#then i started feeling bored and restless and just decided to go

[bartonomy]

RESTLESS SILENCE!

PAIRING Barty Crouch Jr. x quiet!fem!Ravenclaw!Reader

SYNOPSIS Barty Crouch Jr. hated silence. You thrived in it. Being paired together for a Potions project in the library should have been simple—but Barty refuses to let the quiet win.

CONTENT WARNING obsessive! barty, possessive! james, angst, fluff, the boys not asking yn abt her feelings LMFAO lmk if i missed something!

WORD COUNT 5k words

library.

Barty Crouch Jr. prided himself on many things—his sharp mind, his quick reflexes, his ability to get under people’s skin ( much to Regulus’ and Evans dismay) when he wanted to. But patience? That had never been one of them.

And yet, patience was exactly what was required when he found himself sitting across from you in the library, parchment spread between you, potions textbook propped open, the air between you thick with silence.

It wasn’t just any silence. It was a suffocating, calculated quiet, the kind that settled around the you like a second skin. You liked it. Humming in contentment as you flipped through the book to gather enough information for your assignment.

It drove him mental.

You had been partnered up in Slughorn’s class earlier that day, much to Barty’s irritation. You were everything he wasn’t—controlled, meticulous, the sort of person who took diligent notes and never spoke unless you had something of actual substance to say. The worst part? You were no outcast. Despite your quiet nature, you were as well-liked, hovering at the edges of the Marauders’ usual chaos, laughing softly at Pandora Lovegood’s dreamy theories, and using your smart mouth (Gideon insists) to get the Prewett brothers out of trouble from Mcgonnagall. You were… respected.

Barty was tolerated, at best.

Now, in the dim glow of the library’s enchanted lanterns, you sat across from him, quill in hand, completely ignoring him. Well, unintentionally, he had been fussing in his place since you both arrived an hour ago, trying to get you to do merlin knows with him.

Barty exhaled sharply through his nose, slumping back in his chair. “You could at least pretend to be interested in conversation,” he muttered.

You didn’t look up. “I don’t find unnecessary conversations stimulating.”

He scoffed. “How very Ravenclaw of you.”

You merely hummed in acknowledgment but said nothing more, flipping to another page in his (you lended yours to Peter after he accidentally got soaked by the bucket of water from the black lake intended for Snape) textbook.

Barty’s fingers drummed against the table. He could handle a lot of things—detentions, duels, even his father’s unrelenting scrutiny, but this? This was insufferable.

So, naturally, he decided to make it his mission to ruin the silence.

It started small.

A flick of his wand, and your inkwell slid ever-so-slightly across the table. You caught it before it could spill, shot him a glance, and continued writing.

Next, he nudged your parchment just out of reach. You didn’t even blink, simply shifted your chair forward and carried on.

Fine. If you were going to be stubborn, he’d up the stakes.

With another subtle movement of his wand, your beloved muggle book „The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie“ the one you had tucked beside your Potions text, began to quiver. Slowly at first, then more violently, the pages ruffling as though caught in a windstorm.

you sighed, set your quill down rather roughly, and calmly muttered, “Finite Incantatem.”

The book stilled.

Barty whistled. “Impressive.”

You finally looked up at him, expression unreadable. “It‘s a First Year spell. Are you always this restless?”

He grinned. “Are you always this boring?”

There was no offense in your gaze, only quiet scrutiny. “No. But I also don’t feel the need to fill the silence just because it makes you uncomfortable.”

Barty opened his mouth, then shut it again.

No one had ever called him out so plainly before. Most people either avoided him, tolerated him, or challenged him outright. But you… you understood him in a way that unsettled him.

And worse, he had no idea what to do with that.

The pranks escalated.

By the end of the week, Barty had:

• Transfigured your quill into a small snake (you turned it back with no regard of his presence, only Trelwaney who shrieked in horror).

• Enchanted your book to read aloud in a dramatic voice (you merely bookmarked your page and waited for him to get bored).

• Jinxed your notes to rearrange themselves whenever you tried to read them (you rewrote them without complaint).

Each time, you met his antics with infuriating patience. No anger. No exasperation. Just quiet indifference, as if you knew exactly why he was doing it.

It wasn’t until he charmed your beloved novel to hover just out of reach that you finally had enough.

With a soft Expelliarmus, the book yanked itself free from his spell and slammed down onto the table between you. you met his gaze, eyes burning with guarded anger.

“Why?” you asked, voice level but firm.

Barty leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. “Why what?”

You exhaled, slow and measured. Merlin, was he testing your already low patience “Why go to such lengths just to get a reaction?”

Barty opened his mouth to fire back something witty, but the words caught. He couldn’t answer.

Because the truth was something he didn’t want to admit. Because silence had never been kind to him. Because silence meant expectation, the weight of his father’s disapproval, the loneliness of never being enough. Because he didn’t know how to exist in a world that didn’t constantly react to him.

You watched as something shifted in his expression—something raw, something unguarded. And for the first time since you had been paired together, you didn’t seem like you were trying to solve him.

You just saw him.

The silence stretched between you once more. But this time, it didn’t feel suffocating. This time, it felt like something else entirely. Something dangerous. Something inevitable.

The library had become a battlefield.

Barty didn’t lose. Not at duels, not at arguments, and certainly not at mind games. But after a week of relentless pestering, pranks, and jinxed books, but all he was met with was radio silence.

And Barty hated being ignored.

Tonight was no different.

You were back in your usual spot in the potions section near the back, candlelight flickering over parchment, and you were sure you could hear people snogging in the aisle next to you. Barty wasn’t writing. He was watching, and it pissed you off.

“Fascinating,” he drawled, chin resting on his palm.

You sighed, not even bothered to look up. “What is?”

“You,” he said simply.

At last, you glanced at him, one brow slightly raised. Not surprised, not flattered, only curious and slightly amused. As if he was some interesting tale from Trelawney‘s weekly horoscopes

Barty leaned forward, smirking. “You’re too patient for someone who spends time with the Marauders. They’re reckless. Loud. Gits.”

Your lips twitched in almost a smile. “And yet, I don’t find them insufferable.”

“Lucky them,” he muttered.

You tilted your head, studying him. “You don’t actually hate them, do you?”

Barty scoffed, leaning back. “Tell them that, and I’ll hex you.”

You hummed, unconvinced. “You could have joined them, you know. You’re clever enough. Quick-witted. You keep up with them in class.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think I wanted to associate myself with obnoxious Griffins? I have a reputation to uphold ”

You only raised your eyebrow at that. “Oh yes, because being a maniacal, havoc wrecking wizard is soooooo important”

He roared into laughter, clutching his stomach like you have given him the funniest joke in Salazars sake. Tears were dripping out the corner of his eyes with his ropes falling messily over his shoulder.

After his sudden burst of emotions, there was silence, well, as much as you could say from Barty‘s loud wheezing trying to calm himself down and a group of second year Hufflepuffs discussing the use of Mandrakes, the space between you two was peaceful

Then, you shrugged, rolling your shoulders back to ease the growing pain (or the growing tension that is about to engulf you two) “or maybe, its because you’re lonely.”

Barty went still instantly.

For a moment, the pleasant quietness became oppressive, thick with something neither of you wanted to name.

Then,he laughed again. Though, now, it was short, sharp, utterly devoid of humor. “You think you know me?”

“I think,” you started, carefully trying to puck out the right words, “that you spend too much time trying to get people to notice you, y‘know?.”

His smirk returned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And yet, you’re the one paying attention.”

This time, you didn’t look away.

Checkmate.

Barty wasn’t sure when it started.

When you became the first person he looked for in a room. When silence with you stopped feeling suffocating and started feeling… different.

It was a slow, creeping thing, like poison slipping into his bloodstream.

You weren’t like the Marauders. You didn’t fill space with noise or demand attention. You simply were, an observer, someone who noticed things most people didn’t.

And Barty hated being noticed.

The Slytherin common room was quiet this late at night, with most students crammed at the Hufflepuff quidditch After-party after they had won against Ravenclaw earlier that day. Except for Barty and Regulus.

The younger Black sat in one of the loveseats by the fireplace, posture perfect as always with his messenger bag on his side while across from him, Barty sprawled lazily on the couch, legs stretched out, looking more reckless (or crazy according to Evan) than usual.

Regulus had been watching him for the past ten minutes. The tension in his shoulders, the way he ran a hand through his Black-Green hair in agitation or the way his knee bounched when he thought no one was looking.

Finally, as if this thought gave him immense pain, he sighed. „You’re obsessed.“

Barty stilled. „What?“

„With her.“ Regulus arched an eyebrow knowingly

Junior scoffed, throwing his head back against the couch dramatically, flailing his arms „Oh, not you too!

Regulus ignored him. “It’s pathetic.” Barty turned his head, smirking. “Funny. Sirius said the same thing about you once.”

Regulus’ fingers twitched. “Sirius is an idiot.”

“And yet, here you are, acting just like him—concerned about my well-being, giving me the I know best speech.” Barty sighed, stretching his arms behind his head. “It’s sweet, really.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t care what you do.” Barty grinned. “Liar.”

Regulus exhaled sharply. “What is this, Barty?”

Barty hummed, considering. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Reggie”

Regulus frowned. “You’re distracting me by talking about my idiotic brother. So spill, what are you afraid of? ”

Barty’s smirk faltered. For a long moment, he didn’t answer. Just stared into the flickering fire, expression unreadable. Then, with a slow breath out “Everything.”

Regulus didn’t press. Didn’t have to. He understood better than anyone what Barty really meant. The weight of expectations. The suffocating presence of a father who saw only duty.

Regulus studied him for a moment. “You don’t get attached to people. Especially not to someone like L/N. " Barty’s smirk returned, but it was weaker this time. “Maybe she’s just different.”

Regulus leaned back, unimpressed. “Or maybe you just don’t like that you can’t control her.” Barty exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand through his hair. “And yet, I keep coming back.”

Regulus tilted his head. “That’s called liking someone, Barty.”

Barty scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Please. I don’t like people.”

“Then why does James Potter look like he wants to murder you?”

His expression darkened. “Because he knows.” the curly haired boy hummed thoughtfully. “Knows what?”

Barty looked him dead in the eyes.

“That she’s mine.”

Regulus sighed, standing up. “Merlin, you’re insufferable.”

But as he walked away, Barty didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just sat there, watching the fire, thinking about you.

It was , like Regulus said, James who noticed first.

Barty had expected it, really. The four eyed boy was too perceptive for his own good, especially when it came to people who operated in the gray spaces between morality.

One evening in the Gryffindor common room, James leaned against the couch where you were reading, arms crossed. “So,” he mused, “are you finally going to tell us why Crouch won’t leave you alone?”

You barely glanced up. “Because we’re Potions partners.”

Sirius, sprawled across an armchair, snorted. “Right. And I’m Minister for Magic.”

Remus, ever the voice of reason, tilted his head. “You do spend an awful lot of time with him.”

Peter nodded, mouth stuffed with fizzing whizzbees. “It’s weird.”

you sighed, closing your book without marking your spot first, which you internally curse. “He’s… frustrating.”

Sirius smirked. “But?”

You hesitated. Just for a moment. “But he’s not as easy to hate as people think.” That was all they needed to hear.

Sirius groaned dramatically. “Merlin help us, she’s sympathizing with the enemy.”

Remus grinned knowingly. “This is going to be fun.”

James Potter knew you better than anyone.

He had known you since you two were small—before Hogwarts, before the Marauders, before any of this. You had been his first real friend, little pigtails following him around, who always listened when he rambled about Quidditch, often times playing the referee and giving yellow cards to his imaginary opponents and someone who was there when he needed you.

And now? Now you were spending too much time with Barty bloody Crouch Junior.

James didn’t like it. Not one bit.

At first, he thought nothing of it. A Potions partnership was just that—a school assignment. But then he started noticing things.

The way you lingered in the library after hours.

The way Barty watched you fondly when he thought no one was looking.

The way you didn’t seem nearly as irritated with him as you should have been.

And that was unacceptable.

James wasn’t stupid. He knew who Barty Crouch Jr. was. The arrogant, sharp-tongued Slytherin who played by his own rules, who didn’t care about anyone but himself and his best friend‘s brother. And yet, somehow, he had wormed his way into your schedule, your attention—things James had always had without question.

He didn’t realize just how much it bothered him until he saw you two together.

It was a late evening in the library, and James had come to find you. Instead, he found your little pest stuck to your side.

Barty was leaning back in his chair, smirking, while you sat across from him, rolling your eyes but not actually telling him to leave you alone. There was something different in the air between them—an ease James didn’t like.

Not one bit.

“Oi.”

You looked up, blinking in surprise. “James?”

Barty groaned. “Oh, fantastic.”

James ignored him, focusing on her. “We were supposed to go over Transfiguration notes, remember? Minnie was bugging me to take lessons with you”

You frowned. “That’s not until—”

“Now,” James said firmly. Barty snorted. “Territorial, aren’t we, Potter?”

James’ jaw clenched. “Just making sure my best friend isn’t wasting her time.” He just grinned, all teeth. “Oh, trust me, she’s not.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples to ease the incoming headache. Is it from Barty‘s constant yapping, the oh so frustrating instructions of the Felix Felicis, or James bickering? Who knows. “James, we’re just working on Potions.”

“Right,” James muttered. “Because that explains why he won’t stop staring at you.”

Barty raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You jealous, Potter?” James hated how his stomach twisted at that. “Of you?” He scoffed. “Hardly.”

“Good,” Barty said smoothly, “because she’s free to spend time with whoever she wants.” The Gryffindor bristled. “And you’re free to bugger off.”

“James.” your voice was sharp now, cutting through the tension. you stood, gathering your books. “I’ll meet you in your common room later, okay?”

James hesitated, then exhaled sharply. “Fine.” But his glare at Barty said this isn’t over.

As he left, Barty chuckled under his breath. “Protective, isn’t he?”

“You love making things worse, don’t you?” you simply glared at him. Barty grinned. “Admit it. You’d be bored otherwise.”

You only shook your head at that, exasperated. But this time, you didn’t argue.

And Barty? He liked that just a little too much.

James Potter wasn’t the jealous type. At least, that’s what he told himself. But this—this infuriating, undeniable thing happening between his best friend and Barty bloody Crouch Jr.—was driving him mad.

It wasn’t just about Barty. It was about you.

You were his best friend. The one person who had always been there before Sirius, before Remus, before Peter. You had an unspoken understanding, a rhythm that no one else could touch.

And yet, somehow, you were slipping out of reach.

Because of that foul git.

Because wherever you were, Barty was not far behind.

Pandora Lovegood was an odd one. Everyone knew it.

She spoke in riddles, saw connections where others didn’t, and had a habit of appearing exactly where she was needed.

So James should have known better than to groan when she plopped down next to him on the bench in the transfiguration courtyard, humming thoughtfully.

“You’re sulking,” she observed. “I don’t sulk,” James muttered.

She smiled, entirely unconvinced. “It’s about her and him, isn’t it?” He scowled, borderline pouted. “There is no her and him.”

Pandora tilted her head. “Not yet.” at that, James sat up straighter. “Yet?”

Pandora just hummed again, her dreamy expression betraying nothing. “I think you’re afraid.”

“Of what? Crouch?” He snorted. “Please.”

“No,” Pandora mused. “Not him. You’re afraid because for the first time, she’s paying attention to someone else.” James didn’t respond. Because that would mean admitting she was right. The Rosier smiled knowingly. “You can’t stop it, you know.”

“Stop what?”

She simply shrugged, standing as if that answered everything. “The inevitable.”

James groaned. “Merlin, you’re worse than Moony.”

But as she walked away, her words lingered. And James hated that more than anything.

James found Barty alone that evening, leaning against the cobble stone wall just outside the Charms Classroom. He didn’t hesitate.

“Stay away from her.”

Barty turned, raising an eyebrow. “Potter,” he drawled, lips curling into a smirk. “This is getting predictable.” James stepped closer, jaw tight. “I’m serious.”

“Sirius is the loud one,” Barty quipped. “You’re the one with the tragic hero complex.” James hated that he had a point. “Whatever game you’re playing,” he said sharply, “she’s not a part of it.”

Barty’s smirk faltered. Just for a second. “Who says it’s a game?”

James scoffed. “Oh, please. You don’t care about her. You just like getting a rise out of people. And I won’t let you use her to do it.” Barty’s expression darkened.

“Use her?” he repeated, voice low, dangerous. “Funny, coming from you.”

James stiffened. “What the hell does that mean?”

Barty leaned in slightly, voice smooth as silk. “It means you don’t like that she’s spending time with me—not because you think I’ll hurt her, but because you can’t stand the idea of not being the most important person in her life.” James clenched his fists. Barty’s smirk was sharp, knowing. “Hits a nerve, doesn’t it?” James took a slow breath. He would not hex him.Not yet, at least.

“She’s my best friend,” James said coldly. “And I trust her. But I don’t trust you.” Barty’s gaze flickered—just for a moment. Then, with an infuriating grin, he stepped back.

“Well then, Potter.” His voice was almost mocking. “Let’s see who she trusts more.” And with that, he turned and walked away.

James stayed there for a long time, breathing heavily, hands clenched at his sides. Because for the first time, he wasn’t entirely sure who would win.

You were avoided him.

Not subtly. Not carefully. Just completely ignoring his existence

It started the week following the small… confrontation in library. Barty walked into Potions, expecting you to be at their usual table at the back, books already open,quill tapping absently against parchment, asking about his usual trouble with filch and a soft smile gracing your lips. Instead, your lips never opened and gaze never left your paper.

No glance in his direction. No acknowledgment at all.

Barty stared. His fingers curled into fists beneath the desk.

Fine.

But then it kept happening. In the corridors, you veered away when you saw him approaching. In the library, you sat with James, Sirius, even Remus—anyone but him. When he did catch youe eye across the Great Hall, you looked away so quickly it felt like a slap.

It wasn’t anger. It was erasure, like he wasn’t even there.

Barty Crouch Jr. had never been ignored in his life. People watched him. They feared him. They respected him, hated him, wanted to be him. But you—you were acting as though he was nothing.

And he couldn’t stand it.

At first, he played it off. Shrugged, smirked, pretended not to care. But then a week passed. Then another. And with every second of silence, something inside him frayed. He found himself watching you too closely. Waiting for you to look at him. Wanting your attention, even if it was anger, frustration, anything but this emptiness.

And when James Potter threw an arm around your shoulders at the Slytherin party, whispering something that made you laugh—

Something in Barty snapped.

You didn’t know how it had come to this.

One moment, you had been talking with Evan about absolute nonsense, nursing a cup of firewhiskey mixed with something you didn’t want to know, trying to focus on anything other than the tension between James and Barty, the way they seemed to be circling each other like wolves.

And now…

Now you were backed against the cold stone wall of an abandoned corridor, heart pounding as Barty loomed in front of you, eyes blazing with something wild, something dangerous.

“You’re avoiding me.” His voice was low, accusing.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I’m not.”

“Liar.”

You flinched. Not because you were afraid of him, Merlin, no—Barty is lunatic at best—but because there was something desperate in his voice, something fraying at the edges.

“I just needed space,” you said carefully. Barty let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Space? From me?”

His fingers twitched at his sides, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you thought he might actually grab you, hold you there like he could force you to listen. “You belong with me.”

The words sent a chill down you spine. Not because of their meaning—but because of how much he believed them. “Barty,” you whispered, voice betrying you slightly, much to your annoyance “you don’t own me.”

His jaw clenched. “I never said I did.”

“But you act like it,” you shot back. “Like I’m something for you to win. Like James and I can’t be close, like I don’t have a choice in who I spend time with.”

Barty exhaled sharply, stepping closer, invading her space. “You do have a choice.” His voice was low now, almost a plea. “So why do you keep running from this?”

This. Whatever this was.

You felt your breath hitch, your pulse racing as he stared at you, expression laced with something desperate.

“This isn’t normal,” you whispered. Barty tilted his head, studying you. “Since when have I ever been normal?”

Your heart ached at that. Because he wasn’t. He was sharp edges and chaos, wildfire wrapped in silk. And you were intrigued.

“Tell me to leave,” Barty murmured, voice softer now, more dangerous. “Tell me you don’t want me, and I will.”

You opened your mouth, words mingling in your head, yet none of them escaped your lips.

Barty’s smirk returned, but it wasn’t triumphant. It was something else—something satisfied yet frustrated, as if he hated how much he needed you to not push him away.

The next day, you felt off-balance. Everything was the same, yet nothing was.

The Great Hall was as loud as ever, filled with students laughing, chattering, passing notes between bites of dinner. James sat beside you, talking animatedly with Sirius about the shenanigans they pulled at last night‘s party. Remus was reading. Pandora was off in her own world, stirring her tea with the wrong end of her spoon.

It was normal.

But you weren’t . Because he was there. Across the room, at the Slytherin table. And he wasn’t acting normal at all.

Barty Crouch Jr. was watching you. His elbow was propped on the table, chin resting against his knuckles, eyes fixed on you with that sharp, playful intensity. Like he was waiting for something. Like he could still feel last night as much as you could—the heat of his breath, the weight of his words, the way he had opened your eyes.

Your stomach twisted but not in the usual dread

You quickly looked down at her plate, poking at the food with the fork, suddenly very aware of every movement, every breath.

It was fine.

You could pretend it hadn’t happened. You could move on, act normal, be the person she had always been. You could-

“You okay?”

James’ voice cut through your thoughts.

You startled, nearly knocking over your pumpkin juice. James frowned, eyes narrowing slightly behind his glasses.

“You’re jumpy,” he observed. “Weird day?”

Yes. Extremely weird.

“No,” you said quickly. “Just tired.”

James didn’t look convinced.

Barty was still watching. You could feel it. Your pulse quickened. You needed to get out of here.

With a forced smile, you pushed back from the table. “I just remembered-I have to grab something from the library before class.” James raised an eyebrow. “Now?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

You turned before he could question you further, walking briskly out of the Great Hall, heart pounding.

You should have known he would find you.

It had been inevitable. Barty Crouch Jr. wasn’t the kind of person who let things go. He didn’t believe in backing down, in walking away—especially not from you.

And so, a day after the Slytherin party, after you had spent the night pretending you weren’t looking over your shoulder for him, he found you.

The Astronomy Tower was, to your luck, empty. The moment you stepped onto the stone balcony, the cold air biting at your skin, you felt him before you saw him in your peripheral vision.

He was leaning against the railing, staring out over the darkened grounds, sleeves rolled up, hands tense against the stone. He looked different in the moonlight. Less sharp, less manic, less like the Barty Crouch Jr. the world expected him to be.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

“I hate my father.”

His voice was quiet. Hollow. You stiffened, startled by his sudden honesty, by the rawness in his tone.

Still, you didn’t leave. Didn’t move.

Barty exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t know what it’s like,” he murmured. “To be expected to be perfect. To be a reflection of someone else, someone you loathe.”

Your chest ached at the exhaustion in his voice.

You stayed silent, waiting.

Barty let out a sharp laugh, but there was no humor in it. “He thinks he can mold me into whatever he wants. A loyal son. A future politician. A Crouch through and through.” He scoffed. “But I’m not. I never was.”

He turned to look at you then, and for the first time, there was no smirk, no amusement—just something raw and vulnerable, something you had never seen before.

“I think,” he said slowly, voice quieter now, “that’s why I wanted you so much.”

Your breath caught unexpectedly.

Barty’s eyes flickered over your face, unreadable. “You don’t try to make me be something.” His lips twisted. “Even when you hate me, at least it’s real.”

Something heavy settled between you, thick and undeniable.

“And”, he started, face twisting into something uncomfortable, trying to find the right words. For a moment, he said nothing. Just looked at you—like he was fighting a battle you couldn’t see.

Then-

“I hate him too.”

The words were sharp, bitter, cutting through the silence like a blade. Your breath hitched. “Barty—”

“No.” He turned to face you fully, eyes burning. “I hate the way he hovers around you like he owns you. I hate the way he looks at me like I’m something filthy. I hate that no matter what I do, he’s always there.”

Your chest ached at the frustration in his voice, the way his fists clenched like he was barely keeping himself together.

“He’s my best friend,” you said softly. Barty let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “No. He’s waiting.”

