoxicating pull between you. He awakens you. He makes you want to succumb to him, give into him.
Yes, you yearn to experience the warmth of love, to be cherished and valued in return. And perhaps, deep down, you crave these feelings from Johnny, who has shown himself to be both kind and breathtakingly amazing. The way he gazes at you speaks volumes about his feelings for you.
It's confusing, isn't it? Frightening even. Because all you've ever known about Love is that it breaks and burns and ends, yet here you are, falling for Johnny despite your fears. It's a terrifying feeling, but there's something about it that makes you want to continue. Makes you want to keep dreaming. But you're afraid to confess your feelings, terrified that you'll only end up hurting Johnny in the process. It's hard to find the words, to admit to yourself, let alone to him, that you're falling for him. But despite the uncertainty and the fear, there's an urge within you, a desire to reach out and claim him for your own. All you want is to grab his face, to feel his lips against yours, and to lose yourself in the sweetness of his embrace.
Hard.
And never let him go. You've been thinking about it, about you. And him. And since, you've been moving on, you've been trying to forget and forgive and embrace and accept. You have come to a conclusion that amidst all the chaos, Johnny was the only one there. And that you have hopelessly fallen in love with him.
~~~
Hey," he says, joining you on the balcony, "you're standing alone?"
"Hey jj," you reply, meeting his gaze.
"You call me 'jj' when you're happy," he remarks, puzzled because your tone isn't cheerful.
"I guess I'm happy, sort of. It's been a while, but it feels good," you admit, looking at him standing beside you. He smiles, his eyes filled with happiness. He's genuinely pleased for you.
"That's great," he says with genuine enthusiasm. "Actually, that's fantastic."
He eyes the glass of alcohol in your hand. "Can I have that glass, though?"
That's great," he says with genuine enthusiasm. "Actually, that's fantastic."
He eyes the glass of alcohol in your hand. "Can I have that glass, though?"
"Nope, I'm having a pretty good time," you say, pulling the glass away from him. He noticed a whole bottle nearby on the floor. "I think you've had enough for the night, darling."
darling.
Even in the dim light, Johnny couldn't miss the blush spreading across your cheeks. He's skilled at noticing your reactions and knows how to tease you.
Trying to steer the conversation away from any awkwardness, you say, "So I was thinking..."
"About?" he interjects playfully, trying to provoke a response.
"Everything that's happened, you know, with my ex, and then with you," you begin, but he interrupts.
"Oh, nothing happened between us, as far as I can remember... unless..." he trails off, a mischievous glint in his eye.
"That's not what I meant," you quickly clarify.
"Okay, okay, just kidding. But I kinda wish you did mean it," he mutters under his breath, a smirk forming on his face.
You feel your thoughts becoming fuzzy as you both dance around the topic. Usually, your brain would shut down any such ideas, but tonight feels different. Instead of being repelled, you feel drawn to him, wanting something you've suppressed for so long.
Despite trying to hold back, you find yourself unable to think of anything else.
As the alcohol courses through your veins, emboldening your desires, you find yourself unable to resist the urge to ask him what has been in your mind for quite a long time, and so you ask "If I were to ask for a kiss, would you kiss me? Right here, right now?"
The intensity in his gaze heightens, his pupils dilating as his demeanor shifts, becoming more serious. "Ask me," he demands, his jaw clenched with anticipation. His eyes linger on your lips before locking onto yours, a silent plea echoing within them.
Overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, you turn away, feeling a rush of emotions flooding your senses. With a deep breath, you struggle to compose yourself, but before you can respond, he chuckles softly. "I knew you didn't have the nerve," he remarks, his tone teasing yet tinged with disappointment. Meeting his gaze once more, you're taken aback by his confidence. As he straightens himself and takes a sip of his drink, his words hang heavily in the air. "I don't know how much longer I can wait for you," he confesses, his voice low and filled with longing, "but if you were to ask me to fuck you right here, right now, I wouldn't even think once." With that declaration, practically deadpanned on your face, he goes inside the flat, leaving you to grapple with your miserable self.
~~~
The night after that seemed to stretch endlessly, a void you couldn't escape. Frustration and regret gnawed at your mind, You turned to more alcohol, a fleeting attempt to numb the pain within, but it only amplified the train of thoughts swirling in your head.
As you sat alone on the balcony, the chilly night air enveloped you, matching the coldness you felt inside. Time lost its meaning, slipping through your fingers as you drowned in a sea of overthinking. Every possible scenario played out in your mind like a relentless storm, each outcome more daunting than the last. What could have happened if you could have just said.
Johnny appears through the doorframe. His presence was unexpected, you thought he was mad yet oddly comforting, a reminder that you weren't completely alone in this chaotic night. "Will you spend the whole night here?" he asked, concern etched in his voice. But you were too lost in your own thoughts to fully grasp his words.
Refusing to retreat from your self-imposed exile, you remained rooted to the spot, the numbness spreading through your limbs. Yet Johnny persisted, his care evident as he gently coaxed you back inside. "It's cold. Come inside, everybody left already," he urged, worry evident in his eyes.
Too weary to resist, you allowed him to guide you indoors, his touch grounding you in reality. As he settled you into his bed, a wave of familiarity washed over you, a stark reminder of the times you'd been here before, always on the edge of leaving. You had been here countless times, yet never truly stayed. But tonight was different. Tonight, you found yourself unable to muster the strength to leave, surrendering to the comfort of his presence, if only for a fleeting moment.
As he guided you to sit on the edge of the bed, you instinctively reached out, clinging to his shirt. "Kiss me," you implored, your gaze locking with his warm brown eyes, overflowing with affection.
His response came with a gentle sigh, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. "You're drunk," he stated softly, his voice laced with worry.
"I am, but I can still make sense of it all," you insisted, determination shining through the haze of intoxication.
"We'll talk about it in the morning, okay?" Johnny reassured, his face drawing closer to yours.
"Please," you exhaled, closing your eyes, feeling the weight of your confession pressing down on you. "I know I'm the worst person alive right now but I- I'm just afraid. Please understand. I want you, I do, but it's so scary."
"Shh, it's okay, I know," he murmured, his words a soothing balm to your troubled soul. "I know you're trying."
Foreheads pressed together, your breaths mingled, each exhalation a testament to the vulnerability you shared in that moment. "I'm sorry," you whispered, the weight of your guilt heavy on your heart.
"You don't have to be," he replied, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender gesture of forgiveness. "Look at me."
As you met his gaze once more, his eyes filled with understanding and compassion. "Relax, okay? I'm happy that you opened up about it."
"I'm sorry," you repeated, the words a mantra of remorse.He shook his head gently, his touch comforting. "Let's try sleeping now, shall we? Don't think about it." With his reassurance enveloping you like a warm blanket, you allowed yourself to drift into the embrace of sleep, for the first time with him.
As consciousness reluctantly seeped into your foggy mind, a wave of discomfort washed over you, fueled by the repercussions of last night's poor choices. The harsh glare of morning light pierced through your eyelids, adding to the throbbing ache behind your temples.
Attempting to remove yourself from the confines of the bed proved to be a tough task, your limbs heavy with exhaustion and your head swimming with dizziness. Searching for Johnny's presence beside you, you found only an empty space, adding to the disorientation.
Succumbing to defeat, you surrendered to the comfy embrace of the mattress, sinking into its softness as you lay there, gazing blankly at the ceiling above. Dehydration gnawed at your parched throat. As you drifted in and out of consciousness, the world around you faded into a haze of half-formed thoughts and fleeting sensations. The rhythmic hum of the ceiling fan above served as a lullaby.
In the midst of this surreal feeling, fragments of memories from the night before flickered like distant stars in the night sky. Realization and what-ifs danced at the edges of your mind, their haunting presence a constant reminder of the consequences of your actions.
Yet, amidst the turmoil, there lingered a glimmer of hope, a faint whisper of possibility that perhaps, despite the mistakes of the past, redemption was still within reach. You clung to this fragile thread of optimism, a lifeline in the midst of the storm.
Minutes stretched into hours, the passage of time marked only by the shifting patterns of sunlight filtering through the curtains. And then, as if on cue, the sound of footsteps drew near, with a weary sigh, you opened your eyes to find Johnny standing in the doorway, his expression a mixture of concern and relief. "Hey, you okay?" he asked softly, you nodded sleepily.
As you reluctantly stirred from your sleep, you felt the duvet being tugged away, prompting a sleepy protest. "Erugh, let me sleep," you mumbled, trying to shield yourself from the intruding light.
But his teasing remark about your state of dress snapped you awake, and you jolted up, "You're completely naked," only to realize you were already covered. He pointed out with a playful grin, causing you to blush and scramble for cover.
However, your movements triggered a sharp pain in your head, and you winced, instinctively reaching to soothe it. Before you could fully register the discomfort, another hand joined yours, gently stroking your head. Slowly opening your eyes, you found him sitting close, his concern evident in his gaze.
"Who told you to drink that much? You puked two times," he said softly, his tone filled with worry and care. Giving in to his touch, you leaned into him, finding solace in his presence amidst the pain.
"I... may have overdone it a bit," you admitted sheepishly, feeling a mix of embarrassment and gratitude for his concern. He chuckled softly, his fingers continuing to massage your head as you relaxed against him.
"It's okay. Just drink some water and take it easy," he reassured you, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. With a nod, you reached for the glass he held out to you
He's far too good for you. A voice at the back of your head screams at you.
"Johnny..." you say, breaking the silence that hung heavy in the room. His presence alone was enough to make your heart race, but you needed to speak your mind.
He turns to you, his gaze softening as he listens intently. "What is it?" he asks, concern lacing his words.
You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before continuing. "I've been thinking about..." you trail off, unsure of how to articulate the right words.
Johnny reaches out, his hand placing a strand of hair behind your ear,offering silent support. "Go on," he encourages gently.
"I'm sorry," you say, the words heavy with regret. "I know this is complicated, and i am making it even more complicated but I just don't want to hurt you." You could barely manage to say even that.
Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers trail through the loops of your hair, sending shivers down your spine. His hum reverberates through you, a sensual melody that ignites a fire deep within. But then, in an instant, his demeanor shifts, catching you off guard.
His hand tightens around your hair, pulling your head back with a swift, yet gentle force. The sudden change in his touch sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins, heightening your senses to the electrifying proximity between you.
Your eyes meet his, dark and intense, and you find yourself unable to look away. His breath, warm and fruity, fans over your face, stirring something primal within you. In that moment, you're acutely aware of every sensation, every heartbeat, as you surrender to the magnetic pull of desire that envelops you both.
"Can't you see what you do to me?"
Johnny..." you say, your voice barely above a whisper, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming.
He pauses, his eyes locked with yours, waiting for you to continue.
"I... I didn't mean..." you stutter, struggling to find the right words as his grip on your hair loosens.
He chuckles softly, his laughter dancing in the air, easing some of the tension between you. "I know, I know," he reassures you, his tone gentle yet teasing.
"But..." you start, only to be cut off by his next words.
"You talk a lot when you're drunk," he says with a smirk, his fingers tracing light patterns along your skin.
Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, knowing he's right.
"What did I say?" you ask, trying to piece together the fragments of the night before.
His gaze softens, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes. "That you tend to get... aroused whenever I say your name," he says, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.
You shake your head in denial, but deep down, you know he's right.
He leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin, sending tingles of anticipation coursing through your veins.
"Johnny..." you breathe out his name, a mixture of desire and uncertainty swirling in your mind as he hovers above you, his presence consuming your senses.
"Say it," he urges, his voice low and demanding, sending a thrill through your body.
"Johnny, listen to m—" you begin, but he cuts you off with a firm command.
"Say it!" he insists, his intensity leaving no room for argument.
"I want you, for fuck's sake, I want you," you finally admit, your voice tinged with both desire and vulnerability.
Closing your eyes, you release the grip you've been holding onto, allowing yourself to surrender to the overwhelming attraction between you.
You lay back, flattening against the bed, pushing your hair away from your face to meet his gaze head-on. His eyes, dark and intense, never waver from yours, sending a flutter of nerves through your stomach.
"I want you, in every way possible, and it's no secret. I'm just afraid," you confess in a small voice, baring your soul to him.
Johnny's smile is reassuring, his touch gentle as he lays on top of you, ensuring he doesn't overwhelm you with his weight. "Don't be afraid," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. "You'll love me just fine."
