#((I'm back for Christmas too y'all

[robertleckie]

2024 was one heck of a year, but hey, at least I started 2025 right by finally watching Masters of the Air! Literally can't believe it finally happened, I remember when it was just a whisper on the horizon. I watched Band of Brothers and The Pacific for the first time in like... 2013, and even at that point they were talking about it, but it just never happened.

[wickedhawtwexler]

🤞 if all goes well (which it doesn't often but who knows!!!) i should be able to get my adhd meds tomorrow 🤞

[norikuna]

(JUST MEET ME AT THE) APT! — gojo satoru minors dni. art by chitrartum on twt.

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (a) and let the show begin !

prologue. → your ex, that sleazy and no-good scumbag won't stop posting tacky mirror selfies on instagram, arm around his fellow cheater-in-crime. so, christmas eve finds you morose in a dodgy dive bar. why not tumble back into bed with that random, gorgeous stranger you just met?

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. never drive, no matter how little alcohol is in you folks!!! never!!! making out, creampiè, hooking up with a stranger, ovèrstimulation, mildly rough sèx, gojo won't tell you what his job is

word count. 9.4k! song inspiration. apt — rosé & bruno mars

a/n. reader lowkey a hater, i love vanilla vodka eggnog </3 i said i was gonna post on 02/12 and i kept my word, literally rushed to finished this before my clinical exams in the cardiac ward 😭😭😭😭😭😭 hope y'all stay healthy. your future surgeons are writing gojo smut on tumblr.com

mp3. don't you want me like i want you, baby? don't you need me like i need you now? sleep tomorrow, but tonight, go crazy. all you gotta do is meet me at the apartment (아파트) !

you think your friends would kill you if they knew this was how you were spending christmas eve. not at some glittering holiday party, nor tucked away in a snow-dusted cabin. but here, holed up in a dimly lit bar with an atmosphere so questionable it should come with a warning label alongside a health and safety audit.

the place had charm, if your definition of charm included scuffed floors, a jukebox stuck on 'last christmas' and a string of blinking lights that looked like they'd been thrown at the walls rather than hung. still, you'd swiped a couple of minty candy canes from a jar near the door, which felt like a win.

your phone sat resolutely off in your bag. self-preservation. no instagram, and no tacky mirror selfies from your scumbag ex with the same smirk he'd worn a month ago when you caught him cheating. with someone who had always been 'just a friend, babe!' you weren't keen to let that ruin the rest of the night, though if you were being honest, you had already let it ruin a good chunk of the month.

"another christmas vodka...sour, please," you squint at the messy chalkboard above the bar, where the christmas specials were scrawled in what would barely pass for handwriting.

the bartender gave a single, surly nod. he looked as though he'd rather be anywhere but here, preferably somewhere free of customers nursing post-breakup bitterness like a fine wine.

and so, you found yourself staring at the tall glass now sitting in front of you, studying the rosemary sprig that swayed lazily in the translucent red liquid. a few cranberries bobbed among the ice cubes like they were on some tiny festive raft.

"woah, that one's way too strong for me."

the voice interrupts your private session of wallowing. you turn your head, slowly, to take in the culprit. he-who-hath-disturbed-the-peace. a man sitting close enough to be annoying, but not close enough to invade your personal space.

it takes you a moment to process the stranger, mostly because of the brain freeze from your ill-timed gulp.

"i mean, it's not bad," you shrug, hoping to sound neutral enough that he leaves you be. but then because you just can't leave well enough alone, you gesture at the specials board, "better than...that, at least."

you jab a finger at the chalk-scrawled abomination: vanilla & peppermint vodka eggnog.

the man frowns, a sharp but somehow charming movement that's overshadowed by the dim lights, "hey, i ordered that one."

you blink like a startled bovine, before breaking into a laugh, "my bad. i'm sure it's really fuckin' delicious."

the stranger chuckles too, a soft and low sound that seems more genuine that it has any right to be, "i hope so. otherwise, this is gonna be a long night."

the man finally shifts, casting aside the dim shadows that lay over him, into the blinking string lights. broad shoulders framed by a dark, tailored jacket that hugs him like a second skin. his hair, startlingly white, was pushed back by — wait, was that a blindfold?

you stare longer than you should have, trying to piece the odd sight together. a cosplay? a k-pop idol wannabe, hoping to get recruited for the next bts tour? perhaps, he was blind, hard of sight? you start to open your mouth, wondering how to phrase the intrusive and awkward questions, but he beats you to it.

"i can see you just fine, y'know," he says, his tone laced with amusement.

your cheeks burn at the realisation that he's caught you gawking shamelessly. so you quickly turn back to your drink, suddenly very interested in the cranberries floating in the glass.

the bartender returns, sliding the stranger's drink onto the counter with an audible clink. it was the most obnoxious cocktail that you'd ever seen. a martini glass filled with frothy, pale liquid and crowned with a cinnamon stick that jutted out like the mast of some ridiculous holiday ship.

you watch, mildly horrified, as the man picks up the glass and downs half of it in one confident gulp. he sets it down a satisfied sigh, and a smack of his glossy lips, and you wrinkle your nose involuntarily at the sight.

"i swear it's good," he says with a laugh, catching your expression. his grin is wide, playful. and you find yourself smiling back despite your sour, gloomy mood.

he has a nice smile, you note. not forced nor smug, but genuine. framed by pale pink lips that curl up in an easy, natural way. it was strange though, to look at someone without seeing their eyes.

"i'm gojo, by the way," he offers, his voice smooth and lightly amused once more, as if he'd caught you studying him again.

your gaze drops to his hands, long and slender, tracing the rim of the martini glass. something about the way they move — elegant and deliberate, hold your attention a moment too long for propriety. you quickly snap your focus back to his face, "what brings you here, gojo?"

gojo shrugs, and you can almost imagine him rolling his eyes beneath the blindfold, though you doubt his ire is directed at you, "work, i guess. or maybe i just got bored of going to work."

"they're working you hard, yeah?" you ask, trying for sympathy. employers loved squeezing their workers dry during the holidays. your own boss was proof enough of that, running the office like a sweatshop for santa's unpaid elf labour.

"something like that," gojo says with a scoff, the corners of his mouth quirking up again, "what about you? what brings you here? it's christmas eve, isn't it?"

you sigh, the weight of gauche embarrassment suddenly pressing down as the words spill out before you can stop them, "my ex-boyfriend cheated on me."

gojo's lip curls, the kind of expression that balances perfectly between pity and disgust, "that sucks," he offers. profound and wise, you have to agree as he continues, "you jus' find out or something?"

the question makes you cheeks heat, and you fiddle with the edge of your drink, "no, i've known all month." you gesture vaguely towards your purse, where your phone sat like an unsealed pandora's box, "but he posted...on instagram. and stuff. i'm still, y'know, getting over it."

gojo makes a thoughtful clicking noise with his tongue, "ah, see, i don't do social media. but that sounds rough."

you let out a weak huff, "yeah, well...now i just feel like a loser. my friends told me to go out and have fun, and here i am..." you trail off, downing the rest of your cranberry vodka in a single, decisive gulp. the sting hits your throat, sharp and sour, and you grimace at the burn.

gojo frowns slightly, leaning in just enough that you can hear how his voice softens, "i don't think you're a loser." the sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, pulling your gaze back to him, "it's fair to wallow."

his words hang in the air, and you find yourself smiling, albeit thinly, "that's...really nice of you to say."

gojo hums thoughtfully, "i meant it, i promise. but i can't exactly say i've been there, never really dated anyone."

you blink, openly gaping at the man, "really? you're joking."

it was hard to wrap your head around that. even with the odd blindfold, everything about him screamed 'pounce-worthy'. the broad frame, the charming smile, the striking white hair that looked like it belonged in a kérastase commercial.

gojo laughs at your incredulous expression, "same old work and stuff," he explains with a casual shrug. then his grin fades, tone shifting just enough for you wonder why that feels as though the clouds have covered the light of the moon outside, "always got in the way."

"at least you never had to deal with a breakup," you offer, trying to find some weak, silver lining.

gojo frowns, his pale complexion now tinged with a faint red flush that even the dim bar lights couldn't disguise. was he really that much of a lightweight, or was the eggnog's amaretto content deceptively boozy?

he sighs dramatically, "a friend once left me outside a kfc in shinjuku. then he became a murderer and a cult leader. that felt like a breakup."

"huh," you murmur, staring at the man with a mixture of amusement and faint alarm, wondering if you'd seen any cult leaders on the evening news lately. no, nothing save for the occasional incorrect weather report, a friendly good-looking priest running some scam association, and news reports about an octopus that could predict the lottery, "that's - well, okay..."

you couldn't quite tell if he was joking or not, but gojo seems to shake himself free of the odd reverie. he's running his hand through his shock of white hair, and his grin has returned, slower and a touch softer, "still, your ex must've been crazy. letting go of a pretty girl like you?"

the words land with surprising weight, considering they come from a stranger in a sleazy bar, but it leaves you momentarily stunned. you can feel a blush rising to your cheeks, your heart doing an embarrassing little flip before you manage to get a grip on yourself.

"wow," you laugh, feigning composure as you sip the last remnants of your drink, "smooth."

gojo's smile is wider now, "hah, i call it like i see it," and his lips now curl upwards as he leans in, "and i'm serious. if i had someone like you..."

you laugh again, but this time it's far more unsteady. you wonder if the cranberry vodka is playing with your head, "big words for someone who's never dated. should i be impressed, gojo?"

gojo's chuckle is a deep sound that vibrates in his chest, "i know a good thing when i see it. you don' need to date to know what you want. and i think i want you."

your stomach does a little flip, and you feel all rationality being pounded out of you just from staring at his unfairly gorgeous hands rest on sturdy thighs, "you do flattery well, i'll give you that."

"oh, i don't know about that," gojo says, fiddling with the stem of his glass, "but what'dya say we get out of here? how about my place?"

you blink slowly, and you're aware that your heart (and...nether regions) have already composed an answer before your mind has, "what if you're a serial killer? you're not about to silent night, deadly night me, are you? you haven't killed someone have you?"

for a moment, the man stills but then gojo leans back, "smart girl. asking the right questions. but no, i can at least promise that i'm not a criminal."

you hesitate just for a beat, the words lingering on your tongue, before you let out a breath and shrug, "fine. where's your place?"

"azabu," gojo replies without missing a beat, his tone smooth, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

you gape once more, blinking as you try to process the information. azabu? as in tokyo's ritziest neighbourhood, where a one-bedroom apartment could cost you more than most people's yearly salary? the kind of place where the floors are made of marble, and everyone's shoes are more expensive than your entire wardrobe?

gojo, ridiculously handsome despite looking like a circus runaway, too charming for his own good, and not the type you'd expect to find in a cheap downtown dive bar. definitely not on a christmas eve, at least.

for a split second, you wonder how a man like him even ended up in a place like this. maybe it's some kind of self-imposed penance. or he likes to keep things low-key when he's pretending not to be rich? maybe he's looking to cosplay a succession character?

whatever it is, it's working. not only does gojo have a face carved from marble, now you've got a solid ticket into seeing what a neighbourhood for the top one percent really looks like beyond it's wealthy exterior. maybe, you'll bring back a souvenir.

you wonder whether there's a group of small emotions standing around inside your head, inside-out style. glaring at you as if you're incapable of making good and rational decisions.

well fuck that, you gather yourself and shrug off the small wave of nerves, and loop your purse strap around your finger, "alright," you say, "let's get out of here then."

you don't miss at how the adam apple of gojo's throat bobs for a second, before he downs the rest of his drink in one go, "let's get outta here then."

you follow him out into the cold, your breath fogging in front of you as you try to focus, but the man is tall, like ridiculously so. but when you reach the curb, he turns to face you again, a frown marring his face.

"so, i have a small confession."

i changed my mind and i find you repulsive.

i was paid by your ex to do this, and now i've done enough to get my money.

i'm a serial killer.

you don't know which possibility is worse, "huh, a confession? what is it now?"

gojo chuckles, lifting a hand to the back of his neck, as though he's about to spill a dark secret into the night air, "i don't have a car."

"you've got to me kidding me. how'd you even get down here?"

gojo shrugs, a casual and almost lazy movement. and you feel your gaze lingering on his shoulders. broad, impossibly wide, the dark jacket hugging him in all the right places, like it was tailor-made to showcase just how much he filled it out.

"someone dropped me off. ages ago," like it was the most normal and rational explanation in the world.

your own laugh is short, a little disbelieving, but you pull your silver keys from your purse, "well, i guess i'll have to drive then. but what would you have done if i hadn't been here to save the day?"

gojo steps to the side, opening your own car door for you with a small flourish and exaggerated bow that makes your heart jolt again, "probably teleport back home. maybe fly, since the skies look clear."

what a weird guy. hot, but weird. he seems like the type to dress up with a fake beard and show up as gandalf at the next lord of the rings fan convention.

in the driver's seat beside him, you catch yourself staring too long. your gaze slipping over a model's jawline, the white of his hair being held up by the blindfold. even his vaguely expensive scent is disorienting, pleasant like pine and blackcurrant. but it's also hard not to be amused when he's furrowing teeth into plush pink lips out of concentration, pressing an address into your cracked gps screen.

well, merry christmas to you.

gojo's place is well...how do you say this? gorgeous doesn't quite begin to cover it. he leads you into the building with the ease of someone who knows every inch of it, tossing a casual smile over his shoulder as he swipes a key card to unlock the private elevator, "i tend to move around a bit. or stay in different places. keeps life exciting, don't you think?"

you step into the elevator alongside him, the polished mirrors reflecting the soft glow of gold accents and sleek, modern lines. his hand hovers over the control panel before he presses the button for the top floor. of course, it's the penthouse.

"you move around a lot?" you ask, arching an eyebrow, "what, like a restless billionaire or something?"

gojo smiles, leaning casually against the steel as the elevator begins its smooth ascent, "now you're exaggerating."

the elevator finally dings, and gojo steps aside, offering an exaggerated bow as he gestures for you to exit, "after you, my fair maiden."

you almost scoff at the ridiculousness of it, but there's something so endearing and charming about how he pulls it off, especially when paired with the unfair symmetry of his face.

floor to ceiling windows dominate the far wall, revealing a jaw dropping panorama of tokyo's skyline. the city stretches out in a glittering sea of lights, with the tokyo tower glowing a golden exclamation point against the velvet night sky. the interior is just as impressive, with polished wood floors that gleam in the warm light and a glass dining table that sits beneath a sculptural chandelier. that same faint scent of blackberry and pine lingers in the air, heady almost.

behind you, gojo strolls with an easy and languid grace, tossing his jacket onto an artisan leather armchair. beneath it, his sky blue dress shirt clings just right and rolled up to reveal forearms faintly dusted with pale hair. you think you've momentarily forgotten how words work, and you avert your gaze quickly. though not before catching the faint smile on his lips.

"not bad, huh?" gojo says, heading to the open kitchen as though he's unaware of the effect he's having on a rational and sensible mind such as yourself, "it's no dive bar, but i'll do."

you shake your head, bewildered. trying to process how someone you met in a dingy bar could live somewhere that looks like it belongs in architectural digest. even down to the odd, ancient looking pieces that scatter the wide living room. weird looking artifacts of some sort. maybe he's also a collector? go figure.

"not bad?" you repeat, incredulous, "gojo, this place is incredible."

the man laughs, opening a sleek fridge to grab a bottle of water, "i have good taste," he says with mock modesty, his tone teasing as long fingers twist off the cap, "and a thing for gorgeous views. though, between you and me, i'm not great with heights. ironic, i suppose. paying a fortune for a view i'd rather not get too close to."

he waves a hand vaguely towards the windows, the blindfold still firmly in place.

"so, what's the deal? did you win the lottery, or inherit a fortune. or are you some kinda secret agent who moonlights as a barfly?"

gojo lifts the bottle in mock toast, "let's just say i'm very good at what i do."

you arch a brow, crossing your arms and ignoring the warm flush creeping up your neck, "and what exactly is that?"

"oh, you know. standard stuff. international intrigue, thwarting evil creatures. i even saved a kitten from a tree the other day."

"right, because nothing screams the next member of the avengers like eggnog in a seedy bar."

gojo leans casually against the counter, "even the avengers need a holiday drink now and then. don't knock it." but then he gestures towards the sleek couch, "wait, you can make yourself comfortable, y'know. i'd hate for my guest to think i'm a terrible host."

"terrible host? no, but a mystery man —"

before you can finish, your foot catches on something hard, and you stumble forward with an undignified yelp. gojo reacts instantly, how does he move that fast, and his arm is shooting out to steady you. but glorious gravity and magnificent momentum has other plans.

both of you crash onto the couch, and you find yourself sprawled unceremoniously across his lap. gojo's laugh rumbles low in his chest, and you can feel the warmth of it underneath your palms as you steady yourself, "well, that's one way to get comfortable," he murmurs, voice teasing as his large hand lingers lightly on the curve of your waist.

you prop yourself up slightly, cheeks burning, and glance back at the offending object. your brows knit together when you spot what looks suspiciously like a katana gleaming under the soft light.

"did i just trip on a — hey, what the hell is that?"

gojo interrupts, smoothly extending a long leg to nudge that suspicious object under the nearby coffee table before you can finish, "nothing important," he says breezily, the motion so quick you almost think you imagined it.

his focus shifts back to you, almost guilty, but his fingers are pressing divots into the fabric of your top, "now, where were we? hi."

you blink, caught off guard by how strange it is to feel the searing heat of someone's gaze underneath a blindfold, impossibly intent, "hi yourself," you manage.

for a moment, neither you nor the gorgeous man under you move, and the world feels strangely airless.

but your fingers twitch against the fine linen of his shirt. and before you can second-guess yourself, you reach your hand up to the edge of the silk fabric over his face and you ask, "can i take this off?"

gojo tilts his head, like it's a genuine consideration and you catch the faintest flicker of hesitation. it's fleeting, replaced by a crooked smile as he nods, "go ahead, sweetheart."

your hand rests lightly on the silk, hesitant for only a second before tracing its way to the back of his head. your fingers brush through impossibly soft strands of white hair, and his breath hitches when you find the knot tied neatly to the base of his skull.

you wonder what manner of man gojo is, letting himself be stitched undone by a stranger. but with care, you undo the knot, working deftly and clutching the fabric as you pull the blindfold away.

the blindfold slips free, and for a moment, you're certain you've forgotten how to breathe. bright, piercing blue eyes. framed by thick white lashes blink up at you. the intensity of such an unearthly gaze is softened by something more vulnerable, almost shy. nervous even.

"wow," you murmur without thinking, the word spilling out as gojo's expression shifts, an unguarded openness replacing the playful smirk that you've seen all evening.

your earlier assessment echoes in your mind: k-pop reject wannabe. the recent memory now feels like quite the injustice, a careless slight against a face that defies easy description. each detail of his face is striking, as if some divine hand had taken special care to sculpt him from the fabric of time and space itself.

gojo seems to sense your analysis, and you're sure that he's parted his lips to speak, but whatever he was about to say falters. that faint flush, pale-red like vermillion watercolour bleeding across a canvas, blooms across his cheeks. gojo's hazy gaze flickers for a second, and it sends a thrill through you. he's affected by this, by you.

it's hard to resist the slow smile that curves your lips, light and playful if only to mask the way your own heart is racing, "are you seriously shy now, gojo?"

gojo's expression shifts again almost immediately, as if that subtle invulnerability has been replaced by something sharper, almost indignant. he sits up a little straighter, the movement making you acutely aware of how the hard planes of his body feel beneath you.

"shy? no," gojo says, his voice steady but edged with some need to defend his honour, "i just...don't usually do this. that's all."

there's a sincerity in his words, an almost begrudging honesty that takes you by surprise. you tilt your head, as your murmur, "i don't either."

before you can second-guess yourself, you tilt your head down. pressing your lips to gojo's in a featherlight kiss. his taste is intoxicating, honey and sweet grapes mingling with a hint of that ridiculous vanilla drink from earlier. you pull back almost as quickly as you leaned in, testing the waters.

but your breath catches when you see that the blue of his eyes has deepened, darkened. and his lips, pink-blush and slightly parted, form a quiet and stunned oh!

"cool," gojo manages, his voice rougher than you expected, and you bite back a laugh as you watch him swallow hard.

"huh, cool?" you echo, your amusement bubbling over, "that's it? that's all you've got?"

gojo's grip on your waist tightens, and his hands are now splayed over your spine. anchoring you to him, as his mouth curves into something sly, though his flushed cheeks betray his composure, "compliments to the chef?"

you shift slightly, pressing more of your weight firmly into his lap. though not yet close enough to situate yourself over his groin, delighting in the way gojo's blush spreads down his neck, staining his skin a shade reminiscent of ripe berries swirling in cream.

you can feel gojo's attention as much as you can see it, how his own gaze lingers, deliberate and unhurried. taking you like a masterpiece that deserves more than a cursory glance. the hand that had been steady on your back shifts, his fingers threading through your hair. he watches as the strands slip and fall beneath his touch.

"thought you said you wanted me, gojo," you tease, though you're certain your voice is betraying the way your pulse is doing its best impression of the macarena in your jugular, "are y'gonna do something or not?"

gojo's gaze snaps back to you, a flicker of something far more intense passing through those impossibly blue eyes. full of hunger, need even. the hand in your hair slides away, only to settle at your jaw. it's warm and steady, his thumb brushing slightly over the plush of your bottom lip.

"i do want you," gojo says, his voice low and steady and maddeningly genuine, "want you to kiss me again. and again. as many times as you want until i forget my own name."

"gojo —"

"satoru," he interrupts, his voice cracking slightly, stripped of any previous swagger. it's unsteady and raw, affected in a way that excites you. sends a dark heat curling low between your thighs, "you can call me that."

"satoru," you repeat softly, letting the syllables fall from your lips, unfurling in the most hazy way.

something within the man shifts. his hand tightens on your waist, dragging you closer in a way that punches the air from your lungs. right over -

oh. the thick, curve of his erection straining against slacks that probably cost more than your monthly salary. it's deliberate, almost desparate at how the invisible thread snapped inside him. unravelled the careful composure he's been clinging to until now.

"go on," gojo murmurs, his voice dark with need, "kiss me again, please."

you lean closer, eyes flickering to his lips, and your pulse roaring in your ears, "who would i be to deny you any wish, satoru?" the words come out more reverent that you'd expected, as if your entire world has been tilted off its axis.

and then you kiss him, hard. desparate. as if his lips are your birthright, a homeland to claim. and gojo's kissing you back, carrying a sweetness that seems both foreign and familiar. in an instant, the weight of another man, a dreary haze in your past, vanishes. gojo is suddenly everything you didn't know you needed, vibrant and electrifying.

"let me know if it's too much," gojo breathes against your lips, his voice shaky as if he's trying to tether himself to the earth. but your kiss deepens, frantic and unrestrained. his mouth moves against yours with a hunger that sends sparks down your spine, and you suddenly realise you quite like the taste of vanilla when it's dripping from his open kisses.

you pull away, for every human needs air. but the sight before you has you clenching your thighs desperately around the bulge where you sit atop. gojo's gaze is heavy, full of that desparate longing that makes your chest ache. his lips are swollen, a soft cherry hue from your kisses. and strands of white hair fall over his blue eyes.

"look what you've done to me, fuck. miss you already," gojo murmurs, and before you can respond, he surges forward, hands pressing against your face with the intensity of a storm. one hand reaches to find the nape of your neck, letting you surrender to the heat of this touch.

you crave more, so much more from gojo, who's taking you in like you're his last breath, his final indulgance. it's as if he's found a new devotion in you, ready to worship you at the alter of your false godhood. but before you can part your mouth to tell him exactly what you and where, gojo's hands are already sneaking under your top, brushing against the trembling skin of your torso.

his teeth are biting down on your lip, leaving you dizzy. and gasping, and so damp in your panties as the fabric of your top is peeled away, and you're left shivering, fighting against the cold of the december air. you find yourself pressing harder into the warmth of his chest, letting the swell of your chest press flat against him.

"shoulda' turned the heat on before we came in," gojo murmurs, breathless as his lips hover a mere centimetre away from yours, "got nothin' to worry about, sweetheart. i'll keep you warm."

"didn't t-think i'd spend christmas eve like this," you gasp, your head lolling to the side as gojo presses open-mouthed kisses to the soft arc of your neck, sensitive even to the cool air.

"no?" gojo's reply is breathy, almost frantic as if he's fumbling in the heat of the moment and has little grasp over the words tumbling out of his mouth, "neither did i. but this? b-better than any fuckin' mission they could've sent me on."

you cock your head, feeling the heat of his clothed cock underneath your thighs, "m-mission, huh? what are you talking about - mmph!" but the rest of the question never escapes your lips for it's swallowed up by another one of gojo's candied kisses.

his rough hands work deftly, finding the clasp of your bra with ease. a pretty crimson thing, almost sheer as it caught the light. and in the centre, a tiny satin bow sat like the final touch on a perfectly wrapped gift. you had only worn it half-heartedly earlier in the morning, some forced christmas cheer for your dreary day ahead.

the look on gojo's face was anything but composed, staring at your cupped tits like you'd knocked the air out of him and his chest rose and fall as though he were remembering how to breathe. in a single fluid motion, your bra is unhooked. the faint metallic click barely audible over the pounding in your chest and he's tossing it aside with a casual flick, his focus entirely on you.

you find yourself mesmerised by his eyes, those swirling pools of blue that seem to have stolen fragments of the sky itself, clouds brushed into cerulean depths with strokes of syrupy smoothness. they're breathtaking, but the thought shatters as gojo's canines graze the flesh of your breasts, a sharp and teasing nip that pulls a gasp from your lips. leaves you rocking sharply against his erection, making him throw his head back, ragged.

the playful string blooms into a flush of heat, and gojo's at it again, his mouth working to leave faint red marks in its wake. you squeal, half in surprise and half in helpless laughter (and entirely in a lusty haze) but gojo only pulls back enough to murmur, "what? can't help myself."

but then he peers at you abruptly, his lips parted as he catches his breath, "wait. do you wanna —?" and gojo tilts his snowy hair towards the shadowy doorway that leads out of the living room, the implication clear even through his panting.

you nod, breathless, "yeah, jus' help me up."

without hesitation, a strong arm slides around your waist, and before you know it, you're being swept into a semi-bridal carry, and your head is resting against the fabric of his dress shirt. not a bad feeling, one you could get used to.

at the doorway, gojo lets out a low 'shit!', nudging the door open with his foot. the faint sound of clattering follows as he kicks something out of the way. you glance down from your entirely too comfortable vantage point, spotting a smattering of cheap tinsel, all glittering in metallic silver and gold, tangled with round baubles that glisten faintly under the dim light.

some have little smears of glue, and uneven glitter patches, as if crafted by unsteady hands, but with earnest effort.

"you big on christmas or something?" you tease, delighting in how the tips of his ears light up like nose of a famous reindeer.

gojo freezes for a moment, almost sheepish as he clears a path, clearly trying to look as macho as possible as he gingerly pushes aside a string of green lights, "made those for my students," he mutters, "thought they'd like them in the classroom tomorrow."

your laugh grows louder, and gojo's brows furrow, his tone growing defensive, "it's a nice surprise for the classroom!"

"i'm not making fun of you!" you insist, leaning up to press a gentle, soothing kiss to the hollow of his collarbone, "it's sweet. i think it's really nice, actually. wait, you're a teacher?"

gojo's mouth quirks up in a faint smile, "something like that," he says cryptically, finally clearing a decent and hazard-free path into a sleek, and clean bedroom. it's all modern space, all clean lines in shades of cream and white, and navy.

gojo sets you down gently, and the plush fabric cradles you as your back lands on fresh linen. and for a quiet, tender moment, you're both caught in the stillness. gojo kneels at the edge of the bed, his hands resting lightly on each of your thighs as if he's anchoring himself there.

his gaze is steady, content, maybe even adoring in a way that feels too intimate for someone who you barely know. there's a warmth in his expression, like he's savouring the sight of you, searching for something — and he's found exactly what he's hoped for.

almost without thinking, you lift a hand, cupping the sides of his face. his skin is warm beneath your palm, soft with the faintest hint of pale stubble that seems to fade into his skin. the moment your hands makes contact, gojo leans into your touch instinctively, his white lashes fluttering closed.

"hey, 'toru," you murmur softly, "y'still with me?"

gojo's eyes snap open at the sound of that, sharp and bright, as if the nickname itself has sparked a challenge in him. a low and almost frustrated sound escapes from the back of his throat, and he presses a feather-light kiss to the inside of your knee.

you don't miss at how his teeth sink into his bottom lip again, worrying and working the plush flesh like he's trying to steady himself. spreading your weeping thighs aside, as his gaze is fixed on something. intense, unwavering. the sheer focus of it making heat creep up your neck.

at how he must be staring hungrily at damp, sheer red fabric that clings to the outline of your cunt. at how it must shimmer almost translucently now, the sticky slick of your arousal enhancing the gloss, making your panties glisten under the light.

you're feeling an unfamiliar kind of shy under the weight of his attention, at how he must see how the fabric clings closely to your puffy, swollen folds — the delicate weave exposing the shape of your taut pussy, practically weeping for his touch.

you needn't have asked, for gojo was already diving into deliver.

he's gliding his index finger over your dripping pussy, letting the tangy syrup sink onto his fingers, leaning in to press a sweet, almost innocent kiss to your clothed cunt, "she seems desperate for me, don'tcha think, heh?"

the sound of the fabric ripping is sharp and wet, a squelching and almost fleshy tone, a sound that's both soft and sharp to the blood rushing between your ears. a strained tear of your beautiful panties, leaving cool air to gently leave a kiss of its own upon your cunt.

you gape at him, a bit too stunned to find coherent words, "hey, what the f-fuck! those were like super expensive!"

gojo rolls his eyes, the kind of look that has a bit too much attitude for someone who's practically begging on his knees for a taste of you, "don't get all huffy on me, sweetheart. 'm gonna buy you more, is tha' alright?"

"i'll r-remember that, satoru," you murmur, giving a sharp tug at his white strands, "you gon' have to give me your number now."

gojo shudders, the muscles in his back rippling underneath his tight shirt, "was already gonna," and he's back to pressing soft, kitten licks to your now exposed folds, small circles over your throbbing clit.

you buck your canting hips closer to the heat of his mouth, to where the pink tip of his teasing tongue peeks out of a pretty mouth, "satoru, c'mon. can't you just, fuck—"

you sharply cry out as he presses his mouth forward, a sudden surge of heat jolting through you. burying himself deep, his nose brushing against the sweet, syrup that coats your pussy, and the rhythmic, wet movements of his tongue send shivers through your entire being.

"mhm, jus' as sweet as you look, baby," gojo gasps, swirling and flicking his tongue, teasing you with every deliberate patter of the muscle near your winking entrance. so messy, slick and you're not sure where he ends and you begin as it all glides together carnally.

gojo seems languidly tipsy, just from munching through the gloss of your cunt, far more intoxicated from your taste than any cheap christmas liquor. he alternates between pushing his tongue past the ring of your tight walls, and then wrapping his lips around the searing pulse of your clit, leaving your hips shaking and dragging over his mouth, smearing yourself over his chin.

you're fisting delicate white locks with fierce urgency, and he hisses and then chuckles into your pussy, "tch! ease up there for me, yeah? jus' move your hips like you were doin' before," and you comply, angling yourself better so he can flatten his tongue against your folds, jaw grinding deeper into you "hah, yeah, just like that."

"taking good care of you though, aren't i? wait, say it. say that 'm making you feel good," and he's bullying a long finger into your gummy walls, clingy and sopping, "say 'm making you feel better than a-anyone ever has," and you just mewl as your arousal must surely be dripping down his forearms, staining the cuffed sleeve of his shirt as he takes your sweet juices down his throat.

there's stars beginning to twinkle at the edge of your vision, and you know you must be close, for your heart is practically dancing a heavy beat against your ribcage, and you suddenly push his mouth away, watching as a clear strand of spit or your slick forms a taut bridge between his mouth and your folds.