You frowned at that. “Waiting for what?”

“For you to wake up,” Barty muttered. “For you to realize that he’s the safer choice. The one who won’t make your life complicated. The one who fits neatly into your perfect little world.”

You stared at him, stunned. “You think this is about James?”

Barty scoffed. “It’s always about him.”

Frustration flared in your chest. “Barty, I chose to stay away.”

He stilled.

“I chose to keep my distance,” you continued, voice surprisingly steady despite the inner hurricane you felt. “Not because of James. Not because of anyone else. But because you—”a sharp exhale left your mouth. “You scare me.”

Something flickered in his expression. “I’d never hurt you.”

“I know,” you whispered. “That’s not what I meant.”

Because this, the fire between them, the way he looked at you like he was drowning and you were the only air left—

It was too much. Barty was too much. And you weren’t sure if you were strong enough to handle it.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Then, slowly, Barty stepped closer. Not enough to touch, but enough that you could feel his warmth, enough that your breath caught in your throat.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he murmured.

Your pulse raced. “Then stop—” “Stop what?” His voice was rough now, almost desperate. “Wanting you? Needing you?”

“Barty—”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to stop.”

And maybe that was the real problem. Because Barty Crouch Jr. had never been good at letting things go.

And neither had you.

So when he reached for you, fingers brushing against your wrist like he wasn’t sure you’d let him, you didn’t pull away.

And when he kissed you, desperate and reckless and full of something sharp and aching,

you kissed him back.

[urdreamgirlangel]

a soft exit from doom scroll culture 𐙚🧸ྀི

Life wasn’t created to be lived through a screen, it was created to be lived through experiences ₊˚⊹ ᰔ michi

I constantly feel like I’m missing out on life. I’m never physically doing anything but I am always.. always scrolling. And for what? To be entertained. For those weak ass dopamine hits. To distract myself from my thoughts and my mental state. To have an excuse as to why I’m not doing something.

Neglecting yourself? Doomscrolling? Having trouble sleeping? Eyes always tired? Unhappy? Always feeling drained and tired?

Don’t you guys ever feel like you’re missing out? I mean you must since you’re here.

So I decided to try a digital detox.

Not in some extreme, delete-everything-and-vanish kind of way (I actually tried that many times and failed each one). I just wanted to see what would happen if I gave my brain a break. If I stopped reaching for my phone the second I felt bored, uncomfortable, or lonely. If I actually let myself sit with things instead of escaping into a timeline that never ends.

It was weird at first.

My brain kept telling me to “check something,” whether it's Instagram, TikTok, even Pinterest like ?? girl for what?? I realized I’d trained myself to need noise. Constant noise. And without it? I felt unsettled. Quiet. But underneath all that static, there was something else too. A kind of peace I didn’t know I missed. My mind actually started to feel like mine again.

Because the truth is, I don’t want to live a life I’m watching from the sidelines. I don’t want to be so overstimulated I can’t even hear myself think. I want to choose what I consume. What I feel. What I do with my time.

I want to remember that I don’t have to perform every moment. I don’t have to be productive to be worthy. I don’t have to post everything to prove I exist.

Sprinkles ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

I thought to myself I should have rules. I should try setting rules and boundaries because, as I said, social media isn't the problem, but rather how we use and interact with it is.

When you do scroll, do it purposefully (because you’re looking for something specific rather than because you’re just bored and you’re trying to entertain yourself quickly)

Delete and uninstall any apps you no longer use & make note of the ones you use too much - a lot of similar posts I’ve read on this topic always talk about keeping tumblr because it’s not that bad blah blah.. But can you really say you don’t scroll mindlessly on here? People use tumblr as an escape from all those other apps, but at the end of the day, it’s still social media.

Set time limits for screen use

Reduce use bit by bit

be careful with what you consume

Don’t be afraid to be bored. You are going to be bored and lonely.

Silence your notifications

Realize it’s okay to have social media but it shouldn’t be abused

Be in the moment. You don’t need to have a hot girl walk with a podcast playing in your ear. Bitch, be the podcast. Yap to yourself and look fucking crazy because I do. And it’s fun.

Find something to do with your free time, in my post Pretty Girl Content, you will find some hobby suggestions, or even in my Enhance Your Whimsy posts.

Tech-free zones - keeping your phone out of the bathroom, kitchen, bed, dining area

Check-in windows: only check social media during scheduled times

A ‘why I opened this’ list - every time you open an app, ask yourself why and write it down. Write it down. After a few days, review it to see your patterns and learn from them. nd if you wanna share thats ok too!

Dopamine Menu - a list of things that gives you pleasure or satisfaction a healthy way. instead of reaching for your phone when you feel lonely, bored or restless, pick something off the list and then do it.. They start easy with the first course, then require more effort and engagement as the course goes up.

Angel’s Dopamine Menu ꒰ঌ ໒꒱

🧁 Sweet Treats (Low-Effort)

Light a candle and practice breath work

Make a cute warm drink

Do mobility routine

take a shower

say affirmations

style dream closet mentally

cuddle blanket and/or pet

stand in sun for 3-5 mins

change into favourite cozy outfit

🍱 Comfort Courses (Medium Effort)

journal with dreamy prompts or about something i’m curious about

write a letter to my future self

Walk around the block

Bake something cute and simple

read a book

Reorganize space a bit (clear bed, fluff pillows, wipe mirror)

Watch a comfort show, no snacks, no other screens

have a tea party with plushies

🥘 Soul meals (High Effort)

solo adventure

Deep clean space

write letters to past you, present you and future you

go to a concert

choose a topic that fascinates me and go full research mode

start a new cute slice of life anime/kdrama

work on a hobby (start a scrapbook, upcycling an outfit, etc.)

write or continue writing a post

sign up for a workshop/class that excites you

learn a new skill (writing, language etc)

host a themed night for yourself (cottage core evening, 2000s movie night)

Plan my dream life

But now that we’ve got that out of the way, I have a question for you

What do you want from these apps? ೀ

𖹭.ᐟ Is it validation?

𖹭.ᐟ To feel seen without having to do much?

𖹭.ᐟ A distraction?

𖹭.ᐟ Community and connection?

𖹭.ᐟ Inspiration?

𖹭.ᐟ Entertainment?

𖹭.ᐟ Self-expression?

𖹭.ᐟ FOMO?

Are you actually getting it? Or are you just stuck in the loop, hoping the next scroll will finally give you what the last hundred didn’t?

People say cons of not having social media is not knowing what’s going on “in the outside world” but.. to me that’s a pro because I get to focus on myself and my mind and loa. So nothing else really matters to me since I’m focused on building the life for me starting with myself. Which I really need right now given my mental state. When i deleted tiktok, I feel good about not downloading it. Whenever I need it, I redownload it. Hair content. That’s about it. Then I delete. I dread even redownloading it because I’m kind of impatient. But I also do the same for tumblr. If I need a little pick me up, a sweet post and I know I have no one around give it to me and I really need to hear it from someone else, I redownload. I use it on my pc mainly now and I don’t find scrolling on my pc interesting enough to do it all the time.

So let’s get to the more philosophical, harsher side.

₊˚ 🦢・₊✧ Modern life encourages consumption, rather than understanding and contemplation - challenge yourself, learn about something that honestly doesn’t seem that big of a deal, like learning random facts about random things. Remember libraries and book shops exist.

₊˚ 🦢・₊✧ One thing about social media it will give you unsolicited advice and opinions, it will try to make you feel like you have to listen and believe what is being shown to you. It could cause you to stray from your own beliefs if you aren’t strong in them. People’s opinions being thrown at you left and right when you aren’t even comfortable and strong in yourself is… jarring. “You shouldn’t do this bc..” but what if I want to? And why are people mad that I want to? Or don’t want to? Realizing I don’t wanna hear anyone’s opinions before I was grounded in mine was a big reason for my detox and regulation.

₊˚ 🦢・₊✧ You pick up a lot of stuff you consume online unconsciously. For instance, I watched a lot of American and Canadian tv growing up.. now I react to certain situations in certain ways (just like a lot of the characters I saw on TV) and I literally didn't notice until like a few days ago. That's the result of repeatedly consuming the same kind of content. So guess what- the thing people call ‘brain rot’… is actually rotting your brain. Surprise, surprise.

₊˚ 🦢・₊✧ Social media constantly exposes you to other people’s timelines, and it quietly convinces you that you’re behind in life. But most people are only sharing fragments- the polished, curated parts. And when we forget that, it’s easy to start holding ourselves to unrealistic standards or feeling like we’re not doing enough. You are not late. You are not less. You are unfolding, slowly and softly, in your own time. And there’s something quietly magical about that.

₊˚ 🦢・₊✧ And on that note… influencers really do be scamming sometimes. Like, a lot of it is just the same old stuff, just prettier now. They take outdated ideas and wrap them in pink ribbons and call it healing or empowerment. Suddenly, being “feminine” means looking a certain way, acting soft and quiet, never taking up too much space, and spending money just to seem effortlessly perfect. But don't get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with liking pink, or soft things, or wanting to feel pretty. But when femininity becomes a performance—when it’s reduced to a list of aesthetics you have to buy into to be “the ideal woman,” that’s not empowerment. That’s marketing. They just dressed it up and made you feel like you chose it. But it’s still about control. About shrinking yourself into something small, sweet, and palatable. It’s not just influencers because some of them genuinely believe in this and don’t realize what they’re doing. In the end it just leads back to men trying to be in control... Ew. You might not even realize how much of what you like or think you like is just what society has convinced you need to like to be worthy of love or attention. This is not to say you can’t enjoy this stuff because I most definitely still do. But do so mindfully. This is also not to say that life can’t be aesthetic and pretty because it can and anybody that says not is just.. boring I guess. Just be mindful.

So I’m detoxing. To control the identity I’m building for myself and making sure it’s something I like, something I’m doing for me rather than for the algorithm. This is not to say that social media- or rather, how we use it- is to blame for everything. Because it’s not. People around you can genuinely suck. You have to pull away from that. The point is, if it’s not benefiting you, it’s depriving you.

Log out. Go outside. Touch the real world. You deserve to feel real again. -`♡´-🧁

follow @urdreamgirlangel 444 more

inspired by:

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ michi goodbye TikTok, hello living

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ xiao's you don't have to be that girl

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ denee you'd be hotter if you logged out

[viktateapot]

GALA ✨ (Batboys)

Dick Grayson:

"Why did I agree to this?" You muttered, trying to maintain your balance on the uncomfortable heels. The blue satin dress, a gift from Dick, was gorgeous, but you felt like a silk sausage. It was an official event in Gotham City. Champagne, tuxedos, and the bored faces of the rich. As if you didn't have enough adventures with Dick Grayson.

You spotted him at the snack table, chatting casually with an important sponsor. His hair was slightly disheveled, and his tie was slightly crooked. A perfect cock. He looked at me, and his face broke into a wide smile. "You're gorgeous!" You could read his lips before he pushed off the table and headed towards you.

When Dick came up to you, he took your hand and kissed it. "Oh, you're so beautiful, my little bird."

"You look disheveled. Or have you already ridden the chandelier?" You said, gently straightening his tie.

He rolled his eyes. "It was just one damn time. You can just forget about it?"

"No, you're a damn acrobat. I know it was a long time ago, but it feels like it was yesterday"

And as we stood there, surrounded by glitter and tinsel, you realized that the most beautiful treasure of the evening was not the dress, the jewelry, or the champagne. It was Dick. With his restless energy, his genuine kindness, and his ability to turn even the most boring evening into an adventure. And for that, you loved him the most.

Jason Todd:

"Damn, I hate this," Jason growled, looking down at you. His gaze practically burned a hole in your red dress.

"Calm down," you replied, adjusting the strap of your dress. "You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to this assignment."

We were both undercover at this stupid party, and I had every reason to believe that Jason was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. To be honest, he was just as uncomfortable in the crowd as you were. But we had a job to do, and the red dress was part of the plan. The important thing was to keep Jason from making a fool of himself.

"Jay, go get some champagne."

He snorted and, without saying a word, headed for the bar. You sighed. It was going to be a long night. The main thing was that Jason didn't blow the whole operation to hell.

You continued to stand and wait for Jason, but you felt someone's hand touch your waist, and you turned around.

"Hey, beautiful, do you want to meet me?"

You looked at the man coldly, but before you could respond, Jason appeared next to you. He put his arm around your shoulders, his eyes filled with rage. "I'm sorry, but she's taken," he growled, his eyes never leaving the man. In that moment, you realized that no matter how much Jason hated the gala, he would not allow anyone to touch you.

Tim Drake:

This dress looked like it was made of moonlight and morning fog. You felt like a fairy who had just arrived at a ball. The irony of the situation was that in real life, I had to wear armor more often than romantic dresses. But today, for Tim's sake, you decided to make an exception.

A gala in Gotham City. A crazy mix of pathos, hypocrisy and potential threats. But if Tim is around, even the most dangerous event turns into an exciting game. "You look a little pensive," he said. "Is everything all right?"

You smiled and stroked his cheek. "Everything is fine. I'm just thinking about how much I love adventures, especially when you're around." Tim blushed and turned away, straightening his tie. He was always so embarrassed when you started talking about your feelings.

"Don't get distracted," he muttered. "We have a job to do." And he was right. We were here for a reason. Bruce got suspicious and asked us to keep an eye on a suspicious character.

"What have you found out?" You asked, snuggling closer to him. "He's been associating with the underworld. He's probably planning something bad."

"Well, then we need to stop him," you replied, ready for action. Tim nodded and looked at you with admiration. "You're always so fearless. That's what I love about you." He stopped and blushed even more.

You laughed and kissed him on the cheek. "What, my Robin? Can't finish your sentence?" He just rolled his eyes and pulled you by the hand. "We should go. The game is starting."" And at that moment, you realized that even in that stupid dress and at that pretentious gala, you felt happy. Because you were with the person you loved.

Damian Wayne:

The silk of the dress was pleasantly cool against your skin, contrasting with the warmth of Damian's hand wrapped around your waist. You leaned into him, feeling his tension. He had never been fond of these gatherings, and you knew it.

"Do you want to leave?" you whispered in his ear. He shook his head slightly, but didn't pull away. "I'm here for you," he replied, and that was all you needed to hear. In this room full of falsehood and pretense, his presence was like a breath of fresh air. With him, you felt safe, at home.

You smiled, pulling back slightly to look at his face. Even here, in the midst of the crowd, Damian stood out. His sharp features, his piercing gaze – he was like a predator, lost in a world of social events. And yet, he was here, with you, for you.

"What if we took a little run?" You whispered, knowing he would understand your meaning. He raised an eyebrow slightly, but a light appeared in his eyes. "Run away to where?"

"It's a surprise," you replied, taking his hand and pulling him towards the terrace. The fresh night air was a welcome relief from the oppressive heat of the ballroom. You led him to the edge of the terrace, where you could see the glittering lights of Gotham City.

Damian leaned against the railing, taking in the view of the city. You stood beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. In the silence of the night, the only sounds were the distant hum of traffic and your own breathing.

"You know," you whispered, "it doesn't matter where we are, as long as we're together."

He squeezed your hand without saying anything. But you knew that he felt the same way. In that moment, under the starry sky, Gotham didn't seem so scary. As long as you had him by your side.

In general, offer some ideas for ff in the comments...🙏

[wholoveseggs]

Face First

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Klaus Mikaelson x f!reader} A few late-night texts leads to a very unexpected house call. You’re on your period. Klaus doesn’t care.

♡♡ For my beautiful feral Klaus lovers ♡♡

1.7k words - Warnings: smutt, oral sex only, period sex, fingering, sexting, mild anal play, unsolicited house visits && {of course} Klaus being Klaus ...

You weren’t trying to start anything. Not really.

You were just bored. Horny in that aimless, restless way that came from too much scrolling and not enough serotonin. The sheets were soft. The night was quiet. You were freshly showered, wrapped in an oversized t-shirt, legs bare, your period cramps finally dulled to a distant throb. For whatever reason, your brain had decided Niklaus fucking Mikaelson was the problem and the solution all at once.

So you opened your messages and did something incredibly stupid. You pulled your shirt up and snapped a photo. Nothing too explicit. Just bare thighs, legs spread, the hem hitched high enough to hint at more. Just enough to drive him insane. You hit send, a little thrill of adrenaline spiking through you.

And then you waited. The response was almost instant. ~ Nik: thinking of me? ~

You laughed. You had been doing nothing of the sort. ~ You: i was bored ~

~ Nik: is that an invitation?  ~

~ You: could be, what's in it for me? ~

You could hear the smirk in his voice as you read his next message. ~ Nik: anything. Name it, and I'll give it to you ~

A shiver rolled down your spine. A promise like that was a dangerous thing, coming from someone like him. ~ You: send me a picture ~

There was a long pause, and for a moment, you thought you might have gone too far. He was a possessive man. He didn't share, and he didn't like when people saw him vulnerable. You had pushed. Maybe you had pushed too much.

The ping of a new message made you jump. Your heart thudded in your chest, a rush of adrenaline and arousal spiking through you. The image was mostly a tease. Just the barest glimpse of the hard line of him beneath the soft fabric of his pajama pants, the outline of him thick and straining, the fabric tented and pulled tight. It was hot as fuck.

 He sent a second message. ~ Nik: don't say i never gave you anything ~

You took another photo. A little bolder, this time. The shirt pushed up a bit further, your breasts on display for him.

~ Nik: touch yourself for me ~

~ You: you can't tell me what to do ~

He knew you were teasing. There was a part of you that loved when he got bossy, that loved the way he would grab you, force you down, pin you beneath him and take what he wanted. You could almost feel the ghost of his lips on your throat, the weight of him heavy between your thighs, the delicious ache of him filling you.

~ Nik: I'm coming over ~

You blinked at the screen. ~ You: No you're not ~

No response. ~ You: Nik i’m serious ~

Nothing. ~ You: do not show up here right now, I'm on my period... I'm not even joking, don't come over here ~

The bubbles stayed on delivered. Either he killed his read receipts, or he was already enroute. You sighed, dragged a blanket and your phone out to the living-room sofa, and snuggled deeper into the couch cushions. If he showed up, you would just not invite him in.

A knock at the door.

 Shit.

You threw back the blanket, shoving your feet into the nearest pair of shoes. You grabbed your robe, throwing it over your shoulders. You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the chill, and threw the door open.

Klaus stood in the threshold, eyebrow raised, an amused smirk curling his lips. You leaned against the doorframe, feigning boredom... never mind the way your pulse kicked at the sight of him.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" he asked, gaze roaming over you. He seemed... amused.

“Why?” you asked sweetly. “So you can ignore me again? Or maybe chat up another random blonde at Rousseau’s like you did last week?”

"That was a misunderstanding, love," he said, his tone low and smooth, the way he spoke when he wanted to talk his way out of trouble. 

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.  "Oh, really?"

"Let me make it up to you," he murmured. "You know how persuasive my tongue can be."

Your mouth went dry, but you kept your composure. "I'm on my period."

"Is that an excuse," he said, voice dropping low, "or a challenge?"

Klaus braced one palm flat against the doorframe, the other against the opposite side, boxing you in without crossing the invisible line. The threshold itself seemed to sizzle between you, the thin membrane of old magic keeping the monster at bay.

"Let me in," he said again, quieter this time. "Let me fix what I fucked up."

"You can’t fix it with sex."

"No," he agreed. "But I can start with my mouth. And darling..." His eyes dipped to your thighs, pupils blown wide. "If you think a little blood between your thighs makes me want you less, you’ve forgotten what I am."

Your breath caught, your cheeks on fire.

“Invite me in,” he murmured, nearly begging, finger-tips tapping the wood, knuckles whitening with restraint, every muscle coiled to leap the second permission fell.

One heartbeat. Two.

 “Fine,” you breathed. “Come in. Lock the door behind you.”

The word come barely left your lips before the barrier snapped open. Klaus surged forward, slamming the door behind him and pulling you into his arms. His lips captured yours, biting at your bottom lip like he wanted to taste the need right off your mouth, then he tugged you towards your bedroom.

You fell back onto the mattress, legs sprawled. Your nightie rode up on its own, and you didn’t bother fixing it.

"Sweet fucking hell," he groaned, staring at the slick and dark-red sheen between your thighs.

He dropped to his knees, his gaze locked with yours, dark eyes full of reverence and desire. The moment his tongue touched you, a wave of relief rolled through your body, chasing away the lingering ache of cramps you'd been battling all day. You exhaled shakily, the tension in your muscles easing immediately under his touch.

The first lap of his tongue made you gasp, the second made your eyes roll back, and the third was nothing but a high-pitched moan as he latched his lips around your clit and sucked. You were so sensitive, and the way his tongue moved against you was too much and not enough, the wet, obscene noises of his lips working against you only making it better.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he muttered, voice rough and wet with need. His thumb teased at your entrance, and you bucked, hissing. He pressed his forearm across your hips, pinning you in place. “You’ve no idea what it does to me. How sweet you taste.”

You gasped, hands flying to his hair, fingers tangling in those curls and tugging hard. That only made him groan louder. He loved it and it spurred him on. Klaus was relentless. Tongue flattening and circling, then flicking just right, until your legs shook and your hips jolted with every stroke.

“Nik,” you cried, voice catching. “Please.”

He pulled back, lips slick with blood, eyes gleaming. “Please what, love? If you want something, you’ll need to ask properly.”

When all you could do was whimper, he smirked and pressed a kiss to your mound. Then slid two fingers inside your soaked cunt in one smooth, practiced motion. You jolted, hips lifting, the pleasure white-hot and searing, the pace he set making your toes curl.

“Ah. That, then.” He chuckled.

The pressure built fast. Too fast. Klaus didn’t slow. If anything, he got rougher, more focused. His mouth stayed messy and hot against you. His fingers never relented.

He looked up at you through his lashes, face slick, and smirked. “Come on, then. Show me how pretty you are when you break.”

You didn’t stand a chance. Your back arched as the orgasm hit, sharp and electric, tearing through you. Your thighs clamped around his head but he didn’t stop. Just groaned into your cunt, licking you through it like nothing else mattered.

“Nik, too much.”

He didn’t budge. Didn’t stop. He just kissed your clit again, harder this time, and slid a third finger in with a filthy sound. His other hand gripped your ass, spreading you open. His thumb circled the tight ring there with slow, steady pressure.

“Relax,” he said, and eased it in.

A moan fell from your lips. It didn't hurt. But the pressure was overwhelming, the feeling of being stretched and filled making you writhe. You whimpered, tugging his curls even harder. He moaned, deep and guttural, fingers driving into you with purpose. The second orgasm hit fast and brutal. You squirted around his hand, slick soaking everything, a strangled sob ripping from your throat.

“Fuck,” he snarled. “That’s it. Look at the mess you’re making.”

You trembled violently, body twitching through the aftershocks, unable to do anything but pant and take it. The sheets were a mess of red, and when you managed to open your eyes, his face was still buried between your thighs, his eyes black, the veins dark and stark beneath them. He groaned, licking a final slow stripe up your cunt.

You tried to scoot back, but his arm tightened.

"Too much, Nik." You whined, pushing his bloody face away. "Stoppp," you slurred, the syllables coming out all wrong.

He chuckled, and pulled away, his mouth and chin gleamed a dark crimson. But he didn’t wipe it; he looked proud of the mess. Then he crawled up your body, dragging hot kisses along your skin, up your stomach, your chest, your throat. Painting faint red smears everywhere his lips touched.

“You are so fucking smug,” you rasped, half out of your mind.

“Hard not to be, after tasting ambrosia.” He licked his lips, his mouth still stained and wet.

"Ew, go brush your teeth," you grumbled, and shoved him.

"I didn't hear a thank-you," he said, rolling his eyes. But he slid off the bed and sauntered towards the bathroom.

You smiled, rolling onto your side, watching him through the open doorway. He washed his face, then rinsed his mouth. He didn't bother closing the door, or turning the light off. He knew you were watching. Knew you liked seeing him. You didn't bother hiding it.

He returned with a warm, damp cloth, and cleaned you up, gentle and slow. You were nearly asleep by the time he was done, and he tossed the towel aside, climbed into bed beside you, and wrapped you in his arms.

