#I’m down. down there. in the bad place.

[humanjarvis]

nurse for a day

synopsis: who knew a sick doctor could be such a handful? 

tags: stubborn zayne who hates being sick, reader takes care of him anyway, sleepy delirious zayne, fluff fluff fluff, humor(?), suggestive for .5 seconds word count: 2k 

a/n: i personally think i ate with this one 

It was quiet. Too quiet. 

As you slink through the seemingly empty house, ducking into shadows like you’re on a stealth mission, you really wish your boyfriend weren’t so damn stubborn. 

On your earlier phone call, Zayne had tried admirably hard to mask the nasally tone in his voice—to pretend like his frequent coughs were simply him “clearing his throat.” But you knew better.

He doesn’t get sick often—what with knowing exactly how to prevent it, and all—but when he does, he detests it for several reasons. The most pressing one, at the moment? You love when Zayne is sick.

Not because you think he deserves it, not because you want to see him suffer, but because you get to play nurse. After so many days being taken care of and scolded by the best doctor in Linkon, you finally get to return the favor. 

Except Zayne isn’t particularly…appreciative of the favor. You’re a very strict nurse, he’s frowned at you several times before. You tell him over and over again that you only want him to feel better, but that doesn’t stop him from holing up in a bunker every time he comes down with something. It’s the only time he avoids you. 

And now, he’s hiding from you. In his own home. 

You know he’s here. When you arrived, his freshly washed car was sparkling in the driveway, a full mug of jasmine tea was still steaming on the kitchen countertop, and various office supplies were left scattered across the coffee table. As if he’d heard you coming and frantically abandoned ship. 

You’d searched the usual spots: his empty bedroom, so pristine it looked like a hotel cleaning crew had stopped by; the walk-in closet, to make sure he hadn’t disguised himself among the hangers; and his study, where there’d been nothing but heaps of paperwork threatening the desk’s structural integrity. 

He’s being extra sneaky this time, you scoff to yourself as you tiptoe around upstairs. Room after room, and no endearingly, adorably, annoyingly stubborn doctor inside. 

But then, pressing your ear to the laundry room door, you hear it. 

The unmistakable crinkle of a candy wrapper.

You’ve never felt so lucky that Zayne reserves his self-control for you and not sweets. 

With a deep breath and a crack of your knuckles, you jiggle the doorknob slightly before bursting into the room. The man inside, hunched over the floor next to a tissue box, jumps at the sudden noise before freezing in place. And then, slowly, shyly, he spins to face you with the wide eyes and stuffed cheeks of a disgruntled hamster. 

Zayne has spent enough time with you to know what the unimpressed look on your face means: Explain yourself. 

“I don’t remember you knocking,” he sniffles curtly, unable to hide the way his stuffy nose constricts his throat. The rosy blush on his cheeks is the only indication of his guilt. 

“I don’t remember signing up to date an escape artist,” you shoot back, satisfied with his resulting wince. “What are you doing all the way in here? Was the space under the desk in your study not suitable this time?” 

“Just wanted a—”sniff—“change of scenery,” he jokes lamely, gesturing to the sleek washer and dryer towering over him. 

Sighing, you crouch down in front of him, taking in the wall of chocolate wrappers barricading him in. “Is the idea of me taking care of you really that bad? I’m just trying to help.” 

“That’s exactly it,” he says dryly. “You always help more than what’s needed.” 

At that, your eyes narrow into slits sharp enough to cut through bone. His bones, if he’s not careful. “Excuse me?” 

“I mean,” he clears his throat, grimacing at the dull burn in his sinuses, “You always help me exactly how I need it, and more.” 

“That’s what I thought you said. Now, come downstairs so I can give you the medicine you need, Dr. Zayne. And hand over the candy.” 

It was no secret that Zayne loved sweet things. The confiscated tub of chocolates sitting on the counter was evidence enough. 

But as you look down at his frowning face, cup of chemically red liquid in hand, you can’t help but wonder if it’s because Zayne loves sweet things that he hates taking medicine. 

Once he’d finally trudged into the kitchen, you’d sat him down on a barstool before fishing the dreaded bottle out of the cabinet. “Why not a lozenge instead?” he’d asked. “One of the citrus ones.” 

You hadn’t fallen for his trap, of course. But as he eyes you like he’ll make a break for it any second now, a weary part of you wishes you had. 

“You know,” you lean in conspiratorially, “they say if you plug your nose, you won’t taste it as much.” 

“Illness doesn’t make me a fool,” he mutters bitterly. “I, more than anyone, know how fruitless that trick often is. It doesn’t even work on the kids in the pediatric ward anymore.” 

“And why would a 27-year-old man need the same encouragement as sick children, I wonder?” you crack slyly. 

Zayne looks away, taking a sudden interest in the floor tiles. 

Snorting, you double-check the dosage in the medicine cup and hold it out to him. He regards it with abject misery, his big, hazel eyes staring up at you pleadingly, and you feel a crack in your resolve.

“Fine,” you grumble, pivoting to raid the pantry behind you. Retrieving the most acceptable pastry you can find—there are about 7 different options—you set the blueberry muffin on the island in front of him. 

At the peace offering, those hazel eyes light up slightly, driving out some of the pallor on his face. With a deep breath, Zayne grunts softly before downing the liquid like a shot, shuddering at the aftertaste. Eyes closed in a lasting grimace, he reaches blindly for the muffin before you push it into his grasp, and he sighs in contentment when he bites into it.

Running a hand through his dark hair, you can’t help but grin fondly. 

If only the pediatric ward could see him now. 

After Zayne recovered from the horrors of modern medicine, he’d sullenly asked for more tea, since the batch he’d made earlier was cold now. Pinching his cheek, you’d sent him to sulk on the living room couch so you could keep an eye on him. Which had worked, for several minutes. You’d gathered the ingredients, and he’d flipped blankly through a journal, intermittent sniffles reassuring you of his presence. 

But as you gawk at the abandoned sofa, you realize he must have ducked you while your back was turned. 

Yep. Definitely an escape artist.

With a frustrated growl, you hurriedly plunk the tea bag in and listen for signs of movement. Hearing the faint clicks of a keyboard, you stomp up the stairs to his study, not caring if the drink in hand sloshes over the rim of his favorite penguin mug. Serves him right.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you snap, setting the cup on his desk to put your hands on your hips.

“Working,” he answers with an innocent upturn of his lips. 

“I mean,” you clarify, “what do you think you’re doing when you should be resting?”

Too distracted to keep typing, Zayne switches his attention to the stack of papers before him. “I feel much better already,” he lies flatly, breaking eye contact when yours bore into his. 

As an incredulous laugh escapes you, you throw your hands up in exasperation. “What would you say to one of your patients if they tried to work through an illness?” 

“I’d say that as a medical professional, I only have the jurisdiction to advise them on the best course of treatment. Once out of hospital care, it’s up to them to exercise judgment and decide if they’re able to work or not. Like I’m doing now,” he retorts, and you almost commend his ability to bullshit such a polished answer.

“Right, of course,” you entertain him sweetly. “So is that why you just scrawled your signature through the bottom of that confidentiality agreement?”

With sluggish alarm, Zayne jerks his head down to survey the damage, and sure enough, his swooping penmanship has rendered the contract illegible.

“How could I have missed the signature line?” he whispers, face aghast with disbelief. “I…I don’t even know what…”

“I do,” you sing triumphantly, walking around to haul him up from his armchair. “I know exactly what’s wrong.” 

The main reason Zayne hates being sick isn’t the symptoms. It isn’t the unneeded pity, the inopportune sick days, or even the insidious slide of what tastes like poison down his throat.  

No. Unfortunately, for your stubborn snowman of a boyfriend, the main reason Zayne hates being sick is simply of his nature: cold medicine makes him terribly drowsy. 

Its heightened effect on him is just like his alcohol intolerance—something in his genes just can’t handle outside influences. 

So as you lead him back to rest on the sofa, laying his head across your lap, it becomes clear you’re now dealing with an oversized koala. 

“You smell nice. I think. I can’t really smell anything,” he murmurs into your navel, tickling your skin with his rhythmic deep breaths. 

“Mm. You smell nice too, under the medicine scent. Like jasmine tea.”

As you gently massage his scalp, he burrows into your stomach, lifting his head up seconds later as if remembering something. 

“Did you d’something different with your hair today? Looks nice,” he slurs, blinking at you with sleep-laced eyes. 

“Yep!” Nope. “Thank you for noticing, Zaynie. So observant even when you’re sick,” you coo, rubbing soothing circles into his back. 

With a delirious hum, he smiles softly at the praise before his gaze lands on your chest, rising and falling above him. “You’re very…warm,” he whispers, baby pink tongue wetting his lips. But just as he leans up to nuzzle into you, you stop him halfway. 

“Oh no, you don’t,” you chide, catching him by the scruff. “Not right now, at least.” 

A quiet sigh is his only resistance, and as he slumps back down, he brings a hand around your waist to leave a lingering kiss on your stomach. 

“Are you tired, Zayne?” you ask, cradling his head in your palms to meet his clouded gaze.

“Mm. I’d like to go to bed now.”

As you turn off the bedside lamp, preparing to leave Zayne in peace for the night, feverishly warm hands pull you down onto the mattress. Lying beside him, you flutter your eyes closed as he presses a tender kiss to your cheek. 

“Aren’t you worried about getting me sick?” you question, raising a brow in the moonlight. 

Chuckling, he shakes his head languidly. “Sinus infections aren’t contagious,” he yawns. “But even if they were, transmission would only give me the chance to look after you in return.”

“Are you sure? Someone once told me I’m too stern of a nurse. I’d hate to be the same way as a patient.” 

Zayne frowns contemplatively as he rests a hand on your hip. “Even though your methods are…involved,” he swallows, “I appreciate the consideration you’ve shown me today. Thank you for taking care of me.” 

“Approval from the illustrious Dr. Zayne,” you whisper, gently tapping his reddened nose. “I hope this means he won’t hide from me next time.” 

As he winces, you can almost see the events of this afternoon replaying in his mind. “If he can help it, there won’t be a next time. But yes, I won’t hide from you again. I truly do feel better with you here beside me.” 

“And you’ll feel even better with proper rest,” you remind him. “Sleep. I’ll stay right here until you do.”

Finally relenting, he turns on his side, holding you to him like a child with a teddy bear. 

And though he’s never believed in them before, when Zayne wakes the next morning, nose clear and fever broken, he thinks you might be a miracle worker. 

[boopsiesdaisies]

being near each other (pt 2)

bob reynolds/sentry x reader | 3,791 words | angst/fluff | gn! reader

THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS

tw: panic attacks, swearing, brief mentions of sex

both you and bob are still pretty bad at feelings

a/n: i was not expecting the first part of this to blow up as much as it did, so i decided to not clean my room and write an even longer sequel. thank you @scarlett-witchh for suggesting for a sequel! shoutout to lauren for the starbucks orders <3

link to part one!

___

You had finally begun to find some peace with your roommates. While the clean-up from last month’s “incident” had fully exhausted you, the established routine was comforting, not to mention you had finally embraced your feelings for Bob, well as much as you could. Everyday started to feel like paradise, you practically skipped around the base every morning, romantically sighing through your meetings and missions. Even as you walked into the meeting room with a knife soaring past your face, nothing could have dampened your mood.

“Okay, okay, I have all of your drinks!” You yelled, breaking up the chaos in front of you.

All your teammates froze in their exact positions and slowly turned their heads toward you. 

Walker was ducking in front of you with his hands over his head. Yelena’s arm was still outstretched from throwing the kitchen knife, which was now firmly planted in the wall behind you. Alexei and Bucky each had an arm reaching towards holding Yelena back, while Ava was clearly encouraging the behavior. The last person who caught your attention was Bob, seated calmly in the corner, nose in a self-help book, clearly having only looked up at your entrance over the commotion of the fight. As your teammates processed your statement, they all sat down in their respective seats, the previous argument forgotten for caffeine. 

“First an iced americano for John, even though I’m certain you don’t actually like it and drink it only for the name,” you said as you handed out the first drink.

Walker attempted to defend himself, but you had already moved on to the next drink in the tray, you cautiously balanced.

“Next, I have God only knows what is in this for Alexei, with approximately fifteen pumps of some kind of syrups in it,” you placed the drink down, its vibrant red color shocked even the barista.

“It is my new sponsored drink!” Alexei responded. “Now known as the Red Drink.”

“Is that meant to be a play on the Pink Drink because I think you’re going to have more copyrights on your hands,” Yelena sighed.

“No, not Pink Drink at all!” He bellowed. “It is my drink that will gain many followers on the Instagram.” 

You decided to keep going and ignore him. “Next, I have a hazelnut shaken espresso for Yelena.” 

“Thank you,” she immediately sipped the drink, and you watched as her shoulders visibly relaxed. 

“Next, an iced matcha latte for Ava,” you handed her the drink as you rounded the table, and she nodded her thanks.

“A black coffee for Bucky, and finally the second to worst drink here, a vanilla bean frap with six shots of espresso, and extra whipped cream for Bob.” You handed the last two their drinks, as you placed yours down on the table. As you handed Bob the drink, your fingers brushed for just a moment, and you felt the heat pull up your face. 

You cleared your throat as you attempted to will the blush away, “now, does someone want to explain to me why a stray knife almost landed in my carotid artery on my way in from picking up coffee for all of you?” 

You nestled into your seat, next to Bob of course, and pulled your legs up towards your chest. He smiled at you, his cheeks warm as well.

“It would have hit you in the ear at best, you’re giving Yelena too much credit,” Walker started to instigate the room again.

“Oh, like you would have better aim with two idiots trying to pull you off the table,” Yelena bit back.

“Enough you two,” Bucky sighed. 

His sighs resembled more of an exhausted father as the days living in the tower went on. The meeting continued on, not without the occasional quip from Yelena or Walker about the argument from before, but you didn’t particularly care anymore. Your eyes moved softly to the side of Bob’s face. His lips were slightly parted as his finger guided his eyes across the lines of the text of his book. Ever since moving in, Bob gained a steady collection of self-help books in an attempt to learn to better live with the Void. His right hand laid flat on the table as he balanced the book on the table, and you found your hand subconsciously reaching to hold his. As you laid your hand on top of his, his hand pulled away to the book, and didn’t return the table. You snapped your head to the side, brows tight as you tried to question what just happened. Bob’s eyes remained steady on the book, though you could tell he wasn’t focused on the words anymore as his grip tightened on the book.

The two of you had spent the past four weeks in a happy bliss, spending soft moments out of missions together. You had frequent movie nights between either one of your rooms, watching anything from shitty action movies to even shittier rom coms but just getting to spend time together made it all worth it. You had even begun to try to teach him how to cook, just simple things so he could survive a bit better without someone on the team watching over him as closely. He was doing so incredibly lately, with only one appearance from the Void since the incident last week, although he had yet to try to use his newfound powers regularly. 

His actions just then confused you, sure you two were doing all the cheesy couple things you had learned to follow, but you had been so careful to avoid any unnecessary touching, besides the regular hand holding, since you could tell that it scared him. Holding hands now had been standard practice between the two of you, even in front of the team, all of whom either didn’t care enough to say anything, or the more likely answer was they all had their own problems enough to not bother either of you. Walker and Alexei knew something, since it was their genius ideas to rig the mission chart to even start your “relationship” with Bob, but you weren’t really clear on how many “guys’ nights” actually happened regularly. You didn’t really have a relationship with Yelena or Ava to talk to them about this, you were cordial sure, but you’re not sure if gossiping about boy problems was the next step in the friendship. 

Yet now, fear began to creep in the corners of your mind, if Bob didn’t want to hold your hand anymore was there something wrong? You had made it very clear you were willing to go at his pace, especially since he had just served as an experiment, and forcibly given powers that no one really understood. Despite that, it had been a month of comfortable hand holding, and the occasional head on a shoulder. You cursed your inability to discuss emotions, maybe that girls’ night would be the solution to your problems, although remembering the moment you walked into with Yelena throwing knives and Ava encouraging her, maybe they weren’t the ones to go to for advice. 

Sound interrupted your downward spiral as the meeting was clearly adjourned and you missed all of the content that may or may not prove important later, although missions for the greater good were not in your interest of your greater good right now. Bob had stood faster than you could process and scurried out of the room, as opposed to his normal joyful gait around the tower. 

“What was that?” Yelena’s voice broke through the silence, and it was clearly pointed at you.

She then proceeded to clear her throat loudly. 

“Oh shit right! Uh, I need help with something; Bucky, Alexei, and Ava, why don’t you come help me with this thing?” Walker’s voice was higher than normal, and as you looked at him you swore you could see pen marks all over his hand. 

All of them poured out of the room with a level of speed that made you a tad bit uncomfortable, as Yelena’s eyebrows raised, reposing the question.

“What was what?” You asked incredulously. 

“That, little…thing,” Yelena moved towards you, sitting down in the chair next to you.

“What? Oh, that,” you replied, realizing you were right, Yelena was probably not the person to go for advice on this. 

“You two are like so happy, and now it’s weird, and now it’s all of our problems,” she continued. 

“Well, that’s not my fault,” you said, immediately defending your actions.

“I’m not saying it’s anyone’s fault,” she sighed, clearly trying a different approach “but you two are making less kissy faces at each other lately and it’s bringing the mood down.” “I don’t make kissy faces!” You shot back.

“You absolutely do, but the two of you need to figure it out,” she said, standing.

“Maybe just fuck already?” Walker’s voice came through the doorway, as he was comically yanked away.

You heard the sound of Alexei loudly hushing him, and the sound of a slap. Clearly, the other team members were eavesdropping. 

“Did you all just stage an intervention for me?” You asked.

“Listen, as much as Walker is an idiot,” Yelena’s voice raised for the last part, clearly addressing the audience beyond the doorway. “You two are cute little idiots and Bob’s been pouting about something, so figure it out.” 

“You act as if it’s just simple enough of asking him what’s wrong!” You stood.

“It is?” She responded, turning back to you.

“It totally is not!” You answered.

“It totally is!” Walker’s voice shot back from the doorway, as you heard a slam and his groan as someone most likely hit him with something. Part of you was hoping it was Ava, helping Yelena get revenge from before. 

“Shut up Walker, your wife left you, you don’t know shit about relationships!” Yelena’s voice peaked with the anger from before as she stormed out of the meeting room to the sound of your sigh. 

You continued to sigh and stomp a bit as you exited through one of the side doors, hearing a louder clamor as the fight from before was clearly continuing in the background. Your feet carried you subconsciously to Bob’s door, the sound of music softly playing in his room. You knocked once, softly against the door, part of you hoping that he wasn’t going to answer to save you the stress of addressing your problems right now. You could totally walk away and shove them down, but if you learned anything in the past time with the team, shoving emotions down was, unfortunately, not the correct answer to make them better. 

Bob pulled the door open just a crack, and peaked through it. Shit, only he could make this look endearing and made your heart flutter. 

“Can I come in?” You asked. 

Bob hesitated for a moment, and looked down at his hands, then answered. “Sure.”

You walked into his room that was now completely repaired. No more broken furniture or bits of glass around the room. Just a soft melody playing off a speaker somewhere, with a few plants that you had gifted him to liven the room up. Despite literally only having the clothes on his back when the move-in process began, he had quickly acquired multitudes of knick knacks that covered the room. Even though the city was rebuilding and reopening from the Void’s takeover, you insisted on taking Bob to all the tourist parts to explore as your first “date,” although you struggled to call it that, and let’s just say you would never be able to say no to his face. 

“What did you need?” Bob asked. 

He had hung around the door, and continued to avoid your gaze.

“I should be the one asking you that,” you smiled, and stepped closer to him. 

He sidestepped away from you, and moved past you further into his room. “I don’t need anything, everything’s great, why would I need something?” He asked, stumbling over his words. 

“Considering that was your response, something is probably wrong,” you replied.

“I–” he started to speak, but he just let his mouth hang open and then closed it without finishing the thought.

“You can talk to me,” you started. “I thought we had been through this, Bob, we would talk to each other? Listen, if I’m too much for you or you don’t want to do this, I would rather just know, before I get too invested–” 

“No! No,” Bob’s hands shook as he held them up to stop you. “It’s me.”

“What about you?” You asked.

“I’m afraid,” he said, softly, letting his arms fall and hang at his sides.

“Afraid?” you pushed.

He didn’t rely.

“Are you afraid of me?” You felt a painful lump rise to your throat, you knew who you were and your past, but part of you hoped that maybe he would see past that. See you for you, and not what you were forced to do in the past. 

“Not you!” The look of shock on his face brought a second of comfort to you, and he moved closer to you. “I’m afraid of me. Well, not me, him, I guess? I’m not really clear on how to refer to us.”

You smiled softly, relieved. “Let’s agree on him, because I don’t think that it’s you.”

“Okay, him,” Bob agreed. “Last week, when he tried to make an appearance it was because, well, I don’t know how to say this without it being weird.”

“I can promise it’s probably not that weird,” you affirmed.

“I thought about kissing you and got really nervous and then it happened and now I’m afraid of being near you because you make me nervous because I like you a lot and I’m afraid of being a fuck up but if I’m not near you I’m even more afraid because you actually make me feel safe and I just feel like I’m doing this all wrong and I’m just word vomiting at this point so who knows if you’ve actually made sense of this,” he began to pace as he spoke and you could feel the energy in the room change as all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

“Bob, stop,” you went to put your hands on his shoulders but he pulled away. 

“And see! Because you’re such a nice and perfect person you try to help me and when you touch me, it’s going to happen again, and it’s going to be just like the kitchen, only this time you’re going to hate me for it. And then everyone is going to leave me and I’m going to alone again and –”

“Stop, you’re spiraling,” you grabbed his shoulders despite him previously trying to pull away, knowing that the contact would probably help him.

“I can’t stop! Everything you do makes me nervous,” he said, fear beginning to manifest in his eyes as the eerie silver of the Void. 

“And you don’t think you make me nervous?” You asked.

“What?” He responded.

The seriousness of the question seemed to stop all of his thoughts in one moment.

“I’m so nervous around you all the time, but I still hang around you because I like you too. And even though I’m scared as shit everyday, I want to be better, and so I tell myself that being afraid is what lets me be near you in the first place, so I’m willing to be scared.” You smiled, as your hands began to rub up and down his arms, trying to soothe him. 

“You’re scared too?” He asked, and you noticed the brightness in his eyes beginning to fade as they returned more to the color of the blue eyes that you’ve found comfort in everyday. 

“Of course I’m scared!” You laughed. “I’m standing in front of one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, and not to mention you’re hot as shit and you actually like me, even though I suck and I’ve done so many shitty things, and you know about them, but you like me anyways.” 

“You think I’m hot?” Bob asked, causing you to laugh in response, out of all the things you’ve told him tonight, that’s what he got from this?

“Yes, I think you’re really hot Bobby,” you smiled as one of your hands tucked his stubborn piece of hair behind his ear. 

“Wow, ‘cause coming from you that’s like” he said, looking a bit star-gazed. “That’s like wow.”

You struggled to keep eye contact with him, you’ve always struggled to accept compliments, but with him compliments made you feel even warmer.

“So what do you want to do?” You asked, part of you fearing an answer that made your chest tighter.

“What do I want?” He asked, part of him looked surprised, as if this was one of the first times he was asked for his opinion on something. 

“Yeah, do you want to keep trying this?” You felt so small under his gaze.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asked in reply, feeling the shift as if he knew it was his turn to comfort you. 

“I just, if you’re afraid, and it makes your powers go crazy, I don’t want to take the chance of hurting you,” you finally looked away from him, trying to fully pull away.

“I’m more worried about hurting you, and you’re worried about hurting me,” he laughed. “You were right by the way.”

“Right about what?” You replied, his laughter seeming out of place.

“That we’re bad at ‘this’ thing,” he referred to the same invisible thing from before.

“Yeah, we are bad at this,” you started to laugh too, letting yourself enjoy the moment.

“I don’t want to be afraid to touch you,” he whispered, as if admitting the words out loud would summon him. “I don’t want to be afraid to kiss you.”

“Then don’t be, or if you tell me, I’ll try to make it better,” you stepped closer to him. 

“You always make it better,” Bob stepped closer, the distance between the two of you practically not existent a this point. 

While there was a softness to the moment, both of your breathing was quick, but silent, the energy was really what pulled your attention to the distance between you. You could feel the electricity of the moment both metaphorically and literally as Bob’s powers began to physically draw energy towards him. You were afraid to speak, ruining the tender moment, the sounds of the music fading faster behind you. Taking a deep breath, you steeled your nerves, you didn’t care if you got burned, you knew what you wanted. You grabbed the sides of Bob’s face and guided him closer to you. 

You smiled softly as your noses brushed, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Uh-huh,” Bob replied, eyes slightly glazed.

“Is that okay?” You confirmed.

“Please,” Bob whispered in confirmation. 

Clearly, he didn’t care about the fear at that moment either. The moment your lips touched you finally knew what the power of a thousand suns felt like. It was entirely hot, but so soft, so entirely Bob. In this moment, you were so grateful that you had decided to stay home from that mission, because this snippet of your future made everything so worth it. Bob’s hands hovered over the sides of your face, then your shoulders, and then fell back down to his sides like he had no idea what to do with them. Without breaking the kiss, you pulled his hands towards you and placed one on your waist and another on your shoulder. You moved your hands back to the sides of his face. His lips seemed so unsure against yours, but so perfect.

When you pulled away, Bob’s eyes were wide and mouth was agape. The room was at least six degrees warmer than before you kissed, but even the room felt cool against your skin. You began to softly laugh and tuck his hair behind his ear. Even with your efforts the piece slid back out to infront of his eyes. 

“How do you feel?” You asked softly, you knew that it was still Bob from his eyes, but wanted to ensure you weren’t about to face your past mistakes again, at least not right now.

“Good, good, I mean great, yeah great,” his words seemed to reflect the short circuiting of his brain. 

“Okay, you can tell me if it wasn’t” you reassured. 

There was a second of silence, where he nodded. You felt the worries that stuck with you since the meeting earlier began to melt away with the heat. 

“I promise you I’ve kissed people before, I just–” Bob started and you laughed harder.

“What?” You replied, a laugh bubbling in your chest.

“I swear I’ve done this before, I just – It’s just – It’s just you,” he tried to verbalize his thoughts but he seemed so entirely lost. 

It warmed your heart in a way you could never have put into words. 

“I think you did perfectly,” you replied. “You never have to justify yourself to me y’know.” 

“I know, I just feel like I totally blanked out ‘cause I did, and like my brain just sorta screamed for the entire time.” He said.

“I hope it was at least a good blank out,” your hands fell from the sides of his face moving to one on the back of his neck and the other on his shoulder. 

“Oh yeah, it was good, you’re good, you’re perfect actually,” he stumbled through his words. 

You began to fiddle with the hair that rested at the nape of his neck, while laughing at his words.

“Well I’m glad I beat all those other people you’ve kissed before,” you teased.

“Oh ten times better,” he genuinely assured you.

“Well then I hope you’re okay if I kissed you again,” you asked.

“Again?” He stuttered out as his eyes widened. He attempted to recover, “I mean, yeah, I’m cool with it.”

Your mouths met again with Bob’s meeting you in the middle, his hands still firmly planted where you placed them. Before you could really enjoy the moment, you heard a voice in the background.

“I told you Yelena! You owe me fifty bucks!” Walker’s voice was the very last thing you wanted to hear.

“They're literally not fucking Walker, they are fully clothed,” Yelena yelled back.

Although, once you turned around, the split lip and the beginnings of a black eye forming on his face told you that you didn’t really need to exact any revenge on him since Yelena seemed to have dealt with the problem before it began. While you wished that your roommates would find someone else to bother, since they ruined this really nice moment, you laughed, because you wouldn’t be here next to Bob if they didn’t feel the need to meddle. 

[maskedbyghost]

Possessive reader getting a body pillow cover of Simon made for when he’s on deployment for long periods of time and can’t communicate. Like a cat seeing a balloon of itself, man is pissy anytime he’s reminded it exists and gets reader’s undivided attention the moment he’s forced away from them.

You didn’t buy it as a joke. That’s the first thing people get wrong. You weren’t drunk or being ironic or trying to be funny about how much you missed him. You were just pissed off. He was gone again, longer this time, and he didn’t say how long exactly—just said he wouldn’t be able to call often, might not even text for a while.

And you just stood there, nodding like you were cool with it, like it didn’t already burn in your chest thinking about sleeping alone again.

So yeah. You searched “custom body pillow” that night with your jaw clenched and your arms crossed and your phone brightness on full blast, like that was gonna make it hurt less.

You found a site that let you upload any photo you wanted, and you picked that one—him shirtless, sweaty from a workout, giving you the kind of half-smile that made your stomach flip. He’d sent it to you months ago, and you’d never deleted it. Now it was going to be six feet of print pressed up against you under the blankets every night.

And you didn’t tell him. Of course not. You just tracked the shipping, yanked it out of the box the second it arrived, and dressed it in one of his old oversized tees—your favorite. The one he always pulled on when he got out of the shower, the one he always told you looked better on you than on him. It smelled like him. And now so did the pillow.

You laid it down on his side of the bed, adjusted the angle like a crazy person, and stared at it for way too long before you finally turned the light off. It wasn’t even that it made you feel better. You were just so mad you couldn’t have the real thing. If you had to sleep without him, then fine—you’d make damn sure there was no space in your bed left for anyone else. Not even empty air.

He got back weeks later. He didn’t even text that he was on his way—just showed up, opened the front door, and called your name like nothing had changed.

You were halfway through the hallway when you heard him go completely silent.

“Uh,” he finally said, and it was coming from the bedroom.

You turned the corner and saw him just standing there. Bag on the floor, keys still in one hand, mouth half open like someone had sucker punched him. The pillow was still there, obviously. Front and center. Still wearing his shirt. His face was printed life-sized on it.

“Oh,” you said, like you’d forgotten. Like it hadn’t been your emotional support sleep aid for two straight weeks. “That.”

“That?” he repeated, turning to look at you with full-blown betrayal in his eyes. “That’s what you’ve been sleepin’ with?”

“I didn’t exactly have options,” you said, walking past him to flop down on the bed. “You were gone. It was either this or cry myself to sleep.”

“You could’ve warned me,” he muttered, still staring at it.

You snorted. “Would you have stopped me?”

“…No.”

“Exactly.”

He finally tore his eyes off it and looked at you instead, arms crossed. “What, so I leave for five minutes and you replace me with a bloody pillow?”

“I wouldn’t need a replacement if you didn’t keep running off to fight bad guys every other month,” you said sweetly, patting the spot beside you. “Come on, it’s your turn. Might as well take your place back.”

He just stood there, unmoving. “You seriously slept next to that thing?”

“I did more than sleep,” you grinned.

He groaned. “Oh for fuck’s sake.”

“You jealous?”

“It’s a pillow,” he said, like the word offended him. “I’m not jealous of a fuckin’—”

“I rubbed my face on it every night. Talked to it too. Called it baby. You know, just regular relationship stuff.”

He stared at you, completely deadpan, then looked at the pillow again. “You’re sick in the head.”

You shrugged. “You love it.”

“I love you,” he snapped. “That’s the problem. You get away with this shit.”

You smiled like you’d won something. “You bet your ass I do. And if you ever get deployed without warning me again, I’m printing one of those full cardboard cutouts next. I’ll sit it at the kitchen table. Put it in the shower, even.”

He dragged a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath, and when he looked at you again his eyes were warmer. “You’re insane.”

“You love it,” you said, reaching for him.

He let you pull him toward the bed, finally dropping down beside you with a sigh. You tossed the pillow off to the side and straddled his lap like it was your rightful seat, hands on his chest, your grin smug.

He blinked, breath stuttering just slightly, and you watched the red creep up the tips of his ears as your fingers dragged down the front of his shirt. “You’re not allowed to be hotter than me and then disappear. That’s not fair.”

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ, woman.”

“You missed it,” you said, kissing the corner of his mouth. “You missed me.”

“I really did.”

“Good,” you whispered, nose brushing his. “So don’t leave again.”

He kissed you hard, all tongue and teeth. “Make me.”

“Oh, I plan to.”

