#that's a long list. how much of a hold do they actually have on me?

[tmntxthings]

一∑Moth to a Flame・゜・。

author’s notes: this is my entry for @dancingdonatello ‘s competition :D this has been sm fun and I can’t wait to read everyone else’s stories!!!

prompt: "You like them...more? Is that it? Am I the second choice?" "That's not true..." "Then choose me. Choose us."

warnings: angst, situation-ship, aged-up characters, college au, alcohol consumption, jealousy, yandere tendencies? cliffhanger

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Donnie didn’t know how much more he could take. His mind was simultaneously all over the place and singularly focused on one thing. You.

~

Mutants and yokai kind alike have been out for years. So in the ‘town’ he and his brothers grew up in, they finally came to be free from the shadows. As free as heroes can be at least. They still needed to be a bit secretive on where they lived, in case of revenge-seeking villains.

But with mutants out on the surface, New York had grown accustom to them. Well, as accustom as they can be…

Donnie has met many people. He’s been able to attend college. Mostly online. But he finds the time to attend some evening classes in person. He met you. A floundering classmate in need of assistance.

Usually Donnie can find an excuse to get out of helping every poor soul that crosses his path. That’s what the professors are for. The librarians. Hell the student mentors! But with you… he just couldn’t resist.

The study sessions were long. But in the end you were able to pass, “All thanks to you Dee!!” You had cheered shoving your research paper into his face for him to appraise your passing grade. Barely passing, but it showed your improvement nonetheless.

He had been about to tease you of this. Three months of his help and you hardly grazed by?! But the thought was cut short as you pulled the papers away from his face and up you jumped.

Arms going around his neck and squealing your joy. He was frozen for a millisecond before his arms twitched into motion. His hands going around your back, holding you. That was the first time you had initiated such skin-ship.

Sure there had been the occasional touching of hands, passing laptops, books and the like back and forth. There had even been moments of playful touch, nudging his arm with your elbow for his odd choice in coffee. A tap above his glasses when he got too focused on his own work to answer your sporadic questions.

The hug didn’t last very long in terms of time. Seconds merely. But it made a lastly impression on Donnie. With the class over, you had no other reason to see him again. The prospect had Donnie fumbling to invite you out, to do anything to prolong such an ending to this blooming relationship.

“What classes are you taking next semester?” He had asked. You promised to text him the list, already having to dash off for one last exam.

He worried that would be the end.

Thankfully it wasn’t. You texted him later that evening, telling him all about the rest of your day as well as the list per his request. Unfortunately the two of you didn’t share any other classes. And it seemed unlikely for the future as well, the two of you were on diverging paths. Donnie despaired.

But you found reasons to message him. By the time the next semester rolled around the two of you were study partners, no matter the subject. Donnie would help if he could, and usually he was able. But there was a shift in the relationship. Outings to the library and other study areas changed to coffee shops. Then to your place. It only felt natural to invite you over to his.

Preparations were put in place. As were warnings “Yes, I do live in a sewer with my brothers and dad.” And “No it doesn’t reek of waste or garbage.” And “Yes there is one rat actually, my dear Papa.”

You took it all in stride. The introductions to his family went as well as they ever did. Friends. The two of you were officially friends. Donnie couldn’t be happier. With such a title he took more initiative with online contact. His messages would ramble on, sprinkled with pictures and videos.

Semesters continued to pass by and the bond between the two of you only grew. In turn, with more trips to his home, you became friends with his brothers. With April. It was just natural.

And then there was graduation. A celebration was in order. Four years, you had been in his life for four years and he couldn’t imagine it without you. The plan was to dress to the nines, and go out on the ‘town’! Drinking and dancing.

Of course, his brothers were invited as well as a few of your other friends. Donnie was no stranger to clubbing. The bar scene had become somewhat of a regular occurrence once his friendship with you was solidified.

You liked to go out. You liked music. He obliged on a few occasions to be your dancing partner and thus every time after it was his official label. Donnie was adverse to the huge crowds. It didn’t offer much room for dancing, but he’d endure it for you. With you in his arms it all seemed bearable. The music that was so loud it thumped in his plastron. The heat in the room percolating from the sheer number of bodies. Even the taste of alcohol, on the very, very rare occasion you got him to drink.

It always tasted horrible. No matter the different shots or mixed cocktails. God forbid a beer. You had pushed all sorts of these beverages on him, eyes crinkling up at him with amusement as his beak wrinkled from disgust.

Those nights with alcohol involved always ended strangely. Your touch would light him up from the inside. He’d want to hold you closer, lean in as far as you’d let him. Pull at your waist, dig his fingers into your hips during the last dance before the two of you had to part for the night. Those nights ended with kisses.

And by the next day you would never talk about them. So he didn’t either. Even as his murky memory of all other events seemed to part with clarity for how you had panted heat into his mouth. He’d flush dark green at just the thought and have to swallow the spit that pooled in his mouth.

This had happened a handful of times. The kissing. And with no communication whatsoever afterwards it put Donnie on edge. He wondered why it happened at all if you didn’t want to acknowledge the deed once it was done. He wondered about what it said on account of his own self worth for him to continue to let it happen.

To look forward to nights out. To nights you pushed a shot glass his way. To want your lips on his by the end of it all.

So with this big celebration, Donnie was expecting the same routine if only highlighted by the fact that both of you were now graduates. He’d be your dance partner. The two of you would spin for an hour or two, or however long you wanted. And he’d order himself a drink this time. One that he found slightly bearable than the rest.

Only, that wasn’t what was happening. Drink in hand? Sure. Your hand in his other? No. He was grumbling over at the bar shooting hateful daggers where you resided on the dance floor. You were dancing with Leo.

Donnie grimaced as he took a long hard sip. It was like acid in his mouth. Donnie didn’t know how much more he could take. His mind was simultaneously all over the place and singularly focused on one thing. You.

You laughing as Leo twirled you around. How wrong it felt to watch your arms go up and around his brother’s neck. Donnie was a better dancer. He knew in his soul that he could beat Leo in any category. Waltz, disco, salsa, you name it, Donnie could dance it. But his prowess didn’t seem to matter. Which only further incensed him. Why were you doing this? How could you possibly allow Nardo to take his place? His rightful role. Donnie was supposed to be your dance partner. And the only time you were allowed to dance with another was whenever he deigned to skip such an outing.

He was here. Dressed in an aubergine suit. Jacket button undone. And his black dress shirt was unbuttoned as well. Three buttons plucked, showing off too much skin in his opinion for such a crowd. But he had been feeling flirty. Flirty for someone who wasn’t even glancing his way.

Donnie fumed once more. Cursing in his mind as he lifted his drink and threw his head back. Maybe the taste would kill him. His eyes squeezed shut as the liquid poured down his throat and he tried not to gag. Bad decision.

When his eyes reopened it couldn’t have been at a worse moment. Leo was dipping you, his face leaning dangerously close to yours, his hand snug on your waist. Leo said something in your ear.

Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe it was the heat. But when Donnie saw your darkened cheeks, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He stormed to the dance floor. Yanking Leo’s hand away from your body once you were upright.

“What’s up hermano?” Leo’s smile was grating. Donnie had to force himself not to snarl. He took your hand and pulled you after him. Leaving Leo. Leaving this place. He had to get out of here now.

“Donnie?!” You called out over the music. But you didn’t pull away. You let him lead you out of the club. Out on the sidewalk, then off to the alleyway.

“Is everything okay?” You asked once he finally stopped. When he turned to look down at you, your eyebrows were creased with worry. Lips pulled into a line. Donnie was cracking. He couldn’t do this any longer. Did you like Leo? Did you want a ‘face man’? Was he not enough anymore? Was he being replaced? The thoughts were suffocating him and he pulled you to his plastron, backing you into the building wall simultaneously.

“I’m here, but Dee you’ve gotta say something, I’m getting worried..” You mumbled into his clothes. Your arms going around Donnie’s shell, petting over his jacket. Offering him comfort. It wasn’t enough. He huffed his frustration.

“Should I go get your brother?”

It was the wrong thing to say. And this time he did snarl.

“No.”

Your hands froze. Falling back down to your sides. You’d never heard him so angry before. He couldn’t find it within himself to care at the moment. His displeasure written all over his face as you looked up at him.

“What’s going on?”

And Donnie remembered himself thinking that so many times with you. As you had took his breath away. And then again when you pretended like you couldn’t recall ever doing so.

“Don-“

He leaned down. Capturing your lips. Kissing you like you did to him. Only where you had made him breathless, this seemed to have the opposite effect. You puffed up. Bristling in his arms as you tried shoving him away.

It hurt.

He was much stronger than you. He could overpower you easily. But your push was like a blow to the plastron. He staggered back, all anger leaving him. A husk as he squeezed his fists shut, head hanging down as you berated him.

“What the hell was that?! Are you drunk?? Donnie what is going on? If you don’t fucking say something right now, I swear to god,”

“I don’t know!” He shouted back and it was enough to quiet you.

From there it was as if his mouth couldn’t be stopped. “I don’t know! I thought this was what we did. I didn’t hallucinate those three times you kissed me. Don’t deny it any longer!” He was heaving, face coming up to stare accusingly at you.

Your lips pressed together in a thin line.

“You kissed me! Drunkenly, but it was still there. And I can’t forget. I can’t pretend they never happened. I don’t know how you can.” His hands were in motion as he ranted. Throwing them out with the building of emotion.

“So I thought tonight would be no different. We’d get drunk. We’d dance. And we’d kiss! I want all of that. Even though I’d do it without the alcohol.” His voice cracked towards the end. But he continued to push on.

“But you danced with him. So I went and got drunk enough for the both of us.” He felt pathetic admitting this out loud. He staggered forward, unable to remain so far apart. Despite you having pushed him away. He was just a moth to your flame. He’d let himself be burnt.

“You like him more?” He asked in a voice so low it practically went unheard. His hand came up, a finger tracing down the side of your cheek.

“Is that it? Am I the second choice?” His lids lowered in time as he ran out of skin to skim. His hand fell away from your face but he had crowded you close to the wall once more. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

“That’s not true.” You exasperated. But that hardly cleared up anything for him. If that was the case then what were you doing dancing with his brother and not him? Why couldn’t he kiss you? Why were the both of you still pretending to be friends?

“Then pick me. Choose me.” Donnie pleaded. He didn’t care how needy it sounded. He’d do whatever it took. Get down on his knees if he had to. Because you had become a part of his life four years ago. Four years of a presence he didn’t know he needed. Up until it was far too late. And now there was no turning back. He’d be damned if he let you get away.

[soberpluto]

Examining Neptune's Spell

Apologies for not being here after so much time, but now I'm back and very thrilled to share this with you all! I'm hopeful many can find this helpful.

Unnecesary context aside, just recently I was having a long and deep conversation with a friend of mine about my semi-recurring mini existential crises. After hearing me patiently, with the dear intention of making me realize I was drowning in my tiny glass of water, he simply (and brilliantly) replied:

"I think you're problem is that you have unrealistic expectations about yourself."

Any attempt to blurt out in self-defense ceased instantly because of how deep these words sunk in my mind. I stared into the wall before for me and felt how the missing puzzle piece finally dropped into the perfect spot. Obviously, the thought of having my sun in Cancer and Neptune in almost exact opposition popped inside, and it took a WHOLE new dimmension. How could this statement not be true?! OF COURSE he was right! It's not that I wasn't told that before or haven't read about it multiple times in my astrology studies, but the truth is, (a very Neptunian thing now that I think about it) I didn't believe it quite applied to me. Because I don't like to feel mediocre and because I think of myself as a spiritual and highly self-aware woman, I was convinced that holding myself to "unrealistic standards" was definitely NOT the reason that triggered me to want fleed to a desert islands at times when reality felt like too much. It was bitterly humorous when I realized I evidently missed the fact that Neptune was making a hell of a job doing what he does best: casting its spells of illusion and glittery distorted beliefs about how things were "supposed to be" in a surprisingly unadverted way into my life. I was truly relieved to actually understand (or accept, better said) why trying to have a simple and happy life seemed too tricky at times. It all made sense.

Now, let me introduce Neptune, if you happen to be unacquainted.

Neptune in astrology is like the ultimate dream weaver, spinning a web of intuition, imagination, and mystery. It’s the planet of all things ethereal, where reality gets a little blurry, and you’re invited to dive into the deep end of fantasy, spirituality, and idealism. Neptune whispers, "What if?" and suddenly, we're seeing the world through a kaleidoscope of possibilities, but a "little" foggy on the details. We're all influenced by Neptune one way or another, but when it touches personal planets or points in our charts, it’s like life hands us a pair of customized rose-colored glasses, but the prescription is way off. Suddenly, everything feels a bit magical, like we're starring in your own fairytale, except the castle is made of mist, the prince might just be a mirage, and that enchanted forest? It’s actually a parking lot.

But why bother making us feel loony? On a more serious note, our master illusionist possesses the higher purpose of awakening our connection to something greater than the everyday grind. It gently pulls us out of the rigid boundaries of reality and whispers, "There’s more to life than meets the eye." It invites us to explore the depths of our imagination, spirituality, and compassion, blurring the lines between self and universe. The illusions it creates are really a nudge to dissolve our ego’s grip, helping us see beyond the material and embrace a higher sense of love, creativity, and unity with the cosmos.

As inspiring and touching as it sounds, the catch is that fulfilling Neptune’s mission can feel like chasing fog—just when we think we’ve got a handle on it, it slips through our fingers. Neptune wants us to transcend reality and connect with the divine, but let’s be real: that’s not exactly a day-to-day, grocery-list-friendly goal. For someone with heavy Neptune influence, this pursuit of higher meaning can be disorienting, leaving them feeling lost in a sea of "what ifs" and "maybes." And thanks to its grandeur idealism, it can push people to be hypersensitive, highly fearful of failure and completely inaccurate with what they may achieve in a day, let alone a lifetime!

For a Neptunian, the intuitive desire to be flawless and sufficient does not come from wordly expectations, but from a place of soulful calling that more often unconsciously than consciously tells them they're limitless beings living in a limited reality. And this is exactly the greatest challenge of all: to accept that the truth must be known while respecting the illusion, just as a spiritual teacher Michael Mirdad states.

That said, you can imagine what happens when mystical and whimsical Neptune gets cozy with your personal planets. Let's see in detail how it sprinkles its glitter them:

Sun

Soft Aspects: With soft aspects, your Sun is shining brighter than ever! Neptune sprinkles fairy dust on your creativity and confidence, making you feel like a superstar in your own musical. It’s all about embracing your spiritual side and believing that you can conquer the world—cape optional!

Hard Aspects: You’re the artist of your own identity, but the canvas keeps shifting. One day you’re an astronaut, the next day you’re a poet, and by the end of the week, you’re contemplating becoming a full-time mystic. Neptune tells you, "Be everything," but sometimes that just leaves you wondering, "Who am I, really?"

Moon

Soft Aspects: Your emotions flow like a gentle river, and you’re tuned in to everyone’s feelings like a super empath (you could be a cool wizard/witch or clairvoyant!). Neptune wraps you in a cozy blanket of intuition, making heartfelt connections feel like a warm hug from the universe. Cue the happy tears!

Hard Aspects: Enter the emotional whirlpool! Neptune can stir up your feelings like a cosmic blender, leading to mood swings and a general sense of overwhelm. You might find yourself daydreaming your way through real-life emotions, and good luck figuring out what you actually feel!

Mercury

Soft Aspects: With Neptune’s gentle nudge, your thoughts become a beautiful symphony! Communication flows like honey, and you’re bursting with creative ideas. It’s a fantastic time for writing, brainstorming, or chatting about all things magical and dreamy! You could be a music lover, a great singer or a romantic poet.

Hard Aspects: But when Neptune goes rogue, it’s like trying to read a recipe in a funhouse—everything’s upside down! Your thoughts get scattered, and communication feels like a game of telephone gone wrong. Get ready for misunderstandings and the occasional “Wait, what did you just say?” This aspect looks very similar to a Piscean or Sagittarian Mercury, a common link to ADHD.

Venus

Soft Aspects: Love is in the air! Neptune turns your romantic life into a whimsical fairy tale, where everything feels enchanting. Your heart opens wide, and connections deepen, making even the smallest moments feel like a scene from a rom-com.

Hard Aspects: But hold on! Neptune might have you wearing those rose-colored glasses a bit too tightly. You might find yourself idealizing partners or being swept away by fantasies, only to crash back to reality when things don’t match your dreamy expectations. Ouch!

Mars

Soft Aspects: With Neptune in your corner, your drive becomes a creative spark! You’re ready to take action with a burst of inspiration, making you feel like a superhero on a mission. Time to tackle those goals with flair and imagination!

Hard Aspects: When Neptune throws in a twist, it’s like trying to run through quicksand. Your motivation might wane, leaving you confused about where to focus your energy. It’s a cosmic case of “I had a plan… what was it again?”

To wrap it up after such long post, living with Neptune’s influence means you’ve got a backstage pass to the land of dreams, creativity, and big feelings. But it also means you might find yourself getting tangled up in illusions, setting sky-high standards that real life simply can’t meet. So when Neptune touches your personal planets, just remember: it's okay to dream big, but keep a little reality check in your back pocket. You can chase those rainbows, but don’t forget to pack an umbrella for when they dissolve into rain.

Thanks so much for reading, love you! 🥰

Written by @soberpluto

[writing-hat]

4 AM midnight thoughts on polyninja's ways of kissing and holding each other!! in honor of valentine's day tomorrow (aka the biggest fucking note that was on my app jfc)

ways the ninjas kiss each other:

Kai

jay kisses Kai on the lips! a big smooch! mwah! electrifying

cole kisses the top of his head often, just to mess with his hair

zane kisses his cheeks, sometimes both, or his hand to see him become an absolute mess

Cole

jay kisses him on the cheek with an evil laugh

zane kisses him on the lips, with passion!

kai kisses him on the lips, the cheeks, the neck, the-

Jay

cole kisses him everywhere because he can and it tickles him!!

kai kisses the top of his head! then ruffles his hair

zane kisses his cheek, and and then lips, and then lips again and he ends with the nose!

Zane

cole kissing lips with passion too! and cheek, while holding him (idk why it seems important to add this here but well)

kai kisses the back of his hands in an attempt at flirting, and his cheeks, before going for the lips

jay kisses him on the cheek! lil shy and bold at the same time! then lips mwah!

idk why but zane = lip kisses for me. sue me.

ways they pick up each other:

Jay

zane picks up jay on his arm like like he's sitting on it but zane's very strong so he's like sitting on his arm like a gremlin/bird does this make sense idk

cole piggybackride / koala // or bridal style (looking at that one moment in island season (i think))

kai picks him up like he weights nothing/like a gremlin, but also let's him climb on his shoulders

Zane

jay picks up zane bridal style AHA! showing them muscles!

kai picks up zane by his hips, and then twirl!

cole holds him, before picking him up with a single hand to get him a bit flustered

Kai

jay picks kai up koala style! again, jay just loves to show his muscles to his partner

cole just holds him like he'd hold a precious egg, with kai's head on his shoulder, enjoying being pampered by him

zane would like. twirl him around as they both wear the most magnificent dresses ever. and then he'd hold him up by the back thighs/hips depending on the comfiest pose

Cole

KAI CARRIES HIM ON HIS BACK ZQGHJGZHJZHJRHZJ

jay loves to surprise hug him! and catches him like that! and then kicks the back of his knees to get cole leaning backwards

zane picks cole bridal style. do you see the picture

bonus of vampire cole's way of biting the others (because of course):

he bites kai's wrist. he bites jay's collarbone. he munches on zane's shoulders while kinda falling asleep because the metal feels good to his teeth or something, like baby tooth? idk

jhzgoizrhjkh melting away iam fine I AM FINE LET ME BE

happy pre-valentine

ALSO WE ALL HAVE OUR HEADCANONS AND ALL! SO YOU CAN COMPLETELY DISAGREE, in the reblogs as well!! I'd love to see people's thoughts uOu)

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[hannahchronism]

i saw. an edit on tiktok (yeah i know) of someone who had compiled a bunch of pictures they took when they started to feel like the thing they were doing wasn't real and that sort of. boxed me into acknowledging that that should probably be. the minority feeling. if it happens at all.

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

What Happens in Cars, Stays in Cars

dbf!jake seresin x fem!reader 9k words

summary: After a month-long deployment, Jake is finally coming back home. Well, not home home. You're too desperate to wait until you've actually got him home. But who needs home when there's a perfectly good car anyway?

a/n: porn with plot. a lot of plot. and a lot of porn. 18+ obviously. reader is twenty-five in this, jake is forty-seven. as always, a list of things to watch out for:

nudes. mentions of masturbation. pet names used in an unholy way. the word 'brat' is dropped twice. safe sex (yess they still have a condom!!! i feel like i deserve a round of applause for not forgetting it). car sex, so a tiny smidge of exhibitionism. dom!jake. a lot of begging, as always. a tad bit dry humping. first finger sucking, then fingering. any more, uh....? i don't think so. there's not much space in a car for anything else.

top gun masterlist | dbf!jake seresin masterlist

(the gif has nothing at all to do with the fic, but tell me that's not dbf!jake working out in his backyard knowing you're watching him istg)

It's a one time thing. That's what they told him. A one time thing.

He isn't supposed to do these anymore. He's supposed to be stationed permanently, sitting in his office and doing what an admiral does. Important work, surely. It's a high honour and he's proud, of course. But office work... Office work has never really been his thing. And if they'd deployed him for this mission four months earlier, he would've been thrilled.

He's the best of the best. The navy knows. He knows. Which is why he's an admiral by now. And also why they want him coaching the new hotshots for a month, halfway across the country.

And, yes, he would've been thrilled - four months ago.

Four months ago, when you'd not yet moved back home. Four months ago, when he hadn't yet met you. Four months ago, when he hadn't known what it was like to hold you, to touch you, to miss you.

His phone chimes and momentarily distracts him. It's not that he didn't mute it - he's standing in front of a bunch of twenty-something year olds who he does try to be a role model for - it's just that you'd tampered with it once and ever since then, you've had a personalised ringtone that still somehow works even when everything else is muted. (He could totally turn that off if he wanted to, though. Definitely. Ab-so-lu-tely. He just... doesn't.)

His jaw clenches and he has to restart his sentence, but other than that, he manages to pretend nothing happened. Nonetheless, he has to glare at the snickering wannabe-pilots in the first row, who remind him very much of a young version of himself.

You're three hours ahead of him and probably just got off work. It's likely nothing but a sweet "having a good day?" message or maybe a photo of you all dressed up, ready for dinner with your friends like you'd planned.

Either way, knowing your message is sitting unopened in your chat has him talking quicker. He finishes his lecture half an hour early and fishes his phone from his pocket before the first of his pupils have even got up from their seats - which turns out to be a horrible, horrible idea, because the photo attached to "don't know how long i'll stay out, have a nice night, admiral" with the winky face emoji is not one of you all dressed up for a night out with your friends, but one of you in just a pair of panties in front of the mirror. The mirror in his bedroom.

Fucking god-

He seems to let out some kind of choked up groan or something of the sort, because a few of his pilots turn to look back at him. One even has the audacity to ask if he's alright, which he certainly isn't. But that's absolutely not their problem.

So he grumbles something about how they should all use their free time to go to the gym instead of bothering him before he collects his things and flees to his room. One of the many advantages of being an admiral, of course, is that he doesn't have to bunk anymore, which is always the greatest nuisance for anybody who's ever looking for privacy. The times he's had to listen to guys jack off a foot away from him- fuck, the times they'd had to listen to him.

No, right now he is incredibly thankful for the privacy of his bedroom as he locks the door behind him and opens his phone again. Goddamn, why were you in his house? His fingers hover over the call button for a few seconds, but then he decides against it - you're going out with friends for the first time in months, he doesn't want to bother you.