"Does this mean I get another chance at taking you out?" he murmured, stroking your hair.

"Depends."

"On?"

"Whether or not I wake up alone."

He snorted, pressing a kiss to your temple. "That won't be a problem, love. Not a chance in hell."

[witchthewriter]

𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑬𝑬 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: 𝐴𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝐴𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Also this is 18+

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑽𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・“Darling…” He sighs lightly, fingers over the bridge of his nose. "Must you have your human zoomies in here. There is a whole castle and I am trying to do work."

・Pouting, you scamper over to his desk and climb upon it.

"It has been at least a year since you've kissed me."

"I kissed you three minutes ago."

"How would you know."

"I have a clock on the wall."

・Sighing, you climb off the desk and peer over his shoulder. His work looks like the most boring thing on earth to you.

・Then that restless feeling takes over once more.

・With gusto, you announce: "I MUST be ravished or else I'll DIE."

"Well, we mustn't have that," he says in a voice that leaves your thighs wobbling.

・As he turns around, you look him in the eye and grin.

・He knows that grin.

"But I must be chased first."

・You turn and run.

As you leave the room he mutters, "You test my patience like no mortal ever has."

・And yet, he still follows after you. Indulging you by not using his vampire speed.

𝑾𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒘𝒐𝒍𝒇 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・Usually, you're quite well-behaved in meetings, but today you just needed ...attention. Well, more attention, than usual.

・And it did not help that Winter was starting again...and your warm boyfriend was much too involved in the meeting.

・Right now, all you want is to crawl into his lap and be lavished upon with kisses...and praise.

・Sighing, you place your cold hands underneath his shirt and rest them on his back.

・Immediately he growls under his breath, low and rumbly. “Pest.”

・But doesn't remove your hands, only shifts closer to you, but to your dismay, he is still engrossed in the meeting.

・To be fair, you had been trying to annoy him... a bite here, a nudge there - you even unlaced his boots with your toes. But he endured it all. With a small smirk on his face.

・But your next action brought him to the brink.

・Letting out a little whine, you move your legs so they're resting over his massive thigh. Instinctively he wraps his large hands over your legs.

Wrapping your arms around his muscular one, you whisper: "I'm bored, can we leave now. Please."

・Since you had worked him up for the last hour, all he can do is nod.

・Without a word, he scoops you up, and as your leaving, whispers in your ear: "you do know you're gonna pay for this at home? My pretty pest."

𝑶𝒓𝒄 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・Completely and utterly focused on sharpening his blade, you've called his name again and again.

・Yet all you get in response is a grunt.

・So, with every right...you go over and give a little tug on his tusks.

・He growls, low and gutteral, a warning. But does not stop you.

・Nor does he stop sharpening.

・You groan.

"When will this torture end," you whisper.

・Your boyfriend frowns.

"There is no torture?"

"You aren't paying attention to me!"

"I am busy."

"Then be busy with me."

"You do not care for sharpening blades?" He knows you too well.

"Obviously. I meant ... with ... me ... so put the blade down!"

・He looks at you and squints. Confused.

"Oh my god, I want you to kiss me."

"Then why not say that at the beginning?"

・You squint back at him, take the blade from his hands, put it aside and straddle his lap.

"I guess I will kiss you now," he says with a smile, and all you can do is huff.

𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏-𝑯𝒚𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒅 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・Perched somewhere stupidly high and dramatic. You’re tossing pebbles at his tail from below.

“Come down, you dramatic lizard!”

・Frowning he looks down at you.

"I am watching the perimeter!"

"No! Come down and watch me instead!"

・With hands on your hips, you quirk your head to one side.

・With a huff, and the knowledge that you would throw pebbles at him for hours on end, he decides to come down.

・As he lands, he looks at you.

"Lizards cannot fly. I can fly. Therefore, I am no lizard."

"Would it make you feel better if I said you were a sexy lizard?"

"A little - No, no it would not. Do not call me that again."

"Okay..." you reply in your most sultry voice.

・In one swift motion, you move your hand towards his ass and smack!

・He yelps and looks at you.

"You need to be put on a leash."

・With a huff, you look at him with that look..."That's the plan-"

𝑫𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・Your boyfriend loves chaos. He loves annoying you. But somehow when it's your turn to do the annoying, he cannot endure it.

・For the past fifteen minutes you have been flicking his tail, pulling and pinching as he makes dinner for you both.

・Everytime you touch it, he swats you with the end of it.

・After the tenth swat to your face (you've been giggling the whole time), he looks at you and raises an eyebrow.

“Do you enjoy testing my patience?”

・You poke his tail once again. “Yes. Also, how do you control your tail?"

"My darling, it is another limb. Like any other."

・You nod and stand up.

"What about these?"

・You stand on your tippy toes and rub his horns.

・He stills and looks at you, although not pulling away.

"I'm in love with a menace," he whispers, looking down at you.

"Gods, finally you look at me!"

"Excuse me?"

"It has taken you forever, to have your full attention."

"All of this was for-"

・He looks at you and grins.

"My dear, you are going to regret saying that..."

𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・One of your favourite things about your boyfriend is his sensitive wings ...

・A single finger brushing against his white feathers is like someone trailing their finger over your nipple.

・It's why he doesn't like to be around people with his wings out. The wrong touch makes him clam up.

・But when it's just the two of you...well...things are entirely different.

"Beloved, must you - ah!"

・He had only been staring out of the window, watching the sunset. But you wanted his attention on you.

"Ohh...does that tickle?"

"You know it does," he replies with a frown.

"I really shouldn't do it again," you said with fake self-discipline.

・Your boyfriend did not register the tone in your voice until it was too late.

・You did the same action again, only on the other wing.

"Oh!" He said with a jump.

・The look on his face made you feel a little guilty...but only a little.

"What is the matter with you?" He turns around, hands on his hips.

"I'm bored," you say with a sly smile.

・In a swift movement, he walks forward, lifts you from the floor and carries you to the bedroom.

"My love, you are going to regret those words."

𝑺𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・You hum off-key, while your boyfriend sings his melody.

・And gods do you know how much he hates that.

・As if on queue, he groans, flopping dramatically on the couch. “You’re ruining the harmony.”

・You scoff, throwing a pillow at him.

"You've actually said in the past that my voice is angelic."

"When did I say that?"

"You're kidding right? People have said I sound better ... than you."

・His eyes open with pure shock.

"Who said that."

・Nose flaring, arms crossing, he stares at you like his whole world has been a lie.

"A fisherman."

"..."

・Fighting to keep a straight face, you nod. About to continue when your boyfriend loses it.

"I am a siREN! I WAS BORN WITH THE SIREN'S SONG. MY VOICE HAS KILLED MEN FOR CENTURIES-"

・You start laughing but he does not stop.

"- I WAS MADE FOR THIS. I AM LITERALLY KNOWN FOR HAVING ONE OF THE BEST VOICES. EVEN IN MY POD. THEY SAID I HAD THE BEST VOICE-"

・Tears in your eyes, you snort and continue laughing. With a wheeze, you come clean, "I was joking-"

"Joking?"

"I was messing with you!"

"Ah."

𝑬𝒍𝒇 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・He has so much patience.

・Especially for you.

・Your boyfriend is completely loving. He treasures your time together. Loves every second he's with you ...

・But his hair ... he doesn't like it messed with.

・And yet, for the past twenty minutes you have been braiding random sections of his perfect hair while he reads.

・His once long, perfectly brushed hair is now being plaited into hundreds of strands.

・You said to yourself, you'd stop as soon as he puts the book down. But an hour has gone by and his head is nearly complete.

“You are utterly insufferable,” he murmurs...though without moving away.

・With mischief in your eyes, you give him a sweet smile, "I just wanted your attention."

"If you wanted my attention, my love, you could have just asked."

"I do not like asking."

"I see that."

・His arms wrap around you in one quick motion, and hoist you into his lap.

・Smothering you with kisses.

・You laugh as the braids fall over your face.

・You cannot wait until he undoes them and is left with frizzy waves.

[getaapologist]

This is a continuation of the betrothed!reader blurb series as decided by [this] poll, thank you! (also it's more like empress!reader now...)

[ prior betrothed!reader entry can be found here ]

“And the brothels, they have been… rowdy, as of late,” A senator spoke, his hands clasped together. “The men grow restless. We should consider advancing the start of the next campaign.”

Another senator rose. “You would go against the general’s request for leave?”

You could see it from a mile away. Geta was dreadfully bored.

He tried to hide it, tried to appear as though he enjoyed this part of his title, but you knew far better. 

His eyes slid over slowly to you, a smile growing as they raked over your hair, the laurels he placed there despite your protests shining.

They suited you, he thought.

Your smile as you registered his gaze passing over you. The way your fingers moved to play at his, dangling off the arm of the throne. He loved all of it.

Right as he leaned over to speak with you, to offer some small promise of what he’d ask of you after these meetings were over, he was interrupted.

“Emperor?”

The questioning voice cut through his small moment of happiness. His eyes darkened as he looked back at the toga-clad man, who seemed to very much regret his interruption.

“You have something you wish to say that is so important? As if you all haven’t been bickering the entire afternoon?”

Geta’s hand left your knee.

“Are you sure her presence in these chambers is… necessary?”

He was trying so very hard not to be rude, but failed entirely.

Your hands clung to Geta’s wrists, recognizing the tension growing in him, but he slipped out of your grip easily, stalking forward out of his throne.

“You misunderstand, Senator. That,” he pointed to you, “is our Empress, and you owe her your respect, for we are all at her whims.”

“It is just abnormal, Caesar,” the senator attempted to explain.

Geta became quite terrifying. “Abnormal? Are you men so weak that you cannot handle the sight of her in your midst?”

“She has bewitched you, Emperor,” someone else called out.

Geta’s fury focused in on a single target. He stalked forward, holding a hand out for a sword, the sound of it being drawn by the loyal Praetorian sending chills down everyone’s spines.

It was leveled at this Senator. 

Geta was aware of the sharpness, of the bite of the blade, even as he held it against the man’s neck. If his heart beat any harder, the movement would split the vessel across the blade with how tightly it was pressed to his skin.

“I will give you only one opportunity to retract your blatantly false and ridiculous statement.”

“Kill him,” Caracalla grinned.

Geta rolled his eyes, turning back to speak with his brother. “I’m not going to kill him,” he spoke, slightly exasperated. 

Caracalla frowned.

As Geta returned his attention to the Senator before him, the man raised his hands, held together.

“Forgive me, Emperor. It was a moment of madness. I did not mean to insult her.”

“Her?”

“O-Our Empress, Caesar.”

“That’s right. My Empress. And there will not be another word about it. Ever.”

He tossed the sword aside, letting it clatter to the ground, sliding right over to stop at the feet of the Senator that brought up the topic in the first place, as if daring him to pick it up.

He did not. 

As the Praetorian collected the sword, unbothered, possibly quite used to the twins’ antics, Geta slid back into his seat. 

“Do you feel better now, dear husband?” you whispered, eyes alight with mischief. 

His lips slid back into that easy smile, his eyes darting down to look at you. “Quite.”

[buuniebaby]

receiving and giving head 👅👅

IN THE BACKSEAT - PT1

showing how greatful you are for the way your boyfriend cares about you.

notes: I MISSED WRITING SO MUCH. before I left I had an idea based on this ask + another ask to make a fic about hamzah giving u head, receiving, and giving him a handjob, and I was gonna make them 3 lil short blurbs but i kinda got carried away and decided to just make 3 fics.

contains: kinda dubious consent, road head, the sloppiest toppy you’ve ever seen

wc: 2k 🎀

it’s not uncommon for your boyfriend to get sick of being indoors. it’s almost like an itch, driving him to get out, move, go do something to keep him from bed-rotting.

it’s a feeling becoming far too familiar this morning, creeping up into hamzah’s head because he’s just so suffocated by the house around him. his bed doesn’t feel comforting anymore, just messy and overwhelming. it stresses him out.

the feeling starts to get visible when you watch as he starts doing that thing where he bounces his leg up and down as fast as he can.

“you good?” you ask, looking up at him from your side of the bed. you’ve known him for long enough to know that something’s up - now you just need to go through the 3-4 things that could actually be wrong and figure out what’s bothering him.

“just.. bored.” he says, shrugging to himself. it’s a surface level response, not letting you in as deep as you’d like to be, but it gives you all the information you need.

“y’wanna go for a drive?” you ask, first solution coming to mind. it shocks him for a second, how you’ve come up with the perfect solution given nothing to work with, before he remembers that you know him better than anyone. of course you can guess that he’s restless.

“how did you-“ he says, cutting himself off because he really doesn’t need to argue with you. “yeah, I do.”

“I’ll go with you.” you say, shrugging the blanket you were nicely tucked into off of you in one swift movement. he jerks a little, noticing the way you seemed comfortable under the covers.

“you don’t have to-“ he stutters, but you’ve already made your way out of the bed to get ready.

“want to. it’s fine.” you mutter as you walk to the bathroom. “plus, i’m hungry. this is like, the perfect opportunity to force you to take me through a drive thru.”

not much time passes before you’re hamzah’s passenger princess, dropping to the side of your boyfriend and cranking the seat back to whatever makes you comfortable. as if it’s an instinct, one of his hands creeps it’s way to your thigh, slowly rubbing the flesh. you’ve noticed that physical touch seems to comfort him, even if it’s as small as just having a hand on you.

you tap your fingers on the dash in a rhythmic pattern as he drives, subconsciously trying to pass the time. he looks over at you, noticing your restlessness, and shooting a quick smile at you before focusing himself back onto the road. it makes your heart thump a little harder for a second, and you melt back into your seat.

“have to go to the gas station,” he mumbles, eyes still locked in on the road. “pick up some stuff.“ all you can do is just reply with a soft “mhmm,” knowing from his tone that he’s probably got a lot on his mind.

it’s not long before he’s pulling into a parking lot, tapping your thigh with his hand before he pulls it away to open the door. “be right back, love you.” he mutters; a small comment, but it means the world to you. it’s the way he goes out of his way to make sure you’re safe, knowing he’s not going to be gone long - it’s a sweet gesture.

you’re finding yourself staring out the window into space for a few minutes, before you flinch at the sound of the door opening again. suddenly, you’re melting into your seat again - this time, with a warm smile.

there hamzah is, few things in hand - most notably, an arizona tea can in your favorite flavor. something you didn’t even have to ask for, but he still thought of. your stomach flips and it hits you;

he really cares.

he shoves himself back into his seat, nonchalantly handing you the tea and cracking open an energy drink for himself. you just keep staring at him while he gets comfortable, a adoring glare in your eyes. he doesn’t notice it until he buckles his seatbelt and looks over at you, doing a double take when he realizes how intensely you’re staring.

“what?” he chuckles, searching your face.

“you’re so sweet.” you say, a mix between a smile and a frown on your face forming as you hold your drink in your hands. he looks back at you like you’re crazy.

“it’s just like, a drink-“ he replies back, confused at your demeanor. you roll your eyes.

“you don’t get it.” you sigh, lovingly. “like, I didn’t even have to ask. you just.. thought of me.” you duck your head, softly smiling while rubbing your fingers together.

“i guess.” he replies back as the engine of your car revs, still not understanding why you’re so amused by a simple act. “just wanted to see you smile.”

you think you can feel yourself melting.

he places his hand back on your thigh again as he gets back on the road, and you come to a realization.

you want to give this man the sloppiest, most earth-shattering head he’ll ever experience.

“hamzahhh..” you mumble, looking up at him with those big, glossy eyes, because you know it’ll get it to him. he looks over at you, staggering his attention between your face and the road. he lets out a little “hm?” in response to the sound of his name, making sure you’re okay.

this time, you move a hand over to his thigh, gently tracing the fabric of his shorts with your fingers while you contemplate your next move. his thighs are so fucking beefy and bulky and you think your panties are completely soaked.

“can i-“ you start, cutting yourself off when you realize what you’re about to say. you decide to move your hands a little higher before you say what’s on your mind, ever-so-slightly palming him through his shorts. he lets out a small whine, eyes losing focus on the road.

“what are you-“ he cuts himself off, nearly gasping at the impetuous feeling of your hands creeping up on him. you can tell he’s trying to keep himself from giving in to your touch.

“i wanna suck your dick like, so bad right now.”

hamzah grips the steering wheel as tight as he possibly can.

“yeah- t-that’s- yeah. okay.” he manages to get out, gasping for air. his hips rock upwards, pressing himself into your hands. “fuck- please.”

you give yourself a sly smile, celebrating your success as you reach a hand into his pants. you have to pull his shirt up a little for full access, revealing the hair of his happy trail peeking out - a sight that always gets you going. he’s already letting out a breathy moan the second your hand comes in contact with his cock, pulling it out of his boxers.

“love you s’much hamzah.” you mumble, voice drunken with bliss as you watch him grow in your hand. there’s already precum dribbling over the tip, which you swipe away with your thumb, causing him to shiver and choke on his breath a bit.

as you start to move your hands up and down the length in front of you, a tension builds. you can tell he’s struggling to focus on the road, taking desperate peeks down at the sight below him. you click your tongue.

“keep your eyes on the road, baby.” you say, making eye contact with him as you fingers wrap around his cock.

hamzah thinks he might have just died then and there.

he grumbles as he follows your orders, sweating as he locks his eyes on the road in front of him. it’s almost a little funny, knowing how desperate he is to see the scene below him. you giggle at his obedience before you flip your hair over your shoulder, mouth sinking onto his cock.

“fuck-“ hamzah jolts, feeling your lips drag across his length. “you’re so fucking hot, oh my god.” he lets out, shuddering.

you let out a laugh around his cock, and he decides he can’t take it anymore. eyes still locked on the road, he moves a hand down from the steering wheel and gathers your hair with it. before you know it, he’s created a makeshift ponytail in his hand, tugging at it and pushing your head down.

you gag a little, his cock being shoved down your throat from the mixture of him pushing your head and thrusting his hips upwards. it’s uncomfortable, but watching him take control like this is so euphoric to you - it cancels out.

you hollow your cheeks, letting out a content hum when you feel your nose make contact with the bushy hair around his cock, buried as deep as it possibly can be inside the warmth of your mouth. hamzah isn’t that mean though, so he uses his grip on your hair to pull you off for a breath.

you use your break to gather the saliva in your mouth from the intrusion of his dick, spitting it straight onto his cock, and using your hand to jerk him off with your self-made lubricant. he stays verbal, moaning as the grip on your hair gets tighter.

“didn’t know you were this much of a fucking slut.”

huh.

you like that-

you like that a lot.

his words motivate you to take control, sinking your head back down onto his cock. he moans, then lets out a low chuckle.

“y’like that, huh?” he asks, taking a glance down as he watches you nod, dick still shoved down your throat.

“such a fucking- god,” he stops himself, rocking his hips against your mouth. “such a whore, can’t have her lips off of my fucking cock for five f-fucking seconds. has to suck me off in the car, couldn’t wait until we got home-“ he rambles as his hips buck into your lips.

“fuck- baby.”

you can feel tears building up in the corners of your eyes as you continue working your tongue around his cock while it stays warm in the deep cavern of your throat. you’re shocked at how hamzah hasn’t given up and just crashed the car at this point, from the way his hips slam up into you, silently begging for stimulation.

“gonna fucking cum- shit.” he warns, struggling to get his words out. it only makes you bob your head up and down his shaft faster - he takes it as a silent invitation.

Before you can process what’s happening, there’s a twitch followed by a warmth hitting the back of your throat. it makes you gag a bit before you’re able to regain control and swallow, pulling off.

you’re immediately met with the sight of a disheveled hamzah, sweaty and fucked-out, blankly staring at the road in front of you. it’s not until you process that you’re on the road, which immediately moves your eyes to the speedometer, going a solid 20 above the speed limit.

“hamzah, holy shit, slow down.” you giggle. he needs to take a breather before he slowly nods and complies, slowing the car.

the next thing you notice is the way his cock is still out in the open, covered in a mix of cum and slobber. you wipe your mouth on your sleeve and then carefully shove his half-hard cock back into his pants; it elicits a small shiver from the boy. it’s kind of cute like this, watching him so fucked out of his mind he can barely communicate.

he fixes his posture as he begins to come back to life, rubbing his furrowed brow with one of his hands.

“holy fuck, baby.” he trails off. it’s what he says next in that blissed-out tone that really gets you.

“good fuckin’ girl.”

now that you’ve cleaned up after him, your only responsibility is to make sure he feels comforted. you rest your head on his shoulder from the passenger seat, snuggling up to his lax arm while watching him drive.

“remind me to buy you shit more often.”

[traveler-at-heart]

Lessons of Love - Chapter 5

Nerd!Natasha Romanoff x Rogers!F R

Summary: You run into some complications as you try to plan a special day with your girlfriend.

It’s supposed to be another day at school. Though it feels anything but normal as you approach your girlfriend, busy putting away some books on her locker.

“You’re running out of space for the library, handsome” you sneak up behind her, kissing her neck.

You take great pride in the way she fumbles with her backpack, blushing.

“Hi, detka”

Now it’s your turn to bite your lip, enjoying the way her voice drops when she switches to Russian.

“How’s your day so far?” you lean against the lockers, playing with her hand. You both know what today is, but acting like it’s just a regular day is what you agreed on.

“The usual. Calc was ok, History was kind of boring”

“Mmm, gotcha. Anything planned for later?” you say, unable to help yourself. You look up, and she’s smiling, though trying to act casual.

“Not much. Will probably join the game to support dad and Yelena. You?”

“Yeah. Maybe, I’m behind on my English paper. If I get enough done, sure”

The bell interrupts whatever she was about to say, and you sigh, leaning forward to meet her lips in a short kiss.

“See you later?”

“Yes, baby” you smile, kissing behind her ear one more time before you leave.

You definitely will.

—

Natasha’s a bad liar.

And right now, she has to play the perfect part, or she won’t get to enjoy the moment you’ve both been planning for weeks.

As usual, it was you who started things. One day, casually over some time alone at her place, you told her you were ready to take the next step. Natasha blushed, but all you did was take her hand in yours, saying you would never pressure her.

In typical fashion, Natasha made pro and con lists, research, read papers… but the fact you never brought it up again, being the  same and just loving her, through her many freakouts… that’s how Natasha knew she wanted it too.

And now, she has to pretend to be sick to get the house to herself.

“Natalia, we’re late for the game. Why aren’t you changed?” her mother says as soon as she goes downstairs.

“Uh, I… I’m staying home. I’m not feeling too well” she lies, unsure on what to do. Cough?

This is uncharted territory for her; Natasha has never even pretended to be sick to skip school.

“You do look a little flustered. I’ll stay home and watch over you” Melina says, looking for the thermometer.

“No! No, it’s fine. Honestly” she rushes to say, hoping to convince her mother. “I’ll just take a nap, I’m probably tired”

“If you’re sure” her mother says. Natasha nods one last time, going back to her room. She looks out the window, and sprints to action the minute the car leaves their driveway.

Her room is a mess and there’s nothing less romantic than that. So, she folds her clothes, fluffies her pillows, plays some music (the article she read said it was a good way to set the mood). Natasha is restless, and only stops moving around until you knock at the door.

Your story is ordinary. On your way to the game, you called Natasha. As soon as you heard she was feeling sick, you decided to drop by and make sure she was ok.

Simple. Innocent. Believable.

“Hi, darling” you smile at her when the door opens.

“Hello” Natasha says, glancing at your cheerleading uniform. It’s part of the cover, obviously, but she can’t help but feel you’re dressing to get her riled up.

“Heard you were feeling a bit ill” you tease, and she rolls her eyes, stepping aside so you can come in.

As soon as she locks the door, you turn to her, hands on her arms. You love to touch her, have her this close to you. Natasha always feel so solid, so grounded. And that’s exactly what you need for this moment.

“Wanna go upstairs?” she says, lifting your chin. You nod, looking at her lips. Natasha smiles, in that way that always disarms you, and you’re surprised to see her act so confident as she grabs your hand, leading you to the second floor.

You’ve been in her room a dozen of times, but this feels different.

“Wow, you even cleaned up your desk for me. I feel special” you tease when she’s closing the door.

“You are special” Natasha says. You know she means it, looking at you with adoration. That makes your heart beat faster, and you walk up to her, hands going around her waist.