"w-wait, satoru, s-stop."

gojo's head lifts, eyes blinking as if coming out of a faze. but then, like a switch, something sharp flickers behind his gaze and concern floods in. his thin brows furrow slightly, glossy lips parting as he reaches out, as if to steady your hips, "you okay, sweetheart? what's wrong?"

your heart stutters, pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it. you try to steady your breathing, but the tremour in your fingertips betray you as they gently slide through your hair, the silky strands tangling around your hand.

"nothin' wrong, 'toru. but i was gonna cum," and gojo's face, still flushed and soft with arousal, splits into a shy, amused grin.

"hah, i know. that's what i wanted," he's close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath hitting your aching cunt, but you shake your head again.

"feels unfair, wanna see you too. wan' you to cum in me,"

you watch, almost in awe, as a low and guttural sound escapes gojo satoru, raw and unfiltered. gojo runs his tongue over his lips, his eyes dark with something dangerously close to hunger.

"you sure?" and his voice is hoarse, unsure despite his roaming gaze. you nod, your hands digging into his shoulder, tugging at the crisp fabric of his dress shirt, desparate to feel the warmth of his skin underneath.

his shaky laugh of disbelief only makes you more aroused, whining for him to hurry up, and before you know it, he's standing up, towering over your boneless form on the sheets.

"how could i deny you anything?" he murmurs, echoing your earlier words. gojo's hands reach for the hem, the fabric shifting as he pulls it over his head, revealing a milky expanse of toned skin, smooth and taut over a set of abs that should easily land him on a gq list.

his waist is slender, defined in all the right places, and the soft taper of muscles make your breath catch. but the soft white trail of hair that reaches under his waistband makes your cunt clench.

"y'seem happy with the view, don'tcha?" gojo's voice is teasing, the cocky smirk tugging at his lips, but you can hear the impatience threading his tone now too. he's not as in control as he lets on, his hands now making quick work of his belt, leaving your mouth dry when he finally pushes his black boxers down.

you should have known that his cock would be as pretty and unfairly gorgeous as the rest of him. he's circling the strawberry-red tip, glowering and throbbing, right over your gathered slick, coating it and smacking the mushroom head in a thwack! over your poor clit, leaving you jolting as he laughs and leans down to kiss you sweetly once more.

"jus' look at me, yeah?" his drawl is slow, lazy and so ruined. at the first inch of his throbbing cock that slips through your walls, he looks utterly undone. a mess of sharp edges softened by something far more primal and raw.

gojo's head tips back, exposing the elegant line of his neck as the moonlight cascades over you, "hey, sweetheart, 's not too much, yeah?"

hazy blue eyes bore into you, and for a brief moment, in the time it takes for the lightning to strike the earth, you swear that his eyes glow. almost radiant and jewel-like, with cerulean fractals shimmering as if they're emitting life of their own. perhaps its simply the electrifying stretch of inches that's rendering you to hallucinate, whining as your nails find purchase in milky skin and rippling shoulders.

"i-it's big, 'toru," you pant, feeling him almost shudder at the clipped name again, as he grips the base of his cock to bully the final inch in, sighing in contentment as he finally bottoms out, with a wet pop!

gojo looks feral like this, heaving a breath through his mouth as though the air is being taken from him from every second he spends stretching you out on his fat shaft, "hah, 'm glad, i'm so glad i met you tonight, sweetheart. fuck, fuck, y'feel i-incredible."

he's pushing your thighs further back, running his hands over the plush skin, leaving bruising red prints that won't disappear tomorrow as you moan, wanton into his open mouth, letting gojo run his lips down your jaw and into the curve of your neck.

you're practically now folded in half under the bulk of his weight, feeling stars collide in absolutely astrophysical ways, impaled further on the long and thick length of his cock, "in so deep, s-satoru."

seems that gojo is a man of little mercy, for he seems only all the more invigorated by your squeals, drawing his torso back to watch the hypnotic smack of skin on skin, of your slick and creamy froth creating fresh rings over his pistoning cock.

he's entirely out of control, as you feel your body go limp from the pleasure shooting through every nerve and pore.

depraved.

you don't realise you might have let that slip out loud, so dizzy in your cockdrunk haze because gojo's suddenly ramming himself roughly in you, as though he was desperate to have his cock kiss your cervix, to feel for every divot and nook of your cunt's walls.

"d-depraved, hah. people call me, fuck, p-people call me a lotta things, sweetheart," and gojo's so good with it, letting your pussy have not even one moment to take reprieve, having you feel each vein and bulge of his cock, "but depraved is n-new."

the hand that was dancing over your thighs flies to your swollen, aching clit. practically glistening for his attention, and his attention you did receive, "right, t-there! 'toru, mmph!" you're trying to splay your legs wider, giving his quick hand more room to swirl tight circles where you needed him most.

your double-vision gaze lingers on the ripple of his muscles, the way his arms flex and shift as he seems intent on angling you just right for him to drill his cock over and over, at some freakish and feverish pace, "y'so good, gojo," you purr, and your nails curl against his arms, pressing just enough to leave tiny crescents in his skin, the faint dampness of his exertion clinging to him, "s-so strong!"

something shifts. the glow is back, electric blue flooding his eyes like crackling storm clouds. it's almost unnerving, this unearthly brightness, as if he's some ancient god wrapped up in human skin, and you've just stumbled into a divine revelation.

gojo stills for the briefest moment, the thick head of his cock snagging on your puffy folds as he draws himself almost entirely out. the absence of motion makes you whine, an airy and impatient sound escaping your throat. that hesitation feels like a tease, like a string that's been pulled so taut, before he finally dives forward, capturing your mouth in a messy, heated kiss. sloppy in its disregard.

"s-so strong, huh?" gojo's voice is rough, shaky, as though he's trying to centre himself but your tight pussy holds him in hypnotic sway, "y-you think so? think i'm the strongest?" his lips brush yours as he speaks, and there's something almost boyish and charming in the way that he seems to be fishing for a compliment, despite the low heat in his voice.

you pull back from his wet, spit-stringed lips. just enough to wrap your hands around his neck and push him closer, deeper into you as he gutturally groans, "if i s-say yes, are y'gonna keep showing off?"

gojo's laugh is short, breathless, "y-yeah, wanna see?"

he makes quick work of pushing himself back into you, pumping himself so far in that your slick must be painting and sopping the white hairs at the base of his cock almost translucent, "o-oh my god, 'toru, fuck, oh my god!" the stretch has your head spinning, as if the skies are parting above you, and you're melodramatically left to see the light of divinity as gojo bucks his hips harshly into you. as if he's too far gone, needs to prove himself to you with a good fuck.

"you h-have to say it," gojo stutters, his words tumbling out so quickly, like rough gravel, "say it, fuck, c'mon. say i'm — say i'm the s-strongest. you have to, hnghh, god. please, jus' agree, okay?" his voice is cracking, that cocky veneer entirely shattered under the weight of his rambling desperation as he practically rummages through your sopping insides, "y-you feel it right, i mean, you can feel me — i mean."

a high whine escapes your throat as his pace becomes almost olympian, and you wonder faintly how you haven't managed to sprain a muscle or break a bone yet, how he hasn't managed to shatter something with the sheer pace and force of how gojo satoru fucks, "hah, 'toru. i'm —"

"close? g-god, i hope so. 's what i want. nothing, like n-nothing feels better than this right?" his words are falling out of him in a messy, pussydrunk rush, his eyes flickering between your face and down to where your pussy lips are bulged around his shaft, "so good, right? the b-best thing you've ever —"

you truthfully don't even hear the rest of his words, blood absolutely roaring and rearing in your ears, your ribcage as you feel the tight coil snap, letting out short, slurred snaps of his name when you cum. as he doesn't quite let up on smacking his hips right against your ass, "s-satoru, 's getting s-sensitive, oh, fuck. fuck!"

he's suddenly whining, with pleading and erratic blue eyes chasing after you, sloppily pushing down so he can gasp and pant into your open mouth, before capturing you in a heart-stopping kiss as he finally gets milked dry by your pulsing and fluttering walls. in awe of how creamy white is practically leaking out of you, dripping a stringy trail over the flesh of your thighs.

you're agape at how utterly fucked he looks right now, though you're certain you do not look much better as fat tears prick at your eyes, streaming past your ears from the overstimulation, "s-still fillin' me up, 'toru. god, do ya always cum this much?"

at first, you don't even get a response from gojo who just sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck, almost as if he's trying not to cry out, but then he's back to circling your clit with a rough hand, "makin' me sound like some kinda whore, s-sweetheart. 'n and i told you. don't do this m-much."

and now he's slowing down, pleasurably painful bucks of his hips keeping glossy, white seed in you. ensuring that it coats your entire entrance, "an' it's not my fault that she," and here, he gives your clit a small smack! grinning like a madman, "n-not my fault that she's so, hah, addictive."

each tight circle of his hand on your clit sends you hurtling into yet another orgasm, one that has you begging gojo for mercy, repreive, for more. an orgasm that has him whispering the sweetest nothings into your ear, "d-don't worry, gotcha like this. gonna let you rest n-now, jus' gotta relax for me."

by the time he's slipping his still somehow hard cock out of your creamed cunt, you can feel exhaustions heavy and caring hands caress you, rendering your body limp and boneless. your eyes heavy and hazy, but you can feel a soft ghost of gojo's kiss over the shell of your ear, "h-hope y'still here in the morning, sweetheart. don't leave, yeah?"

the morning sunlight filters through the blinds, and despite the ache in your limbs that cricks your bones, you drag yourself out of bed. christmas day, after all. you've thrown on gojo's dress shirt from last night, snug enough to flutter around your hips, but oversized enough around the shoulders to let you drown in it.

it's cozy though, and even the chilly air feels refreshing against the warmth clinging to you. gojo is still sound asleep, and you had smiled at how he took little puffs of air as he was passed flat out in bed. but you always like to be up early on christmas, and there's something about the holiday that makes you feel like you need to earn the right to nap later.

you wander around the bedroom for a bit, stretching your legs as your muscle protest in earnest. eventually, you decide to make your way to that kitchen. breakfast, right.

it seems like a good idea, especially considering the last thing in your stomach was a questionably sour vodka. so you pull open the fridge, expecting something befitting of this apartment. perhaps a slab of wagyu beef, a tin of caviar, a thick block of pistachio-cream dubai chocolate. you'd even settle for sushi.

instead, you're left staring back at a stack of candy canes, some strawberry yoghurt, a carton of milk and some fast food wrappers. despite your protesting stomach, a deep amusement washes over you. it doesn't surprise you that gojo would have a fridge stocked with food you'd find at a child's birthday party and a greasy diner.

still, breakfast is in order and because you can't help it, you pull out a candy cane and start unwrapping it. you're just about take a bite when you hear the unmistakable pad of footsteps. you turn, face to face with someone who would clearly not be out of place on a vogue covershoot.

gojo hasn't tossed on a shirt, and the sunlight filters over his chiselled physique before your sight is stolen by the loose sheet wrapped around his waist. delicious. you try to snap your gaze back to his face, but it's hard to not track your gaze down his torso, like a cat eyeing a particularly irresistible sunbeam.

"good morning to you too," gojo says, a grin curling his lips, "what are you doing?" his voice is still thick with interrupted sleep, laced with a morning rasp that forces you to ground yourself and stop falling prey to the god, eros and his machinations.

"breakfast, 'm starving."

"don't bother," gojo says, shaking his head, "we can go somewhere nice for breakfast. like real, actual food. don't think you want half-eaten yoghurt."

you nod enthusiastically, mind turning back to the peeling seal of the strawberry yoghurt with a spoon sticking out of it. but then, something else catches your mind's attention. a little curiosity piques, one that you cannot help but ask him.

"wait," you begin, snapping your teeth around the saccharine mint of the candy cane, "y'know what's crazy. like, i swear your eyes glowed last night. not even in a silly compliment way, but like electricity. i thought i was like, losing it.'

you expect gojo to brush it off with a wink, or maybe laugh it off like you're just teasing him. but instead, the man's face shifts, that cocky smile faltering for the briefest moment. it's gone so fast that you think you almost imagined it. but why does he look...almost guilty?

before you can process that, you realised you've leaned yourself over the counter, and in your absent-mindedness, your elbow presses a button on the answering machine. a small beep, and suddenly, a voice blares through the room,

"hey, gojo-sensei!" comes a high-pitched, distinctly teenage voice, an excited boy who sounds a little crackly over the speaker, "so, we found this grade one curse yesterday...and uh, we totally got rid of it. we were gon' call you, but you didn't pick up. but i almost got my arm torn off. wait, no! that sounds dramatic, i got shoko to look at it anyway. so what we're all wondering right is that we don't have to hand in any homework now right? as like reparations?"

the voice crackles off, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. you stand there, absolutely dumbstruck, staring at the answering machine like it's about to burst into flames or start singing christmas carols.

gojo, meanwhile, has the most awkward look on his face, clearly caught between embarrassment...and what? panic, amusement?

"satoru, what the fuck?"

he looks at you for a moment, but instead of speaking, he lets out a long and exasperated sigh before pulling out one of the counter chairs, "you're gonna want to sit down for this one, sweetheart."

[dilf-docs]

It Always Leads To You

joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: it's been a year; now you're back. how can joel be so sure of those old summer feelings in your eyes when there's a new hand holding yours?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, toxic relationship, cheating and infidelity themes, mutual pinning, kinda dark!joel, smut, p. in v., pussy pronouns, oral (f. receiving), fingering, manhandling, lowkey forced creampie, ANGST, the taylor swift evermore (2020) references go wild, happy ending cause y'all weak asses voted for it and i love to keep my citizens happy!

word count: 5,199 words

side note: my joel miller era is alive and breathing after this tlou re-watch i'm doing my brother swears it's for him but it's mostly me and my fic/womanly reasons, yes we love gaslight girlkeep girlbossing in here gotta say, finding inspiration for this amidst my wattpad duties and christmas movie marathon was harder than i thought lol. was it worth the wait? please like, comment and reblog to let me know! it's based on this request (they're still open btw!)

part: I / II

Holidays linger like bad perfume.

Your eyes wander through the streets: the roads you've got to call home, the ones where you grew up. They're familiar, but so foreign, it's hard to believe they're the same ones where you scrapped your knees at ten and kissed Joel just last winter. It's as if both timelines, your life, feels more like two separate lives, miles apart.

"Hey, you okay?" tender, from the driver's seat; you're still getting used to the soft.

There's a reassuring smile your way, his hand finding yours to give it a squeeze. You notice his palm is the same size as yours. It fits perfectly, but there's a ghost of what it feels like to have it all wrapped up, looming over your itchy palm like all the yearning's a joke.

You nod. "Just tired. That's all"

He sighs. "If I wanted you to lie to me, I would've just asked"

"I'm not lying" you defend yourself as his pickup truck parks on the sidewalk.

He makes a funny face, and you laugh.

"I'm serious, Nick" your lips purse, a thing you do when you lie, yet he still hadn't noticed, like Joel. "Don't worry"

He doesn't look that convinced, so you take off your seat belt and grab his hand.

"C'mon. Mom and dad must be waiting for us"

"Hey" Nick calls you out.

"Yeah?"

"Who lives there?" and he's pointing behind you.

It's his. Joel's house.

"A friend of my dad's" you answer, dryly.

It was last december when you stood there in his porch, begging. It feels like time has stopped ever since, and you're still right where he left you.

"So will he be here?" Nick asks. "You know, since he knows your dad"

"Don't think so" you shrug, "he's got better things to do anyway. Bitter old man" comes out, with more venom than intended.

"Oh! Alright, sorry for asking"

You come back to your senses, realizing you've shared more than you should.

"No, I'm sorry. It's not that important; let's just go inside"

Your mom and dad greet you as soon as you cross the door. Last year, you'd basically fled away before New Year's, with a poor excuse and a broken heart. They both greet you as if nothing happened, although you're sure they remember your tear streamed face coming back from Joel's house, where it all ended.

As your mom corners Nick with kisses and embarrassing questions, your dad whispers to you:

"Joel asked what happened" you quirk and eyebrow, "wanted to know why you left"

"Eh, it's not important" you try to dismiss. "Definitely not as important for a guy like Joel to know"

"What is that supposed to mean?" your dad inquires. You often wonder if they knew.

"Nothing" you laugh nervously. "Listen, why don't you go and meet Nick, yeah? Did you know he likes fishing too?"

The distraction works with your dad; the same can't be said about you.

There's conversation flowing, but through the snow covered window, your eyes keep glancing back to his own. The view is dark, and you ponder if he's fled as well, the town plagued with memories too painful to reminisce.

You can still feel his hands roaming your body, the lust filled gaze that hid warmth. Every time he touches you, you have to remind you he isn't there: that the lips that kiss you, don't taste like his, that the hands that hold you, aren't big as his, and that the face that looks at you like they'll never choose another, is one you haven't learned to love yet.

Joel's memory cuts like thorns: they sink their teeth into your heart, that bleeds with that blood-colored sadness you're all too familiar with. He's poisoned you. But-- isn't it his love also the antidote for this disease he's gave you?

You abruptly stand up, plate half eaten.

"I-I need some air"

It's cold outside, but you don't care. All you want to do is sit on the porch, and drop some tears, something you can do inside too, but the fear of your muffled cries being able to be heard stops you.

You walk towards the stairs, to sit there like you do on summer days, yet there's now a difference: the snow. So you end up slipping, falling with your butt on the floor.

You yelp, embarrased although no one can see you.

"Need help?"

That you're wrong, apparently.

You don't even need to raise your view to know who that voice belongs to: you know it like a record, spinning in circles on your head.

He offers his strong hand your way, and although the cold wind hits your face, you're back to spring on the cabin: wet feet, bright sun and beating heart.

"I can get up myself" you reject his help, pushing the hand out. You keep avoiding his gaze, so you don't see how he's reacted, yet you hope he feels bad about it.

You walk up to the front door, and it takes you a while to realize he hasn't left yet. On top of that, it seems like he's following you. Just what you needed.

"What are you doing here?" you question, but your tone sounds like you're offended.

"Your folks invited me over" Joel answers, "Says they got a special guest"

"Yeah" this time, you do look back, finding him to be much closer than you thought he'd be. Yet you stand tall, defiant even. "It's my boyfriend"

You savour the way his expression falters, before the stoic façade takes over again.

"Boyfriend?" Joel scoffs, as if you just told the funniest joke ever.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" you bite back. "What? Think a pretty girl can't get a new man?"

"Never said I'd doubt'it" he clicks his tongue. "Y'a could get any man you'd want, sugar"

Ironically, the only man you want stands before you.

"Right" you chuckle dryly, "I think it's kind of funny of you to say that"

Joel's eyes bore into yours, a clash of emotions circling in his chocolate orbs.

"Y/n-"

"Don't" you stop him. Then sigh, defeated. "Let's just go inside"

As soon as you both arrive on the dinning room, your parents both greet Joel. Then, they introduce him to their guest, just as promised.

"Joel, this is Nick, y/n's boyfriend" your father speaks. "Nick, this is Joel, a dear old friend of mine"

Nick, as the gentleman he is, offers his hand. Joel accepts, but you can see the barely desguised displease behind his eyes.

"Wow, strong grip" Nick comments before joking, "you can let go now, I'm not going anywhere"

The hidden meaning of his words, whether intentional or not, hit Joel in the face. It's obvious by the way he backtracks, letting go of Nick's hand.

As you sit again, Nick leans to your side and whispers.

"Is this the guy who lives in the house across the street?" you nod. "Thought you'd said he had better plans. But, see? I told you: no plan's more important than coming to your house"

He's always making jokes, trying to make you smile, but it's done the opposite now. The food has gone cold long ago, yet you cut through the meat with a violence so palpable, even your mom tells you to slow down.

The nerve of Joel, showing up to your house like it's nothing, talking to you like he's unaware of his spell on you, acting like Nick is some sort of competition when he pulled out of the race himself a winter ago.

"So, Nick. How did you two meet?" your mom adresses him, eager to know details.

"It was at a party, actually, through mutual friends. Not a very spectacular story, that I know. What's funny is, she asked me what hour it was. And what did I say?"

"He didn't answer my question. Instead, he said: For you, I'm available any hour" you answer.

Your parents laugh, but Joel remains quiet. You wonder what he's thinking.

"You know" looking at Nick while cutting the steamed vegetables a little too agressive, "y/n actually hates parties"

"Joel" you warn through gritted teeth.

"Really? I didn't know that!" Nick seems so genuine, Joel can't help but hate him. He looks at you, concerned "You didn't tell me"

You can't believe he would rat you out like that. The appropiate word isn't hate, and you don't know how to describe it, but parties aren't really your environment; if you can, you'd choose to be anywhere else.

He'll pay for that.

"Joel" you seethe, an ugly smile painted in your features, "did you know Nick knows how to fish?"

It's a direct jab at him. He feels stupid for letting you get to him. The inferiority complex towards some random guy he just met, years younger, is actually laughable.

"I like-" Nick wants to add on that.

"Well" Joel interrupts, looking at you. "You never taught me like ya' were s'pposed to"

"You never cared to learn" you reply, acidic.

He sips his drink, trying to hide the smirk that's formed on his lips. You can't shut up, and he loves you've stayed the same.

"That means I've got some classes to take" Joel leans back on his chair, relaxed like he's won this round. "Just tell me when"

The tension cuts like the storm that's just formed outside.

"You should stay over, Joel" your dad offers when he takes a peak at the climate, "it's too dangerous outside"

Joel seems indestructible, like not even a snow blizzard could pierce through the rough old man. But he agrees, much to your dismay.

It's probably midnight already, and all you've done is toss around the bed. Nick peacefully snores next to you, and you envy how easily he falls asleep. You've always find it hard to sleep, the nighttime plagued with too many loud thoughts that fill the silence.

You get up carefully, heading downstairs for some water. You sip with tranquility when a noise jolts you from your sit.

The wooden floor creaks, making you aware you're not alone anymore.

"Can't sleep?"

You don't answer, seeing his sturdy figure emerge from the shadows until the dim moonlight shines over his aging features. Silence settles in. Outside, the wind howls, bumping against the windows with violence, like your heart does now against your chest.

"Not much of a talker, are you?"

"There's nothing to talk" cuts your response through the thick tension, the air suddenly suffocating.

You take another sip, but the tremble of your hand doesn't go unnoticed by Miller.

"Right" Joel sits next to you, on the kitchen island. "Won't even look at me, sugar? You've got eyes" his voice drops, "use 'em"

"What are you doing, Joel?" you ask looking at him, tears threatening to spill, making your bright eyes shimmer with pain.

He gets up abruptly, like he's woken up from a trance. He's seen his own pain on your eyes, and he hates it.

"Joel?" you ask again, demanding but softly.

He can't answer. Instead, he leaves.

"Goodnight, y/n" voice raw, many emotions boiling, hidden on the inside. It hurts.

If you hadn't changed, Joel too stayed the same.

A goddamn coward.

Two days have passed since, and now it's Christmas Eve.

You kneel, putting the presents under the tree. Normally, your parents would have much more people around for the holidays, but thanks to the storm, it's just them, Nick, Joel and you.

"I'm gonna miss Mrs. Stone's cookies" you pout, "I wish she could be here"

"It's a big loss for tonight" your dad sighs. "Next time, yeah? Christmas will come again faster than you think"

You nod, still absent as he walks away.

"Hey" Joel pops up behind, seemingly from nowhere.

"Hey" you reply, voice laced with tiredness just at the sight of him. How will you manage to survive until New Year's? You have no idea, the task harder if he's staying in the same house as you are.

"Put this in there, will ya'?"

He hands you a box, neatly wrapped up. What stands out the most is the silver bow on top. Your stomach drops: it's your favorite color.

"Y-yeah" you stammer. When the present falls in your hands, you notice it looks like Joel did it himself.

"Didn't know you were capable of nice things" you whisper. There's no anger in your voice, only loss.

"I'm trying" is what he says, before leaving you alone. Until then, you realize he had been touching you, the skin where his hand was on your shoulder burning.

Dinner goes by swiftly, conversation flowing easily courtesy of Nick and your father, who both have in common the love for talking. It may be your brain messing with you, but his eyes never leave you, fixated on your every move, savoring when your lips open and take a bite; when you lick them afterwards, salt in your mouth he'd love to take off in a movement of his tongue. The ghost of your lips haunts him, cruelly playing with his yearning now that he's got you across the table. It's a few centimeters, really, but it feels like you're miles away: and it's his fault. You're no longer his, and he's reminded of it every time your boyfriend kisses what he once had.

Now it's time to open the presents, and you excitedly raise your hand to go first.

"Alright, sweetheart. You know I can't deny you anything" your father beams, "go ahead. Choose any present you'd like to open first"

Joel's eyes are on you, and you know he's desperately waiting for you to open his first. Maybe partly in courage, maybe partly in fear, but you choose Nick's first: something safe to start with.

"That's mine!" he chirps, and Joel mockingly imitates his kid-like joy under his breath.

You unwrap the present, finding a small box inside.

"Please, don't be another box" you joke, and he laughs.

"You think that low of me? Please"

You keep unwrapping and find a bag. The bag has a small tag that reads: Gotcha.

"Nick! God, you're so corny" you tease as you open the bag. Inside, there's a velvet box, and by the looks of it, you can tell it's jewelry. You gasp, pulling out a silver charm tied to a silver thin chain: it's a marlin fish. "Nick..."

"I know. Marlin isn't your favorite fish, but that's all I could find" you get up, wrapping him on a tight hug. Aware you've got an audience, he leans and whispers "I knew fishing was special to you, because of your dad and childhood. Maybe now" he takes it from your hands, carefully putting it around your neck, "it can also be our special thing"

Joel sees the scene unfold in front of him, his grip tight on the cloth of his jeans until it's white. His jaw clenches at the affection display; all he sees is red.

"What about that one?" your mom points out Joel's present. A pit of nerves forms in your stomach. "I don't remember seeing it there"

Before you can grab it, your dad moves faster, examining the box on his hands.

"It's Joel's" he makes a pause, "for y/n"

You pretend to be shocked, and you can tell Nick tenses at your side.

"You didn't tell me you were close"

"Used to" you correct quickly, despite the knot on your throat. "Not anymore"

"He still got you a present, though"

You don't get to answer because your dad leaves the box on your lap.

"Open it" it's soft but feels threathing for some reason, "I'm curious"

Joel's resting hands tremble as much as yours while you open the present. You reveal the simple white box under the wrap, opening it up.

Your voice comes out shaky as you call his name. And he can see it: the muffled laughters on the shed, the warmth of the cabin's fire, the fogged up windows of his car, the bruises on your tits and that voice, so vulnerable, he can see you on his porch, saying those three words that terrified him so much, his solution was breaking your heart.

"What is it?" your dad asks.

"It's a scarf" the fabric tickles your fingers that wander through the loose strands.

You remember it all too well.

"Oh, it's vintage!" your mom comments when she sees the worn-out aspect.

But just as your affair with Joel, you keep the secret of it's real owner.

"It's perfect" you mutter, remembering better times: ones where he'd wrap the scarf colored as the leaves on the ground around your neck, covering bruises he'd just made while you joked you'd steal it, and Joel would say he'd just let you, that it looked better on you anyway.

You've forgotten the good, so used to thinking of Joel at your worst, like a punishment to endure and sink your shipwreck even deeper. You felt lost, replaying memories that seemed stuck on a loop. Since last december, all you've known is pain; creeping up through the cracks in your fleeting happiness, one you've tried to find to no avail. One day, past the curses and cries, maybe there'll be happiness. But as for now, that day seems terribly far.

As he sees your teary gaze, Joel often wonders were it went wrong. When did hurt was all you had for him in that gaze of yours he can't bare to look that long, not before he's reliving all those seasons by your side, replaying his footsteps on the snow, grass, water and fallen leaves, trying to find the one where it all went wrong. The torture he now wears like a second skin, his agony painted words addressed to the fire of a house that feels so empty and alone.

"We should continue" your dad speaks over the silence, "there are still many presents left"

The night moves slowly, and the scarf you've chosen to wear is now suffocating around your neck. But you can't take it off. This is the closest you've been to Joel on a year; it still smells like him. As the presents run out, you excuse yourself early to bed, only to wake up again in the middle of the night. You want to pee, so you exit your room and walk to the bathroom, your bare feet against the cold wood sending shivers down your spine that only seem to augment when you walk past his door, next to the bathroom. After being done, you splash some water on your face, as if that would make some sense get to you.

"What are you doing?" you ask yourself in the mirror. Your tired reflection stares back at you, in silence.

You open the door, ready to go back to bed when a hand covers your mouth and shoves you inside.

"Don't scream" your cries go muffled against his hand, the calloused digits pressing against your soft skin, "wanna wake 'em up?"

You shake your head, so he lets your mouth free.

"Joel" you call out, but he's facing the door, his back all you see. No sound can be heard, aside from his uneven breaths.

"I'm sorry" he says, and then you hear the small click of the door's lock.

"What the hell?"

This time, he faces you, but his movements are so quick you don't register his lips on yours until it's too late. He kisses you like a starved man who hasn't had a meal in years, eating you out while your body acts up on it's own, the urgency embarrasing even.

"No" you pull back. Your mind screams in guilt at how much you want this, and that's all you can hear aside from his ragged breaths.

"No?"

"It isn't fair"

"To lover boy out there?" he teases, "I know he ain't treating you right, or ya' wouldn't look me the way ya' do"

"Don't, Joel" your tone is icy, "Nick treats me better than you ever could"

He laughs, darkly. "You know I ain't meant that" he corners you against the sink, the material cold against your bare legs; you don't sleep with nothing but an oversized t-shirt, despite the weather.

"Riddle me this, sugar: if he treats you so well, why are you so fucking wet?"

Your heart beats so fast you fear you'll die. He gets closer, his hot breathe prickling against your ear.

"It takes a man to please a woman" he tucks a loose strand behind your ear, "and I ain't leaving my baby displeased"

His fingers pull down the panties until your clit is exposed.

"Look at 'er" he traces a teasing finger over the puffy skin, coated on your slick "missed me, didn't she? Gonna treat 'er so good, she won't ever feel lonely again"

He softly kisses your neck, the trepidation and regret tying your stomach in knots.

Joel teases your needy core with his finger.

"Tell you somethin', sugar" Joel finds it hard to hide his adoration, "I missed 'er too"

He stares into your eyes while pushing two rough fingers inside your cunt. You bite your lip, holding back your moans.

"Need summ help?" he kisses you roughly, smirking when he feels your shaky breath against his lips. He pushes them in and out faster, making your walls squeeze tightly around his fingers.

"Did he ever have you comin' this fast? I'ont think so" he whispers against your neck. You whisper his name through labored breaths, making a smug smile adorn his features. "Good girl"

He proceeds to kneel down, despite the creak of his bones. You see him leave a trail of kisses down your thighs, your legs opening wider in response. His tongue gives rapid flickers against your sensitive bud, aware of the lack of time. He slurps the pulsing cunt, his head moving back and forth while he sucks, coating his moustache on your juices. Joel goes back to the quick movements, tongue knowing your spots and twisting fingers as aid, causing your back to arch.

"Fuck" you curse as you come, gripping the sink a bit too tight.

Joel then pulls away and places his fingers coated in your arousal in his mouth and licks them. He sees the obscene display in the fogged mirror, satisfied.

"Goodnight, sugar" Joel bids goodbye like it's nothing, kissing your lips that taste like you. "Still as sweet as ever"

It's New Year's Eve.

"You're leaving?" you sound so sad, Joel can't help but scoff. In the end, he'd stayed long after the storm had passed, your father arguing holidays weren't meant to be spent alone. So he stayed.

And now, Nick is leaving.