In that moment, as you lay entwined with him, all your fears melt away, replaced by a sense of warmth and comfort in his embrace. You know that no matter what lies ahead, you're ready to explore this newfound connection with him by your side.
As Johnny hovers above you, his gaze dark with desire, you feel a surge of anticipation coursing through your veins. His lips brush against yours in a teasing caress, igniting a fire that burns hot and fierce between you.
"I've been waiting for this," he murmurs, his voice low and husky with need as he trails kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.
You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands roam your body, exploring every curve and contour with an expert touch that leaves you trembling with desire.
"God, you're so beautiful," he whispers, his breath hot against the skin of your neck as he takes you in, his eyes drinking in every inch of you. You feel his breath against your skin, warm and inviting, as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss.
With each touch, each caress, the tension between you dissolves, replaced by an electric current of desire that pulses through your veins. His hands roam your body, mapping every curve and contour with a reverence that leaves you breathless.
You arch into his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips as he explores every inch of your skin with a delicate touch that sets your senses ablaze. His fingers trace patterns along your spine, sending shivers of pleasure racing down your spine.
Your lips collided with his in a heated embrace, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through both of your bodies. Crashing into each other, feelings of desire over powering you both. In that moment you knew, it was gonna be a hell of a ride and you couldn't be any more excited than you are right now.
After the kiss, you both laid side by side, "By the way you didn't really say any of that." Johnny gently whispers in your ear, and you both end up laughing, cuddling.
~~~
You like it?" Johnny asks, his eyes sparkling with warmth as he watches you take a lick of the ice cream. You nod enthusiastically, a wide smile spreading across your face like a child on Christmas morning. His smile widens in response, a soft glow of happiness emanating from him. It's moments like these that make everything feel so right.
Since that unforgettable day when you poured your heart out to him, your life has been like a dream come true. Flowers, date nights, chocolates – you name it, he's made sure to fill your days with joy and love. From cozy movie nights to endless cuddles, it's like you've found the missing piece to your puzzle.
But it's not all sunshine and rainbows. Like any couple, you have your disagreements. Yet, what sets you apart is the unwavering understanding and support you both offer each other. Johnny never lets you go to bed upset, always there with reassurance and kisses to mend any hurt feelings.
He constantly reminds you that you're doing just fine, and it's true. It's not just about healing from past wounds; it's about the beautiful exchange of giving and receiving love. It's about reciprocating the care and affection you both share, knowing that the more you give, the more you receive.
In a world where it's easy to become complacent, you both choose to love each other every single day. And that, in itself, is the greatest gift of all.
You plead with puppy dog eyes, urging him to let you indulge in more ice cream because, well, why not? 'Pleeease let me have another scoop!' you whine, the anticipation of the creamy goodness making your mouth water. But alas, he declines with a chuckle, warning, 'No way! You'll catch a cold!' You pout, but secretly admire his concern."
Disappointed but not defeated, you pout and playfully stick out your bottom lip, giving Johnny your best puppy-dog eyes. "But Johnny," you protest, "I promise I'll bundle up extra warm tonight! Pretty please?"
Johnny can't help but laugh at your antics, finding your determination to get that extra scoop of ice cream utterly endearing. He shakes his head, still chuckling, and gently takes your hand in his. "As much as I love seeing that adorable pout of yours, I can't risk you getting sick, [Reader]. How about we save the ice cream for tomorrow, hmm?"
You sigh dramatically, but a mischievous glint dances in your eyes as you lean in closer to him. "Fine," you concede, "but only if you promise to share a warm blanket and snuggle with me tonight."
A grin spreads across Johnny's face as he leans in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "Deal," he agrees, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "Anything for you, my love."
As you both leave the ice cream parlor, the cool evening air wraps around you, the gentle breeze a welcome contrast to the warmth of your intertwined hands. As you both step into the cozy cafe, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, bringing back memories of the first time you met. Johnny's hand tightens around yours, his touch sending a thrill through you that's impossible to ignore.
You find a secluded booth in the corner, and as you settle in, Johnny's eyes lock with yours, a silent invitation sparking between you. "You know," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, "this place holds a lot of memories for us."
You nod, a soft smile playing on your lips. "It feels like just yesterday that we were sitting here, nervously sipping our coffees," you reply, your voice filled with affection.
Johnny leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "But this time," he whispers, "we don't have to be nervous." A shiver runs down your spine at his words, and you meet his gaze with a newfound sense of boldness. "No, this time," you say, your voice steady and sure, "we can just be us."
With a gentle touch, Johnny cups your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours with a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. "I like the sound of that," he murmurs, his lips hovering just inches from yours.
Before you can respond, his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss, the world around you fading away as you lose yourself in the heat of the moment. It's a dance of tongues and teeth, of whispered words and soft sighs, each touch igniting a fire that burns hotter with every passing second.
As you finally pull away, breathless and flushed, Johnny's eyes meet yours with a hunger that mirrors your own. "I never want to stop kissing you," he confesses, his voice thick with desire.
A smile tugs at your lips as you lean in to press another kiss to his, the promise of countless more moments like this hanging in the air between you.
~~~
As you sit at your desk, textbooks spread out before you and notes scattered across the surface, you're fully immersed in your study session. The material is dense, and you're determined to grasp every concept before the upcoming exam.
Just as you're deep in concentration, Johnny enters the room with a mischievous grin, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you buried in your books. Without a word, he crosses the room and leans against your desk, his presence a distraction you can't ignore.
"Hey there, studious one," he says, his voice low and playful. "Need a break?"
You look up from your books, torn between the desire to keep studying and the temptation of Johnny's irresistible charm. "I really should finish this chapter," you reply, trying to sound firm despite the flutter in your stomach at his proximity.
But Johnny has other plans. With a swift movement, he slides your textbooks aside and pulls you to your feet, his hands finding their way to your waist as he draws you close. "I think you've earned a reward for all that hard work," he murmurs, his lips dangerously close to yours.
Before you can protest, Johnny's mouth descends on yours in a fiery kiss, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips before delving deeper, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you both. Lost in the heat of the moment, you abandon all thoughts of studying as you melt into his embrace, the world around you fading away until there's nothing left but the two of you and the intoxicating rush of desire.
Minutes, or maybe hours, pass in a blur of tangled limbs and heated kisses, until finally, you break apart, breathless and flushed, the taste of Johnny still lingering on your lips. "Now that's what I call a study break," he says with a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
You can't help but laugh, the tension of the study session now a distant memory as you bask in the warmth of Johnny's love and the thrill of his touch.
~~~
As you made your way back from college, the skies darkened, and before you knew it, a heavy downpour unleashed its fury upon you. The rain hammered down relentlessly, soaking you up and down. Despite the continuous ringing of your phone from within your backpack, the rain made it impossible to retrieve. With no umbrella in hand, you quickened your pace towards the bus stop, only to witness the last bus pulling away just as you rounded the corner. Desperation set in as you attempted to sprint after it, but the distance between you and the departing vehicle only widened. Defeated, you exhaled heavily, feeling the chill of the rain seeping into your bones. Seeking refuge at the bus stop, you huddled under its shelter, which wasn't helping much.
As you stood there, shivering and dripping, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease creeping over you. The relentless rain seemed to whisper secrets in the wind. With each passing moment, your mind raced with thoughts of your worried boyfriend waiting at home, unaware of your predicament.
As you glanced down at your phone, the screen illuminated with missed calls and frantic messages from him. Frustration bubbled within you, knowing that you were only adding to his worry by being stranded in the storm. You tried to call him back, but the signal was weak, and the connection kept cutting out. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as you waited for the next bus, the minutes ticking by like hours.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the bus appeared on the horizon, its headlights piercing through the darkness like a beacon of hope. With a sigh of relief, you boarded the bus, grateful for the warmth and safety it offered. And soon you were standing in front of his appointment door.
As the bus finally pulled up to a stop, you hurriedly disembarked, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and relief. You practically sprinted the rest of the way home, the rain still coming down in sheets, soaking you to the bone.
Finally, you arrived at the doorstep of your apartment, soaked and shivering. With trembling hands, you fumbled for your keys, desperate to be inside the safety of your home. But before you could even insert the key into the lock, the door swung open, revealing a worried and furious Johnny.
"Where have you been?!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with anger and concern. "I've been trying to call you for hours! Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"
"I-I'm so sorry, Johnny," you stammered, tears mixing with the rain on your cheeks. "I got caught in the storm, and I missed the bus, and...and I couldn't get through to you. I'm so sorry."
Johnny's expression softened as he took in your trembling form, his anger melting away in an instant. Without a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around you protectively. "I'm just glad you're safe," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I was so worried about you. Let's get you inside and warm you up, okay?"
You nod, feeling the weight of your backpack against the wall as you follow Johnny into the bedroom. With a quick movement, you pull your hair up, hoping to keep it from sticking to your clothes. Sensing his hands on your torso, you inhale sharply as they glide around to the front, undoing the button of your jeans. Anticipation mounts as he pulls them down, and then he sits, planting kisses on your damp thigh, eliciting a dissatisfied moan from you.
In a swift motion, your undies join the jeans on the floor. "Nice butt," he remarks, drawing a rhetorical look from you. Stepping closer, he removes the t-shirt clinging uncomfortably to your skin, and with it, your bra disappears too. "Beautiful as always," he murmurs, enveloping you in a warm towel and pulling you close, his lips finding your neck, leaving their mark.
"Johnny," you sigh as his hands slip under the towel, teasingly moving between your legs, knowing just where to stop, leaving you breathless. "I'll be right back, change into dry clothes, okay?" he says, his voice a tantalizing promise hanging in the air.
He returned with a steaming mug of tea, fragrant steam curling upwards in the air. He handed it to you with a tender smile, the warmth of the mug seeping into your chilled fingers.
"Here, drink this," he said softly, his voice soothing.. "It'll help warm you up."
"I only need you to warm me up."
"Come here then." He motions you to sit with him in the bed he made, warm and cozy. As you lay there in Johnny's arms, the intimacy of the moment enveloping you like a warm embrace, you couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion welling up inside you.
"Johnny," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "I'm so sorry for worrying you. I never meant to cause you so much distress."
Johnny's arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer to him as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "It's okay, sweetheart," he whispered back, his voice filled with reassurance. "I was just so scared when I couldn't reach you. All I could think about was making sure you were safe."
You buried your face against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing lullaby against your ear. "I promise I'll be more careful from now on," you vowed, your words muffled against his skin. "I never want to put you through that kind of worry again."
Johnny tilted your chin up gently, his eyes locking with yours in a tender gaze. "I know you will," he said softly, his thumb brushing away the tears that had pooled in your eyes. "And I'll always be here for you, no matter what."
With a contented sigh, you snuggled closer to him, reveling in the warmth and comfort of his embrace. Johnny's fingers danced along the buttons of your blouse, a spark of desire ignited between you, fueling the passion that simmered just beneath the surface.
"How about we finish what we started earlier?"
Your heart raced at his words, the anticipation building with every breath. With a smile, you nodded in agreement, your own desire mirrored in your eyes as you leaned in to meet his lips in a fiery kiss.
The heat between you intensified quickly, passion igniting like a wildfire as your bodies melded together in a tangle of desire. Teeth clashed against each other, tongues danced in a feverish rhythm, and hands roamed eagerly, seeking out every inch of skin they could find.
With a swift movement, you straddled Johnny, taking control of the moment as you traced a path of kisses down his neck, relishing in the soft gasps and low growls that escaped his lips. As his shirt fell away, revealing his beautifully toned body beneath, you couldn't help but admire the sight before you, feeling a surge of desire coursing through your veins.
Too shy to say anything, you let your actions speak for you. Lingering on his nipples, you teased and tantalized, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from Johnny's lips. With each flick of your tongue and gentle nip of your teeth, the tension between you grew, pushing you both closer and closer to the edge of desire.
But you weren't done yet. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you continued your exploration, trailing kisses and caresses down Johnny's torso until you reached the waistband of his jeans. With practiced hands, you teased and toyed with him through the fabric, making him harder with every stroke, relishing in the way he squirmed beneath your touch.
As his pleasured groans filled the air, you couldn't resist escalating your actions, eagerly sliding his pants down while he sat up, fixated on your every move. Locking eyes with him, you took him into your mouth, teasingly tracing the tip with your tongue, prompting a soft curse from his lips. Pulling back, you continued to lavish attention on him, savoring every moment as you licked his length, stealing glances up at him. "Enjoying yourself?" you teased, to which he responded with an enthusiastic nod.
