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#and then i came back home to my empty flat
bigwishes · 15 hours
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"I wish it was bigger" (vote story)
Joey was one of the biggest guys in the gym, perfect chest, perfect abs, perfect arms. Almost every part of him was perfect apart from one aspect. Every bodybuilding show he did he got the same feedback "his glutes were underdeveloped" he had been training for years and no matter what he did he couldn't force them to grow. He even started to have a dedicated glute day but it did nothing, he was cursed with terrible genes that just left him with a flat ass.
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Despite the rest of him being perfection Joey still couldn't help but dream of a nice big bubble but. He loved the idea of having to wiggle to fit his jeans on in the morning. He longed to feel a guys hand grab a handful of his meaty ass and his desperation to find a solution to grow his ass lead him to strange corners of the internet.
Whilst scrolling on his phone between sets he found a website "MAGICKSPELLSFORYOU.WISHNOW" he opened it up and saw a pixelated night sky background with a chat box in the middle. A message appeared with the sound of a slight ping.
"HELLO WELCOME TO MAGICKSPELLSFORYOU, MAKE A WISH NOW!"
Joey laughed and wrote back "hey is this where I make a wish?"
instantly a response came through "YES YES HELLO MAKE A WISH WITH MAGICKSPELLSFORYOU AND I WILL GRANT IT VERY FAST"
Joey chuckled, clearly whoever was running the site was desperate for engagement and he decided to play along.
"okay, I wish for a bigger ass"
"YES YES I CAN DO THAT FOR YOU, I AM JUST CONFIRMING YOUR WISH? YOU WISH FOR A BIGGER ASS? YES?"
"yep thats right buddy, I wish for a bigger ass, give me a big fat juicy ass"
A little ding noise played as a pixelated animation of a shooting start played on Joey's screen before his search engine crashed and returned to him home screen. But Joey didn't have time to play any more silly games, it was time for his next set.
Joey stepped up to the squat rack and began to move the weight up and down, with each movement something felt strange, it felt like the muscles in his glutes were being worked but, something else, something more. A few reps went by a Joey placed the weight back, as he turned to the side he saw something sticking out from behind.
Joey had extra mass in the back, a big bubble but stuck out from him. He was stunned and his jaw almost hit the floor as he rubbed it. He put both his hands behind him holding his cheeks and making his new ass bounce. Joey turned around facing his back to the mirror looking over his shoulder with a smile as he rocked from his toes to his heels watching his new big bubble but bounce.
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He was so caught up in the excitement of finally having his glutes fill out his frame that he didn't realise he was starting to look puffy.
The sides of his waist began to creep over his gym shorts as the definition in his thighs began to merge together into one slab of mean, same with his arms, but nothing could get his attention, that was until he turned his front back to the mirror and in an instant.
*FWOOOOOMP
Joey's eyes widened as he watched his perfect abs suddenly bulk forward into a large swollen muscle gut.
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"WHAT THE FUCK" Joey yelled out
"Im...f...FAT" Joey's face turned bright red as people around the gym began to look at him, nobody seemed to notice what was happening. He quickly waddled his way to the changing room feeling his stomach grumble and all the muscles and mass across his body jiggle.
Joey stood in the mirror of the empty changing room, shocked and horrified, his perfect body was now big bulky and bloated out, he was starting to panic as he rubbed his new fat muscle gut.
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"Oh god....how am I gonna be ready for my show in a week....oh fuck...I....I look like a fucking muscled up pig"
As Joey finished his sentence another pulse hit his body, increasing the size of his muscles and bulk all over, but he noticed it was extra concentrated in once area, as he felt his new massive fat ass split through his shorts making the fabric start to sag, only just holding on around the waist band,
cementing his transformation as a big muscle pig, with a huge fat ass.
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rowenabean · 1 year
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The thing about crying into my falafel is that as soon as you phrase it as "crying into my falafel" it makes you laugh and therefore breaks the problem
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schrodingerscougar · 3 months
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Note: the 2nd part for this. fem!reader. cheating. i didn’t think you would like it so much, but since you did, here’s part two.
•••
Maybe if he watched you close enough, if he kept an eye on you while he was near, Simon would get the answers he was looking for. All he wanted was a glimpse into your mind, a glint in your eyes that would give away why you’d spent those nights by his side without saying anything about it.
The mission was slowly coming to an end, and he had overheard you and Johnny talk about your plans for your time home. The Scotsman offered to go on a short trip with you to Rome, visiting the city you’d read so much about in the past year or so. Going there was a promise you made to yourself on New Year’s Day and he was more than happy to help make it happen.
“Have you introduced her to your family?” Simon asked Johnny one evening when they went out for a drink.
The younger man gave him a confused look, but once the lieutenant motioned towards the corner of the bar where you were deep in a conversation with Laswell, his lips formed a flat line and he nodded a few times. “Yeah, well, I mentioned her once to my sister, and the next thing I know, my mother’s blowing up my phone. I’d rather keep her away from this insanity,” he explained.
“Wise choice.”
He hated this. He hated to know that Johnny was dating you, he hated to keep up this nice conversation with him, all while he was struggling to find out why you cared about him back then. His mind was full of stupid ideas again, that maybe you weren’t that deeply in love with the fellow sergeant. What if he was just your backup plan? What if the one you truly wanted was him?
Fucking hell. He was truly losing his grip.
“I’m going back to the base.”
Simon looked to the side, only to find you standing there with this adorable warm smile on your perfect, kissable lips. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Johnny taking your hand, his fingers lacing with yours before he raised it to his mouth to place a soft kiss on it.
He definitely didn’t have the right to be upset about it. Yet, he felt a pang of jealousy, and he was maybe even offended by the way Johnny’s blue eyes shined when he looked at you. His mind was telling him it should be him, even though he knew it was against the regulations.
“Let me finish my drink and I’ll walk you back,” Johnny said, but you just shook your head and told him he should take his time, have fun, and maybe he should talk to the others too. “You think I’m ignoring them? Well, I do spend a lot of time in the Lt’s company, that’s true,” he mused.
After he took a glance at the empty glass next to him, Simon had an idea. “I’m done for today anyway, I can go with her if you don’t want her to go alone,” he offered.
While Johnny seemed happy that he was kind enough to go with you, you looked hesitant. Unsure. Damn, if he didn’t know any better he would’ve said you looked scared for a moment. But why would you be scared? He didn’t do anything that could scare you.
In the end you agreed, so the two of you were soon out on the street, walking side by side. The need to reach out and take your hand poisoned Simon’s mind, and he decided to stuff his hands into the pockets of his jacket instead. He glanced over at you every so often, enjoying the view that he wouldn’t see for a few weeks at least.
“Why did you stay by my side in the infirmary while I was recovering?” he suddenly asked, his eyes fixed on you to see your facial expression.
And sure enough, at first you looked shocked. “What do you mean?” you inquired innocently.
With a sigh, Simon came to a halt and grabbed your wrist to make you stop as well. “I saw you there. And the doctor confirmed that you spent every night there with me while I was knocked out.”
“Look, it’s—”
“Why? I need to know,” he pressed on.
You buried your fingers into your hair as you spinned on your heels to turn away from him. “I don’t know, I just didn’t want you to be alone,” you admitted.
Once he took a deep breath, he was quick to blow it out. “So you stayed out of pity?”
“No! I mean… God, Ghost, I don’t know, okay? It just didn’t feel right to let you lie there on your own, I didn’t want you to wake up alone, and—”
He shouldn’t have done it, but it felt so good. Because Simon launched forward, his big palm placed on the back of your neck as his lips crashed into yours. At first you were frozen from surprise, but then you returned his kiss, lips moving against each other in perfect sync. He had been waiting for this for so long that he couldn’t even believe it was happening.
He was only pulled back to reality by your voice after you pulled away and took a few steps away from him. “What the hell are you doing?” you asked. “Fuck, what the hell am I doing?”
“It’s okay, we can always pretend it never happened,” he said with an aching heart.
“You don’t get it, do you?” When Simon shrugged and shook his head, you walked back to him and poked his chest with your index finger. “I’m with Johnny, this is totally against the rules, and no matter how badly I always wanted to know what it would be like to kiss you, this can’t happen again. But I know it happened and it’s going to torture me now.”
With a gulp, Simon nodded. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me,” he said with a sigh.
To his surprise, you put a hand on his now masked cheek, a move so gentle that he was beginning to get very confused. And when you pulled down his mask, things got even more confusing, because you stood on your toes and kissed him again. This time you let yourself go, your fingers grabbing a fistful of his hair as you moaned against his lips.
“We should get going,” you said once you let him go and pulled his mask back to its place.
“I don’t understand what’s going on.”
Instead of answering, you flashed a smile at him, making his life a living hell by playing an innocent angel. But then you curled your finger to make him come a little closer. “Neither do I. But we will have to figure it out.”
(part 3)
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pascals-doll · 3 months
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like a virgin
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joel miller x reader
🫧 inspired by madonnas like a virgin MY MADONNA CONCERT IS COMING UP I-
🫧 i always make my writings for joel so long but i love this man smm i could write all day for him it dont even b on purpose 😩
🫧 description: pre-outbreak!joel, babysitter!reader, reader babysits sarah, semi-fluff, DILF JOEL DILFFF, age gap (joel is 36 and reader is early 20s), smut smut, SMUT SMUTTT, dom!joel, softdom!joel(ugh i need so bad),sub!reader, hella praise kink, reader and joel are obessesed w each other tbh, secret crushing, body worship (reader reciving/ slight joel), pussy eating, possessive!joel, unprotected sex, p in v sex, hair pulling (j recieving), tommy is a teasing p.o.s 😭, no use of y/n, use of nicknames (sweetheart, darlin, and sweet girl).
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you stepped into the miller’s residence weekly to babysit his daughter Sarah, she was the sweetest teen girl. she reminded you a bit of yourself when you were her age which was probably the cause of the instant connection.
you had been baby-sitting for almost 8 months now, leading to getting closer to Joel; Sarah’s dad.
Joel was more than a hunk of a man, he towered over you even with your heeled mary-janes at times, his broad build engulfing all his clothing making him look like a slutty construction worker with his roughed up baggy-blue jeans thats sinched around his waist perfectly.
you would be lying if you wouldn’t oogle the man while his attention was pulled onto something else. you would watch the way he talked so sweetly to Sarah, yet when it came to a phone call, his neighbor, a stranger or his brother, Tommy that would occasionally stop by.
Joel would have this assertive and unruly tone underneath that thick southern accent. he was a man that paid close attention in his life which is why he has allowed you to take care of his daughter with so much trust.
you would never know it but Joel cherished you and the things you do.
Joel would show it in very discreet ways, today was a prime a example.
“m’havin a famiy cookout later t’night, why don’t you head on home to rest, so you can come back to enjoy with us.” Joel invitied you with ease as you began to grab your belongings from his coat-rack near his front door.
you grabbed your purse, walking towards the sound of his voice which was right around the corner. Joel was standing in his wide living room.
“it would be more than my pleasure. thank you for everything again. im always very appreciative for sarah and you” you thanked him sweetly, eyes meeting his.
he stood next to his large bookcase that had an assortment of different books, personal objects, some cds/dvds, and his vinyls.
joel picked up a vinyl, sliding out of the slot in the shelving of his bookcase, pulling it out of the envelope, and placing it on the record player.
yet another instance, where you accidentally ogle him.
“the real thank you should be t’ya. im adjustin’ to single parentin’ and ya’ been very accommodatin’, thank you.”
your kind demeanor was the sweetner to his coffee.
you were now home, getting dressed to return to the Miller’s residence.
usually when you’re babysitting, you dressed lazily. you would put on a random shirt and jeans or sweats.
you wanted to cleanup a bit more, knowing it wasnt just going to be you and sarah most of the day; Joel would be there.
you threw on this cute blue floral sundress that was mid-length, it stopped right below your cross necklace.
you finished up by pairing it with white frilly socks with mid-heeled black flats.
you didn’t put much makeup on, only putting the basics before doing any last touch-ups and grabbing your black mini-purse.
𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪
once you arrived, opening the gate and greeting a few of the people that were sitting on the porch before entering through the front door.
the sound of chatter got louder as you walked through his home. you turned around to the corner and his living room was empty but his kitchen was cluttered with different food and grill necessities.
you thought to yourself how they must be outside, you began to walk farther into his home till the back where the sliding door to his backyard was.
you began to slide the door open “oh my!! you came!” sarah squealed out of excitement, she came from restroom door next to the side of his sliding door.
you immediately engulfed the excited girl that ran into your arms “i wouldn’t miss it for the world, girl!” you exclaim while smiling.
“c’mon! my dad is outside grilling!” sarah spoke excitedly. she grabbed your hand as you opened the door and walked outside together.
𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪
“d’ya invite that sweet babysitter of yours?” Tommy asks joel while seasoning the steak “i did, i hope she comes-you know, for sarah and all” Joel tries to play off with his words.
“oh my brother fancy’s someone, i see” Tommy chuckles out, putting his beer bottle up in the air slightly.
“i do not fuckin’fancy that young lady. she’s gone above and beyond for my daughter and i just wanted her to feel welcome” Joel explains himself, his tone laced with angry yet getting his explaination a across a bit hastily. Tommy’s eyebrow quirks.
“don’t say nothin’ else” Joel utters out in a stern tone, grabbing his cold corona as Tommy puts his hands up in defence.
Tommy turned his head, not the best decision as it made his amusement grow fonder. he turns back to Joel.
“well, ya’look at that brother” Tommy slys out, throwing a wink at his older brother before making his way back to his wife Maria.
It was you and sarah approaching, Joel actually choked on his sip of beer.
you were beautiful, Joel wasn’t an oblivious man.
Joel, himself even thought it was impressive how easily you cleaned yourself up by just some jeans and sweatshirt; at times just a shirt.
tonight was different, very different.
Joel finally has seen you outside of your different hoodies and pants.
he couldn’t begin to comprehend as you and sarah got closer and closer “Dad! she made it” sarah calls him out in excitement.
you finally approached him next to his griller which caused him to immediately snap out of his gaze.
Joel gave you his hand to shake “thank you so much for having me” you thank him, sweetly accepting as you began to shake pulling you in for a soft side hug.
you were right beside him, feeling the heat of the fire from the grill on both of you.
in Joel’s eyes, up close, your beauty was now beyond otherworldly. your light blue sundress bringing out the color of your eyes, the way your hair fell on your shoulders, and your jewlery sparkiling the tone of your skin.
you looked so elegant, yet you still managed to keep it simple. your winged liner making you look more mature than just the light mascara you would rush onto your lashes before getting out of your car on babysitting days.
Joel couldn’t begin to wrap it around his mind how you could possibly look so pure yet you were a woman. a hard-working one at that.
he knew that. it was something that made him desire you which felt so wrong.
“anytime, ya deserve to be apart of the family-shit! ya’already are” Joel goes off a bit nervously after ogling you. you gave him a soft smile.
“did’ya need help with the grill?” you quickly perk in as the fire began to sizzle a tad bit louder than usual “ah shit!” Joel exclaims, flipping each of the steak.
“careful now, brother! dont burn ‘em!” Tommy calls out, laughing with a devious smirk as he approaches again with cooler in hand.
Joel grumbled something under his under his breath as he focused on the grill.
“nice to meet you, i’ve heard s’much about you! I’m Joel’s brother, Tommy.” the younger brother introduces himself.
you give him your hand to shake “It is nice to meet the uncle tommy” you joke out causing sarah to giggle with you.
Joel couldn’t begin to explain the beauty you carried within you.
he was sure that if a god made you, it was Hestia and Aphrodite.
𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪
the evening was pleasantly spent by you getting to meet maria and her pregnant belly, congratulating her.
then once it was time to serve the dinner, you helped Joel and Tommy by moving the grilled food off of the grill.
this consisted of Tommy making jokes that had slight insinuating under-tones that you were too naive to pick up but laugh everytime Joel would punch Tommy’s shoulder roughly, not being playful at all.
you helped bring in the food as sarah set up the dining table. once everything was set up and everyone sat down to eat, Joel’s grilling being beyond splendid.
when dinner was over while everyone cleaned up, you went to use the restroom.
you finished using up the restroom which is how you were now in Joel’s living room.
you began to admire his large bookcase from where he stood earlier to invite you.
you skimmed through, your hands softly going over the objects as you observed his books, framed pictures, his collection of dvds, and then his vinyls.
you had a record player of your own, sometimes sarah would ask you to play bon jovi and tell you where the record was.
Joel had an impressive collection, ranging to every genre of music. he had some legends on vinyls like Bob Marley, Johnny Cash, Lionel Richie, and Madonna.
you immediately picked up the Madonna vinyl, it was her second album ‘Like a Virgin’.
you grew up with your mom adoring Madonna more than anything which explains your adoration for her music.
“I was in highschool when i first heard Madonna” a deep voice spoke through the room, behind you.
you automatically knew it was Joel, turning around still looking at the tracklist on the back of his vinyl “this is my favorite album besides Like a Prayer” you say as you walk up to him, smiling.
“you weren’t even born yet” Joel laughs out causing you to jokingly get offended.
“excuse me, i know my Madonna” you joke back, giving him a playful wink which he just gave you a slight chuckle too.
“she say she know she Madonna, ay?” he gives you a slight smile, opening up his record player before inserting the vinyl.
soon enough the record player began to ring a classic 80s pop beat through the room.
you automatically felt yourself slightly popping your leg with the beat and snapling your fingers slightly.
“go ahead, Mr.80s” you state smiling, inviting him to dance “oh no, i-don’t dance” Joel quirks out awkwardly, now standing nervous.
Joel admired your confidence and comfortabilty in your skin, you were so young and full of life while also being so sophisticated and methodical.
you grab Joels hands and began to playfully sway with him.
Oh, like a virgin
Touched for the very first time
Like a virgin
When your heart beats next to mine
🫧
you sang the melodious lyrics under your breath. you felt your breath hitch as you locked eyes with joel, being in his grasp.
you could feel your body burn up in his strong hold, his heavy hand on the small of your waist.
your breath hitched causing your chest to push up against his chest. this felt so right, the way his hands held your body and each of your curves.
🫧
You're so fine, and you're mine
Make me strong, yeah, you make me bold
Oh, your love thawed out
Yeah, your love thawed out
What was scared and cold
Joel made you feel more than a woman, you were so polish and refined, yet so sophisticated and mature while all-looking ever so young and full of life.
he felt a bit of confidence which made him twirl you around, engulfing you into his embrace again with one arm; your back to his chest now.
you swore the sound of the song was slowly drowning out and now the sexual tension was ringing through the both of you.
you could feel his heartbeat thump against your back as his hands rubbed both sides of your waist to the rythem of your delicate sways.
you leaned your head back against his chest, his scent being the only thing on your mind.
you felt him begin to caress your hair with one hand as it left your waist.
“you’re s’beautiful, hope y’know that” Joel could blame it on his 5 beers but 5 beers wasn’t shit for Joel, he was very conscious of his choices.
the compliment sent shivers down your spine as you swore your knees grew limp momentarily.
you turned around, your thigh now inbetween one of his legs, chests pressed against each other, his hands gripping your hips now, and faces inches away from each other.
your lips were parted, you really were debating on kissing the beautiful hunk of a dad infront of you.
fuck it
just like that, within no time your lips were moving like you both had never kissed anyone before.
the song continuing to play as the both of you makeout in his living room while everyone was outside.
the way his hands ran through all of your body like he had never touched anyone, your lips pulling away to catch your breathe momentarily like you had never been kissed like that before.
Joel completely ravished you.
hell…now that he had you, he wasn’t gonna let go now.
“m’room darlin’” he mutters against your lips, before completely scooping you up bridal style. it caught you slightly off guard, gasping which made Joel smack your ass playfully.
“oh, aren’t you a gentleman?” you joke, your arms were wrapped around his neck.
“oh, don’t’cha worry sweetheart” Joel smirks out as you arrived to his room.
he laid you on his bed, going down with you while on top of you. he began to move his lips from kissing you to your neck, pulling down the small straps that held your dress.
each kiss that Joel placed on your body felt like a burning sensation, making your insides erupt with giddiness.
you felt like this was your first time all over again. your mind was racing, heart was nervous, and body was clamy.
and it was all because of Joel.
you weren’t sexually active at all recently, you were so busy with work, about to graduate with your masters, and even babysitting sarah; spending more time at the Millers than on dates.
you did go out but lord were the guys of this generation a bunch of sluts.
“what’s on your mind? am i doin’ somethin’ wrong?” Joel’s rushes out accidentally, not wanting to sound nervous but he did.
you weren’t only one feeling like a bad teenager doing this for the first time.
Joel smelled your perfume and that was all it took to get his mind racing. he couldn’t begin to fathom how he finally got to have you.
the way his big frame craddled yours sent him into overdrive, his heart going a million miles per minute as he tries to figure out where to even begin.
for you, it might’ve been a year but for him, it was almost like ages with the years he’s gone.
all Joel’s mind could do was think of all the things he could do to you.
“Joel-hmph” you couldnt help but whine out as his hands massaged closer and closer to your arousal.
“there there sweet girl, you ever been with a man?” Joel asks, lifting your dress up, exposing your angelic white panties.
Joel was damned forsure for the filthy thoughts you provoked out of him.
“n-no, i have never—they were idiots.” you felt so small under him, feeling overwhelmed like it was your first time all again.
at this point, you could’ve considered yourself a virgin with how Joel had you and how much of a man he was.
“you ain’t gon’go lookin’ f’someone to take care of that pretty lil’mind, not after im done with’ya.” Joel claims to you.
you believe every single word laced in his southern accent; making your cunt pulsate wantingly.
“is that what you want to do, Joel? take care of me?” you ask him, lifting your leg to spread yourself open more as you wrap it around his lower waist; basically resting on his thick thigh.
the way you looked at him through your lashes, batting them softly. it was a genuine question, laced with purity and hope.
“if you’ll allow me too-” Joel began, pulling down your panties. you expected him to unbuckle his belt next but no; he got on his knees.
your chest weighed up and down heavily, each of his touch making your body hot.
“it’s my only wish for taking care of me and sarah” Joel finishes before hooking both of your legs up onto his shoulders, his tongue wasting no time.
you didn’t even get a chance to respond, a moan erupting out of you being the only thing.
the way he ate your pussy like he didn’t just eat a whole meal downstairs had your back already arching.
Joel’s tongue swiped along all of your cunt, fucking your sweethole “jesus, ya’taste fuckin’ delicious” Joel mumbles against your pussy as his tongue quickens all along your juiced cunt.
“ahmph!” your shriek sounding like music to his ears, if he didnt have his family downstairs, he’d have you screaming.
“quiet fa’me, doll” he says, taking a hand to cover your mouth as before diving back in.
joel’s tongue fucks into your hole this time causing you to let out a muffled moan against his big hand.
the way that man was eating your pussy, tainting your pussy with his spit, marking it all as his drove you insane. there wasnt nothing this man couldn’t do.
“god! j-joel!” you muffle out, your hands go to his roughed up brown hair, pulling on it causing him to groan into your dripping pussy.
you felt yourself getting closer and closer, your pussyhole squeezing around the tip of his tongue.
“this pussy s’perfect- s’all fuckin’ mine.” Joel spits out once he pulled away from your pussy, denying you of your orgasm.
your mouth was agape in pleasure but then quickly falling into a pout “don’t worry darlin’, my baby will cum…on my dick” Joel’s voice is sweet like honey now as he leaned down to connect your lips together.
you taste yourself on his lips, mixture of his spit along his lips causing you to moan at the mix of both of your filth fogging your mind.
the way both of your lips moved in sync perfectly was beyond intoxicating for joel. he swore he could get addicted to just at the look of you but at this point, both of your lips had him drunk.
he had shimmied and kicked off his pants while making-out with you. he was completely taking over you once again, your body turning small under his big one.
“are you ready, sweetheart?” joel asks delicately, pulling away from your lips to look at your eyes.
you told him yes, leaning up to take his shirt off which he happily obliged.
you had only seen his toned arms but it was obvious he had a strong build. he might’ve not had a six-pack but lord were his muscles chiseled like a greek god.
“you gon’ drool over an old man?” joel utters out, his hand going in to caress your hair.
“oh baby, you’re beyond fine wine.” you whisper. your forehead’s connected, lips away from kissing, and looking him deep in his chocolate eyes.
Joel could feel his breath hitch at what you said, you already had him wrapped around your finger as he worshipped you.
Joel thrusted himself into you, he couldn’t even fucking believe how tight you were.
“jesus- god, this pussy s-ah fuck!” joel’s groan was almost animalistic as your mouth fell as if you wanted to scream but nothing came out.
Joel’s cock was a size you’ve never had before, it didnt hurt but oh, did it stretch.
“s’big-oh my!” you moan out loudly, eyes rolling back at the feeling of him delectably stretching your pussy out.
“you got it baby, you got it” he praises you although he was too busy trying not too pass-out because of your cunt.
after a small moment of adjusting for the both of you, he began to thrust into you at a slow pace.
you arch into him as your whimpers and soft moans turn slowly work their way up to louder and heavier moans.
joel worked himself into you, his mind not being able to get enough of all of you. he still had to process that he really had a young beautiful woman with the heart of a home in his bed.
joel completely held your body with one hand, eventually putting a hand over your mouth again once his sweet thrusts turned into pounds.
your body shaking against his with each of his rough and hard thrusts, fucking your name out of your mind and replacing it wirh his.
your muffled little cries of his name “Joel! joel-ah! j-j! j-joel!” sounding like a sweet lullaby to him. he couldn’t help but smirk at your teary eyed-self.
you werent even worried about ruining that pretty liner of yours as he fucked into you.
“shh my baby, you’re taking me so well” joel coos out, caressing you hair before leaning down to plant kisses and suck on your chest.
your hands grip his bed sheets as your body begins to shake in pure sensual bliss that joel brought you, making your mind fog up as the build up of your orgasm is almost virginal.
“ya’look so beautiful like this-” praises left joel’s lips left and right, loving and indulging in every single one of his praises as he fucked you to your orgasm so sickeningly good; leaving the both of you intoxicated.
“you was made fa’me, not no one else.” Joel’s eyes were shut now, completely lost in the pleasure you were giving him.
it was almost like a prayer, a hopeful chant, almost a possessive plead.
joel had wanted you just as much as you wanted him “yes! god yes! m’close! it’s y-yours! all yours!” your pleasure-filled babbles as your mind gets drunk of joels cock and overwhelming orgasm.
“let go, darlin’ ” Joel works you through your orgasm, hips going from pistoling into you to the delicate pace he started off with.
your entire body shook as both of your sweaty hot bodies embraced each other through both of your orgasms.
the room filled with heavy pants and moans as his hand left your mouth and began to massage your hair.
you both held each other, not wanting to let go of each other.
“i understand what madonna meant by ‘like a virgin’ now” you giggle out causing a playfully scoff to come from him.
“alright alright, we need t’get dressed and head back down. would ya’ want to stop by tomorrow after i drop sarah off at school?” joel asks, his chocolate eyes now ridden of lust and replaced with soft hope.
you were about to tell him yes but another voice spoke before you.
“are you fucking done?! fuck! i can’t keep stalling Sarah and Maria!” it was Tommy.
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captain-joongz · 2 months
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Tits out
Pairing: best friend!Wooyoung x f!reader
Genre: bffs to ??, college au, pure smut, barely any plot, fluff, humour
Summary: When talking to your best friend about your nipple piercing during movie night backfires in the most spectacular way possible and Seonghwa's new couch gets caught in the crossfire
Word count: cca 7k
Warnings: reader is chubby, there's no discussion, they just jump into it, titty sucking, nipple and nipple piercing fixation, unprotected sex (this is pure fantasy, be careful in the real world), a little bit of body insecurity about body hair, fingering, doggy, squirting (let me know if i missed anything)
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I had met Wooyoung back in the first year in uni and now four years later we were still going strong. The man that walked in confidently into a lecture hall, bee-lined straight for the empty space next to me and was sitting down before I even comprehended his question of “is this seat taken?”, who then proceeded to talk my ear off and invite himself for lunch with me, was quite easy to befriend, believe it or not. After sitting next to him a few times and going for lunch later, I’d managed to get out of my shell a little too and soon we were two merry extroverts steamrolling through university hip to hip. He’d become one of my best friends, one of my closest friends and a person that understood me almost perfectly. We knew we could count on each other completely and trusted each other blindly.
I was introduced into his friend group, and he was into mine and we often hung out together in huge groups of rowdy younglings, going dancing and spending weekends eating too much junk food and watching bad movies someone had put on, but no one really paid attention to besides the occasional joke about its stupidity. I couldn’t count how many times I’ve done something extremely stupid while hanging out with them and was heavily encouraged by both Wooyoung and San. It was the most fun I’ve had though, and that’s what really mattered.
Now I was already out of school, but Wooyoung and most of his friends were continuing with their studies. Due to this, we tried to hang out every Friday, but a lot of the time it ended up being just me and him or even just me sitting in their living room watching Netflix waiting who makes it home first. It was like my second home at this point, and no one was phased when I showed up out of the blue and sat on the couch like I owned it. Especially since Seonghwa bought the new one, that one was extremely comfortable.
Usually, Friday night was a hang out and movie night for me and Wooyoung anyway, but today I was a woman on a mission. A few months ago, I had gotten a nipple piercing. It wasn’t my first one (though it was definitely the most painful one) so I wasn’t extremely worried about it, but lately it has been acting up a little. It usually didn’t hurt but sometimes there would be this slight discomfort around it and I’ve even noticed some slight scabbing even months later. I knew realistically that it was most likely okay, but my anxious nervous little brain had managed to convince me that I’m going to lose my tit or something. That’s why I needed a second opinion. And that’s where Wooyoung came in.
Tonight, I was making my way towards their flat knowing I’m about to ask Wooyoung for the weirdest favour one ever could, but it should be okay, right? We were such close friends, it definitely wasn’t a big deal, right? You normally asked your friends to take a look at your tits and tell you whether there’s something weird about one of them, that was just a usual Friday, no?
I checked the group chat again and confirmed that it would be just me and Woo tonight and then made my way to their building’s door. They lived on the fourth floor without an elevator, which would normally be a minus, but since it was an old warehouse made into an apartment building, their flat was actually massive and housed all of them without a problem, so I graciously sacrificed myself and stomped up the stairs a few times a week to see their faces (and eat their food).
Upon arriving to the flat, I found Woo busy making something in the kitchen, humming lightly while whipping cream like a 50s housewife.
“What you up to?” I asked casually strolling into the room, making Wooyoung jump with shock. “Jesus fucking Christ, you sneak in all the time and yet I still get scared by you,” he said and put his hand over his heart. I slapped his shoulder and peeked at what he was making.
“You literally gave me the keys, Wooyoung, I’m hardly sneaking in,” I said and rolled my eyes at him. He just laughed and pushed me out of the kitchen. “Shut up and start choosing the movie or I know we’ll just end up scrolling through Netflix for hours like always,” he shouted over his shoulder and went back to whatever snack he was making.
As I sat on the couch, I was steeling myself for what I was about to ask him, trying to figure out how to bring it up. No time like the present, right. I mindlessly scrolled through the movies, but really I was waiting for Woo to join me in the living room. Then finally he came in through the door, a plate of little cheesy snacks in one hand and a bowl of popcorn in the other. I was just about to open my mouth, but he cheekily winked at me and made his way back to the kitchen. When he returned, he was holding a little tray with two cups of hot chocolate, the coke and two glasses.
He finally joined me on the couch and for a while we both just sat there, arguing about whether we want to watch a comedy or a thriller, while I was thinking how to broach the subject. But in the end, I didn’t even need to do that. In the middle of my sentence about how I’m not watching another stupid horror movie about nothing, Wooyoung suddenly turned to me and just gave me this look. And I knew I was done playing around. I stopped in the middle of talking and stared at him. He grinned.
“Okay, just spill it,” he said when I stayed silent for too long.
“What do you mean?” I attempted to stray away from the topic until I was ready, but he’d already saw through me. “Really?” he asked incredulously, “I’ve known you for years, you think I don’t recognise when you want to talk about something? Just spill the beans already.” I heaved a deep sigh and then turned on the couch to face him. He was still grinning.
“Okay, this might be really weird, but just bear with me for a while, okay?” I started. While I was slightly worried about the piercing, I also couldn’t help but fear Woo’s reaction, after all this wasn’t exactly a normal thing to ask your friend. I knew worst case scenario he’ll just say no and laugh it off, but still. He looked a little more serious for a moment, but then I continued talking. “I need you to look at my tits, okay?”
Wooyoung looked at me shocked for a moment and then bursted out laughing. I just glared at him annoyed. “Hear me out-“ I started but he cut me off. “Is this about like being insecure about them? You want me to look at them and say they’re okay? Y/N, you know your tits are amazing-“ he was going on and on, but this time it was me who cut him off.
“God, no, nothing like that,” I shut him up embarrassed. While it was true that I was slightly insecure about my plump figure, I loved my boobs, I knew they looked great. They were simply just right, it was one of the things I loved about my body. Wooyoung sensed that it must be something more serious and gestured for me to continue.
“You know I got the piercing, but lately it started to act up a little and I’m getting nervous and I just need you to look and tell me it looks fine,” I got out in one breath and he just stared at me. “Okay…? Why don’t you look into the mirror?” he asked, genuinely curious. “I have, but since I’m getting so nervous about it, I need a second opinion,” I explained, “Come on Woo, I know it’s a super weird and gross request, but help me out here.” Wooyoung laughed again and smirked at me.
“Gross and weird?” he repeated, “Not only I’ll see a nipple and a piercing, but I’ll also see a boob and a nipple with a piercing, that’s like some of the best things in this world combined together.” I slapped his shoulder again, but we both laughed this time.