You’ve always loved your height difference.

“Hi” you say, biting your lip and looking up at her.

“Hi, kotenok” she smiles, and the word makes your knees weak. Before you can lose your courage, you lean forward, kissing her.

The kiss soon turns into a frantic one, Natasha accepting the intrusion of your tongue with a moan. Backing against the bed, she pulls you down with her, and you’re surprised at how smooth the movement is.

“Is this ok?” she says when you settle in her lap, and you nod, smiling. The little pause makes you nervous, suddenly remembering what you’re about to do.

“I… uh, want me to, should I take off my clothes?” you say, blushing.

“Whatever you like. If you want to” Natasha says, smiling at you.

Taking a deep breath to calm down, you stand up from the bed, discarding your shirt. You’re not entirely ready to take off the skirt, so you just climb up in Natasha’s lap, smiling as her hands go up and down your sides.

“Tickles” you giggle, and she chuckles, leaving a trail of kisses all the way to your ear.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world” she says, and you melt against her.

“You just wanna get laid”

And that brings you back to the whole thing, the reason why you’re here. You have an hour at best, and you definitely need to be a big girl and just dive.

So, your hand travels lower, palming the bulge in her pants.

“Wanna take this off?”

Natasha nods, but of course you have to stand up to allow her to strip.

“So, note to self. Next time, take all clothes off first” you joke to lighten the mood.

“Next time?”

“I mean… I hope there will be a next time” you straddle her lap once again, looking down at her with a frown. “Why? Are you uncomfortable? We can stop”

“No” she shakes her head. “I just… maybe I won’t be good at it. And you won’t like it”

“Baby, you’re a great kisser, you know that, right?” you purr against her lips, biting down her bottom lip.

“Well, had to practise for a bit” she stutters, canting her hips up as you kiss her everywhere.

“Exactly. So, we just need to have a lot of sex if the first time is kinda bad” you laugh, deciding it’s better to keep kissing Natasha.

You move your lips against her, easing into a rythm, and letting her take the lead once you notice she’s relaxing. She grips your waist, the other hand going higher past your skirt. Once her tongue enters your mouth, you moan, jerking forward and moving against her hard on.

“Are you…?” you say after a moment.

“Coming?”

“No” you roll your eyes. “Hard enough. Condoms, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, there’s one in my nightstand”

“Ok”

You reach for the package, trying to remember everything you learned during sex ed.

“Need any help?” she says as you move back, allowing her to pull down her briefs. You can’t even answer, heart beating faster at the idea of finally seeing her, feeling her inside…

“Hey, did you get a little too excited?” you jump when you feel something vibrating close to your core.

“What?”

“Your phone’s ringing” you hang your head in defeat.

So close.

“I’ll just take a moment, if I don’t answer, mom will freak out”

“I know” you say, leaning against her shoulder as she sits up.

“What’s up? Why are you in the hospital?” that makes you look up, concerned. “Ok, I’ll be right there”

“What’s wrong?” you ask as soon as she hangs up.

“Yelena got hurt. I have to go” Natasha stands up, getting dressed. You check your phone, and sure enough, Pepper texted you. She fell during one of the routines.

Damn it.

“I’m coming with you”

“It’s ok”

“Tasha” you say, making her look up. “Come on, you shouldn’t be driving right now”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for… we won’t be able to…”

“Baby, that’s irrelevant. Yelena’s the one that matters now. Come on. Let’s get going”

“Uh, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe put on your shirt”

“Oh” you chuckle.

Right.

Natasha laughs as you find it in her bedroom floor and get dressed.

“All better”

“Better would be naked” she mumbles when you leave the house.

“Stop”

On the way to the hospital, you call your father to ask him if he can help the Romanoff family and make sure Yelena’s taken care of.

He mumbles something about not being your personal assistant, but he also knows if your mother finds out, he’ll never hear the end of it.

So, by the time you arrive at the hospital, Yelena has been moved to a private room, and the head of department is checking in on her.

“Natasha, Y/N, get in. Did you come here together?” Melina asks as she ushers you inside.

“Yeah, I was with Nat because I wanted to make sure she was feeling better” you hurry to say before your girlfriend speaks.

“You two look funny” Yelena mutters from the bed and you straighten. Oh no, is your shirt backwards? Your hair messy?

“Darling girl, you’re just very sedated right now” Melina says and you sigh with relief.

One of the nurses comes in, nodding at you while he checks on Yelena’s vitals.

“Hey, Y/N. Results should be ready now…”

“Oh, I’ll pick them up for you, Rod” you offer, knowing shifts are crazy and nurses are the ones doing the heavy lifting most of the time.

Natasha follows you through the hallway, where people casually greet you and ask about school. When you get Yelena’s results you take a little detour to one of the rooms and read over the bloodwork and look at the X-ray.

“Clean split. She just needs a cast. That’s great. Don’t tell Doctor Johnson I said that, though, he likes to pretend he’s the only one who can read an X-ray” you say, putting it back.

Natasha’s staring at you and you frown.

“How do you know so much about medical stuff?”

“Dad. He’s always talking about work stuff. He wants Steve to be a doctor like him. But he rarely pays attention. I do, though”

Not like it matters. Your father can be old fashioned in some ways. He pictures you with an “easy” job, not pulling all nighters and getting your hands dirty in an OR.

“I used to come over during school break to help out with charts and stuff too. Nothing big” you dismiss it, joining the rest of her family. You hand over the results to Doctor Johnson and he just repeats what you told Natasha.

You’re sitting next to Yelena and she leans her head against your shoulder, sighing.

“I’m gonna miss practise for months”

“You’ll be ok, baby girl” you promise, kissing her temple.

You feel for her, you really do. It takes you back to last year when you had your accident and the doctors completely ruled out going back to anything that was too risky or phisically demanding.

Natasha is watching the interaction across the room, and her heart soars at the way you fit so well with her family. How much you care about them, and how much they love you too.

Even your father, in spite of his tendency to focus on work only, stops by before Yelena is discharged, saying they can call him at any time if there’s something they need help with.

“Don’t work too hard, Colonel” you say, hugging him goodbye.

As you all leave the hospital, Natasha pulls you aside for a second.

“I’m sorry we… it didn’t happen”

“Baby, that’s fine. I’m just happy your sister’s ok”

You say goodbye with a kiss, promising to visit her tomorrow.

The drive back home is silent for Natasha, and she heads straight to her room while their parents get everything Yelena might need during the night.

She lays in bed, thinking about everything that happened today. Not just the fact you almost had sex. What’s actually in her mind is the way you walked around the hospital like it was the most natural thing to do.

As if you weren’t even aware of how effortless it seemed for you.

Y/N: Get some sleep, baby

Natasha: How did you know?

Y/N: I know you. Now get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love u.

Natasha: Love u too

She really wants to do as you ask and get some rest. Instead, Natasha pulls up her laptop.

There’s some research she has to do.

—

It’s been two weeks since your plan failed, but Natasha’s life has been too stressful to bring it up again.

Yelena, as much as you love her, can be a little shit when she’s bored. And right now, there’s only so much she can do with one good arm.

You try to stop by as often as possible to give Natasha a break from her sister, watching movies or helping her with homework. Still, you can tell that the change in routine is overwhelming for your girlfriend.

To help her relax, you plan an evening at your place. Your parents are going to a show (ballet or opera, you don’t remember), Steve and Bucky are sneaking into some parties, and you have the pool and jacuzzi all to yourselves. Perfect, as the days are getting warmer.

“Is the water ok?” you ask Natasha, who has been swimming around while you got some stuff from the pool house.

“Yeah, come on” she reaches for you and you smile, discarding your t-shirt.

It makes you a little proud to notice your girlfriend staring at you, and you pat yourself in the back for wearing a little bikini instead of a one piece.

“Oh, that is nice” you sigh, laughing when Natasha approaches you. She leans against the edge of the jacuzzi, breathing out.

“I needed this. It’s been pure chaos at home”

“I know, sweetheart” you place your hand in her shoulder and you whistle. “Damn, you’re so tense. Can I?”

Natasha nods, turning her back to you. With a firm grasp, you begin to massage around her shoulder blades, trying to release some of the tension in her muscles with your touch.

After a few minutes, she’s more relaxed. With a smile, you decide to lower your hands to her sides, pulling her against your front, leaving kisses on her neck and shoulders.

“Detka” she sighs, tilting her neck to give you more space. That little movement makes your heart skip a beat, and you’re suddenly craving to have her give in to you, moaning and pleading.

And that’s how you end up with your hand down her swimming trunks.

“Want me to jerk you off?” you say against her ear. Natasha lets out a moan, and you can tell she’s taken aback by the question.

“I… someone could walk in”

“There’s no one home. Just tell me what you want, Tasha. Want me to make you feel good?”

As you whisper in her ear, your hand goes down again, feeling how hard she’s getting. You can’t see her face, but by the way she’s holding on to the edge of the pool and her labored breaths, you can tell Natasha’s enjoying this.

“Yes. I want it” she finally says, her head leaning against your shoulder, surrendering completely.

Emboldened by her admission, you begin to move your hand up and down her cock, finding some resistance as your movements become faster.

“I’m going to…”

“Let go for me”

How you wish you could see her expression as she finishes, but feeling her tense and then relax under your touch is equally exhilirating.

What you’re definitely not expecting is how Natasha suddenly turns around, her lips searching for yours and meeting in a frantic kiss.

“Want to… continue outside?” she says, her hand moving down until she cups your ass, pulling you against her semi hard cock.

“Absolutely”

Wet, horny and desperate for Natasha’s touch, you immediately step out of the jacuzzi, reaching for her hand as she’s close behind you.

You barely remember to grab a towel, drying yourself before losing the top of your bathing suit.

Natasha stares at your breasts, practically drooling at the sight before her. She completely forgets about the towel, pulling you by the waist until you’re flush against her. One hand squeezes your breast while the other keeps you pushed against her.

Without thinking, your own hand travels to her bulge, and you can tell Natasha’s getting hard again. Before she can tell what you’re doing, you kneel, pulling her shorts down until her cock springs free.

“Fuck, Y/N” she moans, the sight of you on your knees before her enough to get her worked up.

“Can I?” you ask, suddenly shy. Natasha nods, her hand going through your hair. You smile, stroking her slowly. You’re about to ask if it’s ok when she places her hand above yours, showing you how to do it.

“Just like that, baby” she moans, and the way she throws her head back makes you wet. Natasha’s so distracted she’s not expecting the warmth of your mouth, but you’re eager to see her come undone once again. Starting with a few licks to her tip, you begin to take her lenght in your mouth.

“I’m not going to last if you keep doing that” she moans when you continue licking.

“That’s ok, then you’ll owe me two orgasms” you tease, still stroking her.

“Baby…”

“Come on, Natty” you encourage her.

She’s about to come…

Then there’s a noise. Something dropping to the floor.

“What the hell was that?” Natasha says, and you look up too.

You’re about to tell her that it’s probably nothing, but you hear it too. Steps.

A thief?

“Let’s call the cops” Natasha says, pulling you to your feet.

“Sure, you do that, sweetheart” you say, grabbing a t-shirt while Natasha pulls her shorts up.

“Hey, where are you going?” she whispers when you open the closet, pulling out a golf club.

“Nothing, just scaring the intruder”

“Wait!” she tries to stop you, but you’re already out into the hallway, the club held above your head.

“Stranger danger!” you yell, swining at the intruder.

“Ouch, what the fuck!”

“Bucky?” you say, looking as he covers his face. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

But he doesn’t have time to answer. A high pitched voice interrupts you.

“Who is this whore?”

A girl, wearing a piece of fabric that cannot be considered a skirt and a crop top eyes you up and down.

“I’m the whore whose house you’re on right now, you bitch” you say, still holding on to the golf club. Maybe you’ll hit her with it too.

“You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend”

“I’m not. And we” you nod towards Natasha. “Are already in the middle of something, so get lost. I’m sure the Wendy’s parking lot would be a lot more fitting”

“Now, wait a minute” Bucky complains and you tilt your head.

“Wouldn’t be your first there, would it, Buck?” you tease.

“Fine. We will grab some protection and be on our way” he grumbles, knowing he won’t win this battle.

He’s about to reach for the secret stash of condoms (though you’re pretty sure even your parents know it exists) but you swat his hand away.

“What the fuck, Y/N?”

“I’m taking one first”

You reach blindly in the drawer, keeping eye contact with your friend as you find it, smiling.

“Last one”

“Now, come on, I bought those!”

“Finders keepers”

“Rock, papers, scissors” he proposes. You’re about to argue when you hear Natasha clear her throat.

“Fine”

“Two out of three”

Of course, you’re tied. Before you play the last game, you ask for time off, walking back to your girlfriend.

“What are you thinking, baby?”

“Rock. No. Scissors” she says, holding her chin as she ponders.

“You sure?”

“33.3%”

You want to roll your eyes at her smart mouth, but you better hurry before the rest of the family comes back home.

“Fuck” you say when Bucky goes with rock. He takes the condom from your hand, but then frowns.

“Oh, it’s small. Then you can keep it”

“Excuse me?” you say, arms crossed. “Her dick is huge. Bet it’s bigger than yours, Barnes. Babe, show her”

“What? No!” Natasha says, mortified.

Bucky and you begin to argue, going over things like who gets to have the condoms or use the pool house.

“Having a little party?”

The severity of the voice shuts you both real quick.

“Dad!” you say, hoping he didn’t hear the conversation. Bucky shoves the condom in his jean pocket. “I thought you’d be at the theater”

“Awful play, in my honest opinion. We decided to sleep early” your mother says, and you can swear she’s trying to hold back her laughter.

“Well, I should go, then” Natasha hesitates by your side and you wanna punch the air.

Cockblocked twice.

“Oh, nonesense. I have a chocolate cake for you to take back to Yelena. Have some while you watch tv, sweetheart” your mom says, turning to Bucky. “And you better drive your date home, mister”

“Yes, Ma’am”

When your parents leave the pool house, Bucky turns to glare at you and you flip him off.

“Ass” he says, dragging the girl out of the house.

You stay silent for a moment, sighing. Well, no use in dwelling on it now.

“Come on, babe. Let’s have some cake. It will make you feel better” Natasha takes your hand, and you follow her.

“What would make me feel better is coming. Twice” you corner her against the wall, kissing her until she’s out of breath. “I’m not letting you off the hook that easily, Romanoff”

“I didn’t even come the second time” Natasha mutters to herself.

But she’s not about to argue with you.

—

You could never stay mad at Bucky. He’s like your other brother, and he’s been living with your family for so long that having disagreements could happen, but they didn’t last long.

Especially now, as he has officially decided to go to college in California.

Your parents are helping him find a place close to campus, while taking Steve on a tour of Stanford and UCLA.

Part of you wanted to go, but you also knew it was going to make it real. Your family would change, you’d be the only one left at home while they went away.

So, you decided to sit this one out.

“All packed?” you say, knocking on Steve’s door.

“Almost” he says, and smiles at you, knowing you’re looking for some company. “Come help me with this, you know I can’t fold a shirt properly”

“Oh, I know, but at least you try. I’m sure Buck is just throwing stuff in a duffel bag”

You help him sort out his suitcase in silence.

“Throwing a party?” he jokes after a few minutes.

“No, just girls night. Wanda, Yelena and Nat are coming over, and we will watch some movies and eat a lot of junk food”

“Is that so?” he gives you a look and you glare.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Bucky told me what happened at the pool house a couple of weeks ago”

“Of course he did” you say, annoyed.

“I just want you to be careful. Safe, I mean”

“Well, Natasha and I have been together for almost a year now. Besides, it’s not like I’m doing anything you guys aren’t”

Steve doesn’t answer to that, which makes you look up.

“Wait”

“It’s no big deal” he rushes to say.

“My older brother is a virgin?”

He rolls his eyes.

“I just want it to be with someone I love” he defends, blushing.

“Aw, we Rogers are truly romantics. But I agree. Which is why… whenever it happens, I want it to be Nat. I love her, Stevie”

He nods, closing his suitcase.

“Enjoy girls night, then”

“Thanks. And Steve?” you call as he’s leaving the room. He turns to look at you, frowning. “Just tell them you’re enlisting in the army. I’m sure they’ll understand”

“Maybe when we’re back. Who knows, California might change my mind” he winks at you.

And by God, you wish it does. Bucky and you have talked about this. Both of your parents were in the military, though Colonel Rogers went on to retire and start his medical practice. Bucky’s father was still working in the Pentagon, usually too busy to care for his son.

Buck didn’t want that life for himself, and neither one of you could imagine Steve living it either.

“Find him a hot girl” you whisper in Bucky’s ear as you say goodbye.

“Will do. Also, I bought more condoms just in case you need them. You know where to find them, doll” he says quietly and you slap his shoulder.

“Ass”

“Be nice” your mother says, hugging you. “Are you sure you don’t wanna go?”

“Very. Have fun, you four. I’ll hold down the fort”

“No wild parties, no drinking, no…”

“No nonesense. Understood, Colonel Rogers” you salute him.

“Bye, sweetheart” your mother says, and you stand by the door to wave goodbye until the car is out of sight.

The house is clean, you’re caught up with homework… there’s not a lot to do. You decide to drive to the country club, since the day is perfect to play some tennis. To your surprise, Pietro is already there.

“Oh, my nemesis is here” he jokes when you approach him.

“Don’t be silly, Piet. There’s no competition, because I’m so much better than you”

“7 games?”

“Fine”

In between games, you talk about the family trip, and how you still don’t know what you’ll do after high school. Even if you have enough time, the fact that Steve and Bucky are leaving home is making you think about your own future more often.

“What about you? Are you guys going to college together?” you ask Pietro.

“Oh, Wanda hasn’t told you? Jarvis says she could go to school in London. To be closer to him”

“What?” you practically shout, missing the ball as Pietro wins the point. You walk up to the net and he approaches you, looking equally conflicted. “Please tell me you’re joking”

“I wish I was”

“She barely knows the guy”

“You know Wanda. Living in her sitcom fantasy land” he tsks.

“Well, we’re having a movie night later… I’ll see if I can talk some sense into her”

“Oh, she was feeling under the weather this morning. That’s why I ran here, while Mama quarantines her”

“Well, maybe she’ll feel better in the afternoon” you say, hoping that she won’t have to miss girls night. “Come on, I’m starving. Winner buys lunch”

“We didn’t finish!”

“I am conceding victory this time” you wink at him.

And sure enough, a few hours later, Wanda texts you to confirm she won’t be able to come tonight. You answer her right after you shower, hoping she feels better soon.

In fact, you’ll just go out now and grab her some stuff while you’re at it. But first, you decide to stop by the Romanoff house.

It becomes obvious Natasha��s the only one home when it takes a while to get inside.

“Listening to music?” you tease when she apologizes for taking so long.

“Sorry, detka. Hi” she holds your waist as you stand up on your toes to kiss her.

“Well, Wanda backed out of movie night because she got sick, so I was thinking on buying her some stuff and the snacks for tonight, save us a trip to the store. Wanna come?”

“Sorry to hear about Wanda. Let me just get changed and we’ll go buy the stuff” she says.

“Should we wait for Yelena?” you suggest, knowing her sister likes the most random selection of candy ever known to man.

“They just left to the doctor so it might take a while, detka”

“Ok, then”

You let Natasha drive your car to the store, resting your head against the seat, enjoying the music she’s playing and looking out the window. Even if you don’t say anything, Natasha can tell you’re in a sad mood, so she chooses your favorite songs and lets you think about whatever it is that’s bothering you.

Once at the store, you cheer up a little. You love shopping, especially for other people. It takes a good half an hour to get a care package sorted for your best friend, and every snack you think you might need for tonight.

Natasha tries to pay but you swat her hand away.

“My parents left me their credit card for an emergency”

“Is 50 bucks worth of snacks one?” she teases, and you show her your tongue.

“I think so, my friend is sick and Yelena is recovering. These are emotionally support snacks”

You leave the store and decide to drive back to your place.

“We can set everything up so when Yelena’s here we won’t have to worry about her eating everything before the movie starts” you say, and Natasha chuckles. “What?”

“You just know her so well. And yet, you never get upset. You’re better than me”

“I just… grew up around boys. She’s the sister I always wish I had. And you’re a great older sister, don’t say that, baby” you lean forward, kissing her cheek. She blushes, and you bite your lip. “Eyes on the road”

“Yeah, yeah”

Turns out Natasha is a pro at building pillow forts and that makes your heart swoon. You brought every clean blanket and cushions to the entertainment room with the huge screen, and she managed to turn it into a dream fortress. She even found fairy lights and decided to decorate around the room.

“Looks nice. But I think I should test it” you propose, diving into the middle of it, and stretching as you enjoy the feel of the clean sheets.

Natasha smiles, joining you a second later, and placing her hand around your waist to pull you closer.

“So?”

“Excellent, never been more comfy” you snuggle, enjoying her warmth.

It only takes a couple of minutes until you’re fast asleep, though Natasha’s not surprised. She knew your family decided to leave early and you didn’t go back to bed after saying goodbye to them. She also knew you were upset about something, and that probably made you restless.

Not now, though. Right now, your features are relaxed as Natasha holds you. When her hand goes up and down your arm, you sink your face in the crook of her neck. It doesn’t take long for Natasha to fall asleep too.

It must have been an hour later when you stirr in your sleep, and open your eyes, looking around. Natasha was with you, you remember as much. But where exactly are you? As you sit up, you look at the pillow fort facing the giant screen and remember movie night.

“Five more minutes” Natasha mutters when you move to stand up.

“I thought I was the lazy one” you joke.

“Not lazy. Comfy” Natasha mumbles, pulling you back down. You laugh, but allow her to hug you.

You spend the next minutes drawing patterns in her skin, with the occasional kiss to her jaw.

“Wanna talk about what’s upsetting you?”

“Everything’s changing” you blurt out. Natasha stays silent, knowing more’s coming. “Bucky’s moving to California. Steve is enlisting, though I hope he changes his mind. He hasn’t even told mom and dad yet, which makes me feel so anxious… and then today…”

“What? I’m here” Natasha squeezes your waist, leaning her forehead against yours.

“Pietro told me Wanda is considering going to London to be closer to Jarvis”

“She hasn’t even known him for that long” Natasha says the same words you uttered a few hours ago. At least that makes you smile.

“Yeah, I know. I mean, all these changes are making me feel a bit sad, and nostalgic, but also… I’m wondering where I’m going. And how the hell will I handle it if we go to different places”

“Detka, there’s a long way to go before that”

“I just can’t imagine life without seeing you every day” you try not to get emotional, but you end up holding her closer, hiding your face in case you do cry.

“Honestly? I can’t imagine it either, so maybe… maybe we come up with a plan to stay close to each other”

“But I thought you were going to MIT”

“For you, I’m willing to compromise” she says with a smile, looking completely at ease. This is the same girl that a few months ago was spiraling because she thought she might not get into her dream college. And now, she’s willing to go somewhere else for you?

That can’t be it. You’re not worth it. But as you look into her eyes, you don’t find any hesitation.

Which makes you dive and kiss her like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. Her lips are soft against yours and she places her hand on your lower back. At one point, you move to straddle her hips, and she responds by cupping your ass.

For the first time today, your mind goes to what could happen if you had the courage to cross a line. The house is empty and you have nowhere to be for a few more hours…

Loud thunder rumbles and you look up. Natasha doesn’t even flinch, taking the opportunity to kiss your neck.

“Did you hear that? Nat”

“Nope”

“Wait, it’s raining and I…”

Your mother said something about the rain. But Natasha’s lips on your pulse point and now her hand trying to undo the button of your jeans makes it hard to focus.

Something about the pool house windows… and her plants.

“Damn it” you say when you remember.

Some of her plants are out and the water could kill them. And the windows of the pool house are open so the house could flood.

“Wait!” Natasha runs behind you, and you don’t have time to explain everything, knowing your mother will be upset if you don’t do the one thing she asked you to.

“Close the windows, I’ll get the plants!” you shriek as soon as you feel the cold water soaking your clothes.

“Those are heavy, let me help you!” Natasha runs behind you, and carries some of the pots.

“The windows!” you run, slipping around as soon as you’re done saving the plants.