"I'm sorry" he apologizes for the millionth time, "but granny is sick. I don't know if she'll make it another year, so say the doctors. I would love to stay, really, but I have to be with her"

You understand, having lost your grandad years ago. But that doesn't mean you're okay with it: Nick leaving means a clear path for Joel, who didn't stop with him sleeping next room, and certainly won't now, despite not having interacted with you since he ate you out on the bathroom.

He pulls you into a long hug and a kiss that doesn't feel the same anymore. "Will you be okay?"

"Yeah" you nod, "I'll miss you though"

"Well, I'll be all yours when you get back"

You smile but it doesn't reach your eyes.

"See you, y/n. I love you"

Your lips purse after you utter those three words back.

Later at night, the house is filled with guests. The lively environment is restored, and you feel less confined to Joel's claws, so many faces to speak and distract yourself with, compared to Christmas and the past couple of days. You clutch the marlin charm tightly, mind busy wandering to places it shouldn't. Joel stares at you from across the room, eyes trained on you as he sips his drink calmly, like he's won; you don't know why he's keeping score if he already knows it. You wander off to the kitchen, and Joel follows you.

"You have to stop" you speak as soon as he enters, aware he would follow you.

"I ain't do shit"

You turn around, facing him. "Bullshit, Joel"

"Tell me, what'd I do?" he comes closer, and despite your erratic heart and fear, you stay still; challenging.

"You did this, Joel" his expression falters for a second, the weight of last december's crimes dawning on him. "Don't try to make me feel guilty"

"I ain't. That wasn't your fault" he sighs, breath dragging long like a cigarrette. "But this" he motions with his hands the reduced distance, "this it is"

Your breath hitches.

"We can't keep doing this, Joel. Nick doesn't deserve it"

He pins you against the counter with force, gripping the skin of your wrists until you're sure you'll get a bruise. Joel's eyes darken at the thought of your frail and soft body under his rough figure and belly, his strength and your weakness making the job of putting you under his will, so much easier.

"Don't say his name" he whispers, his breath laced with alcohol, "he ain't here anymore. Ain't nothing to stop me now, right, sugar?" Joel purrs as he steps towards you, taking your face in his hands before starting a heated kiss, making you stumble.

This was so wrong, but it felt so right, the missing pieces falling like dominoes.

He was your pain divine: you needed his hurt to bleed and feel alive again. Maybe the red of the blood and the blue of your sadness could paint your darkest grey skies with a happiness you've craved since you lost him.

"Tell me to stop" Joel whispers, tempting like a devil as he kisses down your neck, littering it with hickeys.

"Don't"

Next thing you know, you're excusing yourself upstairs and then Joel goes missing too, both inside of your bedroom.

Your dress was the first thing to go.

"Wear it for me?" you're about to answer, lips pursing, but he cuts you off, "and don't lie, sugar. Don't get too used to the bad girl schtick"

"I only wore this dress so you could take it off"

He kisses you desperately, legs wrapped around his waist while he carries you to bed, and the memories of your first flood you as he drops you down to your back, watching the way you bounce. He has you just like he wanted: moaning his name while he leaves tender kisses on the soft bare flesh.

"Joel-" you gasp. Despite the chatter downstairs and music, you try to remain low as he wraps his lips around your nipples. He then moves to your breasts, covering them with his kisses and hickeys. He hadn't touched a woman ever since you left, the feeling of the rosy innocent skin on his rough teeth making him loose all common sense, the real thing even better than what he would try to conjure when he fucked himself in the bathroom at the memory of you.

He groans when he feels your hands roaming over his back, nails digging on the scarred skin.

"Someone's eager" he teases, seeing your damp underwear. "Is this 'cause of me?" you don't answer, too busy removing the cloth, only for his strong fingers to grab you and stop you. "Don't be shy, answer baby. We got a whole new year, yeah?"

"I need you Joel" you whine, not laughing at the joke "cut the crap"

He pushes you gently back down to the bed. "So needy sugar, want me to help ya'?"

You eagerly nod, making him laugh. But there's no mock, only love behind the sound.

"Will you let this old man take care of ya', pretty baby? Just use your words, and I'll be all y'rs"

"Do it, Joel. Just do it"

You gasp as your folds begin to be prodded open by the fat head of Joel's cock. You curse, feeling him push in just the tip, the sweet burn of your walls welcoming his size making you grab his arms that stand at the sides of your body, caging you in.

His tummy pushes against your stomach as he adjusts himself, his weight sinking your body on the creaking matress.

"'S just the tip, ready for the whole thing?"

You needed him, all of him.

"Yes, Joel. I want you" You say and he pushes in slowly, feeling his cock fill up every empty space that craved for him.

You squeeze your eyes shut as his hips roll back pulling out about halfway before rocking back in. His sloppy thrusts pick up a familiar pace that makes you moan and beg for more, head falling against the sheets as his pace speds up until he's fucking you senseless.

Joel's brain goes blank at the sight of you creaming on his dick and the obscene sounds leaving your pretty mouth. Did he really give this up? He'd definitely go back in time and slap the fuck out of his past self, because there is simply nothing better than having you under him, screaming his name like that's all you can ever say.

"Does he fuck you like this, huh?" Joel angles his hips, resuming his brutal pace. Your body jolts with each snap. "Is he enough for you?"

"Yes" his stomach drops, dark eyes now hesitant, "but he isn't you"

He pushes himself back in, your eyes fluttering shut almost immediately.

"Tell me you'll leave him, y/n. Look me in the eyes and tell me who ya' really belong to"

Your eyes snap open at the possesiveness clashed with jealousy that drips from his sweat-soaked lips.

The confession falls easily, as meant to be. "Yours, Joel. Always was and will be"

He could cum just at the sight of your loving doe eyes.

Downstairs, the countdown begins, but in your room, all you can hear are his soft groans and your pathetic whimpers, and if the people would stop shouting, you could probably hear the squelch of your dripping cunt sucking in his girth with each thrust.

After a few more erratic thrusts, you feel his warm cum fill you up. Joel was always obsessed with how his cum seeped out of you and around his cock. Without thinking, his rough fingers push deep in you, making you yelp as he makes sure he isn't wasting a drop behind.

The countdown ends, and fireworks erupt outside as your head rests on the crook of his sweat covered neck.

"I love ya', sugar" those words you thought you imagined that one time, now real, so goddamn real his voice quivers and eyes get tearful with grief, "'S okay if ya' don't say it. I just wanted you to hear 'em. 'M just tired of wastin' my time"

He wraps your lips with his with tenderness you had only dreamed of. There is still a lot to talk and heal, but this time, his arms hold you like a promise. And you let yourself believe it.

Y/n's New Years' purposes: 1. Break up with Nick 2. Try to explain this seasonal mess to mom and dad 3. At last, try to be happy

[witchywithwhiskey]

so glittery

pairing: sugar daddy!steve rogers x sugar baby!female reader

summary: when your sugar daddy returns from a long business trip on christmas eve, you're waiting for him—on your knees in the prettiest lingerie money could buy—and he's just as happy to see you as you are him.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, established relationship, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, hand jobs, brief masturbation (m), very brief anal play (f receiving), light bdsm, size kink, praise kink, daddy kink, dirty talk, pet names (princess, baby, pretty present), sex with feelings, aftercare, very happy/fluffy ending

word count: 5.1k

a/n: here's my december 10 entry for @the-slumberparty's december daze challenge and it's only like 4 days late 😅 i used the prompt: "I'm your present." i've been wanting to write a sugar daddy steve rogers fic for a bit and this seemed like a good opportunity!! also, the title is inspired by the kacey musgraves christmas song, "glittery." hope y'all enjoy!! ♡

december daze challenge masterlist

Excitement was an effervescent cocktail of glorious anticipation and glittery joy, thrumming through your body and throbbing between your thighs while you checked your makeup in the hall mirror before lowering yourself to your knees in perfect view of the front door. 

Your fingers distractedly smoothed over the lace and ribbons and bows that wrapped around your body, and you had to stop yourself from bouncing where you sat while you strained your ears to hear the sounds of the elevator. You couldn’t wait for the man you were expecting to walk through the door. It had been too long since you’d last seen him.

Your sugar daddy, Steve Rogers, had been on a business trip oversees for nearly a month, and you were the first person he’d see after returning to New York City on Christmas Eve. He’d texted you only moments ago to let you know he was in the elevator on the way up to his penthouse apartment, where you waited for him.

When you’d planned your Christmas Eve reunion together, he’d had very specific requests for how he wanted you to be waiting for him, and you’d been all too happy to indulge in his demands. It sent another pulse of excitement through your body when you thought about how Steve would react when he walked in and found you already on your knees for him.

Seconds later, the front door of the penthouse swung open and Steve’s reaction didn’t disappoint. 

The moment the gloriously handsome man laid eyes on you, he came to an abrupt halt, one hand still on the door while his blue eyes were riveted on only you. Steve stood in the open doorway for a long minute while his gaze feasted on the sight you presented to him. 

A bright, beaming smile spread across your face the longer he stared, your body warming under his gaze as you struggled not to look down at yourself. You already knew how you looked. You’d spent a ridiculously long time searching for the perfect set of lingerie, which you’d purchased at Steve’s behest—and with his black Amex. 

But after all that time searching, you were happy with what you’d found. The lingerie was tastefully Christmas themed, hugging your curves in red silk and lace. Little white bows accented different parts of your body, with one nestled perfectly between your tits. 

Steve’s eyes seemed stuck on that particular bow, watching your tits bouncing lightly in the ribbons and lace as your breathing picked up with your excitement. Anticipation was bubbling champagne in your veins, and you leaned forward slightly, arching your back and giving your sugar daddy an even more enticing look at your body. 

The movement seemed to snap Steve out of whatever spell he’d been under because he cleared his throat and finally stepped further into the apartment, closing the door behind him. He tossed his keys onto table in the entryway and shed his coat, hanging it up on the door to the closet without taking his eyes off you.

His silent staring gave you time to properly look at your sugar daddy for the first time in weeks. 

Steve was dressed casually in a soft-looking black sweater and dark gray wool slacks. His broad shoulders filled out the comfy looking fabric, while the sleeves of the sweater were pushed up slightly to reveal his toned forearms. You took notice of his toned legs briefly, but you couldn’t keep your gaze away from his handsome face for too long.

Your sugar daddy’s blue eyes were sparkling, even as his gaze continued to darken with lust. His mouth was curving into a delicious little smirk, and his lips looked impossibly pink against the pale skin of his clean-shaven jaw. With his blond hair swept back from his face, you had the urge to rake your fingers through it and drag him to you for a kiss.

“Now, what do we have here?” Steve rumbled, prowling further into the apartment until he stood just in front of you. 

He was so close, you had to crane your neck back to look up at him, which only made your body tighten with excitement. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his slacks, and though his stance was casual, you could practically feel the lust radiating off him.

Steve quirked an eyebrow expectantly, and you finally found your tongue to offer the greeting he was expecting.

“I’m your present.”

The words had been one of Steve’s requests for your reunion, and even though he’d known they were coming, you enjoyed the slight hitch of his breath and the way his eyes narrowed slightly on you—and the way his cock twitched to life in the front of his pants. 

Already, you were growing wet enough to leak into the panties of the expensive lingerie you’d purchased, your arousal an insistent pulse in your core. You shifted on your knees, pressing your thighs together while you tried to keep your gaze fixed on Steve’s face and not let it drop to the thickening length so close to your face.

“Such a pretty present,” Steve cooed sweetly, reaching out and stroking his thumb over your cheek. 

The pad of his finger moved lower, running along your lip. You couldn’t help yourself—you ducked forward, taking his thumb into your mouth and giving him an affectionate little suckle. 

Steve’s eyes darkened further, his voice dropping into a low, husky tone as he went on, “And how do pretty presents say hello?”

You smirked, your body warming with anticipation as Steve pulled his thumb from between your lips. His hand slipped back into his pocket, curling like it was wrapping around something, and leaving you to stare up his large body from your position at his feet. 

Leaning forward, you held Steve’s gaze while you pressed your soft cheek against the lap of his slacks, feeling his cock twitch beneath the thick wool. Your mouth spread into a wide, sultry smile and you turned your face to brush a kiss against Steve’s hard length, reveling in the way it jumped beneath your lips, like his body was greeting you back.

“Hi, daddy,” you purred, your eyes fixed on Steve’s while you gave his cock another kiss through his pants.

“Good girl,” he rumbled in a pleased tone, sending glimmering sparkles of pleasure through your body as you basked in his praise. His fingers smoothed over your cheek and then his hand was skimming down to your arm until he caught your hand. “Up you go, princess.”

You breathed a small sigh of relief as you stood, grateful for Steve’s big hand holding you steady as your legs wobbled, even after such a short time on your knees. You leaned against his broad chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his expensive cologne as your legs regained their strength. 

“Thank you, daddy,” you whispered sweetly into Steve’s sweater. 

He rumbled a pleased sound in his throat, his other arm circling your waist and holding you close, your hands clasped together against his chest. For a moment, the two of you just enjoyed each other’s presence, and it settled something inside you, the tangible reminder that Steve was finally back after he’d been gone for so long.

Then, gently, your sugar daddy eased you away from his body, his bright blue eyes raking down your form and taking in the full effect of your lingerie while you were standing. If the pleased smile curing his lips was any indication, he enjoyed the outfit you’d chosen. 

“Gimme a twirl, princess,” Steve commanded in a gruff voice, and you could practically hear the barely leashed desire in the richness of his tone. “Show daddy this sexy little outfit you wore for me.”

With a giddy laugh, you spun in a circle for your sugar daddy, your fingers clinging to Steve’s. He lifted his arm, keeping your hands connected above your head as you twirled for him, giving him a full view of the Christmasy outfit you’d worn for him. 

When you were back facing him, you stumbled into his chest, still laughing lightly as you looked up at him, your gaze expectant. 

“Do you like it, daddy?”

Steve’s big hands slid down your sides, skimming over the ribbons and bows, feeling the lace and silk swathing your body. His fingers dug into your soft curves, groping you shamelessly while he grinned at you. 

“I love it, princess,” he said with genuine appreciation. He ducked down and brushed a brief kiss of greeting to your lips before murmuring in your ear, “It’s giving me some ideas about sitting you on my lap so you can show me what a good girl you’ve been this year.”

The words sinking into your mind felt like Steve had poured liquid desire over the top of your head, warmth washing down your body as heat ignited in your core. The throbbing of desire pulsed more insistently between your thighs. 

Arching your spine, you pushed your soft tits against Steve’s hard chest, reveling in the way his big body shuddered when he felt your peaked nipples through your thin lingerie.

“Yes, please, daddy, let me sit on your cock—I’ll show you how good I can be,” you purred in Steve’s ear, your fingers curling in his soft sweater while you rubbed yourself against him like a desperate Christmas vixen. 

Thankfully, Steve must’ve had enough teasing, because he grabbed your hand and towed you deeper into the apartment. The entryway opened up into the lavish and luxuriously decorated living room, which featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan. 

The lights of the city shimmered as brightly as those on the massive Christmas tree that stood in the corner. Before Steve had arrived, you’d already scrutinized the decorations, coming to the conclusion he’d paid someone to do them, which explained why they were a little cold.

But you didn’t have a chance to think more about Steve’s Christmas decor just then since he was busy leading you over to the couch. He lowered himself onto the smooth linen cushions before hauling you onto his lap, your legs on either side of his thighs so you straddled him.

You were barely settled on his thighs when your hands greedily cupped Steve’s clean-shaven jaw and dragged his face to yours for a proper kiss. Sparkling, glittering joy filled your chest at the first firm press of your mouth against his.

Steve’s own happiness was evident when he rumbled a pleased sound in his chest. Then he kissed you back, plunging his tongue between your parted lips as his arms wound around your waist, hauling you closer until your core pressed against the growing bulge in the front of his slacks.

You moaned into your sugar daddy’s mouth, rocking against his hardness while you kissed him fervently. Your fingers threaded through Steve’s soft hair, twirling around and tugging on the ends before clinging to his shoulders for better leverage to grind your needy wet slit down on his thick bulge.

“Fuck, princess, I’ve missed you,” he rumbled in a gruff voice, mouth breaking away from yours to press hungry kisses to your jaw and neck. 

Steve’s hands seemed to be everywhere at once—groping your tits and grasping your hips in greedy fingers. You were helpless to do anything but cling to him and moan your pleasure while he manhandled your body on his lap.

“Missed your cunt so fucking much—need to be inside you, baby.” Steve paused, lifting his head so he could catch your eye, his gaze the color of the night sky in winter. “Ya gonna let daddy sink into your achy, needy pussy, princess? Gonna let daddy have his present early?”

“Yes, yes, daddy, of course,” you answered, your tongue tripping over itself to get the words out as fast as you could. “Unwrap me, use me,” you bounced on his lap, grinding your dripping pussy against your sugar daddy’s bulge until you were nearly crying with need. “Please use my cunt, daddy, I want your cock—I need your cock, daddy, please!”

“Unwrap you?” Steve chuckled, ignoring the rest of what you’d said for the moment as he leaned back so his eyes could rake appreciatively down your body. “I don’t think so,” he said, shaking his head and smiling at you. “I want you looking like the prettiest Christmas present I’ve ever seen while you’re bouncing on my cock, princess.” 

A wide smile spread across your face and you were so distracted by basking in Steve’s praise that you almost missed the way his hands lowered to the button and fly of his slacks. Almost.

Eagerly, your eyes dropped to watch Steve’s fingers nimbly undo his pants, your body bouncing in excited anticipation while he reached inside and pulled his cock free. 

No matter how many times you saw Steve’s cock—and you’d seen it a lot throughout the course of your relationship—your core always clenched with need and your body heated with desire, your pussy leaking like it was begging to be filled. 

You watched as Steve stroked himself with an expert hand, jealousy burning through your body. Steve’s cock was long and thick and perfect, a drop of pearly precum already beading at the tip, and your mouth filled with saliva at the thought of sliding to the floor between his legs and taking him between your lips. 

Instead, Steve’s thumb rubbed over the head of his cock and smoothed the precum down his shaft, making himself slicker for you. Suddenly, you couldn’t wait any longer to touch him.

“A present? All for me, daddy?” you cooed, reaching for Steve’s cock and taking over. Your fingers squeezed him admiringly, with just the right amount of pressure that you knew he liked, and he rewarded you with a pleased grunt. 

“All for you, baby,” Steve rumbled, affection soaking his voice so thoroughly that you finally tore your gaze away from his cock. You found your sugar daddy watching you, something deeper than affection in his darkened blue eyes. 

Emotion fluttered in your chest and you smiled shyly at Steve as something passed between the two of you, something intangible and so perfect you could hardly stand it. On a whim, you leaned into Steve, pressing a kiss to his lips because it felt like the only way to convey how you were feeling. 

When he smiled against your mouth, you knew he was feeling the same way. You delighted in that feeling for a moment and then you sat back on his thighs, giving his cock an affectionate pump while you stared into Steve’s eyes.

“Can I ride it, daddy?” you murmured breathlessly, letting your excitement show on your face as you stroked Steve’s length a little faster, twisting your wrist and wringing another pleasured grunt from him.

“Hop on up, princess,” he rasped with a strained smirk, patting your thigh. 

You raised yourself up and Steve hooked his finger in your panties, pulling them to the side and making it that much easier for you to line up your soaking wet pussy with his hard cock. 

You wasted no more time, sinking down on the tip, a sharp exhale punching from your lungs as you felt the thick girth of him stretch your tight hole.

“Daddy,” you whined while your body adjusted to the intrusion, your fingers curling into a fist in Steve’s sweater while you held onto him.

He was so thick that even after all the time you’d been Steve’s sugar baby, each time you took him felt like the first. The fullness was nearly overwhelming, your mind swimming as warm pleasure suffused your body.

Opening your eyes, not remembering when you’d closed them, you found Steve looking undone as he leaned back into the cushions of the couch, his chest heaving beneath his sweater. Pink tinged his cheeks and his blue eyes were darkened to a nearly midnight navy, his gaze fixed on the spot where your body was taking him. 

You wanted more, so you pushed your hips down, taking another inch of Steve’s cock into your tight pussy. The stretch of him sliding into you wrung a whine from your throat and the sound dragged your sugar daddy’s gaze away from your pussy, his heavy-lidded eyes meeting yours.

“You’re doing so good for me, princess,” Steve cooed, sitting up and curling his arm around your waist, gathering you up against his chest. “Need to feel your warm pussy hugging my cock, baby,” he murmured in your ear, brushing kisses to your cheeks. “You can take a little more, can’t you?” 

At Steve’s question, you moved again and sank further down on his cock, taking him halfway inside you. The feeling of fullness was intoxicating, making you sway in your sugar daddy’s lap, a filthy moan slipping from your lips. 

“Atta girl, taking my cock so fucking well, baby,” Steve murmured, his hands curling under your thighs to help you lift up and sink back down, taking another inch inside your tight hole. Both of you moaned loudly. “Fuck, you’ve got the sweetest pussy in the world, princess, let me all the way in—c’mon, pretty present, let daddy all the way into that sweet cunt.”

Spreading your knees wider on either side of Steve’s lap, you lowered yourself down onto his hard length. When your ass met his thighs, Steve’s head fell back and he groaned, his eyes closed tightly. The sound mixed with your moan of pleasure as you reveled in the feeling of his cock buried to the hilt in your pussy. 

“Oh fuck, daddy, you’re so big,” you whined, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his neck. You were full, but it felt so good. Your hips squirmed in Steve’s lap, as if your body was greedy for friction, for more, for anything. 

But Steve had too tight a hold on you, his arms holding you securely enough that you could do little more than writhe your hips and buck against his grip. He wasn’t holding you tight enough to hurt you, just enough to keep you exactly where he wanted you—impaled on his cock. 

It only served to make more pleasure wash through your body, the evidence of your arousal leaking down the shaft of Steve’s cock to soak his balls. Still, you whined for more.

“You’re making daddy feel so fucking good, baby,” Steve groaned, giving in to your wordless plea and rocking you on his lap. His thick cock dragged against your inner walls so deliciously that you melted against his chest, letting out a soft cry of pleasure. “You feel so perfect, princess, so tight and wet and warm and—fuck, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, daddy,” you sobbed into Steve’s neck, your hips grinding instinctively on his lap, finding his rhythm and meeting his rocking thrusts. “Missed your cock and your face and your… your everything.”

“You missed me, huh?” Steve huffed on a self-satisfied chuckle, pulling back enough to capture your chin and tilt your face toward him so he could stare into your eyes. His blue gaze blazed with a heady mix of desire and possessiveness. “You missed your daddy’s cock, huh, princess? ‘Cause your daddy is the only one who can fuck you this good, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, daddy, yes,” you cried. 

Your words cut off on a gasp when Steve pinned your hips in place above his lap while he fucked up into you, grinding the base of his cock against your clit. Shining, dazzling pleasure rocketed through your body, making you tremble as the coil of tension in your center wound tighter. 

“You’re the only one who can fuck me so good,” you echoed, babbling the words you knew Steve wanted to hear—the words that you knew were true. “So good, daddy, you feel sooo good.”

“That’s my fucking girl,” Steve rumbled moments before slanting his mouth to yours for a searing kiss. 

He stole your breath straight from your lungs, holding you tight and fucking you in short hard thrusts that had your mind going blank from pleasure. You moaned into his kiss, your fingers threading in his hair and clutching onto him like he was your whole world.

“My pretty little Christmas present,” Steve cooed against your mouth when you broke away to gasp for air. “My perfect girl.”

“Daddy, I’m gonna come!” you cried, pleasure swirling through your body and pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it, baby, come on daddy’s cock,” Steve urged in a deep voice, his tone sweet like honey, the sound of it slipping down your spine and making your pussy clench with desire. “Show me how much you missed me by being a good girl and coming all over my fat cock, princess.”

Steve’s hand groped your ass, then one of his long fingers slipped between your cheeks, pressing against the tight rosebud of your other hole. That little bit of pressure tipped you over the edge, twinkling flashes of pleasure setting off behind your eyes. Your lips fell open in a scream as you came hard on Steve’s cock.

Your release sparked Steve’s, and he crushed you to his chest, pinning you to his lap so that his cock was buried to the root in your cunt while he came. He let out a groan, his cock throbbing deep in your pussy as he spilled inside you. It felt so good, you shivered with delight, little pulses of aftershocks thrumming through your body. 

For long moments, you clung to Steve while he kept you wrapped up in his arms. You rode out your releases together, his big body shuddering against yours and your limbs trembling in his lap.

Once you were both sated, Steve relaxed back into the couch cushions, taking you with him. His hold on your body loosened, his arms only circling your waist, while you lay splayed across his broad chest. His palm smoothed up your spine, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to hold you against him while you both caught your breath.

“Did you enjoy your present, daddy?” you asked in your most sugary sweet tone when you’d mostly recovered. There was still a little breathlessness in your voice. 

“Princess, I loved my present,” Steve murmured, dropping a kiss to your head. His other hand began to trace the lacy pattern of the lingerie you were still wearing. “The only thing I’ll love more is when I finally unwrap you.”

You laughed softly, melting further into Steve’s chest and letting your eyes slip closed as you breathed in his familiar scent. You could feel your combined releases leaking from your body, his softening cock still buried in your pussy, but you didn’t want to move. You just wanted to enjoy the feeling of having your sugar daddy home with you for a few minutes.

So when Steve shifted your bodies, disturbing you as one of his hands reached into the pocket of his pants, you grumbled unhappily. He chuckled and pressed another kiss to your hair, settling you back down on his lap. 

A moment later, you felt his fingers brush your hand, which was resting against his chest. Your palm was pressed right over his heart, and you were enjoying the feel of it beating steadily beneath your touch.

Casually, in the way of someone who’d thought about their actions at great length, Steve slipped a ring onto the fourth finger of your left hand. 

When your eyes fluttered open to see what he’d done, you found a sparkling gemstone attached to a metal band circling your finger. The meaning of the ring and the finger Steve had put it on clicked in your mind and you sucked in a gasp, your heart racing to a gallop in your chest.

“When we talked about it,” Steve began, a slight tremor in his tone, like he was nervous, though you could hardly believe it. “You said you wanted it to be a quiet, special moment—just the two of us.”

You knew the conversation he was talking about, the one you’d had a few times over the last few months. But your mind was still whirling from the pleasure he’d given you and it was slow to process the understanding of the gemstone and the metal band. The ring. The sparkling, glittering ring.

When you didn’t say anything, Steve went on. 

“You told me to put a ring on your finger when I knew I was sure, and I—” He cut himself off as he got choked up, and you heard him swallow thickly, though your eyes were still fixed on the ring. “I’m sure—I’m sure you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Words were stuck in your throat. The moment felt like a fairytale becoming reality and you couldn’t seem to find the words to express the explosion of happiness filling your heart. 

“So, what do you think?” Steve asked, the tremor in his voice worsening and you knew he was nervous. It was Steve’s vulnerability in that moment that finally snapped you out of your trance.

Sitting up, you kept your left hand pressed to Steve’s chest, barely able to pull your eyes away from the ring to look at the man you loved.

“You haven’t asked me a question yet,” you said faintly, your mouth fluttering shyly into a playful smirk. 

Steve caught your eye and his expression softened as he relaxed a little and indulged in your playfulness. “Do you like your present, princess?” he asked, his own smirk curving his mouth. 

You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning like an idiot, and forced yourself to keep playing the game you’d started. 

“I think…” you said, then paused, tilting your head to the side and giving the ring an assessing examination. Then you looked up at Steve from under your lashes. “It’s so glittery.” 

Steve groaned like he was being tortured, his head falling forward while his hand covered the back of yours. He pressed your palm further against his chest and you could feel the way his heart was beating faster than normal. It almost made you laugh giddily, but you held it back.

“Princess,” he rumbled, the pet name a warning as he lifted his head and fixed you with a firm expression. There was no heat of anger or frustration in his wintry blue eyes, though, only the warmth of affection and desire.

You couldn’t help playing with him a little more, shrugging as nonchalantly as you could while you cut your eyes to the side, knowing that if you kept looking at Steve, you’d laugh and cry and scream in delight. 

“That wasn’t the question I was expecting,” was all you said.

Catching your chin, Steve turned your face back toward his. His blue eyes were swimming with emotion and humor, a slight sheen to them as if he was holding back tears.

“Will you marry me?”

The words had barely passed his lips when you shrieked, “Yes!” 

You didn’t know who pulled the other in for a kiss, or if you both did it at the same time, but suddenly you were kissing Steve—and you couldn’t seem to stop. His mouth felt perfect and you sank into him, your hands holding him tightly while his arms wrapped around your waist, both of you celebrating the moment together.

For a long time, Steve kissed you, his mouth murmuring declarations into your lips as he promised to make you happy and give you anything you wanted. And in return, you promised to make him happy, to be the person he could always truly be himself with.

Both of you declared your love for one another, over and over again, in between one kiss and the next until all your words and kisses blended into one precious vow.

When you finally broke apart, you lay your head on Steve’s shoulder and he held you close, both of you enjoying being together. 

You admired the way the ring sparkled in the Christmas lights decorating the penthouse while Steve murmured plans for the wedding into your hair. He chuckled good-naturedly when you vetoed his ideas and squeezed you tight when you approved of them.

All the while, you kept his cock warm inside you, the two of you pretending not to notice the way he was hardening again, or the way you were growing wetter, your pussy fluttering with need. 

That is, until Steve couldn’t pretend anymore and he began rocking his hips beneath you so you could both feel the drag of his hard cock against your sensitive inner walls. Steve held you while you trembled through the sensation, his mouth covering yours and swallowing your moans of pleasure.

By the time you were begging Steve to unwrap you, he was more than happy to oblige. He laid you down on the plush carpet of the living room, stripping you of everything but the ring he’d put on your finger. 

Then, he made love to you under the light of the Christmas tree, whispering his devotion into your ear. His fingers twined with yours and your bodies writhed closer and closer until you came together with a sparkling, glittering burst of pleasure.

That night, you slept at the penthouse, and the following morning Steve took you home—to his real home, the brownstone in Park Slope where he truly lived. He hadn’t taken you there until things had gotten serious between the two of you, and he’d only met you at the penthouse the night before because it was faster to get there from the airport. 

Steve led you over the threshold of his brownstone, and your eyes glanced at the warmly decorated living room, smiling when you remembered the evening you’d spent with him putting up his Christmas tree before his trip. 

There were homemade ornaments and mismatched garlands everywhere, and you felt warmth bloom in your heart as you realized it felt like home to you too. 

Pulling you in for a kiss, Steve smiled against your lips before going to the kitchen to find a bottle of champagne. You clinked glasses in cheers of your engagement by the light of the Christmas tree in the home you were going to share as a family.

Then, the two of you spent Christmas together, not as sugar daddy and sugar baby, but as fiancé and fiancée. And every time Steve Rogers asked if you liked your present, you smiled and told him you loved the ring because it was so, so glittery. Which was exactly how he made you feel—so lit up with sparkling happiness, like the lights on a Christmas tree.

december daze challenge masterlist

[messenger-of-babel]

If I Could Turn Back Time

Summary: Dick wishes he could turn back time, anything to win you back. (Dick Grayson x fem!reader)

Word Count: 2.5K

Notes: I'm baaacck~! I'm gonna filter out some posts for y'all in between work and prepping for a Christmas countdown. I hope that y'all in the northern hemisphere are enjoying the winter months, and that the heat is manageable for the rest of us in the southern. Hope I didn't make anyone wait too long, and thank you for being patient!

~RiRi <33

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Dick Grayson swore that he wasn't as big of a romantic as people made him out to be. After your breakup he had returned to the manor, unwilling to commit to the long drive back to Bludhaven. He milled around the kitchen, face sullen, telling a concerned Alfred he was just too tired to make the trip and didn't want to drive in the dark. He didn't tell him that he was worried that the image of you crying at the kitchen sink would distract him so badly that he'd either crash or turn back to see you.

He defended himself when Jason came by to drop something off for Bruce and catching the eldest in a state of disarray and blatant bedhead, shambling around in the living room. The younger man rolled his eyes and scoffed, striding past him.