------------------------------------------

i just can't with these two

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @bunnyxiis

[intromortal]

✷ LIQUID SWEETENER ⸻ sim jaeyun

jake takes care of his sick girlfriend, but with an unexpected twist.

this work contains ⋆ smut. mdni. established relationship, reader has a fever, she's very annoying tbh but it's bc she's ME! it's okay tho bc jake is equally as bad. spitting medicine in someone's mouth... is this sanitary? absolutely not but i also can't bring myself to care, fingering, praise, degradation (use of slut like once? and pet), he's mostly very sweet tho i promise, oral f!rec, squirting, mentions of free use, multiple orgasms, quick aftercare, jake comes untouched he's down bad sorry ! ⸻ rules ⋆ m.list

length ⋆ oneshot ⸻ 5.2k words

✷ NIA — i finally got around to rewriting this omfg. this rewrite is for my sweet @heechwe and all the nonnies who asked for this to be posted again <3

It's not everyday Jake gets to take care of you, so when you're all sickly and weak, it's hard to evade his attentions no matter how hard you try.

Jake pouts when you shoot down yet another attempt to get you to take your medicine. "Why don't you just chug it? I promise it's not as bad as you think."

He’s been trying to get you to swallow at least a tiny dose of the sweet fever syrup for the best part of an hour, after every attempt to get you to down any kind of pill resulted in you hiding them somewhere underneath your cozy pajamas, against your burning skin.

"If it's not as bad as I think, why are you suggesting I just chug it?" Your voice is slightly muffled as you eye him suspiciously from under the heavy cover pulled up all the way to your nose.

"You're the one insisting it's disgusting without even trying it, I asked for the best flavor possible when I got it." He made sure to pick out a syrup that doesn't taste straight up radioactive, knowing you well enough to predict you’d make a big fuss about the nasty taste. Yeah, he can picture it right in his head, how you’d gag dramatically at the smell and just beg him to go get the tablets again—which you wouldn't agree to take anyway.

For how much you hate being sick, you seem to dislike the idea of getting better quickly even more.

“You would feel so much better if you just took your medicine,” he sighs, resting the cap filled to the brim with honey flavored syrup on the crowded comforter, careful not to leave it too close to the edge. He licks whatever residue is left on his sticky fingers. "Really not that bad. It's sweet."

"So it's not good either," you huff back, trying to wiggle yourself out of the cocoon of blankets Jake wrapped you in as soon as you fell asleep. "I'm not even that sick anyway.”

“Yeah?” Jake looks at you with an arched brow, then points his head to the little mountain of discarded, snot filled tissues overtaking your comforter, the ones he was in the middle of throwing away. “This right here is breeding grounds for bio terrorism allegations.”

He stops you from getting out of bed, securing the warm fuzzy covers around you again. “No need to leave, just tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you,” he whispers against your lashes, placing a soft kiss to your closed eyelid.

“Just wan’ you.”

His plump lips thin into that gorgeous wide smile of his as he speaks,“but you have me baby, I’m right here, yeah?”

He knows very well what you mean, and a frustrated grumble spills out of you at the thought. Cheeky bastard, of course he wants you to say the quiet part out loud. Neither of you is used to going without pleasuring each other for long periods of time, and anything longer than three days is eons according to Jake. You're surprised he's behaved as well as he has this past week, you thought he would be the one to cave in first.

“Want…more,” you crank one of your eyes open, struggling when a droplet from the wet towel on your forehead Jake promptly changed every fifteen minutes slips in it. You blink a few times, adjusting to the light in the room before looking over to Jake, his grin still wide and brightening up his whole face, his head turned to the side as he observes you lovingly, a strand of hair longer than the rest tickling the side of his nose.

If Jake has to be completely honest with himself, he's not particularly sad at you being a little sick. 

Sure, it sounds mean when he says it out loud, but you're not doing so badly or in any kind of pain that would worry him, and he enjoys doting on you like this, with you having no choice but to take his love. Can’t blame a man for wanting to take care of his girl, especially when said girl has a streak of refusing to just lay back and let him do the work. 

You're always hiding your pain and vulnerability from everyone around you, so he enjoys knowing he's helping make it at least a little better for once.

You—however—wouldn’t exactly agree that he's making you feel better, definitely not by walking around with damp hair from the shower and intoxicating the air around you with the lingering salty marine and musky notes of the cologne he always sprays on his fresh change of clothes. A smell you usually related to comfort and home, making your head spin in the best way possible, a whirlwind of anything but pure thoughts crowding your mind.

Jake takes notice of the subtle shift in the air around you right away. You had been–subtly at first—laying down little hints for him to pick up, you craved him. Had been craving him for what felt like forever, ever since you got sick. A nagging hunger that just grew further with every hour he silently ignored it.

Usually you would busy yourself with random tasks, keeping your thoughts clear of images of his hands, or his plush lips and how he always absentmindedly licks away at them or how—you get the idea. But being sick doesn't help, being physically weak and needing rest doesn't stop your mind from running wild. Made it worse, actually, since you have nothing to do but lay in your bed all day. If only he’d slide right next to you under your covers and—

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jake interrupts your thoughts, a hint of amusement shining through his smooth tone. You look up to him hopefully, breath caught in your chest fearing the next few words he's about to say. “And you’re still too sick.”

Really not being dramatic, but you're pretty sure a boulder just crushed you right on your chest. You groan, turning to the other side so you can properly sulk without having to look at Jake’s stupidly handsome face. A face you'd love to ride as soon as possible.

“No like, you actually hate me,” your voice is muffled by the pillow currently squished against your face.

“What are you even doing.”

“Trying to suffocate myself since my man hates me.” You grab the sides of the pillow and push them to cover your ears, making Jake erupt in a fit of boyish giggles. 

“No I don’t, just want you to feel better first,” he whispers, and the loving tone makes your body feel light.

You suddenly push yourself up with your arms to look at him, nest of hair a mess from the speed of your movement. “I would feel sooo much better with your fingers deep inside me right now.”

He looks at you for a moment, really looks at you, assessing what to do in this situation. He too misses your touch, far more than what he lets on. Even just sleeping next to you—a pillow fortress separating you two by your request—turned out to be too much for him on multiple occasions. He often found himself silently sneaking out of bed to go and take care of his sudden little problems in the bathroom, trying not to wake you up because he knew if you caught him he wouldn't be able to get out of your claws.

And you really need the rest.

As if sensing his resolve wavering, you add, “don’t I deserve a little reward?”

“A reward… for what?” Jake is thoroughly amused by your desperation. You rarely ever get like this, and he enjoys every second of it. You can tell because he's pushing it a little farther than what he usually would, ending up punishing himself a little along the way too. On any other occasion he would've been all over you before you could even finish your sentence. But Jake doesn't care, not when he doesn't know when the next time he gets to hear you beg a little for him is gonna be.

“Well of course! For having fought this fever tooth and nail and having come out of it alive.”

“You still have a fever though,” he says. “Could kick your ass right down at any given moment.”

“That.” You glare at him with all the fake anger you can muster up. “Is such a mean thing to even suggest.”

“Don’t you care about me getting sick? Made a scene all week and now you’re okay with me touching you?”

“First of all—I only made you keep the pillows between us the first two days. And like I told you, I feel better, so if—” the words die in your throat as you feet the bed dip underneath the weight of Jake’s knee.

"No, no. Keep talking." He slowly gets under the covers, and it's not because he's testing your reaction. His presence felt different, the soft look in his eyes overtaken by something more primal, and you couldn't help but feel like prey under his watchful gaze. It felt intimidating in a way you weren’t used to. It made you squeeze your legs together in search of any friction, your already feverish skin somehow feeling even hotter.

You try to hide the way you gulp, eyes still fixed on his body as he gets comfortable on his side, facing you.

“Maybe you’re right,” Jake whispers against your cheek, his nose rubbing for a moment on your skin as he sneaks an arm underneath your body, pulling you flush to his chest. Even just that single touch sends an electrifying shiver down your spine. “Since you’re fully capable of talking my ear off…”

You reach for his hand wrapped comfortably around your waist and guide it down to cup your heat through your thin shorts, your own hand resting on top of his as you grind against it.

"I suppose you've had enough rest."

You take notice of how his breath hitches in his throat, his carefully crafted mask of calmness slipping as you use his hand. The illusion wears off even more when he tries to hide it with a gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. You know he wants it just as bad as you do, you're just willing to beg for it as long as it gets you what you want.

“I’ll—” you gasp when he flexes his fingers that tiny little bit you need to be able to feel them press against your fluttering hole. “I’ll do anything, just please make me cum.”

“Anything?” his voice is light and airy as he moves the fabric of the shorts out of his way. A deep chuckle tickles your neck, Jake’s mouth dipping down do leave open mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin.

“Anything, just… please,” you whine, flexing your neck to allow him more space, his tongue dipping to lick a stripe down to the juncture of your neck.

Had you not been so deprived of Jake’s touch, you would have found the way you're grinding up against his hand and moaning in his ear almost embarrassing. But you're desperate, so you can't bring yourself to care too much about how pathetic you probably look to anyone else.

The only people in the room are you and Jake anyway, and he seems to be thoroughly enjoying it. His cock is stiff in his sweats, almost painfully so, from feeling how wet you are through your shorts. Dripping already and he barely touched you.

"You're so fucking hot. You know that?" Jake nibbles the shell of your ear, making you arch further in his hold. “You'll do anything you said? How about you take your medicine then?” He moves his hand from your mound to grip your thigh, ignoring your weak attempts at clawing his arm to get the little taste of pleasure he took away from you back.

He kisses his teeth, eyebrows furrowing in faux disapproval. “Use your words. What will you do?”

“Take my medicine,” you whimper, looking into your boyfriend's eyes despite the tears aligning your waterline, and finding amusement swimming through his gaze. Little piece of shit. Not that you were about to complain or anything.

“Theeeere we go,” Jake sings in your ear, placing a soft kiss behind it before dipping down once again and resuming his sweet torture. “You can be good once in a while.”

You nod, lips thinning to keep quiet as if any wrong sound could make him change his mind and leave you hanging. The hand that was drawing circles on your thigh comes up to hold your chin, carefully tilting it away from Jake’s mouth as he sucks on a particularly sensitive spot on your skin. He smooths over your lips with his thumb, coaxing them to part once again.

“Let me hear how good you feel, baby,” he mumbles, mouth still latched on your neck, before taking a strong whiff off your scent. Had you not been so distracted by the wetness seeping out of your clenching hole and soaking your panties, you would've noticed how his eyes rolled all the way back in his skull at your smell.

His free hand finally slides under your shorts,and a gasp leaves you because of how cold he feels. Jake is always warmer than you, but your fever makes it so his touch feels icy against your skin. Your back arches slightly when one of his digits parts your sopping folds, your sensitivity heightened by the unusual difference of temperature.

“Poor little thing, she’s got a fever too,” he giggles into your neck, another digit joining in as he slowly drags them from your clit to your hole to coat them in your juices. “But it’s okay, I’ll help her feel better.”

Usually, his stupid little jokes would’ve made you groan and push his face away. But this time—blame his voice for being deeper and hoarser than normal, or blame your fever—it makes you clench around nothing, cunt feeling emptier than ever while he takes his sweet time playing with you, savoring the moment.

Your head digs deeper into the pillow, hips lifting from the bed to follow Jake’s torturous movements, desperate to feel something more.

“So needy…” he breathes into your neck and goes back to placing sloppy open mouthed kisses wherever he can reach.

A yelp leaves your mouth, eyes you didn't even notice you closed shooting open when Jake bites down on the junction between your neck and shoulder, just enough to rip you out of the trance you were quickly falling into. He smooths over the little bite mark with this tongue, a tingly sensation overtaking the pain in a matter of seconds, the pleasure overriding anything else. 

Jake finally prods two of his digits into your hole, testing the waters, still careful not to push you too hard so soon. But your reaction is instantaneous, cunt fluttering against his fingertips right away. He has to bite down on his bottom lip to keep most of his noises in. “God… I fucking love it when you act like a little slut.”

Jake is so fucking turned on, he can barely think about anything but your pussy. The only thought in his mind is get her off, make her feel good, get a taste of her sweet cunt, sweet pretty and oh so delicious cunt… like a broken record. He feels like he was born for this and this only, as if his mission in life is just that of pleasing you. And to think he had deprived himself of such bliss for even a few days… Something in you seems different to him, almost animalistic, from the way you rut your hips against his hand as soon as he starts scissoring his fingers inside you, to the way you aren't even trying to hold in your moans like you usually would, mouth hanging open with a string of drool attached to your lips. And this is just from his fingers, he can do so much worse.

You yourself aren't doing any better, your brain basically turned to mush as you help Jake get you off by essentially riding his fingers, despite how weak you feel from the fever. His fingers are so long, hitting all the right spots you know you could never be able to reach by yourself, and his thick knuckles drag against your walls so deliciously.

“S-so good,” you gasp when he turns his fingers just the right way, hitting the spot he knows has you coming undone in just a few strokes.

The room is filled with the slapping sounds of his palm against your drenched cunt, more and more slick dripping down your thighs and onto the bed with every flick of his wrist, making it all that much more obscene and filthy. You can feel the familiar pressure building up in your tummy, and suddenly the overwhelming need to just grab onto something crashes on you, heavy and almost painful. You claw at his shirt, eyebrows furrowed in deep pleasure, unaware of the fact that Jake is not facing you anymore.

He looks at the comforter, over his shoulder. The cap filled with syrup is still there amidst the mess. He twists his body to grab it, careful not to slow down the relentless pace he's fingerfucking your cunt at. A few drops of the liquid spill onto his shirt as he takes a sip of it, a grimace overtaking his features as he tries his best to hold it in his mouth. You're still a moaning mess by his side, tiny brain turned to putty to the point you don't even register anything else happening around you, so hyper focused on the pleasure your boyfriend is providing you with.

“J-Jake, I’m so close.”

Perfect timing.

Jake grabs your jaw to turn your head towards his, applying the pressure you've learned means it is time to part your pretty lips and take his spit, like the good well behaved girl he know you to be. And you do just that; immediately following his movements like he trained you to, tongue sticking out too for good measure.

He bends down slightly to aim better, but this time, instead of the slightly bitter taste of his saliva you expect, he lets small amounts of medicine fall on your tongue.

You uselessly try to back away from him, but he holds you in place, fingers still working inside your cunt. Nor does he allow you to close your mouth despite your surprised gasp. His hand holds your jaw open, grasp getting firmer every time you try to break free from it. After all, you made a promise, and Jake's going to make sure you fulfill it.

“You weren't going to take it, huh?” Jake mouths against your lips once he makes sure you swallowed every last drop of the thick honeyed syrup, holding eye contact with you through it all, fingers never once slowing down their pace. “Little dumb pet thinks she can outsmart me.”

He smashes his mouth on yours, not so much a kiss but a silencing of any complaint you're about to spit at him. Those turn to even more whines when he finally brings his thumb to your clit, drawing harsh circles on it as he fucks you to your orgasm. It's almost instantaneous, you were so close already, his stiff cock rubbing against your thigh and his pants hot in your mouth, but his thumb so cold against your neglected clit.

“That’s it baby, so good for me, yeah.” Jake’s fingers gradually slow down inside you, making sure you got every last bit of pleasure you could possibly experience from this high. He too relishes in how your cunt pulses around his digits, making it harder to move them inside you. Oh, he wishes it was his cock being constricted like that instead, but that can wait.

You finally feel like you can breathe again, chest heaving to catch in as much air as you possibly can, forehead all sweaty from the exertion.

The sheets are drenched around you, and you can't even pinpoint when it happened, but you can immediately tell you aren't the only one who made a mess. Your gaze wanders to Jake’s pants, and a very evident stain on his crotch catches your attention. And fuck, if you aren't ready to do it all over again.

Jake looks absolutely divine; hair disheveled and soaked from the sweat, boxers and sweatpants full of cum. A waste, truly.

You sneak your hand in his pants, ignoring the loud hiss from overstimulation Jake lets out when you wrap your hand around his cock and pump a few times, your thumb swiping on his exposed head to collect some of the cum covering it.

Jake watches you, mouth ajar and cock stiffening again right away, as you lick your fingers clean. He slides his own fingers out of your cunt, lapping at them like a man starved, hoping to work you up just as much as you did him. His heart races in his chest as you keep looking at him, a little smile playing on your lips.

“That was so…” you speak up, giggling when Jake interrupts you by throwing himself over your figure, capturing your lips in an actual kiss this time. A very messy, very wet kiss. Allowing you to savor your own taste mixed with his and sweetened by the medicine.

“I think the word you’re looking for is hot.”

“Dramatic,” you interjected. “So, so dramatic.”

Jake curls an eyebrow at you. “You were the one acting like it’d kill you to swallow some syrup. And actually, let’s not forget–” He places a quick kiss on your nose before pushing you against the mattress further, his entire weight on you. “Ohhh no Jake! Please my Jakey! If I don’t get your cock right now I will DIE!”

“Well I still hav–” 

“And won’t.” he deadpans, sensing where you're trying to stir the conversation. “But I’ve got a few ideas.”

You smile to yourself, feeling feather light kisses making their way down your body, with his messy hair tickling your skin every so often. He places a soft kiss on your mound, whining dramatically when you grab a few strands of his hair to stop him. He rests his head on your thigh, puppy-like eyes looking up at you, almost pleading for permission to continue what he started.

“I really don’t want you to get sick,” you say, voice coming out in a whisper full of care, your fingertips playing with his hair and enjoying the way he nuzzles his head further against your skin.

“Well if I were to get sick by touching you… I’d say the deal is sealed by now, no?” He places another kiss on your thigh, teeth slightly grazing the plush skin when you take too long to contemplate whether to give in or not. “Actually, I think some of this syrup would heal me right now.”

“Jake. I’m being serious.”

“What could I possibly even catch from eating you out that I haven't already by exchanging spit with you? Best pussy in the world disease?” He laughs at his own joke, gaining a roll of the eyes from you. “Let me tell you, the chances of that happening are close to zero anyway. I don’t have a pussy but I am the proud owner of a very fat co–”

“You are downright insufferable.”

“Okay so shut me up with a mouthful of this pu–”

The rest of the sentence is muffled against your mound as you push his head down, deciding you heard enough for the day. And the week.

“Okay, okay. Go on,” you giggle as you lay back once again, a deep sigh following as soon as his expert tongue makes contact with your cunt.

Jake's movements are slow and deliberate at first, as he takes his sweet time collecting all of the slick coating your lips and smearing it all over your skin. It's methodical in a way Jake very rarely is, nothing like the primal and messy mixing of his own spit with your arousal and grunting noises you're so used to. When he gets like this, it's purely to tease you.

You grab a fistful of his hair, the strands soft in your hand, and raise his head to force him to look at you.

You almost regret it when you're met with the sight of him licking his lips, his plump lips spreading in a grin that looks almost evil. His irises are entirely drowning in the dark of his pupils, and you'd be lying if you said it doesn't send a chill down your spine. The good kind, the type that also makes you clench your thighs against his frame.

"If you're gonna beg me to eat me out," you say, finding your strength again and being careful not to let Jake see any weakness on your features. "You better do it properly."

You try to keep a straight face when he erupts in a fit of giggles.

"Oooh, look at you—" he starts, clearly amused by your attempt to assert dominance. "I know what I'm doing. You know I know what I'm doing. It just seems to me that I've spoiled the princess a little too much lately." He lowers his head to your thighs, and litters soft kisses as he makes himself comfortable again. Somewhere along the lines, the harsh hold you had on his hair turned into your hand dragging him closer, but you can't pinpoint the exact moment.

Or you just really don't care to know, not when Jake starts lapping up at your cunt like he's starving.

"You taste so delicious, baby," he moans between licks, his nose pressing further into your heat with every movement of his. "So much better than any medicine. Fuck—you're gonna be my little cure from now on. Every time I'm sick, I'll just let you open your legs for me. You'd let me, baby. Wouldn't you?"

You nod vehemently, before realizing he can't see you. "Yes, please use me," you moan, spreading your thighs as far as you can while pushing his head closer to you, even when it's almost physically impossible for Jake to even breathe. Not that he would have it any other way.

The grip on his hair, the way you push and pull at it as if you have any command over the stimulation he's giving you, the way you sing for him with every flick of his tongue. It all makes Jake's head spin in the best way possible, his cock stiff again in his pants and throbbing against the very fabric he ruined with his cum only minutes before.

He grunts and moans into you, like he's the one being pleasured, and it all adds to the magic Jake is working on you. The vibrations only aiding in inching you closer to the second orgasm of the day.

"Jake, I'm close, please."

You don't need to say anything else, because he parts from your cunt for a single second. Just enough to let a gobble of his spit drip down right on your engorged clit, coating it in more shiny essence.

You're about the complain about the lack of stimulation, but he dives right back in, licking a singular stripe from your poor mess a of hole upwards. He can taste the remains of the syrup in his own spit still, and paired with the straight up divine taste of your own slick, Jake thinks he might be in heaven.

"So sweet, baby. So fucking sweet. It's like you want me to never stop fucking you with my tongue." He catches your little bundle of nerves between his raw lips, already wet with spit, suckling on it like he's trying to coax even more wetness out of you. He swirls his tongue around it, his eyebrows furrowing in both pleasure and concentration as he keeps toying and prodding at every single part of your pussy.

You're so unbelievably close to coming undone, every passing second just bringing you closer to the brink. All it takes to send you over the edge is Jake moaning with your numb right in his mouth, the small vibrations from it all you needed for the searing white feeling to envelop you completely, the familiar silent yet still deafening tingly sensation spreading from your core to all the limbs in your body.

Jake keeps lapping up all your generous body gives him, thankful for it all and careful not to let a single drop go to waste.

Your arm is thrown over your eyes as you catch your breath, this second orgasm completely emptying you of whatever energy you had left. Usually you would offer Jake to help him out as a little thank you, even though he told you time and time again that it wasn't needed and pleasing you what was got him off in the first place.

But as much as you denied it initially, the fever did take a toll on you, more than you would like to admit. So any further activity would have to wait.

"Yummy." Jake comes up from below you, drying the bottom half of his face with the back of his hand. Even if you're tired and spent, the comment is enough to make you remove your arm from your eyes just so you can give him a well deserved death stare.

He gets up from the bed, disappearing for a few seconds into the bathroom. "What's with that look? No 'thank you Jake, you're the best?'"

When you don't reply, far too weakened to even try to banter with your boyfriend, he walks back into the room with a towel and a worried look etched on his gorgeous features.

He gets on the bed again, careful not to move your body more than necessary, and starts cleaning you up with the gentlest touch you've ever felt him use. "Did i tire you out too much? You're still sick—"

"You were great. Don't worry," you stop his train of thoughts you knew you wouldn't hear the end of if you let him go on for any longer. "I just need a nap, then I'll be as good as new."

The tension in Jake's shoulders only disappears once you smile at him, his own face morphing to match your own. It's one of your favorite things about him, how he's so careful and attentive to every hint and feeling on your face, he ends up mirroring them without even noticing.

He runs his hands soothingly all over your skin as he resumes cleaning you up, the room falling into a peaceful silence.

You almost fall asleep, but you should've known Sim Jake shutting up for once was far too good to be true.

"Look at the mess you made though. This is enough to start an entire pharmacy."

[willyoubemycherryy]

FYT (Stack.M x R)

Summary: “I might end up with us kissing, touching, fuckin’…girl ya body’s callin’ for me, I’m fucking you tonight.”

Contains: my extremely poor self control, everyone has a country accent, this is still for the _ strictly for the _, cursing, smut, kissing, oral (fem receiving), he’s not a vampire but he’s STILL a munch, his di€k is big and fat because cmon look at this man, nasty kissing seriously, unprotected s£x, fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, rough s£x, I’m talm bout innnitttt, choking, one spank, petnames, begging, nippIe sucking, biting, u got that WAP fr, it’s cool bc Stack ain’t scared of drowning, he’s also a pvssy bully, smoke got jokes apparently😒and anything else I know I’m forgetting 🙂🤷🏽‍♀️

A/n- this is long so good luck🤝🏽🫶🏽 @childishgambinaax @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @twistedsistas-stuff @ayeeeitsmiracle @browngirldominion

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ ﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉

The room was silent.

Nothing besides the sound of your breathing and the muffled music from downstairs but the air buzzed with an electric kind of tension, thick and dangerous.

“Last chance baby, you wanna tell me what was that earlier?”

Your heart skips a beat as you feel yourself grow even more restless. The fact that he was giving you an easy way out already tipped you off that you were about to get put through your paces and that was fine because you didn’t want it easy, you wanted it hard. And in order to guarantee that…

“Not unless you wanna admit that yo’ ears was working just fine and that you don’t really need me to tell you a damn thing, then nah. I’m good.” You snark as you tilt your chin up and it actually does get dead quiet. Stack squints, furrowing his eyebrows while blinking because it’s no way he heard you correctly…except he did.

There’s a click of teeth and before you can brace yourself or open your mouth to sass him some more- you’re flat on your back with your heart in your neck and a big hand locked around your throat getting tighter by the second.

It doesn’t paint you in the best light as a lady, especially not one who’s supposed to be respectable the way you soak through your panties, hips twitching upwards and your dress pooling around your hips from because of the man standing between your thighs looking down at your everything as you whine- shamelessly. Stack watches the way your eyes flutter, mouth dropping open as you gasp. Partially because of the lack of oxygen and also because of the arousal burning though your body.

His grip is tight.

Tight enough to make you lightheaded but he knows you wouldn’t have it any other way; so wet he can taste you in the air and he smiles at how your mouth wasn’t the only thing slick about you. The sight of gold adorning his canines almost make you pass out. Shuffling your hips back a bit, you go to hump up against the fat swell in the front of his slacks and surprisingly, not only does Stack let you- he meets you. Grinding down heavily against your cunt, bending over to suck wetly at your mouth and you’re in heaven.

Bringing a hand to his belt, you pull softly at the leather and instead of taking it off, he pulls away, cooing in mock sympathy at the needy frustration on your face.

“You want it, sweet thing?”

Instinctively, you almost close your eyes because it’s bait and you know it is. It always is when he gets to talkin’ to you like that- low and indulgent. Still,

“Mhm”, you swallow; breathing somewhat clearer with Stack’s hand loosened, “I-I want it-”,

“Tough, ‘cause you can’t have it.”

Your blood is boiling underneath your skin from how bad you need him and pissed off tears begin to bud in your eyes as you glare up at him with all the heat in hell itself but his grin stays in place. Moving his hands on either side of your head as he starts moving against your core, hitting your button with every filthy grind and you moan weakly.

“Why n-”,

“Because I’m in charge and you ain’t ask nicely enough for my tastes.” He purrs against your collarbone before licking a hot wet stripe up your throat to suck nasty bruises under that spot beneath your ear that makes you keen. Large hands grope all over your body, settling on the low cut of your dress and Stack slots his mouth over yours again, tongue filling your mouth and you’re rutting against him just as hard while sucking on the muscle in pleasure. Before you can stop yourself, you run your nails down the nape of his neck. Bad(good) move.

All of the sudden, there’s a loud rip. Stack yanks away from your lips to look at the torn top of your dress. Was it expensive? Yes. Did you care? No. He swears before taking one of the swollen buds into his mouth and you gasp, drawing your eyebrows together in bliss- head spinning. Yet before you can loose yourself, Stack rolls the bud between his teeth and bites.

Pain blooms through your chest instantly making you choke, Stack tugging it before he lets go, letting the swell bounce back into place. The sting lingers something real fierce though and before you can bitch at him for it, he laves his firm tongue thickly over it, soothing the tenderness and you shudder.

Unfortunately for you, it’s only the start of the cycle as he gives your other nipple the same treatment. Sucking, biting to the point of pain, then heavy licking. It hurt but it was also good. So good that the thrumming pain in your nipples paired with the delicious waves of pleasure in your rutting core has you coming hard.

Stack doesn’t take his eyes off you.

No, he loves to see the way your pretty face forms into a pout and your swollen lips form that sexy O as you gasp and cry for him, smooth skin and licked raw nipples. Biting his lip, he watches dazed as you writhe in ecstasy, panting when you start to come down.

You’re dizzy and sweaty but you’ve never felt better still you need more. When try you catch your breath, you end up swallowing it when Stack begins to undo his vest and shirt with one hand and sliding your cum slick panties off then pocketing them with the other. You get to drink in the hard lines of muscle before he drops to his knees, pushing your dress up all the way n pressing a fat wet kiss to your clit before sucking it into his greedy mouth and you hear colors.

He’s got you sobbing in under a minute because normally when you cum, he’s kind enough to give you a couple minutes.

You really should have taken him up on taking the easy way out.

Nestling himself further into your cunt, it’s lick after lick between your swollen pussy lips, electricity running up your spine as you tremble. Heat rushes over you in mind numbing waves and threatens to overtake you completely when you’re filled with three of his thick fingers, back arching as they start to swirl harshly against that spot inside you that makes you melt, thrusting sloppily.

Stack presses his lips tight around your nub and when he starts to suck, you fall apart and he groans into your pussy while you lose it and it’s music to his ears.

And just like he knew you would, you beg.

Between the sobbing, the screaming, gasping, moaning and even apologizing…you beg- certain you were gonna lose your mind if he kept going. But that wasn’t what he wanted to hear so he kept lapping away. Drinking you down like you were the best liquor in the country.

“I- uh! Said I was s-sorry- fuck!” Shaky, worn out moans break up your sentence as Stack pulls away with an obscene smack, looking up at you with a wet mouth and lidded eyes- he licks his lips, humming at your taste.

“I heard ya but you know I want more than a lil sorry..”, he trails off and you know what he means; left to choose between your pride or your sanity.

In the moments that you decide, Stack resumes. You feel him roll your nub around with his tongue and when you feel the start of teeth- you break.

“Okay! Okay! Before- I-i said somethin’ under my breath! You was right..”, and Stack looks like the cat the got the cream.

“And what did y’say, pretty?”

Your face burns but you still speak loud enough for him to clearly hear that:

“I said that I..,” you swallow and decide to just get it over with.

“‘Said that I wish you’d break me in.”

“Good girl.”

Satisfaction rolls off Stack in waves as he nods slowly, rising to his feet with a smirk. He hums to himself as he manhandles you onto your stomach, pressing you down into a deep arch and when you hear his belt and fly come undone, blood rushes through your ears. The fat head of his tip presses at the messy wetness of your hole and he bites his lip.

“Y’ready for me to break you in, sweets?”

A warbled moan is the best you got and he takes it, stuffing you full in one thrust. Jesus Christ, it’s such a tight fit that it hurts but in the best way- back arching further as you grapple weakly at the desk. Sobbing moans and wet smacks filling the room. Stack lets out a heady groan, watching the fat of your ass recoil with every thrust, thick strings of your wetness dripping off his cock every time he slides out and he snaps.

Tangling his fingers through your hair, he gets a good grip and pulls, landing a heavy smack on your ass too. The sting makes your eyes water, intensifying the pleasure you already feel as you tighten around him and he’s fucking into you hard enough to knock the air clean out of your lungs. Meanwhile, Stack’s so overcome with pleasure that he can barely think, tingles coiling up is spine as his cock is wrapped in the tightest heat he’s had in his life, ears ringing with your moans that are rising and he knows that when you cum, it’ll be heard-even over the music.

He’s so big that he doesn’t even have to try to hit that spot inside you- shifting a little, pounding away at the nerves n’ the way you go boneless tells him all he needs to know.

“That’s the spot, huh?”

It feels like his fat head is snug up against your stomach and you just can’t quiet yourself down. Broken cries spilling from your throat with drool pooling underneath your cheek and the sight makes his chest burn; railing more than a few of your screws loose.

You were so close.

You’d been close before you waved the white flag by admission and of course he knew that. The twitching of your cunt is on the verge of milking him and he lets go of your hair to wrap his grip around your throat instead, biceps bulging as he squeezes, lips flush against your ear whispering the nastiest things and it’s too much.

Clamping down around his fat cock so tight, he can’t even move as you cum. Its like each and every one of your nerves sizzle before exploding while you leak messily around him, almost blacking out from the overwhelmingness of it all. Stack hisses at how your walls pulse around him, fucking into you with his grip tight around your windpipe until soon enough he lets go too, shooting deep into your pussy with a heavy groan.

You both take a good couple minutes to catch your breath but Stack recovers first. Pulling out slowly then adjusting himself before helping you turn over to lay on your back, breathing heavily. You’re sweaty, you can’t feel your legs, you didn’t have an extra dress to change into, but you got what you wanted and that’s what matters. A lazy grin comes over your face and Stack smiles with you, leaning down to kiss you softly and you purr happily.

“See? Y’so much nicer after you get sum ‘act right’.” Stack’s grin broadens, dimples deepening when you roll your eyes, unamused.

“Not true. I always act right.” Now that was a lie. A lie so blatantly obvious that he laughs, chest warm as it moves against yours and your face warms in affection.