He's popping the button of his jeans and sitting down on his bed right as you come online.

"Like the pictures, baby? I've got more"

And before he can even respond, you've sent a bunch more selfies, half of them in front of his mirror, the other half on his bed and none of them decently clothed. Fucking hell, in one you've got your fingers down your panties and Jake is really thankful for the privacy of his room then because he groans so loudly that a bunkmate would definitely have heard.

"Are you still at dinner?", he asks, his fingers flying over his keyboard while he tugs at his zipper with his left hand.

"Yeah, won't be home soon", you write back. "Sorry"

"Don't be", Jake responds, as quickly as he can, because he definitely does not want to make you feel bad for spending time with your friends. "Have fun"

"Have fun with the pics", you send. Jake can picture your grin, sitting all dressed up in a restaurant and ignoring your friends to text him. "Thought those could maybe make up for no phone call tonight"

He swallows hard as you log off, leaving him with those pretty pictures of yours that certainly improve his night by a lot. Hell, he's already moving his briefs out of the way and clicking on your photos again. Just seeing you half-naked in his room - fuck, the thought of you sneaking over there only to do a goddamn photoshoot... You're really unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. And he can't wait to get back home to you.

...

"I miss you", you mumble into the phone, blinking at the alarm clock on your nightstand. It's eleven thirty, not nearly late enough for you to feel as exhausted as you do.

"I miss you too, darling", you hear Jake drawl on the other end of the call. "I'll be back soon."

"Not soon enough", you whine - god, you sound pathetic and miserable to your own ears already, you must sound ten times worse to him. You fall back onto your pillows and let out a deep sigh. "Would it be rude to say I hope the mission gets cancelled?"

Jake chuckles. Fucking hell, you miss that chuckle so much. You miss him so much. You miss cuddling up to him under the covers and tucking your head under his chin. You miss running your fingers through his hair and having your hands on him. You miss seeing him, standing in the kitchen or working out or tinkering in the backyard or fresh out of the shower. Shit, you even miss sneaking around with him, because at least then you'd gotten to watch him from a distance, maybe steal a kiss when your parents hadn't been looking or spend a night at his house pretending to be at your friend's.

Now he's halfway across the country and absolutely, completely out of reach. You'd barely gotten to see him at all - twice it had worked out to video-call during a lunch break, once he even managed to show you around his office after work. The camera quality is hardly any good, of course, which means video-calls aren't all that great, plus the connection never seems to really be stable, so with a few exceptions, you've only seen Jake in pictures over the past two and a half weeks.

His deployment would take another one and a half and then, finally, he'd be back home. Back home with you.

"I won't answer that", Jake says, and you can almost hear him grin. "But I wouldn't mind either if they moved the mission up."

You have to bite down on your lip to hide a smile.

"So you think you're good to go?", you ask softly, not wanting to bring the mood down further, instead opting for the non-classified work questions. You've already been bringing down the mood enough back here at home - you don't need to fill the few minutes a day you get with Jake with your whining as well. Your parents already hear enough of that. Of course, they don't know why you've been in such a bad mood ever since Jake left. And they can't know, either. You can't tell them. You can't tell anyone.

You can't tell anyone because no one knows that you've been sneaking around with your dad's best friend for the past three months. So you resign yourself to moping around and keeping out of everybody's way as much as you can. For one and a half week more, one and a half...

...

Exactly one and a half week later you're standing at the airport in your best heels and a little yellow sundress and are positively buzzing with nervous energy. Jake's plane would get in at half, he'd said, when you'd last spoken to him six hours earlier. Then the plane had taken off and so had his wifi.

You're playing around with a strand of your hair and doing your hardest not to start chewing off your nails, which proves more difficult than you'd thought (even though you'd put on nail polish).

You're just so excited.

It's been a month since you'd last seen him. A month. And at the early stage of your... relationship, if you could call it that, that's basically half a year. God, how long it's been since you've run your hands through his hair, since you've felt his arms around you.

You miss him so much.

Your phone chimes and you fish it out of your pocket with trembling hands, only to be disappointed when it's not a message from Jake. It's not like you'd told him to text when he'd landed, just... A part of you is kind of scared you're waiting in the wrong place. Maybe he's on the other end of the airport - it's not a particularly small one. It'd take you hours to find each other if you were waiting in the wrong place.

Then again - maybe the plane is late. Maybe he's had to wait for his luggage.

You check the time, just to be safe. It's 11:46. For all you know, Jake is still in the air. Or less than a door away.

You bounce on your feet, nervously shifting back and forth before checking your phone again. The text you'd gotten is from one of your friends, who you text back only to distract you. It barely works anyway. You can't put it away again quickly enough.

It's not even that you don't want to distract yourself. You just physically can't pay attention. You've been a nervous wreck for the past three days, ever since you'd made the plan to pick him up from the airport. Which is probably why you almost don't spot him.

Almost.

He walks through the opened doors with his suitcase rolling behind him, his backpack slung over his shoulder and at least five other people rushing past him.

He sees you before you see him.

But then, then when you see him-

You're already sprinting towards him before your mind even tells your legs to move. You can't control it and you can't be bothered to. Why would you?

You don't care about the people glancing at you with raised eyebrows. You only care about Jake, about Jake who's standing there, pulling his hand from the handle of his suitcase and grinning at you. Grinning at you as you run at him and throw yourself into his arms.

He catches you effortlessly and steadies you as you cross your hands behind his neck and press your lips to his.

God, how you've missed him! How long you haven't kissed him!

His palms flatten against your back and he holds you tight, so tightly to him. You push even closer. He's here. He's back.

You don't realise you're crying until you taste the tears.

That's when Jake pulls back.

"I've missed you", he mutters, raising a hand and brushing the tears off your cheeks. You lean into the touch and tighten your arms around his neck. You're really touching him. He's really here.

"I missed you too", you try to say, but you're choked up and crying and it somehow comes out a blubbering, stuttering mess that you're not quite sure Jake can even understand. "Missed you so much."

He smiles one of those gorgeous smiles that you haven't seen in far too long before he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flutter closed as you lean into him, your fingers trailing up the nape of his neck. His breath mingles with yours as he draws you in again and catches you in another kiss, tugging gently at your bottom lip as if he has all the time in the world to do it - slow and languid and real. Finally real again.

He pulls you in by your waist, his hands splayed wide and so, so big against your thin sundress. Your nails scratch against his neck and he lets out a groan and suddenly, he's got his hands on your thighs and you're wrapping your legs around his middle and tightening your arms around him and his lips are working against yours feverishly, heavily, messily. You're crossing your feet behind his back when one of them hits something hard. You've flinched away from him even before you can hear the dull crash of his suitcase kissing the airport floor.

There's blood rushing in your ears and you're sure if someone measured your heart rate right now, you'd be sent to the ER immediately. You probably look like a tomato with all the redness in your cheeks. But Jake stares at his suitcase silently for two seconds too, breathing heavily as his grip on you tightens further.

As much as he likes having you in his arms, his suitcase reminds him that you're still very much in the middle of a well-used airport. So he turns back to you and lowers his voice.

"I think we should get out of here, darling."

Your lips tug up into a grin and you lean in to give him just one last, quick kiss.

"Yeah", you breathe, carefully jumping back down onto your own feet. Jake lets go of you only reluctantly - if this wasn't a public airport, he'd never have let you go again. But it is, so he swallows hard as you brush your palms down your dress and blink up at him with a smile.

You're wearing heels. You're still shorter than him by quite a bit.

His amusement melts into a frown when you grab the handle of his suitcase.

"I've got that", he says, reaching his hand out to take the suitcase from you, but you're already maneuvering it away from him and starting to walk in the direction (you think it's the right direction) you'd parked your car in.

"I want to do it for you", you hum.

"Sweetheart, you're already doing enough for me", he says, and he really does mean it. You've driven all this way to come pick him up, you'd watered his plants while he'd been away, you'd even cleaned. That one mostly because you'd desperately needed something to do and Jake's house had always smelled like him, but still.

"Doing enough to you, you mean." Your grin borders on lewd as you dig your teeth into your lip.

"Yeah, that too", he sighs, but he has to grin as well. You're absolutely unbelievable. Instead of trying to argue (he knows it'd be fruitless anyway), he wraps an arm around your back and pulls you into his side, his hand resting on your waist again.

You glance at him.

"I'm not letting go of this suitcase", you warn, even as you lean into his side and swallow. God, he looks so good. And he smells so good. And he feels so good.

"Got it", he chuckles, brushing a kiss to your temple and pulling you even closer into him. He can't have you close enough. Does this fucking airport not have an end? He just needs a little more privacy, a little more space-

"This way", you say and point right. Jake smiles at you as you guide him down the halls. He can't help but watch, can't help but stare at you, at your dress in that soft shade of yellow and your matching heels. Autumn doesn't seem to have caught up with you yet. Then again - autumn hasn't caught up with this place yet. And he's used to Texas heat, he likes that it doesn't get cold here. Also, those sundresses... Yeah, he certainly isn't complaining about the weather.

You speed up when you finally catch sight of the doors, dragging him along with you, almost falling into a jog. The suitcase rumbles against the airport floor, the wheels click-clacking over uneven ridges and bumps and then, thank god, you feel the sunshine on your skin. His hand tightens around your waist.

"Home sweet home", you grin as you take the first step onto concrete. You swivel around and steady both palms against the handle of his suitcase behind your back, bouncing on your heels and looking up at him. "After about a three hour drive."

Jake chuckles and looks back at you with raised eyebrows.

"You'll drive?", he asks. You hum.

"Maybe", you grin as you turn away again and walk over to your car, parked only three rows away for whatever holy reason. You'd been incredibly lucky. And you'd almost run over a grandma. "Or maybe not."

Jake follows you with another low chuckle that sends a pleasant tingling sensation down your spine. It's been so long since you heard that chuckle behind you.

He's next to you again within a few long strides, reaching out for you and you slow your steps to intertwine your fingers with his.

His hands are so big. He's holding onto you so firmly. Fuck, you've missed him so much.

You squeeze his hand and walk a little quicker. Car, home. Car, home. That's it. Then you've got him all to yourself. You can see the car glinting in the sunlight already - and then it's three hours. Three hours next to him in an enclosed space before you've truly got him back.

You stop and let go of his suitcase to fish the car keys out of your pocket without dropping his hand. You push the unlock button and open up the trunk before you turn to Jake and grin at him.

You want to say something, really. It's on the tip of your tongue, still running through your mind, but you've completely forgotten it when you look up at him.

Because while you'd been dragging him to the car, he'd pulled his sunglasses out and put them on and for whatever reason... That kind of does it for you. Holy shit.

"Are those new?", you ask hoarsely and swallow hard, the car keys digging into your palm as you tighten your fist around them. Maybe it's just that you haven't seen him in a month. Or maybe it's the way the sunlight catches his hair, slightly longer than when he'd left. Maybe it's just that with the sun behind him, you've got no choice but to squint at his broad shoulders.

"The other pair broke", Jake explains, letting go of your hand only to wrap his arms around your waist. Fuck, you're just standing there, doing absolutely nothing and he already can't keep from touching you. He has to touch you. He's got to put his arms around you and pull you close. "Why? Don't like it?"

You steady your palms against his chest and let out a breath as your eyes drop to his lips - he's got that cheeky look on his face that's not really a grin but not really not a grin and that nobody but him can do.

"I do", you counter, because it's the truth, and there's no way you can lie to him. "I very much do."

"Very much?" Jake does grin then, raises his eyebrows and pulls you fully against him. "That's more than just a yes."

Your fingers fist his shirt, the car keys digging into his chest just as firmly as they're digging into your palm now. He doesn't seem to be too bothered. He really isn't too bothered.

"They look good on you", you mutter, pulling him even closer. It's been too long since you'd pulled him close... And he feels so good, smells so good, looks so good. Fuck, he's so big and broad and-

"Thanks", he mutters, his grin all cheeky and self-assured and god, is it really this hot? Do you just feel this hot? Because you feel really, really hot. Your skin is burning. How the hell are you supposed to manage a three hour car ride?

"Jake", you whimper, without even meaning to. It's barely above a breath, barely above a whisper, and still too much of a whine to sound anything close to appropriate. A sort of grunt leaves his lips before his arms tighten around you, before he slots his mouth over yours hard. His thumbs drag circles against the small of your back, catching on the fabric of your dress. Your fingertips dig into his shirt, into his chest.

The sun beams down on you, warming your thighs and your arms and every exposed inch of skin, brightness behind closed eyelids as you push further and further into him. He's so sturdy, all hard abs right in front of you, broad arms around you.

You don't even notice the breathless moan that escapes your tongue. You can only feel the heat boiling inside of you, the desperate heat inside of you crawling up your body, every inch of you burning. Burning with want for him. With need for him. Fuck, he's been gone for way too long.

And then he pulls back.

You need a few seconds to even blink yourself back to reality.

"Home?", he suggests, even though it's less of a suggestion and more just a fact. He's getting you home. Now.

"Please", you whine, already halfway through pulling back and dropping the car keys into his palm. Three hours. Three fucking hours, you... You simply won't manage to sit down behind the steering wheel with your skin crawling and your underwear soaked through.

You'll barely manage sitting in the passenger seat.

Jake presses another kiss against your temple before he grabs his suitcase and leaves you standing there, trying to pull yourself together. He's breathing hard and his muscles are tight, his jaw clenched as he heaves his suitcase into the trunk and drops his backpack into it right after.

You force your legs to work, to carry you to the passenger side, force your arm to raise and your hand to close around the handle. It's heavy and hard work. Your body feels leaden, entranced. You let yourself collapse onto the seat and close your eyes.

Fuck.

You'd forgotten how much... how easily...

"Seatbelt, darling", Jake reminds you as he climbs into the driver's seat and adjusts it. You swallow hard and strap yourself in, trying to even out your breathing and pull yourself back to reality while you fumble for the confirmative click.

"Three hours", you remind yourself breathily.

"Three hours", Jake agrees lowly and turns the key in the ignition.

You settle back in your seat and close your eyes, clenching and unclenching your jaw as the radio starts playing and the car rolls out of the parking lot. You just have to relax. Just relax. Relax.

So you breathe out deeply and open your eyes again. Jake glances over at you as you lean forward, flick through the radio channels and then adjust in your seat - it's touching too much, too little of your skin, and the way you're rubbing against it somehow doesn't help in the slightest.

Before you can tuck one of your legs under the other and press the heel of your foot against your core, Jake puts his hand against your thigh. Against your bare thigh. His big fucking hand against your bare thigh.

You bite down on your lip and look up at him.

God, he looks so good. His features are chiseled, his hair that sunny, beachy kind of blond-

"Stop that", Jake grunts, his eyes trained on the road in front of him. It takes you two seconds to even realise he's talking to you. You'd kind of lost yourself in staring at him there.

"Stop what?", you ask, voice hitching as his fingers tighten on your thigh. Damn it, he needs to stop that. He's hardly been driving five minutes, he can't already be teasing you.

For once, actually, he doesn't even mean to tease you - not that you know. He just can't help but touch you, not when he hasn't touched you in a month, not when you're sitting so deliciously, tauntingly next to him.

"Stop looking at me like that", he says, taking his hand off of you to change gears before grabbing even tighter onto you again. "Or I'll have to pull over."

You brush your fingers along his wrist. Your chest feels tight, so tight. It takes everything in you not to push his hand further up your thigh. And you'd actually thought you'd manage a three hour car ride.

"I'll stop", you breathe, even though pulling over doesn't seem like the worst idea. "If you want me to."

A muscle twitches in his jaw.

"Don't do that", he warns, his voice staggering into that indecent gruff of his that has you clenching your thighs together, trapping his fingertips between your legs.

"Don't do what?", you ask, trying your best to sound somewhat innocent while you continue this little taunting game, not as though you're deliberately riling him up. You aren't, really. It's more just a reflex.

He turns his head to you then. His eyes are narrowed and his jaw is clenched and honestly, the way he's meeting your gaze all serious, as though he's trying to reprimand you just by looking at you - for no more than three seconds, of course, before he drags his eyes back to the road - has your lips tugging up in a teasing grin.

"Jake", you whisper, drawing your nails slowly up his arm, all the way from his wrist to his elbow. "Baby. You've been away for so long. You know how lonely I've been, right?"

Jake glances at you again and grunts his agreement, eyebrows raising as he starts to realise what you're doing.

"You can't blame me for looking at you", you go on, digging your fingertips into a spot right above his elbow and drawing one, two circles there. "Or for touching you."

Then you shift in your seat, spread your legs a little and run your fingers down his arm again. You grab his hand and brush his fingertips against the soaked spot on your panties.

"Or for being this wet", you whisper, your breath hitching from the sting in your stomach. He lets out a low curse. "I've just missed you so much."

He sucks in a breath then and trails his fingertips up your panties once, just once, before he jerks his hand back and clenches it hard around the steering wheel, so hard that his knuckles turn wide. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck! You're driving him crazy. You're driving him fucking crazy.

He's supposed to be responsible here. Somewhat responsible. You're young, you've got that risky twinkle in your eyes that he knows so well because he'd seen it in the mirror himself for over twenty years. He knows the thrilling buzz that's running through your veins. He still feels it whenever he's in the air. And he feels it around you.

Which is why he's not responsible, not when it comes to you. Not when you're sitting next to him in that pretty dress, with no shorts on and completely fucking soaked through.

You grin to yourself as he pulls off the highway and bite down on your lip, shifting in your seat once more, fighting the urge to trail your own fingers into your panties.

You haven't even asked how his deployment had been.

But goddamn, you'll have enough time to do that once you've got home. Or got off. Or got him off. At this point, you don't fucking care.

He pulls into one of those parking lots that mainly trucks use, one of those where there's hardly ever a toilet and if, then one that hasn't been usable since the last century. Right now, there's two trucks right at the front that Jake just brushes past. He parks your car at the far end and turns the motor off.

The silence is heavy.

Your breath comes much too quickly. Your eyes are fixed on him. And every inch of your skin is crawling with heat. But you don't move. You can't move.

He rolls his seat all the way back.

"Jake-", you whisper, catching on his name when he looks up and meets your eyes. There's a ghost of a grin on his lips, but... Maybe you're wrong.

"Yes, darling?", he asks, raising his eyebrows and leaning back in his seat. You have to strain your neck to keep looking at him. Instead of an answer, you just softly shake your head. You're suddenly unsure of what to say. His eyes weigh you down. You're painfully aware of every inch of your skin under his watchful gaze.

"Come on", he drawls, the grin that's growing on his lips more obvious now. "You were all eager to talk just then, baby."

Your teeth catch on your lip as you let out a breathless sigh. Your fingers hover over the buckle of your seat belt. Can you? Or...

"I missed you", you whisper, letting your fingertips glide over the hard plastic. "Can I-"

You swallow.

"Can you what, darling?", he repeats, grinning widely now.

You chew on your lip as you push down and unbuckle yourself slowly, your eyes still trained on Jake, who simply watches you with raised eyebrows.

"Can I touch you?", you whisper, your breath disappearing into the thick air of the car, the seatbelt still caught between your fingers. The corners of his mouth only tug up further.

You look angelic with your wide eyes and rosy cheeks, so obviously desperate to feel him - but still you don't move. You sit there and wait for him to tell you what to do. To allow you to do something. Anything. It's almost endearing how well behaved you are in moments like this.

"Go on, darling", he drawls. "Come here."

Without hesitation, you reach over the centre console and grab onto his shoulders, steadying yourself against him as you throw one of your legs over his and climb into his lap. His hands find your waist, grab onto your sides, hold you softly against him. Your teeth dig into your lip as you sink down, your fingers trailing along the outline of his collarbones over his shirt, your dress riding up and pooling around your hips. You suck in a breath when your panties drag against his jeans.

Fuck. It's been so long. It's been way too long.

"Jake", you mutter as you lean in, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, brushing your nose against his cheek. "You look good."

He lets out a breathy chuckle, his grip on you tightening.

"I know, darling", he can't help but say with a grin. "Thanks."

You giggle onto his skin as you trail your lips down his jaw. Sometimes he's incredibly unbelievable. I know. How cocky. Not that he shouldn't be - goddamn, he should be! You can't even fault him. And confidence is sexy. Especially on him. Though, then again, anything on him is sexy.

"I've missed you", you mutter, pressing another open-mouthed kiss against his skin, this time against the spot between his neck and his ear. "Missed looking at you. Missed touching you."

"Yeah", Jake breathes, digging his hands into your hips and pulling you harder onto him. "I've missed you too."

He's missed you so fucking much that he's hurting, straining against his jeans so hard that he feels like he might combust. And you're kissing down his throat, pressing your lips against his skin, wanting, needing to touch him, to feel him-

A month away from each other. A month too long.

"I need you, Jake", you whimper into his ear, all breathy and desperate, rocking softly back and forth in his lap and letting your eyes fall shut.

"You need me, baby?", he echoes, grabbing you as tightly as he can and dragging you against him, his head thumping back against the seat.

A filthy moan slips past your lips as your hips roll against his, finally, for the first time in weeks. God, yes, you need him so badly. You need him now. Here and now, in the driver's seat of your car.

"Please, Jake", you breathe, steadying one palm against his chest and grabbing one of his hands with the other. You wrap your fingers around his wrist and tug it off of you, but before you can drag it down to your panties again, drop it between your legs and beg him to fuck you, before you can do any of that, he's turning your grip around and taking your hands in his instead.

"You're getting ahead of yourself, baby", he chuckles, settling your hands against your thighs. He's painfully hard by now, yes- But that doesn't mean you can just drag him to where you want him. "Seems like you forgot your manners."

You're already shaking your head before he can finish. No, you haven't, you haven't, you just need him so badly... and you can feel him, you can feel that he needs you too, so why doesn't he just take you? Why doesn't he-

"I haven't, Jake, I promise", you whisper, looking at him and forcing yourself to still on his lap. It won't help you if you move. It definitely won't help you if you move.

"You haven't?", he asks with raised eyebrows, looking all but amused at you. You keep shaking your head no, no, no. "So if I'd told you to stay in your seat and wait, you would've?"

You bite down on the inside of your cheek and look away. He's grinning. He knows. He's not even really asking. But if you've learnt anything, anything at all about him, it's that he doesn't like to be ignored. If he asks a question, he wants it answered. So you'll answer.

"No", you breathe truthfully, because you most definitely wouldn't have managed a three hour car ride next to him. There's no way you would've managed a three hour car ride next to him. No fucking way.

His grin widens.

"No", he repeats lowly. "No, darling? You wouldn't have listened?"

"Couldn't", you correct, fighting the desire to rock against his thighs that's growing with every passing second. He looks so fucking good. He smells so fucking good. He feels so fucking good. And he'd fuck you so good, you know that, if he'd just finally get to it.

"Couldn't", he echoes, his fingertips rubbing circles onto the bare skin of your thighs. "That desperate."

It's just that he's that desperate, too. Desperate to feel you wrapped around him, desperate to hear you whimper and moan. He needs you as much as you need him.

"You want me to fuck you, baby?", he asks, all smooth and casual and your fingers dig into your thighs to feel something, anything. It's unbelievable how easily something so dirty slips off his lips.

"Yes", you gasp. "Want you so bad, Jake. Please. I'll be so good for you. I'll be perfect."

A muscle ticks in his jaw.

"You are perfect", he breathes, even though that hadn't been his plan at all. But he has to say it. He has to tell you. You've got him wrapped around your little finger, even if you don't know. And he's not all that sure you don't know anyway.

Your teeth catch on your lip, your hands dig harder into your skin and-

And Jake's thumbs trail along the inside of your bare thighs, brushing up naked skin, drawing a shallow breath from your tongue. A shiver runs down your spine as you clench your legs around his and force yourself to keep still. He's touching you. You have to remind yourself of that. He is touching you. There's no reason at all for the urge to defy him, to pop open his jeans and just sink down on him. He's touching you, he's touching you...