"She break up with you?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

"I broke up with her." He said softly. "But I'm fine." he waved off, taking another sip of his coffee.

"You're an idiot." Jason sighed, kissing his teeth and shaking his head as he strode past in heavy footfalls.

He swore that he was able to move on. That it had been for your best interest. It had only been fourteen days, six hours and twenty-three minutes since he'd driven away. Now he was banging his head against the steering wheel, stuck in the late afternoon traffic between Bludhaven and Gotham. He had the persistent itch under his skin to pull out the suit, weave his way through traffic on his bike just so he could get back to you faster. But he knew that was an abuse of his identity, and could raise some pretty heavy eyebrows from Bruce and even Clark if they found out he took the suit just for a house call.

So, he sat there, stewing in his own thoughts. The late sunset flickered off the water and into the interior of his car. His bangs fluttered with a heavy exhale; hands sweaty as they tapped a mindless rhythm on the wheel. He wished he had a clock that wasn't just the digital numbers of the car display. A clock where he could turn back time.

He'd turn it back to your first date, where you both spent hours wandering the park in Gotham. You had dressed up nicely for a picnic, and it was like you had just walked out of the greenery. The only thought that Dick had while watching you that afternoon was how stunning you looked, so natural in the park with a beaming smile. He had seen Poison Ivy in all of her glory, and her deep connection with the green. If he didn't know better, he would have thought you were born of nature the same way, the way you seemed so in tune with the scenery.

You had surprised him by adjusting your clothes with a cheeky grin and racing hand and hand with him through the park, weaving in and out of the trees with a beaming smile. He had to catch his breath from the way you stole it from under him, taking him to what you had dubbed your 'favourite tree'.

"Why is this one your favourite?" he had asked, hands on his hips and eyebrows quirked. You cast him a glance over your shoulder, looking at him like it should be obvious. Fingers deftly pried your feet from your shoes and you tossed them aside, walking in front of him. "Because it's the best for climbing, of course." you chided, like he was silly for even asking. Swiftly, you proceeded to hoist your way into the low hanging branches, graceful as you traced a path you clearly knew. He couldn't help but let his eyes wander, heart warming oddly. As if he was no longer in control, he reached down to undo his own shoes, hands running along the rough bark before pulling himself up after you.

Being a vigilante and circus performer, the movements themselves were easy enough, but despite all of his training he didn't even move with a fraction of your ease. When he caught up you were already nestled in a nook, leaning against a thick branch. You looked at him, late sunset beginning to flicker across the angle of your face. The golden light made your eyes glow, and you wore a soft, lazy smile, like a cat lounging on a bough. "Made it, I see." you hummed playfully, and he huffed.

"Was I not supposed to?" he quipped back, pulling himself up so he could sit next to you. You just shake your head, eyes closing with a gentle smile. "Not 'not supposed to', you've just been the first to follow. Normally my dates either just wait at the bottom or leave. No one really tries to come up, and the ones that do usually struggle to make it this far."

Dick shrugged, heart fluttering as he pushes his hair back with a hand. "Well, I'm used to this kind of the thing."

You give him a sceptical glance and he laughs. "The circus." He explains.

You grin. "Explains the runaway vibe."

"Hey!" he protests, hand to his heart. "I was raised there, thank you very much."

He spent so long up there he didn't realise you had been talking at the top of the tree for hours until the sunset began to filter into dusk, lost in the view of Gotham city park and its skyline.

Well, you might have been. He was too busy watching the way your mouth moved when you spoke or what actions your hands made when you spoke.

The second place that he would turn back time is the day he left you.

He'd take back every emotional scar he lashed you with, every word that cut into the soft flesh of your heart. He'd go back in an instant to pick up the pieces of you that he shattered, stop them from falling into the sink alongside your tears. He wouldn't have left the moment that your broken voice had asked him to leave, to give you space. He'd trade anything to have you in his arms again, to shush you and mumble his apologies into your hair.

The same apologies he was rehearsing to himself as he inched forward in the traffic for two painstaking hours. He practiced the cadence of his sentences by tapping them into his leg as he jogged up the stairs to your apartment. He steeled himself for a slap, a hiss, a scathing remark that would likely greet him when, no, if, you opened the door to him. He'd bear anything you threw at him, as long as he didn't have to see you cry. When you didn't respond to his knuckles rapping against the door, he sucked his teeth. Maybe you were out? Maybe you were ignoring him? He wouldn't blame you if you did.

Frustrated, he kicked the door frame, head thudding onto the door. He didn't know how to keep a relationship alive, if he was being perfectly honest. He had been enamoured with Kory, but the flame they had fizzled out. He and Babs had ended as natural as you could manage between coworkers. Yet, both of them had both ended the same way deep down. The anger that he failed to let go of deep inside that came out when he truly let himself be vulnerable. The little boy in his heart with his little fists clenched so tightly onto that ball of rage. The anger and hurt of losing his parents. It was a ball that Bruce and Alfred had managed to lessen, managed to pry those young fingers off little by little and helping him to redirect it, but it was never fully gone.

All it took was one relationship argument that carried on for a little too long or burned a little too hot, and that little ball moved into his throat. The fear would shake in his hands again, that there was always the possibility that he'd lose them too. Dick Grayson wouldn't really call himself a romantic. He was just someone who always fell in love, who made the person he was with always fall into him without a safety net.

Then, he'd push them off that tightrope, and he'd flee.

Irritated with himself he practiced breathing techniques to calm himself, unclenching his fists and unhunching his shoulders from his ears. He wanted to fix this. For you. For him. For that little boy holding onto that little ball of hurt. He waited another fifteen minutes before he jogged back to his car. He worried his lip in between his teeth as he cruised around, leg bouncing as he visited your favourite spots. You weren't at work, and you weren't visiting the library either. Your favourite bar wasn't open yet, and your favourite cafe had already closed for the day.

He felt stupid. He felt guilty. Stupid for leaving, and guilty for chasing you so pitifully. His behaviour was getting borderline obsessive, but he couldn't help himself. He felt like he was going to go insane if he didn't get the chance to even talk to you again. With an angry sigh he threw the car into park, breaking loudly. He slammed the car door a little harder than he would have liked.

Gotham City Park.

A part of him hoped that you weren't here, honestly. It was dark, and everyone knew Gotham was worse after hours. You were alone, presumably unarmed, and a complete fool if you were. His feet traced the path that he knew so well, but it felt weird without having your weight looped around his arm. Hands shoved deep into pockets he fiddled with the lining, chewing his cheek till he got to your tree.

The massive boughs stretched before him, blocking most of the city light. However, he knew that as soon as he got up there, he'd be able to see almost everything. With a pained exhale Dick ran his fingers over the smooth bark before reaching up for the nearest branch and hoisting himself up. Even if you weren't here, he needed somewhere to gather his thoughts. Somewhere to figure out how to fix his fuck up.

He navigated clumsily upwards, the dark making it hard to see. He hadn't realised how naturally his body followed yours when you climbed up, now getting lost by himself. Branches smacked him in the face as he ascended, dense foliage hiding his next foothold from him. Eventually his head poked through the entrance, and he took a deep lungful of crisp air, eyes closing.

"You looked like an idiot climbing around in circles down there, you know."

His eyes fly open, heart catching as he sees you. You're still in your work uniform, knees to your chest. Your eyes are dull despite the starlight. Dick revered your eyes, telling you many times that you could make even a stone glimmer if you gave it a fraction of your light. Now they were like a dying bulb, burnt out and dim.

"Hey," he said softly, as if you'd disappear if he raised his voice any louder. "I was looking for you."

"Well, you found me." You say, shifting your eyes from him to the city. "What do you want?"

His throat closed up, burning. He could feel that bright little ball being shoved into his throat, and he had to grimace to push it back down.

He needed to do this.

"I'm here to apologise." he said quietly, pulling himself up and sitting a respectable distance from you. His fingers suddenly became interesting as he toyed with them, picking at the skin. "I don't expect you to take me back or anything, but I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry." he chokes out, looking up at you. "I was- I was scared. I was scared someone was going to take you away from me, that it wasn't worth it. But I was wrong. I'm sorry-" he swallowed harshly as your eyes met his, and the softening at the corners of yours made him want to fold. "I'm sorry for everything I said, for everything I did. You didn’t deserve that; you deserve something better."

"Dick-"

he held up his hand. "You deserve the world, sweetheart." he said, choked at the softness and pain in his own voice. "If I was Superman, I would fly to your window every morning and take you into the clouds just so you could experience what it's like for a heart to fly, like you make mine do. I'd go across the ends of the earth to find the sun after the sunset just to realise it can't be brighter than the smile that you give me in the morning. So, I came to tell you that I made a mistake." he says, quiet and unable to hold your gaze any longer. "I made the biggest mistake of my life. I want another chance." he takes a deep breath, nose burning as he tried to hold back his tears. "And if you don't want me back, I want you to know you deserve all that. Even if it's not me, never settle for anyone that will give you less than that." His voice cracked as he finished, and he swallowed.

He needed to leave. He had done his piece.

The shame swirled in his veins like a cloud and hurrying him to find his way down. His senses were dulled like he was struck with a concussion, thoughts echoing like they were in a tunnel. It was only when he felt the soft skin of your palm on his that his head snapped up. The moment his face was tilted up the light was blocked, and his face was warm.

It took him a good second to recognise the familiar feeling.

You were kissing him.

With a relieved sigh he let out a sigh straight from his chest, chasing after your touch desperately. He thought he may have been in a dream, but when he reached up to cradle your face with a palm, he knew that it wasn't true.

"You idiot." you breathe out, eyes fluttering as you part from the kiss. "You grade A, boy wonder, spandex clad idiot." your rest your forehead against his. "Tell me next time." your murmur, hand coming down to grip his and place it on your chest. “You’re not alone anymore, you know?"

A faint flicker of a smile danced its way across his lips, and his shoulders shook lightly as he laughed at himself. He leant up and brushed his lips against yours once more and finally, that little ball of rage fell through the fingers of that hurt young boy.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 | angus tully x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | visiting home for the holidays, Angus runs into his old babysitter... or perhaps more importantly, his first real crush. the older, unattainable girl next door; the one that made him realize maybe cooties aren't all that bad. now he's older, too, and maybe you aren't quite as unattainable-- so long as he can play it cool and not make a complete idiot out of himself...

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ only!!), age gap (not huge but angus is 18 and the reader is just out of college), semi-public/car sex, drug use (watch out for the devil's lettuce y'all!!) as well as brief cigarette use, inexperienced/virgin angus, no spoilers for the holdovers (2023) nor any significant relationship to the plot of it lol

technically this is a christmas fic so if you noticed that I'm posting it in january, no you didn't and mind your business <3

The sky was pitch black, and the world was dark— even with all those Christmas lights, their colorful glow seemed to be absorbed so quickly in the gloom of the evening. 

The white snow served as a nice contrast, but it did look sort of grey in all the shadows, even as it was freshly falling to cover the ground.  The snowflakes fell fast, they looked almost heavy: not that cute, fluffy snow that looks all whimsical and floats on the wind.  

It was the sort of weather that should’ve made him appreciate being safe and warm inside, but as he pressed his nose to the cold glass, he wished rather ungratefully for escape.

The doorbell stirred him out of the moment, and Angus looked back over his shoulder towards the foyer.  “Honey!  Can you get that?” his mother called out to him from the kitchen.  She made herself seem so busy when he knew she hadn’t really cooked at all— she was just arranging everything she’d bought on fancy plates to look homemade.  The crinkle of tinfoil gave away that she was too busy disposing of the evidence to greet her guests herself.  She was lucky all the ones who had already arrived were too busy drinking in the living room to notice.

Rolling his eyes a bit, he propelled himself off of his lean on the wall, stuffing one hand in his khaki pocket and the other opening the front door.

Your parents were always really… energetic.  They greeted Angus with massive smiles and ecstatic faces, as if they could hardly believe he was letting them in to his own house.  To be fair, he wasn’t here most of the year, but it wasn’t like he was a celebrity or anything…

“Angus!” your mom squealed joyfully.

“Hey, buddy!” your dad greeted, forcing Angus to fight back a cringe.  

“Nice to see you,” he offered them, “come on in, the food’s almost ready.”

Your mom was preoccupied with the casserole dish she was holding, but your dad’s hands were free so he of course had to give Angus a playful punch to the shoulder as he stepped inside.  “Wo-hoah!  You been workin’ out?” your dad joked— as if Angus’ noodly arm in a red cashmere sweater was ever going to fool anyone into thinking he lifted weights…

As he turned to shut the door, he realized you were standing there, taking one last puff of a cigarette before dropping it on the ground and snuffing it out with your shoe.

He hadn’t known you were coming over— if he had, he would’ve… done something.  Fixed his hair or not worn something so dorky, maybe?  

“H-hey,” he greeted you, feeling pierced by even just your passing glance up at him.

“Hey, kid,” you nodded, making him frown as you walked in past him.

Your parents and his mom were already chatting up a storm, that sort of high-pitched suburban babble he’d learned to tune out easily.  In fact, it really just muffled into a distant whirr as he watched you slip off your coat, revealing your outfit beneath.  He always remembered you wearing jeans when you came over to babysit— and dresses at church.  So the skirt and blazer sort of caught him off-guard.  It made you seem even older— in a good way, like you were a businesswoman or something— and the seam of your stockings running down the back of your legs… his head tilted as his eyes followed it 

“Well shut the door, Angus, you’re letting the cold air in!” his mother scolded gently, knocking him out of the thought.

“O-oh, sorry,” he mumbled, shutting it as you looked back at him over your shoulder and smiled a bit.  He felt like such a loser when you looked at him like that…

“Let me make you two some drinks!  What are you having?”

He wasn’t listening again, of course; he was staring at you again, wondering if you hadn’t changed at all— you were exactly how he remembered you, even though it was probably impossible that you looked the same as his 17-year-old babysitter as you did now.  He hoped that he looked totally different to you, that you were thinking to yourself right now how much more mature he looked.  He hoped that you could barely believe he was the same boy you watched when he was younger— or, better yet, that you’d just totally forgotten about all that.

“Would you help set the table, please, honey?” his mother requested as she zipped back into the kitchen.  He nodded and hesitated before quickly brushing past you to get the silverware out of the cabinet by the table, placing a setting in front of each chair.  She reappeared behind him, but he didn’t look up— not at her or you, even though you were the one she was talking to.  “I’m sorry, sweetie, I forgot to ask— did you want a glass of wine or something?”

“No, I’m alright— thanks, ma’am,” you replied.  “I’ll help with the silverware.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” she cooed at you before departing again, and Angus felt his hands get a little clammier around the handful of utensils as you reached out for them. 

“Give me some,” you instructed him, and he only briefly glanced at your face; he tried to hand you the forks without touching your fingers, but all that accomplished was dropping some of them loudly onto the table while still brushing up against your soft hand.  You snorted, picking them up and starting to set them around the placemats as well.

He tried to ignore you, both of you working around the table, but he sighed as he took a closer look at your work.  “No the— that’s a salad fork,” he corrected, “that should go inside.”

“What?” 

“The smaller fork goes on the other side, closest to the plate,” he explained, switching the utensils you’d just placed.  “Dessert spoon goes at the top, butter knife on the left—”

You scoffed a bit.  “And where should I put the opium spoon?”

“Listen, I know it’s stupid,” he assured as he looked at your face again— you were so close, standing right beside him, and his heart was racing.  “But my stepdad will blow a gasket if it’s wrong,” he added in a lower voice.

“He sounds like a tool,” you mumbled back, and the two of you smiled a bit, in that way people smile when they share a secret.  Not that his stepdad being a tool was all that exclusive of a secret…

“Alright!” his mom emerged again, carrying some ceramic dish with oven mitts, and you both straightened up.  “Food’s coming out!  Oh, are the Shaws not here yet?”

Your dad was carrying the platter of ham, and your mom behind him with another side.  “I, uh, guess not,” Angus answered her question.

“Well, we’ll have to start eating without them,” she sighed, wiping her forehead with the back of her head as the dishes were set down— like she was so exhausted.  She probably was, but not from cooking or physical labor: just from the constant anxiety she’d been exuding for the last three days because of this stupid dinner party.  She acted like the President or the Pope were coming, and not just a bunch of boring old people.

And you.  She’d never mentioned you.

As she gathered the guests for dinner, Angus looked at you, and realized he should say something— be polite, at least.  He was terrified to open his mouth and embarrass himself, but if he didn’t try, he’d seem like even more of a loser.

Quickly rubbing his palms against his trousers, he broke the silence.  “So, um, how’ve you been?” he asked, and you looked back at him, seeming a little surprised that he talked to you at all.  

“Oh,” you responded, “good, I’ve been good— just kinda busy.  What have you been doing?”

“You know, just… whatever,” he shrugged, not wanting to admit he was still in high school.

“Aren’t you still in high school?” you questioned with a furrowed brow.

Shit.  That illusion didn’t last long.  “Yeah,” he admitted sheepishly, “but I’m eighteen!”

You gave him a little pitying smile that made him realize too late how pathetic his statement was.  Bragging about being eighteen wasn’t doing him any favors in terms of coming off as mature to you— why did he think that would work?

“U-uh, you… you’re in college, right?”

“Well— I was, until about a week ago,” you answered.  “I graduated a semester early.”

“Oh, congrats,” he offered with a nod, “that’s great.  You’ve always been really smart…”

“Well, it didn’t take a genius to help you with your seventh grade math homework,” you deflected his compliment with a tilted smirk, and he laughed nervously.

“I, um, can’t believe you remember that,” he mumbled.

“Of course,” you said, and just as he started to wonder what that meant, his stepdad spoke up over the dull roar of conversation.

“Alright, everyone, take your seats around the table,” he encouraged, “and we’ll all pray before we enjoy this lovely meal.”

Aside from the late arrival of the Shaws, dinner went off without a hitch— Angus fielded the same four questions on repeat, glanced at you every thirty seconds, and only got caught about a dozen times.

The only thing more boring than the dinner was the time afterwards, the indefinite mingling phase.  He usually just counted the minutes until he could get excused to his room, where he could read or sketch or really do anything quiet.  But now that you were here, he wasn’t as sure what to do: he wanted to talk to you, but he didn’t want to seem too excited to talk to you, but he didn’t want to seem like an asshole or anything…

So he pretty much just sat on a couch, as far away from the bustle of the party as he could reasonably get away with, trying to look busy while not actually doing anything.  Occasionally looking at you, but usually trying not to— until he realized you were coming towards him.  Now was it okay to look at you?

He tried to act like he didn’t even notice you coming closer until you sat next to him on the couch; you were a little close, sitting on your side and putting one of your arms up on the back of the sofa cushions like you were trapping him in.  He put his legs together so they wouldn’t bump into your knees which were dangerously close to him now.

“You look bored,” you noticed.

“Yeah?  I wonder why,” he replied with a small smirk.

“You didn’t really tell me how you’ve been,” you remembered.  “What’s boarding school like?”

“Uh, you know, pretty much your average hellhole,” he joked— not that it wasn’t at least mostly true.  “Not that living at home would be all that much better.”

“You Barton boys get into any trouble up there?” you asked, and he shrugged a bit.

“Some,” he said.  “If you’re not an idiot, you can mostly avoid getting caught for anything.”

“Like what?” you pressed.  “Do kids ever get busted with pot?”

“Oh, all the time,” he laughed.  “It’s really not hard to get away with it, honestly.  I mean, I never got caught, so…”

You raised an eyebrow.  “You smoke?”

He loved the way you said it, not quite under your breath but a secretive mumble.  He just shrugged again, and you laughed a little.  “What?” he wondered.

“You just don’t seem the type,” you explained.

“You don’t know me that well,” he countered, lowering his voice, hoping you would pick up on the undertone.  But if you did, you didn’t quite respond to it.

“Well, are you the type to sneak out of this boring dinner and go smoke?” you wondered.  He thought you looked really sexy asking him a question like that, eyes lighting up as you suggested something that risky.

He grinned excitedly.  “Right now?”

“You’re not scared to get caught, are you?” you challenged.

“Fuck no,” he laughed, “let’s do it.”

~

“Where are we gonna go?” he wondered aloud, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.

“My car,” you explained, having to talk a little louder to be heard over the wind.  “I’m parked down the street— by the park, so nobody’s gonna notice us.”

You trudged through the snow together, each step a deep crunch into the frozen snow, and you squinted your eyes when a sharp, icy wind struck right in your face.

You picked up the pace a bit when you saw your car, excited to escape the freezing cold; and as you turned the key in the driver’s door, unlocking the rest, Angus came up beside you.

“Get in on the other side,” you told him, and he walked around the back as you got in yourself.

When you first got in the car, you could still see your breath in the air— but it was still a nice reprieve from the wind outside, and you unzipped your coat and tossed it into the passenger seat in front of you.  Angus hopped in a moment later, and when he shut his door, you were both submerged suddenly into the quietest place you’d been all night.  No wind, no dinner guests, no records playing— just each other’s breathing.

You considered turning the heat on, but you figured the chill would pass soon enough with Angus’ and your own body heat filling the space.

You clicked on the ceiling light, a dim yellow glow illuminating the inside of the car and really bringing out the dinginess of the grey-beige carpet and fabric all over everything.  He simply sat on the seat, waiting patiently with his legs spread a bit and his hands on his knees, blowing out a breath through his cheeks which swelled with air; he watched you lean back and open the front console, bending somewhat awkwardly over it to reach in and rifle around.

“There we go,” you mumbled as your hand found the fabric bag underneath loose bills and receipts; you pulled it out and opened the drawstring, revealing with a proud smile the baggy inside.  “Ta-da!” you announced softly, brandishing the crushed leaf and rolling papers.  “Wanna show me your joint-rolling skills?” 

You held the bag towards him in offering, but he shook his head and seemed to shrink away slightly.  “N-no, I’ll let you do the honors,” he decided in a soft voice.

You rubbed your hands together to try to warm them up first, because the detailed task was trickier with cold fingers, but you managed alright in the end.  His eyes were glued to the way your tongue slid along the paper before sealing it; it did intrigue you just a bit, wondering what he was imagining while you did that.

“Were you always a bad girl, and I just didn’t know it?” he asked.  “Or did college make you more rebellious?”

“A bad girl, huh?” you snorted, and his face flushed a bit.

“That didn’t sound weird in my head,” he promised.

“Save it for when you can blame it on the flower, dude,” you laughed as you handed him the blunt and got your lighter ready.  “You can have the first hit, I’ll light it up for you.”

He put it between his lips as you struck the BIC, and he leaned forward until the end was in the flames.  

You watched him breathe it in, that singe-y, crispy sound of the weed burning with each inhale making you smile a bit in anticipation… though you had to admit, it wasn’t just your excitement to get high that had your heart beating faster.

He only managed to hold it in for a second before coughing roughly, clearly trying to suppress it at first before bringing his fist to his mouth and really hacking a few times.  You smacked him on the back with a grin, and he nodded at you; poor thing, his eyes were all red, actually his whole face was red, but he eventually recovered.

“You don’t really smoke, do you?” you noticed with a tilted smile.

He cleared his throat and shook his head.  “N-not really, no,” he admitted.  “I mean, I’ve tried it before, I swear—”

“It’s fine,” you assured, “I just don’t want you losing a lung.”

“Let me try again,” he pleaded, reaching for the blunt, but you held it away from him and laughed.

“I’ve got a better idea, this might make it easier,” you offered, leaning in closer.  He seemed to tense up a bit, like he wasn't sure what you were leaning in for, but he watched you with half-lidded eyes as you took a long drag.

You grabbed his jaw— not hard, but enough to make him open his mouth a bit— and exhaled the smoke into his face.  He got the idea and breathed in deeply, staring right into your eyes.

“Better?” you asked.

“U-um, yeah,” he whispered, “I didn't cough that time…”

“Then we’ll just do it this way,” you decided, biting your lip a little when he shifted in the seat.  You were having way too much fun with him, and you knew it was unfair, but how often do you get to tease somebody like this?

After a few more hits that way, you saw his eyes get a little glassier.  You yourself were starting to feel it, and you smiled at him as you brought your mouth a bit closer to his for the next shared breath.

“How does it feel?” you asked him softly as you leaned back again— he chased you for a minute, like he wanted to stay close, but relaxed quickly.

“U-uh, kinda… floaty…” he mumbled.  “Don’t you think my parents are gonna notice the smell when we go back in?”

“I’ve got perfume for that,” you explained.

“So I’m gonna smell, like… fruity?” he frowned, and you giggled.

“That’s what you think my perfume smells like?” you wondered.

“Yeah, not— not that I was, you know… sniffing you…” he trailed off, face getting pink again, and you laughed.

“I think you need another hit,” you decided, and he nodded in agreement.  Inhaling deeply, you pulled him closer and breathed into his open mouth, looking back into his eyes through the thin veil of excess smoke.

After that, you leaned back against the door, basking for a moment in your own high.  You watched the snow falling outside the window, letting your vision get a little blurry; the quietness of the moment didn’t seem awkward to you at all, it seemed peaceful, but apparently Angus was the more anxious type of smoker and felt the need to break the silence.  “I always had the biggest crush on you,” he blurted out, and you sighed a bit, lips pressing into a pitying smile even though you didn’t look back at him.  “I was kinda surprised you didn’t notice…”

“I did,” you mumbled.

“R-really?” he choked.  “I, uh… I thought you just saw me as some little twerp.”

“I did,” you said again, smiling wider, and he laughed nervously.

“Oh,” he nodded as he looked away, “that’s… fair.”

He only let the silence linger for a second before interrupting it again.

“But I’ve grown up a lot, you know,” he reminded you.  “I’m eighteen.”

“You mentioned that.”

“Right.  Um,” he stalled, “but it’s not just that.  I mean, I like to think I’m pretty… mature.  At least, I am compared to the idiots at my school— but I probably still seem like a little kid to you.  I can’t really compete with college guys…”

“Compete?” you repeated, tilting your head.  “What are you competing for?”

“O-oh, I just meant like, um—” he stammered, and you scooted closer to him on the seat with a devious smile.  

“What are you competing with those ‘college guys’ for, Angus?” you pressed again.  “My attention?”

“Some… something like that, yeah,” he answered, speaking a little softer.  

“Well, there’s not much competition here, is there?” you noticed, looking around the car.  “It’s just you and me… we’re alone.”

He started to open his mouth to speak, but you reached up to drag one finger over his chest for a moment, and he only choked out a little gasp.  “Yeah, I… guess that’s true,” he mumbled, going back and forth from watching your finger draw circles on his sweater to watching your face.  

You wordlessly brought the joint to your lips again, seeing that it was about halfway gone already.  You took a long, deep breath in, exhaling towards him without really pursing your lips, letting him come closer for his share this time.  Except, finally, this time he didn’t stop.  He just kept leaning in towards you until his lips brushed over yours and you shut your eyes.

His kiss was patient, almost too gentle, like he was holding back.  You set the joint aside quickly in the ashtray and brought your hands up to his face, so you could kiss him a little harder and maybe encourage him somehow.  It seemed to work; he got a little more ambitious, moving his lips against yours, sighing gently as you combed your fingers through his wild curls.

You heard the wind howl outside, whistling around the car, not that you really paid much attention to it.  Instead, your attention was drawn to the way his hands were still sat in his lap; you smirked a little.  What a polite boy.

“You can touch me, you know,” you whispered to him, never breaking away from his lips.  One of your hands wrapped gingerly around one of his wrists, guiding it to your waist.

“Right, sorry,” he mumbled back, grabbing onto you with a touch more confidence.  He even pulled you a little closer as you kissed him harder, your hands traveling up to his shoulders in return.

Other than needing some guidance on the auxiliary stuff, Angus was a good kisser.  You were actually a little surprised when he slipped his tongue into your mouth, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise: it seemed like a good sign he wasn’t holding back anymore.

One of your legs hiked up over his, just something instinctive to keep him close, and his hand trailed down over your hip to caress that leg; it was a shame you needed tights for the weather, because you would’ve loved to feel his touch right on your skin.  “These are cute,” he informed you in a mumble against your lips, quickly pinching and popping the elastic-y fabric back against your leg.  You broke away to look down at his hand on your thigh, which he did as well.

“Really?” you asked sweetly, not sure you were pulling off the innocent vibe of the question.

“Yeah,” he nodded, meeting your gaze again, “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

You hummed and he kissed you again— and this time, as his hand slid back up to your waist, it took a route along the curve of your ass.  You wouldn’t have minded at all if he got a nice handful of it, pulled you closer, gotten a little rougher with you… but obviously, he didn’t.  It was still Angus, after all.

In fact, it took a few more minutes of kissing for him to even muster the courage to touch your chest through your sweater, but you both sighed a bit when he finally did.  He groped at you a bit, but you didn’t care much for all the layers in between, so you sat up and perched yourself in his lap, breaking the kiss to shed your blazer and pull your sweater up over your bra.  “O-oh,” he breathed as you did it, and you felt something tighten up inside you when he absent-mindedly bit his lip.

You sighed shakily, even though you didn’t know why you felt just a bit nervous— and you pulled your bra up, too, exposing yourself entirely to him.

He whispered your name; your pussy clenched again instantly.

He put his hands over you carefully, and you jumped slightly when those long fingers of his brushed over your skin— and he pulled back quickly in response.  “Fuck, are my hands cold?  I’m sorry,” he stammered nervously, but you just smiled back at him.

“It’s fine,” you promised, and he put his hands back on you with a long sigh.

“Wow,” he mumbled under his breath.  You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the wide-eyed, awe-filled stare that never left your tits as he carefully massaged them; he toyed with your nipples briefly before groping a bit more confidently, your hips shifting in his lap without you really meaning for them to.

Your smile fell, though, when he suddenly leaned forward and latched his mouth onto one of them.  “O-oh, fuck,” you mumbled under your breath as he suckled— rather voraciously, really— and fluttered his eyes shut, his tongue running all over the skin in his mouth.  You looked down at him for a minute, thinking he looked pretty cute doing that, but had to shut your eyes and lean your head back when he sucked even harder at you.  “Fuck, Angus—”

“Does that feel good?” he asked quietly as he broke away; you bit your lip and nodded, and he moved to the other one as you leaned back even further, held up only by the front seats.  He, of course, gladly leaned forward with you to stay close, and kept a hand on the breast no longer in his mouth.

You could’ve sworn you felt yourself get especially wet when his tongue swirled around your nipple, and through the high that clouded your brain (equally from the pot and the pleasure) you realized that you were about to fuck Angus Tully.  You sort of couldn’t believe it, and yet the thought didn’t disgust or offend you as much as you thought it would.  You figured you would at least feel a little more guilty, but… you didn’t.  Not very much, at least.  Certainly not enough to stop you.

You sat back up and moved your hips back a bit, making him stop what he was doing just to wonder what you were up to; he groaned a bit when you reached down between your own legs to try to open his belt.  “O-oh, fuck,” he whispered, lifting his hips a bit as well to make it easier for you to reach.  “We're really gonna—?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, finally getting his belt open and working on his button and fly next; you could feel his cock already through the fabric, and it flexed a bit against the back of your hand in anticipation.

He groaned a little when you reached into his boxers and wrapped your hand around his length.

“You're so hard,” you noticed with a little gasp, gripping him tighter as you tried to (carefully) pull his cock out of the khakis and plaid underwear.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “fuck, yeah… you're really, um— you're hot.”

You giggled a bit, glancing up at his nervous expression.  “You're sweet,” you offered, but your mouth was agape when you finally got a glimpse of him.  “You're… fuck, Angus, you're big…”

“Oh, uh, really?” he perked up, cock flexing against your palm.

Giving him a few lazy strokes as you nodded, you giggled when his hips started to buck up towards your touch.  “Fuck, I want you,” you moaned softly, and his cock just flexed in your hand again.

“You— god, you can’t even imagine how long I’ve wanted you,” he assured, making you smile wide.