“Right. And I’m Jim Crow-”, his chuckles cut off his own sentence as you swat him on the arm, laughing with him and he’s all too content until there’s a knock at the door.

“Stack n’ company? Y’all decent?” Smoke’s voice is muffled through the wood. You snort at the ‘n company’ part while Stack hurries to cover you with his jacket. It’s big so it works and kind of itchy but smells wonderful and you glow as you nod at him to respond.

“As decent as we’ll be tonight. Come in.”

Smoke comes in and his eyes widen at the state of you two. Whistling,

“Damn! You know it’s bad when you can tell who floats like a butterfly and who stings like a bee-”,

You cover your face in embarrassment as Smoke laughs so hard he has to lean against the door to hold himself up. Stack has to bite his lip to keep from laughing with him too. Sucking his teeth instead.

“Man, what do you want?” Smoke shakes his head before answering like it’s obvious.

“To see if y’all ready to go home or if y’all staying here all night.”

Huh?

“Smoke, what time is it?” He looks at his watch then back at you.

“1:47- almost 2 in the mornin’.”

Damn. The joint closed at one. Wait-! That meant-

“Could y’all-”,

“Hear? Nah, we imagined it. Cornbread gon be talkin’ bout y’all though. Anywho-“,

Your lips thin into a line and you feel a headache coming on before Stack tells his brother that yes, you’re going home and to go wait by the bar and while y’all fix up and he shoots him a look before going, turning on his heel and closing the door. You look up to find Stack already looking at you, smile soft as cotton.

“You alright, baby?”

Warmth blooms all over and you just wanna cuddle him but that’ll wait until you’re back in bed. Leaning up, you kiss him sweetly on the cheek.

“My back hurts but m’ absolutely perfect, now cmon. Smoke’s waitin'.” He nods, kissing you one last time before pulling off you. Making himself presentable and buttoning the oversized blazer of his you have on.

Stack’s carrying you down the stairs to meet Smoke and go home when you gasp, remembering something.

“Do you think Cornbread’ll have told the entire world by tomorrow?”

[cumironi]

YOU ARE GOOD TO ME jjk men

feat. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, shiu, higuruma

summary. “i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulty of your life,” you said when your boyfriend have a bad day. why? you too have no idea, maybe because the fact that you don't know how and never once in you life comforting someone. genuinely. again genuinly.

warning. non-sorcerer! jjk men, crack, fluff, petnames,

GOJO SATORU

the apartment door slammed open like he’d just escaped war, and satoru gojo stumbled in dramatically with his white hair sticking out in every possible direction, sunglasses askew, and his coat only halfway on. he groaned as if gravity had quadrupled just for him. “i’m a broken man,” he announced, kicking off one shoe and somehow missing the entire genkan floor, letting it fly into the wall. “a shell. an empty husk. your poor boyfriend’s gonna die, babe.”

you looked up from your laptop on the couch, blanket wrapped around you like a burrito, eyebrows raised. “you say that every time you have to walk up stairs.”

“these weren’t stairs,” he collapsed face-first onto the couch beside you, not even bothering to move your legs—just burying his face right into your thighs like they were some heavenly pillow from ikea. “this was hell disguised as productivity.”

you let your fingers run through his messy hair, watching him melt under the touch. he peeked up at you through the curtain of silver strands and whimpered. “aren’t you gonna comfort me, sweetheart? tell me i’m a strong, hardworking man? kiss my forehead? lick my—”

“i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulty of your life,” you interrupted dryly.

satoru paused. blinked. then wheezed out a laugh like he’d just short-circuited. “what kind of weird-ass therapist talk is that? are you trying to seduce me or initiate a cult?”

you shrugged. “i read it online. it’s for people who are bad at comforting others.”

he burst out laughing again, rolling onto his back and yanking you down onto his chest with him, despite your protests about needing to finish your assignment. “baby, that was the worst attempt at comforting i’ve ever received. and also the funniest. you’re not supposed to make me wheeze when i’m dying. you’re supposed to kiss it better. preferably with tongue.”

“you’re so dramatic,” you mumbled against his neck, feeling the vibration of his chuckles under your lips. but he felt warm. exhausted, yes—but warm. arms tight around you like he needed you to keep him from sinking through the earth.

he sighed, running a hand down your back. “you know what, though? i actually like that stupid line. ‘i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulty of your life.’ that’s hot in a weird way. mysterious. do it again, but whisper it in my ear like you’re about to tie me to a chair and interrogate me.”

you laughed into his collarbone, swatting at his side. “you’re unhinged.”

“and you’re terrible at comforting,” he grinned, lips pressing to your temple. “perfect match.”

he nuzzled into your cheek, breath soft and warm as he murmured, “thanks for not trying to fix it. just… lying here with me. even if you suck at words. i love your stupid mouth anyway.”

you blinked. “is that your version of affection?”

“it’s my version of proposing,” he teased, then added seriously, quieter this time, “you’re my favorite place to fall apart.”

you didn’t need to say anything back. just the way your hand found his and curled your fingers together said enough.

GETO SUGURU

the door to your shared apartment creaked open much slower this time. suguru didn’t have the dramatic flair of gojo—not unless he wanted something—but you could hear the unmistakable sigh as he stepped inside, shoulders heavy under the weight of whatever hell he’d just endured. he didn’t say a word, not even a greeting, just kicked off his boots, loosened the black tie around his neck, and tossed his coat over the armchair like a man who’d just survived an apocalypse and wanted absolutely no questions about it.

you peered up from the floor where you’d been lying belly-down with your laptop, typing an essay due in four hours and slowly accepting your fate. “hey,” you called softly. “you look like a ghost.”

“feel like one,” he muttered, voice hoarse as he stepped over your textbooks and dropped down beside you, his tall frame curling next to yours like he was seconds from passing out right there on the floor. “every joint in my body hates me. my brain is soup. and not even good soup. like lukewarm instant ramen broth.”

you scooted a little closer, until your thighs were touching. you didn’t know what to say. you were never great at comfort—it always felt forced, like reciting lines from a textbook. but you tried. “i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulty of your life.”

geto froze.

turned his head slowly toward you with a blank stare.

“…what the hell did you just say?”

“it’s a thing!” you defended quickly. “for people who suck at comforting others, you’re supposed to say that. it shows solidarity.”

he blinked once. then again. then he made a deep, guttural sound from his chest—one that started as a chuckle and very quickly turned into a full-blown laugh, his hand dragging down his face like he couldn’t believe he’d just heard that come out of your mouth.

“baby,” he said between breathless laughs, “that sounds like something someone would say to a war criminal before interviewing them on a podcast.”

“well, i’m trying,” you muttered, looking away. “do you want a hug or not?”

he reached for you instantly, arms wrapping around your waist and tugging you into his lap like a man starved for affection. “yes, i want a hug. i want your shitty comfort. i want your confused college girl energy. i want all of it. come here.”

your legs tangled together as he nuzzled into your neck, his voice muffled against your skin. “your awkward little line is staying with me forever, by the way. next time someone tries to lecture me, i’m just gonna stare at them and whisper, ‘i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulty of your life,’ and see if they cry.”

“maybe they’ll fall in love with you like i did,” you offered, biting back a grin.

he kissed your shoulder. “they won’t. i’m saving my unhinged affection for you.”

you turned toward him, brows lifted in mock curiosity. “unhinged affection, huh? is that what you call pressing your nose into my cleavage while you sigh dramatically?”

“don’t disrespect my rituals,” he said solemnly, burying his face between your boobs like a man returning to his homeland. “this is how i recharge. spiritual energy. it’s science.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you laughed, letting him pull you fully into his lap, arms tight around your waist.

but he didn’t say anything else for a moment—just held you there, cheek pressed against your chest, breathing steady and warm. when he finally spoke again, it was quiet. tired.

“you don’t have to say the right thing. i just… like when you’re here. even when you’re awkward and quoting therapy twitter. especially then.”

you smiled, combing your fingers through his soft hair, brushing it back from his temple.

“i’d like to join you in acknowledging how bad you are at expressing emotions,” you said sweetly.

“you little shit.”

“you love me.”

“unfortunately, yes,” he whispered, kissing your collarbone. “very much so.”

NANAMI KENTO

you heard the apartment door click shut before the wall clock even hit 8 p.m., which meant something was wrong. nanami was never home this early. it wasn’t his style. he worked late, came back when the world was quiet, shoulders tight and tie loosened, jaw clenched like he was still arguing with someone in his head.

but tonight, it was different. he didn’t say a word when he came in. just walked in like his bones had betrayed him, hands in his pockets, tie already undone, and that golden tan trench coat of his draped over one arm like it weighed fifty pounds.

you sat up from your spot on the floor, where textbooks and half-drunk iced coffee cups surrounded you like a shrine to academic burnout before rise to your feet. “hey…” you said softly. “you’re home early.”

“burned out,” nanami said simply, putting his coat on the back of a chair like he was laying a body to rest. “utterly depleted. mentally, physically, spiritually, emotionally—choose your adjective.”

you stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do with your arms. you weren’t the best at emotional first aid, and nanami was so… composed. always so damn calm, even when the world around him was on fire. it felt wrong seeing him like this—shoulders slumped, voice dull, his usual neat hair slightly tousled from stress.

so you cleared your throat. “i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulty of your life.”

nanami froze.

slowly turned his head toward you like you’d just spoken in tongues. “pardon?”

“it’s supposed to be a comforting phrase,” you explained quickly, cheeks heating up. “for people who don’t know what to say but want to be supportive.”

he blinked at you for a long, silent beat.

then, deadpan, he said, “i feel like i just got emotionally mansplained by a motivational instagram reel.”

you sputtered, trying not to laugh. “you’re not helping.”

“no, you’re right,” he sighed, stepping closer until his hands found your waist, his head dipping down to rest on your shoulder. “i appreciate it. even if it sounds like something someone’s overly enthusiastic coworker would say in a corporate support group.”

his arms wrapped around you slowly—deliberately—like this was the only thing anchoring him to the floor. you could feel the tension melt away in pieces, each exhale grounding him a little more in your presence. “you’re terrible at comforting, by the way,” he murmured against your neck. “but you’re warm. and soft. and you smell like that overpriced shampoo i bought you, so i’m not complaining.”

you snorted. “so you do notice when i use it.”

“i notice everything,” he said, leaning back just enough to look down at you. “especially when you walk past me in those little shorts you think i don’t see.”

your mouth dropped open. “nanami kento.”

“i’m tired, not blind,” he muttered, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then your jaw. “let me rest my forehead on your boobs and pretend they’re a stress ball.”

you smacked his shoulder, giggling. “you’re supposed to be the mature one.”

“i have a professional reputation,” he mumbled as he guided you to the couch with him, sinking down with a deep, grateful sigh. “but not here. here, i’m your very tired, very needy boyfriend who just wants to be held and babied and—”

“don’t say babied.”

“—and smothered,” he continued stubbornly, resting his head in your lap like it was a luxury pillow. “preferably to death.”

you stroked his hair, soft and slow, and smiled down at him. “you want a bedtime story too?”

“only if it ends with you riding me into the sunset,” he murmured, eyes already half-lidded from comfort.

you blinked. “…sir.”

“you offered. i’m just being imaginative.” he looked up at you with that small, rare smile—the kind he only gave when he was too tired to hide how much he adored you.

“seriously, though,” he added quietly, fingers lacing with yours. “thank you. even when you’re awkward, you’re everything i need.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO

he didn’t even knock. he kicked the door open like it owed him money, his tall frame slouched in the doorway, one hand on the back of his neck, the other holding a plastic bag of convenience store food that looked like it had been crushed under his boot.

“hey, baby,” he called out, voice already heavy with exhaustion as he kicked the door shut behind him. “i think i tore my soul today. like, straight up. my legs are vibrating. that ain’t normal, right?”

you looked up from your laptop where you were halfway through a research paper, eyes dry and fingers twitching from too much caffeine. “you look like you just got hit by a truck.”

“mm.” he dropped the bag on the kitchen counter and slumped into the couch like gravity was trying to eat him alive. “probably did. can’t remember. the day was a blur of dumbasses and testosterone.”

you blinked at him. he looked so done—shirt halfway unbuttoned, tie hanging like a noose, hair a mess, one eye twitching from what you could only assume was the sheer mental stamina it took to not punch someone today.

you closed your laptop and stood. time to try.

“i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulty of your life.”

silence.

toji turned his head very slowly to stare at you from the couch.

“…the fuck was that?”

“it’s a thing,” you said, crossing your arms defensively. “i’m trying to comfort you. don’t make fun of me.”

his lips twitched. you saw it. the way his eyes lit up like he’d just found his new favorite toy. “that was you trying to comfort me?”

“yes.”

he let out a low, slow laugh, leaning his head back against the couch. “baby, i love you, but that sounded like you were about to put on a headset and guide me through a meditation app.”

“okay, rude. i’m literally trying to be there for you.”

he patted his thigh lazily. “then get over here. bring those soft little thighs i like and come help me ‘acknowledge the difficulty of my life.’”

you rolled your eyes but walked over anyway, crawling into his lap and straddling him as his hands immediately settled on your waist like muscle memory. he looked up at you, eyes heavy-lidded, mouth pulled into a lazy grin.

“you’re bad at comforting, but you’re hot, so i’m willing to overlook it,” he said, sliding his palms up your thighs under your oversized shirt. “wanna kiss it better?”

“kiss what better?”

“my brain. my bones. my soul. my—”

“toji—”

“—cock. obviously.” he gave you a smug little smirk, resting his forehead against your chest like he was about to fall asleep right there. “’m serious though. lemme stay here a bit. you’re warm. and soft. and smell better than anyone I’ve touched all day.”

your fingers drifted into his hair without thinking, stroking back the messy strands. “you’re such a menace.”

“yeah,” he mumbled, already dozing, “but i’m your menace. the tired, aching, sex-deprived, emotionally-stunted mess you chose.”

you snorted and kissed the top of his head. “if you weren’t so hot i’d slap you.”

“do both,” he whispered against your chest. “get creative.”

but then, quieter, he added, “thanks for trying. i like it. even when it sounds like a therapy robot malfunctioning.”

you paused. smiled. and hugged him tighter.

“anytime, menace.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA

you didn’t expect to see him on the couch like that.

sukuna was always loud—annoying and smug, lounging across your bed like he owned the place (because he absolutely believed he did). he talked too much, flirted too shamelessly, and got under your skin so easily it was practically a talent.

but right now? he was quiet.

legs spread wide, forearms resting on his thighs, head tilted back with his eyes shut like he was trying not to bite someone’s head off. the black markings on his skin seemed duller than usual, and his eyes—usually narrowed and gleaming—looked heavy, like the weight of the world had finally pressed down on him for once.

you tiptoed over, unsure, nervous. sukuna wasn’t like anyone else. he didn’t want sympathy. he didn’t even believe in comfort.

but still…

“i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulty of your life.”

his eyes cracked open.

slowly. like he was wondering if he just hallucinated that.

“…what.”

you shifted on your feet, hands behind your back. “i’m not good at… emotional stuff. but i read that line somewhere. it’s supposed to help.”

he stared at you. dead silent. not blinking. eyes locked onto you with the intensity of a man who had never in his life heard anything so baffling.

and then—

he laughed.

not a chuckle. not a snort. a deep, full-body laugh that came from his chest and shook his shoulders, one hand dragging down his face like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

“you’re such a little idiot,” he wheezed, grinning now, eyes gleaming with mischief as he sat up straighter. “what the hell was that? who the fuck wrote that? i wanna thank them for the comedy gold.”

“shut up!” you pouted, smacking his arm. “i’m trying to be supportive!”

“supportive?” he scoffed, grabbing your wrist before you could pull back and yanking you right onto his lap, like he was done pretending to need space. “you sound like you’re reciting a spell to make me spontaneously combust.”

“maybe i am.”

he grinned again. slow and lazy. “you trying to kill me, baby?”

“no,” you muttered, cheeks warm as your legs straddled his thighs, hands braced on his broad shoulders. “just… you looked tired. and i didn’t know what to say.”

he hummed, arms sliding around your waist without hesitation, pressing you closer until your chest touched his. “i am tired. but if you keep climbing on me like this, i’ll forget all about it.”

you rolled your eyes, but your hands slipped up into his hair anyway, tugging gently. “you’re so dramatic.”

“and you’re so soft,” he murmured, burying his face in your neck, his voice suddenly quieter. rougher. “smell nice. feel even better. mm. i should fall apart more often if it means you’ll climb into my lap and say weird shit.”

you felt him exhale, long and slow, against your skin. he was warm. heavy. not just in body but presence—like he carried the weight of centuries and finally, finally let someone else hold him for a minute.

“you okay?” you asked, voice quieter this time.

“i’m fine,” he replied easily. “i’m always fine. just… annoyed. tired of dealing with people. bored. everything feels stupid.”

you nodded. “i get that.”

he pulled back just enough to look at you, two of his fingers tracing along your jaw. “you don’t need to say anything smart, you know. you just gotta be here. let me touch you. let me forget the rest of the world.”

“…you really are a pervert.”

“you say that like you’re not grinding on my lap while calling me tired.”

“sukuna—!”

“you love it,” he smirked, dragging his fingers down your spine until you shivered. “and i love you. even if you say weird comforting lines like some emotional AI.”

you blinked.

“what.”

“don’t make me say it again,” he said, too smoothly. “i’m only saying it once. i’m exhausted, not weak.”

you stared at him. for once, he looked flustered. not red-faced, not babbling, but that little twitch at the corner of his mouth gave it away.

you leaned in, whispered against his lips, “i would like to acknowledge the difficulty of your heart finally admitting that.”

“i swear i’ll spank you right now,” he growled, mouth already crashing against yours, exhausted and starving for you all at once.

SHIU KONG

you heard the door before you saw him—soft click, slow open, followed by the sound of a deep exhale and the thunk of expensive leather shoes being kicked off without care.

he rarely came home this quiet.

you peeked out from behind your textbook, still in your oversized hoodie and fuzzy socks, hair up in a lazy bun, half a bag of chips already devoured beside you.

he looked like hell. beautiful, expensive hell. black coat half off his shoulders, tie loose, eyes low-lidded with a dangerous kind of fatigue.

he didn’t even glance at you. just walked straight to the bar cart, poured himself a glass of dark liquor, and sank into the leather armchair like he was made for it.

you padded up to him quietly, awkward and unsure. your lips parted, brain short-circuiting, and then you blurted out, “i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulty of your life.”

shiu froze mid-sip.

he slowly lowered his glass and turned his head toward you with the slow, deliberate grace of a man wondering if you’d just tried to initiate a séance.

“…what the hell did you just say to me?”

“i’m trying to comfort you,” you said quickly, a little embarrassed now. “i read it online. it’s supposed to validate your emotional experience.”

he blinked.

then—deadpan, flatly—he asked, “are you high?”

“no! i’m being serious. you just look… really exhausted.”

he stared at you for a moment longer before his lips twitched. he took another slow sip of his drink, watching you over the rim of the glass like a predator watching its prey try to act tough.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” he murmured, voice low and amused. “because that was the most HR-approved way anyone has ever tried to flirt with me.”

“i wasn’t flirting!” you gasped.

“mm. so you just randomly walk up to me and talk like a guidance counselor in the middle of an emotional crisis?”

you flushed, crossing your arms. “okay, you know what? forget it. next time i’ll just let you rot in your classy little despair cave and do nothing.”

he grabbed your wrist before you could walk away, gently tugging you into his lap with practiced ease. his hand slid under the hem of your hoodie, warm palm splaying against your bare thigh.

“you’re not leaving me alone when i’m like this,” he said, voice dipped in that tired, rich silk tone that made your stomach twist.

you settled against him reluctantly, your head resting on his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his dress shirt.

“i didn’t know what to say,” you muttered. “i’ve never seen you this tired. you’re always so… put together.”

he chuckled, low and bitter. “baby, you’re the only person i’d even let see me like this. the rest of the world gets the polished version. you get the man underneath the suit.”

“…so you admit you’re actually a cryptid.”

“a very expensive cryptid,” he murmured, letting his lips brush your temple. “one who only wants his bratty little girl curled up on his lap when he feels like throwing someone off a balcony.”

you laughed softly, fingers playing with his tie. “do you feel any better?”

“no,” he said honestly. “but i’m enjoying the view now. keep sitting there like that and i might forget how many people pissed me off today.”

“you’re such a perv.”

“i’m exhausted and in need of emotional support. and by emotional support, i mean your thighs.”

“…you’re impossible.”

“and you love it,” he whispered against your ear, nipping gently. “now be a good girl and keep acknowledging me. preferably without sounding like a therapy hotline next time.”

HIGURUMA HIROMI

he didn’t even greet you when he walked through the door.

his shoulders were tight. his expression, unreadable. briefcase in hand, tie loosened just enough to tell you he’d been fighting with it in the elevator. he kicked his shoes off, dropped his keys in the tray, and exhaled like the weight of the whole goddamn justice system had been balanced on his spine.

you blinked from the couch, still in your pajama pants and tanktop at 6 p.m., cuddled up with your laptop and a cup of tea you’d already reheated twice. he hadn’t even looked at you yet.

so you stood up, heart softening, and approached him slowly like he was a wounded animal. his eyes finally met yours—tired, heavy, rimmed with frustration and fatigue.

and you said, completely earnestly, “i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulty of your life.”

he blinked.

paused.

just stood there, stunned in his wrinkled white dress shirt and undone tie, looking like you’d just offered him a lifeline made out of cling wrap and good intentions.

“…what?” he asked, voice hoarse.

you fidgeted. “it’s supposed to help people feel seen. and supported. and stuff.”

he stared at you.

and then—without a word—he set his briefcase down, stepped forward, and just…

collapsed into you.

face first.

straight into your boobs.

you froze. arms still awkwardly midair. hiromi was usually so composed, so careful about touching you, always asking permission like a gentleman even when his eyes darkened with hunger.

but now? he was clinging to your waist with both arms wrapped tight, burying his face in your chest like it was his only safe haven, letting out a muffled, broken little sigh.

“…you really are something else,” he mumbled into your tits, voice low and muffled by your skin. “who even says that?”

“i was trying to be comforting!” you squeaked, cheeks warm as you slowly wrapped your arms around his shoulders, one hand carding through his soft hair. “this is my first time dating a tired, hot lawyer.”

“you’re doing horribly,” he said, not moving an inch.

“…but you’re still nuzzled into my boobs.”

“they’re warm. soft. significantly better than anything else that happened to me today.”

you smiled, holding him closer. he melted against you, hips pressing to yours like he needed to feel all of you at once, breathing in the scent of your skin like it grounded him. your heart fluttered, cheeks on fire as he sighed again and murmured:

“do you even know what you do to me?”

“uh. judging by the fact that your face is in my cleavage right now, maybe?”

he laughed softly. almost shyly. and then—still with his face hidden—he admitted, quietly, “i was so close to snapping today. just one more word, one more file on my desk, and i think i would’ve lost it.”

you pressed your lips to the top of his head.

“i don’t need you to be perfect, hiromi. just let yourself be held sometimes, okay?”

he didn’t respond at first. just nuzzled in deeper, like he wanted to climb inside your skin and stay there forever.

“…you’re dangerously good at this,” he whispered finally. “even with the weird lines.”

“i practiced in the mirror.”

“adorable.”

“horny.”

“also true.”

he finally tilted his head up, resting his chin against your chest as he looked up at you, eyes softer now. the kind of soft that made your knees go weak. the kind of soft that made you forget he could probably ruin a man in court without blinking.

“can we stay like this for a while?” he asked.

you nodded.

he kissed your sternum, then let his head fall back into place with a content little hum.

“…you smell like cookies.”

“you smell like burnout and moral crisis.”

“perfect. we balance each other out.”

[jazziejax]

𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧’ 𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Modern AU | Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Black!OC & Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore | Modern AU

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - A simple day turns into something much more. Tension brews, words are exchanged, and things begin to shift between old friends.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Mild language, romantic tension, use of a gun, emotional vulnerability, slight suggestiveness.

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - Part 1 of this is series is the very first time a post of mine has gotten that many likes. I’m mind blown, excited, thrilled and juts so grateful that you guys are liking this idea i literally just threw together. I’ll have to make a special chapter to express my gratitude but i hope you guys truly enjoy this, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!!! Sorry for any spelling errors and grammar mistakes!!!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 13,018+

The girls had barely gotten the bags set down when a knock sounded at the door. Sinclair, baby Ryan perched on her hip, answered it with a small smile. Standing there was Smoke, Stack hanging back in the car. Smoke was looking stoic as ever, and Stack waved and offered a sheepish grin as he looked at the baby in her arms.

“Uh, left my wallet.” Stack said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Think I dropped it in one of the bags.”

Sinclair didn’t miss a beat. “Perfect. Y’all can help me real quick too.” She said, shifting Tyson to her other hip. Before Smoke could protest, she nodded toward the driveway. “Car won’t start. I was gon’ get Juicy to call Keith to take care of it, but since y’all are here…”

Juicy groaned softly behind her sister as she came from putting some of the things away in the kitchen. The last thing she wanted was to owe these two anything — they had just gotten back into town, and she wasn’t tryna look helpless. But Sinclair had already ushered them inside, thanking them sweetly before disappearing down the hall with the baby.

“I can call a tow or something.” Juicy tried weakly, crossing her arms as she followed Smoke outside. “Ain’t no need to trouble y’all—”

Stack waved her off, already heading for the hood of the car. “Ain’t no trouble. We bored anyway.” He said, flashing her a wink as he popped the latch.

Smoke was quieter, surveying the car with narrowed eyes. He glanced at Juicy once, reading her reluctance, but didn’t say anything. Just lifted the hood and started working with the tool bag so close placed on the porch before running back into to Tyson. Mary flopped down onto the porch swing beside Juicy, nudging her shoulder into her leg with a grin.

Juicy exhaled loudly and joined her, watching as the twins tinkered with the car. Occasionally, Sinclair peeked out from the doorway, shouting little updates or asking if they needed anything.

After a while, Stack called over his shoulder, “Y’all just gon’ sit there and stare?”

Juicy, ever the quick one, shrugged, trying to mask her real reason for watching. “The view ain’t so bad.” She quipped, flashing a cute, closed-lip smile.

Both men chuckled. Stack shook his head while Smoke smirked under his breath, glancing back at her with an amused, almost… intrigued look. Juicy could feel her cheeks heat up, but she played it cool, sitting back and licking at her slowly melting strawberry ice cream.

“Girl.” Mary leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a whisper only Juicy could hear. “I’m sorry, but if that was me? I’d hop on that so fast.”

Juicy frowned, glancing sideways at her. “Huh?”

Mary gave her a look like it was obvious. “Come on, Ju. You see how they lookin’ at you. Both of ’em. Like they tryna figure out who’s gon’ get the first move. You or one of them.”

Juicy shook her head, lips pressed tight to hide a smile. “You trippin’.”She mumbled, though her heart picked up in her chest.

“Nah, you just blind.” Mary laughed, licking her own ice cream cone. “I’m just sayin’ — if you don’t do something about it, I might.” She said suggestively, nudging in the arm. Juicy just rolled her eyes, pretending she wasn’t affected, but her eyes wandered back to the driveway, watching the way Smoke leaned over the hood with his sleeves pushed up, the muscles in his forearms flexing with each turn of a wrench. Stack was no better, lounging against the side of the car, wiping sweat from his forehead with the hem of his shirt, flashing a glimpse of his abs.

Damn. She thought. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Mary wasn’t crazy.

After a while, since Juicy wasn’t about to let the twins work themselves to death, she brought the men out something to drink. Slipping back inside the house, she returned with a small tray balanced in her hands, setting down a cold pitcher of lemonade and a stack of bottled waters on the porch railing. She also dragged out an old, battered radio, plopping it near the steps and fiddling with the dial until it landed on a station spinning smooth R&B tracks.

Stack caught the change in atmosphere first, glancing over his shoulder and giving a low chuckle when he saw Juicy setting everything up like a little hostess. Or a nice housewife. Smoke didn’t say anything — just wiped his hands on a rag and nodded his thanks before ducking back under the hood of gray ‘96 Buick LeSabre.

Juicy and Mary settled on the porch again, bare legs swinging lightly above the ground, chatting and laughing while the twins worked. Every so often, Stack would pop his head up, teasing them about being lazy, and Juicy would shoot something back just as quick, the easy back-and-forth slipping into something more familiar. Something warmer.

“You gon’ sit there and watch all day?” Stack called out as he tightened a bolt.

Juicy rolled her eyes as she sipped at her lemonade through a straw, the corner of her mouth twitching up in a smile. “I’m minding my business, which just so happens to be that car, and making sure y’all don’t make it worse. Now get back to work, handsome.” She tossed back sweetly, flashing him a playful grin.

Both twins barked a laugh at that — Smoke shaking his head with a smirk while Stack grinned wider, flashing those gold fronts that caught the sunlight.

They were almost finished when a group of girls strutted up the sidewalk, all lip gloss and cut-off shorts, waving excitedly at Juicy and Mary.

“Y’all coming to the rink tonight?” One called, Sharee, bouncing on her toes. “It’s ladies night — free entry. And DJ Sammie’s on the music so you know it’s gon’ be poppin’!”

Juicy hesitated, letting out a questioning him and glancing sideways at Mary, who immediately nodded like a bobblehead. Juicy couldn’t help but laugh as she stood up from the wing and moved over to the porch railing.

Sensing the pause, another girl chimed in, grinning mischievously. “Keith’s gonna be there…”

That name got both Stack and Smoke’s attention. Stack looked up from under the car, wiping his hands on his jeans, while Smoke just leaned an elbow against the hood, eyes narrowed slightly as he listened.

Juicy groaned, rolling her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall out. “We ain’t goin’ for Keith.” She said firmly, crossing her arms. “We goin’ for the music. And the skating.” The group of girls just giggled, but the twins kept their reactions to themselves, although the way Stack shook his head and muttered something under his breath wasn’t lost on anyone paying attention.

Just then, Smoke stepped out from under the car, grabbing the hem of his white muscle shirt and dragging it up to wipe the sweat off his face and neck. The move revealed a long stretch of carved abs and broad chest, glistening slightly under the sun.

The girls on the sidewalk went still, staring, barely trying to hide it. Mary leaned over to Juicy and whispered something that made her snort.

Smoke’s arms, chest, and abs were cut and gleaming, every muscle shifting as he moved. His expression was calm, like he didn’t even notice the sudden heavy air. But the girls noticed.

They tried — tried — to stay cool, fake texting on their phones, fiddling with their hair, pretending to stretch like they weren’t sneaking glances at every inch of him. One girl tilted her head, lips parting slightly before she caught herself and quickly turned to whisper something to her friend, who was already elbowing her back.

The whole group looked like they wanted to fan themselves but knew better than to make it obvious.

Smoke ignored the attention entirely as she turned and waked towards the porch. His focus stayed locked on Juicy as he strolled up to the porch, a confident stride. Without a word, he picked up one of the glasses she had set out and drained it in a few long gulps.

When he finished, he lowered the glass, standing close enough that Juicy had to tilt her head up to meet his gaze. The other girls might as well have disappeared.

“Can I get some more ice, please?” Smoke asked, his voice deep and steady. Juicy blinked, a little caught off guard by the way he said it — by the slow, deliberate way he spoke, like every word was dipped in syrup.

“Of course.” She said, a little softer than before, reaching out to take the empty glass from his hand.

“Thanks, ma.” He added, flashing a rare, almost boyish grin that somehow made him even more dangerous.

Juicy barely managed a nod before spinning on her heel quickly and disappearing into the house with the glass, feeling the heat creep up her neck.

Smoke watched her go for a second longer than necessary before heading back to the car without a word, his expression unreadable. Stack only laughed lowly, shaking his head as he tightened another bolt. “You got her flustered, boy.”

Smoke just smirked under his breath and leaned back under the hood. “Shut up and fix the damn car.” He muttered, but even then, there was a certain lightness to him that hadn’t been there before.

Meanwhile, on the sidewalk, the group of girls tried desperately to collect themselves, sneaking peeks at each other like who the hell are they and why haven’t we seen them before? Their excitement was bubbling under the surface, barely contained, especially knowing there was still another fine man half-hidden under the car.

Juicy came back out seconds later, filling the ice cup with water and said it down, waiting for the man to come get whenever he wanted. She saw the looks on the girls faces, and before the girls could even chime in about the fine men fixing the car, Juicy suddenly rethought what Mary had just said, realizing she didn’t like the way the newcomers were looking at Smoke and Stack. She blinked, glancing between the ogling group.

