#I’ve been holding all that in for so long

[frannyzooey]

Veneration

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Rating: E

a/n: another piece from Ao3 — enjoy! ❤️

—

“Where is she?”

Marcus stalks into his chambers, his white cape billowing behind him, a guard following in his wake.

“I asked for her, sir. I’m not sure where she is. She –”

“Just find her,” he growls, frustration etched on his face.

The guard makes a hasty apology, slipping from the room. “Yes, sir. Right away.”

Candles fill the space, pools of shadows gathered around the edges. The fabric on the bed is rich and decadent, every piece of decoration in the room dripping with luxury.

It’s jarring, after so many months living in a battle tent.

A table filled with food in abundance, he bypasses everything on it for the jar of heady wine. Pouring himself a cup, he drinks deeply.

He thumbs at the slice on his neck, smearing blood on the tips of his fingers. His hands are used to being drenched in blood, crusted with it, the firm hold of a sword nearly molded to the creases of his palm.

It took everything he had not to raise it to the fucking pup who cut him. The one who is so careless and callous, he threatens to burn down everything Marcus has worked for.

All of his protection, wasted. His entire career, played with for sport.

Where is she?

He rips the pin off his tunic, tossing it to the side — he should be more careful with it, but he’s in no mood to be careful with anything. The laurel comes next; the stupid fucking pageantry. He’s a general, a man made of sweat and blood and his fingers tear at the clasps of his armor, but he quickly gives up, pouring another cup of wine. Beautiful and untarnished, the armor is all for show, just like the adornments they covered him with.

It felt good to ride through the city and wave to the people he has been campaigning for months, but he could do without the show of it all. He recognizes the need for celebration, and he’ll gladly give it to them, but he wishes he could do it in his actual armor. The one he defends their city in. The one nicked with a thousand dents from a thousand swords. The leather that fits to his body like a second skin, and he wished for it during the ceremony more than ever, wanting to present himself to the city like the soldier he is.

He sighs, the weight of the day resting heavy on his shoulders. He’d hoped he’d feel more relieved after his conversation with Lucilla, that maybe he’d finally have someone useful he could persuade to act – and yet, the conversation was fruitless.

Frustration throbs behind his eyes, and he closes them, rubbing at his brow.

“You’d think someone who just had a parade held in their honor would look a little less plagued.”

At your voice, his head snaps up. He watches you slip into the room, servant girls on your heels.

He shakes his head, a stern look on his face. “Alone.”

His command is clear, and you obey, dismissing the girls with a slight wave. All for show in the first place, they turn and leave the two of you.

“Where have you been?” he asks. “I’ve been waiting to see you since we entered the gates.”

You walk closer, bending to pick his cape off the floor. “You know I’m not allowed up there with them.” You finger the rich fabric, fighting the urge to bring it to your nose just to inhale his scent.

A scent you’ve missed for almost a year now. A scent that was pressed into your bedding before he left, a scent you used to have memorized from the soft divot just underneath his ear. Oil and sweat and a heady fragrance that clung to his curls and clothes - one you’d been longing for since he left you behind for the promise of North Africa.

“I know,” he answers. “I thought you’d come to see me sooner. Or that I would have seen your face along the route.”

“Would you even have remembered what it looked like?”

It’s childish, the question. You know it, but a barrier comes up automatically, placing protection around your heart. You were so sure of your bond until you saw him climb those steps, taking his place alongside the Emperor. A tiny prick of doubt at the display of his status bled within you, and though you want nothing more than to run to him for reassurance, you can’t bring yourself to do it.

“How can you even ask that?” he asks lowly, hurt and frustration buried between his dark brows.

He steps closer, and yet you withhold, standing your ground.

You did see him on the route, hidden in the back of the crowd, watching from underneath the hood of your robe. The second you heard he was approaching the city, anticipation stole the air from your lungs, so strong that you had to stop your chores. A thousand different scenarios of reuniting with him swirled through your mind, all of them abruptly stopped by the remembrance that you couldn’t greet him. Not in public, not where anyone could see. You watched him instead from the depths of the crowd, feeling pride as he rode past.

There, he looked like a shining god. Here, in front of you, he looks older.

Aged in a way that makes him even more handsome, there is new gray along his temples. More, along the curve of his jaw. The candlelight catches strands that mix in with his dark curls, and you take in the wrinkles the line the edges of his eyes, the ones that crease his forehead. The one between his brows was there before he left, only it’s deeper now - something you know has to do with the way you haven’t touched him yet.

“This finery suits you,” you muse, fingering the edge of his armor.

He scoffs, catching your hand in his. Bringing it to his mouth, you watch with rapt attention as his lips mold to your knuckles, one delicate kiss after another.

“I hate it,” he mumbles against your skin.

You smile. “Then let’s remove it.”

–

He’s patient as you help, but barely.

You can feel the tension radiating off his body as you unclasp his armor and lift it off, the heavy leather set to the side. His eyes stay trained on you as you guide his thick tunic upwards, discarding it onto the floor. He stands in his underclothes for a moment before you sink to your knees and undo the tie at his waist, letting them fall as well. Bare now for your eyes, you inspect him from your position, your hands running over his skin.

It’s familiar, yet not: new wounds that have healed, new scars for your touch. He stirs under your exploration, twitching along his thigh, but you don’t give into the touch you know he wants - not yet. You used to spend hours exploring his body: working oil into his tired muscles, memorizing the firm planes of them born in the training yard. He’s just as thick and strong as you remember, maybe even more so now.

Standing, you turn to retrieve a strigil from his bedside table, undoing the clasp of your tunic with one hand with your back facing him. It falls from your shoulders, slipping onto the floor in a puddle of cloth and when you turn to face him, the hunger in his gaze at your nakedness floods you with arousal.

“They bathed me before the parade,” he says dismissively, glancing at the tool in your grip.

You had a ritual before he left: he would summon you to his chambers, and be waiting for you. You’d help him undress, and sometimes you’d bathe him, but sometimes he liked it better this way - your small hands smearing rich oil along his tanned skin, your fingers working it in. The deliberate strokes of the strigil swept along the lines of his muscles, the tool gathering all the grime and the dust and the sweat from the yard. Never enough that it disappeared though. You smelt it on you when you slipped from his chambers later that night, always pressed into your limbs, his seed trickling from between your thighs.

Assuming he wants the same veneration tonight, you’re surprised when his hand flicks out faster than you’re prepared for, his grip relentless on your wrist. It tightens, and he pulls you towards him, your back to his front. The heat of his body is flush with yours, the weight of his cock thick along the curve of your ass.

“How long I’ve waited to have you,” he breathes into your ear, his tone a growl that sends a shiver down your spine. The scruff along his jaw scrapes against your skin, and you melt into him. “Why are you doing this?”

You drop the stirgil on the tiled floor, the sound barely heard over the pounding of your heart. Letting yourself lean against the thick, broad plane of his chest, his hand lets go of your wrist to skate up your side, roughly palming the weight of your breast. He groans when he touches it, a relieved one that blends with your softer moan, and his other hand curls around your front, cupping you firmly between your thighs. His fingers reach for the curve of your entrance, his teeth scraping along your shoulder when he finds you wet. His touch lingers there, his fingers spreading you to find more evidence of your need.

There is a tension that still vibrates from his form behind you, hidden underneath his skin. He’s holding himself back just for you, and though you want nothing more than to put aside your hesitation and your pride, it’s actually easier to do it this way. To encourage him to take, so different than the sweet murmurs you’ve wished for in the night, less vulnerable than the tender touch of his hands.

You want it to hurt, just like you’ve hurt, and you know he also needs this right now.

Your hand rests upon his, sliding it up.

Up, up, up until it circles your throat.

He flexes his grip, his fingers pressing into your pulse that thrums underneath his touch. You give him silent permission — permission to be the one he wants to be with you sometimes.

Permission for him to be rough, like he is in battle.

Permission to take you as he needs to take you.

Tilting your head to the side, you whisper against his scruffed cheek. “I’m yours, General.” The title gives away the game, your slip into character. “Tell me what you want.”

Your words set him alight, his body moving just how it does on the field: in control, precise, power emanating from his stance when he tugs you away from him and pushes you to your knees. He blocks out the light above you, his fingers curling around your chin to pull you closer. Your hands splay on his sturdy thighs to catch your balance, and he steps forward, crowding you.

“Open your mouth.”

An order, like he was born to give.

Dutifully you do, and he wastes no time feeding himself between your warm, wet lips. The thick tip of his cock brushes against your bottom lip, the weight of him smearing across your tongue the deeper he gets. He tastes so good and so familiar, so musky and masculine, and your tongue runs along the underside of his shaft, curving to the skin as he hardens even more. You slide it along every ridge, every vein of his thick cock, and when he pulls back just before pushing himself deeper with a groan, you swirl your tongue around the rounded tip.

Going back for more, you do it again.

Your hands slide up his thighs to his hips, your fingers digging into the skin, and you pull him deeper, encouraging it. He groans loud and shameless, your cunt throbbing when you look up to the light flickering over his skin. It looks so rich and real , your hands slipping backwards to palm the curve of his ass with a greedy grab.

The release of want pours from you both, his body still tight with tension but a different type of tension: not frustration, but need.

He gives in, thrusting into your mouth harder, flickering candlelight catching the drool that gathers around the edges of your mouth and slides down your chin. Your cheeks hollow, his thumb fitting into the indented curve. Your eyes shut tight, his cock pushing against the tight ring of your throat. He holds there for a moment, and then pulls out, his is cock glistening and he strokes it while you catch your breath, but you’re already grabbing for him before you’re ready.

“I want more,” you beg, your voice hoarse. “Take what you need.”

He strokes himself faster, harder, his stomach tensing.

“I know you’re holding back, but don’t. Take anything you want from me. I can take it.”

Those are the words that do it. He growls, his hand palming the back of your head to force you back onto his cock. He pushes it past your lips as far as it will go and then some, not stopping this time when he reaches your throat. He feels the tight, constricting curve of it, and pushes a little further still, thickening at the strangled whine you let out into the dark curls at the base. Swiping the hair from your face, he cups your cheeks in his hands and angles your face to turn up towards his own.

Then, he fucks.

His pace is relentless, brutal, his cock slipping into the tight fist of your throat with every thrust forward. Stars dance along your vision, your chin soaked with spit. Desperation radiates from him, his grip tightening on your face, your fingers digging crescents into his hips and he groans, wanting more pain.

A familiar ache, one that he’s used to. Something to distract him from the deeper pain of your hesitation when you first walked in the room. Deeper still, the ache he felt for you while he was gone.

“You have no idea how much I missed you. How much I missed this.” Every word of his confession is mixed with his heavy breaths, with soft grunts from the back of his throat.

You hum, a tiny frown pulling between your brows. You missed him just as much, missed this just as much — the way he emanates authority, the way he bends and molds and positions you just like his soldiers, to do as he bids.

He pushes you further, shedding the frustration and pent up tension of the day with every harsh stroke. He feeds it to you, makes you swallow it as it pours from him into your waiting mouth and an ache blooms in your throat, your jaw tense with the effort of trying to stay open wide enough for him to fit. Slipping your slim hand between his strong thighs, you cup his heavy balls with a tender squeeze — a touch that makes his head tip back as they draw up.

Harder, faster and then he doesn’t give you any warning before he fists your hair and pulls you off his cock, stroking it with a slick, rapid beat to come on your chest. Your collarbones, the swell of your breasts.

More, when you start to smear it into your skin like oil, pressing it into your skin.

When he’s finished, he sags with release — though you know he’s not done. His hands reach for you, pulling you up off the floor and then finally — finally — he kisses you.

Fevered and desperate, his mouth open to taste yours, his tongue sliding against your own. Your fingers thread through his curls to keep him close, and his own dig forcefully into your skin, as if you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold you tight. They splay to slide up your back and down again, stretch to cup the curve of your bottom and he lifts you to carry you over to his bed. He means to drop you there so he can sink to his knees, but when you cling to him, he falls with you, his weight settling over your body.

This — this is what you dreamed of every night he was away. This is what you held onto, this is what you missed. This version of Marcus that no one else gets. Not the stoic General, but rather the tender touch of his calloused hands. The slide of his body against yours, the murmurs of his adoration poured along the column of your neck.

Your legs wind around his waist, your hips canting up and he groans into your mouth at the sticky smear you leave on his stomach. More than ready for him, desperate for it.

“My love, I need a minute.”

My love. The endearment fills your heart until tears leak from the corners of your eyes, and you pull him closer, wanting to be buried underneath his bulk. Winding your arms around his neck, you keep his mouth pressed against yours, only to frown when he pulls away.

“I need a minute,” he repeats, his head bending to brush his mouth along your throat. “But let me indulge myself in the meantime.”

You watch the muscles in his thick shoulders shift as he holds himself above you and bends his head, taking your breast into his mouth. It’s a greedy suck, his hand pushing the soft weight of it up so he can fit more. His teeth scrape against the peak, and then he’s moving onto the other one, giving it the same attention while you moan underneath him.

Down further still, he presses kisses along your belly, against each hip. Your thighs open wider, making room for him. A part of you expects him to tease you like you did him, but he doesn’t — he settles in, hooking his arms under your thighs and spreads you wide right before he bends to devour.

Your hands rest upon the top of his head; your own version of a laurel resting on his curls. No adornments, no finery, no pristine armor and gold.

Your eyes close, savoring the slow, wide licks of his tongue. The devotion he gives your cunt with every slick, firm slide.

Not the General that the city fears and adores in equal measure - just Marcus, bending the knee for you.

[luveline]

Hey lovely !! <3 could we see Spencer’s bombshell! Reader going into labour at the BAU but trying to downplay it like Pam did on the office !! (So sorry if you’ve already done a request like this) <333 have a lovely day ☺️

thank you <3 pregnant!reader, 1.3k

“Spencer?” 

Spencer groans into his pillow. 

Your hand slips onto his stomach. “Spencer, can you wake up?” 

“No,” he mumbles, lifting his head off of one of the many pillows of your bed. He thought his bed at his apartment was comfortable, but Spencer has never slept so well as he does in your new bed, in your new home, with you warming the sheets beside him. What a miracle to live with you, the rush to get everything done before your due date complete. 

You make a strange noise, hard to see in the dark as he opens his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asks. 

You struggle into a sitting position. Angel, he thinks sympathetically, you’re fit to burst, your baby bump as big as it’s going to get and awfully heavy. He sits up with you, putting his hand behind your back. “Baby?” he prompts. 

“I think,” —you sound meek, not yourself, each word said reluctantly— “that I’m having real contractions.” 

Spencer’s head isn’t working. He takes a few seconds to hear you, and then another few to realise what you’ve said. “Are you sure?” 

“They’re really painful.” 

Braxton Hicks (which you’ve had, and not enjoyed) aren’t usually really painful. They’re also irregular. “How many have you had? Has it been long?” he asks. 

“Maybe five. They’re like…” You take his hand. “They’re like, they go on for ages. I’ve never felt anything like it.” 

“So you’re in labour,” he says, grasping your hand back. “Definitely. Let me get my watch, I need to time your contractions. Are you okay?” 

“Oh, no,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m not in labour. I’m going in to labour.”  

“It’s the same thing,” he says. He has boxes and boxes of mental knowledge explaining the difference, but he’s too excited to catch your strange tone. “I’ll be right back.” 

He races from the bed to the bathroom where he’d left his watch. You should be having contractions far apart at this point, around fifteen to twenty minute gaps, but it could be much further or far sooner, and Spencer doesn’t know when you had your last. He needs to time them properly so he knows when to take you to the hospital. 

“Good thing we packed your bag yesterday morning, huh?” he asks, sliding back into bed with a huge smile on his face. “And you showered last night, you’re ready to go. I have all our things in the trunk, but Morgan’s gonna have to come and do the car seat, I forgot all about it.” 

You shake your head again. 

He worries it’s from pain. “Is it starting?” 

“No, no, I’m not having any. I think it’s just cramps, actually.” 

“What?” He puts his hand on your bump. “That’s what they feel like, honey, it’s cramps, it’s your cervix contracting, it feels just like a cramp.” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

Spencer cups your cheek, his fingertips sliding softly to the corner of your eye, his thumb by your nose. You look younger without any makeup on, younger still with your creeping frown. “Hey,” he says, his voice half breath, hoping you’ll look him in the eye, “hey, what’s going on?” 

Your eyebrows start to pinch down. “It’s not labour.” 

“Is something wrong?” 

“I’m not having her.” 

“She had to come out some time,” he says, attempting to be funny and lighten the mood. 

“I really think it’s fine. I’m just having those Braxton Hicks again, it’s too far from my due date–”

“Angel, it’s a week away. We knew it could happen now.” He strokes your cheek again. “We don’t have to go yet. Let me time a couple of your contractions and see what we’re working with.” 

“It’s not…” You duck your head. The catch of pain gets you, and Spencer checks his watch. Four minutes past four in the morning, the longest hand at five seconds. Then he looks for your hand again to hold in his, his own panic backseated by your denial. “They’re not that bad,” you say stiffly. 

“That’s good, honey, but they’re going to get worse. Remember what we said, huh? The pain will get really bad, but there’s nothing to be afraid of. We have a plan.” 

“It’s not real.” 

“Baby,” he says, tugging your hand imploringly to his chest, his voice having descended to a place it so rarely goes, “what are you scared of?” 

“That I can’t do it,” you say. 

“Is your contraction over?” he asks, noticing the laxening of your fingers. 

“Yeah.”

He’s silent for a few seconds. 

“Is there anything in the entire world that you can’t do?” 

You sniff. 

“Seriously. I can’t name a single thing you can’t do. This isn’t different. It’s going to be scary and painful, and it’s not something I want for you, not really, but you’re about to have a baby.” He rubs your thumb, ducking his head in the hopes that the movement will make you raise your own. “Our baby. We’ve waited such a long time.” 

“Nine months.” 

“Thirty nine weeks and two days. That's two hundred and seventy five days waiting. This is a good thing,” he says, meeting your eyes the moment you raise your head. “The waiting is over. This is the fun part.”

“‘Cos our girl is coming,” you say. 

He grins. “Exactly! I know you’re scared, but thinking you can’t do it? Of course you can. And I’m gonna be with you the whole time.” 

“You promise?”

“Of course I do.” 

You wipe your eyes with the backs of your hands. Spencer lets his palm fall onto your thigh. It really is going to hurt. It’s gonna be pain like you’ve never felt before, and he’s terrified of everything that could go wrong, but what’s important now is making sure you know you’re going to be alright. 

“You’re going to be a beautiful mom,” he says, rubbing your thigh, softer from time spent resting. “I’m so excited I can’t describe it. This time, the day after tomorrow, we could be here with her. We’ll be putting her down to sleep in the nursery in her newborn onesie we picked out, the–”

“Little rabbits,” you say, the hint of a smile on your lips. 

“I can’t wait to see her face.” 

“Her little fingers.” 

“Her nose, her eyes–”

“You said babies have their moms hands.” 

He smiles. “I have my mom’s. Can you imagine? And we get to find out today.” 

You let him touch your stomach. “I know what you’re doing.”

“You always do.” 

“I’m so scared.” 

“Sweetheart, let me be the scared one.” 

“You’re not gonna dilate ten centimetres!” 

“You’ve probably already done one,” he says. “Just nine more to go.” 

His joke doesn’t land. To his horror, you end up sniffling and locked up with panic. He rubs your back in long sweeps, feeling younger than ever kneeling in bed at your side, minutes droning on. He’s pulling your head into his neck thinking he’s completely out of your depth when you say, “It’s starting again, Spence.” 

He checks his watch. “That’s eleven minutes.” 

Your contractions will get worse soon, and closer together. You probably don’t have long until it starts, and labour might go on for hours. To do this, you're going to have to believe That you can. 

Spencer takes your face into his hands and looks you right in the eyes. “You can do this. I know you can.” He pecks you gently. “Angel, if anyone in the world can do this, it’s you.” 

You take a deep breath. He watches your nerves turn to determination, turn to love. “I know.” 

“Is there anything you need me to do before we start getting ready to leave?” 

You give a soft smile. “Kiss for luck?” 

He’s gonna need it. 

[puppym3]

❤ SKZ reaction to you with baby fever! ❤

MDNI 18+

wc: 23.4k (about 5k each)

genre: fluff, humor, smut

warnings: a lot of baby-making, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, very steamy, oral (f + m rec), choking, marking, daddy energy, some switch vibes from some, dom member mostly, breeding kink?, we dunno if it was successful!, don't recreate at home, (please let me know if i missed any)

a/n: i was tired of starving you guys so i just made 8 individual fics for all of them! hope you enjoy <3

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Bang Chan :

The soft hum of the TV played in the background as you nestled into Bang Chan’s side, his arm draped lazily around your shoulders. His warmth seeped into you, his scent, clean and familiar, grounding you in the moment. The glow from the screen illuminated his profile, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the faint scrunch of concentration on his face as he scrolled through his phone. He didn’t have to try; even here, in worn-out sweatpants and a hoodie, he exuded that quiet strength and warmth that made you fall for him every day.

Your heart tightened as you watched him, the weight of the thought you’d been holding in for months pressing heavily on your chest. Two years of marriage had passed in a blissful blur, filled with laughter, love, and late-night talks. But there was something you wanted, something you’d dreamed of every time you saw him interacting with kids, the way they lit up in his presence. You wanted a family with him. You wanted to see his kind eyes reflected in someone small, to hear his laughter echo through your home in a way that belonged entirely to the two of you.

But every time you imagined telling him, your courage faltered. What if he wasn’t ready? What if he didn’t want that yet? The fear of disrupting the perfect harmony you had kept you silent, until tonight.

You shifted slightly in his hold, your fingers nervously twisting the hem of your shirt. The words were bubbling at the edge of your tongue, and your heart raced like a drumbeat, loud and insistent. “Chan?” you murmured, barely louder than the TV.

“Hmm?” His response was distracted, his thumb still swiping on the screen as he hummed softly under his breath. Even that small sound sent warmth curling through you.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” you started, voice hesitant but determined.

That got his attention. He immediately set his phone down on the armrest and turned to you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. Concern flickered across his face, and he tilted his head slightly, his brows knitting together. “Yeah? What’s up?” His voice was gentle, grounding you in the safe space he always provided.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. The words felt heavy, like if you said them, there was no taking them back. But you’d held them in for so long, and if you didn’t say them now, you weren’t sure when you’d find the courage again.

“I’ve been thinking about us,” you said slowly, glancing down at your lap where your fingers twisted together nervously. “About what’s next for us.”

His expression softened, his body shifting as he turned fully toward you. He rested a hand on your knee, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your skin. “Okay,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Talk to me, love. What’s on your mind?”

The weight of his gaze made your cheeks flush, but his touch grounded you. You glanced up, meeting his eyes, and took a deep breath. “What if… what if we started trying? For a baby, I mean.”