“You’re the worst, god,” I said laughing, “I’m surprised you haven’t died over being such a fucking horndog all the time yet.” He laughed too and then gestured to my top.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, just shut up and pull your tits out,” he joked and made himself comfortable on one end of the couch. I wasn’t particularly shy about showing my body, so it wasn’t that hard to bare myself like this. Hell, me and Woo have probably seen each other naked a few times but just didn’t care enough.
I pulled the two straps of my top off my shoulders and bunched the fabric around my waist, then reached around to my back to take off my bra. When it hit the floor Wooyoung’s full attention was suddenly on my chest, and it flustered me a little. I fought the instinct to cover myself with my arms and instead just sat there, topless with my best friend intensely staring at my boobs.
“So?” I asked anxiously, “What do you think?” He suddenly straightened up and it brought us quite close to each other. “That you have really great tits,” he said absent-mindedly, his hands raising on instinct as if going to squish them. I flushed and swatted at them. “Yeah, I know,” I said annoyed, “that’s not what I asked though.” That seemed to break him out of it a little bit and he hunched down so his face was on level with my chest. I face-palmed and hoped no one would come home unannounced, cause this would be damn hard to explain.
“No, yeah I think it’s okay,” Woo said after a while, “I mean, the pierced one looks a little different, but that’s to be expected. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.” I relaxed at hearing him say so and felt the tension leave me at once. But I just needed a little more to feel completely at ease.
“Can you like… touch it to see if it’s weirdly warm or if there’s some weird texture or something?” I asked embarrassed and quickly looked to the side when Woo’s head whipped up to look at me. “You want me to what now?” he questioned me flabbergasted.
“I don’t know, dude! You’re the one that gets into contact with tits, you’ll know if there’s something wrong with it!” I started hurriedly explaining myself, growing more flustered by the minute. Wooyoung stayed quiet for a moment and then sighed. I thought this was finally the line that was too far for him, but then his hand suddenly flew up and stopped just millimetres from my nipple. We both just sat there, holding our breath, not knowing where to look, when he slowly brought his fingers in contact with my skin. I gasped quietly, but in the silence it was still audible. I flushed in embarrassment and refused to look anywhere else except for the wall by the TV.
Wooyoung’s fingers messed around a little, pressing down on the nipple and gently squeezing it, also lightly touching onto the piercing. Surprisingly enough, what I felt wasn’t pain like I feared. With every soft brush of his fingers over the sensitive skin, a little bolt of pleasure shot through me and I had to fight to keep myself from gasping more or arching into his touch. I felt the blush spreading over my face and completely mortified I noticed beginnings of a scorching wet heat between my legs.
Then suddenly his hand was gone and he was clearing his throat. The silence that set between us was broken and we both started shifting around, not knowing what to do with the situation we found ourselves in.
“I think it’s totally fine,” he said, his voice somewhat hoarse, but I was so embarrassed I barely even registered it.
“Oh thank god, I was really getting nervous,” I said and laughed a little awkwardly. Wooyoung wasn’t saying anything and just sat in front of me tensely, so I assumed it was good and he just needed a moment to shake off the sudden awkward atmosphere, and turned around to find my bra. That was a rookie mistake though. The moment my eyes left Wooyoung, he striked. As I was searching the floor with my eyes, suddenly what felt like a lightning strike went through my whole body. My back arched on instinct, and I toppled backwards onto the couch with a loud moan.
Wooyoung’s mouth has attached itself onto my pierced nipple and he sucked again, another shock pulsing through me and pleasure suddenly flooding my senses. My hands flew to his shoulders, but instead of pushing him away I just pulled him closer. I myself wasn’t sure of what was happening or what we were doing, but it felt too good to dwell on it and I definitely didn’t hate it.
Wooyoung moved closer and made himself comfortable between my spread thighs, his mouth busy sucking and licking around my piercing. I was letting out tiny breathy moans, my legs instinctively pulling him closer to my core, hoping for a little friction.
“What… what are you doing?” I finally gathered my wits and asked breathlessly. I looked down to see the top of his head moving around. He peaked up to look at me and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I’ve never been with a girl that has a nipple piercing, I couldn’t help myself,” he explained, and I rolled my eyes at him.
“You damn horndog,” I muttered, but didn’t push him away or stop him. That gave him confidence to continue, and he smirked at me, as one of his hands brushed down my front until he was slightly pushing on my clit through my clothes and I arched again. He moved to the other nipple and played with it a little, while his unoccupied hand moved to my other breast, touching it teasingly, squeezing it slightly and thumbing the piercing.
“It’s so sensitive,” he murmured and watched his hand completely fascinated. I was about to retort something, but he chose that moment to bite at my breast and move up to leave wet hot kisses on my neck and a loud moan came out instead. It’s been so long since I’ve been with someone, and I was starting to worry I might utterly embarrass myself. One of my hands sneaked down between our bodies, trying to encourage him to touch me properly instead of just gently pressing, but he caught it and pulled it up to my shoulder. Suddenly he was towering over me, smirking at me and just generally being a menace. I arched again, this time trying to push our lower halves together, but he avoided me with a laugh.
“God, please, Wooyoung just touch me,” I begged him as the desperation from the scorching heat cursing through my veins was taking over, throwing everything into the wind and fully committing to getting fucked by my best friend. He kept smirking and propped himself up over me on his elbow.
“Touch you, huh?” he said and suddenly his hand was back to teasing my clit, this time with more force. I keened and pushed up into him, suddenly embarrassedly realising just how wet I’d gotten from such small ministrations. He chuckled watching me, head diving to take my pierced nipple into his mouth again, gently playing with it with his tongue and scraping his teeth over it. I jerked and my hands flew into his hair, holding him in place so that he’d never stop, my mouth falling open on a silent moan, too overwhelmed by the sensation to properly function. He slowly moved up to my neck, peppering kisses and small bites along the way, while his fingers moved in little circles over my clothed clit.
I was so turned on I could die, I needed him to touch me properly – like stuff me full of his long beautiful fingers. And I told him as such. And he laughed at me.
“Aw, such a little desperate angel, aren’t you?” Wooyoung whispered into my skin. I whined his name, hoping it would speed him up. He scoffed at me playfully but moved away to pull my shorts off, grabbing them with one hand and pulling them down in one swoop; leaving me a little breathless and only in a bunched up top around my middle, while Wooyoung was still fully clothed. I started pulling his shirt off and he obliged, flinging it to the other side of the room eagerly.
Woo sat back on his heels between my spread thighs to take me in and I started to feel shy again, hands moving to grab onto him and pull him back onto me, but he pushed my arms back into the couch and held them there for a moment, before sitting back again.
“No, no, angel, I’m looking at your pretty pussy,” he teased me, hands grabbing at my full thighs to keep them spread wide. I looked down and suddenly an insecurity reared its head again. About two years ago I had stopped shaving in my intimate area, only trimming it a little, cause it irritated my skin too much and the last time I was about to get some, the guy called me disgusting. Wooyoung was currently watching me like a starved man in front of a feast, but still I nervously covered myself with my hands. His eyes flicked up to me, questioning, his eyebrows furrowed.
“Sorry,” was all I said, mad at myself that I couldn’t even properly get out why I was suddenly so uncomfortable, and he looked at me all confused. “What are you sorry for?” he asked, but then realisation lit up his eyes and he moved to stand up from the couch, “Did you change your mind? You know it’s okay to tell me.” I looped my legs around his waist to pull him back to me and he fell forward with an “oof”. This pressed his erect cock to my core as he held himself up with his hands right by my head and we both moaned at the contact. My legs kept encouraging him to grind into me and for a moment we both just breathlessly moved against each other, Woo releasing little moans and sighs into the heated air between us, and I watched his half-lidded eyes slowly become hazy with pleasure, utterly fascinated.
“So I guess no changing of minds,” he chuckled on a small groan as his hips started thrusting a little harsher against me, losing all rationality and just chasing pleasure. “No, nothing like that,” I whispered back and pulled him for a kiss for the first. As soon as our lips touched, we started hungrily devouring each other, moaning into each other’s mouths and our hands grabbing onto each other desperately. I ended up helplessly grabbing onto his back and most probably leaving red scratches in my wake.
After a moment Woo pulled away, sat back on his heels again and I whined and tried to pull him back, leading him to laugh at me once more; but his fingers went straight for my pussy, spreading it open and sliding through the wetness there. As if placated, I immediately stopped whining and arched my back more, begging for his touch.
“What was that about before?” he asked slightly breathless and I could see he was being serious, even though his finger started slowly circling my clit and playing around. I could barely concentrate on explaining as I was too busy drowning in the liquid pleasure spreading through my entire body.
“Just a little… hng- a little insecure about- about my hair,” I answered while writhing around, simultaneously wanting more and hoping he’d stop so that I could explain properly. His eyes immediately flicked down between my legs just as his finger slid down and slowly slipped into me. I moaned loudly, hands grabbing and squeezing the couch. His gaze was trained on my hole as he pumped his finger in a few times and then quickly slid in a second one.
“Fuck, you’re so wet..” he whispered, still watching his fingers slowly fucking into me, his other hand going to squeeze his erection still tenting his sweats. My mouth was hanging open, eyes unfocused, noises just pouring out as I was finally feeling full for the first time. But then suddenly he pulled his fingers out and focused on me again. I actually sobbed out, trying to close my legs to keep his hand from leaving, but they were still kept spread by his hips.
“Why would you be insecure about it?” Wooyoung whispered and it took me a moment to remember what we were talking about before. I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at him, sitting between my spread legs with an obvious erection in sweats stained by my wetness from our grinding before. I flushed again and tore my eyes away from his cock, only to catch his smug smirk. I schooled my expression and said: “The last guy I was with called it disgusting. Said he’s not Columbus to be exploring the rainforest.” Wooyoung scoffed.
“What a fucking asshole, who even comes up with shit like that?” he asked incredulously, “Well, clearly he’s a fucking coward, but thankfully… I’ve always liked a little bit of adventure.” He said the last bit all flirty, winking like an absolute sleaze and I just knew something awful was coming. “Besides,” he said while pressing himself into me again, “the rainforest is the perfect place for my anaconda.” I groaned, but this time from pure embarrassment at his jokes while he cackled like a madman. I pushed him away and started to turn around so that I could stand up.
“God, I changed my mind, get off of me,” I said morosely, but he just grabbed my hips and used the momentum to turn me around and get me on all fours, then pressed us together. A bolt of arousal shot through me, and my arms buckled under my weight, my face pressing into the couch while my ass stayed propped up by Wooyoung, pressed into his hips.
“Actually, this is quite a good idea,” he said grinding into me, “I always knew you’d love to be fucked like this.” He bent over me, his chest pressing into my back as he whispered straight into my ear. “Pressed down like this, taken from behind quick, rough and dirty,” he murmured, “Put nicely in your place…” I moaned unabashed, hips pushing back onto his cock on their own and lust making itself painfully known again; in response I could feel Wooyoung’s hands tightening on my skin and suddenly he pulled back to hurriedly tug his sweats down. His hands made their home on my hips, squeezing and pulling, keeping me pressed into him, his cock slotting between my thighs and sliding along my wet pussy. I keened and attempted to grind back, but he held me as his hips pulled back.
“God, please,” I begged, “Please, Wooyoung, give it to me…” He held himself with one hand and I heard him chuckle. “You want it?” he teased. I felt the head of his cock gently teasing around my hole, slightly pushing in and pulling out again. I sobbed exasperated and nodded, face mushed into the couch and hands grabbing onto the throw pillows, my whole body just fucking screaming for his cock to spear me through and through, cunt spasming and tightening around nothing.
“Yes! Yes, please!” I cried and he finally slid inside in one slow thrust. I moaned with relief and sagged into the couch a little, finally getting what I’ve been wanting this whole time. Wooyoung groaned behind me and his hands dug into the skin of my hips, pushing us impossibly together. The feeling of fullness satisfied something wild and primal in me and I found myself struggling to close my mouth, too blissed out to do anything.
He stilled for a moment to get us both accustomed to the feeling, but clearly both of us were too horny to wait even a little longer, because the second I pushed my hips back into him, he started slowly grinding in small circles and it wasn’t long before it shifted into shallow thrusts punching out little gasps out of me.
I only had to whine out “please!” once to get Wooyoung to speed up and pound into me in a much faster pace, to both of our reliefs. Woo’s cool had quickly melted away into a desperate quick pace that had tiny whiny moans spilling out of him. I wasn’t fairing much better, the slide of his cock along my walls from this angle was absolutely heavenly and within few moments had me absolutely losing my already frayed mind. With my head turned away from the cushions I found myself unable to close my mouth, moans freely slipping out and bouncing off of the walls of the living room. Embarrassingly enough I could feel a string of drool coming out of the corner of my mouth onto the couch, but I couldn’t force myself to care when Wooyoung was fucking me so good.
It quickly became obvious we were both too horny and turned on to keep any kind of decorum, so we descended into a messy filthy fucking, Woo eventually bending over me and plastering his chest to my back, mouthing and biting at my neck in between grunts and groans. Just thinking about how deliciously I was filled with his cock had me moaning loudly, Wooyoung chuckling as if he wasn’t the same, losing his mind over the tight wet heat enveloping him in a torturous hug.
I found myself quickly spiralling, the molten pleasure pumping through my body at an alarming speed. I reached back and pulled at Wooyoung’s hips, forcing him to shift his leg a little closer and putting his hips a little higher over mine, giving him perfect access to that one spot deep inside of me with every thrust. I lost all control over my body then, taken over by the all-consuming pleasure, the moans coming out higher and louder with every thrust.
“God- ah aah-“ I panted out, hands digging into the pillows looking for any kind of purchase to withstand the onslaught of sensations, “I- I’m cumming so-soon.” Wooyoung giggled breathlessly into my shoulder and his hips suddenly gained back a little more direction, aiming to hit the spot with every slam into me, slowly speeding up until he was railing me like a madman, the wet squelch of my cunt and slapping of skin on skin accompanying the cacophony of our joined pleasure. I wailed, unable to keep up with the mounting climax, almost screaming on every thrust inlaid with little gasps, groans and cut off gibberish pouring out of my mouth. It felt as if my entire body lit up, the bliss becoming a little too much for me to properly register beyond “Oh god! Oh yes!” ringing through every inch of my very being.
Then Wooyoung’s hand moved to my tit again and squeezed and pinched the pierced nipple few times, even giving it some light slaps. My whole body seized up on a lightning strike of pleasure and the orgasm hit me like an actual truck, getting thrown over the edge so unexpectedly and with such force that I gave one last wheezing cry, mind blanking out and all I could register was the white ecstasy pouring through me, out of me, as if my entire body was made out of it, every nerve screaming with it.
Distantly I registered Wooyoung’s startled cries and moans, his hips jerking against mine quickly and erratically, his hands back on my hips tightening until I could feel his nails biting into my skin and was sure I’d have a nice set of imprints for at least the rest of the day. Then he stilled over me, cock pushed as deep inside as it could go, pulsing and throbbing as the cum poured out in thick spurts. His deep groan of satisfaction reverberated through my whole body since he was still pressed into my back tightly, letting me enjoy the moment with him.
As if invisible strings were cut, we both collapsed into the couch and hazily I realised I only stayed upright because Wooyoung was holding me so he could fuck me harder. After few minutes my mind slowly started coming back, body tiredly catching up, registering the pleasurable ordeal it just went through. I could feel my pussy throbbing, hot and wet from being thoroughly fucked and filled with Woo’s release, my hips hurting from the pounding. I was almost expecting to see bruises all over me.
For a few moments only laboured breathing was heard through the room as we both recovered, the haze gradually lifting, allowing us to come to terms with what had just happened between us. Surprisingly, it didn’t feel awkward at all. It may have been because I was still lying boneless, unable to speak from the force of the orgasm with Wooyoung’s softening cock still wedged deep inside of my pussy, but I found myself quite comfortable squished into the couch, feeling his shallow breaths in the crook of my neck and his thumping heart against my back. I wondered if he could feel mine, as it was beating just as wildly.
But the comfy silence was broken by the man himself, when he whistled and said: “Wow, I had no idea you could do that.” There was a little teasing undertone to his statement, but mostly I could detect only giddy wonder and pride.
“Do what?” my words still a little slurred, because I was still recovering the functions of my brain and fighting sleep, so deeply sated I could barely hold a full thought.
“Squirt,” Woo stated matter-of-factly, his hands beginning to gently caress my sides to help me come down. “Huh?” I said eloquently and turned to look at him. He just gave me a soft grin, eyes squinting in joy as he took in my state. “I did what?” the question was more rhetorical and I wasn’t even really talking to Wooyoung, rather I started to squirm trying to look down as if my pussy held the answer. And in some way it did. When I managed to lift up my hips a little, my whole body protesting and Wooyoung behind me grunting at the jostling of his soft cock, hands digging into my hips to try and hold me still, I saw that the couch beneath us was absolutely soaked. Slight panic seized me, I didn’t even know why, it was just a natural reaction of my tired brain to the information that apparently Wooyoung, my best friend, had made me squirt for the first time in my life, all over Seonghwa’s lovely sofa. Well, at least it did explain why the orgasm had been so fucking intense, feeling as if the soul left my body and astral projected into a parallel universe.
The squirming dislodged Wooyoung from me and a splat of his cum joined the already huge stain on the furnishing. Now I winced, realising that there was no way either of us was surviving this. Unceremoniously I plopped back down into the mess and turned to Wooyoung, who was sweaty and rosy-cheeked, watching me with amusement.
“Seonghwa is going to fucking murder us,” I muttered tiredly, already back to fighting sleep off now that I was lying again. I let my eyes fall shut and only heard Wooyoung’s answering laugh, only felt him get up from the couch and gently roll me over on my back. There was shuffling, rustling of clothes and footsteps around the living room, but I couldn’t find the strength to look at what was Woo doing, letting myself drift on the high and the aftershocks that were still coursing through me.
Wooyoung was humming somewhere in the apartment and then there was a gentle touch on my hip. I whined but let him do what he needed. A warm wet towel was pressed onto my stomach lightly in lieu of warning and I slowly opened my legs again, feeling the strain and the burn that just hurt so good. Woo tenderly cleaned me up with soft unhurried strokes, then helped me sit up against the pillows to try and put some clothes back on me.
I blearily opened my eyes and blinked at him. Wooyoung was kneeling on the floor in front of me wearing only his sweats and holding his black tee. When he saw I was back in the land of living, he slowly pulled it over my head and helped my arms into the sleeves. I was feeling all warm and fuzzy from his sudden softness, thoroughly enjoying this after-care, suddenly found myself overtaken by the violent need to cuddle and sleep it off, so I was just about to suggest that, when he suddenly sprung to his feet and pulled me up with him. I let myself be man-handled with only a slight surprised yelp, but suddenly standing I realised my legs still weren’t in working order, if my shaking buckling knees were anything to go by, so I just grabbed onto his shoulders and hoped he wouldn’t let me fall.
He didn’t. Another nicely warm towel was now wiping my butt of anything I had been sitting in, his hand gently patting it before putting me back onto the couch in the area that was dry.
I wanted to sleep, but I was too amused by the picture of Wooyoung standing in front of the huge wet stain with a deep thinking expression on his face, wracking his brain for anything to do about it. When a giggle escaped me, suddenly his eyes were on me with a mischievous glint.
“You made the mess and now you laugh at me when I’m trying to save our lives?” he asked jokingly, amusement lacing his tone. I giggled again and curled around one of the pillows, fully committed to watching the comedy unfold. Wooyoung just sighed and looked at the couch as if it murdered his first-born.
“I gotta come up with something before-“ his voice was cut off by the door suddenly opening and a commotion coming in. There were three voices happily chattering something and I could recognise the guys from that. With terror I met Wooyoung’s eyes the moment we registered Seonghwa as one of the voices. Before any of us could even move a muscle, the three men walked into the room and promptly froze in their tracks.
“Holy shit!” It was San who shouted that, but we were focused on the cacophony of emotion going through Seonghwa’s face seconds before he cried out “MY COUCH!!” on the top of his lungs. There was genuine anguish and betrayal in his voice before his eyes redirected from the stain to us with pure fury.
“Okay! Time to take a shower!” Wooyoung shouted and pulled me up, but ended up supporting my entire body when my knees buckled and I was balancing on shaking legs like a new-born fawn. From this angle I could see the pure amusement and approval on San’s face right next to the disgusted traumatised Yeosang. I blushed furiously and let Wooyoung drag me off to a bathroom, where he sat me gently on the toilet.
“I’m going back out,” he whispered with determination as if he was about to walk into a battlefield, leaving his wounded comrade in the safety, knowing there was only death outside. I snickered at him and he theatrically waved at me from the door, before walking out and shutting it behind him.
I could still fairly clearly hear everything go down though, especially when only moments later Yeosang popped in to give me my clothes and stuff I left on the table and didn’t close the door fully after him. My phone was vibrating like crazy, which could only mean San was already blessing the group chat with all the piping hot tea. I unlocked it and clicked on the notifs.
Mountain man: lolol woo and y/n fucked on the couch and completely ruined it
Princess: ew fuck you wooyoung
Muscle baby: i’ll never fucking use the living room again
Brat: 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️
The situation unfolding in chat was interrupted by the scene that was going on in the living room in the real time.
“Calm down, I’ll think of something,” Wooyoung’s voice carried through, trying to console Hwa only to be followed by another shriek of “BUT MY COUCH!!”.
“Wow Wooyoung, I really thought better of you,” Sannie teased, adding oil to fire and I could clearly hear his laughs. No signs of Yeosang, but he was probably just standing there watching it all go down.
“I spent months picking it out!” the level of hysteria was steadily rising in Hwa’s voice and I really slowly started fearing for Woo’s life. “I’m gonna have it dry cleaned or something,” the said man offered only to be met with more shrieking.
“You better fucking throw that thing out, there’s no way I’m sitting on it after this,” San added very unhelpfully to the conversation, “especially since I saw the state of it.” There was a beat of silence during which I imagined Wooyoung was throwing daggers at San with his gaze for stirring more shit into it.
“I’ll buy a new one,” was his final plea and while it was met with some more grumbling and fake-crying, I could hear the situation calming down.
Captain: what the fuck is happening there when i’m not home
Mountain man: fornication
Demon angel: disgusting
M o t h e r: MY COUCH
M o t h e r: my amazing couch in the perfect shade of blue that i was looking for
M o t h e r: DEAD AND DEFILED
Puppy: i’ll help you look for a new one, hyung
Mountain man: wooyoung already agreed to buy a new one since he was the cause of the *suspiciously* large stain
Captain: no details
Captain: never any details
Captain: first rule of fight club
xoxo from hell: 🤔🤔
xoxo from hell: i think
Princess: oooh she breaks her silence
xoxo from hell: that a certain man here in this chat should rather shut up considering last week i walked in on him fucking a girl on the kitchen table
Brat: oop-
Mountain man: Y/N
Mountain man: NO
Demon angel: 🤮
Muscle baby: RIGHT WHERE WE EAT???!!!
Puppy: eat pussy apparently
Princess: nice
Captain: don’t encourage him
“MY KITCHEN TABLE?!” Seonghwa’s scream sounded through the flat just as Wooyoung slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him with a wide grin. Distantly I could hear San’s pleading and general chaos as Hwa no doubt started raining fury upon him.
“Nice save,” Wooyoung smirked at me and started ridding us of clothes so we could finally take the shower we both desperately needed. The feeling of the hot water hitting my spent and pleasantly aching body relaxed me and I sighed with content. I was basically ready to melt into a puddle right there, sleep slowly rearing its head back up, so I just went with the motion and let Woo soap us both up and rinse us, I let him dry me and put a fresh tee on me that I didn’t even notice he brought with him. I was just watching him with eyes half closed and a doped out smile on my face.
“You’re so cute like this,” Woo muttered as he led me through the hall to his room, amusement and fondness filling his voice with uncharacteristic gentle sweetness. Upon entering his room I immediately beelined for the bed and burrowed myself between the blankets and pillows. Woo rummaged around in his closet for a moment, but it was the only sound I could hear as the apartment suddenly fell almost eerily quiet.
“If I’m so cute now,” I finally mumbled out from underneath the cozy pile, “maybe you should fuck me more often then.” That had Wooyoung turning around to face me with a mischievous grin. “I fully intend to do that,” he said devilishly and jumped in with me. It took a bit of shuffling to get into a comfortable spooning position, but we were no strangers to cuddling each other, so it went rather smoothly.
Just as the sleep was claiming me and I felt myself getting pulled under, Woo suddenly perked up and said: “You don’t think the silence means hyung murdered San and now Yeosang’s helping him get rid of the body, right?” I snickered gently, but just swatted at him to lay back down.
“Well, he probably deserved it,” Woo muttered and snuggled in closer to me, letting the exhaustion finally lull us to sleep. And it was the most comfortable sleep I’ve had in a while, even if San potentially paid for it with his life.
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Divider from the amazing @saradika-graphics 💜
A/N: hope you enjoyed yourself, don't be shy I'm always open to comments and asks!!
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erwinsvow · 8 days
Note
please do bsf rafe flirting with reader while he’s drunk and she’s trying to put him to bed but he just cuddles her and tells her how much he has feelings for her
this with kook trio readerrr omg <3 in my head, rafe's version of admitting feelings is being aggressively posessive. when they finally start dating shes like why didnt you say something sooner? and hes like wym ive been claiming you since the start
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you were so used to rafe taking care of you—bringing you home to tannyhill with him, making sure you took a tylenol before you fell asleep on his bed, a clean frat shirt of his waiting for you in the bathroom.
he was such a good friend to you. when times like this came along, you tried your best to repay the favor.
you think rafe's got it easier, though. he alway manhandles you into position, can carry you up the stairs when you're stumbling and force the pill and water down your throat when you're resisting. you're usually too drunk to remember rafe's hand on your jaw, opening your mouth for you and trying to coax you into taking it, telling you repeatedly you'll be grateful he did it in the morning.
"you are such a dick," you mutter, staring at the bottle of tylenol in your hand and the empty cup of water on the nightstand. he's just spilled the water all over his floor in a drunken stupor, and you suddenly hate that he ever made you feel bad about how much he has to take care of you when you're the drunk one.
rafe is ten times worse than you could ever be.
"thinkin 'bout my dick, are'ya?" he slurs back at you, and then laughs at his own joke. he's laying flat on his bed now, still in the same clothes he wore to the party, shoes and watch still on. getting him into the house and up the stairs was hard enough, even with top and kelce's help, but they'd jumped ship the second you got rafe into bed.
"all yours now, princess," kelce said, grabbing the keys to his car.
"yeah, good luck. i've never seen him so drunk," top adds.
"you're both just leaving me with him?" you cry out, but the hallway is empty when you finally get your wrist out of rafe's grip. rafe had mumbled something from his position, but you hadn't heard it.
twenty minutes later, you still hadn't gotten rafe to drink any water or change his clothes. all his energy seemed to be focused on getting you to curl up next to him.
"c'mon! just get into bed, m'fuckin tired-" he grumbles again, latching onto your arm while you try to at least get his shoes off.
"you can't sleep with your sneakers on, rafe-"
"who cares? i like my sneakers-"
"that's great, but your sheets-"
"but not as much as i like you. hah. that's fuckin' cheesy." you turn to look at your drunken best friend, his flushed cheeks and the way his eyes are closed while talking to you. you laugh, unable to hold it back.
"thanks, rafe. i like you too. enough to get your shoes off because you will so regret this tomorrow morning."
"don't regret anything." his eyes open, staring at you while you stare at his shoes. "shit. you're pretty."
you don't even address his comment—he's drunk beyond belief and you know you're pretty. after you untie his laces for him, he kicks off his shoes. you sigh a breath of relief.
"okay, rafe, do you want to sleep in these clothes or should i find pajamas?"
"how 'bout we sleep naked? there's an idea."
"stop being a perv. otherwise i'm gonna go cuddle with kelce instead." you laugh to yourself—the whole thing is a joke. you and rafe don't cuddle, at least not on purpose. you go to bed facing him but somehow always wake up with your limbs tangled and your hair in his face.
"sure. if you want me to kill kelce."
"oh my god, dramatic much?" you turn back to rafe to see if he's laughing, but he's not, looking right at you and sitting up.
"m'not kidding. don't joke about that. you're fuckin' mine, don't forget it."
he lays back down. you pause, eyebrows knitting while you think about the sentence rafe just said. he's drunk, so he must be joking. right?
"c'mon wanna sleep. get into bed." he grumbles again, and you comply, still a little shellshocked. you turn off the lamp and get into bed, and you don't even feel surprised when rafe pulls you in. you rest your head against his chest, and you don't stop thinking about what he said until you fall asleep.
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gamergirl-niffler · 2 months
Note
Hi, I'm coming from doumadono's discord. Since your requests are open, I decided to drop one - taking care of the mini dragon!Neuvilette and the mini dragon!Zhongli ! Just boys in tiny dragon forms (you can fit them in hands) - sfw
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That's such a cute idea! I HOPE YOU WILL LIKE MY TAKE ON THIS AMAZING IDEA!
I love those two dragon grandpas ^^
Wish you all nice reading! @shonen-brainrot
Wonderful dividers and cover made by one and only! @doumadono
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Neuvillette
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💧 You came to Monsieur Neuvillette to drop off some documents, but instead of encountering  your beloved Iudex himself, all you can see is a dragon, looking right at you!
💧 It's small enough to fit into your palms. He is little, blue, slightly round with a long neck, long tail, tiny legs and fins attached to his sides.
💧 Eh? Eh? Eh?! Eeeeeh?! Eh...?! You.exe stopped working.
💧 You quickly realize that it's not one else but Neuvillette himself! Oh dear Archon! What should you do!?
💧 You walk up to the desk and scoop the dragon up into your hands. "Oh dear Archon. Neuvillette! What happened?!”
💧 The dragon looks up at you, blinks and purrs happily, clapping his fins.
💧 At least he recognized you. That's a good thing.  For this, he gets a kiss on the head which makes him look even more pleased.
💧 But suddenly, he looks sad, and you can see a drizzle right outside the window. 
💧 "Oh! No, no, no! Don't be sad love, I'll take care of you," you assure and kiss his head gently. "How about we go for a walk, huh?”
💧 At this, the dragon looks at you and nods his head.
💧 So that's what you do. You take Neuvillette for a walk, and he looks happy.
💧 You walk out of his office and head down the streets until you reach the center with the big fountain. Suddenly, Neuvillette lets out a soft squeak, making you stop.
💧 He immediately uses his head to point at the fountain, and you understand him, so you walk to it and place him in the water.
💧 Neuvillette seems happy but a little disappointed that the fountain is quite shallow.
💧 That's when you get the idea! You grab the dragon and go back inside. 
💧 Neuvillette is watching curiously as you are running around your little flat, collecting snacks and making food before putting it into a basket. You are doing all of this while he is chilling in a sink full of water.
💧 And just like that, the two of you soon leave the bustling city.
💧 You took Neuvillette to his favorite place for a walk, but instead of taking a walk, you find the right place to set a picnic.
💧 While you are enjoying warm tea, the dragon is happily swimming around in the deep waters of Fontain. Of course he isn't swimming too far away to worry you - he knows you are already worried because of the whole ordeal.
💧 When he is done with swimming, he joins you on the blanket where you feed him some soup and some snacks.
💧 Neuvillette enjoys this day. It may be weird, though. He is tiny and in a dragon form, but the amount of care you give him makes him feel loved. 
💧 When the evening comes, you collect everything and then pick up Neuvillette. "Time to go home," you say and gently tap him on the head with your finger.
💧 Neuvillette seems sleepy, so before you get home, the little dragon is sleeping, curled into a ball in your palm.
💧 He is too adorable to wake up, so you leave stuff in the kitchen and go to your bedroom. 
💧 You lay down with a dragon still in your palm. "I will take care of you as long as I need to. Don't worry."
💧 At this Neuvillette only mutters in his sleep, nuzzling the palm more.
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Zhongli
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🟡 At first, you are sure that you woke up in an empty bed, but as soon as you remove the duvet, you realize it isn’t fully true. 
🟡 Zhongli is still in bed with you but... He is in his dragon form, just on a smaller scale. His body is long, but you can easily fit him in the palm of your hand. 
🟡 You sit up and pick the dragon up to look at him - he even has cute horns. When you touch them, he wakes up and looks at you.
🟡 "That's a new look for you, love. Quite interesting," you joked, scratching him under his chin. He purrs at this and nuzzles your hand.
🟡 He doesn't seem scared, so he must be aware of what is happening. At least it means you don't need to freak out.
🟡 Both of you didn't have much planned for today, just some shopping for dinner. You don't want the plans to be ruined, so you get up to get ready.
🟡 You walk through Liyue with a dragon happily hanging out in your hood while you are shopping.
🟡 While you are buying stuff for dinner, your hood suddenly becomes lighter, and all you can see was Zhongli running away somewhere.
🟡 You panic a little and leave your basket with a vendor to follow him quickly.
🟡 He doesn't trot away too far, just to some antiques seller. Zhongli quickly finds a pretty stone he really wants. Dragon basically wraps itself around it.
🟡 "Guess I have no choice,” you sigh and ask about the stone. All you hear in replay is a really high price. You can afford it, but dear Archon, that's a big number!
🟡 Zhongli looks up at you with his big eyes, and you break pretty easily. So you pay and pick the dragon up so he can't find anything more expensive. "So? You like shiny stuff? Here," you said, giving him one Mora.
🟡 He is more than happy with this little gift. Thankfully, he stays good for the rest of the shopping. 