Yeah. Barely.

"Let me feel you", you beg, drawing your hands away from your thighs and trying to put them against his chest - but before you can, he's pulled his hands away from your thighs as well and grabbed your wrists. Again.

"You're not in charge here, darling", he chuckles, pushing your hands back down. He grabs for your waist again. "If you can't behave, I'm gonna put you back in the passenger seat and keep on driving, got that?"

You nod.

You want to be good for him. You will be good for him. God, there's no fucking way you could have managed the car ride already, and if you had to sit through it now, after this- No. You'll be good for him. You'll be so good for him.

He flashes you a grin and goes back to dragging his thumbs along your thighs.

"Ask nicely", he says. "Maybe I'll-"

"Please", you blurt out, your hips involuntarily bucking into his touch. "Can I kiss you?"

His eyes drop down to your mouth then.

"Yeah, baby", he mutters, his thumbs catching on the hem of your dress. "You can kiss me."

He expects you to jump at him, to slot your lips over his and lick into his mouth eagerly - but you only steady your palms carefully against his chest and lean in, your eyes focused on his, your breath meeting his skin. You kiss him softly, lightly, with your lips just so grazing his and your eyes fluttering shut. His fingertips run down the soaked spot on your panties.

That's when your teeth catch on his lip. You sink them into his skin gently and tug, your heart missing a beat as he groans into you. He hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them to the side just like you'd hoped, just like you'd begged for.

Jake's right - you're not in charge. But that doesn't mean you don't know what buttons to push to get what you want.

His fingertips trail through your wetness for the first time in a whole fucking month. It's long overdue. So long.

You moan into him, pressing your chest right up against his and fisting his shirt, and push closer. You need to be this close. You need to be even closer. You need him to fuck you, now, not only to drag his fingers up to your clit.

But he's too focused on you, getting too drunk on the feeling of you. He's finally got you here again, finally on his lap again, finally kissing him again, finally eager for him again. He's finally touching you again. And he has to touch you.

You're so fucking wet. You're soaked. He wants to take his time to notice that. He needs to take his time to notice that. He needs to touch you, to feel you. He doesn't even mean to tease you. He doesn't even realise he is teasing you. Not until you rock into his hand and let a whine slip into his mouth.

You really don't intend to. It's an accident. You don't want to rush him. What you want is to be good for him. But you can't help yourself.

And he knows you can't.

Which is the only reason he doesn't pull back and leave you high and dry. Well, that - and his desperation to have you.

So instead, he pushes two fingers into you and catches the languid moan you let out. Fuck. You sound so sweet. You feel so perfect. It's been so fucking long.

"Jake", you whimper, just because it's also been that fucking long since you've whined his name into his mouth. Into the low-quality mic of your phone, yes. But with his lips on yours? With his fingers thrusting inside you so precisely, hitting the right spot immediately? No, that's been too fucking long.

It's dirty. Not quick, like the other times neither of you had been patient enough to look for a better spot to have each other and had opted for the car instead. No, it's just dirty, with his fingers pumping in and out of you, his tongue running along yours and your knees rubbing against the seat.

Maybe it's because the radio had turned off alongside the car, or maybe it's just the long month you'd spent apart - either way, all sounds are louder than they should be, your ears ringing with your moans, your wetness around his fingers and his lips against yours.

Goddamn.

He's working magic. You don't know how he hits the right spot again and again and again, his fingers curling, his thumb catching on your clit - but he has you clenching around him, warmth pooling in your core, wetness dripping down your thighs and onto his jeans within minutes.

You pull an inch away from him, your eyes still squeezed shut, your palms flattening against his shirt, and the only reason he knows he isn't just dreaming of you again is because you're warm and wet around his fingers. Everything else about you is unreal.

You're gorgeous. You're so damn stunning, rocking your hips back against him and moaning his name, your lips parted and your skin sweaty.

"Fuck", you pant, your chest rising and falling so tantalisingly that his eyes drop right down to your cleavage. "Just like that."

He has to grin to himself, but he lets it slide, if only because you're looking so pretty holding onto him as he pushes his fingers into you and circles your clit - just like that. Again and again, until you're digging your nails into his chest and catching your lip between your teeth and moaning his name, Jake, baby, fuck, fuck, fuck, until you're clenching around him and shuddering in his arms, until you're reaching your high not on your own, but on his fingers for the first time in four full weeks.

"Attagirl", he mutters, straining so hard against his pants that it hurts. "I've got you."

You press your lips against his jaw sloppily as you come down, your breath shallow, your skin burning, just needing to get your mouth on him. You can feel your heart beating, every thud, thud, thud against your chest. God. You hadn't come like that in a month. You'd come, sure, to the low rumble of his voice over the phone, calling you all sorts of sweet names and telling you just how to get off for him. But nothing could ever possibly beat the way he works you.

And still - even as you come down from your orgasm, you already crave the next, long and lust and hunger for him inside of you, not his fingers, but his cock.

"Jake", you mewl, slotting your lips over his and desperately dragging your tongue over them before you draw back an inch, your breath meeting his. "Fuck me? Please?"

He pulls his fingers out of you and raises his hand and before you can even really realise what you're doing, you're parting your lips and watching as he grins and presses his fingertips down on your tongue. God, he fucking tastes like you. You suck his fingers into your mouth obediently and lick them clean, looking at him out of lowered, half-lidded eyes and he fucking grabs at your waist with his other hand like his life depends on it.

Goddamn, it's been too long since he's watched this. Since he's had this sight in front of him. And holy mother of hell, what a sight that is.

Your cheeks hollowed out, your gaze caught on his, your lips wrapped around his fingers. His jeans are too tight. Too fucking tight. He needs relief. Now.

So he pulls his fingers out of your mouth with a low grunt and fumbles with the button of his jeans, quick and hurried. He's barely popped it open before your hands slip between his and push them out of the way. You drag down his zipper, reach into his briefs, finally, finally, finally! and he lets you, steadying his palms against your thighs and watching you tug your lip between your teeth.

"Condom", you breathe, then you glance up at him and blink - once, twice, thrice to get yourself back to reality. Condom. Condom, fuck, you're sure you've got one, you know you've got one, somewhere-

Jake takes his hand off your thigh and reaches for his pocket, pulling out a condom before you've even finished thinking.

You grab it from him almost reflexively, your fingers closing around it, tearing it open - quick and frenzied now, because you're not sure how much longer you can hold out. How much longer you can manage without having him.

You glance up at him before you roll it onto him, waiting, checking, if you can, if he'll let you- And how could he not? Fuck, he's got to clench his jaw and grab onto your waist just to hold back, to stay still. He hadn't meant for it to be like this. He'd meant to fuck you back at home, slow and steady, preferably in bed where he could really see you, where he could see every inch of you, not in the front seat of your car that he'd probably have to get cleaned tomorrow. But he can't fucking help himself. He can barely fucking wait until you've rolled the condom onto him, already grabbing at your bare thighs, slipping his hands below your dress, grasping at your stomach.

You steady your palms against his chest and breathe out a whine as his fingers slide across your boobs, pushing the fabric of your dress up, up, up, circling your nipples and damn, you've missed him. You've missed him so fucking much. It's been so fucking long. And you're so fucking desperate.

So you slowly sink down on him and let out a moan, rolling off of your tongue so filthily that he has to groan. Shit, shit- You hold yourself against him, drop your head against his shoulder and an open-mouthed kiss onto his skin.

"Fuck", he grunts, his fingers working frenzied circles onto your boobs, trying, desperately, no, needing to touch you, to feel you. God, you feel so good around him. Finally around him again. You take your time sinking down on him, catching your breath and pressing your lips against his neck, your eyes squeezed shut. Inch by inch, you take him - and the only way he can keep from bucking up into you is by trying not to concentrate on the way you feel around him (so, so fucking perfect), but instead do his best to breathe. Just... breathe. It's been too fucking long. And you're too fucking pretty. And he'll go fucking crazy.

"Jake", you mewl, your lips dragging against his jaw.

Instead of an answer, he turns his head and catches you in a kiss.

You whine into his mouth, your legs clamping around his, stilling as you adjust, your tongue running along his lips, his teeth, your hands fisting his shirt, clenching and cramping and pressing against his chest.

"Go on", he urges, pulling away no more than an inch, his breath shallow, mingling with yours. "Take what you want, darling."

"Fuck", you breathe, arching into his palms and steadying yourself against him, your teeth catching on your lip as you move - up, slowly, steadily, then down, faster, quicker, and again, and again. Holy hell. Moan after moan rolls off your tongue. He feels so fucking good. You're so fucking full of him. You find a rhythm, then that spot inside of you. Your head tilts back, your fingers clench into the collar of his shirt, your nails scratch against his skin.

He watches you, every inch of him tensing. You're gorgeous, so damn gorgeous, bouncing in his lap like this. You're stunning, your dress pooling around your hips as he drags his hands back down to your waist, thumbing at your stomach, circling and drawing against your skin. He's touching you. Now, here. It's not just a dream. It's not just his imagination. It's you, you, wrapped around him, moving up and down him, your palms against his chest, your eyes fluttered shut, your teeth digging into your lip.

"Just like that, keep going", he encourages, all low and deep, smooths his hands down your body and can't help but grin as you let out a soft mewl. It's been so long since he's heard you whine for him - so long since he's heard it without hundreds and hundres of miles between you, without the microphone ruining what have to be the sweetest sounds he's ever known. "Feeling good, baby?"

The air is heavy, heavy and sticky. It presses down on you, pushes against your skin, settles on your body and flattens your breath. Every single one of your nerve ends is on fire.

"Yes", you gasp, your eyes fluttering open to take him in, him in all of his very, very real glory right in front of you. He looks so handsome, so fucking handsome. Your thighs tighten, clench. You can feel yourself growing closer and closer and closer with every stroke, with every time you sink down on him. Fuck, he doesn't just feel good, he feels heavenly. He feels like everything you need. "So good, Jake."

The grin on his lips sends sparks through your body. It's confident, self-assured... Yeah, you're on top of him, you're moving, you're taking what you want - but he's in charge, you can see it in his eyes. He's in control. It's in the way he breathes, in the way his hands grab at your hips, in the way he palms at your skin. If it weren't for the red on his cheeks, for the sweat beading on his forehead, you wouldn't even have guessed he's all that affected. But he's hard, he's hard as a rock, and it's taking everything in him not to just buck up into you and come right on the spot.

He prides himself on his stamina. In all his years, he's always prided himself on his stamina - on how he can keep going long enough to make you come twice, thrice. And he'll hold out now, too.

But you're gorgeous. And you feel perfect. And you're close, you're clenching around him as you lean in to press your lips to his, to slot your mouths together and kiss him with all your might.

So you're not making it easy for him. Not at all.

He brushes his hand down to the inside of your thigh, leaves a trail of tingles on your skin before his finger finds your clit. You breathe out a whine that he easily catches on his tongue, your nails digging into his chest as he draws circles on your clit, on that sensitive bundle of nerves that has you melting, your eyes squeezing, squeezing, squeezing shut.

Fuck, fuck, you're close, you're close-

Just for a fleeting second, Jake debates pulling his hand away again and leaving you there, on this edge you're teetering on. Not forever, only until you'd got home or so. But he's too desperate to come, too wound up already, too close himself, and there's a much bigger part of him that wants to just fill you up in the driver's seat of your car, in this random parking lot, a month after he'd last had you. The part of him that will revel in knowing that you'll be sitting in the passenger seat for the next three hours with soaked panties, probably leaving behind a wet patch when you'll get out, the evidence of two orgasms right there-

"Fuck, Jake", you gasp and your head rolls back, your lips parting as your entire body clenches, every single muscle cramping and tightening at once, your nails digging hard and harder into his skin, your eyes squeezing shut. His finger on your clit doesn't still, just keeps drawing circles, keeps guiding you through your high, through the foggy haze you're swimming in as your body writhes and tingles.

Jake is too entranced, too enamoured, too captivated by you to even realise he's spilling inside the condom, coming as you do. He can't feel, can't see, can't touch anything but you - his hand grabs at your hip, it palms at your thigh. Anything to feel you. Anything to be with you as you unravel.

"Jake, fuck", you breathe, a lot more softly now. Your grip on him loosens. He'd barely noticed how your nails had still been digging into his chest, but now that you're pulling them away, stretching your fingers and steadying your palms flat against him, he can't help but miss them. You blink at him with the sweetest smile, your lips plush and kiss-swollen, and the view of you is so disarming that he can just so resist opening his mouth and letting those final three words roll off his tongue. But it's too early, it's way too early, even as you're sitting in his lap, even as you're squeezing his cock, even as he draws his finger away from your clit. He's never been the type to say it early. He won't now.

No, instead he raises his hand and rests his fingers against your lips. Once more today, you part them obediently and wait until he's pushed them onto your tongue. Then you close your mouth around them - he still tastes of you faintly - and suck, slathering them in saliva in that sloppy, messy, dirty way you know he likes, your head bobbing as you clean them off. You pull back just far enough to dig your teeth into his fingertips and bite down on them playfully.

Your lips tug into a grin as he draws his hand back, eyebrows raising, his gaze settling on you - still so very heavy, so intense, so fucking full of sex.

"You're a brat, darling", he chides, but he's already brushing strands of hair out of your face, tucking them behind your ears and then wrapping his arms around you to pull you even closer, even tighter to him. Your grin only grows as your fingers clench into the collar of his shirt.

"Maybe", you laugh breathily, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips, one that's so addicting he thinks he might need to stay in this car, in this parking lot for the rest of eternity. "But you love it."

Jake chuckles as he chases after your lips.

"Such a brat."

[antiquarianfics]

You Have a Girlfriend?

So you get a little confused when you’re drunk? So what?

a/n: I saw a goofy little twitter post about this somewhere and ran with it. I’m goofy when I’m drunk, so, honestly? A very plausible scenario.

warnings: Mild language, alcohol consumption.

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy, repost, or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.

—

You’re sitting next to Bucky and across from Sam, and you are a little very drunk. The three of you chose to have a drink and talk after a long day of working on the Wilsons’ boat. The issue, however, is that Sam challenged Bucky and yourself to a drinking game, and you were desperately losing.

One thing about you is that when you’re drunk: you feel the need to tell everyone how much you love them. Another thing about you when you’re drunk: your memory sucks.

“Sam,” you whisper yell across the bow of the boat. “Sam. Sam. Sam.”

Sam raises an eyebrow at you when he turns his attention to you.

“I have a secret to tell you! No, two secrets!” You hold out two fingers in front of you.

Sam smirks. “What’s that?”

“One,” you hold up one finger, “I love you; you’re a good friend. Two,” you hold up a second finger, “your friend who’s sitting by me is really, really hot.”

Sam lets out a loud laugh, and you grin at his reaction.

“I love you, too, kid.”

Bucky is smiling fondly at you, watching you with love and adoration. He’s glad he can’t get drunk simply for the ability to take care of you while you let loose.

“I’m really, really hot, huh?” Bucky teases, and he laughs when you nearly get whiplash from turning to look at him.

Your eyes are wide as you stare at him. In your drunken state, you clearly didn’t expect him to hear your admission to Sam. You relax after a second, though, and smile at him.

“Yeah, you are. Y’know, I was wonderin’…” you trail off, getting distracted as you stare into his bright blue eyes. You let out a content sigh as you observe him.

“What were ya wonderin’, Doll?” He lets his hand rest on your thigh, rubbing his hand up and down comfortingly.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Your question is dead serious. There’s no hesitancy or joke in your voice, and Bucky finds it completely endearing. He chuckles as he stares at you, and you can faintly hear Sam lose his shit. You don’t pull your attention away from Bucky at all, though.

“I do,” Bucky informs you, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at your reaction.

Your eyes go wide, tears prickle at the corner of them. You swallow and wipe them away before doing your best to come up with a steady voice.

“Is it serious?” You question him.

“Very,” he smiles. “‘m gonna ask her to marry me.”

Generally speaking, Bucky wouldn’t have told you his plans, but he is fairly certain you’re not going to remember this conversation in the morning. And, if you do, he isn’t too concerned because he is so very serious.

You make no effort to hide your disappointment, and you let your tears fall freely this time.

“Oh, okay. She’s so lucky. Does she make you happy?”

“Happier than I’ve ever been.”

“Oh. That’s good.”

You’re obviously upset, and you’re obviously unaware Bucky is talking about you. Sam is trying not to laugh, but his wide grin betrays him. Bucky, however, finds himself more concerned than entertained when you start to actually cry.

“Doll, what’s wrong?” He wipes a tear away with his thumb, softly holding your face.

“No!” You push his hand away, eyes going wide. “You have a girlfriend! She wouldn’t want you touchin’ me!”

He laughs then. He can’t help it. After all, his girlfriend would very much want him to touch you. You always have your hand interlaced with his, or your body snugly tucked into his side, or your hand in his hair, or… The list goes on.

“Hey, don’t laugh.” You frown.

“Sorry, sorry. ‘s just that my girlfriend loves when I touch you.”

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

“Why would she like for you to touch other women?”

Sam bursts into another round of laughter. He is struggling to breathe as he wordlessly points at the two of you, ignoring Bucky’s glare.

“Oh, Doll, she doesn’t. She hates it, really, and I never pay another dame a lick of attention. She’s the only one I’ve got eyes for.” He kisses your forehead, a form of punctuation to his assurance.

Your critical thinking skills, however, are formally shot.

“You’re lying! You’re paying me attention! And I’m not your girlfriend! What’s your girlfriend’s name? I’ve got to tell her you’re cheating. Girl code.”

Sam loses it again.

“Your girlfriend! You: cheating! Shit!” Sam barely manages to get a thought out. Bucky grins at his friend. He can’t deny that he is just as entertained by your antics.

He pulls out his phone, opening his contacts up to the one labeled “Dollface,” and hands it to you.

“Here,” he says, “call her.”

You nod and take his phone, hitting the call button and holding his cellphone to your ear.

A ringtone fills the night air and you frown when you feel a vibration in your back pocket. Clumsily, you pull your own cellphone out of your pocket and look down at the screen.

“JBB <3 is calling…” appears on your screen along with a candid photo of Bucky laughing.

You stare at it, and Sam and Bucky stare at you. You don’t do anything—don’t say anything, don’t move—until the call goes to voicemail. Finally you look up at Bucky.

“Why’d it call me?”

“Y/N, you’re my girlfriend,” Bucky finally says.

Your face breaks into a wide grin.

“No shit!”

—

“I wasn’t that drunk!” You insist the following morning.

Sam and Bucky exchange a look before laughing.

“Kid,” Sam says once he’s calmed down enough. “You asked Tin-man if he had a girlfriend and cried when he said yes.”

Your eyes go wide as you turn to Bucky for confirmation.

“You did, Doll,” he says, smiling.

You stare for a moment before shrugging and turning back to your coffee in front of you.

“Y’know what? That’s a totally reasonable reaction,” you say, leaning back into Bucky as he situates himself behind you and plants a loving kiss in your hair.

[catboyieejeno]

mark lee + domestic

♫ play love it by dean...

waking up on a late morning besides mark who, in his sleep, is subconsciously pressing his soft, pouted lips against your neck or shoulder, nose nuzzling into your warmed skin. he still hasn't woken up, which you realize when those same pouty lips part to let out a series of long and calm exhales. he rolls a little closer to you until minutes later, he eventually blinks his puffy eyelids open, smacking his mouth a few times like a baby does when first stirring awake.

it's too soon to wish you a good morning—he doesn't truly trust his voice to not betray him yet; instead, when your eyes meet for the first time today, the corner of his lips instinctively curve up into a dazed smile, and the hand that rests on your hip gives your flesh a little squeeze in a silent but sweet greeting.

cooking any meal consists of you moving around the kitchen as you gather and assemble your ingredients. meanwhile, mark follows you around, curiously and eagerly. he resembles a puppy trailing behind you. also has a habit of resting his chin on your head or shoulder to watch what you're doing; that, or he's leaning against the nearest structure whenever you linger for too long in a specific area. you're by the sink? he's bent over, resting his weight on his elbows to talk to you. you're at the stove? his hip is pressed into the counter and his arms are crossed, watching intently how you prepare the food.

after, he'll gladly do the dishes (since he isn't much help with the cooking part). the sole condition he insists on is that you have to sit on the countertop beside him and keep him company 'til he's done. he also gets to steal a kiss whenever he pleases, molding his lips over yours for a few seconds too long. he laughs when you scold him for getting distracted or wasting water, then mumbles his apology into your mouth, "m'sorry, baby! s'just hard to focus when you're here, sitting pretty for me,"

chores are usually left for the weekend, where the two of you take turns picking songs and adding them to a never-ending queue to get through the tasks at hand. the two of you are rather good at getting things done quickly, but the moment you plant a kiss on mark's cheek as you pass by, consider your work done for the day, regardless of whether you've finished or not.

you don't make it farther than a foot away before mark has dropped the rag he's holding in order to grab ahold of your waist. he dips his head down and kisses your lips so messily, longingly even, since the last kiss you gave him was not sufficient by any means. then again, he can never really get enough of you. mere moments later, you're pressed up against the wall with each of his hands at your hip bones, the tasks at hand long forgotten as his tongue eagerly explores your mouth.

its easy to get distracted with him, by him. grocery runs tend to be at least an hour longer than they really need to, because despite the fact that you've made a list of 5 simple items, the two of you navigate every aisle anyway and leave with a dozen other things. browsing for shows or movies turns into a conversation about actors and directors and soundtracks, and you never actually get around to picking something. if you do, the content is left unattended by you and mark, who giggle and mutter out jokes between the dialogue to get a smile out of the other, blazing touches left behind on warm skin.

you're undoubtedly his favorite person in the entire world—the one he looks forward to seeing at the start and end of each day, and the one he always tells good news to first. bad news, too. crashes through the front door and drops everything to bid you a warm hello as he rambles on about his day, or comes in and curls up next to you on the couch and expresses his recent frustrations. regardless of whether you give advice or just listen, your presence is soothing enough.

[klausinamarink]

based on this hilarious video with Gianmarco Soresi whom I’ve been watching his comedy work for a few months now

read on ao3

“What do you do?” The standup of the hour - the guy had introduced himself as Eddie - points at Steve.

Flustered at the attention directing every eye in the club to his table, Steve tries not to stammer as he answers, “Well, uh, I make movies.”

“Oh!” Eddie genuinely looks interested. “So you’re a director?”

“Yeah, pretty much. At least I started out as an indie, but I have a big project that’s out and a couple more on the way.” One table nearby claps and Steve tries to wave them off to stop.

“So what was that big project? Was it something we would’ve seen?” Eddie repositions himself so he has one leg up on the stool. Steve stares at how lean they seem with the tight black jeans. He’s got them daddy long legs. His brain suddenly burps out and it nearly makes Steve lose his composure.

“Uh, ha, I did The Final Bat. It’s on Shudder.” Steve shrugs nonchalantly, perfectly hiding his internal cringe. The horror genre is way out of his league and Steve’s already seen The Final Bat being on a few critical lists damning the title as another cliche-filled mess. He only did it because he had finally caved to Dustin’s pleading to make at least one horror movie.

Eddie, on the other hand, seems ecstatic by this revelation. “No way! That’s sick, dude! So the next time you make a horror flick, you’re gonna watch Blumhouse and A24 coming in at each other with steel chairs for distribution rights.”

Everyone laughs, including Robin. She smacks on Steve’s bicep with a wide grin. He smacks her back before he turns back to Eddie and clarifies, “I don’t like horror! I’m not doing it again!”

Aghast, Eddie throws an invisible hat to the ground and stamps on his feet. “Come on! Then what’s the point of watching the studios bite each other’s dicks off when you’re slipping out to watch - I don’t know - the Barbie movie! Now they’re just fighting for the next shitty horror movie to exist!”