The silence that followed was deafening. His hand stilled on your knee, his eyes widening ever so slightly as your words sank in. He blinked at you, his lips parting as though to speak, but no sound came out. You watched as the realization hit him, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink.

“A baby?” he finally managed, his voice cracking slightly on the word.

You nodded, a wave of relief washing over you now that it was out in the open. “Yeah,” you said, the words spilling out in a rush. “I know it’s a big step, and I didn’t want to pressure you, but I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. And I just… I think you’d be an amazing dad, Chan. I really do.”

His mouth opened and closed a few times, like he couldn’t quite find the words. Then he let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his messy curls. “Wow,” he said softly, his voice tinged with disbelief. “That’s… wow.” He shook his head, a nervous grin spreading across his face. “You really think I’d be a good dad?”

“Of course,” you said, your voice steady with conviction. “You’re patient, kind, and thoughtful. And you’re so good with kids, Chan. They adore you.”

His blush deepened, and he let out a groan, burying his face in his hands. “Stop it. You’re embarrassing me.”

You laughed, reaching out to gently tug his hands away from his face. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” you teased, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

He huffed, though his lips twitched into a smile. “You can’t just drop something like that on me and expect me to act normal. You’re talking about a baby. Our baby.”

The way he said it, soft and reverent like he was tasting the words for the first time, made your heart ache in the best way. “So… what do you think?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out to cup your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours with a tenderness that made your breath catch. “I think…” he said slowly, his voice steady and sure, “I love you more than anything in this world. And if having a baby is what you want, then it’s what I want too.”

Your chest swelled with emotion, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Really?”

“Really,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll probably mess up a lot, but if you believe in me that much… then I’ll give it everything I’ve got.”

Tears spilled over as you laughed softly, your hands coming up to cover his. He pulled you closer, wrapping you in his arms like he was trying to shield you from the world.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “I mean, I’m not saying no to all the, uh… practice it’s going to take.”

You smacked his arm lightly, your cheeks burning. “Chan!”

“What?” he said, feigning innocence as his grin widened. “I’m just saying, we should make sure we’re doing it right. You know, aim for perfection.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing against your jaw as his hands slid to your waist, pulling you into his lap. His voice dropped to a husky whisper, sending shivers down your spine. “We’ve got all night, love.”

The butterflies in your stomach erupted as his lips found yours, soft and deliberate, pouring all his love into the kiss. You melted into him, losing yourself in the taste of his lips, the warmth of his hands, the steady beat of his heart.

He was the one who finally broke the kiss, his breath coming out in short, shallow pants. He leaned his forehead against yours, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek.

"You know, we could always start trying now," he said, the words sending heat rushing through you.

You gave a breathless laugh, looping your arms around his neck. "I like the way you think, Mr. Bang," you said, grinning against his lips.

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Definitely," you said, your voice dropping to a whisper. "Take me to bed."

A low giggle escaped him as he leaned forward, his hands sliding down to the backs of your thighs. "It'd be my pleasure, Mrs. Bang," he murmured, his lips hovering over yours.

And with that, he stood, carrying you easily across the room.

Your heart raced in anticipation, the familiar weight of his touch making you feel lightheaded. The soft glow of the TV dimly illuminated the room, casting shadows across the walls. The low murmur of the news anchor's voice seemed distant and unimportant, replaced by the sound of your heartbeat echoing in your ears.

Bang Chan's warm hands cradled you, his lips pressed gently to your hair as he carried you across the threshold and into the bedroom, his movements careful and deliberate. Your eyes slipped closed, savoring the closeness, the safety, the comfort of being enveloped by him.

When you felt him set you down, you reluctantly opened your eyes. You were greeted by the sight of Chan's broad shoulders, his back turned to you as he shut the door with a quiet click.

As he turned back toward you, you took a moment to appreciate the view. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, drawing your gaze downward. A familiar heat pooled between your thighs, and you bit your lip, forcing yourself to meet his eyes.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

"Nothing," you said, your cheeks heating at the intensity of his gaze. "I'm just... admiring the view."

He grinned, his dimples flashing, and took a step toward you. "Is that so?"

You nodded, suddenly feeling a bit breathless.

"Well, allow me to return the favor," he murmured, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

His eyes roamed over you, his expression growing soft as his gaze lingered on your lips, your neck, your collarbone. He moved closer, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. You shivered as his thumb brushed along your lower lip, his eyes darkening.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice laced with awe. "Our baby is gonna be so lucky."

The heat in your core pulsed, and you leaned into his touch, his words making your chest tighten. "Chan..."

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss, his hands slipping to your hips. You melted into the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, gently coaxing them open. The taste of him was intoxicating, sweet and familiar, and you clung to him, his warmth seeping into your skin.

You broke the kiss with a gasp as his lips trailed along your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin below your ear. His hands moved up your back, leaving goosebumps in their wake, before deftly undoing the buttons of your shirt. You fumbled with his hoodie, your fingers trembling as they skimmed over his toned chest. He chuckled, his breath tickling your skin, and helped you tug the fabric over his head.

You tossed it aside, letting out a soft whine as his lips resumed their exploration of your neck, his teeth gently scraping over your pulse point. His hands slid down your waist, finding the button of your jeans. You helped him, wriggling out of the restrictive fabric, leaving you clad only in your bra and underwear.

Chan stepped back, his eyes raking over you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "God, I love you," he murmured, his fingers teasing the lace hem of your panties.

You shivered, a thrill running through you at the intensity of his gaze.

"And I can't wait to have a baby with you," he continued, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

Your heart fluttered, and you closed the distance between you, pulling him in for a kiss.

He responded immediately, his hands sliding around your waist, drawing you closer. The warmth of his bare skin against yours made you tremble, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, losing yourself in the taste of his lips.

You felt his fingers deftly unhooking your bra, and you let out a soft sigh as the cool air hit your skin, the material falling to the floor. His hands moved up your sides, his thumbs grazing the undersides of your breasts.

"God, Chan," you gasped, his touch sending sparks through you.

"Yeah, love?" he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You rolled your eyes, reaching down to hook your thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants. "Don't play coy," you muttered, a thrill running through you as his breath caught.

"Okay, okay," he breathed, his eyes following as he watched you.

You pulled his sweatpants and boxers down his legs, revealing his impressive length. He stepped out of them, and you swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry.

"Like what you see?" he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Always," you breathed, leaning in for a kiss.

He returned the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours. His hands moved down, gripping the backs of your thighs and lifting you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms looping around his neck. You felt his hard length press against your clothed core, and a soft whimper escaped you.

He carried you back to the bed, his lips never leaving yours. You landed on the mattress, and he moved over you, his knee nudging your legs apart. You obliged, spreading your thighs for him.

"So beautiful," he murmured, trailing his lips down your neck.

His fingers found the waistband of your panties, tugging them down and off your legs. He tossed them aside, his eyes raking over your bare form.

You felt a flash of heat, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze. But the way his pupils dilated and his tongue darted out to wet his lips was all the reassurance you needed.

"Chan," you whimpered, arching your back as his lips trailed along your hipbone.

"Shh," he whispered, his breath ghosting over your skin. "Let me take care of you."

You shivered, biting your lip to stifle a moan as his fingers dipped between your thighs, gently parting your folds.

"God, you're wet," he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You groaned, rolling your hips against his hand. He chuckled, his thumb brushing over your swollen clit. You let out a gasp, your eyes squeezing shut.

"That's it," he whispered, his voice low and smooth. "Just relax."

His fingers circled your entrance, dipping in and out, the sensation driving you wild. You could feel his breath, hot against your thigh, and when his tongue dragged along the sensitive skin, your eyes snapped open.

"Chan," you breathed, gripping the sheets as his tongue found your clit, laving the swollen bud.

Your back arched off the bed, a moan escaping you. His free hand gripped your hip, keeping you pinned to the mattress as he worked you open, his tongue relentlessly swirling around your clit.

You writhed beneath him, heat building in your core, the sensations overwhelming. His fingers thrust in and out of you, curling and stretching. You could feel his hot breath on your skin, and when his lips closed around your clit, sucking gently, you let out a cry, your vision blurring.

"Please, Chan," you gasped, unable to take any more.

He hummed, the vibrations sending shocks through you. Then, mercifully, he released your clit, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. He then spit into his palm, and reached up to stroke his hard length, spreading the wetness.

"You ready, love?" he murmured, his voice husky and thick.

"God, yes," you gasped, arching your back and spreading your thighs, welcoming him into the cradle of your hips.

You watched, transfixed, as he positioned himself at your entrance. He hesitantly looked back at you, making sure you were one hundred percent okay with this.

"Please," you begged, your voice a breathless whimper.

He grinned, leaning forward and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. As his tongue swept into your mouth, he eased himself inside you. You gasped, the stretch and fullness making your head spin. He slowly bottomed out, and you moaned, the pressure and heat intoxicating.

He groaned, burying his face in your neck. "Fuck, baby. You're so wet."

You whimpered, rocking your hips against his, the friction making you shiver. He groaned, his grip on your hips tightening.

"Chan," you managed, clinging to his broad shoulders, the sensation almost too much.

"Tell me what you want, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing over your pulse point.

"I want you," you breathed, a soft whimper escaping you. "I need you."

He hummed, slowly pulling back before thrusting deep inside you.

Your vision went white, a wave of pleasure crashing over you.

"You like that?" he asked, his voice laced with a possessive heat that made your core clench.

You let out a moan, nodding helplessly as he rocked his hips into you, his movements slow and steady. The drag of his cock inside you was intoxicating, and you gasped, clinging to him. The friction sent waves of heat through you, and you let out a breathless moan, arching your back to meet his thrusts. He grunted, his grip on your hips bruising.

"Please, Chan," you whimpered, the sensations becoming too much.

He let out a groan, his pace picking up. You writhed beneath him, the heat and friction overwhelming. He pounded into you, his hips slapping against yours. You gasped, your legs wrapping around his waist, drawing him closer.

"Fuck," he hissed, his voice a low growl. "You feel so good."

You cried out, the heat and pressure building in your core. He drove into you, his pace relentless, the sound of flesh on flesh filling the room. You whimpered, the friction and fullness bringing tears to your eyes.

"Oh God, Chan," you gasped, the tension mounting.

"Yeah?" he panted, his voice strained.

"I'm close," you whined, the words coming out broken.

He hummed, his fingers digging into your hips. He shifted, changing the angle, and the new sensation sent a shock through you. You cried out, your vision blurring as the pleasure hit its peak. Your body went taut, the tension snapping, and you fell apart, his name spilling from your lips.

Your vision went white, and the waves crashed over you, drowning out everything but the feel of his body against yours. His pace didn't falter, his hips rocking against yours as you came down, his movements drawing out your release.

"I'm not done with you yet," he warned, his grip tight on you.

You whimpered, the heat still pulsing through you, the sensation almost too much. He slowed his pace, his thrusts becoming languid and shallow.

"Chan," you breathed, barely louder than a whisper.

He groaned, leaning down and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You kissed him back, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, stealing the breath from your lungs. You tangled your fingers in his hair, holding him close.

When he broke the kiss, his breathing was ragged. He groaned, burying his face in your neck. His hips snapped forward, the sudden motion making you gasp. You cried out, the new angle hitting you just right. You writhed beneath him, the sensations almost too much.

"God, baby, I'm so close," he gasped, his voice thick and husky.

You moaned, the sound turning into a desperate whine.

He thrust harder, deeper, the pressure and heat overwhelming. You writhed beneath him, the friction driving you crazy.

"Fill me up," you breathed, his name on the edge of your lips.

"God, baby, I'm gonna cum," he groaned, his hips snapping forward.

"Please," you pleaded, the pressure mounting.

"I'm gonna fill you up," he growled, his voice rough with need. "Gonna give you my baby."

You let out a cry, the tension snapping. He grunted, his movements growing erratic, and you clenched around him, his release triggering another orgasm.

"Fuck, yes, love," he hissed, his voice breaking.

His hips stuttered, and he thrust once more, burying himself to the hilt. A guttural groan escaped him, and he spilled inside you, his cock twitching as he emptied himself. You moaned, the warmth and pressure bringing tears to your eyes.

He collapsed against you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. You clung to him, the feeling of his skin against yours grounding you, anchoring you. You lay there for a moment, neither of you moving, the silence broken only by the sound of your breaths.

After a moment, he leaned back, gently easing himself out of you. You whimpered, already missing the closeness, the fullness. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, a content smile on his face.

"How are you feeling, love?" he murmured, brushing the hair out of your face.

You sighed, your eyelids heavy. "Good. Really good," you mumbled, a dopey grin spreading across your face.

He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your temple. "Glad to hear it," he said, his voice soft and warm.

You snuggled into his chest, the steady rise and fall of his chest comforting. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close.

You yawned, your eyelids drooping.

"Get some sleep, love," he murmured, his lips brushing the top of your head.

"Mm," you hummed, your mind hazy and your limbs heavy.

The last thing you remember is the warmth of his touch, and the gentle sound of his voice.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Lee Know :

The aroma of garlic and herbs filled the cozy apartment as you leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching Minho at the stove. He stood in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair slightly messy from a lazy day at home. He looked effortlessly handsome, the golden glow of the evening sun streaming through the window highlighting his sharp features.

"Stop staring and make yourself useful," he quipped, glancing at you over his shoulder with a smirk. "The chopping board isn’t just for decoration, you know."

You grinned but stayed put, fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. Your heart raced as you debated whether to bring up the topic that had been on your mind for months. It wasn’t that you doubted his love or your relationship; Minho had always been thoughtful and attentive in his own dryly affectionate way. But this… this was a leap.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Mm?” Minho hummed, focused on stirring the pasta sauce. "Thinking about helping me for once?"

"Minho," you said, this time with a little more weight, drawing his attention. He turned, wooden spoon in hand, eyebrows raised.

"What’s up?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you glanced up at him, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. "I’ve been thinking about... having a baby," you said quietly, hoping the words would come out with less hesitation.

Minho paused for a moment, the spoon in his hand suspended in mid-air. His eyes blinked twice, as if he was processing the words. Then, he cocked his head, smirking with that mischievous gleam in his eyes. "A baby?" he repeated, his tone dripping with disbelief. "Are you sure? Because, you know, little versions of me would be a disaster... they’d probably be stealing my hair products and making my kitchen a mess by the time they can walk."

You let out a nervous laugh, trying to brush it off, but inside, your heart dropped. "I mean... just a thought," you stammered, taking a step back. "You know, for someday, when we’re ready."

Minho raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "We? Baby, you just mentioned the idea, and now you’re saying 'we'? You sure you’re ready to handle two Minhos? One’s already enough to deal with."

The teasing tone hit harder than you expected, and a wave of insecurity washed over you. Maybe you were too hasty to bring it up. Maybe he didn’t actually want that with you, maybe he wasn’t ready.

You forced a smile, trying to dismiss the feeling. "Yeah, never mind. Forget I said anything." You waved it off, turning back to the counter to grab a glass of water, trying to hide the tightening in your chest.

Minho didn’t seem to notice, his attention back on stirring the sauce. The rest of dinner went by in an awkward silence, with you trying to focus on the food and Minho humming mindlessly to the playlist in the background, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d ruined something with your suggestion.

That night, as you curled up under the covers, your mind was still restless. You kept replaying the conversation in your head, trying to convince yourself that maybe you’d misinterpreted Minho’s teasing. But the words still stung, and you couldn’t quite shake the doubt.

As you lay there, the room dim and quiet, you heard the sound of Minho shifting beside you. He rolled over to face you, his dark eyes studying you intently. You turned to face him, still unsure, the bed warm and cozy around you.

Minho shifted closer, his hand lightly brushing your arm as he studied you with an unreadable expression. The tension between you both was palpable, the weight of the earlier conversation lingering in the air. For a few seconds, there was only the soft rustling of sheets, the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows over his sharp features.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he asked quietly, his voice suddenly softer, almost intimate. You looked at him, his gaze intense, a shift in the way he was looking at you now. “The baby thing... it’s been on my mind, too.”

You swallowed, unsure how to respond. Was he just trying to lighten the mood again? Or had the thought really stayed with him? “Minho…” you began, but before you could say anything more, his fingers brushed against your cheek, gently guiding your face toward his.

“You know,” he murmured, lips hovering just inches from yours, “the idea of a mini me running around... messing up my space, stealing my things... I wasn’t exactly thrilled about it at first.” His breath was warm against your skin, sending a flutter through your chest. “But now?” He paused, eyes darkening with a mixture of desire and something else you couldn’t quite place. “I can’t stop thinking about it. About you.”

Your heart raced, the uncertainty from before now mixed with a rush of anticipation. Minho was never one to easily give in to big ideas like this, so hearing him admit it was unexpected. His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, his thumb grazing over the sensitive skin, pulling you just a little closer.

“So... what are you saying?” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Minho’s lips curled into that teasing grin you knew so well. “I’m saying, if you want a little bundle of chaos in nine months... you better make your mind up now.” His voice was low, seductive, and it sent a spark of heat straight to your core. “If we’re doing this... we’re doing it right. No half-measures.” His fingers traced the curve of your jaw, tilting your head slightly as his gaze dropped to your lips. “No turning back once we start.”

Before you could respond, Minho’s lips were on yours, kissing you with a sudden, hungry intensity that sent your pulse spiking. His hands roamed to your sides, pulling you closer until you could feel the heat radiating off his body. You let out a soft gasp as his hands slid beneath your shirt, fingertips brushing over your skin with a mixture of tenderness and urgency.

“You sure you want this?” he murmured against your lips, his breath heavy, fingers already working their way up to your chest. “Because I can’t think about anything else now. Just... us.”

You couldn’t form words in response, your body reacting instinctively as you pulled him closer, kissing him back with the same intensity. It wasn’t just about the baby anymore, it was about everything you shared, every part of this relationship that felt so right. His hands were everywhere now, leaving no room for doubt.

Minho’s lips trailed down your neck, his voice muffled against your skin as he said, “You want a baby in nine months? We start tonight... and we do it properly.” He didn’t give you a chance to respond, his lips finding yours again in a searing kiss that only deepened, his hands working their way down to the waistband of your pants. You gasped, a shiver running through your body as he kissed his way down your neck, pausing to bite softly at the tender spot near your collarbone.

Your body ached for him, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. “Then let’s do it,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. “Let’s go all in.”

Minho responded without a word, his lips finding yours once more as his hands roamed your body, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake. You were lost in a haze of desire and passion, your thoughts consumed by the idea of him, of the future. It was reckless and risky, but for the first time, you didn’t care about anything but him.

Minho’s hands moved with a sense of urgency, as if he couldn’t wait another second to feel all of you. His lips, burning with desire, trailed down your body, each kiss more fervent than the last. Every touch felt electrifying, like sparks igniting under his fingertips. The heat of his body against yours made everything else fade away, leaving only the intensity of the moment.

You arched into him, your breath shallow and erratic as he explored you, the anticipation building with every passing second. His lips returned to yours, deep and demanding, his tongue sweeping against yours in a way that made your heart race even faster. You could feel his muscles tense beneath you, his control slipping away as his need for you grew stronger.

Minho’s hand slid to the waistband of your pants, pausing for a split second before he pulled them off, his gaze fixed on you, dark and smoldering. “You’re sure, right?” he asked again, his voice hushed but filled with raw, unfiltered desire.

You could barely nod, the heat of his touch, the weight of his gaze making it hard to focus on anything but him. “I’m sure,” you breathed out, pulling him closer, your hands working to rid him of his clothes. You didn’t need to think anymore, there was only now, only the way he made you feel.

Minho groaned as he undid the rest of his clothes, his body pressing into yours with a hunger that mirrored your own. You could feel the hard line of him against your thigh, his breath ragged as he leaned over you, his lips brushing against your ear.

"I don't think I can wait," he said, his fingers tangling in your hair, his breath hot against your skin. "I want you, all of you. I can't stop thinking about it."

His words were a heady mix of desperation and desire, and you wanted nothing more than to give in to his every whim. Your hands moved to his hips, pulling him closer, aching to feel him fill the emptiness inside you. You were more than ready, the longing to have him buried deep within you was almost too much to bear.

"Then take me," you whispered, your voice laced with equal amounts of lust and need. "Make me yours."

Minho didn't waste another moment, his fingers gripping your thighs and pushing them apart, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. He lowered his head, his lips skimming over your skin, kissing a trail of fire across your stomach, then lower.

He teased your entrance, his tongue swiping over you, tasting and exploring, before dipping inside, sending a shiver through your entire body. Your back arched involuntarily, and you gripped his hair, pulling him closer, begging for more.

His hand found yours, and his fingers laced through yours, gripping tightly as he worked his way down, his mouth devouring every inch of your heated flesh. You could feel the waves of pleasure building, but it wasn't enough, not yet.

"Please, Minho," you gasped, your hips bucking as he lapped at your swollen clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your core. "Please, I need you."

Minho lifted his head, his eyes dark with lust. "What do you need, baby?"

You could barely find the words, the feeling of him against you, his hard length throbbing against your thigh, was driving you wild. "You. You in me," you said, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable.

He chuckled, his lips brushing against your ear as he pressed his body flush against yours. "You're gonna have to be a little more specific," he murmured, his hand sliding up your thigh, fingertips teasing the sensitive skin.

You shivered, the ache intensifying as his fingers dipped inside you, then withdrew, the slow, tantalizing movements driving you mad. "Minho," you begged, annoyed, unable to articulate what you wanted.

"Tell me," he said, his breath hot against your neck, his body trembling with the effort to hold himself back. "Tell me what you need."

"I need your cock," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You could feel him smile against your skin, the warmth of his lips spreading across your neck as he kissed his way down to your chest.

"I need all of you," he replied, his hand traveling down your stomach and settling between your thighs. "I need to be buried inside you, deep and hard, until you can't take it anymore."

"Please, Minho," you said, arching into him, the heat pooling between your legs, his fingers teasing your slick folds. "Please."

Minho groaned, his hips rolling into yours, the hard line of his cock rubbing against you, his restraint slipping. He kissed your lips, his tongue delving into your mouth, exploring and claiming.

He broke away, his breathing ragged, his fingers sliding up and down your wetness, his touch setting every nerve ending ablaze. You reached down, wrapping your hand around his length, stroking him slowly, your eyes locked on his.

"Do it," you breathed, desperate for him, aching for the connection. "Take me."

Minho groaned, his hands moving to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pushed you back, lifting your legs to rest over his shoulders. You could see the tension in his muscles, the strain of holding back, but he couldn't wait any longer.

With a shuddering breath, he slid into you, the feeling of him filling you sending a wave of pleasure crashing through your body. You moaned, clinging to him, your nails raking over his skin, your hips bucking, craving more.