Returning to him, you gradually took more of him into your mouth, relishing in the way his hands urged you on, guiding you further down. He pulled you up for a heated kiss, expressing his desire to explore your taste. As his lips trailed down your neck, he urged you to sit on his face, igniting nerves and excitement within you. With his encouragement, you straddled his eager mouth, blushing at his sweet words as his lips planted kisses on your thighs.
Feeling his hands on your hips, he drew you closer, his tongue eagerly finding your clit, eliciting moans of pleasure from you. As his hands explored your body, adding to your arousal, you couldn't help but cry out in bliss as he skillfully pleasured you,
As your pleasure surged, you couldn't contain your cries, feeling the intensity of his actions. "Oh, fuck," escaped your lips as he intensified his efforts, his mouth and tongue working fervently on your clit. His suction grew stronger, his tongue moving with increasing speed, drawing out guttural moans from you. "Oh my god," you exclaimed as the waves of your orgasm crashed over you, "fuck," you moaned as he persisted in his ministrations.
His hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer, he delved deeper into your core, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "Oh god, don't stop," you gasped, your breath ragged as you requested his fingers. With a calm demeanor, he complied, easing his fingers into you, eliciting a blissful moan from your lips. As he continued to pleasure you, his fingers moving rhythmically inside you, your cries of ecstasy filled the room.
"Oh my god," you moaned aloud as he momentarily paused, only to reposition himself behind you. Bending you slightly, he inserted two fingers, drawing out a soft, pleasurable moan from you. With relentless determination, he showed no mercy, driving you towards another peak of pleasure. The sound of slick noises filled the air as his fingers worked expertly within you, pushing your head gently into the headboard to ensure your stability as you surrendered to his touch.
As his hand pressed you down onto his fingers, a fervent moan escaped your lips, the sensation overwhelming you. "Oh my god," you cried out as he intensified his movements, driving you wild with desire. With increasing speed and force, his fingers plunged into you, eliciting a chorus of ecstatic moans from your lips.
Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers, his command clear. "Turn around," he instructed, guiding you gently as you complied, meeting his intense gaze. Enveloped in his embrace, you shared a deep, passionate kiss, his desire evident in his words as he broke the connection. "I want to fuck you," he declared, and you eagerly nodded in agreement, urgency coursing through your veins.
Pushed onto the bed, your legs spread wide, you watched as he knelt between them, his eyes fixated on your dripping arousal. His finger traced circles on your swollen clit, then slipped inside you, claiming you as his own. "Mine," he whispered, his gaze never wavering from yours, and you nodded in submission, a smile playing on your lips. "I'm yours," you affirmed, anticipation building in the air.
With a hungry look, he licked his lips before slowly entering you with his cock, causing you to gasp in ecstasy. "Oh my god," you moaned loudly as he began to move within you, the intensity of his thrusts driving you to the brink of pleasure.
As he increased the pace, driving into you with fervent desire, your cries of ecstasy filled the room. "Oh my god," you moaned loudly as he relentlessly fucked you, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. Leaning down, he captured your lips in a passionate kiss, his declaration of love mingling with the sounds of your pleasure. "I love you," he murmured against your lips, his words igniting a fire within you.
Wrapping your legs around his waist, you reciprocated his declaration, your voice filled with desire. "I love you too," you confessed as he continued to ravish you with his relentless thrusts. With a swift motion, he withdrew from you, flipping you onto your stomach. "Get on all fours," he commanded, assisting you into position.
Meeting his gaze over your shoulder, you were met with a declaration of your beauty, sending shivers down your spine. As he entered you from behind, a rush of anticipation flooded your senses. His movements became more intense, driving into you harder and faster, eliciting moans of pleasure from your lips. "Oh my god," you cried out, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through your body.
Feeling his hand reach around to play with your clit, a surge of pleasure washed over you, intensifying the pleasure building within. "Oh my god," you moaned again, lost in the ecstasy of his touch. With each deep thrust, you felt yourself teetering on the edge, your body aching for release.
As he took control, holding both your hands behind your back, you surrendered to him completely. Your petite frame under his dominance, your face buried into the sheets muffling the sounds of pleasure escaping your lips. Sensing his impending release, you knew you were on the brink of ecstasy.
With a few final, deep thrusts, you both succumbed to the ecstasy, waves of pleasure washing over you in a euphoric crescendo. As he pulled out, licking you clean, you whimpered from the overstimulation, your body trembling with aftershocks of pleasure.
a sense of blissful exhaustion washed over you both. Lying tangled together under the sheet, hearts racing and skin still tingling from the intensity of your lovemaking. As you caught your breath, he peppered soft kisses along your neck and shoulders, his touch gentle and tender. "You're incredible," he whispered, his voice filled with adoration as he caressed your cheek. You smiled up at him. In his arms, you feel safe and cherished, the weight of the world melting away as sleep begins to claim you. Drifting off with the rhythmic beat of his heart as your lullaby, you rest easy knowing that you are safe. And you finally know, what love actually feels like
~~~
hope you liked it. umh? idk tried, if you want to request anything, please do. (it'll take forever but ill respond)
please check out other works m.list
and enjoy, have a good day, night~
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amywritesthings · 2 months ago
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( Read on AO3 )
Pairing: march/farmer (fields of mistria) Word Count: 2.5k Summary: It's your first Halloween in Mistria, and you're excited for the costume party at the inn. One small problem: you accidentally match your costume with the worst possible person.
Tag: halloween, mild language, enemies to something, everyone ships you with march except march, friday night at the inn, unresolved romantic tension Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics
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HALLOWEEN AT THE INN.
Maybe the Kiki costume is too on the nose.
While you’re technically the new farmer of the town, tending your crops has recently begun to feel like a secondary job to the impromptu delivery service you’ve tripped into.
Not that you mind — if Hayden leaves a communal bulletin stating he needs an egg, then you’re more than happy to pop by and deliver.
(Though… doesn’t he technically own a ranch? Why would he need more eggs?)
Whatever.
Not your problem, just your solution.
Tonight marks your first-ever costume party at the inn.
While it’s been a town tradition for years, perhaps even decades, you find Hemlock stating that this year simply feels different.
Lighter, maybe. More exciting.
(Because the town needs a little excitement that isn’t privy towards an earthquake.)
You stand in front of your elongated mirror tucked against your bookshelves, tugging at the purple-blue skirt skimming your thighs.
It isn’t difficult to guess what you’re dressed as: between the massive bright bow wrapped around your head like a headband, the flats, the smock dress, and the stuffed black cat tucked under your arm, you should hope your friends know what you’re dressed as.
Kiki, the delivery service girl from the Studio Ghibli movie of similar title.
With one last huff of anxiety, you turn for the front door and trudge through your dilapidated (see: work in progress) farm to make your way towards the heart of town.
Josephine has already decked out the front with strings of paper bats and pumpkins lining the doors to the inn. The gentle glow of recently-carved pumpkins framing said doors with the bails of hay you donated to tonight’s event brings a nostalgic warmth to your heart. 
You can’t remember the last time you went to a Halloween event, much less a costume party.
As your hand reaches for the door, you’re met with a sudden burst of wind.
The door flies open towards you, revealing a button-nosed Dell peering up from her perch. Whiskers streak her rosy cheeks, the black cat ears a stark contrast to her cropped blonde hair.
“You’re here!” she chirps excitedly, beaming up at you.
“Hey, Dell,” you greet politely, opening the door for her. 
It appears the rascals of Mistria are following in tow — as they tend to do all over town in a troop — all equal parts dressed up as various animals.
Maple has a small painted bunny nose with tall ears in her hair.
In true Luc fashion, a spider body with fuzzy arms attached to his appendages. He doesn’t look the least bit comfortable, but he’s clearly excited to be an arachnid nonetheless.
“Are you Kiki this year?” Dell inquires.
Luc fixes his glasses with his many arms before perking up at your added props. “Whoa, and you have Jiji with you!”
Dell gets this look on her face, as if knowing something you don't know, but you think nothing of it at the time.
“Celine is back by the kitchen with Adaline and Orlic,” Maple suggests as if assuming you’re looking for the eldest sister.
Celine had been one of your first friends in town, so it’s no surprise to you that one would anticipate you would gravitate right towards them.
However, hearing Orlic’s name in the mix makes your stomach flip-flop, because—
 .
. — —
.
.
    Well, let’s get it out of the way early.
For the record, you love to spend your time at the blacksmith shop.
For the past month you’ve been hard at work in the mines, exploring the ins and outs of such a mysterious place, so naturally you’ve come to the shop to forge your tools and weapons.
And you’ve gotten good at offering a helping hand when it comes to blacksmithing.
Like, really good.
So good that Orlic has even set up a little spot for you to consolidate and work.
—only issue is that it’s right next to March’s bench.
March.
The bane of your existence, if you ever had one.
The naysayer that wants you gone from this damn town.
The only person in town who seems to have a big problem with you being here.
You wish you understood why — it isn’t like you did anything wrong to him.
You show up to the shop with an ever-revolving door of gifts from the mines.
Slowly but surely, you’ve learned what each brother likes. Olric is easy to please: he’s happy to take any stone you find, hoping one day to find a gem in the rough.
March, however…
He couldn’t care less that you show up after a long day’s work, dirtied and exhausted, holding out a piece of copper ore like a proverbial olive branch.
(Tch, he clicks with his tongue like clockwork, I could do better.)
Still, you persist.
Because deep down, you don’t think March actually hates you.
Orlic has said it time and time again — his brother can be tough to get used to, but that’s because he doesn’t have many friends. A loner at heart; March would rather sit in solace and march (no pun intended) to the beat of his own drum.
He likes you in his own way!
If it wasn’t for one of the first nights at the inn, then you wouldn’t believe it.
You distinctly remember walking in with Adeline after accomplishing a renovation of a bridge (to nowhere, you’d like to preface, but a job’s a job) when a voice jumped out from the fray of baseline chatter.
“Yo, farmer!”
Slurred, maybe, but after so much time at the blacksmith shop, you know it well.
However there’s little bite to March as he stands from his bar stool, face flushed with a flourishing pink as he sips from his mug.
He makes it a point to poke his head over his brother’s to see your face, and he…
Smiles.
Not in mockery.
Not in hatred.
A real, bonafide, drunk-as-a-skunk smile.
“Come here,” he hiccups, sloshing some beer as he tries to beckon you closer. “C’mere—”
You don’t think March remembers, but he talked to you.
For three hours straight, actually, about nothing in particular.
Your farm.
Your week.
Your future plans.
Chin dropped to his propped-up fist, his eyes are hazy, but he listens. Intently. Like he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say.
At first it was jarring, especially since Orlic hopped up to give you his seat and never returned, but after twenty or so minutes it was… nice.
The next morning you were strangers.
Six straight days of snappy remarks, but without as much bite.
By the time Friday rolled around again, you found him in the same position — drinking, happily enjoying a communal game, while waving to you periodically to get your attention while you’re busy spending time discussing the week with Celine and Reina.
You want to ask Orlic.
Hell, you want to ask anyone to make sure you’re not imagining the once-a-week friendliness.
But you don’t.
You just endure six whole days until the next Friday rolls around.
.
. — —
.
.
    As the kids shuffle out of the inn to get some air, you walk into the festively-decorated venue looking for a drink.
Reina had said something about themed finger-foods and drinks, both mocktail and cocktail, that she was beyond proud of.
There’s a circle near the tail end of the bar where Celine, Reina, Orlic, and Ryis all chat. Ryis has gone traditional cowboy, while Reina and Celine match in regency ball gowns, presumably a period-piece costume. Orlic is standing in an inflatable dinosaur costume, so you can only make out the visor of his eyes in the blow-up ensemble.
And when their eyes land on you, they stop talking completely.
At first it feels normal, albeit intimidating, but you wave and walk over anyway.
(Why has Ryis’ jaw dropped to the floor? And why is he excusing himself with a little laugh?)
“Hey, guys!” you greet as cheerily as you can, and Celine gives a look to Reina.
…huh.
The same kind of look Dell had on her face, like there’s something unspoken being passed around by your appearance.
“Oh — hello,” Celine replies in her musical voice, curtseying in character. “Lovely costume!”
“Yeah, it looks amazing on you,” Reina adds, but she keeps looking around.
You feel like there’s something you’re missing.
Staring down the cat and broomstick in your arms, you open your mouth to compliment them in return, but—
“So that’s why March didn’t want to match with me!”