The girls were too busy stealing glances to notice Juicy’s mood shift, or even her arrival, especially as Stack slid out from under the car, sweat dripping down his bronze skin. Without a second thought, he tugged his white muscle shirt off completely, exposing his toned body to the beaming sun. He used the shirt to wipe his face, running a hand down his cornrows before slipping right back under the car like he hadn’t just stopped half the sidewalk.

Juicy felt something twist in her chest. She didn’t like this one bit. Straightening up, she forced a polite smile, her arms folding over her chest tightly.

“Okay, I’ll see y’all at the rink.” She said, voice tight but sweet.

The girls, slow to pull their attention away from the men, nodded distractedly. One of them even started to raise a finger, angled towards the men and probably about to ask something Juicy had no patience for. Before she could get a word out, Juicy was already coming down the porch steps, keeping her arms folded as she approached.

“I have to go help Mary pick out an outfit. We’ll see y’all there.”She said firmly, her tone leaving no room for further conversation.

Her smile stayed taut and polite, but her eyes sharpened a bit as she looked at the girl who’d been about to speak. The girl simply blinked and nodded. Maybe they caught on to the shift in attitude, maybe they didn’t. Either way, Juicy didn’t care.

She waved them off, watching with a hard stare until they turned the corner and disappeared out of sight.

When she turned back toward the house, Mary was sitting on the porch, one brow raised knowingly. Juicy rolled her eyes at her friend’s silent teasing.

“Come on.” She huffed. “We gotta find you something to wear.”She stayed planted on the sidewalk, not bothering to head back inside since they were about to walk to Mary’s house anyway.

Mary scoffed as she stood up, amusement all over her face as she made her way down the porch. “Don’t be mad at me ’cause you’re conflicted.”

“I’m not conflicted.” Juicy snapped, arms still crossed over her chest, her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. It was a look Stack, still under the car, caught from the corner of his eye — a look that he and Smoke both secretly adored.

Stack rolled out from under the car and looked between the girls. “Where y’all going?” He asked, already pretty sure he knew from the bits of conversation he’d heard. “To Mary’s.” Juicy replied quickly, still sounding a little ticked off without even knowing why.

Stack stood up, stretching his arms over his head lazily before wiping his sweat away with the shirt still in his hand. “Okay, well, you’re not gonna walk. I’ll take you.”

Juicy frowned, confused. “Why? What about the car?”

Stack looked down at her, his gold skin glinting in the sun, cool and unaffected. “Smoke got it.” He said, simple and sure. Juicy opened her mouth, ready to argue, but Stack cut her off, stepping closer and towering over her just slightly.

“And he don’t care. He’ll be a’ight. Now walk on over to that car so we can get you girls ready for the rink tonight.” He said, more a command than a suggestion.

Juicy bit the inside of her cheek, arms pressing tighter against her stomach, trying to ignore the way her body responded to the authority in his voice. When she didn’t move, too caught up in her spiraling thoughts, Stack quirked a brow at her, waiting.

That little flick of his eyebrow snapped her out of it. She blinked, glancing away quickly, then shoved her hand out toward him. “I need the key.” She said sassily, shifting her weight onto one leg, her chin tilted up in challenge.

Stack smirked slightly and pulled the key from his low-hanging pants, dropping it into her palm. Their fingers brushed, and Juicy had to bite back a shiver at the sudden spark that zipped up her arm.

“Go.” Stack said again, his voice low, almost amused.

Juicy scoffed, even though she was already moving toward the parked car across the street. Mary fell into step beside her, grinning devilishly. “Girl, if he talked to me like that, you don’t even wanna know the things I’d be calling him. Shit you only hear in pornos.” She said, her voice loud enough to make Juicy’s face heat up.

Juicy scoffed softly but said nothing, sliding into the back seat with Mary right behind her.

“Girl, you say things you hear in pornos in regular conversation.” Juicy shot back once they were both buckled in.

Mary laughed so hard she snorted. “Exactly! That’s why I said you don’t even know what I could pull out. I got a Rolodex of words that would taint the whole Hall household if I even thought of ’em.”

Juicy scrunched up her nose playfully, a look of exaggerated disgust crossing her face. “Yo freaky ass.” She muttered. The girls’ laughter echoed in the car as Stack disappeared inside briefly, grabbing one of Martin’s spare shirts to tug on and fixing himself a glass of lemonade before joining them.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The drive to Mary’s house didn’t take long—it never did. Just a few blocks through the old neighborhood, past houses that still had their porch swings and clotheslines, windows cracked open to let the breeze in. Stack drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift. Mary sat up from the back seat, chatting about outfit options for the rink while Juicy stayed quiet in the back seat, arms still folded, her mind split between Stack’s voice in her ear and the way her body still buzzed from it.

When Stack pulled up in front of Mary’s house, he barely shifted the car into park before he popped open his door. Juicy blinked, confused, leaning forward from the back seat. “Where are you going?” She asked, watching as Stack stepped out, the driver’s side still wide open. Her brows were drawn together, confused by his quick exit.

He paused, glancing back at her with that same half-annoyed, half-amused look that always made her want to slap him—and maybe kiss him, too, if she’d ever admit it.

“You thought I was about to sit in this hot ass car while you girls take forever to find one outfit?” He asked, brows raised like she was the one being unreasonable. “Hell no.” Before Juicy could reply, he added with a shrug, “Plus, I gotta speak to Ms. Boothe.”

That caused Juicy to scoff a little and roll her eyes, the corner of her lip twitching into a pout even she didn’t realize was there. “My bad.” She muttered, opening her door. “I was just asking.”

As she began to step out, hand on the car door, he hit her again with that low, level voice.

“Don’t slam my door.”

Juicy paused, one foot on the curb, one hand still gripping the door. She stared at him over the top of the car, unblinking. No sass. Just that locked-in eye contact that always made the air thick between them. He knew her too well. Without a word, she eased the door shut—not too soft, not too rough—just enough pressure to make sure it caught and locked, but nothing close to a slam.

Stack smiled up at her as he got out and rounded the car, locking it behind him. “And I know you’re sorry, baby.” He dded, eyes playful. “I wasn’t yelling at you.”

That smug little smirk made Juicy roll her eyes again, but there was no heat behind it now—just a flutter in her chest that she refused to acknowledge. She turned without another word and made her way up to Mary’s porch, Stack only a few paces behind her.

Mary was already up the steps and in the home, letting herself into the house as if she lived alone as she waked to her on after a quick greeting to her mother. Juicy followed suit, opening the screen door and stepping into the familiar scent of lemon oil and hot grease.

“Hi, Missy.” She called out automatically, slipping off her shoes by the door like she always did.

Missy Boothe, Mary’s mother, was in the kitchen as usual, standing over a simmering skillet and humming something old-school under her breath. At the sound of Juicy’s voice, she turned from the stove with a warm smile.

“Hey, baby.” She said, her voice honeyed and sweet.

But her eyes immediately shifted past Juicy, going wide as she spotted the tall figure behind her.

“Oh, Elias!” She practically sung, her arms already opening as she came toward him. Stack grinned and stepped into the hug with ease, like he’d done it a hundred times before—because he had.

“Hey, Ms. Missy.” He said, wrapping his arms around the petite Southern woman, careful not to smother her with his size.

She pulled back just far enough to look up at him with adoration. “Just look at you.” She fussed, eyes shining. “You’ve grown your hair out again! And that skin is just glowing, boy. You look so handsome. So grown.”

Stack chuckled low in his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’ve just been outside, Ms. Missy. That’s all the glow you’re seeing, sweat.”

“Oh, hush that modesty.” She waved him off. “You and Elijah must be doing something right. Still keeping up with your cousin?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s good.” Stack nodded, his voice softening with respect.

“That’s good. Well, you have got to come sit with me for a spell and tell me what you boys have been up to. Come on in here, let me fix you something.” She was already turning back to the kitchen, hand still gently latched around his wrist like she didn’t want him slipping away.

As she led him deeper into the house, Stack glanced back over his shoulder at Juicy. She hadn’t followed yet. She stood near the front room, watching the exchange with a small, unreadable smile on her lips. One that held warmth… and maybe just a hint of something else. A tenderness that surprised even her.

Missy Boothe was one of those women who made everyone feel like home. She’d known them since they were small children, always feeding them, always welcoming them in like they were her own. But Stack had a particular place in her heart. She’d always doted on him a little extra, claiming it was because he was so well-mannered, but Juicy suspected it was something else. Like the way his father treated him. He’d always been around. Showing up for more than just meals. Fixing things around the house. Walking Mary to the store when Missy couldn’t. Making sure her trash was taken out without even asking. That kind of presence made a mark.

She watched as Stack settled onto one of the barstools at the counter as Missy poured him a glass of sweet tea. She was talking a mile a minute now, and Stack was answering with polite hums and the occasional laugh that made his shoulders shake. Juicy watched them from the kitchen doorway, a soft smile on her face before she walked further into the house, leaving the man with the woman that adored him most.

Upstairs, Mary’s room was still the same explosion of color and chaos it had always been—posters of Dru Hill and B2K on the walls, an old Destiny’s Child CD case cracked open on the nightstand, and a tangled mess of clothes spilling from an overworked dresser. The window was cracked to let in the breeze, the lace curtains fluttering gently as the soft hum of a fan blew from the corner. It was just past noon, and the air smelled faintly of coconut oil and flat iron heat.

Juicy flopped onto Mary’s bed, laying on her stomach as she watched her friend rummage through her closet. Mary, dressed in a pink camisole and cutoff shorts, was talking to herself more than anyone, throwing tops over her shoulder and groaning dramatically.

“I swear I don’t have nothing to wear!” She exclaimed, stepping back and putting her hands on her hips.

“You have too much to wear.”Juicy countered, grabbing a red Baby Phat halter top off the bed beside her and holding it up. “You could pull this with your denim mini.” She suggested.

Mary turned and wrinkled her nose. “Girl, I wore that the last time I went out.”

“And nobody remembers but you.”

“I remember, and that’s what matters.” Mary said, then spun around with a grin. “But I know you’re not talking. You know you gon’ pull out that same lil’ rhinestone tee you always wear when you tryna be cute. The one that say ‘Spoiled’ on it.” She snickered.

Juicy narrowed her eyes, flipping her off playfully before burying her face in the comforter. “The shirts nice. Can’t help it if it makes my boobs look good.” She shrugged. Mary laughed and flopped down beside her. “Yeah, you’re tryna be cute. And make them look good for somebody.”

Juicy raised her head slowly. “What you mean?”

“I mean…” Mary’s grin grew wide and mischievous. “Keith gon’ be there tonight.”

Juicy’s face twitched—but only just. “I don’t care if Keith there.” She muttered.

“Mmmhmm.” Mary sing-songed. “You was all shy when he asked for your number last week. Actin’ like you ain’t like him back.”

“I didn’t give him my number.” Juicy mumbled, face buried in the pillow now.

“Yeah, ‘cause I was standing right there.” Mary laughed. “But I know you wanted to.”

Before Juicy could respond, the floorboards outside the room creaked. They both glanced up at the same time.

Stack leaned against the doorframe, shoulder pressed to the wood, arms folded across his chest. He hadn’t bothered knocking—he never did when it came to Mary’s house. He let his eyes trail lazily across the room until they landed on Juicy still lying on the bed, then flicked toward Mary with a lopsided grin.

“Keith, huh?” He questioned.

Juicy sat up fast, like she’d been caught red-handed. “Were you eavesdropping?” She asked.

“I just walked in.” He said, pushing off the doorframe. “Y’all was talkin’ like I wasn’t even here.”

Mary, unfazed, gave him a look. “Yeah, because you wasn’t here a second ago.”

Stack turned to Juicy, narrowing his eyes a little. “So who this Keith dude?” He asked, going back to the subject.

Juicy avoided his gaze. “Ain’t nobody important.” She shrugged.

“Seem like somebody.” His tone was light, teasing even, but there was a sharpness just beneath the surface. His eyes didn’t leave hers, though she didn’t look at him, Mary, still oblivious, perked up as she sorted through more clothes. “He’s the boy that helped us bring the sodas to some function last week, he went and picked them up for the free. Real polite. And cute too—Juicy even said it.”

“Mary…” Juicy warned, her voice low.

“What?” Mary said with a shrug. “He’s nice. You blushed when he said you smelled good.”

“You know that my favorite compliment.” The darker skinned girl mumbled, crossing her arms. Stack looked at Juicy, face unreadable and jaw ticking ever so slightly. “You like him?” He asked.

Juicy met his eyes but only for a second before glancing away, her voice suddenly clipped. “No.”

Mary snorted. “You do. You just don’t wanna admit it ‘cause he quiet and not all hard like—”

“I don’t like him.” Juicy cut her off sharply, more forcefully this time, her eyes flicking to Stack’s.

He studied her closely now, catching the shift in her tone, the way her shoulders stiffened a bit and how she wouldn’t look at him. Something about her denial felt too practiced, too deliberate. Like she wanted him to hear it, believe it—need him to.

Mary didn’t seem to notice. She was still talking, still pulling tops and jeans and accessories. But Stack… he was locked in on Juicy. And the longer she avoided his gaze, the more his protectiveness stirred.

“Just curious.” He said finally, voice dropping a notch. “I don’t know the dude. If he weird or got a rep, I need to know.”

Juicy shook her head. “He’s not weird. And he don’t got a rep.”

“So he just a regular dude… interested in you.” Stack said, stepping further into the room.

Juicy sat up straighter, furrowing her brows at him. “Yeah?” She said. “Why does that sound like a problem?”

“It doesn’t.” He said simply, but his eyes told a different story. “Just don’t like niggas coming around who ain’t got good intentions.”

“And who’s to say he don’t?”

Stack smirked a little but didn’t answer. His silence said enough.

Mary finally caught the shift in energy, turning from her closet with a raised brow. “Okay, why does it feel like y’all are arguing over a boy that neither of y’all dating?”

“I’m not arguing,” Juicy muttered, sliding off the bed. “Ain’t nobody checking for Keith.”

“Exactly.” Stack said, but softer now. His voice didn’t carry the same edge. He watched her brush past him toward the door, like she needed some air. And when she left, Mary gave Stack a look that held just the slightest suspicion.

“You ain’t never asked me about no other boy before.” She said.

Stack’s jaw flexed. “Cause you can take care of yourself. I taught you that.” He said. “She’s…I have to look out for her.” He said, but even he didn’t believe it. Not all the way.

Because when it came to Juicy, looking out always felt a little too close to holding on.

Mary finally ended up settling on a teal crop top with rhinestone straps and a pair of low-rise jeans that hugged her hips just right. After a playful back-and-forth, Juicy finally came back and Stack was back in the kitchen. Juicy claimed a vintage red mesh top with long sleeves and a white tank underneath that gave just the right ‘03 attitude. The girls had spent the last hour laughing, poking fun, dancing to 106 & Park reruns in the background, and throwing clothes across the room like it was a sport.

Mary’s room looked like a dressing tornado had touched down—tops and skirts strewn across the bed, sneakers tossed into corners, and hangers hooked on anything that could hold them. Juicy stood in front of the mirror, smoothing her hands down the borrowed crop top, a snug baby pink number she’d snagged from Mary’s drawer the moment she saw it.

“You sure you don’t want this one back?” She asked, turning with a sly smile.

Mary grinned from where she knelt on the floor, digging through a pile of shorts. “Nah, it looks better on you anyway. Plus, I’m tryna go a little tomboy cute tonight. Let folks know I got range.”

Juicy laughed and adjusted the hem of the top. “I still can’t believe you keep clothes like this tucked away. What else you got hiding in this closet, Mary Poppins?”

Mary tossed a pair of high-waisted denim shorts at her and stood. “Years of thrift and heartbreak, that’s what. You look cute, girl.” Mary said, admiring Juicy’s reflection in the mirror as she tucked one side of her shirt behind her belt loop.

“You think?” Juicy asked, checking herself out with a slight turn.

“I know. Keith might choke on his words if he see you like that.” Mary teased, bumping her with her hip.

“Don’t start.” Juicy warned, grabbing her flip phone and slipping it into her back pocket. “I’m tryna skate, not entertain.”

By the time they made it downstairs, dusk was slipping through the windows, casting the living room in a warm honey-glow. They laughed all the way down the hall, the sound of their sneakers and flip-flops echoing against the hardwood. The smell of baked chicken and cornbread drifted from the kitchen where Missy was pulling something from the oven. She was a sharp woman, always dressed even when she was home, with earrings in her ears and her hair pinned up with care.

“Where y’all headed?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder. “To the rink.”Mary answered, swinging into the kitchen to grab a bottled water. “Me and Juicy. It’s ladies’ night so we get in for free.”

Missy arched a brow, her lips already curling with suspicion. “Who all gonna be there?”

“Just us.” Mary said with a shrug. Missy turned to look directly at Juicy, a woman-to-woman kind of look, as if she knew her daughter could get a little wild sometimes, but Juicy? She trusted Juicy. Still…

Juicy stepped forward. “We’re not doing anything crazy, Missy. Just skating, maybe a slice of pizza and back before midnight.”

Missy’s eyes narrowed just slightly, still unconvinced.

That’s when Stack’s voice cut in from behind. “Me and Smoke gon’ be there too, Miss Miss.” He said smoothly. “Ain’t nothin’ gone happen to them with us around.” He was lounging against the archway, arms folded and keys twirling on one finger, decided to chime in.

Missy turned to look at him, eyes softening a bit. “You and Elijah?”He nodded, stepping into view and flashing her that easy, boyish smile. “Yes, ma’am. Promise they’ll be good.”

“Well…”She said, resting a hand on her hip and looking from Juicy to Mary and back. “As long as y’all got some backup, I don’t see no problem with it. I know Juicy’s a good girl.”

Mary rolled her eyes dramatically. “Here we go…”

Missy leaned against the counter, folding her arms. “Juicy, baby, what you been up to now that school’s out?”She asked. Juicy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just… enjoying the break while I can. Taking it easy, having fun, you know?”

“Well, I hope not too much fun.” Missy said with a teasing tilt in her voice. Juicy groaned, throwing her head back while Mary cackled. “Missy…”

“Oh come on.” Mary waved her hand. “You know she’s not that kind of girl.”

“I know, I know.” Missy said with a nod. “But I also know how these boys around here get. They see a sweet girl like you and think they can play you.”

“I’ll be fine.” Juicy said, her tone reassuring but calm.

Missy hummed, then tilted her head. “Speaking of, how’s it goin’ with that Powers boy? What’s his name—Kevin?”

“Keith.” Juicy and Mary corrected at the same time.

Stack raised an eyebrow, cutting a look toward Juicy, as well as Mary, who avoided their eyes. “Mm.” Stack muttered under his breath, eyes sliding over Juicy’s figure.

Missy chuckled. “Right, Keith! How’s he doin’? I know he’s sweet on you. I’ve seen the way that boy look at you when he mowin’ that lawn. Almost broke his neck tryin’ to catch a glimpse.”

Juicy sighed, her smile bashful and soft as she avoided Stack’s gaze. “I think he’s doing fine.”

“You think?” Missy prodded.

Juicy shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, we’re not together. We barely even talk. He’s just… around. I don’t know why everyone’s so pressed about who I’m supposedly dating.”

“Because you’re a nice girl.” Missy said plainly, “And nice girls should have nice young men in their corner.”

“Well, I’m not interested in none of that right now,” Juicy replied gently. “I’m going to school and getting my degree. That’s the goal.”

Missy nodded thoughtfully, her tone softening. “I hear you. But don’t work so hard you forget to enjoy yourself. Everybody needs somebody in their corner. Even the strong girls.”

“I am enjoying myself.” Juicy said, her voice just as gentle.

Their eyes met for a moment, the quiet between them holding weight. Missy smiled then, a glint of pride flashing in her eyes, just before something else crossed then as she looked at the girl.

“Have you talked to your parents?” She asked after a pause.

“Mama.” Mary hissed, shooting her mom a warning look as Juicy stiffened slightly. Stack eyed the women, wondering why was going on.

“What?” Missy said, raising her hands. “I’m just asking. I talked to Serena this morning—”

“It’s okay,” Juicy cut in smoothly. “Uh, no, I haven’t spoken to them in a bit, but it’s just been… you know, school. Finals. Everything’s been a blur. I’ll reach out soon, though.” She reassured, but wanting nothing more than that part of the conversation to be over. Stack eyes the girl, seeing the way she had stiffened at the mention of her parents.

Missy hummed again, slow and understanding. “Alright. Long as you do.”She then clapped her hands once and pointed toward the door. “Now go on. Get dressed, go skate, and have some clean fun. Y’all hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Both girls said at the same time, heading for the door.

Missy turned to Stack on their way out. “And you better come visit me again soon. Bring Elijah with you. I got questions for that boy.”

Stack grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

As the screen door creaked open and the sun spilled across the porch, Juicy caught herself thinking—still feeling the heat of Missy’s words, of Stack’s lingering gaze, and the weight of everything unspoken hanging between them.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

By the time the sun had started its lazy descent behind the neighborhood rooftops, the girls were back at Juicy’s house with Stack pulling into her driveway like he belonged there. He cut the engine, and hopped out of the car, just as Smoke came out of the Hall home, watching as Juicy and Mary dashed past him.

“We taking them to the rink now.” Stack said, watching the girls disappear into the house. He watched as Smoke’s face morphed into one of annoyance, but he continued before his brother could express his discontent verbally. “I promised Missy I’d keep an eye on them. You in? Cause I know you ain’t got none better to do.”

Smoke shot him a look. “Yeah, whatever nigga.” He said.

They crossed the street to their place, casual and unbothered, stepping into the familiar scent of cologne and laundry detergent. The music thumping faintly from Stack’s room gave the air a soft pulse while the boys got changed—nothing fancy, just fresh fits and cologne. They weren’t skating, but they weren’t about to show up looking like they didn’t belong either.

By the time they were back outside, posted in the car and waiting, the sky had shifted to blue, the street lights casting long shadows across the pavement. The car windows were rolled down halfway, the breeze just enough to cool the sweat off their necks. They didn’t say much—just let the music play and kept an eye on the house.

An hour passed before the front door opened again.

Juicy stepped out first, her curves hugged by denim jeans and a tight off-the-shoulder top the color of blush wine. Her skin caught the soft shimmer of the porch light, collarbones on display and hair done up in that effortless way that still looked like it took forever. Mary trailed after her in a cute, more sporty outfit—a cropped tee Juicy had let her borrow and a skirt with built-in shorts underneath.

Smoke leaned forward. “That’s them?” He asked, since he couldn’t quite see the door from the page her seat,

“That’s them.” Stack said with a little smile, unlocking the doors. “Hop in.” He called out to them.

The girls jogged up to the car, Juicy opening the back door on Smoke’s side with a teasing smirk. “Y’all wasn’t gon’ leave without us, right?”

“You know I wouldn’t dream of it.” Smoke said, sliding his phone into his pocket.

The ride to the rink was filled with soft music and low chatter, the windows cracked to let in the cooling night air. The city was still humming—streetlights flickering, kids biking down sidewalks, couples walking hand in hand, and the occasional honk from a car passing through a yellow light. It was summer energy—slow but charged, with laughter always somewhere in the background.

By the time they reached the rink, the parking lot was alive with it. Cars lined up like a pop-up car show—hoods open, music blasting, boys leaned back on their trunks with drinks in hand and girls circling like butterflies. The smell of hot food, cherry slushies, and lit blunts hung thick in the air. Laughter mixed with the low thrum of bass-heavy music and the metallic clang of skates hitting pavement.

Martin and the crew were already there, posted on the hoods of their cars, chopping it up like they ran the block.

“There go our people.” Smoke nodded, gesturing toward them.

“You go on.” Stack said, looking back at the girls. “We’ll meet y’all inside.”

“Say less.”Mary said, hand in hand with Juicy as she led them to the building while the men were already veering toward Martin and the crew.

Juicy and Mary stepped into the rink like they’d done it a thousand times before—confident, cute, and catching attention. Inside, the air was cooler, tinged with sweat and slushie syrup, the wooden floors gleaming under the multicolored lights that spun in slow circles above. The DJ booth was lit up, music flowing loud but smooth, classic 2000s R&B remixes with just enough bass to keep the rhythm.

Near the tables by the rink, Sharee and the girls from earlier were lounging, drinks in hand and skates already laced up, legs stretched across benches. The moment they spotted Mary and Juicy, they perked up.

“Heeyy!” Sharee waved, sliding out from behind the table with practiced ease. “Look who finally showed up.”

“You know we had to get cute first.” Juicy teased, laughing.

“You didn’t have to try that hard.” One of the other girls said, eyes sweeping Juicy’s figure. “Damn, girl.”

Mary bumped her shoulder, grinning. “Told you this top was gon’ cause a problem.”

“Let’s get you laced up.” Sharee said, already pulling them toward the counter. “The floor’s live tonight.”

Back outside, Stack and Smoke dapped up Martin and the others. They leaned against hoods slick with the day’s heat, cooling drinks in hand and shoes crisp as new, now matter the scuffs they faced from the street. A few of the guys had new cuts, fresh white tees, gold glinting under the glow of streetlamps. They talked hoops, girls, and music—nothing deep, just that loud, layered kind of conversation that could only happen between boys who’d grown up together.

“You came out with Juicy?” One of Martin’s homeboys asked them, flicking ash off his blunt. They glanced at Martin, who was too busy rubbing up on some shock to even pay attention to their conversation.

Stack shrugged. “Yeah, she’s with Mary. Promised her mama I’d keep an eye out. Plus, it ain’t nothin’ wrong with a lil rink night.”

Smoke grinned. “Girls look too good to let ‘em come alone anyway.”

Everyone laughed, the night stretching wide in front of them like a scene from a coming-of-age movie, the kind where nothing big had to happen for it to feel unforgettable.

Inside, Juicy stepped onto the rink, her body finding the rhythm easily, hips swaying as she slid across the polished wood. The girls flanked her and Mary, all of them catching the music like they were made for it. Lights danced across their skin, and for a moment, the world outside the rink—the boys, the pressure, the expectations—melted away.

And it felt good.

The rink was buzzing, the air thick with the sugary scent of concession stand snacks and body spray. Colored lights flickered overhead in lazy circles, casting moving shadows over the skating bodies below. Music thumped with a throwback beat, and the floor pulsed under the weight of roller wheels. Girls glided in tight curves, boys tried to show off, and somewhere in the chaos, Mary and Juicy were exactly where they were supposed to be—together, laughing, skating fast and carefree.

But even in the haze of fun, it didn’t take long for the cracks to show

They’d met up with Sharee and the girls by the tables again, and as soon as Juicy and Mary sat down to catch their breath, the gossip started flowing like soda from the fountain machine.

“You see what Jaleesa got on?” One girl leaned over, dragging a French-tipped nail through her hair. “I know she saw that little muffin top when she looked in the mirror.”

“Girl, don’t play.” Another snickered. “She wore that on purpose, swear she thick now ‘cause she got some new jeans.”

Juicy raised her brows, sipping from her slushie with furrowed brows. Mary met her eyes with the same familiar look—Here we go.

They listened, half-engaged, nodding here and there, but it was the same old routine. The moment one of the girls left to go say hey to someone else, she became the next topic.

“Did y’all peep how Destiny keeps skating past Keith like she don’t seem him?”

“Mmhm, and acting like she didn’t cry when he stopped messing with her.”

“She was real loud last week talking about how she ‘don’t care about no boy’—now look.”

Juicy and Mary both leaned back a little. It wasn’t like they were innocent—hell, they had sharp tongues too, but something about the girls’ energy was just off. And it’s something they peered everyone they were asking the girls they considered acquaintances. It was loud and fake and dipped in desperation. The kind of thing you could only stomach in small doses.

Mary leaned over and whispered, “They so fake. And boy-crazy. Like, get a grip.”

“Girl.” Juicy said, voice dry. “You one to talk.”

Mary laughed. “I like men. That don’t mean I’m dumb about it.”

“No,” Juicy agreed, “You just use ‘em.”

“And they love it.” Mary flipped her hair and looked over the rink like a queen surveying her kingdom. “These chicks only keep us around ‘cause dudes still be thinkin’ I’m exotic or whatever.” She said in disgust. “Only white girl they ever seen with a little edge and ass.”

Juicy smirked. “And me?”

“Please. You know why, Miss Juicy. All them boys lookin’ at you like you a prize they ain’t won yet. You know every boy in here waitin’ for you to slip up and let one of ‘em get a taste.

Juicy rolled her eyes. “That’s ‘cause I ain’t let none of ‘em hit.”

“Exactly,” Mary said with a wink. “Mystery makes ‘em drool.” She smirked, taking a sip of her drink before starting again. “And they don’t even like each other for real.”

Juicy laughed low. “Tell me about it.”

“They just keep us around for clout. Me ‘cause dudes still think I’m exotic or some shit.” Mary said, her voice only for Juicy as she scoffed in disgust.

Juicy rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. She knew how they looked at her—especially now. She’d grown into herself, thick in the right places, cute with a touch of mystery, and still untouched. That part made them more curious. She hated it sometimes.

“You the main one they scared of.” Mary added, nudging her. “They’re trynna peep who you want and act accordingly for themselves.”

“Too bad none of ‘em will get anything from me.” Juicy said sweetly, standing up. “I need me something sweet.”

She rolled off on the carpet, coasting across the floor toward the concession stand. Her body moved with practiced grace, her skates soft against the rhythm of the music. The line was short, just two people in front of her, and soon she was at the counter, fingers tapping lightly as she placed her order.

“One strawberry cotton candy, please.” She said, already fishing out her few crumpled dollars.

And then, rolling up beside her on silent wheels, came Keith.

“Didn’t expect to see you off the floor.” He said with that easy, boyish smile that always lingered too long. Juicy looked over at him, trying not to grin but failing. “Didn’t expect to be stalked at the snack bar either.”

He laughed. “Stalked? I’m offended. This here’s just coincidence.”

“Mhm. Coincidence got you skating all the way over here, huh?” She questioned, waiting for the man to come back with her sweet treat. “I call that audacity.”

Before he could answer, the concession guy came back, handing Juicy her fluffy, pink cotton candy wrapped around a paper cone. Juicy reached into her pocket, but Keith slid his hand in first, already paying.

“Come on, Keith.” Juicy frowned, smacking his shoulder lightly. “I had that.”

“Nah, let me.” He said with a grin. “Sweet stuff for a sweet girl, ain’t that what they say?” He smirked, causing Juicy to side eye him, though the blush was undeniable. “Oh, you are so corny.”

“But you smiled, didn’t you?”

She tried not to, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her. “Barely.”

“So not funny, but corny and generous.” He said he said with a shrug, plucking a piece of her cotton candy before she could stop him.

“Boy, get your sticky hands out my—!” She laughed, trying to shield the candy, but he grinned through it, teasing her as they shared space there by the counter. “Oh, no sir. You didn’t even ask.”

He popped the bite in his mouth anyway, laughing. “Mmm. Tastes better when it’s yours.”

“You are triflin’.”Juicy muttered, spinning away, but she was grinning. And then, right on cue, Sammie’s voice came over the speakers, smooth as syrup and twice as slick:

“Alright, alright, alright. Y’all know what time it is—it’s 10 o’clock and that means love jams, baby. If you got you a lil somethin’ somethin’ or wanna get you a lil somethin’ somethin’—this is the part where you skate up close. We playin’ them slow ones now. Lovers only.”

The lights dimmed slightly, shifting to a warm red-and-purple glow, and the first slow song came on—“So Into You” by Tamia sliding in soft and sensual.

Keith looked over at Juicy, cotton candy still in hand, his smile tilting into something more. “You wanna skate with me?” He asked.

Juicy blinked, caught off guard. “What, like now?” She asked as she put a piece of cotton in her mouth.

He glanced at her lips as she sat and nodded. “What about my candy?” Juicy said. “I just got it. And I can’t have it in the rink.” She said, giving him a flat look, only for him to grin wider and say. “I’ll buy you another one. Maybe even two more.”

“You makin’ some big promises.” She said, eyes narrowed playfully.

“I’m good for it.” He smirked. And something about the way he said it—smooth, sure, not cocky but real—made her believe it.

She sucked her teeth, laughing. “You are somethin’ else.”

“You like it.” He said simply, holding out his hand.

“Please.” Juicy scoffed. The them look down at his hand, and she hesitated just a beat—long enough to feel that nervous flutter in her chest—but then she set her cotton candy down and took his hand, warm and sure in hers.

“Come on, Miss Hall.” He said, tugging her gently toward the rink as the beat throbbed and couples began pairing off under the dim, romantic glow.