🟡 Once back home, Zhongli is able to fully enjoy his gifts. He is thankful for your understanding and love you give him despite what's happening.
🟡 While you cook his favorite meal, he is sitting right next to you and even handing you some ingredients you need to add.
🟡 When the bamboo shoot soup is ready, you witness the cutest thing ever - a cute dragon eating from his bowl eagerly, enjoying the taste. 
🟡 In the evening, you take him for the walk, and the two of you visit his favorite cafe. The sight of a dragon, wrapped around a teacup, drinking warm tea and enjoying stories is one of a kind. 
🟡 You come back home with Zhongli curled into a ball in your hood, sleeping peacefully. To make it more comfortable for him, you put him onto his pillow and place his treasures next to him. 
🟡 After that, you get yourself ready to bed, and soon join him to finally end the crazy day.
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uniivrz · 1 month
Text
mic'd up
katie mccabe x reader
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+ summary: reader, still on the acl squad, has been approached by the arsenal media staff asking if she'd go mic'd up in the stands for one of arsenal's games.
+ warnings: ACL injury mentions right off the bat. swearing. made up game (arsenal v tottenham). reader really embracing the WAG life.
a/n: i came across a video of katie during one of the covid matches, and due to the empty stadium you could hear everything she said— and that's where i got this idea :) my first post, hope you enjoy!
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like any other football player, you hated the dreaded three letters that would take whoever was the unlucky soul out of the game for a long while.
of course it had always been a fear in the back of your mind, you just never thought it would actually happen to you.
that day you went down on the pitch had been one of the worst. not just for you, but for katie as well as the rest of your arsenal team.
everything had been fine. arsenal was up by two, and half time had just ended. it was around the 52nd minute, when a purposely bad tackle from a chelsea player left you on the ground, clutching your knee as you attempted to keep the tears at bay. (only to fail).
some time later you were holed up in one of the physio rooms of the stadium, when katie came in, the look on your face confirming her worst fear.
honestly, it was getting quite scary how many arsenal players were getting ACL injuries.
she had been by your side for all of it, constantly making sure you were comfortable and had everything you needed, as well as driving you to and from appointments.
the downside meant you weren't able to travel with the team for away games, forcing yourself to be holed up in your flat you shared with katie— often inviting the rest of the ACL squad over to watch the game together, knowing you'd be insufferable on your own.
luckily for you, today was a home game. you woke up before katie that morning, hobbling down the stairs on your good leg, (and nearly eating shit in the process), you'd prepared her a proper breakfast, consisting of pancakes, bacon, & eggs.
the brunette soon appeared in the kitchen behind your unsuspecting frame, an adoring smile crossing her face at the sight of you lightly nodding your head to whatever song came from the speaker on the marble counter.
nearly jumping out of your skin at the feeling of two strong arms wrapping around your waist, your body relaxed as you registered the familiar feeling of katie, her arms clad in her arsenal training jacket.
you leaned into her touch as you finished up with the bacon, her thick irish accent rang through your ears as her nose brushed against your neck gently. "you should not be on your feet,"
rolling your eyes fondly, you forced yourself to suppress a smile. ever since your injury, katie had been treating you as if you were a porcelain doll— going to break at the slightest touch.
while sometimes it became a little overbearing, it warmed your heart for her to be this protecting with you, and you wouldn't trade it for the world.
"i was cleared to walk without my crutches, katie," your giggled, relishing in the ticklish feeling of her light breathing against the back of your neck.
"still. ya should have waited for me." she murmured. "i could have carried you down here."
you rolled your eyes once again.
for the first few weeks/months of your injury, she had insisted on carrying you everywhere. from the bed to downstairs, from the front door to the car. no matter where it was— she wanted to carry you. wether it was bridal style, your legs wrapped around her waist, or giving you a piggy back, she didn't care.
after breakfast was finished, you rushed back up to change. you settled on one of katie's hoodie's, along with her jersey which you threw on top, and a pair of her sweatpants. nearly everything you wore was hers.
when you'd returned downstairs, she grinned widely at the sight of you dressed in her attire, and couldn't restrain herself from letting her hands roam your body as you shoved your feet into some sneakers.
"oi hands off, mccabe."
the ireland captain chuckled, tapping your rear end before you stood back up, sending you a cheeky wink when you glared at her.
arriving at the emirates with your personal chauffeur, the two of you made your way through the grounds, greeting any staff members you'd passed by and waving to the media staff as you each made your way toward your separate destinations.
you had a brief session with a physio to assure everything was still fine and dandy with your knee, whereas katie was heading off toward the locker room with the others.
as you left your meeting 15-ish minutes later, you had been wandering the halls when you were stopped by one of the media staff, claiming they had a task for you.
since you were going to be in the stands again, they had asked if you would go mic'd up, thinking it'd be a fun video idea for arsenal's youtube channel.
you agreed quickly, thrilled at the idea. they had informed you that there would be a camera a little ways away from you, to capture your reactions in both your voice as well as your actions.
one of the members clipped a small square microphone device to the collar of your (katie's) jersey, as another member held a camera and recorded your actions.
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Youtube
Y/N L/N MIC'D UP • ARSENAL V TOTTENHAM
Arsenal 578K views 6:38
0:00
[Camera fades in from black to show you, stood in one of the many corridors of the Emirates Stadium.]
grinning, you gripped your shirt and pulled it closer, "we've got mccabe! katie mccabe! can you hear me?" you asked, looking into the camera that was recording you.
[Laughter is heard around you before the scene cuts and fades into a brief black screen. When it returns, the camera is unfocused, going in an out before focusing on you, looking at the camera as you don't realize it's recording.]
"is it going?" you asked with a dopey smile, the cameraman behind you nodding. "right. hi, i'm y/n l/n and today i'll be mic'd up as i watch tonight's game." you giggle, pointing at the microphone clipped to your shirt before you make your way toward your seat.
[Camera follows you down the hall before cutting to you sat with Beth, Viv, and Leah, the former two sat in the row below you. You pull a small, barely noticeable box out of your pocket. The camera zooms in on your hand, revealing the box is actually a miniature uno deck.]
"i know how we can pass the time," you grin micheviously.
0:45
[Camera cuts to the four of you playing uno, Beth and Viv swiveled in their seats to face you and Leah above them. It catches Leah attempting to peek at your cards before you shove her head away, the scene then switching to a new clip of the four women arguing.]
"absolutely not, beth cheated!" leah yells, hands dropping dramatically onto her thighs with a loud smack.
"you fucking wish! you just suck williamson!"
[Viv is seen trying to keep the peace as you laugh loudly, the four of you gaining looks from surrounding match watchers— only for them to look away at the sight of four of arsenal's own. Your laughter becomes louder as Leah slams her tiny cards aggressively onto your thigh, folding her arms and leaning back in her chair with a pout.]
"oh, cheer up captain," you pout mockingly, reaching to pinch her cheeks between your fingers.
1:02
[Camera cuts to the teams walkout, briefly showing Katie McCabe before turning back to you, a large grin on your face, never failing to leave.]
"that's my girl!" you shout, hands cupped around your mouth to make yourself louder. "let's go number fifteen!"
1:39
[Cuts to you leaned back in your seat with your arms folded. An amused look is on your face as you shake your head. Camera pans to the big screen as Katie's name is shown, a yellow card next to it.]
"it's been like thirty minutes and she already has a card," you giggle to yourself before sighing fondly, a gentle smile on your face. "that's my girl."
2:06
[Different camera shows Katie sliding her foot in front of a Tottenham player, successfully and cleanly retrieving the ball from her feet before panning to you with your elbows propped up on your knees, head resting in your hands.]
"oh my god, she's so hot." you sighed absentmindedly, momentarily forgetting about those surrounding you and the microphone attached to your collar.
[Beside you, Leah bursts out laughing, the sound picking up through your mic as the blonde discretely turning to the cameraman who has now directed it toward her, pointing at you before fake wretching.]
3:21
[Camera shows you jumping up out of your seat, annoyance clear on your face as your hands are perched on your hips.]
"oh, come the fuck on! that's so clearly a foul!"
4:38
[During halftime, the camera follows as the four of you briefly leave your seats to join the girls in the locker room. The cameraman does not enter, only filming the door, however you can be heard from inside.]
"north london is what?!"
"north london is red!" an irish voice answers you.
"hell yeah it is!" you reply, then followed by the sound of palms smacking against each other.
another voice cuts in, "alright, simmer down you two!"
"oi! put her down, she's fragile!"
4:50
[Camera cuts to you stood with your hands on Katie's shoulders, giving her your usual half time pep talk, brushing stray fly-aways out of her face as she smiles at you. The sound is cut off, so the viewers can only see the motion of both players' lips moving as you speak to each other, the final thing being Katie moving toward you, scenes changing just before any PDA is shown.]
5:47
[Camera pans from Katie running around the pitch celebrating, arms in the air and then back to you, the four Arsenal players chanting together, you being the loudest and most enthusiastic of the four.]
"we've got mccabe! katie mccabe! i just don't think you understand! she plays out on the wing! she hits it with a zing! we've got katie mccabe!"
6:25
[Video closes out with you and Katie stood outside of the stadium, her arm wrapped around your shoulder as you do the outro.]
"that was me mic'd up, i hope i was entertaining enough for you all. thanks for watching." you grin shyly, waving with both hands. "leave a comment if you think katie should get mic'd up next."
[Katie laughs before kissing your cheek affectionately, the brunette waving bye with her free hand before the video fades to black.]
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Instagram Posts
ynln
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Liked by victoriapelova and 51,094 others
ynln Watch me go Mic'd Up as I watch Arsenal Women's recent match against Tottenham!
Video is out now on the Arsenal Youtube Channel and the Arsenal Instagram Account!
— view all comments
katie_mccabe11 It's a good one 😉
⤿ bethmead_ We know why you think that 🙄
username petition to get yn mic'd up again, sign here
⤿ username signed
⤿ username signed
⤿ ynln signed
leahwilliamson Alternate title, YN thirsting over Katie for 6 minutes straight 🤢
⤿ katie_mccabe11 Jealous are we, Williamson?
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Twitter/X
ynsmccabe that new video arsenal posted of y/n l/n is now my favorite thing
⤿ the clip of her and katie in the hall OMG
⤿ mccardlover no because they literally the only couple ever
⤿ meadema99 leah getting upset over beth cheating in uno after she literally tried to look at y/n's cards 😭😭
username pls the amount of bleeps they had to add to this video because of yn 😭
⤿ username never heard someone curse so many times in 6 minutes
katiespelova oh i need more mic'd up videos with the rest of the team now
username if my relationship isn't like katie's and yn's i don't want it
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vanderilnde · 3 months
Text
world stopped when #that gym vid went live. i blacked out and woke up with this in my drafts. dont remember a thing. enjoy.
cw for dubcon smut, breaking and entering, soap dragging you across the ground, fleeting knifeplay, and greasy ex bf soap!!!!!!
-
You wake in a daze.
Your mouth is hot and clammy, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. Your eyelashes are glued together with sleep, your underarms perspiry and the skin of your back dewy. 
It’s the baby monitor that stirred you. Languidly capitalising off your motherly instincts, thinly crackling and humming and rousing you awake. When you reorient, the indistinct, enigmatic shadow in the corner of your room turns into a pile of undone laundry. You rub your eyes, hackles raised, as the baby rustles, her fussing carrying through the monitor, tinny and jangling as she whines. 
You swing your legs over the mattress, and her whines ripen into giggles. They’re high-pitched and brayed, accompanied by her clapping hands. She’s squealing while you edge into your slippers, wrapping your arms around your slip dress, padding into the corridor. 
Your eyes are too unfocused and filmy to notice the telltale signs. Your panties missing from your hamper, your closet open and forged. The lockbox where you keep your pistol pulled from under your bed and unlatched. Empty.   
You turn the corner to your daughter’s room and freeze. There’s a glow spilling from it, into the hall. It’s her owl-themed nightlight, soft and moulded around a pair of kevlar-plated shoulders. Outlining a clunky chest rig and a heavy belt. Longer hair, curled at its ends and flat with sweat. The shadow of a knife. The steel of a gun.
It’s the reaper himself, and he’s made his way into your home. 
Your mind wrestles between attacking him and sneaking away to call the police. He’s a harvester of life, a macabre memory unheralded and in the middle of your house, but your baby is, at least, safe with him. Stronger than the scythe he carries—his own flesh and blood. You peel your feet off the floor and creep backwards, fleet-footed and rushing down the stairs and into your kitchen, working your way around furniture in the dark. You don’t turn on the light, don’t want to run the risk, so you bump into the lip of your counter, reaching over it and grasping the landline. 
It’s bulky in your hand. Almost slips out with how sweaty your palms are, with how you scramble to dial the police. 
But you feel him before you see him.
It’s like echolocation. He’s using his skill, you know, to sneak up behind you. Capitalising off whatever he learned in the military to soften his feet and prowl behind you. It’s his breathing that’s low and rumbling, reflecting off your spine, rolling like thunder.
It’s now, you remember, that Johnny is an ambush predator. 
He leans over you before you hit the dial, smashing the hang-up button. A long honk succeeds it and precedes deafening silence.
Your lips warble. You clutch the phone to your chest, quivering, and steel yourself. “How did you get in?”
Johnny chuckles, and it rumbles against your spine. Through the silk canopy of your slip dress and into your bone. 
“Wore this for me?” He ignores your question. Noses the strap of your slip so it curls like a wisp of hair off your shoulder. “Y’know I love this colour on ye.”
“I want you to leave, Jonathan.”
He spins you around. Bullies you back and cuts the hind of your spine into your countertop. He looks rugged and stinks of sulfur, like he came straight from downrage, and chucks your slip over your hips, kneading your flesh. 
“Ye can’t keep me from my bairn,” Johnny mumbles. He wraps his arms around you like a serpentine, licking a belt up your neck. “We’re in this together. Isn’t fair of ye t’hide from me.”
“You’re sick in the head,” you sneer. 
Johnny’s cheeks engorge around a malformed, gnarled grin. He feeds off your disgust, a flayed moan ripping from his throat, as he reaches down to palm his cock. 
“Say it again,” he huffs. “Tell me how sick I am, hen.” 
You draw your hand back and swing it across Johnny’s face in rash judgement. He stumbles back in shock, his cheek burning with a ruddy hue beneath the peppery hair of his beard. He blinks, catatonic, and rubs his face. The silence is ear-splitting. Like the calm before the storm.
Then, you’re free-falling. Johnny grips you by your hair and pulls you to the floor. It’s now, you realise, that you’ve gravely miscalculated his strength. His calibre of ruthlessness as he forcefully tugs you along, heedless if your shins bump into the corner walls or grate against the carpet. He pulls you outside, over the wide-combed, lightly-pitted brick of your driveway, towards his scrap metal pickup truck that’s been eaten away by yellow rust and dog-eared bumper stickers. 
The hem of your silk slip turns threadbare as you’re dragged across the ground. You shiver as the cold air furls over the wet smudge he’d licked up your neck. You consider yelling into the night. For help, for atonement, to right whatever wrong you’ve done to deserve this. To deserve him. But Johnny slaps a palm over your mouth before you’re able to do anything. His hand is so big, splaying over the expanse of your face. 
This, you suppose, is your penance. 
The door to his truck rasps as he swings it open. He throws you inside with a dull thud and awkwardly clobbers in behind you, too big for the door, his stature exemplified with all his clunky tactical gear. 
He sinks his knees into the pleather bench seat, grinning as if he’s done nothing wrong. 
“Dinnae mind the mess, hen,” he laughs. There’s mud-clogged boots thrown on the bed floor, a couple of plastic water bottles littered around the front. “Wasnae expectin’ you ta put up a fight.”
Johnny shucks his jeans to his boots, followed by his boxers. His cock springs out, long and hard and lazy against his navel as he leans back, languidly stroking it.
He smooches your cheek, and his beard—something he’d grown recently—is spindly like steel wool, dragging against the hull of your ear. 
“Did I pull ye too hard?” Johnny asks. His concern is masked with a colour of arousal, lukewarm and lacking in conviction. “Dinna fash yerself, I’ll pay for yer salon appointment.”
When you plaintively sniffle, Johnny starts jerking off faster. Meaner. His fist tightly winded around his cock, his cheeks pink and his puppy lips parted open. His lashes fluttering as his eyes roll back, every sigh and gasp out of him materialising as off-white smoke in the cold tract of his truck. 
The sticky sound of Johnny rolling his palm over his raw cock is too much. Precum drools over him, between his thighs, indigo and pearlescent in the moonlight. Your eyes are dewy but your pussy is swelling. It clings to your panties, as hot as it is uncomfortable.
“No need to be a minter,” he pants. Releases his dick with a pinch and lets it hang, reaching out to you. His slick, big hand swallows your flinch and pulls you close. Fishes the combat knife from his pocket, twisting it in the light. “I’ll help you, Birdy.”
Johnny slips the knife below the band of your slip dress. He tilts it up, slicing the strap over the steeple of his knife, letting it curl off your body and reveal your breasts, your tits goose-fleshed in the frigid air of his truck.
He takes it upon himself to repeal that. Johnny leans forward and latches his lips around you, flicking his tongue around your nipple, kneading your other breast with his opposite hand. He doesn’t stop going back and forth until you try peeling him off, squirming, trying to push him away.
Johnny’s as sturdy as a steel wall. He chuckles, low and hollow, and pulls off his gloves, snaking his hand lower. Towards your pussy that radiates an unwelcomed, pulsing heat. Johnny’s fingers are deft and hardened, splitting you open like a fleshy fruit, coaxing out your honeyed juices, fingering around for that sweet spot. He grins when you writhe, and he knows he’s found it. Knuckle-deep and deeply-seated in your warm cunt, curling his fingers, pushing the heel of his palm into your clit and sinking himself deeper.
You wildly flail your legs like a deflated balloon trying to fly away. It’s to tame a feral animal as Johnny pins you down, crawling over you, his fingers sinking deeper and the pad of his thumb circling your clit. You preen with embarrassment at the sticky, wet sound of your cunt spreading open. 
“Just as tight fo’ me,” he mumbles. His words melt through your lips and into your lungs. Burns you from the inside out. “Didn’t shag anyone while I was gone? Kept yerself sweet for me?”
A sob wracks your ribs. It prompts Johnny to go a little deeper, a little meaner, in how he curls his fingers into your walls. Your sticky spine peels off the pleather seats, shiny with sweat and shaking, and suddenly, Johnny pulls out. You feel yourself crash into nothing, your winking hole stretched empty and cold. Your thighs, quivering. 
“How about ye gimme another, eh?” He says. Lifts you up like you weigh nothing and drops you onto his thighs. Lines his fat cockhead up with your clit, gives it a few, irritable taps. “Always wanted a hoachin’ family.”
Johnny tries to ram it in, you think, but he’s too thick. It requires time and patience, squeezing into you, but those are two things Johnny doesn’t have. It feels like you’re being flayed as Johnny slams himself into you. He shatters you as he pushes himself deeper, his hold on your waist breaking your skin, his hips ripening into a bruising, splitting pace. Johnny rubs his tongue along the round of his cheek and spits on your cunt. It slips down, over your clit, frothy around the base of his cock.
Sweat travels down the coils of his beard, dripping onto you. You’re folded in half as Johnny batters into you, pounding you with a lack of inhibition. He chases after his orgasm like a dog chases after its own tail, the stretch of your pussy around his cock so stifling it flares into a sweeping pleasure. 
He reaches down and blindly swipes your clit. It’s sloppy. The dead, rough skin of his thumb pressing down on your bud and tracing circles with a slap-happy hand. It’s a disgusting mix of stickiness and squelches. The windows fog up, and your legs tremble. Johnny’s hips slam into you sharper, and you feel your orgasm shivering like a gurgling kettle. Hot to the touch and almost at your climax, expelling white hisses of steam. 
It rockets into you without warning. You’re scratching and crying, and he’s rolling into you. Slowly, as if that’ll sink him deeper, as he gives you his come. Thick, white ropes that paint your walls and plant a seed. You gush around him and Johnny peppers you with kisses as if that will placate you. As if that’s his cobbled together, screwed up idea of penance. 
He lets his cock soften in you. Johnny rests his head on your shoulder, kissing it. He slips out and a thick, shapeless wad of come follows suit. Sticking to the pleather of his seats, leaving you empty. 
Johnny collapses, falling on you like a dog that doesn’t know how big it is. Feels for the come that slips out of you and uses his fingers to stuff it back in.
“Left the door unlocked agin,” he mumbles. “Guess ya wanted me to find ya, ye ken, Birdy?”
595 notes · View notes
st4rymoon · 2 months
Note
Can u please make a Steven smut where the reader is obsessed with pink and Marc gets her light pink lingerie but she thinks it’s from Steven and she puts on a show for him
This <3
𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐞 • Fem Reader x Marc Spector (ft. Steven <3)
- 18+, reader is obsessed with pink <3, riding!, jealousy, Marc fronts half way through the deed :3, soft dom Steven, mean dom Marc, unprotected sex!, reader wears lingerie, language, pet names, fingering!, teasing
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Even when Marc was angry with you, he couldn’t help but buy you a few gifts while he was away doing Khonshus dirty work.
He picked out some pretty lace sets, all different shades of pink and fully aware that you loved anything pink. Once you’d moved in, there was always a hint of pink in every direction of his flat.
Steven didn’t mind it, he loved it but Marc and Jake weren’t the biggest fans of pink blankets and pillows littering their dull apartment. Sometimes Marc would even notice the pink fluff from your plushies on his jackets and shirts.
He would never admit it but he couldn’t help but smile whenever he noticed it.
Steven had called you the night before, letting you know your boys are back from their monthly work trips.
Marc had left the bag full of lace panties and lingerie sitting on his bed with pink tissue paper fluffing up the bag. He couldn’t wait to see you light up at the kind gesture he planned.
You stepped into an empty apartment, no sight of anyone but Gus swimming around in his tank. A buzz from your phone caught your attention “sorry love Donna is making me close tonight. I’ll be out in 30”your phone read.
Disappointed at the message you sighed but sent a reassuring text telling Steven not to worry. You’d just make yourself at home.
You tried to ignore the pink bag sitting pretty on the bed the second you walked in but as always, you were curious at what it could be.
For my favorite girl was written in pink ink on a small piece of paper, a string keeping it in place as it hung around one of the bags arms.
You smiled at the small message and slowly pulled the stuffing from bag. You squealed at the sight of delicate light pink lace sets of lingerie and sets of under garments.
There was no hesitation as you kicked off your clothes and picked out your favorite piece. You went for the soft pink set that came with a bra, panties, and matching garter belt.
The panties are embroidered with a white trim, the garter belt having two pretty pink bows on both your upper thighs and the bra having identical details making it all satisfyingly match. You looked like the perfect present for your boys.
You smiled at your reflection noticing how good it all fit. Steven really did know your size you thought.
You waited for Steven as you set the mood. Lighting a few candles and playing one of Jake’s more sensual records did a lot for the little flat.
Hearing the doorknob turn made you perk up, your body now facing the door as you posed yourself in the sexist position possible.
“I’m sorry love I really am, Donna and her bloody rules” Steven hissed as he burst inside. “It’s ok, you’ll make it up” you cooed.
Steven gasped, his shoulder bag slipping off onto the ground as he stood with his mouth wide open “bloody hell love” he huffed as he stumbled across the living room and made his way to you.
You giggled as you jumped onto the bed, playfully running from Steven as he pulled at your legs. He ignored Marc’s curses and insults as Steven savored the sight of your thick thighs being hugged by the thin elastic strand of cloth.
Steven I bought it ALL for her you little shit. Don’t you dare take the fucking credit!
The words flew through Steven’s ears “missed you so much darling” he whined as you pulled him in for a kiss, the words swallowed down by your lips as you kissed him hungrily.
Both of you moaned into each other as Steven’s arms laid beside your head, holding himself up steady as you wrapped your legs around him. “Show me how much you missed me then” you cooed.
Steven you asshole!
Marc’s voice echoed in Steven’s head as Marc tried his best to ask nicely. He didn’t want to take over the body but he didn’t appreciate Steven getting all the credit. The gifts were just one of the many apologies Marc had planned out but here Steven was indulging himself.
Steven this is the last time I ask nicely.
You squirmed as Steven’s hands ran up your thighs, his soft touch making you moan as he buried himself in your neck. His tongue lapped and sucked at your skin all the while his hips rocked onto your clothed body.
“N- No!”
You noticed as Marc took over, the once soft grip now rough as his hands held your thighs like letting go was the last thing he wanted to do.
“I bought you these, I wanna see ‘em” he hissed as he pushed out Steven’s pleads and curses. “Do you really think Steven’s the only one who can do something nice for you?”
You moaned as Marc’s hand snaked from under your spine and up to your hair. “Answer me” he hissed as he tugged a fist full of your hair back “No” you gasped “I- I just thought you hated pink. I’d think you’d buy me something red” you now confidently spoke.
“Wrong” he hummed “well I’m sorry, I just thought stev-“ you were cut short as Marc tugged your panties to the side and without a word he pushed two thick fingers into your tight cunt.
You mewled as he hummed with a cocky smile on his face. Marc payed attention to the sound of your needy whines growing louder with each of his thrusts.
Without a second thought he pulled out his fingers. You cried in agony as he ignored you “please Marc I’m sorry” you whined in hopes of getting him back between your legs.
“I know, I know you are bunny” he hummed “jus’ be patient. Just be patient.”
You spread your legs wide as you watched him begin to unbuckle his belt, his hand expertly moving his buckle to the side and in one quick tug he yanked the thick leather from around his waist.
Seeing Marc so impatient and irritated at the fact that someone else was taking credit for his actions was something you never knew you needed.
The way his ruffled hair bounced with his rushed movements as he kicked his jeans off was mesmerizing. Your eyes dumbly stared at his v-line as he tossed another layer of clothing.
“You want somethin’ honey?” He chuckled, his hand nudging your thighs apart as he leaned in and pressed a kiss against your plump lips. The sloppy kiss makes the both of you moan as your tongues intertwine and lap at each other.
Marc’s calloused hand plants itself softly around your neck as his hips grind into your sticky cunt. You could feel your slick begin to pool in the thin lace as he spread your legs wider.
“Marc” you moaned, your breath unsteady as his hands ran up your thighs and played with the thin straps of your garter belt. All he let out was a hum as his eyes dragged down your body and locked between your thighs.
A loud gasp slipped from your lips as two of his calloused fingers pulled the soft fabric of your panties to the side, two fingers instantly pushing into your tight cunt. “Marccc” his name rolled off your tongue in a purr, your hand wrapping onto his wrist as he watched you go dumb.
“This all it takes? Tsk”
Marc pulled away without a warning “Look at all this mess” he sighed as he held his fingers up to his face, his thick digits now covered in your sticky slick “open” he mouthed.
Without hesitation you did as told and tasted yourself “don’t swallow” he smiled. You nodded with his fingers still in your mouth as your tongue swirling around his digits.
Marc groaned as he yanked his fingers out and held you by the sides of your jaw to keep your mouth open so he could get a taste for himself.
“I think I want you above me sweetheart, that pathetic little look on your face will look even better from above” Marc hummed.
He loved how obedient you always are with him because in no time you were pushing him onto the pillows and straddling his thighs.
You managed to tug his boxers down to his knees by the time he got comfortable “I bet you were all worked up when Steve-“ Marc cut you off before you could even finish your sentence.
“Of course I’d be upset, I wanted to be the one greeted in this pretty outfit. I bought it for you and me for a reason so I won’t let Steven or Jake get a chance” he cockily smiled.
You nodded with an amused expression “oh yeah?”
“Yeah” Marc hissed.
“Torturing the both of them just to see me in this?” You pout “it’s so unfair” you cooed as you settled above his tip “I know it is, I’m selfish” he groaned with his eyes trained on your cunt.
“Very selfish” you cooed as you sunk down his length. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he settled deep inside you, his fat tip nudging deep as you sat onto his thighs.
Marc’s eyes rolled back into his skull as he felt your tight walls squeeze him with a vice grip “f- oh-“ he gasped as your hips began to move.
You watched as his jaw tightened with every heavy thrust of his hips.
You bloody asshole! I was the first here
She wanted me first
Marc blocked out Steven’s curses and pleads as he watched your tight cunt stretch around his fat length. You were already gushing slick as Marc buried his face into the crook of your neck.
He chuckled at the lewd sounds your pussy with his hands planted on your waist. He pressed a messy kiss onto your neck before taking a better look of the mess you were making.
“Shit” Marc cursed as he took in how soaked you were “miss me this much bunny? Look at how fucking easy it is to make you all wet and sticky” he chuckled.
He smiled at the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of your tight cunt “using your cum as a lube huh? What’s got you so sensitive” he teased. You ignored his words as you expertly swayed your hips and rode him for all he’s got.
You mewled as each word coming out of Marc’s mouth was followed by a heavy thrust. You clawed and scratched at his shoulders as he spread your legs wide, pinning them open to each side with his thighs for better leeway.
You couldn’t resist the high pitched moan that spilled from your lips as Marc mumbling to himself. Heavy-eyed and a passionate look in his eyes as he went on and on about how good your pussy is, how much he missed being in you, and how smart it was of him to buy you these pretty little outfits.
Look so fuckin’ pretty sweetheart. Taking it like a champ huh? My sweet little plaything takin’ me so well.
You couldn’t get a word out as Marc fucked you dumb with a heavy hand on your throat “Mmm- Ma- Marccc” you mewled, nails dragging down his arms as you try and get a hold of him.
Marc hummed and gave you his hand to squeeze knowing you always craved some extra comfort. Steven watched through the mirror with a large frown on his face as he watched you cum around Marc’s cock, your eyes rolled back in ecstasy as Marc glared at Steven with cocky smile.
“Who’s making you feel this good honey? Say it” Marc taunted “Marc Ma- ohh fuckk” you hiccuped “say it louder” he cooed.
Steven’s couldn’t watch. He was beyond furious as the pretty cries of Marc’s name you let out echoed through the room.
“Could Steven fuck you this good?”
Marc was cruel knowing you had no damn clue what you were saying, so cock drunk you didn’t even realize what you were getting yourself into.
“No no only you Marc fu-“
Steven scoffed. He’d just have to remind you how much better he is at fucking you.
598 notes · View notes
writingsbychlo · 4 months
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WHITE XMAS | mattheo riddle
summary; mattheo comes to spend christmas with you and your family.
word count; 15,245
notes; I have never played chess in my life, chess girlies don't come for me. pic was made by @finalgirllx!
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“So, Matty, what are your Christmas plans?” You murmur, head bopping lightly to the beat of the tacky Christmas CD that was playing over the Common Room speakers. “Will Tom be coming home for Christmas?”
“Are you kidding?” Mattheo muttered, cursing as he readjusted his grip on the dwindling charcoal in his fingers once again, peeking another glance over the edge of his tatty sketchpad to you. “Why would he?”
“Because it’s nice! It’s Christmas, it’s a time for family to come together.”
“Not mine.” He blew a curl from his eyes, pausing. Tilting his head, he narrowed his eyes as his gaze flickered between the page, and a very specific spot on your shoulder. “Tom has escaped, he doesn’t have to come home for the annual Riddle-family Christmas Horror Show.”
That brought a frown to your lips, and he tutted. “Keep smiling.”
“You’re not even drawing my face right now.” You snipped back, and the edges of his lips tipped up in a smirk, focusing as he dragged the tool in his hand over the paper, back and forth. Soft scraping filled the room, along with the general chatter of the few other students dotted throughout the room, background noise with their undecipherable muttering and the music. “You don’t like Christmas?”
“Why would I? Christmas magic never existed for me. The very day I first asked about Santa, Tom pulled me aside and told me he wasn’t real. Warned me not to ask about him.” With a sigh, he dropped the notepad to sit flat in his lap, resting the charcoal on the side table, and shrugging. When he wiped his forehead, he unknowingly left a smear of grey over his skin. “I was stupid, and four. I asked my father, and he laughed at me and told me not to be pathetic. Everything I got in this world was hard-earned, and came by his generosity, and his alone.” 
“Matty…”
“Don’t pity me. Can’t love what I never had.” Despite his brave words, there was an underlying emptiness to his voice, the kind that formed over years of hurt finally losing its bite. The way scarred flesh didn’t hurt, but they never stitched up quite right. 
You whisper, standing up and making your way over to him. He looked up at you now as you stood before him, hand raising to wipe the smudge away with your thumb. “It’s that bad?”
He only hummed. “I get to parade around, playing the ‘seen but not heard’ son as my father cashes in on a big business day. It’s such a great time to ‘make connections’. Normally I’d have Tom with me, and we’d spend the days counting down until my birthday, and his. On the 30th, we’d sneak out and get two cupcakes, right between. He’ll be back for New Year's, my father is making him, but I can’t begrudge him staying away for Christmas.”
“You make me so sad sometimes.”
“Can’t have that, can we?” He murmured, leaning up to pinch at your waist lightly, a spot he knew was ticklish. You jerked away from him with a gasp of a laugh, smacking his hand as you went. “Don’t worry. I’ll be at the Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball. I’ll see you all then, I can look forward to it.”
“No.”
“No?” He echoed, a smile forming on his face, and he tugged you in closer, arms wrapping around your thighs. “The fuck do you mean no?”
“I mean, that won’t do. Your Christmas plans make me want to commit a festive crime. Hit your dad with a sleigh, or something.” That brought real laughter from him, a loud burst, his eyes closing a little as he rested his forehead on your stomach, his shoulders shaking. “I have a big family Christmas. All my aunts and uncles and cousins and their kids. There’s going to be at least twenty of us.”
“Now you’re just rubbing it in.” He muttered, shaking his head, frowning up at you falsely. 