“Detka, slow down, you’re gonna get hurt”

“You don’t understand how serious my mother is about her plants and her floors. She can be scarier than Dad” you say, out of breath. “Ok, we did it”

Natasha stares at you and you start laughing, knowing you were being absolutely ridiculous.

“I’ll get us some towels” you say, shivering. You walk past her, your bodies pressing together.

As you disappear into the closet, Natasha’s phone rings. She has to dry the screen with the sleeve of her shirt.

“Natalia?”

“Hey, Mom. Sorry, we got caught in the storm. We’ll get Yelena as soon as it dies down”

“Sweetheart, she’s very tired from the doctor and it doesn’t seem like the storm will stop anytime soon” Melina says, looking out the window. “Maybe you should stay with Y/N, it might be safer. Plus she won’t be all alone”

“Oh. Ok” Natasha says.

Is it really that easy? After the planning, the failed attempts. Getting a day alone all because of a storm seems like too good to be true.

“Be safe, ok?” her mother says, and it is clear for Natasha that she’s not just talking about the weather.

“Yes, Mama” Natasha says, hanging up after a second.

Will she have the courage to take that step with you? Natasha continues to look at her screen, barely listening as you walk back into the room, a towel around your shoulders. You took off your shirt and left it in the bathrrom.

“Sorry, are you cold? We could go back to the house and wait out the storm there. Or if you want you can shower”

While you drape a towel over Natasha’s shoulders, you kiss the spot behind her ear. It’s not meant to start anything, but it still makes her heart skip a beat. She turns around, and the way she’s looking at you makes you pause.

“Baby?” you say in a low voice. Natasha inches closer, as if a sudden movement will scare you away. But you stay in your spot, until her forehead is against yours and she’s nudging her nose with yours. Her hands travel from your shoulders, leaving a trail of goosebumps until she reaches for your hands.

“Hey”

“Hi”

Natasha smiles at you, inching closer until her lips brush against yours. You can’t describe what’s so different about this kiss but you feel it, in the way she’s holding you, taking her time to explore your mouth.

“You’re cold. Take this off” you say, pulling at her shirt. She nods, lifting her arms so you take off the garnment, appreciating the way her muscles flex. The movement makes your towel slide down, and you unclasp your bra. Natasha holds her breath as you step out of your denim shorts.

The cold air isn’t the cause of your shivering. It’s the way Natasha’s staring at you, hungry and eager. She doesn’t break eye contact as she kneels in front of you, her hands resting gently on your hips.

“Can I?” Natasha asks, looking up at you. You answer by nodding, and she moves to slide down your underwear until you’re naked in front of her.

It’s a little overwhelming and you can’t help but feel exposed. As you’re about to take a step back, Natasha’s grip on your hips tightens. She kisses your navel, her nose sinking in your flesh.

“Nat…” you hold on to her shoulders, shaking.

“Lay down. Let me take care of you” she pleads.

As you sit on the couch, your mind is racing with worries. Will she like this, are you going to know what to do to make her feel good, what if…?

But then you feel her placing a kiss on the inside of your thigh, and everything around you turns irrelevant. Anticipating her touch has you holding your breath, and you don’t realise how tense you are until you feel her mouth moving close to your center, and you twitch in her grasp when she places a tentative kiss against your folds.

“Sorry. I’m sensitive” you chuckle, looking down at her. The way those green orbs observe you, and how she smiles make your heart jump.

“It’s ok, just let me know if you’re uncomfortable?”

“Yeah…”

Truth is, you’re anything but uncomfortable, pleasure coursing through you as she begins to dart her tongue out, moving and prodding against your entrance. It feels so good, and it’s an unexpected surprise. Natasha has her eyes closed, as if she’s in the middle of a sacred ritual, enjoying every inch of you, every twitch of your body, the taste you leave in her tongue.

When her lips close around your clit, you can’t control the loud moan that escapes, and you arch your back hoping that she’ll do it again.

“Just like that” you mutter, happy that she got the hint and is now nibbling at your bundle of nerves, inching you closer and closer to a blinding orgasm. You barely have time to warn her, threading your fingers through her hair and closing your legs around her head.

“You’re so… delicious” she whispers when she goes back up, holding herself over you. There’s so much love and reverence in her voice that part of you loses control, your hand sliding down to grab her cock and line it up with your entrance.

“Uh, c-condom?” Natasha stutters.

“Right. Sorry” you laugh, pecking her lips. She stands up, knowing where they are after the other day when you almost had sex. This time, there’s no one who can interrupt the moment, the rain providing a soothing background noise.

“Can I?” you ask, biting your lip. Natasha takes a second to nod, and you don’t know if she takes this long to pull her briefs down because she wants to tease you or she’s just shy.

Now, you can appreciate how thick her cock is, as it springs free. The tip is reddened, looking ready to burst. Eating you out had her more worked up than you thought.

Natasha twitches when you begin to place the condom, and you apologize quietly. Though you’re not really sorry, but proud to learn your touch can also make her this excited.

“Want me to be on top?” she asks and you think about it for a second.

“Yes, baby” you lay back down, spreading your legs and appreciating how Natasha’s eyes linger on your wet pussy. “Come on, I’m getting cold”

You can tell she’s a little anxious as she settles between your legs, so you hold her face with your hands, kissing her softly until she begins to relax. Natasha melts against you, and once the kiss turns more frantic, she lines up against your cunt, breathing heavily when you encourage her with your hands, cupping her ass.

“I’m a big girl. I can handle that big cock” you say, hoping the teasing will ease the tension. But the dirty words have an unexpected result, when Natasha moans and bottoms out completely.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” she panics, trying to back away. Your hands keep her in place as you breath in and out, adjusting to the stretch.

“I’m ok. You can move now” you whisper against her ear. Natasha begins to move, finding it hard to set the pace, but growing confident at your little whimpers and her own pleasure.

“Can you take it faster?” she asks and you nod, knowing that’s exactly what will send you over the edge.

Natasha’s weight on top of you, trapping you, caging you while you moan in her ear is the best feeling in the world. The heat between your bodies makes you flush, even if outside it’s still pouring and the wind is cold.

By the way Natasha’s frowning and whimpering, you can tell she’s close. You begin to move against her thrusts, one hand sliding down to play with your clit as she keeps fucking you.

“You close?”

“Yeah… you? I can hold it if…”

“It’s ok, let go” you say, biting down her earlobe, hips hesitating for a moment as Natasha begins to come undone. You follow shortly, pulling her impossibly close to you until her arms give out, and she’s laying on top of you.

Your heavy breathing is all that can be heard for a couple of minutes, until Natasha looks up, her cheeks almost as red as her hair.

“You ok, detka?”

“Well, I’m kinda hungry”

“For food?”

“Yes, for food” you roll your eyes. Natasha laughs, kissing your temple. “Come on, we need more energy if we’re gonna keep going”

“Keep going?” she mumbles and you swear you can feel her harden inside you.

“Well, yes. We have all night” you kiss her, your tongue darting out. “And I am not done with you”

—

There’s an unfamiliar weight and warmth as you begin to wake up. You turn around, coming face to face with red hair, your girlfriend lightly snoring against the pillow.

After getting food, you decided to stay in the room with the pillow fort, because it would have been awful if all of Natasha’s hard work just went to waste.

There wasn’t a lot of movie watching, though. Instead, you spent the night exploring each other’s bodies, going through Bucky’s stash of protection (whatever, you’d buy him more condoms later).

Now, your girlfriend is exhausted and you couldn’t be prouder.

“You’re staring” she mumbles against her pillow.

“You’re cute” you say, kissing her nose. “I love you. And that was… incredible. You made me feel amazing. I hope I made you feel good too”

“Good is an understatement. And I love you too, detka. Now, sleep for a bit more. Yelena’s gonna be mad she missed movie night, and will call in two hours saying we should go to the mall”

“Mmmkay” you say, laying back down and tangling your legs around hers. “But we could do a lot in two hours, ya know”

“Detka” she warns you, though you feel her sinking her nails in your hip. You’d wear those marks proudly.

“Breakfast, then sex?” you propose with a laugh.

“Nap, sex, then breakfast”

“Deal” you say, smiling against her neck.

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

October 15 - Orgasm Denial

pairing: dom!Wanda x sub!Reader

summary: Wanda denies you when you're desperate for her.

content warnings: strap-on

word count: 1.1k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

A long sigh escapes you, and you toss the book you’d been reading onto the floor. Honestly, when Wanda had decided to work from home today, you’d been excited at the thought of having her all to yourself. 

Unfortunately for you, she’d been busy in her office all day, shooing you out with sharp looks and a click of her fingers. 

You’d been left to fend for yourself and do your daily tasks with the knowledge that Wanda was in the next room over. It was hard not to distract her, especially since you’d been motivated to finish your tasks quickly. So now you were lounging around in the bedroom, attempting to focus on your book and failing, and bored out of your mind. 

Maybe you could go see if Wanda was still busy.

With a smile on your face, you leap to your feet and make your way toward her office. You make sure your footsteps are quiet, not wanting to disturb her too badly. The last thing you wanted right now was a punishment. 

You slowly open the door, admiring Wanda as she comes into view. Her head is down, her hand writing something in a notebook while she clutches her phone next to her ear. Someone is speaking, you can hear the tiny voice as she continues to write, throwing in an occasional ‘hmm’ or ‘uh huh’ as she listens. 

Taking a step into the room, you gently close the door. The slight sound of the latch clicking shut catches Wanda’s attention, her head snapping up. Those green eyes lock on yours, and you freeze with your hand still on the doorknob. 

Wanda purses her lips, pointing her pen towards the chair next to her desk, a silent command. You obey, your footsteps quiet as you slowly sink into the chair. You watch her as she begins to wrap up the conversation, impatience creeping into her tone. 

Boredom takes over again, your feet tapping against the floor. You can see Wanda’s eyes watching them, her brow furrowed slightly, so you force yourself to still. Being silent and stationary has never been one of your strong points. 

Murmuring her goodbyes, Wanda releases a sigh after hanging up the phone. 

“Yes, darling?” 

You smile, standing from your chair and making your way over to Wanda. She leans back in her chair, rolling it backward and patting her lap. Eagerly, you sit down, your smile freezing on your face when you feel the bulge in her pants. 

Fuck. You hadn’t realized she was packing. 

It feels like every synapse in your brain starts firing at the same time, the blood from your head rushing down and making your clit throb as arousal clouds your mind. 

“You haven’t been very patient today,” Wanda says, her hands moving to your hips and squeezing, a reminder to remain still. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, your response automatic. “I was just excited that you were home.”

Wanda smiles at that, before she leans in to kiss your neck softly. “Good, sweetheart,” she murmurs between kisses. “But you were very distracting.”

“I was?”

Nodding, Wanda trails her hands up your stomach and cups your chest, her thumbs moving over your already-hard nipples. “Yes, baby. Wearing such a slutty little outfit and teasing me all day has gotten Mommy feeling restless.”

Your mind goes blank, the feeling of her hands working up your body sending you into a haze. Her green eyes are locked on your chest, the low-cut top you’re wearing practically disintegrating beneath her gaze. 

Her hands slowly move underneath your shirt, moving the thin fabric up and over your head while you help her take it off. You went without a bra today, and you smile at the hitch in Wanda’s breath as she takes in your nude torso. 

“Fuck,” she whispers, and you feel her roll her hips up. You feel your clit bump against her bulge, and a breathy moan escapes you. 

Wanda’s eyes snap up to yours, her hands returning to your chest and squeezing while you arch your back. She maintains eye contact with you, and you watch her pupils dilate when your moans get slightly louder. 

“Beg for my strap.”

It’s a command, and you immediately open your mouth to respond. Her bulge is firmly against you now, and you grind down on it as the words spew from your mouth. 

“Please let me have your strap, I need it so badly. Oh, god I need it. I’ve been waiting all day, I even got all my tasks done before lunch. I just want your attention and your strap and… fuck. Please just fill me up, Mommy. Use me however you want to.”

Wanda smirks, “However I want?”

Nodding quickly, you feel desperation rise within you. You need her strap inside you. You’re pretty sure you’re soaking her pants with the amount of arousal leaking from you, but you don’t really care. Thank god you wore a skirt today, all you wanted right now was for Wanda to slide her strap deep inside you and fuck you until you couldn’t speak anymore. 

Shushing you, Wanda unbuckles her belt and slides the zipper down. You watch in anticipation as she pulls out her dark red strap, the thickness of it making your mouth water slightly. 

In one smooth motion, Wanda lifts you up and positions you over her strap. You moan as you sink down on it, the length hitting you perfectly as you feel yourself spasm in pleasure around it. 

“Hold on to my shoulders, sweetheart,” Wanda murmurs, and you obey. Your fingers grip her tightly, and she braces herself as she begins to fuck up into you. 

It feels fucking amazing. You can feel yourself slipping further into a vanilla haze, your orgasm creeping up on the edges of your consciousness. Wanda’s hands are everywhere, in your hair and slipping over your waist and gripping your hips as her strap slams into you repeatedly. 

You can feel the strap perfectly hitting all the right spots, and Wanda slips one of her hands down between your legs to rub furiously at your clit. 

“Fuck, I-” you stammer, feeling your orgasm rising quickly. “Wanda please… I need it. Please let me cum, I- fuck I’m so close…”

The words escaping your mouth become jumbled and incoherent. Wanda just smiles at you, her head tilting. 

Your blood runs cold. 

“No.”

Wanda pulls her hand away, quickly pulling you off her strap and setting you on her thighs instead. You can see her strap glistening in front of you, and you let out a sob as you feel your orgasm quickly fade. 

“Why?” Your voice sounds pathetic, but you don’t care. 

“Because darling,” Wanda says, leaning forward. “You need to learn a lesson in patience.”

She leans back, smirking at you as you pant and try to calm your racing heartbeat. God, she was evil for that, but you supposed that you deserved it. After all, you’d been annoying her all day. 

At least now you had her attention.

[brinasheqrt]

Overthinking

pairings - sabrina carpenter x fem!reader

wc - 1.7k

warnings - mild angst, spiralling(?)

You tell yourself it’s fine. That people get busy. That performers on international tours probably don’t have the time to FaceTime their girlfriends every day. Or even every other day.

But when it becomes seven days—seven—with no call, not even a half-asleep voice note or a badly typed “love u,” something shifts. And your brain, ever the dramatic little gremlin that it is, decides to do what it does best:

Panic.

You’re not mad. That would be easier, cleaner, safer. You’re something worse. You’re convinced she’s slipping away.

It starts subtly, in the quiet moments.

You look at your phone a little too often. Open your messages just to stare at the last one she sent—a red heart, a week ago, after her Madrid show. You imagine her typing it fast, distracted. Maybe half-smiling. Maybe not.

Then you check her Instagram.

Bad move. Always a bad move.

She looks radiant, of course. She always does. New post from Berlin: her on stage, glitter under her eyes, hand reaching toward a sea of lights. Caption: “thank u for making my dreams real.”

Nothing about missing home. Nothing about missing you.

And that’s when your mind kicks into high gear.

Maybe she’s grown out of this. Maybe you were a good in-between. A soft place to land before the next chapter started. You, with your overthinking and your silent panics and your inability to just chill.

You hate how quickly you spiral, but there’s no stopping it now.

You sink into the couch and stare at the wall like it might blink first. It doesn’t. It’s blank. Still. Just like your phone.

You start replaying every conversation from the last few weeks. Was she distant last time you talked? Did she rush off the call? Did she sound bored? Did she stop saying “I love you” with that softness in her voice?

You remember the last call. She was in bed, face barely lit by her phone screen, eyes heavy. She smiled at you. Said she missed your voice. Said she wished you were next to her.

But maybe she didn’t mean it. Maybe she was just tired and saying what she thought you wanted to hear. Maybe the tour, the crowd, the adrenaline—it’s all more alive than you are to her now.

You’re not fun. You don’t dance like her backup singers or laugh at the right moments in interviews. You’re just here, in a quiet apartment, too many time zones away, loving her like it’s a full-time job.

Maybe that’s too much.

Maybe she needs something lighter.

You lie down sideways on the couch, blanket wrapped around you like armor. Your stomach hurts. Your chest is tight in that way it gets when your feelings outgrow your body and start pressing against your ribs, like they’re trying to break out.

You tell yourself you’re being dramatic. But that doesn’t help.

You wonder if she’s met someone new. Someone who understands the chaos of tour life. Someone beautiful and magnetic and not lying on a couch somewhere, crying into a hoodie that smells like her perfume.

You try to text her. Delete it. Try again.

You settle on: “Hey. Hope tour’s going okay.”

But you don’t send it.

It feels weak. Or maybe you do.

You end up typing and deleting so many times that your fingers go numb.

Eventually, you just stare at the wall again. White. Quiet. Unchanging.

It’s weird how loud a blank space can be.

You think about your life.

About how you used to be fine before her. Not happy, necessarily, but stable. Safe in your routines. And now? She’s rewired your entire nervous system and you don’t even know if she remembers to miss you anymore.

You think about all the people who say, “If they love you, you’ll know.”

You did know. At first. Every call, every kiss, every sleepy “baby, I don’t wanna hang up yet.” It was so clear. You never had to ask. Never had to wonder.

But now?

Now you feel like a question she hasn’t answered in days.

The wall still doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

You fall asleep at some point—restless, dreamless, curled in on yourself like a bruise.

And then your phone buzzes.

It’s 2:17 a.m.

Unknown number.

Your heart stops. Then jumps.

Voicemail.

Sabrina.

Your fingers shake as you hit play.

“Hey. Hi. Um… okay. I suck.”

She laughs, breathless and soft. The kind of laugh that only comes after running or crying or both.

“I’ve been trying to call all day and it just… didn’t happen. We had back-to-back shows and the WiFi’s garbage and my voice is gone and I miss you so much I almost cried during soundcheck.”

A pause. A long, shaky inhale.

“I know what your brain’s probably doing right now. You’re spiraling, aren’t you?”

You exhale sharply. God. She knows you.

“I hate that I let it get to this point. I hate that I disappeared. I didn’t mean to. I just—I didn’t want to call you when I only had five minutes. I wanted to really talk. But five minutes became a day, and then the days stacked up, and now it’s been a week and you probably think I don’t care.”

Another pause. Softer this time.

“I care. I love you. I love you so much it’s actually ridiculous. I’ve been falling asleep thinking about your voice, your face, the way you roll your eyes when I leave dishes in the sink.”

You smile, tears burning behind your eyes.

“I haven’t stopped loving you. Not even for a second. I just forgot how loud silence can sound when someone’s waiting on the other end.”

Her voice cracks a little.

“Please don’t let your mind tell you you’re too much. You’re perfectly much. You’re my favorite overthinker. My favorite everything.”

She exhales. “Okay, I have to go. But I’m gonna call again tomorrow. For real. We’ll talk as long as you want. Or say nothing. Whatever you need. I just… I love you. So much.”

The message ends.

And you just sit there. Staring at your phone.

The wall’s still there. Still blank. But somehow, it feels less cruel now.

You wrap the blanket tighter, curl up on the couch again, and let yourself cry.

Not because you’re broken. Not because you’re panicking.

But because someone who loves you knows what your brain does, and calls anyway.

⸻

[gay-dorito-dust]

i didn't realise i could just ask here than from messages im so sorry 💀 but im hungry so can you please write some more damian scenarios 😕 (angst/fluff PLEASE 🙏) im sorry if I'm bothering you but i can't get enough of your writing 😔 hope you're taking care of yourself tho!! :)))

This’ll probably seem really short but it’s like almost 10pm and I’m running on fumes and bad mental health days lately 😂

‘What’re you doing my treasure.’ Damian said as he walked into his room, only to find you had let Ace and Titus on the bed and he had to blink twice to make sure his mind wasn’t making up them wearing pyjamas on top of that.

‘Nothing.’ You said nonchalantly as you brought Titus in your arms, cuddling him while he remained looking at his owner.

‘I thought I said none of our pets should be on the bed?’ Damian then said as he gestured to the two dogs that you had let on the bed without his permission as though the situation you both faced wasn’t obvious.

‘I was feeling lonely when you were out on patrol.’ You replied, pouting. ‘That and I was bored and out the dogs in pyjamas to feel included with me being in pyjamas.’ You added as you smiled widely at him. Damian sighed, he shouldn’t be surprised, this was bound to happen sooner or later since you still had a couple more weeks to heal your leg before being cleared for vigilante work again.

So naturally you are going to rope in Titus and Ace one way or another in your shenanigans much like you did with Jerry and Goliath when you had hurt your arm, Damian almost lost his mind trying to find you only to find you fast sleep stop of Goliath, with Jerry acting on guard in front of you both. It was certainly a humorous sight had he not been on high alert when he couldn’t find you in bed upon his return from a mission with Bruce.

‘You could’ve waited until I came back my beloved, I don’t want you hurting your self further just trying to entertain yourself.’ Damian lightly scolded you as he walked over to your side of the bed, kissing you on the forehead before greeting -and thanking- ace and Titus with head pats and ear scratches, as an almost missable smile graced his face upon seeing the two dogs poetically melt into his scratches.

This was the sight he loved most when coming home and he always wanted to come home to this as many times as he could in the nearby distant future.

‘I’ll be fine Dami,’ you said softly as you reached out to hold his cheek in your hand, ‘I’m not doing anything that’ll cause me any discomfort or more pain then I’m already in and that I’ve been in really good company.’ You gesture towards ace and Titus who would press themselves against either of your sides, acting as living crutches for you when you tried to move about the room and down the halls, they’d even look up at you as though to silently ask if you were okay and if you needed to sit down soon.

You knew Damian was behind this and couldn’t help but bring him into a tender to his forehead. ‘Thank you.’ You whispered.

‘For what my treasure?’ He asks softly as he manages to settle himself on the edge of your shared bed.

‘For having ace and Titus look out of me when you’re gone, sometimes I forget how well you know me to know that I’d get restless when healing.’ You said as you patted both dogs on their sides in appreciation as they both decided that they had gotten comfortable enough to start falling asleep. Neither you nor Damian had the heart to tell them to get off, and silently decided that one night every so often could Ace and Titus could share the bed with you and Damian.

‘Like you said I know you, better then most, and I’d like it more if you didn’t go and get yourself hurt from trying to do something beyond your current capability.’ Damian admitted softly as he began to get into more comfortable sleepwear to join you, Titus and ace in bed by climbing into your side of the bed and holding you again his chest upon seeing as how Titus and ace took up his side of the bed.

‘How sweet of you my dear.’ You said cheekily as you kissed his hand that rested on your side before yawning.

‘Sleep my love,’ Damian said softly as he watched you rest your weary and heavy head upon his chest, ‘sleep sweetly.’ He adds just as you succumb to long awaited sleep as he kissed your forehead, only to follow after you not long after being certain that you’d wouldn’t be bothered anymore before joining you in the dream realm either Titus and Ace.

[moonlitsmile]

Just ride

dbf Joel Miller x f!reader

“Been tryin' hard not to get into trouble, but I, I've got a war in my mind. So, I just ride”

꣑୧ — summary | When boredom strikes, your dad casually suggests you learn how to ride a horse, and of course, who better to teach you than his oldest friend, Joel Miller? His “lessons” start off innocent enough, until things take a turn neither of you can ignore. Turns out, riding a horse isn’t the only thing he’s good at teaching.

🝮 oral sex, RAW, reader on birth control apparently, dom joel sub reader, riding, learning how to ride Joel, age gap (readers 20, he’s early 40s), making out, teasing, talking and guiding you thru it, he has horses in here, no apocalypse, Sarah’s alive, long hair Joel, lmk if I missed anything!!

The morning was still, the kind of still that almost made you feel like the world had hit pause. No cars passing by the window. No birds chirping. Even the trees outside looked half-asleep, their branches barely stirring in the breeze.

You’d woken up early, not on purpose, just one of those mornings where your body decided it was done resting long before your mind was ready. For a while, you tried to fight it. Pulled the covers up to your chin, shifted onto your side, flipped the pillow to the cold side, all in hopes of drifting back off. But it didn’t take

So now you were here. Lying in bed with your head hanging off the side, your eyes on the ceiling, watching the slow movement of shadows as the sun inched higher.