He began to move, his pace slow and steady, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he fought to control himself. You could feel his muscles tensing, the power and strength behind his every thrust sending a shiver of anticipation through your body.

You gasped, the feeling of him stretching you, the sensation of him moving inside you, was almost too much to handle. He reached between you, his fingers brushing against your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you.

"More," you moaned, unable to get enough, the pressure building deep within you.

He obliged, his hips snapping against yours, his pace quickening as he drove deeper and harder into you. You cried out, your hands gripping his shoulders, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He growled, his fingers working your clit, his other hand digging into the sheets beside your head.

The pleasure was overwhelming, but every time you began to unravel, he slowed, dragging out the sensations, taking his time. You were lost in a haze of pleasure and desire, every sensation amplified, each touch, each thrust, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Minho leaned over, his lips finding yours, his tongue swirling around yours in a way that sent shivers down your spine. You moaned into his mouth, the heat of him, the feel of him, was driving you wild. You could feel the tension building inside him, the pressure coiling in his body as his thrusts became more erratic, more desperate.

"Please," you breathed, desperate for release. "Please just let me cum."

"Not yet," he groaned, his breath ragged, his hips snapping against yours, the feeling of him sliding in and out of you was almost enough to make you fall apart. "Not until I say so."

He kept moving, the pressure building inside you, the need for release so intense, so overwhelming. You moaned, biting down on your lip, trying to hold back, but it was no use.

"Fuck," he cursed, his hips bucking, the pleasure threatening to spill over.

"Minho, please," you pleaded, your body trembling, the edge of the precipice just out of reach.

"Cum," he growled, his lips brushing against your ear, his fingers still working your clit, "now."

You cried out, the intensity of your release tearing through you, the world around you spinning as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. Minho growled, his grip tightening on you, his hips bucking wildly as he came, spilling into you, the feeling indescribable.

The world was hazy, the intensity of the pleasure still coursing through your veins, his arms wrapped tightly around you. You clung to him, the sweat-soaked sheets tangled around your bodies, his lips trailing kisses along your skin, his hands stroking your hair.

You were still reeling from the high, the room slowly coming into focus. Your breath was shaky, the aftershocks of your release rippling through your body.

Minho shifted, his hand brushing lightly over your cheek. "I love you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

"I love you too," you said, pulling him closer, his heart beating steadily beneath your ear.

The reality of what had happened settled over you, the knowledge that this could change everything. But as you lay there, curled up in his arms, you knew that no matter what happened next, this was worth it.

"Win the race," He said, pressing against your lower stomach as if he were talking to it, instantly making you laugh, even with the little energy in your body. "Because I can't wait to meet you."

And the idea, the prospect of it all, suddenly felt a lot less scary.

Minho rolled over, pulling you close, the warmth of his body seeping into yours, the sound of his heartbeat filling the quiet room. There was still so much ahead, the road was still uncertain, but in this moment, all that mattered was him.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Changbin :

It was the kind of lazy day you didn’t get often: just the two of you sprawled out in the bed, wrapped up in each other. The sun filtered through the blinds, casting warm rays on the blankets as the soft hum of the city outside barely reached your ears. Changbin’s strong arms held you close, one hand gently brushing the back of your head as his chin rested atop it. His body heat was comforting, and for a moment, you could forget about everything outside of the little bubble the two of you created.

You’d spent the entire morning in each other's company, moving between soft kisses, playful banter, and occasional teasing as the hours slipped away. Changbin was content, in his element, basking in the warmth of your presence, literally. You could tell by how tightly he held you, never wanting to let go, always wanting to be near you. You both always seemed to have the best days together when you didn’t have anywhere to be.

But then, as if the universe decided it was time for something to shift in the peacefulness of the moment, you made a suggestion that threw everything into an entirely different, far more intimate direction.

You tilted your head, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes, a playful glint in yours. “Binnie,” you murmured, your voice dropping to a more serious tone.

He hummed in response, his fingers absently tracing patterns on your arm. “Hm?”

"I think it’s time we make a baby."

There was a beat of silence before Changbin’s eyes widened, his arms momentarily stiffening around you, as though trying to process your words. His brow furrowed, mouth slightly agape, the playful smirk that usually never left his face faltering for just a moment.

“W-What?” His voice cracked as he pulled back a little to look at you. He blinked a few times, clearly stunned. “You’re... serious?”

You nodded, a little too pleased with the reaction, but then you noticed how flustered he looked, his dark eyes wide and the hint of a blush creeping up his neck. It was cute. So cute that you couldn’t hold back a small chuckle.

Changbin quickly recovered, a mischievous glint creeping back into his eyes as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m always your baby,” he said with a teasing smirk, his voice playful again.

You raised an eyebrow, your smile widening as you saw through his attempt to make light of the situation. “You sure about that? Because I’m ready for another baby now, Binnie.”

The teasing glimmer in his eyes faltered once more as his gaze dropped to your lips, and he could see that you weren’t joking. There was an undeniable sincerity in your expression, and it made his heart skip a beat. The playful energy between you shifted, his face slowly turning red as the words finally sank in.

“You’re serious?” he whispered, his breath catching in his throat.

You nodded again, leaning in to press your lips to his, but this time, it wasn’t just a kiss. It was deep, slow, and filled with something that had both of your hearts racing in unison.

When you pulled away, Changbin’s expression had shifted entirely. His chest was rising and falling faster than before, and you could feel his muscles tense under your fingertips. But what really caught your attention was the bulge pressing against your leg.

“Binnie…” you teased, your voice dripping with amusement. “I didn’t think you’d be that into the idea.”

A small whine escaped Changbin, his arms wrapping tighter around you as his lips sought yours once more. The kiss was a little sloppy, but it only served to make you laugh into it. You could feel the smile on his lips as he kissed you harder, his hands already moving along your sides and down to your thighs.

Changbin was always affectionate with you, even if he wasn't the best at showing it in public. It was always there in the way he looked at you, or the subtle brush of his fingertips against yours when no one was looking, or the sweet compliments he whispered to you when the two of you were alone. But the way his hands slid under your shirt, and the urgency in his kiss told you exactly how he felt in that moment.

You let him lift you off his lap, settling your hips down over his so that he was nestled between your legs. He groaned against your lips, and you felt his growing length straining against his pants.

When he broke the kiss, it was only to help you tug off his shirt. As soon as the garment was tossed aside, he grabbed the hem of yours and pulled it over your head, tossing it behind him, not caring where it landed. Then his lips were back on yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth, eliciting a soft moan from you.

You didn't notice his fingers fumbling with the button on your jeans until he pulled away from the kiss to help you out of them, and a few moments later, you were both naked and panting. Changbin's lips were already trailing across your collarbone, his teeth nipping and sucking at your skin, making sure to leave a mark.

Your hands moved down his back, your fingers digging into his flesh as you arched up to meet his lips, his chest pressed firmly against yours.

"Changbin," you whined, his name a breathless sigh on your lips. "Touch me."

He pulled back to look at you, his expression one of pure adoration. He took in your flushed cheeks, the way your eyes were hooded and glassy, your lips parted in anticipation.

"Anything for you," he said softly.

Your body shuddered as his hand traveled up the inside of your thigh, his fingers finding their way between your folds, circling your sensitive bud. You let out a low moan, bucking against him.

"I can't wait any longer," you panted.

"Neither can I."

Without warning, he flipped you onto your back, hovering above you. His hand came up to cradle the side of your face as he lowered his lips to yours, kissing you with an intensity that made your toes curl.

When he finally broke the kiss, he reached down to grab a condom from the drawer of his nightstand, sort of like muscle memory at this point. But before he could get a chance to open the wrapper, you stopped him, placing your hand on his.

"Binnie," you breathed. "You don't need that."

His eyes met yours, the question written all over his face. You just nodded, and a wide grin spread across his face.

"Whatever you want," he whispered, and he threw the package onto the floor.

His fingers returned to their earlier spot between your legs, stroking up and down the slick heat before slipping a finger inside you, followed by another. Your breath hitched, a soft whimper escaping your throat, and you rocked against his hand.

After a few moments, Changbin pulled his fingers out, replacing them with the tip of his cock. He slowly eased into you, and a breathless gasp left your lips as he filled you completely.

He paused for a second, his forehead resting against yours, and then he began to move, the feeling of his hips rolling against yours overwhelming you. The pace was slow and sensual, and the only sound in the room was your heavy breathing and the quiet creaking of the mattress as he moved above you.

As you stared into his eyes, the emotions swirling within them were too intense, too intimate, so you closed your own, letting yourself drown in the feeling of his body against yours, his cock filling you up with each thrust.

Your hands found their way to his back, clutching at his shoulder blades, and his lips brushed against your neck. Your bodies were so close that you could feel his heartbeat thundering against your chest.

It was too much.

You wanted to feel him deeper, to pull him closer. So you hooked your legs around his waist, pulling him in until you were almost completely flush with one another. You could feel every inch of him, and it made your stomach flutter.

The new angle allowed him to go deeper, his cock hitting a spot that made your breath hitch. Your nails dug into his back, and you buried your face in his neck. "Binnie," you mumbled, and his fingers laced through yours, pinning your hands to the bed above your head.

He was everywhere. His skin was hot, his touch burning. Every part of you was connected, and the way he moved was sending you over the edge. Your head was spinning. Pleasure pulsed through your body, building higher and higher. Changbin's lips had moved down to your neck, his tongue leaving a trail of wet kisses along your skin.

When he bit down on the base of your throat, you arched into him, letting out a loud moan. "Please... Please," you pleaded, and he groaned in response.

He continued his pace, the feeling of your body against his becoming more and more overwhelming. You were close, you could tell. You were just waiting for the moment that you fell, waiting for him to push you over the edge.

Just as you were about to reach your peak, he stopped moving altogether, pulling out of you completely. Your eyes shot open and you looked up at him, a frustrated whine slipping out. "Binnie, why..."

He brought his fingers back to your clit, teasing and circling it, and your eyes fluttered shut. His lips were against your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck. "You look so beautiful like this," he whispered. "All hot and needy for me."

Your breathing grew ragged as he worked at your clit, sending sparks through your body, and your legs tightened around his waist. "Binnie, I... Please..." you panted. "Please don't stop..."

The moment his cock re-entered you, a wave of pleasure washed over you, making your back arch against him. Your legs squeezed tighter around him, keeping him buried deep inside of you as he began moving again, thrusting harder and faster this time. Your orgasm was coming.

"Let go for me," he commanded.

With a loud cry, you let go, and your orgasm tore through your body. You couldn't stop yourself from moaning his name over and over as he fucked you through it, prolonging the bliss. The feeling was indescribable, and for a brief moment, everything in the world felt right.

It was only a few seconds later that you felt Changbin shudder as his release shot into you, filling you with hot warmth. Your name fell from his lips, breathy and desperate.

His hips slowed to a stop, and he pulled out, rolling over to lay next to you, a smile tugging at his lips. You didn’t move, just letting your head fall onto his shoulder and your arm wrap around his torso. Your legs were shaking and your heart was racing, but you couldn’t stop the content smile on your face.

You turned your head slightly, pressing your lips against his shoulder. It felt like an eternity since the last time you'd both been intimate with one another like that, and you almost wanted to laugh at how natural it felt. But Changbin shifted, turning onto his side to face you, his fingers brushing across your cheek.

"You okay?" he murmured.

Your heart swelled as his eyes searched yours, a concerned expression on his face, his brows slightly furrowed. He was worried about you. He always was. And it was in moments like these that you really saw it, felt it. The love in his touch.

You smiled, nodding slowly, letting yourself get lost in the deep, dark brown pools of his eyes. You felt warm all over, a content, almost sleepy feeling overtaking you. "I love you," you said softly, and he smiled.

"I love you too."

With that, you pressed your lips to his in a brief but loving kiss. When you broke apart, you couldn't help the giddy smile that spread across your face. You let your eyes wander over him, and you felt yourself melt into his arms. You'd never felt happier than in his embrace.

He was warm and soft, his breathing slow and steady, his skin hot against yours. Your fingertips lightly brushed over his collarbones and across his shoulder, making goosebumps break out across his skin.

After a few more moments of basking in each other's presence, you shifted your position, scooting closer so that you were able to curl yourself into him, your head resting against his chest.

"Okay, I'm ready for round two now,"

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Hyunjin :

The soft hum of Hyunjin’s paintbrush against the canvas was almost soothing, the steady strokes of his arm adding layer after layer to the masterpiece in front of him. His studio smelled like oil paints and creativity, with light spilling in through the tall windows, casting a golden hue on everything. He was lost in his work, just the way he liked it, completely immersed.

But you missed him. And right now, with the pull of your body, the warmth of your desire, you couldn’t help but want him close.

With a quiet smile, you slipped out of your bedroom, putting on nothing but his oversized shirt, the fabric reaching mid-thigh. You padded down the hallway, your steps slower than usual as the heat between your legs reminded you of the feeling growing in your core. It wasn’t something that could be ignored, and the fact that Hyunjin was so close made the need even more intense.

You reached his studio, and as you poked your head around the doorframe, your heart skipped when you saw him still focused on his painting. A smirk tugged at your lips. You waddled in, walking with purpose as you made your way toward him. He glanced up, surprised by the soft sound of your footsteps before a soft chuckle escaped him.

"Hey, darling," he greeted, his voice warm and inviting. His smile was like the first rays of the sun breaking through the clouds, and you could feel your pulse quicken in response. He leaned back in his chair, arms outstretched, expecting you to crawl into his lap.

You didn’t waste any time. Before he could say another word, you were on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips to his, demanding the attention you craved. His body stiffened for a moment, but then he melted into you, pulling you closer as your kisses deepened. You could feel his surprise mixed with fondness in the way his hands gripped your waist.

“Love, what’s up?” he murmured between kisses, a playful glint in his eyes. “You miss me that much?”

You pulled away slightly, keeping your hands on his shoulders as you looked him over, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. You didn’t even try to hold back, letting the feeling of desire overwhelm you. “I want to make a baby right now.”

Hyunjin blinked, processing your words. His lips curled into that teasing, sexy smile of his, and you could tell he was trying not to laugh at your sudden forwardness. “Ah, are you tired of me painting on you? Would you rather I finish in you instead?” His voice was smooth, every word dripping with his signature charm.

You froze, face feeling hot. "Hyunjin!" you gasped, swatting at his chest playfully, too embarrassed to even look him in the eye. "I'm serious!"

The mischievous glint in his eyes softened, and his arms tightened around you, bringing you flush against his chest. "I know you are," he said, his tone now filled with affection and sincerity. "And I love the idea." His voice lowered, almost a whisper as he leaned in close, brushing his lips across your ear. “Can we make a baby now?”

Your heart raced, and the sheer intensity in his voice made you forget about your nervousness. The room felt smaller, more intimate as he pulled back to look at you, a mix of excitement and love in his gaze.

“You really want to?” you whispered, looking up at him through your lashes, your body practically humming with desire.

“Well, I need to go back to my painting, love,” he murmured, voice thick with affection but also a hint of teasing. “I’ll be done soon, and then we can—”

“No.” You interrupted him playfully, your lips landing on his jaw, trailing kisses along the path of his neck as you pressed your body fully against his. “I don’t want to wait, Hyunjin. I want you, right now.”

His breath hitched, and you could feel the shiver run through his body. His grip on you tightened, and you smiled against his neck, knowing the effect you had on him.

You felt his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you in for a heated kiss. His hands then slipped beneath the shirt that you put on, his fingertips finding their way to your half-hardened nipples. His lips found your jaw, placing featherlight kisses along your skin, before trailing lower, stopping at the base of your neck.

He let out a soft hum of approval, and you knew exactly what he was thinking. He loved marking you, making sure that everyone knew that you belonged to him. You leaned into him, wanting him to have better access to the sensitive skin.

As he started sucking on your skin, you felt yourself relax, the warmth of his touch calming the desire burning within you. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and dip. The sound of his lips against your skin was enough to send shivers down your spine, and the feeling of his mouth on your skin was electrifying.

His fingers dipped lower, reaching between your legs. You spread your thighs, allowing him easier access. As his fingertips brushed against your folds, you could feel how wet you already were.

His lips parted, and his breath caught. "So wet, love," he breathed, his voice thick with awe and wonder.

You whined, pressing your body closer to his, needing him inside you. "Hyunjin," you moaned softly, your fingers digging into his biceps, "fuck me, please."

His arms wrapped around you, lifting you up and carrying you over to his desk, where he placed you down, your bare back hitting the cold surface. Your head spun at the sudden change of position, the room shifting from vertical to horizontal in an instant.

But Hyunjin was already tugging down his sweats and boxers, letting them fall around his ankles before kicking them off. His cock sprung free, standing proud and tall, and you bit your lip, admiring the sight. His tip glistened with precum, and you could see his erection twitch.

"I'm going to fuck a baby into you," he promised, and the words alone sent a fresh wave of arousal through your body. "So take every drop, okay?"

You nodded, spreading your legs, eager and waiting for him to enter you. Your whole body was buzzing, the anticipation making you tremble with excitement.

"Not yet, if I don't prepare you," he said, and before you could react, he pushed two fingers inside your core, "it'll hurt."

A small gasp escaped you, the intrusion taking you by surprise, but it was a good kind of surprise, one that left you feeling lightheaded and desperate for more. Your eyes fluttered shut as he moved his fingers in and out, stretching you.

He added a few more fingers before pulling out, the slick coating his digits. "There," he purred, pumping his own length to lubricate it, "ready?"

You didn't need to answer, your legs opening wide as an invitation. Hyunjin leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss. It was tender and slow, but filled with desire, and you could feel the intensity of his love for you.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging lightly at the soft locks. The sensation caused him to moan softly, and he broke the kiss, panting slightly. His dark eyes were filled with lust and desire, and you couldn't help but let out a small whimper, eager for more.

He positioned his length against your entrance, the tip just barely dipping inside. He held it there for a moment, his other hand caressing your thigh. Biting down on your bottom lip, too excited to form words. You couldn't take it anymore, and with a slight wiggle of your hips, you urged him inside.

"Patience, love," he murmured, and you could hear the teasing in his tone.

He pushed inside, his cock stretching your walls, and you couldn't stop the moan that fell from your lips. He buried himself deep within you, his length filling you up. He began to move, slowly at first, savoring the feeling of being inside you.

His hands moved to cup your breasts, gently squeezing and kneading the mounds, teasing the peaks. You arched into him, craving more.

"You're so perfect," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "You're so tight around me."

You could only whimper, words escaping you. His praises were music to your ears, and the feel of his cock moving inside you made your head spin. His slow pace itching your walls, the friction sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

His lips were on yours again, kissing you hungrily, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You tasted him, his scent intoxicating, the smell of oil paints and his natural musk making your head spin.

He broke the kiss, panting softly, his lips moving to your neck. He trailed kisses along the curve of your shoulder, and you could feel his teeth nipping at your skin. You were losing yourself in the feeling, the sensations overwhelming you.

His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, and you were gasping and moaning, completely at his mercy.

"You're taking me so well, baby," he cooed, his words sending a thrill through your body.

He quickened the pace for you, and you were clinging to him, your nails digging into his skin. He was relentless, his thrusts not incredibly fast, but powerful, his hands moving to grip your waist, pulling you close as he fucked into you.

Your mind was clouded, the only thing registering was the way his cock stretched and filled you, his fingers playing with your breasts, his lips leaving a trail of kisses across your neck and shoulders.

"I love you," you gasped, and he moaned into your skin in response, his teeth sinking into the curve of your neck.

He was lost in your warmth, in the feeling of being inside you, and the room was filled with the sounds of skin against skin, your soft moans and whimpers, his breathy pants and low groans. It was almost too much for you, the sensations threatening to push you over the edge, the coil within your abdomen winding tighter and tighter.

"You're going to cum for me, baby," Hyunjin murmured, his voice thick with need and desire. "And you're going to cum for our baby, too."

That was all you needed to hear to send you spiraling into a mind-blowing orgasm, your walls clamping around his cock, and your fingers digging into his shoulders. You moaned loudly, unable to control yourself as your climax crashed into you like a tidal wave. Hyunjin's pace stuttered, and you felt his release inside you, filling you to the brim.

"I love you so much," Hyunjin breathed, pulling you into a deep kiss.

As he pulled away, your body suddenly felt empty, but Hyunjin suddenly slipped two fingers inside your pussy, the wetness and slick of both your arousal and cum allowing him to glide them in. "Full of me, love," he hummed in appreciation as you tightened your grip around him, whimpering, still sensitive.

"I know baby, it's so much, but I told to you take every single drop." he kissed your forehead gently and slipped in a third finger, stretching you slightly. "You can do that for me right?"

Your body shuddered in his grasp, and you felt his other hand gently rub your tummy. "You're gonna be so big," Hyunjin purred, kissing your cheeks, "and I can't wait to see our baby inside you, and everyone's going to be able to see the work of art I created inside of you. Everyone will know."

"Hyunjin..." you panted, still catching your breath after your orgasm, and the image he created in your mind sent your mind spinning once more.

"I think this will be my best piece yet, hm?"

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Han Jisung :

The warm glow of the living room lamp bounced softly off the walls as you sprawled lazily across the couch, your head resting comfortably in Jisung's lap. His focus was pinned to the TV screen in front of you, fingers flying over the controller in a frenzied attempt to beat whatever game had stolen his attention. The faint sound of rapid button mashing mixed with his occasional muttering under his breath, a mix of self-encouragement and exaggerated complaints about the game mechanics.

Jisung in his element was a sight to behold. His lips parted slightly in concentration, his sharp jawline flexing whenever he gritted his teeth at a missed combo. The sleeveless shirt he wore hung loose around his lean frame, leaving his toned arms on full display. You couldn't help but let your eyes wander, imagining how your child could inherit those features: the cheeky grin, the soft yet angular face, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled too hard.

The thought planted itself so firmly in your head that the words tumbled out before you could second-guess yourself.

“Jisung,” you said casually, letting your hand drift lazily over his thigh, “you ever think about making a baby with me?”

For a moment, his reaction was nonexistent. He grunted in response, still laser-focused on the game.

“Mm-hmm, yeah, babe. Just hold on, I’m about to beat this guy--”

And then it hit him.

His hands froze on the controller, his character on the screen taking a hit as he snapped his head down to look at you, eyes wide as saucers. “Wait, what?!”

You stifled a laugh at his reaction, the tips of his ears already beginning to turn red. He stared at you, completely speechless, mouth agape as if waiting for you to break into laughter and tell him it was just a joke. When you didn’t, he sputtered helplessly, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Han Jisung,” you said again, this time with a mischievous lilt to your voice, “how would you feel about putting a baby in me sometime soon?”