Orlic pipes up, his dinosaur suit squishing and swishing around as he holds his arms out.
“I would have never guessed you’d plan a costume together,” pipes up Celine, shoulders deflating as if glad someone brought up the elephant in the room.
Except you can’t see said elephant — it’s still invisible.
“I… sorry,” you start, fixing your bow. “I don’t really know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t have to be coy, Kiki,” Reina teases with a wave of her hand. “I think it’s cute!”
“But what’s cute?” you urge. “I feel like there’s something—”
“Hey, nerds, I got us the stupid punch. You could’ve told me the ladle was for baby hands. Took me like five minutes to make four drinks.”
At the sound of a gruff, annoyed voice, you turn—
Oh.
Oh, no.
March stares back at you through black-rimmed glasses with equal horror, sloshing one of the drinks he’s delicately balancing in his hands in a diamond.
His hair’s a little flatter than usual, but the fluff fights the frizz of the heated inn. On his body is a striped red and white t-shirt, along with some light blue denim jeans rolled up at the ankles.
The costume is just as distinct as yours.
Tombo.
“The hell are you wearing?” he blurts directly at you, and you hear a high-pitched giggle of excitement behind you come from Celine.
“I… a costume,” you lamely reply.
March scowls. “Yeah, genius, I know that it's a costume 'cus you never wear bows.”
“Yes, I do?”
“Not as big as that one!” he snaps. “They’re always smaller or, like… two, on either side of your— Whatever! But why that costume?”
“Thanks for the drinks, little bro!” Orlic happily states, waddling around you in order to gingerly pick up his punch. “We’re gonna go see how the mummy-wrapping game is going.”
March's eyes shoot wide in confusion.
“Huh?”
“Yeah,” Reina adds, taking two drinks for her and Celine, before giving one back. “Actually, I’m totally hydrated. Our lovely Kiki might need a drink. You two have fun.”
“Huh?!”
March’s head whips side to side so fast that you expect the glasses to fly off of the bridge of his nose.
You stand with your plushie cat and broom, blindsided by the matching outfits.
Oh, god — it clicks.
They think the two of you secretly conspired together to do a couples costume.
That’s not good.
“Why’d everyone leave?” March grumbles. “It took a lot of damn effort not to spill those drinks.”
When you say nothing, he reluctantly returns his attention to you and holds out a drink.
“For the record, I planned to be Tombo before you even got to town, Farmer Girl.”
“I put together whatever I had in my suitcase,” you confess, taking the drink from his hand.
“Sure you didn’t sneak a peek of my costume hangin’ up when you were at the shop?” he accuses, squinting while he sips on his alcoholic punch.
“No, March,” you groan, dropping your head back. “Trust me, I don’t want to be matching with you, either.”
In true March fashion, he contradicts himself without missing a beat.
“Why the hell not?”
“Why?”
“Yeah, what’s so bad about matching me?”
“Because people will think—”
“So?”
“So?” you repeat, slightly higher pitched. “Uh, hello, it’s your worst nightmare?”
“Nah, dressing up as a t-rex is my worst nightmare,” he corrects, like everyone knows this vital piece of information about him. “Orlic was pretty hell bent on getting us to match this year, but I wasn’t sweating my ass off in a damn blow-up suit.”
“And accidentally matching with me is significantly less than that?”
March pauses, marinating on the words, before growing silent to sip more of his drink.
Exasperated, you throw your hands up and switch plushie Jiji from one arm to the other.
“Well, I’ll go home and change. Maybe I have a black shirt and jeans.”
Surely you have to have something basic in your arsenal, even if you were really excited for this costume. But the implication is rearing its ugly head into a territory you’re not sure you went to venture into.
Friendship with the one guy who hates your guts, or worse.
Yet his voice rumbles against the lip of his cup. “What’s a black shirt and pants combo gonna be for a costume?”
“I don’t know, a cat?”
“But Dell’s already a cat.”
“Then a raven! I don’t know.”
March snorts, shaking his head. He uses his free hand to push his fake glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“That’s dumb. Just keep being Kiki.”
The huff out your mouth is laced with disbelief. “And what, have you be my Tombo?”
You don’t mean the words to come out as harshly as they do, but the options to rectify this awkward situation are limited.
It’s either he changes, you change, or—
Well, or you match with your sworn enemy of the town.
Both of you stand shoulder to shoulder, watching the rest of the party rage on.
For what feels like hours, neither of you speak.
A few people greet the two of you, but beyond your initial friend group, no one else seems surprised to see the two of you in a common duo costume.
“I like your bow, by the way.”
The words are so quiet that you almost think you caught wind of a ghost.
Turning your head, the sight before you is one you’ve grown accustomed to: March’s cheeks are flushed, sprinkled with an embarrassed pink.
He side-eyes you, studying the bow before flickering his attention to your face.
You sip your drink, trying your best to look neutral.
“I… think you look nice with glasses.”
That pink turns into crimson, and he buries his head into his chest like he wants to curl into himself to hide the fact that your compliment affects him so deeply.
“...thanks.”
With a curt nod, you bring the cup back to your lips, only to realize it’s only left with ice. 
Huh. You didn’t think you drank it all down.
In your peripheral you see it, but it doesn’t register until something warm lands on your hand — 
March’s fingers overlap yours, gently nudging the cup out of your grip and into his.
“You're empty,” he mumbles. “I’ll get you some more.”
Before you can protest, he turns on a heel and rushes back to the punch cauldron. The blush goes so far as to creep up the nape of his neck and into his dyed-red hair.
You watch him disappear, your stomach flip-flopping with anxiety and…
Butterflies?
Weird. That’s new.
(But that’s how it goes on Friday night at the inn.)
.
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author's note:
I wrote this in about an hour because I have been dying to try my hand at an FoM fic, and since I'm in a very Halloween-y mood, I figured I could write a little cute heart event for March!
If you got this far, thank you so much for reading! What other costumes do you think March would be cute in? Let me know in the comments! (And thank you for any reblogs, likes, etc.)
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tangledinink · 8 months ago
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:000 happy one year of i'm sorry, teenage mutant what now?
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evanpeterswhoresblog · 1 year ago
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Old Friends
Max Cooperman x f!reader
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warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, oral female receiving, soft!dom max, sub!reader, underage drinking, underage smoking, getting high before sex, rough sex, uhhh overall very long and very smutty
summary: after being away at college for a year, your best friend Baja convinces you to go to a fourth of July party at your old friend Max’s house, but little do you know how much Max has changed since the last time you saw him…
word count: 4.5k
a/n: i just watched never back down 1 and 2 last night and omg the glow up evan had before filming the second one is not talked about enough. hope you enjoy my lil fourth of july gift <3 enjoy!!
~~~
“Do you think this looks good?” You ask as you walk out of the bathroom.
You’re at your best friend Baja’s house, the two of you are getting ready for a big fourth of July party. So far, you’ve tried on three different bikinis, none of them standing out to you. Sure, they fit you perfectly and show off the body you worked for, but they just weren’t right.
“Y/N, it looks amazing, like all the other ones too. What’s going on?” Baja answers, a frown on her face.
You met Baja when she transferred into your high school sophomore year, and you’ve been inseparable since. You were by her side through everything. The day her parents decided to call it quits, the day her parents got back together, even the day she started dating Ryan. You never liked him, she knew that. He was crazy, he loved to hurt people. So, when Jake Tyler moved to town and started talking to her, you were thrilled.
He was a decent guy, you enjoyed spending time with him. Plus, it was great seeing her happy again after what Ryan put her through. After they started dating Jake introduced you to his best friend Max and he often hung around with the three of you. Max was a sweet boy. He was chubby and adorable with his little camera. Though the two of you never hung out alone, you still considered him one of your closer friends.
The four of you were sad when high school ended. You had gotten into your dream college that happened to be in a nearby state. It was terrible having to say goodbye to your friends, but you all had phones so it wasn’t like contact would be completely lost. You and Baja would call for hours, sometimes falling asleep on the phone together. On holiday breaks when you’d come home you really only saw her and occasionally Jake, but you didn’t mind.
Tonight, however, is the first party you’re going to in your home town since high school. Since it’s your first summer break from college, Baja thinks it will be a good idea. You know she’s right, but you’re very nervous to see all your old classmates.
“What if people think I’ve gone downhill since we graduated?” You question your friend.
Baja laughs. “I can promise you no one will think that. Look at yourself y/n, you’re stunning.”
“I’m just worried it’ll go bad. I haven’t seen these people in over a year,” you reply with a sigh. You sit down next to her on her bed. “How many people do you think will be there?”
“Well like I said it’s at Max’s house, and his house is pretty big so probably a lot of people.”
“God, I haven’t even seen Max since last summer. How’s he doing?” You ask.
“Well, he’s changed a lot,” she answers with a small laugh. “Trust me when you see him, you’re going to be shocked.”
“What do you mean? Did he finally get taller or something?”
“Yeah, you could say that... But anyways, hurry up and finish picking your outfit we have to leave soon,” she replies, shooing you off the bed and towards her closet.
~~~
When the two of you arrive at Max’s house you feel the anxious butterflies eat away in your stomach. There’s already so many cars in the driveway and on the street. You see a few of your former classmates in the front yard, you hide your face. Baja laughs and finally parks the car. You look at her anxiously.
“Maybe this was a bad idea, how about we just go stay at your place instead?” You speak.
She shakes her head. “Nope, we’re already here. Just relax y/n, it’s going to be super fun.”
“You’re just saying that because you want to go fuck your boyfriend,” you reply with a frown.
“Hey, maybe you’ll find a guy and hook up too,” she says, a smirk on her face. “I bet tons of guys are gonna be all over you looking for a piece of that ass.”
You lightly slap her and groan. “Shut up.”
She only laughs and opens her door. “Come on, we’re already late.”
You groan and open yours too, preparing yourself for what’s coming. You follow Baja into the party, smiling at your old classmates. You recognize most of them, but there’s also new people you don’t think even went to school with you. Loud music flows throughout the house, you can practically feel the beat as you walk. Baja was right, in the few minutes you’ve been inside you’ve already noticed multiple guys checking you out. It makes you wish you worse something more than just jean shorts and a coverup over your bathing suit.
The two of you stop in the kitchen and Baja pours you a shot. You take it without saying anything, it’ll help you with your nerves. The familiar warmth fills your stomach and chest, it feels good. You see Jake approching and you smile, it’s been a few months since the last time you talked. He looks the exact same.
“What’s up y/n? How you been?” He asks after greeting Baja with a kiss.
“Pretty good, how about you?” You reply.
“Amazing.”
“That’s cool, Baja said you were thinking about opening up your own gym soon, that’s great,” you mention, looking back at your best friend.
“I see word travels fast between the two of you,” he says, wrapping his arm around Baja’s shoulders. “But yeah, it’s just an idea right now. It was more Max’s idea actually, have you talked to him yet?”
You shake your head and notice the look Baja and Jake give each other. “I told her she’s gonna be surprised when she sees him.”
“Oh yeah, you should actually go find him and say hi,” Jake says with a smirk.
You look between them suspiciously. “Is this your subtle attempt to get me away so you can go fuck?”
“Yes, entirely, so go,” Baja answers with a laugh, pushing you lightly.
“I hate you,” you say as you begin to walk away from them.
“Love you too!” She exclaims, you don’t bother replying.
You wander through the house searching for Max. You forgot how big his house really was. Even the first floor will probably take you twenty minutes to search. A sigh leaves your lips, where would he be? You look through his living room, cringing at the sight of two girls making out on the couch, a swarm of guys watching and recording. He’s not there, thankfully. You go out to the back yard, so many people are in the pool. But that’s when you spot him.
Baja was right, you’re very surprised. He’s not at all like you remember him. The chubby nerd you once knew is gone and has been replaced by... this. He’s definitely grown a few inches, and his baby fat has been replaced by muscle. The boy who used to refuse taking off his shirt even at the beach is now standing tall, abs out for everyone to see. His hair is shorter and slightly curlier. You can see his sharp jawline from where you’re standing, it’s so prominent. You trail your eyes down his body, lingering on his v-line. You never thought in a million years you’d see Max Cooperman with a v-line and happy trail. You also never thought you’d stare at it so intently.
You shake the thoughts away and walk towards him. He’s still the same Max you knew, you can’t be thinking like this. You’re only a few feet away when he notices you, you can see his eyes light up. It makes you smile.