“No, I’m inviting you, if you’d let me finish.”
His expression shifted then, from teasing and humour to vulnerability and disbelief. Pretty brown eyes shone with shock as he stared up at you. Cupping his jaw, you smoothed your thumb along his cheek. “You’re what?”
“Come with me for Christmas Day, Matty. I cannot, in good conscience, enjoy my day, knowing how you’re spending yours.”
“You really want that? Your family wouldn't mind?” Hope raised in his voice, not a hint of denial in sight, and he smiled shakily when you nodded. 
“What are friends for, huh? I promise it’ll be okay. My parents are a ‘the more, the merrier’, type.” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, thoughts spinning in his gaze, before he pulled you even closer. Pressing his face against your stomach, your hands slipped to his hair instead, running through the curls. It was the same way you did whenever you stumbled across him smoking after a nightmare, or sulking after a letter from home. “We have a floo. You can step right in. I promise, you’d be welcome. Please spend Christmas with me, Mattheo.”
“Okay.” He mumbled, breath hot against your navel through your shirt as he breathed the word against you. 
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He finally turned his head again, resting his cheek there instead, looking away toward the fireplace, throat bobbing. With a final squeeze, he loosened his hold. “I’d really like that.”
“I’ll write down my address for you, and give you all the details.” Leaning down, you pressed a kiss to his messy hair, and he was smiling faintly as you pulled away. “It’ll be great, I promise.”
“I don’t doubt.” Finally, he let go of you fully, and took a bracing breath. Resetting himself, he schooled his features, picking up his sketchpad again and diverting his gaze to it. “Alright, go sit back down. Try and remember your pose, I want to finish this before dinner.”
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Rubbing at your eyes tiredly, you were never awake this early, even the children were still snoozing, only one or two other members of your family had woken. Your father had always been an early bird, forcing your mother to be the same, and the two were tinkering in the kitchen, quietly chatting. 
One of your grandmas had woken, made her way downstairs, and promptly fallen asleep in the rocking chair next to the fireplace after lighting it with a flick of her wrist. You were sure one of your uncles— maybe a cousin, too— had been wandering upstairs, but perhaps, they’d gone back to bed.
Suppressing a yawn, you jumped when the soft pop of the fireplace sounded, flames changing momentarily from amber and orange to a truly festive shade of green. Stumbling through it was Mattheo. 
He didn’t look nearly as tired as you did. More so, he looked alert, in every sense of the word. His eyes were wide, one hand clenched into a tight fist around a bouquet of poor flowers, the other tugging nervously at his collar. He was wearing a red Christmas jumper, a set of tasteful white snowflakes sewn in a band across the chest. His usual black jeans, the best pair he had, seeing as they had no tears or frays, and white sneakers that had been polished to a shine. Possibly, never even worn outside. 
“Matty.” You mumbled, and he stepped down from the warmth of the fireplace as the flames flickered back to normal, your grandma merely offering a soft snore beside you both. Mattheo flinched again, like one of Theo’s pranks when he jumped out from behind doorways to scare you all in the dark, and you raised a brow. “You’re up early. Therefore, you naturally called me and woke me up early too.”
“Sorry. I had… restless sleep. I was anxious.” 
“Aw,” You smiled, reaching out to pinch his cheek. “You’re all excited like… oh. Well, like a kid on Christmas Day. Huh.” The joke washed over you in waves, still not quite awake enough to be aware of your own words, and he gave you a flat look. “Cute sweater.”
“I just bought it.”
“Why?” You smiled, and his lips twisted like you’d asked a stupid question. He followed you as you guided him from the lounge to the hall, shuffling behind you quickly. “Because you said you would be wearing one!”
“You didn’t have to buy a—” Your words shuttered as his lips smoothed back out, face neutral, but a flicker of uncertainty passed through his eyes. Mattheo didn’t own a Christmas jumper. It made sense, he’d never had reason to, but it didn’t stop your heart from breaking a little. “Come on. Take off your shoes, and let’s go get something to drink. Maybe a really strong coffee, hm?”
He toed off his shoes, neatly stacking them onto the rack beside the various others, some left in a pile. It wasn’t like him, Mattheo left his things everywhere; the group was always picking up after him, but it was clear that he was doing the most to be on his very best behaviour.
Taking his free hand in both of your own, you squeezed it, bringing his attention to you. “Mattheo?”
He hummed, tugging at his collar as he stared beyond you to his reflection in the hallway mirror. Smoothing your hands over his shirt, you patted it down, his eyes dropping to you as you pushed his hand away. 
“Mattheo. You’re worrying. You’re supposed to be here to have fun, not be the picture-perfect son like you would at home.” His lips pressed together, like he didn’t believe you, as he sighed through his nose. “You’re perfect just as you are, okay? You don’t need to worry. Everyone knows you’re coming, and they know who you are. I’ve been writing about you all in my letters home for years. Your name isn’t a surprise, and you’re welcome here. Okay?”
“You’re sure?”
“Mattheo Riddle, have I ever lied to you?” Your teasing finally brought a smile to his face. “Have I ever given you a reason not to believe me?”
“No.” He finally conceded. 
“Then trust me, hm?”
He rolled his eyes, but his shoulders dropped. With one final glance at his reflection, he turned away, closing the page on those fears and ready to proceed with the day. After only a second of hesitation, he took your hand, squeezing for comfort as you guided him back through the house. 
His fingers flexed around your own as you approached the kitchen, your mother laughing gently at some joke your father had told. Both of them turned to face you as you stepped in, tugging Mattheo behind you. 
“Mama, Dad, my friend is here. This is Mattheo.”
Shaking his hand free from your own, he smoothed his palm over his jeans before shakily stepping forward and offering his hand. Your mother only smiled as your father shook it firmly. “Good to meet you, our daughter writes about you in her letters a lot.”
“Dad.”
“Oh, it’s true! More than almost anyone else.” Your mother cooed, your exasperated sigh doing nothing to dull their teasing as your mother only pinched his cheek instead of taking his offered hand. “Oh, you’re so tall! She never mentioned that.”
“Mama, stop teasing him!”
“I’m doing no such thing!” She scolded you, tutting as she peered over his shoulder. “It’s good to find a tall man. Like your father, they can reach the fresh stuff on the storage shelves that they don’t want you to get at when you go to the store.”
“Oh, is that all?” You muttered, crossing your arms as she went back to fussing over Mattheo. Your father rolled his eyes, sipping from his ‘World’s Best Daddy’ mug that you’d made when you were five. He saved it for every Christmas Day, like tradition. 
“These are for you, Mrs—”
“Oh!” Your mother took the bouquet, admiring them, and not even seeming to notice the slightly crumpled stems that had been his substitute stress-ball. “They’re beautiful, look at them.”
She presented them to your father, who nodded approvingly, and Mattheo turned just long enough to glance over his shoulder. He was bewildered, and red-cheeked. 
“Alright, have I sufficiently embarrassed you dear, or should I keep going? I haven’t even told you what a handsome young man he is yet—”
“Oh, I think you’ve done plenty.” Your droll tone made your parents snicker to one another, and she turned away to put the flowers in a vase. Reaching forward and grabbing a fistful of Mattheo’s jumper, you tugged him back to your side. “Is anyone else awake yet?”
“Only your grandma.”
You made a noise of agreement, grateful for the early rise if it meant being able to ease Mattheo into the crazy rush. Leaving his side for just a moment, you took two mugs from the cupboard, your early call also meaning you got the first pick, choosing the best ones and setting them out. Claimed, for the day. 
Your mother arranged her gift, showing them off proudly before disappearing to the dining room to find a spot for them on the table. Your father followed, and only a moment later, Mattheo was sidling up close to your side as you worked. 
“How’re you holding up so far?” You smirked, and he shook his head, a chuckle tumbling quietly from his lips. 
“I think if all your family react like that to me, I have nothing to worry about.”
“Why wouldn't they?” You didn’t give him a chance to disagree, stirring the hot drinks before you and tapping the spoon on the rim. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Mattheo.”
“Some people would disagree.”
“Some people also like pickles.” Your nose scrunched up, and you sought out the pot beside the biscuits, popping the lid and sprinkling some marshmallows onto the steaming surface of each one. “Clearly, their decisions can’t be trusted.”
Turning to him and pushing a mug over the counter, he scoffed. Leaning down until your noses were almost brushing, he smirked. “I like pickles.”
“You’re gross. I’ve seen you drink from a random cup the morning after a party.” Taking your mug, you turned away from him, leaving him spluttering behind you as he grabbed his own and followed. 
“First of all, that was one time. Secondly, I knew it was my drink! I’m the one who left it there!”
“Uh-huh.” He pinched at your hip in response falling back into step beside you, and allowing himself to be led into the snug. Smaller, cosier, with only one couch and two worn armchairs, it was one of your favourite rooms in the house. A wobbly bookshelf stood in the corner, and a chessboard sat out before you on the coffee table, a freshly reset game. The rest of the board games were stacked on a shelf. “Wanna’ talk about how the day will go? Put any last fears to rest.”
He glanced up, running his finger over the Queen on the board as he sat down, nodding, thankfully. “I’d like that.”
Settling onto a cushion on the floor instead, on the other side, you turned the board around. Picking up a pawn, you made your first move, and a spark went off in his eyes. “We’ll start with breakfast, when everyone wakes up. Mum loves making a big breakfast, she’s a breakfast foods kind of person. There’s a lot of stuff, a lot in the fridge. It’ll remind you of Hogwarts, but better.”
He smiled at that, picking up a pawn himself and shifting it across, playing the board as he waited to see what moves you’d make. Mattheo was surprisingly patient, and good at playing the long game. He never made a real move until there was more going on across the board. 
“Then, we’ll open gifts. The kids will be desperate by then, so we’ll all cram into the sitting room. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to pinch a proper seat.” You shrugged, fingers brushing over your pieces, before plucking one up and making your next move. “After that, we do some baking. We’ll make things for dessert, as well as treats to have throughout the day. My mum has a big flow chart of all the cooking for the meal, most stuff we prepared over the last few days, but it all gets heated up and cooked after that.”
“Lot of kitchen work.”
“Oh, yes. Traditionally, all the ladies will do the cooking, and we leave all the washing up and cleaning for the men.” You gave him a wink, watching him play the board while grinning. 
“Christmas Day chores, what a treat.”
“While food cooks, they’ll be… something. Maybe movies, I think one of my uncles put a quiz together, so maybe that. Something fun. Then we’ll eat.” You found yourself stuck already, watching as he already managed to be pinning you down across the checkerboard. You considered your play for a while, and he sipped at his hot chocolate, a pleased noise on his lips as he licked foam from his top lip. “Then…”
“Then?” He said, and finally, you decided what to do, shifting to knock down one of his pieces and snatch it up with a smirk. That smirk didn’t last long, not as you saw his expression. Like you’d fallen right into his trap. He moved quickly, striking like a viper as he swiped up without consideration, and you swore as he took a piece in return. 
“Then… I don’t know. The rest of the day is mostly lazing around, letting the food settle, eating more food…”
“Can’t wait.” He whispered, and the moment you made your next play, he was grinning over the rim of his mug. He crossed the board, knocking down your Queen, and beaming as you scowled. “Checkmate.”
“Fuck you.”
“You lasted longer this time. That was, what, twelve moves? I’m impressed.”
“Bite me.” You scoffed, and he flashed his teeth, snapping them in a bite playfully, and you stuck out your tongue. 
“Don’t be a sore loser.” Mattheo taunted.
“Didn’t you once punch MacLaggen after a Quidditch match because—”
“You be quiet or I’ll come over there and make you be quiet.” As his eyes shone with mirth, you flipped him off, gulping at your hot chocolate and letting the half-melted, gooey marshmallows sit on your tongue. “Much better.”
“I don’t like you.”
“Oh, now, don’t believe a word she says.” You jumped, turning to the doorway as your cousin poked her head through, and Mattheo stiffened instantly. “She told me she wished I fell off my broom last year, just because I won the little toy inside the last Christmas cracker.”
“Jess!” You beam, lighting up a little as she stepped into the room, her youngest following her inside. The girl who came behind her was only two, still dressed in her striped pyjamas, eyes half open and curls pressed from the side she’s slept on. “Mattheo, meet my least favourite cousin.”
“Now, now. That’s just rude.” She beamed, letting go of her daughter's hand as the youngest began to toddle over towards you on shaky little stomps, letting you scoop her up and place a big kiss on her cheek. As you fawned over her child, Jess reached out, shaking Mattheo’s hand as he sat nervously. “Nice to meet you, Mattheo. I’ve heard a lot about you. Better than the Italian one, that’s for sure.”
“You’ve met Theo?” His shock was evident. Jess scoffed while you just laughed and tickled your baby cousin’s stomach. 
“Once, at family week. He happened to bump into us at Hogsmeade. Terrible flirt, isn’t he?”
“You were knocked up at the time, too.” You snickered, and she looked fondly at her daughter. 
“Oh, that didn’t stop him.” 
“Sounds like our Notty-boy,” Mattheo whispered, turning to look at you. When the girl on your knee looked up at him curiously, he wiggled his fingers, “Hello there.”
She only giggled, turning away to hide her face in your neck. 
“You two coming out for breakfast?” Jess sighed, calling her daughter back to her side as you put her down, and she scooped the girl up onto her hip. She turned to Mattheo, mischief written onto her features, “There are some people who want to meet you.”
Standing up and brushing off dirt from the floor, he followed suit, your cousin leaving ahead of you both. Taking your mug in one hand, Mattheo ruffled his hair in the other, patting down the untamed stands. 
“What are you— stop doing that.” Grabbing his arm, you didn’t fail to notice the light tremors from his nerves. “You’re squashing all your curls.”
“I should’ve styled my hair this morning. Your family will think I’m a mess.”
“It’s Christmas Day, and you woke me up before I could even wash my face. Trust me, you’re fine.” He only frowned, reaching his hand up towards his hair again, and you pulled it down. Running your hands down his arm, you clasped his hands, reassuringly. His fingers folded around your palm in return. “Ruining your pretty hair won’t make them like you any more, but it’ll make me like you less!”
“You think my curls are pretty?” 
Heat flushed your cheeks as he stared at you, curious. He’d always been so pretty, and it never failed to astonish you how all your favourite parts of him were the parts he disliked the most. “Shut up.”
His lips twitched, but he refrained from replying, glancing at the door instead. In a bold move, he took a step toward it, evidently deciding he was ready, as he guided you both out of the room and toward the growing bustle of voices.
Only moments after you emerged, he was swept into the craziness; aunties and uncles and cousins descending on him, all asking a thousand questions a minute. They wanted to know about classes, and where his jumper was from, and if he preferred roast beef or roast turkey. He was taken from you, leaving you to hold both mugs and chuckle at the flustered look on his face. 
By the time you’d refilled them both and returned to the pandemonium, he sagged with relief upon seeing you. Kids were already mithering about opening presents, raving madly about Santa, and he was able to slip away from the hustle and back to you. 
“Before you chastise me for leaving you,” You pressed the mug into his hands the moment his jaw dropped, pre-empting his words, “I refilled your hot chocolate. I stood no chance, they’re animals, and you were the newest squeaky toy. Luckily, the young have saved you, by nagging about the presents.”
“I’ll let you out of it this time.” He shook his head, serious like he was really mad, even as he leaned in to kiss your temple. His mouth moved to your ear, “Your family are very friendly.”
“They were excited to meet you. You’re fresh meat. How are you at pub quizzes? Because they’ll be all over you.”
He chuckled, and before he could say anything else, your mother was making the call to start cooking breakfast. Just like that, the room seemed to clear of men, all of them slipping away at the word ‘cooking’, taking the kids with them. Only the grandparents were left in the living room, excused from all chores, naturally. 
“You can go with the other men if you’d like.”
“I’d rather stay and cook with you… is that okay?” He glanced towards the kitchen, and smiled when you nodded. 
“Course you can. Come on.” Leading him to the kitchen, your aunts and cousins were already bustling around, working wherever your mother assigned them to. Your mother snapped her fingers to you, pointing towards the griddle that was heating up, all the ingredients for fluffy pancakes laid out alongside. 
Guiding Mattheo over to it after washing your hands, his cheeks went red as he stood before the bowl. “I, uh, maybe didn’t think this through. I don’t know how to cook.” He whispered, embarrassment tinging his voice as everyone around you both seemed to be getting on at speeds. 
“That’s okay, why don’t you mix the batter while I add the ingredients, hm?”
That brought his sweet expression back, letting out the breath he was clinging to, and pulling the bowl towards himself. You added each ingredient, weighing them up and measuring them out as he stirred the bowl continuously, switching between arms as he tired. On and on you went, until you had enough butter to make pancakes for an army, and he was eating leftover chocolate chips from the bag while you greased the griddle pan. 
He was watching eagerly as your cousin Ki grilled bacon, stacking up a pile that had his entire attention. 
“Mattheo, dear, do you want a piece of bacon?” Your mother snapped him from his dazed watch, and his jaw dropped open, the tips of his ears going red. 
You snickered, nudging him where he stood beside you, still clutching the bowlful of batter. With a shy nod, his mother picked up a piece handing it to him with a wink, and he beamed upon receiving it. 
Tearing off a chunk with his teeth and chewing, he turned to face you, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “I think your mother likes me.”
“I told you she would.” You said, a happy sound leaving him at the confirmation. Once the tray was ready, you grabbed for a ladle, and he held the bowl securely, the two of you working to set off the first batch of pancakes to cook. He shuffled every step with you, and while they cooked, you began to work on the second batter batch. “You want to try this time? I can help you.”
“Alright.” He nodded, setting the bowl back on the scale like he’d seen you start with. Scanning his hands over the ingredients, he reached for the flour first, holding it up in question. Sieving it through until you told him to stop, he smiled to himself as he watched the dust fall perfectly. A sprinkle of sugar, and a dash of vanilla essence, and then he circled in the centre with a spoon to create a well. 
“Alright, make sure you tap it lightly on the edge. You don’t want bits of shells in the food.”
He was so focused it was almost adorable, your heart skipping a beat as you watched him go, tapping the egg on the bowl so delicately your heart ached. “Like that?”
“Maybe a little harder.”
And then, he cracked it down with another force that the rim of the bowl went halfway through the egg, mangling the whites and the yolks, with splinters of shells going into the food. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
“S’okay, we can just pick the shell out and try again. Don’t worry.”
Dipping your fingers into the flour to pick out the pieces of shell, you discarded the broken egg to the side, and he helped fish out all the pieces, meticulously checking there was none left. Handing him a new egg, he eyed his cautiously now. 
“C’mere, let me show you.”
Guiding your hand down his arm to cup over his, you guided his hand down with the right amount of pressure, cracking the egg enough to slip your nails in and pull it apart. Taking his other hand too, you huddled in close, your hands over his by the bowl as the pair of you pressed to one another, pulling the egg apart and letting it fall into the well. 
“Perfect, see. You’re a natural.”
He turned to look down at you, eyes scanning over your face, a silent moment you didn’t know how to read, before he was turning back to it. You helped him with the second one, and then he did the third and fourth alone, cheering with so much enthusiasm about it that several of your relatives celebrated with him. 
He whisked the batter up, flipping the ones already cooking, and stacking them up on a plate before ladling out the batter he’d made. By the time they were finished, he was so eager to try the first thing he’d ever cooked that he almost burned his fingers as he snatched one up. Blowing on it hastily, he took a large bite, huffing some further breaths to cool it down. 
“So good.” He groaned, taking another large bite. Following as you took the plate to the dining table, lots of food was already laid out, your grandparents beginning to pile up their plates, and parents dishing up for their kids. 
“Sit down, get some of your pancakes while they’re still hot and there’s still some there.”
He didn’t need to be told twice, sinking into a seat and grabbing for a plate. You sat with him, and soon, the whole family was gathered around, filling plates and chatting happily as the sleepiness wore away and the festive excitement settled in. 
Chatter went on around you both as Mattheo gave it his best go to eat his body weight in bacon and pancakes, only pausing when you reminded him that there was still plenty of food left to go over the course of the day. He was happy to sit and listen to the conversation going on around him, but when the attention turned to him, he stuttered over his words. 
He was nervous to answer any questions that came to him, your hand sliding into his under the table and pulling it onto his lap. It took him several questions to realise that they weren’t bothered by his family name. In fact, nobody asked him about his father, or his mother. He had one question about Tom, but only with respect to him being a brother, not a Riddle.
When this realisation washed over him, the way he lit up was obvious. Nervous responses became animated ramblings, talking with excitement and purpose as he responded to every attempt anyone made to get to know him. 
He admitted to your Uncle Jamie that, no, he’d never been fishing. Your father asked him about his grades at school, and your mother berated him, before asking Mattheo about his favourite classes instead. Your Auntie Sally told him all about how she had been sorted in Gryffindor while her brother Steven had been Slytherin. They had epic battles on the Quidditch pitch, no pulled punches, and wondered if that rivalry still lasted. Your Uncle Steven asked him what his hobbies were, and he shyly admitted how much he loved art, which led to your grandad waking back up from his dozing just in time to start telling the same old story about the two-month spell he’d spent as a police sketch artist in the fifties.
He seemed more than happy to talk, settling into the dynamic of the room, and you took your plate to the kitchen, tidying it away. With a kiss on his cheek, you let Mattheo know you were finally going to change.
By the time you stepped back into the room fifteen minutes later, the children were frantically tugging at their adult’s arms to go back through for gifts, the sugar rush starting to kick in. Mattheo was helping to gather dishes away, arms out as your Auntie Sally piled plates and bowls into his arms, his eyes wide as she spoke to him about something. 
You followed them through to the kitchen, not failing to miss the occasional drop of your name in the conversation, clearing your throat dramatically and stealing the spotlight. Your Aunt only grinned over her shoulder conspiratorially, unstacking the dirty dishes from Mattheo’s arms into the soapy water of the sink. Mattheo, however, sagged with relief as you appeared. The moment his arms were clear, he was sweeping back over to you, taking a handful of your Christmas jumper and tugging you to his side. 
You stumbled along after him out of the room. “The second you left the room, they were all over me. What are my intentions, what are my feelings, when will I ask you out—” His voice hit a shrill note, and you chuckled, unclenching his hand from the material of your sweater. 
“I made it very clear to them before today that we weren’t dating. You don’t need to worry about that, they’re just messing with you.”
“I wasn’t— I wasn’t worried, so much as intimidated! They’re scary people.”
“Are you trying to imply I’m not scary?” You tease, taking the edge off of his nerves as he rolled his eyes, focusing on that instead of the conversation you’d just freed him from. 
“Oh, I’ve seen you in action. You’re terrifying when you want to be.” He muttered, leaning down to rest his forehead on your own, voice dropping low. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way Draco screamed when you filled his bed with grass snakes.”
“Yes, well, perhaps that’ll teach him not to steal my skin products just because his own ran out.”
“Come on, you two. Presents time.” Sally emerged from the kitchen, clapping her hands and smirking, and you groaned. Taking Mattheo’s hand and guiding him through to the living room, you snatched up a seat on one of the sofas quickly, Mattheo squeezing in beside you. 
Children were already tearing into their presents, ribbons and bows and paper were already scattered around the room in a messy storm. Your mother pottered through with a tray of mugs, your father following, and you smiled gratefully as she passed you a mug of herbal tea. 
As the mayhem went on, Mattheo settled back into the sofa, tugging your wrist closer to himself and sniffling the contents of your mug before taking a sip. He was perfectly happy to sit back and watch gifts be opened, to gather wrapping paper from your presents onto his lap and scrunch them up into balls. 
Until one of the toddlers, Elliot, pulled out a gift from under the tree and flipped the label over. He struggled over it for a while, sounding out the sounds he could see written down. “Math..ee. Matt-ee-oo.” He mouthed around the word as Mattheo stiffened beside you. “Matthew.”
His head snapped up, looking straight to Mattheo as his mother corrected him softly, lowering her camera from filming him and pointing. Elliot carried the gift over, placing it into Mattheo’s hands, before dashing back to the tree to search for more gifts of his own. 
Mattheo smoothed his fingers over the paper and ribbon, flipping the tag over to be sure, as if he didn’t quite believe it. Your handwriting neatly scrawled his name on the paper, and his eyes flickered up to you. “You did this?”
“Mhm. Open it.”
You pulled up your legs, tucking them underneath yourself and watching excitedly as he ran he tugged at the bow. Undoing the ribbon, he curled it up carefully, setting it aside next to his leg and flipping it over. Running his fingers over the edges, on the left side, they bumped along, and a smile cracked on his face. He repeated the motion, feeling more firmly through the wrapping. “Is this was I think it is?”
“Open it and find out.” You poked him with your toes, and he pushed his fingers under the folds of the paper, opening the seals and tearing it away from what was inside. He stared at it once it was free, fingers dusting across the ornate cover, flipping it open to look through the blank pages, to admire the paper quality. 
“You got me a new sketchbook?”
“Hm. Not just any sketchbook, though. It’s an enchanted one. It’ll never run out of blank pages.” His jaw dropped, turning back to look at it. 
“I’ve never— I didn’t even know such a thing existed. Where did you get it?”
“An art store, at Diagon Alley. I was just going to get you a regular one, but then I found this.” You shrugged, and his eyes were glistening when he looked up again. 
“I love it. Thank you.” He clutched it to his chest, never looking away, not hiding his emotions this time even as his nose scrunched up a little and he sniffed. The busy noise and action went on around you both, but as he stretched on hand out to squeeze yours, it was like the two of you were all alone. Emotion clogged in your throat, your chest ached for him, such a visceral reaction to such a small gift. Tipping your head toward the tree, you laughed lightly. “There’s a couple more over there for you.”
“What?” His voice was shaky, glancing at the Christmas tree as some of the others gathered around it now, the children done and satisfied as they began to pay with all their new toys amongst the mess. 
“Go on, go and get involved.” When he hesitated, a smile breaking free on his face, you encouraged him again, and he took a seat beside your mother by the tree, one more look back at you before beginning to search for the ones with his name on in the pile. 
You opened and smiled at the gifts you were handed, grateful for them all as your family passed presents around, but you were distracted. 
Distracted, watching the joy on Mattheo’s face as he opened another present, looking up at you as he opened a new set of colourful quills and chalks, the blush on his face when he unwrapped an ornament with ‘Baby Boy’s First Christmas’ written on. He glared at you with red cheeks, but held it carefully, and searched for a spot to hang it on the tree at your mother’s insistence. Distracted as you pulled out your phone, taking covert pictures of Mattheo with one of the biggest smiles you’d ever seen him wear. 
He found another, settling it on his lap, his attention diverted as Jess’ son Aiden tugged at Mattheo’s sleeve, shoving a toy racecar into his face. Mattheo was polite, asking all kinds of questions, letting the boy run the car up and down his arm, and over his face, even as the small tyres went in his eye. When he finally grew bored of tangling the model Ferrari in Mattheo’s hair, he pointed at the gift still sitting in his lap. 
Mattheo lifted it, showing it to him as Aiden slumped down across Mattheo’s shoulders lay across his back and tugging at the ribbon. He helped to open it, and while Mattheo’s face lit up, Aiden’s scrunched up, turning to glare at you on his new friend’s behalf. 
“Ew, Auntie (Y/N), why did you get him a colouring book? Colouring books suck.”
Your laughter was hidden by Mattheo’s even as Jess scolded her son, and he stood, bringing it back over to you as his amusement died down. It was no ordinary book, it was a stress therapy colouring book, and by the way he was already flicking through the drawings inside, you could tell he liked it. 
Stacking it on top of the sketchpad with his new quills and chalks. He reached for your mug, taking it from your hands and putting it down on the table by the sofa before tugging you up. Your body flew into his with the force of it, his arms wrapping around you tightly, and his face buried in your neck. 
“Thank you.”
“Just a couple of gifts.” You smile, rubbing his back gently as he sank further into your touch, leaning his weight onto you. Your friendship group had already exchanged presents before leaving for the holidays, you’d done a Secret Santa exchange, and you’d given Blaise a new phone case and a basket full of chocolates.  
“It’s so much more than that, stop playing it casual.” He muttered, words vibrating along your skin. With one final squeeze, he pulled back, the two of you dropping down onto the sofa, and you kicked your legs out across his lap comfortably. He reached for his new sketchpad, cracking open one of the new quills, a green one, and adjusting you. He propped your legs up on his lap to lean his book on, his head falling to your shoulder as his side pressed to your torso, and that oh-so-serious look took over his face once again as he began to sketch. 
Sketching the Christmas tree.
Weaving your hand into his hair, you found yourself slipping back into that place where only you and he existed for a while, scratching lightly at his scalp and sitting still as he drew. 
He stayed like that for a long while.
Long enough for the sun to start properly rising across the sky, and the Church bells on the horizon to start ringing. The children had rushed off to start a new game, and the group had dispersed through the house to keep up with their own activities. He’d long since finished his drawing, and was now lying quietly on your shoulder, your hand still in his hair, his eyes closed as he rested, mumbling responses to the conversation the two of you were barely carrying. 
“I hate to disturb you two,” Your mother said, in a tone that suggested she very clearly did not hate to do such a thing, a grin on her face as she poked her head around the doorway, “But we’re about to start the baking. Did either of you wish to join us?”
Mattheo lifted his head, looking at you eagerly, and your hand slipped down to his shoulder as you pushed him upright again. “Go, make cookies.”
He stood, stretching out stiffened limbs. “Will you come too?”
You hadn't planned on it, much preferring to sit back and maybe take a nap. But, Mattheo was excited, and you’d long since decided that today was all about him. You could spare one Christmas to make him happy in ways he’d never forget. “Of course I will.”
He took on a happy look, and the two of you made your way to the kitchen side by side. Your mum left the doorway from where she ‘was not watching’, walking ahead. “So, what are we making?” Matt asked as the three of you joined the other few who had volunteered in the kitchen. 
“We have brownies over here, cookies on the island, and apple pie being made on the table over there. Take your pick, sweetie.”
“Uh… cookies?”
“Perfect. You’ll work with me.” She took his arm by the elbow, pulling him towards the island in the centre of the room. You took over at the brownie station, washing your hands before joining in. 
He put all of that polite, well-trained behaviour to good use as he chatted up a storm with your female relatives. They all loved him, laughing at his jokes and listening intently to his stories as he worked, barely aware of the attention that was on him as he stirred the bowl. Meanwhile, you spent the majority of the time trying to fight off all the little hands trying to reach up and snatch chunks of chocolate from the chopping boards, and stealing the bowls to lick.
You did, at least, manage to snap a picture of Mattheo with his cookie cutter before he spotted you. 
The children were clamouring for the dishes by the end. You were elbow-deep in soapy water and washing, a tray of hot brownies and out, cookies cooling, and more batches already in the oven as several pies sat out waiting for later. Mattheo was talking to one of your older Aunts, charming her with boyish tales of him and Theo and Draco, when she took the brownie batter bowl out of a sprinting Aiden’s hands from where he had grabbed it and run. 
He wailed loudly as his plot was foiled and she tutted at him. “Thieves don’t get treats, Aiden. You should’ve asked nicely. Only the nice boys get to lick the spoon.”
He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest, and knowing better than to fight back. She then turned back to the conversation, and held it out to Mattheo. “Matt, dear, would you like it?”
“Me?” He was as astonished as Aiden, taking the bowl and the spoon slowly and bringing them close to himself. You’d told your family a little more than you let on to Matt. You’d told them just enough to know that he didn’t typically have a good Christmas, that one of your favourite times of the year was one of his worst, and you wanted to make that better for him today. 
He picked up the spoon, licking the batter off happily, and crouching down with the bowl in his hands, holding it to Aiden. Swiping his finger through it, your nephew was pleased once again, and soon enough, Mattheo had a swarm of children hanging from him as he made the mistake of sharing something sugary. 
When he finally emerged, notably sans bowl, he wandered over to you, dropping the spoon in the sink. His jaw dropped to speak to you, attention stolen by the tugging of a small hand on his sleeve. Mabel was peering up at him, holding his colour therapy book in her other hand, and lifting it up. 
“Can I colour in’y’book w’you?” She mumbled quietly, and your heart burst in your chest as he slipped his hand down to take hers carefully. 
“Of course.” He let himself be guided away, back to the living room with Mabel, and your head dropped, hiding the smile as you continued to wash up. 
Jess leaned on the counter beside you, a cloth in her hands from where she’d helped with the rest of the cleanup, and you turned to look up at her. 
“I like him. He’s sweet.”
“You should see the pranks he pulls at school, he’s a menace.” Your joke amused her, a low sound leaving her as she wiped at the counters around you both for excess flour. 
“Yeah, but, I still think he’s a sweetheart. And he’s into you, that much is clear.”
“Don’t start with this,” You groan, drying off your hands as the last of the monumental amount of washing up was completed. “I told you, we’re friends.”
“Yeah, just friends.” She shrugged, “But just because that's all you are right now, doesn’t mean that’s all you’ll ever be, or all you want to be. I see the way you look at him. You like him.”
“He’s pretty. Every girl looks at him like that.”
“No,” She shook her head, and you couldn't bear to look at her as she read you like a book. Instead, you began prepping a new mug of hot chocolate. “You look a him like you think his soul is pretty, not just him.”
“Shut up.” Her poetic words made you blush, and she closed in on you, ready to make the final strike. “Don’t you dare—”
“You looove him. You got a big, fat crush on him.”
“I will push you off your broom myself.” Your scowl didn’t ward her away, she was only torn from smirking at you as your mother began to unload the next set of food to start being prepared for dinner. The turkey was already in, had been for hours, but she began to unstack pigs and blankets as trays of sausage meat stuffing onto the surface. 