You’d already done a handful of aimless things. Brushed your teeth. Made your bed, then immediately laid on top of it. Spent ten minutes scrolling through your phone only to toss it aside when you realized you’d absorbed none of it.

Eventually, you’d ended up back in your room with an old coloring book and a cheap pack of colored pencils, something you found buried in the back of your closet. The kind of thing you kept around for “calm days” but never actually used. Now it was splayed out across your bed, pencils rolling every time you shifted, and you couldn’t even remember which page you started with.

You weren’t coloring because you enjoyed it. You were coloring because… well, there was nothing else to do.

Your room was warm with sunlight, just the right amount of cozy that made you want to nap, even if you couldn’t fall asleep again. The window was cracked open just a little, letting in the crisp scent of early spring, damp earth, blooming trees, something green.

Time felt syrupy. Slow. You weren’t sure how long you’d been laying there, staring at a page half-filled with soft blues and muted greens, your fingers smudged from rubbing mistakes away.

The house was quiet aside from the occasional groan of the floorboards or the tick of the clock in the hallway. Your dad was probably still in the kitchen, drinking his second or third cup of coffee and reading the paper like he did every morning. That kind of predictability felt comforting and claustrophobic at the same time.

You sat up with a groan and rubbed your hands over your face.

You weren’t tired. You weren’t stressed. You weren’t even sad. You were just… bored

The kind of bored that made your chest feel tight. Like you needed to do something with your hands, or your legs, or your life, or you were going to crawl out of your skin.

With a deep sigh, you pushed the coloring book off your lap and let it flop closed beside you. You stretched, arms high above your head, back arching until you heard a soft pop in your spine. It felt good, but didn’t help.

You stood slowly, the soles of your feet cold against the hardwood as you padded out of your room, aimless and restless all at once.

The day stretched out ahead of you, bright, quiet, and endlessly uneventful.

You had no idea it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

-

You found your dad exactly where you expected him: hunched slightly at the kitchen table, coffee mug in one hand, reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he scrolled through something on his phone. The same gray t-shirt he wore every weekend was wrinkled at the collar, and there was a faint smear of toothpaste on his sleeve.

“Morning,” he said without looking up, thumb flicking the screen.

You opened the fridge. “It’s not even morning anymore.”

“It is until I finish my coffee.”

You pulled out a container of sliced melon, popped the lid off, and leaned against the counter while you ate a piece. “You have any plans today?”

He shrugged. “Was thinking about running to the feed store, maybe swinging by the lumber yard. Why?”

You hesitated. “Just wondering. I feel like I’ve already done everything I can do around here.”

He chuckled lowly. “Did you clean out the gutters like you said you were gonna?”

You narrowed your eyes at him and popped another piece of melon in your mouth. “I meant fun things.”

“Well, ‘round here, errands are about as fun as it gets.”

He glanced up at you then, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re welcome to come along. Could use a second set of hands if I end up grabbing plywood.”

You gave it a moment, then shrugged. “Sure. Better than sitting here doing nothing.”

The feed store smelled like hay and sawdust and something slightly sour that clung to your shirt long after you left. You trailed behind your dad as he chatted with the cashier, someone he clearly knew, judging by the way they laughed like old friends, and loaded a few bags of pellets onto a cart.

After that came the lumber yard. You helped him load wood into the bed of his truck, your arms straining a little more than you wanted to admit as you wrestled with one awkward sheet of plywood. Your dad watched, amused, but didn’t say anything. He just handed you his gloves once it was all stacked and secure, and told you to hop in.

It was the kind of day that moved slowly in pieces. One errand blending into the next. You stopped for gas, then grabbed sandwiches from a drive-thru you hadn’t been to in years. Sat in the parking lot and ate in silence, the radio playing quietly between bites.

“You really that bored?” he asked suddenly, wiping his hands on a napkin.

You nodded, slumped back in your seat. “I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Should’ve brought a book.”

“I did. I finished it yesterday.”

He chuckled and shook his head, staring out the windshield. “You need a hobby.”

“I have hobbies. I’m just… sick of them all.”

He gave a thoughtful hum, like he was filing that away for later. “Well,” he said after a minute, “You could always try something new,” he said again, more pointedly this time, tapping his fingers lightly against the steering wheel.

You turned your head toward him, eyebrow raised. “Like what? Don’t say gardening, I swear to God.”

He smirked. “Wasn’t gonna say gardening.”

You gave him a look, waiting.

He glanced over at you, then back at the road. “You ever think about learnin’ how to ride a horse?”

You blinked. “A horse?”

“Yeah.”

You laughed softly, unsure if he was joking. “Uh… no. Never really crossed my mind.”

“Why not?”

“I dunno,” you said with a shrug. “It’s just not something I’ve ever needed to do. Seems like it’d be cool, I guess, but… not exactly on my bucket list.”

“Well, you got nothin’ but time right now,” he said, tone casual. “Doesn’t hurt to try somethin’ different. Gives you a reason to be outside, too.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, thinking about it. You could picture it vaguely, dusty trails, big eyes and warm skin, the sway of movement you’d have to learn to balance with. It was definitely more interesting than laying around coloring flowers.

“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” you muttered, tossing your empty sandwich wrapper into the paper bag on the floor.

Your dad nodded like he’d been waiting for that. “Well, Joel’s got a few horses out on his land. Knows ‘em inside out. Keeps ‘em trained and calm.”

You froze, just for a second. Not dramatically, barely enough to notice, but your breath caught in a way it hadn’t all day. Joel.

“Joel?” you repeated, keeping your voice even.

“Yeah. He’s always been good with animals. Has the patience for it,” your dad said. “I could give him a call, see if he’s around this week. Wouldn’t mind takin’ a few hours to show you the ropes.”

You nodded slowly, picking at a loose thread on your shirt. “Hm. I mean, yeah. That could be cool.”

Your dad glanced over again, one brow raised. “You sure? Thought you said it never crossed your mind.”

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t try it,” you said, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “I said I was bored, not dead inside.”

He huffed a short laugh, shifting the truck into drive. “Alright, I’ll check in with him. Might do you some good to get outta the house for a bit.”

You leaned your head against the window as the engine rumbled back to life, eyes half-lidded, watching the trees blur past as you pulled back onto the road. You weren’t sure what you expected from the rest of the day, but a slow horseback ride under a quiet sky suddenly didn’t sound so bad. And for some reason, neither did Joel.

-

You kept it casual at first.

Later that afternoon, while helping unload the wood from the back of the truck, you asked once.

“Did you text Joel yet?”

Your dad, arms full of tools, grunted. “I will. Gimme a minute.”

Then again that evening, when he was washing up after dinner.

“Hey, just wondering… did you ever ask Joel about the horse thing?”

He gave you a half-smile in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. “You’re in a real hurry to hop on a saddle, huh?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it.

By the next morning, you were pacing. Not like a lunatic, just enough that your dad noticed.

“I texted him,” he said, sipping from his mug. “He’s busy today, but said maybe sometime this week. He’ll let me know.”

You tried not to sound too eager. “Cool. That’s cool.”

But the truth was… you wanted to see him.

Joel Miller had been part of your life for as long as you could remember. He and your dad had known each other since before you were born, grew up a few towns over, played ball together in high school, stuck close even when life pulled them in different directions. Joel had always been around in the way family friends are: birthdays, barbecues, lazy Sundays where he’d drop by with a six-pack and end up fixing something that had been broken for months

He was reliable. Good with his hands. Knew how to make things work, cars, fences, busted porch steps, even people. There was something about him that felt grounded, unshakable. And maybe that’s what made you nervous around him.

He wasn’t loud or flashy. He didn’t try to be funny or charming. But he was, in that quiet, steady kind of way that crept up on you.

Even when you were younger, you’d get this weird flutter in your stomach when he was near. It didn’t matter if he was just helping your dad fix the sink or lighting the grill out back, he had this easy confidence, this worn-in kind of handsomeness that felt… different from the boys you knew. You used to brush it off as nothing, just nerves around an older guy. A harmless little thing.

But the older you got, the harder it became to ignore.

Especially now, when you were old enough to recognize it for what it really was.

You didn’t want to just learn how to ride a horse.

You wanted to see him. Talk to him. Be near him without feeling like some awkward kid anymore.

You tried not to think too much about it. You told yourself it was about the horses, about getting out of the house, about trying something new.

But when you asked your dad again that evening “Did he say specifically when yet?”you knew that wasn’t really the reason.

-

The week dragged.

You tried to keep yourself busy, picked up a new book, reorganized your closet, even offered to help your dad with some chores you usually avoided like the plague. You swept out the garage, folded laundry, went on a walk around the block just to stretch your legs. Anything to kill time

But no matter what you did, you kept catching yourself drifting, your thoughts slipping toward him.

You didn’t tell anyone. Not your friends. Not your dad. It was just something quiet and personal, tucked away where no one could poke at it.

Still, every time your phone buzzed, your heart kicked up a little, hoping maybe your dad had forwarded something, “Joel said tomorrow” or “He’s got time this afternoon” but nothing ever came.

Monday passed. Then Tuesday. Wednesday. And by Friday, you were starting to think it wasn’t going to happen at all. Maybe Joel got too busy. Maybe your dad forgot. Or maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

You let it go, sort of. Told yourself to stop thinking about it. Stopped asking. Stopped hoping.

And then came Saturday.

You were still in bed when your door creaked open. The light from the hallway spilled across your floor, and you groaned, flipping onto your stomach and burying your face in the pillow.

“Hey,” your dad said casually, leaning on the doorframe. “You awake?”

“No,” you mumbled into the blanket.

“Well, you better be. Go get dressed. You’re headin’ over to Joel’s.”

You sat up so fast the blood rushed to your head. “Wait—what?”

“He’s free today. Said he’s got a couple hours and doesn’t mind showin’ you the basics.” He looked amused, like he was already expecting your reaction.

Your heart thudded against your ribs as you blinked at him, wide-eyed. “Now?”

“Yep. You’ve got, like, twenty minutes. I’ll drive you over.”

And just like that, the lazy haze of the morning snapped away. You were fully awake now, nerves suddenly alive under your skin.

You nodded quickly and scrambled out of bed the second he shut the door, already rifling through your dresser, trying to figure out what the hell to wear that looked like you weren’t trying too hard but also didn’t just roll out of bed.

And underneath all the butterflies and nervous energy, there was one steady thought in your chest, You were finally going to see him.

You moved fast, faster than you had all week.

The second your dad’s footsteps disappeared down the hall, you threw open your closet and started grabbing clothes. Everything suddenly felt too tight or too baggy or too much. You held up two different shirts, frowned, tossed them both on the bed, then settled on something simple, a simple white tshirt that gently hugged your figure, and loose blue jeans. the ones that hugged you just right and made you feel comfortable but not sloppy.

You hesitated at the mirror, pulling your hair out of its sleep-tangled mess with your fingers. Then you grabbed a brush and ran it through a little too fast, wincing as you hit a knot.

“Shit—ow.”

You could already feel the heat creeping up your neck, not even out of the house yet and your pulse was picking up speed. You kept brushing anyway, smoothing everything down, watching yourself carefully like maybe you’d see some version of confidence reflected back.

When you were done, you stared for a second too long.

You looked fine. Natural. Like someone who was just going to learn how to ride a horse and not like someone totally overthinking what it meant to be around Joel Miller.

Still… you ran a touch of gloss over your lips. Just a little.

Just in case.

By the time you walked out of your room and into the kitchen, your dad was already standing by the front door, keys in hand.

“Bout time,” he said, amused. “You were gettin’ ready like you had a date.”

You froze for a split second, heartbeat jumping, but he was already chuckling, heading toward the car

You followed quickly, trying not to think about how your stomach flipped at the idea.

Because no, it wasn’t a date.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t something.

You climbed into the passenger seat and pulled the door shut behind you, your palms already warm with anticipation. Your dad started the engine, shifted into reverse, and pulled out onto the road like it was any other day.

But it didn’t feel like any other day.

Because you were finally going to see him. Joel.

And you didn’t know what was waiting for you on the other side of that drive, but you were already a little breathless thinking about it.

The drive to Joel’s wasn’t long, but every minute felt stretched and slow, like the quiet tension of waiting backstage before stepping into a spotlight.

Your dad kept the windows cracked, the warm morning air drifting in and tousling your hair. The radio played low, some old 80s song you didn’t know the words to, and he tapped the steering wheel to the beat, completely relaxed. Like this was just another Saturday, no different than the last.

“You ever ride before?” he asked, glancing over at you.

What kinda question was that? He’s been with you your whole life

You shook your head. “Nope.”

“Joel’s good at teaching. Patient as hell.”

You nodded again, watching the trees blur past your window. His voice faded after that, becoming more like background noise as your mind drifted elsewhere.

You thought about Joel’s voice, the gravel in it. The way his hands always looked a little roughed up, but steady. You remembered the way he smelled once, brushing past you at a barbecue, like cedarwood and sun. How close he’d stood when he reached for the cooler you couldn’t open. How your breath caught when he’d given you that quiet little nod and half-smile, not even realizing the mess it made in your chest.

And now you were going to be with him.

Your cheeks warmed, and you blinked quickly, grounding yourself in the present. Your dad was still talking about something, ranch maintenance or horse breeds or feed types, maybe, but you weren’t following.

You cleared your throat softly. “Has he always lived out there?”

Your dad looked over, then nodded. “Yeah, pretty much. Bought the place years back. Likes the space. Said the quiet helps him think.”

You hummed, eyes flicking to the road. “He’s got a nice setup?”

“Real nice. Built a lot of it himself. Fixed up the barn last spring, I think. Said it was falling apart at the corners.”

You hesitated a second, then asked, casual as you could manage, “Does he live alone?”

Your dad glanced over again, brow raised, just slightly. But he didn’t read into it.

“Yeah. Ever since Sarah moved out. Joel’s always been kinda… private like that. Likes his space. Doesn’t bring people around much unless he trusts ‘em.”

Sarah was a couple years older than you, maybe 2 or 3. She already got a place of her own?. That answer sat in your chest a little heavier than you expected. Alone. Private. A place no one really visited unless he wanted them there.

So why had he said yes?

You turned back to the window, trying not to smile too obviously.

He didn’t have to say yes.

And yet here you were, less than ten minutes away.

-

The truck rumbled to a stop at the edge of Joel’s property, gravel crunching beneath the tires as your dad shifted into park. You looked out the window, taking it all in.

The house was modest, low and wide with a wraparound porch that looked exactly the way you remembered, wood slightly weathered but solid, well-cared for. The barn sat off to the left, nestled between a couple of trees, and you could already make out the fence line where the horses wandered in the distance.

Everything smelled like dry earth and fresh air.

Your dad opened the door with a groan and stepped out, stretching his back like he’d just driven across the state. You followed, sliding out a bit more slowly, your heart suddenly heavier in your chest.

You smoothed your hands down your jeans.

And then, you heard it.

The front screen door creaked open, followed by the low thump of boots on wood. Joel stepped out casually, wiping his hands on a rag as he made his way down the steps. His shirt was already a little dusted from the day, sleeves pushed up, tanned arms flexing with every movement. He looked just like you remembered, and somehow, even better.

“Bout time,” he called, voice rough with that slow drawl that always sounded like gravel and sun. “Thought you were gonna sleep through the whole day.”

Your dad laughed, already walking up to meet him. “Told you she’d take forever gettin’ ready.”

Joel chuckled and pulled him into a quick hug, clapping him on the back like always.

You stood a few feet back, suddenly feeling… young. Small. Unsure of what to do with your hands.

Joel’s eyes finally slid toward you, and your breath hitched just a little when they met yours. There was that look, easy, warm, unreadable.

“Well, hey there,” he said, voice softening as he stepped toward you. “Ain’t seen you in a while.”

You offered a shy smile, tucking some hair behind your ear, about to say something when he pulled you into a brief hug.

It wasn’t too long. Just enough.

Just long enough for you to feel the heat of him, the firmness of his chest, the way his hand rested at the small of your back like he didn’t even have to think about it.

Then he pulled back and looked you over, a low whistle under his breath. “Damn. You’ve gotten older.”

You laughed lightly, trying to play it off, but your heart was in your chest.

“Yeah, well. That’s kind of how time works.”

Joel smirked. “Fair enough.”

Your dad was already wandering toward the fence, probably to look at the horses, and for a moment, it was just you and Joel, standing there in the quiet hum of the late morning.

And even though the sun was warm on your skin, you swore it was his eyes that made you feel flushed.

Joel gave your shoulder a light pat before stepping back, nodding toward the pasture.

“C’mon,” he said, his voice easy. “Let’s go say hi to the horses before they get bored.”

You followed behind as he fell into step just a few paces after your dad, hands resting in his back pockets, boots crunching softly against the dirt path. You tried not to stare, tried to focus on the fence line and not the way his broad shoulders moved under that old worn flannel.

The closer you got, the more you could see the horses grazing near the far side, sleek, strong creatures, tails flicking lazily in the warm breeze.

“They all yours?” you asked, breaking the silence just enough.

Joel glanced over his shoulder, gave a short nod. “Yeah. Few of ‘em were rescues. Couple I trained from the start.”

You could hear the pride in his voice even though he kept it casual, like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was. You could tell.

Your dad climbed up on the lowest wooden rail of the fence, resting his arms over the top like he’d done it a thousand times before. He turned to look at you and Joel.

“Well,” he said, pushing off the rail. “I’m gonna run into town for a bit. Store’s got a sale on supplies and I forgot a couple things.”

You blinked. “Wait—you’re leaving?”

He looked at you, confused. “Yeah, You’re in good hands. Joel’s gonna take you home round’ 6:00”

Your mouth opened, then closed again. You hadn’t expected that. You thought he’d hang around, at least for the first hour or two. Not just leave you here, alone. With Joel.

Joel didn’t seem phased. He just gave your dad a nod like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Take your time,” he said.

Your dad pointed a finger at Joel playfully. “Don’t let her fall off anything, alright?”

Joel smirked. “Only if she starts trouble.”

You laughed, a little too quickly. “I don’t plan on it.”

Your dad turned to head back toward the truck, waving over his shoulder. “Have fun, kid.”

You watched him drive off, dust kicking up from the wheels. The silence that followed felt a little thicker, still calm, still easy, but different now.

Just you and Joel.

He glanced over at you, eyes squinting slightly in the sun, and tipped his head toward the gate.

“Wanna meet ‘em?”

You nodded, heart doing an anxious little flip in your chest. “Yeah… yeah, I do.”

And with that, you followed him into the pasture, feeling like you were stepping into something you didn’t fully understand just yet, but couldn’t wait to find out.

-

The gate creaked as Joel swung it open and held it for you. You stepped through carefully, boots pressing into the sun-warmed dirt, the soft scent of hay and dust hanging in the air. Joel followed behind, closing the latch with a practiced click before catching up to you with easy strides.

“They’re real gentle,” he said, nodding toward the cluster of horses grazing nearby. “Especially this one.” He motioned toward a chestnut mare with a white blaze down her nose. “That’s May. She’s calm as they come, sweet, but stubborn if she knows you’re nervous.”

You watched the horse lift her head lazily, ears twitching as Joel approached and held out a flat palm. She nuzzled his hand without hesitation, and you felt something flutter in your chest watching the way he moved, slow, assured, like he belonged there.

“She’s beautiful,” you said softly, taking a small step closer.

“She is,” he agreed, but he wasn’t looking at the horse when he said it.

You felt the glance, warm and heavy on the side of your face, and tried not to show it, just reached out cautiously, fingers brushing along May’s neck.

Joel watched you for a moment, then turned toward the other horses, whistling low under his breath. A few of them perked up and began to drift closer.

“Each one’s got their own personality,” he said, walking with you as the herd shuffled near. “That big browns callus. He looks intimidating, but he’s all bark. Then there’s Shimmer, she’s skittish around new folks, but once she trusts you, she’ll follow you around like a damn puppy.”

You listened as he went down the line, introducing them like old friends. He knew them all by name, by mood, by history. There was something soft in the way he spoke about them, like even though he’d been around this world for years, it never really lost its magic for him.

He led you along the fence line slowly, letting you take your time, answering your quiet questions without rushing.

After a few minutes, he tilted his head toward a small path leading around the pasture. “C’mon. I’ll show you the barn and the stables.”

You followed close behind, heart still beating a little fast, but steadier now. The sun filtered through the trees, casting long shadows over the worn dirt trail. Joel walked with his hands tucked into his back pockets again, shoulders relaxed, head tilted slightly toward you when you spoke.

The barn wasn’t far, tall and rustic, with wide doors that creaked when he pulled them open. Inside, it smelled like cedar, hay, and something faintly sweet. Rays of sunlight spilled in from high slats in the wood, making everything feel golden and calm.

“This is where I keep their feed, tack, and supplies,” he said, pointing toward the stacked bins and hanging saddles. “Got a couple stalls for overnight care, but mostly they roam free.”

You ran your hand over the smooth wood of the stall door, feeling the warmth of it soaked in from the sun.

“It’s peaceful out here,” you said, not realizing you’d meant it until it came out of your mouth.

Joel looked at you then, really looked. His gaze lingered, brows slightly drawn like he was studying you a little more than necessary.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “It is.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was thick, quiet, full of something that hovered just beneath the surface. You could hear the soft huff of one of the horses just outside the barn, the creak of old wood settling, the slow beat of your own heart.

Joel turned away first, giving you space to breathe again, and nodded toward a corner of the barn where a saddle rested on a stand.

“You ever been on one before?” he asked. “A horse, I mean.”

You shook your head, watching the way his hands moved, precise, patient, as he checked the straps and stirrups.

“Nope. First time for everything, though, right?”

He gave a low chuckle, one side of his mouth curving just slightly.

“Right.”

Joel then dusted his palms on his jeans, then looked over at you with a small nod. “Let’s get started then, yeah?”

You blinked. “Now?”

His lips curved slightly, like he was amused by the hesitation in your voice. “No better time than now.”

Before you could respond, he moved with quiet efficiency, heading toward one of the open stalls. He gave a soft click of his tongue and called May forward, guiding her out into the sunlight with a lead rope already in hand.

“She’s the calmest,” he explained. “Good for your first time. Doesn’t spook easy.”

You nodded, nerves tangling in your stomach, but you followed him without question as he led May toward the field again. The sound of the leather saddle creaking as he threw it over her back sent a jolt through your chest, this was real. You were really doing this.

Joel cinched everything in place, tightening the straps with practiced ease, fingers quick and confident. The horse stood patiently the entire time, flicking her tail, completely unfazed.

“She’s ready,” he said, giving May a final pat on the neck before turning to you. “You nervous?”

You gave a small laugh, brushing your hands down your thighs. “A little. I mean… what if I fall?”

“Then I’ll catch you,” he said simply, with zero hesitation.

You swallowed hard.

He held the reins and stepped to the side, motioning toward the stirrup. “Go ahead. Left foot in first.”

You walked closer, heart pounding as you placed your foot where he pointed, hands gripping the saddle. You gave it a try, pushed up with all your strength, but it was a clumsy effort, and your foot slipped before you could swing your leg over.

“Shit—sorry,” you muttered under your breath, cheeks burning.

Joel stepped forward calmly, his voice low and unbothered. “Don’t worry. Happens all the time.”

Before you could protest, his hands were at your waist.

“Here,” he murmured. “I got you.”

Your breath caught.

His grip was firm but careful, fingers splayed just enough to make you aware of every inch of contact. You barely had time to react before he was lifting you, just enough for you to get your footing and swing your leg over the saddle. You landed in the seat a little stiff, back straight, hands gripping the horn like a lifeline.

“Good,” Joel said, stepping back to look up at you, one hand still holding the reins. “Not so bad, huh?”

You managed a breathless smile. “Not yet.”

“You’ll get the hang of it. Just sit easy. Let yourself move with her, not against her.”

You nodded, trying to do exactly that, even though all you could focus on was the feel of his hands still ghosting along your sides and the way he looked up at you, steady, calm, and somehow way too close all at once.

Joel kept a loose grip on May’s reins, walking alongside her with practiced ease as the horse began to move at a slow, steady pace. You gripped the saddle horn a little tighter than necessary at first, body stiff, unsure of what to expect with every step.