Steve covers his mouth but fails to hold back in the laughter. Eddie’s infectious energy is starting to get to him. It makes his chest clench with something other than the usual pains.

Eddie patiently waits for the patrons to quiet down before continuing, still attentive to Steve, “I’m just wondering actually if you ever done theater class.”

“Sure did! Two years in high school,” Steve confirms.

“Let me guess, they did Hamlet?” Eddie raises an eyebrow like it’s meant to be accusatory.

“Yep, soon after I joined.” Steve nods, the memory of that production flashing before his eyes. It had its ups and downs but it was one of the most fun things Steve had ever experienced.

“No wonder they started as soon as your handsome ass walked in the club.” Eddie says low and flirtatiously into the microphone, staring directly into Steve’s eyes. It echoes across the room and back, bringing the howling laughter with it.

Heat crawls behind his face. Steve keeps his hands on the table, forcing down the urge to hide behind them. “I-” He stops to cough, “I wasn’t supposed to play Hamlet.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, “What do you mean?!”

Robin answers loud enough for everyone to hear, “He was the grave robber, but the other guy who did Hamlet got into a coma a week before the show and Steve knew all the lines.”

“W-Woah, woah, woah!” Eddie holds his hands out, looking scandalous. He throws looks around the club. “Everyone, shut the fuck up right now! This is more important than caring about the rest of you!” Eddie drags the stool over and perches on it like a very much invested gargoyle, almost oblivious to the audience’s reaction.

“Okay, let me go through this.” He points at Steve, still holding eye contact as if Steve’s soul would provide the answer. “You weren’t Hamlet. You were meant to be the guy who gives him the skull to monologue. The OG Hamlet got into a coma for some reason-“

“Car accident.” Robin interjects.

“Yeah, no need to elaborate, ma’am. You, Steve-” Eddie breaks off for a second, holding back a laugh of his own. “You somehow knew all the Hamlet lines because you were waiting to skin OG Hamlet’s head and make his skull yours to do the monologue.”

There’s a scandalous outcry from all tables. Even when they mostly calm down, Steve uses the growing anticipation to ‘think’ about what Eddie just said before he casually shrugs and says, “Sounds about right.”

Eddie drops his face into his arm, letting everyone laugh at him. Steve lets himself break, his laughter bubbling out of him in a way that doesn’t sound so self-deprecating or hollow. If he was in a cynical mood, he would’ve thought it was pathetic that the only person who made him laugh so lightly again was some random standup.

After a moment, Eddie finally looks up, his face broken in disbelieving grin. He chuckles into the mic and looks back at Steve, “Sorry, it’s just I hear some wild stories in the crowd some nights and I think yours takes the cake.”

Steve smiles, “Thanks, man.”

Eddie stands up back, half-leaning onto the stool. “Do you still remember those lines? To be or not to be?”

The whole damn thing. “Uh… some of it?”

Eddie’s grin shifts into something more mischievous. “Let’s see who knows more.”

A collective oooh goes around the room, including Robin. She already has her phone out for recording. Steve rolls his eyes at her and takes a quick sip of his water. He clears his throat and starts, “‘To be or not to be, that is the question.’”

“‘Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune..’” Eddie says without missing a beat.

Oh, he thinks he knows it all. The sense of competition that Steve thought had died out with his future of a sports career reignites in his chest. He sits up even straighter. “‘Or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them.’”

“‘To die-to sleep, no more.’” Eddie slowly walks over to the edge of the stage, “‘And by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to.’”

“'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd.’” Steve almost shivers as he recites the line, uncertain if it’s from the club’s cooling temperatures or the intense gaze from Eddie’s eyes. “‘To die, to sleep.’”

“‘To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub,’” Eddie suggestively rubs a hand on his chest as he squats down. Steve’s eyes flicker to the hand, almost hypnotized by the motion. Nay, he shakes himself out of it. No distractions!

“‘For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil.’” It’s getting harder to remember the following lines. That hasn’t happened before. Steve has never forgotten the damn soliloquy in years, even when other people try to challenge him.

Eddie continues, “‘Must give us pause—there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely.’”

“‘The pangs-’” Steve feels his breath catching in his throat when he realizes, for the first time, what beautiful eyes Eddie has.

Oh. 

Eddie suddenly perks up in excitement. For a second, Steve thinks that Eddie has come to the exact same thoughts for him. But then he remembers that he hasn’t completed his line, so Steve feigns defeat.

“I win!” Eddie stands up with a triumphant cry. He spreads his arms out to embrace the cheering whoops and applause. “And I’ve only got to play Hamlet in-” He spins around and crouches down so he can look Steve in the eye again as Eddie’s voice booms into the mic, “-FOURTH GRADE, MOTHERFUCKER!” 

Steve’s not even mad. He just throws his head back, laughing and clapping along. 

Almost too soon, Eddie moves on to heckle on another table. But he keeps glancing over at Steve, his smile widening every time. And Steve smiles back, feeling a laugh slip out of his slips at every joke. He watches Eddie more closely, feeling his heart pound faster in his chest the more Eddie stays onstage. 

By the time Eddie has to depart and thank everyone for being here, Robin announces her need to go home and snuggle with her girlfriend. 

“Man, that was the most I’ve ever laughed in this place.” Steve stretches his back, groaning at the little pops. God, being in his early thirties can be a bitch sometimes.

Robin only hums, moving her eyebrows up and down suggestively. Steve pointedly makes no further comment as he pays the tab.

Outside, the crisp night air welcomes him. Steve takes in a whiff, staring up at the light-polluted sky as he bids Robin a goodbye. Then he hears his name being called. He turns around and sees Eddie hurrying out the doors.

Steve feels a smile already on his face, “Hey, Hamlet.” 

Eddie grins at him, teeth and all, “Hey, yourself.” 

They stare at each other but it lacks the competitive intensity earlier. Steve likes this. But he already has a feeling that this won’t be the first time either one of them would challenge the other.

“Sooo…” Steve says when the silence stretches a little too long. He gestures between himself and Eddie, “Wanna restart our introductions?”

Eddie’s eyes brighten, “Yeah! Right, sorry.” He clears his throat and thrusts a hand out. “My name is Eddie Munson. Self-proclaimed comedian and musician. You may recognize me as the guy who beat you in Hamlet’s famous speech.”

Steve takes his hand. Eddie feels bony and thin, but large enough to fit perfectly into Steve’s palm. He tries not to sound so eager as he says, “Steve Harrington. Film director who doesn’t like horror. Believe it or not, I actually know the whole stupid thing.”

Eddie tilts his head, narrowing his eyes, “Really? Like, no offense, but even if you remember that much-”

“‘And thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry and lose the name of action.’” Steve winks with the Harrington Charm, smile and all. 

Eddie stares at him for so long that Steve feels his heart racing for a different reason. And then, Eddie turns around and muffles a loud scream into his free hand. When the man turns back to face him, he’s sporting the widest smile Steve has never seen.

“You knew the whole thing!?” Eddie’s eyes sparkle with utter adoration.

“Yep.” Steve pops the ‘p’, grinning like a little shit.

“But why did you forget that line?”

“Let’s just say,” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand, intertwining their fingers together, “I got distracted by the pangs of love.”

Eddie bites on his lower lip as he swoons his body over so they are pressing against each other. With half-lidded eyes, Eddie whispers, “You know that part is Hamlet referring to missing his dead dad, right?”

Of course Steve couldn’t help but kiss him.

[jaylver]

THE FIVE YEAR DEAL — P.JS

synopsis: having to deal with a four year long situationship was hard enough in the first place, but when your favourite situationship texted you on a random night after a year of no contact, it was a much harder scenario than imagined. what happens when he brings up that old pact you made about getting married in 5 years and you start rekindling a relationship that was lost?

pairings: non-idol!jay x afab!reader

genre: ex-situationship to friends to lovers, second chance romance, angst, romance, pining

warning(s): profanities, drinking and partying, slight violence

wc: 6.5k

a/n: after a month of not posting, here's a very very belated jay fic that was meant to be for his birthday (scream). please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx

masterlist | © jaylver all rights reserved.

Park Jong Seong was your roman empire. There, you actually said it.

He was a thought that constantly hovered in your mind from time to time. Whether he was a ghost that lingered to haunt you or a sweet thought that remained, you couldn't tell. All you knew was that he had changed your life for the better and the worst.

A lesson you'd often tell others is to never get yourself involved in a situationship, worse if it's with your best friend. Unfortunately, you were speaking from experience which involved Jay, your ex situationship slash best friend. Look how you and him eventually turned out.

An almost four year long situationship with Jay that took an absolute toll on you had ended the year before. You agreed on no contact with him after, trying to create a peaceful life without him out of your life, yet it was entirely impossible when you shared mutual friends that reminded you of your good times with him even though he wasn't around. 

You hate to admit it, but losing a person who was your best friend cut deep into your gut and heart combined. It was, at least, for the better. That was something your friends told you that you gradually recited in your head. It wasn't very effective, however. You still thought about him, quite often actually. But you supposed that was the haunting and painful part of having a relationship with someone that was almost a lover but never became one. 

It was the same exact night you were thinking about him when a text appeared on the homescreen of your phone. You stared at the notification for God knows how long, debating if your lack of sleep was finally catching up to you. The contact name was unmistakable, there it was, Jay's text. Jay, your Jay? 

The strength you had trying to act casual, but in reality, you were dying internally. The hold that man has on you was unimaginable. 

jjong: you up?

you: ?

jjong: did you delete my number?

If only he knew, he would've probably laughed. You never deleted his number, nor did you even change his contact name. His name constantly stuck out in the list of contacts, just like the memories of him in your head.

you: no, i didn't. what i meant was why are you texting me at 2 am?

jjong: i thought of something, something we said four years ago

you: okay …?

jjong: you said if we're both still  single in five years, we should get married

you: you took that seriously?

jjong: should i not have?

you: dumbass, i was tipsy

jjong: you didn't say that when i brought it up after you were sober

you: it's stupid

jjong: it's not. come on, y/n, can we please start afresh? i miss you.

He missed you?  

jjong: i'm serious. can we please meet up?

you: you swear you're not going to pull something?

jjong: no?? the most i'll do is pull out an engagement ring but who knows

you: cut the crap, jay 

jjong: don't act like that didn't make you giggle even the slightest

jjong: meet me downtown. the usual place we go to :)

How could he act so nonchalant when bringing up the past? The usual place that you haven't been to after cutting contact with him was something he still recalled, but to you, it was a place you avoided up until now. 

It was hard to sleep when your mind was filled with thoughts of him, except this time, instead of missing him, you dreaded him and the part where you're going to meet him for the first time in a year. What was he going to say? 

The wish you wished upon the lone star that night was for Jay to finally set his feelings and emotions clear. But whether it will come true or not, the truth will soon befall on you.

The day you planned to meet Jay was a cloudy one. It was likely a foreshadow, but you chose to ignore the overthinking you constantly did.

You were the first one there in the cafe, specifically sitting at that table by the corner which you and Jay usually hogged. Being there early due to mostly the anxiety, you got to calm your nerves down and prepare yourself to face Jay. 

It shouldn't be hard to meet someone you already knew, but why did it feel that way? The unspoken feelings and those that were left hanging, unaddressed, was what haunted the both of you. You supposed this meet up with him would hopefully change that the slightest bit. All you hoped for was that he didn't become a stranger to you.

You failed to realise his approaching figure as you were sitting with your back facing the entrance, it was your usual spot anyway. Not to mention, his footsteps were quiet as ever, a thing about him that was unchanging. 

"Y/N," you heard his voice before meeting his eyes, watching as he slipped onto the chair opposite of you, the warm aura of his never failing to provide a sense of comfort for you. "Hey,"

The change of his hair colour grabbed your attention first. The silvery colour that the light bounced on suited him well. He always wanted to experiment with his hair, and you didn't expect him to really do it. Other than that, he had the same features, same smile, same warm colour tone eyes and skin. All in all, he was the Jay you knew, the one you loved.  

"Jay," you spoke his name as if it was a foreign taste on your tongue. His irises flashed an unreadable spark at the sound of his name coming out of your mouth. You fell into silence, not knowing how to start the conversation whereas he seemed rather speechless instead. 

He shook himself out of it, a slight frown etched onto his lips. "Thanks for making time to see me. I know … you probably didn't want to, so I'm glad you came," his tone contradicted the way his texts sounded, the initial confidence was currently wavering.

"It's no problem," you shook your head softly, a secret hope you had kept shouting in your mind where he would fix everything. 

"I didn't want to leave us at that, Y/N," his sudden confession surprised you, but it left your heart beating in both anticipation and anxiety. "The way we left things, it wasn't right. I wasn't right for doing the things I did,"

You knew what he was talking about, or at least the obvious one out of the bunch. That night at his place where you were tipsy and he was holding you in his arms, you accidentally let out the secret you've been holding in: you loved him. As expected, it obviously strained the relationship as he insisted on it being nothing serious. You were stupid for thinking he would've reciprocated it, but all he did was leave you stranded on the empty space of heartbreak alone. 

"I'm sorry. I was an asshole, and I was an idiot for not realising how much you meant to me until you weren't there next to me. You carved a hole in my life and my heart was moulded for you," his gaze fell to the table, an audible draw of breath from him. 

Jay glanced up to lock his eyes with yours again, the twitch of his hand that was holding itself back from reaching over to you. "I'm not a religious man, Y/N, but every night I prayed for God to lead me back to you," he swallowed thickly, "I know I fucked up, that's why we stopped … everything. I deserved it, but I really want to fix everything,"

You opened your mouth to speak just to close it after a passing second. He said exactly what you wished for him to say, but why was it so hard grasping everything before you? Was it the shock? 

"I missed you, Jay," it was the truth, an angering truth that you held onto for ages. "I really did. I think about you a lot and the mistakes we made. I wish we could go back to the way we were. You're my best friend," you knew that word wasn't just what it was, it held something more than that. "And I just want you back,"

The softening of his gaze only exposed the vulnerability on your face. "Can we start again?" He said quietly, seemingly testing the waters. "As friends, and we'll go slow,"

"I'd like that," you nodded, never leaving his gaze. You didn't say it, neither did he, but you weren't putting away the chances of something more than just friends, an unspoken hope that you kept. Maybe this time, everything would turn out right. 

Before you parted ways with Jay and left for home, you shared a simple conversation in front of the cafe. Just like old times, the conversation flowed naturally as if time didn't separated the two of you in the first place. 

"Can I hug you?" 

For the first time in many months, you felt the warmth and touch of Jay's that you missed. It was familiar, comforting, a band aid that covered the crack on your heart. This was the first step to heal that broken heart of yours. Closure. It was for the better. 

The rest of your day was only filled with thoughts of him, till the point where it had you lying in bed, awake and turning, wondering about the fate of you and him. A second chance was about to make or break everything.

The next time you saw Jay again was at a party his frat brother held. 

Ever since that day at the cafe, you didn't stop texting Jay. You realised at one point that you had fallen back into your old self once more. Giggling at his messages, anticipating his notifications, calling him at odd hours. All of which didn't go unnoticed by you, and you wondered if you should be horrified or nonchalant. Given that you and him were on better, speaking terms now, you brushed it off as nothing.

"Well, isn't it my favourite girl," Jay had his arms wide open the moment he approached you, that smile of his glowing from a distance away. 

You smiled back, you always did anyway, letting him embrace you into his arms. "You smell like beer," you scrunch your nose up in distaste, pushing yourself off of him, but your arms around his shoulders remain.

"But I'm sober," he casted a wink at you, ignoring your eye roll as he took your arm from your shoulder and slid his fingers into your hand. "Come on, the guys are over there,"

To think about explaining this to the rest of your friends was going to be interesting to say the least. They already knew from your continuous text screaming for bloody help, but for them to witness it in person? You couldn't help but wish to cower into a corner out of embarrassment.

Heeseung was the first to raise a discreet eyebrow at you when you approached, hands intertwined with Jay, the same guy you swore you cut contacts with. That's a lie, apparently. Jake and Sunghoon seemed impassive, but you could tell from their several exchanges of glances, they thought the same as Heeseung did. However, both you and Jay were their friends, and no matter how messy it was, they were just the people stuck in between.

Jay eventually excused himself from the conversation to get more drinks for himself. You had a feeling he was about to be drunk by the end of the night no matter how he denied that. You knew his patterns through and through. Once he was out of ear shot, the boys turned to stare at you accusingly.

"Did you guys kiss?" Jake was the first to be blunt. The other two were eager to know the truth as well.

You practically jumped in your seat, as if a bullet had shot through your chest. In that way, his zero filtered question had that effect. "What? No! We agreed on being just friends,"

"For now," Heeseung chimed in.

"What?"

"You were literally holding hands with him," 

"It's platonic,"

"Considering your past with him, I think that's the last thing you can claim as platonic when it comes to Jay," Heeseung quipped back, making a valid point that you chose to ignore.

"Whatever. We're currently friends and we're not rushing into anything. We don't want to ruin it," you rubbed your arm uneasily, the thought of your past recurring saddened you. 

"Then when are you going to actually get together?" Sunghoon asked, sounding rather exasperated as though he's the one in your position. At one point, you wished you could trade places. 

"Ask him that," you leaned your head onto Jake's shoulder for emotional support, the question from Sunghoon was a second bullet to your heart. You had been the one sending signals from the start, but when it came to Jay reciprocating it, it was rather bleak.

"You're still hung over him? It never … went away?" Heeseung leaned his body closer, increasingly immersed into the conversation deeper.

"How could it go away when I've always been in love with him?"

The words stuck to you throughout the night. The truth and reality of you loving a man that threw everything away was a burden you carried. The egging thought of wondering if Jay even reciprocated the feelings after a year crept into your head. He didn't reach out to reconnect for nothing, did he?

Just as you've guessed, Jay was truly drunk out of his mind by the time the party was ending. Your friends were trying their best to haul Jay into his apartment while you trailed behind, wishing you were more of help than this. Jay was eventually dumped onto his bed, slurring out random sentences that made zero sense to you.

"Do you need me to drop you back? I didn't drink," Heeseung turned to you first once all of you stepped out of Jay's room. 

"I'll be fine. I didn't drink much, so I think I can drive myself back. I also want to stay a while more to make sure he's fine," you took a glance back at the open bedroom door, seeing Jay still awake and turning uncomfortably. 

"Will you be okay? I mean, you just started talking again, I don't want you to be uncomfortable," Heeseung placed an assuring hand on your shoulder, concern filled eyes boring into yours. You hadn't even thought about this before, the emotions you had whenever with Jay. 

You smiled at your friend. "It's Jay. I will never feel that way about him,"

Heeseung reciprocated your smile, seemingly more relieved. "I know."

Your friends soon left, the loud sounds of their drunken chatters faded into the night, leaving you in a deafening silence. A deep intake of breath was what helped you regain your confidence back to finally step into Jay's room, facing a dazed looking Jay who was sitting on the edge of his bed. He seemed a tad bit more sober from the multiple cups of water he had drunk. 

"Are you alright?" You took a few steps forward, holding onto the doorframe.

He glanced up, the dim light provided by his desk lamp illuminated his face, the sharpness of his features contrasted the tears he had swimming in his eyes. It was unmistakable, but it weighed you down onto the ground, not knowing if you should be taking another step. 

"Jay?" You called out cautiously, swallowing thickly. A quiet sob broke the short silence which followed, the glistening tears made their way down his cheeks. It was your first time seeing him as vulnerable as this.

You got to his side, knelt on the ground, trying to search for his gaze which persisted to run away from yours. He tried hiding his face behind his hands, but you were quick to stop him, holding onto them tightly. It was then he was forced to finally meet your eyes. 

"I'm sorry," you heard his weak voice utter out, his hand that you held onto gripped yours. "I'm sorry," he whispered tearfully.

It was your first time witnessing him this broken, crying nonstop and leaving his emotions out on display. For the first time in ages, you couldn't properly read him like you've always done. Was it your fault for making him feel this way? Was there nothing but pain in this so-called relationship you and him shared?

"I miss you," it was a confession, a painful sounding confession that he's held onto for a long time, the look in his eyes told you he meant it, but there was something else that he had: grief. "I'm sorry,"

You didn't know how long it was that you stared at him for, the thoughts in your mind had been long gone, the shell of your body remained. His words and the emotions behind them were heavier than you anticipated, it hit you hard and rough. You sighed, lowering your head for a second. "You should get some sleep, Jay. It's late and you're buzzed. I'll talk to you in the morning,"

Jay was silent. You could tell there was a hint of disappointment from him that you wished you weren't the cause of it. You got up to your feet, staring at the top of his head as he fought to avoid your eyes. So be it. As you turned to leave, you felt a hand around your wrist, pulling you to a stop.

"Will you stay?"

You've heard this one too many times. Yet, you were always a victim to it. Unlike most times, you knew this was different, letting your heart guide you to him instead of your head. It might've been foolish, but you were willing to be a fool that was persistently in love just for him.

"I'll stay."

That night, you barely slept as he laid in your lap, sound asleep. Your fingers traced the sharpness of his features, smoothing over the softness of them. You wondered to yourself whether reconnecting was a good idea in the first place if this odd feeling of yours kept cutting deep into your heart every time you're with Jay. 

You would never wish to leave him once more, but did he feel the same as you do? Or will he be the first to let you go again? 

Maybe, just this once, you'd have to be the first to let go, even if it's a small step, it was something better than nothing.

With one last apologetic look at Jay, you closed his bedroom door and left his home with a heavier heart than usual. By the time morning comes, you hoped both yours and his memories from the night before would be a fever dream. Something so intimate and vulnerable, how were you to forget quickly? Even as you drifted off to sleep in your bed, you could still remember the tears on Jay's face, it being the last thing you remember before waking up to your doorbell ringing.

It was as if your thoughts had manifested Jay to show up at your doorstep. He wasn't a figment of your imagination, but actual flesh and bones. No matter how you rubbed your eyes trying to get yourself to be more awake, he wasn't disappearing away from view. He was real. 

"Can we talk?" 

Those three words immediately brought dread for you. Jay's face was impassive, but it was evident that he was tired, restless. You nodded, moving away to let him in. It was easy for you to let him in, whether it was your home or your heart, you've always kept a space for him.

"What is it that you wanted to talk about?" You stepped closer to him, seeing as he hadn't taken a seat and feeling something odd shift in the air.

"Us, Y/N, us," Jay breathed out, strained and hoarse, as if saying that word had pained him deeply. "I don't like this, I hate it. The 'us' that we are now,"

"What?"

"We can't keep continuing on like this. We can't keep pretending everything's fine when it's not,"

It was too early for this, too early for you to be feeling burning internal rage. "Are you kidding? So what are you going to do? Leave me alone again? Go no contact with me again just because you don't want to face me again?"

"No!" Jay took a step closer to you, eyes blazing with equal fiery as yours. "I'm not ending things again, never. I can't lose you this time," his voice wavered, his hand reaching for yours and you let him hold your hand. Was that your first mistake? "I'm in love with you,"

You wished those words hadn't left his lips. For ages, you thought him confessing his true feelings would've fixed things, fixed you and him both, but at that moment, you realised it wasn't that easy, the cracks on your heart remained. 

"I know when you look at me, you see everything that went wrong, but when I look at you, I see the person I'm in love with," every word pierced your heart deeper, the desperation in his voice was clear, a saddening tragedy was imminent. 

"You don't get to do this," you whispered, backing away from him and freeing your hand from his hold. The hurt that flashed across his eyes didn't go unnoticed by you. "You don't get to tell me you're in love with me out of nowhere after we stop talking. It's not fair,"

"Am I … too late?" His voice was quiet, in the midst of the hurt was a pinch of hope. 

"You're not," you didn't want to lie, you knew your feelings were the same and unchanged, but you just weren't ready to cave in and accept his feelings that fast. It wasn't fair. "Time. That's what we need to start afresh,"

Jay nodded, jaw clenched, face stoic. There was no denying that he was hurt, he didn't hide it anyway. "I'll make it right. I'll fix us."