“I’m sure I can, but I’ll try not to,” you decided as you let go of him.  He seemed disappointed until he realized why: reaching up under your skirt, you pulled your tights and panties down your thighs.  

“What if somebody sees?” he wondered nervously.

“They’re all busy inside, nobody’s coming out here in this weather,” you assured.  “I can turn the light off if you want though—”

“N-no,” he stopped you before you could keep reaching for the ceiling light.  “No, I still wanna see.”

You laughed a little and kissed him again, quickly.  “Me too,” you agreed as you lifted yourself up over his lap, guiding his cock’s head to your entrance.  

He sighed a little as soon as it touched you, but that was nothing compared to the way he reacted when you lowered yourself and he slipped inside.

“Fuck,” you groaned deeply, loving the way he stretched you out— not painful, but just the right amount of challenge.  The body high seemed to make everything a little extra tingly and soft, though you didn’t have a sober version of this experience to compare it to.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, “oh my god…”

You finally sank down completely into his lap, and he took hold of your waist with a little moan.  “Fuck,” you said again, more of a whisper, your head falling back as you started to rock against him.  “Oh, it’s so deep, Angus—”

He interrupted you with a sort of whine, like he couldn’t take hearing you talk like that… but that just made you want to do it more.

“So fucking good,” you praised with a sigh, feeling him press his forehead against your chest as he moaned quietly.  “You feel so fucking good…”

He whimpered, grabbing on painfully-tight to your hips, until his head fell back and his Adam's apple bobbed with each noise he made.

A sharp, needy moan jumped out of his throat— and at the same time, you felt him pulse inside you.  Your eyes went wide as he relaxed slightly under you.  “Did you… just come?” you asked.

He was still panting, his face starting to flush red.  “Um… yeah?” he replied breathlessly.  “Sorry, I-I tried not to—”

“It’s okay,” you promised with a soft laugh, “are you— or, uh, were you a virgin?”

“Uh…” he stalled anxiously.  “Yeah, I am— or was— sorry, I should’ve said something, but I thought you might—”

“It’s fine,” you assured, resting a hand on his chest to try to soothe him.  “It’s cute, honestly.  I don’t mind being your first.”

“I always wanted you to be,” he admitted.  “I imagined it like this.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the car.  “Like this?”

“Well, not exactly like this,” he laughed.  “There was a lot more time involved, for one, and a bed.  And whipped cream—”

“Okay, let’s not unpack all that right now,” you interjected, “we should get cleaned up and go back inside anyway…”

You tried to get off his lap, but he held you down by your hips (with more strength than you expected from him) and pleaded with you: “No, wait, not yet— I want you to come, too.”

“It’s okay, really, we need to go back before your parents notice you’re gone,” you insisted.

“No, they don’t care— please?  Please just keep going?  I’m still hard, I can—”

“Angus,” you interrupted, and he sighed a little because he knew already you weren’t going to be convinced.  “You’ll get another chance to make me come, alright?�� We just have to get back inside now.”

He lit up instantly.  “Really?  So we can— we’ll do this again?”

“If you want,” you shrugged.

“Hmm, no thanks— I’ll just go back to being a horny loser,” he joked, making you snort.  “Of course I wanna see you again.  I can’t believe I have to do… anything else but that until then!”

“You’ll live,” you promised as you got up off of him— you both winced, but you mostly just focused on getting your panties and tights back up before anything, uh, spilled.

You pulled your bra and sweater down again, and figured out where your blazer ended up so you could slip it back on while Angus lifted his hips to be able to get himself back into the khakis.

Opening the console again, you put your paraphernalia back in and dug around for a glass bottle instead.  “Hopefully this can cover up weed and sex,” you said as you spritzed yourself a couple times with the perfume, then got him once or twice for good measure.

“How am I supposed to hide this?” he asked with an annoyed groan, struggling to adjust his boner inside his trousers in a way that wasn’t obvious.

“Sorry, all I can help with is the smell,” you laughed, putting the perfume back and slipping your coat on.  “You ready?”

“Yeah, guess so,” he sighed, “ready as I’ll ever be.  W-wait— can I kiss you one more time first, before we go?”

You thought it was funny, and sweet, that he thought he had to ask.  You nodded, and he pulled you into a kiss that was much more passionate than you expected.  Not filthy or anything, but not as tired and slow as you expected after just coming.  His hands held your head, and you had to really remind yourself not to get lost in it before your better judgment was overruled.

Pulling back slowly, you looked at him for a second and wondered if anyone had ever looked back at you quite like that before.

You leaned for the door handle, but just before you pulled it, a final thought popped into your mind.  “Oh, I almost forgot— Merry Christmas, by the way,” you offered him with a smile.

“Yeah, no shit,” he laughed, almost sounding like he was in disbelief, “that’s about the merriest fucking Christmas I’ve ever had.”

[series masterlist here]

[theblacklewinsky]

Note: a draft your girl finally finished after a month of just sitting there. hopefully y'all enjoy!

TAKEN CARE OF. | Aaron Pierre.

Cuck!Toxic!Terry Richmond x Black! Female Reader.

Warnings: MNDI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( threesome, oral sex (f receiving) fingering, cucking), extreme language (cursing, use of b-word and others.) slight manipulation if you squint. daddy kink.

Summary: in which Terry wants to watch you and his homeboy.

how much fun it's gonna be together.

Smooth sounds of Donny Hathaways 'This Christmas' blared from the Alexa on your counter as you bounced around your spacious apartment kitchen. It was close to the holidays and you'd been scouring TikTok for an hour when you came across this sugar cookie recipe, two hours later and you finally were able to put this batch in the oven. You were a florist, not a baker.

You hummed along to the lyrics, sweeping up your debris and your flour catastrophe from earlier you hadn't even heard your boyfriend Terry come stalking into your shared apartment. In fact you weren't aware of anything, too lost in your enthusiasm for the sugar cookies and your dazed cleaning you only jumped when you felt arms slip around your waist, sheer shock quickly melted into warm familiarity when you felt Terry's lips against your cheek. You sighed in relief, nearly falling back into his grasp.

"Baby, you've gotta stop doin' that!" You huffed knitting your brows together in mock irritation as you turned to face him, swatting him playfully in the chest.

"Mhm," he hummed in no contest to your statement, knowing your words held no weight to him as he pulled you closer by the sheer tank top you wore pressing his lips against yours softly, leaving three slow, lingering kisses behind, you noticed how faintly he tasted of alcohol. "What you in here makin?" He looked at you eyes narrowing as he thumbed away a bit of flour that seemed to stick to your cheek. Skepticism ruled his gaze, since he was the primary cook, you barely knew your way around breakfast and here you were baking sugar cookies. We love an impulsive diva.

"Sugar cookies," you smiled innocently, "I found an easy recipe on TikTok and I wanted to try it," you decided not to tell him about the two bags of flour you used trying to perfect this so called easy recipe, instead easing his mind with two soft kisses. "How was your boys night?" You asked him about the events prior, he didn't often have a boys night out between coordinating martial arts classes at his gym, and spending whatever free time he had with you, he deserved a night out.

"It was cool, I'm glad to see my baby though," he mumbled a little shrug in his shoulders as he reached out to grab you by the thin material of your tank top once again, he was always so touchy when he was tipsy. Not that you were complaining though, you loved any type of affection from your man. "Why you so far from me? I wanna feel you."

"I'm literally right here," you giggled school-girlishly as he tucked his face in the crook of your neck softly nibbling and kissing there.

"You still ain't close enough," he declared, voice slightly muffled by your flesh. He pressed one more lingering kiss there before steadying both his hands on either sides of your hips, his expression growing more serious. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about though."

You furrowed your brows in confusion. "Boys night? What happened?"

"Lotta shit baby," he vaguely commented before continuing, "you know my nigga Leo," he paused waiting for your verification to which you gave him with an easy nod. You did know Leo, he'd came over to your house warming earlier in the year when you and Terry both decided to move in together, and he'd showed up for a couple of the events you guys hosted at your place. So you'd seen him a handful of times, and a handful of times you caught him staring. But that was a normality to you, you were a strikingly gorgeous woman and you knew that. Plus, Leo was your man's homie, and you didn't get down like that. Or did you?

"Yeah, you know he left the club a lil earlier than us—his lady was trippin' and shit on him. Long story short, she threw all his shit out and he just having a bad night, he could use some cheering up," he calmly said, leaning down to pepper kisses all over your face.

Your brows furrowed at his words. Confusion had settled in at once, how were you supposed to cheer him up? You'd barely said more than ten words to him. "Cheer him up like what? I can give him some cookies? Or do you want me to make him a sandwich or something?"

Terry chuckled against your cheek, the deep rumbling of his chuckle sent vibrations through you that sent throbbing waves to your core. You were turned on by this man's chuckle? You were too deep in. "Nah, I need you to cheer him up in a different way mama," he explained focusing his kisses primarily against your lips.

You pulled back from the kiss, "I don't know what you—"

Terry silenced you, pulling you into a head spinning kiss. This wasn't a soft peck, or a couple quick kisses to your lips, this one was slow, and passionate. He was trying to devour you, for whatever reason. "You trust daddy, right?" He asked when you parted to catch your breath. He continued his sizzling kisses down to your jawline.

"Yeah, but—"

Terry pulled back his own brows furrowing as he grabbed your jaw firmly in his hand, "you trust daddy, right?" He repeated his question more firmly making you nod slowly, your big brown eyes boring into his.

"Yes," you answered breathlessly as he leaned down to kiss your lips once more.

"Yeah, you do," he mumbled in between kisses to your lips, " 'course you trust daddy. Of course you do."

"You wanna be a good girl for me, don't you?" He followed up with another question that had furthered your peaking arousal. You nodded against his lips, highly turned on, highly dazed. Terry always had this effect on you. He had a way with that mouth.

"Yes, I'd do anything for you." You declared between kisses. And why did you go and blurt that out? It was of course mostly true, but part of it had to do with the spiking arousal you felt. You wanted his tipsy ass to order you around this kitchen, tell you what to do to him, how to do it to him. But maybe you shouldn't have said this to him, although he already knew it, it was dangerous hearing it from you.

"Yeah?" He mumbled pressing his lips against yours once more, earning a dazed nod from you. "I'm glad you said that baby, cause I want you to give yourself to him."

You froze. Give yourself to him? You'd talked about threesomes before, not that Terry wasn't enough for you, he was more than enough. But it was his idea, and you were always down to try anything once. He talked about wanting to share you with another man, watch you, make sure you got yours but this was...a lot. Spontaneous might as well had been you and your man's middle names but this was again, a lot.

He noticed your apprehension and took that as the cue to kiss it all away. "You said you trust daddy, right? Do anything for me?" He muttered all his questions against your lips and you nodded slowly.

"I do," you obliged.

"So why I see you hesitating?"

"Cause I'm not a whore!" You exclaimed folding your arms over chest, a slight pout forming on your lips. The hesitation you had wasn't because you were scared, or nervous about Leo. But what if he was good, so good, too good, what if Terry started to get territorial as he often did. What if this was a big mess?

"You not, baby," Terry agreed his lips meeting your pouted ones once more. "But you my slut, and you wanna make daddy happy and do anything for him, right? This what I want."

"You can make that happen for me?" He asked softly, awaiting your response, to which you squeaked out a small yes. Such a slut.

"Good girl, baby," he muttered to you the praise making your pussy flutter as he sent yet another kiss to your lips, "love that shit." Dazed, you hadn't realized he was leading you into the living area where Leo had been sitting on your sectional all along. Luckily, the Christmas music blaring from the kitchen masked your whole private conversation with your man.

"Baby, you know Leo. Leo, you know my bitch." He muttered keeping his attention preoccupied by you, kissing and nibbling wherever he could from your face to your neck, his hands roaming all around your frame. He gathered all your attention, barely giving you a minute to acknowledge the man you were about to give yourself to on the couch.

"And before she take care of you," he paused in between hot kisses to your neck causing small whimpers to slip past your lips as you tilted your head to give him more access to the sensitive flesh there, "you gon take care of my bitch, like I always do. Ain't that right, mama?"

"Mhm," you hummed through a moan nodding eagerly.

"Get yo' ass over there on that couch then," he commanded to you, voice low and raspy. You bit down on your bottom lip to impede the moan that threatened to slip past your lips at his tone. You mustered up enough strength, however, to pull yourself away from him—earning a sharp slap to your ass. This was exactly what you wanted though, him to boss you around, make you feel overheated, you never envisioned another

You sat on the sectional, a few away from Leo, watching your man earnestly as she made sure to take a seat beside you, you leaned in to kiss him and was stopped short.

"Mm mm," he hummed to you, " turn around, and face him." Pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before you slowly turned around to face Leo. Back against your man's chest you never pictured yourself here even with the few conversations you and Terry had about a threesome.

You always had a way of making some things awkward, it was just part of your nature. Do you look at him? Try to be seductive? Not look at him? Everything had your mind racing, you were comfortable, sure, but how do you please another man in front or your man without it being weird?

"You okay?" Terry asked softly in your ear, making you nod earnestly as you finally made eye contact with Leo. Terry's wandering hands easing your slight nervousness, slipping up your tank top, hands immediately going to fiddle with your bra covered breasts. "Rub her down, relax my bitch." He muttered, words muffled as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, sending a flurry of wet kisses and nibbles there. You were already relaxed, so relaxed.

Leo met your eyes once you could fully open them, "you good with this?" He asked you softly, wanting your full consent before he touched you. You gave him a slow nod, watching as he inched closer to you, his big hands making your skin sizzle as soon as he started to rub the fatty flesh there, squeezing and kneading.

Leo was attracted to you, that was no surprise. You could see it, Terry had seen it—it'd take a blind man not to see how enthralled he'd become every time you seemed to be around. His eyes followed your every move every time he laid eyes on you, and now he had his hands touching you intimately. It was surreal to him.

But to you, it felt good. Feeling two sets of hands on your upper body, and your lower body was completely intoxicating. Terry's swooning kisses on your neck had heat radiating throughout your whole body, and Leo's hands massaging and kneading your meaty thighs had the arousal in your panties spreading. You felt so hot, so turned on. You didn't feel as small as you did before with both men in the room—you felt confident, sought after.

"Look at you, enjoyin' this shit," Terry muttered into your ear, lips tracing the shell of your small ear, "tried to act like you ain't want this shit," he spoke roughly as his hands ripped the very bra that covered your breasts down, pulling the tank top up over the c cups he so badly wanted to see, his chin resting on your shoulder as his big hands canvased your breasts. Nothing but a weak whimper of so called protest being your only reply.

"I know what my bitch want," he muttered to you, so lost in his words you hadn't given Leo a second gaze when you felt his fingers tugging the waistband of your leggings, "try to act like you not a slut. You got two niggas feelin' on you right now, mama. What that make you, hm?" He hummed, both his thumbs and pointer fingers pinching and pulling your sensitive buds. Your shuddering breaths filling the atmosphere of your living area. Terry just knew what to say.

But maybe you were too lost in his words, because you hadn't even noticed that now your panties had been pooled around your ankles, and discarded across the living room by Leo. You hadn't noticed until you felt him spreading your thighs and resting them above his own shoulders. He laid flat on his stomach across your sectional, your brown eyes boring into his lighter ones as he pressed soft, teasing kisses along your inner thighs.

Terry, noticing just how anxious you were getting; hands fisting the cushioning of your couch beneath you, your slightly quickened breathing. He smirked into the crook of your neck, pressing soft lingering kisses there. He knew you would enjoy this shit, just as much as he was enjoying just watching you.

A soft, shallow gasp slipped past your lips once he finally licked a small patch up starting from your hole, all the way back up to your clit. A small tremble in your thighs was a testament to just how turned on you'd been from this whole ordeal.

"Mhm," Terry hummed into your ear, "you so fuckin' horny, look at you. Thighs already tremblin' and he just started, mama." Terrys words with the way Leo's lips were now latched around your swollen nub, him softly moaning into your pussy, sending a wave of vibrations through you. Your mouth falling open, a soft moan slipping past your lips as your head fell back against Terry's broad shoulder.

"Listen to him, you taste good to him baby," Terry mumbled his hands now rubbing more firmly across your breasts, "taste so good to him—can't wait to taste you later."

The abrupt removal of his mouth sent of pang of disappointment through you, a disapproved whimper coming from you as you lifted your head only to see the man before you, his eyes locked onto your heated core as he spat down onto your pussy, his pointer finger and middle finger spreading you apart for him, his fingers lazily rubbing the extra wetness in, before slowly guiding his slender fingers into you.

Two pairs of eyes watched your expression eagerly, your mouth gaped open once again, the slight roll of your eyes making Terry chuckle as your lips formed into a small frown. "Fuuuck," you slurred out, your hole immediately clenching around his fingers as he immediately returned to his fixation with your clit. Leo was obviously a man of few words, but his mouth made up for the little talking that he did. He was so good.

"You feel taken care of, baby? He takin' care of you the way daddy do?" Terry asked you, lips kissing and sucking whatever exposed skin he could, leaving red and purple bruises wherever he landed. You nodded eagerly, not trusting yourself to form words. Leo's lips latching and unlatching on your clit, with loud, sloppy sucks.

"Talk to me, bitch," he said more firmly at the absence of your response, hand gripping your jaw firmly.

"Yessss, i feel taken care," you trailed off, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, pretty eyes going crossed as your hand held the back of Leo's head in place, the familiar burning coil in the pit of your stomach only getting bigger. "Shiitt, yes, yes, yes!" Your usual soothing tone now high and frantic. You nodded vigorously to nothing in particular, just the overwhelming pleasure you were currently succumbing to.

"You wanna cum, hm? You wanna cum don't you? I can feel that shit." Terry asked, you nodded in response, you couldn't talk. Small gasps ripping through you as you felt Leo's fingers pushing into you with a different vigor, his fingers nudging that sweet spot all too well. "Yeah? She wanna cum, make my bitch cum." He spoke, voice slightly muffled by his lips pressed against your skin, lewd words directed toward Leo.

"But you better not fuckin' cum bitch," he mumbled more quietly to you, lips trailing back up your neck to your ear, "you better not fuckin' cum for another nigga unless I tell you to, you hear me?" He muttered to you, a sharp edge to his quiet tone as his lips teased the shell of your ear.

A small whine slipped past your lips, Leo's mouth and fingers working in complete overtime to make you do just that, cum. But you knew better than anything that Terry controlled every nut that you got, whether inflicted by him, you, or toy. You should've known another man was no different.

"Please, daddy," you breathlessly and desperately pleaded, hoping that your soft and sweet pleas would sway him.

"Mm-mm," he hummed in protest, lips kissing the shell of your ear softly, but you persisted in your slurring pleas for him to let you cum, mumbling nonsense in between broken words of how much you needed to, "what i say? Stop beggin' bitch, I said no. Hold it." He firmly said, hand slapping firmly against your cheek. In between Terry's now territorial nature and Leo's drive to make you cum you felt so light, but so heavy at the same time. Your mind seemed to be elsewhere, body denying to release the way you so badly wanted to, the nagging urge sending tears to your eyes.

It wasn't until Terry seen the tears cascading down your cheeks, minutes down the line that his resolve started to deteriorate. He loved seeing you come undone, broken, all under a simple command by him. But he also loved seeing the pretty faces, and hearing the most prettiest sounds when you came. "Why you cryin' baby? You wanna cum that bad?" He asked you brows furrowed in mock concern, dragging his hand down to your neck, forcing you to look up at him through your watery, blurred vision.

He didn't allow time for your answer, his own lips connecting with your swollen ones softly. "Cum. Cum for daddy. Cum in his mouth, bitch. All of it." He said firmly, against your lips. Your own breathing seemed to leave you, your own resolve crumbling once you heard the words leave his mouth.

And as much as he loved hearing you moan, loved hearing all the pretty noises you made when you came undone for him, he couldn't let another man get the satisfaction of hearing that, his own lips drowning whatever sounds you made. Some things, were reserved just for him.

hey y'all! started this a month ago, and just now finishing it. idk think it has to grown on me y'all lmaooo! i hope you all enjoyed <3

tag list: @avoidthings @megamindsecretlair @nickidub718 @keehendrixx @planetblaque @blowmymbackout @b2hotty @partypoison00 @grooveoftiro @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @macgrubberrr @dxddykenn @motheroffae

pretty sure I forgot some & I added some just by random and comments lolz, if I forgot you please let me know, my adhd and memory is horrible <3

[pathologicalreid]

next of kin | S.R.

disaster strikes and you and Spencer try to take custody of your younger sister

part two

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: actually might be gn! but i'm too scared to say it is. death, orphan-ing, funerals, child custody issues, blood, general cm violence, like actually an abhorrent amount of death. sorry i killed your parents for the sake of my fanfiction can we still be friends? word count: 3.33k a/n: this is the fic that this post is about. i am in fact my own worst enemy. i hope y'all like it actually genuinely i am most definitely overthinking this. if your name is maya im sorry that sucks.

“What did your parents say?” Spencer asked, walking into the conference room that the local precinct had offered to you.

You had been staring blankly at your phone since you got off the call with your mother, “Uh, they said thanks, but no thanks.”

The uneasy feeling had settled in your stomach as soon as you found out the team was being called to your hometown, and you had been nauseous ever since you found out the UnSub’s pattern.

Married couples with an older child who had moved out and a younger child who was still at home.

Your little sister was a surprise, you had incorrectly assumed your parents were done having kids.

Until today, you wouldn’t have traded Maya for the world, but now you sat in fear of your family being targeted by a serial killer. Hotch had offered them a protective detail, but they declined. Self-righteous as they were, they told you it wouldn’t feel right for them to accept help that couldn’t be offered to everyone.

Clenching your jaw, you stood at the table, “I’ll go by later and check in on them.”

Spencer had met your family twice by now. Last Christmas he had tagged along to meet them and celebrate with your family before the two of you spent New Year’s with his mom. Then, while your sister was on Spring Break, they flew out to Virginia, and you and Spencer had shown your family around Quantico and the District.

Maya had loved Spencer, partially because you loved him, but mostly because of his magic tricks.

“Do you want me to go with you?” He asked, stepping up next to you and placing a hand on the small of your back.

You sighed and shook your head, “No, not if you’re needed here.” You reached up and cupped his cheek, smiling softly, “Thank you for offering, Spence.”

He nodded affirmatively, “If you change your mind,” he offered. Gently, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before the two of you returned to the rest of the team.

The fact that your parents lived only five minutes from the police station gave you some relief, but you still felt tightly wound. Everyone had noticed. You just needed this case to be over.

The porch lights were on when you got there, and you used your house key – which you had never taken off of your keychain - to open the front door. “Hey, kiddo,” your dad greeted from the couch. A peek into the kitchen showed you that your mom was wiping down the counters. It all felt so eerily normal.

It was dark by the time you had gotten there. Maya was already asleep, but you tip-toed into her room anyway and kissed her goodnight before going back downstairs. Once you had hugged both of your parents and told them you loved them, you made your way back to the police precinct.

By nearly three in the morning, there was no new information, and the team was starting to consider calling it a night until the police chief got a call.

“We just got a call. Lady reported shouts coming from her neighbor’s house at 86 Meadowbrook,” he informed you, putting his hands on his hips and looking around at the team.

None of them even spared him a returning glance, everyone’s eyes were on you.

Blinking rapidly, you nodded assuredly, “I have to go get Maya.” You didn’t even recognize your voice even as you said it. It couldn’t have been your voice. That was the rasp of someone far away from you.

All of the other voices around you were muffled, you couldn’t hear what people were telling you, let alone understand them.

Maya. Maya. Maya.

Brown eyes. There they were, right in front of your face. “Let’s go get her,” Spencer whispered.

You had been speaking out loud. Repeating your sister’s name like a prayer without even realizing it.

Hotch let you go with them, but he made it abundantly clear to you – and the rest of the team – that you weren’t working this case anymore.

Surrounded by reverent voices in an SUV, JJ drove while Spencer stayed in the back with you. He held your hand tightly in his.

The house was closed off with police tape. Bright yellow plastic fluttered in the wind as you watched your team and other emergency personnel enter and exit. At your insistence, Spencer went in to get Maya, it felt like it had been hours before he walked out, carrying her in his arms.

Carefully, he brought her to you, and you pulled her close to your chest, blocking her eyesight as two body bags were brought out of the house.

You didn’t hear anything after that. You just let yourself be moved to wherever you needed to be, holding your kid sister as she cried for your parents.

They had to take their bodies to the hospital even though they were already gone, and you needed to be the one to confirm their identities. Spencer stayed with Maya while you were busy. She had cried herself to the point of exhaustion, you were grateful that she was sleeping, and then you felt cruel.

By sunrise, she was still asleep, and you had been set up in that same conference room from earlier. Sitting across from you was a social worker, a representative of the state. Your lips had parted in shock as you looked at her, “What do you mean they denied my request?”

In an attempt to be helpful, JJ worked with you to file an emergency request for custody of Maya, and the case worker had just told you that the request was denied. “The state doesn’t believe your request is valid,” she told you.

Your mouth went dry, “I don’t…” you glanced over at your little sister. “Our parents were murdered last night, and they won’t let me take custody of my sister?” You asked indignantly, peering at the social worker. It wasn’t her fault, somewhere in your grief-ridden brain you knew that, but you couldn’t help the feeling that she was somehow your enemy.

“They don’t believe you can provide her with a stable living environment,” the social worker, Brittany, explained.

Narrowing your eyes, you responded, “A stable living environment like a foster home? I’m her sister. We’re family – the only family each other has left.” You stood up, excusing yourself for a moment before walking out of the precinct. Once you were outside, you promptly hurled into the bushes.

That was how he found you, to the side of the building with your hair haphazardly moved out of your face, dry heaving into the shrubbery. Gently, Spencer placed a hand on your back before starting to rub small circles on your back, “You should eat something, love.”

You just shook your head in response, you weren’t hungry. “They won’t let me take her,” you whispered morosely, straightening up, you kept your back facing him.

“What?” He asked, his hand abruptly stopping its movement on your back.

Taking a deep breath and sitting on the curb, you looked up at Spencer. “The state thinks I’m not stable enough to take her in,” you said, resting your chin in your hands.

Your boyfriend crouched down so that he could sit next to you, “Are you going to challenge it?”

“Of course I am,” you cried. “But what happens to her in the interim, Spence? She gets placed with whatever foster home here and I go back to Virginia? I see her when the family court resolves this in two years?”

Treading carefully, Spencer cleared his throat, “What are you going to do?”

Defeated, you shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m…” your voice trailed off. “My parents are dead, Spencer,” you murmured softly, tears welling in your eyes.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around you, “I know, darling. I know. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t think I can do this alone,” you whispered, leaning gently into him.

Spencer turned to kiss your temple, “It’s a good thing you’re not alone then. I’m not going anywhere.” He waited for a moment before continuing, “Give me something to do. Give me a job to take off of your shoulders.”

In the end, you let Spencer take over funeral planning. He thanked you for trusting him before the both of you went back into the precinct.

You had just hung up with a family lawyer who had offered to take your case, letting your phone drop to the floor, you let your arms hang at your side. Someone had taken Maya to get breakfast while you spoke with the lawyer.

At the sound of the phone falling to the floor, Spencer stepped into the conference room, letting the door click shut before him. “Hey, what did he say?”

Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you took in a deep breath, “Um, he said he’d be willing to take the case if I could put together a case plan to present before the judge.”

Before that phone call, you didn’t know what a case plan was, you could’ve gone your whole life without knowing what a case plan was.

“I need a year-long plan for how I’m going to prepare to have Maya in my custody, but he said a year is the best he can do,” you said, staring blankly at the wall ahead of you. “A year?” You whispered aimlessly, “I’m not waiting a fucking year to take custody of her. I have to take her home, Spence. I have to.” It wasn’t your intention to snipe at him, but you felt like you couldn’t help yourself.

The events of the last twelve hours threatened to take you down, but you had to stay strong for Maya.  

Taking a shaky breath, you looked up at Spencer, “Why is it that every time I convince myself that it’s going to be okay, I get tossed to the ground again?” You asked him.

Maybe because you weren’t fully convinced. Maybe it was because it had only been seven hours. You needed to remind yourself of that.

“She’s a ward of the state?” Spencer asked for clarification, holding you tightly.

Nodding absentmindedly, you rested your head on his shoulder as he swayed gently. “She can stay with me until after the funeral, and after that, she has to go with the social worker.”

The sad look on Spencer’s face told you that he was running out of ideas, and you were coming to the very same conclusion. “We could get married,” he offered.

“Stop, Spence,” you said, shaking your head. You couldn’t believe this was where he was going.

He shrugged helplessly, “I’m serious, Y/N. If we get married, they might think we’re stable, as a couple. They might give us custody.”

Your shoulders slumped, “I don’t want to get married just to get custody of my sister.” It certainly wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry Spencer, just not like this.

He nodded understandingly, “I know, but I’m just saying. If that’s what it takes, then I’ll do it.” Placing a comforting hand on your knee, the two of you sat in silence for a moment. “Do you have any ideas?” He asked you carefully.

Looking through the blinds of the conference room, you saw the rest of the team coming back to the precinct. Setting your jaw, you nodded, “I might.”

Opening the door, you had Maya go in with Spencer while you approached your Unit Chief. “Hey,” Hotch said, a glint of sympathy in his eyes. “How are you holding up?” He pulled you away from the people, wanting to give you privacy.

This wasn’t fair, they were still working on an active case. A case that was disturbingly close to you, and yet, you felt you were out of options. “I need a favor,” you blurted to him, wringing your hands. Your nervous energy made it impossible for you to stay still.

Hotch nodded, “What do you need?” He asked, studying your composure with the eye of a profiler.

You took a deep breath, “I was… I need you to call in a favor with someone. Anyone, really. The state won’t let me take custody of Maya, but I can’t let her become a ward of the state. Not when I’m right here, ready, willing, and able to take her.”

“Okay,” he responded, not even pausing to think about it.

Taken aback, you looked at him curiously, “I- that’s it? I had groveling prepared.”

He nodded almost imperceptibly as if he was trying to tell you it wasn’t necessary. “You’ve been a part of this team for years and not once have you ever asked for anything in return for everything you do for everyone else. This is the least I can do,” he told you.

You couldn’t help it. Overwhelmed, you tackled Hotch in a bear hug, “Thank you.” Your voice was low, “Thank you so much.”

Succinctly, Hotch hugged you back before you pulled away, “I’ll go make some calls.”

It was the smell.

The smell that you’d sensed countless times before on the job, the metallic tang of the blood. It should’ve been mostly dried by now – you supposed you were more susceptible to the scent, considering it was your parent’s blood, but it put you on high alert.

Emily had brought you by so that you could pack a bag for Maya, but you found yourself stuck on the landing. To one side, there was your childhood bedroom and Maya’s room. On the other side, there was your parent’s room.

“Y/N?” Emily called your name from downstairs, “Are you alright?”

No, you wanted to say, but you bit your tongue, scanning the house you had grown up in. “This doesn’t belong here,” you told her, glancing behind you as she made her way up the staircase.

You didn’t have gloves, so instead you pointed at the figurine that was resting on the bookshelves, a little bear facing in the direction of your parent’s bedroom door. “This is in the wrong spot?”

Nodding, your eyes followed the ceramic bear as Emily picked it up with a gloved hand. “It’s mine, it should be in my room,” you informed her. Your parents never changed anything about your childhood bedroom, not since you moved out. “It was like it was watching them,” you thought aloud.

“Do you think the UnSub did it?” She asked you gently, her voice was low but steady.

Blinking rapidly, you kept your eyes focused on the figurine, “Little Bear,” you murmured, “They called her Little Bear.”

Emily shook her head in confusion, dark hair swaying as her head moved. “Who was called Little Bear?”

Dropping the bag you had packed to the floor, you buried your face in your hands, “I should’ve seen it sooner.” The victimology, it all suddenly made sense to you. “When I was a kid, there was a family like mine. A brother who was in his twenties when his parents had another baby, a girl. They called her Little Bear.”