“Yah, stop it!” he sputtered, his voice jumping an octave as he frantically mashed at the controller, trying to pause the game but failing miserably in his flustered state. “You can’t just say stuff like that when I’m in the middle of—of…”

“…this!” he finally blurted, his voice cracking slightly as he slammed the pause button with a frustrated jab. The screen froze mid-action, his character caught in a losing battle, but Jisung didn’t seem to care. He stared down at you, his lips parted in disbelief, his cheeks now a fiery shade of red.

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, setting the controller down on the cushion beside him. His hands flew to his face, covering his flushed expression as if it would shield him from your teasing. “Who even says that so casually?”

You grinned, clearly enjoying his reaction far too much. “What?” you asked innocently, though the mischievous glint in your eyes gave you away. “It’s not like I’m asking for a baby right now. I’m just saying… you’d make a cute dad.”

He peeked at you through his fingers, his brows furrowing. “This is not normal couch talk!” he whined, his voice higher than usual as his brain scrambled to keep up. “You can’t just spring stuff like that on me. I’m trying to focus, and then you go and--”

“Distract you?” you finished for him, your tone light and playful. Sliding your hand up under his shirt, you let your fingers graze over the smooth, warm skin of his stomach. His muscles twitched under your touch, and his entire body stiffened as if you’d just short-circuited him.

“D-Doing- that!” he stammered, his voice cracking again. He grabbed your wrist gently but didn’t pull your hand away, his ears burning redder by the second. “You’re being distracting right now, and you know that.”

“Am I?” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him with a sweet smile that only made him more flustered. “You’re just so cute, Ji. Can you blame me for thinking about it? About us? About what it’d be like to have a little Han Jisung running around?”

“Aghhh!” he groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the couch. “Stop! You’re gonna make me combust or something. I’m already sweaty from this game, and now you’re- ugh, I can’t with you!”

You giggled, loving every second of his over-the-top reaction. “Okay, okay,” you said, patting his chest soothingly. “Breathe, Han. It’s just a thought. A cute little thought. You don’t have to freak out about it that much.”

“I’m not freaking out!” he argued, though his voice cracked once more, betraying him. His wide eyes darted down to yours, his expression softening despite his embarrassment. “I mean… I have thought about it. A little. Not, like, seriously, but…”

“But?” you pressed gently, your teasing tone giving way to genuine curiosity.

He sighed, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck nervously. “But… the idea isn’t terrible,” he admitted quietly, his gaze dropping to the hand you still had resting on his stomach. “I just… I wanna be good enough, you know? So that I’d… that I wouldn’t mess it up.”

Your heart swelled at his vulnerability, the way he couldn’t help but let his anxieties surface even in a moment like this. You shifted to sit up, cupping his cheek and guiding his gaze back to yours. “Jisung,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over his skin. “You’re already good enough. And if you ever doubt it, just look at how much I love you. That should tell you everything.”

His eyes widened for a moment before they softened, his lips curling into a shy smile. “You’re too much,” he mumbled, leaning into your touch. “Seriously. How am I supposed to focus on anything when you’re like this?”

“Maybe you’re not supposed to,” you teased, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Maybe this is my way of saying… you’ve already won the game, Jisung. You’ve already got me.”

-

The clock ticked closer to midnight, the soft hum of the heater filling the cozy silence of the living room. You’d already changed into your favorite oversized t-shirt for bed, hair loosely tied back as you padded barefoot across the carpet. Jisung was still glued to the TV, his earlier embarrassment mostly forgotten as he focused intently on beating the level that had eluded him earlier.

You stopped just short of him, arms crossed, tilting your head with an amused smirk. “Still at it, huh?”

He glanced at you briefly, flashing an apologetic grin. “Almost there, baby. Just need a few more minutes. I’m so close.”

Rolling your eyes, you moved closer, draping yourself over the back of the couch so you could peek at the screen. “You’ve been saying that for the past twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, but this time I mean it,” he defended, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration.

With a sigh, you leaned down further, your hair brushing against his cheek. “Ji,” you murmured, your voice soft and sultry, “don’t you think it’s time for bed?”

He froze for a fraction of a second before shaking his head, trying to stay focused. “Just a little longer, promise. I’m almost- no, no, no, almost there!”

You bit back a smile, watching the way his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed in frustration. He was adorable when he was like this, but you weren’t about to let him get away with ignoring you.

Sliding around the couch, you plopped yourself down beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “You know,” you began, tracing small circles on his arm with your finger, “the game isn’t going anywhere. It’ll still be here tomorrow. But me…” You trailed off, your voice dropping suggestively.

He stiffened slightly, his grip on the controller tightening. “Baby,” he muttered, a warning in his tone. “Don’t do that right now.”

“Do what?” you asked innocently, shifting closer.

“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely at you with one hand while his character took a hit on screen.

You straddled his lap without warning, the controller slipping from his hands as his eyes shot up to meet yours. “Oops,” you said with a cheeky grin.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his voice laced with both exasperation and something warmer. His hands hovered awkwardly by your sides, unsure whether to push you away or pull you closer.

You looped your arms around his neck, your movements deliberate as you shifted in his lap. His breath hitched, and you felt the slight twitch of his muscles beneath you. “Come to bed with me, Jisung,” you whispered, leaning in so your lips brushed against his ear. “Unless… you’d rather stay here and let me go to sleep all by myself.”

“Babe,” he choked out, his hands finally settling on your waist, holding you in place as if to stop you from moving any further. His ears were blazing red again, his gaze darting anywhere but your face.

“Or,” you continued, tilting his chin up so he had no choice but to look at you, “we could practice making a baby tonight.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Jisung looked like his brain had completely short-circuited. His mouth opened and closed a few times, no sound coming out except a faint squeak.

“Wait, you’re- are you serious?” he finally managed, his voice cracking as his grip on your waist tightened slightly.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his jawline. “What do you think?”

Jisung swallowed hard, his wide eyes locking onto yours. The game was long forgotten, and the controller was discarded on the couch beside him. His hands slid up your sides, tentative but firm, as if testing to see if you were really there.

You pressed a soft kiss to his neck, his breath hitching slightly. Your hands were already wandering, sliding over the smooth skin of his arms and tracing along his collarbones. He shivered, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you closer.

"Mm, so I'm guessing this means you like that idea?" you teased, your lips trailing along his jaw.

"Baby," he whined, his voice already husky and breathless. "I... I'm not sure what I'm doing, but I- I want..."

"What do you want, Ji?"

"You," he breathed, his eyes fluttering shut. "Always."

"Then take me," you whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He captured your lips with his, the kiss searing hot and desperate. Your hands slipped into his hair, tugging him closer as his tongue slipped into your mouth, swallowing your moan. He tasted like the peppermint candies he'd been sucking on earlier, sweet and crisp, and the way his mouth moved against yours made your head spin.

He pulled away after a moment, his lips already swollen, chest heaving. His eyes met yours, dark and clouded with desire, and he looked like he was ready to devour you.

"Do you really... mean it? You'd let me make a baby with you?"

You couldn't help but laugh at the hesitant tone of his voice, at how cute it was that he was still checking for confirmation. "I'll say it as many times as you need to hear it. Yes, Jisung. I want a baby with you. I want you to put a baby in me."

His eyes lit up, his cheeks flushing bright pink, and for a second he almost looked innocent. But the way his hands tugged impatiently at your shirt and his eyes raked hungrily over your body was anything but.

"So what are we waiting for, then?" he said, his voice low.

You grinned, letting him pull the shirt over your head and toss it carelessly to the floor. "Absolutely nothing."

-

Jisung's hands were everywhere, his lips tracing hot kisses along the column of your neck as he backed you into the bedroom. Your legs hit the edge of the bed, and he was on top of you in an instant, his hands grasping at your thighs. His hands spread out on the underside of your thighs, lifting them up so he could position himself between them.

The way his hands moved over your body was possessive, almost primal, his eyes dark and hooded as they locked onto yours. He ground his hips into yours, and the hard bulge of his cock pressing into you had you biting back a moan.

"You want this?" he whispered, his voice dripping with desire.

"God, yes," you breathed, tugging at his shirt. "Want you, Jisung."

He leaned back just long enough to strip off his shirt, tossing it aside. "So fucking sexy," he murmured, his hands slipping up your bare thighs. "You're the only one I want. The only one I ever want to put a baby in."

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, and with a swift tug, they were gone, discarded somewhere in the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Your breath caught in your throat, and he paused, his eyes roaming hungrily over your bare body.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his hands coming up to squeeze at your breasts. "The things you do to me."

"Show me," you whispered, reaching out to stroke him through his boxers. "Show me how much you want this, baby."

He hissed at the contact, his hips jerking into your hand. "Y/N," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. "I'm gonna- gonna fuck a baby into you."

The words went straight to your core, and you couldn't stop the whimper that slipped past your lips. He was so close, his warm breath fanning across your face, his hands already roaming over your body. He reached between your legs, his fingers ghosting over your wet folds, and a soft moan escaped him.

"Look how wet you are, baby. So wet for me," he murmured, his finger sliding through your slick folds and circling around your clit. "How long was I keeping you waiting for this?"

You let out a gasp as he slid a finger into you, your walls clenching around him. "All week," you breathed, hips bucking involuntarily as he pumped his finger in and out.

He smirked, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit as his finger curled inside you. "Mm, poor baby," he cooed. "You've been so needy for my cock, haven't you?"

"God, yes," you whimpered, arching into his touch.

"So impatient," he teased, adding a second finger and pumping faster. "You want me to fill you up, don't you? To fuck you until you can't take it anymore?"

You moaned, his dirty words only heightening your arousal. He curled his fingers inside you, and you writhed, his name falling from your lips. "Yes, yes, please, Ji, I need-"

He leaned in, his voice a husky whisper. "Tell me what you need, baby."

"Your cock," you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders. "Want your cock, Ji, please."

His lips curled into a satisfied grin. "Anything for you, baby. Anything for the mother of my child."

The words sent a rush of heat through you, and he slid his fingers out of you, the ache of emptiness already setting in. You watched him strip off his boxers, the sight of his hard cock sending another wave of arousal through you.

He gripped the base, the head flushed and leaking with precum. "Tell me, Y/N. Tell me where you want my cum."

You spread your legs, his eyes fixated on the glistening folds between them. "Inside me," you breathed, the ache becoming unbearable. "Please, Ji, I want it all."

He stroked himself, his thumb swiping over the head and spreading the precum. "Mm, so good, baby," he groaned, his free hand grasping at your thigh and guiding your legs apart.

"Need you," you whined, your walls clenching around nothing.

"You'll have me," he promised, lining himself up with your entrance. He rubbed the head along your folds, and you moaned, his name spilling from your lips.

"Jisung, please," you begged, hips bucking as you tried to press him deeper.

"Tell me how bad you want it," he whispered, teasing your entrance with the head. "Tell me how bad you want a little Han Jisung."

"So bad," you moaned, your hands grasping at his back. "Please, Ji, give me everything. Fill me up, put a baby in me, please, I'm-"

The rest of your words dissolved into a cry as he slid inside you, his thick cock stretching your walls. He groaned, his fingers digging into your hips as he thrust in, bottoming out in one swift movement.

"So fucking tight," he hissed, his head falling forward as he took a moment to collect himself.

"So big," you whimpered, shifting beneath him and feeling the fullness.

"And all yours," he murmured, starting to move inside you. He rocked his hips into yours, burying himself deep inside you with every thrust. His cock dragged against your walls, hitting just the right spot to make your toes curl.

"Ji," you moaned, nails digging into his skin as you clung to him. "God, I love you."

"Love you, too," he breathed, his voice strained. His rhythm was relentless, his thrusts quick and deep, the sounds of your pleasure mingling together.

Your hips rose to meet his, and his hands gripped your thighs, pushing them apart even further. "So beautiful," he muttered, his eyes fixated on the way you clenched around him.

He leaned forward, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss. He swallowed your moans, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as his cock slammed into you. You arched off the bed, a high-pitched cry escaping your lips. His mouth trailed along your jaw, sucking a mark into your skin.

Suddenly he took your hand in his and pressed on your lower stomach, pushing down hard as his thrusts grew more frantic.

"Feel that, baby? Feel my cock in you?" he growled. "Can you feel the way it stretches you, the way it fills you up? That's me putting a baby in you."

You couldn't form any coherent words, your cries rising in pitch as the pressure built inside you. You felt yourself start to unravel, your body shaking, his name tumbling from your lips. You couldn't hold back anymore, his words pushing you over the edge. Your walls clenched around him, pleasure surging through your body as he pounded into you. You cried out, waves of ecstasy washing over you as he fucked you through your orgasm.

He didn't slow down, his movements becoming more erratic, his grip on your thighs tightening. You were barely starting to come down when he buried himself deep inside you, a hoarse groan escaping his lips.

His hips jerked, his cock pulsing as he came. His cum filled you, warm and thick, his hips grinding against yours as his release spilled into you. His name fell from your lips again, a breathless sigh, and his thrusts slowed, his body shuddering above yours.

He stayed there for a moment, panting, his eyes half-lidded and his gaze hazy. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then to the corner of your mouth. You tilted your head up, capturing his lips in a soft kiss, and he melted into you.

You both lay there, tangled together, your breathing slowly evening out. He held you close, his hands stroking your hair. Your limbs were still tingling, your mind fuzzy.

After a few minutes of laying in each other's arms, he pulled away, and you felt the sudden emptiness, his cum dripping out of you. His eyes widened at the sight.

"Did- Did I do that? I'm sorry," he muttered, reaching for a tissue.

You couldn't help but laugh softly at his panic. "It's okay, baby. I told you to."

He blushed, his ears reddening again. "Oh, right. Still... sorry, I'm a little out of it."

You giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You did good."

He looked down, his gaze soft and his lips curving into a shy smile. "I'm glad," he murmured, cleaning you both up before laying back down beside you.

You curled up in his arms, and his fingers trailed over your skin, gentle and soothing. He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder.

His eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned into your touch. "We should... do it again. When I'm not so tired," he murmured.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Felix :

It was a peaceful night. The kind where the whole world feels like it’s settled into a comfortable, lazy rhythm. You and Felix were lying in bed, cuddled up under the blankets, the soft hum of the night settling around you both. His hand was gently resting on your waist, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back.

But despite the calm, there was something on your mind, something you hadn’t been able to shake for the last few days. Baby fever.

Not just baby fever, but the idea of him leaving any kind of indication that he was yours on you. Love bites, marks, bites, anything.

And it wasn’t like you were planning on having a baby tomorrow (you were still young, after all), but the thought had been growing, and now you couldn’t stop it. Felix had always been someone you pictured with kids, with his soft smile, his playful personality, and the way he always seemed so gentle and caring.

You would always think of how your kid would inherit his traits, his eyes, his freckles, his smile. Maybe the baby would have his characteristics too.

You shifted slightly, turning over to face him, your body pressing a little closer to his. Felix looked down at you with a soft, sleepy smile, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes were still filled with the warmth of the moment, not yet aware of the direction your thoughts were heading.

Felix hummed, and you took a deep breath, staring up at him with a mixture of hesitation and boldness.

"Felix... Why don't you ever mark me up?" you asked suddenly, catching him off guard. His eyebrows furrowed, his gaze shifting from your face to your lips and back up again.

"Mark you?" he echoed, his deep voice scratching your ear, a mix of confusion and curiosity. "Like... how?"

You bit your lip, trying to keep your composure as your pulse picked up speed. "You know... like... with your teeth, your lips, something... I dunno. Sometimes, I just want to feel... marked."

Felix blinked in surprise. His hand paused mid-air as if he was considering your words carefully, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Is... that something you'd want me to do?" he asked in a soft, almost timid tone, his accent adding a cute layer to his question, looking down at you as if trying to read your expression.

You nodded slowly, a small, teasing smile curling at the edges of your lips. "Yeah... I kind of want that."

Before you could continue, Felix’s lips descended on your neck, his teeth already gently nipping at the sensitive skin. You gasped softly, your hands immediately tangling into his hair. He was submissive in the way he was responding, eagerly giving you exactly what you’d asked for. His lips were warm against your skin, trailing soft kisses along your collarbone, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

Felix pulled back slightly, breathing heavily against your neck, his lips still brushing against your skin. His voice was hushed, almost reverent. "Is this what you wanted?" he whispered, his hands resting on your sides, gently guiding you closer.

You nodded again, but this time, your fingers didn’t stop at his hair. You slid them down his back, pulling him closer, your breath catching as you tried to find the words.

"I..." You faltered, trying to figure out what exactly you wanted him to do, what you needed him to do, but nothing seemed right. You didn't want him to stop, and you couldn't think of a better way to ask him for what you really wanted.

Felix was looking at you with those beautiful eyes of his, and the thought flashed through your head, and you blurted it out before you could change your mind. "I also... have been thinking about kids, lately. Not- not just in general. But with you, specifically."

His eyes widened slightly, and his blush deepened. A deep noise escaped him, and then he smiled, the same gentle, loving smile he'd always given you. He didn't say anything, though, but his hands shifted lower on your waist, a silent reassurance that he'd heard what you'd said, and he understood.

Felix's lips returned to your neck, kissing a path down the column of your throat. "When would you want that?" he murmured, and the way his words were muffled by your skin sent a pleasant tingle through your body.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure and speak through the haze. "Someday, someday. But not anytime soon. I just want... you to know that I think about it, sometimes. And I think you would be an amazing dad."

He paused, his lips resting on your shoulder. Then, a small smile curled his lips. He leaned in and kissed you softly, and you could taste the smile on his lips. "I think about that too," he murmured, his voice so soft and vulnerable that you couldn't help but melt against him.

"Do you want to know what else I think about?" he whispered, his breath warm on your cheek. "What else I've been thinking about?"

You shivered, closing your eyes and leaning closer to him. You nodded, biting your lip and trying not to look as excited as you were.

He smiled against your lips, a small laugh escaping him. "I've been thinking about this," he breathed, and then he pressed his hips forward, his half-hard length rubbing against your inner thigh. "And this," he continued, sliding his hands down to grip your ass. "And this," he continued, slipping his fingers under your underwear, stroking along the curve of your butt.

His hands slipped underneath your shirt, running up the length of your stomach and cupping your breasts, gently squeezing.

Your heart pounded against his chest, and your hands slid down his back, slipping inside the waistband of his boxers. He sucked in a sharp breath when your fingertips brushed against his ass. You squeezed him gently, a low hum vibrating from the base of your throat.

"Mmm... and you too," you replied, arching your back slightly and pressing your chest further into his hands. "I think about the way your fingers feel, the way you kiss me, the way you hold me."

"And what do you think about, when I hold you like this?" he whispered, his hands moving lower, his fingers dancing along your thighs. "When I touch you like this?"

He moved his hands down, gently parting your thighs, his fingers tracing along the sensitive skin between your legs. Your breath caught, and you let out a soft moan, your hands sliding up to clutch his shoulders.

"I think about the way you're gonna make me feel. And I can't wait until the day that I'm carrying your child," you answered, biting your lip and squeezing your thighs together.

Felix's hands stilled, and he stared down at you, his eyes dark with desire.

"God," he groaned, and the sound was so raw, so desperate, that it sent a rush of heat straight to your core. His eyes flicked down to your lips, his fingers moving up and tracing circles over the sensitive spot above your entrance.

You whined, trying not to move and press your hips into his touch. He chuckled, his fingers circling lazily. "And how long have you been thinking about that, huh? What made you bring it up?" he asked, his voice husky.

"Mmm..." you sighed, arching your back and squeezing his shoulder. "Maybe... a week? Or two? But I can't get the thought out of my head."

His breath hitched, his fingers slowing, and then stopping.

"A week," he echoed, his eyes fixed on yours, his lips parted slightly. "You've been thinking about this for a week."

You nodded, trying not to squirm under his intense stare.

"Yeah. I... I think it would be a great thing to have with you."

He was silent for a moment, his gaze flickering down to your mouth, then back up to your eyes. His lips curled up into a mischievous smirk, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Then why don't we start practicing?" he suggested, his voice low and seductive, sending a wave of heat through your body.

You let out a shaky breath, nodding quickly. He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your neck, before pulling back and grabbing the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it over your head. He tossed it to the floor, his hands running up the smooth planes of your stomach, cupping your breasts.

You reached for the bottom of his shirt, tugging it over his head, before sliding your hands up his chest. He smiled, his hands returning to your hips, and pulling you flush against his chest.

"So you want me to mark you up? Bite and scratch and claim you?" he asked, his lips brushing over the skin of your throat.

"Yes," you gasped, tilting your head to the side and giving him more access to your neck.

He let his teeth scrape lightly over the side of your neck.

"You want me to leave my mark all over your body?" he continued, his voice low and husky.

"Mmmhmm," you moaned, clutching his shoulders and pulling him closer.

"You want me to fuck a baby into you?" he growled, his teeth grazing your earlobe.

You shivered, your hips rolling against his. "Yes," you breathed. "Yes, god, please. Do it."

Felix chuckled, his hands moving down to squeeze your ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"Okay then, anything for you, princess," he purred, the tone in his voice changing to a sweeter one, his lips trailing down to the hollow of your throat.

You let out a moan as his teeth scraped over the sensitive skin of your collarbone. He nipped lightly at your neck, his tongue flicking over the skin. His lips trailed lower, his mouth latching onto the swell of your breast. He bit down lightly, a sharp intake of breath escaping you. His tongue traced over the small red mark left by his teeth, soothing the skin.

You whined, pushing your hips against his, trying to create some friction. He smirked, his fingers digging into the plump flesh of your ass.

"Patience," he chided, his tongue swiping over the mark again.

"Oh, I'm so patient," you breathed, arching your back.

Felix chuckled, his tongue lapping over the mark once more, before he moved down, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses down the valley between your breasts. He stopped when he reached the bottom of the valley, his hands moving up to cup your breasts, kneading the soft flesh.

His thumbs rubbed circles around your nipples, the tips of his fingers tweaking them, his eyes watching the way your body reacted. You arched into his touch, his hands feeling like fire on your skin, the rough calluses sending delicious sparks of electricity through you. It felt like his mouth was hitting every right spot, the combination making your head spin. Taking his time to make sure they really left a dark mark on you.

Felix let go of one breast, his hand trailing down your stomach, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your panties. His fingers circled around the apex of your thighs, his thumb rubbing light, teasing circles over your clit.

You gasped, your hands grabbing at the sheets beneath you, trying to steady yourself. He laughed softly, his mouth pressing hot, wet kisses over the sensitive skin of your stomach. His fingers moved lower, stroking between your folds.

"So wet already, baby," he purred, his tongue flicking out over your hip bone.

"Please, Felix," you begged, your body aching for his touch, his closeness, his warmth.

"What do you want, princess? Tell me," he coaxed, his voice low and smooth.

"I want you to make me come," you pleaded, rolling your hips against his fingers.

Felix hummed, his eyes hooded and filled with lust, his fingers still working between your legs.

"You want to come for me?" he teased, his voice dropping even lower.