Swiping up the mug, you followed the rumbling of Mattheo’s deep voice through the house. Sat on the floor of the snug, Mabel was lying on her stomach by his side as she coloured as neatly as possible onto the first page of his colouring therapy books with her crayons. Aiden was under his arm, holding up the instruction manual of a new Lego set, as a half-built model sat in front of them. 
Elliot was playing with some of Aiden’s toy cars, and eight-year-old Jessop was lying on the sofa, reading a book. Knocking two knuckles on the door, five heads all snapped up to look at you. Mattheo smiled as you stepped into the room, and Aiden grumbled at his distraction, going back to the Lego even as Mattheo pulled away. 
You offered him the new cup of hot chocolate, and he smiled as he accepted it, taking a sip. 
“You know the men are all gathered in the living room watching some movie about cars. They have a lot of beer, and an empty seat, if you want to join them.” You sang the words enticingly, hands on his hips as you swayed him to the beat of your melody. 
“What will you be doing?” He stepped a little closer, free hand going to your waist, too.
“I’ll help my mum with the cooking.”
“Can’t I help you cook, instead?” His whisper brushed your cheek as he leaned into place a kiss there, and your heart stuttered in your chest, taking you a moment to recompose yourself as he pulled back with a smile. 
“Of course you can… if that’s what you want, but you don’t have to. You’re here to have fun.”
“What makes you think I’m not having fun?” He mused, peering at you over the rim of the mug as he took a sip. “I’m having a ton of fun. Best Christmas ever, all thanks to you. I just want to be wherever you are today.”
“Well, then I guess we’ll be in the kitchen,” Your words are hardly audible as you say them, swallowing back the emotion in your throat as he held eye contact. 
“I guess we will, sweetheart.”
You turn to walk away, Mattheo following behind you as you lead him back to the kitchen. 
He was more than welcome once again, immersed straight into girl talk as your relatives grumbled and complained over their husbands. Mattheo put his suspiciously good rolling habits to use, wrapping sausages tightly in strips of bacon, and almost choking when your mother complimented his skills. 
He tried to hug you with raw hands, chasing you around the kitchen until your mother scolded him playfully, calling him back and having him lift the meats from the oven to be re-basted. 
He was chopping and peeling potatoes, nudging back and forth with his hip as you worked beside him, when your already-exhausted-looking Uncle Jeremy peered into the kitchen, Elliot dangling upside down from his shoulder. 
“The film ended. We’re going to take the kids out for a walk and burn off some of this energy. Anyone want to join?” 
He looked like he was desperately waiting for them to tire out so the drinking could start, Elliot climbing all over him like a playground frame and your mother shooed you both away. “You can go, c’mon. Go for a walk, let your grandparents and I have some time.”
The kitchen cleared out, shoes and coats and scarves were put on, and then you were all trudging out into the snow as your father shut the door, hands in his pockets as he followed you down the frozen garden path. Mattheo wore an old coat he’d borrowed from your father, zipped right up as he kept his chin tucked down inside it, hands buried in his pockets. 
“Oh, don’t pout, Matty. You’ve had colder than this.”
“How did we end up out here? I was cosy inside five minutes ago.” He pressed his hands even tighter into the coat as you linked an arm through his, snuggling up to his side as you followed the others along toward the fields you’d roam across for a while.
“My mum does this every year. We always host, but she kicks everyone out so she can check on my grandparents, and take a break for herself. She’ll have a large glass of wine, sit down in front of the fire, and watch an episode of whatever her latest reality TV show is, before we all come back.” The grass crunched under your feet as you stepped out onto the frozen fields, glittering and icy as far as you could see. “It’ll help you work up an appetite for the meal, though.”
“Your mother nearly gave me a heart attack when she asked me where I learned to roll pigs in blankets like that for someone who’s ‘never cooked a day in his little life’.” He produced his hands to make air quotes around his words, and only tucked one back into his pocket. The other, he took yours with, lacing your fingers together, and rubbing his thumb over your own. 
“I know. Your face was priceless. I actually got a picture of it.”
“If anyone ever sees that picture, I’ll hex you.”
“You mean it wasn’t okay for me to send it straight to the group chat? Oops.” He stuck out his tongue, but sighed, taking in the countryside around him as you walked through it. 
“You grew up here?”
“Nice, isn’t it? You murmur, looking around and letting the nostalgia wash over you as your thumb wrestled with his absentmindedly. “There’s a river nearby. We used to go down there as kids, this big group of us who lived here. We’d have picnics, and wade in the water and play on the rope swing.”
“Sounds fun.” He sighed, and you squeezed his hand, no words to comfort him coming to mind. He’d had no such freedom in his childhood, you knew as much from the snippets he or Tom would accidentally drop before they could stop themselves. “Sometimes I would walk around the grounds of the estate, but we were only allowed out if it was dry so we wouldn't get dirty.”
Resting your chin on his shoulder, you hugged his arm, snuggling into him as much as you could while still ambling on behind your chatting family. “Oh, Matty…”
“Normally, I hate hearing that. The sad, pitying voices.” He murmured, before twisting to face you, the tips of your noses brushing. “But when it’s you, I kinda’ like it. You don’t feel condescending, you just feel caring.”
“That’s because I do care.”
“I know.” He smiled, turning to face forward once again, and you rested your cheek on his shoulder instead, making it easier to walk along, huddled into his side. 
You remained in silence for a while, letting him soak it all in, pausing occasionally to take a picture or two of him looking at things. Even when he walked away, to pick up fallen pinecones, or to look at initials carved into a tree, he still came back every time, to where you patiently waisted, his hand finding yours or tucking you back under his arm each time. 
You were in the middle of taking several photos of him petting a walker’s dog when your father stopped, hands on his hips as he stared up at the greying sky overhead. 
“It’s going to start snowing.”
Mattheo’s head snapped up, eyes wide as he let the dog go, running to catch its owner. “How can you tell?”
The excitement was clear in his voice, standing up and brushing his gloveless hands off on his jeans. You snorted, he’d really done it now. “Dad has a sixth sense about these things.”
“You see, my boy, those clouds up there are called nimbostratus clouds.” He pointed upwards, hands on his hips as Mattheo adopted a similar stance, copying him and staring up at the sky. “They’ve been settling in all day, and now the sky is full. Not to mention, it just dropped a degree or two a minute ago. Now, it’s not that perceptible when it’s already this cold, but I’m good with temperatures, you know. And it always drops a degree or two right before it precipitates.”
“And, how do you know it’s snow, not just rain? Or do those kinds of clouds only make snow?”
You laughed again, linking your arm through Mattheo’s, and he twisted his head to press a kiss to your temple. He stiffened a moment later, just as you did, and you wondered if he realised what he’d done at all until after. He didn’t take it back, though. Instead, he relaxed a second later, still listening to your dad talk about how he just knows, can feel it in his bones when the snow comes.
“So, how many different types of clouds are there?” Mattheo asked after listening to the whole explanation.
That was how you spent the entire walk back getting to hear about all the different types of cloud formations. To his credit, Mattheo seemed to be genuinely soaking up every word your father said. He had questions, and opinions, which span off into a new chat about the water cycle and glaciers.
It was only when you were ten minutes out from home that your father’s prophecy came true, and snow began to fall in heavy flakes from the sky. The children squealed excitedly, and Mattheo caught the flakes in the palms of his hands, watching each one melt against his skin with a small smile on his lips. 
Finally, as everyone stepped back into the warmth to shake off the snow, and stomp mud off of their boots, it was like a stampede to get to the fireplace and warm up. Shaking out his hands and flexing his fingers, you took your time unwinding your scarf, hanging it up with your coat and peeling off your gloves. 
His cheeks, nose and hands were pink, and he was rubbing at his arms to warm up now that he’d taken off his coat. 
“My hands are cold.”
“I can tell.” You took them in your own, rubbing his frozen skin lightly. His fingers trembled a little in your hold, chilled to the bone, and you lifted your cupped hands together to your face. Softly parting your hands, you blew warm air between them onto his skin, your cheeks flaring with warmth at the gasp he made. 
Rubbing again, you repeated the actions until the shaking of his hands stopped, and you finally chanced a look up at him. He was staring down at you, eyes practically glittering and lips parted. He seemed lost for words for a moment, toying with the thoughts in his mind before finally settling. “I like it when you fuss over me.”
He took his hands back, tucking them faster than you could stop him under the back of your jumper, cold fingers splaying across your back as he tugged you into his body. His face pressed into the crook of your neck, cold nose dragging along your skin. No matter how much you groaned and wriggled, his grip was tight, chilling you with him as he stole your body heat.
Eventually, you just gave in, sighing as you stroked his back, letting him snuggle in for warmth rather than fight for a space next to the fire. Amongst the woodsy smell of his cologne, and the gingery pine scent of the Christmas candles your mum burned every year, something else lingered in the air. 
Berries, citrus fruit, and spices. 
“I think mum made mulled wine.” Your words were right beside his ear, and at that, he raised his head, scrunching his nose sweetly a couple of times before sniffling the air. “Want some?”
“I’ve never had any. Is it good?”
“Seriously? Matt!” Grabbing behind yourself for one of his hands, you hurried him through the house. Just as you’d suspected the morning’s tanker of hot chocolate had been swapped out, and now, a steaming vat of mulled wine replaced it. 
Grabbing two glass mugs, you set them out, pouring some from the little tap, and passing it to him by the handle. The cinnamon and orange smell so much stronger in the air now, and you moaned under your breath as you breathed in the steam. 
He held the mug in his hands, not even seeming to feel the heat seeping through as he blew on the surface, several times, before taking a tentative sip. You waited for his reaction, practically on the edge of your seat, if you’d had one.
“It’s…”
“It’s..?” You burst, waiting for his reply, and he dragged it out just to tease you. 
“It’s really good.” He eventually caved, taking another sip, and another, as you cheered. “Don’t ever tell my boy Theo I said that. He’d skin me alive. He hates the idea of mulled wine and refuses to touch it. It’s an insult to his Italian heritage, he says.”
“So is cream in carbonara, breadsticks, and chicken mince lasagne.” You scoffed, and he grinned at that.
He drank some more, the two of you sipping quietly on your glasses, before hearing the opening tunes of a movie on the TV. Refilling your glasses, you headed through. The room was only half full, some sat about chatting in the dining room, others upstairs, and some likely in the snug or their bedrooms. It left you plenty of space to lie out across one of the couches, stretching happily, and your toes didn’t even reach the other end. 
The kids were all gathered around on the carpet, and Mattheo paced slowly behind you, with no attention on his movements but all his attention fixed on the animations taking place on the screen. He sat next to your legs nudging them up into the cushions before twisting and leaning back, settling himself against you with his head on your shoulder, back to your chest, as he continued to watch. 
He didn’t see your flushed cheeks or your shy surprise, not as you hid your face behind him from the watchful eyes of the few members of your family that were in here, too. Reaching for one of the rolled-up blankets along the back of the couch, you shook it out, spreading it over his body for an extra layer of warmth. He made a happy sound, shuffling back further into you, and letting the hand not holding his cup fall to clasp your calf by his hip, stroking slowly. 
Your arms crossed over his chest, giving up on what little pretence you had. This day would already be one of your favourite memories that you made, you might as well give into the full depth of what you wanted, and really make it the best it could be. Whether anything came from it or not, you’d still have this moment, cuddling with him on the sofa as he watched The Snowman for the first time. 
Your fingers ran through his hair, tugging out wind-tangled knots loosely, and playing with the curls around your fingers. You were oh-so-fond of Mattheo’s natural hair, dipping down to bury your nose in the strands, and kiss to top of his head. He squeezed your leg again, tipping his head back enough to leave a kiss brushed on your chin, before quickly looking back to the screen, and finishing off his mulled wine. 
Your cheek rested where your lips had once been, glancing around the room. Most of your relatives only gave you a small smile, while your mother winked at you, and your dad offered a thumbs up. You merely rolled your eyes, thankful for the dark of the room and that they couldn't see your blush. 
By the end of the movie, Mattheo was turning to you, abject horror evident on his face, as everyone else seemed to get on like normal. “He melted?”
“He’ll be back next year, don’t worry.” You smile, and Mattheo shook his head, brows furrowed, a deep ridge between them that showed just how bothered he was by the ending. 
“But he melted! How is that— I thought this was a child’s movie!”
“It is!”
“That’s like killing the dog in a Christmas movie.” He stuttered, trying to keep his voice low despite his growing concern. You left a kiss on his forehead in an attempt to hide your amusement from him. 
“Then you’re gonna’ hate The Snowman and The Snowdog.”
“Say sike. You say sike right now, or I’m getting in that floo and going home.” He pointed in the direction of the fireplace, and your laughter broke out, spilling into uncontrollable giggles. He was not pleased with your laughing, even if he did wrap you up into his arms, smothering your face into his bicep and grunting unhappily. “You cruel, cruel woman. Finding joy in my misery.”
That only made you laugh more.
The day was going by too quickly for your liking, it felt like all you did was blink, and you found yourself instead sitting at the dining room table, Mattheo on one side, your Uncle James, Grandma Alice and Grandpa William teamed up with you as you tried to count through the Premier League teams before the other teams.
Someone else hit the buzzer first, and you cursed in a very unladylike manner that made your Grandpa chuckle. 
Mattheo wasn’t much help with general knowledge, but he was enthusiastic. He tried as much as he could to participate in the rounds, and whenever he did happen to get something right, the look that took over his features was enough to light the night sky. He’d cheer, and kiss your cheek, and scribble the answers down on the big answers sheet you’d been assigned. 
It went on and on, only ending when the timer went off for the turkey, and raucous shouting took over from every adult as the quiz was cut short. Mattheo was laughing, loud, his arm looped around your waist as he nestled you into his side, immersed in the noise and hubbub. One of your cousins was adding up the scores, and you already knew you hadn't won, but hearing all of the scores being read, you cringed at just how badly your team had done. 
Mattheo laughed into your hair, the other arm hooking around your shoulders to pull you into him more fully. 
“That was more insane than a Common Room party.” He grinned, spoken close to your ear, and you laughed.
“Why do you think I’m so good at handling you lot when you’re drunk and rowdy, hm?” 
“I have never seen anyone corral drunk Italians like you.” He pulled back enough to peer down at you, and you smiled. 
The moment was snapped away from you both by the clearing of the quiz sheets away. The pens and markers were being gathered by Aiden, while Mabel followed him around with a basket for him to drop them into. Once the seats were clear, the settings all started to come back, and you watched as the room was transformed once again from a disaster zone and back into an elegant eating space. Cutlery went down after the plates, napkins and glasses and a cracker at each space. 
Mattheo was called away to help carry in bottles of wine, filling each glass around the table while the parents began to get the children settled in at their small table in the corner. Meals had already been prepared for them, a small chicken carved up between them all, a couple of roasties and just enough veggies that there would be no tears on Christmas Day. 
Then, the adult table was filling up, you carried bowls of food back and forth; several different kinds of vegetables, potatoes, meats and gravies, sides and stuffings up and down until the table was full from one end to the other.
When you finally sat down and tucked your napkin down to cover your lap, Mattheo settled in beside you. He was checking out every bowl, the dish of roast potatoes you’d mentioned being most excited for seemed to have conveniently found itself placed right in front of you both, and he smirked into his wine as you mentioned as much. 
Your father stood at the head of the table by the turkey, ready to carve, and the room fell quiet as all attention moved to him. Save for the ecstatic chatter of the children, that is. Your father held the meat-fork in one hand and the knife in the other, pausing just over the top of the turkey. Looking back up, he pulled back. 
“Mattheo,” The man beside you still as he placed his glass down, and all attention fell to him. “Come and carve for us.”
Mattheo’s stumbled response was adorable, and he untucked his chair when your father repeated himself. He walked slowly toward the head of the table, taking the instruments from your father’s hands. He paused, splotches of read coming back to his face, but before he could admit to being lost, your dad was guiding him on where to poke and how to slice. 
As soon as the first slice fell out and he lifted it off, clapping and cheering sounded around the room, and you made sure you were the loudest, his proud smile directed at you as he looked right at you. “First slice for you, sweetheart?”
You passed your plate along, all the way to get the meat from where he stood, before it was passed back to you. 
He kept going, slicing again and again until his wrist hurt, and he put down the knife and fork carefully. Stepping back for your father to take over, he clapped Mattheo on the shoulder. “Good job, son.”
It was spoken mindlessly, casually, as your father got back to work carving the meats, but it meant the world to Mattheo. His jaw dropped, and for a second he was frozen. You were almost worried he’d bolt, before he was speeding back over to the chair and took his seat beside you once again. He didn’t mention it, but he did let out a shaky breath, and took a heavy gulp of wine as his hands shook.
Your hand landed on his thigh, stroking lightly as he reached for the bowl of potatoes. “You okay, honey?”
“Never been better.” His tone sounded flat but you believed his words, watching as he dished up some potatoes onto your plate and his, picking out the ones that looked the best to give to you. “I carved a turkey.”
“And did a mighty fine job of it too.”
“You think?”
“Mhm. I’m very impressed.” You served up carrots and parsnips and Mattheo did mashed potatoes, dishes swapping about across the table, up and down until everyone had what they wanted. 
In a blur of good talk and food, you set into polishing off the plate before you, watching Mattheo try each and every item. 
“What’s normally on your Christmas Dinner?”
“Uh… well, father goes hunting with his business partners in the week leading up to Christmas, and normally he makes me and Tom go too. He’ll choose the best pheasant from the day, and that’s served. Along with a turkey, gammon, beef, lamb, and some kind of vegetarian wellington or roast.”
You watched him slice off a piece of his turkey, eyes rolling a little as he hummed happily, combining it with a piece of stuffing. 
“All the usual trimmings, too, to put on a show. But we weren’t allowed to eat them. Mother only let us have things that could be considered elegant.”
A snort left you, and he smirked. “What exactly is considered an elegant Christmas dinner food?”
“Things that can be eaten with a fork. Meat, roast potatoes,” He chopped smoothly down the centre of a crispy roast potato, stabbing it in one smooth move and putting it neatly into his mouth. “Stuffing and sprouts. That’s about it.”
“That’s awful! What about the pigs in blankets?”
“Roll around too much when you try to chop them.” He shrugged, and you scoffed. 
“So do sprouts?”
“Ah, but sprouts are a classic Christmas dish, and mother is nothing, if not traditionally elegant.” He made a show of chopping into a pig in a blanket now, savouring it as he ate it. “First time I ever had a Yorkshire pudding was second year, Tom took me to a pub in Hogsmeade. Changed my life.”
“Matty…”
“Don’t feel too bad for me, sweets.” Turning to you, he dipped a little closer, a smirk on his lips as his voice dropped. “If I didn’t have my sad, pathetic life to tell you all about, I wouldn't have a sob story to use to get a pretty girl to fawn over me.”
“Oh, please,” You muttered, shaking your head to hide your blush as you turned back to your meal. “Now you’re just flirting.”
“I’ve been flirting this whole time, you just never want to see it.”
Your eyes rolled at his smirk, and you twisted away, tuning back into the conversation going on around the table.
Mattheo loved his dinner. He ate everything on his plate, and at your relatives’ encouragement, he had seconds. Christmas crackers were popped, jokes were read and the little toys were exchanged around the table until everyone had a useless trinket they were happy with. 
He proudly wore a bright green paper crown on his head, and forced you to wear the orange one that popped out of your cracker too. 
By the time he was nibbling his way through a third plate, his hand was on your thigh, squeezing as he sat slumped in his seat. Jeans unbuttoned under his sweater, he patted at his stomach, content and full. You dipped another roast potato in a pool of gravy on your plate, dragging it through slowly. Lifting it, you took a bite, and he tipped his head, lips parting for the next bite. 
You offered it to him, and he pulled the bite from the fork, chewing with a hum as he listened to the storytelling of the previous Christmas’ that was now taking place. 
Before the food took you out into a food coma, your mother forced clean-up to take place. Bin bags were stuffed full, gifts were tidied away to respective cars and bedrooms, and the washing up was done, the table was cleared. When everyone put their minds to it, it didn’t take long, and you found Mattheo stacking the lad of the leftover tubs into the fridge. 
“We’re going to put some more movies on, and drink mulled wine ‘til we get tipsy. You staying for that?”
“Wild horses couldn't drag me away.” Mattheo smiled, turning to you as your arms wrapped around one of his, guiding him back to the living room before all the seats had been taken. You sat down first, and he quickly found a home leaning on your chest once again, your arms crossed over his chest, and one of his hands laced with your own. 
The other rubbed up and down your forearm slowly, getting himself comfortable as he groaned, spreading out as much as he could. “Did you eat too much?” You teased, and he pinched your arm, shaking his head. 
“I will never be defeated by food.” Despite his claims, he shifted once again, lowering into the couch cousins. Wine was handed out, the lights turned down, and Love, Actually began to play. Clearly, Grandma Judie had chosen the movie. 
That statement came to haunt him halfway through, though, when your mother arrived with a cheeseboard, handing out small plates, and pressing one into his hands. He was ever so polite, he’d never turn it down, and as she passed the box of crackers around to him, he piled three neatly onto the side of the plate. 
“Take more than that, dear. Come on.” She encouraged, and you hid your face against the top of his head to hide your laughter, as he added another three. Then came the cheese, and you swore you could feel Mattheo’s hesitation as he added slices and cubes of various cheeses to his plate, all under your parent’s watchful gaze to make sure he was taking enough. 
As he settled back, you brushed a kiss to his temple, and he tipped his face up towards you a little more. A smile was on his lips, the plate untouched and balanced in his lap. 
“You sure you’re not being defeated?”
“Me? Never.” He grinned, lifting a cracker with a slice of mature cheddar on up to you. “I made sure to get enough for us both, don’t you worry.” 
You didn’t have a chance to argue, the moment your mouth was open, he was forcing the savoury snack into your mouth, a wicked glint in his eye as you chewed slowly. Over mulled wine and cheese nibbles, the movie finished and another one began, this time chosen by one of your cousins. It was more upbeat, not a classic like the last had been, and there had almost been a row over it. 
Classic, or new. Mattheo had sat back and watched in astonished amusement as comments were thrown around the room in an argument for which was better. Eventually, a coin was flipped, and half the room had to grumble and accept it as the other half sat smugly.
The night was fully upon you by now, darkness had taken over as the evening ticked by. The curtains were drawn, candles were lit, and both your sets of grandparents had called it a day and gone up to bed already. The babies had long since fallen asleep too, setting a kind of quiet and peace over the house. 
Mattheo had gone still in your arms a long time ago, dozing between sleep and awake, finally having conceded after his second cracker and left the plate alone on the coffee table. You were sure he’d never admit it, though. 
You were comfy and happy. With the weight of him pressing down against you, and the blanket you’d thrown over your bodies covering you both and keeping you snug, you were sure that this was what you’d call perfect. 
The smell of spices and apples filled the house, your excitement renewing toward the end of the second movie as the time ticked on. Most of the children had fallen asleep, bowls of ice cream left on the kitchen counter from their own desserts, and long since tucked into bed to sleep. 
Your Aunt got up to check the oven, and moments later she called to let you all know that the treats from earlier in the day had finished cooking. “Mattheo.” You nudged, excitement racing through you, and the man in your arms stirred a little. He grunted, rolling over slightly and gripping one of your arms a little more firmly. “Matt!”
“Not right now, sweetheart. M’ sleeping.” He muttered, huffing a heavy breath out, and you chuckled. 
“You’re gonna’ miss dessert, though.”
That got his attention, one eye cracking open, quickly followed by another, and he sniffed at the air. “Smells good.”
“Mhm, so get up, and we can go and get some.”
Your family had already begun filing through to the kitchen, a new excitement surrounding the food as chatter took back up, laughter and new energy taking over. By the time you finally managed to join them, all of the various tray-bakes and puddings had been dug into, and you snatched up a plate to begin serving some to yourself. Some apple pie at one corner, some brownie at another, a scoop of ice cream in the idle, and a stack of cookies at the edge. 
Mattheo shuffled in a few moments later, sleepy and stretching, trying to hold in a yawn as he looked around. Upon finding you, he made his way over, slumping down to rest his head on your shoulder as you plucked two mismatched spoons from what was left in the cutlery drawer. 
Handing him one, he sighed, breaking off a large chunk of brownie and some ice-cream, before finally raising his head and eating the spoonful. With a groan, he told you just how good he thought it was, and went back in for more before even finishing his mouthful. 
The two of you shared the plate between quiet chatter, talking about his day, as Mattheo recounted for you almost every moment. His eyes were sparkling as he got a second helping of brownie for you both, forcing his spoon between your lips when teased him for his excitement, and wiping the edge of your mouth when you glared at him. He was so light, bursting with a kind of happiness you rarely ever saw in him. 
So much tended to weigh Mattheo down, so much of the time. He was a person who was burdened with struggles and troubles, and while he was exceptionally good at making the most of it, and finding silver linings, sometimes, it would eat away at him after too long. Darkness would crawl in at the edges, in the form of exhaustion and temper and emotional outbursts, and you’d find him staving off a panic attack with a cigarette between his lips, leg unable to keep from bouncing as he stood atop the astronomy tower. 
He didn’t look hopeless and world-weary now, though. Right now he looked happy. Full of the kind of happiness that lit a person up from the inside out. He looked like he was at peace, even as he stood huddled with you in the corner of your kitchen eating a shared piece of brownie, while your family around you began to trickle out as the night went on. 
Soon enough, even one more bite of sugar was too much, and you were slumped lazily back onto the couch. Mattheo was lying half across you as the last of your aunts and uncles quietly carried their snoozing children to the fireplace of the cars, ready to floo or drive home. Each and every one of them had bid him a goodbye, telling him how nice it was to meet him as he returned the sentiments with red cheeks and a bashful smile. 
“I suppose it’s my turn to go now.” He mumbled, your fingers running once through his hair, and your mother poked her head out of the kitchen where she’d been chatting with your aunties who were staying, over a cup of tea. At least, you thought they’d been chatting, clearly, she’d been eavesdropping. 
“Oh, Mattheo-dear, you’re not staying over? We thought you would.”
“You did?” He sat upright a little more, eyes wide, and your mother only nodded to him. “I’d like that… as long as I wouldn't be a burden to you.”
“A burden? ‘Course not, dear. You’re a treat to have, and an extra set of hands on Boxing Day is always handy.” She hummed, clearly pleased with her meddling as she disappeared. Mattheo accio’d for a notebook and a pen, sending a lazily scribbled note addressed to his housekeeper through the floo, to inform them of where he was staying for the night. 
As he stood by the fireplace, folding the note and waiting for the flames to change colour, you wrapped your arms around him. Pressing your face between his shoulders, he sagged back into you, relaxing into your touch. 
Orange flickered to green, and he tossed the note in, watching it disappear to ash in the flames in a split-second, before the warm glow was back. 
“Come on, Matty. Let’s go upstairs.” You whispered, and he slipped a hand down to take one of yours from his stomach, lacing your fingers together. Lifting your hand up, he issued the back of it, before turning, and letting you guide him away upstairs. 
You guided him through the house, the floorboards squeaking quietly under your feet in certain spots. “You can stay with me.” You murmured quietly, and he only nodded. 
Opening up the door to your bedroom, his eyes immediately started flicking from one corner to the other, taking in every detail. It was fairly sparse these days, most of your most important possessions came to Hogwarts with you, and everything else, you’d had a big clear out of. Your skincare bottles were all lined up along the dresser, your laptop on the nightstand, and a few half-burned candles littered around. 
One thing you always had, was candles. 
Gathering the bottles you’d left out, you slipped away to the bathroom to get ready for bed before exhaustion took over. 
When you returned, Mattheo was looking through the drawers of your wardrobe. “Searching for something, or just looking for all my dirty secrets?” You tease, and he jumped a little, but smiled as he turned to you. 
“Where are your spare blankets?”
“Given out to all my cousins and relatives who are staying over. Why?” You pulled out a lighter from your nightstand drawer, moving from one candle to another and beginning to light them. He scratched at the back of his neck, and you raised a brow. “Matt, you’ll sleep in the bed, not the floor. Are you insane? It’s freezing, and uncomfortable.”
“I— Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 
“You could never,” You murmur, flicking the flame out once they were all done. Most of your drawers were half-empty, and it didn’t take long for you to search through and find an oversized sleep shirt for him. Unfortunately, it was pink. “You want something else to sleep in? I can lend you a shirt, but I don’t have any shorts that would… suit you.”
A flush rose to your cheeks and you actively fought any kind of mental images from passing through your mind. Particularly any that involved Mattheo, and a pair of booty shorts. 
He accepted the pink tee with a grin, stripping his jumper off and over his head. Folding it neatly and leaving it on your dresser, his t-shirt followed, and he donned the hot-pink band shirt with a half-faded Taylor Swift setlist on the back. 
“Enzo would love this shirt.” He muttered, frowning at you as he admired the huge print of her across the front. Undoing his belt, you quickly diverted your gaze, turning back to the bed and tossing throw-cushions out of the way. You heard the rustle of denim, the clink of his belt as he folded it, and then the squeaky steps on the floor as he crossed the room. 
“Do you want to watch a movie before we sleep, or are you—” Arms curled your waist, his face pressed into your neck, and your words stuttered off as he tugged you back into himself firmly. “Matty?”
He shuddered against you, and you turned in his arms despite his tight hold, cupping his face and forcing his eyes up to your own. 
“Mattheo?”
“Thank you. For today, thank you so much.” He leaned in, a kiss on your cheek so soft you could barely feel it. Then another, and another, firmer as he worked, muttering his thanks between kisses all over your face, mumbling his appreciation. His voice cracked as he kissed your forehead, and he sniffled as he moved down to your other cheek. “This was one of the best days of my life, thank you.”
“Matty honey,” You pulled back, enough to see his face as his water-lined eyes shone gold in the flicker of the flames around the room. “It’s okay. It’s okay, I wanted you here. I was so happy to have you here, this was perhaps the best Christmas I’ve ever had, too. Watching you be so happy, making you this happy, it made it so. I love seeing you smile.”
He hiccuped a sob, nodding a little as your thumb swept over your cheek. He attempted to choke back tears, and you shushed him quietly. “I didn’t— I didn’t get you any presents, I’m sorry—”
“Mattheo, stop. Please, look at me. See how happy I am right now.” His eyes scanned over your face, fighting the battle against the tears wanting to spill over. He was clinging to your waist, hands bunching at the sleep shirt you wore as he tugged you in a little closer. “Please smile. That’s what I want you to get me for Christmas. I got snow, I got my family, I got to see you. Now let me see you smile.”
He sniffled through a laugh, the lines of worry etched onto his face finally smoothing out. He smiled, watery and weak, but he smiled, letting out a heavy sigh.
“There he is, my pretty boy.” You pinched his cheek, his head tipping a little further into your hold, his eyes fluttering shut. 
“I’m in love with you.” The worst bubbled from him in uh a rush they almost blurred together, but his body finally sagged, like he was losing the very tension that even kept him upright Swaying forward, his forehead fell to settle on yours, like he was collapsing. “I’m so, so fucking in love with you, and I just had to tell you that. After today, after everything, I couldn't keep it to myself anymore.”
His nose nuzzled against your own as the words he’d said settled over you. “Oh, Mattheo. After all that I just said, you don’t know how I feel about you?”
“‘Course I do. Why do you think I finally had the courage to say it?” Tipping his head up, he kissed the tip of your nose, arms sliding properly around your waist. 
“I love you, Mattheo.” You murmured, shifting up enough for your lips to brush his own, and he smiled against your lips. 
“You are the best thing in my life, sweetheart.” His confession was followed by his mouth closing over your own. A kiss that emptied every part of your mind, you could only focus on him. The slow movements of his lips, drowning in the feel of him pressed up to you, mouths making slow motions as you crossed that line between friends and more. 
He pulled back for a breath, and you chased after him. Your mouths collided once again, needy and desperate this time, his hand slipping up to tangle in your hair as the other slid low down your back. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling yourself up to a better angle as your heart pounded against your ribs, a steady drum beat to match the rhythm of your lips. 
This time, when your mouth slid from his own, he left kisses dotted along your jaw, panting onto your skin but unable to stop. Only when he had kissed down to your neck, face buried in your hair, did he pause Hugging you close, his chest rose and fell as he moulded you to his body, fingers massaging against your scalp as his hand still resided in your hair.
Eventually, the two of you shifted to the bed, tucking yourselves snugly under the covers, wrapped around one another as you balanced the laptop on your lap, pulling up a movie. 
“What are we watching?” He whispered, between lazy kisses along your jaw, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. 
“I was thinking Arthur Christmas. I think you’d like it.”
“Huh,” He murmured, pulling back as you turned up the volume and set it between you both. “Kinda’ sounds like Father Christmas, doesn’t it?”
You laughed against your will, taking his face in your hands and pulling him in for another kiss. “Godamnit, you’re cute.”
Suffice to say, he loved that one, too.
As fate would have it, Mattheo Riddle has a soft spot for animated Christmas movies.
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macfrog · 5 months
Text
the sweetest con cowboy like me chapter fifteen
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well. this is it. we made it, kids. thank you so, so much for reading for all this time. for all your patience, and kindness, and loyalty. i will carry this pair, their story, and all of your love for them with me forever. love you guys. xx
pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader
summary: every cowboy deserves his ride off into the sunset.
warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), lotsa guilt from reader, dreamy love sequence & mention of unprotected piv/creampie, more greys anatomy spoilers, reader's dad is either Bald or has a Receding Hairline (you choose), more sex - this time reader and joel sixty-nine, face sitting, oral (f and m receiving), more (inferred) unprotected piv, making dirty, hot love ALLAT, cursing, a little smut n a lotta fluff n a droplet of angst at the end
word count: 10.8k
series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🧡
“How the fuck did this take you three minutes? Three?”