“Am I dreaming or is it really you y/n?” He asks.
“I could say the same thing about you,” you reply with a laugh as you embrace him in a short hug. “What did college do to you?”
“A lot honestly. I started working out a lot more, lost my fat and replaced it with these guns,” he answers, flexing his biceps.
You laugh again. “At least it hasn’t changed your personality, you still staying behind the scenes?”
“Yeah, I’m always going to be the camera man. How about you though? I bet you’re the most talked about girl on your campus,” he says with a smirk. “I mean seriously wow you look great.”
You can’t help the small blush that appears on your cheeks. “I wouldn’t know, I sorta keep to myself. I mean I go to parties sometimes but most of my time is spent keeping up with my classes.”
“I’m glad college hasn’t changed your personality either. Still the quiet girl during the week days and the party animal on weekends?”
“God no. I was way worse back then. I haven’t gotten shit faced since that party at Baja’s a year or two ago,” you answer.
“I remember that, you threw up all over the backseats of my car,” he laughs.
You cover your face in embarrassment. “Don’t remind me.”
“And remember how I had to carry you in? You were telling me how sad you were to still be a virgin, you asked if Jean from my old gym could do you,” he continues, his laughter only getting louder.
“Stop it,” you say. Your face is so hot, you probably look like a tomato.
Max is about to continue, but a girl comes up to him and laches on to his arm. You don’t know why it makes that unsettling feeling start in your stomach again. You aren’t jealous, he’s like your brother for God’s sake. At least, that’s what you keep having to tell yourself. She gives you a side glance, as if she’s trying to make you feel bad for talking to Max. It almost makes you laugh. She looks familiar, but you can’t put a name to her face.
“You said you’d come swim with me,” she says to him. “Come on.”
Max raises his eyebrows at you before looking back at the girl. “Sorry, just catching up with an old friend. You remember y/n right? We used to go to school together.”
She looks at you again and gasps. “Little y/n? I couldn’t even recognize you, you’ve certainly... changed.”
“Thanks,” you reply. You don’t want to stand here any longer. “I’ll let you guys get back to your swimming, it was nice talking to you Max.”
You give them a smile and turn around, you’re going to try to find Baja and Jake again, hopefully they’re done fucking by now. But before you can even take a step Max grabs your wrist, preventing you from leaving. You look back at him over your shoulder, the girl next to him looks pissed, he doesn’t seem to care though because his eyes are locked on you.
“How about after this we go hot box my car? You know, like we used to?’ He suggests.
“I’d love to,” you say. The girl looks furious, it makes you happy. “See you in a bit.”
He grins and let's go of your wrist, finally giving his attention back to the girl on his arm. You walk back towards his house, your hearts racing. Since when did Max Cooperman make your heart race? You look over your shoulder again when you’re at his back doors and much to your surprise he’s already looking at you. You quickly look away, what’s going on?
~~~
Max finds you after about a half hour and the two of you make your way into his garage, weed in hand. Thankfully, no one’s in the garage. Even though it’s not your weed, you’d hate to have to share with a bunch of other people. He unlocks his car and opens the passenger side for you, you chuckle and push him away but get inside anyway. He quickly gets in the driver's side and starts to unpack all his stuff.
You watch as he packs the bowl effortlessly. He used to struggle with it to the point that he’d ask you or Jake to do it for him. Now though, he gets it done within minutes. He offers you the first hit and you gladly accept, taking the bowl and lighter in your hands instantly. You light it and take a big hit, passing the bowl to Max while it’s still lit. Your lungs burn a bit, but you don’t mind. You blow the smoke out in one long breath, filling up the car with the stench of weed.
“That’s some good shit,” you say as Max takes his hit.
He nods and hands the bowl back to you when he’s done. “Stole it from my dad, he’s gets it from some high end dealer.”
“No shit?” You say before taking your second hit.
“Yeah, it’s great.”
You blow out the smoke for a second time and hand the bowl back to him. “I already feel it, God damn.”
“It’s pretty strong, you should wait before taking another hit. Unless it’s a small one. I’d hate for you to throw up in my car again,” he replies. You scoff and push his shoulder, making him break out into laughter. You can’t help but join in.
You feel fantastic. Perfect even. You let your head fall back against the headrest, your whole body feeling lighter. You close your eyes, a big smile on your lips. Max starts to talk again, but you don’t bother listening. You're too caught up in this amazing feeling. He taps your shoulder after a few seconds though and you sigh, tingles shooting throughout your whole body at the simple contact.
“Y/N are you listening?” He asks.
You roll your head to the side so you’re looking at him. “Touch me again, it feels so good.”
“What?”
“My body... it feels like it needs to be touched. Did you give me like Viagra weed?” You question.
“I don’t know does sativa usually make you horny?” He laughs.
You shrug. “Maybe. I haven’t smoked in a minute. Can you put on the radio or something?”
He nods and puts his keys in the ignition, turning them so the radio starts to play. You sit up and start to flick through the channels before settling on a relaxing song. You sigh and lean back, your head facing Max again. You watch as he takes another hit, he looks sexy doing it. You shake your head at the thought, Max is one of your best friends you can’t call him sexy, even if it’s in your own head.
When he’s done, he puts the bowl down and leans back. He turns his head to you and your eyes meet. Your heart rate increases. He has this look in his eyes, one you never thought you’d see from him. His eyes are so dark, so full of lust. You swallow but can’t bear to break the eye contact.
“Who was that girl?” You ask, breaking the silence but not the tension. “She your girlfriend or something?”
“No, I’m surprised you didn’t recognize her. That was Jenifer, you know, the one who used to make fun of me,” he answers.
“So, why was she hanging on to you like that?”
He smirks. “What are you jealous?”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” you reply, deflecting his question.
“And that doesn’t answer mine.”
You look away for a split second and shrug. “Should I be?”
“I’d like you to be. But she’s nothing, just one of the many girls from this town who’ve suddenly become interested in me after I decided to change up my looks,” he answers.
You feel ashamed. Are you one of those girls now? You can admit, if Max still looked how he did before you don’t know if you’d be having these feelings for him. Part of you believes you would though, just because of how flirty he is, he’s been like that since the two of you met all those years ago. You look down at your lap, not knowing what else to do.
“Did I say something wrong?” He asks after a few seconds.
You shake your head. “No, of course not. I just... I don’t want you to think I’m one of those girls too. I mean am I really attracted to you now? Yes. But I’ve always been attracted to your personality too. I’m sorry, you just are so fucking hot now it’s hard but-”
You’re cut off by Max’s lips crashing on to yours. You forget about what you were saying and kiss him back instantly, your hands moving up to grip his soft curls. The kiss is rough and full of pent-up sexual tension. You part your lips and let his tongue roam your mouth, it makes your body ignite. One of his hands moves down your body, eventually resting on your hip. The other one cups your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin gently.
He pulls back after a minute and the two of you stare into each other's eyes once again. Your breathing is heavy, your cheeks are flushed, and your lips are swollen. You haven’t been kissed like that in a long time.
“Sorry, I should’ve asked first, but I just needed to show you that you aren’t anything like those other girls. I’ve always wanted you y/n, I just never thought I had a chance,” he explains softly.
You twirl one of his curls around one of your pointer fingers and chuckle. “Oh Max, if you asked me out I most likely would’ve said yes.”
“I didn’t want to ruin the friendship, but at this point since we don’t even talk that much I don’t care. I want you y/n, so bad. Even if it’s just for tonight, even if we never talk again after, let me have you right now,” he whispers.
“I’m yours for the taking,” you reply and before you have a second to think he crashes his lips to yours again.
The kiss is even rougher this time. His hands roam your body freely, cupping your breasts, your ass, everything. You let him pull you over the center console and into his lap, though the two of you laugh at the slight struggle. It’s a tight squeeze, but it works. You straddle him as the kiss continues, his hips grinding up into yours. You slightly moan at the feeling of his bulge brushing against your clothed clit. Your arms wrap around his neck and you hold him tight, the feeling of your bodies against each other sending tingles throughout your entire body.
You break the kiss after a couple minutes to remove your coverup, your bikini now the only thing covering your breasts. Max smirks and lifts his hands up to the back of your neck, pulling the string that’s holding up your bikini until it comes undone. He does the same with the other string and throws your bikini on to the passenger seat. He doesn’t try to hide his stare; it makes your face heat up again.
Before you can say anything, he leans forward and takes one of your nipples in his mouth. You sigh from the pleasure it gives you. Your body falls back against the steering wheel, luckily not hitting the horn. You feel his tongue swirl around your nipple, it makes you throw your head back. He moves between both of your nipples for a few minutes before moving on to kiss and suck the rest of your breasts.
“Can we move to the back?” He asks suddenly, his lips still on your skin.
“Yeah,” you answer breathlessly before climbing off him and between the two front seats to get to the back.
He’s too big to climb through, so he gets out of the car and goes through one of the back doors instead. He lays you down on the seats and continues his kisses on your breasts. He trails his kisses down your stomach, your navel, until he’s at the point where your skin ends and your jean shorts start. Your eyes meet his and he gives you a smirk that sends warmth to the pit of your stomach. He unbuttons your shorts and you lift your hips to help him pull them down your body, leaving you only in your bikini bottoms.
He presses soft kisses to your inner thighs, making the wet spot in your bottoms even more noticeable. You move up so half your back is pressed against the car door, mostly to give Max more room, but also because you want to watch him. He sucks on the skin of your thighs, leaving behind a few hickeys as proof. His hands wrap around your thighs as well and he pulls them up so that your legs are bent and his head is now stuck between them.
His hands then move to the two strings on your hips that are holding your bathing suit bottoms in place. He pulls them at the same time until they both come undone, then he takes off your body, leaving you completely naked. His eyes are on yours as he moves his head down and finally connects his mouth to your soaking cunt.
You moan, your head hitting the car door as you throw it back. He licks and sucks your clit perfectly; he’s definitely done this before. When he moves his tongue down to your entrance, teasingly moving it in and out, his nose brushes your clit. Your thighs squeeze around his head, you lift your hips for more pressure. It feels so good, too good. Only five minutes go by and you can feel your orgasm approaching, you pull at his hair.
“Max- you should stop before I- before I cum,” you say, your breath ragged.
“Don’t you want to?” He asks after lifting his head.
“I want this to last longer, I don’t want it to be over yet,” you answer.
He smiles. “Who said it would be over after you cum once?”
Before you can reply he moves his head back down and continues his precious licks. You come undone within three minutes. He doesn’t stop, even as you cum. Your orgasm takes over your whole body, it makes you feel euphoric.
When he’s sure you're finished, he wipes his mouth on your thigh and moves back so he’s sitting on one of the seats. He removes his bathing suit before grabbing your ankles and pulling your body so you’re laid down on the seats. He climbs over you and meets your eyes for the hundredth time tonight.
“Are you on the pill?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it okay if I cum in you or do you still want me to pull out?”
Your stomach does a flip at his words. He’s the first guy to ask that after finding out you’re on the pill. You’ve never adored anyone more than him in this moment.
“You can do it inside,” you reply.
Max nods before pressing his lips to yours. You can taste yourself on his lips, it only makes you more turned on. You wrap your arms around his back, holding him close to you as he starts to rub his dick between your soaked folds. You bite down on your lips as his tip rubs against your clit, it feels incredible. But you want him inside you more. He must know this, because he positions himself at your entrance after a few seconds and starts to slowly move inside you.
He starts off with slow thrusts, helping you adjust to his size. Even with his slow pace you can’t help but bite down on his shoulder, the feeling of him inside you making your toes curl. Once you give him the okay, he starts to move faster, and after minutes he’s fucking you hard. You’re a moaning mess, your nails scratching down his back as he pounds into you harshly. Each thrust makes your eyes practically roll back into your skull, they’re so hard, so deep.
The air inside the car is warm, the windows fogged up. You know if anyone were to walk into the garage, they’d see it shaking. You almost scream when he starts to suck your neck, he finds your sweet spot quickly and settles on it. You touch his now sweaty curls and close your eyes, this is the best sex you’ve ever had, you don’t want it to ever end.
“Baby, I want you to ride me till I cum,” he whispers, his hot breath on your ear. “Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
He moves your position so that he’s sitting and you're straddling him, like you did in the front seat. You don’t waste a second to begin moving up, down, back, and forth on his dick, riding him the way you know guys like it. You watch his head fall back on the seat, your name leaving his lips in a voice that almost makes you cum right then and there. His hands grip your ass tight; you love the way it stings.