And just like that, they rolled out together, hands locked, the world around them fading for a little while as Tamia sang softly overhead and the air spun slow with sweet summer magic.

Juicy and Keith were giggling like two kids sharing secrets, fingers laced as they rolled in unison across the floor, their skates moving in an easy rhythm.

Juicy’s cheeks were still a little pink, but it wasn’t from skating—it was from Keith leaning in too close, whispering nonsense in her ear that had her biting her lip to keep from smiling too wide. Every now and then, he tugged her hand to spin her, and though she wobbled, she laughed and let him pull her back, their fingers never losing contact.

They ignored the eyes, because there were eyes. Girls posted up by the benches, whispering and frowning behind manicured hands. Boys paused mid-glide to try and piece together who Keith was, and why Juicy—the thicker, glowing, and untouchably pretty girl—was giggling with that square. The looks were hot, heavy, and nosy, but neither of them paid it much mind. Not tonight.

Across the way, Mary had peeled off from the rink, gliding smoothly toward the concession stand with her usual sway, flipping her hair over her shoulder like she was walking a runway. Her eyes scanned the crowd lazily, but they sharpened the second she noticed a familiar figure at the entrance.

Smoke.

He walked in slow, scanning the place like he owned it, his eyes low but alert. He didn’t come to skate, not really. He’d told himself he was just checking in, that maybe Mary or Juicy needed a ride or an excuse to leave if things got too messy. But the truth was more complicated—more annoying to admit. He just wanted to see her. Juicy.

He clocked Mary first, her red lips curved into a knowing smile as she spotted him. She raised her hand and waved, but he barely gave a nod before his gaze drifted past her—to the rink.

And then he saw them.

Juicy.

And some dude.

Holding hands.

Skating like they were in a damn music video.

Smoke’s jaw tightened, not all the way, but enough that Mary caught it when she walked up beside him, sipping from Juicy’s forgotten cotton candy. “Didn’t know you were coming in tonight.” She said casually, leaning one hip against the wall.

Smoke didn’t answer right away. His eyes were locked on the couple on the rink that guy with his laid-back smile and cocky posture, Juicy with her radiant laugh and those soft brown thighs thick in her jeans as she spun around, smiling over her shoulder.

He didn’t recognize the boy. And he didn’t like that he didn’t recognize the boy.

“Who’s that?” He asked, still watching.

Mary licked a bit of cotton candy from her thumb, eyes twinkling. “Keith. We went to school with him, but he and Juicy’s dint started talking until a few months back. He been sniffin’ around since.”

“Yeah?” Smoke muttered, eyes narrowing slightly.

“She ain’t locked down with him or anything.” Mary said, a little too pleased. “Girls gotta skate with somebody.”

Smoke didn’t laugh. He crossed his arms, watching the way Keith spun Juicy one more time, then pulled her close so they glided side by side, nearly shoulder to shoulder, laughing about something only they could hear.

He wasn’t mad. Not really. But something settled low in his gut. Tight. Irritating.

He’d seen Juicy laugh before—she always had a laugh that felt like honey, thick and warm and sweet—but he hadn’t seen her laugh like that for another dude.

That was his girl.

Except she wasn’t.

He had only just gotten back and now he seemed to want this new version of Juicy he was seeing before him. He was just like every other guy, but they had history. He knew her better than she knew herself, and he wanted her before any other guy could come along and ruin the beautiful woman she was becoming.

But since he’s been back, he’s never made a move. Never said anything. Just hovered in her space like a shadow, being there when she needed him, listening when she talked, watching when she wasn’t looking. And now, someone else had slipped into the light.

Smoke’s fingers twitched at his sides.

Mary, sensing the tension, leaned in a bit. “Stack’s been askin’ about her too.“ Smoke’s head turned slowly toward her, a frown tugging at his lip. “Stack?”

She shrugged, smirking. “What can I say? She’s a catch.”

He didn’t respond. Just stared back at the rink where Juicy and Keith moved in sync, the lights reflecting off her skin like she was glowing from the inside out.

Mary nudged him. “You wait too long, Smoke, someone else gon’ scoop her up. That girl is gold. Every boy in this building got their eye on her.”

Smoke didn’t look at Mary, but his voice dropped low, quiet.

“She don’t belong to nobody.”

Mary’s smirk grew. “Not yet.” She said.

They stood in silence for a moment, watching the two on the floor finish the song, Juicy still giggling as Keith led her to the edge of the rink. He said something that made her shake her head and laugh harder, brushing his hand off her shoulder in mock annoyance.

Smoke’s fingers curled loosely into fists at his sides. The lights dimmed again, a new slow jam beginning to play. He watched Keith lean down, whisper something in her ear, and watched her smile, wide and unguarded.

Smoke didn’t move. Didn’t storm over. He wasn’t up for a show like that at the moment. But his jaw locked, and his gaze darkened, his stance quiet and unreadable. Mary tilted her head, watching him. “She ain’t picked yet, y’know.” She said, and Smoke finally glanced her way, catching the grin she was giving him. “But they sure tryna make her.”

And with that, she stepped away, cotton candy in hand, hips swaying back toward the crowd, leaving Smoke alone at the entrance, still watching Juicy like she was his favorite secret.

The music began to fade, the rink’s lights lifting into a lazy spin overhead, casting a golden shimmer across the floor. Juicy and Keith slowed to a halt, still holding hands, breathless from skating and laughing. She gave him a soft smile, her hand slipping from his fingers as they made their way off the rink, shoes tapping back onto solid ground.

Just before they could grab their seats or even decide what came next—maybe snacks, maybe a few more laps—Smoke appeared.

Before Keith could speak, before Juicy could even brace herself, Smoke’s hand wrapped gently but firmly around her wrist. He didn’t say a word, didn’t spare Keith a glance, and pulled her away as if he’d been looking for her all night.

“Hey—” Keith started, but stopped when Juicy gave him a small smile over her shoulder, eyes soft, waving her fingers as if to say, It’s okay. I know him.

She did.

Even if she didn’t always know what to do with him.

“Who is that?” Smoke asked, low and rough, not even glancing back at her as they moved. Juicy stumbled slightly on her wheels, nearly losing her balance.

She huffed. “Smoke—”

But instead of shaking him off, she reached out and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, resting her chin just barely against his shoulder. He didn’t let go right away, but her warmth did something to him—made his grip shift, his hands finding a resting place on her hands that were placed on his abdomen as she coasted behind him. She wasn’t walking. Wasn’t skating. Just letting him pull her along like he was gravity and she was the moon.

“Why is that any of your business?” She asked, voice drowsy with irritation.

Smoke slowed a little but didn’t stop. “Because you are my business.” He said, tone flat but firm. “And I asked politely.”

Juicy sighed, eyes rolling so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall right out her head. These twins—always in her damn orbit.

“That’s Keith.” She muttered.

Smoke veered toward one of the booths near the edge of the rink, dragging her the last few feet before sliding in without asking. She didn’t sit across from him. Not yet. She stood there, leaning her weight on the table, hovering like some storm he couldn’t ignore. Her brown skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, and her denim jeans gripped her thick thighs in a way that made Smoke’s gaze flick there—just for a second—before dragging itself back to her face.

“And who’s Keith?” He asked, tone deceptively neutral. Juicy blinked, arms crossed. “What do you mean, who is he?”

Smoke tilted his head, voice a little sharper now. “Who are his folks? What’s he do? How you know him?”

Juicy raised a brow. “Is he my boyfriend now?”

“That too.” He said, calm, but unblinking.

Juicy took a breath and finally plopped into the booth across from him, sliding in slow, arms still crossed beneath her chest. Her legs stretched out under the table, brushing against his.

“He’s from Clinton. The Powers people.” She began, tone clipped. “His daddy owns that car wash off Main and his mama runs the beauty shop next door. I sweep floors there on Saturdays. He’s got other folks—one granddaddy’s a preacher, the other’s a retried principle, I think. Keith’s a sophomore at Morehouse. Same year as me, but he came back for the summer.”

Smoke listened, his face unreadable, only the slow tightening of his jaw betraying how closely he was taking it all in.

Juicy kept going. “We went to Provine together. Barely talked. He played basketball. His sister was prom queen. But when he came back about a month ago, we started talking a little. Nothin’ serious. He brought his boys down to see what Mississippi life is like.”

Smoke raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And what?”

“He your boyfriend?”

Juicy gave a dry little chuckle. “No. And I don’t think I’m interested either.”

He leaned back a little, arms stretching over the back of the booth. “What do you mean, you think?”

“I mean what I said.” Juicy’s gaze dipped for a second, her voice losing some of its edge. “He’s cool. Sweet, even. But I don’t know. Something about him feels more… friend-like.”

Smoke nodded slowly, lips twitching like he wanted to smile but didn’t. He looked up at her fully now, meeting her gaze as she halfway sat up on the table, the curve of her body framed by the light above.

Juicy tilted her head, eyeing him.

“Why are you and Stack so interested in who I’m dating, huh?” She asked, a teasing edge returning to her voice. “What? Y’all interested or something?”

Smoke didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

“In you?” Be asked, voice low. “Yeah.”

Juicy froze.

For a beat, she wasn’t sure she heard him right. Her lips parted, brows knitting together just slightly. “Huh?” She asked, breath quieter than before.

Smoke licked his lips, never taking his eyes off her. “You heard me.”

The air between them thickened, her heart skipping a beat even though she didn’t want it to. He was sitting there, arms stretched like he wasn’t affected, but his eyes—those deep brown eyes—were watching her like she was the only thing he saw in the whole damn rink.

She stared at him, mouth still slightly open, heart thudding against her ribs like it wanted to leap out and slap her.

And then, softly—so softly—she smiled. Not wide. Not flirty. Just… soft.

Like maybe, just maybe, she’d been waiting for him to say it. “Smoke—” Juicy began, but Mary interrupted, her voice sharp as she rushed over to them.

“Sharee’s fighting some girl outside over Jarod.”

Juicy gasped, her eyes widening. “What?”

Mary grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the large windows overlooking the parking lot. They skated over, their wheels clacking against the floor, and pressed against the glass, trying to get a clear view, Smoke right behind them.

Outside, under the harsh glow of the parking lot lights, a crowd had gathered. Sharee was in the center, her hair wild, arms flailing as she shouted at another girl. The other girl, equally animated, was yelling back, her friends trying to hold her back. The tension was palpable, the crowd’s energy feeding the chaos.

Suddenly, fists flew. Sharee lunged, grabbing the other girl’s hair, pulling her down. The crowd erupted, some cheering, others trying to intervene. Men began to get involved, pushing and shoving, the fight escalating beyond control.

Juicy’s eyes scanned the crowd, her heart pounding. She spotted one of Donavan’s boys throwing a punch at one of Martin’s homeboys. Her stomach dropped. She knew what was coming.

She gasped, stepping back from the glass. Smoke stood behind her, his eyes fixed on the scene outside.

“Where you going?” He asked, his voice low.

“Martin’s out there.” She replied, trying to remove her skates. Smoke grabbed her arm, his grip firm. “You’re not going out into that bullshit.”

“My brother’s out there; something could pop off.”She scoffed, struggling against his hold.

“And he’s a grown-ass man who can make his own decisions.” Smoke hissed, tightening his grip. “What the hell are you gonna do, huh? Stop the fight? Yell?” His voice was as fine as he stare as she looked down at her.

Juicy paused, her eyes meeting his, fire blazing within them. Before she could respond, the sharp crack of gunshots rang out. Three shots, each one louder than the last.

She gasped, turning toward the window, but Smoke pulled her down, shielding her with his body. Mary dropped beside them, her hands over her head.

The rink fell silent, the music cutting off abruptly. Screams echoed from outside and inside as people scrambled for cover. Security rushed toward the exits, trying to restore order.

Amid the chaos, a familiar voice boomed over the commotion.

“Get yo ghetto asses on with this bullshit! Get the fuck outta here before I bust every last one of you!” Stack hollered, his voice cutting through the noise.

Smoke muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. Mary peeked over the window sill, her eyes wide with fear and curiosity.

The night had taken a dark turn, the once vibrant energy now replaced with tension and fear. Juicy clung to Smoke, her heart racing, unsure of what would come next.

The parking lot quieted in slow, tense waves, the smoke of chaos still lingering in the air like the fading scent of gunpowder. Tires squealed in the distance as the last of the scattered crowd peeled off, leaving only a few clusters behind—faces tense, adrenaline high.

Stack stepped through the roller rink doors, his presence commanding even without a word. He adjusted his oversized tee, slipping his piece back into the waistband of his jeans. The music hadn’t resumed. The rink was silent now, a thick hush of unease draped over everyone still inside.

His eyes scanned the crowd until they found Juicy crouched behind one of the snack counters, her curls wild, jaw clenched. Just as he opened his mouth to ask if she was okay, she pushed past him—skates gone, socks damp on the rink floor—and made a beeline for the exit.

Smoke was leaning against the wall nearby, arms folded. He met Stack’s glance and simply shrugged.

Mary, quick to catch on, stumbled after Juicy. “Ju!” she called out, struggling to keep up with her determined pace.

But Juicy had her eyes locked on someone else.

Her feet hit the pavement outside like a warning shot. “Are you fucking crazy?!” She snapped the moment her gaze landed on Martin, who was leaning against a car, arms crossed like he hadn’t just helped set the whole block on fire, cloths a little disheveled from the brief scrap he’d gotten into.

Martin sucked his teeth, clearly over it already. “Not now, Ju.”

“Not now?” She echoed, her voice rising. Her fists were balled at her sides, brows knitted in fury. “Not now?! Nigga, it obviously is now since you and these other dumbass niggas out here startin’ shit!”

Before Martin could even respond, Smoke and Stack jogged up from behind her, Smoke with her shoes in his hands, the gravel crunching beneath their sneakers. The streetlights cast long shadows, and the night felt heavier than ever.

“What the fuck is your problem, Martin?” Juicy went on, unrelenting. “Out here fighting—for fucking what? That shit didn’t even have anything to do with you!”

Martin’s jaw twitched. His hands dropped from his chest as he stepped forward, the tension between them flaring like fire to oil. “And it definitely ain’t got shit to do with you! So just shut the fuck up!” He pulled as she walked up on her.

Juicy reeled her head back, stunned at his tone and the way he was approaching her. The insult didn’t sting so much as the threat behind it did.

“Oh, so what, nigga?” She barked. “You were gonna hit me?!”

Smoke was already stepping between them, one firm hand on Martin’s chest. “Chill, Mar.” He said evenly, nudging him back just enough to plant a line in the dirt.

Martin’s nostrils flared. “All you fucking do is butt into shit that ain’t got shit to do with you! I’m handling my shit like a grown-ass man!”

“Handling it?!” Juicy yelled, the two of them shouting over each other now. “You tryna act hard in front of these broke-ass bitches with no fucking life, huh?! These fucking bums! You gonna put your fucking hands on me, huh?! That’s what you’re doing now?!”

“Juicy,” Mary whispered, catching up and tugging on her arm. “It’s okay.” Her voice was soft, but her grip was steel. She was trying to hold the girl back, to reel her in before it really got out of hand.

But it was already too late.

“Yeah, get your bitch before she gets her ass whooped.” A voice piped up from the sidelines.

Everyone turned.

A light-skinned girl stood next to Martin, arms folded, lip gloss gleaming under the streetlight. No one remembered her name—just that she was Martin’s latest. The flavor of the month. The disrespect in her voice was enough to turn the air toxic.

Juicy’s eyes snapped to her like a trigger being pulled. “Girl, shut the fuck up. Wasn’t nobody talking to you, bitch.” She spat.

The girl straightened. “Who you calling a bitch?”

“You, bitch!”Juicy and Mary said in perfect unison.

“Martin, you better get your sister and her lil’ friend.” The girl sneered. Martin looked at her like she had just spat on his momma’s grave. “Louie, shut the fuck up and mind your damn business.”

The air cracked with tension. The vibe was off, and everyone felt it.

That one sentence set everything off again. A whole new layer of commotion buzzed to life—heated glares, muttered curses, the tension between family and outsiders now reaching a boiling point. The looks from Stack, Smoke, even Mary—all shot straight toward Louie with collective disdain.

Juicy stepped forward again, but this time Smoke grabbed her from the side, lifting her by the waist with practiced ease. “Nah, baby. That ain’t worth it.” He murmured, his voice low and soothing in her ear even as his eyes stayed locked on Martin. He was handling it—but only barely.

“Let me go!” Juicy shouted, still swinging as he hauled her backward toward the car.

Mary wasn’t far behind, shouting over her shoulder, “Nah, you better watch your fucking mouth, you tired-ass hoe!”

“Bitch, who even are you?” Juicy spat over Smoke’s shoulder.

Louie opened her mouth again, but this time Stack got involved, stepping between the girls and throwing up his hands.

“Enough!” He barked, his tone sharp, slicing through the mess. “Y’all out here lookin’ real fucking dumb right now.”

Finally, after enough huffing and yelling and near blows, Smoke and Stack wrangled the two angry girls back into the car they came in. Mary got in first, pulling Juicy in behind her while still shooting death glares at Louie.

Martin, left to handle the foolish woman he was still stupidly sleeping with, didn’t say much else. Just shook his head, muttering something under his breath while Louie scoffed and rolled her eyes, clearly still not getting it.

The parking lot fell back into uneasy silence. Whatever heat had ignited earlier had burned itself down to embers—but the damage had been done. Lines had been drawn. And Juicy, still seething as the car door shut beside her.

The ride to Mary’s place was quiet, tired but quiet, the kind that settled in after long nights full of heat and mess and words better left unsaid. Smoke sat in the backseat, gazing out of the window as he smoked while Stack drove, hands loose on the wheel. Mary leaned forward between the seats from the passenger side, breaking the silence with a soft voice.

“I’m not staying over tonight.” She said. “Gotta be up early to help my mama shop.”

Juicy, nestled in the corner behind Stack, turned her head and smiled. “Call me. I’ll come with. Ain’t got shit better to do tomorrow.”

Mary grinned. “You sure?”

“I mean, I ain’t say I was reliable. But I’ll show up.”

They both laughed, their shared chuckles easing the final moments of the evening. Mary grinned. “Bet. I’ll call you after breakfast.”

When the car pulled up in front of her place, Mary opened the door, but before she stepped out, she and Juicy leaned toward each other, pressing cheek to cheek in their usual goodbye. A sweet ritual. One kiss each side, soft like sisters.

“Be safe.” Juicy murmured.

“You too.” Mary said, her eyes flickering toward Smoke for a second before hopping out. She offered a lazy wave, then disappeared behind her gate.

The silence returned as Stack finished the drive, turning down their block, the tires crunching soft under the gravel. They pulled up in front of their house, and the car shifted into park. Juicy reached for the door handle before Stack even turned off the engine.

“I’m out.” She said, already stepping out.

“I’m gonna walk her.” Smoke told Stack, nodding toward her as he slid across the backseat and stepped out himself. Stack gave a simple nod, already leaning back in the driver’s seat, half-asleep.

It was silent as the pair walked, and it wasn’t until Juicy was halfway up the porch steps when she looked over at him. “You know you didn’t have to walk me. I’m literally right across the street.” She said. The air was cooler than before, the night settling into its stillest hour.

“I know.” Smoke said, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. “But I’m just looking out for you.”

“I don’t need that. I’m fine.” She replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

He glanced at her, lips quirking. “I don’t know. Based on today? I’m sure you can handle yourself, but I don’t know if you should.” He quipped. And Juicy let out a short laugh, her breath fogging up in the night air. “You’re a mess.”

Silence hung between them again, thicker this time. He looked at her, really looked at her—like he could see beneath the tough exterior and find the girl who once used to braid ribbons into her curls and laugh with her whole chest.

“You got a key?” Smoke asked, breaking the quiet.

She blinked, pulled from her thoughts. “Uh, yeah.” She patted down her jean pockets, checking front, then back. ”…Somewhere.”

“If you don’t, you can always crash with us.” He offered casually. “There’s more than enough room, and I don’t want you waking Sinclair trying to get someone to open up.”

She laughed again, patting her back pocket now. “It’s okay. Here it is.”

Smoke watched her pull the key ring free, his mind drifting for a second when she turned around, her figure bending just slightly to line the key up with the locc since she couldn’t see that well in the dark without her glasses.

Couldn’t feel the key with all that ass back there, he thought, mouth twitching before he quickly checked himself, eyes raising the second she turned back to him. She looked soft again. The fire from earlier was gone, her stress dimmed like the rest of the night. Her eyes glimmered in the moonlight, lashes long and glossy lips catching what little light was left. Her voice broke the moment.

“Goodnight.” She said gently.

“Goodnight.” He replied, his voice low and a little rough.

Juicy started to push the door open but hesitated, turning to look back. Smoke was already descending the steps, his shoulders broad, head ducked, like he’d made peace with leaving.

“Smoke.” She called, stopping him.

He paused on about the third step, glancing back. “Yeah?”

Juicy lingered in the doorway. Her lips parted like she had something to say, but nothing came out. Her fingers played with the edge of her jacket sleeve. He noticed her nerves instantly.

“What is it, Ju?” He asked, brow narrowing in concern and stepping one foot up.

She swallowed. “Did you mean what you said?”

Smoke blinked. “What I said?” He questioned.

“Earlier.” She began softly. “At the rink. Did you mean it?”

There was a long pause—pregnant, heavy, something sitting thick between them that neither wanted to name just yet. The kind of silence that tugged on heartstrings and made the air feel full of something tender.

“I did.” He said simply. His voice was honest. Steady.

Juicy’s eyes fluttered once. Then something cracked open inside her, soft and trembling. She stepped forward without thinking, crossing the space between them in two strides and threw her arms around his neck, her lips landing on his in a kiss that felt like a storm giving way to calm. Her feet stayed on the porch while he stood a step below her, but he reached up for her like he’d been waiting.

His hands landed on her waist, a bit of warm skin meeting his fingers where her shirt had lifted. The contact was electric, but the kiss was affectionate—slow, meaningful. Her hand curled behind his head, thumb brushing over the waves at the nape of his neck.

The kiss was tentative. It was full of the quiet ache of wanting someone for a long time but never knowing if you could say it out loud. Her lips pressed against his like they belonged there, her body warm against his as she stood a step above him. His hands found her waist instantly, skin meeting skin where her shirt had ridden up, and he breathed her in.

Juicy’s hand found the back of his head, fingers threading into his waves. The kiss deepened, languid and tender, a slow dance of mouths and want and words they couldn’t say.

When they broke apart, the need for air becoming undeniable, Smoke didn’t move—just stared into her eyes, dazed. Her gloss left a faint trace on his lips, and she looked at it before meeting his gaze again.

“I feel the same.” She whispered, rubbing her nose against his.

He blinked, stunned for a beat. Smoke didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. catching her lips again in a kiss that was heavier, needier. His hands slid lower, resting just above the swell of her ass as her own hand tugged him closer. Juicy hummed into the kiss, and he swallowed the sound like a promise.

When they broke apart again, they couldn’t stop pecking each other’s lips—one, two, three soft kisses shared like a secret. Soft, delayed kisses, forehead to forehead, breath to breath, her eyes closed, and his stayed on her. She looked peaceful, and for a second, it felt like the world had gone quiet just for them.

Finally, Juicy leaned back, her palms resting lightly on his shoulders. “Have a good night, okay?”

Smoke nodded, and so did she. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, then turned and opened her door. Before disappearing, she looked back over her shoulder.

He was still watching her, eyes tender.

She smiled bashfully, locking the door behind her. Smoke lingered on the steps for a moment, heart still racing, lips still tingling. He exhaled through his nose, smiled to himself, and made his way back home across the street.

Everything felt different now. Everything felt like something had finally begun.

They would’ve stayed like that all night if the world would’ve let them.

But Juicy slowly pulled back, hands drifting to his shoulders. She looked into his face, eyes half-lidded and warm. “Have a good night, okay?”

Smoke nodded, his throat tight. “Yeah. You too.”

She leaned in one last time, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He didn’t move until she slipped inside, the door closing softly behind her. She paused just before locking it, her bashful smile the last thing he saw before the bolt slid home.

Smoke stood there for a moment longer, staring at the closed door. Then he exhaled through his nose, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and made his way across the street in silence.

@the2daily4scoop @childishgambinaax @notapradagurl7 @marley1773 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @synsualsage @wabi-sabi1090 @jackierose902109 @simethingidk @theunsweetenedtruth @blondfortheweekend @nunya7394 @brattyfics @ramp-it-up @afrosandsweatpants @blkandchic @foxybrownsugababe @avoidthings @lovelylocs @thickemadame @greeneggsanpam @blkgirlsneedlove2 @abrienirvana @j0joworld @j0ysyndr0m3 @vile-harlot @inkdrippeddreams @imsohappyilovekbop @bbymuthaaa @susanhill @angryflowerwitch @aliensuperstvr @blackisy2k @the2daily4scoop @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @michifilmz @wabi-sabi1090 @jackierose902109 @ingeniousmindoftune @-harmonytbh @aesthetic-lyssa @yamst3rdamctrl @vaintya1

[chuxmy]

Hello! (First of all, please forgive my bad English, it's not my first language)

Could I make a request where the reader is Si-eun's sister, maybe a year or a few months younger and his friends come to his house to visit him and then meet her. At first they are confused because they think Si-eun is dating someone but they soon find out everything. The romantic partner could be Gotak. Please and thank you! :)

Not his girlfriend

Pairings: Go Hyuntak (Gotak) x Siuen‘s Sister!Reader

Summary: You had no choice but to open the door and you are already a victim.

Warnings: light flirting, mild language

The doorbell rang at exactly 2:03 p.m.

You sat on the couch, legs crossed under you, headphones in, lazily scrolling on your phone. The apartment smelled faintly of coffee and the instant noodles Sieun had made but only taken two bites of before returning to his room with a book under his arm.

You didn’t even flinch at the sound.

The doorbell rang again, followed by aggressive knocking.

You sighed, pulling one earbud out. “Sieun!” you called. “Someone’s at the door!”

From down the hall. “You get it.”

“Why? It’s probably your weird friends again.”

“Exactly.”

You grumbled, rising to your feet. You had on shorts and an oversized hoodie that probably belonged to Sieun at some point. Your hair was a mess, and your face well, you hadn’t expected to see anyone important today.

You opened the door.

And three pairs of eyes blinked back at you in surprise.

There they were Park Humin, Seo Juntae, and Go Hyeontak, standing awkwardly in the hallway, each holding something: drinks, snacks, and a bag of chips, respectively.

You tilted your head.

They stared.

“Oh,” said Juntae, blinking rapidly. “We… uh… Sorry—did we get the wrong place?”

“No,” said Gotak slowly, frowning. “Wait… Who are you?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Who are you?”

Humin pointed at you like he’d just cracked a conspiracy. “Is this- are you his girlfriend?”

You blinked. Then barked a laugh. “Ew. No.”

“Wait,” said Gotak, narrowing his eyes. “You sure?”

“Dead sure.”

You turned around and yelled into the apartment, “Sieun! Your friends think I’m your girlfriend!”

A moment later, footsteps approached, and Yeon Sieun appeared, looking mildly irritated. “Don’t scream weird things,” he muttered.

Then he looked at the guys. “What are you all doing just standing there?”

“You didn’t tell us someone else was here,” Juntae said, his voice full of suspicion.

“She lives here,” Sieun said simply. “She’s my sister.”

Your eyes met Gotak’s again as you stepped aside to let them in. You noticed then just briefly his gaze lingered on your legs before he looked away quickly.

“Hi,” you said dryly. “I’m Y/N. Unfortunately related to this emotionally constipated guy.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Juntae, grinning now that the mystery was solved. “That was honestly, a wild thirty seconds.”

Humin nodded. “We seriously thought you two were dating. Sieun’s expression wasn’t helping.”

Gotak said nothing, but you felt his eyes on you again when he thought you weren’t looking.

The boys settled in the living room, drinks and snacks sprawled across the table. You mostly stayed on the edge of the room, half listening as you played a game on your phone, curled in a corner of the couch opposite Gotak.

It was a rare day when Sieun had people over, and rarer still when you didn’t feel invisible in your own house.

“He’s like this all the time?” Juntae asked you suddenly, pointing at Sieun.

You smirked. “You mean uptight and emotionally unavailable? Yeah. It’s like living with a robot who judges you for breathing too loudly.”

Sieun didn’t even react. He flipped a page in his book like he wasn’t even part of the conversation.

Gotak chuckled lowly. “So you got the personality in the family.”

You arched a brow. “That a compliment?”

He tilted his head. “Depends. You want it to be?”

You looked at him more carefully this time black shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, lazy grin playing on his lips, a dimple peeking when he smiled fully.

Maybe not as dumb as he looked.

“Let’s just say… I’ll take it,” you replied.

Juntae made a loud oooh noise from beside him.

“Are you flirting with my sister?” Sieun asked without looking up.

Gotak didn’t miss a beat. “Not if you shoot me.”

You laughed, a real one this time, and Gotak looked at you with something like triumph. He leaned a little back, but you could feel it, his eyes found you again every few minutes, like he was trying to figure out where he stood.

You didn’t give him much. Not yet.

Sieun retreated to his room again eventually too much talking, too much noise. The others were still chatting, and you stayed, amused by their banter. Somehow, you and Gotak ended up washing the dishes after dinner. You scrubbed, he dried.

“Seriously though,” he said, quieter now, “I thought you were his girlfriend. Gave me a heart attack.”

You glanced at him. “Disappointed?”

“Honestly?” He met your gaze, smile softening. “Kind of. You’re cool.”

You stared at him for a second longer than necessary. “I think that was flirting again.”

He grinned. “You gonna report me to Sieun?”

You smirked. “Only if you suck at it.”

The silence between you stretched, warm and awkward in the best way.

“Do you… want my number?” he asked.

You handed him a dry plate.

“Smooth,” you said. “Try again after you don’t smell like garlic chips.”

He laughed, head tilted back, genuinely amused.

“Challenge accepted.”

As the boys left, Gotak paused at the door, hands stuffed into his pockets.

“See you around.” he said your name, giving you a look you felt in your stomach.

You nodded, just a little, before closing the door behind them.

From his room, Sieun called out, “Don’t date my friends.”

You called back, “No promises.”

And you swore, you could hear him sigh.

[rowdydevs]

what was bardown!rafe’s reaction to hearing pornstar??

Thank you so much for your ask! 💕This can absolutely be read as a standalone—no need to read Bar Down first. All you need to know is that Rafe and the reader got together quickly, but they agreed to slow things down after a misunderstanding. Much to Rafe’s frustration, they’re “just friends” for now… but it’s anything but simple with these two. Rafe is a defenseman on the LA Kings, and this story takes place in Los Angeles. Kelce is the goalie, dating the reader’s best friend, Stassie. If you have read Bar Down, this occurs right before Valentine’s Day and the Four Nations Tournament.

*intentional text message spelling mistakes*

+18 -> smut

𝓱𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓮𝔂!𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝔁 𝓹𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: pining, teasing, swearing, ownership (you're mine, etc.), pet names, smau at the end, mutual masturbation <- neither one is aware, but there are graphic depictions of Rafe and the reader in fantasy, dirty talk, sex toys, wet and messy, Rafe and the reader are down bad, pathetic!rafe

Rafe’s phone lights up with your name. Mid-stretch on the couch, he answers like he’s been waiting all day.

“Hey, you,” your voice hums through the speaker, warm and teasing. “You free?”

He smiles, already sitting up. “It’s an off night.”

“So?”

Rafe leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees like you could somehow see him through the phone. “Off nights are for you.”

You laugh—bright and helpless—trying to play it cool but giving yourself away instantly. “God, you’re a sweetheart,” you murmur, smiling so wide it almost hurts.

“A sweetheart, huh? You know Kelce thinks I’m pathetic, right?”

“Kelce?”

“Yeah. Says I’m whipped.”

“Mhmm… And he’s not with Stassie?” you tease.

“Nah, we both are, sweetheart,” Rafe shrugs with a grin. “Lost causes when it comes to you two—like you didn’t already know.”

“I wasn’t aware…”

“No shit?” He laughs and sighs softly. “Guess I’ll need to come on stronger—”

You giggle and sigh too—a little laugh that lets him know you’d love that more than anything. “Well, I actually called because I need your help with something—”

“My help?” He asks, and you can hear the smile in his deep voice.

“Mhmm…”

“Anything for you.”

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

You’re standing in front of his door. All dolled up: lips glossy, hair curled, heels high, holding a garment bag and a heavy-looking canvas tote.