"Yes, please," you whimpered, the muscles in your thighs beginning to tense.

"You wanna come on my cock?" he rasped, his free hand moving up to squeeze your breast.

"Yes," you moaned, throwing your head back and closing your eyes.

Felix pulled away suddenly, his hands leaving your body, the sudden absence of his warmth making you whine.

"How about you help me get ready for you, baby?" he suggested, a hint of a challenge in his tone.

You immediately sat up, reaching down and yanking his boxers off, his thick cock springing free, standing proudly, the tip flushed red and leaking precum.

You grabbed his length, pumping him a few times, before licking a long stripe up his shaft, swirling your tongue around the head.

Felix moaned, his hands tangling into your hair, his hips rolling up, his cock pressing against the roof of your mouth.

You sucked lightly, your hand stroking his length, his hips bucking up to meet you. He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head.

You bobbed your head, taking his cock deeper, your tongue swirling around his tip. You took him in until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. He let out a deep groan, his hands tugging at your hair, his hips thrusting forward, his cock sinking deeper.

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking hard, his head thrown back in pleasure, his grip on your hair tightening. You swirled your tongue around the tip, his hips rocking up, his cock hitting the back of your throat, his fingers twisting in your hair.

You made sure to wet the entire length of him, wanting to ensure that he could slide in with ease, even though he was already incredibly hard. He groaned, his hips jerking forward, his cock bumping against the back of your throat, his eyes meeting yours.

"You ready?" he breathed, his voice husky and dripping with desire.

You nodded, swallowing him down once more before letting go of him, pulling back and licking your lips. He groaned, his hand tightening in your hair.

"Good job, beautiful," he purred, pulling you up and guiding you over his lap, his lips descending on yours, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip. You moaned, parting your lips and allowing his tongue to slip inside.

His hand slid between your legs, his fingers slipping between your folds, teasing you, his thumb pressing against your clit. You whimpered, grinding down on his fingers, his hand moving lower, his thumb rubbing circles over your entrance.

He pulled back, his lips trailing down your neck, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin, his tongue flicking over the pulse point.

"Felix," you gasped, rolling your hips against his, the need for him growing.

He hummed, his fingers slowly easing into you, stretching you out, preparing you. You moaned, throwing your head back, his name slipping from your lips, his hand tightening on your hip.

"Do you think you can handle me now, baby?" he murmured, his breath tickling the side of your neck.

"Mmm, please," you pleaded, rocking against his hand.

Felix pulled his fingers out, placing them in his mouth and licking them clean, his eyes fixed on yours, he hummed in approval of the taste, making you shiver in anticipation. He grabbed your hips and pressed you against the bed, climbing on top of you and pressing you against the sheets. His lips descended on your neck, his tongue trailing across the skin, leaving hot, wet marks in their wake. His cock was resting against your hip, the thick, hot shaft twitching with the promise of release.

His mouth found your collarbone, his lips and teeth scraping against your skin, a soft moan escaping you, your body aching for more contact with him, your skin craving his warmth, the heat of his body pressing against yours.

"God, Felix," you breathed, your nails digging into his back, your legs wrapping around his waist, urging him forward.

He chuckled, his hips thrusting forward, the thick, hard head of his cock pressing against your entrance, before pushing into you, the feeling making your head spin.

He moaned, his forehead pressing against yours, his hands moving down your hips, squeezing your thighs.

"So tight, so good," he purred, his hips pulling back slightly before slamming forward, your head falling back as your body adjusted to the size of him. He began to thrust into you slowly, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease, the delicious friction of him moving in and out of you driving you crazy.

"Fuck, Felix, fuck," you cried out, your hips grinding up to meet his every thrust, your fingers digging into his shoulders. He grunted, his lips pressing against your throat, his breath hot against your skin.

He thrust faster, the head of his cock bumping against your g-spot, your nails digging into his skin as you clung to him, trying to stay grounded. Your head swam, your body shaking as his thrusts increased in speed, the pleasure of him moving inside you, filling you up making your mind foggy.

"You like that, huh?" he rasped, his thumb tracing over the tip of your clit, the pressure and the pleasure building.

You moaned, your eyes fluttering shut as your walls clenched around his shaft, your orgasm building inside of you already, the feeling making you want to scream out his name, the pleasure too overwhelming. He groaned, his fingers rubbing slow, teasing circles around your clit.

"Felix, please slow down," you whimpered, the amount of sensations driving you mad, your hips grinding up against him, desperate for release. He grunted, his thrusts slowing to a teasing pace, his thumb stroking over your clit, your orgasm so close it almost made your vision blurry.

You clung to him, his cock driving into you slowly, your legs wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his ass. He moaned, his head resting on your shoulder, his hands squeezing your thighs as he moved inside you.

You let out a whimper as his thumb rubbed against your clit, the slow, agonizing friction making your body shudder, your walls tightening around him, the pressure almost too much to take.

He groaned, his hips jerking forward, his cock buried deep inside you, the heat of him making you squirm in anticipation, your walls clenching around him.

"Felix," you panted, the feeling of your impending orgasm making your head spin.

"Yes, princess," he hissed, his lips trailing up the length of your throat, his fingers tracing light patterns on your clit, his thrusts speeding up.

You cried out, your orgasm hitting you like a wave, the pressure building up until it exploded, your walls tightening around him, the delicious heat of him filling you up, your body shuddering as the waves of pleasure rolled over you. You let out a cry as you came hard, your toes curling as his thrusts grew frantic, his cock pulsating inside you as your body rocked with pleasure.

He thrust hard, the head of his cock bumping against your g-spot, your back arching off of the bed, your hands gripping at his back, the friction and heat driving you crazy.

"Oh fuck, Felix, fuck," you groaned, your voice coming out in a high-pitched whine, the pleasure coursing through you. He let out a grunt, his body tensing above yours as his hips stilled, his cock twitching deep inside you, his body shuddering with release.

"So good, baby, you feel so good," he gasped, his body collapsing against yours, his breathing heavy.

He kissed you deeply, his hand sliding into your hair, tugging lightly at the roots, the pleasure from your orgasm making your body tingle.

"You're so amazing, I love you so much," you mumbled, kissing him back, his lips feeling so warm and perfect against your own.

Felix let out a deep chuckle, his lips brushing against the side of your neck as he buried his face into your shoulder. "I love you too," he murmured, his words tickling your ear, his eyes darkening slightly, the heat from his gaze making you shiver. "How many rounds do you think you can handle tonight? Cause I don't plan on stopping for a while," he whispered, his words sending a spark of heat through you.

You smiled, your hand moving up to his neck and pulling him closer, his body still pressed against yours, your skin hot where it touched him, your heartbeat still hammering in your ears.

"You wanna practice that much?" you teased, your breath catching in your throat as you felt him move against you. "Because I wouldn't mind getting knocked up by you tonight."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Seungmin :

The gentle hum of your bedside fan filled the quiet room, mingling with the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath the shifting of your legs. You lay sprawled across your bed, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, though your mind was far from as idle as it seemed. It was one of those lazy afternoons when time stretched endlessly, wrapping you in a hazy cocoon of stillness. Yet, your thoughts were loud, brimming with a strange, newfound energy that had been bubbling up over the past few weeks.

It had started so subtly you almost didn’t notice. You’d catch yourself smiling a little too long at videos of babies giggling uncontrollably or rubbing your thumb over pictures of toddlers in oversized hats like they were some kind of magic talisman. The turning point came when you saw Seungmin with your niece last month. She’d toppled onto her knees in the grass during a family outing, and while you were mid-step to help her, Seungmin beat you there. He knelt beside her, gently brushing dirt from her hands while playfully poking her chubby cheeks to make her laugh. That softness in his eyes, the one he tried so hard to mask behind his sarcastic jabs, lit something within you.

You couldn’t unsee it after that. It wasn’t just how easily he got your niece to smile or how patient he was when she tugged at his hair. It was the tiny glimpse of what life could look like if it wasn’t just the two of you anymore. And while you’d always been on the same page about your future: sweet, simple, and child-free, the idea of bringing a tiny, giggling extension of your love into the world had begun to sneak into your daydreams.

Today, it was impossible to ignore. You’d been scrolling through more videos, babies in pumpkin costumes, toddlers waddling on chubby legs, when the thought crashed into you like a runaway train. It wasn’t just the soft glow of future possibilities that consumed you, it was something much deeper. You imagined his hands on your hips, the warmth of his body pressed to yours, the thought of him letting go of his usual care and filling you completely, nothing between you. The thought had your skin tingling and your heart racing. Seungmin was always so careful, always the responsible one, but you were ready to be reckless. For once, you wanted to see what would happen if he gave in.

"Seungmin!" you called out, your voice cutting through the stillness like a spark in dry grass.

There was a shuffle from the living room, followed by his characteristic faux-annoyed sigh. You could already imagine him rolling his eyes, though you knew better than anyone how much he loved being needed, even if he’d never admit it.

"What now?" he asked as he appeared in the doorway, his voice dripping with exaggerated exasperation. A towel was slung over his shoulder, his dark hair slightly damp, curling at the ends from a recent shower. He raised an eyebrow at you, the corners of his lips twitching as though he was fighting a grin.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, unable to hide your smile. “I need you.”

“That’s new,” he quipped, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “Last time I checked, you were perfectly capable of surviving an afternoon without me. What changed? Did you finally realize how boring life is without me?”

“You wish,” you shot back, rolling your eyes, though your cheeks betrayed you with a flush of pink. His playful teasing never failed to make your heart flutter. He smirked, pushing off the doorframe to walk closer, he perched on the edge of the bed, poking your cheek lightly with his finger. “So, what is it this time? Did you get stuck in a Reel rabbit hole again and need me to pull you out? Or are you about to ask me to refill your water bottle because you’re too lazy to move?”

You grabbed his hand to stop the poking, holding it for a moment longer than necessary. “Seungmin,” you said softly, your voice suddenly losing its teasing edge.

He cocked his head slightly, his eyes searching your face. Something faltered in his gaze as you pulled his hand to your lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. A small shudder ran through him, his breath hitching slightly.

His lips parted slightly, a soft exhale escaping him as you turned his hand over, brushing your lips against his palm. You glanced up at him through your lashes, watching his throat bob as he swallowed hard.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice lower now, his free hand brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “What’s going on with you?”

Your response came in the form of a slow tug, guiding him closer as you sat up fully. His knees bumped against the bed as you leaned into him, your fingers trailing along his wrist. “Nothing’s going on,” you murmured, though the way your other hand found the hem of his shirt betrayed the truth. “I just… missed you.”

He blinked, his brow furrowing slightly, as though he wasn’t entirely sure where this sudden shift was coming from. But there was something in the softness of your tone and the heat in your gaze that made him pause. “Missed me?” he echoed, his lips quirking, though the teasing lilt was softer this time. “We’ve been in the same apartment all day.”

You hummed, your fingers slipping beneath the fabric of his shirt, brushing over the firm planes of his abdomen. His breath hitched again, and this time, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a firm yet measured grip. “Alright, what’s this really about?” he asked, his tone sharper now but not unkind. “You’re acting different.”

“Am I?” you asked innocently, leaning in closer so your lips nearly brushed his. The proximity made his jaw clench, and you couldn’t help the small, satisfied smile that tugged at your lips.

“You are,” he replied, his grip tightening ever so slightly around your wrist. His dark eyes bore into yours, flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “What are you hiding?”

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a playful smirk as you leaned up, brushing the tip of your nose against his. “Maybe I just wanted you, Seungmin. Maybe I called you in here because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Something in his expression faltered, his gaze shifting slightly.

You took his hesitation as an opening, slipping your hand out of his grasp, moving it slowly to his thigh.

His breath caught, a soft noise escaping him as your fingertips brushed the inside of his leg. Your other hand snaked up his chest, finding his shoulder, pulling him closer. His hands twitched, as though he was resisting the urge to touch you. You were certain he was about to protest again, and that was when you decided to take things a step further.

In one fluid motion, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him, your arms snaking around his neck. His eyes were looking up at you as if he was anticipating your next move, his hands gripping your hips reflexively, his body tensing.

You leaned into him, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the side of his neck, the way you knew always made him melt.

The tension in his shoulders released, a low sigh escaping him. You smiled at his little reactions, brushing your lips along his collarbone. His breath hitched, a soft noise of contentment escaping him. You continued, dragging your teeth over his skin, biting gently, earning another low sound from him. You nipped harder, sucking on the sensitive flesh.

Seungmin shuddered beneath you, his head falling back, his Adam's apple bobbing as a soft moan escaped his parted lips. You smiled, satisfied with his reactions as you rolled your hips into his, feeling his clothed length pressing into the thin fabric of your shorts, making the wetness already pooled in your pants grow.

Seungmin gripped your waist tighter, his fingers digging into your skin. Your heart raced, desire burning through you, making the space between your thighs ache. You rocked against him again, feeling his hardness throb. The heat building in his body was unmistakable, and it only spurred you on. You wanted to hear his sounds of pleasure, his breathless pleas, his sweet promises of love, and most importantly, the sound he'd make, spilling himself inside you.

The thought alone sent a shudder of pleasure through you, the ache between your thighs growing more insistent. Seungmin was always the type to plan ahead, the type who wouldn't dream of taking such a huge risk, and part of you felt guilty for longing for something like this on your own, but the way his cock twitched as you rocked against him made your worries dissipate.

Your lips met his, kissing him hard and needy. Your tongue slipped into his mouth, earning a low moan from him. One hand gripped your hip tighter, the other sliding up your back, pulling you closer. He kissed back eagerly, his teeth grazing your lip, nipping, sucking. It was the type of kiss that made the room spin.

Seungmin pulled away, his chest heaving, a string of saliva connecting his bottom lip to yours. His hair somehow already looked disheveled, and his pupils were blown wide. He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it, reaching down and pressing your palm to his straining erection.

"Seungmin," you whispered, leaning forward, letting the words slip past your lips like honey. "I need it so bad. I can't stop thinking about how good it'd feel if you came inside me. Please, Minnie. Fuck a baby into me."

He blinked, his brows raising, his mouth dropping open slightly. It was as though his brain was buffering, unable to process the words coming out of your mouth. "Wait... wha— wait-"

You didn't let him finish, pulling the hem of his boxers down, revealing his throbbing, dripping length. He was rock hard, the tip leaking pre-cum, twitching under the heat of your gaze.

"C-Came inside..?" He said, still lost on the last thing you said, the words jumbling together, the meaning slipping away, "I- Inside? You want- what?"

The confused but aroused look on his face only made you burn hotter, a deep yearning spreading through your core. You wrapped a hand around his base, pumping him slowly, making him gasp. "Please," you said softly, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his cock. "Fill me up, Seungmin. I've been thinking about it all week."

Seungmin made a strained sound, his brows pinching together, his hips bucking slightly. He was always super safe and responsible when it came to sex, never going a single step beyond what he knew you were comfortable with, but now you were asking for something he'd never expect. And a part of him really wanted to give it to you.

"Wait, wait, wait," he said, his tone a mixture of concern and disbelief. He pulled back slightly, his hands gripping your hips more tightly. "I can't just- I can't, we can't," he said quickly, the words spilling out as his brain struggled to catch up. "We can't just go raw. What if you get pregnant? I can't put you through that. We need to use a condom, or- or something. I don't know, a pill, or- or, I'll pull out."

His being worried for you was cute, a reaction you expected, but you never missed the way his cock twitched at the suggestion of him fucking a baby into you, his cock throbbing, making your heart race, wanting to see how far you could push him.

"Seungmin," you whined, leaning into him, nipping at his earlobe. "Please. You'd be such a great dad, hm? I promise we'll work it out, but for now, I need you inside me."

Seungmin gasped, his cock throbbing again, his cheeks burning a deep shade of crimson. "Y-you can't just- You can't just say things like that," he stuttered, his hands twitching.

You got up, removing your pants and underwear. "Tell me, do you want it?" Seungmin's eyes followed you as you stripped, his gaze drifting down, drinking in the sight of you. He bit his lip, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. "Do I want-? Of course, I want it," he blurted, his eyes flickering up to yours. "I mean, if it's something you're serious about, then-"

"That's all I needed to hear," you said, climbing back onto the bed and straddling him again, the warmth of your center pressing against his bare, slick length. His words alone had a flood of heat rushing through you, your walls aching with need.

Seungmin sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering shut. "Oh god, y-you're so-"

You ground your hips into him, rubbing his shaft along your folds, the friction sending waves of pleasure through your body. You moaned softly, the slickness of your walls coating his cock, the tip brushing over your swollen bud, making you gasp. Seungmin's hips bucked, a low groan escaping him. He grabbed the backs of your thighs, holding you steady, his eyes flickering up to meet yours.

"You're sure about this, right?" he asked, his tone serious despite his flushed cheeks. "I mean, It's so sudden and... I'm not saying I'm against it but-"

You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his in a desperate kiss, silencing his rambling. You cupped his face, kissing him harder, deeper. He shuddered, his hips twitching.

When you pulled away, his eyes were wide, his lips parted.

"Are you going to keep talking or are you going to fuck a baby into me, Kim Seungmin?"

Seungmin inhaled sharply, his hands finding your hips. His gaze was piercing, burning into yours. For a moment, you wondered if you'd pushed him too far. But then his lips were crashing into yours, kissing you hungrily. His tongue slipped into your mouth, his teeth catching on your lower lip, biting hard enough to make your lip bleed. He trailed his lips down your jaw, peppering hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, stopping at the sensitive spot right beneath your ear.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging lightly, making him moan. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch of you. His fingertips left trails of fire along your skin, the sensation heightened by the knowledge that this was the most uncontrolled you'd ever seen him. He wasn't taking his time, or being gentle and careful like he always was. This was raw and desperate.

Seungmin's tongue traced a hot line down the hollow of your throat, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers, his cock grinding against your folds, the slickness making the friction delicious.

You moaned, arching your back, pushing into his touch. You wanted more, needed him closer, needed his bare skin on yours. He seemed to read your mind, his hands moving to the hem of his shirt. He paused, pulling back just enough to tug it off. The sight of his body made the heat in your stomach flare, and his skin was always so smooth and lean.

He tossed his shirt aside, his eyes meeting yours, his cheeks flushed. "This is- this is what you want, right?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly. "Me, like this. No condom, nothing?"

You nodded, biting your lip. Seungmin swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Alright," he breathed, his gaze flickering down, lingering on the way your hardened nipples pressed against the fabric of your shirt. "Then get on your back."

You did as you were told, shifting off his lap to lie down, propping yourself up on your elbows. Seungmin moved closer, settling between your legs. You watched as he gripped the base of his cock, positioning himself at your entrance. His other hand found yours, lacing your fingers together.

You could feel the heat of his body radiating through you, the anticipation making you shiver. This position was so foreign to you, the one where you could see his face, his eyes filled with so much tenderness, his hair hanging in his face. It was as if a different side of him was peeking through, a softer, more intimate side.

Seungmin's hips shifted, and then his length was sinking into you, inch by inch. He groaned, his head falling back. The feeling of him stretching your walls, filling you completely made your toes curl, a low moan escaping you.

Seungmin stilled, his hands gripping yours tightly. His chest rose and fell heavily, his breath ragged. Your eyes met his, and you watched as a flurry of emotions flashed across his features. It was as if he was struggling to process the moment.

"Seungmin," you whimpered, squeezing his hand.

His eyes snapped back to yours, his lips parting, the softest gasp escaping him. You watched as his brows pinched together, the muscles in his jaw flexing, his gaze flickering down to where your bodies connected.

"Shit," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're so- Fuck. I can feel everything."

You moaned softly, the sound turning into a whine as he slowly dragged his cock along your walls. Seungmin's head fell forward, his dark locks hanging in his face.

"You feel so good," he murmured, his eyes meeting yours. There was something different about the way he looked at you, his gaze burning into yours. You shuddered, a soft cry escaping you as his hips rolled, the sensation making you dizzy. His hands released yours, moving to grip your waist, his thumbs pressing into your skin, hard enough to bruise.

You whimpered, your hands tangling in the sheets. The sight of him losing control made your core throb. He was always so calm and collected, so careful and meticulous, but seeing him like this, so desperate and needy, was something you didn't even know you wanted until now.

Seungmin's lips pressed into a thin line, his hips snapping, his cock driving deeper, filling you completely. Your walls clenched around him, making him groan.

"Fuck," he cursed, his brows knitting together, his grip on your waist tightening.

You could feel the familiar knot building in your stomach, your legs trembling. You reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His body covered yours, his lips finding your neck, kissing, biting, sucking. He marked every inch of you, his lips leaving trails of fire along your skin, his hips pounding into you, filling you to the hilt.

You could feel him throbbing, the tension in his body growing. You clung to him, the pressure in your core reaching its peak. Seungmin's breath was hot against your ear, his hands sliding down your sides, his fingertips digging into your hips.

You moaned, the sound coming out more like a whimper. "M-min," you stuttered, his name coming out as a broken plea. "I'm gonna- I'm- oh, god, Seungmin. Don't stop. I need-"

Seungmin's hand snaked between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit. He circled the bundle of nerves with slow, deliberate strokes, drawing a sharp cry from you.

"Come for me," he breathed, his voice husky and strained.

The sound of his voice sent you over the edge, and a wave of white-hot pleasure crashed through you. Your walls clenched around him, your back arching. Your vision went white, stars dancing behind your eyelids. You cried out, the sound echoing through the room.

Seungmin swore under his breath, his hips slamming into yours. The force of his thrusts pushed you up the bed, his fingers digging into your skin, holding you in place.

You could feel his body tense, his muscles contracting, the heat of his skin searing into yours.

Your heart pounded, the world around you spinning, his name a mantra on your lips. He was still moving inside you, the sensation drawing out your orgasm, pushing you higher.

And then his hips stuttered, his rhythm faltering, his movements becoming erratic.

"F-fuck," he cursed, his voice a low growl, his body trembling. You could feel him twitch, his cock pulsing inside you. You tightened your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

His head dropped, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes were screwed shut, his jaw clenched. His breath was hot on your face, his hair sticking to his sweat-slicked forehead.

"I- inside. Come inside me, Seungmin."

"Y/N," he choked out, his body shuddering.

Your walls clenched around him, drawing another low groan from him. He came hard, his cock throbbing, spilling himself deep inside you. The sensation made your vision blur, the heat spreading through your body, making the world go fuzzy.

You could feel him fill you up, completely, his seed spilling from you, the thick, sticky substance coating your thighs, mixing with the slickness of your arousal.

The sensation made your head spin, a fresh wave of pleasure washing over you. Your walls clenched around him, milking him, coaxing every last drop from him.

He gasped, his hips jerking, his cock twitching inside you. You felt his body tremble, his arms giving out. He collapsed onto you, his chest heaving, his head buried in the crook of your neck.