You kiss his lips, his jaw, his neck, each sound that leaves him a reward. Your second orgasm is approaching, you feel the tightening in your stomach. You hold back though; you want to feel him finish before you. Thankfully, your silent request comes sooner than you thought.
“Just like that, don’t stop, I’m gonna cum,” he mumbles. His eyes are closed and his head is still resting on the seat, you swear he’s the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen. “I’m so close- so fucking close.”
“Cum in me baby,” you say, and he does.
The feeling of his dick pulsing inside you is the last thing you can take, you let your orgasm take over too, the both of you cumming at the same time. You’re out of breath but you keep riding him until you’re positive he’s completely done. Once he is, you get off him and fall back on to the seat next to him. You’re sweaty and tired. You open the door next to you and breathe in the fresh air, it’s refreshing.
“Now two of your fluids have been on my backseat, that’s cool right?” Max says to break the silence.
You laugh. “Can you shut the fuck up?”
“Can I not be happy that your vomit and your cum has been where we’re sitting?”
“Please stop before more of my vomit is on your seats.”
“We should go swim, the fireworks are gonna start soon,” he mentions. You look at him and see he’s already redressing. He meets your eyes and pauses. “Unless you want to stay here which is fine too.”
“No, no, I want to go I just need a second, that was a workout,” you reply.
He grins and hands you back your clothing items, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Whatever you want y/n.”
~~~
The two of you are in the pool when Baja and Jake finally find you.
“So, you guys are acquainted again?” Baja asks as she lowers herself into the pool.
You and Max share a look before you answer her. “Yeah, you can say that.”
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jazz-berry · 21 days ago
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another crack fic cause I was rewatching ahs and my ghost husband pissed me off
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"JAMES!" you shout furiously at your husband. He just gives you a charming smile.
"Yes, my love-" you cut him off with a sharp slap across the face. You glare at him.
"YOU KILLED QUEENIE?!" you screech. You're well aware of your husband's ‘hobby’, but Queenie was someone you started to consider a dear friend.
"Well yes, but-" you cut him off again, this time by placing your hands on his chest and shoving him, making him fall down the stairs.
“AAAAAAAAAAAA”
James rolls down the stairs of Hotel Cortez for eternity, while you go find the ghost of Queenie and play cards with her.
The end :D
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elflutter · 2 months ago
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something beautiful (march x f!reader)
summary:
You felt March smile against your lips at the shudder he sent through you. You melted like a piece of ore on the anvil beneath him, and you hoped he would shape you into something beautiful.
notes: explicit (minors dni), f!farmer, loss of virginity, smut, praise kink, soft!dom march | crossposted to ao3
word count: 4,228
You felt the heat of the forge and of March’s on your back as he judged your work in the cool night air. Although neither of you were willing to admit it outside of the tipsy haze of Friday nights at the Inn, you and the blacksmith had come to treasure spending time together. When March offered to give you smithing lessons over drinks one Friday night, your heart raced with forbidden hope. Hope that maybe this tension wasn’t in your head. Maybe he wanted an excuse to see you, too. Maybe he felt the same way. Maybe he pictured you falling apart underneath him while he was alone in his bed. After you felt the impact of the last strike of your hammer travel up your arm, you leaned back, gloved hands on the anvil, to admire your work. Tonight, you had finished a shining silver sword.
You felt the air shift as the blacksmith stepped behind you to study the blade. You could feel his breath on your neck as he leaned forward to run his own gloved finger along the blade. His other arm had you caged between his body and the anvil as he studied your work. He always had something to critique in your pieces during these lessons. As he stared at the silver in silence your breath hitched.
You repositioned, turning your back to the anvil so you could look at March. You saw a faint smile play on his lips that you pretended didn’t make your insides flutter. “Good work, farm girl.”
The praise in his voice turned your knees liquid. You hoped he didn’t notice how you suddenly reclined harder on the anvil for support. Or the tiny mewl that made its way from your throat without permission. But, given the distance between you and the glint in his eye, you knew he heard exactly what he had done to you. Your heart leaped in your chest with the sudden fear that if he knew how you felt, it would ruin your friendship. That you would jeopardize these lessons. That he would return to the cool distance that had marked your first few seasons knowing him. You liked his warmth. You could feel it where your chests nearly pressed together. His eyes were heavy-lidded as he leaned closer, his body enveloping yours; his breath a brand on your neck. A smirk played on his lips and you felt like you could hardly breathe while you waited for what he would say next.
“Did you like that, princess?”
You didn’t even try to hide your whimper this time. You weren’t sure when he started calling you princess, but you knew it always made you blush. He probably enjoyed making you squirm, even when he wasn’t pressing you against his anvil. March inclined his head until you could feel his lips on the shell of your ear.
“Good girl.”
His name fell from your voice in a whimper as warmth pooled between your legs. March’s body was finally, finally flush with yours as he bent down towards you. You felt his muscles flex as he pushed something behind you. Then you heard your creation tumble to the ground on the side opposite you and your blacksmith. His hands were a vice on your hips as he lifted you easily onto his anvil. His hands were a vice on your hips as he lifted you easily onto his anvil. The safety enchantments made the metal of the anvil pleasantly warm against your skin, but never hot enough to burn. The gloves and the fabric of your pants that separated his fingers from bare skin were the worst injustice you could think of. You had never bared your body to another before, but you longed to give yourself to him with a fire like molten ore deep in your soul.
“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” March’s voice was rough with want. Finger by taunting finger, he removed the gloves from his hands. You numbly thought that you should do the same, but the hunger in his eyes froze you in place.
“Don’t stop,” you didn’t mean to beg. “March, please-”
You felt a calloused hand snake underneath the skirt of your overalls to rest just underneath the curve of your breast.
“Do you know how hard,” March let out a harsh breath, “you make it to keep my hands off you?”
With March’s hand hiking the dress up around your middle, you should have been worried about someone seeing you bared from the waist down in just your underclothes and worn leather boots. But the stars shone in the midnight sky and the air was cool where it nipped at your navel and all you could feel was March and the growing pool teasing you between your legs.
March’s free hand found its place on your hip as the blacksmith looked down at you. His eyes caught the growing wetness soaking your panties, appreciation bright in his gaze. “So eager for me, aren’t you?”
March finally moved his lips so they were just a hair above your own. You could almost feel them brush against you when he said, “Tell me what you want, farm girl.” The plea tumbled from you immediately.
“You.”
You lamented the cool air on your cheeks as March pulled away again, no remorse in his steely eyes. “I think you can do better than that,” he tutted.
You had never been with someone like this before and had certainly never begged. But you swallowed your insecurity as you pleaded, “Kiss me.”
March smirked. “Is that all?”
He knew what you wanted. You could feel what he wanted pressed against your inner thigh.
“I- I’ve never done this before. I- I mean, I’ve kissed someone, but not like this. Not like what I want.”
March’s stare gentled, and it held you steady in your uncertainty. Not uncertainty in what you wanted- you wanted him. But uncertainty in your own inexperience.
Still, your blacksmith pressed, “Tell me what you want, princess.”
You pushed past the self-consciousness that tugged in your chest, “I- I want you to fuck me.”
As the words fell from your lips, something palpable shifted in the air between you. For a moment you thought he would take you right there on the anvil, but he was still looking at you with concern in his dark eyes. He tucked a curl behind your ear.
“I’m going to be gentle with you, okay?”
You couldn’t seem to get any words past the lump of anticipation in your throat, so you nodded.
March leaned close again so you could feel his words on your lips. “And I’m gonna talk you through it, alright?”
Again, you couldn’t seem to speak. So you nodded. The movement brushed your mouths together, and March captured yours in a featherlight kiss. You felt his chapped lips move against your own for just a moment. Your hands, still lamentably covered in smithing gloves, dared to rest upon his chest. When March pulled away, you chased his kiss, finally moving to peel your hands free of the gloves. He held up a single finger to your lips in a gentle reprimand. You weren’t sure why that sent sparks of electricity straight down your spine.
Before you could reconsider, you sucked the finger into your mouth, tongue playing on the forge-roughened skin you found there. You could see March’s careful tenderness fighting against his own arousal and, for just a moment, his need won out as he bucked his hips between your thighs. You had touched yourself before, but you had never felt the desire that flooded through you in that moment.
He pulled his finger from between your lips with a wet pop and moved his hand to cup your jaw. Again, his gaze locked with yours. There was a softness in his eyes that, during your first seasons in Mistria, you never would have imagined the grumpy blacksmith could muster.
His other hand finally moved from your hip to join the one cupping your jaw, and his lips met yours again. He let you deepen the kiss for a moment, and you swore the prickles rushing through your veins were magic, more than you had felt from any of the incantations inside your spellbook.
March pulled back just enough to murmur into the kiss, “Let me take care of you, farm girl.”
You moaned into him in response, bare hands finding the smithing apron on his chest.
“That’s a good girl.”
You felt March smile against your lips at the shudder he sent through you. You melted like a piece of ore on the anvil beneath him, and you hoped he would shape you into something beautiful.
His hands smoothed out the skirt of your overalls and an untamed fear that he would pull away made your stomach flip over itself. But instead, March’s hands wrapped around your wrists where they still rested on his chest. They felt frozen in your own fear that your inexperience would ruin this searing thing between you. His hands circled your wrists with ease, but his hold was soft. As he guided your arms around his neck, he planted kisses along your jawline that stoked the heat in your core like underbrush in a wildfire.
“Wrap your legs around me.” there was no authority in his voice, just raw desire. This wasn’t an order. Why did you wish it was?
When your legs remained in place hanging from where you sat atop the anvil, a spark you couldn’t quite place lit up his face.
“Do you want to stop?”
You shook your head, coherent language feeling far away. You had a feeling he knew exactly what you wanted.
“Do you want me to make you feel good?”
You nodded desperately.
Now there was the sharp edge of power in his voice, just enough to send a shiver between your legs. “Then wrap your fucking legs around me.”
As he stared down at you, the look in his eyes was pure indulgence. He was giving you what you needed, and if it was too much, you knew he would stop the moment you asked. This time, you complied. As your legs locked together behind his back, his hands moved to support your rear as he lifted you off his anvil. Your head found its resting place in the crook of his neck and his breath was hot on your ear.
“That’s it, so good for me,” the praise fell from his lips like a litany. Your wetness pressed against the flat of his abdomen and you couldn’t help but buck your hips, desperate for any amount of friction to ease your burning need. March nipped at your earlobe and down your neck.
“Patience is a virtue, farm girl,” his growl went straight to your aching center. You thought you were being very patient while he fumbled for the door with one hand; his other still gripping your ass while his lips still toyed with your neck. Finally, he carried you over the threshold and into his shop. It was late enough that Olric was sound asleep, but you didn’t even think about that. March’s lips and voice and the bulge between his thighs consumed your mind. You felt like you could sob from relief when you felt his plush comforter meet your back as he laid you reverently on his bed. It smelled of cedarwood and sage. He had positioned you right on the edge of the mattress, so your legs still wrapped around him like a tether where he stood. You could feel his bulge pressed against you like an oath that you wished desperately he would keep.
You moved your arms from around his neck, carefully ghosting your fingers down his chest, feeling the hardness of his nipples beneath your timid touch; before venturing lower, lower. Just before you could explore what lay beneath his waistband, March stopped you with a gentle hand around your wrist. His touch was as infuriating as it was perfect, sending jolts of electricity through you as he held your hand above your head.
“Put your other hand up there, baby.”
You did, and his grip wrapped around both your wrists and held them above you. You felt your heart flutter nervously in your chest. All you could think of was your inexperience.
“I said I was gonna take care of you, Princess.” His voice was rough as hot coals, but his grip on your wrists was gentle. “Keep those hands up for me, alright?”
You nodded, torn between anxiety and impatience as his hand traveled from its place around your wrists, down to the clasps where the straps of your overalls held the garment in place. His nimble fingers unfastened your dress with ease. You arched your back so he could pull the overalls up and over your head, and he rewarded you with the sweetest press of his clothed cock against your soaked underwear. Your white undershirt was next. Finally, your underwear found its place on his bedroom floor, and you were completely bare before him. March drank in the sight of your nakedness like fine wine. His gaze stoked the fire in your belly and you turned to putty beneath him as his hands traced across the bare skin of your abdomen and up to the curve of your breasts. You groaned beneath his touch, arms locked in place above your head like he instructed.