Realization dawned on Emily’s dark features, “Like this bear?”

You picked up the bag and started making your way back down the stairs. “Their mother made those figurines. The parents died in a fire two weeks ago – they left everything to the younger sister. It was all over the news. God, I should’ve figured it out sooner.”

“Hey,” Emily said sympathetically, “You had other things going on. None of this was your fault.” Her voice was stern, harsher than you’d ever heard her, as she pulled out her phone and called the team.

Your teammate drove, passing the police station on the way to drop you off. They left for the takedown, and you felt yourself floating into the precinct. Maya was waiting in the conference room for you, watching cartoons on someone’s laptop.

Kneeling in front of your little sister, you tapped the space bar, pausing the video. “Hey, kiddo,” you whispered, reaching over, and smoothing her hair away from her face. “How are you feeling?”

She had cried herself to sleep earlier, and you felt like you hadn’t been around enough. Maya sat up on the couch and rubbed her eyes, they were red, but not teary. “I miss mommy,” she told you, pouting slightly.

You nodded gently, moving to sit next to her before you pulled her into your lap. At six years old, she was all gangly limbs, just starting to grow into her own person. Just old enough to understand death, “I know, baby. I miss them too.”

“They wouldn’t lemme go home,” she continued, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I wanted Thumper,” she whined, sounding younger than she was.

Looking up at the light, you silently begged for your tears to go away. “I got him for you,” you told her, reaching into your bag and producing the small stuffed bunny that you had given her as a baby.

You savored the way her eyes lit up as she grabbed the stuffed animal from you.

“So, you and Thumper are gonna come to stay with me in Virginia. Do you remember going there? You said you liked it?” You kept smoothing her hair back as she held her toy.

She was silent for a moment, “Will Spencer be there?” She asked quietly.

Smiling slightly, you nodded, “He and I live together, so he’ll be there with us.” Slowly, you started rocking back and forth, trying to soothe the both of you simultaneously.

“As long as he doesn’t pull money out of my ear,” she answered succinctly, shutting her eyes as she leaned up against you.

There was approximately an hour before you watched the team return to the precinct, slowly, you laid Maya down on the couch before walking out. “It was a clean shoot,” you heard Rossi tell Morgan, and one look at the rest of them told you everything you needed to know.

The team went back to the hotel, and Spencer filled you in on the funeral arrangements he had made on your behalf. You were about to try to get some sleep when Hotch approached you and told you he needed to speak to you.

“I called a good friend of mine on your behalf, and he gave me some information. We were able to work out a plan,” he told you, sitting across from you in the hotel lobby.

You were about to tell him that a case plan wouldn’t work, but he held his hand out, telling you to wait.

He nodded before he kept going, “He was able to file an emergency request to grant you temporary custody of Maya, and it was granted.”

You felt sick to your stomach, “She’s mine?”

“Temporarily, you’ll have to take care of some formalities back in Virginia, but you have full custody of her,” he informed you. “You’re being granted family leave, and I’ve encouraged Reid to apply for it as well,” Hotch told you, reaching out and placing a hand on your shoulder. “I am… I’m sorry that you’ve had to go through this but thank you for coming to me when you needed the help.”

You nodded absentmindedly, your head still whirling with the information that you had just been given. Stumbling, you walked back to your hotel room that you were sharing with Spencer and Maya.

The funeral was planned, the custody issue was solved, all there was left to do was…

“Baby?” Spencer said softly as you swung open the door, “Everyone else took Maya to get ice cream, I figured it couldn’t-“ his voice broke off at your first sob.

Everything you had held in came bursting out, all of the grief and stress and exhaustion nearly knocked your legs out from underneath you.

But Spencer was there to catch you.

part two

[httpknjoon]

santa, tell me | myg

plot | that time in december where popstar!yn and bassist!yoongi agreed to do something.

w.c | 3.3K

pairing | bass guitarist!yoongi x popstar!reader

genre | fluff, slight angst, enemies to lovers

note | thank you for the lovely @marblemoonstones for sending this request. sorry it took so long. i hope you'll love it.

main masterlist | series masterlist | want to request?

cont. of DAY 64 of Love Is... On Tour

"You didn't think that was all, right?"

Fans cheered for the last time, assuming that you just played your last song for tonight. But suddenly, a familiar tune plays in the whole arena. They cheered as the lights slowly turned up. The live band plays a prolonged intro to your famous holiday song. This time, Yoongi is back on his spot with the band, playing his guitar. You are now sitting on the throne with your candy cane.

"Alright, I need everyone to be honest right now. I have to ask y'all something." you begin, standing up. "What's your Christmas wishes to Santa?"

The fans from different sides of the arena shouted their individual wishes one by one. You walked to various parts of the stage to hear out some of their answers. As expected, you hear funny and crazy wishes.

A big dick!

"A what?!" you stopped at one's answer, eyes widened for a second.

The band and some members of the audience, who also heard that, laughed.

"I mean, that's a little naughty. But I'm sure Santa won't mind that one. List that down!" you turned your head to Yoongi, still in his Santa Claus suit. He played along, nodding his head with a thumbs up.

You were about to continue your fan interactions when you spoke again, "Oh, make that two! She isn't the only one wishing for that tonight."

The camera caught your playful wink, making your fans laugh and cheer. If a non-fan is in your show tonight, they will find your humor a little too sexual. Just like some people online who have big opinions about you and your ongoing tour, where a lot of suggestive stuff happens. But your latest album literally had a "Parental Advisory: Explicit Content" sticker on it when it was released since some of your songs were, again, sexual and included adult words. So, it is totally expected of you to have that kind of joke in you. And gladly, your fans were on the same wavelength.

My ex!

"Oh, your ex?" You repeated that one answer. You spotted that fan nodding. "Well... That's... a waste of a wish."

Your fans laughed, knowing that there was something behind your statement.

"An ex is an ex for a reason, love. Had to learn that in a very obvious way." You chuckled at your own mocking comment. "Anyway, any more wishes that Santa can list down?"

From the left side of the stage, you see a cardboard sign with a big statement written on it. Cute doodles related to Christmas and a few cutout pictures of you were added to the sign.

You read slowly, "We... want.. a... Christmas album?"

The arena was filled with cheers after you read that, agreeing to it. Your heart skipped with that reaction. Almost everyone in the venue knows that there is an ongoing rumor of you releasing one. And you don't where that came from but it was true.

It has been so long since you released a holiday-themed song. You only had one or two while a couple have been leaked before. But currently, you already have a collection of lyrics written in your notebook. But you need a little help with some melodies. With December already starting, you are now unsure if you should even release it.

"I don't know about that. Feels a little late to release that right now," you said, making your fans react with a loud boo.

It's only the first week of December!

Someone screamed so loud and clear, it was audible in the whole arena. Everyone agreed and cheered your name over and over again as a way to encourage you.

"We'll see about that." you smiled cheekily. "We'll see if Santa is listening to everyone's Christmas wishes tonight. Because for me, I feel like Santa and I don't really get along that much."

Yoongi hears his friends laugh next to him. He ignores them, waiting for how you will going to introduce this next song.

"But wasn't I a good girl this year, Santa?"

Unexpectedly, you turned to him for an answer. Yoongi shrugged his shoulders as a reply, making you roll your eyes. He tried not to smile, knowing that he successfully countered your attempt to get a reaction from him.

"See?" you looked back at your audience. "Anyway, I need to make sure Santa will hear my wishes tonight. So can you all sing with me for this last song?"

You smiled as the fans replied with a very loud and clear yes. Nodding to the band, they began playing louder and you started to sing,

"Santa, tell me if you're really there..."

Your hair bounced to the rhythm as you danced along with your dancers. It was your official last song of the night after an hour and a half of songs and dance. But you still performed like it was just the start of the night.

"True love, that he thinks of..."

Just before the second pre-chorus ends, you strut down the long way to the wider stage where the band performs. You did not rehearse anything with Yoongi to this song since Santa did not plan to do anything in it. But Santa is here anyway, why waste his presence?

"Santa, tell me if you're really there. Don't make me fall in love again if he won't be here next year..."

As expected, Yoongi knew he was your target. You stood next to him, leaning your back to his side, while he played the guitar. You turned to him and poked him to get his attention like you were really talking to Santa.

"Oh, I wanna let him unwrap me, like, oh-ooh-oh..."

Yoongi finally looked at you when you turned around, showing off the fluffy white bow Paul had sewn behind your red dress. It took your fans a few more seconds to realize that you modified some lyrics the song had years ago.

"Get on top of him, by that fireplace, oh-ooh-oh..."

Singing the line, you dropped down quickly and popped back up. You looked over your shoulder, immediately winking at the first set of eyes you met. He looked away, making you laugh while still singing. Twitter will definitely eat up this short interaction.

"But I don't want a new broken heart. This year, I've got to be smart. Oh, baby..."

You strut joyfully all over the stage, swaying your hips to the song, while you sing some vocal runs. White confetti, mixed with red heart-shaped ones, began falling all over the arena as the song and show neared its end. Some fans also began throwing their small gifts on the stage.

"If you won't be, if you won't be here- Thank you all so much for coming tonight! Have a happy holiday!"

You let the background vocals sing in the background as you waved goodbye. As the lights dimmed down, you blew kisses on the cameras. The band freestyles, but remains in tune with the song.

"Do you think I can still release a holiday EP before we take a break?"

On your way back to the hotel, half an hour after the show, you asked Cal. The idea of releasing new Christmas songs excites you and makes you wanna start recording your self-written songs immediately. But with less than two weeks left and a tour happening, you wouldn't want to hassle everyone.

Cal nods, reaching for her phone to look at her Calendar app, which its mostly filled with your agenda than hers, "Yeah, you absolutely can. We can talk to the label about it, so we can get things approved right away. But you are their favorite right now, they'll let you do anything you want."

You laughed at that, shaking your head even though that was true. Your assistant continued, "Just let me know your plans. Like, do you want to do some promotional stuff?"

"Seems nice. Does that Late Night gig still stand?" you asked, referring to a hosting offer you got a few days ago from the producers of a known show.

"Yep, they said they can wait until the day after tomorrow."

"So, I still have two days to finalize?" you asked.

"That's right." Cal replied.

You nodded, leaning on your chair more, forcing it to be your makeshift bed in the meantime. A checklist began forming in your head. You were done in the first step: writing the songs. Now, you just need someone to help you with producing it. Usually, you would call up your friends to collaborate. But with you touring around the country, you know that it will be hard to communicate with them at the same time.

Yoongi produces.

A thought comes into your head, but your eyebrows furrowed. He will not get your ideas like your past producers. You feel like you two have the most different perspectives on things that you will just end up scrapping the whole thing.

But I want to release this EP.

Cal, who was sitting next to you, heard you let out a deep, heavy sigh. Your back was facing her, but she could see you staring at your phone lock screen. After working for you for almost five years, she knows that you are probably just swimming in your thoughts right now. You often do that, especially when making big decisions. Once again, you let out a big sigh, nodding. Cal will not tell you, but her eyebrows raise when she sees you typing a message to someone.

"I told you I was on stage earlier, I can't answer your calls."

Yoongi just arrived in his hotel room when he got a call from Sara, his ex-fiancee. It took him a minute of staring on his phone screen before deciding to accept the call begrudgingly. He has been avoiding to talk with her after they went on separate ways six months ago. But when she reached out to him the other day, he knew he won't be able to avoid her easily. A four-year relationship, with a year of being engaged, is not a light thing to bury down.

"God! This is why I don't want you doing tours. It's harder to communicate with you when you're on a different timezone." She grumbled.

The time difference is not even that much. He thinks she's just making a big deal out of something. Yoongi is on Boston, while she's on LA. He knows she probably just got home from her office just a couple of hours ago.

"Can we just talk about what we need to talk about?" Yoongi sighed, wanting to end the call as soon as he can.

"Fine." Sara sighed. "So, about the house. We decided to just keep it. It will be just easier for me and the baby since we already turned one of the rooms into a nursery."

He hates that it's a "we" decision. That there's another person involved in a conversation that's just meant for him and her.

"I told you to do whatever you want it, just give me my money back. I am not interested to know your plans with it." Yoongi almost spat the words out with disdain.

He is trying to remain calm and mature with everything about their past relationship. But again, it's hard, especially when Sara got herself pregnant with another man, who was her ex, while they are still engaged. Just recalling it back makes his blood boil.

"Yoongi."

She called him in a way that supposed to calm him down. If she did this a year ago, it would have worked. But hearing her calling him with her soft tone, just brings more resentment.

"Sara," Yoongi sighed.

Knowing that she's probably in her last trimester of pregnancy, he hate to bring stress to her and her baby. But man, it's hard to balance gentleness with hurt.

He pinched the bridge of his nose before walking out to the balcony to get some fresh air. He inhaled while feeling the coolness of the weather. He spoke,

"Just... just do whatever the fuck you want with our house and update me once you decided to pay me back. Okay?"

"Okay." She mumbled. "Yoongi, I'm so—"

He ends the call before she can say that familiar yet useless word again. Turning off his phone, he just rested his arms on the balcony railing while silently gazing on the distant city lights. His sweatshirt is nothing compared to the chilly weather, where light white snow falls on his jet black hair. But he doesn't mind, it makes him feel numb for a moment.

He really needs a distraction right now before he ends up smoking again.

"Hey."

Suddenly, Yoongi hears a small whisper. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked to his right, instantly spotting you in your usual oversized sweatshirt and plaid pajamas. You stood on the balcony next to his. A thin smoke from the cup you were holding slightly covered your face, but Yoongi still recognized that gentle smile that curved your lips.

"'Sup, Santa?"

"So, this is your hot choco."

Cal placed the cup on a small table in your hotel room. You were still a little groggy when you woke up from your quick nap in the van. But now, after choosing to release an EP for the holidays, you want to stay up all night to work on it.

"Thank you, Cal. I love you so much." you told her, hugging her.

She smiled, "I love you too, hon. Don't force yourself to work more tonight."

You hummed in response while choosing more comfortable bottoms to change into. Cal took one last glance at you, making sure you were okay, before saying goodbye. Left alone, you changed into your red plaid pajama pants, perfect for the cozy weather.

Although you only had a few minutes of sleep, you are ready to take more steps for your plan. You messaged Yoongi earlier after getting his number from Fred. But you noticed you got zero replies from the messages you sent.

Maybe you should just talk to him in person?

Or you should just look for another producer?

The second option seems easier than talking with him directly.

You find yourself walking out to the balcony, swimming in your own thoughts while being engulfed by the chilly air. You keep your warm cup in both of your hands while thinking of how you can find someone to work with for your songs.

Back then, you used to have your then-boyfriend around to help you with such things. Theo is a musician too and plays a lot of instruments other than his bass guitar. So, he's been a great and quick support if you have unexpected ideas or melodies in your head. Since he also led the band before, he can easily call them up for a quick record session. But now, things changed. The cheating happened, followed by the break-up. To top it all off, your ex literally brought the band with him (except Noah, who insisted on staying with you) while you still have an ongoing world tour.

Asshole. You cursed in your head again when you remembered that time you were panicking after learning what Theo and the band did. Fucking asshole, you hissed.

Shaking your head, you try to get back on planning. You were sipping in your hot chocolate when you heard someone speaking.

"Just… just do whatever the fuck you want with our house and update me once you decided to pay me back. Okay?"

You see Yoongi next to your balcony with his phone next to his left ear. Blinking, your eyes observed him quietly. This may be the first time you saw him angry. He sounded aggressive to whoever he was talking with. Although inaudible, you know that the person on the other line was still talking when Yoongi abruptly tapped on his phone, ending. Your lips formed into a small 'o' before you took another sip of your drink.

You probably should have just gone inside and left him alone. Maybe it was just a fight with his fiancee, that he briefly mentioned in one of your quick conversations.

But after seeing him look out the night city view while his fists were clenched, you thought maybe you would let your presence known.

"Hey..." you almost whispered with how you tried to be careful with your tone as if you were stepping on a fragile glass floor.

Even though he was glaring when he turned his head at you, you tried to smile at him. Just a soft, friendly smile. But when the mood felt heavier, you made an attempt to lighten it up.

"'Sup, Santa?"

His tensed shoulders slowly dropped back into a more calm position before he shifted to face you.

"What are you doing there?" he asked, removing the snow on his hair.

"Oh, I didn't know I needed to have reasons to be on my own balcony."

You don't know why but that was the first sentence you thought of, but did not think through yet you let it slip out your mouth. It sounded defensive like you were picking a fight again. Tired of starting another dumb fight with you for today, Yoongi rolled his eyes and was ready to go back to his room.

"Wait! Wait I'm sorry! I didn't mean to say that." you stopped him, spewing out your apologies. Fuck, you didn't know you can be this bad in handling such moments like this.

"I actually want to ask if you have checked your messages?" you asked, changing the topic with the idea on the top of your head.

He squints at you, "Why?"

"Uh... I actually sent you a text earlier," you replied, scratching the back of your head.

"Again, why?" he asked one more time, sounding more uninterested. Even though, he was already wondering why would you message him and how you even got his number.

"Can't you just check your phone right now?" you asked.

Seeing you having trouble saying whatever you texted him made Yoongi even more curious about what you texted him. He shook his head at you.

"Actually, I can't." He tried not to smile when he noticed your nostrils flaring. "So can you tell me what you texted me?"

Your chest rosed when you exhaled heavily, aware of what he was doing. You were finishing the chocolate in your cup when Yoongi clicked his tongue,

"Well, I think I should go-"

"Yoongi, hi! This is YN. Got your number from Noah. I was wondering if we could collaborate on something that I'm planning to release this holiday season. Please, let me know if you're interested. x YN." you spoke so quickly yet clearly, reciting the exact text message you sent him before. You had it memorized because you kept reading it earlier while waiting for his reply, biting your nails. "Is that good?!"

Your irritation simmered down when you saw Yoongi biting his lower lip, stopping himself from smiling. But he already is.

"A little too fast for my liking. But, okay," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Okay?" you asked for clarification.

"Okay, I'll be your producer," he answered.

Even though you won't show it, Yoongi noticed you smiling before behind your cup. And yes, you know your cup was already empty. But you hate to give Yoongi more satisfaction after he made you recite your message to him.

"Can we start tomorrow?" you asked.

"Sure, come to my room."

You leaned forward with lines in between your brows, "Excuse me, what?"

"What? I already have my stuff set up here. I don't want to move again." he explained before smirking. "What were you thinking, YN?!"

Feeling the blood rushing to your cheeks and ears, you turned away, "Ugh, whatever. Let's just text."

"But my phone is turned off!" Yoongi teased you as you walked inside your room.

"Not my problem! Charge it or something. See you tomorrow!" you spoke hurriedly before closing the sliding door.

Yoongi laughed at your flustered reaction, shaking his head.

note | random question... do u guys have any favorite youtube video segments where you would like the series characters to participate in? if yes, feel free to let me know! send me an ask or comment it. but anyway, thank you so much for reading <3

taglist rules

SERIES TAGLIST

@busanbby-jjk @jimingirl95 @treacherqus @jajabro @marnz1990 @ktownshizzle @notarshia @m00njinnie @thelilbutifulthings @tarahardcore

PERMANENT TAGLIST (CLOSED)

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21 @marblemoonstones

[kanmom51]

NOOOOOO.....

Well yesssss.

But NOOOOOO. Not again.

Are we back to me waking up to missing JK's lives?????

Oh my friggin god.

And what a live it seems to have been.

I'm off for a couple of weeks vacay for Christmas and New years, so I guess I won't be able to watch the translated live for a bit now, not to mention to write about it. Seriously JK, I need to have a word with you about your timetable... Well, with your superiors too, given they gave you the leave and permission to do this live...

I do want to remind you that neither Jin nor Hobi came live during their time off when in service. They posted on IG at times, but never came live. Just thought it needed to be mentioned. JK could have posted on Weverse. He actually did that too. He could have taken a photo and posted. He could have recorded a short message and posted. He didn't. He chose to come live because he had something to say. In that all so very special JK way. Matter of factly during his live.

Oh, and if we are on that one, do I mention karma is a bitch? Or more so, JK is one. Cause if anyone thinks for one second that the timing of this live was a coincidence, they have another thing coming. Just like every single live we had back in 2023 that followed up a shit show (Tae lives created or fan created - "I don't have a girlfriend").

This hate wave I mentioned in my post yesterday was beyond others I've seen. Disgusting hits made at JM's dad and family forcing him to shut down the comments on the IG account. Hits made at Bam. All beyond the vile hate towards JK and JM as well. And not only on X, but also on JM's dad's cafe IG account and Bam's IG account. So yeah, JK does things for a reason.

And just for the vile haters, JK made sure to mention JM multiple times.

INCLUDING MENTIONING THEIR SHOWERS TOGETHER.

And if anyone wants to go down the path of "they have communal showers" road, I say stop!! No!! They do not shower with other soldiers. Not with JM's body image issues. Not with previous idols being photographed in the shower. This is a HUGE issue that idols have had in the past and were granted private shower times due to. They just don't shower with others.

But they do shower together.

So I guess deal with that one haters!!!!

And OMG, he sang Die with a smile.

Man sang Die with a smile.

And people!!!

He knows the lyrics off by heart!!!!!!!

Now hold on for one second.

They sing in the shower together.

Just take that one in, and add Die with a smile...

And there we have our dream come true. Jikook singing this song together.

Meant to be!!!!

Oh, this too:

They go a little away from others and sing loudly....

Ok then.

We call it signing nowdays.

That's what they tell the others I guess.

Oh, there is so much I could add in this matter...

But I'm very demure, so I will refrain from going down that road.

All I'll say (and leave the singing to them) is....

I will emphasize this one last time before I say my goodbyes.

JK KNOWS WHAT HE IS DOING.

He knew what he was doing when he came live after Tae's lives and debunked stupid conclusions fans (the cult) made.

He knew what he was doing when he told us things he wanted us to know and understand about him in his 2023 lives.

He knew what he was doing when he did his "I go the other way" TikTok.

He knew what he was doing when he told us he doesn't have a girlfriend.

He knew what he was doing when he mentioned JM in this live.

And he very well knew what he was doing when he told us about their singing in the shower together.

He didn't have to mention the shower.

He really didn't.

He wanted to.

And you can see it written all over his face. You could hear it in his voice.

Eat on that cheeky grin haters!!!

Haters will hate and Jikook will keep having showers together.

T'is what t'is.

JK came home (literally) to give us his holidays gift.

Merry Christmas and Hanukah to y'all and Happy New Year!!!

From myself, Jikook and JM's chestie besties...

[akawrites000]

casually caring for someone (2) - a prompt list

one handing the other their jacket because they're feeling cold. "are you cold? here, take my jacket."

B's jacket looks too big on A, making them look more smaller than they are. 'they're adorable', B thinks. A looks at them a little cluelessly, struggling to wear it properly. B just sighs, fond, and helps them out.

A and B introducing each other to new experiences, making each other's lives more fulfilling. "here, I got this for you"; "do you want to go there with me?"

A knows B loves sweets so gets them sweets from their hometown and B looks like Christmas came early. "are all of these for me? you're the best!!" A just smiles fondly at them, nodding happily.

A and B go out with B's friend, who walks a little too quickly. A can't really keep up, but they try, not wanting to bring it up and make the third person feel uncomfortable. B notices, walks slower to match A's pace and gently alerts their friend - "hey C, can we walk a little slower?"

one invites the other over to an activity that they know they'll like, to cheer them up, make them smile or just to spend more time with them.

giving each other compliments that go beyond the surface/looks, choosing to compliment them about their personality. "I like the way you pour your heart into everything you do"; " i don't know what it is that you're doing, but keep doing what you're doing - just keep being yourself"; "I'm able to be myself with you and it feels nice."

one staying back after their lecture to wait for the other (and sometimes pretending that they weren't waiting for a long time, to not make the other feel guilty).

A wants to host B for a change because B does that for them all the time. They're seriously amazed and in awe of B's ability to host, that they become nervous when the time comes. "hey, relax, I came here for you, so you should just be yourself."

A and B hang out at a common friend's house, and B chooses to leave earlier than A. Before they go, they make sure to tell their friend, "please make sure A gets home early and safe."

A and B go to shop for some clothes, and A waits for B right outside the dressing room while they're trying on their clothes. When B comes out, a pleasant smile pulls on their lips to see A still waiting for them. "It's your turn now," B says, placing a gentle hand on A's shoulder, "I'll wait for you right here."

A considers themselves as a soft-spoken person, they don't really raise their voice and because of that, they often feel like they're not heard, or like they have to say something more than once to be heard. it makes them really insecure and they try to be louder, but it's still hard for them to do it most of the time. B always hears them though; reacts even when A calls out for them only once and it never fails to warm A's heart.

When A and B are part of group discussions, one always makes sure that the other is heard / has a chance to give their opinions. "Hey A, what do you think about this?"; "I think B hasn't had a chance to give their opinion yet".

(y'all really seemed to like this one a lot, so here's a part 2! I hope you'll enjoy this one too <3 thank you for all the love and support 💗)

[dilf-docs]

I'm Happy Where The Devils Are

dbf!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: something something about forbidden things; you never learn, not until the heart you gave returns to you in shreds, bleeding out of love. what's left when you've given all of your heaven away? hell.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (but this time it's sad not hot or both idk), smut, p. in v., virgin!reader, (forced??) creampie, fingering, riding, oral (f. receiving), corruption kink, reader has no daddy issues ++her dad is lovely nor mommy issues like me but a secret third thing, ANGST IN CAPITAL, situationship™, jumping very late to this trend or series IDK hope someone still lurks around this neighbourhood, joel has no kids and is unmarried cause i need him to be BITTER, in short this is very AU canon divergence at max coded

word count: 7,629 words

side note: IF U SAW IT POSTED BEFORE NO U DIDN'T IT WAS A HONEST MISTAKE (clicked publish instead of save draft) OKAY i just searched thru my top 2024 songs by spotify for some inspo and well!!!!!! my yet to be dilf RM's (or joon as i, his wife, loves to call him endearingly) song called heaven popped up! those are the vibes if u wanna give it a listen (PLS DO OKAY HE RANKED TOP KOREAN ALBUM THIS YEAR AND I SEE I'M GETTING OFF THE HOOK BUT HE DESERVES IT RAHH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH) and yk i said it's got the miller vibe going on: ANGST™ okay stopping my rambling and letting y'all enjoy (or suffer, idk anymore: as u see, i have a thing for sad complicated old man and suffering myself, because i could've choose any other idea but here goes user dilf-docs the angst whore choosing to suffer again lolz)

part: I / II

It was winter when he first touched you.

Joel Miller: a name you've learned to pronounce like it was spoken on a different language that only you knew.

You've known him for years, a familiar face that stands in corners and only laughs when spoken to, begrundingly, like it's rather a favor than something of his amusement. A guy who would drop by your house until you learned his name like he'd learn the games you'd force him to play. A friend of your dad, who moved back to town and has haunted your house since he stepped a foot inside, tainting the walls with his pine phantom.

Joel's a face you've seen age as much as he's seen you grow out of your pigtails and child-like wonder: and perhaps that's why it's wrong.

It is all so wrong: the way your gaze lingers a bit too long over his tired and bitter expresion, looking for those flickers of softeness that appear when your dad calls him. Old friend, filled with affection, and Joel can't deny the only man who hasn't left his side a smile that he hopes is enough to express what he can't; he's not good with words.

It is all so wrong: how the sheets stick to your body while you scream his name, the sound drowning against your pillow, your body leaking with the secret of an unspoken desire that gets harder to hide with each passing day.

But you can't help it: one day the feelings started to blossom and the admiration left for the crush to harvest until it fully bloomed in your chest. Its petals have asfixiated you ever since.

On winter, you returned to town, like a vice. You always came back for the holidays, a silver of hope that shouldn't exist. You felt it in the air, impregnated with a heartbreak so cutting, it was hard to remember when the winter carried the happiness it should've; all that's left was the cold, harsh feeling.

"Y/n!" your dad embraces your body on a hug as warm as a fireplace, "you're home"

He passes you around the people over, because that's how he always is: joyful, the house full with guests that don't stop at family, but feel as close as those of blood. She came! he loudly yet proudly announces your homecoming, adding small sprinkles of how's college and how smart his little girl is (a nickname he can't let go of, not caring if you were ten then and now just above twenty), not caring if your face is as red as christmas easters.

"You have to stop, dad" you plead with annoyance, but a small smile betrays you, "no one wants to hear how I'm top of my class again, for the millionth time"

"Well, it's my house" he jokes, "so they better get used to it" he then looks around the room, as if he's forgetting something, "ah, someone I must bore with your stories is missing..."

He talks to some more people around and you have to plaster a smile and salute faces you can't recognize, but as on cue, the door flings open, some people near the entrance greeting a face you've yet to see and recognize. Your father gets there first, the smile that spreads across his face making your stomach tie in knots.

"Joel's here!" he delivers with excitement, unaware of how your polite smile falters.

"Joel's here" you repeat, grief laced within your words. Grief of what? You don't know, but you do know a part of you dies the more you look at Joel Miller the way you're not supposed to.

"Come say hi" your father insists, happy in his ignorance, despite your paced walk and stiff demeanor.

And walking your way is him, the man who owns your heart without knowing.

His hair is still as soft as ever, more tints of grey sprinkled through it. Your fingers itch to trace it, so you keep your fists closed until the red nails dig into the tight white flesh. He has more wrinkles, pronounced when his brows furrow at the sight of you.

"I know she's grown a lot, but I hope you still recognize her" your dad says with affection, "isn't she beautiful, my y/n? Grown into a whole lady"

Your heart hammers against your chest as Joel looks you up and down, but there is no emotion across his face.

"It's only been a year, but sure, she has" as stoic as ever, but it's enough to make your nerves wreck. You can't believe how much a simple stare and a few words can get to you.

But you were always like this: weak. Back then, at kindergarten grounds, when making a friend seemed the hardest task. Now, at university, when you wonder if something is wrong with you that always makes you the last option to choose.

Maybe that's why Joel, a man so strong in appearance and character, never liked you: that all those memories were a dream, and he just did it as an extension of his affection for your dad.

You'll never forget that dinner last year, on these same days, when for the first time, both your parents left you alone with Joel, their guest for the night. There was a storm outside, and it was almost funny how the brash wind against the window mimicked your steady heart. You didn't know he was coming, but when you did, you put on your best dress on purpose and dusted a makeup palette a friend gave you, yet he didn't even look your way.

"Do you hate me, Joel?" you asked in a whispered breathe, the cold silence as answer.

It's contradictory, really: your love grows where his hate does. More like hate, it's a disregard so cruel, you can't help but wonder if there's something wrong with you, making you attached to an older man that only seems to have apathy for you. Because one thing is attraction, but other is the deep adoration where you'd die if he were to ask you.

It's your fault, really, for turning his life into folklore. You still remember sitting on your father's lap as he talked your ear off, full of stories that Joel, always by his side, would quietly laugh, the fireplace casting shadow over a man who seemed to overpower the darkness that now is palpable on his gaze. He'd said your dad was making him greater than he really was, pinching your cheeks as he called you sugar, reasoning you were so sweet.

But since last year, something shifted: he started avoiding you, like he resented you.

And you never understood why. So every season you've searched in his eyes for a sign, anything, that can make you go back to that speacial relationship you had, missing him like a little kid. It's been a year, and you feel, if possible, more at loss than before.

Back to now, it's almost midnight, and most of the guests have gone already. You've tried to look cool in the eyes of those who are still there, conversation flowing easily through your eggnog-tinted tongue, yet you know it's all pretend.

"Excuse me" you can't take it anymore, the air suffocating you in anxiousness.

"Where are you going?" questions your mom, stopping you in your tracks before going up the stairs.

You turn around and feign a smile, "Up to my room"

"Are you okay?" your dad asks with worry.

"Yeah, just tired" you lie with ease, and the miles you've driven back it up.