“I’m telling you. I’m a genius.”
You snort. “Shut up. You only passed Math ‘cause you were fooling around with that nerd – Thomas? Was it Thomas?”
“Timothy. And you don’t need math to do a sudoku puzzle, loser. You just need brains. Logic.” Anna taps two fingers against her temple, tilting her head.
“Logic,” you murmur, shaking your head.
Sal’s is quiet today. He’s out of town for his father-in-law’s funeral and made the genius decision to leave the two of you in charge. Since opening at nine, you’ve had four customers. The to-do list left for you was completed by ten, and since then, you’ve been hunched over your phone at the cash register, messing around on some puzzle app Anna made you download.
It's a Wednesday. Nothing exciting ever happens on Wednesdays.
Anna’s behind you, tearing apart and flattening the cardboard boxes you spent all morning emptying. “That level,” she clicks her chewing gum wetly between her teeth, scent of mint over your shoulder, “that ain’t even the hardest one. Ooh, no, babe. Three goes –”
“Shh!” You bat her arm away, curving your hand over your phone screen. She snorts and wanders off through the back, wad of cardboard under her arm.
Anna wasn’t your closest friend in high school, and you sure didn’t stay much in touch past the odd Facebook post update when you left. But working with her, and her dad being your dad’s buddy – she’s sort of become one of those people you just can’t shake.
Like a stray puppy. Or…an annoying hangnail.
She’s nice enough – talks a lot of crap sometimes, but she cares for you. You’d go as far as saying you two have grown pretty close since you came home. Still, the acidic sting of resentment sits on your tongue, anytime you think of her involvement in the unravelling of your little lie. Think of your dad calling hers, Hank asking her where you were.
Think of the fact that, if she hadn’t been honest with him – I don’t know where she is, Dad – nothing would’ve gone wrong.
That’s not fair. If you’d never touched Joel in the first place, nothing would’ve gone wrong.
It’s just – she had a hand in pushing the first domino.
The bell above the door jingles and you lift your eyes from tiny numbers and blank squares to meet a familiar pair of hazel. An Alanis Morissette T-shirt under a denim jacket. She tucks her thick, soft hair behind her ears and smiles, then skips around the counter and links her hands at your tummy; her ear flat against the nape of your neck.
“Why so clingy?” you ask, and Sarah straightens up.
“Just excited to spend some time with my favorite person. That allowed?”
Your eyes scan her up and down as she leans against the counter, stealing a gummy from a jar beside the register. “Been staying with you for nearly three weeks now, you ain’t sick of me yet?”
She shakes her head, jaw chewing, cheeks swollen with a grin. “Are you done yet? I wanna make sure we get good seats.”
“We will,” you assure her. “It’s only, like, three p.m.”
“But it’s Barbie,” she says, “and I wanna get some snacks before we head in.” She holds the decapitated gummy worm up, eyebrows high, before pulling it between her teeth until it snaps. She drags the withered red tail over her tongue.
“That thing you just mauled,” you gesture to the masticated shape in her fingers, “candy. Snacks. Just take some of that.”
“You won’t even buy your date movie theater candy? Damn. Mom’s a cheapskate. Wish I could say my dad’s a lucky guy.”
You shove her off, disguising your laugh with a shake of your head. “You are on thin ice, I’m not even kidding.”
Sarah’s laughing, reaching for another worm. “You know what that sounds like?”
“Hm?”
“What you just said.”
“What’s it sound like, Sarah Miller?”
“Something a mom would say.”
“Alright,” you stand, “get out. Get outta my store.”
The door opens when you point to it, Texan heat sweeping in to swarm the one rickety fan you have in here. The brass bell trembles, and beneath it, a man in a tucked shirt and jeans, glum face and tired eyes.
You blink at him and he blinks back, and no words are spoken between you, but your dad understands to move, to keep walking – and you understand to let him.
“Shoot,” Sarah whispers, twisting her gummy around her finger. “That was awkward.”
Three weeks of staying with them – Sarah and Joel – also means three weeks of zero contact with your dad. The most you’ve heard from – or, rather, about him is that, last week, Joel bumped into Hank at the gas station, and the old man mentioned that he and your dad had grabbed a beer the night before.
What’d he say? you asked Joel, dragging a dish towel around the rim of a glass.
He shrugged, flicking his hands dry over the sink. Said the Rangers aren’t doin’ too good. I said, Yeah, that’s cause a’ –
No, Joel. What did he say about me ‘n my dad?
He waited a second to let the offense of your interruption soak in. Took the towel from your hand, replaced the glass on the draining board. Nothing, he said, I don’t think he knows.
It sat with you the entire night. The three of you watched a movie, occupying either side of Joel’s couch, though you’re sure you don’t remember a word of it. The image of him sat center-stage in your mind until you pulled yourself against Joel’s body in bed that night. Sat in his recliner, flicking through TV channels, the only sounds in the house that of Ice Road Truckers, the ticking of the kitchen clock, and his own fucking breathing.
Alone. Not even Hank to talk to about – well.
You’ve done your best not to think about him. And it works, most days, when you’re with Joel. Helps to go do stuff: ride shotgun while he picks up supplies for work or grabs groceries. Helps to play pretend like his house is yours, too. Tidying when he’s not home, lighting candles and sinking into a bubble bath for him to find you in when he finishes. Helps to be at Sal’s, with Anna. Sudoku and her fucking Tinder account to keep you both occupied.
Most days, you forget to consider the lonely shape of your dad at all – but that seems to hurt all the more. Like forgetting to tend to an open wound; instead, letting the infection blister and bubble so that, when you do bump it again, the pain feels sharper. Hissing at you, poison seeping from flesh.
His showing up, waltzing straight into the store – feels less like a bump, and more like a pair of hands diving straight into the gash, tearing it wide open again. Blood and poison gushing all over the checkered floor.
Anna materializes between two aisles, hands on her hips when she stands behind you. “Y’all still not really talkin’?” she asks.
You and Sarah shake your heads. The three of you watch the shape of your dad’s skull over the shelves, bobbing from bay to bay. Door hinges to fence paint. He painted the fence last summer. He doesn’t need fucking fence paint.
“Nope,” you reply. “’s been, what, two and a half weeks now?”
“Yeah,” Anna mutters, the slope of sympathy in her voice. “My dad’s been talkin’ to him about it. They’ve spoken, like, almost every night on the phone.”
“Oh, fuck,” you hiss, head falling into your hands. “Are you serious?”
“Not about you and Joel. Just about the fight.”
Your jaw slowly slackens, eyes thinning as your gaze slides over to your friend, a saddened expression on her face.
Sarah nods, like an accessory sat on the dash of a car. Bobbing bobbing bobbing, until her brows drop and she turns to you, finally realizing. “Wait, what?”
Anna blinks between the two of you. “What?” she asks, lips pressing together.
“You know?” Sarah asks, glaring at her.
Anna snorts. Neither of you break. She quickly quietens and clears her throat, bending to stuff more cardboard under her arm. “Well…” She sucks in a deep breath. “At rodeo night, when you left your phone on the table, me ‘n Kara wanted to leave a bunch of selfies for you to find later. But when I went to grab your phone, you had a text from him. Joel. Something about someone winning you over like he did, or something. I can’t remember. But that was the first thing.”
Sarah’s face sours at the mention of her dad’s flirty text, scoffing as she swipes another gummy from the jar. “Real fuckin’ subtle, Dad,” she murmurs.
You sharpen your gaze at Anna, blurring the brown curls and low brows from your peripheral. “Uhuh…?”
“Then, there was the lying to your dad about where you were. That Monday – you said you were at mine. You weren’t. Your dad called my dad to ask, ‘n my dad asked me why the hell you’d lie. I figured, What a weird coincidence, right?”
You slip off your stool, legs feeling more liquid than bone. “Oh, Jesus…”
“But then…then, I saw how you were when he called on the way to Frank’s. In the car. You were…fucking weird. And then Joel punched that dude – that basically confirmed it. I don’t think either of your dads would do that for me. It felt…it felt personal. He took your hand ‘n dragged you outta there, and it felt like…somethin’ else.”
You’re leaning against the counter, head in your hands. Struggling to even listen to her piece it all together. Were you this fucking obvious, the whole time?
Anna answers for you. “Yeah,” she says, nodding, “I didn’t catch two fucking boyfriends cheating on me, and not pick up some detective skills, babe.”
You stand straight, composure slowly building over shame. “And your dad doesn’t know? My –” you flick your head across the store, lowering your voice, “– my dad hasn’t told him?”
A laugh spurts from somewhere deep in her chest. “Hell, no. Are you tryna give him a second heart attack? No. He just thinks you were somewhere you didn’t want your dad to know – a boy’s or something. Which – well, I guess you were.”
You nod, half-appreciation, half-resignation. Alright. Now shut up about it, would you?
“But listen,” Anna says, apparently not as good at mindreading as she is at secret-revealing, “y’all gotta work on being sneaky. You’re, like, really bad at it.”
“Yeah,” you sniff, “thanks, Anna.”
You grip the edge of the counter and try to draw your eye away from your dad; a little angry that he’s here, and yet, a little more thankful that you’ve had at least a tiny glimpse of him. Desperate for him to come over, to acknowledge your mutual existence in the same room, and yet – petrified that he does.
He keeps his back to you, though you notice him turning every so often, looking at you from his peripheral. Nope – your black shirt and blue jeans are still behind the counter. He turns back to the shelf.
“Hi, sweetie.” A woman in a pink blouse approaches the counter. She lays down a couple pairs of plyers and you ring her up, asking if she found everything okay. Choking a little when you inhale the scent of her perfume.
“Beautiful day for you to be in here workin’, huh?” Her rosy cheeks fill as she hands you the cash.
Oh, yeah. It’s a beautiful day to be stuck selling plyers to pink women in pink blouses smelling of pink perfume, while my dad – still reeling from the revelation that I’ve been sleeping with his best friend, by the way – pretends to peruse the store.
“I’m almost done,” you reply, blunt enough to deflate her expression only a little, sliding the paper bag stamped Sal’s back across the counter.
She nods in thanks and slinks off, suffocating aroma following her. And like a magician, when she disappears off to the side, your dad stands in her wake. A few feet from you, keeping his distance, watching carefully before he dares to move. Waiting for your go-ahead.
When you lift your chin, beckoning him forward, Anna takes Sarah’s arm and yanks her away, shoving some shredded boxes into her arms. “You wanna help me?” she asks the nosy Miller, tossing something of an alarmed glance back at you and your dad.
There’s a funny feeling behind your eyes when he steps up, empty hand resting hesitantly on the counter. “She coverin’ up the smell of a dead body or som’?” he asks.
The air pushes from your lungs, a laugh barreling with it. Your hands clasp on the surface opposite his. A scorch of white heat at the nape of your neck. “Very vibrant, huh?”
“Very.” He clears his throat, shakes his head a little, and takes a deep breath. “I figured this might be as good a place as any to find you. I didn’t want you to think I was…cornering you, or anything, if I showed up at Joel’s.”
“I wouldn’t – I mean, maybe. But, y’know…this is fine.” Your arms cross defensively, the baggy material of Joel’s shirt wrapping snug around you.
Your dad seems to know. Evidence being that it’s you, in a shirt all too big – a shirt he’d likely see his best friend in, too. It forces your arms tighter, sucking in the scent of Joel to combat the dizzying feeling of nerves.
“I’m glad to see you’re alright,” he says eventually, fingers drumming awkwardly. “I just wanted to know you were fine.”
“I am fine. I promise. Just – working a lot.”
He nods, looking down to his feet. Twists the toe of his boot into the linoleum.
“I’m glad to see you’re alright, too,” you offer, the words fluid and spilling from one to the next – something forceful in their nature.
Your dad’s eyes lift at the same time that his cheeks do. Relief. “Thanks, kiddo. I actually – I was hopin’ that maybe we could talk. If you’re free. I don’t know what time you get off today.”
“I finish in ten minutes,” you say, and hope seems to paint across his face – washing away instantly when you add, “but I’m going to the movies with Sarah.”
He’s nodding again, eyes fixed back on his boots. “Right, right.”
“…But maybe once we’re done I can swing by?”
“Oh, well – I’m workin’ late again. I’ll be out by the time…Yeah. Sorry, hon.”
“That’s okay.”
“Late one again tonight.”
“This, uh – what’s his name again? Kel–?”
“Kelman, yeah. Yeah. How ‘bout I call you tomorrow ‘n we can work somethin’ out? You and Sarah, you enjoy your night.”
You lean back from the counter, slowly more confident in your ability to hold yourself upright. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Dad.”
His lips press together in a flat attempt at a smile. “I’ll leave you to it. You mind if I…give you a hug?”
And then you’re the one awkwardly, forcedly smiling. Your teeth gritting behind taut lips. “Not at all,” you whisper, and wander carefully around the counter to where he stands.
He opens his arms and pulls you against his chest, your head tilting to rest your ear on his shoulder. You hook your arms under his, feeling his wrists crossing at your spine. Like two statues, two figures of stone fixing their crumbling bodies in an embrace, suddenly disjointed and ill-fitting. Your heart hurts beneath layers of rock, swelling in attempt to reach for his, shrinking back crestfallen when he feels too far.
He kisses the side of your head, pulls away, and taps your cheek once. “You know,” he says, letting you withdraw from his grasp, “I really miss you.”
You nod. “Miss you, too.”
“Let’s talk soon, alright?”
“Yeah.”
And then he’s leaving, drifting back out into the summer sun, rock disintegrating as the light catches him again. More human, less monster-under-your-bed. He’s just your dad again, just that swaying, bumbling man who used to sprinkle rainbow flakes over your ice cream and double-knot your laces.
The shadows of Sarah and Anna appear at your elbows, the three of you watching your dad sink into his car. You still feel made of rock, splitting somewhere down the middle as you stare at his figure.
“Well?” Sarah asks.
He turns right out of the parking lot, disappears behind a hedgerow.
“Yeah,” you reply, turning in a daze. “We’re gonna…gonna talk.”
“That’s good, right? That sounds…promising.”
You shrug. “I guess.”
Sarah places a gentle hand on your arm, drawing your attention to her kind eyes and infectious smile. “We should probably get goin’,” she says, and you agree.
“What movie are you seeing?” Anna asks, filling your spot behind the counter as you turn, making for the back of the store.
“Barbie,” Sarah tells her.
“Nice. She paying?”
“Obviously. Mom duties.”
You kick the door closed on their giggles.
Two days pass without a word from your dad. No text, no call, no visit to Sal’s when you’re on shift the following day. By Monday, you’ve convinced yourself that the entire thing was a dream, a hallucination conjured up by your imagination in attempt to rid you of some of the guilt still chewing at your heart. Bat it out of your brain, like swatting the rear end of a wild animal let loose indoors.
Guilt which is only remedied, only soothed by Joel. By the feeling which overcomes your chest when you look at him – lungs faltering, heart leaping. The peace of falling asleep in his safe embrace, the heat from his body enough to keep you comfortable all night, and then waking up tangled in his sheets – the smell of bacon and eggs twirling through the house, the distant sound of his humming drawing you downstairs to his side.
Late nights on the porch, watching the sun bleed heavily into the sky. Your ankles in his lap, a guitar over his thigh. Thumb gentle on the strings, soft timbre of song lulling you to some place far from reality: the same rosy, dreamlike state you’ve mostly occupied since he dragged you through his front door, kicked your shoes and all of your worries to the side, and made you forget that anything bad had ever happened.
The most comfortable you’ve ever felt in your life, the most loved – a world where your every word is heard and weighed, rolling around Joel’s palms and slotting carefully into his back pocket. A world where his lips on your neck as you make dinner, where the crook of his arm catching you as you pass by, is all normal. Where I love you and I love you, too become the last words your sleepy ears hear at night, right before you sink into a shared sleep.
All of it becoming as natural as the pale moon switching for her golden sister at dawn. As instinctive as breathing.
“Have you ever made love to anyone?” you ask him one night, the aftershock of an orgasm still soaking into your skin.
Joel pauses, hips slowing between yours. “Yeah,” after a couple beats, “sure.”
“What’s it feel like?” you ask, honestly. Combing his dark hair through your fingers. “I’ve never…No one’s ever…”
“Baby,” he says. “We’ve done it. I’ve done it to you.”
Your body tenses and then melts around him. One blink and suddenly the world softens, seems to bow into the background – the only sharp object Joel, the twinkle in his eye piercing through the haze like blinking white stars in thick, dark clouds.
You whisper, “Can you do it again? So I can feel what it’s like?”
He pushes himself up, one elbow planted by your ear, the other hand lifting your thigh. Hooking it over his waist, lowering his arm again to cage you under his body. He nudges your chin with his nose, lifting it to line your lips with his, hold every part of your body as close to his as he can.
Deeper, in every sense of the word. Slow, hard. Eyes on you the entire time, watching the way your face contorts and your jaw slackens, holding the shape of your head in his hands, swallowing his own moans and grunts to make space between you for yours.
“Look at me, baby, eyes on me,” he says, and by instinct, your eyes roll forward, focusing or half-focusing on the slick hair at his forehead, the red flush climbing his neck, seeping into the skin under his beard. “You feel it? Feel where I’m goin’?”
And yeah, you whine, you do feel it. Feel him dragging you further away from this world and into the next – somewhere a plain away, somewhere new and different to anything you’ve ever known before. Where physicality is a language, a fluid conversation between the melding of his body and yours; where there are a million words swirling around his pupils, hypnotizing and entrancing and drawing you in until you’re tumbling headfirst into the inky pools.
Where I love you sounds like the groan Joel can’t hold back, feels like the pulsing flood as he snaps between your legs. Where making love is as simple as the squeeze of his hand around yours; the shove of his plate over the kitchen table, offering you the last bite of grilled cheese or simply admitting that it was yours before he’d even taken the first. That addictive laugh of his when you stall the fucking truck for the fifth time: You asked me to teach you, baby, I’m tryna teach you. Foot on the gas, c’mon. You got it. That’s it – now, slow. Slower. Try to feel it. No, really feel it.
Feel it. Really, try to feel it. Can you feel it? Do you know the difference yet? The difference between everyone who was before, and the one who is now? Do you finally get it?
“I feel it,” you cry out, and his frame holds yours together as you fall apart.
It feels like – you.
How did I ever know anything before I knew you?
“That one’s nice,” Joel says, his voice jumping the short distance between his lips and your ear.
You tilt your head, body moving with his when he lifts his hand to swipe through some more of the images. The spacious living room, newly refurbed kitchen, the view of downtown Los Angeles.
He adjusts the blanket draped over your legs. “Washer dryer, walk-in closet,” and then, leaning in closer, whispers, “a balcony. That’s cool.”
“Hm,” you turn to face him, your body shelled by his in the corner of his couch, “I bet you like the balcony, cowboy.”
He smiles plainly in response, squeezing your nose between two knuckles. Yeah. Lots you can do with a balcony.
A sharp gasp from across the room pierces the sweet moment. You and Joel turn in its direction, its owner wide-eyed and blinking at the TV.
“Wait a second,” Sarah yelps. “George is the John Doe?” She gasps again when Meredith announces the same news to her friends onscreen. “Shut – the fuck – up!”
“Language,” Joel clips, chest rumbling between your shoulder blades.
“Oh, like you didn’t have the exact same reaction. George is the…Oh, that sucks. Are you kidding me?” She fishes her phone from the waves of blanket surrounding her, thumbs rapidly typing, eyes shooting from screen to screen.
You snort, turning back to your own phone in your hand, when a text appears at the top of the screen.
Dad: Hey kiddo. Sorry to keep you waiting, work been hectic. Off the rest of today if you’re free to come over.
Your thumb latches onto the message, holding it for Joel to read, too, before letting it disappear off into your notifications.
He tightens his hold on you, burying his nose into the cotton of his own hoodie over your shoulders. His breath pushes heavy and thoughtful across the material. “Still seems as calm as the other day.”
“Too calm,” you admit, “it’s freaking me out.”
“What can he do, you know? You’re here, he’s there. Your dad ain’t an idiot, baby. He knows stayin’ angry about it’s only gonna push you further away.”
“Sure made ‘im feel like an idiot…”
Joel catches the comment and pockets it before it gathers enough weight to bruise. “Well,” he clears his throat, “it’s up to you. I ain’t letting you do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
“Mhm,” you reply, and wait for more words to fall to your tongue. An answer, a response. A decision that you know you don’t feel equipped or even rightful to make.
“Do you want to go talk to him?” Joel asks.
“I…I want to make things right. I wanna fix it.”
“Okay. And will talking to him do that?”
You turn to face him, frowning. “I don’t fucking know,” you mutter. “Will it?”
He smiles sympathetically. “Wish I knew, darlin’. Would it help if I came? Sat outside in the truck, waited for you? It gets too much, you decide you wanna leave – we leave.”
“You ain’t scared to be near him again?”
He gulps back a laugh, Adam’s apple bobbing awkwardly before he allows himself to answer. “Only thing scary about your dad is the sunlight reflectin’ off his damn head. No, I ain’t scared.”
You study him a minute longer, eyes roaming from the lips you could sketch every score of from memory, the beard you’re sure has forever altered your prints from the number of times you’ve run your fingers over the bristles. The eyes which know every secret, every whisper, every thought behind your own.
You sigh, smiling dumbly as he wraps his arms tighter around you. “Fine. Let’s go.”
Joel pulls up by the curb, parking politely at the end of your driveway rather than alongside your dad’s car, like he usually would. Like he used to.
You crane your head, looking past the shape of him to survey the unassuming house. Quiet, still. No sign of hurricane or earthquake, no tremors of rage or words like rocks raining down on the truck roof. Your thumb plunges into the buckle of your seatbelt, the webbing whipping over your shoulder.
“Sure you’re okay?” Joel asks, watching your fingers lift to the door handle.
“Mhm,” you reply, distant. “’s just my dad, right? What’s the worst that could happen?”
His eyebrows lift, agreeing. He takes your hand in his and holds it to his lips. “Whatever it is,” he mumbles into your fingers, “if it happens, you come straight back out here, you hear? I ain’t moving.”
The urge to stay exactly where you are and let him carry you off back to his place overwhelms you for a brief second. To stay in the safety of the truck cabin, stay within touching distance of Joel. And as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone. Overcome by the memory of that stony hug in Sal’s, the vacant, lonely eyes boring into late-night TV.
A sharp chap over your shoulder shocks you back to life. You twist in your seat, looking down at a face wrinkled by curiosity and wisdom, sheen of lipstick curved in a mischievous grin. You roll the window down, mirroring her smile.
“Joel Miller,” Rita calls, lowering her ring-adorned fist and pointing over to her car. “Help me with these groceries.”
“Afternoon to you, too, Rita,” he calls back, and she raises two thin, penciled eyebrows. His sigh trickles into a chuckle as he snaps the door open, leaning into you. “I ain’t moving,” he mutters, swinging out of the truck.
“Sure looks like you’re movin’,” you call back, letting Rita pull on your door to let you out.
“How are you, darlin’?” she asks. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”
You hop down beside her, helping her tug the shawl around her arms back over her shoulders. “Yeah, I’ve, uh…I’ve been busy.”
She nods, and then her eyes drift to somewhere behind you. “They go in the kitchen, son.” She points to her house. “I’ll come help you unpack ‘em.”
Joel’s face twists, eyes wide, hands outstretched. You swallow back a laugh when he looks to you, an almost teenage expression which asks, You seein’ this? as he turns back to the Nissan.
“I better go,” Rita says then, giving your arms one last squeeze. “You take care, now. Tell your dad I’m askin’ after ‘im.”
“I will, Rita.” You turn on your heel and saunter around Joel’s truck, giving him one last twirl as he hoists two bags under his muscled arms, rolling his eyes as you spin.
You pull the weight of yourself up your drive, passing past versions of yourself as you near the front door. She’s stumbling towards her dad’s car, a bucket of soapy water sloshing around between her knees. She’s sat on the curb, waiting for Joel’s truck to roll up, praying she never hears another Marty Robbins song again.
She’s naïve, still. Knows no better, knows no worse. Chasing a high, chasing the thrill of being caught and the thrill of nobody ever knowing. A relationship built entirely on lies and deceit. A love woven with dark threads of shame and anger, a tattered mess in one corner where the edges fray and loosen.
And you think: you’ve never felt more jealous of anybody your whole life.
The front door clicks open easily, like the building welcomes you home with a relieved sigh. You follow sunlight into the hallway, feeling it easier to walk through than before – less dense, less suffocating. Less guilty. An honest thief, back to return the bleeding heart she dragged out the door with her.
Secrets like shards of broken glass on the floor, debris from that day. And as if he hears the crunch of your footsteps, your dad appears at the bottom of the hall.
“Hi, hon.”
Eyes wide with a misplaced shock, you say, “Hey.”
“You okay?”
“’m good.”
“Good. Come in, come through.” He beckons you forward, a smile only half-forced on his lips. “You want a drink or anything?”
You follow him into the kitchen, politely accepting a glass of water when he offers it.
He turns with two steady palms on the island, watching as you drag a chair free and sit at the table. “How’s Joel?” he asks, swallowing roughly.
The words come delayed, your open mouth lying in wait. Your body selfishly trying to hoard the information, protective the second the image of that six-foot, two-hundred-pound man crosses your mind. “He’s fine. He’s out front.”
It sounds like a warning, though you don’t mean for it to. Just conversation. He’s helping Rita with her groceries. She’s asking after you, by the way. But your dad seems to sense the natural amber tone of it – the sparking of a flame, daring to catch. He’s waiting for this to go south.
He nods, accepting the fact of it. His own failed attempt to separate the two of you only drove you closer together. Only made you want Joel more.
But then he’s nearing you again, pulling out the chair opposite yours. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says, settling with a sigh. “Glad we’re…we’re talkin’ again, at least.”
Your head angles. “Are we?”
His body jerks, flinching from the sting of the question. “Well,” his head wobbles, jowls quivering, “I sure hope so. I was takin’ it as a good sign that you’re here.”
“I’m here,” you repeat, “but that doesn’t mean I’m staying.”
“No, I know. I know. Joel’s out front, ‘n all that.” He looks down at his hands, clasped in his lap. Holds his tongue behind his front teeth, waiting for the next turn of conversation.
You lean forward, elbows on the table, softening your voice. “Dad?” you say, and he looks up. “This whole entire thing – I think…I think we oughta try and understand each other, a little better. Hear each other out.”
“I am tryin’, hon. I’m really tryin’. You dealt me an awful lot to hear out ‘n understand.”
You rock back, sinking against the hard chair. Tracing the wood grains in the table, nails digging between. Shame coiling like a snake beneath your tongue, taking up too much space in your mouth. Its venom dripping between your teeth, acrid and sour; tendons in your neck jumping with the bitterness of your dad’s tone.
He sighs. “Be honest with me a second.”
“Huh?”
He waits a beat, watching you carefully. Opens his mouth, pauses, and then speaks. “Who instigated it?”
Your finger pushes harder into the surface. Digging new divots. “Um…kinda both of us. Was sort of a two-way thing from the get-go.”
His lips twist, almost imperceptible. He looks behind you to the patio outside. You can’t read what’s in his eyes. It makes you say more, say things you reckon you’ll regret later – but something to fill the silence between you. Something to let him sink his teeth into.
“There was flirting. Lotta flirting. And then it…it just sort of snowballed.”
“Snowballed.” He looks uncomfortable, lifting his hands to cup over his face. “I just didn’t take him as the type,” he says, muffled into his palms.
“As what type?”
He drops his hands, hitting his thighs with a slap, and looks you dead in the eye. Sad, almost. “Arthur Kennedy type.”
“He’s not.”
You say it instinctively. Your ears hear it at the same time your dad does. He looks at you blankly.
“He’s not,” you repeat, a little looser. Less hasty. “Look,” you sigh, “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but…everything that we ever did, I wanted to do. I already told you. There ain’t nothing we did that I didn’t ask him to. I swear to you.”
You think back to the cookout, how angry Joel was at the thought of Arthur Kennedy hanging over you. How pissed he’d be, hearing your dad line him up against that old leather boot of a man. Comparing, contrasting. Here’s how you measure up, son. How much of a phantom Arthur Kennedy has been, your whole life, and how much of a sanctuary Joel is in comparison.
Your stomach twists at the thought. A tight knot, wound by a desperation to clear the name of a man whose worst offense was doing exactly what your dad would’ve told him to: leave.
“This whole thing,” you go on, “it’s a mess, alright? It’s – totally fucked. And we shouldn’t’ve lied, shouldn’t’ve been keeping things from you, but then…what did you expect?”
Your dad cuts in like a bullet: “I expect the two of you not to do what you were doin’.”
“No, I know that. But we did it, right? It’s done now. I meant, did you really want us to sit you down in the living room ‘n say, Hey, Dad – guess what?”
He grimaces at the thought.
“Didn’t think so. We didn’t even know what it was. We had no idea what it’d turn into. But you gotta hear me out: it wasn’t just…some fling, or whatever you’re thinkin’. I swear, Dad, it wasn’t.”
He still doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t lift his stare from the table. You feel like a little kid, desperate to make him love you again. Desperate to make him listen. The space between you fills with the bored tick tick tick of the kitchen clock. Each second hurting a little more than the last.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry I let you down, but…I’m not sorry that I did it. If I could go back, knowing everything I know – I’d do it all over again.”
The words roll across the table to him like billiards. You lean back again, watching them as they rattle from his side to yours – your sentence delivered back into your ears. You nod, a sure thought in your mind.
I’d do it all over again. All the covering, all the hiding. The aching, the wishing and wanting. Staring at Joel’s empty hand, dying to slot yours into it. Dying to put any part of yourself near him; your head under his chin, your arms linked around his waist. Knowing you two would feel, knowing everyone else would see, just how perfectly you fit together.
The chasing your own tails: Did you lie well enough? Do they suspect anything? Did we leave any evidence? Disturbed sheets, a collar still upturned. Can they hear us? Have they noticed we’re missing? We’re always fucking missing.
You’d do it all over again. You know what it cost, now, sat directly opposite the price. His polite smiles like veneers over rotten teeth. The tremble in his lip when he opens his mouth to speak.
And it was worth it. Joel. He was worth it all, in the end.
All over again.
“Do you know that every time I look at you, there are…probably four versions that I see?”
You frown. Did he hear what you just said? All ov–? “What?”
Your dad laughs to himself. “When you walk outta that door, I see a little pink backpack over your shoulders. Gym bag in your hand, maybe. I see missin’ front teeth, I see those little clip-on earrings you used to love so much.
“And – and when you’re mad at me, when we fight, I see you at fourteen. Growing pains, y’know? I still remember you slamming your bedroom door in my face, all ‘cause I wouldn’t let you go to that girl Molly’s birthday party.” He looks up, smiling at your perplexed expression.
“I don’t even…remember that, hardly.”
“Long time ago now. My point is,” he continues, “you’re twenty-three. You’re grown. And I just can’t figure out how to make those other versions…grow with you. You still feel like my kid. Still that little girl with the pink backpack.”
“But,” you clear your throat, trying to swipe her from your own memory, “I’m not. I’m not her anymore, Dad. And I think maybe you gotta give me the space to be someone different, now.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, nodding. “I know, I know. I just didn’t think this new version of you would…y’know. Be with Joel, ‘n all. That is something I did not see comin’.”
“You think I did?” You spit a laugh. “If you told me when I came home that this is what was waiting for me…that I was gonna fall…”
Your teeth close around the sentence, dropping your dad’s eye. But it’s too late.
He stares back at you like the sun. “…Fall in love with ‘im?”
And you cower. You wince, almost. The last secret. The last thing he doesn’t know. “I don’t…I don’t know, I –”
“You love him. You do, don’t you?”
Your thumbs run circles around one another, fingers locking until your knuckles hurt. “I don’t know,” you mumble, wishing for the tenth time since you sat down that Joel was beside you, in front of you, around you.
“’s what Anna seems to reckon.”
Your eyes flit up. “Anna?”
He hums. “She is her father’s daughter. A damn meddler. She called here, last night.”
“Oh, Jesus,” you groan, head falling into your hands. “Ignore her, please. Ignore all of it. She doesn’t –”
He holds a palm up. “Now, hold on. You don’t even know what it was she said.”
You huff a sigh, twisting your hand in the air. Go on.
“She reckons you do love him. Reckons he loves you back. More, if that’s even possible, she said. Told me all about the way he stepped in front a’ that boy at Frank’s. About your face when he picked you up from rodeo night, how ecstatic you were. The difference she sees in you.”
“Difference,” you scoff, glancing out to the backyard. “What difference?”
“Same difference I see, probably. Same difference Bill said he saw, too: you’re happier. Even I can’t deny it, hon. It’s damn hard – you never make nothin’ easy on your old man – but…but I am willing to try.”
The hurt begins to slowly fizzle away. Cooling, washing from your skin like foamy waves. Curiosity left to shine through.
“You may not understand this ‘til you have kids of your own – if you have kids of your own – but there ain’t a thing in this world that I love more than I love you. And when you love somethin’ that much, you’ll do anything to stop it from getting hurt. Anything. That’s all I want you to know.”
A silence falls between you, thoughtful and waiting. The clock’s ticking grows sharper again. It seems to consider the same as you: there should be more to this. More to be said, to be convinced. More yelling, even.
But you arrive at the same conclusion, at near enough the same time: there is nothing more. Cards flat on the table, eyes pouring all over them. To question it, to second-guess any of it, would be to tempt fate.
“Anyway,” your dad sits forward, clasping his hands on the table, “tell me what’s goin’ on. What’s been happening in your world?”