“Good girl,” March purred. “Open your legs for me, princess.”
Drunk on his touch and his praise and your own arousal, you obeyed. You moved back on the bed slightly and planted your feet atop the edge of the mattress so you were spread for him. One of his hands ghosted its way to your hip, leaving behind a trail of gooseflesh. The other moved slowly, too slowly, even lower. When he finally ran a finger through your slick folds, you moaned his name. He pinched and circled the sensitive bud between your thighs in a way that had you certain you were staring at the stars and not the back of your eyelids.
“Look at me, baby. Have you touched yourself like this?”
You opened your eyes and the sight of his disheveled hair and his greedy eyes devouring you sent shivers down your back. He was still fully clothed, but here you were, naked and keening beneath him. You thought that turned you on a little too much. The blacksmith slid a finger inside you.
“Y-yeah, March, fuck-”
“How about this?”
You nodded, and his finger began to move inside you. You had touched yourself, but you weren’t sure you had ever felt this sensitive before. As he curled his finger within you, white-hot pleasure shot up your spine.
“I gotta get you ready for me, princess. This okay?”
When you moaned in assent, he kept moving within you. Then, he pushed another finger inside you and you thought you might combust. March hummed his approval as he stood leaning over you, looking down at you unraveling on the bed before him. You felt his fingers move in and out of you, your slick easing the wa. You felt fuller than you ever had before; but still, you longed for more.
“March, please,” your plea came out in a whimper.
He withdrew his fingers from your cunt, sucking them into his mouth like ripe fruit on a summer’s day.
“Are you ready?”
You had never felt more ready for anything in your entire life.
“March, I need you inside.”
Your blacksmith straightened from his position, leaning over you; and on his lips was a self-satisfied smirk that you wanted desperately to kiss away.
“Lean back on my pillow.”
You repositioned yourself to lie properly on his bed, head coming to rest upon his pillow. March removed each piece of his clothing one by one until he was as bare as you. You stared at the spot between his thighs, entranced by him. You had never seen a cock before and you suddenly felt unsure that it could fit inside you.
“You promise it won’t hurt?” You couldn’t quite bring yourself to feel embarrassed by the question.
March’s words were hot on your ear as the warmth of his body finally perched atop yours on the bed.
“I would never hurt you.”
A shiver ran down your spine. March eased himself down so that his body was flush with yours; the warmth of his naked skin driving you mad with desire. You could feel the hard length of his cock press against your thigh. Your arms wrapped around his neck instinctively, pulling him closer.
“March,” his voice fell from your lips like water.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Take me,” you pleaded, voice just above a whisper.
You never thought you would find yourself underneath March in his bed, begging him to take your maidenhead. But you had never wanted anything more than you wanted him to be inside of you at this moment.
“I’m gonna go slow for you, alright? Tell me if it hurts and we can stop.” March looked down at you; and you could see that the tenderness in his gaze was restraining his raw desire to ravish you completely. “We can stop whenever you need.”
You nodded. The movement of March’s skin against yours as he adjusted himself sent fire through every nerve in your body. He finally positioned his cock at your seeping entrance and you arched your back until his length provided you with just a touch of that desperately needed friction. March lowered his head until his lips brushed against your ear.
“I’m going to push inside you now, princess.”
Your breath hitched in anticipation. He pushed through your slick folds ever-so-slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size a little at a time. You had never felt anything like this; pressure all over, his cock sliding against your wetness with gratifying ease. When your lover was fully seated inside you, he held himself over you with admiration in his eyes.
“You look so fucking beautiful beneath me.”
March’s lips met yours in a gentle kiss, and he pulled away just enough to murmur, “Is it okay if I start moving, baby?” You arched your back in response, desperate to feel more.
“Please-” The thrust of his hips stole the rest of your reply from your mouth, reduced to an incoherent keen. March began to move within you, and even this languid pace took your breath away. The stretch of his cock pushing against your walls was almost too much, the pleasure bordering on sweetest pain but never quite reaching it. March kept his promise to never hurt you. He reached one hand down to trace lazy circles over your clit. His every movement sent licks of fire through your body until you had to close your eyes and moan.
“That’s it, baby,” he growled in your ear. “You make such sweet little noises for me.”
The praise couples with each thrust of his cock hitting your most sensitive spot had you seeing fireworks. You felt a warm hand wrap around your wrists where they wrapped around his neck. He repositioned your arms above your head, his thrusts becoming wilder as he chased his own pleasure and your own.
“Open your eyes, princess. I want you to look at me, okay?”
You were glad to be laid down because the gentle authority in his voice made your knees weak. He never pushed, only took what you were ready to give. And you were ready to give him absolutely everything.
You opened your eyes. The sight of March atop you could have been a painting, red hair falling around his dark eyes, his forehead scrunched with effort as he moved in and out.
“Good girl, doing everything I ask,” the words fell from March’s lips like a mantra as he held himself above you with his hand around your wrists. The finger on your clit sped up in time with his thrusts inside you, your thoughts reduced to chasing the sensations he was giving to you. You were getting so close, March coaxing you to the edge of your climax until you cried out beneath him. You had never felt like this before. The feeling of him deep inside you while rubbing your clit was almost too much. Finally, you cried out beneath him, seeing stars. His finger slowed its circles, but his thrusts grew more erratic as your climax clenched around him.
“Where d’you want me to finish, princess?” His rough voice told you he was close.
“Inside, please March, please-”
“You certain?” Despite his self-satisfied smirk, pleased with himself for reducing you to such a begging mess, the question was serious. You could tell he wanted to be sure you wanted this.
“Please, March- Please make me yours.”
With your permission, his restraint finally snapped. “Mine,” tumbled from his lips in a growl. March thrusted wildly, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you that made you whimper as he chased his climax, your hands still locked above your head. “Gods, you feel s- so good,” he had to fight to get the words out through his moans of pleasure. Now it was your turn to feel satisfied that you had reduced him to a mumbling, moaning mess.
When he reached his precipice, he cried out your name like a prayer. His thrusts slowed as he emptied himself inside you. When he bottomed out one last time, pushing his spend deep inside, you felt so impossibly full. So impossibly taken.
March let go of your wrists and your arms tightened around him as he lowered his body against yours, both of you catching your breath. He was slick with sweat as your arms moved around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. He hadn’t even pulled out of you yet. You thought that he should stay buried within you forever. You felt your name mumbled against your hair.
After a few sweet moments like that, March eased himself out of you. He pushed himself up on his elbows to stare down with assessing eyes. “Are you okay?” He smoothed a curl behind your ear. “Was that good for you? Was that too much?”
You couldn’t help but laugh, his insecurity sweet and a little unexpected. And completely misplaced, because you thought that might have been the best thing you had ever felt. When you told him that, his laughter joined your own.
You pulled his body back down against yours until his bare chest pressed against your own and your lips stole his in a tender kiss. You stayed like that for a while, tangled together, naked and kissing. Even the chaste movement of his lips against yours sent heady warmth through your body. When he finally pulled away, his eyes devoured your bared form, a hand traveling up your body to gently squeeze your breast. You arched your back into his touch.
March finally broke the silence as he flopped down next to you on the bed. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”
You grinned and turned to lay your head on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat where you rested against him, the sound sending warmth through your limbs “How long?”
“Since you showed up in my shop with a stupid smile on your face and handed me a bag full of copper ore.”
You laughed in disbelief. “That was my first season in Mistria.” When you angled your head to look at March, a blush crept across his face.
“Yeah…” he admitted sheepishly.
You gently poked at his ribs in reprimand. “You ass! We could’ve done this months ago!”
“It scared me how much I wanted you. That’s why it took me so long to warm up to you, even after all the things you did for Mistria. ‘M sorry.”
You knew there was truth in his statement, but you’d seen March’s vanity. After all, you had studied him for months, despite trying to convince yourself it was a waste of time. You smiled into his chest, teasing. “Admit it, you were a little jealous of me.”
March ran his fingers through your hair. You heard the smile in his voice, “No clue what you mean.”
You laughed, “Yeah, right.”
March tipped your head back up to meet his gaze. “You were so perfect. It pissed me the fuck off. Now you’re so perfect that I just want you to be mine.” His other hand rested on your back.
You felt your cheeks heat as your response escaped your lips. “March, I’ve been yours since I got here.”
“I think we might need Valen to check you out. Your taste in men is shit.”
You laughed as you leaned up to kiss him. You tried not to think about the look Valen would give you in the morning when you purchased the morning after-tincture. March pulled you from your thoughts as his hands cupped your jaw, and you could have been kissing for minutes or hours or days before he pulled back to murmur sleepily against your lips.
“Just for the record, I’m yours too, farm girl.”
You drifted off to sweet slumber like that, tangled and bare in each other’s arms.
a/n: this is by far the filthiest thing i have ever written, please let me know what you thought! i would love to hear your feedback/favorite parts/requests for what i should write next! thank you so much for reading! and thank you so much to the response on my first fic!! i am still new here, so i will be posting a proper introductory post soon :)
🏷️: @xxchaosjojoxx
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ghostface001 · 2 months ago
Text
Broken Bottles
March is falling for you, but he sees how you act around Olric and knows you'll never return his feelings. His solution is to bottle up his emotions and drop kick it as far away from him as possible. Somehow, he doesn't realize what happens to glass when you kick it.
March x Reader
Word count: 2.7k
Warnings: Angst (with a happy ending), assumed unrequited feelings, minor swearing, drinking as a coping mechanism, a slightly toxic confession scene
Note: This took a lot longer to write than I thought it would, but I love it, so that's okay. Please let me know if you like it! Tagging @atoltia because she asked so nicely
The bell ringing above the door of the blacksmith’s prompts March to turn from his spot at his desk to see who entered, greeted by your bright smile and sack of ore from your latest trip down to the mines. He ignores the clenching in his chest as you beeline to him, procuring a perfect piece of iron ore and holding it out to him. 
“Hey, I found this and thought of you.”
He hates it when you talk to him like you want to see him. It could be so easy for him to trick himself into thinking that’s the case. The increased visits to the shop when you don’t need any new tools, the gifts, the attention — when he’s feeling particularly delusional, he wonders if it truly is all for him. But the illusion breaks after he takes the ore and gives the only response he’s capable of under your expectant gaze, something lukewarm to disguise the warmth rushing to his cheeks, and you move on to who you’re actually here for. 
Olric. 
It’s annoying, hearing Olric tell the same stupid story about his most recent part-time shift around town for the third time in two days. It’s even more annoying when he has to hear you laugh at it, because now instead of focusing on his work, he’s distracted by coming up with ways to hear your laugh for the rest of his life. 
“I’m trying to concentrate. Don’t either of you have work to do?” His voice comes out harsher than he intends, but he can’t bring himself to amend it. His position at his desk is a convenient cover from your gaze as you pause. Do you see the white-knuckled grip on his pencil? Do you notice the redness in his cheeks?
He doesn’t have to look at you to know your expression. Raised brow, a wrinkle of confusion and annoyance. He hasn’t snapped at you like that in a while, hasn’t deemed you a nuisance. You thought you were past this with him.You purse your lips and side-eye Olric, who only gives you a guilty shrug. “Sorry, March. I’ll get out of your hair.” You shoulder your bag and say goodbye to Olric, pausing at the door. “I’ll see you both at the inn tonight?”
“Yeah, totally!” March gives a flat grunt following Olric’s enthusiastic answer, and continues scribbling out blueprints. 
The door closes behind you, leaving a tense silence as Olric decides whether or not to question him. Before he can, a gasp escapes him. “I have a shift at the general store!” He rushes out the door, and March turns in his chair to see him walk past the window with you smiling brightly at him. 
The rip of paper brings him out of his thoughts. March looks down at the blueprints to see a large tear where the pencil had ripped through the paper. With a frustrated sigh, March balls up the paper and tosses it into the wastebasket before pushing himself up from his desk, grabbing his hammer and heading out the door.
Get a grip. 
Why do you care who the stupid farmer talks to anyway? 
Why do you think they’d ever smile at you like that?
Each passing thought is channeled into March’s swing, punctuated by the loud banging of his hammer against metal. The shop needs a new sword on display after he gave you the last one in exchange for all the ore you’ve been handing over. He can’t let himself be in debt to you. Can’t let himself owe you anything. Because then you’d just give him that smile you have whenever you think you’ve made progress with him, the one that drives him insane. You drive him insane. Every laugh when he brags about his skill, every smile as you hand over a gift from the mines, every new scar from your journeys down there… he can’t tell if he admires you or is worried about you when you act like nothing happened after passing out in the mines. Seeing his sword strapped to your back as you run around town helped after the last time Valen had to heal you — it also made it worse. It made you keep talking to him; it made him keep responding. And now… now it just makes him confused. Frustrated. Annoyed.