Was it possible to mend everything?

Attending a party to get drunk was probably the worst idea you had in a while. 

The thoughts of you and Jay haunted you like a sickening plague, the conversation you had with him was constantly eating you up from the inside. You were pushing him away, you knew so, you were becoming like him in some ways. How ironic it was. 

That was why the moment Julie invited you to her boyfriend's house party, you knew you had to have some type of getaway, though it wasn't the most ideal. The only problem you didn't appreciate her not telling you earlier was the person you wanted to avoid most was standing with the rest of your friends in a corner playing pool.

"Look, I didn't know they were coming," Julie defended herself, leaning her body close to your side. "What's up with you and Jay anyway?"

"It's complicated,"

Julie sighed, shaking her head. "Of course it is, but how blind and dumb could you both be?"

"Hey!"

"It's obvious you like him and he likes you, why can't you guys just—I don't know—get together?" 

"It's not that easy, I wish it was. I think we're both hurt, or I'm the coward this time. We … talked, he finally said he loves me, but I can't accept it just yet,"

"Why not?"

"I gave my heart to him, Julie. For years I willingly gave my heart to a man that constantly blocked me from his heart, which was why we ended things. Only then he realised his true feelings and right now he's asking for my heart back. I just don't think it's fair," your eyes dropped to the carpeted ground, gripping onto your plastic cup tightly.

"Then would you rather regret it?"

"Huh?"

"Would you regret after pushing him away and never becoming something you've always wished to be? Constantly think about the what-ifs? I know I'm not in the right to say anything since I'm not you, but the only thing I wish to say is to go with your heart," she placed a hand on your shoulder. "If your heart yearns for him, it'll always stay that way."

Why couldn't you stop your heart from yearning for Jay? It was as if Julie had read you like a book, even in those times where you and him stopped contacting one another, you never once forgot about him. It was true, your heart was yearning for him. 

Meeting new people that were introduced by Julie and her boyfriend momentarily took your mind off Jay. Their friends were people you probably wouldn't meet again, so you didn't mind when you were left alone with one of them. 

"You come by here often?" Juyeon, one of the guys, was by your side like a leech instead of being a good company. His presence was screaming red blaring signals to you.

"Not much," you chuckled awkwardly, wondering when Julie would return with the rest of her friends.

"Can I take you out some time?" Wow, he sure knew how to cut to the chase. 

"What?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to come by to my place after this?"

Oh, this was your sign to run, wasn't it? "I—well, I have someone to meet—"

"Come on, give me a chance—" he grabbed onto your hand right before you could successfully leave, this was when you remind yourself never to get involved with frat boys.

"Sorry—" you didn't have the chance to finish your sentence when your hand was forcefully ripped away from his hold, another familiar feeling of someone's hand on yours instead. You turned just in time to see Jay standing beside you, visibly fuming.

"Leave her alone, man," he placed himself in front of you, shielding you away from Juyeon. 

"Look, I'm just trying to invite her over. You know what, she's nothing special anyway—" the sound of Jay's fist clashing into Jueyon's jaw stopped him from continuing on. You were too shocked to comprehend everything happening before you, even as Jay lunged onto the man, you could do nothing but stare. 

"Jay!" The shouts of his name clicked in your mind, breaking you out of your shell-shocked state. Every one of your friends rushed to get Jay off of Juyeon who ended up scrambling away, leaving a crowd of onlookers. 

He was hesitant to turn around and look at you, you could tell so from his stiff shoulders, but you stayed hoping to see his face. You reached your hand out shakily to touch his shoulder, yet, before you could actually do so, he turned around, eyes avoiding to meet yours.

"Jay—" 

There he went brushing past you, not a single word spoken from him. The slamming of the front door snapped you out of the hurtful daze you were in to follow him out of the house. He was standing on the pavement, unmoving. You approached him carefully, scared and paranoid of executing a wrong move.

"Jay," you walked to stand before him, feeling a tinge of hurt when he took a step back away from you. "Jay," you repeated his name, this time with a bit more desperation. "Why did you do that?" There was no answer, only a sullen silence which blurred into the night. 

You shifted your attention to his fist, the forming of a bruise and some cracked skin decorated the fist he used to punch Juyeon. Your hand absentmindedly reached for his. "You're hurt," you were about to touch his hand when he pulled away, avoiding your hold, a look of hurt flashed across your features, but you tried to hide it.

"I can't let him talk to you like that," he whispered, looking anywhere but you. You wished to grab his shoulder and forcefully make him look at you. 

"Jay, it's okay,"

"It's not!" He snapped, finally having the nerves to meet your eyes. His change of tone shocked you, your feet took a step back unknowingly. "It's not okay. Not when I feel like I'm going insane thinking you're going to get yourself in danger,"

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't," Jay heaved a breath in, voice shaking slightly. "I should be the one to say sorry for acting this way. I'm sorry," 

"Jay—" 

"I'll see you around. Get home safe." You couldn't even reach him and he was already gone, leaving into the night. There was a twisting feeling in your heart that was unbearable. Was this the end of it all? 

You felt even worse walking back into the house when the rest of your friends asked you about Jay and his whereabouts. It was awkward staying there after what went down, so you ended up going back home too, throwing yourself in bed to forget everything that had happened. 

Jay, the fight, Juyeon, you wished those three things never happened that night. You wished you and Jay never happened at all. 

"You're just going to leave it at that?"

A bottle of alcohol late at night with the company of your friends without Jay was what you needed after a rollercoaster of a events. The amount of shots you've taken wasn't enough to blur the image of Jay's tear stained cheek or the hurt in his eyes when he told you he loved you, not even the time he avoided your touch. You wondered if love was meant to be this painful. If it was, why were you so adamant on it?

"I … don't know," you set the glass down, chewing the insides of your cheek. "It'll be too cliche and stupid to say it's complicated, right? I think I'm just hurting him. I still love him, but I can't let myself to do so. It's weird, him reconnecting after a year and suddenly telling me he's in love with me out of the blue. What does all that mean?"

Sunghoon let out a hiss from the shot he took in one go, then turned to you. "Jay might be a dumbass for realising his faults and feelings a little too late, but there's one thing I'm sure about him, and that is how much he cares for you and loves you. I remember after you guys cut contact, he had trouble sleeping for months. He said the thought of you leaving haunted him,"

"I know it's unfair to you how he's only realised his true feelings now," Heeseung interjected, pouring another round into your glass. "But I think you're just hurting yourself more by pushing him away, just like how he did to you. You love him, don't you? Don't repeat the same mistakes, you've wasted a whole year together, don't waste a lifetime regretting what could've been."

Two stubborn people walking in constant circles, that was you and Jay. Too scared to face your feelings, hurting not only the other but also yourself. 

Being absolutely emotional and pissed drunk only resulted in you crying your eyes out, which made your friends worried out of their minds till the point where they had to call the person who would know how to comfort you. However, they  failed to realise in time that the same person was the cause of your tears. 

"Where is she?" You heard his voice from a mile away, it was something you'd never forget. The others were slowly leaving your apartment after hoisting you to your bedroom. The process of which involved you sobbing and your drunk friends trying not to drop you. 

The thudding sound of footsteps filled the silence in your home. It stopped right at the doorstep to your bedroom, the hesitation was evident when he entered after several beats. You laid on your side, facing away from him. His approaching figure made your heart race, you felt the bed dip beneath you upon him taking a seat next to you. 

"You're awake, aren't you?"

You glanced up at him, the dimness of your room casted a shadow across his face, but he was still the most beautiful person you've seen. You slowly sat up, trying to move your body a distance away from him to make everything less surreal. The silence in the room was overwhelming, neither of you knew what to say first.

"Do you hate me?"

"What?" 

"I was the first to let go this time," you chuckled dryly, doing everything but meeting his eyes, maybe you were the coward all along.

Jay let out a breath of disbelief, shaking his head. "How could I ever hate you?" It was a question, it was his truth, his dying truth that he held onto with all his heart. He glanced down, staring at his hands, the bruises from the hard punches thrown were healing. "I shouldn't have lashed out on you that night. It wasn't right for me to do so,"

In the midst of your hazy mind, your brain functioned well enough to recollect the memories he mentioned. Oh, that night, that incident. "It's alright, I know you didn't mean it, you were trying to look out for me, I get it," you averted your gaze, letting yourself smile a little to lessen the tension. "I think I was just scared,"

"Of what?" 

"Of you leaving again," 

Jay's gaze softened in the darkness, his hand reaching out to hold yours and it was one of those times that you let him do so knowing how your heart felt like exploding. "I'm never leaving, nor do I hate you. I hate myself for pushing you away, for realising everything too late, for hurting you," he took a deep, yet shaky breath, "If anything, I love you,"

The drowsiness you were experiencing somehow disappeared in a blink of an eye, your mind blank, all you could hear in the back of your mind was those three words which Jay uttered. The air around you and him had shifted, the angry tension dissipated. 

You felt his hold on your hand tightening, just the same as your heart tightening at the sight of Jay's heartbroken smile. "I love you," it was a confession, something ever so freeing to finally be able to say to him knowing your true feelings were reciprocated. "I'm sorry for running away,"

Jay moved closer, his face now barely a few inches away. Everything was a blur, how his other hand travelled to cup your cheeks, his breath practically fanning your lips. "I should be the one to say sorry," those were his last words before pressing his lips on yours.

It wasn't your first time kissing him, but something about the kiss was unlike the times you've experienced.  Despite all those playful, lighthearted kisses you shared with Jay, you knew this was different. Jay was pouring his endless unspoken apologies and devotion, a mix of relief, sadness, longing were hidden behind it.

Even as you pulled away, you could feel the palpable longing between you and him. It was as if years of silent desperation, confusion and pining had melted into one, finally being addressed at that moment. Neither of you spoke a single word, just holding each other close, admiring one another. It was intimate, something you couldn't recreate with someone else. 

"I will never leave you," he whispered, his thumb stroking your cheek reassuringly. "You're a piece of me and my heart, you make me whole. I would be a fool to ever let you go again,"

You stared at him as if he was your entire universe, the effect of his every word carved a space into your heart. Eyes closing momentarily, you let yourself melt into his touch, smiling softly. "I trust you."

That was all Jay needed to hear before a small smile spread across his face. You could hear it in silence, see the look on his face and that spark he has in his brown irises, you knew what it was, he was in love.

That night, he stayed with you until morning came. You held onto one another tightly, as though scared that it was the last day to be together. Little words were exchanged, but you were content by him holding you close. 

For the first time in a while, you were able to fall asleep with no lingering thoughts, and for the first time ever, he was yours, and you were his.

Telling your friends you and Jay were finally together was a rollercoaster of emotions that you'd never forget. 

It has been months since you and your best friend officially got together. The reactions from people around you were nothing but relief and support after knowing how much hell you two went through. For once, you actually believed in the 'forever' that was promised.

You didn't question the sound of keys unlocking your front door. It has become a habit for Jay to stop by your place every evening, almost just like before and it felt as if everything was falling back into place. Every visit of his came with something he prepared to surprise you, which was why his cheeky grin gave it away.

He pressed a kiss on the top of your head before joining you on the sofa, the playful smile of his never once left. "I have a surprise,"

"Chocolate cake?"

"Okay, something not edible," 

"What is it?" You couldn't help smiling too, nudging your boyfriend in an attempt to get him to reveal his so-called surprise.

"Close your eyes,"

"Are you serious?"

"I'm serious. Come on, close them!" He was giggling, egging you on to go along with whatever he has up his sleeves. "Now, give me your hand," You complied. Not long after, you felt something cold and small making contact with the skin of your palm. "Open your eyes," 

You were first met with Jay's anticipating gaze, then you looked down, seeing a ring sitting on the palm of your hand. "A ring?" You were surprised, picking it up to look at it closely. It was beautiful, simple yet so intricate in detail, as if it was customised for you. 

"Don't worry, it's not an engagement ring, it's a promise ring. I know we did make a five year deal, but we're still taking it slow," he picked the ring from your hold and gently took your hand, slotting the ring into your ring finger. "Maybe in another five years time, I'll actually get to fulfil our pact and replace this with an engagement ring,"

This was the closest you've felt your heart exploding. Heat rushed to your face, heart beating nonstop, you were suddenly the person who's first developed a crush for Jay all over again. "Since when did you become so cheesy," you scoffed, a small smile rested on your lips.

"Only for you, duh," it wasn't a lie whatsoever, Jay never hid himself when it came to you. "Let's call some takeout and stay in,"

"Are you staying over tonight?"

"Only if your bed is open to let me in," he made himself comfortable next to you, throwing his arms around you to pull you closer to his side. 

"You know it always is."

Jay didn't say anything, but his smile was enough of a response. No matter if it's your bed, house or heart, you've always reserved a spot specially for him. He made up a part of you just the same as you were with him. He was your home and safe space. You were glad you made that stupid pact on one drunken night that led him back to you.

( © jaylver all rights reserved. do NOT copy, plagiarise or edit my work and repost whatsoever. once discovered will be exposed and blacklisted. )

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[mochinomnoms]

So uhhhh...... what other kinks would octavinnle have 😗

🦩

I already went into one I think Jade would have, so I'll list three new ones for each and a brief thing as to why, though it's not their only ones I would say it's some of their top ones.

Azul

Oral fixation: Azul has a refined palate, he can note each ingredient used in dishes with just his tongue! He's learned to put that tongue to good use, so it's logical to assume that he'd like to taste you as well. And Azul does love it so. There is no treat taster than you and your cum on his tongue, and while he's not one to indulge in his meals, for you he'd make an exception. I do hope that you are willing to keep your legs open for a quite some time, after all you wouldn't want to deny him of a treat, would you?

Praise kink: Let's be real, because of his childhood, Azul thrives on recognition and praise for his hard work. When he decides to go into something, it's never half-hearted, especially regarding his love and affection to you. So, praise him! Tell him what a good job he's doing, tell him to keep hitting that spot right there, oh god, Azul, you make me feel so goood~ It makes him feel so so good knowing that only he gets to make you feel like this, that only he gets to hear your voice praising him. It gets him off, so keep doing it at all times, whisper in his ear about how smart and wonderful he is in all aspects, the sweet tone in your voice gets him hot and heavy, turning into a need to keep hearing those honeyed words and show you just how deserving he is of your praise.

Breeding: Out of the trio, he is technically the only one with a mating season (two actually). And while he can usually get over those seasons on his own, with you at his side he instinctually develops a need to breed you silly! Who knew he had such a desire to become a daddy, you'll help him won't you? As his mate? Regardless of whether or not you can actually get pregnant, when the late spring and early fall come, he needs to fill your tummy with so much cum that it hurts! You'll spend at least two months out of the year with bent over or in a mating press until you're shuddering and twitching as milky white fluids are dripping from your hole. Now now, Azul can't have that, so won't you let him fill you just one more time? (It's never just one more time.)

Jade

Shibari: Jade thinks it's fascinating how humans don't have long, winding limbs to wrap their mates and make due with soft, pretty colored ropes. It's even more fascinating seeing the fat of your skin bulge against the ropes. Your chest, thighs, hips, all straining the ropes as your hands are tied against your back, helpless to his poking and prodding. Call him sadistic, but he loves seeing you so helpless underneath him, pretty eyes begging for him to use you and make you feel good. It makes him feel a sort of way to hear you beg to free your hands so you can hold him, dig your nails into his skin as your orgasm inches closer and closer. Jade does love having you be so helpless under him, free for him to use as he sees fit.

Service kink: Jade likes taking care of things, to be depended on. After all, he's so good at being a dependable partner, so why not place all your pleasure into his very capable hands? Be warned, though, Jade can be quite sadistic, and once you place your pleasure into his hands, it belongs to him and only him. There's no need to touch yourself when he hands long, nimble fingers to use, a long furling long to sink into your heat, and attentive eyes that watch and study every single moan, twitch, and breath you take. Jade will make sure that your lust filled brain will be drawn to him, immersed with the mind-blowing rapture he provides. All to the point that you'll only be able to cum through him, whether it be his mouth, hands, or dick. It's fine, Jade does love depend on, especially if it ruins you for anyone else after him. That's if you can bring yourself to leave, after all you'll never find another quite as attentive and caring as he. Jade's made sure of that.

Roleplaying: This plays a bit into Jade's service kink, but he does love dressing you up in cute outfits and making you play a bit. Perhaps he is a butler, and you're his master, bringing yourself down to ruin by a lowly servant as he fucks you into oblivion. Perhaps he's come to collect collateral from you for a deal, and you can only offer yourself. Maybe he's a big bad sea monster, and you're a sweet little human that drifted too far off into the sea. In any case, he loves playing into any of his roles, teasing you as you start of shy like an actor with stage fright. It's wonderful when Jade finally gets to see you lose yourself into your role, all for him. Though, don't be surprised if he decides to turn the table a bit, and dresses you up in a maid costume with a leash and collar. As much as he loves playing his usual role, Jade does also love seeing you coo and tend to him (and his dick) like the pretty, sweet spouse he knows you will be. Go on love, get on your knees and make him feel good. It's your responsibility to clean up the mess of slick you've left on his dick after all.

Floyd

Overstimulation: To no one's surprise, Floyd has plenty of energy to go around once he's interested in something, and you are very interesting to him. He wants to see just how much you can take of him and what he gives you until your crying and begging him to give you a break. But unless you give him your safe word, that delicious orgasm he just gave you is blending into the next as he seeks his own euphoria. But don't think that he won't just ignore his own overstimulation, because he will. Just feels so good for both of you that it almost hurts. And yet, Floyd just can't help and keep going. That yummy high on cloud 9 is gonna keep going, even through your shrieks and cries for a break, the rhythmic slap of skin, the shuddering breaths. He just can't stop, even if he wanted to, oh please Floyd! It's too much! It feels too good-AAAAH~ He'll keep going until you both pass out from sheer sensory overload and exhaustion, his dick still in you and ready to go when you wake back up.

Dumbification: This is a bit surprising, or maybe not, but Floyd loves fucking you until you're so sex-brained that all you can think about his him and his dick. He wants you to love his cock so much that you're bending over and spreading yourself open for him with hearts in your eyes. No thoughts, head empty except for Floyd and his cum. He wants a pretty smile with your tongue lolling out. He wants you to see him taking pictures of him fucking you with your hands forming a heart. He wants you to ignore anything and everything else except for him, because you're his little dummy that can only think about him and his pretty dick that's bruising your insides and shaping you for him. And only him.

Dacryphilia: This should actually come as no surprise, but Floyd gets really horny at seeing your tears streaming down your face. But not from being upset, no, he loves the tears that come from him overstimulating you. They're just so pretty! You're so cute, and he's so big, too big for you, but you try so hard! So forgive him if he's a bit mean, a little rough, and dragging out orgasm after orgasm from you so that you're whimpering and sobbing. Such a sweet sight reserved just for him, as only he can guarantee that these tears come from feeling good and not from something more sinister. Plus, Floyd really likes how you pout at him. It's just so cute!! And he just looooves cute things.

[gghostwriter]

Deepest Fear

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer wakes from a nightmare and you comfort him Trope: Comfort (can this still be considered fluff) w.c: 0.8k a/n: This idea has been in my list for so long and I just never felt the time to write it until now. My head canon of later Spencer Reid is someone who finds rest unsettling due to horrors so here's my take on that. Not proofread as I didn't want to think of how heavy and realistic this actually is. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

The digital clock on your bed side table says: September 3, 12:35am. The hustling city in slumber as all its occupants rest and gather energy for the coming hours. Except maybe for one resident, you. 

Nights like this were exceedingly rare—him asleep while you sit on your bedside wide awake. It had always been the opposite. With the terrors that graced his desk day to day bleeding into his dreams, creating nightmares that transform the victims into his loved ones. Some featured the team but most—most if it featured you and Diana at the mercy of an unsub that seemed three steps ahead of him.

It only got worse during his stint in prison with it become in a reality for his mother. Now, his nightmares of her were flashbacks of his time incarcerated, unable to do anything while Diana was held captive. Whatever his expansive mind conjured up to torture him when his eyes close were enough to make him like sleep less and less begrudgingly turning him into an insomniac. 

Sometimes you’d wake up in the middle of the night with him, back up against the headboard, arms tight round you, and eyes trained to every entrance and exit. It was unsettling but you learned to live with it—you’d learn anything just to have him still. That was how much you love him.

He twitched in his sleep, hand on your stomach tightening its grip on your borrowed Caltech shirt as if you were a buoy that could keep him afloat. Your hands found solace in softly caressing his locks of hair that were slowly sticking to his forehead due to sweat. It was a sign you knew all to well—a nightmare had come and hooked it’s long, black claws to his once pitiful slumber.

His hand shot up to yours with a grip so tight that a small whimper left your lips. 

“Spencer,” you whispered. “Spence, it’s me—“ his eyelids still closed shut. “—I’m here. You’re safe—”

His voice hoarse from sleep. “No. No. No. Not her, please—hurt me—take me instead. Please.”

A single tear escaped from his eyes. Spencer was once again losing, begging, pleading to an unsub that is incapable of remorse and relishes in his suffering. You chewed on your lip before leaning down and placing feather like kisses to any part of his beautiful yet strained face you could reach. 

“Come back, Spence,” you breathed out. “It’s me. You’re safe—we’re safe. Come back to me.” 

His hand holding yours slowly losing it’s death grip as his eyelids fluttered to an open. Unfocused doe eyes staring into yours before his wetted lips opened to form a word. No sound came out but you understood.

It was your name. 

It was you he was pleading for in his dreams. 

A tremor passed through, his taught body relaxing onto yours. Spencer was coming to.

“Love?” He called. 

Your pink lips stretched to form a small smile. “Hey, you. Are you alright?”

“I—I don’t—” he slowly sat up, matching your position, leaning against the headrest. “It was Cat Adams. I dreamt she had—” his calloused hand dwarfing yours. “—somehow escaped and got to you. And then, she got me too. When I came to, she had us tied in front of each other and a gun against your head and all I could think of was—” his voice trailed off.

Maeve. 

“—and I just kept thinking, ‘not again, I can’t lose you’ and she kept taunting me about how I break everything I love. No matter how much I begged, she just kept laughing and laughing and I thought ‘I won’t make it without you. I refuse to. She’ll win and I’ll have nothing.’”

You wiped away the tears making its way down his face. The hatred that you felt for Cat Adams was dark and infinite. Yes, Spencer had beaten her twice at the sick, sick games he did not want to play in but during this moments when his guard was down and should be feeling safe in the confines of his own home, you questioned who really won and at what cost. 

You cradled his head to your chest, near the cavity that enclosed your beating organ that he fully branded as his own. “I’m safe, Spence. You hear that?” A pause. “That’s my heart, alive and beating. You’re with me and you’ve kept me safe.”

He inhaled, fingers slipping past the shirt to feel your skin, leaving in its wake goose flesh and butterflies settling on your stomach. “I love you. Stay with me?” 

“Always.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[lymtw]

Hi ! This is my first time requesting something on Tumblr and I don't know if your requests are open, but if they are could you please write something about Toji where f!reader is his girlfriend (long term) and she gets in a small argument with young megumi in which he says she's not his mom (which she isn't, but she still kinda raised him with Toji). She gets sad and Toji comforts her and maybe scolds megumi and it's fluffy at the end ?

I hope it's not too confusing 😅 and if you don't want to do it it's completely okay ! I really like the way you write Toji and your works are so good !

A/N: Ngl I actually kinda teared up a little when I was thinking out the scenario for this. Don't judge me, it was like 2am-ish lol. This prompt is so good 😭🫶🏼

Thank you for sending in this request 💙

Toji could hear bickering coming from outside your shared bedroom, familiar voices going back and forth over who knows what in the room next door. He tried to roll over and go back to sleep, because he trusted that it would be over soon. You're an adult talking to a kid. Your logic is sharper than Megumi's, so things should be resolved quickly. His eyes shut again, but the arguing wouldn't cease. Who knows how long this has gone on for.