You shrug. A little, shy thing. “Work. Been hanging with Sarah a lot. And I, uh, I had a job interview last week.”
“Oh, yeah? Where?”
You shift awkwardly in your chair. “For, uh…that one in LA. They called to offer it a couple days ago.”
A smile pulls across his lips. Growing, growing, growing until he’s grinning back at you. Pride, little bit of surprise. Whole lot of amusement and joy. “You take it?” he asks, figuring he knows the answer already.
“Not yet,” you reply. “Think I’m going to, though. ‘s too good to say no.”
He lifts his eyebrows in agreement, looking down at his hands. Shoulders lurch some under the weight of your news. “There goes that little backpack,” he mutters to himself, and you smirk.
“Can’t hold her back forever.”
“I never had a hold on her in the first place. You were walkin’ on outta that door the minute you found your own two feet.”
You snort. “Good! Good for me. Let me go out into the big ol’ world; let me go fuck it all up ‘n come home for dinner once I’m done.”
“I intend to,” your dad says, nodding along to every passionate word you say. And then he asks, “How’s Joel feelin’ about it all? About LA?”
Your shoulder jerks in a half-shrug. “He’s fine, I guess. Says he’ll miss me, but then – we haven’t exactly had the most typical relationship up until now. Survived a lot I reckon would break any normal couple…”
It’s the first time you think you’ve ever said it. Couple. You’ve thought of it – flicked through the words you might use to describe him. Your boyfriend, your partner. None of them seem to fit exactly who he is to you. None of them strong enough to carry the weight of what’s shared between you. He’s Joel. He’s your Joel. Nothing will ever come close.
Your dad hears it, too. The newness of it. The crisp shape of the word, not yet thawed to this new world. Your tongue still learning how to pronounce it, how to pair it with the image of Joel.
“Guess he can fly out ‘n visit whenever, right?”
“Yeah,” you swallow, “and I’ll be back here, too. Christmas ‘n all.”
Your dad smiles. Relieved, assured. Light slowly returning to his eyes.
“We’ll be fine,” your chest swells, “so Joel says. I trust ‘im.”
You both quieten, sitting back in your chairs. What once felt like a room ablaze, flames tearing the skin from your body as you dragged your heels through it – now feels like a gentle warmth. Waves wrought with enough power and force to destroy you, now seeping off with the change of the tide. Bumps on the horizon.
“Speaking of,” you say, making to stand, “I should probably get goin’.”
“Yeah. Yeah, hon.” Your dad follows, arm on your shoulder as he walks you down the hall.
The sun intrudes, tosses herself into your arms as you pull the front door open. In her golden-rayed wake sits that dark truck, same as always. The same dark tee, the same dark-speckled-gray hair. Arms folded, stood against the body, waiting. Eyes on the house, on your figure as you step down onto the doormat. Joel straightens when your dad follows you out, chest sucking in a ragged breath.
They look at one another, and that’s about it. Something of a nod from Joel – not quite returned by your dad. You figure that might take some time to come back around. And that’s okay. You can make peace with it.
You turn back. Your dad’s looking down at you, hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun.
“You know,” you take a deep breath, “the only times he’s ever hurt me, are the times he’s left. The times I haven’t had him around.”
And then you step back, the magnet in your chest telling you it’s time to return to its partner.
In high school, your English teacher tasked the class with writing a short story. Any genre you wanted, any word count up to two thousand. The boys mostly dicked around, wrote action-packed, blood-and-guts garbage. One girl wrote something you’re sure you’d seen in a Hallmark movie before.
But you – you spent two weeks straight, writing. Awake until all hours of the night, hunched over your laptop, sunbathing in the blue hue of an open document. Fingers hammering rapidly into your keyboard.
A man and a woman meet in Central Park. She – hair the color of rust, spilling down her shoulders and lifting at the ends, twisting around the fingers of the blustery wind. A red glow around her third finger where gold once lived. Sat on a bench, alone. Hiding, perhaps. And he – sharp suit and tie, clean-shaven, a steel-blue gaze that might cut glass. Missing the city traffic by taking a walk through the park on his way home. Fleeing, perhaps.
He notices her trench coat first. Bright red, a poppy swaying in the breeze. A little hopeless, a solemn wilt to it. The quickly dampening fire of her hair in the rain, the opaque sheen of polish chipping from her nails. And he thinks he recognizes the constellation of freckles painted across her cheeks. Thinks he might’ve mapped them, once, in some kind of past-life.
She looks up and realizes she recognizes the cut of his gaze. Piercing through her, splitting her in two. Thinks she might’ve felt it before, the opening of her soul to someone who looked just like him – a little more baby-faced, a little more spirited. In some kind of past-life, too.
She stands, and he slows, and they meet somewhere in the middle. Words exchanged; body heat transferred through hugs. Is that really you? You look so different. It’s been years. He doesn’t ask about the lack of jewelry on her third finger. She doesn’t ask about the gray circles beneath his eyes. Just, You wanna grab a coffee? and, Yeah. Yeah, I do.
They sit at the window, watch the yellow taxis and the black umbrellas and the trembling traffic lights. They talk about life then, life now, and silently agree to forget about the part in the middle. They look at each other the same way they must have before they lost one another, before life and love and everything else got between them.
They agree to meet again in a week. They swear that they will not fall back in love.
They know as well as each other that they’re really promising to do just that.
Love – twisted and turned over and over, until it’s a different shape altogether. We started as one thing, and we watched it shift into something completely different. Clay in the potter’s hands. Didn’t you think it might fall apart? There was a moment I thought the heat of the kiln might break us. I’m glad it didn’t. I’m glad we’re made of tough stuff.
I’m glad I found you again, in that park. The pissing rain and the wind so strong I felt it lifting the sense from my mind. In that hardware store, in that bar filled with weed and bad intentions. I’m glad you split me open, glad you could see the good that was still inside. I thought I’d lost her for a minute. Thought she’d forgotten her way home.
Let’s go get a coffee. Let’s pretend it’s always been this way.
Let’s fall in love. The rest will take care of itself.
It takes three weeks in total to properly pack up your things. Two days after you accepted the job, you bought boxes and tape, and began to dismantle the identity you’d spent twenty-three years creating for yourself, a little bit at a time. Taking apart the pink-walled museum of your life, artefact by artefact.
Joel has helped as much as you’ve let him. Laid back on your bed when you’ve dismissed him one too many times, raised his eyebrows and laughed with you whenever you come across some old, forgotten piece of memorabilia. Something ceremonial to it, something innocent and fun. Like a little graduation for all the parts of yourself.
Soon, as the last of the summer sun dampens outside, your room lies vacant. Empty of any real evidence of your being here. Bedsheets and pillows folded, packed away; framed photos and posters unpinned from the wall and wrapped up safely. Drawers and closets barren, left with a selection of your less-loved, less-worn clothes. A wardrobe built from stuff you’ll only ever wear when you come back home to visit, if even then.
Joel’s sat on the bare mattress, looking around your room. You’re stood opposite, leaning against your half-empty dresser. The sun filters feebly through your turned shades, averting her eyes.
You look over at him. Golden, like the sunlight outside. Warm, like the breeze through the trees. Yours. Yours yours yours.
“What?” Joel asks, his eyes having finally found their way back to you. He smiles at your focused expression.
“Nothing. I don’t know. Just…”
“Talk to me. Tell me.”
“You are – this is…” You sigh. “This is good. I think it’s good. Not just all the stuff we did. But you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you tell him. “You’re good for me.” You grip the wooden lip tighter, swaying nervously when you add, “But I think it was always gonna go this way, wasn’t it?”
He sniffs. Shoulders jerk in a weak shrug. “Yeah, I think so, baby.”
Your eyelashes flutter, soothing the prickling feeling of tears forming. “I don’t – I don’t know if I want it to.”
“Yeah,” Joel says through a groan, pushing himself up, “you do.”
You shake your head as he approaches, and his hands cup your cheeks.
“Hey,” he whispers, pulling your body tight against his. Your face buries in his chest; your tears wet on his shirt. He shushes you, rocks you gently back and forth with a hand on the back of your head. “Listen to me.”
“Joel –”
“Listen to me.” He pulls you back, swipes the tears from your cheeks as quickly as they fall. “We’re fine. We are going to be fine.”
“I don’t want to leave you –”
“I know, I know. But you want to go do this. And that’s okay. Both of ‘em, at once.”
Your head shakes again. Like an instinctive reaction to the thought of being separated from him.
Joel smiles softly. “I am going to miss you like hell. You got no idea. But,” he pulls your head back to face his, tucks your hair behind your ear, “I want you to go. You gotta go after this. Right?”
“I know,” you whisper, lungs lurching for breath. “I just – wish it didn’t mean leavin’ you.”
“Darlin’…” Joel coos, pulling you in again. “You know how much I love you? What do I keep tellin’ you? We’ll be alright. It’s you ‘n me, right?”
You nod, salty tears slipping between your lips onto your tongue. When you look up, you notice the same expression on Joel’s face. He blinks his own away before they fall.
“’s you ‘n me,” you repeat, and he pulls your lips together.
You roll your tongue onto his, letting him taste you – all of you. Your mouth, and your thoughts, and your tears, and your pain. You let him take it all, let him hold it for this moment as you breathe him in, let his body fill yours in every way.
Your hands are in his hair, your chest pressed against his; he’s every thought on your mind and every beat in your heart. He’s the blood thrumming through your veins, he’s the oxygen filling your lungs; he’s the words between your teeth and the flesh around your bones.
And he pulls you, and you follow, his shirt in your fist, over to the bed where he lays you gently and falls on top.
“When’s he get back?” he asks, taking your bottom lip between his teeth.
“Later,” you mumble, your fingers picking at the hem of his shirt.
He pushes back, letting you tug it up up up over his shoulders at the same rate he peels your tee from yours, both tossing each other’s clothes to somewhere else in the room. Jeans undone, shorts dragged from your hips, underwear discarded until you’re naked under him, and he’s naked over you, and there’s nothing and no one between.
Joel cradles you, holds you close as he presses a palm roughly against the underside of your thigh, opening your body to him in a way only he’s mastered. In a way you only would, for him.
His hand cups your sex, fingers nudging between your folds, pushing in when your jaw slackens and a wanton moan echoes from your throat across Joel’s tongue.
“Yeah,” he coos, wrist jacking between your legs, “’s my girl. Gotta get you warmed up, huh? Get you nice ‘n wet.”
Your back arches, arms linking around his neck to pull him closer, pull him deeper. Hold him tight enough to you that your bodies feel one, feel connected at the meeting of Joel’s hand and the most intimate part of you; the meeting of your tongues between teeth.
And you gasp, the nudging of his fingers against the deepest part of your body, the messy circles of his thumb on your clit. The shape of him, solid and warm against the seam of your thigh.
You reach down for him, wrapping your fingers around his cock, and his breath hitches. Teeth bump into yours. You’re fucking irresistible to him.
“Darlin’,” his voice is low, daring you to keep going, “you wanna cut this short ‘fore we’re even started?”
You breathe a laugh into his jaw, hot and needy. “You get to play with me,” you whine, “I wanna play with you, too.”
Joel growls, seizing his movements, leaning back in what you take as him granting full access to his body. But then he says, “Turn around,” in a strict voice you’ve come to know as meaning one thing, and you pause.
You peel your eyes from his dick to blink up at him. “Turn –?”
“– around, now.” He takes your waist, hoisting you up until you’re straddling him, holding you inches above his body. “Turn.”
“What the fuck are you –?”
“Many times do I gotta tell you? You said you wanted to play.” He twists your waist until you follow his movements, swinging one leg over the other. He grabs your hips, tugging you back towards his face. “So, play,” he mutters, lowering your cunt down to his lips.
You gasp, falling forward and hitting the mattress between his legs. “J– fuck me. Are you s-serious?” You moan, hips rocking against the feeling of his bearded chin at your clit. “You’re like – a fucking – horny teenager. Oh, fuck.”
Your head falls forward, hands splaying out over his thighs, before your eyes refocus and you notice the hardened shape of him, tip oozing precome all over the hair-spattered plain of his groin. Your hand lifts, shakily taking hold of him again, and you lean down.
Elbows hooked over his thighs, you bring his tip to your lips, letting a thick bead of saliva fall and drip down the length of him, meeting your closed fist to be dragged up and down.
Joel’s hips almost buck. He holds it, manages to catch it, but you spot it. You’ve done this too many fucking times not to notice the reaction you draw from him.
“’s good,” you whisper, circling your hips on his face, tongue slipping across his cherry-red tip. “Feels so good.”
He responds in the form of a deep groan, rattling from his chest through your clit, shocking like lightning up your spine until the very same noise is thrown from your lips. You push down, tongue molding around every vein and the slow curve of his cock until your lips meet the thick brush of hair at his base, his tip kissing the very back of your throat.
Your throat which jumps, jolts at the feeling of something intruding – before you’re retreating again, pulling him from your body, warm, wet spit linking the two of you when you come up for air. And then you sink back down, head moving up down up down up down as his stomach tenses beneath your chest.
Joel’s palms keep a heavy hold on your ass, his tongue lapping between your folds like they’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted – like he might die if he doesn’t get his fix of you. And you think, they are, and he might, as your cheeks hollow and you bow down over him again.
You establish a rhythm, two waves swirling between one another: your hips rocking, Joel’s lifting ever so slightly as you suckle on one another. Your hand fisting the parts of him you can’t quite reach, not without choking; Joel holding you fixed to his jaw, letting the tip of his tongue hook around your swollen clit, then dragging it down until he’s letting you ride the wet muscle.
The approach of your first orgasm, a tiny spark catching to life in the pit of your belly, incites you with a need to open up further for him. Your throat taking more of him, your thighs slackening as you drive your cunt harder against his mouth.
“’m so close,” you whimper, lips curving around his cock. “So – fucking – ah, keep doin’ that. Right th-there.”
His hands hook around your thighs, tongue darting across your clit. His nose nudges somewhere between your folds, quickly becoming coated in the slick you’re leaking all over him.
“Joel,” you say, fists pumping his cock. Your voice a warning: it’s coming. You’re gonna – Fuck, you’re gonna come.
His voice is looser, more of a shrug of the shoulders when he pulls away from you. He inserts two fingers, curls them like before, like he knows drives you fucking insane. “Let go, babygirl,” he murmurs, lips immediately returning to position. And then, muffled and rough: “Come all over me.”
“Fuckfuckfuck,” you pant, hands squeezing around his cock, feeling that same spark ignite into flame, your entire body bursting with heat.
Your high rips through you, battering through each vein in your system, each nerve electrified. You collapse between his legs, his rough pubic hair sticking to the sweat on your chest, hips rutting wildly against the sharp cut of his jaw.
The mattress absorbs most of the desperate moan which streaks across your tongue, nails digging hard into the flesh of Joel’s thighs. And you hear the deep sound of his voice, the thud thud thud of a chuckle against your clit: the cocky fucker laughing to himself as he unravels you for what feels like the thousandth time.
“Alright,” Joel says, more to himself than to the fucked-out shape of you between his legs. He sits up and shifts you carefully down the bed, settling you face-down on the mattress and lifting your ass to meet his hips. “Okay?” he asks, kneeling behind you.
You feel his tip between your legs, slotting happily somewhere in your opening. Waiting for your response. A response you don’t feel able to give, as much as you’d like to; your lips puffy and confused, words jumbling behind them in a tangle of bliss and love.
“Baby,” Joel says, hand slinking down your back, pressing gentle circles into the nape of your neck. “You okay?”
Your head lifts, glancing over your shoulder to see his hairy torso, his thick arms caging over you. He lifts your chin with two fingers, cranes your neck up until you’re looking into his eyes, heavy lids blinking dumbly.
“Just fuck me,” you whisper, and Joel slips his tongue into your mouth.
You used to dream of coming back home. A few years away, doing whatever you wanted, wherever you wanted. Dreaming things up and then chasing them until they happened. Tiring yourself out, lungs gasping for breath and eyes always searching, always looking for a new target to pin up. But always coming back.
Austin, Texas. Its jagged skyline, the streets lined with a vibrant glow and star-spangled bunting. The river like a silver-bellied snake slithering through. Home.
You dreamt of living out your days here, once your blood had slowed and your mind settled. A quiet life in the country, a big wooden house with a wraparound porch. Two little rocking chairs, so you and whoever your husband turned out to be could sit and watch the sky fade from red into orange into white and then dull gray into deep blue.
Breeze kissing your cheek, his lips kissing your knuckles.
Joel.
Home.
You tell him, and he smirks. “That so?” he asks, wrapping his arms a little tighter around your naked body.
You nuzzle your cheek into the palm of his hand, breathing in the sweet scent of sweat and sex sitting in the air. “Mhm. You could play guitar until the stars come out.”
He hums in agreement. “Sounds like a pretty good dream. Tell you what: you go to LA, do what you gotta do. By the time you come back, there’ll be a big ol’ farmhouse, wraparound porch, rollin’ fields for the dogs. Coffee ‘n sunsets. How’s that sound?”
“And you’ll be there?”
He smiles. Scoops you in one arm and rolls you onto your front, chest to chest with him. His fingers ghost down the curve of your shoulder. “Baby,” he whispers, “I built the damn thing.”
It forces a laugh from your chest, something you’ve gotten used to by now. Joel and his ability to steal a giggle from you, the dumbest moments seeming the funniest. “You’re gonna build me a damn house?” you ask, chin resting between his pecs.
“That what you want?”
Your head rocks left to right, considering. “I just want you. That’s all.”
“Then you got me. I’m all yours.”
In his hazel eyes lives every moment you’ve ever shared. Every conversation, every kiss, every fight. Every minute he’s spent looking for you or at you, every minute you’ve spent looking back at him. It’s all in there. You see it like a movie reel, frame by frame.
It lands like a slot machine on that first night. Cleaning up after pizza. Shoulder to shoulder by your kitchen sink. You wish you’d just kissed him. Even with your dad right there. Wish you’d lifted your heels and put your lips on his, just for the fucking hell of it. Just to condense all of it, every second of longing and hurt and pain into one fleeting moment.
Wish you’d pulled him into you, against you, the weight of his body like an old friend. Welcomed it with open arms, like you’d spent your entire life missing it, waiting for it to come back to you. Let yourself feel your own heart, peeling between the cage of your ribs, reaching out for his. Always reaching for him.
Wish you’d looked him in the eye, tears softening the tufts of graying hair, vignetting the smirk only you can tell is there. Looked at him in that knowing way, that language only you two know; the glint in your eyes translating a thousand messy words into three. Just three – the simplest, lightest words you’ve ever known.
I love you. Let’s skip to the good part.
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hellsburners · 9 months
Text
you got me
summary: marc finds you wearing his shirt and a pair of short shorts pairing: marc spector x male reader word count: 1.5k warnings: 18+ warning, kinky marc, bottom!reader, marc hates short shorts (secretly loves it) a/n: thanks to this lovely prompt (also i might make one for jake and steven too if i have the time)
masterlist | more moon knight
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Marc came home to a quiet apartment. It was clean, as always, with all of Steven’s books arranged on the desk and Jake’s favorite clothes ironed on the clothes rack. He couldn’t help but smile, dating you was probably the best thing that could happen to them. 
“Baby?” he called. “You home?” 
“Yeah, I’m here!” you said, carrying folded clothes to Marc’s closet. He took off his coat, dropping it on the couch. “Are you hungry?”
“No, I’m fine,” he stretched his back muscles and cracked his neck, the fatigue weighing in. “Just need a drink that’s all.”
You came out of his room, wearing his shirt and shorts too short. Marc’s thick eyebrows furrowed as you walked to the kitchen trying to get a wine glass for him. 
You felt a finger on the back of your thigh, running up your skin till it reached the hem of your shorts. “Where’d you get this?” he whispered. 
You grab the glass from the cabinet, leaving it on the counter. Marc’s eyes follow your movement, his hands snaking around your waist. “Get what?”
“These shorts,” he said, palming your ass through the cloth. “They’re a little—provocative?” 
“It was very hot today,” you said. “And I cleaned the whole flat!” 
“And you’re wearing my shirt,” Marc whispered, smelling himself on you. He pressed a kiss on your nape, sniffing on the base of your neck, his arms toying with the barrier between your skin and the shorts. 
“Go sit on the couch I’ll bring the wine,” you smirked. 
Marc sat on the couch, manspreading while holding the empty wine glass. He bit his lips, the sight was downright obscene. As you reached for the wine on the top shelf, your shirt would lift to the point that he could see the garter of your underwear. Marc’s cock turned in his seat.
“Come sit on my lap,” he said, pulling you to his lap before you poured the wine. You cheered before taking a sip, the bitter liquid burning your throat. 
Marc’s hands snaked all over your smooth legs, he lifted your leg from your ankles to place kisses all over your legs. You squirmed under his embrace, burying your face on his neck. 
“Marc—” you whimpered. He made you straddle him, his ass practically slapping your ass. 
“I’m gonna fucking rip these shorts off you,” he said, kissing you in the process. He held your chin, his other hand going under your shorts. “Your legs are so pretty—and that fucking ass,” slapping your ass again making you shudder. 
“I didn’t know it would have this much of an effect on you,” you wail, “I could’ve worn something shorter.”
“Try me.”
“I’m pretty sure Steven liked it when I wore these shorts.”
“Oh he liked it very much,” he said, his hands reaching under your shirt finding your nipples, he toys with them, eliciting a whimper under your breath. 
You grind on his lap trying to give his growing erection some friction, a groan leaves his lips. Your hands rest on his chest, using it to stabilize your body as your hips roll on his cock. 
Marc bites his lip almost drawing blood trying to stifle his moans. He grips on the hem of your shorts pulling them down to nearly expose your ass as he leaves hickeys all over your neck. 
“I’m gonna rip this off you,” he declares. 
“Marc—”
You unbuttoned his trousers, palming his dick through his boxers. His hands linger on your neck, running through your hair as you release his cock from its confines. 
It was already leaking with precum, you use the wetness as lube for your hand, stroking his thick shaft. Marc takes his jacket off, his body already warming up, sweat dripping on his forehead. 
“Can I ride it?” you pout.
“No, baby,” he said. “You’re bending over for me tonight. Go to the bed, on your hands and knees.”
“Oh.”
“And keep your clothes on.”
You did what you were told, waiting in the room staring at the stark wall waiting for him. You hear the door creak he is silent, but you hear his belt jingle as he walks. You feel the warmth of his hand on your back, pressing it down so your ass was pointing towards him, your shirt pooling on your shoulders leaving your back bare. 
His fingers reach under the hem of your waist, simultaneously pulling with so much force tearing the thin cloth and splitting it into two pieces—the fabric rips like the sound of thunder behind you. Marc does the same to your underwear. 
“Marc!”
“Now that it’s out of the way,” he said. “I’m gonna play with this all night,” massaging your ass before he dives right in, licking and sucking on your hole drawing whimpers from your mouth. 
He spits on your hole, using his fingers to enter it. He curls his fingers to play with your prostate, the sheer amount of pleasure made your legs wobbly. He takes a moment to nibble on the fatty mound on your rear, leaving hickeys as his fingers continue to play with your hole. His other hand finds your erection, stroking it.
You continue to writhe and whimper under him, your mouth dripping with saliva, your eyes rolling back into your skull, pure ecstasy enveloping your being. Your hands grip tightly on the sheets, leaving dents on your palms. Marc smacks your ass from the continued assault. 
You could hear Marc stroke his cock, the wet sounds were so lewd it led to your cock ache even more. You wanted him to use you, to draw out all the moans, to punish you for offending him. 
“You’re so hot baby,” Marc uttered. “Need this every day.”
“Please—I need you already.”
“Need me, how?”
“Inside me—please.”
That does it for Marc. He teases your hole with the tip of his cock, tracing it around with its wetness. He presses in, the tight muscle enveloping it. Your back aches but he persists, pressing deeper until it’s fully sheathed inside you.
The two of you let out guttural moans, tears welling under your eyes. Marc bends down to grab onto your hair, pulling at his hips to push in. There was a rough side to him that you know, but maybe it was the shorts or the fatigue, but tonight he was rougher, his grip on you tighter. 
“So fuckin’ tight—”
He thrusts, over and over. The sound of skin slapping and your cries are the only things your neighbors would hear. His hand pushed you down the bed, his other hand at your side for support. 
You stroke your cock, practically leaking onto the sheets. Marc whispers sweet nothings to your ear, and a drop of the wetness on his lips drips down your ear. He nibbles your ear, your hands still gripping onto the sheets. 
He flips you around so that you’re facing him, placing your legs on his shoulders. He thrusts back again into you, the base of his cock hitting your ass on each stroke of his hips. The veins on his hand bulge as they sit tightly on your wrists, pinning them above your head. 
Precum leaks from your tip, pooling on your abdomen. Marc takes some with his index finger, scraping it up from your belly button to your chest, and brings it to your lips. You lick your essence from his fingers, the salty bitterness on your tongue. He bends down to share your wetness with a kiss. 
“It tastes good, yeah?” 
You nod, your eyes scrunched up from all the stimulation. You could feel your core tighten, the heat pouring through your veins. Marc leaves light kisses all over your skin down to your collarbone. All you wanted to do was take him in your embrace.
You pull him in, your nails digging into his skin leaving red marks down his back. His dark curls tickle your face, his head buried in the corner of your neck. He ruts into you faster, harder, more forcefully. You let out cries that break through the hot atmosphere. 
“Babe—I’m close,” you whine. 
“I know baby, I know,” he coos, caressing your cheeks. “You gotta be patient though, –need you to wait for me.”
“I’ll try—” the tears blurring your vision. The pleasure coming from Marc’s cock was intoxicating, the heat of our muscle combined with his thrusts almost drove him to the edge, teetering for release. 
“Fuck, you’re so tight you’re gonna make me cum so hard.”
“Can you cum inside me?” you begged. You held his face in your palms, relishing his beauty as he fucked you. His long lashes and his thick brows scrunched all over. It was adorable. 
“If you want me to,” he groans. “Anything for you.”
Marc moved his hips with such grace and power it was finally the time for release. He kissed your lips, moaning from the moment the two of you reached your climax. Marc, thrusting erratically, as you stroke your erection one last time. Your wetness shoots all over your torsos, his cum filling inside you leaving a warmth fullness. 
He pulls back from this kiss, staring down at you with dark eyes. He pushes your hair back, caressing your cheek with his thumb. Your breaths heave trying to catch some air. 
“My pretty boy,” he lets out. “Wear those shorts again and I’m fucking your brains out.”
interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>
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russos-ventitre · 8 months
Text
leah williamson x reader | home ❤️‍🩹
✘ summary: leah finally returns as england captain after healing from her acl, asking you if youd accompany her to her first game back
✘ warnings/tags: tooth-rotting fluff, cuddles, new relationship, softy!Leah, shy!Leah, gentle giant, post-acl
✘ words: 2705
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You slowly walked your way up the pavement to Leah's flat, taking a deep breath before knocking. You balled up one of your fists, feeling anxious but also buzzing on the inside. The two of you had been talking for some time, exchanging flirty chats and glances, and eventually becoming close. It was a lot easier for the two of you to meet up while she was on injury leave, although that window was slowly closing.
There were a few clicking sounds, snapping you out of your daze, your eyes looking at the doorknob turn as the door swung open.
"Hey.. you came." The blonde sighed, her tongue darting out of her mouth to wet her lips, looking you up and down. Her arm leaning against the doorframe as she smiled down at you.
"Y-Yeah.." You smiled back.
The taller woman moved out of the way, ushering you into her flat, and quietly closing the door behind you both.
"I would've cooked something.. but I'm not all that great at it.." She rubbed the back of her neck a bit embarrassed.
"That's alright, Lee." You reassured, making yourself comfortable on one of the barstools and grabbing for her hands, soothing your thumbs on the back of her wrists. Pulling her closer to you, the blonde now standing between your legs, looking down at you lovingly. "I can make something babe.." You hummed, seeing her cheeks turn red.
With the two of you only recently getting together, you both agreed to take it slow and see how things pan out and so far it's been great. Yes, you were both a bit timid and you both were afraid to overstep any boundaries, but those fears were slowly being chipped away. Becoming more comfortable being physically affectionate with each other and feeling more confident taking the lead on things.
"That sounds nice, baby." The defender hummed in reply, her fingers tangled in yours, happily smiling down at you as she leaned in for a kiss.
You slid off the stool, walking towards her fridge to figure out something to make. The blonde following behind you and leaning up against the kitchen counter. You hadn't been dating the European Champion for very long, but after the first few times you met you quickly realised that the woman was not a fan of anything that is spicy or spice-related and given that you were in her flat it made it a lot easier because practically everything in her kitchen would be something she'd eat.
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As the two of you finished your meals, you grabbed your empty plates, and took them over to the sink to wash them. You were just minding your own business, completing a task that you did nearly every day, getting lost in the mundaneness of it.
Leah slowly creeped up behind you, hesitant at first, but eventually committing. She delicately wrapped her arms around your body from behind, pressing her front into your back, and fully hugging you from behind. You froze at first, only because you weren't expecting it, but quickly relaxed into the blonde's touch, blushing hard when you felt her chin come to rest on your shoulder.
"You know.. I've been meaning to ask.." She started, growing a bit shy.
"Would you like to come to my game on Wednesday? I know it probably sounds stupid but uh.. I'd really love to have you there and it would really help with my nerves and all that.. especially with it being my first game back and all.. " The blonde trailed off quietly, her fingers fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt. You turned off the tap, drying your hands off and delicately placing yours on top of Leah's.
You tilted your head to the side so you could meet her eyes. "I'd love to."
You turned in her arms, the older woman's hands now resting on your hips and yours wrapping around her neck.
"I'll be there, promise." You shot her a smile, biting your bottom lip as you saw how happy your response made her.
Leah carefully took her hand and tucked your stray hairs behind your ear, seeing you melt into her touch. She leaned forward, her lips hovering nearby yours, pressing them softly against yours, feeling you kiss her back. It was a tender kiss, soft and gentle, Leah making sure to enjoy this time with you and go at your pace, slowly slipping her tongue into your mouth to deepen the kiss. When you both pulled away for air, your cheeks were bright red. Tucking your face in the crook of her neck, you blushed harder, feeling strong arms pull you in even closer. You could get used to this feeling.
The defender took your hands and guided you over to the living room, helping you down on the sofa, joining next to you.
"Wine?" She offered, gesturing to the two empty glasses and brand new bottle sitting on the coffee table.
"Please." She poured a bit of wine into both glasses, handing you one, both of you clinking them together before taking a sip.
"Dinner was lovely." The older woman sighed, one arm resting on the back of the sofa and the other outstretched holding her glass of wine. You hummed happily as you sipped your wine, eventually placing it down on the table to rest your head in the blonde's lap. You noticed how she would glance down at you every now and then, sending you a soft smile between sips.
"I'm glad you liked it." You hummed in response, seeing a cheesy grin on her face. Your eyes followed her hand as she lifted the glass to her lips for another sip, her gaze returning to yours after she swallowed.
You carefully tilted your head in her lap, grabbing for your glass and slowly taking another sip without spilling it. You placed your glass back down on the table, shifting yourself on the sofa so you were more comfortable laying in her lap, staring lovingly up at the blonde. "I know what you're doing.." You smirked.
"Hmm?" She met your eyes, seeing them sparkle.
"You're getting me drunk Lee.. you know I'm a light weight so you're getting me drunk so I have to stay.." Crossing your arms, you watched as Leah gasped in disbelief, pretending to not know what you were talking about.
"I would never.." She huffed, holding a hand to her chest and pretending to be offended.
"Right.." You smirked, reaching over for your glass, sitting up to take another sip.
"Well.. is it working?" The older woman asked, no shame in her voice at all, placing her glass down to shift her focus to you.
You placed your glass back down, turning your body to face her. "You tell me." You sent her a drunken smile, one of your hands delicately resting on Leah's thigh.
The older woman's heart melted as she met your soft eyes, her hand coming to lightly caress your features, witnessing you nuzzle your face against her palm. Her strong hand pulled you into a soft kiss, pecking your lips every so often when you both pulled away for air.
She held your face there, seeing your eyes glaze over as the wine seeped into your body. It was definitely taking a toll on you now, feeling all fuzzy and a few things around you becoming blurry, the only thing keeping you anchored in this moment was the warmth of Leah's hand on your cool skin.
"C'mere love." Her other hand guided your body towards hers, pulling you close to her chest, letting you rest your head near her heart. Her fingers trailed down the side of your face, delicately tracing soft shapes into your cheeks.
The defender's eyes traced your features, drinking in every single inch of you as you clung to her body, her heart softening more and more the longer she watched you settle.
Both of you eventually falling asleep peacefully on the blonde's lounge, curled up together in each other's arms. A place that was quickly becoming a new safe space for each other, a new home.
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@/your_username
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@/your_username mum called and said the child needed feeding
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leahwilliamsonn 🤍
katie_mccabe11 wag duties
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Leah's first game back...
You arrived at the match, taking your seat in the family section that your girlfriend happily paid for, sitting right next to her mother Amanda. The redheaded woman was ecstatic to see you, pulling you into a tight hug before the two of you settled down in your seats.
"I'm so happy you made it." The older woman smiled, placing her hand on top of yours and giving it a squeeze.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world." You answered, smiling back at her.
The game finally began with both teams, England and Germany, walking out of the tunnel and the fans, including yourself, going wild when England's Captain stepped foot on the pitch. The teams lined up for their national anthems but the crowd didn't stop, continuing to chant and applaud the defender for her long-awaited return as Captain. You saw as her one leg began to bounce as she started to become emotional, her free hand coming to her face to wipe away a few stray tears. Mary took her hand and gave her Captain a few pats before tucking her gloves under her arm to clap alongside the audience, the rest of her team, including the German team, followed suit.