"If you need anything, just tell" she says.

When you fall against the mattress, all the weight settles in. You close your eyes and count to ten, breathing in and breathing out.

The door creaks, so you get up as you open your eyes. "Dad" you start, knowing he's all about giving you talks, "Not now, please-"

"M' not y'r daddy"

You shiver despite the closed windows.

"Joel!" you jump, straightening yourself, "did dad send you?"

He doesn't respond, looking at you through brown warm eyes that reveal nothing. The pit in your stomach grows along awkward silence.

"It's cold outside, isn't it?" you attempt to make conversation, hating the silence. But you fail: he's still here, and regardless of his indifference, he doesn't leave.

Maybe it's the bit of alcohol from before, but you're standing over until you get close to his resting figure against the doorframe, the darkness of your room leaving his face, now barely lit by the light outside in the hallway. Joel's so close you can hear his breathing, and it surprises you the way it drags like a cigarette.

You feel confident for the first time, defiant even, tired of it all, like if it was his fault you loved him. You're sick of him viewing you like a naive kid who knows no better.

"Joel, why are you here?"

The lavender gets under his nose, his skin on fire. He looks at you again, but this time, the brown in his eyes darkens.

"Joel...?" you ask on a shaky breath.

Before you can register, there's warmth against your cheek. His fingers graze your face with an unspoken yearning on his fingertips, as he gently grabs your chin.

Your breath hitches, hand traveling to feel his on your face, to see if it's real and not a dream.

"Joel, what are you doing?"

He backs up, like your touch burns. And then looks at you, as if you're a stone on his shoe: just like all those boys back at the city, who have rejected you. You feel small, like crying.

"M' sorry" and walks out of your room, his scent up your nose. His limping figure walks down the hallway that now looks longer. You don't realize how long you've stared until you hear your father ask downstairs where was he.

It's like he was never there.

It was spring when he first kissed you.

It's funny how you still came back home after such disastrous holidays.

Joel stayed for the rest of the holidays, including Christmas and New Years, and when he hugged you in the living room full of guests, you had to pretend his fingers hadn't hold you differently before. You both lied your way out, and when you left, for the first time, you felt relieved, which is why it took some convincing from your father to make you return for spring.

"You couldn't miss this" he insists, "it's the best time to visit the cabin"

And you have to agree: a small cabin by the lake that your parents bought when they first moved in to town, a place you spent most of your childhood. Your father taught you how to fish there, and ever since, even as you moved away for college, you came back to do so, a tradition kept intact despite the years.

Your mom looks at you from the rear view mirror. "He wouldn't stop talking about it, afraid you wouldn't join us this year" your dad hushes her, embarrased, "oh! Don't act like you didn't"

Truth is, you'd still come: you miss the green tickling your bare feet, the cold water, and the sun kissing your skin as you lay outside. It's a lie you don't wait all year to leave the cold city and embrace the blooming spring.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything, dad" you lay against the car's door, closing your eyes as you smile. He doesn't say anything, yet with the way your mom giggles, you know he probably got teary or something―your sappy old man.

The car stops, the cabin in front of you. You feel like crying, so many memories flooding you. Alright, you're being sappy just like your dad, but it's been a hard semester and you missed your family.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you something" he says as you get out. The small denim short rides up as you stretch, your legs numb from the trip.

"Yeah?"

A car honks from behind. You jump, loosing balance as you trip. "Ow!" you land on the grass, embarrasingly so.

"C'mere" you look up, the sun blinding his face. "Lemme help ya', sugar"

The nickname feels like a slap to your face, so you stay there stupid, body stiff as you raise up, Joel's face flooding your field of vision.

"That's what I forgot to tell you" your dad laughs, "or who"

You're not laughing. Joel Miller is here and it's ruines your trip.

"Well, you should've" you took his hand just for the show, because you know your mom is observant. If there was an electric rush, you must've imagined it, just as the way his hands fall to his sides, twitching.

Over the next couple of days, you try to ignore him as much as you can, pretending your spring hasn't changed: fishing, laying down, sun and baths.

"Hey"

Your sun glasses rest on your nose as you raise from your spot, laying on a towel on the grass as you sunbathe.

"What'd want, Joel?" your tone is icy, contrasting the warmer climate.

"M' going to the lake" he mumbles, then stays silent. It's almost as if he's waiting for you to answer.

"Okay?" you lay down again, "have fun"

"Y'r dad said you'd teach me" he raises a fishing row.

You groan in annoyance, getting up from your spot, "why doesn't he do it?"

"Said y'r the best" then coughs, "besides, I think him and your momma needed some time alone..."

You walk past, shoulder brushing against his. You've never been this childish before, but your anger fuels your emotions: rage when you see him and remember how the warm of his touch turned cold in seconds.

You arrive at the small dock, sitting on the rather hot wood. You don't flinch, trying to prove nothing. Joel sits next to you and makes a face at the burning sensation.

"What?" you mock, venom dripping from your tone, "can't handle some heat?"

He just scoffs, passing the row to you with a little more force than necessary.

Your petty revenge is splashing his shirt, damping the cotton with the lake's water.

"I'm sorry" you apologize, feigning an innocent tone, "wanted to freshen up"

"Thought ya could handle the heat" Joel grumbles.

Then he curses under his breath, taking the shirt off and tossing it to the side.

You take in now shirtless body, admiring the strong muscles, broad shoulders and sturdy back. He sits next to you, his belly pushing just above the seam of his shorts. You recoil, almost as if heat radiated off his body, your cheeks burning. Your hands tremble as you hold the row, and it takes every strength of you to not succumb to the dangerous view; it's all too tempting.

"Y'r gonna teach me or what?" he breaks your train of thoughts, his voice so low, as if you were a little animal he was trying not to scare off, "just gonna stare? Ain't y'r daddy taught ya some manners?"

A current shoots through your body and looses itself in the middle of your legs.

You divert your gaze, ashamed. "Don't know what you're talking about"

"Liar" but it's so soft, it sounds more like an observation than an accusation.

"Drop it, Joel" you focus on the water but you know your mind is elsewhere.

"Sugar..."

You feel like throwing up. Why after ignoring you is he calling you like he used to? When he was your favorite person in the world and you were his. He used to hold you close, but now acts like your touch is poisoned. Joel confuses you too much; he's got you feeling like screaming at the sky.

"I said drop it, Joel" you seethe, "you may be old, but you're not deaf"

"And you may be young" his fingers remove the glasses from your face, your wary eyes in exhibit, "but y'r too bold"

They stay there, on your face, his rough fingertips touching your soft sun-kissed skin.

You don't know why you do it, but you do.

You get up, your legs on his face. Until then, you don't realize how close you two were.

"I'm not bold, Joel" you whisper, "I'm scared"

And then you jump.

The world reduces to a blur, body as light as a feather. The sensation of falling is familiar and you don't know why.

It's barely a second, like a blink.

The cold water hitting your body brings you back to reality.

You can't see, it's all dark. But you feel free: you may be underwater, but over him.

You feel like you got the upper hand, but then the water starts moving and a huge splash next to you makes you look back.

Joel jumped too.

"What are you doing?!" you shout.

What are you doing to me? What do you want from me? What will you do to me?

"Takin' a splash" he answers, like it's obvious.

"You know what I meant" your tone is rather spiteful.

"And you had'a teach me" he's again in front of you, barely inches away, "so I guess we're both dissapointed we didn't get what we wanted"

There's water dripping from his hair, falling to his face. Water drops adorn his eyelashes, warm eyes deeper than ever, and you feel like drowning even as your body floats.

"And what do you want?" you challenge, the question implying only so much.

His lips clash into yours, hungry like a wolf. Your hands immediately grip his neck for support as his tongue forcefully gets inside of you, water droplets filling your taste buds. You gasp for air, all of your body pressed against his.

"That answer y'r question?" tone defiant, as if he's also a player on this game that's just started.

You just don't know yet how much you've got to loose.

It was summer when he became yours.

You'd never anticipated coming back home as much as now.

The lingering feeling of his scruffy beard against yours, back pressed against the walls of the shed at midnight while he devoured your lips in a hungry kiss has stayed with you since you left the cabin, trapped in the salt air. Now you're coming back for more, butterflies in the low of your belly as you remember his words:

"When y'get back, I'll have ya' a surprise"

You park at your house, searching for the keys under the rug, but they aren't there. You knock to no answer, so you call your dad and mom, only for both of the calls to go directly to voicemail. Yes, you came a day earlier than planned, but your parents are always home the week you arrive, so something must be going on.

Before you worry, a voice behind you says:

"Ain't nobody inside. Y'r folks went out"

It's Joel, looking as good as the last day you saw him. Just to taste him again, you were complaint on every single of his requirements, one being no contact. He claimed he didn't want to distract you back at college, and you didn't ask any more questions, afraid you'd press a wrong button and loose what felt like a dream.

"Really?" you walk out of your porch to where he is, resisting the urge to kiss him in the middle of your neighbourhood's street.

"Hmh" he nods, "said they ain't comin' back soon"

"They told you so?" you question, "why do I feel you had something to do with it?"

"Ain't do shit" he crosses his arms, the t-shirt sleeves making his arm muscles more prominent. He then coughs, "just recommended y'r dad a nice restaurant outside town. Maybe they'll be later than night, traffic is kinda packed at late"

You smile, "Joel?"

He doesn't look at you, "yes?"

You fail to suppress a giggle, "did you just get rid of my parents?"

"No" he answers, stern. "Now" he looks around, all doors closed, "why don't 'cha come inside? Sun is hittin' hard"

He's a terrible liar.

As soon as you enter his house, you can't believe you've never been there before, visits usually in your house.

It's exactly what you expected: a simple and sober decoration that hides a welcoming feeling somewhere. There's something else you notice: the lack of pictures.

"Make yourself comfortable" he says, coughing, looking akward all of a sudden. You want to laugh and coo his now insecure demeanor, shy in your present. If he seemed sure before, he doesn't anymore. "I''ll get ya' some water"

"Joel?" your voice comes out low, equalling a purr. His cock twitches in his pants at the way you call him.

"Yes?" he swallows, adam's apple bobbing.

"I hope you didn't bring me into your house just for a glass" then you sit on the couch, the small short you're wearing riding up your thighs. "Besides, I'm not thirsty"

He doesn't move, almost as if he's lost the ability to react; in a trance.

"What do you want?" voice deep, like he'd give you anything you ask.

"Have you forgot already, old man?" you quip. "You promised me something" even if your voice is steady, your fingers tremble when you start un-buttoning your shirt, "and I'm waiting for it"

If he could drool like a dog, he would. He slowly gets closer to you, until he's towering over your sitting figure.

"Ya' think it's funny tempting me like that, sugar? Playing with an old fuck as me like that?"

You whimper, resolve melting quickly. "N-no" you feel ashamed, hand ready to button yourself again until his hand grabs yours, stopping you from doing so.

"I'm sorry, sugar" he raises your body swiftly, making you stand up. "Actions have consequences, and I'm gonna teach ya' some"

When his lips land on yours, you feel you've reached heaven again. His mouth easily know your roads, traveling to every spot he can to deepen the kiss. He eats you out like he's starved, sweat starting to pool in your foreheads. He grabs you by the waist, pulling your closer if possible, your chest clashing against his pecs. His heart hammers against you, and that's all you hear aside your raggedy breaths and famished clashing. You grab his hair again, feeling the soft texture under your fingers. Joel moans against your lips when you bite his, something a friend told you to do, and it's proven to work.

"Where'd you learn that, huh?" you taste like strawberries, the proof on his now coated shiny lips and your disheveled gloss. His grip turns stronger, "thought ya' were innocent, little vixen"

"I still am" you avoid his gaze, and even if his hold falters, when you look again into his eyes, there's a flame burning in them. "But I want you to have it, Joel"

"Sugar-" starts, condescending.

"Don't" you immediatly cut him off. "I'm an adult, I know what I want"

"I just want ya' to be sure" but his cock is already hard, "don't want ya' to regret it"

"I could never regret you, Joel" you whisper.

He picks up your body, that despite the years, is still as strong as ever. He goes up the stairs, looking at you so lovingly, you feel like anything is possible.

Maybe this is how it feels like.

He softly drops you onto the mattress, that dips under your weight. You place yourself against the bed head, and when Joel gets in, it creaks.

"I'm gonna make ya' feel so good, sugar. I promise" he slurs, "Now be a good girl and open up for me"

Your part your legs, and he's taking down your shorts until your lingerine is exposed. With wandering fingers, he traces your inner thights, delighted at the way you squirm under his touch. He then travels to your pussy, the clothe the only thing separating him from your bare cunt.

"Has anyone eat ya' down here before?" he can smell your arousal, seeing the wet spot in the middle of your panties. He's salivating at the fresh meal. You deny, embarrased, but he seems content at that, "those dumb college boys haven't treated you right? Then lemme show y'how a real man's supposed to eat ya'"

He strips you off your panties, landing somewhere on the floor. You shudder at the sudden breeze on your bare core.

"Already drippin' for me?" he softly laughs, "we ain't even started"

He dives down, the rough of his facial hair sending tickles through your body. He gives a small lick at first, as if testing. When you let out a small moan, he feels invencible. He keeps the ministrations going, more cute sounds escaping your lips. He wants to hear more of them, addicted to the sound, heat pooling when he remembers he's the one causing them.

"Liking it, sugar?" he stops to ask, his voice provoking more vibrations that hit your core in a pleasant way.

"D-don't stop" you plead in the middle of a whine.

He eats you like a madman. Slurping and sloshing sounds bounce off the walls, your hands gripping his greying locks tightly as his face pushes further into your puffy heat, sucking on the sensitive clit. With his filthy mouth, he takes on of the lips on his mouth, robbing a loud groan out of you.

"Your pussy, God" his breath fans against it, "tastes so good, sugar, sweet like you" he licks more, making it get wetter. You didn't know you had that in you, nothing compared to when you tried to touch yourself back at your dorm, too ashamed to try anything else.

He groans against your heat, sending another wave of pleasure through your body.

He then gets up, showing you his thick digits like one shows something new to a baby, "guess what?" you have no idea, and your innocent doe eye'd gaze makes him squirm at the thought of being the first to touch untainted territories (in many ways).

"M' gonna finger you baby, okay? I promise's gonna feel good" Joel assures as he slowly inserts one of his fingers. You arch your back as you felt his fingers in your warm walls. He then puts another, thick fingers in and out of your pussy, your arousal dripping down his wrist. You squirm and whine, thighs shaking at the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you. There's a weird tension happening down there. "J-Joel" you pant, "I feel-" 

"Let it go, sugar" he doesn't stop, "I'm here for ya' and y'r sweet cunt"

Liquid soon gushes out. "Fuck" he curses. You shy away and looking everywhere but his eyes. 

"Feels good?" you nodded incoherently, "wanna feel even better?"

He gets rid of his pants, the silhoutte hard under his underwear. You gulp, afraid you might not take it.

"Joel..." you call his name, hesitant. Fuck, he's so horny he could care less if he's too big for your first.

"We'll go slow" he leans forward to kiss your forehead, "I know'll take it"

"O-okay" you're still not sure and a bit afraid, but you want him, so you surrender to him.

You feel something heavy go inside your folds. You look down to see his enormous cock sliding in between your tight walls, the skin glistening in your slick,round tip leaking with his precum.

"Tell me" he's soft on you, despite what you're doing, "I'll stop if it hurts"

It does. It burns: how your cunt tries to adapt to his girth, stretching in a painful but delicious feeling.

"N-no" your voice comes out strained, drops of blood falling into the sheets, "keep going"

"Such a greedy thing are ya'?" Joel laughs, truly laughs, the rich sound coming deep from his chest, "what would daddy say?"

"Shut up" you bite, holding onto his shoulders for stability. Please, don't let me fall.

Half way in, he pulls out before diving back in, helping you adjust to his size slowly. Your eyes are trained on the way his cock disappears inside your leaking pussy.

"Should'I keep goin'?" he asks.

"K-keep going" you say softly, and with that, he gently starts inching into you.

"Good girl" he coos.

His cock stretches out your virgin hole perfectly, like it was meant for him. He feels himself melting at the sight of you, something to worry about later. Not now, when your breath hitches as he fills you up. Your cunt fit snug around his length, like you were made for him.

Joel drops his head on your shoulder as he fully entered you, tired, his energy not as much as when he was young. Beads of summer sweat shimmer in your bodies, as not only that but the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his dick make you warm.

Joel takes in a moment to see the mess he's made of you: parted lips, shut eyes, nails digging on his neck. You were deep in pleasure: because of him. His dick twitches at that, and inside of you, it makes you whimper.

"M' gonna start movin', 'kay? Tell me if it's too much"

His weight presses over your body before starting to pull out and push back in. The thrusts start slow, soon picking up a rhytmic pace. Joel grips your hips with his rough big hands, to then start fucking into you.

"Mhm" you whine.

"Mhm, what? Use your words, sugar"

"I-it feels so good, Joel" despite the pain, despite the doubts, the haze is so envolving, he's made of you a moaning mess, drunk in pleasure; the feeling of him inside of you has you seeing stars.

"Y-you feel good too, baby" he pants, your pussy gushing at each thrust. He starts going harder, making you scream.

"Who you belong to, sugar?" his hot breath pours in your ear, "say it"

"You, Joel" you whisper the answer like a sacred oath, "Just you. I'm all yours"

Before you can say anything else, his dick touches a spot within you. Such a sweet spot, that has you moaning and feeling something unlike anything you've experienced before: it washes over you as you clamp down on him. You hear yourself cry, voice barely recognizable. Your vision goes blurry, then mind blank.

Joel groans with your pretty cries of pleasure, watching the way your cunt milks his cock, drooling with your juice.

"Such a nice girl for me, sugar. Did so well" he whispers, and a dark tought crosses his mind. He feels dirty, taking advantage of your age and naivety, your figure still half-gone, "think you want me, all of me?"

You nod, still out of your mind, and before you can process the real meaning of his words, hot stripes of his seed plaster your walls, coating each inch of you. Joel presses his lips into yours to shut your moans, kissing you hard.

"You good?" you can only nod, still in shock, the events dawning over you. "Don't worry, I'll buy ya' a pill before your folks come back"

The sun shines outside; there's still time. You just wonder how much.

It was autumn when he said I love you.

Yellow and orange leaves fall in the roads not taken as you've fallen for Joel.

Ever since summer, you've been waiting for the next time to see him: sleeping with him being the last thought, touching yourself to his voice on your mind, drawing hearts in the bylines of your notes. His figure, first a dream, then a fleeting hope and now a high you need to feel once again, because you can't let go of the way he fucked you, your cries of pleasure, how your walls stretched for him and the way he held you that afternoon and the next nights you escaped your house, crossing the street under the moonlight, hiding as a criminal.

But you'd do anything to feel him, his heart beating against your chest like it was yours to bear. You need to see him, so you're doing the most stupid choice of your life.

There's a pause after you knock, and then Joel opens his door.

"Sugar!" he looks surprised, then angry and finally scared. "The fuck you doin' here? Ain't you supposed to come 'til winter?"

"I couldn't wait" you whine in desperation, clinging onto him like a koala. You'd searched for something, anything, that smelled like him back at the city, but even his flannel shirt you'd stolen had started to loose its smell.

He looks around, "do your-"

"No" you pause, "they don't know I'm here"

He curses under his breath, realizing just how much you're deep in this. He's fucked: fucked because he'll comply even if he knows this has to stop.

"I have the keys" you pick the dirt under your nails, a nervous habit of yours, "for the cabin"

Joel remembers last spring, how he ate you inside the walls of the shed, wishing for more. More came the next summer, and now you're hear again, looking at with with that look he hates: like you'd burn the world just to keep him warm.

"How'd you do that?"

"Took them last summer" you reveal your plan all along, "just in case" yet you had already made your mind before leaving town.

"Damn it, sugar" he's speechless, "you're fucking crazy"

You giggle despite the uneasiness creeping up, "just for you, Joel"

He takes you to the cabin on his car, yours already there. And you'd walked to his house? You have indeed, lost your mind.

"What're we supposed to do?" he thinks out loud.

You groan, "I don't know, Joel. But I didn't drive miles just for you to stand there"

He can't lie and say he hasn't thought about you: your lashes, soft when closed; the way his room still smelled like you even after two weeks of your parting, or how the sun seemed to highlight all your perfect spots. He even thinks of you on his bathroom while he grabs his dick, fucking himself to the memorized song of your moans and uneven breaths as he pulled in and out of you.

"Then get inside" he's demanding, and your panties wet at the tone and the voice you missed so much, "it's cold out'ere"

As soon as you close the door, he's grabbing your face with force, that it almost seems like two people fighting, not two who missed each other.

"Joel" you mumble, breathless.

"Missed ya' so much, sugar" he confesses against your lips. A trail of saliva hangs; silver of hope. "It was killin' me"

"I missed you too, Joel" you deepen the kiss, tears threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes. "Couldn't stop thinking about you"

"Yeah?" he sits on the living room's couch, creaking under the sudden weight. "Tell me what that pretty head of yours was thinkin'"

"You" in a heartbeat, and you see his gaze go from dark to something else, lurking behind; you're scared to find out what it is.

Joel motions you to come over. You take your shoes and pants off, siting on his lap.

"Yeah-?" his voice falters, "tell me what"

"How our names sound together, how pretty you are..." you wander. "I also thought about you, all of you, inside of me"

"Watch that filthy mout of yours, sugar" he chastises but there's no anger behind his reprimand, "one summer bouncing on my cock an' y'r already a needy slut"

You whine at his words, rubbing yourself against his tight.

"D-don't" he undoes his belt and jeans, leaving only his underwear. Your desperate fingers pull them down, revealing his already pulsating cock, "don't tease this ole' man and just do the real thing"

He lets you use him, his hips rocking forwards despite his creaking bones, your swollen clit dragging against his pelvis. He sees your face, how you bite your lip as you test your needs, fucking yourself while you ride him. He lets you because: one, he's old and tired, and two, he wants to see you until he's memorized every small detail of your face. He lets you edge yourself close, crying as you feel it coming, but then he plants his feet onto the wooden floor, his boots making a hollow sound that echoes through the walls, the only other sound aside your cries, and thrusts his length up into you.

You yelp at the sudden sensation of his cock inside of you again.

"Think I'd let ya' have it all?" he mocks, "need to fuck y'r pretty pussy too; gotta have it for myself. Would ya' let me?"

You can't deny him anything.

"Yes, Joel" his hands immediatly grab your hips with a pressure so strong, you fear there'll soon be a bruise there. His cock buries fully within you. The air fills with a strong scent, just your moans and his grunts bouncing off the walls, soon warming up from the cold, the crease of his eyebrow pronounced as he realeases, coating your folds with his cum.

"God, sugar" he sounds a bit embarrased, "look at you, makin' me cum so fast"

But he's too enamoured by the sight of you on top of him, still riding him despite his quick orgasm, so he cups your face gently, the beads of sweat on your forehead falling into his hand. He feels more alive than ever, like his life has just started. Oh, he can picture it: coming home to the smell of your food, kissing the absence of the day off your mouth, to then bend you over the counter. He wants so much more, but he knows it can't be, yet, he's far too gone to even think about turning around.

You lift your hips until his cock slips out of you, using your fingers to bring it back. His cum clings to your folds as you sink back down, hips barely lifting you back up before you keep him buried inside of you. He loves watching you slide down his length, slipping in and out of your puffy cunt as his cock softens. It pushes his cum back into your cunt, sticky over your clit as it drips to your thighs.

You did bring a pill this time, so you don't care of the mess his thick flood of cum that dribbles out of you has made on your pussy and his clothes.

"Fuck" you let out, sex-filled mind speaking up. "Don't ever leave me again"

"I won't" he answers hastily, then regrets it. But you don't know that.

Instead, numbness takes over your body, the events of last hours finally draining your body. Sleep settles in, and you nest your head on Joel's sweaty shoulder.

"Lemme take you to bed" you hear his half-drowned voice, carrying your body to the main bedroom.

Joel Miller was always a mystery to you: a man who seemed impossible to break, his world hiding behind a permanent scowl. It felt like his heart was locked, seemingly unbreakable, but where he was rough, his edges had softened for you.

He places you over the bed softly, dipping next to you. Joel's strong arms embrace you, pulling your tired figure closer. His face hides in your neck and his soft belly pushes against the curve of your back, all while he presses a soft kiss to it.

"I think I love you" he murmurs to no one in particular.

But you hear.

It was winter again, when he broke your heart.

Before the holidays, you'd drop by every other weekend. Cancelling plans, waiting for his call. For his grave voice to say Come over, and you'd speed up the brakes with an urgency only he had taught you.

You'd find yourself in the cabin, loosing track of time that rushed like a bottle of wine. Kissing until your mouth was swollen and the only thing that satisfied your hunger was his lips, fucking until sunrise and his bones ached. He'd then offer a tired smile, and you'd sing a soft tune in front of the fireplace while cuddling.

They say home is where the heart is. And it felt like one.

It was during one of those escapades that you showed up with your newest adquisition: a small cursive J just above your thigh, hiding under the plaid of your skirt.

It was your first fight. He shouted at you like he had never before, scolding you like a father would to a naive kid, the hatred you hadn't seen since he touched you that night a year ago, resurfacing.

"We're loosing ourselves" his voice cracked, sounding defeated. But then he'd suck the skin around it until it turned red.

The back and forth became the only thing keeping you alive, the need for his touch as addictive and destructive as a drug.

Which is why Christmas hadn't felt this jolly since being a kid.

You're back, and as you hug your dad and mom, you scour the place for his face: the one you've grown to yearn and love.

Your dad exchanges a glance with your mother and then looks at you weirdly before answering.

"He isn't coming; I thought you knew"

You don't care about the future explanations or the calls of your name, storming off and crossing the street to his place.

"Joel!" you shout, knocking desperately, "open the door!"

When you don't get an answer, you search for the spare key hiding under a pot in the porch. As you make your way inside, you spot Joel sitting in front of the fireplace, his eyes lost in the fire.

"Joel" you softly call his name. At that, he snaps, standing up. His eyes glow with the flames, circling in doubt.

"Sugar?" like he didn't expect you to actually search him on his absence, "what'd doing here?"

"I could ask you the same" you laugh, sardonically. "Don't know how I'll explain running off like that, so thanks, by the way"

"M' sorry"

The words fall heavy in the air, suddenly thick. Something tells you he isn't apologizing exactly for that.

There's something like guilt and fear simmering in his eyes. You think about all those times in the cabin, spring and autumn, and you're reminded of those three words he's said and you haven't. The realization hits you, and you're quick to reach him, grabbing his hand.

"Joel?" you call again. "I- I need to tell you something"

"So do I" but he sounds reluctant, "you go first"

"I don't know what's happening" your lip quivers, eyes glossy. God, he feels terrible, "but I want you to know that I love you"

He gasps, like you've slapped him across the face.

"No" he starts, pushing you away. He lets go of your hand, and the sudden cold hits you.

"I thought I still had time..." his shoulders slump in defeat, "guess I'm wrong"

"What do you mean?" anger and sadness flood your words.

"You can't love me" the words cut through you, and you're sick.

Sick of your rusting wheels that only move when he tells you to. Because that force, the dominance, Joel Miller seems to carry over the rest of the people, doesn't cut as deep as it cuts through you.

It's almost done with a benevolent authority, like he knows of said power and doesn't want to abuse it.

So now he's ordering you to stop loving him, like this year has meant nothing. Nothing.

"Love, funny word" your words carry rage, "do you even know what that means?" you try to hold back the tears in vain, "you don't, yet you say them so freely, like they mean nothing to you" he makes a surprised face, and you savour the pain reflected on his face, alike of yours. "Yes, I heard you, Joel. Y-you made me the happiest girl on the planet, but now I realize you're so full of shit"

You turn around, trying not to see his face, because you know that the more you look at him, the more seconds you add and the harder it would be to erase the memories you'll have to burn.

"Did you ever love me, Joel?" it pains you to whisper out loud.

"I love you, sugar" his voice is horse, like something had cut through it. "That's why I'm doing this"

"Are you, Joel?" you sigh, "if you loved me, wouldn't you want me to stay?"

"This won't end well" it's his answer, trying to reason, "I don't want to hold you back"

Coward. Asshole. Idiot.

Your tone is icy like the storm outside, "but it's already ended"

He's about to speak but you cut him off.

You can only smile. "I've given you everything and you took it. I really thought you were giving me your everything, but I realize now, that I know what you are. You don't need to hide it" he looks at you like it is you who's hurted him the most, "you're hard to love, Joel. But I tried"

He'll regret it. You know and you want to: you want him to feel the empty days blur with one another, that he remembers late at night what you had and he ended, so when he feels alone, the ghost of your free love haunts him with the happy days and sweet taste of your lips. Just then, he'll understand what your year of loving really meant.

You leave his house empty, a knife twisted in your heart. He's the only one who's got the key, and you know it will be long until anyone else can break it open.

But it's okay: if being with Joel was heaven, you'll happily burn in the flames of what's left.

[purple-babygirl]

welcome baaaack! i missed you so much

i've been here since forever and i remember a very long time ago that you promised us insecure chubby bucky. i never forget and i'm still waiting for him (when you get time for sure). i would love to read that whenever you right it! otherwise i'm really happy you're back again.

much love purple<3

Pairing: Insecure!Chubby!Chef!Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Word Count: 4,180

Summary: Bucky runs into his ex, who manages to mess with his head, bringing his insecurities to the surface again. His girl takes it upon herself to show him how perfect he is.

Warnings: 18+ content, bullying (sort of), fat shaming, negative self body image, insecurities, intrusive thoughts, mentions of cheating, a little crying, a little angst, smut, unprotected vaginal sex, cum, multiple orgasms

A/N: Nonnie, omg, you have been here a long time! I love and appreciate you so so much and I can't believe you stuck around for so long wow:"💜💜 Thank you so much for existing and for being here you're the reason I don't wanna leave again💜💜💜 Here's one insecure chubby bucky for you, I hope you like this one and that I did a good job💜 Thank you again ilyyy, please enjoyxx💜💜(y'all i think i forgot how to write smut what is wrong with me)

~

perfect to me

“I’m so sorry, baby, I have to run,” she told him after checking her phone, pecking his lips and taking quick steps down the aisle of the large store.

Bucky smiled, taking another fruit plate and placing it in their cart. His girl was such a hard worker and he couldn’t be prouder.

It was going to be Christmas soon and his girl was still working hard so Bucky was going to make her the best holiday food she’s ever tasted.

He was focused on picking the freshest cranberries when he heard a scoff, a very familiar one.

“Hey, Ryan,” Bucky sighed, not really wanting to ruin his good mood, as he turned around to meet a face he knew too well.

“What does she owe you?” said Ryan, tilting his head with a smirk.

“What?!”

“There’s no way this chick is seeing you. I figured she must owe you and is just paying her debt!” He smirked further, not even trying to hide his gloating when he saw that his words still had an effect on Bucky.

“My relationship with her is none of your business.” Bucky’s voice was suddenly low as his eyes stared down at the contents of the cart.

“But my relationship with you is.” Ryan put a finger under Bucky’s chin but the latter took a step away.

“We don’t have a relationship. You cheated on me, remember? I was too fat for you.” Bucky’s shaky voice moved nothing inside Ryan. If anything Ryan wanted more.

“And now you’re too fat for her.”

“Shut up. She is nothing like you.”

“Really? Do you even know where she goes when she leaves you? Where she is right now, for example?” Ryan smirked.

“She got called into work and had to run to the office.” Bucky knew he owed him nothing and if he was in his right mind he wouldn’t have went through a conversation with Ryan at all, but he wasn’t.

“How are you still so naïve?” He laughed heartily as if Bucky’s misery was actually amusing to him.

“Leave me alone.” Bucky tried to push the shopping cart and walk away, but Ryan stepped before him.

“I didn’t know your publisher lived in an office.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She leaves you to go fuck your publisher. You know him, black guy, sexily built, very handsome.”