He sighs and blinks his tired eyes open, before getting out of bed to see what all the commotion is about at eight in the morning. He grabs his shirt from the end of the bed and slips it on, over his head, as he walks over Megumi's room. Your voices are much clearer to Toji, now, as he nears the door. He stands by to listen in on what's going on.

"I just organized your room, Megumi. All i'm asking you to do is to put your toys back where they belong when you're not playing with them."

"I am playing with them," the boy says, holding two dinosaur figures. "I'm playing with all of them. I'm gonna go back to the ones over there, right now."

You sigh. The argument has been looping this way for too long. It feels pointless to argue with a child, yet you're still doing it because deep down, it irks you to have put in so much effort to keep his space clean, just for him to trash it the second he occupies the room, again.

"Let's see." You start looking around the floor for toys you know for certain he hasn't been playing with. "You're not playing with this plushie or this car. This slinky isn't being used either and it's gonna get tangled if you don't put it somewhere safe."

The boy groans, tired of hearing you list off things you see out of place on the floor. He goes back to playing with the dinosaurs in his hands, blocking out your voice.

"Megumi, are you even listening to me?" You ask, setting some of the smaller toys you collected off the floor onto the top of his dresser.

"I don't want to and I don't have to," he utters, carelessly, not even sparing you a glance. "You're not my mom, so I don't have to listen to you. Just my dad."

You're stunned by this sudden revelation of his feelings towards you. The argument is over. Megumi was the winner because he got you to back off, but at what cost? Your heart weighed a ton after what he said. You had nothing else to say to him in that moment, so you let go of your end of the tug of war rope.

Toji hears your footsteps nearing the door and makes himself known by appearing as you're heading out.

"Hey." He attempts to grab your attention, but you don't even look at him. You pat his chest twice and leave the room. He takes a step out of the room, calling for you once more as you get farther away from him. "Ma." All he gets is a thumbs up from you as you keep walking, an indication of how you're not emotionally stable enough to respond verbally.

Toji sighs, briefly watching Megumi, who still hasn't stopped playing with his toys. He's completely unaware of what just went down.

He steps further into the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed, next to his mini.

"Megs, that wasn't cool." He receives a hum in response. "Why would you say something like that?"

Megumi's hands still. He briefly looks at his dad before resuming what he was doing. "Like what? I was just in here, playing with my toys," he says, feigning innocence, not knowing that Toji had been listening.

"I heard what you said and it wasn't nice at all. She's always been good to you."

"But what I said is true," he exclaims, his expressive, green eyes widening, defensively.

"Okay, let's calm down. I'm not raising my voice, am I?"

Megumi slowly shakes his head. He puts down the dinosaur toys and crosses his legs, folding his hands in his lap.

"I want you to look at it this way," Toji starts, looking around at the room you were once so proud of for returning to a pristine state, now cluttered with various toys and clothes. "She's always been here for you. She takes care of you when I have to go to work, she reads to you before bed, she wakes up to make you breakfast. You like when she makes breakfast, right?"

The boy nods. "I like when she makes dog shaped pancakes."

"Yeah, me too. You think she's gonna wanna be around and make dog shaped pancakes for us if you talk to her like that?"

Megumi shakes his head. "No, but she wouldn't stop telling me to clean up my toys when I told her that i'm still playing with them."

"Well, I only see you playing with this little pool of toys, here on the bed. Everything else is just scattered all over the place. You know she worked hard to clean this place up, right?"

"Mm... yeah," he responds, coyly.

"You're like a tornado, Megs," he says, causing the fluffy-haired boy to laugh. "Yeah, it's pretty funny, huh?" Megumi keeps laughing while nodding which makes Toji crack a grin.

"I'm sorry," Megumi mumbles, once he settles down. He looks down at the palm of his hand, tracing the lines on it with his thumb.

"That's not for me to hear, kid," Toji says, setting a hand on his head.

"But, i'm scared to tell her. What if she's mad at me?" He turns his head to look at his dad, eyes darting between matching green eyes and the scar that mars his lips.

"Nah, she loves you too much to ever get mad at you. How 'bout I go see what she's doing, and you draw something to give to her? When you're ready to give her your drawing, you can come out, yeah?"

"Okay." Megumi nods. "I'll go out there when i'm ready."

"Alright. See you in a bit. Love you."

"Love you, too, dad," he responds, a slight tint of red on his cheeks.

Toji leaves him to it, leaving the door slightly ajar when he exits the room. He immediately directs himself towards you. You didn't hide or hole up in the room, instead you went to the couch. Toji sits next to you, watching you scroll through your phone.

"Hey, you good?" He asks, watching your face as you turn your screen off and shift your attention to him.

You sigh. "Yeah, it's fine. It's not like he lied."

"Don't say that. You know he's wrong." He puts a hand on your knee, squeezing comfortingly. "He's still a brat that doesn't know the weight of his words. Thinks he can just fire out things like that and move on like it's nothing. As long as i'm here, he won't get away with saying ridiculous things like that to you."

"Yeah," you say, still sounding disheartened.

"I talked to him about it. The kid was just pissed that you called him out for the mess he made. He just wanted to be right, with zero logical thoughts in that head."

You nod, not wanting to say anything more about it. Everything Toji said was correct, but you still felt like you were tossed aside, in that moment. Like you were a puzzle piece that didn't fit into their family.

"Don't be bummed about it, baby. You know he loves you, and remember, he has called you 'mom' before."

That brings a smile to your face. You remember how shy he got after realizing what he said. The word slipped out so naturally. You treated him like you normally do, but on the inside you were all giddy and proud to be considered a maternal figure by him.

"There you go. There's that pretty smile," Toji says, grinning as he pulls you close.

"Stop," you say, blushing when he starts peppering your face with kisses. You giggle when he starts chasing your lips, eventually giving you the warm, comforting kisses he wanted to give you.

You push his face away when you hear the door to Megumi's room creak, followed by Megumi himself. He takes slow steps out of the hallway and when he sees you and Toji staring at him, he gets nervous. All the attention is on him so he diverts his gaze and looks down at the floor until he's standing in front of you two. His face is red and his hands are behind his back. Toji knows what he's hiding and he smiles.

"What's up, Megs?" You ask, when he just stands there, silently.

He shifts on his feet, looking at you and then at his dad, before looking at you once more. His arms come forward and his hands shakily extend a folded piece of paper towards you.

"For me?" You ask, enthusiastically, to which he nods before looking down at his feet, again. You unfold the paper and take in the whole page of bright colors. Toji looks at it over your shoulder, a soft smile resting on his face when he sees the genuine effort that was put into the page. The first thing you notice is the big 'I'm sorry' written in his jagged and uneven handwriting, followed by a heart that you can tell he redrew multiple times based on the faded outlines behind it. There's a drawing of two simplistic dogs and what looks like the flowers you put on the dinner table. There are three stick figures that resemble you, Toji, and Megumi. You smile when you see that he didn't miss Toji's scar. He used the top corner of the page to draw the sun and there are different colored stars all over the place.

"Aw, I love it! Can I keep it forever?" You ask, smiling when you look at his adorable blush-y expression.

"Yeah, I made it for you," he mumbles, shiny eyes looking back at you.

You fold the paper, carefully, making sure to follow along the crease he already made, and set it down beside you.

"Can I have a hug?" You ask, reaching your arms out. He nods and makes his way over to you, his small arms coming up short as they wrap around you. Your embrace envelops him entirely. He's nonexistent in your hold because of how small he is. You squeeze him a little tighter, causing him to giggle at the gesture. "Love you soooo much, Megs." Before you release him, you give him a small peck on the cheek. "How about some pancakes for breakfast?"

"Can you make them in the shapes of dogs, again?" He asks, tapping his foot, excitedly.

"Of course, I can," you respond, and he gets even more excited.

"Dad! D-Dad! Dad! She's gonna make dog shaped pancakes, dad!"

"Yeah, I heard," Toji responds, a dumb grin on his face. "You should help her out, today."

"Okay," Megumi says, before sprinting to the kitchen.

"I should go help him before he gets the kitchen messy, too," you say, rising from the couch when the boy quickly vanishes.

"Hey, come here," Toji says, pulling you back by your wrist. You're pulled down for some quick kisses, a continuation of the session that was interrupted earlier.

"Love you, doll," he says, his eyes flitting between your starry ones and that smile that makes him weak.

"Love you." He doesn't let go of your hand until the link breaks, once you're out of his reach.

[cakelitter]

Pawsitively Yours Leon x Puppy - Hybrid Fem! Reader

Warnings: age gap, daddy kink, fingering, breeding kink, slight mention of virginity, spanking, degradation

Summary: Leon's new puppy treats him to a relaxing bath after a stressful mission.

Words: 5.1k

a/n: this one took me so long to do omg. rewrote some paragraphs like three times. but anyway, hope you enjoy!!!!

December has started, and with it came the heavy rain fall and bone chilling winds. Leon makes his way to the nearby convenience store, trying to be as quick as possible before the sky starts getting upset again. Bundled up in his coat and boots, he can see the white smoke like fog that forms after each breath.

His nose froze long ago, and he’s only been out of the house for five minutes. His once functional nose now turning a rosy shade of pink along with his cheeks. And so, he opts to breathe through his mouth a bit till he reaches the warmth of the store.

Milk, eggs, bread, milk, eggs, bread, milk, eggs-

His mind keeps repeating, in order to not forget anything. Writing a list would have saved him so much back and forth, but he’d rather do that than give in and actually write one down. It’s actually impressive how stubborn a man can be.

The glowing lights from the festive decoration on the streets are single handedly illuminating his way to his destination. Christmas is right around the corner, and people are filled with excitement and glee. For Leon on the other hand, Christmas is another cold winter day with the advantage of things being half off the next day.

Maybe it’s the traumatic events that he went through, or maybe it’s the fact that he barely has anyone around to celebrate this once in a year holiday with. But Christmas is not as special as it once was.

Opening the glass door, he steps into the warm space. Breathing in comfortably for once without the feeling of pins and needles tormenting him from the icy air.

It doesn’t take him long to grab the items he initially came in here for, while picking up a bottle of whiskey along the way to keep him company. It was calling his name from the wooden shelf it once stood on, and it was fifty percent off. So, he’s technically doing something good. He places his belongings on the register, while making small talk with the old cashier. The man in front of him says something about the weather, old man talk, and as time passes by he is actually starting to like these types of small conversations more and more.

He's definitely getting old.

The yell of an employee interrupts their conversation, alerting everyone around and addressing a customer that sprints out the store with unpaid items in hand. He thought the officer inside of him died a long time ago, but apparently not. He starts chasing the individual, down the street into an abandoned alley way. When suddenly the clanking sound of cans ricochet through the eerie alleyway, as some of the cans their holding slip from their grasp and onto the concrete floor.

He tries his best to not step on any of them. Which shouldn’t be too hard if this damn alley way wasn’t so fucking dark. He can’t see shit in front of him. It’s practically almost pitch black and the person he’s chasing is wearing a black jacket with the hood up. He’s chasing shadows at this point. Hopefully he is even chasing someone in the first place and isn’t having another one of his hallucinations. Running out the store like a crazy person.

All he does know however is that whoever he’s running after is fast, real fast. He’s almost out of breath kind of fast. The I hope they slip so this can be over kind of fast.

His prayers must’ve been answered cause instead of them slipping, they found themselves reaching a dead end. They’re movement ceases and they freeze in place looking at the stone wall blocking their way out.

He stands behind the hooded figure, their back turned to him.

“Turn around.” He orders, voice stern and intimidating. The thief turns around slowly, eyes facing the ground and full of guilt.

“Take that hood off.” Shaky hands comply, revealing their identity. They look up at him, and… are those dog ears?

Your eyes make contact with his, tears brimming in your eyes, reflecting the yellow light coming from the nearby and only street light, horrified of the thought of what is going to happen to you next. Your ears are droopy and wet from he can only assume the previous rain. Eye brows furrowed and your tail from what he can tell is now hiding between your legs, covered by your oversized jacket. The jacket is two to three sizes too big for you, can’t tell if that’s a fashion choice. He’s not up to date with today’s fashion trends. You’re a hybrid. A homeless one, judging by the state of your clothes and hair.

Regardless of the disheveled appearance, you’re a real cutie. Practically begging him silently to pretend like he didn’t catch you, and let you go on your merry way. His eyes drop down to see what you’re holding in your arms and finds three cans of tuna there. You poor thing, hungry and shaking from either the cold or from the possibility of going to jail… or the pound. He’s not sure where they deal with your kind.

He steps closer, and immediately senses the he picked the wrong choice of action as you start growling. Taking the hint, he backs off and nods slowly raising his hands up, making you stop.

The sound of running footsteps enter into the alleyway the two of you are standing in.

“You caught them?” the employee from earlier asks. Your eyes move over to them then back to him. Leon is a firm believer that stealing for hunger isn’t a crime. You were stealing tuna cans for fucks sake, the cheapest kind too. Not a lavish necklace worth millions.

“Yeah…” he can hear your brain cogs working, thinking about how you will get yourself out of this situation. And he could swear that he heard a whine leave your mouth. Hybrids are looked at as a minority, either locket away in cages or poked in labs. And that’s if they weren’t causing trouble. He doesn’t know what the law would do to you in your case… but it’s most definitely not humane. After a moment, he speaks again, not taking his eyes off of you.

“How much did those cans cost?”

That incident was four months ago, and ever since that day he decided to take you in. Leon was very adamant on the idea of not adopting any pets, not having the time to take care of them. But he figured that since your half human, it wouldn’t be too bad.

The first couple of weeks were hard. You’d lock yourself in your room and hide under the covers when he’s home. You’d growl if he tried touching you, and in general was having a hard time adapting to your new space. Leon however, remained as patient as possible. Giving you your time to feel comfortable, and always made it clear that he’s not a threat to you. Although he can’t really blame you for thinking he is, after all, having a man chase you down and corner you in an alleyway isn’t the best first impression to make.

He doesn’t know much about your background. Whether you were experimented on in a lab and somehow managed to escape, or simply tossed into the streets. But it’s clear that your days before meeting him weren’t the brightest. Matter a fact, he didn’t even know what your voice sounded like for the first 3 weeks, and just assumed that your breed didn’t have the capabilities to speak.

Nevertheless, you decided to break this cycle of keeping him away, when he once came home and sat on the couch. You were laying down on the floor on the further end of it. And to his surprise, decided to walk towards him, laying down and placing your head on his boot, instead of scurrying away into your room.

Leon has fought some of the most gut-wrenching bioweapons, designed to end a man’s life in a matter of seconds and managed to end them without breaking much of a sweat. Yet, this is his biggest achievement yet. You wanted to be next to him, instead of telling him to fuck off like usual. With your eyes of course, he still hasn’t unlocked the dialogue option with you at that time.

Ever since then, you’ve made small steps of opening up to him. And now, he’s the center of your universe, the main attraction, your favorite toy. Pawing at him for belly rubs, standing at the door, ready to greet him, as soon as you hear the jingle of the keys, and needing his attention 24/7 whenever he’s home.

You are now a completely different pup compared to the one he found wet and cold in a sketchy alleyway a few months back. You’re playful and energetic. A pain in the ass to take to the doctor for checkups, but nonetheless, a perfect companion for him. Leon likes to believe that you’re a gift sent to him, an early Christmas gift to light up his gloomy days. A thing he never knew he needed.

Ever since you stepped into his life, leaving paw prints behind, he started getting better without even knowing it. Instead of spending nights self-loathing and mourning the person he could’ve been, downing beer after beer. He spends that time now playing with you and watching movies together. Colorful ones though, your attention span isn’t the best…

He anticipated that you would have dog-like characteristics, and you do. Going crazy over squeaky toys, sniffing him for a good fifteen minutes after he comes back home, being obsessed with his shoes and hiding them under your bed, and tilting your head to the side when you’re confused.

Pure innocence, pure puppy innocence is what you are. Which is the reason that made him feel like a creep for his dick standing up whenever you’d sneak into his bed at night, cause you had a bad dream. Wearing skimpy shorts that did nothing to hide your ass, and a tight floral tank top without a bra. Your pouty lips, and soft-spoken voice. Your pretty eyes, and delicate skin.

“Leon…I had a bad dream; can I sleep with you?” Is all he would hear coming from the direction of his bedroom door. You don’t even bother waiting for him to answer, and instead climb into his bed, tangling your self around him. Head nuzzled into his chest, one of your arms and legs draped over his body. It doesn’t even take you longer that a minute to be fast asleep, leaving him an achy mess without even knowing it.

In addition to how you’d sit on his lap while watching a movie. He hasn’t taught you boundaries yet, knowing you, you’d get upset and give him those kicked puppy dog eyes for shooing you off his lap. Cause it makes his dick fucking hard.

It wouldn’t be such a big deal if you stayed still for once. He swears that you can’t stay in one position unless your asleep. As long as that cute little brain of yours is conscious, you’ll keep squirming on him lap, again with those frilly white skirts and revealing shorts, like he isn’t on the verge of losing it.

Worst part of it all, how your cunt always seems to be so wet all the time. Feeling it seep through your panties and onto his pants, making him want to die on the spot. The way your underwear will always have massive wet patches on them whenever he does the laundry. Is that even normal?

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Today he came back home after being away for three weeks. Opening the door, he doesn’t find your figure standing in front of him, with a flashy smile on your face, showing off your sharp canines. Twinkling so perfectly like you didn’t suck his bank account dry with those toys off yours. He raised his eyebrow at your absence and whistled hoping your pick it up in case you haven’t heard the sound of the front door opening. Which is pretty unlikely.

Dropping down his bag in the hallway, he walks over to the living room. The older man inspects the area, calling out for you, yet there is no sign of you. Kitchen, same thing. It’s not till he reaches the dining room till he spots out of the corner of his eyes the sight of your fluffy tail sticking out from under the table.

A grin creeps up on his face as he walks towards your hiding spot. He stops a few inches away from where you are and pretends like he’s still looking for you.

“Oh my god, I can’t find her!” He exaggerates, and watches over at how your tail starts wagging.

Cute.

“Where could she possibly be!!” it starts swishing left and right even harder, hitting the chair legs that are on either side of it.

Thump

Thump

Thump

“Is she under the dining table?”

…

“Or is she in my room?”

Thump

Thump

Thump

You’re adorable.

“Oh well I give up. Guess I’ll never find her.” He says throwing his arms defeatedly and turns around to exit the room.

“Boo!” Jumping out from under the table, you reveal yourself. Your arms extending and grabbing his leg. He chuckles and you look up at him with a beaming smile.

“Did I scare ya?”

“Real good, sweet thing.” He replies and crouches down to your level, rubbing behind your ear. Your favorite spot. He helps you get up and you waste no time beginning to sniff him near his shoulder. Face scrunching up at the smell and your eyes meet his again.

“Did you swim in the sewers again?” you ask rubbing your nose.

“I-… yeah”

It’s a long story okay…He needed to get to a certain point but the normal way was blocked so he had to-

Whatever.

Your head nods up and down slowly, knowing your nose is never wrong.

“I’ll go shower.”  He replies, and your eyes light up.

“Want me to help?” You ask excitedly, your tail wagging intensely. “I’ll help you take a bath, and I’ll let you use my rubber duckies too!”

“No honey I-”

You give him those eyes. The ‘you wouldn’t be mean and break my frail puppy heart would you?’ eyes. The eyes that make the strongest agent in the United States, weak. And to no one’s surprise, he gives in.

“Fine, but you only prep the bath and then leave, okay?”

“Don’t you want me to wash your hair like you wash mine?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“…I’ll only prep the bath and leave.” That took you longer to answer than he would like. “Promise? “He asks.

“…”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He nods, making sure that you understood what he was saying. And as soon as you get his approval, you sprint to the bathroom and the sound of the tub being filled follows pursuit.

He sighs, shaking his head with a smile. Walking to his bedroom, he grabs a freshly cleaned towel before making his way to the bathroom. Your figure is kneeling on the floor, hands grabbing the edge of the tub, watching as it fills with water and bubbles.

Turning around, you smile with a tail wag and turn off the faucet once the water has reached the amount, he usually puts for you.

“It’s ready!” He nods and you start to make your way to the door. As you do, he grabs the edge of his shirt and begins lifting it revealing the bare skin beneath. You stop in your tracks and he notices, your eyes looking at his defined muscles without even blinking.

“Out!”

“Okayyy” You whine, brows furrowing as you slowly close the door. Not before taking a final look of course.

He continues undressing and walks over to the tub, it has some bubbles and a couple of rubber ducks floating on top of it. Placing one foot in, the water is a little too hot, but not bad considering it being your first time doing something like that.

The water level rises as he soaks his entire body, feeling his muscles relax. Soothing his aching muscles and bones. A moment later, he pulls himself fully under the water, and then comes back out, pulling his hair off his face, giving him a slicked back hairstyle you always make fun of him for.

The smell of soap and the feeling of finally being safe after three hellish weeks grounds him as he closes his eyes. Once he reopens them, one of your rubber duckies is looking at him.

God, this is a bit weird.

He grabs it and inspects it, it’s mostly in good condition except for a few bite marks here and there. Wonder who those belong to. He examines the duck for a few more minutes, taking in its yellow body and orange beak. You go crazy over these things, he practically needs to drag you out of the tub each time because of them.

The silence around him is broken when he hears the sound of the door slightly opening which is followed by a cold gust of wind. He looks over and sees one of your eyes looking into the room.

“What did I tell you?” He says, but you don’t respond. Thinking you can trick him into thinking that you’re not there, just like how you still think he couldn’t see you back when you were hiding. And to think your breed is supposed to be one of the smartest.  He calls out your name, making you speak and pull the bathroom door open exposing yourself, kneeling next to it.

“I wanted to see if you were having fun…”

“I am now leave.” He says, tone trying to show seriousness. You don’t listen and in lieu, start crawling towards the tub.

“Are you listening to me?” He speaks again, but it falls to deaf ears. How can he blame you for not listening when he has never disciplined you. Spoiled brat. Ever since he picked you off the streets and claimed you as his own, he has not even once, raised his voice or gotten angry at you.

You crawl over and place your head on the edge of the tub. He’s honestly shocked at how shameless you’re being.

“That one’s name is Jerold.” Your voice says, pointing at the duck he forgot he was holding. A pathetic attempt of trying to change the topic. He looks at the duc- Jerold then back at you. Smiling so sweetly with a halo above your head like you just didn’t break his word.

He sighs, realizing there is no use in wasting his breath and places Jerold back in the water. Looking over back at you, he notices that you’re no longer watching his face, but at something else intensely. Curious, he follows your eyes and realizes at what caught your attention. The bubbles in the bath decided to migrate to either side of the tub, making his crotch completely exposed to your prying eyes.

You’re are not even blinking, a thing you do when you’re thinking too hard about something. The snap of his finger cuts your thread of thoughts, making you jump as you look back at his face, the place you should only be looking at from the get go.

“Privacy?”

Your ears go back in shame, it’s like you didn’t even realize that you were staring.

“Sorry… The water just looks nice.” He raises a brow at you. You are a pervert and a horrible liar.

“The water.” He repeats, showing you how ridiculous your lie was. You remain silent for a while, but start getting a bit fidgety. Looking around and getting up and sitting down again, the same way you act when he’s about to give you a treat.

“Can I get in the bath?” You say impatiently. You’ve always loved bath times, and pools, and lakes, and every single body of water that has ever existed. So, this is not unusual for you to ask, but he can’t help but feel like your intentions aren’t pure.

“No.”

“Why?”

…

Good question. Why not? He does think you’re the cutest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. He has fantasized about you before, something he doesn’t like admitting. He has checked you out a few times too… you were once again, wearing flimsy clothing, prancing around him, licking his neck and begging him to touch you and give you rubs. At the end of the day Leon is a man, who is guilty of thinking with his dick a time or two.