Rafe opens it and takes one look at you, any semblance of a “cool guy” act folding with a single glance. “Damn. Please tell me you’re moving in—”

You laugh and roll your pretty eyes. “Ha, ha.”

“M’serious,” he says as you stroll past him, tossing the garment bag onto the couch. “I’m here on business?”

“Business?” He repeats, one brow lifting in that teasing way he knows drives you crazy.

You spin around, eyes dancing as you dig into your tote, pulling out a smaller bag—and from it, a chunky, silver-trimmed camcorder straight out of the early 2000s.

Rafe blinks a few times, staring back at you. “Okay…”

“You’re helping me shoot a music video,” you say sweetly.

Rafe stares even harder, brows rumpling with confusion. “You’re jokin’… Me?”

“Of course you.” A grin tugs slow and wide across his mouth as he reaches for the camera. “It’s supposed to look like it’s shot at home, very chill, relaxed—”

“Holy shit,” he mutters, voice already dropping into that soft, playful tone he only ever uses with you. “Yeah. Yeah, alright.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” you coo as you reach into the garment bag pulling out a black satin dress you know he’ll love.

“My pleasure…” The words leave his lips slower than intended, almost comically slow as his entire night takes a turn for the better. His dream girl in his apartment, dressed like a fantasy. Yeah, it’s not getting any better than this.

You hold up the dress by the hanger, fingers delicate as they slide down the material before throwing Rafe a wink and disappearing down his hallway. His eyes track the swing of your hips until you vanish behind the bathroom door. The door stays cracked open—just barely, but enough—enough to send him into a tailspin.

Rafe stares at the space between the hinges like it’s a portal; a portal filled with mistakes he can’t afford to make if he wants you back. One where he’d slam the door and take you right there on the bathroom counter, dismissing any ‘just friends’ rule he has the displeasure of following.

His heart hammers in his chest; palms sweaty as he grips the camcorder like a lifeline. Rafe drags a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath. “… Think pure thoughts,” he mutters. “Be normal. Be cool. Be a friend.”

He fiddles with the buttons, clearing his throat like that might somehow fix him. “I, uh… Wha—what’s the name of the song, sweetheart?” He calls, desperate to redirect his thoughts.

“Pornstar,” you answer, light and bubbly like it’s just any other word and the man hearing it isn’t Rafe Cameron.

Rafe freezes, staring at the wall blankly before looking down at the camcorder in his clammy hands like it might catch fire. He laughs—dry and nervous—shaking his head, trying to rattle out his impure thoughts. “Of course it is,” he mutters. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Rafe leans back against the counter, staring up at the ceiling, trying to redirect his thoughts, derailing in a moment as the door creaks and time stops. You step out in a satin dress—the inky black fabric clinging to your soft skin like it was painted on.

Your hair is tossed messily; lashes dark and fluttering. You look through the camera at him, giving him that come-hither smile that has him holding his breath.

You walk past him again—dressed like sin, and Rafe follows you like a puppy, angling the camera down at you as you sit down on his couch, the high slits on the sides of your dress teasing upper-thigh—tormenting him. Rafe lifts the camera, hands already trembling.

You reach over, pushing play on the track, letting your new single swell through his lavish apartment. “Action.”

♫⋆｡♪ I wanna watch you like a movie

I wanna put you on the stage

I wanna know what you’d do to me

I wanna put you on the tape…

Flashing red light

Baby, you’re a star…♫⋆｡♪

Rafe is fixated; following the slow drag of your palm down your thigh, the curve of your lips when you mouth the words of the song coming from your phone, the arch of your back when the chorus drops.

♫⋆｡♪Fuck me all night

Show me who you are…

Pornstar…♫⋆｡♪

He swallows hard, jaw tightening, knees locking, brain short-circuiting as you tip your head slightly, eyes wide and longing as you lip sync.

Because this isn’t just a song. This is you asking, Do you still want me? And every part of him—the broken and longing—is screaming: Yes.

You stand up mid-chorus, smooth and deliberate, and he follows, still clutching the camcorder, still forgetting how to breathe around you as you walk toward his bedroom.

You don’t say a word as you push open the door, disappearing inside, leaving it wide for him to follow.

He catches every moment, the shift of your hair when you move, the stretch of satin over your curves, the sly bend of your smile. He barely makes it through the doorway when you spin around, grinning wickedly.

“Cut.”

His eyes widen, lashes blinking like that can’t possibly be true. “That’s… uh. That’s it? Don’t you need more?” He almost whines, looking back at you helplessly.

“Yeah, silly. I just have to change,” you tease, walking past him and running your hand across his broad chest as you move toward his walk-in closet.

Rafe sets the camcorder carefully on the nightstand and rests his hands on top of his head.

His ears perk up at the rustle of clothes, the sound of hangers sliding, the breath of satin hitting the floor. He turns, just enough to catch a glimpse of black pooling at your feet, before looking away.

“Can I help you find somethin’?” He asks hopefully—just a few seconds too late—but his disappointment is quickly interrupted by the sight of you stepping out in nothing but heels and a game-day button-down—white, oversized, freshly pressed, hanging half off your shoulder.

“Fuck me.” He can’t stop those two needy words from slipping past his lips. His cheeks burn with embarrassment as you giggle and roll your eyes.

“That’s not very professional, Cameron,” you smile.

“Well,” he huffs, his eyes refusing to blink, “never said I was… M’workin’ for free, by the way—”

“Damn,” you giggle. “This isn’t a part of our friendship agreement. You wanna get paid?” You ask as you step toward him slowly, designer heels clicking across the hardwood.

“I guess… I—” He mumbles, swallowing hard, eyes locked on the valley of cleavage peeking from his button-down. “What, umm… What was I talkin’ about?” He asks as his gaze lifts to yours.

You shrug and smile, and he moves a little closer. Your heart races as you feel the heat of his body radiating off his clothes, his rich cologne muddling your thoughts. You lean in, breath warm and teasing, as you press your hands against his chest feeling his heart bang under your palms.

“Action.”

You walk away and he shakes his head, rattling out those thoughts, fumbling as he raises the camera to meet you. Your hips are slow and fluid, swaying to the music bleeding faintly through the room.

Your fingers trail along his black curtains, the edge of his dresser that he fucked you on once before, running your nails across the glass of the stand up mirror he watched you from as he took you from the back—moment after moment, memory after memory–marking your territory without ever saying a word.

When you reached the balcony doors, you slid one open, letting the cool LA night spill in, goosebumps rise along his strong arms. You step outside; the city lit up around you, a halo of gold and blue washing over you.

The hem of his shirt flutters around your thighs; hair caught up in the breeze–Rafe’s jaw clenches tight as he watches you back up into the balcony rail, arching your back, letting your hair dangle over the edge.

You lean forward, twist around like he grabbed your hips, arching your back slow and deliberate.

♫⋆｡♪I wanna hear you talking dirty

I wanna see it on your face

I wanna feel you put the work in

I wanna watch you entertain…

Flashing red light

Baby, you’re a star…♫⋆｡♪

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t fucking think. Could barely remember why he was supposed to stay still at all.

♫⋆｡♪Fuck me all night

Show me who you are…♫⋆｡♪

And then, just when he thought it couldn’t get better your hands moved up your body. Pinch. Twist. Pop. The first button came undone and Rafe’s stomach dropped. You moved to the next as you walked past the stunned man before you. Pinch. Twist. Pop. Pinch. Twist. Pop.

When the last button slipped free, the shirt slid from your shoulders onto the floor. And underneath? Nothing but black lace. Thin straps clinging to your shoulders. Bodice hugging every perfect curve. The fabric, sheer in all the right places. Cut high, curved low—designed to kill him on sight.

♫⋆｡♪ Pornstar

Pornstar

Show me who you are…♫⋆｡♪

Then you turn around and it knocks the air clean out of his chest. He knows that lingerie. Knows it down to the little bow at the center of your chest, the sheer black lace, the thin straps framing your hips just right.

You’re standing in front of his bed like you never left it. Same look in your eyes… His girl. It’s like his body remembers before his brain can catch up—a sudden ache behind his ribs that makes it hard to swallow.

Tears threaten before he even understands why as his frustration swells in his throat because why the fuck are you so pretty? And how the hell did he mess this up?

He’s already burning it into memory again. The way the lace hugs your curves. The way your hair falls. Every inch of bare skin he hasn’t seen in weeks. He takes a mental picture—one he knows he’ll see every night when he closes his eyes and reaches for himself.

Then you hold out your hand and without a second thought, he gives you his. You pull him gently toward the bed, the camera still rolling, catching the gold glint of his Rolex and the way his big hand perfectly wraps around yours.

You step backwards, guiding him, eyes locked on him. And when your knees hit the edge of the bed, you let yourself fall back.

Your hands drift higher and higher, fingertips skimming up your sides as you stretch across the comforter. And just before he crumbles and waves his white flag of defeat you whisper a soft, “Cut.”

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

Neither of you sleep. Not really. Not even after you say goodnight and goodbye. He stays sprawled out on the couch, muscles aching, sweat cooling on his bare chest, breathing hard. Even harder when he thinks of you—smiling in that hoodie he let you take home.

His mind reels with snapshots of the night: you in that black dress, dropping his shirt off your perfect body, you in the lingerie he thought maybe he had just imagined in some sort of lucid dream but it was that same pretty little set. His same beautiful girl.

His cock throbs against the waistband of his sweats—trapped and leaking—twitching with every heartbeat.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡ ˚

Across the city, you lie twisted in his sweatshirt, flushed and panting, vibrator buzzing steady against your clit.

Your thighs are slick, trembling; your whole body on edge, hypersensitive and starved for him. You whimper into the sheets, grinding against the toy in frantic, needy little circles.

In your mind, it’s him—his hands, rough and greedy on your skin as his hungry mouth moves desperately with yours. His voice, low and deep in your mind as it swirls around like a song. ‘You have no fucking idea how bad I need you right now, sweetheart.’ You press the toy harder, making your stomach coil, your hips rolling faster.

It crashes over you—sharp and hot. Your orgasm rips through you, thighs shaking, hips bucking helplessly, but it barely scratches the surface.

You’re still burning; still clenching around something fake, craving something real, dragging the sleeve of his hoodie to your mouth, breathing him in deeper.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡ ˚

Rafe groans, low and broken, as he shoves a hand in his pants and wraps it around his thick cock. He’s already a fuckin’ mess, sticky with precum, throbbing and sensitive, hissing at his rough touch.

He squeezes his eyes shut, but all he can see is you—slick and spread wide, whimpering into his pillow with his cock buried in your pussy.

In his head, your voice ruins him, ‘Say it, Rafe. Say you’re mine.’

He fists himself harder, rough strokes dragging over the fat head of his cock, hips jerking off the couch.

“Fuck,” he gasps, breathless as his orgasm hits, spilling all over his fist and stomach, groaning into the empty room. Ropes and ropes of cum, picturing it filling you up; your glossed hole creamy and wet, leaking onto his sheets.

He pictures the way your fingers reach between your thighs, showing it off like you’re proud, gathering him on your fingers before you take it between your lips, your pretty pink tongue swirling slow, sucking yourself clean, making his thoughts turn greedy as he thinks about ruining your mouth, the man not even close to coming down from his high, already dreaming about the next with you.

But the second it fades… the second he thinks those thoughts, he’s hard again. Still aching. Still desperate.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡ ˚

But you don’t stop either. Tears sting your eyes as you tow the toy back up to your clit, nipples dragging across the rough material of his hoodie.

You picture him slamming the bedroom door open, crossing the room in two furious strides. Tearing the toy out of your hands.

Your second orgasm crashes into you harder than the first—sharper and meaner, soaking the sheets, dripping down on the mattress.

You toss the toy beside you, chest heaving as your body shakes, chasing what only he can give you. You reach over, rolling to his side of the bed, grabbing his pillow you couldn’t bring yourself to wash.

You shift just enough to straddle it, thighs burning as you start to ride, eyes screwed shut as you picture Rafe below you.

You can see him so clearly—his hands on your hips, jaw clenched, blue eyes dark as he drinks you in. ‘Look at you, baby… So needy for me. So fuckin’ wet. I’ve got you. You don’t have to beg. I know exactly what you need. You’re mine. You know that, right? You were made to fuck me.’

You cry out, grinding harder as the pressure inside you builds fast. Your hips rock, frantic and filthy, your soaked pussy dragging against the pillow in tight, desperate rolls. You picture his hands gripping your ass, guiding you faster.

His head tipped back, breath ragged, smiling up at you like you’re his whole fuckin’ world. ‘You’re so beautiful when you cum for me. So fuckin’ perfect. That’s it, baby. Just like that.’

Your eyes squeeze shut, hands clawing the pillow, and your release finally hits. Tears spill hot down your cheeks—you don’t even try to hold them back.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡ ˚

Rafe slows down… That’s what you would do.

He lowers his pants down on his hips, laying down on the couch, gathering his cum on his hand for lube before starting again.

He bites down on his bottom lip, picturing you riding him slow; hips grinding, tits bouncing. ‘You’re dripping for me, baby. Look at you.’

It’s a full-body fantasy of you straddling his hips, eyes rolling back, mouth slick and swollen from kissing. He pictures your hands on his chest, nails scratching down, voice soft and breathless. ‘Fuck, Rafe… Feels so good, baby… You’re so deep.’

He pictures you tilting closer, taking in your sweet perfume, the warmth of your breathing hitting his lips as they brush against his and you whisper into his mouth, ‘—It’s like you were made for me…’

“Fuck,” he groans, head falling back.

‘You like watching me ride you, don’t you?’ Your smile is so ingrained in his mind—burned into his memory—your soft giggle and the sparkle in your eye making him groan with need. ‘I know you do, Rafe. Let me make you feel good, baby… Let me take care of you. I love taking care of you. I love you—’

And with those sweet thoughts, he’s gone.

‘Tell me you’re mine, Rafe. Say it so I can cum for you—’

“I’m yours,” he gasps—pathetic and hoarse. “All yours, sweetheart. Always.” He strokes faster, rougher, your voice wrapping around him like silk.

He chokes out your name as the orgasm crashes over him, cumming in thick, messy spurts, hips stuttering, body jerking under his own hand. Moaning deep into the quiet.

And without thinking, hands shaking, he grabs his phone…

Rafe: i miss you so bad it’s pathetic

Rafe: can’t even close my eyes without seeing you

He tosses the phone on the table, rubbing his hands over his eyes in annoyance, grumbling about his lack of self control.

Your phone buzzes on your night stand, making your stomach flutter. Your body clenches the second you see his name; heart melting when you see the words on his text you were dying to say yourself.

You snap a photo—messy hair, glowy skin, thighs bare, his sweatshirt bunched around your hips, hiding just enough, and send it.

Your Name: me too

He lets out a strangled, broken laugh and buries his face in the couch, smiling like a fucking idiot. Like he’s hopelessly in love… because he is. There’s no surviving you. There’s no getting over you. There’s only you.

His thumbs shake as he types:

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

@rafesthroatbaby | @blair-bears-blog | @iikximii | @akobx | @gri959 | @ch4rrykisses | @st8rkey | @laniirackssss | @barnesboo1967 | @justdamnpeachy | @dylsdaily | | @rafesheaven | @my-name-is-baby | @wtfisastiles | @skye-44 | @anothershorthuman | @vanessa-rafesgirl | @maybankslover | @frankoceanluvr11 | @rcameronlova1 | @lhhlver | @yourmomdotcom42069 | @kdoll-7 | @angelicameron | @imsiriuslyreal | @alphabetically-deranged | @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account | @hyperfixationgirl | @faephoria | @wtfdudesblog | @rafesdoll | @yasmin-oviedo | @lizzysmith110 | @ietss | @livie4lifestarkeyblyth | @lilithblackkk | @premiumshitt | @littlelamy | @prettybabyyyy | @star017 | @hannieskzzz | @biascriptum | @laylalovesbmth | @aris-void | @rafesbabygirlx

[ijustwannabecool]

Just Like Papa

Dad!Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary... Charles is the loudest dad at your son’s karting competition. You’re mostly amused, occasionally mortified, and completely in love. Flashbacks remind Charles just how far he's come—from a boy in a helmet too big for his head to the dad screaming strategies from the sidelines.

Warnings: excessive dad energy, mild heckling, emotional whiplash, and overwhelming love

A/N: I had way too much fun writing this! I hope this little story captures the chaotic, warm, soft, and competitive soul that Charles would bring into being a dad. There's something really full circle about imagining him getting heckled by umpires while coaching his mini-me and still getting emotional over podiums years later 😭❤️

If you loved this story and want to support more F1 fics and soft chaos like this, feel free to buy me a matcha🍵 or reblog/comment to share the love!

As always—happy reading, and have a beautiful day today 💌🏁

✩ ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ✩

You should’ve known.

The moment Charles insisted on being the one to pack the gear bag and label the water bottles with lap-time stickers “just for fun,” you should’ve known.

Now, standing at the edge of the mini paddock with a coffee in hand and your sunglasses doing little to hide the smirk tugging at your lips, you’re watching the father of your child have a full-blown meltdown over a karting strategy like he’s on the Ferrari pit wall.

“GO! GO, TAKE HIM ON THE OUTSIDE! INSIDE LINE—YES, THAT’S IT! MON CHAMPION!”

Your six-year-old is out there in a kart that’s almost the same size as him, helmet bobbing slightly with every bump in the track, while Charles is clenching the chain-link fence like it owes him money.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, watching as other parents flinch. “Charles.”

He doesn’t hear you. Too busy yelling across the track to no one in particular.

“That was a block! Did you see that? That was ILLEGAL. Does this league have stewards?!”

The umpire walks over, visibly exasperated. “Sir. This is your second warning. If you yell at another coach, I will have to ask you to leave.”

Charles blinks like a kicked puppy. “I was just—he’s six. I’m supporting him.”

You chime in, trying not to laugh. “He’s supporting him loudly. Very loudly.”

The umpire sighs and walks away. You tug Charles’s hoodie.

“You’re gonna get us banned from all regional karting events,” you say, amused.

“Good. They don’t deserve him.”

You snort into your coffee.

And then—like a scene from Charles’s own childhood—your son zips across the finish line.

Second place.

It’s like watching a firework explode. Charles jumps up, throws his arms in the air, and literally climbs halfway onto the fence before you grab his hoodie and yank him back down.

“Charles! He’s six. Get down.”

“He’s a prodigy, Y/N! A genius! That move in the last corner? He braked later than the other kid! That’s pure instinct. He gets that from—”

“—you, I know, I know,” you finish, grinning.

-----

Flashback – Monaco, 2004

A little boy in a red and black helmet sits in a worn kart, hands shaking, eyes peeking through the visor. Lorenzo leans over and tightens the strap on his neck guard.

“Papa says you’re ready.”

Charles swallows. “But what if I mess up?”

His brother kneels beside him. “Then you try again next time. But I think you’re gonna win.”

Charles doesn’t win that race. He finishes second.

And when he climbs out, sweaty and tired, he sees his papa waiting with a proud smile and watery eyes.

“Bravo, Charles. You were incredible.”

-----

Back to Now

Your son barrels toward you in the paddock, helmet tucked under one arm, grinning ear to ear.

“Maman! Papa! Did you see me? I almost caught him!”

You crouch to hug him, smoothing a hand over his sweaty curls. “You were amazing, baby.”

Charles swoops him up before you can even finish the sentence.

“Second place! Not bad for race number three, mon champion. We’ll go over the telemetry later and see where you can gain next time, okay?”

Your son blinks. “I just didn’t want to crash.”

You burst out laughing. Charles nods seriously.

“That’s good too.”

You walk back to the car as a unit—Charles carrying your son like a trophy, you trailing behind, already dreading the debrief session that’s about to happen in the living room with a mini whiteboard and color-coded lap charts.

“Oh—and I may or may not have emailed the umpire,” Charles says casually.

You groan. “Charles.”

“He accused me of being intimidating!”

“You heckled the other team’s coach.”

“He deserved it.”

Your son giggles. “Papa got in trouble again?”

Charles kisses the top of his head. “Always.”

-----

Flashback – 2019

Charles sits alone in the Ferrari motorhome, staring at his hands. Race day nerves.

He pulls out a folded photo from his wallet—him at six, in a too-big helmet, holding a tiny trophy. His father’s arm around his shoulders.

One day, he thinks. I’ll do this for someone else.

-----

Now

That night, Charles lays beside you in bed, watching your son’s karting trophy on the dresser.

“You think I was too much today?” he asks softly.

You smile and tuck yourself closer to his side. “Oh, absolutely. The umpire is one heckle away from a restraining order.”

He laughs, but his voice turns quieter. “I just… I see him out there, and I remember being that small. And wishing I had more time with Papa.”

You kiss his shoulder. “You’re doing everything right, Charles.”

“He’s just like me, isn’t he?”

You smile against his skin. “No, love. He’s better.”

Charles nods, emotion clinging to his lashes as he whispers, “That’s the point.”

-----

Leclerc Family Debrief

Time: 7:42 PM, That Same Evening Location: Living room, now also known as Papa’s Mini Strategy Center™

Your son sits cross-legged on the couch, a bowl of popcorn in his lap and a blanket draped over his shoulders like a cape. Charles is kneeling in front of the whiteboard he dragged out of storage (with your reluctant approval), uncapping a red marker with the flair of a Ferrari race engineer.

“Okay,” Charles says seriously, drawing a crude outline of the karting track. “Let’s review Turn Four.”

You lean against the doorframe, arms folded, watching the scene unfold like a live Netflix docuseries.

Your son squints at the board. “That’s where Luca passed me, right?”

Charles points the marker at him like he’s just been promoted to chief strategist. “Yes. He went wide. You followed him instead of defending. But that’s okay—we learn!”

He quickly draws two stick figures labeled YOU and LUCA with little helmets.

Your son munches popcorn. “So next time I go… tighter?”

“Tighter,” Charles confirms. “Cut the angle. Like this.” He demonstrates with exaggerated swooping motions. “Think of it like dancing. The inside line is your secret move.”

“Papa,” your son says, staring blankly, “I don’t know how to dance.”

You can’t help it—you laugh.

Charles groans dramatically, flopping onto the couch beside your son. “Maman will teach you. She’s got rhythm. I just have passion.”

“That’s one word for it,” you mutter, walking over to sit on the armrest, ruffling your son’s hair.

Charles reaches up and takes your hand, squeezing it as he softens. “You know, when I was your age, I was scared of corners too.”

Your son looks at him wide-eyed. “Really?”

Charles nods. “But then my papa told me something that helped. He said, ‘Don’t be afraid of the turn. That’s where you learn how fast you can go.’”

There’s a beat of silence. Your son slowly smiles.

“Okay,” he says, curling into Charles’s side. “Then next time I’ll go even faster.”

Charles kisses the top of his head. “That’s my boy.”

You lean into both of them, warmth spreading through your chest.

On the whiteboard, Charles has unknowingly drawn a little heart next to the word turn.

-----

Three Years Later – Junior Karting Nationals, Barcelona Circuit

You don’t know who’s shaking more—your son on the top step of the podium or Charles standing below it, visibly crying behind his sunglasses.

The moment the checkered flag waved and your son's name flashed on the leaderboard—P1. First. Place.—Charles gasped like he couldn’t breathe. He'd gone dead silent for once in his life, clutching your hand so tightly it hurt.

Now?

He’s standing front row at the podium ceremony, clapping so hard you’re sure he’ll dislocate a shoulder, tears running freely even though he’s pretending they aren’t.

Your son—now nine, with legs a little too long for his suit and confidence stitched into every movement—holds up his trophy with both hands. It’s not a small one this time. This one matters.

He scans the crowd until he finds Charles. Points straight at him.

“That’s for you, Papa!” he yells, no mic needed.

Charles’s hand flies to his chest.

You lean in and whisper, “Don’t you dare ugly cry on Spanish television.”

Too late. He sniffles, grinning wide.

“He’s so much better than I ever was,” he says, eyes never leaving the podium.

You smile. “You say that every time.”

“Because it’s true. He’s fast. Smart. Brave.”

“And dramatic. Definitely your son.”

Charles laughs wetly. “And mine to coach until F1 steals him.”

-----

Later, when the crowd dies down and medals have been handed out, your son runs to you, sweaty and beaming, throwing his arms around your waist.

You kiss his head. “You did it, baby.”

He looks up. “Did Papa cry again?”

You grin. “Like a waterfall.”

Charles walks over with the trophy in hand, crouching to meet his son eye-to-eye.

“First place, huh?”

“Just like you, Papa.”

Charles shakes his head, eyes glassy again. “No, no. You? You’re better.”

Your son tilts his head. “You always say that.”

Charles smiles. “And I always will.”

-----

That night, back at the hotel, the trophy sits on the nightstand between your son’s bed and Charles’s laptop—where he’s already analyzing lap times “for fun.”

Your son falls asleep holding a tiny Polaroid Charles slipped into his race bag earlier: it’s a photo of Charles at age nine, standing on his first karting podium, wearing a helmet too big for his head.

-

Scrawled on the back: Don’t be afraid of the turn. That’s where you learn how fast you can go. —Papa

And beside it, a newer note in messier handwriting:

I went faster today. Did you see me? —I did, mon champion. I always will.

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfiction #dad charles leclerc #f1 imagines #charles leclerc fluff #dad au #f1 x reader #karting au #charles leclerc one shot #soft charles leclerc #leclerc family chaos #fanfic recs #charles leclerc emotional #charles leclerc fanfiction #chaotic dad energy

[t1red-twilight]

the void

content/warnings: gn!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, ptsd, dissociation, self hatred

wc: 1.1k

masterlist r. r. masterlist

“bob?” you called out. the room you stepped into looked to be a repurposed attic of sorts. it seemed there were toys in the room, this was definitely a childhood memory of some kind.

the void had made you remember things you did not want to, things you had pushed down so deep you couldn’t recall the exact details. throughout it all, you could only think of one thing: where was bob? was he alright? what was happening in new york was definitely not him, that was for sure.

there he was, sitting with crossed legs fiddling with something in his hands. “bob?” you said, quieter this time. his eyes flicked over to you and then back to whatever was in his hands. when he didn’t say anything, you sat beside him. “is-is everything okay?”

he looked forward at the wall in front of him, a far-away look in his eyes. if you looked back down at his hands, you could see them shaking. you weren’t sure if physical contact would help him or not, so you kept your distance. “bob?” you repeated.

bob inhaled, and then you heard it. yelling was coming from beneath you. if you maneuvered yourself you could see between the floorboards, and there he was. a little boy, with the same watery eyes and distant expression as the man in front of you.

when you looked back up at him, you could see his lips moving just so. his lips matched with the shouts from below. “just wait a second,” bob mumbled. “it’ll be over in a second.” his eyelashes fluttered as he relived the moment.

bob’s eyes became glassy for a few moments, but he blinked a few times and then it was gone. he turned to look at you, but he didn’t say anything. you sat in silence, just waiting until the air felt a little less dense.

you looked him over, his shoulders were hunched over, his jaw tense. you tried to meet his gaze, but to no avail. he began to fiddle with his fingers. the more the silence prolonged, the more bob curled in on himself.

“bob?” you repeated once again. your voice was hushed, you were scared of alarming him or making the situation worse. you set your hand palm-up, on the top of your leg. you wiggled your fingers ever so slightly.

tentatively, bob set his hand in your own. his hands were shaking almost violently. you laced your fingers together with his, and squeezed his hand a little tighter. “you don’t have to feel bad,” he started, his voice wavering. “this is-it’s, uh-“ he stammered.

bob straightened his spine and a faux smile grew on his face, one that didn’t reach his eyes. that faraway look was still there, almost as if his consciousness had retreated back into his body.

you stroked your thumb against the back of his hand and squeezed it another time. the small point of contact grounded you in the moment; all you could focus on was him.

bob looked up at you, his brow pinched and bottom lip quivering. “i’m sorry, i-“ he gulped. “you don’t want to see this, i-“

you raised your other hand and placed it on his cheek, effectively cutting him off “hey,” you swiped at his cheekbone. “no, don’t apologize. i’m fine, you don’t have to worry about me.”

bob clenched his eyes shut as a tear crawled its way out of his eye. his teeth bit down in his bottom lip rather harshly and his breathing became ragged. your thumb wiped the tear away and you scooted closer to him. “cry, if you want. this is a no-judgement zone.” bob opened his eyes and a sob wracked through his body.

he leaned into your touch. his shoulders shook as he cried. in this moment you saw a side of him that you hadn’t seen much of previously; right now he just looked like a scared child who hadn’t been provided safety.

“do you want a hug?” you said quietly. “if you don’t, that’s fine too.” you attempted a comforting smile but you were unsure if that was the effect it was giving.

bob nodded against your palm. you moved your position as to make it more comfortable for yourself, and you let go of his hand and his face. the loss of contact wasn’t for long, because as soon as you were apart, he was diving back into you.

his head tucked into your shoulder and his arms encircled you as much as they could. he pulled himself closer to you, and you could feel his shoulders beginning to shake again.

one of your hands trailed up to his neck and ran though the hair there, and the other sat on his mid-back. you set your cheek against the top of his head. every couple of seconds he would cry a little harder and pull you a little closer, but you didn’t dare let go. you couldn’t find it in yourself to want to let go, even if you could.

“i thought that this would make me better, but it just made me worse.” his voice shook and broke as he spoke. “you should’ve left me behind. you should’ve just left, if i wasn’t here, then-“

you pulled away slightly, just so you could look at him. “what? no. why would we have ever left you? despite everything you think about, you still deserve a shot. that’s not you out there. why would you say that?” bob didn’t respond. your hand on his neck began carding through his hair again.

he opened his mouth to speak and closed it. his shoulders went up in a shrugging motion and he shook his head. “bob, you can’t deal with this on your own. you don’t have to if you don’t want to, i’m here if you want me to be.” bob had closed his eyes tightly again, his face screwing up in a painful expression.

“i hate remembering everything. i forget so much, but i never can seem to forget this. i can never forget the bad things.” he topped his head forward and one of his palms rubbed against his eye socket.

“and then it feels like you’re neck-deep in all the bad. like you’re drowning and don’t know how to swim,” you weren’t good at this, at comforting people. you just hoped that you didn’t sound condescending or anything like that. but, you did have some experience with what he was talking about. “brains have a funny way of reminding us about everything that sucks, huh?”

a small smile found its way to his lips. bob inhaled for a few seconds and exhaled for a few. when he opened his eyes, this time it looked like he was actually in front of you for the first time. “thank you for not leaving me,” he whispered hoarsely.

you nodded before you spoke. “of course. i don’t leave important people behind.”

[butyoudidthis4what]

Would You Believe Me If...

Jack Abbot x F!Reader

3.5k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CWs: mentions of alcohol; reference to sex; mental health issues; reader is not having a great time; reader doesn't like beer; depression; being sad for no articulable reason; self-hate; ass grab; kissing with tongue; little to no editing/proofreading; Jack being the BEST; hurt/comfort type situation (reader's brain is the hurt, Jack is the comfort)

Summary: Jack sees the sadness you're hiding from everyone and pulls you aside to talk and love on you.

AN: I was sent this ask and inspired to write whatever this is!!!! A short little fluffy comfort fic! I very much agree with that anon that Jack is very much an "On purpose. On purpose I am going to care about you" and "I never loved you on accident?" man. He would see all of you, good and bad, and still love you. I tried to give him that kind of vibe in You're Okay too and we see it here again (I hope, I don't really know what I'm doing anymore). I have absolutely zero fucking clue what the end is or where that came from but here we are friends. ALSO there is a very small Star Wars nod in here since I’m posting on May 4th! Thank you for reading!!

Jack’s eyes find you the second he hears you laugh. 

Quite literally a second because he’s always keeping an eye on you when you’re out together, not controlling or because he cares who you’re with. He just always wants to know where you are relative to him, just in case something happens and he needs to get to you. Military training, he supposes.

His eyes find you because he knows that laugh. It’s not your real laugh. It’s fake, the one you put on when you’re not super present and are hiding your sadness. To anyone else it’s very convincing, they don’t blink at it. 

He narrows his eyes a little to watch you better as you chat with McKay, Samira and Parker. Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and he can see your leg bouncing under the picnic table, can see the way you chew on the side of your cheek every so often. 

“You gonna pay attention to this conversation or just stare at your girl all day?” Robby asks Jack. Most of the crew is at a local park for a picnic celebrating Dana’s birthday.

“I’ve been paying attention and heard everything you said. Unlike you I can multitask.” Jack finally lets his eyes leave you as he turns to look back at Robby. Shen and Whitaker stifle laughs. Everyone knows it’s not true and just Jack giving Robby shit. You have to be able to multitask to be a good emergentologist, and Robby is one of the best, Jack’s told him that many times. 