“Relax your legs,” Joel said gently, glancing up at you. “Let her movement carry you. Don’t fight it.”

You let out a shaky breath and tried to do what he said, loosening your posture just slightly. It helped. The sway of the horse became a little more natural, less jarring. Still weird, but not as scary.

“Good,” he murmured, giving May a soft pat on the neck as they moved. “See? You’re doin’ fine.”

You smiled, still a bit uncertain but grateful for his calm. “She’s so tall. Feels way higher up than I it’d be.”

Joel chuckled under his breath. “Yeah, you’re not used to it. But she’s steady. Ain’t gonna throw you.”

“I hope not,” you mumbled, glancing down at him. “Though I guess you promised to catch me.”

He looked up at you, one brow raised and something flickering just behind his eyes. “Still do.”

That made your stomach flutter in a way that had nothing to do with nerves.

He looked away after a beat, focusing back on May as he led her around the edge of the pasture. The sun was climbing higher now, casting a warm glow over the field, and you could hear the low chirp of crickets in the grass, the soft thump of hooves against dry earth.

Joel stole a glance up at you again.

You looked good up there. Better than he expected. Sure, you were awkward, tense, unsure, but you were trying. And there was something about the way you held yourself now, the little flash of pride in your eyes when you got the rhythm right, that made something stir in his chest.

He cleared his throat and forced himself to look away.

Focus. This wasn’t that.

Still… he was only human.

And there was just something about seeing you ride his horse, his horse, that made his mind wander places it shouldn’t. Not when your thighs gripped the saddle like that. Not when your voice had gone all soft and breathy with nerves. Not when your shirt shifted just enough with each movement to give him glimpses of the skin at your waist.

Joel’s mind wandering more, about what you’d look like on him, not that horse, riding him. He quickly snapped out of it.

Christ, pull it together, Miller.

He gave the reins a small tug to bring May to a slower walk, close enough for him to keep talking low without you having to strain to hear him.

“You alright up there?”

You nodded, letting out a breath. “I think I’m getting used to it.”

“Good,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You’re a natural. Just needed a little help.”

That earned a soft laugh from you, and Joel felt it in his chest a little more than he wanted to admit.

He turned his gaze toward the open field, jaw working slowly as he guided you both forward, trying not to think about the way your legs shifted in the saddle, or the way your hands tightened when you got nervous, or how long it had been since he let anyone this close to this part of his life.

Trying not to think too much at all.

-

You rode for a while longer, practicing slow turns and simple commands, listening to Joel’s voice guide you through every little movement. His patience surprised you, steady and quiet, never once making you feel stupid when you messed up or hesitated. Just that calm voice, low and even, like he had all the time in the world for you.

But the sun was getting higher now, and your thighs were sore from gripping the saddle, your shoulders tight from trying to sit just right. Sweat clung to the back of your neck and hairline, and finally, you let out a soft sigh.

“I think I’m tapping out,” you said, shading your eyes with one hand. “It’s too warm for all this.”

Joel looked up at you with a small nod, lips twitching with a knowing sort of smile. “Yeah, heat’ll wear you down faster than the horse does.”

You offered a lazy smile in return, grateful that he didn’t push or tease.

He reached for the reins again. “C’mon, let’s cool off. We’ll head back.”

The walk back to the barn was slower this time. The field buzzed gently with insects, the tall grass swaying in the warm breeze. May moved at an easy pace, and Joel stayed beside you, one hand on the leather strap, glancing up every now and then to make sure you were still comfortable.

You were. In more ways than one.

Once you reached the barn, Joel brought May to a gentle stop just inside the shadowed doorway. The change in temperature was immediate, cooler and shaded, with the faint scent of hay and earth clinging to the wooden beams.

“Alright,” he said, glancing up at you. “Let’s get you down.”

You hesitated, shifting in the saddle and looking around for something to climb down on. “I don’t think I can do it alone.”

“That’s alright. I got you.”

He stepped in closer, hands reaching up toward you with no hesitation. You tensed slightly, more from nerves than fear, as his palms found your waist again. There was something familiar about it now, but that didn’t make it any easier to breathe through.

“Swing your leg over slow,” he murmured, eyes on yours. “I’ll guide you down.”

You did as he said, shifting your weight carefully, and the second your foot cleared the saddle, he steadied you. His hands were firm, warm through the fabric of your shirt, guiding your body down from the horse like it was nothing.

Your shoes hit the ground with a soft thud, but he didn’t let go right away. For a moment, you were just standing there, chest nearly brushing his, the heat from the ride still lingering on your skin.

“See?” he said, voice low. “Told you I’d catch you.”

Your breath hitched.

You nodded slowly, eyes flicking up to meet his. “Guess I should trust you more often.”

His hands slipped away then, slow and easy, and he turned to lead May toward one of the empty stalls like it hadn’t just felt like something passed between you. Like that look hadn’t settled in your chest and made a home there.

You stood there for a beat longer, heart still thudding like you were on the horse, watching his broad shoulders move through the barn light.

You were definitely going to need a break, and maybe a glass of water. Or two.

-

The house was cool when you stepped inside, the door clicking softly shut behind you. The shade felt like heaven after the thick warmth of the sun. You leaned against the kitchen doorway for a second, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand as Joel moved around without missing a beat.

“Sit,” he said, motioning toward the small table near the window. “You earned it.”

You did as told, still catching your breath a little, the ache settling into your thighs in a way that told you tomorrow would be worse. But for now, it was quiet. Peaceful. The room smelled faintly like coffee grounds and dust, a little bit like wood smoke too, clinging to the walls and windowsills.

Joel pulled two glasses down from the cabinet, filled them both from the tap, then walked one over to you. His hand brushed yours for the briefest second as you took it.

“Thanks,” you murmured, lifting the glass to your lips.

He took the seat across from you, one hand resting on the table, the other curled around his own glass. The silence settled, not awkward, just easy.

“You did good out there,” he said after a minute, nodding toward the field beyond the window. “Didn’t think you’d stick with it that long.”

You smiled a little. “Wasn’t as scary as I thought it’d be. Once I got used to her.”

“She liked you. Horses can tell.”

You tilted your head, curious. “Tell what?”

“If someone’s got a soft touch. Or a steady hand.” His voice was quiet, almost thoughtful. “They know when someone’s tense. Or unsure.”

You nodded slowly, tracing a fingertip along the rim of your glass. “What do they think when someone’s just pretending they’re not nervous?”

Joel looked at you, mouth quirking like he almost smiled. “They know. But if they like you enough, they’ll go easy on you anyway.”

The way he said it, low and just slightly knowing, sent a warm little shiver down your spine.

He looked away a beat later, out the window, and you followed his gaze. The field shimmered faintly in the heat, the grass bending in slow waves. It was a perfect kind of quiet, but Joel wasn’t really hearing it.

His mind was drifting.

It hadn’t left him since you got on that horse.

He hadn’t expected it to hit him the way it did, watching your body shift with the movement, uncertain at first, then slowly finding that rhythm. Your thighs hugging the saddle, back straight, hair catching the sun. The way you’d tense when he touched your waist… the way you’d looked at him when he did.

Christ.

He shifted in his seat slightly, jaw working as he looked anywhere but at you. He’d seen you grow up, sure. Knew your face like it belonged to some distant memory of summers past, back when you were just the kid tagging along behind your dad. You were soft-spoken, always a little shy around him.

But that wasn’t the girl who’d been on his horse today.

And maybe he shouldn’t have been looking the way he was. Thinking the way he was. But the image was burned into his mind now, your smaller frame moving gentle with each step May took, your body rising and falling with the rhythm like you’d been made for it.

He cleared his throat suddenly, taking a slow sip of water to ground himself.

“You sore?” he asked.

You blinked out of your own thoughts. “A little.”

“It’ll hit harder tomorrow. First ride always does.”

You smiled, eyes glinting a little. “Will you still catch me if I can’t walk?”

Joel huffed a quiet breath, one corner of his mouth twitching again, but he didn’t answer right away. His fingers tapped gently against the side of his glass, like he was considering something he couldn’t quite say.

Finally, he murmured, “Yeah. I would.”

And it hung there, soft and loaded between you, like the air had thickened just a little, just enough to make you forget about the sore ache in your legs.

Just enough to make you wonder what he wasn’t saying.

Joel leaned back in his chair just slightly, letting the cold glass sit against his palm while he watched you over the rim. Your cheeks were still flushed from the sun, a few strands of hair stuck to the side of your neck. He kept his gaze neutral, or at least tried to, but it was getting harder the longer you sat across from him like that, sipping water, kicking your boot against the leg of the chair like you didn’t have a clue what you were doing to him.

You smiled without thinking, and something in his chest pulled tight.

His jaw flexed slightly.

Don’t go there.

But he was already going.

His mind played back the way your body had looked earlier, shifting with the saddle, small hands gripping the horn for balance, legs squeezing instinctively when the horse moved beneath you. You weren’t even aware of what it looked like, how you rocked gently in that seat, mouth parted with concentration, back arching just a little when you adjusted.

It’d taken everything in him not to look too long.

But now that he had the memory?

He couldn’t unsee it.

Couldn’t stop picturing that same motion in a different rhythm, in a different context, with his hands at your hips instead of the reins, your thighs spread over something else entirely. His name falling out of that same mouth in those same breathy little gasps—

Joel swallowed hard and leaned forward, elbows on the table. Pushed the thought down deep.

“You ever think about leavin’ town?” he asked, tone casual, voice steady.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Leaving?”

He gave a slow shrug. “Just wonderin’. When you finish school, college. You’re young. World’s bigger than this place.”

You smiled faintly, fingers trailing along your now half-empty glass. “Sometimes. But it’s hard to think about going when everything feels so… still. Safe.”

Joel nodded, his gaze softening just a touch.

“Safe’s good,” he murmured. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with wanting that.”

You looked at him for a second, head tilted, like you were trying to read something in the way he said it. Like maybe you could feel the weight behind his words, the way his eyes lingered a little longer than before.

“I didn’t think you’d be the type to settle,” you said after a moment. “You always seemed like the kind of guy who’d just… pack up and go when he wanted.”

That earned a quiet huff from him, almost a smile. “Maybe once. Not so much anymore.”

“Why?”

Joel looked at you. Really looked at you.

But all he said was, “Different things matter now.”

He watched the way your lashes dipped when you looked away, the curve of your cheek, the skin at your throat. She had no idea, he thought. No idea how fast things had shifted for him. How something so innocent could wind him so tight inside he could barely breathe.

He cleared his throat. “You see anyone these days?”

You blinked again. “Like… date anyone?”

Joel shrugged, feigning nonchalance as he took another slow sip of water. “Just askin’. Pretty girl like you, figured there’d be someone.”

You glanced down, suddenly a little warmer than you’d been before. “Not really. Nobody worth sticking around for.”

He hummed low in his chest, like he understood that more than he let on.

The words sat between you for a second too long. The kitchen clock ticked softly from the other room. Somewhere outside, a wind chime stirred.

You looked up at him again, eyes meeting, and the way you held his gaze this time felt like something had shifted. Like you noticed something in him, or maybe just in the way he looked at you.

Joel leaned back, ran a hand along his beard like he needed something to do with it.

“You still got a little dirt on your leg,” he said, nodding toward your jeans. “From earlier.”

“Oh.” You glanced down, brushing at it halfheartedly. “Guess I really did ride a horse, huh?”

He chuckled, deep and warm, but there was something just a little darker curling at the edges now.

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “You did.”

And in his head, he was already imagining how you’d look next time.

But for now, he’d let the moment stretch.

Let it breathe.

Because you weren’t ready to know what he was thinking.

Not yet.

-

After a little while, Joel stood, collecting both empty glasses and setting them by the sink.

You watched him for a second, how he moved, how comfortable he was in the quiet. It was different than being around people your age. There wasn’t a need to fill the silence or check his phone or rush anything. It made everything feel slower, more real.

“You need help with anything?” you asked, pushing your chair back.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Think I’ve still got a drawer full of tools that needs sorting out. Been meanin’ to fix a couple loose hinges around here, just never get around to it.”

You shrugged, standing. “I don’t mind. Could use something to do while my legs stop shaking.”

He smirked. “Yeah? Alright then, c’mon.”

He led you down the short hall to the room that used to be a guest bedroom, but now looked more like a storage space, an old workbench pushed under the window, dusty shelves lined with nails, screws, and all kinds of half-empty containers. A small desk fan whirred lazily in the corner, barely cutting through the warmth that still clung to the air.

Joel crouched near a cabinet, tugging out a metal toolbox and placing it on the bench with a soft clatter. “Just needs organizin’. You don’t gotta do much.”

You moved to his side, eyeing the mess of tangled wrenches, screwdrivers, and nails. “You call this a ‘little’ mess?”

He chuckled low, close enough now that you could smell the faint scent of soap and cigarette smoke and leather. “Alright, smartass.”

You reached for a handful of loose screws, carefully separating them by size, fingers brushing along the rusted edges of a divider tray. Joel stood next to you, his hand reaching just above yours to grab a roll of tape, and your shoulder accidentally nudged his chest.

You froze.

It was barely a touch, your body shifting slightly to one side, your arm brushing against his chest, but it felt like it echoed. His body was solid, warm, and close, and suddenly the room felt way smaller than it had before.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, not looking at him.

“S’all good,” he murmured, voice lower now.

You felt him linger there, not stepping away. And maybe that was what made your breath catch a little.

He shifted again, this time reaching for a small container on the shelf above your head. His arm stretched across you, the side of it grazing your shoulder as he did, and you felt the heat bloom under your skin like a slow burn.

You stayed still, heart knocking in your chest, pretending to still organize while he moved behind you. Close enough to feel. Not close enough to touch. Not directly.

“You ever fix stuff before?” he asked, casually, still sorting with one hand behind you.

“Not really,” you said, your voice a little more breathy than before. “Usually just call someone when dad’s not home to help.”

He gave a quiet, amused hum. “That what you’d do if somethin’ broke in your place?”

“Probably. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

He was still behind you, too close now. His arm brushed yours again as he reached forward, showing you how to separate a set of washers into a little plastic bin.

You watched his hands. Big, steady. Scarred in places.

“Guess I’ll have to teach you that next,” he said, tone casual but his breath close to your ear now.

You swallowed.

That quiet hum between you, of the fan, of summer heat pressing against the windows, felt thick with something else now. Every time he moved, even slightly, you felt it. Every brush, every sound.

You didn’t dare look up at him yet.

But you wanted to.

God, you wanted to.

You were nearly finished sorting the last few tools into place when your eyes caught on a small, weathered tin sitting just out of reach on the top shelf. You stood on your toes slightly, stretching a little, fingertips barely brushing the edge of it.

“Need a hand?” Joel’s voice came from behind you, close.

“I got it—” you said, but your balance wobbled, the edge of your foot slipping just enough to make your stomach flip.

Before you could catch yourself, his hand was already there, firm, steady, pressing gently to the small of your back.

Your breath hitched.

He was right behind you now. You could feel the heat of him, the strength in his grip as he kept you steady. His other hand reached easily past you, plucking the tin from the shelf like it weighed nothing. But he didn’t step back right away.

And that was when you felt it.

The faintest pressure, low and subtle, through the worn denim of his jeans as it brushed softly— barely—against your backside.

Your whole body went still.

It wasn’t obvious. Wasn’t intentional. Not the way he kept his hand gentle at your back, or the way he cleared his throat after a second like maybe he noticed it too.

But it was there.

Your heart thudded hard against your ribs, and your hands felt weirdly numb, still half-stretched out even though the tin was now resting in his grip.

Joel’s voice came low, rougher this time.

“Didn’t mean to crowd you.”

You didn’t move. Couldn’t.

“It’s okay,” you breathed, not even sure if he heard it.

He stayed just a moment longer. Long enough for the warmth of his chest to press softly against your back. Long enough for your body to register every inch of where he was. The space between you felt non-existent now, filled with nothing but tension and heat and all the things neither of you were saying.

Then, finally, he stepped back.

Slowly.

You let out a quiet breath, blinking like you were waking from something.

Joel set the tin down gently on the workbench. “Didn’t want you fallin’ over,” he said, voice casual but a little too low.

“Right,” you said, your voice barely audible as you ran your hand over your arm, suddenly too aware of yourself.

The space between you had returned. Physically, at least.

But your skin still tingled where he’d touched you.

And you were almost sure, almost, that his eyes lingered on you a moment too long when you turned to sit back down.

Joel didn’t say much after that.

He busied himself for a while, stacking a few boxes, tightening a hinge on the window that didn’t even need fixing, and you pretended to still be sorting through old nails even though your hands weren’t doing much. The air between you had shifted. It was thicker now, charged in a way that made it hard to focus, hard to breathe without thinking about how close he’d been. How firm his hand felt on your back. How it felt when he pressed against you like that, subtle, but not forgettable.

Every time you caught him glancing at you, he looked away just a second too late.

And every time you looked away, your pulse only climbed higher.

It wasn’t until the sun began to dip, painting the windows gold, that Joel finally broke the silence.

“Guess I should drive you back soon,” he said, voice rougher than earlier, but still steady.

“Yeah,” you said, too quickly, and then, “…right. Sure.”

But neither of you moved.

Instead, you lingered in the doorway of the spare room while he leaned against the frame, arms crossed, eyes on you in that way that made your chest tighten.

“You alright?” he asked.

You nodded, but it was hesitant. “I just… I dunno.”

Joel tilted his head slightly. “What?”

You looked at him then. Really looked.

And the way his gaze met yours, it was like he already knew. Like he’d been feeling the exact same thing and just waiting for the crack to show.

“I keep thinking about earlier,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. Growing bold, testing him.

His brow twitched, his arms dropping to his sides. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “When you were behind me…”

He pushed off the doorframe slowly, a step closer now.

“You thinkin’ about it,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl, “you think that’s half as bad as what I’ve been doin’ since you got here?”

Your breath stopped.

He moved closer, slow, careful, but purposeful. And you didn’t move back. Couldn’t.

“I shouldn’t be thinkin’ about you like that,” he said, his eyes locked on yours, voice hoarse now. “I know that. But when I saw you out there on that horse, when you looked at me with those big eyes, all sweet and unsure…”

His hand came up, fingers brushing lightly along your jaw, like he was asking permission without saying the words.

You didn’t stop him.

You didn’t want to.

“And then inside,” he whispered, inching closer, his forehead nearly brushing yours, “you look at me like that and expect me to stay in control.”

Your lips parted, but nothing came out. Your heart thundered in your ears.

“You don’t have to,” you whispered.

That was all it took.

Joel surged forward, one hand cupping your jaw, the other sliding around your waist, pulling you against him as his mouth found yours in a kiss that was nothing like gentle. It was desperate. Hot. Starved. Like he’d been holding back for too long and now that he had you, he couldn’t be bothered to pretend anymore.

You gasped into him, fingers clutching the front of his shirt as he walked you back blindly until your spine met the wall. He didn’t stop kissing you, not even when his hand gripped your waist tight, not even when his hips pressed flush against yours, his body crowding yours like he needed to feel all of you.

His mouth was warm, tasting of mint and heat and something entirely Joel. When he pulled away for a second, breath ragged, his eyes searched yours like he was checking, really checking, that this was okay.

You nodded, breathless. “Please don’t stop.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, slower, and you felt it all: the weeks of tension, the years of knowing him, the electricity that had been building all afternoon. And now it was here. Unavoidable. Real.

Joel’s hand trailed up your side, his thumb brushing just beneath the hem of your shirt, and you shivered.

“You’re killin’ me,” he murmured against your lips.

But he didn’t pull away.

He only kissed you harder.

Joel didn’t pull away right away.

He lingered, foreheads pressed together, his breath hot against your lips. One of his hands stayed on your waist, the other curled just behind your neck like he was afraid if he let go, the moment would disappear.

You could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm where it rested on his chest, steady, hard, like he was barely holding himself together.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, eyes still closed.

Your voice came out soft, barely there. “You regret it?”

His eyes flicked open, meeting yours fast. “No,” he said, low and sure. “Not for a second.”

You exhaled, something tight in your chest finally loosening.

“But I shouldn’t have done it,” he added, almost like he was talking to himself more than you.

You didn’t say anything. Just watched the way he looked at you, like he wanted to apologize and do it again all at once.

“I ain’t exactly the kinda guy you should be messin’ with,” Joel said after a moment, his thumb brushing slowly against your side. “I’m older. Your dad—”

You cut him off gently, your fingers tightening in his shirt. “I don’t care.”

His mouth twitched, almost like he wanted to smile, but couldn’t quite let himself. “You’re too young to know what you want.”

“No, I’m not,” you said quietly. “Not about this.”

Joel let out a breath, his forehead resting against yours again. You stayed like that for a beat, both of you suspended in the stillness, in the weight of everything unspoken.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about you,” he admitted, voice raw. “Way too much. Tryin’ not to. But I see you in that damn sun, wearin’ that shirt, smilin’ at me like that—like you don’t even know what it does to me.”

You did know.

You’d just hoped.

“Then today,” he went on, his voice rasping, “you sittin’ on that horse, body movin’ like that—hell, sweetheart, I’m a man, not a fuckin’ saint.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you didn’t look away.

“I wanted to kiss you,” you whispered. “Since you opened that barn door.”

Joel groaned quietly, then kissed you again, less desperate this time, but deeper. More sure. Like now that he had you, he didn’t need to rush it.

This wasn’t just a slip.

It was a decision.

When he finally pulled back again, his fingers slid through your hair, and he looked at you like he was memorizing every detail.

He continued to stared at you for a moment longer, his eyes dark, jaw tense like he was trying to talk himself out of what he was about to do. But then you leaned in, brushing your lips against his one more time, and that was all it took.

He made a sound low in his throat, half groan, half growl, and before you could even catch your breath, his hands slid to your thighs, gripping you firmly as he lifted you with ease.

You gasped, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist, arms around his neck as he held you close. Your bodies pressed together so tightly, you could feel the heat radiating from him, the hardness in his jeans pressing between your legs. Your fingers tightened in his shirt, and your heart pounded as he turned and carried you down the hall like you weighed nothing.

The soft creak of the old floorboards beneath his boots, the distant hum of the ceiling fan in the hallway, the house around you faded away. It was just him. His warmth. His scent. The weight of his hands gripping your thighs, thumbs brushing your skin with every step.

He nudged the bedroom door open with his boot and walked you inside, kicking it closed behind him with a quiet thud.

It was darker in here, the heavy curtains drawn halfway, the late sun leaking through in golden slivers. He stopped at the edge of the bed, breathing hard as he looked at you, really looked.

“You sure?” he asked, voice rough, fingers twitching where they held you.

You nodded, your lips brushing his again. “I want this.”

That was all he needed.

Joel laid you down gently, following you to the mattress without breaking contact, his body hovering above yours. One of his hands slid down your side, finding the hem of your shirt. His lips trailed across your jaw, down to the curve of your neck

Your fingers slipped into his hair, tugging lightly, and he groaned, low and deep, before his mouth found yours again.

This time, the kiss was hungry.

Teeth, tongue, hands gripping at fabric, at skin, both of you desperate to feel more, to erase every second you hadn’t touched like this. Joel’s hand slid under your shirt, fingers spreading across your stomach, warm and calloused. You arched into him, breath hitching as his thumb stroked the underside of your breast, slow and careful.

“Still okay?” he whispered, his lips brushing your cheek, your ear.

You nodded, breathless. “Yeah.”

Joel kissed you again, slower this time. His touch turning more tender, more reverent. Like now that he had you, he wanted to take his time, memorize every reaction, every breathless sound you made just for him.

“Gonna take care of you,” he murmured, his voice a promise.

And you knew he would.

Joel hovered above you, his body firm, warm, caging you in, but never making you feel trapped. Just wanted. Desired.

His hands slipped under your shirt, this time fully pulling it off and tossing it somewhere behind him. His eyes roamed over your bare skin, jaw clenching tight like he was forcing himself not to lose control.

“Look at you,” he rasped, running his rough palms slowly over your sides, down your waist. “Didn’t think you could get any prettier. And now…”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, then another just above your chest, lips brushing your skin like he needed to taste you inch by inch. You arched under him, needing more, needing him.