The words left Bucky feeling lightheaded as the world seemed to twirl around him. Could history be repeating itself? No, not this time. His girl was not like that.

“I saw her coming to his building with him.”

“How’d you even-”

“I wait tables in the restaurant across the street from his apartment. I didn’t know she was with you but damn are you lucky you met me today!” Ryan laughed insensitively.

“It’s probably someone else.”

“I think I know what your publisher looks like.”

“You’re lying,” Bucky chocked out, trying to get out of Ryan’s way.

“You don’t sound so sure about that.” Ryan tilted his head again with a smug smirk, poking Bucky’s tummy, “you know why? Because deep down you know she’s too sexy for you. Because you look at her and then at yourself and you can’t figure out why she’d want you. Because you know that sooner or later she’s gonna get tired of your fat ass and—”

“My life now is none of your business, Ryan. You left. You chose to go, so stay gone.” Bucky’s weak voice interrupted, shutting Ryan right up before he sped out of the store, leaving the groceries behind.

“You’ll come back to me when you see for yourself!” He shouted after Bucky, but he didn’t stop nor turn back.

The questions he had raised in Bucky’s head, Bucky had no answers for them himself. Why was this sweet girl with him? What did she see in him? Anyone who met them thought the same thing: they didn’t belong together. So what did she see differently? What was Bucky bringing to their relationship? Could he even satisfy her? Could he keep her fulfilled?

He thought the days where Ryan messed with his head were long gone but he was obviously mistaken. Ryan could still easily hurt him. He could still make him feel as large as an elephant yet smaller than an insect. The dagger he’d planted was in so deep that Bucky couldn’t feel anything but the pain the stab brought.

~

His ex’s words plagued his mind. They took over and drowned out his girl’s voice, pushing it to the background.

All of a sudden, Bucky was very aware of his size, of the way the couch made the slightest sounds under his weight, and the way his girl could fit her whole self on one of his thighs if she wanted to.

“Bucky bear?” A hand on his cheek pulled him out of his thoughts.

Suddenly, he hated the words she nicknamed him with. Bear? Is that how big she thought he was?

“Hmm?”

“I was asking if you wanna go shopping for last minute gifts with me tomorrow,” she repeated, smiling sweetly, her fingers brushing a few hairs back and behind Bucky’s ear as she yawned.

Bucky’s new cookbook became a best seller after one week of release and the publication house was throwing the amazing chef a party.

She couldn’t be prouder and she wanted to support Bucky all the way. She loved Christmas and now it was going to be even better with this event added to their memories.

She was going to go all out for her man and he didn’t even know it. It was going to be a huge surprise and she couldn’t wait to make it happen.

“Yeah, why not,” Bucky replied, faking a smile back.

“What were you busy thinking about?” Her thumb traced his stubbly cheek as she frowned worriedly.

For a wonderfully successful cook, Bucky didn’t look so happy.

“You,” he answered with the truth though his eyes didn’t sparkle like they usually would at the thought of her.

“What about me?” Her smile returned as she stared lovingly at Bucky’s face.

“Why are you with me?” Bucky couldn’t hide the sorrow in his voice if he tried.

“What?” She sat up straight in his lap as her face fell.

“Please don’t make me repeat the question.”

“Buck, where’s this coming from?” Her hands cupped both his cheeks.

“I just don’t get it.” He shook his head, swallowing as his hands removed hers from his face.

“Don’t get what?!” She placed her hands on Bucky’s chest instead, refusing to let him push her away.

“Why you’re here!”

“I’m here because I love you, what’s hard to get, baby?”

“Do you really love me?”

This was serious. She’s never seen her boyfriend look so broken.

“James, what’s going on?”

“Answer the question, plum,” Bucky requested, the back of his fingers stroking over her cheek, knowing this was probably the last time he would get to touch her soft skin.

“Of course I love you!”

“Then why do you leave me to go meet Sam and then lie to me about it?!” Bucky unintentionally raised his voice.

“W—what?”

There were so many emotions overwhelming her and none of them was pleasant.

She was shocked, hurt and dejected. Bucky has never raised his voice at her before.

 “What were you doing together last night? And the night before and the night before that?!”

“Bucky, you��ve got it all wrong.” She shook her head, heartbroken that Bucky would think of her like that.

“Please leave.” He slid her off his lap and stood up, turning his back to her.

“Bucky.” Tears pricked her eyes.

“Leave, plum.”

“Bucky, me and Sam were—”

“If you won’t leave then I will.” Bucky sped to the door, grabbing his jacket from where it was hanged.

The last thing he wanted was to cry in front of her too. He’s already shown his weakness once; never again.

“Bucky!”

He ignored her calls, ready to run out of the door and let his legs take him far away where he’d have to hear no lies and could no longer get hurt.

“James Bucky Barnes, don’t you dare walk out on me!” She blocked the door, preventing Bucky from exiting the apartment.

Her eyes glistened with yet to be shed tears as her heart pounded in her chest. The mere idea of losing Bucky for any reason terrified her more than anything else.

She loved the man with her heart and soul and would go to the ends of the Earth for his sake. Why couldn’t he see that?

“I didn’t wanna ruin the surprise but… your book is a best seller. Me and Sam were planning you a party to celebrate. We figured if we met at the restaurant it’d ruin the surprise so I saw him at his place after work.”

Bucky stared at her dumbly.

“You can call Sam if you don’t believe me.”

“Oh.” Bucky felt like someone’s just dumped a bucket of cold water over his head; felt like an absolute idiot, “oh, plum.”

“I’m sorry I kept it a secret, but I’m not sorry I wanted to do something nice for the man I love.” A tear rolled down her cheek and her lower lip trembled, “and I’m really sad with you for stalking me and doubting me like that. I didn’t expect that from you, Bucky… and I’m hurt.”

“Sweet plum-”

“You can leave now if you still want to.” She took quick steps to the bedroom, leaving Bucky at the door.

It wasn’t often that she and Bucky fought and it was never something that couldn’t be solved within an hour. He could never bear to see her upset, let alone let her go to bed mad at him.

“Plum,” Bucky softly knocked on her door, swallowing the lump stuck in his throat, “can I please come in?”

But this was big.

Bucky has doubted her love for him. He has insulted her loyalty and ruined everything because of his insecurities and the poisonous words of a man who never cared for him.

She opened the door for him in a heartbeat, her face soaked in tears.

“No, no, sweet plum.” Bucky took her in his arms, praying to the deities she wouldn’t repel from his touch.

“You pushed me out of your lap.” She sobbed, her chest heaving and her forehead pressed to his shoulder.

His accusations hurt but the fact that he pushed her away somehow hurt her more.

Bucky couldn’t help but let his tears fall as well.

How could he be so thoughtless? She was the one good thing in his life and he almost let her go. No amount of restaurants he could open could make him feel as happy as a smile from her would.

He could write a library and collect every prize ever known to humankind, and she would still be the best thing Bucky has ever won over.

“I’m stupid, baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His hold tightened, engulfing her smaller frame in a desperate hug, “please don’t cry because of an idiot like me. I’m sorry, sweet plum. Forgive me, baby.”

“Why’d you do it?” Her sad eyes looked at him in question, full of confusion yet void of bitterness.

“I- sweet plum-” Bucky didn’t know how to answer her question because now that he looked back, he could see how stupid it all was.

Why did he follow her for 3 consecutive nights while she went to meet Sam instead of just trusting her? Why did he choose to believe and trust in Ryan’s words and not her love for him? Why was it easier for him to imagine her with someone like Sam but impossible to think of her with someone like himself?

“It’s because I’m a big idiot,” Bucky replied.

“Bucky.”

“Please forgive me, plum.” Bucky pecked her temple.

“Tell me what happened.”  She demanded softly, wiping Bucky’s own tears away and kissing his chin.

“Nothing happened, sweet plum. I got inside my own head again. I’m sorry, baby.” Bucky lied with a sad smile, too ashamed to admit Ryan’s words almost had him ruining the best relationship he’s ever been in.

She nodded understandingly, her hand cupping Bucky’s face as she rested his forehead on hers.

Bucky would tell her when he was ready. She didn’t want to stay mad at him. She knew he had issues with self confidence and she wasn’t about to make him feel even worse. He would come to her when he was comfortable. Bucky would tell her on his own.

“Please stay.” She whispered, her teary eyes heavy with sleep, yet afraid to go to bed and have Bucky leave after.

“I’m not going anywhere, sweet plum.” Bucky kissed her forehead, taking her by the hand to their bed.

~

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Her soothing voice whispered, filling the dark room.

Bucky was laying wide awake, Ryan’s words playing in his ears over and over again. What he did to his girl and how he made her cry. All the messed up shit he did just hours ago gnawed at him and took the sleep away from his eyes.

“I ran into Ryan,” Bucky finally replied, unable to sleep while he’s hiding something from her, “he filled my head with thoughts about you leaving me for Sam, and I let him.” He admitted to the ceiling, hesitant to meet her eyes.

“I would never leave you,” she promised him without reluctance, cupping his face and making him look at her.

She wanted him to see all the love her eyes held for him with no shame.

“Please don’t. I will lose the weight, I will—”

“Wait, what? He told you I’d leave you because of your weight?” Both hands were back on Bucky’s cheeks, thumbs wiping under his eyes.

Bucky nodded.

“And you believed him?”

“It’s why he left me.” He shrugged.

“Bucky,” she sighed.

“I know I know. It’s what’s on the inside that counts—”

“Don’t talk as if you’re not physically breathtaking!”

“Baby—”

“No! You have no idea how handsome you are, do you?!”

“Plum, you don’t have to say such stuff.” Bucky shook his head sheepishly and regretted it when he saw sadness cover her delicate features.

She quickly shook it off, scratching her forehead before taking Bucky’s hand, helping him sit up in their bed.

“Sweet plum, what are you doing?” Bucky asked when she started moving the covers down his torso.

“Gonna love on my man. Would you let me, Bucky? Can I love on you?” she asked, her voice soft and sweet.

Bucky nodded, hypnotized by the adoration shining in her eyes and she started to undress him.

Her eyes never left his as she took piece by piece of clothing off, revealing his beautiful figure to her, her smile only faltering when she bit down at the sight of her man in all his naked glory.

Bucky’s body was lit up under the soft moonlight coming from the window, helping her appreciate every curve and inch.

This gorgeous human being was his and he was hers.

“You’re so fucking sexy you take my breath away,” she moaned, slipping out of her own sweater, “and I don’t just mean the way you make me cum so many times until I have to fight for oxygen.” She brushed her lips on his.

Bucky was speechless. He could only stare and try not to lose his own oxygen.

“Keep your eyes open for me, Buck.” She pecked his lips once and he opened his eyes at once, not even realizing he’d closed them in the first place.

She smiled at how fast he followed the instruction, leaning back on the headboard and licking his lips.

Bucky’s groan when her bra hit the ground made her giggle. She slipped out of her panties, leaving herself bare before Bucky’s eyes.

“Come here, plum,” Bucky’s arms reached for her but she shook her head.

“This is about you, Bucky Bear.”

She climbed on the bed between Bucky’s legs, her hands wandering along his shins, thumbs caressing up his inner thighs. She bowed forward, peppering kisses on Bucky’s soft flesh.

“I love your thighs,” her lips moved higher and higher, the tiny kisses and nibbles driving Bucky crazy as he tried not to touch himself, “love how thick they are. So strong. So perfect. I would ride them all day if you’d let me.”

Bucky whimpered when she accompanied the honest words with a bite, leaving her mark on his pale flesh.

“And that ass,” she moaned, her hands sliding underneath Bucky, pulling his legs up and cupping his ass cheeks.

Bucky’s shy gasp made her smirk. He was so precious she could eat him. Maybe she should some day…

She let Bucky’s legs settle back on the bed and kept kissing up and up, skipping his twitching cock on purpose and placing wet kisses on his tummy instead. Her eyes locked with his and Bucky bit his pink lip.

He looked so beautiful, blushing, disheveled and turned on like that. His pupils were dilated, his cheeks rosy and his breath uneven; she was falling in love with this chef all over again.

“I love your tummy so so much,” her tongue dipped in Bucky’s bellybutton and the flush spread from his cheeks and on to his neck and chest.

Another moan slipped from his lips as her warm tongue lapped at his skin. She was full on licking him now.

Her words were romantic but the way she was loving him was driving him insane.

“I love to feel it against me when we hug,” she kissed his right side, “I love when you let me rest my head on it and I get to hear you breathe and feel your heartbeat,” she kissed his belly, “I love how it warms my back when you spoon me. And I love feeling it pushing against my ass when you take me from behind.” She pressed a final kiss to his left side.

“My favourite has got to be your cock though.” She gave his leaking dick a single pump and his hips were already bucking off the bed, “I’m a sucker for this cock, baby. Literally.”

Bucky was too busy whining when her mouth wrapped around the crown of his cock to call her out on her bad joke.

His whole body was on fire with need for her. He needed her to do something, anything.

“Plum, please. Let me get you ready. I need you. I need to be inside you.”

Bucky didn’t want to cum in her mouth, not this time. He needed to be buried deep inside her and he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to last.

“I’m ready,” she said, situating herself on top of his cock, rubbing the tip on her wet folds, letting out filthy mewls at the feel of him against the lips of her pussy, “always ready for you, baby.”

Before Bucky could argue that he should at least make sure she was prepared to take him just in case, she was pushing the tip of him in, stretching herself out on his cock with her head thrown back and her mouth open in a silent scream.

“Fuck, plum, so tight,” Bucky groaned, feeling her pussy grip every inch as soon as it disappeared inside her.

When she has completely impaled herself on Bucky’s cock, she stilled, taking a minute to get used to the stretch.

No burn has ever felt as good as the burn she got when Bucky’s dick split her in half. Getting opened on this cock was her favorite thing in the world.

She dragged her lips along his stubbly jaw as she waited, kissing all over his face, savoring the moment as sweetly as possible as if the head of Bucky’s cock wasn’t almost touching up her cervix.

Her open palms glided from around Bucky’s neck to his shoulders and down his arms until she reached his palms.

“and those hands, I think you already know how much I love your hands.” She chuckled as she continued and Bucky nodded, squirming below her.

“I love when you hold my hand; makes me feel safe; chosen,” she rolled her hips, making Bucky groan wantonly.

“I love how fast you can make me cum on the fingers of your left hand.” She whined when Bucky’s hands dug in her sides as she moved on him, surely leaving bruises behind.

“Fuck, plum-” Bucky was so close so fast and he wished he could last longer but the movement of her body on top of his, the words leaving her mouth and her walls snug around his cock were too much.

“I love you. Every inch, every part. I love all of you, Bucky.”

Bucky groaned in reply, chest heaving as he watched her take him.

“I love every part of you. I crave your touch like my lungs crave air.”

Bucky involuntarily thrust up, making her eyes roll.

“Oh Buck!” she wailed, Bucky hitting her favorite spots so good.

He couldn’t stop his hips from meeting hers every time she came down to take his cock over and over again, eyes glued to where he was disappearing inside of her.

“Nothing could ever match the feeling of being filled up of you, Bucky.”

“I love you, plum ahhh fuck,” Bucky moaned, overwhelmed by emotions and ready to burst any second.

“I love you too, Bucky bear. You’re my everything; my one and only.” She kissed him hard, thighs shaking around his body as she came on his cock.

Bucky couldn’t help but let go himself, cumming harder than he has ever before, filling her up with so much cum until he felt it leak out of her despite having her plugged on his softening cock.

She moaned at the warmth of his cum, shuddering when it seeped out of her.

“Fuck, plum,” Bucky sighed on her shoulder, breath still shaky.

She giggled shyly, burying her face in Bucky’s neck.

“Where did that come from?” Bucky asked, cupping her cheek so he could look at her.

She was glowing, smiling at him so innocently as if his cock wasn’t still buried deep up her leaking, pulsing pussy.

“From here.” She pointed to the spot between her breasts.

“Right here?” Bucky leaned forward to press a kiss on her hot skin, making her laugh as she nodded.

“I love you,” he whispered on her lips.

“I love you, Bucky. I love every tiny detail about you inside out. Nothing will ever change that.” She promised, seeing his eyes soften once again, insecurity dissipating.

“Thank you, plum.” Bucky hugged her close, kissing her shoulder and the back of her neck.

“Thank you for letting me show you how much I love you.”

“So you love my cock huh?” Bucky teased.

“Buckyyyy,” she whined, trying to get away as her face heated up.

“No, say it.” Bucky bit his lip, looking at her with a smirk.

“You know I do. Stop.”

“No, plum. I don’t know anything.” Bucky shook his head trying to act serious, “say it again.”

“Iloveyourcock,” she mumbled, trying to take herself off his cock.

“What was that, plum?” Bucky thrust upward into her and even with a soft cock he could make her make the sweetest sound.

“Hngh, I love your cock, Bucky,” she moaned, throwing her head back.

“Hmm, how much?” Bucky swirled his hips, feeling himself get hard again.

“S-so much,” she admitted as his cock stretched her sensitive pussy.

Bucky held her close, turning them the other way around and gave a deep push when he was on top, his cum making the filthiest squelching sounds as she screamed an “oh god”.

“So much you’d let me take you again?”

“Yes, yes,” she nodded frantically, not wanting the man to stop his thrusts.

And he wasn’t going to.

Bucky’s tummy pinned her down as he pressed his lips to hers, eating up her squeals as he pounded her into the bed, showing her how much he loved her.

~

“So you really don’t care about my weight?” Bucky asked, supporting his body up on his elbows as he stared at her glossy eyes.

She could barely remember her name as she tried to come down from the other two orgasms Bucky has just given her, his body still on top of hers, but that wasn’t a question she needed to think about the answer to.

“I only want you okay and healthy, Bucky. If you’re comfortable, I’m comfortable. If you’re happy, I’m happy. Otherwise, you’re perfect to me,” she told him with a shrug, pushing his wet hair behind his ears, “every little thing about you is perfect.”

“I love you so much, plum.”

“I love you more.” She smiled, heart fluttering at the look he was giving her.

“Not possible.” Bucky kissed her lips, “not possible, plum.”

~

Tag list:

@harrysthiccthighss

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@lavendercitizen

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@pretty-pop-princess-hs

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@ciaqui

@lindasweetie

[inktopuck]

miss honey | jack hughes social media au (pt.4)

pt.3

yournamelastname

Liked by _quinnhughes, l_hughes06 and others

yournamelastname oh michigan how i love you

trevorzegras oh wow

_quinnhughes me not being able to go home for thanksgiving this time is my 13th reason

l_hughes06 the fact that you made hot chocolate for JACK and y'all didn't save any for me...... foul

yournamelastname i took pity on him he cried today

jackhughes now why would you say this on the internet

yournamelastname i thought it would humanize you, mr robot. it's sweet that you cried because you accidentally stepped on your pup.

l_hughes06 he stepped on bear????

jackhughes ACCIDENTALLY

colecaufield am i the only one weirded out by y/n using sweet and jack in the same sentence

jackhughes

Liked by yournamelastname, _quinnhughes and others

jackhughes great day with all the brave kiddos at @newark_bethnj thank you for letting us hang with you!

trevorzegras tears coming down my face

yournamelastname you're not half as bad as you look...........

l_hughes06 IT'S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE

colecaufield yeah right 🧐

jackhughes i'm great with kids you know this

yournamelastname come visit mine or else

trevorzegras i can go!!

jackhughes you're on the other side of the country

trevorzegras say the word miss honey

jackhughes stay silent

yournamelastname

Liked by _quinnhughes, trevorzegras and others

yournamelastname i had to pay for my own ticket for this... and these two lost (((but at least i met this cool penguins fan!!)))

jackhughes yeah cause you said you were only going because of sid!!!

colecaufield what's wrong jacky? getting jealous of the old man?

yournamelastname you're so not chivalrous

jackhughes yeah yeah chivalry is dead, shortcake

elblue6 Jack! Luke! you made her pay??? What is wrong with you?

l_hughes06 mom she was cheering for the penguins

elblue6 she could be cheering for the rangers you've been friends your whole lives!

l_hughes06 it's not my fault jack got jealous

jackhughes delete

jackhughes

Liked by nicohischier, jesperbratt and others

jackhughes it's like having a toddler over

l_hughes06 damnit shortcake

jackhughes this is insane right??

l_hughes06 yeah now i owe her $100 because i bet she wouldn't actually do it and she did

jackhughes of course you were in on this

yournamelastname stop being boring rowden

elblue6 i LOVE what she did with the place

jackhughes not you too

elblue6 your apartment is too sterile

yournamelastname he's a sad beige mom, ellen

jackhughes take that back right now

trevorzegras you can do my pad next miss honey! whatever you like

jackhughes quiet now

pt. 5

[belovedhoon]

mr. grinch

pairing: jeno x f! reader fandom: nct dream

a/n: sorry this is late for christmas...i'm just glad its up in decemeber! i hope you guys enjoyed! i think it's crazy how jeno is my ult bias, yet this is my first fic for him...oops...anyways enjoy y'all! merry Christmas to those who celebrate! and happy holidays to those who don't!

wc: 2.4k contains: smut, fluff at the end, jealous jeno, husband jeno (I NEED him) taglist: @shypen @st1llm0nster @squoxle

synopsis: you and your husband jeno are over at your friends house for a christmas party and at first jeno is having a great time but then he starts to act like a grinch and you can’t help but wonder why, as soon as you get home jeno lets you know just exactly why he’s being a grinch so you decide to try to get him back in the christmas spirit and you know just the way to do so.

fic under cut >>>>>>>

You placed the red lipstick down and looked in the mirror one last time to check over your appearance and smiled softly at yourself. You got up from the vanity table to look for your husband Jeno to see if he was ready, he tends to take awhile…even longer than you sometimes…

You head towards your bedroom to see if Jeno is in there but don’t see him so you call out his name so that he could hear you. You hear a quick “I’m in the living room love.” before Jeno pops his head out from around the corner. You smiled as you saw your husband and walked towards the living room. 

“Jeno are you ready? We should be leaving soon.” You said softly smiling up at him. Jeno just nodded his head with a bright smile, his eyes scrunching up cutely. Jeno gave you a once-over and smirked.

“Maybe we should skip the party, you look so good, babe…” Jeno said winking. You just laughed and swatted at his muscular chest. You shook your head no at his words.

“Be serious Jen, you know we can’t skip the party, Renjun would be so upset with us!” You scolded your husband playfully. He just laughed and shook his head. He gave you a quick kiss before announcing that the two of you could head out now. You both grabbed the gifts for your friends before walking out of the house and to your car. Jeno placed the presents in the trunk of the car before opening the passenger side for you and then hopping in the front seat to start the car so that you could be on your way to Renjun’s house for the party. 

When you got to Renjun’s house, Jeno parked the car in Renjun’s large driveway and shut off the car before jumping out and opening the door on your side like the gentleman he always is. The both of you grabbed the gifts, walked up to Renjun’s front door, and rang the doorbell. About a minute later, Mark opened the door smiling at the both of you, before ushering you two inside. 

“Hey guys! Come in, it’s cold outside!” Mark said welcoming the two of you inside. You smiled gratefully at Mark and walked inside, Mark closing the door behind you and Jeno. “The rest of us are in the dining room! Come in whenever you get situated.” Mark said again before walking away to the dining room where he was before you two got there. Jeno and you took off your shoes leaving them on the rack by the door and putting your coats on the coat rack beside it before you two made your way to the dining room where everyone was. 

“Hey, lovebirds! You made it just in time! Jaemin just got here a few minutes before you two! So everyone is here now!” You heard Renjun say cheerily. You smiled and nodded gratefully at the information. Jeno and you exchanged hugs with everyone and Jeno couldn’t help but vaguely notice that Jaemin held you for a tad too long for his liking but shrugged it off. “All the gifts are over on that table if you want to go put them over there! We’re gonna be starting some Christmas-themed games afterward!” Renjun announced. Jeno nodded at his words, walked over to the table, and placed the gifts you both had gotten on the table with the other gifts. 

For the games, you all were paired off in groups of three people. You were paired off with Jaemin and Renjun, Jeno was paired with Mark and Haechan, and Chenle and Jisung were paired off. The first game you had to do was try to pop as many Christmas balloons by throwing darts at them as you could in 5 minutes. To say you were bad at it was an understatement…Your aim was so bad, so Jaemin stepped up to you and helped you aim correctly so that you could hit the balloons properly. Jeno’s eyes narrowed as his eyes zeroed in on Jaemin’s hands on your waist and hands to help you but he didn’t say anything…in fact, he didn’t say anything, not when you turned around and hugged jaemin tightly when you finally made a dart through the balloon, not when on the next game, he watched as Jaemin whispered in your ear and not even when through most of the night your attention was in fact on Jaemin. No, Jeno just sat there fuming, a nasty glare on his face as he watched the two of you interact. The fact that you were so oblivious to Jaemin’s shameless flirting and Jeno’s very obvious anger just made Jeno even more angry. 

It was time to open presents so you were sitting beside your husband, who you could tell seemed to be in a sour mood but couldn’t place why he was. You looked over at Jeno, a look of concern on your face but he just looked forward not paying you any mind, so you just shrugged annoyed. If he was going to act like a Christmas Grinch then you weren’t going to let him ruin your fun night. Everyone handed out the gifts they got for everyone and then everyone proceeded to open them one by one. When you got to the gift that Jaemin got you, you opened it and gassed when you saw the sweater you’ve been wanting for a while. You thanked him graciously and hugged him. Jeno just scoffed at the interaction quietly but you heard him. Then it dawned on you…Jeno was being a Grinch because he was jealous. You smirked internally at the thought. You knew just how you would get him back in the Christmas spirit…

As soon as you got back home, you went straight to your room and changed into the red and green lingerie you got as a gift for Christmas tomorrow to surprise Jeno and hopefully get him feeling jolly once more. You heard footsteps coming up the stairs and heading towards yours and Jeno’s shared bedroom, so you put on the matching silky Santa robe and stood in the middle of the room. Jeno opened the bedroom door and saw you standing there but didn’t say anything, he just stared at you. You smirked sultrily at him before sauntering over until you stood before him. 

“I noticed you were upset earlier…So I wanted to give you an early Christmas gift…get you back in the Christmas spirit…” You said your tone was seductive and light. Jeno’s eyes darkened and he watched as you ran your hands up and down his chest, shivering at your touch. “Don’t you want to open up your present Mr. Grinch?” You whispered to your husband. Jeno nodded his head as if he was in a trance but he reached out and untied the pretty bow you tied in the front of the robe and groaned at the sight of you dressed up so prettily for him. 

As soon as Jeno saw the lingerie sat so gracefully on your body he sprung into action, running his big hands up and down your lace-covered torso taking in the beautiful sight in front of him. Jeno brought his hands to your back and skillfully unclipped your bra, letting the offending article fall to the ground. Jeno groaned at the sight of your bare chest and then brought his hands up to your breasts which looked so inviting to him that he couldn’t help but squeeze them gently. He bent his head until he was eye-level with your chest before taking an erect nipple into his mouth and sucking at it just right, which caused you to let out a whimper. Jeno used his hand to tweak the other nipple before switching between the two and doing the same. Jeno took his mouth off of your nipple before he gently led you to your shared bed and pushed you atop it. 

Jeno climbed on top of your half-naked body, after he stripped his button-down shirt off, he was so impatient that he hadn’t even undid the buttons, he just tore the shirt open, the buttons springing everywhere but Jeno couldn’t care less about the expensive materials…not when his stunning wife was layed so beautifully on the bed looking up at him with hooded eyes. As soon as he was on top of you he leaned down capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Jeno let his hands wander down your torso and towards your lace-covered heat and to his surprise found that there was an opening in the bottom of the pretty red panties. His eyes shot down to look at what his hands had just discovered and he moaned loudly…your panties were crotchless… Jeno’s thick fingers spread your folds and instantly started to rub circles into your swollen clit. You whined out at the feeling of Jeno touching you in your most sensitive area.

“Jeez love, you just keep on surprising me, don’t you darling?” Jeno all but groaned out, loving the fact that you just kept on blowing his mind. You’re just so sexy to him. You just smiled up at your husband innocently contradicting the way you were rolling your hips into his hands sluttily. Jeno slipped a thick finger into your dripping entrance and started to move his digit into your gummy walls causing you to moan out at the feeling of his fingers digging into your spongey walls. Jeno could feel his cock twitching in his pants at every pretty sound you let out from his doing. 

“Jen���o.. please…I need your cock…please..!” You whimpered out, barely getting the words out because of the way Jeno now had two fingers pounding into you. The sloppy sounds coming from you caused the tips of your ears to redden at the vulgarity of it but how could you be embarrassed when he made you feel so good? Jeno grinned down at you, cooing at you in a mocking tone at how desperate you already were. 

“This is my gift, remember? Let me enjoy it yeah?” Jeno said smugly when your eyes rolled back as your high ran through you unexpectedly. Jeno groaned as your walls clamped down even more tightly than before as the heat spread throughout your body like wildfire. Jeno slid his fingers slowly out of you when he was sure the aftershocks of your high were over. He brought his fingers to his mouth sucking your juices off his fingers seductively groaning at the taste all while making intense eye contact with you. You felt shivers run through your body at his heavy gaze and from the nastiness of what he had just done. 

You thought that since he had just made you cum on his fingers that he would finally give you his cock, but Jeno had other plans. You didn’t think you could just tease him with just a taste of your sweet slick without him getting a proper taste, did you? Jeno slowly made his way down your body, sucking marks into your skin until he was face level with your dripping center. He brought his face closer to your core, inhaling your scent deeply, causing you to scold out “Jeno” in disdain though he knew you secretly loved when he acted this way. Jeno pressed his face into your folds, and then sucked your clit into his mouth, alternating between sucking and flicking his tongue against the nub. Jeno slid his tongue through your folds and brought it to your entrance and slipping it inside thrusting it at a slow but steady pace, trying to catch any bit of essence that would drip out, moaning into you at the taste. Your hands were in Jeno’s hair tugging whenever something felt particularly good, leading him to groan into you again. 

Just as you were about to cum again, Jeno stopped and pulled away abruptly, stepping away from you to pull his pants and boxers off, his big cock springing out and hitting his abs. The protest you were about to let out dying in your throat at the glorious sight of your husband completely naked. Jeno quickly made his way back on top of you and gave you a deep kiss. You could Jeno bring his hand to his cock and tease the tip against your slick folds before positioning his head at your soaked entrance and pushing in slowly. The two of you let out twin moans at the feeling of finally, finally being one with the other. As soon as Jeno bottomed out, he stopped his movements to let you adjust to his impressively thick size. 

Jeno began to move at a quickly fastening pace when you whined out for him to ‘please move Jen, I need you’. Jeno kept up his fast pace as he grabbed your hands and brought them above your head, holding them there. You both couldn’t stop the sounds coming out of you even if you tried, the pleasure the two of you were feeling was so inexplicably intense. You could tell Jeno was getting close from the way he was starting to move more sloppily than before and his grunts were getting higher in pitch with every movement from him.

“Doll, please tell me your close…please…” Jeno whined out, his thrusts getting quicker and more uncoordinated. You nodded your head frantically at his words, the fact that he tore your orgasm away from you earlier combined with his frantic thrusts had you right on the peak. Sensing this, Jeno brought his hand down to your sensitive clit and started to rub at it harshly. This brought you over the edge, causing you to tighten over Jeno’s cock as you came. Jeno cursed out with a long groan as his warm sticky cum coated your walls in strong spurts, his cock throbbing as you milked him for all he had. Jeno let out one last groan before falling on top of you, careful to not put all his weight on you. 

“I can’t believe you called me Mr. Grinch!” Jeno said laughing. You just snorted at his words, looking over at him.

“Maybe if you weren’t acting like you were about to murder Jaemin, I wouldn’t have called you one. Btw Jaemin was doing it on purpose to see what you would do.” You said laughing at Jeno’s shocked expression.

“That sneaky bastard!”