“I agree though,” Jack nods at Robby. “The patient satisfaction scores are bullshit. They should automatically be a ten or whatever the highest thing on the fucking form is if they’re brough in via ambulance and survive.”

“People come in by ambulance for really stupid things that don’t really require us saving them,” Whitaker observes. 

“And people walk in with injuries they really should have come in an ambulance for,” Robby shrugs. “It would even itself out.” 

“Exactly,” Jack nods. He looks back over at you for a second and then stands up. “I’ll be back.”

“Sure you will,” Robby drawls, smirking. 

Jack ignores him as he starts walking over to you. “Hey,” he says to the group as he reaches you, sets his hands on your shoulders from behind and squeezes. You feel a little better already, just from being closer to him. The rest of the group continues chatting as he leans down to speak just to you. “Take a walk with me for a few minutes?”

You furrow your brows, tilt your head and look back a little to see him. “Um, sure. Is there a reason why? Are you sure? It seemed like you guys were having a good conversation.” You flick your head towards Robby, Shen and Whitaker. 

“I’m sure. And does there need to be a reason why I want to take a walk with my girl?” He turns his head a little more and places a soft kiss just below your ear. 

My girl. Even though you’ve been together for a while now it still makes you a little dizzy to hear. 

“No, I guess not.” You give him one of those fake smiles and he knows it’s not because you’re trying to fool him, not really, deep down you know better than to even try by this point, but because you’re in public. Have to keep up appearances. 

“Well I know not, so.” He leans back up and moves his hands from your shoulders. “I’m stealing her for a minute.” He nods at the group. It pulls some smirks but nobody says anything, they all just nod. As you get up Jack finishes off the little bit of cider left in the bottle you were nursing. 

Once you’re up Jack laces his hand with yours and leads you over to the park’s path, walks down it a ways with you in silence before pulling you off it. He walks with you on the grass until you come to a spot where the ground starts to slope down, the top of a little hill that provides a nice view of the sun setting over the city. You’re more than far away enough that nobody can hear or see you.

“What’s up?” You titter a little, clearly a bit nervous. 

Jack nods at the ground and you both sit, feet out in front of you, grass and soil dry from the heat of the day. “You were totally spaced out and not really there.” He eyes you carefully. “You’re back now, for the most part, but I wanted to see what’s up away from everyone.” 

You push your bottom lip out a little and shrug, shake your head. “I’m f-” Jack gives you a look. “I don’t even know why I bother trying,” you mutter. 

“Neither do I. But I get it. Wanting to hide it and not let me see because you know I don’t like seeing you upset. I feel the same.” He squeezes your leg gently and doesn’t press when you’re quiet for a bit as you think of what you want to say. 

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t know?” you murmur. You already know the answer but you’re using the question as an answer itself.

“Yeah.” Jack pauses and cocks his head at you, catches your eyes and holds your gaze as he speaks. “Would you believe me if I told you it was okay not to know?” He already knows the answer but he’s using the question to tell you it’s okay. 

You let out a breath through your nose and shake your head a little as you look away from him and out at the city, Jack doing the same. “I know it is. Rationally. But the irrational side of my brain doesn’t.”

You see Jack nod out of the corner of your eye. He gives you space to think, sits in the background buzz of the park with you, hand running up and down your thigh to ground you, remind you he’s here. 

“I’m just sad.” You shrug. You aren’t teary, don’t even have the urge to cry at the moment. It’s a hollow sadness. One that just vaguely aches and makes you tired. “There’s no reason for it. Just am.” 

“Would you believe me if I told you that’s okay too?” Again, he knows the answer but uses the question to make the point. 

“Is it though Jack?” You reply quickly. It surprises him, catches him off guard. 

He turns back to study your face, see if he can read what this is from your profile. He has a feeling he knows where this is going. 

“It doesn’t feel okay,” you continue. “Not even for me, but for you. It’s not fair to you. For me to just randomly be sad sometimes and unable to explain why. Because fuck Jack, I just want to sit here and be sad. I just want to sit here and be sad and maybe cry if I can get past whatever fucking emotional brick it is that’s stopping me from doing so. But what I don’t want is for you to have to sit here with me in it.” 

Jack lets your words hang in the air for a few seconds so that you know he’s really listening and taking them in, but not so long that it feels like he’s having to think of a response.

“It is okay. I promise you it is.” As much as he loves eye contact he knows it would be a little too much for you right now so he doesn’t push you to look at him or try to catch your gaze. “And it’s okay for us to just sit here. We can just sit in the sad. I hate seeing you be sad and struggle, yes. But sometimes you just need to sit here and feel it. And I want to be there next to you when you do. You don’t have to be okay and happy all of the time. You’re allowed to just sit here and be sad or whatever emotion you want to be. You don’t constantly have to be working towards being better when you get sad like this. We can stay here for a bit. I’m not going to let you or us unpack and move here, but we can visit sometimes. You can feel whatever it is you need to feel in front of me and with me. I want you to.”  

You let out a shaky breath. You know that what he’s saying is true. At least part of you does. But it’s so hard to accept. 

“And there are very few things in life that I have to do anymore, sweetheart.” He gives your leg a little squeeze before resuming running his hand up and down it. “You’re not holding me hostage or keeping me here against my will. I know I don’t have to sit here with you while you’re sad and don’t know why. I don’t feel like I have to. I choose to. I choose to sit next to you here in the sadness the way you do for me when I want to sit and be sad and not know why. I choose you.” 

“You should choose better.” It’s whispered. “You deserve better.” 

Jack starts shaking his head before you even finish the word better. 

“Yes, Jack, you do,” you say before he can get anything out. “Because you’ve been through so much already. You deserve to be with someone better. Someone easier to love who isn’t constantly putting you through shit like this. I know you love me, Jack, I promise. I never doubt that. But sometimes I don’t understand why you love me. Why you love me when I can be so fucking awful and all over the place and sad randomly for no reason. Do you see that Jack? Do you really see me? What you put yourself through by loving me?” 

Jack’s hand stills and squeezes your thigh again, longer this time, but still at the perfect pressure. He hurts, physically, his heart hurts seeing you like this, hearing your voice and knowing how much you mean what you’re saying. He hates it. He wishes he could take away your pain. But he can’t. All he can do is try to help and try to make you feel a little better and at the very least not let you be alone in it. 

He adjusts his position so that he’s turned toward you a bit more, the side of one of your legs and one of his pressed together. 

“Darling, the way you see and feel about yourself is not the way I see or feel about you. Just like the way I see myself and feel about myself is not the way you see or feel about me. We’re our own worst critics, as fucking cliché as that shit is. And I love you and mean this with all the love in the world, but you’re right. You can be awful at times. But the only person you’re ever awful to is yourself. Like you are right now.” You can feel tears start to form behind your eyes at that. Not because it’s mean and his words have hurt you. Because he’s right and you know it. 

He takes in a deep breath and looks out at the city for a moment before his gaze returns to you. “I don’t put myself through anything by loving you. I’m not burdened by loving you. And of course I see you, I always have,” he says with a heavy conviction. “You think I fell in love with you by accident? Or blindly? With my eyes closed?” 

You swallow thickly, can feel his eyes on you. “No.” Tears sting at your eyes now. “But still. You shouldn’t have to do this with me. I shouldn’t be work. But I am.”  

“Oh honey,” Jack breathes out softly. He takes a second and then shifts, sits a bit further up and grabs your legs, pulls them diagonal a bit and you a little closer so they can rest on top of his and you can look at each other better.   

“I need you to listen to me, yeah? Really listen.” Jack holds your face with his hands, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones for a second while he looks you in the eyes. “Loving you is not the chore that your past has made you think it is.” He squeezes your face a little. “It’s not a chore at all. It’s a fucking privilege.” 

That gets a few tears to slide down your face and Jack’s thumbs are quick to wipe them away.

“And I know you can’t see that, and that you might never be able to see that. But it’s okay, because I do. And I will tell you it over and over and over and over until you understand why Robby tells me nicely to shut the fuck up sometimes.” He gives you the smallest knowing smirk.

You laugh at that, and it’s watery, and through your tears, but it’s real. You love the way he does that. Knows when to instill just enough lightness into this serious of a conversation to keep you grounded and from getting completely overwhelmed, but also knows when it’s not appropriate in a serious conversation. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper through some tears and shrug at him. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Jack whispers back. He leans in and kisses your forehead, lets his lips linger there before pulling them away and resting his forehead against yours.

“You have to repeat this speech a lot.”

“I know.” He says it so matter of fact as he pulls his forehead from yours to look at you better. His hands leave your face and take yours in his, fingers tangling together.

“It makes me feel really bad. Like it’s going to push you away. Or like you’re going to think I don’t trust you or your love or-”

“I don’t think that, nor will I. I understand, baby. I really do. Because I feel the same way sometimes. I don’t care that you need reassurance at times. It doesn’t make me feel like you’re questioning me, or my love, or our love. It doesn’t make me feel like I’m the problem or somehow doing something wrong or not doing enough or anything else. It makes me feel like sometimes your brain’s chemicals get a little fucked up. And you know what? So do mine. I think we’ve had this conversation at least a time or two with the roles reversed. I think you have to repeat a version of the speech I’m giving you right now a lot. And do you care?”

You shake your head gently. “No. I would give you it every day if you needed me to.” 

“Guess what?” he whispers.

“So would you?” You give him a little pout and big doe eyes that show how much you love him and it’s so adorable he has to smile a little.

“Yeah. So would I.”  

He leans back in but this time he gives you a kiss on the lips, lingers just long enough before he breaks it and nuzzles his nose against yours. You keep your eyes closed as he pulls away, a little smile on your face. You open your eyes just in time to see the nearly beaming smile it pulls from Jack. 

The two of you sit there for a few more minutes before you finally turn to look at him. “We should go back.” 

“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows at you. “We can stay longer.” 

You shake your head. “No, I’m ready.” Jack nods, gently moves your legs off his and stands up before holding both hands out to help you up. 

Instead of taking your hand and starting to walk back though he slips his arms around you, slides his hands in your back pockets and pulls you right up against him by your ass. He raises his eyebrows and smirks a little, a slight bobble of his head when it makes you gasp in surprise. 

His hands leave your pockets and slide up so that they’re wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him. You rest your hands on his chest, look up at him knowing he wants your eye contact. Jack smiles when you give it to him. 

“I see you. I see all of you. Even the parts you don’t want me to see. The parts you’ll never show anyone else. And I did before I fell in love with you. And I still chose to jump head fucking first into being in love with you and even right now, sitting here in the sad with you, I’d make the same choice without a second thought.” One of his hands comes to hold your jaw, thumb on one side of your chin, his other four fingers on the other side, index finger right in front of your ear and the other three just below your ear and on your neck. “I choose you. All of you. Not just the you that you like and think is good enough. I choose all of you because I love all of you and I know that all of you is more than good enough. I choose you and I will always choose you and I know I’m lucky to get to make that choice. I love you.”

Jack kisses you then, hand tightening just a little to hold you still for him. They’re chaste at first but turn deeper, his tongue running over one of your lips, a silent question. You let your hands run up his chest and over his shoulders before sliding your fingers into his hair, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck and open your mouth for him in silent answer, just enough for him to slip his tongue in and taste you, let you taste him. The taste of you pulls a groan from deep in Jack’s chest and you shiver. You only pull back when you’re desperate for air and Jack chases your lips with his. It makes you giggle.

You can feel him smile against your lips as he rests his forehead against yours again.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “And I choose you too. I love you.”

“I know.” You feel him smile a little wider against your lips before he gives you another kiss. 

You bite your lip as he pulls away, let your eyes open back up slowly to his grin. Jack grabs your hand and leads you back towards the path.

It hits you a few steps in. “You taste like cider.”

“Yeah,” Jack nods.

“You don’t like cider. You don’t drink it.”

“Yeah,” Jack shrugs slightly. “But I was drinking beer and you hate the taste of beer. And I knew I was going to kiss you like that so when you got up from the table I finished off your cider so you wouldn’t taste the beer on me.”

You beam up at him and he just smiles, can feel your happiness. He knows it hasn’t made it all better, that you might still be sad overall, that it might linger for a while.

You walk in a comfortable silence for a minute until you break it. 

“They’re going to think we fucked, probably.” You smirk a little at Jack. 

“You wanna play into it?” He’s so unfazed and stoic about it. So Jack. “I can go grab some little twigs to put in your hair, a leaf, some grass.” 

You burst out laughing. Properly. Fully. Real.

“Twigs?!” For some reason him saying the word twigs is hysterical to you. 

“There’s my favorite sound,” Jack laughs with you. “Well, one of them, anyway.” 

“Oh?” You glance up at him as your laughter trails off. 

“You would have been making another one of my favorite sounds if we had in fact fucked,” he says nonchalantly, swinging your hands a little.

“Oh,” you breathe. You can feel the smirk radiating off him. “Do you have more favorite sounds?”

“Course.” You see him nod out of the corner of your eye. “You saying my name. You saying you love me.” He squeezes your hand. “And the sound of your heartbeat when I rest my head on your chest.” 

You bite your lip at that. It’s so sweet it almost makes your heart ache. “Awwwww!” You squeeze his hand and lean into him. “You’re such a romantic, pookie.” 

“Ha!” The pet name catches him by surprise. “No.” Jack shakes his head at it, but his smile gives him away.

“Pookie is cute!”

“Do you understand the actual level of shit I would get from Robby if he ever heard you call me pookie? I’d have to get a new best friend and a new job.” You giggle at him. “You’re laughing but I’m serious.” 

“I’ll go into work with you one day this week and conspire with Myrna to come up with an even better nickname than fruitcake for Robby if you’ll let me call you pookie sometimes.”

Jack stops walking and looks down at you, pretends to eye you up for a second before giving you a little smirk. “Come up with something really good that’ll drive him up a wall and I’ll consider it.”  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm so sorry but the thought of hearing him say twig just sent me at the time I wrote this. I have no idea why. Anyway, I hope this was okay and you enjoyed and thank you so much for reading!!

You can find my Masterlist here for more Jack! Requests are closed while I catch up, but apparently if you just send in an ask with your thoughts about Jack I may be inspired and write something! I love chatting with you guys and likes/reblogs/replies are super appreciated and motivating!

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[myfictionaldreams]

Hey, I was wondering if you are still going to write for Natasha Romanoff x reader. If you are, imagine something where the avengers don’t know that they are together, until one of them (maybe Tony because he talks too much) sees reader with hickies and messy hair early in the morning after an intense night 🤭. And then maybe Natasha would be wondering why she’s taking so long away and comes in after. 🤭🤭🤭🤭

⁀➷ Classified // Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Summary: A quiet night at Avengers Tower turns into something much more intimate when secrets begin to unravel—and nothing stays hidden forever.

Requested by: I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to write! I've actually had this drafted for months and months, but I'm so glad to finally get around to finalising it.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, soft dom!Nat, sub!reader, doctor reader, secret relationship, marking (hickeys), hair pulling, minor injuries, fingering, oral, praise kink, protective nat, power play

Words: 2.4k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Restocking the medical supplies was usually a monotonous task that dragged endlessly. Today, however, you completed the task with the precision of someone trying not to think about worst-case scenarios.

Gauze, antiseptics, sutures—each item slid into place like it could stop your hands from shaking. The mission was supposed to be routine—in and out. But they were late. No one had heard a word from the jet in hours. 

While wiping down the already sterile and clean surface for the tenth time in the last two hours, you tried to avoid your colleagues’ quizzical looks, but your phone buzzed.

Heart thudding painfully in your chest, you snatched it up.

Natasha. Thank fuck.

You answers, relief flooding your chest. “Romanoff.”

“Mm”, came her voice, low and sultry. “I love it when you call me that. Makes me feel like a bad girl.”

Turning your back on the other doctors and nurses in the room, you tried to act casual, ignoring her remarks that had already caused heat to creep up your neck at her teasing. “How can I help you, Miss Romanoff? Are you in need of some medical assistance?”

Natasha laughs lightly down the phone at your professional response. “I need you to come to my room and check on me. My face has been missing its home between your legs.”

Her words caused an immediate reaction between your legs, your core tightening with arousal. Coughing to release some pent-up frustration, you tried to casually answer, “Your left knee? It hurts? Can you come to the hospital level, or do you need me to come to you?”

“You can come alright. I’m in my room. Alone.”

“I’ll be there shortly with my medical supplies.”

“That’s my girl.” The line went dead.

Pocketing your phone while turning to your colleagues, you tried to explain that you needed to attend to Black Widow’s knee. Slinging a medical bag over your shoulder, you tried to walk and not run like you wanted to out of the medical bay and into the elevator.

When stepping onto Avengers’ personal floor, you could see no other individual. Tentatively, you knocked once on her door before entering.

The room was dimly lit, and soft orange light from the setting sun cast through the ceiling-to-floor windows. Natasha, beautiful as ever, stood near her bed in just a sports bra and leggings. Her red hair was still damp from a quick shower, and the room was sweet from the scent of her body wash.

Those fierce green eyes clash with yours as you close the door.

“Shirt off”, she commands, her tone light but firm.

Blinking in response, you remark whilst dropping the bag onto the floor. “I thought I was here to check on you, baby.”

Natasha gives you her signature smirk. “You are. But I’ve missed you. And you’re wearing too many clothes for that, even though I love seeing you in those scrubs.”

Still, you stepped toward her first, fingertips brushing against her bare stomach that tensed at the action as you stared at the discoloured bruise along her left side. All excitement had quickly manifested into worry.

“How’d you do this?”

“Threw a guy over a railing. He didn’t go quietly. You know how it is.”

You sigh, pressing your palm gently over the bruised skin, checking how significant the bruising is. The lack of reaction from Nat was reassuring; you knew that her pain tolerance was higher than most of the US population.

“You need to rest. Ice. Maybe you shouldn’t be on your feet.”

She leans in, her voice a purr against your ear. “Then you’ll just have to keep me in bed, won’t you, Doc?”

There was barely any time to react before she was kissing you- hard and hot, like she’d been waiting days, weeks, too long. Her hands tangled in your hair, guiding your mouth open so she could taste you deeper. She tasted sweet, like cherries and gum.

Nat walked you backwards until your knees hit the bed. Collapsing onto the mattress, she’s quick to follow, straddling your hips with a predator’s grace.

It took entirely too long – seconds – for your shirt to be removed, but her lips are all over the moment it’s removed. From your neck, biting and licking, to your stomach, kissing and caressing with her tongue like she wanted to taste your entire body.

“You taste like antiseptic”, she murmurs against your skin, her admission not stopping her actions at all as she gently nipples on your collarbone, her fingers massaging your breasts through your bra. “And anxiety, did you miss me, hm?”

Tugging her closer, your nails dig into the flesh of her hips, “And you smell like trouble, baby.”

“Mmhm,” she hums in agreement, “but you love trouble, don’t you, Sugar?”

Her lips are on yours again with renewed hunger, but slower, like she savoured everything you had to offer. Your hands move to cup her arse, pulling her hips closer until you’re both grinding together.

“Let me take care of you for once.”

Natasha arched a brow. “You think I need taking care of?”

Flipping the two of you with surprising ease - meaning Natasha allowed you to do so - you hover over the assassin, taking a moment to admire the redness of her hair, mixing with the orange streaks of sun beaming through the window.

“You’re so fucking beautiful”, you breathe the words out as your fingers bring down the waistband of her leggings and underwear as she removes her own bra, leaving her completely naked beneath you.

While mindful of her bruised side, you eased her to the edge of the bed. Sinking to your knees, Natasha’s eyes darkened as she bit her lips, thighs spreading as you ease each leg over your shoulder.

“You’re going to ruin me, aren’t you?” she asks as she idly plays with her own nipples until they’re taunt, rosy and peaked.

You didn’t answer. Just pressed your lips to her inner thigh, slowly kissing your way upward. Her fingers laced through your hair, but her grip faltered when your mouth finally reached her. Tongue lickign up the length of her hairless pussy, adding pressure to slip betweens her softness to feel the firm, throbbing clit that drew out a choked sound from the back of her throat.

“Fuck,” she goans, her eyes closing and head tipping back.

You work her slowly. Needing to memorise her taste, the sounds she makes, the way her body moves from her hips, trying to dictate your movements by a subtle role, to the way her strong thighs nearly suffocate you between them. 

“Don’t stop,” she rasps, the hand in her hair tightening to the point of pain. “God, baby, just like that.” 

You were never going to stop, even if you couldn’t breath as your lips sealed around her clit. Two fingers slipped inside, curling in time with your pulsing mouth, the other hand pressing lightly above her pubic bone, attempting to keep her hips on the bed so you can have some form of control.

You watch, memsorised as her cunt begins to pulse around your fingers. Back arching, thighs unbelievably tight around your face, a moan so breathtaking that you’re sure your own arousal is now staining your scrubs with how turned on you were. She was utterly fucking beautiful.

Ever the dom, Natasha’s orgasm hadn’t even subsided fully before she’s pulling your body back onto the bed, swapping your positions so you’re lying against the sheets.

“That was dangerous,” she teases against your mouth, nipping your lower lip between her teeth until it snaps back to place. Now, I’m going to have to remind you who’s really in charge.”

Her slender fingers skim beneath your waistband, teasing and lingering.

“Say it”, she says against your throat. “Say you missed me.”

“I missed you.” Your voice quivers as her fingers finally dip lower, brushing beneath your underwear, touching exactly where you want her most.

She was always like this, dominant and teasing, but you’re always rewarded.

“That’s my girl, always so wet for me”, she compliments before sucking on the skin to the point of pain beneath your ear. You grunt at the mix of discomfort and pleasure as her fingers idly stroke over your soaked pussy.

There was no rushing Natasha, not when she’d been kept from you for so long. A small part of you worried that the other doctors and nurses would wonder where you’d disappeared, too, but all rational thoughts escaped you as she spread your labia, pressing her finger directly there.

One finger, became two, slipping inside as you gasped and arched into her, rolling your hips until her palm is pressing against your clit. With slow, deep curls, Natasha's fingers have your thighs trembling and breathy moans becoming desperate in no time at all.

All the while, she keeps her forehead pressed against yours, eyes locked on your face, studying every moan, every flutter of your lashes.

“God, look at you,” she whispers, voice rough. “Fall apart for me. Are you going to cum on my fingers, Sugar?”

You nod your head, whimpering as she applies more pressure to your clit. Bucking up and grabbing her shoulders. “Please - Natasha-!”

“I’ve got you”, she promises, lowering her face now until she’s biting your nipples through your bra in a sharp sting of pain.

You came with with a startled cry, your cunt pulsing around her fingers, sucking her in deeper, like your body never wanted to give up. She keeps the pressure, continues to curl her fingers as your orgasm draws on and on until you’re a pile of numbness, still half dressed from work.

Nat withdraws her fingers with slow movements, leaving you twitching in the sensitive area. Watching her movements, you groan deeply as she sucks her wet fingers into her mouth, tasting your juices with a pornographic moan, her eyes clossing as she savoures the taste.

She curls around you protectively, damp fingers brushing against your cheeks whilst kissing your temple, then your shoulder. Lazily dragging her lips down your neck, sucking another deepy hickey against your skin. 

Groaning whilst half-laughing, “You’re marking me on purpose”.