His body was warm and heavy, his breathing ragged, his pulse hammering in his throat. Your limbs were weak, the exhaustion settling into you.

You stayed like that for a while, his breath tickling your skin, the afterglow leaving you blissed out. When he finally pulled out, the sensation drew a soft whimper from you, his seed spilling out of you, pooling on the sheets.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his lips brushing your temple.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice hoarse, tears prickling the sides of his eyes. "A lot"

The tenderness in his words made your heart swell, and you curled into his side, burying your face in his chest.

"Don't get all sappy on me now, Seungmin," you teased, though your voice was softer than usual. You knew if he cried you would cry harder.

Seungmin sighed, his fingers threading through your hair. "Who's getting sappy?" he mumbled, his words muffled.

Your hand slid up his back, tracing lazy patterns along his spine. "The one who's tearing up after he came inside of me."

"I'm not- I'm not tearing up," he insisted, though his voice wavered, betraying his emotions. "I'm just... it's just a lot. Like, a lot a lot."

You hummed, kissing the corner of his mouth, smiling gently. "I know, Min. I love you too."

Seungmin let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

"Hey, um..." he started, his brows furrowing, "about what you said before, about wanting a baby. Was that- were you serious?"

"Well, I wasn't trying to pressure you," you said, running your hand through his hair, tucking a stray lock behind his ear. "But... yeah, I've been thinking about it a lot lately. And I think it'd be nice, don't you?"

Seungmin hummed thoughtfully, his gaze drifting to the side. "Yeah, I mean... I do, but I also don't want to put any pressure on you, either. If we're going to do this, I want it to be because you really want it."

You smiled, cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin. "I really want it, Min. More than anything."

Seungmin nodded, his expression softening. "Okay. Then... okay. Let's do it."

Your heart swelled, and you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Thank you," you said, unable to hide the joy in your voice.

"I'll take care of everything, okay? I'll get us the best doctor, the best equipment, the best tests, the best vitamins, the best prenatal classes. We'll do it right. We'll be the best parents ever."

You suddenly felt laughter bubbling in your throat, and you had to bite your lip to keep it down.

"What?" Seungmin asked, scanning your face.

"Nothing," you said, shaking your head. "You're just cute, that's all."

Seungmin made a face and shook his head, and you could tell he was embarrassed.

"Come on, let's get in the shower," you said, getting off the bed.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

I.N :

You’re lying on the couch, scrolling through your phone with Jeongin lounging beside you. You’re trying to stay productive, but your attention keeps drifting. Your thumb swipes aimlessly, until you find yourself trapped in the vortex of cute baby pictures.

It starts with a baby panda video that you think is adorable, and before you know it, your Instagram feed is flooded with baby photos: panda babies, human babies, and then you find a whole thread of pictures of Jeongin as a little kid.

Your heart melts instantly. The sight of Jeongin, chubby-cheeked and smiling awkwardly at the camera, makes you feel an overwhelming urge to scoop up every baby in sight. It’s like an instinctual surge of affection, one that hits you straight in the ovaries.

“Oh my god,” you mumble, entranced by the photo of a younger Jeongin sitting on a swing, his eyes wide with excitement. He’s so adorable.

Jeongin glances over, leaning his head against your shoulder. “What’s going on?” he asks, noticing the soft sigh escaping your lips.

“These baby pictures of you… they’re just… too much,” you whisper, as if you’ve discovered a treasure trove. Your thumb scrolls past picture after picture.

Jeongin peeks at your phone, blinking rapidly when he sees what you're looking at. "Wait, that’s me..." he says, his voice a little flustered.

"Yeah," you say, your voice soft but teasing, "You were such a little cutie. I can just imagine you as a dad- gonna be the most adorable dad ever."

Jeongin chuckles nervously. “I-I’m sure I was cute, but, uh, I’m still getting the hang of being an adult.”

You glance down at him, smiling mischievously. Your fingers hover over the screen. "Yeah, well, you know… I kind of want a baby. Like… now."

Jeongin freezes, his wide eyes blinking a few times as he processes your words. “A… baby?” he asks slowly, the confusion clear on his face. He’s not sure whether you’re joking or if you’ve truly caught baby fever.

You nod, your expression sweet but undeniably serious. “Yeah. I mean, just imagine it- us, with a little baby. We’d be such great parents, don’t you think?” You look down at him, noticing the way his face goes from confused to completely overwhelmed.

Jeongin starts laughing nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, I… wow, uh, okay. This is a lot to take in right now.”

You giggle softly at his reaction, feeling a little bolder now that you've gotten under his skin. “Maybe we should practice,” you say, your voice dropping into a teasing whisper.

Jeongin’s eyes go wide, his entire face lighting up as his brain tries to process what you just said. “P-practice?” he stammers, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. "Oh... OH."

His eyes widen even more as the realization finally hits him. He glances at you for confirmation, but you’re already leaning in, a playful smile curling at the edges of your lips. He lets out a nervous laugh, unsure whether to laugh or blush harder.

"Uh, I-I mean, if we’re practicing... do we need a lesson or something?" he stumbles over his words, his hand sliding up to scratch his head in confusion. "Wait, what kind of practice are we talking about? I- oh my god, what am I saying?”

You start giggling uncontrollably at his adorable reaction, trying to hold back the fit of laughter that’s bubbling inside you. “I was talking about practice in, you know, the practice... for the baby," you say, your hand trailing on the side of his face.

Jeongin, now completely flustered, stumbles backwards, almost falling off the couch. “Oh my god,” he mutters under his breath. “I did not expect that.”

You snuggle up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his chest, your giggles subsiding into soft laughs. Jeongin shifts nervously, still trying to figure out how to respond.

“Alright, alright,” he says after a few moments of silence, leaning in to kiss the top of your head. “We can practice. But I’m not promising anything.” He pauses, giving you a playful side-eye. “But, um, I think I’m gonna need a lot of practice…”

“Oh, you definitely will,” you tease, feeling giddy from his adorably shy reaction. You glance at him and grin. “Good thing I’m such a good teacher.”

Jeongin blushes even more, his face a deep shade of red now, but there’s a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Well, I guess if we're practicing…” he starts, trailing off as he leans in for a kiss.

The kiss is slow and tender at first, but as the heat between you builds, you find yourself leaning closer, pressing your body against his. His hands slip under your shirt, sliding up your sides and sending shivers down your spine. Your lips part slightly, and the kiss deepens, the heat intensifying.

He breaks the kiss, looking down at you with a dazed smile. His breathing is heavy and his cheeks are flushed. He reaches down and tugs on the hem of your shirt, and you lift it over your head, letting it fall to the floor.

Jeongin stares down at you, his gaze roaming over every inch of your exposed skin. His fingers graze across your stomach, making goosebumps appear along your skin. He pulls you closer, pressing his lips against your neck. You moan softly, arching your back.

You reach down and slide his shirt over his head, your hands moving over his chest and stomach. He moans as you run your nails lightly over his skin, his breathing becoming heavier.

You look up at him, meeting his gaze, and the fire in his eyes burns bright. You lean forward, placing a kiss on his collarbone. Jeongin groans and pulls you close, his hands sliding up your back and cupping your breasts. You gasp and lean into his touch, arching your back as his lips find yours once more.

The kiss is filled with passion and heat, the two of you becoming lost in the moment. You run your hands down his sides, letting your fingers graze over his abs. He groans into the kiss and you press yourself against him, grinding your hips against his. He breaks the kiss, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

He pulls away slightly, and you can see the hunger in his eyes, the desire written all over his face. His hands roam over your body, exploring every curve, every inch of bare skin. He trails his fingers along your stomach, teasing your navel before sliding lower.

You suck in a breath as he brushes his fingers over the edge of your pants, and his lips curl into a smirk. He leans in, kissing the spot right below your ear. You bite your lip, trying not to make a sound, but his touch makes it impossible. He presses his lips to your neck, and you tilt your head, giving him better access.

He trails kisses along your collarbone and down your chest, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. You're amazed at his ability to multitask, your pants somehow already lost on the floor somewhere, as he works his magic with his hands and mouth.

His fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, teasing the soft, sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. You let out a gasp as his finger grazes against your clit, and he chuckles softly, his breath hot against your ear.

"You like that?" he whispers, his voice low and husky.

"Yes," you breathe, your eyes half-closed. "So much..."

He slides a finger inside you, his thumb brushing over your clit. You moan, your hips bucking involuntarily, and he adds another finger. He pumps his fingers slowly, teasingly, his thumb circling your clit.

Your breaths come faster and harder as he picks up the pace, his fingers curling inside you. You whimper and squirm, and he pulls back, grinning cutely, a complete contrast to his actions.

"Not yet," he murmurs, his lips ghosting over yours.

"Jeongin, please," you beg, your voice strained.

"Would you rather take my fingers, or me?" he asks, his breath tickling your ear.

You shiver and press your body closer, his skin hot against yours. "You," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He grins and removes his hand from your underwear, tugging them off. He unbuckles his belt, and you help him, both of you working frantically to get him out of his jeans. Once they're gone, he pulls you onto his lap, your legs straddling his hips. He leans in, capturing your lips with his, and you kiss him hungrily, desperate for him.

You reach down, grasping his length and guiding him towards your entrance. You sink down onto him, a sigh escaping your lips. He fills you completely, stretching you just the right amount, and you rock your hips slowly, adjusting to his size.

Jeongin groans and grips your hips, guiding you as you move against him. You move faster, rolling your hips, and he thrusts upwards, his fingers digging into your skin.

You moan and arch your back, leaning into his touch. He leans forward, capturing a nipple between his lips. He swirls his tongue around it, and you whimper, throwing your head back.

Jeongin continues to thrust up into you, and you ride him, taking him deeper and deeper. He releases your nipple and leans forward, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

You grab his hand, leading it to lay lightly around your neck as it it's an accessory, a necklace. "Please," you whisper.

He smiles against your lips, tightening his grip ever so slightly. "So, you want this?"

"Mmm hmmm," you murmur, biting your bottom lip. "Use me like you always do."

He smiles, leaning in and nipping your earlobe. "Such a slut," he purrs, his breath hot on your skin.

He flips you to lay on the couch, so he can push you into the couch with his hand wrapped around your neck, making sure you're comfortable.

You nod eagerly, and he tightens his grip, thrusting deep inside you. You cry out, wrapping your legs around his waist. He pounds into you, his eyes never leaving yours, and the pressure around your neck builds.

Your body is on fire, every nerve ending exploding with pleasure, and you know you won't last long. He feels so good, his thick cock hitting all the right spots, and his hand on your neck is driving you crazy.

You moan loudly, and he smirks, quickening his pace. You feel the familiar pressure building inside you, and you cry out, begging him to fuck you harder.

"Yes," he groans, his eyes darkening with lust. "You like that, don't you?"

"Yes, please," you gasp, arching your back. He grunts and pounds into you, his fingers tightening around your neck.

The pressure is almost too much to bear, and you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the sensation. Your orgasm crashes through you, and you cry out, shuddering underneath him.

He groans, his thrusts growing more erratic, and he releases inside you, burying himself to the hilt. You're panting and gasping, your body limp.

Jeongin releases his grip on your neck, and you take a deep breath, a soft smile playing on your lips. He smiles back, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

"I love you," he murmurs.

"I love you too," you reply, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down for another kiss.

Jeongin lays next to you, and the two of you snuggle up close together. You can't keep the smile off your face, and he chuckles, nuzzling your neck.

"When are we getting married?" he asks, his face still buried in your neck.

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Both," he laughs, lifting his head and gazing into your eyes.

"You have to propose," you giggle.

"What if I said, 'I'm asking you?'"

"Well, in that case, I'd say yes."

taglist for my babies : @loverbangchan, @reignessance, @imperfectlyperfectprincess1, @armystay89, @ihrtlix, @jiyeonslays, @lovestaysblogs, @jeyelleohe, @celebration88, @honeyybbuubblleess

[chuulyssa]

──── FINDING A SECRET OF THEIRS

pairing ⸺ gojo, geto, toji, sukuna, nanami x reader

cw ⸺ fluff

𝙂𝙊𝙅𝙊

the room is uncharacteristically quiet. after checking into the hotel you were assigned to with gojo, you’re sifting through your luggage in a corner of the room. as you get up to keep your clothes in a closet, a faint, almost imperceptible humming catches your ear. you instantly think the place is haunted, but then you turn towards gojo, who’s lounging on the couch with his blindfold pushed up, seemingly lost in thought.

he’s humming a soft, soothing tune, and you’re surprised. it sounded like a lullaby. but where would he have learned one? was it when he took in megumi? you blink. “are you... humming a lullaby?”

“hm?” he freezes mid-hum, and his lips quirk into a teasing grin as if nothing happened at all. “whoops, caught me,” he says, sitting up. “what, were you so absolutely captivated by my beautiful voice that you forgot to unpack your skincare stuff?”

“already done,” you smile and shake your head. “i’m just surprised you can sing. what are you singing though?”

for a little moment, his expression is neutral, and you can’t tell what he’s thinking. then he scratches the back of his head and looks away. “it’s nothing… just something my mom used to sing to me when i was small. i… uh… don’t remember the words.”

you tilt your head at him; he really is quite adorable. you keep your folded clothes on your bed and move to sit beside him, nudging him softly. “must’ve been nice if you still remember that. though i think you would’ve been quite a naughty child.”

he chuckles, pouting at you. “nope! wrong! i was the cutest one. too bad you missed it.”

“well, you’ll just have to show me then.”

“show what?”

“give me a baby that looks just like you.”

“you’re on.”

𝙂𝙀𝙏𝙊

the quiet of his quarters is broken by the sound of a drawer sliding open. you’ve been helping geto sort through some old belongings when you find a small, dusty old photograph tucked away. you immediately shift the socks covering it and brush some of the dust off. it was a picture of him with two young girls, both of them giggling at the camera. geto’s arms were wrapped around them, and they were feeding him what looked like a lollipop.

“sugu?” “hmm?” he hummed back, turning to you.

“look what i found!” you ask, holding the delicate paper up to him. “are these the sisters you were talking about that day?”

geto’s eyes soften the moment he sees it. he takes the photo from your hands, his thumb brushing over the girls’ faces in the picture. “yeah. mimiko and nanako. can’t believe you remembered that.”

“i’ve seen how fondly you talk about them,” you sit beside him and murmur. “and you all look so happy together.”

“we were,” he says quietly. “i’d take them out for sweets whenever i was free — before… you know…”

“before you joined jujutsu high?”

“before… yeah,” he sighs, before smiling a small smile when he looks at the picture again. “they always fought over the last piece of taiyaki.”

“and who would win?”

he chuckles softly. “i let them think they did. ate the scraps myself. but it was nothing, i liked seeing them do their little victory dance.”

there’s a faraway look in his eyes now, as if he’s thinking of something distant, trying to recall a lost memory. you hesitate a little, but eventually place a hand on his arm. “can we visit them anytime soon?”

“don’t know if i can face them after not seeing them for so long,” he glances up at you, nodding. “but i want them to meet you. they’d love you.”

𝙏𝙊𝙅𝙄

you’re rummaging through toji’s toolbox looking for spare toffees (he usually hid them there away from little megumi) when your hand pokes something hard. you wince and look into the box to check what it was. you take the object out, it’s a small, intricately carved wooden bird. your lips curve into a grin and you pick it up, running your fingers over the smooth surface.

you run to the kitchen to show him your finding.

“what’s this?” you ask, holding it up to your eye level.

toji looks over his shoulders from the dishes he was washing. “just something i made. where did you find it?”

“in the toolbox! but, you made this?” you look at him, impressed.

“i can do stuff, you know,” he says gruffly, turning back to his dishes.

“yeah but… it’s so pretty. do you have others as well?”

“yea, used to make lots of those as toys for the brat. he likes the cat.”

“there’s a CAT?”

“uh huh,” he said. “don’t go spreading this around though. got a reputation to keep.”

“if you make me stuff too, sure!”

“alright alright keep your hair on,” he smiled a little. “thanks though. would’ve forgotten about that if you didn’t come here. not many people bother to notice stuff like that you know.”

𝙎𝙐𝙆𝙐𝙉𝘼

you hear it before you see it — the quiet clink of metal and the soft scrape of stone. wandering into sukuna’s private quarters is fun until you get lost amidst all the bones and skeletons. you wonder how he keeps the room smelling great despite all the garbage he owns. turning to another door hoping to see something familiar, you stop short. there he is, something familiar.

sukuna is kneeling in front of a small bonsai tree, delicately trimming its branches with precise movements, as if he was a professional.

“what the hell?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

sukuna glances at you, clearly annoyed. “what? what does it look like?” he snaps, as if embarrassed to have been caught this way.

“you… like plants?” the idea of the king of curses fussing over a little bonsai is almost laughable.

he snorts, setting down his shears. “keeps my hands steady. and it's a better company than most, especially the mortals i’ve come to associate with as of late.”

“if by ‘mortals’ you mean me then i’ve already told you to stop calling me that.” you step closer to get a better look at the miniature tree. “it’s so pretty, i didn’t know you had a soft side.”

“don’t,” he warns. after a beat though, he adds reluctantly. “takes patience to do this, woman. it’s just to… uh… help me train in combat.”

“mhm.”

“yes.”

“suuuuuuureeee.”

“now step out of this room. you may not interrupt my alone time with nature.”

𝙉𝘼𝙉𝘼𝙈𝙄

it’s a slow day at the office, and you’re sitting in a chair in front of nanami’s desk with him opposite you, drowned in paperwork. you flip through the books on his desk when you notice one particularly well-worn copy. what could that be? you pull it out, only to realize it’s a poetry collection.

“you read poetry?” you ask as he sets his pen down to give you his complete attention

he glances at the book in your hands. “occasionally.”

you skim through the pages. there are lots and lots of lines about love and romance. you giggle a bit, feeling giddy. he blinks at you before adding, “it helps me think.”

“think about what?”

“about you.”

you smile hard. “read it to me?” you hold out the book to him, eyes shining in excitement.

he raises an eyebrow but takes the book, then recites in a low voice:

“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.”

you tilt your head in confusion, though your smile cannot be discreet at all. “what does it mean?”

“it talks about when you love someone completely.”

“completely?”

“precisely. quite like how i love you.”

© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

[raestromboli]

plug!chris helps you with a certain predicament. ♡

there’s a pout embedded on your glossed lips as chris closes the door behind you, not noticing how he stares you down with confusion and a slight humorless expression.

“a’ight, the fuck you called me for? i was busy.” chris grumbles. his words are slightly mumbled since a joint rests against the corner of his lips. blue eyes trail over your body while you plop down onto his couch with a furious stupor, brows furrowed and your arms crossed under your chest.

“i can’t cum!” is all you whine out. your pout only curls deeper when all chris does is side eye you, lips parted in surprise. he doesn’t respond immediately—just eyes you down like you told him something extremely stupid.

“. . . i don’t get how that’s my fuckin’ problem.” his brows raise expectedly while his voice narrows down into something you’d typically use when talking to a child that’s teetering over the edge of throwing a fit. chris doesn’t really seem to care anyway, because he sits back down onto the couch next to you and resumes counting the wad of cash that lays on the table in front of him.

you huff, uncrossing your arms and showcasing your hands to the boy next to you. chris lets out a begrudgingly sigh as he inspects your hands. by all means, they look perfectly normal—a little on the smaller side—but he had taught you how to reach those special spots with those short fingers, so what the fuck do you mean you can’t cum?

“i can’t read minds, kid. you look fully capable of makin’ y’erself cum.”

you stare at him through your lashes, “my nails, chris.”

chris just glances at your long, square acrylics, and it hits him. a dry chuckle falls from his lips as he then watches you cower a little in embarrassment.

“you serious? came all the way over here ‘cause those nails ain’t doin’ it for you?”

you timidly shrug when you feel your cheeks heat up, “i’ve been trying, but it doesn’t feel good. ‘need you to make me cum.” a relieved sigh falls out your lips when chris puts his cash down, pinching the joint from his lips and passing it to you.

“jesus—fine. hold this, and take your pants off.” and you do exactly what he says, but not without squealing excitedly and kissing his cheek. it surprises you a little when chris gets off the couch and gets on his knees, grabbing you by the thighs and tugging you closer to his face. you gasp under your breath at the sudden aggression and you grow to be embarrassed when he roughly spreads your legs apart. a sick grin spreads along his pretty face when he spots the comically large wet spot staining your pink panties.

“chriiisss.” you grumble quietly, huffing and puffing impatiently before he gets sick of hearing it and decides to shut you up by wrapping his large hand around your wrist, guiding the joint to your lips. your lips envelope it begrudgingly and you take a hit.

“shut the fuck up for a sec’, a’ight?” he sasses. his low eyes are dead set on your clothed pussy as he hooks a finger around your panties, sliding to the side to showcase your sensitive mess. god, he could never get used to such a pretty sight. your hole constantly leaks and chris is eager to lick you clean, tongue lolled out completely as he dives right in.

you couldn’t even speak—this was exactly what you needed. chris becomes an animal once he gets his mouth on you; whimpering and groaning against your soaked pussy like he was on drugs. the bottom half of his face is already glossy when he comes back for air, glancing up at you with hooded eyes and a small smirk when he sees how completely fucked out you are. you whimper when chris spits onto your cunt, your free hand flying down to grip onto his soft hair before he licks his saliva up with a groan. his plush lips wrap around your clit and sucks on it gently, making you pant and gurgle out his name while the joint sits lazily on the corner of your mouth.

and his head was always so sloppy, you could literally feel how his saliva mixed with your arousal drips down onto the couch. chris is practically drooling onto your cunt as he alternates with flicking his flat tongue across your puffy clit and suctioning his lips around it with a guttural whine each time. his large hands splay flat on your thighs to prevent you from closing around his head, and his biceps flex when you start thrashing and grabbing onto his wrist helplessly.

the vibrations from chris moaning directly into your cunt made your hole clench around nothing—momentarily pulling a choked cry out of you. he guides his tongue lower to collect the creamy nectar that pools at your hole, obscene squelches bouncing off the walls when the tip of nose bumps against your clit. it’s then that the coil in your stomach tightens, broken whines of the boy’s name falling past in your lips in warning.

“mmph—ch-chris . .” you keen lowly, fisting the boy’s locks as your lips parted to let out little ah’s. chris hummed in response and continued to play with your nub. he pulled away for a second to glance up at you, smirking with his lip tucked in his teeth.