Angry.
Angry when you smile at him as though he deserves it. Angry when he messes up and snaps at you. Angry when you just roll your eyes and give it back to him, making his stomach twist in guilt — both because you don’t deserve his attitude and because he likes it when you return his energy. You don’t coddle him like Olric does. You don’t defend him when he’s being a jerk. You don’t insist he’s secretly better than he is. You see him for who he is, and you like him for who he is. 
But you like Olric more. You like Olric in the way March wishes you would like him. Not that he blames you, though he can certainly pretend to. Olric is better than him. Maybe not at blacksmithing, but at everything else. Everything you deserve. And it pisses him off.
“Are you, uh… trying out a new technique, bro?”
March forces his glare away from Olric to the anvil. The sword he’d been taking his anger out on now sits in pieces, the metal ruined from sitting in the forge for too long before he started working on it. He sneers down at his failure. “No. I’m screwing up.”
“I’m sure it can be reused… somehow.” Olric reaches up and scratches the back of his neck as he attempts to be reassuring. 
“It can’t.” March swipes the metal into the scrap bucket that’s been steadily becoming more and more needed the longer you’ve been living in his head. Maybe it’s for the best that you like Olric. That way, he can finally force his feelings to the back of his mind and get back to his standards of perfection. Maybe it’ll actually work this time. 
Olric is saying something about not worrying about the waste of metal when him saying your name brings March’s attention back. “— and I are going down to the tide caverns of the mines tomorrow, if you want to join?”
The offer makes March roll his eyes. He’s never been a miner. After the earthquake, sometimes he’ll go a few levels down in the upper mines for copper if he’s really desperate, but otherwise, he relies on Olric and Balor for supply. Not to mention, he’d rather look for worms after it rains than be a third wheel to you and Olric in the mines, working together, protecting each other with his sword on your back—
“March?”
He grits his teeth and tears off his gloves. “I’ll pass.” He storms past Olric into the shop, slamming the door behind him. 
~~~
As soon as you walk into the inn, March feels the room brighten, and he watches you make your rounds. You first visit the Dragon Guard, who are conspiring on their next hit — March overheard them ‘whispering’ about Juniper earlier, the kids aren’t subtle. Next, you check in on the latest session of Dragons & Drama that Celine is running, and after that, you stop for a round of cards. March observes you sitting next to Olric, consulting each other about your hands to the annoyance of everyone else playing. And when you win instead of Olric, he cheerfully congratulates you, his arm around your shoulders causing March to grip his glass tighter.
You finally sit next to him at the bar, and the sinking feeling in his gut disappears with your smile. Hemlock slides a drink to you over the bar, and you thank him before turning to March, your voice low. “You seemed a little off this morning, are you feeling better?”
“Now that you’re here,” He drawls with a smile, propping his head up with his hand, his elbow resting on the bar.
You bite back a smile, and March suddenly has the strong urge to cup your cheeks in his hands as your face takes on a warmer hue and you laugh softly, hiding behind a sip of your drink. “Did Olric ask you about the mines tomorrow? I wanted to ask you myself, but thought you might still be… moody.”
He frowns — if he’s being honest, it’s more of a pout. “‘S’not fair.”
Your brow furrows. “Sorry, I just didn’t want to bother you.”
“You are bothering me.”
Your face twists in confusion and offense. “I can leave—”
“Noooo.” It begins to occur to March that drinking does not make him magically better at expressing himself. He reaches forward as you start to get up, but you’re closer than he’s prepared for, so he holds your wrists when he means to take your hands in his. “I mean… ‘s’not fair that you hang out with Olric all the time. ‘S’like you like him or something.”
“I do like him.”
You say something else, but the blood is already rushing in his ears. “You… you do?”
Your confusion doesn’t let up. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”
No. There isn’t. Because Olric is everything March isn’t. He’s nice, and humble, and respectful. His compliments aren’t backhanded, and his praise doesn’t have to be earned. Olric doesn’t have to hide behind alcohol to express how he feels. He doesn’t have to drink to be happy. 
You like Olric. March already knew, but to hear it from your lips makes the sting burn. The warmth of your skin under his hands turns to ice, and he pulls back quickly. Too quickly, as his elbow hits his glass and sends it crashing to the ground. 
Everyone turns at the sound of glass shattering, and March’s face burns under their gazes as he pushes himself to stand. You reach out to steady him as he stumbles, avoiding stepping on broken glass. “I’ll pay for it,” He manages as Josephine approaches, ready with a broom and dustpan. 
 “There’s no need. You didn’t get nicked or anything, right?” Josephine waves him off with a smile that he can only read as pity.
“I’m fine.” He backs away, keeping his head down, and shoves his hands in his pockets before leaving. The cool night air does little to help the burning in his cheeks as he stalks over the bridge to get home. 
On the way, a hand is on his shoulder. And he turns to see you, your concerned gaze under the moonlight doing nothing to help his inner turmoil. “March? What happened?”
“I said I’m fine!” He wrenches himself away, glaring at you. “Just go be with your boyfriend!”
You hold your hands up to placate him, only angering him more. “What are you talking about?”
“Olric!” He steps forward, closing in the space between you. “You said you like him, so how about you go do something about it instead of being a useless coward?”
Your face falls for a moment before hardening, and you straighten. “Get some sleep, March,” You say coolly. “It seems like you need it.”
You head back to the inn, and March glares over the side of the bridge, debating the merits of a night swim when Olric finds him and brings him home. 
~~~
March is occupying himself witht he inventory books the next morning when the bell above the door rings. He looks up to see you enter, dressed for the mines, with his sword strapped to your back. Despite the pain relieving tonic from Valen, his head throbs. “Olric left already,” He bites out, forcing himself to look down at the book.
“I told him I’d meet him there.” You set a paper cup on the sales desk and push it towards him. “Fresh from Darcy. She said she hasn’t seen you today.”
There was no chance in hell he was going to the market today. Everyone would just ask him how he was, and what was wrong, and he might just throw himself over the bridge for sure. His headache forces him to take the cup, despite never wanting to accept anything from you ever again. It’s a mocha. At least he can pretend it’s from Darcy knowing his order instead of you. You watch him expectantly as he takes a drink, an edge in your gaze. You’re expecting him to lash out at you again. He just might. “You should go. Wouldn’t want you to be late for your date.”
Your eyes narrow, and he pointedly returns to the inventory lists. “It’s not a date,” You reply. 
“But you want it to be.”
“No, I don’t.” You reach forward and close the book, bringing it over to your side of the desk. March glares at you, but you don’t waver. “So, let’s talk about it.”
It’s times like these when March wishes you would treat him like everyone else. Give him a wide berth when he’s upset, only bother him when necessary, and treat him like a ticking bomb just waiting to go off. Stop being so… you. Maybe then he wouldn’t like you as much, and you wouldn’t be forcing this conversation on him in the first place. “If you want to talk so bad, then talk to Olric,” He grits out.
“You are such a child!” You round the desk, removing the barrier between you. “I’m not dating Olric, I don’t want to date him—”
“You said you like him—”
“I thought you meant as a friend!” You throw your hands out in exasperation. “And you know what? Even if I did like him romantically, why do you care? Why is it any of your business?”
He balls his fists, his nails digging into his palms. “It isn’t.”
“No.” You step forward again, closing the distance between you. “It’s not rhetorical. Why do you care so much about who I like, March? Because I have a feeling, but I’m not gonna make it easy for you after you’ve been treating me like shit for no good reason. So how about you do something about it instead of being a useless coward?”
For the first time in a long time, he does something about it. The kiss he pulls you in for is bruising and awkward, but that doesn’t stop you from returning the intensity with equal fervor. His drink sits forgotten on the table as he holds the back of your neck, his other hand gripping your hip. You clutch the front of his shirt tightly, arching your body closer into him. His lips part, and you capture more of him, causing him to gasp against your mouth.
When you finally part, neither of you let go of the other, both breathing heavily. “Why… why did you think I liked Olric?” You ask softly, still catching your breath. 
He knows his face is red, but he’s close enough to see that your cheeks are a deeper hue as well. “You always come by to see him.”
“I always come by to see you.” Your palms flatten against his chest and you laugh. “Do you seriously need me to tell you how disgustingly obvious it is that I like you? Because I will. And it will be disgusting. And slightly stalker-y. And you’ll feel really stupid that you got it wrong.”
He purses his lips to hide the smile threatening to surface. “So, what, you’re so smart that you’ve known I liked you all along and did nothing about it?”
“I had no idea until you freaked out on me last night.” Your hand trails up to his cheek. “So I guess we’re both a little stupid.”
“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, dipping his head down. “I didn’t do it right the first time.”
“It felt alright to me.” Your gaze falls to his lips. You can still feel where your teeth had knocked together, and your lips sting. 
“‘Alright’ isn’t good enough.”
“You’re such a perfectionist,” You laugh, leaning in so your lips graze against his. “But I’ll allow it.”
He closes the distance, and vows to perfect his technique as long as you’ll let him.
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cloudcountry · 3 months ago
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Yooooooo happy to see that field of mistria are making you happy ^-^ i'd like to request reader helping march dye his hair ( lots of bickering and threatening to turn him pink instead ) but since ik you don't really like him and might not feel inspired here's another idea ( choose whichever one you feel most comfortable writing for ) how about flower picking with Celine :)
SUMMARY: when the saturday market can't come to town, you offer to help march dye his hair instead
COMMENTS: no pls wifey im very much joking w you i like march :(( hes just a bitch and im going to stab him. with a plastic sword. gently.
i dont have dividers so i am recycling my header ITS FINE DONT WORRY ABOUT IT
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“Ow, would you quit pulling my hair like that?” March groans, shooting you a dirty look over his shoulder, “For all that skill you claim to have you don’t act—”
“Oh will you hush?” you huff, gently tugging on a handful of March’s hair on purpose, “If you stopped squirming and whining, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so bad!”
He grumbles something under his breath that you don’t catch, but you’re far too busy sectioning off his surprisingly thick hair to prepare for the (tacky) bright red hair dye.
“Why the fuck is your hair so thick?” you comment, very much amused.
“Oh shut up.” March snaps, “If I could reach back there and grab a fistful of your hair to yank around I would, you little—”
You click your tongue, interrupting him once again. “Worry about yourself, March. Wouldn’t want my hand to slip and for you to end up with pink hair, now would we?”
He grumbles again, and you giggle.
It occurs to you that, if anyone were to overhear this conversation, they’d assume you and the blacksmith were a hair’s breath away from killing each other.
You pat yourself on the back for the winning pun you just made. Holt would be proud.
“Oi, I can feel your smugness from here. Whatever you’re thinking about, it’s making me sick.”
“I was just thinking about you.” you comment offhandedly, snatching up the bottle of dye flippantly, “You must be pretty awful if you make yourself sick.”
“Don’t say shit like that, it’s weird.” he crosses his arms in his chest and sinks into the chair, his back hunched as if trying to make himself smaller.
You wonder why he’s shriveling up now. Normally he'd return your scathing insult.
Instead of asking, you opt not to. You pop the cap off the dye bottle and start applying it to his scalp, massaging it into the roots. You try not to feel smug about the way March so obviously relaxes, shoulders dropping and head falling into your touch, his breathing shifting from frustrated to calm.
You also try not to feel warm about the way he looks right now, vulnerable and soft, you try not to think about how it’s just the two of you here, with his brother who knows where, and you try not to think about the very tempting open space of his forehead, which is finally not all wrinkly for once.
You don’t want to smooth over those wrinkles with your thumb at all. And you certainly do not want to kiss them after a hard day’s work.
Even when he’s sweaty.
Especially when he’s sweaty.
You cough loudly into your arm, trying your best not to squirm where you’re standing, lest you mess up March’s hair.
Fully expecting him to turn around and scold you for ruining the moment, you’re surprised when he doesn’t move.
“You’re such a weirdo.” he says, but his voice his soft and there’s no real bite to them.
The smile that threatens to burst out of you is barely held back by your desire to keep the solemn, dare you say affectionate atmosphere going.
“So are you.” you reply, and your voice is equally as soft.
March snorts, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say it was a genuine laugh.
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