It was a beautiful moment to behold, people in the stands standing up and shouting even louder now giving the blonde a big welcome home. She really was England's Captain, she was the heart of the team.
She brushed a few more tears from her face with her thumb before lifting her hand up to wave to the fans as a silent 'thank you' for all their love and support. Cheers finally died down, allowing the two teams to resume, England being second in singing their anthem. When it was England's turn Leah's leg shook more, her bottom lip trembling as she looked over to the family section, spotting her mother and a woman she loved so deeply, you. Watching her get emotional made you emotional, sending her a soft smile and a kiss towards the end of the anthem, the blonde returning the kiss when she finished singing.
Both teams went to their starting positions, the whistle being blown signalling for the first touch to be made and they were off. Throughout the entire game, your eyes were locked on your blonde lover, seeing how she would majestically run across the pitch and point her arm out shouting orders as if no time had passed at all. She was the missing piece that England had needed all those months ago. 
Not really understanding football all that much you cheered every time Leah had the ball practically, even if she was in your half most of the time she was in possession, but you didn't care because you were just so proud of her. 
The first half finished and it was stuck at nil-nil, the two teams filing into the tunnel, a certain blonde veering to the side before entering with her teammates. She walked over to the family section of the stands searching for you, giving you a wave to come over. You maneuvered between seats before you finally reached the railing that separated the two of you. You sat yourself down on the cement so you were almost eye-level with the blonde, her hands coming to rest on your thighs as she smiled at you.
"Everyone's so proud of you." You stated, seeing blush creep into her cheeks, the older woman dipping her head down slightly. Your hand floated up to her cheek, cupping it gently and pulling her back towards you, seeing her eyes widen as you pulled her in for a kiss.
"Thanks.." She mumbled, growing more shy the more you praised her.
The defender wasn't really a fan of praise or compliments but when it came from you, it felt different, a good different. A different that made her feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside, and making her feel like there were butterflies in her stomach that were about to explode.
Leah wiggled herself underneath the bar that separated the two of you, pulling you into a tight hug, her head coming to rest in your chest. She melted into your touch as she felt your calming heartbeat, relaxing her before the start of the second half. Your hands came to stroke the back of her head, giving her light scratches to help calm her nerves. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head before she was able to pull away, seeing how the blonde's face was even more red this time.
"Go on.. don't keep them waiting." You caressed her cheek one last time, seeing the older woman hold onto your wrist delicately before she shifted your hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to it.
Your Captain ran back to her team, once again emerging from the tunnel a few minutes later to begin the second half.
The second half started a lot better than the first. England getting a nice lead as Lauren Hemp scored within the first 5 minutes of the second half. The crowd going wild and all of the girls jumping on top of each other. You caught a few glimpses of Leah, who was beaming proudly at the shorter blonde, running after her and giving her a firm pat on the back. The match resumed, the German's defense now becoming stronger ever since they conceded.
It had reached the final minutes of the game, the crowd getting rowdy as the seconds ticked by. A German midfielder made a loose pass that was intercepted by Stanway, the brunette sprinted between a sea of green jerseys, weaving in and out until she lobbed the ball over to Daly. The blonde running the ball all the way down the right side of the pitch, nearly to the corner before sending the ball hurdling towards the penalty box. Leah being in that exact spot, jumping up at the perfect moment to hit it off her head and into the back of the net, completely catching the German keeper off guard.
The stadium erupted, now making the scoresheet 2-0 to England. The England Captain stood proudly with her arms out wide, allowing her teammates to jump onto her and hug her in congratulations. The final whistle blew and the deal was sealed, England had won against Germany again.
The defender ran over to the stands searching for you amongst the crowd, reaching for your hand to pull you from behind the barrier in the stands to drag you onto the pitch. She hoisted you over her shoulder, running around the field with her teammates. After a bit of running, she finally placed you down on the grass, her hands coming to the sides of your face and pull you in for a kiss.
It honestly felt like a fairytale, every single part of it, magical. You and your England Captain sharing a special moment in front of a sold-out Wembley.
However, the two of you were both rudely interrupted when your blonde felt someone poking at her back.
"Ahem.." You both pulled away, Leah's arms unknowingly wrapping around you protectively, pulling you close.
It was Georgia and Keira. "Care to explain..?" Keira asked, an arm slung around Georgia.
"Oh.. uh- this is [y/n].. my girlfriend.." She admitted, her face turning bright red.
"Riiiiight.. so you're [y/n].. Leah literally never stops talking about you." Georgia chimed in with a smirk, seeing the older woman grow more and more embarrassed.
"Really now, babe?" You turned your head to face her, looking up into her rapidly moving eyes as she became a literal tomato.
She gave you a light squeeze on your waist, biting her lower lip, nodding at you.
"You're adorable Lee." Your hand came to caress under her chin, pulling her in for another soft kiss.
The small audience that you had cringing and gagging as you resumed your previous endeavors.
"Eww.." Georgia whined.
"Get a room!" Keira shouted, giving Leah a push in hopes it would break you two apart. 
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928 notes · View notes
nats--sw · 6 months
Text
Living Together | Alessia Russo
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Alessia Russo x reader You just need to learn how to live together.
Having a relationship with Alessia Russo was the closest thing to perfection. You never argued, she never forgot important dates, and she always made sure to make you feel like the most loved woman in the entire world. The only problem was the distance; she lived in Manchester while you lived in London. You didn't play for the same team or the same nation, but somehow you ended up meeting at an event, and the rivalry that existed on the field turned into the best romance of your life. 
Sure, maybe the distance wasn't as much as other couples living in different countries or continents, but it was still exhausting and sad to come home every day to an empty house, relying only on nightly video calls and trips during days off. 
But that problem was ending now.  
Alessia Russo had signed for Arsenal for the next season. 
"I still can't believe it," you said, carrying the last box of Alessia's things. 
"Babe, it's like the fourth time you've said that" Alessia laughed, taking the box from your hands. "I thought that once you saw all my stuff in your flat, you could finally process it." 
You also thought that, but even now with the stack of boxes piled up in the living room of your small flat, you still couldn't believe it. It was unreal that now you would share your home with Alessia, going every night to bed with her and waking up by her side. 
In addition to sharing your flat, you would also be at the same team. Nothing could be better in your life than now. 
"Can I ask you something?" you approached Alessia from behind, hugging her and resting your cheek against her back. Alessia always found it an adorable gesture, given that she was some centimetres taller than you. 
"Of course," she replied without hesitation, placing her own hands over yours, enjoying the moment. 
"Why did you decide to come to Arsenal? You never told me why you decided to leave Manchester so quickly..." 
"I wasn't happy there anymore... for various reasons. But what motivated me the most to come here was that my happiness is with you. And the opportunity presented itself, so I suppose it was a bit of destiny, and I wasn't going to let the chance slip away." She spoke without putting too much thought into it. Alessia was like that, always uttering words that made your heart race without her even realizing. "Would you have preferred me to go to another club?" 
Alessia laughed and turned around, grabbing you by the waist and slowly leaning towards your face as you considered your response.  
"Of course not." 
Everything would be perfect now. 
But unfortunately, it wasn't like that. After a month, everything wasn't as you had always imagined. 
Sure, having your girlfriend with you was a dream come true, but you hadn't considered the things that also came along with it. 
"I can't believe it..." 
Alessia was like a tornado, wherever she went she left a trace of her presence. From trainers to socks to her underwear. Every day you would stumble across one of her trainers that for some reason were never in your shoe cabinet, always in the hallway, in the living room and even the kitchen.   
"Alessia?" 
You had just come from a little interview, so Alessia had arrived hours before you, but when you did a little inspection around the place it looked like she hadn't arrived yet because the dirty dishes were still in the sink, but her workout bag was on the sofa, so your girlfriend was at home.    
"Alessia?!" this time you called her name a little bit louder and it worked because immediately your girlfriend appeared in the doorway of the room you now shared. She was wearing comfortable clothes and had a towel over her shoulders to keep her freshly washed hair from getting her shirt wet. 
"Hey! You're here" As soon as Alessia smiled at you, you forgot about her trainers in the hallway, the dirty dishes and the training bag on your sofa. That was one of your biggest problems with Alessia, she'd smile at you, look at you with her sparkling eyes, and everything else would slip your mind. "How was everything?" she asked before giving you a short kiss on the lips, then turning away from the door to let you into the room. 
"It went well," you replied and threw yourself onto the bed with the intention of relaxing. However, it was the opposite when you felt something against your abdomen. "Ouch! What was here?" you asked, quickly pulling out what was under the covers. 
"You found my headphones! I've been looking for them for like 3 hours," Alessia ran towards you and took the headphones from you, giving you a short kiss on the lips as a reward. "What would I do without you?" 
"I wonder the same thing..." 
You could tolerate how messy Alessia was at home, because in return you got to live with her, so, in terms of pros and cons it wasn't so bad. Did you miss how tidy your flat was before? Of course you did, but now you had Alessia.   
And you had Alessia not only in your flat now, but also in your work and in your life.  
The idea of going to work together was nice, but Alessia had convinced you to take turns driving and today it was her turn to do it. You usually managed to convince her that you would drive anyway, using the excuse that you liked driving, but the truth was that -although you didn't like to say it out loud- every time Alessia got behind the wheel your heart would race, but not in a nice way. 
"Alessia! We'll be late!" It was the second time you called her, but your girlfriend was still in the room, which would probably now be a mess.
"I can't find my car keys! Give me a minute!"   
Tired of waiting sitting in the kitchen you stood up to go to the sofa, because you remembered that yesterday after coming home from work Alessia had collapsed on the sofa without even taking off her jacket. So you started to remove the cushions until you found the car keys underneath them. 
"I found them," you said, raising the keys in the air as Lessi appeared in the hallway. 
"You don't know how much I love you." And just like every time you found something she had lost, she kissed you while taking the keys from your hand. "I don't know what I'd do without you... I'd probably go crazy." 
This time you didn't say anything in return, you had barely even reciprocated her kiss. 
In the car, you didn't say anything for a long time, but when you noticed Alessia had turned into a street that wasn't the usual one, you couldn't help but speak. 
"Why did you turn here?" 
"Well, you didn't have breakfast, I know your morning isn't pleasant when you don't drink your coffee, so I'll stop by and get you something, I won't be long" she said, stopping in front of the coffee shop that according to you sold the best coffee you ever tasted, although Alessia thought the opposite. "I'll be back in a second." 
The second turned into about 15 minutes in total. By that time, your lips were nothing more than a straight line after answering messages from some of the girls asking where you were. You didn't even look when Alessia opened the car door, so you didn't see her coming with your coffee, a paper bag, and a small bouquet of flowers. 
"We'll be late-" Your smile returned when you noticed the flowers. It was a sweet gesture because Alessia knew you hated big bouquets, you always chose the simplest arrangement and the one she was offering you with a smile on her face was just what you would have picked. 
"They were taking a while to prepare your order, so I took the opportunity to stop by the florist near here" she murmured with relief as you accepted the bouquet of flowers. "Here, flat white and your sandwich, I ordered it with ham, is that okay?" 
"Yes, that's perfect." 
Alessia waited for you to settle in, leaving the flowers on the back seat and unwrapping your sandwich to start the car and get back on the road. It wasn't until you finished your coffee that you noticed Alessia hadn't brought anything for herself. 
"You didn't have breakfast either." 
"I bought myself an orange juice, but I drank it while I was waiting for your sandwich to be made." 
"But that was to drink, don't you want something to eat?" 
"I'll eat something when we get there, don't worry about me."  
"Did you leave your smile at home? " Was the first thing Lotte said when she saw Alessia arrive, throwing her training bag on the floor.  
"Don't mess with me today" muttered Alessia taking her seat. "Got any of those cereal bars?"  
Lotte nodded and pulled a cereal bar from her bag, handing it over. If it had been any other day, she wouldn't have hesitated to throw it in her face, but she could tell the mood wasn't the best today.   
"Thanks," Alessia took a bite as if it were the best meal of her life. "I was starving." 
"Why? I saw YN before and she didn't look hungry like you." 
"I stopped to buy her something on the way, I'm sure if I didn't, I wouldn't have made it here alive."  
"Trouble in paradise? I thought you'd be happy here with YN, I remember hearing hours of your complaints when you lived apart."  
"Yes... Don't get me wrong" she was quick to say "I'm happy with her, it's just that.... We're not used to living together." 
"How did you do it before? I mean, when one travelled to the other, you stayed at each other's houses and there was no problem." 
"Yeah, but it was only for a few days" Alessia muttered and fell silent when she heard the door open, thinking it would be you and that you would catch her talking about you. 
Luck seemed to be on her side after her horrible morning because it wasn't you who had entered, it was Lia. 
"Who died?" she laughed when she saw Alessia's pale face. "Who are you talking about?" 
"How do you know we're talking about someone?" Lotte asked. 
"When two people are talking about someone else, they always go silent when a third person appears," she explained without much detail. "Besides, both of you look guilty of something. So, who are we talking about?" 
Alessia was about to make up something to avoid mentioning your name because, of all the girls on the team, Lia was the closest to you. Unfortunately for her Lotte spoke up first because of the guilt she felt for having been talking behind your back. 
"YN, we were talking about her. Alessia didn't—" 
"Lotte!" Alessia kicked her leg to make her stop talking. 
"Ouch! What's wrong with you? Is it true that- where are your socks?" Lotte was distracted when she saw the foot Alessia had kicked her with. Alessia was wearing her usual trainers, but it was clear that she didn't have anything else underneath them. 
"I couldn't find my socks this morning... I don't know where the hell YN keeps my socks, but they're never in my drawer, and I didn't want to ask her because it was already late, and she was already mad at me." 
Lia started laughing as soon as she heard that. 
"It's not funny." 
"Of course it is" she said trying to hide her laughter by covering her mouth with her hand. "Is that why I sometimes see you wearing her clothes?" 
"Yes," she replied, cheeks slightly flushed. "Since I take care of doing the laundry, she takes care of putting it away once it's clean, but I've told her to put hers away and I put mine away, but she doesn't listen to me. But she hates to see the clothes on the bed, so she ends up taking everything and putting it in her part of the wardrobe". 
"Well, it's something to be expected from her. YN is a neat freak," Lia commented, still smiling. 
"What do you mean?" Lotte interrupted, joining the conversation. 
"What I just said, Lotte. I lived with her for a while when she twisted her ankle, you know, to help her and all. I didn't think it was a big deal because I had stayed overnight at her place several times, but I stayed for several days that time and at the end of the week I discovered that she's crazy," Lia explained. Lotte still didn't seem to understand, but Alessia caught on to where Lia was going. "I'm not exaggerating. One time she got mad because I cooked dinner because she was starving but I didn't wash the dishes when I finished because I went to take a shower. Obviously, I planned to clean everything when I was done, but when I returned to the kitchen, she had already washed everything." 
"Yes! She has done the same to me!" Alessia almost jumped out of her seat in relief at Lia's words. "I thought I was the one exaggerating, but it's true. Besides, the organization she uses doesn't make sense, when we first started living together, I wanted to keep the cups near the things to make our tea, but she keeps them in the cupboard next to the fridge." Alessia put her hands on her head. "God, I thought I was the crazy one," she said standing up to hug Lia, who returned the hug not quite understanding Alessia's emotion. 
"Haven't you tried talking to her about it?" Lotte asked. 
"Of course I've tried, but as soon as I mention anything about it she starts complaining about how messy I am and yes, I admit that" she said before Lotte could interrupt, "But I always end up doing my things. The problem is that YN wants everything done immediately, and there are times when I just want to come home and lie down on the bed with her." 
"I'm surprised you haven't complained before," commented Lia, feeling a bit sorry for Alessia. "How do you deal with the food?" 
Both Lotte and Alessia looked at her abruptly, the first girl looking like she didn't understand anything, and Alessia looking relieved that finally someone understood her. 
"YN buys just what is necessary, you'll never find sweets or more than one type of cereal in her kitchen because she doesn't eat much of those things," Lia explained to Lotte. 
"I've been starving" muttered Alessia "She prefers to do the shopping because according to her it takes less time, so I always ask her to bring me a couple of extra things, but she always forgets, plus we don't have the same tastes in food. I don't want to make her feel guilty, so I don't mention it to her." 
"I've been starving" muttered Alessia "She prefers to buy our food because according to her it takes less time, so I always ask her to bring me a couple of extra things, but she always forgets, and we don't have the same tastes in food. I don't want to make her feel guilty, so I haven't mentioned it to her." 
"You can't go on like this," Lotte worried about her friend's state because she knew that it would only get worse every day. "You have to tell her something." 
"I second that," Lia said, having stood up to take a pair of clean socks from her bag. "If you want I can help you talk to her," she said, handing over the socks and giving Alessia a reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaving them alone again. 
"I need to talk to her." 
But the day had passed and although there were several opportunities to talk, Alessia never mentioned anything to you. The next few days were more of the same and neither Lotte, who continued to hear Alessia's cries every morning, nor Lia, who listened your complaints about Alessia's behaviour during the warm-ups, could take it anymore. 
So that night, you and Alessia were at Lia's house, who had invited you both for dinner.  
You had already finished dessert when Lia brought up the issue at the table.   
"Well, Alessia, it's time for you to talk to YN about what we've discussed this week," Lia's words caught both of you off guard, so much so that Alessia froze for a few seconds, not knowing what to say. 
"What are you talking about?" you asked with a nervous smile "Did something bad happen?" Alessia immediately noticed your concern in your tone, the guilt quickly invading her.   
"It's nothing, love," she tried to reassure you that everything was fine, placing her hand on your thigh under the table. 
"That's not true," Lia said getting a bit annoyed. "It's about you and your flat." 
"What's wrong with our flat?" you asked defensively. 
"That's the problem YN, that it's your flat, not yours and Alessia's." 
"What the hell are you talking about, Lia?" 
"Lia is right, YN... I don't feel comfortable living there, and one of the reasons is because it's your place, not ours." 
The three of you remained silent after Alessia's words. But Lia, not wanting to witness the awkward moment, decided to leave the two of you alone by going to her room. 
"What do you mean you're not comfortable living there?" 
"I think we both know that this isn't working the way we wanted, love." 
On impulse, you removed Alessia's hand, which had been on your thigh until that moment. 
"It sounds like you're going to break up with me." 
"I don't want to break up with you," she rushed to say, a little scared of where the conversation might be heading. "But I think we don't know how to live together." 
"Do you want to live on your own?" 
Alessia thought about it for a moment. Did she want her space? Yes. Did she want to be away from you? No. 
"No... I don't think I ever want to live away from you again," she murmured taking your hands, a little scared that you might pull away. "But I want to have a place that is ours. I appreciate that you let me live in your flat, but it's yours. Everything there is yours, love. I can't change anything because you're used to your place." 
"Does that explain why you leave your things everywhere?" you asked a little upset because deep down, you knew Alessia was right, and you felt bad for not noticing it earlier. 
"No, I admit I have a problem with that, but I'll work on it... if you can also work on some things." 
You let out a deep sigh; you knew you had issues with certain things and that you weren't an easy person to live with, but for Alessia, it was worth making a change. 
"I'll need a list..." you muttered, a little embarrassed. 
"I think so," Alessia whispered, a little more relaxed as she noticed that everything was turning out well "I'll need a list too. But I think there's something we should start with." 
"What is it?" 
"We need to find a new place for both of us." 
"Good morning," Alessia's murmur made you smile. You had been awake for a while, but Alessia had you trapped against her. 
"Good morning," you replied, feeling Alessia snuggling you closer. "Why did you want to buy this huge bed if you practically sleep on top of me?" 
After the conversation at Lia's house, it didn't take long for you both to find a new place to move to, this time deciding everything between the two of you when it came to buying all the furniture and practically everything else in the house. One of those decisions was the enormous bed that Alessia insisted on having. 
Alessia loosened her grip on you a bit, so you took the opportunity to turn and face her. 
"I don't think I ever apologized," you whispered, caressing her cheek. 
"Hmm... What are you talking about?" Alessia still hadn't opened her eyes, but you knew she was awake enough to talk. 
"It was unfair all the times I got annoyed with you before... I didn't realize I hadn't given you a space for yourself." 
It was something you had been thinking about for a few days, because it took you by surprise that since you now lived in the new house, Alessia's mess had decreased almost completely. You hadn't tripped over any of her trainers again because now Alessia had her own space for her shoes –noticing now that she has a lot more shoes than you- or that now that she had a small desk, her things were always there and not between the blankets like before. Sure, you still found the kitchen a mess after Alessia had cooked, but as she had said, she always cleaned at some point during the day. 
"Don't worry... Maybe you were too used to living alone. Besides, your flat was small, there wasn't enough space for two anyway." 
"So, do you forgive me?" you asked, resting your head on her chest, taking advantage of the intimacy to slip your hand under her shirt and caress her abdomen. 
"I'll think about it- Ouch!" You had pinched her abdomen, not too hard, but Alessia tended to exaggerate a bit. " Okay, fine! I forgive you" she said, making you move away from her. 
"I love you," you said, moving closer to her again. 
"Are you sure?" she mumbled, looking at you a bit doubtful, but she took it back when she saw you move your hand closer to her abdomen again. "Stop! I believe you!". 
Alessia was the one who came closer this time, giving you a kiss on the forehead and then hugging you. 
"I love you too." 
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4izawas · 7 months
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╰─▸ ❝ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫… ❞ ──── 𝐟𝐭. 𝐧𝐞𝐮𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞.
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𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “You’re nothing but a filthy temptress,” he groans, pressing his forehead against the soft skin between your shoulderblades. “All you do is beg for my cock — is there nothing else in that empty little head of yours?”
𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: genshin impact | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: neuvillette/f!reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 2.61k.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: previously established relationship, age gap, breeding kink, reader is neuvillette’s assistant, secret relationship, workplace relationship, degradation, creampies, office sex, mentions of future pregnancy.
𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐬: hehe kinktober day 1 go brrrrrr
— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!
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Your breasts mash flat against the cool dark stained cypress wood of his work desk, pressing into it hard as he holds you down and pushes your skirts up with his free hand. You struggle faintly, wanting to at least put up a little bit of a fight in the way you know he likes sometimes ( it’s always more than easy to appeal to instinct ), but a cruel snarl and a quick bite at the back of your neck make you still in his grip. 
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he growls, sharp nails catching slightly on your skin as he works to bare your body to himself, and you laugh lightly as his hands rove across your body with a blatant intent in mind. 
“Nothing could take you away from me,” you moan back, reaching a hand behind yourself to grasp at him. He slaps your hand away and you let out a sharp whine, gasping lightly when he grips your chin tightly in the hand he’d swatted you with. 
“I think you have us confused, beloved,” he purrs lowly before mashing your lips together roughly. Your tongues interlock amd go back and forth between your mouths, and when you part a thick string of spit connects you both. You grab his wrist while he’s drunken from the kiss and press it between your bare thighs, his thick fingers nestling in your heat where they belonged. In the process, your juices coat three of your own fingers, and those you bring up to his mout to smear across his lips and the flat of his tongue as his jaw drops slightly. 
His eyes roll back slightly in his head, the whites of his eyes flashing as his tongue flicks out over his lips where you’d left traces of yourself on them, and, “G-Gods above, we shouldn’t…” he moans lowly, groaning when the sound of your whines from the feeling of his fingers crooking inside of you reach his ears. 
That wouldn’t do. He was still thinking like the Chief Justice of Fontaine — you needed him drooling and biting at your inner thighs like the beast that came out when the two of you were home alone; who cares that he has a meeting in a half hour?
“Fuck me, Neuvillette — please, I need it!” you moan shakily, pushing your ass back against him and shivering in delight as his hands fall to your hips and he squeezes. 
“You’re nothing but a filthy temptress,” he groans, pressing his forehead against the soft skin between your shoulderblades. “All you do is beg for my cock — is there nothing else in that empty little head of yours?”
“Nothing else but thoughts of you and the cum you can pump me full of,” you purr. You know it’s a dirty ploy, a low tactic that’ll have him buckling, but that’s precisely the point of using it. It was no secret between the two of you that one of the things Neuvillette considered a great luxury was filling you to the brim with his thick seed, and that he’d die a happy man with his cock buried in your cunt and a mixture of your juices being forced out around it. 
“Fucking dirty move,” He growls, biting at your shoulder. You just giggle, then shiver again in excitement when you hear his belt clinking as he starts taking it off. His thick length slaps against your pretty underwear, the ones he’d chosen for you this morning, and as he steps back for a moment you go to push them down only to withdraw your hands once they’ve been smacked yet again. “This cunt is my present to unwrap, keep your hands away from it.”
A soft, pleased sigh falls from your lips as he does just that and tugs them down, his cock replacing the cloth and pressing against your soaking slit like it belonged there ( which it did ). One hand, tightening almost painfully and most certainly enough to bruise, grips your hip like a vise and the other takes his cock by the head so he can press it inside. Your eyelashes flutter and you bite your lip at the sharp stretch, but eventually it goes in and you whine again, leaning forward and gripping the edge of his desk. 
“Oh gods yes,” you whimper. His claws prick your sides, small dots of blood dribbling up, but you both ignore it; the four dots would be added to the other faint lines and scars that covered your body courtesy of the man behind you. 
“Don’t pray to any gods when I’m filling you with my cock, beloved,” he snarls, a hand slapping across the fat of your ass and drawing a cry from you. 
“S-Sedene will hear!” 
“Shouldn’t have presented yourself like a common whore here of all places then,” Neuvillette grunts back, pressing more of himself inside until he’s halfway sheathed within you. “Fuck.”
“N-Neuvillette-“ Another slap, another cry, and another steady push of his cock into you. You squeeze your eyes shut and revel only in the feeling of being stretched and filled as well as the low keens and moans of your lover behind you as he’s swallowed up by your sopping cunt. 
Before either of you can think straight, his hips are flush against yours ( though not all of his cock is inside; it simply couldn’t all fit in your pussy no matter how much the two of you had attempted to make it fit in the past. it was disappointing, not being able to stuff those last two and a half inches or so inside, but neither of you could say you’d not tried.  ) and you’re both slightly trembling — Neuvillette, from how tightly your cunt was gripping him, and you, from the feeling of being full enough to burst. You could feel every line and vein of his cock inside of you, and it just made you hunger for more. 
Squeezing around him once to signal that you were ready for him to move, he growls low and long and slowly pulls out until only the tip of him remains inside. He rests for a moment, and you whimper slightly as the stretch you’d grown accustomed to is lost as you’re emptied only to shriek as he presses all the way inside again in a sharp, rough roll of his hips. You’re full more suddenly than you expected, and he’s drawing back out then thrusting into you again and again, quickly setting up a pace that pleases him as he uses you like a living sex doll. 
“Gonna fill your whore cunt up,” he growls, sharp eyes flashing with a wild lust that only beasts the likes of himself could ever possess. You whimper again; his manner of speaking was always so fucking filthy when taking you. “Gonna fill it up and leave you leaking my seed  all day — you’ll feel it running down your legs as you walk around my office, while you’re assisting during meetings, and in between it all I’ll fuck you more.”
“O-Oh — fuck, yes, Neuv-vilette, please,” you beg, not sure how to put into words what you’re begging for but Neuvillette understanding all the same. 
“I know, beloved, I know — I’ll keep fucking you, and I won’t stop until I’m satisfied.”
“S-Satisfied?” you ask in a stuttered moan, and he bites at your shoulder. 
“Yes — satisfied that I’ve bred you nice and full of me, of course,” he purrs, amd you whine lowly. He never stops fucking into you, hammering your tight cunt like an unfeeling toy, chasing only his pleasure in a way he knows will do nothing but bring you pleasure. You’ve always loved when your superior used you like nothing but a cum doll, after all. 
The moment is broken by a knock sounding at the door, startling you. “Hello? Chief Justice, are you in? We have a meeting scheduled!” The deep voice, one belonging to the head of the security team assigned to Lady Furina for when Neuvillette was unable to assist her, makes your eyes widen. You try to push up off the desk, but Neuvillette does not stop. 
“Neuvillette, th-there’s someone-!” you whisper, panicked, but he snarls lowly and punctuates the noise with a violent roll of his hips that has your eyes crossing a little. 
“You begged for this,” he growls in your ear as he picks up the pace, “so fucking take it.”
Another knock. “Chief Justice?” He’s rougher now, almost as if the thought of being breeding you caught excites him. You have no idea what to do, though — any moment, the head of Lady Furina’s security detail would come in, and here you were spread out on the Chief Justice’s desk like some prostitute off the street. You weren’t worried for your job, of course, considering your Chief Justice boss would never allow for you to be fired by any means, but you did worry for the head of Lady Furina’s security; Neuvillette was a possessive man, and while law-abiding, you were unsure of the lemgths he would go upon another man seeing you naked and used like this. 
The doorknob begins to turn as the man welcomes himself inside. 
“O-One moment, the Chief Justice is i-in the middle of very important paperwork!” you finally call shakily, barely slapping a hand over your mouth in time to muffle a shrill scream from escaping as he thrusts into you hard, the tip of his lemgth slamming into your cervix like a battering ram. The doorknob stops turning, and you move your hand away, resuming your tight grip on the table. “Please wait in the sitting area and he’ll be right with you as soon as he finishes!”
“Mmm, yes, as soon as I finish,” the pussydrunk Chief Justice purrs into your ear from behind, and you squeeze around him again unintentionally in a way that has him hissing and getting even rougher. 
Gods, with how unusually brutal he was being,  you were gonna be terribly bruised up tomorrow. 
A brief silence passes, then, “Oh, I see! Thank you, I’ll be waiting!” Footsteps slowly fade as he no doubt goes to do just that, and you relax for a brief moment before a thick hand wraps around the front of your throat and pulls you back by your neck, an extra inch of cock you typically couldn’t take popping inside for a second as something gives. Your eyes widen and Neuvillette covers your mouth with the hand over your throat just enough to silence the shrill scream that falls from your lips, his body shuddering as he also reacts to the sudden extra inch of his cock being inserted. He doesn’t give up the fast, rough pace he’s using, only pressing you harder into the once-cold wood of his desk and grinding his length deeper inside while relinquishing his grip on your hip to use the fingers on his now free hand to circle your swollen clit. The sudden additional stimulation is just enough to finally push you over the edge: your eyes cross, his front presses to your back as his teeth close on your shoulder, and your cunt begins to spasm around him as you begin to cum. 
Your body shakes against the smooth wood, tears rolling down your cheeks and a mixture of all sorts of cries spilling from your lips as he fucks you through your orgasm. 
“N-Neuvillette — Oh gods, more-!” you whisper shakily, and he places one hand on the table by your head as the other grabs your him again before he starts fucking you at a pace truly meant for him and him alone. Your eyes water and your body trembles as he fucks you into an area of overstimulation, but you do nothing but moan and whine as his pace gets rougher and messier, low moans and cries of his own leaving his mouth as he gets closer and closer. 
“Oh fuck — yes, yes, fuck-!” he grunts, a furrow no doubt in his brow like there always was when he grew close to cumming inside. “Fuck yes, yes… M’gonna keep filling you s’long as it takes, fuck — gonna fuck you full until I’m fucking certain you’re carrying my child, you hear me?” You do nothing but moan. “Gods, I’m going to cum —  fuck!”
His thrusts are bordering on violent now, your cunt spasming from the overstimulation but your body singing from the pleasure that came with it as you sobbed through one hand on his cock. Tears run down your cheeks and across the back of your hand as he gets rougher and rougher before biting down on your shoulder again so hard your eyes widen almost comically, Neuvillette roaring around the flesh in his mouth as his eyes roll so far back in his head that only the whites show. You can feel his cock twitching inside, spurt after spurt of cum coating your insides as he continues rutting into you, unable to stop himself; it had always been this way, though. Once the man started cumming, he’d never been able to stop fucking into you until he wasn’t cumming anymore, and sometimes even then he thrusted a few more times just for the sake of fucking that cum back up into you. 
A deep, soft moan sounds, and you tiredly throw a hand over your shoulder for him to press his face into to silence his own sounds. “Fuck,” he whispers shakily, his upper body trembling against you as he comes down from his own high. His hips still stutter messily against yours, all semblence of a rhythm
gone entirely as he fucks all the cum he’d filled you with as deep into your hole as possible. 
Once his hips finally ease to a stop, the two of you rest there for a moment, breathing in and out deeply as you both catch your breath and try to calm your racing hearts. Neuvillette’s hands, once so cruel and rough, are gentle now as he withdraws from you and sets about redressing yoh so you don’t have to before doing the same for himself. With a shiver at the final feeling of one of those big hands caressing your ass fondly, you push up from where he’d kept you bent over his desk for over the half hour the two of you had initially intended before wandering over to the mirror by the door and fixing yourself up to be as presentable as possible while he did the same behind you. Your legs were as shaky as a newborn fawn’s, but you’d make do. 
Showtime. 
With a fake smile gracing your face, you open the door and call for the head of Lady Furina’s security staff, telling him that Chief Justice Neuvillette had just finished the last bit of paperwork he’d been focusing on and was ready to see him. He rushes up with a bright grin and thbks you so genuinely you almost feel bad for making him wait, but then you turn too quickly and nearly have your legs give out from the sudden movement. 
As you retreat back to your superior’s desk, you can feel his spend starting to drip down your inner thigh, and you see Neuvillette’s nostrils flare ever so slightly and his slit pupils shrink as he smells it spilling from you. A small but wicked smile graces his features, and you swallow hard, remembering his promises to keep filling you until he was certain it took. 
Gods. You were going to be in for a busy weekend — but you had to make it through the rest of the day first.
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𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.
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