“ya’ happy now, kid?” he rasps, maintaining eye contact with you while he kitty licks your throbbing clit. you let out whimpers every time the tip of his tongue catches onto your pussy, nodding wordlessly, “good.”

and when chris directs his attention back onto your cute cunt, you knew you weren’t going to last any longer. he sticks his tongue out and begins to lick a thick stripe from your drooling hole to your little nub where he wraps his lips around, grunting boyishly. suddenly, your fist tightens around his hair and all you can do is whimper helplessly. your hips buck up, thighs straining as you attempt to close around his head, but his large hands stop you from doing so.

your orgasm hits you like a train—you barely have any time to warn chris when your stomach tightens, your poor pussy sensitizing within seconds. whimpering noisily, you try to push his head away, but he doesn’t let up. no, instead, he takes a hand to grab onto your wrist, pining it to your thigh. you earn a glare in which you pout, hips bucking frantically as you cum. all you can see is white. you let out strings of chris chris chris like a mantra as he repeatedly swipes his tongue over your pussy, dipping down to lick your sweet cum.

and even when you come down from your high, he doesn’t stop. you have to use your free hand to push chris away, whining that you’re too sensitive. luckily, he listens and comes up for air, panting loudly as he licks his lips clean. his eyes look even lower than when he was smoking on that joint that sits prettily on your lips, and he rises up to sit down next to you, you following suit which leads you to straddle his lap. he looks at you, lips parted and pussy drunk, and snatches the joint from you to take a deep hit.

“ya’ satisfied?” chris asks, quite unimpressed as if he wasn’t going ham on your pussy just seconds ago. you smile nonetheless, taking account of the rough denim poking your bare mound as you place a kiss on his stubbly jaw.

“can you fuck me now?” you hum, a little giggly when you see the face chris makes at you.

“y’er doin’ all the work, kid,” he shrugs, “supplier’s comin’ in ten and i gotta count the rest of this cash, so hurry the fuck up . . .”

notes: can we bring back dealer!chris i barely see fics ab my man anymore💔💔

[gay-dorito-dust]

I gotchu pookie bear. What about showing Viktor a cute little gadget we made for him from using spare parts while he works?

You know those long distance touch bracelets for relationships/friends? Yeah them and those long distance touch lamps are what the stars are in this fic, touch them twice and the other star will receive said touch.

You were quiet -more quiet then usual at least- as you were hunched over your workbench in the lab and biting your bottom lip in concentration as you looked over the very thing that had been preoccupying your mind for the past few weeks, maybe a month? You weren’t quite sure to the passage of time as you spend countless nights burning the midnight oil, making sure the star shaped trinket basic functions were still working.

It wasn’t much in comparison to the gadgets Viktor had made that you could see scattered across the lab, one was always within your line of sight, each one of them holding a purpose higher then the one you were making; but yours wasn’t made to serve a higher purpose, just one where you could give to Viktor as a way to say thank you for everything and helping you find your passion for creating things.

Not only that but also by being kind and willing enough to teach you the basics of wielding, guiding your hands with his soft, knowledgeable voice and understanding that this wasn’t as easy to you as it was to him whenever you made a mistake. Viktor truly was a one of a kind person and you couldn’t help but be thankful to have met him and have him bless you life in more ways then one. So much so that it had lead to you to this very moment, the trinket you held within your hand was small, no bigger then the palm of your hand and all five of it’s points dug into your skin the tighter you held it.

You then relaxed your grip on it as you looked it over, making sure there was nothing you’ve left unchecked and even tapped the middle of the start twice, which emitted a soft blue light that throbbed like a heart beat, something that had caught Viktor’s eye as he raises a brow.

‘What you working on over there my dear?’ He asks intrigued of the sleek metal star that rested in your cautious hands.

‘Something that I’ve been working on for a while.’ You replied as you rubbed a hand against your eyes, trying to rub away the feeling of exhaustion from the lack of sleep you’ve had as a feeling of doubt began to grow within you, making you second guess enter you should show Viktor your work. However your need to show him that his guidance payed off outweighed the hesitance as you moved closer to him and showed him the gunmetal grey star.

‘I’ve noticed that you’ve been cooping yourself within the laboratory for a while,’ Viktor says as he remembers the times where he’s came into the lab, only to see that you were already there either working hard on your personal project, or fast asleep against your workbench in the most uncomfortable position. Viktor knew he couldn’t say much as he was very much the same with his own projects, but seeing you unable to keep your eyes open as it was obvious to him that you prioritised the project above your own health, why? He didn’t know but he wanted to see what was so important that you’d forget basic human needs. ‘Mind showing me what it does?’ He then asks.

You then wordlessly tapped the star twice and the soft blue glow came back, throbbing like a heart beat, twinkles of blue disperse like a ripple in a ocean or like blinking stars before fading back to gunmetal grey. ‘It’s something that I’ve made so that two people may communicate with one another.’ You said as you put the star in front of Viktor before pulling out a matching sleek gunmetal star trinket of your own, showing him how it also glowed the soft blue of his star, before tapping it twice with your finger as a soft red glow rippled across the surface of the star; responding back as Viktor’s star received it’s message.

‘Fascinating.’ Viktor says softly as he picks up the star you’ve given him, running his thumb across it as the blue glow followed in its wake, causing your star to have a matching blue streak dart across it’s surface like a shooting star. Viktor then looks at you with pride in his amber eyes, smiling softly. ‘This was what you were working so hard on? Such a unique creation birthed from the mind of an equally unique person.’

‘Well I did have an amazing person to teach me the basics of welding and help me discover a whole new way to show my thanks to him.’ You said as you shrugged your shoulders, tapping your star twice and watching as Viktor smiled softly as his star throbbed with a soft red light. ‘He taught me a lot and I wanted to make him something special to commentate it.’ You add and Viktor grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers as he squeezed it in reassurance.

‘It’s for me?’ Viktor asks.

You smiled. ‘For us really, to make sure the other hasn’t died by overworking themselves.’ You joked as you squeezed his hand back, happy to see him happy as he continues to admire the metal star and your efforts that went into making it. It made all those sleepless nights and gruelling days all the more worth it as he places the star next to his notebooks, within his immediate line of sight on his workbench. ‘We do share that common trait of pushing ourselves beyond our limits,’ Viktor chuckles before tapping the star twice, your star responding in kind nearby, ‘but I’ll be sure to use this should I think you’re unnecessarily staying overtime in the lab like you have been as of late.’ He adds as he gives you a playful but knowing look.

You raised your free hand in surrender while the other hand caressed the back of his. ‘I had to make sure they worked you can’t fault me for that surely and besides you’re no exception either mr hexcore. It’s as though you live and breathe the laboratory.’ You defended yourself and Viktor made a face that told you that he conceded, knowing that you were right, but still he wasn’t one to let you get away with such self destructive behaviours similar to his own. He feared that he might’ve rubbed off on you a little too much, but gazing back at the star made his heart warm at the thought of you working so hard on something for him and only him.

‘While I cannot fault you by any means, however that rule also applies to you as well.’ Viktor begins as he lets go of your hand and begins to tinker with his own little project, not like you didn’t mind as you always loved watching Viktor work, it relaxed it weirdly enough but you guessed that was all apart of Viktor’s due diligence to always keep his hands busy and working. ‘You’ve made something extraordinary my dear and I praise your mind and ability to make something to bring people together when they’re miles apart; truly an extraordinary thing that not even I could’ve thought of. You should be proud because I am.’ He finishes.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you smiled giddily to yourself at his praise. ‘I am proud and I’m glad to have made you proud too.’ You said softly.

‘You always make me proud regardless and will continue to make me proud tomorrow, the day after that and so on.’ Viktor reassures, his eyes never once looking away from his work but you knew the small smile gracing his lips were for you. ‘You never cease to amaze me as you shine brighter, like a star.’ He adds and all felt right in that moment as a comfortable silence befell you both as you just existed within the company of the other in harmony.

…

However all that felt like a far away dream now as you sat in the very lab that once warmed you, now leaving you cold and more alone then ever. Viktor’s gadgets looked upon you form their shelves as you attempted to make yourself small within your old chair, metal star in hand as you tapped it twice, watching with lifeless eyes as the star throbbed a soft red light and waited.

And waited.

And waited even more for a response, for a reaction, anything to prove that what you had witnessed was a lie and a horrible dream that you’ll wake up from. Nothing came back to you, the soft blue light didn’t respond to your call and you were left staring at the metal star -that looks about as hopeless as you- before you dropped it to the floor while burning your head into your knees as you silently sobbed into the fabric of your jeans.

Viktor was gone. He had been for a long while and you -in a fit of denial- didn’t want to admit to yourself that you had lost the most amazing, brilliant, most beautiful man you’ve ever met in your entire life. He was a once in a lifetime, the brightest star in the sky that you looked towards for guidance and reassurance but he’s gone now.

You were left alone with everything that he’s ever touched, which all looked lifeless now that he was gone, never to touch a wielding tool ever again. You closed your eyes tighter, completely ignoring the star on the floor as it throbbed twice with a soft blue light, arcane runes scattering across its surface; assumably letting you know that someone was there to respond, even miles away from you.

[russo-woso]

This wasn’t planned || USWNT x pregnant!teen!reader

Request | Masterlist | Prompt list

Warning Teen pregnancy, morning sickness, cravings, long painful labour and delivery

Summary You fall pregnant very unexpectedly and feel like your falling but your teammates are there to pick you up

A/N I’ve done three different versions of this now with different teams but this is the final one 🫶🏻

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Y/N, what’s wrong hun?” Emily asked as she walked into the bathroom, heating your wracked sobs.

Emily was like your sister, having known you from the US team and Arsenal. You two even lived together in England.

You showed her the pregnancy test, her jaw dropping as she saw pregnant.

You weren’t surprised at her reaction, after all you were only sixteen. You don’t think anyone really expects you to be pregnant so young, but here you were.

“I did it once, Em. I was at that stupid party I told you about and I hooked up with a guy. It wasn’t even that long. Twenty second if that. And he wore a condom! I don’t get what happened.” You sobbed, Emily holding your shaking body.

“I know, hun. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Emily whispered repeatedly, stroking your hair. “The girls will be with you the whole way through. I promise. I’ll help you.”

You didn’t believe her at first, thinking that everyone would judge you.

But surprisingly, Emily was right.

You had no choice but to tell the team, some of them bringing up that you were constantly sick, especially in the mornings.

“Y/N, are you okay? I saw you run in here.” Sophia asked as you continued to throw up in the toilet.

She rubbed your back as you threw up, holding your hair back too.

“Hun, you’ve been sick every single day this week. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You debated whether to lie or not, but you figured you’d be telling her soon anyway.

“I’m pregnant.” You revealed.

“Oh my god… hun, this is big. I’m here for you, okay?”

“Thank tou.” You sent her a weak smile before hugging her.

The reactions of the others was similar, promising they’ll help with whatever they could.

There was one person though who you had to tell, Alex.

Alex Morgan was like your mum. After growing up without a mother, Alex took on that role when you joined the USWNT.

In the year you played together, the two of you became so close.

Since she’d retired, you rang her to see if you could meet her somewhere and you agreed a small coffee shop.

You were nine weeks already, the party having been nine weeks ago, so you were starting to show the most tiniest bit hence why you had started to wear baggier clothes.

“Hi, hun!” Alex cheered as you walked though the door.

“Hey, Al.” You sighed, melting into the hug.

You got caught into a conversation when you finally got the confidence to reveal the pregnancy.

“So… I have some news and I don’t really…” you began, feeling tears well in your eyes.

“You’re pregnant?” Alex guessed, your eyes widening in shock.

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“I know you, Y/N. The Y/N I know doesn’t wear baggy clothes and she certainly doesn’t not order coffee.” Alex explained, looking at you noticing how emotional you looked. “I’m so proud of you. You’re so good with Charlie, I just know you’re going to be a good mama.”

“Thanks, Alex.” You said between cries

“I’m pregnant too.” Alex revealed

“Are you actually?”

“It’s still really early. I’m gonna announce it when I retire from club football.” Alex said. “So, we’ll have each others backs, huh?”

—

“Em?” You shouted from the living room to Emily who was stood making lunch for you both.

“Yeah?”

“Can you please get the marmite for me. Bubba’s really craving it.” You said, rubbing your now seven month bump.

“Eww, marmite?” Emily replied, grabbing it from the cupboard anyway and bringing it through to you.

“Not my fault.” You told her and she nodded, understanding.

Just as you opened the lid, a knock was heard at the door.

Emily got up to answer it, Alessia and Lotte’s voices filling the house.

“Hiya, Y/N, hiya bubba. They’ve got so big!” Alessia exclaims as she settles on the couch next to you.

“Hi.” You greet back, your mouth full of marmite.

“New craving by any chance?” Lotte asked and you nodded.

“This is the fourth jar this week.” Emily added as you grinned cheekily.

“It’s not my fault the bubba wants it.”

Your phone started ringing and you picked it up to see it was Alex ringing you.

“Hey Al.” You said, lifting yourself off the couch and walking towards your room.

“Hey hun, how you feeling? Emily said bubba’s been kicking you every night.”

“Alex, they won’t stop. I swear, it’s like they do it at night on purpose.” You said, collapsing onto your bed after the difficult journey up the stairs.

“What’s wrong? You sound out of breath.”

“I’ve just walked up the stairs.” You replied, Alex humming, also agreeing with how you were feeling. “Anyways, how are you?”

“Broke, but I’m okay.” Alex said

“Why are you broke?”

“Because I’ve just booked plane tickets to come see one of my favorite girls in England.” Alex responded, a clear smile evident in her voice.

“Alex… no.” You said, shocked.

“Yes, I’ve missed you so much, hun. I want to come see you before bubba is born.”

“Oh my god! When do you come? I’m canceling everything.”

The conversation carried on about when Alex was coming and what you were going to do.

—

You were now approaching the nine month stage.

You were exhausted to say the least. You were tired of being pregnant, you just wanted your baby here already.

You had asked Emily if you could go with to Colney today, wanting to see the Arsenal girls before you have birth.

She said yes, knowing she’d been making you coop up in the house for weeks now.

Maybe it would be good for you to get some fresh air.

“Hey, hun!” Alessia said, watching you waddle into the canteen where all the girls were sat. “You ready for bubba to come?”

“No. I’m dreading it but I can’t wait for them to come.” You responded, still making your way over to where alessia was sat.

“I can’t wait to meet them.”

“Well, you’re not going to wait much longer. Not much longer at all. Maybe today even because by the looks of it, bubba wants to come out now.” You said, looking at the puddle by your feet.

“Oh my god! Your water broke? Emily!” Alessia shouted, clearly panicked.

“Less! Calm down.” You laughed

“Yeah? Y/N! Your water broke!” Emily exclaimed, noticing the puddle at your feet.

“Wow, I hadn’t noticed.” You replied sarcastically, Emily rolling her eyes.

“Come on, hun, let’s get you home.”

—

It had been a long day.

You went home after your water broke, getting changed before timing your contractions.

After three hours, your contractions were bad, but not close enough to each other to go through hospital.

Emily suggested you went on a walk, to try speed up the labour.

You went around the block, waddling along as you walked.

But when you got back, they were only six minutes apart.

It was three o’clock when you finally went to the hospital, five hours after your water had broken.

Your contractions were close together now and were painful. Very very painful.

Emily drove to the hospital, holding your hand for support and comfort.

When you arrived, the nurses guided you to your room, allowing you to settle first before coming back to check how dilated you were.

“So, you are four centimetres dilated. How long ago did your water break?”

“About five hours ago.” You tell her

“Okay, so normally you would be a lot more further on in labour but there’s no need to worry. Slow labour could be affected by anything. Your age. Your athleticism. Anything.” The nurse explained and you nodded along, trying to focus on her words but it was hard to with a contraction hitting. “I’d recommend trying to get to sleep. It’ll be a long night for you and it might speed things up a bit.”

You took into account the fact that you might not be getting sleep with a newborn so you managed to get a few hours sleep, which actually helped speed up your labour too.

—

You were now nine centimetres dilated.

You had declined the epidural, having a massive fear of needles and after reading the negative effects an epidural could have, you definitely didn’t want it.

You were given gas and air instead, trying to decrease the pain as much as possible.

It was coming close to midnight, your body tired and achy now.

Emily still stayed by your side, rubbing your back and holding your hand.

You were currently knelt against the bed, your head in your arms as they rested on top of the bed.

“I think you’re ready to push.” The midwife announced as she checked how dilated you were.

“Thank god. I don’t know if I can do this for much longer.” You said, letting a sigh of relief out.

“Ready to meet your baby, huh?” Emily asked and you nodded, feeling a contraction coming.

“Ready to push? On three. One, two, three.”

You pushed with all your might, gripping onto Emily’s hands as you did.

“Okay, another one.”

Similar to the first push, you tried your hardest but there seemed to be no improvement.

Emily stroked back your sweat drenched hair, placing a kiss to your forehead as you pushed.

“I’m never having sex again.” You revealed after a push.

“Okay, hun.” Emily laughed

You had now been pushing for over half an hour, but still there seemed to be no sight of your baby.

“Y/N, if we can’t see your baby after this push we’re going to have to rush you in for an emergency C-Section.” The midwife said, and you nodded, knowing it would be for the best.

You were fully exhausted now, having used all your energy on the pushing.

“Hun, you’ve got this.” Emily said, panic on her face.

You groaned into the bed as you pushed, this time, using your whole body to push.

“I can see a head! Keep going, Y/N!” The midwife announced, as you kept pushing. “They’re heads nearly out. One more push and your babies head will be out.”

You pushed once more, this one more painful more than ever as the babies head crowned.

“They’re heads out. Take a breather if you want.” The nurse told you, rubbing your back in support.

“Tissue.” You mumbled to Emily who reached over to the box of tissues, bringing it to your forehead and wiping the sweat off.

“Whenever you’re ready, Y/N. One more big push, and your baby will be here.”

At them words, you pushed, using all your energy.

“They’re here! Your baby girl’s here.” The midwife said, catching your daughter and passing her under to you.

You held her to you chest, looking down at her as you both cried.

“Hi, bubba. I know that was tough, hey? Oh, I know.” You cooed as she cried her little lungs off.

“She’s perfect, hun.” Emily said rubbing your shoulder as she looked down at the baby in your arms.

“I’m gonna take her over here to check her vitals. I won’t be long.”

Whilst your baby girl was being checked over, you pushed the placenta out and moved to the bed.

Your daughter was being passed back to you, this time she was wrapped in a blanket with a small hat on top of her hair, covering her small tuffs of hair.

“She looked like you, Y/N.” Emily said

“You think so?”

“Same nose, same mouth, everything. A mini you.” Emily pointed out

“Would you like to hold her?” You asked Emily and she nodded, an emotional smile taking over her face.

“Hi, bubs. I’m your aunt Emily.” Emily cooed, stroking her finger up and down your daughter’s cheek. “What’s her name?”

“Florence Alexandra Y/L/N.”

“Oh my god, Alex is gonna be so happy.” Emily said

“I’m hoping she is, just like I’m hoping you’d be happy when I ask if you’d be Flo’s godmother?” You asked, Emily’s face lighting up.

“Of course! Oh my god thank you so much, Y/N.” Emily exclaimed, getting up to hug you.

—

After a while, you’d fed Florence and she was now fast asleep in a milk coma on your chest.

Emily was also fast asleep on the seat next to you.

You’d decided to FaceTime Alex to tell her about Florence.

The phone rang a few times before Alex finally picked up.

You’d angled the phone onto where Florence was laying, Alex’s jaw dropped as she focused on what she was looking at.

“They’re here?” Alex asked, you kidding with a tired smile.

“A girl. She’s perfect, Al. I’ve never felt a love like it, I’ve known her for an hour or two but I love her more than anything in the world. I guess you know what that feels like, huh? With Charlie.”

“I feel it with all my kids. Charlie, this baby, and you.” Alex said through tears.

“Al… you’re gonna make me cry.” You told her, blubbering.

“You’re my daughter too, Y/N. Since the moment you came into my life, you’ve been my daughter. Charlie loves you like a big sister too. Anyway, enough crying. What’s bubbas name?”

“Florence Alexandra Y/L/N.” You replied

“Oh my god, forget what I said about the no crying. You named her after me?”

“How could I not? You’re my mom Alex.” You said with a smile

“I love you two so much.”

“We love you too, Alex.”

[pitchsidestories]

aurora II Mapi León x Reader

masterlist | word count: 1190

summary: Mapi and reader getting engaged under the northern lights.

author's note: dear readers, this cute oneshot was requested and we hope you'll like it as much as we did writing the story. 🫶🏻🫶🏻

„Oh, Mapi, you know you didn’t need to.”, you began, your voice full of emotions.  

In your slightly shaky hands, you held the opened envelope in which there was an invitation to see the Northern lights. A childhood dream was laying in your palms.

It was coming true, and you were going to see that natural wonder with no other than the person you loved the most. A single tear ran down your cheek as an incredible feeling of gratitude spread through you.

The Spaniard pressed a featherlight kiss to the place where your cheek was still a bit wet.  “But I wanted to. I know you always wanted to do that, and you deserve it after the year you’ve had.”

For a brief moment, your face darkened; the last few months of the 2024/25 football season had been really tough for you. While Mapi and Irene were fit enough to play in the starting eleven again, you were demoted to the substitutes' bench again, after having grown in the role of defender and been indispensable to the team for many months.

Obviously, you were happy for the two, yet it hurt to be only considered the second choice once more.

“Thank you, amor.”, you whispered gratefully.

“You’re welcome.”, she replied.

“I simply can’t wait for that.”, you hummed excitedly. Something magical at the end of the year was just what you needed, a small winter miracle.

“Luckily, you don’t have to wait for long.”, Mapi reminded you softly.

‘But you're going to be so cold!’ you realised, and there was a hint of a guilty conscience in your voice.

“You can keep me warm.”, the defender responded with an amused smile on her lips.

“I promise I’ll.”, you grinned at your girlfriend.

“Also I already bought us matching sweaters.”,Mapi confessed sheepishly

“You did?”, you asked her touched by such a thoughtful and admittable, cheesy gesture.

“I did.”, she confirmed smirking.

“Maria Pilar, you’re the softest human with tattoos I’ve ever met, I swear.”, you said.

“My tattoos have nothing to do with that.”, the fellow football player laughed.

The weeks had flown by.

Still, it felt to you like a dream when Mapi and you were looking up to the night sky in the northern parts of Scandinavia. The northern lights above your heads.

“Yes.”, she agreed solemnly. With curious eyes the defender turned her head to look at you.  “Is it just like you imagined?”

“No, it’s even better.”, you admitted.

“It’s?”, Mapi questioned happily.

You quickly pressed a kiss to her cheek: “Yes, because you’re here with me.“

“You’re so sweet.“, your girlfriend smiled, her cheeks red from the cold.

“Also this feels so good right now. We’re only half way through the season but it’s already been an exhausting one for sure.“

“I know. And that’s why you’re not supposed to think about football here.“, Mapi reminded you gently.

You nodded gingerly. Of course she was right, this was not the time or place to think about football when you finally got to see this remarkable light display with your own eyes. “Sorry.“

Silently, you both watched on for a moment, taking everything in. You still couldn’t believe this was all real. It was almost verging on overwhelming.