She smiles against your skin. “Obviously. You’re mine.”

~~~~~~~~

Later, you were lounging on one of the couches at the tower’s low-key celebration, which was never really low-key when it came to Tony Stark. Thankfully, you owned a turtlenecked dress that was soft and comfortable on your sensitive, heavily marked skin.

Something Natasha noticed as she caught you in a dark crevice, easing away your neckline to admire her artwork with a bite of her full lips. That wasn’t all, though. Usually, at public events, the two of you would stay on opposite sides of the room, but tonight, Nat couldn’t help herself.

Frequently, she would walk back, her warm hand brushing the small of your back, her eyes watching your every sip, every shift in your chair; your secret girlfriend missed nothing.

Since then, the party has dwindled to only a handful of individuals, who are, for the most part, members of the Avengers or close friends.

“You know,” the billionaire loudly declared while holding up his glass of scotch. I know I’m a genius, and you guys never really appreciate it, but I’ve just cracked a code, and I need to share.”

Not thinking anything of it, you continued to idly sip from your drink, eyes flicking to the red-haired woman sitting across from you in the circle of couches.

“I know who’s been sneaking around like hormone-crazed teenagers.” Tony grins widely. You stiffen, eyes once more flicking to Natasha, who remains nonchalant. Her reaction has you calming. Of course, he wouldn’t know about you and Natasha. She’s an assassin; she could keep secrets, hide in plain sight, and, of course, your relationship was still hidden.

However, as your eyes moved back to the billionaire staring only at you, you knew nothing good would come from his next words. “Our very own medbay angel and Miss Romanoff. Caught the Doc here leaving her bedroom with messy hair and a constellation of hickets. Pretty classic evidence, honestly.”

A beat of silence followed. Every head turned to look at you. At Natasha. At the space between you.

All you can do is freeze. Not blinking. Not breathing. They knew. They all knew. The attention made your skin feel too tight, like your heartbeat had jumped outside your body.

It wasn’t just embarrassment—it was vulnerability. The intimacy you’d guarded for so long was exposed. It was no longer a private, secret thing. It was no longer yours and Natasha's alone.

Finally, dragging a deep breath in, the urge to flee the room came over you, but an enraged redhead stepped into your path. Her arms rested comfortingly on your upper arms, thumbs stroking in slow circles. The energy rolling off of her was unmistakable. She was protective, sharp, and unapologetic.

“That’s enough”, she said evenly, tone calm but laced with authority. “We kept it private for a reason, Tony.”

The man blinked, taken aback by the reaction from the room. “Hey, it’s not a bad thing-”

“She’s not a punchline,” Natasha continues to defend you. “And this isn’t gossip. I don’t want the whole world, including our enemies, Stark, knowing what she means to me. Understand?”

You felt her hand slip behind you, curling gently around your wrist, anchoring. But the tremble of anger was evidently there.

“Nat,” you whisper, stepping closer to her side as your heart hammered.

Turning away from her friends and colleagues, her features soften, eyes tracking every emotion written across your face. “You okay?”

You nod, even if you weren’t entirely sure.

She leans in, her breath tickling your eye. “You’re mine. And I’m not letting anyone make you feel small about it. Not even Stark,”

There was another beat of silence until Clint, of all people, groaned and toasted an empty beer bottle at Tony’s head. “It took you this long to figure that out? I’ve had fifty bucks on them for months.”

“Same,” said Sam, raising his hand.

Steve snorted, “I told you she wasn’t just icing her injury in the medbay.”

Tony looked around, betrayed. “You all knew?”

Bucky shrugged. “It wasn’t that subtle.”

Laughter filled your ears from those surrounding you. Natasha’s grip on your wrist eased, but her hand kept you close. Exhaling shakily, you watched the group ease back into their jokes and drinks, the weight slowly lifting from your chest.

When you glanced back at Natasha, she was already looking at you. She pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek. “Not a secret anymore. Now there’s no hiding that you’re mine.”

And somehow, that made it all ok.

[hananan2]

Hello! Can I request for pinky promise fluff with Diasomnia for F reader? For example, reader (Yuu) who said something like “I want to visit xxx” and the boys are like “Okay, I will take you there someday.” Then the reader lifts her pinky “pinky promise?” While staring with hopeful and cutesy stare.

Let’s just say there are no pinky promise culture in twisted wonderland so they did not know what to do, but the boys are already down bad for her already so they thought she is horrifyingly cute while explaining it to them. Thanks! ❤️❤️

YES OMG CUTE!! But omg I can not imagine a world without pinky promises they live in hell🥀 Hope you enjoy!!💕

Pinky Promise…?

A/N: BACK FROM THE DEAD! I’ll die again though, I have testing this full week 💔 thank you for staying with me, I’ll still post, just infrequently, love you guys sm and thank you for the support 💕

Summary: You were rambling with your special boy about something and a promise is made, to which you stick out your pinky finger to his face…but he’s confused, uh how do you explain this?

Characters: Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver Vanrouge and Sebek Zigvolt!

Info: Fluff, Romantic (crushes), Fem!reader, silly

CW: Gang signs??? (It was a mistake💔)

Malleus Draconia

Tonight was so majestic. The sky was space black and you could almost see the the stars, their brightness glimmering against a small pond with flowers engraved in, and the best thing, A tall Malleus by you side.

You nightly walks had lead to walking somewhere a bit farther, but it was okay since it was pretty as hell, “It’s so gorgeous out here, wow… I just think this is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” You remarked with awe sparked eyes, Malleus on your side looked at you with fondness, “I do agree that this is quite a exquisite landscape, though there is a plenty variety of more enticing views, many of which I have seen in Briar Valley that would perhaps grown fond of as well.” He stated softly, he noticed your eyes sparkling by just seeing this place and he wonders if they would grow bigger and shiner if you saw what he’s seen.

“Ooo Briar valley does look really pretty! I’ve seen my photos and it looks so mythical and magical, it would be really nice to see it in person!” You said with a cheery tint. This felt like a memory of a really old pretty place and it was making you happy, pretty places are really great, but their Better with Malleus here.

Malleus chuckled a little seeing your excitement, he put his hand on his chin and his eyes looked over to look at you as you both stepped on the slightly rocky path, “Then I shall bring you soon, it is even more breathtaking in reality.” He smiled, you smiled. “Really!? Promise?” You exclaimed gleefully, “Oh yes indeed.” He stated, eyes full of love, but they soon fluttered into confusion as you pulled out your pinky finger to his.

He had no idea what to do and stopped walking, you both kinda stared at eachother, no one dare breaking the eye contact, till you felt his hand grab your pinky and hand shake it?? “Oh yes Child of Man, I agree.” He does NOT know what he is agreeing to. “Is this how you humans agree upon something? I can’t I’ve seen Silver do such things…” Malleus trailed off, still shook your pinky.

”Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know you didn’t have these here… yea it’s a “human” thing, uhm it’s a bit of childish to explain.” You murmured, looking away, you pinky started to get warm. Oh my gosh you’re a baby.

Haha cute. “It’s alright Child of Man, I’d like to know about the human culture, so I think starting off from infantry traditions would be quite helpful.” He said, finally let go of your pinky, but he liked holding it, very warm and small, he wondered what your whole hand would feel like.

”Okay so whenever we make a promise, we intertwine our pinky fingers together and say “pinky promise” to make the promise more meaningful and as a way to assure that it won’t be broken, that’s it honestly.” You informed, you enjoyed explaining it though, you felt smart for once and you were happy he was interested.

You soon felt a warm around your pinky again, but it wasn’t a whole hand this time, just a pinky, intertwining.

“I Pinky promise Child of Man I shall take you to Briar Valley one day.” He said we fondness, he liked this tradition, he felt more connected to you, more like a kid, blending into a personality he didn’t know he had.

“Okay!” You smiled, holding his entire hand, both your cheeks dusted rose. Diasomnia better get ready for pinkies in their face all the time because you’ve sparkled a habit in him now.

Lilia Vanrouge

Here you guys were, going through boxes among boxes, gosh did it never end? Lilia had been trying to find a “secret” item from his past for some reason, but he had hid it away in the boxes of his closet that he brought to NRC. You were there too because of course you were, but also because you were trying to coax the secret out of him

“Liliaa tell me geez, it’s just the past, it can’t be that bad” you groan as you help take out each hefty box, not being allowed to open them to your dismay

“Oh you don’t even know an inch of my past…” he chuckled, annoying, but at least he was going through pain too while trying to find this object, his room a mess, looking like an Amazon warehouse, oh they don’t have these here do they?

“Ughhh” you hiss, grabbing his shoulder, shaking him, “Listen, I pinky promise I won’t tell anyone or get mad, I just don’t like you treating me like a kid and I want to know what your hiding or I’ll assume something realllyyyyy bad!” You stuck out your pinky, hoping for it to latch with his.

“Sigh alright alright… so- what are you doing?” His face was colored with an expression of bewilderment once looking at your pinky. “Wow I didn’t know you hated me so much…” he sighs dramatically, suddenly crossing a hand over his heart and slumping over.

“What? Huh?” You call out, your response getting made with fake cries, “it’s a pinky promise! You never heard of it? Also how is that offensive??” You NEED to know, you actually feel kinda bad.

His false misery ends with him laughing up a storm and you look at him, not impressed. “Okay, okay sorry,” he patted your cheeks while he chuckled one last time, “back in my day, Fae used this sign with their pinkies to call someone a…is alt dumb idiotic fool and a bastard, very offensive, some died from using it to the wrong people!” He explained ominously, looking mischievous.

Well you looked horrified. “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry!! Don’t kill me or anything!! We use pinky promise to make a really secure promise…honestly it’s a really childish thing to do u had no idea it could ever mean THAT.” You apologized rapidly, he giggled. His pinky latching on yours.

“Oh don’t be an overthinker, if was an honest mistake, besides, Fae need to be inclusive to other cultures! Just wouldn’t recommend doing that in Briar Valley…” he trialed off as he shook your pinky with his, enjoying your silliness and tradition, it was nice for soothing for hurtful and bad to be transformed into something positive, and it’s always you who does it huh? Blessing.

“Yes yes of course…but tell me!” You insist, he gives up.

“Okay… I’m looking for A record of one of my most cherished songs…” he admits defeated.“Um. Is it illegal or something? I don’t get why you’re acting like you’ll get a felony if anyone knows about it…” you admit, underwhelmed., pinkies still interlocked.

“Because it’s a cult Classic and I will not let anyone take this master peice of a song away from me! Oh! Here it is, it was sealed off by magic. I’ll give you a listen since I trust you so very much, you should be glad.”

You give him the pinky again, but not for a promise.

“Hey!”

Lets just say, there will be many misunderstandings from now on, but he loves you, it’s okay.

Silver Vanrouge

When your in Twisted Wonderland, you can’t help being curious about everything, today curiosity? Flowers.

So you set off to a small trip to Botanical Garden with your very limited free time, no plan, no directions, just a dream and hope to find something out.

As you steps through all the lush, you suddenly find a flower, oh wait no, it’s just Silver, sleeping peacefully like he belonged in the grass, usually you wouldn’t wake him up, but it was late sooo. “Mm Silver?” You poke his cheek while crouching to his level

“Hm…? Hm! Oh Y/N it’s you, my apologies you’ve found me in this state…” his cheeks tinted as he got caught lacking by you, but was it because of that or something else?

“Your fine, i don’t mind! Just concerned since its getting late, so why are you in here?” You assure, he fixes his posture and looks at you with intent, cheeks pink still.

“Ah, as you know I’ve been trying to find a remedy for my sleeping issues. Recently father had found a book from his ancient archive on strong herbs and flowers that are very effective for potions, so I came here to see if I could locate the items to help my cause, no luck.” He explained slowly, wanting you to understand fully and sound more proper. Whenever he talked to you, he couldn’t help but wanting to talk a bit faster, he needs to stop that.

Flowers? “Oh flowers? I’ve been interested in that topic the whole day and I really wanted to learn more about it! I’m so happy someone’s on the same page as me, that’s so cool!” He loved the way you glimmered when you expressed strong emotions.

He smiled fondly, “I could ask father for you to borrow the book for a bit, if course you’d have to take exceptional care if it and agree to his terms and conditions, but it’s possible.” He stated softly, patting the patch of grass next to him for you to sit closer, you did with joy.

“Really? Thank you, you’re amazing! I will! Pinky promise?” You pointed you finger to him, so now his softness was replaced with something you didn’t see often, a confused Silver.

“Oh uhm…sorry I don’t know if my father has any books about pinky promises, I’ve never heard of that before…” he stared at your finger not knowing what to do, you put your hand down and giggled.

“Oh I didn’t know they didn’t have those here… kinda depressing…sorry! Basically it’s a tradition from my world where when we want to make a strong promise, we use our pinky and interlock them to make it final!” You explained calmly, his calmness rubbing off on you. Silly Billy you are.

“Oh alright, That makes sense, thank you, yes here.” He raises his hand sticks out his pinky, “go ahead, my lady.” Hello mutters serenely as he died from being flustered.

You interlocked pinkies, the touch so small, yet making his whole body pink, and then you felt his body weight on you, silly fell asleep mid promise.

You sit there quietly, enjoying the weight and silence, his silver hair rubbing against your shoulder, pinkies remaining locked.

Since that day you’ve been receiving flowers from little critters more frequently than ever, each carrying a note talking about the flowers significance. And also since that day, he always uses pinky promises because he adores holding that part of you in him. Oh he loves your glimmer.

Sebek Zigvolt

“Okay im going to make a deal with you so good you can’t deny!” You declare loudly to Sebek to match his energy. Set the scene, Sebek and you. sitting in his dorm, thighs slightly touching yes this is important because it’s making you both red! Both of you are doing a collage-poster- board study of some of the best magic wielders in Twisted wonderland, we all know who Sebek chose, but sadly for him, he didn’t know how to use a printer. “Such thing is not possible human since my self control is at its highest and is strengthening everyday!” He responds offendedly to your previous comment, looking at you, because he is mad of course and not because of that pretty face trust.

“I’ll get you VERY high quality and amazing pictures of Malleus…and a secret about him as well…” whisper ominously “If you stop screaming in my ear and treat me like the Queen I am for the time being!” How mischievous.

He is in between unimpressed and impressed. “I can’t know just things about my liege…he should tell me himself…” he curled up into a ball and kid his face, murmuring to himself like the demons in his head ate taking over. (It’s just him himself)

You pat his shoulder to calm him a little, “your not going to get castrated breathe…” you whisper calmly, “what?! No! Ugh, alright! I agree!” He admits. Face red, making sure you don’t see it, but fortunately for your amusement, his ears give it away.

Great! Now you just gotta seal it with a pinky promise! C’mon!” You poke his face with your pinky, waiting for his with a goofy smile. “Stop…” he mumbled, picking his head up. “What is the meaning of this.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Pinky Promise! I pinky promise I’ll tell you an epic Malleus secret if you behave!” You proudly restate, his mind is shambles at trying to figure this out.

“Is this one of your silly human traditions?” He stares at you with his arms crossed, not looking forward to this.

“Oh my gosh! You don’t know what a pinky promise is? Okay okay so!” You yap about all the meaning and significance of pinky promises with joy radiating from you,. And surprisely, there are no interruptions and only head nods and “hms.” Your joy soothes his hatred for humans, he can’t help go a little soft when he sees you explain something so happily, it reminds him of himself when he discusses Malleus, who is he to interrupt?

“I see I see…I’m not sure if I am willing of doing such silly human traditions but…” Holy mother of Malleus Draconia he can’t help not deny you, his pinky latches to your, squeezing it tight, face facing downwards again due to his face being even brighter, his ears are still a loss cause as they’re tinted red, you don’t ever plan on telling him. You just laugh, you could say he loved tomfoolery.

“Now before you share everything with me, I shall get you some water.” He states clearly in a gentle and quiet manner, when he pinky promises he means it.

Little do you know, everyone shall hear about the tradition of pinky promises now because your he feels the need to share your joy.

[moondustbaby]

Everything He Needs

ceo!Rafe x gf!Reader

a/n: based on this request! 💌

Summary: Rafe’s ex resurfaces after four years, hoping to reconnect with the son she left behind—but Mason only knows one mom now, and it’s you, who’s been there every single day since. With protective Rafe by her side, You stand your ground in a moment that proves this little family isn’t going anywhere.

⸻

Rafe didn’t usually forget about meetings. Especially not the kind that had him pulling Mason out of preschool early and racing through town with his tie half-undone. But when he saw the name on the appointment email — Savannah Harding — his stomach dropped straight through the floor.

He didn’t tell you until the next morning. Not because he wanted to keep it from you, but because he didn’t know how to say my ex who signed away custody of our son wants to see him again. That kind of sentence doesn’t come easy.

“Are you serious?” you asked, barefoot in the kitchen with Mason in your arms, his cheek pressed to yours like always. “After four years?”

“She left when he was barely two,” Rafe muttered, staring into his coffee like it might offer some kind of answer. “Now she wants to talk. I don’t know why.”

You’d been in their lives for about half as long as Savannah had been gone — two full years of morning pancakes, preschool drop-offs, late-night Lego cleanup. A year of those spent slowly falling in love with Rafe, and the rest spent loving him out loud. You weren’t just part of their routine — you were home.

You didn’t say anything right away. Just kissed the side of Mason’s head and looked at Rafe the way you always did when things got heavy — a silent promise: whatever this turns into, we’re facing it together.

—

The meeting happened at a park. Rafe’s idea. Public, neutral, safe. A place where Mason could play if things got weird — and they probably would.

When Savannah showed up, it felt like watching a ghost walk out of a past life. Same face, same voice. But none of the warmth or clarity you’d expect from a mother seeing her son again.

“Oh my god,” she breathed when she spotted him, eyes already glistening. “He’s so big.”

Mason clung to your leg, looking up at her. “Who are you?”

Savannah crouched, trying to smile. “I’m… I’m your mom, sweetheart.”

He blinked up at her, confused. Then looked at you. You gave him a soft little nod, hand on his back.

He turned back to her and said, deadpan, “No, you’re not. That’s my mommy,” and pointed straight at you.

Rafe’s jaw locked. Savannah’s whole face crumpled.

“I—I just meant, I had you when you were born,” she said quickly. “That kind of mom.”

“Oh,” Mason said. “But you left.”

You swear even the birds stopped chirping.

“Why don’t you go play for a bit, bud?” Rafe said gently. “You want to hit the swings?”

“I want her to come,” he said, tugging on your hand.

You crouched down beside him. “I’ll be right here, baby. I promise.”

—

“I didn’t come to take him away,” Savannah said the second Mason was out of earshot. “I just… I don’t know. I thought maybe he could know me. A little.”

“You didn’t want that four years ago,” Rafe said. “When you signed over your rights when he was only two.”

“I was in a bad place.”

“And now you want a reward for feeling better?” you asked, calm but cold. “He’s not something you get back when it’s convenient.”

She blinked, stunned. “I didn’t think it would hurt this bad. Seeing him not know me. Not need me.”

“He doesn’t,” Rafe said flatly. “He has everything he needs.”

She looked at you then — not in anger, but in realization. Like it hit her all at once. The morning routines. The skinned-knee band-aids. The way Mason looked at you when he was scared, or tired, or needed someone to celebrate a Lego build.

“I just thought I could maybe be a part of his life again,” she said.

“You were a part of his life,” Rafe said. “And then you walked out. You don’t get to walk back in just because it’s easier now. Not when someone else has been showing up every day since.”

She didn’t argue. Just looked over at Mason, running across the playground, yelling, “Mommy! Look!”

“I see you, baby!” you called back, waving.

And that was it — the shift. The quiet moment where she finally understood.

“I get it now,” she whispered. “I really do.”

—

That night, Mason curled up between you and Rafe in bed, clutching his favorite stuffed dinosaur.

“Was that lady okay?” he asked, blinking up at you.

“She’s okay,” you said softly. “She just needed to see that you’re happy.”

“I am,” he mumbled, snuggling deeper into the blankets. “Can we get pancakes tomorrow?”

Rafe chuckled beside you. “You’ve had pancakes three times this week.”

“But mommy makes the best ones.”

You blinked fast and pressed a kiss into his hair. “Okay. Pancakes it is.”

Rafe just looked at the two of you, all curled up under the soft bedroom light — his family. The one he fought for. The one he chose. The one that stayed.

༶⋆｡ﾟ☽✿⋆˚✧✿☾ﾟ｡⋆༶

a/n: ahh okay sorry this took so long to get up, i kept hating everything and rewriting it like 4 different times lmao anyways thank you for sending me headfirst into this emotional rabbit hole. 🙃

♥️ lani

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[thechaotictheoryy]

Winterfall.

summary: Yunho doesn't know when the last time he didn't feel so much loneliness. You also experienced the same thing causing you to run away from home. What happens when the two of you meet in a small restaurant in the cold winter month of December, discovering that loneliness isn't forever.

pairing: reader x non-idol! Yunho

genre: (18+ minors dni), romance, smut, situational and emotional loneliness, strangers to lovers.

word count: 4,827.

warnings: deep conversation, talks of extreme loneliness, crying, Yunho is really sweet, making out, soft dom! yunho, dry humping, unprotected sex (don't do this lmao), oral sex (both receiving) fingering, slight hand kink, pet names (good girl, pretty girl, etc.), slightly slow sex, creampie, cockwarming.

song rec: Chroma Drift by Plave and Just For Two by Jey.

The snow was so crisp and white as Yunho made his way down the street. It was like any other night when he left the office, it was close to midnight and there were few people still walking around. Yunho’s stomach kept growling since the last thing he ate was a banana and some pretzels for lunch. He knew his roommate and best friend Mingi would scold him for that later since they worked in the same place but Mingi got off a little early today.

The familiar sign of Yunho’s favorite restaurant came into view. It was a simple hole in the wall place that he had found his freshman year of college when he moved to Seoul from Gwangju. It was ran by an old Chinese-Korean couple who moved to Seoul in the late 80s and they were really famous for their seafood jjampong. Yunho hadn’t been there in about two weeks now since work was driving him crazy but it was Saturday and he always ate there every Saturday, mostly by himself but sometimes with Mingi or some co-workers. As much as an extrovert Yunho was, loneliness always consumed him. 

Even with friends, his loneliness yearned for something that he couldn’t put into words and he felt bad about it. Mingi always tried to help him out but all his attempts seemed to fail because even when Yunho was physically present… he wasn’t mentally present. 

Yunho opened the door to the restaurant and the aroma of noodles and sour kimchi hit his nose. He loved this smell and he became rather cozy to him as weird as it may seem. 

“Ya! Where have you been?” Ms. Jung, one of the owners, yelled at him as soon as she saw him. 

“I’m sorry Ms. Jung, work has been consuming me” He chuckled. 

“Mhm, well have a seat and I’ll have Riku whip up a fresh bowel for you”

Yunho nodded, making his way to a table and sitting. He noticed Ms. Jung walked over to a girl in the back and handed her more kimchi while rubbing her head before walking away. He raised his eyebrow a little in curiosity. He had never seen you here before in all his 6 years of coming here. He practically knew most of the people who walked in and out this restaurant so how could he have missed you? 

“That’s Y/N” Ms. Jung said, breaking Yunho out of his thoughts and placing his bowl of hot noodles in front of him. “She just moved to Seoul a few weeks ago from Jinju,” she sighed. 

“Why the sigh?” 

“Mm, it’s not my business to tell but just know she doesn’t have the most fond memories of everything there which is why she moved up here” 

Yunho hummed and started eating his noodles. Ms. Jung smiled at him and patted his head before walking back to the kitchen. The restaurant seemed to empty out a little within the next fifteen minutes. Yunho was sitting there eating and looking through some emails on his phone. He caught himself looking in your direction a few times, more than he would like to admit.

One thing was that you were beautiful in his eyes. Too beautiful honestly for someone like him but that’s just what he thought. 

You also did the same without his knowledge, you were glancing at him a lot. To you, he was way out of your league. Someone so tall and handsome like him would never be interested in someone like you especially with how broken you were inside. Loneliness was destined to find you, just like your parents wished on you.

You moved here from Jinju to escape everyone. Your family and the terrible ex you dated for three years that you recently broke up with over eight months ago. You never had the best relationship with your parents because of high expectations they had for you, the blur definitely increased when you went and graduated from art school instead of going to a four year university. The stain in your relationship with them caused you and your little sister to also distant from each other. There was no hate from either of you but because she was being the child your parents wanted you to be, they glorified her more so it made you shut down. 

Your toxic relationship with your on and off boyfriend Jeonghan didn’t make it any better. The constant fights and cheating from his end just for him to apologize and make it so easy for you to come back took a mental toll over you. You knew you shouldn’t have ended it after the first time he degraded you and cheated but you hated being alone. You finally ended it when all your emotions boiled over and you leashed out on him. You knew the relationship was making you toxic and depressed plus the bad relationship with your parents so you decided to move three hours away to Seoul. 

You heard a chair move and you looked up. Yunho walked to the counter and handed Mr. Jung his bowel, he tried to pay for it but Ms. Jung kept insisting that it was on the house so he left something in the tip jar while they still scolded him. It made you smile a bit and you automatically knew he had to be coming here for a while for them to act like that towards him. As Yunho made his way out, you and him made slight eye contact which made him slightly bow at you with a small smile and you bowed a little at him. 

The bells rang on the door as he walked back out into the winter snow. 

Little did he know that his small gesture towards you made warmth flow through your heart. 

A week passed till Yunho found himself back in The Jungs’ restaurant again. This time it was empty except for the two older men who were almost  finished with their bowels at a table near the back. He turned his head and saw you eating near the window. You didn’t notice him yet but he smiled a little, walked to a table near the register. As on queue, a hot bowl of seafood jjampong was in front of him with pickled radish. Work really has been stressing him out and Mingi bringing home random hook ups when he was trying to catch up on sleep didn’t help. 

“She’s been looking for you,” Ms. Jung said quietly, walking next to him. 

“Mm, why?”

“Who knows, I just always see her look towards the door every time she’s here then gets a little disappointed by closing time. I think you should talk to her” 

She walked away before Yunho could tell her that would be impossible. It was impossible because of how stunning you were and he would make a complete fool of himself. Yunho hasn’t been with someone in years and you deserved someone who didn’t drown in his work to cure somewhat of his loneliness. Yunho had looked in your direction again and saw you were gone. He didn’t even notice that you had left but he let out a sign, finishing up his bowel. 

He thanked The Jungs and left for the journey to his apartment. It was very cold tonight and the wind was blowing slightly to add on. He wrapped his scarf around his neck a little tighter as he walked. A few blocks down as he passed the park, he heard someone crying and paused. His eyebrows raised and he slowly walked, eyes searching for the person who was crying. He saw a figure on the bench and made his way over, he felt very bad because the cries were like heartbreaking sobs. 

“Are you okay?” He asked as he approached. You turned your head slowly to look up at him and his eyes widened as he realized who you were. 

“I’m fine,” you looked down and sniffed. 

You heard a bag drop and the bench become a little heavier with weight. You turned your head a little and saw Yunho sitting but looking straight, crossing his arms. 

“You don’t have to share but it’s dark and I can’t let a girl sit out here alone” 

Your chest felt that warmth go through it again. You knew he was only doing as a good person but something about him made the winter not feel so cold tonight. You looked straight and sighed, sniffling. You both sat in silence for about ten minutes till you decided you could speak without breaking down. 

“I.. I just got a call from my parents that my sister passed to get into a college in America” 

“Oh that’s great, isn’t it?”

“Not exactly,” you sighed. “My parents called to praise her and tell me how useless I was to them. They were glad when they heard I moved away so they wouldn’t have to deal with their failure anymore” 

“That’s horrible, I’m sorry” Yunho said. You looked at him and saw concern in his eyes, it shocked you just a little bit because you never saw that from anyone in your life. 

“It’s nothing new but what's upsetting is the fact they sent me three million won and told me to stay out their life,” you teared up. 

You felt yourself about to break down again until felt arms around you and the warmth from a strong chest. It took you a minute to realize Yunho was hugging you. He also didn’t know what came over him but seeing such a pretty girl like you in tears and being degraded and pushed away like you were nothing made him sad with an overwhelming feeling of rage but he didn’t want you to notice. He couldn’t believe someone could do this to their daughter. Once you seemed to calm down a little, he pulled away and you could see his ears were a bit red. 

Cute. 

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t–”

“It’s okay I needed that” you smiled. 

“I’m Yunho by the way, should have said my name first” he awkwardly rubbed his neck. 

“Y/N” you nodded. 

“It’s freezing and you should get inside” he stood up. “Let me walk you home” 

“It’s okay” 

“I insist and I would feel terrible if something happened to you” 

You eventually agreed and you both set off to your apartment complex. There was small talk on the ten minute walk there, just about where he was from and where you both worked. You weren’t surprised when he said he worked for a tech company, he just looked the type to do so. That also explained why you always see him at the restaurant so late but he also learned that you worked at a cafe that closed around 9pm which is why you were always at the restaurant late also. 

You two made it in front of your building and he wished you a nice night and started to walk away. You didn’t want him to leave just yet so you said something that the last person who heard broke your heart into pieces.

“Do you want to come up for a drink?” 

He turned and looked at you, a little shocked. 

“Um.. are you sure? We just met” 

“I’m sure” you smiled. 

Your smile was going to be the death of him. 

He followed behind you as you walked up the stairs to your apartment and looked away when you put in your code to get inside. Once he stepped inside, the smell of cinnamon hit his nose. He looked around after taking off his shoes and scarf. Your home was cozy and clean, if anyone came here they would feel right at home. 

“You can go sit in the living room, I’ll be right there” you walked into the kitchen. Yunho slowly walked into the living room and sat on your couch. He noticed your bookcase filled with tons of books and CDs, he smiled at it. He also noticed your blank canvas on the counter with an apron with paint stains all over it. 

You walked in with two shot glasses and a case of soju with two beers, setting it on the table. He gulped at the sight and you could feel his nervousness. 

“We don’t have to drink all of it, I just felt lazy to keep walking back and forth” you reassured him, sitting beside him. 

“Okay, sorry it’s been a while since I've been alone with a girl” He regretfully admitted. “I know that sounded pretty lame” 

“Not at all” you shook your head, pouring both shot glasses with soju. You gave him his glass and bumped it with yours, both of you taking the shot together. 

“You live alone?”

“Yeah I can’t do the whole roommate thing” 

“Lucky,” he chuckled. 

“You have one?”

“Mhm, my best friend Mingi. We met back in middle school and wouldn’t trade him for the world but sometimes he can be a bit much” 

“Can’t all best friends be?” you both laughed at that. 

Your laugh was like a hidden melody that he wanted to keep hearing. Seeing you smile was something he hoped he got to see you do more if this night turned out on a good note and he left here as your friend because he knew you needed one. 

“Do you have a best friend?” He asked but by the look on your face after you let the question settle and honestly thought he shouldn’t have asked. 

“No, I was always a loner and people who became my friend only used me in the end” You took another shot and sipped some beer with it, looking out your window. Yunho looked at another shot also and sighed a little. 

“We have to make new memories in your life here” 

“We?” you looked at him. 

“You know?” He blushed a little. “We could be friends and I could introduce you to some of my friends, they are bit annoying but they grow on you I promise” 

He was very cute to you, rambling. You don’t know if you could possibly get close to other people again. All the trust in you was almost gone and never to return. Your family betrayed you, the man you thought you would marry someday made you feel worthless, and all the fake friends who didn’t care if you were alive or not. 

“I don’t know, I probably wouldn’t fit in and my lack of trust might cause me to be distant” 

“You can trust us”

You stared at him and he stared at you. You know you never really took in how tall and handsome he was, he really looked like he could be in someone's magazine. His broad shoulders and long legs, his big brown eyes, his lips that looked so soft to the touch, and his hands…. Wow he had huge hands. 

“Yunho?”

“Mm?”

“Have you ever felt lonely?” 

“All the time” He crossed his arms. 

“When did it start?” 

“Mm, probably not till I hit college. My relationship with my parents was a little rocky but we got along till I hit college then it felt like we started talking less but I didn’t really have much to say anymore… I think that’s why I had a few flings in college to help me cope a bit with being lonely. I tried to go on dates, I just couldn’t feel anything or no one really seemed worth dealing with” 

Emotional and situational loneliness is what Yunho felt and you were also the same. Maybe him finding you sobbing your eyes out wasn’t such a bad outcome because you were still in presence, soaking it in. He poured another shot and downed it right away like it took him a lot to even express that to you. Yunho wasn’t one to open up to people too quick but you made him.. comfortable. 

“How about you?” He asked, hesitantly. 

You sipped some of your beer and told him about your ex-boyfriend plus the relationship with your family. He listened carefully and every detail made him feel sad because you don’t deserve how lonely you are. You felt like he was going to say he was sorry but you didn’t want to hear any more sorrys from him because nothing is his fault for how you were. 

“I do have a question”

“Mm?” you raised an eyebrow. 

“If your trust is so low, why did you invite me in?” 

You blinked at him then looked down, starting to blush. With the amount of alcohol you were consuming you felt you couldn’t hide anything but you also were embarrassed that you craved him so much that you invited him in on impulse. You took another shot and hissed at the small burn. 

“I just find you.. interesting, also you sat with me so this is just like me repaying you” 

“Mm, okay” He finally opened his beer, taking a gulp. 

You didn’t know why you felt so warm like yes it was somewhat the alcohol but also the way Yunho kept looking at you with low lid eyes even though it was just from the shots made you feel some type of way. 

You really really wanted to kiss him. 

“You can,” he said. 

“Huh?” 

“You said you wanted to kiss me” He chuckled. 

“I-I didn’t mean to” you felt the blush start to creep up everywhere. 

“So you don’t want to?” He moved a little closer. 

You looked at him and he was so much closer than you anticipated that you could smell the mint mixed with soju and beer on his breath. You looked at his lips then back to his eyes, his hand found your cheek and rubbed it. With slight hesitation, you leaned forward and kissed him. He kissed back, letting out a sigh like he had been waiting for this and you could help but smile into it. His tongue poked your bottom lip and you opened your mouth, letting him in. His tongue explored every corner, rolling onto your tongue. You moaned a bit, gripping the couch trying to ground yourself. 

“You can touch me,” he said against your lips, pecking them repeatedly and voice just a bit deeper. It made your core feel even hotter and you could feel yourself getting wetter. 

“Yunho” You whined a bit as he kept kissing you. 

“Yes, pretty?” 

“I need more” He pulled away slightly, looking at you. His eyes were filled with lust and…desire maybe. It was like you were the only thing that mattered to him right here at this moment. 

Honestly after tonight, Yunho doesn’t know if he can let you go. 

He pulled you on his lap and you straddled him with knees on both sides. He gripped your hips as you pushed your lips back on his. Yunho had never been this forward but it was something about you, he wanted to show you that you deserve happiness and to be loved on even if it’s just for tonight. 

Even if you wake up tomorrow to the snow higher than it was today and decide you don’t want to be around him anymore, at least he was able to show you for the night that you are desired. 

You pulled away to take off your hoodie and shirt to come off with it, that left you in a black lace bra that made Yunho’s dick twitch. You unhooked your bra, letting your boobs fall and he immediately took a nipple in his mouth, worshipping while pulling on the other. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, it had been a long time since you been touched like this so you were super sensitive everywhere. He licked around your nipple, trailing up to your neck. 

Sucking.

Biting. 

You rolled your hips down on his lap and it made him groan softly. You were driving him mad and he wanted to take his time with you but he didn’t know how long he could keep going without him being inside of you. You pushed him back a little, climbing down and spreading his knees apart. 

“Oh fuck” He said in a whisper. This sight of you was making his head spin. You slowly unbuttoned his dress pants and pulled them down along with his boxers. Your eyes widened at his size, he was the biggest you ever seen. 

“You can handle it, right pretty girl?” 

You blushed at that, nodding. You softly held his dick with both hands because he was super thick and slowly started to pump. His reaction made your arousal even higher, you took him in your mouth as much as you could. He let out a low groan and his hand resting on the back of your head as you kept bobbing up and down. 

“Oh f-fuck” His eyes rolled back a bit before he looked at you. You looked up at him as you stunk down, taking him deeper but trying to make sure you don’t gag. His hand gripped your hair a little as he trembled, you could tell he was reaching his point but you didn’t want him to cum just yet, not from this. You pulled off, stroking him and he let out a small whine. 

“W-Why?”

“I would prefer it better if you cum while inside me” you smiled innocently at him. 

Yunho groaned lowly, standing up and picking you up bridal style. You blushed a bit and was a little shook from him manhandling you but you pointed to your room. He kissed you while walking to your room, opening the door slowly so he wouldn’t drop you. He laid you on your back on your queen sized bed. You sat up on your elbows as he took off his button up and you started to drool a little at the sight of his toned stomach and his broad shoulders. 

And my god you couldn't wait for his large hands to touch you again.

Yunho was always a little self conscious about his body because he wasn’t that muscular and didn’t have abs but the way you were looking at him, he knew that didn’t matter to you. He laid in between your legs after kicking off his pants and boxers, he kissed you deeply and his fingers made their way down to your sweatpants. 

“Is this okay?” He said against your lips. You nodded and he kissed down your chest to your stomach as he pulled down your sweats along with your panties. He threw them on the floor and moved down, kissing your pelvic bone before making eye contact with your wet lips. He moaned at the sight and you spreaded out your thighs more to give him more room, your gesture made him want to combust. 

“You’re so wet” he ran his finger down your folds then looked at you. “All of this for me?”

“All of it,” you nodded. 

Yunho smirked at that a little, testing the waters and pushing one finger inside of you. You gasped and threw your head back against the pillow. Yunho’s finger was long and kind of thick so it stretched you out a little and he immediately found the spongy spot inside of you. His mouth found your clit, licking it up and down while pushing another finger in. 

“Oh god, Y-Yunho” you moaned loudly. He hummed, the vibration going straight to your clit. He pumped his fingers a little faster and harder, hitting that sweet spot over and over again. You felt that tight knot in your stomach and it was ready to let go. He pulled his fingers out and licked over your pussy one time before moving back and kissing you, making you taste yourself. You moaned a little and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

Yunho grabbed his dick, pumping it a little before sliding it in between your folds to lubricate it. You moaned at the feeling and squirmed a little when his tip would bump into your clit. 

“Are you sure about this?” He asked. 

“A little too late to be hesitant considering how far we have come Yunho” you giggled at him. 

“I-I know. I mostly talking about the no condom part” 

“I’m on a pill and clean, I’m okay with it” you reassured him, pecking his lips. 

He nodded and slowly pushed into you, knocking the air out of your lungs as he filled you up. He moans as he continues, finally bottoming out. He paused so you could adjust to his size, he didn’t want to hurt you by any means. 

“Y-You can move”

He pulled out till his tip was just in and pushed back in a little harder. You let out a little scream at that and gripped his back, he moved at a slow yet deep pace. You could feel all the ridges and veins on his dick and it just made you wetter. 

“God you’re so perfect. Taking me so well like a good girl” He said in your ear. 

“Y-Yunho” you whimpered. 

“What? You like when I tell you how good you are for me, pretty girl?” He licked your ear, moving at a faster pace. 

So pretty. 

So perfect. 

You deserved to be loved like this all the time. 

His words were making you close to the edge but also close to crying. Your ex never talked you through it like this, he never made you feel wanted like this. You felt the tears start to spill over and Yunho looked at you with concern, he started to slow down his pace.

“N-No, keep going” you gripped his back. “Please, I need it I need you Y-Yunho”

“You got me baby” He moved deeper and harder. 

“God you’re so deep” you moaned. You felt that band snap in you and your orgasm crushed into you like a tidal wave. Yunho kissed you through, lifting your leg around his hip to push deeper. The overstimulation immediately kicked in and you loved it. 

“F-Fuck” 

“Can you give me one more pretty? I’m so close I need you clench around my dick like that one more time” 

He started to pump faster into you and you could feel all of him in your guts, it made you whimper and claw at his back but it felt so damn good that your second orgasm was creeping up faster than you anticipated. 

“Y-Yunho” 

“I got you, let go baby. You deserve this beautiful” He kissed your temple as you let go for the second time and he followed behind, stilling in you then moving a bit to carry you through both your highs. He was about to pull out till you locked your other leg around his waist. 

“Hold me for a while please” you buried your head in his neck. He smiled a little and nodded, repositioning you both so he didn’t slip out of you but you were now laying on his chest as he laid on his back. 

The birds chirping and sunlight coming through your window woke you up. You groaned and stretched your body out, you tried to feel for Yunho but just felt the coldness of the sheets. You set up in a panic and noticed you were in a large t-shirt and you didn’t feel sticky. 

You got out of your bed and walked into the living room, there was no sign of him and his stuff was gone. You sighed and sat on your couch, you knew it was all too good to be true.

You turned your head to the door as you heard a code being put in and the door opened up with Yunho holding a tray with two coffees and a bag of food. You teared up a little bit as he walked over after slipping off his shoes. 

“Are you okay?” He quickly put the food and drinks down, pulling you into a hug. 

“I thought you just up and left me” you wrapped your arms around his waist. 

“Never pretty” He rubbed your head and you looked up at him. He flashed you a smile then pecked your lips. 

“Don’t scare me like that” You punched him playfully. He chuckled and sat down beside you, handing you a coffee. 

“Sorry I didn’t want to wake you up but I ran back to my place to change clothes then I thought you might be hungry once I got back. I should have left a note” 

“It’s okay, the coffee saved you” you sipped some more. He laughed and pulled out an egg and cheese breakfast sandwich and handed it to you. 

“So does that mean you want to see me more?” He asked. 

“Yeah” you blushed. “Do you want to see me more?”

“I don’t think I can ever let you go Y/N” 

Who knew someone like him would want someone like you in this cold winter?