Your hands fumbled at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head. He let you, helping it off, and then you were skin to skin. Heat to heat. Every breath between you thick, heavy, full of everything unspoken.

His hand cupped your cheek as he kissed you again, deeper, while his other hand slid down your thigh. hooking it around his hip and grinding against you slowly. The friction sent a whimper from your lips straight into his mouth.

He pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, voice heavy and thick.

“You know,” he said, tone teasing but dark, “you did alright ridin’ that horse earlier…”

You blinked up at him, breath caught in your throat.

“But I was thinkin’…” Joel’s hand slid between your legs, rubbing you ever so gently over your jeans as he unbuttoned then, making you squirm. “Maybe you’d look even better ridin’ me.”

Your entire body flushed, a shiver ripping through you at the filthy way he said it, slow, deliberate, full of want.

“C’mere,” he muttered, rolling over onto his back, pulling you with him until you were straddling his hips. His hands stayed on your thighs, sliding up toward your waist, his gaze locked on yours.

“You wanna?” he asked, his voice hoarse, but his eyes soft. “You take what you want, sweetheart.”

Your hands trembled slightly as you leaned down to kiss him, slow and deep, before nodding.

“I want to.”

And with that, his hands guided you. Gently slipping down the fabric of your pants and underwear. Hands going to his own jeans as he tugged them down, revealing the buldge in beneath the black fabric of his boxers. Then, slowly he pulled those down too. Revealing his large erection. Tip leaking with precum and rock hard. You already on top of him, he slowly, carefully, set you down not in yet.

You stayed there for a moment, knees braced on either side of his hips, your hands resting on his chest, heart pounding so loud you swore he could hear it. Joel didn’t rush you. He just looked up, his hands slow and steady on your waist, thumbs tracing soft, grounding circles.

“You alright?” he murmured.

You nodded. “Just… nervous.”

He reached up, brushing your hair back from your face, his touch gentle. “That’s okay. We’ll take it slow. Nothin’ happens that you don’t want. You understand?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, feeling the weight of his words wrap around you like something safe. Solid.

“You ready?” he asked again, voice hoarse, jaw tight.

“Yeah,” you breathed, leaning into his chest.

“Just take it slow,” he murmured, beginning to guide your hips down with the barest pressure. “I’ve got you.”

You felt him start to push into you, stretching you slowly, deeply, and your breath caught, eyes fluttering shut at the newness of it. It was unfamiliar, a little overwhelming, but he held you steady, murmuring soft encouragements the whole time.

“Easy, baby. You’re doin’ so good. That’s it…”

You clutched at his shoulders, your body trembling with the sensation, the pressure, the fullness of him. Joel’s voice never left you, just quiet, low, grounding words as he helped your hips rock slowly, inch by inch

“Don’t rush it,” he whispered.

You nodded against his neck, finally settling fully onto him. You let out a soft sound at the stretch, and he stilled beneath you, fighting every instinct to thrust up into you

“Fuck,” he groaned, “you feel so good. Just breathe. You okay?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I want to move.”

He helped guide your hips, slow and steady, every movement sending shivers down your spine. Your hands gripped at his chest, nails digging slightly into his skin as the sensations built, new and overwhelming and good.

Joel groaned again, his head tilting back against the pillow, his eyes dark and full of need as he watched you move above him.

“That’s it,” he praised, voice thick. “Just like that. You’re takin’ me so well.”

Your face flushed at the praise, hips rolling a little more naturally now as you got used to the rhythm, to him. And the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world, made it all the more intense.

His hands slid up your back, pulling you down again to kiss you hard, messy, hungry, full of everything he couldn’t put into words.

And in that moment, it wasn’t just about need.

It was about you

All of you.

You moved together like that for what felt like forever, your body slowly adjusting, molding to him as he guided you with soft hands and low murmurs of praise. The way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you, like every inch of you was something he’d never stop learning, it made your chest ache in the best way.

Joel’s hands roamed your back, your thighs, his thumbs brushing over the dip of your hips every time they rocked into his. His touch was strong but steady, like he knew exactly how to hold you without ever pushing too far. And when your breath caught, when your body trembled above his, he knew, slowing his movements, helping you through it.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Feelin’ good, yeah? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Your forehead rested against his as you nodded, lips parting with a quiet gasp as pleasure built like a slow wave, deep and warm and consuming. You moved instinctively now, chasing the sensation, the connection, and Joel met you with every breathless grind of your hips.

His voice faltered, breath stuttering as he struggled to keep his control, teeth gritting with restraint.

“Jesus, baby… can’t take much more of this,” he groaned. “You’re—fuck—squeezin’ me so tight…”

You whimpered softly, your body starting to tighten, the warmth curling deep in your stomach. Joel felt it. He knew.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he whispered, one hand sliding between you to help guide you there. “Let go. I’ve got you. Let me feel you…”

It was his voice, the way he said it, that pushed you over.

Your body tensed, pleasure crashing over you in waves. You gasped, mouth falling open as your hips faltered, shaking slightly as the high rolled through you, slow, aching, overwhelming.

Joel groaned, his hand gripping your waist as he finally let go, thrusting up into you with a strained curse, his own release hitting hard and deep. He held you there, buried inside, chest heaving beneath yours, his breath ragged as he came undone.

Neither of you moved for a moment, just tangled limbs, sweat-slick skin, and the soft hum of the fan overhead.

Your cheek rested against his shoulder, your body spent but buzzing, every nerve alive.

Joel’s hand smoothed over your back slowly, his voice quiet in your ear. “You okay?”

You nodded, still catching your breath. “Yeah… yeah, I’m okay.”

“Didn’t hurt too much?” he asked gently, brushing your damp hair back.

You shook your head, fingers lightly tracing the edge of his jaw. “It was… good. Really good.”

He smiled at that, something warm and tired, and leaned up just enough to press a kiss to your temple. “Was good for me too. You were perfect.”

You stayed there like that for a while, curled against his chest, letting the quiet settle between you. There wasn’t a rush to move, no words that needed to be said yet. Just comfort. Warmth. That unfamiliar but welcome feeling that something had changed, and neither of you wanted to take it back.

Eventually, Joel’s voice broke the silence, low and soft.

“Let me get you cleaned up,” he murmured. “Then maybe we’ll get somethin’ to eat. Unless you wanna just stay here a little longer.”

You smiled sleepily against him. “Here’s good.”

Joel moved slowly.

Carefully

His hands brushed down your arms, his lips pressing one last kiss to your cheek before he shifted you gently off his chest and stood, beginning to get dressed and putting his clothes back on. You watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, still sunk deep into his sheets, skin warm and flushed.

“Be right back,” he murmured, grabbing a towel and disappearing into the hallway.

You laid there, the ceiling fan spinning above you, your pulse finally steadying. The quiet between you was peaceful, comforting in a way that made your chest ache. No pressure. No awkwardness. Just… stillness. You then began to slowly move, slipping your clothes back on aswell.

When Joel returned, he had a warm, damp towel in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He knelt by the bed, starting with your thighs, moving gentle and slow like he was scared to hurt you.

“You don’t have to,” you murmured, a little shy under his focus.

“I want to,” he said, voice low and sincere. “Want to take care of you, alright?”

You nodded, biting your lip. His touch was tender, more so than you ever thought a man like him could be. Once he was done, he helped you sit up, placing the water bottle in your hands.

“Drink, baby.”

You sipped, glancing over at him as he sat beside you on the edge of the bed. Joel looked over, his eyes softer now, calmer. His hand found your knee, rubbing small circles there, grounding you.

“You did real good today,” he said quietly. “Not just the riding. Everything.”

You smiled faintly. “You were really patient.”

Joel gave a short chuckle. “You made that a challenge.”

You laughed a little, leaning your head against his shoulder. He didn’t move for a second, then turned to press a kiss to the top of your hair.

You both stayed like that for a while, basking in the warmth of each other, your fingers absentmindedly tracing lines along his thigh.

“Gotta take you home soon. Your dad said he wanted you home by 6. It’s almost 5:30, honey.”

That single sentence hung heavy in the air. You didn’t want to get up. You didn’t want this to be over.

He must’ve felt it too.

“Hey,” Joel said, nudging your chin so you’d look up at him. “This doesn’t have to be the last time. If you want it to be more than just… today.”

You stared at him, surprised by the tenderness in his tone, the quiet promise in his gaze.

“I want it,” you whispered, almost afraid to admit it out loud.

Joel nodded slowly, his thumb brushing your jaw. “Then we’ll figure it out.”

[serpine]

DIABOLIK LOVERS B's-LOG October 2022 Issue

Special Stories translations

I translated this a while back and now I finally get to share it with you all! Hope you enjoy~

you can find the scan in here

Sakamaki’s Summer Break

One summer day, the Sakamaki household found itself in the middle of a little crisis.

Reiji: The air conditioner is broken. We have no choice but to evacuate the mansion as soon as possible. While it’s being repaired, we’ll head out to cool off.

Laito: Eh~? You’re making us go out in this heat?

Kanato: Throwing us out under the blazing sun is nothing short of abuse… How cruel… sniff…

Ayato: Yeah, seriously! Reiji, do you not care if we end up getting cooked alive?

Shu: Too loud. It’s already hot enough without you guys making it worse.

Subaru: I mean, we can deal with it, but a human like her won’t stand a chance.

Reiji: Subaru makes a good point. That said, wandering around without a plan is pointless. We need to decide where we’re going.

Ayato: Arcade!

Kanato: Afternoon tea.

Laito: The pool~♡

Shu: Somewhere quiet.

Subaru: With her… I-I mean, doesn’t matter.

Reiji: Haa… Everyone wants something different. If we keep arguing, we’re never gonna get anywhere. Let’s just have her decide.

The moment Reiji said that, all their eyes locked onto her.

Ayato: Oi, Chichinashi, you wanna play games too, right?

Kanato: Let’s go have some ice cream together.

Laito: I’d love to see Bitch-chan in a swimsuit~♪

Shu: You’re not gonna pick some childish place, are you?

Subaru: I-I mean… anywhere’s fine as long as it’s with you…

Before she could even get a word in, their argument escalated, making the mansion feel even hotter than before.

Mukami’s Summer Break

One day, when summer vacation started, the Mukami brothers found themselves with way too much free time.

Kou: Hey, let’s go out somewhere on my next day off! School’s out, and I’m bored~! You feel the same, right, M Neko-chan?

Ruki: I can keep myself occupied at home with books, but… I suppose the rest of you are getting restless.

Azusa: Sounds… nice… but where… are we going…?

Yuma: It’s the perfect season for harvesting veggies. How ‘bout we do a barbecue somewhere?

Kou: Nice one, Yuma-kun! That sounds fun! But… we don’t have the equipment, do we?

Ruki: There are barbecue spots that rent out tools and supplies these days. We can make use of one of those.

Kou: As expected of Ruki-kun

Yuma: Heh, that’s pretty handy.

Azusa: Then it’s settled… A barbecue… I’ll handle the chopping… Eve, let’s do it together.

Ruki: No. We’ll need people to transport and set up the equipment. Eve will be coming with me.

Azusa: But… Eve is good at cooking… I think it’d be best if we handled the prep together…

Yuma: You guys can do that yourselves. She’s comin’ with me to harvest the veggies.

Kou: Eh~? M Neko-chan is on meat-grilling duty with me! Besides, are you guys just planning to sit around and wait for the food once prep is done? That’s so unfair!

Yuma: Says the guy who’s not lifting a finger till it’s time to cook.

Ruki: Enough. We should let Eve decide. What do you want to do?

The four of them all turned to her practically demanding to be chosen. But in the end, they all worked together and the barbecue turned out to be a great success.

Tsukinami & Kino’s Summer Break

One hot summer day, an unexpected visitor showed up at the Tsukinami estate.

Kino: Hellooo~ Hope you don’t mind me dropping by!

Shin: Hah? Who gave you permission to just walk into someone else's mansion?

Carla: I did.

Shin: W-What? Brother!?

Kino: I'm a guest, so treat me with proper hospitality, okay?

Shin: Tch, don’t get cocky. Anyway, Brother, why did you call Kino here?

Carla: There’s an art exhibition I’m interested in. However, the host is quite eccentric and has a rule that only groups of four or more can enter.

Kino: Ah, so I’m just here to fill the quota.

Shin: What the… Wait, if it’s four or more, that means you just casually included me and her too, didn’t you?

Carla: Indeed. Did I forget to mention that?

Shin: That's the first I've heard of it! Seriously, Brother you’re as demanding as ever…

Carla: What?

Shin: It's nothing. I get the situation, but… you agreeing so easily, there's gotta be something behind it…

Kino: I was bored.

Shin: ...What?

Kino: It’s summer break and I was bored. Is that a problem?

Shin: …You seriously just agreed for such a dumb reason?

Kino: Can’t help it. Yuri’s not home for a while, I already finished all my games and I wanted someone to talk to at least.

Shin: Well, I get how you feel, but…

Kino: Plus, coming here means I get to see my princess too~

Shin: Hah? I knew you were up to no good. Try anything weird, and I won’t go easy on you.

Carla: Enough chit-chat. Let’s get ready to head out.

And so, Carla cheerfully began preparing. Meanwhile, Shin and Kino kept bickering. What lies ahead for this mismatched group of four—?

[insidekatmind]

Under the table~ Hector Fort

Wearning: +18,smut, semi public.

Request: yes!

You’re sitting at a long table in a fancy restaurant in Barcelona, the dim light and the buzz of conversation filling the air. You’re here with your boyfriend, who’s sitting next to you, and across from you are Hector Fort and some of his friends.

They’re talking about soccer, of course. Strategies, games, locker room anecdotes. At first you listen, nod, make a few comments, but after a while the conversation becomes background noise. You find yourself staring at the glass of water in front of you, circling your finger on the rim.

Your boyfriend is engrossed in the discussion, laughing at the jokes, throwing out some heated opinions. No one seems to notice that you’re bored to death. You huff softly, look at the time on your phone, then decide to try Hector.

You smile and without letting the others see you unbutton his pants to stick his cock out. Hector's breath hitches as you unbutton his pants, and he shifts in his seat, trying to conceal his reaction. He discreetly looks at you, his eyes filled with desire.

While pretending to listen to the conversation, you started touching his cock, pumping it into your hand. Hector bites his lip, trying to keep quiet as you start to move your hand on him. He shifts again, this time leaning slightly towards you, his body betraying his pleasure.

Hector's friends notice his movement and give him a curious look, but he just shakes his head, trying to play it off as restlessness. He glances at you again, silently pleading for more.You look at him for a second and give him a little smile, starting to jerk him.

Hector's eyes widen slightly as you start to stroke him, his breathing becoming heavier. He discreetly reaches under the table and places his hand on your thigh, his fingers digging into your flesh.

Hector bites his lip harder, his hips bucking slightly as you continue to pleasure him. He leans closer to you, his body tense with need. He looks around, making sure no one is paying attention to them, before he grabs your hand and guides it further down.You watch him amusedly jerk him faster while his friends talked to him.

Hector's friends continue their conversation, oblivious to what's happening under the table. Hector tries to focus on their words, but he's too distracted by the feeling of your hand on him. He closes his eyes for a moment, biting his tongue to suppress a moan.

Hector's breathing is now ragged, his hand still on your thigh, his fingers digging into your flesh. He can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, but he doesn't want it to end just yet. He squeezes your thigh, silently begging you to go faster.You smiled and moved your hand on his cock faster. “Baby, is everything okay?” You teased.

Hector's eyes snap open at your teasing question, and he looks at you with a mix of lust and annoyance. "Everything's fine," he whispers back, his voice strained.

He tries to keep his composure, but it's getting harder and harder to concentrate on the conversation as you continue to pleasure him.

Hector takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He looks around again, noticing that his friends are still engaged in their own conversation. He leans in closer to you, his lips brushing against your ear.

"You're playing a dangerous game, you know that?" he whispers, his voice low and filled with desire.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” you say with feigned innocence as you grope his cock faster.

Hector's eyes darken as you continue to touch him, his body trembling slightly. He bites back a moan, struggling to maintain his composure.

"You're killing me," he whispers, his hand gripping your thigh tighter.

He leans back in his chair, closing his eyes and trying to focus on something other than the feeling of your hand on him.

Hector takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He's trying so hard to keep himself under control, but it's becoming increasingly difficult. He glances at his friends again, relieved to see that they're still engrossed in their conversation.

He leans in close to you once more, his lips almost touching your ear. "You're driving me crazy," he whispers, his voice low and strained.You smiled kissing him as you continued to give him a handjob.

Hector's eyes widen in surprise as you kiss him, but he quickly melts into the kiss, his body relaxing against yours. He moans softly into your mouth, his hand gripping your thigh almost painfully.

He pulls away from the kiss, panting heavily, his face flushed with desire.

Hector glances around again, making sure no one is paying attention to them. When he's sure they're safe, he turns his attention back to you, his eyes filled with hunger.

"I need you," he whispers, his hand sliding up your thigh, inching towards your center.You smiled and dropped your fork under the table and leaned down, hiding as you began to lower your mouth to his cock.

Hector's eyes widen even more as you drop your fork and move down under the table. He swallows hard, his heart racing with anticipation. He watches you, his breath catching in his throat as you begin to lower your mouth towards him.

You watch him while you suck his cock. Hector bites his lip again, trying to hold back a moan as you start to suck him off. His eyes flutter shut, and he grips the edge of the table, trying to keep himself from bucking his hips.

He can feel the tension building within him, his body tense and on edge. He glances at his friends again, making sure they're still engrossed in their conversation.

Hector glances at you every few seconds, watching you work your magic. He bites his tongue, trying to keep quiet, but it's becoming increasingly difficult. He can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, and he desperately wants to let go, but he knows he can't.

He looks down at you, his eyes filled with lust and desperation.

Hector brings a hand to your hair moving your head harder on his cock. Hector tightens his grip on your hair, using it as leverage to guide your movements. He moans softly, his head falling back as he arches his back slightly.

"God, you're so good at this," he whispers, his voice strained.

Hector watches you, his eyes locked on your every move. He can feel himself getting closer and closer to his climax, his body trembling with anticipation.

He reaches down and grabs your wrist, his fingers digging into your skin. "Don't stop," he whispers, his voice pleading.

You smile and start playing with his balls while you continue to suck and lick his cock. Hector's eyes roll back in his head as you start to play with his balls. He lets out a low moan, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"Fuck, that feels so good," he gasps, his grip on your hair tightening even more.

He looks around again, making sure no one has noticed his reaction.

Hector's friends are still engrossed in their conversation, oblivious to the fact that he's about to come undone under your touch.

Hector closes his eyes, trying to control himself, but it's becoming increasingly difficult. He can feel the tension building to a fever pitch, and he knows he won't be able to hold back much longer.

Hector can feel his climax approaching rapidly, his body tensing up even more. He opens his mouth to warn you, but no words come out. He bites his tongue, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip on your hair.

"I'm... I'm going to-" he manages to say before he lets out a low, guttural moan, his body shaking as he comes undone.You swallow all his cum and then take his cock out of your mouth, giving him a kiss on the tip and sitting back down as if nothing had happened.

Hector pants heavily, his body still trembling slightly from his release. He watches you sit back down, a mixture of disbelief and awe on his face.

He can't believe what just happened, and he's also impressed by your nonchalant demeanor. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to compose himself.

"You... are unbelievable," he says, his voice hoarse.

You smiled and hugged him sweetly. Hector returns your hug, his arms wrapping around you tightly. He buries his face in your neck, taking a moment to catch his breath.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice muffled against your skin.

"Me too"

Hector pulls back slightly to look at you, a smile spreading across his face. He cups your face in his hands, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

"You're insatiable, you know that?" he teases, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

You giggled and stroked his hair.

Hector leans into your touch, closing his eyes and enjoying the feel of your fingers in his hair.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he says, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

[pia-nor481]

You know those gif of Sebastian Vettel driving the car challenges during his Aston Martian days This one and the Ferrari one where he’s backing up it’s so hot watching him doing something so simple 🤭

Anyways I feel like he would totally be into you giving him head while he drives or fingers you while he’s driving

[Um yes this is so hot. The amount of times I’ve had to defend myself that men (Sebastian) driving is so hot. Try and tell me that’s not hot, you would be very wrong. I did spent a long time in the depths of tik tok watching edits, I also didn’t realise how cheeky/ flirty he actually was. (I didn’t notice as I was 9 when he started driving for Ferrari, I think.) Originally I was going to go on a tangent about him teaching you how to drive but i quickly remembered I don’t even have a green licence. Anyway]

Sebastian was actually unsure about the idea of road head to start, but now he’s converted, and even expects it!!! But he deserves it so it’s okay.

1. So imagine, you’re on a very long drive probably country to country and Sebastian has been driving for hours, all yawning and maybe pouting a little bit. It’s getting dark and so she decides to rest her hand on the middle of his thigh, testing the waters. “I didn’t realise I was getting special treatment.” He practically giggled out. What he didn’t expect was to hear the the zip of his jeans before she pulled his cock out.

The moment her mouth made contact he let out a harsh sigh, almost a wince. “What are you doing?” Let’s be clear he wasn’t complaining, just the initial shock. After a few bobs of her head, his complaints were replaced with quiet gasps and moans. “Fuck, please. We’re going to get in so…so much trouble.” Sebastian was surprised with how much that turned him on, at times he struggled to keep the car in the right lane. But he just couldn’t help it, her mouth felt too good.

2. This has happened in retaliation to ^ so during a very long and boring drive through Europe, race to race if you will. Sebastian was getting restless, even while driving he wanted to be entertained. This very quickly leads to him toying with the edge of her clothes. Slowly he pushed the clothes to the side and started to rub her clit in small circles, just enough pressure to feel it, not enough to get off. He thinks she deserves to be teased. But maybe after a few red lights, Sebastian decides to let her cum, let her soak the seat of the car

[Faith my beloved, how are you? I’m so sorry this took so long for me to answer my exams have been killing me]

[amkyor]

K. BAKUGO SHORT STORY ᡣ𐭩

Walking on His Hands:

It was a quiet evening in the U.A. dorms, the kind of night where everyone seemed preoccupied with their own activities.

Deku was buried in his notebooks, Todoroki was reading in the common area, and Mina and Denki were playing a video game loudly on the couch. Katsuki Bakugo, however, was bored out of his mind.

He had already finished his workout for the day, his assignments were complete, and there was nothing interesting on TV.

Restless energy buzzed beneath his skin, and sitting still felt like torture. With an irritated huff, he pushed himself off the couch and stood in the middle of the room.

Then, the idea struck.

Without a word, Bakugo dropped his hands to the floor and kicked his legs up into the air, balancing perfectly in a handstand.

Mina paused her game to glance at him. “Uh, Bakugo? What are you—”

“Shut it, Pinky,” he barked, already starting to walk forward on his hands.

He made his way across the common area, his movements fluid and deliberate.

His focus was intense, his arms flexing with each step.

The others barely spared him a glance—this wasn’t the first time Bakugo had decided to do something ridiculous out of boredom.

As he rounded the corner toward the kitchen, he muttered to himself, “Tch, too easy.” He sped up, his pace quickening as he maneuvered around the furniture.

By the time he made it back to the common area, his arms were burning, but he refused to stop.

He passed Todoroki, who merely raised an eyebrow before returning to his book. Kirishima walked in just as Bakugo was making his third lap.

“Dude, you’re still doing this?!” Kirishima exclaimed, impressed.

“Shut up. Don’t distract me,” Bakugo snapped, sweat dripping from his brow.

Eventually, his arms began to shake, but his stubbornness kept him going.

It wasn’t until he reached the hallway that his strength finally gave out, and he collapsed onto the floor with a grunt. He lay there for a moment, catching his breath, before sitting up and brushing himself off like nothing had happened.

Mina peeked around the corner, smirking. “Feeling better now?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Bakugo muttered, standing up and stretching his shoulders.

He wasn’t about to admit that the ridiculous handwalking marathon had actually helped burn off some of his excess energy.

As he walked back to his room, the others exchanged amused glances.

Only Bakugo could turn sheer boredom into a display of raw determination—and somehow make it look cool in the process.

FANFIC RECOMMENDATION ᡣ𐭩

Adult Bakugo x Female Reader Fanfic