But he always resisted his urges. Locked them away in one of the rooms in his mind next to other gruesome core memories and throwing away the key. You were his baby, he’s supposed to protect, care, and provide for you, not fuck you.

By the time the voices in his head are fighting each other, you were quick to take off your clothes. And next thing he knows you’re in the tub with him. He goes to protest against what you’re doing, but you straddle him and place your head on his shoulder.

If that was your plan to shut him up… it worked. You feel warm and soft. The plush of your breast pressing up against his chest as he watches your chest rise and fall. Maybe this is wholesome, not like the two of you are naked and he could practically feel your cunt on his dick. No no no, that would be absurd.

He places his hand on your back, and moves it up and down soothingly. Why is he even rubbing your back? You disobeyed him, shouldn’t he be pissed? The two of you sit in silence for a while, before you remove your head off his shoulder. Arms still on either side of his neck, your eyes meet his. Dropping from his sky-blue eyes, over to his wet lips. Fuck.

You lean in. Fuck fuck fuck.

And you kiss him. Possibly the most delicate kiss he’s ever experienced. Full of pure affection. He doesn’t push you, he doesn’t pull back, he doesn’t lecture you about boundaries. But instead, he takes it. All of his attention on your mellow lips and light breath.

You pull away, locking eyes together. And he sees the blood rushing to your cheeks. Did he ever mention that you were cute? You anticipate him lecturing you, yelling at you, or even kicking you out, for what you did. But he doesn’t.

Remember that voice that was telling him that this is weird? Yeah, it can go fuck itself. He leans in and kisses you lips again. You let out a soft breath at his action, and he can hear the sound of your tail wagging once again even when it’s submerged in water.

Splash

Splash

Splash

Once more, your lips disconnect and you start shifting your hips above him. His dick has already started rising ever since your lips made contact with his.

“Can I wash your hair now?” he laughs.

“Sure, why not.”

And so, you do. Grabbing his shampoo bottle and squeezing some product on your hand before lathering in on his head. Your fingers work the product into his hair, before grabbing the nearby shower head and rinsing it off. The masculine aroma of his shampoo fills the small space as he decides he might as well give you a bath while he’s at it. He goes to grab your shampoo before your hand stops him.

“I want to use yours… wanna smell like you.” His heart could burst out of his chest at this moment. This shouldn’t have turned him on this much, but alas it did. Without complaints, he does what you want. Repeating the same process, you did on his hair earlier.

It doesn’t take long before the two of you walk out the tub. He pats you dry with his towel then himself. This went over rather smoothly, see wholesome just like he said. Everything is under contro- you’re rubbing your thighs together.

“Leon…” Your soft voice calls out to him, grabbing his attention. He hums in response and looks over at your eyes. Stepping closer, you place a soft lick over his collar bone before beginning to kiss the area. Your hand creeps up the side of his neck over to his jaw, coaxing him to accept your touch. And you almost managed to do that, till those voices in his head barged in once again.

He grabs your hand gingerly and whispers. “Baby, I don’t know if we should do this.”

You whine, mouth stopping its assault on his neck to speak. “Please, wanted you to breed me for so long.”

Once again, those voices get thrown out the window, as the words you just said make his brain short circuit. Cursing under his breath, he smashes his lips against yours harshly driving you up the bathroom wall.

You kiss him back fervently. Hands cupping his face as his chest closes the proximity between the two of you. Grabbing your jaw, his hands slither down and cup your mound, receiving yet another whine from your lips. Music to his ears.

His finger then starts making firm circles around your clit making your hips buck forward towards his touch craving more. Your hands scramble around his chest, a puppy like you has probably never experienced something like this before, huh.

His tongue enters your mouth and you accept it gladly. Two of his fingers rub between your folds back and forth. Collecting the slick that is practically dripping down your thigh, your hole is practically weeping. And he groans at the slippery feeling, before plunging two of his fingers into you with ease. Your back arches and you moan into his mouth, as his fingers start moving in and out of your wet heat.

“Who knew my sweet pup was such a slut.” He says pulling your ears closer to his mouth with the iron grip he as on your jaw.

You’re so sensitive, thighs begin to tremble at the way his fingers curl into you, and the real fun hasn’t even started. You can barely stand at this point. Realizing that, he grabs your thighs and pulls you over his shoulder and makes his way to his room. He plops you down on the bed, and you immediately roll over to your stomach, back arched, and ass up in the air like its instinct. He could get used to the sight of this, your face pressed down on his sheets and begging him to fuck you senseless.

“You know sweetheart, I don’t even think I should breed you after you’ve disobeyed me so much today.” He says, hands rubbing over your ass. And upon hearing his words your expression shifts, it feels like he just told you the most heartbreaking news you could ever receive in your whole life.

“Noo please. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah? I don’t believe that.”

“I promise, I won’t do it again Daddy.”

Shit.

You’re into that too.

...Oh, your nastier than he thought. Without even replying, he grabs his cock, slapping it a few times on your ass, precum forming strings connecting the two surfaces. Then bullies his cock into you making your feet kick out with a squeal. His balls are plush against your clit as he completely bottoms out inside of you.

You start drooling over the mattress, hands clutching the sheets beneath you for dear life. And without giving you much time to adjust, he starts moving. You feel so tight around him, its driving him crazy. The squelching sounds of your tight dripping pussy can be heard from a mile away. The fluid dripping from the hole that is connecting the two of you and down onto Leon’s gray sheets. Leaving wet dark gray spots on the surface. Picking up his pace, his hips slam into you harshly, pornographic moans can be heard from the two of you along with the clapping sound of your skin slamming against his.

He grabs your hips and leans in, having your back against his abdomen as he speaks into your ear.

“Here I was thinking you were innocent, not knowing what you were doing. Having your entire pussy on display for me, all wet and needy, waiting for me to fuck you full like the slut you are.”

“Wanted you.” is all you can manage to retort back, voice breaking from the impact each thrust has on you. He chuckles lowly and spanking your ass making you yelp and squirm beneath him before grabbing it. The skin now, hot and red beneath his touch.

“Should’ve spoken earlier sweetheart. I wouldn’t be this rough if I wasn’t so pent up.”

Your pussy is now sucking him in even further as he rabbits his dick into you. His hand moves over and under you, making its way to your clit. Pleasure is slowly but surely fogging up your brain, no thoughts other than Leon floating around in your head.

“Be a good girl and cum for me. And maybe then I’ll breed you.” And just like that, your thighs shudder beneath you as your pleasure blurs out your vision. The idea of being full of Leon’s pups making you see stars.

The tightness that you are gripping Leon in, in addition to your walls spasming around him, makes him tighten his grip on your hips leaving bruises there. His release ensuing yours. You bite your lip at the hot liquid being spurted out inside of you. Making you feel warm on the inside. Leon groans at the intensity of his release, one he forbid himself from for such a long time.

He thrusts a few more times, distributing his cum evenly inside you, and pushing it further up your cunt. He lets out a breath at the sight, one he can’t believe is seeing.

Plopping a delicate kiss on the middle of your back. He pulls out with a squelching sound from both your fluids combined, forcing a whimper out of the two of you at the discomfort. He walks over to the tissue box he keeps on his bedside table, and helps you clean up the mess. Throwing away the dirty napkin and laying down on the bed next to you, his arms open and inviting you.

You cuddle up against his chest, and he places a soft peck on top of your head.

“Thanks for the bath sweetheart.”

divider by: @/picopipi

[fredgeorgegredfeorge]

Green-Eyed Monster | F.W.

For the first time ever, Fred Weasley finds himself jealous over the only person in the world he needn’t worry a bit about.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x f!reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, oral + fingering (f!receiving, (lots of) dirty talk, name calling, praise/degradation, dom/sub dynamic, some nipple play, touch of a breeding kink, possessiveness/jealousy, some toxic themes, established relationship, swearing, drinking, arguing, angst, fluff, sorry if miss any!

first hp fic in a very long time! what better to post than this mess (jealous, possessive, sexy mess). basically pwp—let me know what you think! (Barely edited at all lmao my apologies)

You sat quietly at George’s desk, eyes focused on a piece of parchment as you both tried to break down the recipe George had scribbled down. There was a hiccup, a hitch in the plan of brewing a batch of Euphoria Elixir for the joke shop, and it was pushing back your plans to place them on the shelves this week. After a few hours of quiet deliberation on his lonesome, George decided to seek your help in hopes of speeding up the process.

So, the two of you put your heads together and re-read the ingredient list a million times, wondering how the hell it turned out murky green instead of sunshine-y yellow. The cauldron sat smoldering across the room, a rain cloud above it as the bubbly mixture spilled over the sides. Upon first glance, you had stated the absolute obvious.

“Isn’t that supposed to be a rainbow?” You raised an eyebrow, looking at your brother-in-law as he collapsed in his chair.

“Yes, you git.” George rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. You shot him a sharp look, warning him to be nice if he wanted your help. You knew George didn’t mean any of the insults—he was simply frustrated and maybe even a little embarrassed that he could not figure it out by himself. “Sorry, Y/N.” He conceded, realizing he came on a bit too strong.

“S’alright.” You assured him, stepping towards the desk where he sat. “Where’s the ingredient list? We’ll start there.” You offered, knowing you would help no matter how poor of a mood he was in. You loved George almost as much as you loved Fred, if you had to compare. Even if it was in a different way, you had a hard time refusing him when he used the same charm tactics as his twin brother.

After spending so many years in a relationship with Fred, it would be obscure for you not to have a bond with the closest person to him. Over the years, he’d surpassed a friend and had grown into your own brother. You were certain that no matter where life took you and Fred, George would always hold a special place in your heart. When the two opened their shop in Diagon Alley, you volunteered most of your free time to help them in any way you could, and whether it was tweaking new products or doing some of the dirty work, you never really minded.

That evening in specific, Fred was off on some ‘official business’, which really just meant meeting with a potential product buyer at The Leaky Cauldron. Last month, George took the burden of doing so, and they decided it was only fair for him to do it this time. Unfortunately for you, as much as you loved supporting them, it did interfere with your evening plans with him. So, sulking and trying your best to swallow it down, you distracted yourself with stocking shelves downstairs to prepare for another busy day ahead.

You were actually near grateful when George emerged from the office, calling out to you in desperation. It gave you a break from the monotonous back and forth, and someone to talk to. If it could not be Fred, you decided George was the next best.

“So, what’d’ya think it could be?” George asked, peeking over the cauldron that was still spitting back at him. He dodged out of the way, trying his best not to get any of the splashback on his new jumper.

“Well, from what you’ve told me, seems like you put all the right stuff in.” You deducted, pursing your lips slightly as you read over the list for what seemed like the millionth time. “Sad as it sounds, I doubt we can save it now, even if we figure out what happened.” You said, recalling your potions knowledge that Snape had relayed over the years.

“Right, but I’d like to know what’s wrong before I try again.” He explained, taking a moment to look over your sad expression. His eyebrows furrowed, his head cocking to the side as he tried to figure out where it was coming from. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Your eyes flickered upwards to meet his, your cheeks tinged red from the heat of the room. Your lips dipped into a frown as you shrugged your shoulders, brushing him off so you did not need to explain yourself. “I know you better than that. Come on, now.” He urged, placing his palms flat against the desk as he leaned towards you, a challenging look in his eye.

You narrowed your brows, keeping a stony expression as you met his gaze. “What’s it to you, Weasley?” You shot back, unsure of where your defensive nature was coming from. Perhaps you weren’t willing to discuss your relationship problems with your boyfriend’s twin brother, or maybe it was because you felt foolish for being upset at all.

“Reckon we’re past that, hmm? Your problems are our problems, and all.” He responded, also unsure of why you were being so reserved with your thoughts. Usually, you were an open book, especially with the two of them.

“My problems aren’t your problems, Georgie.” You shook your head, shutting down the ridiculous notion. “Let’s get back to the real problem, yeah?”

“No, I don’t think so.” George disagreed, his concern now over something completely different. “Is it about Fred?” At that, the tips of your ears began to burn and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Ah, I see.” A devious smile crossed his lips.

“It’s not a big deal.” You covered your tracks, tapping the ink-less quill against the worn parchment.

“I have a hard time believing you, considering you just lied to me.”

“Lied is a strong word,” you rolled your eyes, quickly realizing that there would be no escaping the conversation. “I didn’t lie about anything.”

“What’s he done?”

“Nothing!” You exclaimed, a dry laugh leaving your lips. “It’s just… I’m just being dramatic.” And it’s true, you were being dramatic. Well, maybe not fully, but that’s what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I just miss him, I suppose. I know you both have been busy, but I think maybe I underestimated how busy you would actually be.” You continued, knowing it was wrong to confide in his twin brother about your relationship issues. Still, it felt good to get it off your chest, to voice the concern and have someone shoot you down, just so you knew you were being irrational. “This is the third night in a row we’ve canceled our plans. I’ll get over it. It’s no big deal.”

“That’s a big deal.” He hummed, sympathizing with you to make you feel better. “Bloody inconsiderate, if you ask me.” But you weren’t asking him, and somehow his justification of your feelings only made you feel worse. “What? Not allowed to speak my mind?”

“No—“ you let out a defeated sigh, slumping down in your seat. “I know that, but I was hoping you would tell me I’ve gone mad, instead.”

“Blimey, Y/N, you’re allowed to be upset. We're busy, yeah, but you’re still his girlfriend.” George said, jumping slightly when the rain cloud above the cauldron let out a crack of thunder. “If you’d rather, we can forget the elixir and grab dinner instead. I’m not Fred, but I’m pretty damn close.” He gave you a cheeky smile, earning an honest laugh from you.

“S’alright, Georgie. Thank you, though.” You appreciated his kindness, but you were sure it would only make your predicament even worse, considering Fred’s recently acquired short-fuse when it came to you and George spending so much time together. It was odd for him to be so protective, so jealous of the one person in the world he needn’t worry about, but it seemed as though the new trait was permanent. Perhaps it came from the fact he was also missing you due to your busy schedules, and how it sometimes seemed you and George were most often left at the shop alone.

“You know, I have noticed that lately.” George continued, leaning against the desk as he reminisced over the last few weeks. “Always seems to be us stuck here together.”

“Mhm.” You mumbled, slowly realizing that you weren’t as insane as you previously thought if he was noticing all of the same things. “Let’s just figure this out so I can get home.”

So you did. A grueling hour spent recounting George’s every step in brewing the elixir left the two of you puzzled and even more frustrated. By that point in the night, you were hunched over the long list of his steps you had jotted down so you could (hopefully) discover what he missed.

“I dunno, Georgie.” You sighed. “Seems like you did everything—“ you cut yourself off, leaning closer to the page on the desk as you caught something you hadn’t seen before.

“What?” He asked, his head snapping towards you. “What is it?”

“You said when you let it simmer, it was turquoise.” You said, looking up at him.

“Yeah, so?” He replied, confused why it was such a big deal.

“It’s meant to be blue.” You explained, a grin on your face as you relayed the information to him.

“Turquoise… blue… same thing, innit?” He asked, standing and walking over to you.

“Maybe to you.” You giggled, pointing to the piece of paper where he missed the step. “After you add the shrivelfig, you have to stir it until it changes color.” He walked up behind you, placing one hand on your arm as he leaned over your opposite shoulder. He smelled of butterbeer, likely due to the one he’d been nursing the entire time you sat together. You immediately noticed the warmth of his body, how similar it felt to how Fred touched you, but how drastically different it was all the same.

“Blimey, you’re right!” He exclaimed, his voice still soft so he was not yelling in your ear. “What would I do without you?” He gave your arm a gentle squeeze, leaning closer and pressing the side of his face to yours in a makeshift hug. His hand dropped to your back, lingering there as the conversation continued.

“It’s nothing, really.” You smiled, closing your eyes to enjoy the warmth for a moment. “So now you know. You can do it again, but make sure to stir it until it’s blue. By tomorrow, we’ll have it bottled and on the shelves just like we planned.”

“Our number one girl, saving the day yet again.” He sighed in relief. “I better get to it—“

Before his thought could finish, the door to the office swung open, cutting him short. Your eyes turned upwards, landing on a slightly drunken version of the boyfriend who’d abandoned your evening plans. The gloss of his eyes and the goofy smile on his lips led you to believe so, and the redness on the apples of his cheeks only solidified it. Only his cheeky grin didn’t last too long when he processed the scene in front of him, how close the two of you were, how heavy George’s hand seemed on your back and how rosy your own cheeks were.

Quickly, his jaw tightened, his gaze narrowing as he tried to decipher the whole situation. His nostrils flared ever so slightly, and his arms raised to cross over his chest. Immediately, you knew what you’d be in for; a long, tiresome argument that changed absolutely nothing. Instead of fighting the silent accusations, defending yourself for no real reason at all, you watched him with the same intensity while you awaited a snide comment.

“So what’s all this, then?” Fred asked, his face clearly conveying all of his emotions.

“Helping Georgie make the elixir while you were off getting sloshed at The Leaky Cauldron.” You muttered, noticing George straighten himself up in hopes of avoiding any further damage.

“I was not getting sloshed, I was doing business.” He corrected, defensive over the fact. “S’pose you were hoping I’d take a little longer, yeah? Give you some more time to cozy up with my brother?”

“Blimey, Fred. If you took any longer, I’d imagine you’d have to move in with the lad.” George took your side on the matter. “At least she wouldn’t have to worry about you missing dinner again.” At that, Fred’s eyes cut to you, immediately understanding where the underlying tension was coming from.

“Is that right?” Fred’s voice was no louder than a whisper, all of the pieces clicking together in an instant. “I don’t suppose the two of you had dinner? Let him fill in for me while I was gone?”

“No, we did not.” You snipped, standing as you gathered the ingredients for George’s second attempt at the brew.

“Yeah, right. What else did he fill in for, sweetheart? Anything you think I should know?” At that, your eyes widened and your face turned red. Your entire body felt like it was engulfed in flames, appalled that he would even think such a thing.

“Piss off, Fred.” You muttered, stepping out from behind the desk as tears stung your eyes. George shot you a sympathetic look as you pushed past his brother and out into the stairwell. You trodded down to the main level, swiping fallen tears away from your cheeks as you rushed out the front entrance of the building.

The cool air of the night was nice, especially after spending so long cramped up in the tiny office space, but it was not as freeing as you might have hoped once you heard footsteps following behind you. Without acknowledging him, you pulled your keys from your pocket, hoping that maybe he forgot his own set and you wouldn’t have to deal with his drunken arguments tonight if you got inside before him.

Of course, you knew that was childish and cruel, because despite being upset with him, loving him was the only thing you knew how to do. You unlocked the front door, holding it open with your boot-clad foot as he stumbled his way behind you. As soon as he passed through the doorway, you continued on your journey to ignore him and tossed your keys on the counter.

“Hey,” Fred reached out, his warm hand landing on your arm, stopping you from running any further from him.

“What?” You snapped, immediately regretting the harshness of your tone. He recoiled at the sound, shocked that you spoke to him in such a way. Usually the two of you saw eye to eye on everything, and in your long standing relationship arguing had never been your thing. Until you left school, you were certain the two of you had never been angry at each other, ever.

“What the bloody hell was that about? I leave for a few hours, and the two of you get on like that? Does that happen every time I step out?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes again, wondering why this became such a problem in the few short months you’d been graduated.

“Merlin, Fred. You’re acting like you caught us in a broom closet.” You tried again to make your way to the bedroom, unwilling to argue a point he knew was blasphemous anyhow. “We were working, not fucking.”

“Yeah, but I bet you would’ve let him, right?” He grabbed your hand, spinning you back around to face him. He pulled you into him, his athletic build never leaving him even after he stopped playing quidditch. “Bitching and moaning cause I couldn’t be home to take you to dinner… if you were so upset, why didn’t you come to me, princess? Tell me what was wrong?” You could smell fire whiskey on his breath, feeling his chest heaving with anger against your own. As angry as you were, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of arousal run through you. The slight sneer on his face, the fire in his eyes, and the protective hold he had on you was sending your head spinning with thoughts much less pertinent to the topic at hand.

“Maybe I would have if you spared me the time of day.” You argued, finding yourself short of breath as you realized just how much he towered over you. “But, as it seems, you’ve been too damn busy to spare me a second glance.”

“Christ, when did you get so needy?” His rebuttal came easy, like he’d been waiting to have this fight for weeks. “Weren’t satisfied at home, so you thought my brother could do it for you?”

“Are you daft?” You hissed, feeling his fingers tighten on your hips. You hated that the feeling made you forget about your troubles, urging you to push the argument to the side and settle it in a better, more pleasurable way. “If that’s what I wanted, you think I’d be up here arguing with you?”

“That depends, sweetheart. Were you planning on getting caught?” He raised an eyebrow, the thud of his heart against his chest letting you know just how worked up he was. There was no way he truly believed you would do that to him, especially after all you had been through together. You wondered if maybe the lack of time spent with each other was getting to him, souring his thoughts because he missed you just as much as you missed him. “We may be identical, Princess, but he could never give you what I can.”

You hated to admit it, but for some strange reason, jealousy looked really good on him.

“What, a headache and a poor mood?” You decided to play his game if he wasn’t willing to listen to reason. If he wanted to fight, you could do it too. “I’m sure he could manage. In fact, he could probably do a hell of a lot more.” That seemed to strike a nerve in him, pushing him over the edge in an instant and changing the entire mood hanging heavy in the room. He no longer wanted to talk, but rather prove a point.

He took a step backwards, never easing his hold as he pushed you towards the kitchen table. He didn’t stop until your ass hit the edge, a mischievous look in his eye replacing the earlier annoyance. He had you locked in place, no intent to back down as he stared down at you over the bridge of his nose. Then, a small smirk turned the corner of his lips, leading you to believe he was also thinking of a much more simple way to solve your problems.

“Maybe you just need a reminder of who you belong to, yeah?” He asked, his voice quieter than it was before. You felt your mouth run dry, your eyes never leaving his as a dull ache between your legs began to pester you.

That would make you feel better, but he had pissed you off enough that you wanted to refuse him the satisfaction.

“Maybe we should get Georgie up here. According to you, he’d be the one to set me straight.” There was a slight venom in your tone letting him know you wouldn’t be letting anything go so easily. A low chuckle shook his shoulders, his eyes gleaming with a sinister look you weren’t sure you’d ever seen from him before that night. He shook his head ever so slightly, playing into you as he reached one arm behind you.

Your heart raced as you awaited a response, wondering if maybe you pushed him too far and crossed a boundary you could not double back on. You didn’t have to wonder long, because without a second thought, he cleared all of the items littering the table with one swift move of his arm. Papers scattered everywhere, floating through the air and landing all over the floor. Broken products and half finished merchandise for the shop tumbled off the edge, falling less than gracefully onto the tile below. Without ever breaking eye contact, he raised an eyebrow, daring you to say it again.

“You think he can fuck you better than I can?” He asked, giving you the opportunity to change your mind.

“Right now? Yeah.” You spat, wondering if he’d ever drop the act and get on with his day. “Seems like all you want to do is get on my nerves.”

“Yeah?” He challenged, his face so close to yours you could feel his breath on your skin. The tip of his nose grazed your own, his normally warm and comforting irises engulfed by his lust-blown pupils. Or perhaps it was anger that gave him the new look—you weren’t quite sure. “You’d rather go home with him at night? Wake up next to him every morning? Is that really what you want, princess?” He taunted, knowing very well that your heart was his, even if he found himself caught up in a few moments of doubt.

Still neglecting to give him any gratification, you nodded your head despite the sickening feeling that washed over you at the thought. As if he called your bluff before you ever said it aloud, he laughed at the certainty in your action, which only seemed to anger you further.

“If that’s the case, seems like I’ve got my work cut out for me tonight.” He responded, brushing the comment off as if it were nothing. If there was one thing Fred couldn’t ever turn down, it was a challenge, and since coming upstairs with you, it was only further proven to him that’s all this was. “Maybe I’ve gotten too comfortable, sweetheart. After so long, you think you’d know that you’re mine, huh?” Before he continued his tyrant, he used his hands on your hips to lift you onto the table with ease. The ache between your legs had grown stronger, more intense and impossible to ignore. You could feel the wetness soaking through your panties, and the thought of his strong arms lifting you so carelessly only made you spiral further. “Maybe I expect too much of you.” He theorized, recognizing the gleam in your eyes because he’d seen it a thousand times before.

He let his hands trail under the hem of your jumper, settling on the button of your jeans as he undid it with ease. You never let your eyes trail from his face, realizing that no matter how upset you were, it could never take away from how much you loved him. He was beautiful, his fiery red hair and the freckles splattered across his cheeks and nose creating a perfect picture. The softness of his complexion and the gentleness hidden deep in his expression assured you that whatever the two of you were doing was nothing more than an act. He knew you were his just as well as you did, but he knew the only way to settle the (admittedly, misguided) fear was to hear you say it aloud.

You helped him pull the fabric from your legs, wrapping your arms around his neck as you lifted your hips from the table. He discarded the clothing on the floor, paying no mind to it as he returned his hands to your bare legs. His eyes searched your face, carefully looking for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he was met with a pleading expression that only seemed to fuel his too large ego even further.

“No matter,” he disregarded his earlier rant, his eyes growing heavy as his hand fell between your legs. His fingertips grazed the thin fabric separating him from your core, a shiver running down his spine as he noticed the arousal that had soaked straight through. “I don’t mind having to show you. Least I’ll get to have my fun too, yeah?” He applied slight pressure to your aching clit, watching to see your reaction. Your eyebrows knitted together, your lips parting slightly as your hips moved forward into his hand, your body betraying your mind and begging him for something more.

At that, a grin encased his face, happy to see that he hadn’t lost his touch, even if your lives were vastly different and ever-changing by the day. He knew exactly how to make you feel good, and he took pride in it.

“See, Princess? She’ll always tell me the truth.” He taunted, his voice quiet as his eyes trailed down to his hand. You swallowed hard, knowing he had you in a stalemate. “Tell me again, who do you think knows how to make you feel good? Who does it best?” He was on a power trip, unwilling to slow down until he heard you admit it. Still, you stood your ground, pressing your lips tightly together so not a single sound could pass through. His grin faded, slowly sinking into a scowl as your disobedience remained clear.

He removed his finger from you, tracing the hem of your panties as he hooked his finger through the side of the fabric resting on your hip. He awaited an answer, giving you the opportunity to change your mind. When you kept your stoicism, he gave one, hard tug on the lacy fabric until it snapped in two. He used his other hand to do it to the opposite side, giving himself easy access to you without hearing a complaint on your end.

“So you don’t care who’s between your legs?” He continued, unrelenting as you stared him down. “Doesn’t matter who, as long as there’s a cock in you? As long as someone’s taking care of your pretty pussy?” Your cheeks flushed, your chest burning as the filthy words washed over you. “Doesn’t matter, sweetheart. When I’m done with you, I’ll be the only person you can think of. Surely then you won’t be able to forget who you belong to.”

His hand connected with your bare cunt, his fingers trailing through your arousal and settling over your clit as he began to trace slow circles into the sensitive area. Your legs trembled at the contact, finally feeling some relief from the nagging sensation that had been taking over.

“Fuck. Fred.” You whispered, giving yourself away immediately. He let out a low hum, pleased with the sound and knowing he was the reason for it. He had you where he wanted you, and now he just had to keep up the pace. You could feel his hardening length against your leg, distracting you completely from the pent up anger and frustration.

“That’s it.” He encouraged, his middle finger sinking inside of you as he let his thumb take over on your clit. “That’s my girl.” He made sure to accentuate the claim, never once letting you forget it. “All you needed was a little help remembering.” Slowly, he pumped his finger into you, keeping time with his thumb as he began to work you towards a climax. “You want to say it for me? Tell me what I already know?” Instead of responding, you let out a whine, your hips bucking forward into his hand. Although it wasn’t what he was looking for, it was just enough for him to keep going.

He curled his fingers as he pumped them into you, begging for a reaction as your hand wrapped around his bicep for support. You felt the tense of his muscles as he worked at you, only pushing you closer to insanity. You were his, undoubtedly and wholeheartedly, and you would be crazy to ever want anyone else.

“Stubborn little thing tonight.” He remarked, his eyes focused on the point in which his hand met with you, never breaking his stare as he watched his fingers disappear into you. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Need more, Freddie.” You replied, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the pleasure pulsing under your skin. It had been a long time since you felt him this way, and your impatience was quite clear.

“My little whore needs more?” He teased, applying a little more pressure with his thumb. A gasp fell from your lips, sending your upper half leaning forward until your forehead rested against his. “Asking a lot from someone you aren’t being very good for.” He chastised you for your behavior despite being the one that caused the problem in the first place.

“M’sorry, my love. S-so sorry.” You rushed out, his fingers brushing against the sweet spot inside you only he knew how to find.

“That’s not what I want to hear sweetheart, and you know it.” His tone was firm, unrelenting as he continued his torment. You let out a groan of frustration, wishing he’d quicken the pace and give you what you wanted, even though you refused to give in to him.

He leaned forward, closing the gap between your mouths as he grew tired of waiting for the words he wanted to hear. He tasted like the whiskey that had been fuelling his poor mood, sweet and bitter all at once as his tongue grazed your bottom lip. You hated how easy it was for him to turn you into a mess, hated how easy it was for him to make you forget you were angry at all. You pulled him closer to you, holding his arm tightly so he would not pull away. You were stubborn, but despite that, you were showing him everything he wanted to see through your actions alone.

You broke from the kiss as a particularly intense wave of euphoria pulled your stomach. Your forehead continued to rest on his, holding you upright as he continued to give you just enough to keep you satisfied.

“Say it, princess.” His voice was low, raspy and laced with desire as he watched you turn into a mess below him. “Tell me you’re all mine. Tell me I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.” Instead, you connected your mouths again, letting a desperate moan out at the same time. He drank in the sound, his cock throbbing as his hips jutted forward into nothing. He was almost more desperate than you were, which only allowed for you to take him less seriously.

“G-gonna have to try harder than that.” You found a peculiar pleasure in leaving him on edge, giving him a taste of his own medicine as he continued to torture both of you at once. “Show me why I should say it, Freddie. Seems like you’re all t-talk.” You stuttered, tripping over your words as you tried to keep your composure.

He withdrew his hand from you, making you cry out in frustration from the loss of pleasure. Your eyes met his, desperation written all over your face as you protested his actions. Silently, he sunk to his knees between your legs, pulling you to the edge of the table by your hips. He didn’t spare a single glance at your face before his tongue connected with your core, the warm wetness of his tongue even more pleasurable than the rough pad of his thumb.

You laid back on the table, your hands sinking downwards and tangling in the soft locks of hair. Although you were denying him of the statement he wanted to hear, you could not deny that your last argument was wholly untrue. Fred was determined to prove a point, and he was doing it well.

You weren’t far off from an orgasm, his tongue making quick work at pushing you to the edge. The sounds falling from your lips were telling of your current state, and as delirium began to set in, your defenses began to break down.

He suctioned his lips around your clit, adding his fingers to the mix and returning to his earlier pace to torture you further. Every nerve in your body was ablaze with desire, need seeping from every pore as you realized just how badly you needed the release. Sick of the game, you finally broke in fear he would leave you hanging yet again.

“Oh, god.” You gasped, your legs resting over his shoulders in attempt to stop the constant trembling of the lips. “I’m yours, Fred, fuck!” You exclaimed, a sheen layer of sweat forming over your forehead as the knot in your belly began to tighten. “Only you can make me feel this good. Nobody else.” You whined, your fingers tightening on the locks of hair as you began to tug at the strands. You could feel him smiling against you, happy to finally hear you admit the truth.

Pleased with your confessions, he curled his fingers against your g-spot one last time, generously giving you the very thing you’d been pleading for. In a mess, your entire body tensed as the pleasure took hold. The orgasm washed over you, leaving your heart racing against your chest and your head swirling with filthy thoughts for the boy between your legs. A hum of approval let you know he was more than happy with your performance, and he kept his pace until he felt you relax against the table below you.

Once he knew he’d gotten the most out of you, he rose to his feet, towering over you as you laid below him. In the dim moonlight, you could see your orgasm glistening on his chin, only furthering his cockiness as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip so he did not waste a drop of it.

“Always taste so sweet, princess.” He whispered, using one hand to free himself from his pants and his boxers. “And it’s all for me.” He continued, slipping his shirt from his head. He used it to wipe his face clean before tossing it on the floor to join the growing pile of clothes. With shaky hands, you lifted your upper half from the table and pulled your own jumper over your head. “Isn’t that right?” He stepped toward, settling between your legs as his hands ghosted over your bare thighs.

You let out a whimper, his grip landing on your already sore hips as his eyes raked over your entire frame. Your gaze flickered to his cock, hard and aching for relief as he continued to tease you. His fingers tickled your stomach as he trailed his touch upwards, his palm landing flat against your breast as he gave it a gentle squeeze. He let the pad of his thumb brush over your hardened nipple, sending another wave of pleasure through you.

“Answer me, sweetheart.” He wasn’t playing anymore; he wanted to hear the words, and he was done with your obstinacy. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger,

“Yes,” you huffed, already forgetting the pleasure from your first climax as a whole new wave of need began to take over. “I’m yours, Fred. All yours.” You reiterated your earlier statement, now willing to do whatever he wanted of you to prove the point.

“Tell me how bad you want it.” He shot you a twisted little smile, almost as if he was getting off just from the thought of you begging for him.

“I need it, baby. Need to feel you, please.” You whined, reaching for his arms and pulling him closer. “Want you so bad, Fred. Been waiting all night for it.” You felt the tip of his cock connect with your cunt, his expression faltering as soon as he felt the wetness.

“God, you make it so hard to be upset with you.” He hissed the words through his teeth, using his hand to guide himself through your folds as he sucked in a sharp breath. He settled himself just over your already sensitive clit, pushing his hips forward ever so slightly to apply pressure to the spot. “Sound so pretty when you’re begging to be fucked.”

Slowly, he let his tip run back through your arousal, settling the head just at your entrance. He pushed himself forward, but just barely. You whimpered as you braced yourself for the feeling, only to be let down when he stopped himself from going any further.

“Fred,” you warned, catching his eye so he could see your desperate face. You hoped that if he did, he would stop being such a tease. “Please fuck me.”

“What was that?” He smirked, turning his head slightly so his ear was closer to you. “Didn’t quite catch it.”

“Fred, stop—“ you cut yourself off, letting out a huff of annoyance. You knew chastising him for his actions would only make him less likely to give in, even if it was incredibly hard to hold it back. “I need you to fuck me.” You repeated, clearer and louder in hopes of swaying his decision. “Can’t wait any longer, baby. Please.”

At that, he pushed forward the rest of the way, sending your entire body raising with goosebumps. The stretch as he filled you was exactly what you craved, and as he reached the hilt, his tip brushed against your g-spot so delicately that it almost made you come undone right then and there. Your eyelids grew heavy with satisfaction, focusing on how full you felt with him inside of you, knowing that he for certain would always be the one for you.

“That good enough for you, Princess? This is what you wanted?” He asked, letting himself rest inside you for a moment. He felt your walls flutter around him, pulling him even further and making it harder for him to resist you.

“Mhm,” you hummed, giving him a tired nod of agreement. You could feel him throbbing inside of, desperate for a release just like you had been moments before, but he was still trying to prove his point.

“Nobody else gets to have you like this, sweetheart. You’re mine.” He whispered, now sober from the alcohol but intoxicated by an even stronger, deadlier force; you. “He couldn’t fuck you like this, and you know it.” As he spoke, he withdrew his hips and slammed them forward into you again. The action stole the breath from your lungs, twisting your stomach with pleasure as your nails scratched over his skin.

He began at a pace, slower than normal but the force behind his movements making your head spin. You moaned quietly, lost within the feeling of being so close to him. He never failed to take your breath away, never failed to amaze you with his every move. You were so in love with him it sometimes felt like there was no room within your heart for anyone or anything else.

“Tell me, Y/N.” He ordered, his stare never wavering as he fucked into you. As much as he wanted to succumb to the sensation of you wrapped around him, he found it hard to push the thoughts of your earlier arguments out of his head. “You think he’d fuck you like this? You think he could make you feel this good?”

“No, Freddie.” You gasped, feeling the strength of his thrusts increase, sending the legs of the table wobbling. His fingers tightened on your hips, likely leaving behind angry red marks that would fade into reminders of him for days to come.

“That’s it, Princess.” He panted, his chest heaving as he tried to resist the pull of pleasure. “Don’t you think, not even for a second, that anyone can give you half of what I can.” You both knew this to be fact; nobody in the entire world could ever compare to him. “And why do you think that is?”

“‘C-cause I’m yours,” you managed to stutter out the response, watching him as the statement washed over. He brought his hand to your thigh, your legs wrapped tightly around you as he pulled you back on him with every thrust. His head fell back on his shoulders, the dim light of the room casting a beautiful hue over his already breathtaking features.

“That’s right,” he grunted, slamming his hips forward again. There was a thin layer of sweat sheen on his chest, the toned muscles of his abdomen flexing every time he moved. The exposed columns of his neck made your mouth water, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed back his own groans of pleasure. “Was that why you were mouthing off? You just needed someone to take care of you? Just needed me to fuck you?”

“God, yes.” You moaned, feeling the pressure in your belly begin to reach a peak.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? All over my cock?” He smiled, looking down at you so he could appreciate the view. “Come on now, making a fucking mess of it.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, his words hitting you hard and causing the tightening knot in your belly to tense even further.

“That’s my pretty girl. Just like that.” He continued to encourage you, studying your expression as pleasure began to twist it.

It didn’t take much more for you to descend into another orgasm, your entire body quivering as you cried out for him, singing his name like a hymn and he was the god in which you prayed to. Your throat was raw, raspy from the constant string of moans passing your lips. You were tired, almost too fucked out to continue on, but he was having none of it. He didn’t slow his pace as you came down from the high, instead speeding up and ensuring that he pulled your entire body down on him as he fucked into you.

“Freddie, please.” You breathed, feeling the threat of overstimulation begin to creep in. He would have had sympathy had he known you couldn’t take it, but he was confident in your ability to keep up with him.

“What’s wrong, Princess? Wanted it so bad and now you can’t handle it?” He asked, his eyes glazed over with lust as he felt himself approaching his own orgasm. You frowned at his words, now on a quest to prove your own point as you tried to ignore the stinging beginning to set in.

“I can t-take it.” You huffed, a shiver running down your spine as he reached upwards and palmed your breast. He gave the supple flesh a gentle squeeze, his eyes closing in bliss as he let himself slip out of the persona he had created.

“Being so good for me—just a bit longer now.” He whispered, his voice far away as his eyes settled over your face once more. “Bloody hell, Y/N.” he groaned, his forehead creasing as his eyebrows furrowed together. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He slipped his hand between your legs, his thumb landing atop your clit. He traced slow circles, knowing you were a bit further behind him and unwilling to climax without giving you at least one more. He could see how tired you were, but it did not deter him from his commitment to pleasing you.

“I love you, Fred.” You whispered, softened entirely by the sweet look in his eyes. All of his previous anger fled, leaving him just as the boy you’d fallen so hopelessly for.

“I love you, sweetheart.” He hummed, his hips stuttering and his stature faltering. “Give me one more, yeah? I know you can do it.” And he was right, your entire body was ablaze with another orgasm much more powerful than the last two.

“Together?” You gasped, reaching up and settling your palm on his cheek.

“Yeah? You want to cum with me?” He encouraged your train of thought. “Want me to fill that pretty cunt? Really show you who you belong to?”

“Fuck yes, please.” You cried, your fingertips tangling in the locks of hair hanging over his ears. Your walls clenched around him, drawing him in and effortlessly finishing what you had started.

You felt his hips stall, a low growl leaving his lips as he pulled you down on him one last time. He managed to whisper your name as he spilled his release into you, the feeling of him filling you completely sending you spiraling on your own accord. You let out a defeated sigh, the tail end of it turning into a whine as your body went rigid. Your nails scratched at the skin of his arm, your hand on him the only thing keeping you tied to earth instead of floating up and through the clouds.

The both of you rode the high together, euphoria infiltrating every nerve in both of your bodies as he leaned down towards you. Ever so gently, he laid his head on your chest, which was still heaving as you tried to catch up from the lack of oxygen. He placed a plethora of small kisses against the warm skin, his eyes fluttering closed as he appreciated the comfort that came with your company.

Silence hung heavy between you for a few moments, neither of you sure where to go from there. You were still strung out on bliss, barely remembering what got the two of you in the position until he spoke again.

“M’sorry, sweetheart.” His voice barely broke through the room, so timid and shy that you almost missed it completely. “I know you’d never do that. Just got in my head, I s’pose.”

“I… I get it.” You sighed, twisting a lock of his hair. “If I walked in on that, after us being so.. you know. I’d likely feel it too.” You confessed. “I was upset that we had to cancel dinner. I am upset, but not at you.” You tried your best to explain yourself despite exhaustion eating away at your mind. “I’m just upset because I miss you. You’re so busy now, and I’m happy for you, really, but I miss you too.”

“You think I was bloody happy about it?” Fred chuckled, the tip of his fingers tracing shapes into your skin. “I’d much rather be here, with you.” At that, you relaxed completely, understanding that you had gotten too far into your own head. “It’s my favorite place to be. Always has been.”

“Mine too, Fred.” You hummed, smiling softly at the thought.

“I reckon I was a bit jealous, ‘specially at the thought of you and George spending so much time with each other. Would rather it be me, you know, sitting at the shop and laughing with you all night… taking you out for dinner… loving you.” Another gentle kiss was placed to your chest, just before he looked up to meet your eyes. The soft, warm, familiar sight made you feel at ease. He was back to being your Fred, the one you missed all along.

“Darling, you have nothing to be jealous about.” You promised, smiling as he placed a quick peck on your lips. “Though, if it means we get to have brilliant sex like that, by all means do what you have to do.” You explained. “Bloody brilliant, at that.” Without any further words, the two of you descended into a fit of laughter and the clouds that previously hung above your head seemingly cleared in an instant, easily proving to him there was really never a need to worry at all.

[not-magdi]

(Not so) Quiet Evenings

Summary: Lando is alone with his son for the first time

Warnings: None, just so high risk of a baby fever

Words: 1.1k

A/N

I wanted to thank you for 1k notes on Little Update. So I wrote another dad!lando to thank all of you! <3

(I wanted to put a picture with him and a baby here but this was way too cute to not post❤️)

Carmen and Lily invited you to a small baby-free get-together. Nothing too big, just the three of you sitting together, relaxing and letting loose for a bit.

This whole thing was actually Lando's idea. He wanted to get you out of the house for a bit, sensing that you needed a little break from being a mama bear.

So he asked Lily if she could invite you over to catch up and keep your mind off of things a little. Of course, she said yes, already starting to plan the second Lando asked her. 

So now the Brit is sitting on the couch, watching you rush through the apartment to grab everything you need.

"Baby, you're gonna be fine, trust me. It's just Lily and Carmen."   

Halting your movements, you turn to him, your phone in one hand and your keys in the other. 

"I know it's just I want this to be perfect. It's been so long since I went out."

Lando stands up and makes his way over to you, stopping right in front of you. 

"You're going to be ok. Enjoy your night. Me and the little muppet are going to have a great night."

Lando strokes your arms, kissing your head to calm you down. 

"Speaking of the little muppet." You turn around and grab a piece of paper from the shelf behind you. "I wrote you a little list so you don't get overwhelmed by being alone."

Lando takes the paper and reads through the different points. 

Try to feed him before bed. So he sleeps a little bit longer( milk is already in the bottle) 

Bath him (use the blue and the green bottles on the sink) 

If he gets fussy, play the F1 intro. (Works every time!)   

Try to get him to bed around 7:30 p.m. 

You're going to do great. You're a super dad, and I believe in you. 

"Aww, you're cute." 

Wrapping his arms around you, he wishes you a lovely evening and practically pushes you out the door. 

Now, standing alone in the quiet apartment, a feeling of nervousness creeps up in his body. He grips the list you gave him a little tighter and makes his way into his son's room. 

Gently opening the door, he smiles at his son's sleeping figure, cuddled up in his little cot. Lando walks into the room, approaches his son and gently takes him into his arms.

Henry wakes up and looks at his dad with his adorable big blue eyes, cuddling himself into Lando's shoulder. 

Lando strokes his back to settle little Henry in his arms again, feeling the soft material of his little bear pyjamas between his fingers. 

"Well, hello there, little man. Slept well?" He asks, earning himself a happy gurgle. 

"I take that as a yes." 

He carries Henry into the living room, asking him all sorts of questions on the way.

"You also think that nobody needs fish, right? Say nothing if you agree."

Hearing complete silence from the sleeping baby in his arms, he looks down to find Henry in a deep slumber again. He laughs a little at how much they already have in common, being able to sleep everywhere. 

The two continue to cuddle for a bit. Lando tells him all sorts of stories until he feels Henry getting restless on his chest. 

"You getting hungry, little bud?" 

Henry lets out a whine, grabbing the shirt he lays on with his little fists. Lando strokes his back to settle him again, and stands up to grab a bottle from the kitchen. 

"How does Y/N do that?" 

In the kitchen, he currently tries to heat the bottle while holding the baby in his arms, which turns out to be more complicated than he thought, with a squirming baby in his arm.  

"How about- no, that's not going to work." 

"And if I just- nope, also not." 

After some time, he finally figured it out. He stuck Henry into his hoodie and held him with one hand while he prepared the bottle with the other.  

Now, he is sitting in your bathroom waiting for the water to be the perfect temperature. 

Let's say feeding didn't go quite as planned. The food was everywhere except Henry's mouth, on the floor, on Henry, the curtains, but mainly on Lando. 

So, now that both of them needed a bath, he decided to kill two birds with one stone. 

The water is warm enough now, so he grabs little Henry and climbs into the tub. The warmth engulfs their bodies as he lays down. 

"Yeah, that's better. Admit it, you just wanted to bathe with me."

Henry gives his dad a toothless smile and splashes him with water. Lando giggles at his son's antics and grabs the soap to start washing him. 

After he washed himself and the baby, he got both of them dressed. They are both dressed in matching quadrant hoodies, something Max gifted him as Henry was born. 

Land decides the world needs to see how unbelievably cute he and Henry look, so he takes a picture and posts it on his story. 

Millions of messages arrive to him in a matter of minutes, but he ignores them and makes his way over to Henry's little nursery. He is fighting to keep his little eyes open, so Lando decides it is time for him to call it a night. 

The second he lays him down in his crib, he starts to whine, not liking the loss of his father's warmth one bit. 

So Lando picks him up again, walks to the living room and sits on the couch. 

"You don't want to sleep yet, do you?" 

He coos at him and bounces up and down to settle Henry a little. Happy to be in his dad's arms again, he settles back down and closes his eyes. 

"Oh, so now you wanna sleep? Little evil genius, you got that from your mom." 

Not wanting to wake him up, Lando decides to stay on the couch and watch some TV until Henry is sleeping deep enough. It doesn't take long for Lando to doze off, one hand on his son's back and the other under his butt, having him in a safe grip. 

And that's exactly how you found them two hours later, cuddled up on the couch, the TV playing in the background.   

Smiling to yourself, you take out your phone and take a picture of the two of them, definitely posting that later. But for now, you walk up to them and cuddle yourself to your perfect little family.