“Y/n?”, Mapi said suddenly into the night.

“Hm?”, you replied without taking your eyes off the sky.

“I need to ask you something.“

Finally you turned towards her and what you saw, made the northern lights pale in comparison. There was no way to top this, yet Mapi found away.

The defender kneeled in front of you, holding a delicate golden ring in a little box.

“Oh my god!”, you whispered, incapable of stringing more words together.

“I haven’t asked yet.“, Mapi chuckled.

You shook your head in disbelief: “Well, you already got down on one knee in the freezing cold and pulled out a ring from your jacket so this is pretty self-explanatory!”

“So… Can I get an answer then?”

“Without asking? Hm…“, you teased her.

Mapi shot you a look: “You just said I didn’t have to.“

“It’s a yes, amor.“, you finally answered. You couldn’t contain the smile spreading across your face when you pulled Mapi up from the snowy ground and kissed her.

“You will be my wife?”, she asked as if she needed confirmation that you knew what you had just agreed to.

“Yes, and you’ll be mine.“

She beamed at you happily: “I will be. Even in the cold… Can we go inside now?”

“Of course, I can’t let my fiancée freeze any longer.“, you nodded with a laugh and led her inside your rented cabin.

“Thank you.“, your fiancée said, rubbing her hands together to warm them back up once she was inside.

“You’re welcome. Do you want me to make you some hot chocolate?”, you suggested once you saw how badly Mapi was shivering.

“Yes, please.“

While she took off her boots and winter jacket, you disappeared into the small rustic kitchen only to return with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate a few minutes later. You had even added mini marshmallows. Carefully, you handed Mapi a mug and watched her take a sip.

“Better?”

“A lot.“

“Good.“, you sighed relieved.

“That’s all I ever wanted.”, the defender realized gratefully.  

“A hot chocolate under the northern lights?”, you asked her amused.

“With my future wife.”, she added proudly. Her words made you feel suddenly very hot, so you had to pull off the scarf.

Despite the rather chaotic proposal you heard yourself saying. “Feels like a dream.”

“It does, huh?”

“Yes, I don’t want to wake up from it yet.”, you confessed.

The fireplace crackled in the background.

“You don’t have to. That’s our life right now.”, Mapi reassured you, the Spaniard gently touched your chin and turned it towards her so that you could look into her hungry eyes.

They and her waiting lips were the invitation you needed, both of your mouths touching in perfect unison, the kiss was perfect, bittersweet, you could still taste the hot chocolate in it.

Then she leant her forehead against yours, her sentence sounded full of promise. “Love you, future wifey.”

“Te amo.”, you whispered gently in your fiancées mother tongue.

“I know.”, Mapi chuckled, her lips escaping a protesting sound once you got up to light some candles and turned out the big lights, so it was even cozier than before.

“Isn’t this perfect.”, the Spaniard admired.

“It’s plus we can see the northern lights from our beds.”, you pointed excitedly to the glass ceiling which gave a picturesque view of the night sky above your heads.

“Nice, right?”, she grinned, as you both laid down on the soft mattress.

“Yes, it’s an amazing place to make..”, you started blushing.

“Love?”, Mapi finished the sentence for you with a teasing look on her face.

“Yes.”, you bit your lips while your fiancée began to leave small kisses all over your body.

Aurora, the blush of dawn would be here soon, but you two had only eyes for each other as you made love under the most beautiful sky you’ve ever seen.

if you enjoyed this story reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated !

[capquinn]

cant stop thinking putting quinn in the dog house for something he did and him being super clingy and yeah😔😔(im down bad for this man)

STOP he’d be a freaking nightmare to deal with in the dog house and you’d get no satisfaction out of it 😭😭😭

So the thing about Quinn is that he doesn’t mess up often — not in the big ways, at least. So when he does, it hits him like a freight train. He’s not the kind of guy to brush it off or pretend it didn’t happen; he feels it. Deeply. Which is probably why, after whatever dumb thing he’d done, he’d been moping around the house like a kicked puppy for days.

And it wasn’t like you’d slammed a door or screamed at him when it happened. You’d just went quiet. Pulled away. You didn’t even mean to — it was just instinct. But he noticed, of course he did, because Quinn notices everything when it comes to you. And the worst part? You didn’t yell. You didn’t even seem angry. You just looked… hurt.

And that gutted him.

He’d tried giving you space at first, thinking maybe that’s what you wanted. But Quinn’s not a man built for distance. Not from you, atleast. So by day two, he was trailing after you like a lost child, his big, stupid, guilty eyes following you around the house, looking for any sign of forgiveness.

“Need any help with dinner?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“I can chop the onions? Or, uh, wash the dishes after?”

“I’ve got it, Quinn.”

It was killing him. Every clipped sentence, every soft sigh chipped away at him bit by bit. And yeah, maybe you weren’t outright ignoring him, but your responses were just polite enough to make him feel the weight of the distance between you. The worst kind of punishment, because it wasn’t really punishment at all — it was just the consequence of hurting someone you love.

By day three, he was in full-on grovel mode. Apologies spilling out of him whenever you so much as glanced his way. Little touches — on your shoulder, your hand, your waist — tentative and quick, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed anymore. And the kicker? He started leaving you notes. Notes. Like he was a middle schooler trying to get his crush back.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re right. I was a jerk.”

“I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

They’d pop up everywhere — on the fridge, on your pillow, even in your bag when you were heading out the door. And it wasn’t even annoying; it was just… Quinn. Pathetic in the most endearing way, his guilt so genuine it practically radiated off him.

When he finally couldn’t take it anymore, he cornered you in the kitchen, his hands shoved into his pockets, his shoulders hunched like he was bracing for impact.

“I hate this,” he muttered, his voice quiet but steady. “I hate that I hurt you. I hate that you can’t even look at me without…” He trailed off, his brow furrowing. “I’ll fix it. Whatever it takes. Just tell me how.”

And how could you stay mad at that? At the man who looked at you like you hung the stars, who was so bad at being in trouble because the thought of being out of your good graces was unbearable to him?

You didn’t say anything right away, just stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his middle, pressing your forehead against his chest. His arms came around you instantly, like he’d been waiting for it, and you felt the tension in his body melt away as he buried his face in your hair.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured again, his voice breaking slightly, and this time, you didn’t just hear the words — you felt them.

“I know,” you said softly, and the weight of it all seemed to lift in that moment.

Quinn would hold you there for as long as you let him, his grip firm but careful, like he was still afraid you might slip away. And when you finally pulled back, his eyes would search yours, full of hope and relief and that quiet, unshakable love that made forgiving him the easiest thing in the world.

[amateurvoltaire]

For the past six years or so, this graph has been making its rounds on social media, always reappearing at conveniently timed moments…

The insinuation is loud and clear: parallels abound between 18th-century France and 21st-century USA. Cue the alarm bells—revolution is imminent! The 10% should panic, and ordinary folk should stock up on non-perishables and, of course, toilet paper, because it wouldn’t be a proper crisis without that particular frenzy. You know the drill.

Well, unfortunately, I have zero interest in commenting on the political implications or the parallels this graph is trying to make with today’s world. I have precisely zero interest in discussing modern-day politics here. And I also have zero interest in addressing the bottom graph.

This is not going to be one of those "the [insert random group of people] à la lanterne” (1) kind of posts.  If you’re here for that, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.

What I am interested in is something much less click-worthy but far more useful: how historical data gets used and abused and why the illusion of historical parallels can be so seductive—and so misleading. It’s not glamorous, I’ll admit, but digging into this stuff teaches us a lot more than mindless rage.

So, let’s get into it. Step by step, we’ll examine the top graph, unpick its assumptions, and see whether its alarmist undertones hold any historical weight.

Step 1: Actually Look at the Picture and Use Your Brain

When I saw this graph, my first thought was, “That’s odd.” Not because it’s hard to believe the top 10% in 18th-century France controlled 60% of the wealth—that could very well be true. But because, in 15 years of studying the French Revolution, I’ve never encountered reliable data on wealth distribution from that period.

Why? Because to the best of my knowledge, no one was systematically tracking income or wealth across the population in the 18th century. There were no comprehensive records, no centralised statistics, and certainly no detailed breakdowns of who owned what across different classes. Graphs like this imply data, and data means either someone tracked it or someone made assumptions to reconstruct it. That’s not inherently bad,  but it did get my spider senses tingling.

Then there’s the timeframe: 1760–1790. Thirty years is a long time— especially when discussing a period that included wars, failed financial policies, growing debt, and shifting social dynamics. Wealth distribution wouldn’t have stayed static during that time. Nobles who were at the top in 1760 could be destitute by 1790, while merchants starting out in 1760 could be climbing into the upper tiers by the end of the period. Economic mobility wasn’t common, but over three decades, it wasn’t unheard of either.

All of this raises questions about how this graph was created. Where’s the data coming from? How was it measured? And can we really trust it to represent such a complex period?

Step 2: Check the Fine Print

Since the graph seemed questionable, the obvious next step was to ask: Where does this thing come from? Luckily, the source is clearly cited at the bottom: “The Income Inequality of France in Historical Perspective” by Christian Morrisson and Wayne Snyder, published in the European Review of Economic History, Vol. 4, No. 1 (2000).

Great! A proper academic source. But, before diving into the article, there’s a crucial detail tucked into the fine print:

“Data for the bottom 40% in France is extrapolated given a single data point.”

What does that mean?

Extrapolation is a statistical method used to estimate unknown values by extending patterns or trends from a small sample of data. In this case, the graph’s creator used one single piece of data—one solitary data point—about the wealth of the bottom 40% of the French population. They then scaled or applied that one value to represent the entire group across the 30-year period (1760–1790).

Put simply, this means someone found one record—maybe a tax ledger, an income statement, or some financial data—pertaining to one specific year, region, or subset of the bottom 40%, and decided it was representative of the entire demographic for three decades.

Let’s be honest: you don’t need a degree in statistics to know that’s problematic. Using a single data point to make sweeping generalisations about a large, diverse population (let alone across an era of wars, famines, and economic shifts) is a massive leap. In fact, it’s about as reliable as guessing how the internet feels about a topic from a single tweet.

This immediately tells me that whatever numbers they claim for the bottom 40% of the population are, at best, speculative. At worst? Utterly meaningless.

It also raises another question: What kind of serious journal would let something like this slide? So, time to pull up the actual article and see what’s going on.

Step 3: Check the Sources

As I mentioned earlier, the source for this graph is conveniently listed at the bottom of the image. Three clicks later, I had downloaded the actual article: “The Income Inequality of France in Historical Perspective” by Morrisson and Snyder.

The first thing I noticed while skimming through the article? The graph itself is nowhere to be found in the publication.

This is important. It means the person who created the graph didn’t just lift it straight from the article—they derived it from the data in the publication. Now, that’s not necessarily a problem; secondary analysis of published data is common. But here’s the kicker: there’s no explanation in the screenshot of the graph about which dataset or calculations were used to make it. We’re left to guess.

So, to figure this out, I guess I’ll have to dive into the article itself, trying to identify where they might have pulled the numbers from. Translation: I signed myself up to read 20+ pages of economic history. Thrilling stuff.

But hey, someone has to do it. The things I endure to fight disinformation...

Step 4: Actually Assess the Sources Critically

It doesn’t take long, once you start reading the article, to realise that regardless of what the graph is based on, it’s bound to be somewhat unreliable. Right from the first paragraph, the authors of the paper point out the core issue with calculating income for 18th-century French households: THERE IS NO DATA.

The article is refreshingly honest about this. It states multiple times that there were no reliable income distribution estimates in France before World War II. To fill this gap, Morrisson and Snyder used a variety of proxy sources like the Capitation Tax Records (2), historical socio-professional tables, and Isnard’s income distribution estimates (3).

After reading the whole paper, I can say their methodology is intriguing and very reasonable. They’ve pieced together what they could by using available evidence, and their process is quite well thought-out. I won’t rehash their entire argument here, but if you’re curious, I’d genuinely recommend giving it a read.

Most importantly, the authors are painfully aware of the limitations of their approach. They make it very clear that their estimates are a form of educated guesswork—evidence-based, yes, but still guesswork.   At no point do they overstate their findings or present their conclusions as definitive

As such,  instead of concluding with a single, definitive version of the income distribution, they offer multiple possible scenarios.

It’s not as flashy as a bold, tidy graph, is it? But it’s far more honest—and far more reflective of the complexities involved in reconstructing historical economic data.

Step 5: Run the numbers

Now that we’ve established the authors of the paper don’t actually propose a definitive income distribution, the question remains: where did the creators of the graph get their data? More specifically, which of the proposed distributions did they use?

Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to locate the original article or post containing the graph. Admittedly, I haven’t tried very hard, but the first few pages of Google results just link back to Twitter, Reddit, Facebook, and Tumblr posts. In short, all I have to go on is this screenshot.

I’ll give the graph creators the benefit of the doubt and assume that, in the full article, they explain where they sourced their data. I really hope they do—because they absolutely should.

That being said, based on the information in Morrisson and Snyder’s paper, I’d make an educated guess that the data came from Table 6 or Table 10, as these are the sections where the authors attempt to provide income distribution estimates.

Now, which dataset does the graph use? Spoiler: None of them.

How can we tell? Since I don’t have access to the raw data or the article where this graph might have been originally posted, I resorted to a rather unscientific method: I used a graphical design program to divide each bar of the chart into 2.5% increments and measure the approximate percentage for each income group.

Here’s what I found:

Now, take a moment to spot the issue. Do you see it?

The problem is glaring: NONE of the datasets from the paper fit the graph. Granted, my measurements are just estimates, so there might be some rounding errors. But the discrepancies are impossible to ignore, particularly for the bottom 40% and the top 10%.

In Morrisson and Snyder’s paper, the lowest estimate for the bottom 40% (1st and 2nd quintiles) is 10%. Even if we use the most conservative proxy, the Capitation Tax estimate, it’s 9%. But the graph claims the bottom 40% held only 6%.

For the top 10% (10th decile), the highest estimate in the paper is 53%. Yet the graph inflates this to 60%.

Step 6: For fun, I made my own bar charts

Because I enjoy this sort of thing (yes, this is what I consider fun—I’m a very fun person), I decided to use the data from the paper to create my own bar charts. Here’s what came out:

What do you notice?

While the results don’t exactly scream “healthy economy,” they look much less dramatic than the graph we started with. The creators of the graph have clearly exaggerated the disparities, making inequality seem worse.

Step 7: Understand the context before drawing conclusions

Numbers, by themselves, mean nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I could tell you right now that 47% of people admit to arguing with inanimate objects when they don’t work, with printers being the most common offender, and you’d probably believe it. Why? Because it sounds plausible—printers are frustrating, I’ve used a percentage, and I’ve phrased it in a way that sounds “academic.”

You likely wouldn’t even pause to consider that I’m claiming 3.8 billion people argue with inanimate objects. And let’s be real: 3.8 billion is such an incomprehensibly large number that our brains tend to gloss over it.

If, instead, I said, “Half of your friends probably argue with their printers,” you might stop and think, “Wait, that seems a bit unlikely.” (For the record, I completely made that up—I have no clue how many people yell at their stoves or complain to their toasters.)

The point? Numbers mean nothing unless we put them into context.

The original paper does this well by contextualising its estimates, primarily through the calculation of the Gini coefficient (4).

The authors estimate France’s Gini coefficient in the late 18th century to be 0.59, indicating significant income inequality. However, they compare this figure to other regions and periods to provide a clearer picture:

Amsterdam (1742): Much higher inequality, with a Gini of 0.69.

Britain (1759): Lower inequality, with a Gini of 0.52, which rose to 0.59 by 1801.

Prussia (mid-19th century): Far less inequality, with a Gini of 0.34–0.36.

This comparison shows that income inequality wasn’t unique to France. Other regions experienced similar or even higher levels of inequality without spontaneously erupting into revolution.

Accounting for Variations

The authors also recalculated the Gini coefficient to account for potential variations. They assumed that the income of the top quintile (the wealthiest 20%) could vary by ±10%. Here’s what they found:

If the top quintile earned 10% more, the Gini coefficient rose to 0.66, placing France significantly above other European countries of the time.

If the top quintile earned 10% less, the Gini dropped to 0.55, bringing France closer to Britain’s level.

Ultimately, the authors admit there’s uncertainty about the exact level of inequality in France. Their best guess is that it was comparable to other countries or somewhat worse.

Step 8: Drawing Some Conclusions

Saying that most people in the 18th century were poor and miserable—perhaps the French more so than others—isn’t exactly a compelling statement if your goal is to gather clicks or make a dramatic political point.

It’s incredibly tempting to look at the past and find exactly what we want to see in it. History often acts as a mirror, reflecting our own expectations unless we challenge ourselves to think critically. Whether you call it wishful thinking or confirmation bias, it’s easy to project the future onto the past.

Looking at the initial graph, I understand why someone might fall into this trap. Simple, tidy narratives are appealing to everyone. But if you’ve studied history, you’ll know that such narratives are a myth. Human nature may not have changed in thousands of years, but the contexts we inhabit are so vastly different that direct parallels are meaningless.

So, is revolution imminent? Well, that’s up to you—not some random graph on the internet.

Notes

(1) A la lanterne was a  revolutionary cry during the French Revolution, symbolising mob justice where individuals were sometimes hanged from lampposts as a form of public execution

(2) The capitation tax was a fixed head tax implemented in France during the Ancien Régime. It was levied on individuals, with the amount owed determined by their social and professional status. Unlike a proportional income tax, it was based on pre-assigned categories rather than actual earnings, meaning nobles, clergy, and commoners paid different rates regardless of their actual wealth or income.

(3) Jean-Baptiste Isnard was an 18th-century economist. These estimates attempted to describe the theoretical distribution of income among different social classes in pre-revolutionary France. Isnard’s work aimed to categorise income across groups like nobles, clergy, and commoners, providing a broad picture of economic disparity during the period.

(4) The Gini coefficient (or Gini index) is a widely used statistical measure of inequality within a population, specifically in terms of income or wealth distribution. It ranges from 0 to 1, where 0 indicates perfect equality (everyone has the same income or wealth), and 1 represents maximum inequality (one person or household holds all the wealth).

[the-winter-spider]

I miss you, I'm sorry

Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 10k+

Warnings: Toxic, angst, smut

A/N: I love Gracie, and was like fuck it gonna toss something together based off my fav songs by her

The air feels heavy, even though the room is quiet. You sit cross-legged on your bed, your phone resting beside you, the screen dim and blank. The minutes bleed into each other, but you can’t stop glancing at the clock, as if willing it to rewind to before it all.

It’s been three days. Three days of no texts, no calls, no nothing. That’s how it always goes with Bucky. He’s there, and then he’s not. And every time, you tell yourself it’ll be the last time you wait for him to come back.

It never is.

You hate him for how easy it is to disappear. You hate yourself more for letting him.

The phone rings.

The sharp sound cuts through the haze of your thoughts, and for a moment, your heart skips. You snatch the phone up, seeing his name flash across the screen. The sight of it sends a rush of relief, anger, and something softer, something stupidly hopeful, all at once.

You answer, but don’t say anything.

“Hey.” His voice is quiet, gravelly. Tired.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Hey.”

The silence stretches, brittle and uncomfortable. You can hear him breathing on the other end, steady and soft. It reminds you of the way his breath felt against your skin the last time he stayed over, the last time he let himself get too close before pulling away again.

“I shouldn’t have called,” he mutters finally, his voice tight. “I just… couldn’t sleep.”

You close your eyes. There it is again, the push and pull. The way he says he shouldn’t but always does. The way he drags you back into his orbit every time, knowing you’ll stay.

“What do you want, Bucky?” you ask, keeping your voice steady. It’s a question you’ve asked a hundred times, and you already know the answer.

He exhales sharply, like he’s frustrated—at you, at himself, you’re not sure. “I don’t know.” Another pause. “You were right, okay? About everything. I just…” His voice trails off, and you can picture him sitting on the edge of his bed, rubbing the back of his neck the way he always does when he’s trying to find the words. “I hate this.”

“Hate what?” you snap, the simmering frustration bubbling to the surface. “Hate that you always come back? Or hate that you can’t figure out what the hell you want?”

He doesn’t answer. He never does when you call him out like this.

The silence makes your chest ache. You shake your head, even though he can’t see you. “You can’t keep doing this, Bucky. You can’t keep pulling me back just to push me away again. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” he whispers. And he sounds so broken, so genuine, that it cracks something inside you. It always does.

You take a shaky breath. “Then why do you do it?”

“I don’t know,” he says again. His voice is quieter now, softer, like he’s afraid of breaking you more than he already has. “Because you’re the only thing that feels real. And I don’t know how to hold onto it without screwing it up.”

Your throat tightens. You wish you didn’t understand. But you do. He’s always been good at giving you just enough to stay, but never enough to feel whole. “Its not enough Buck”

“I know,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “But it’s all I’ve got, you're all i truly have."

You sighed running your head through your hair “Do you wanna come over?”

“I’m already on my way”

You don't have to wait long. The sound of his motorcycle pulling up to your place makes your stomach do a little flip, even though you're still mad at him. You hear his heavy boots on the stairs, and then a soft knock at your door.

You take a deep breath before opening it. He's standing there, his hair tousled from the ride, his face tight and tired. He looks at you, and for a moment, it's like all the walls come down. He reaches out, cupping your face with his hand, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice rough. "I'm so fucking sorry."

And just like that, you melt. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed. His other hand comes up to wrap around your waist, pulling you close. He smells like leather and cigarettes and something uniquely him.

"I missed you," he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. "I hate not seeing you."

"I hate it too," you whisper back. "But you can't keep doing this, Bucky. You can't keep hurting me."

He makes a soft, broken sound. "I know. I'm trying, okay? I'm really trying."

The door closes softly behind them, the click of the lock echoing in the charged silence. Bucky's hand is still cupping your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you breathe him in. He smells like leather and smoke, like home and danger all rolled into one.

You press yourself against him, feeling the hard planes of his body through his clothes. He's solid and warm and real, and it's been too long since you've felt him like this. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he claims your mouth in a hungry kiss.

You moan into it, your fingers tangling in his hair. He kisses like your fights- fierce and intense, like he's trying to claim every inch of you. You kiss back just as fiercely, your tongue sliding against his as you lose yourself in the feel of him.

He walks you backwards towards the bed, his hands roaming your body as he goes. He breaks the kiss only to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His mouth is back on yours before you can even blink, his hands cupping your breasts through your bra.

You arch into his touch, your nipples hardening under his palms. He groans low in his throat, his hips pressing forward to grind against yours. You can feel his hardness through his jeans, and it makes you ache with need.

He breaks the kiss again, trailing his lips down your neck as his hands work to unclasp your bra. It falls to the floor, joining the growing pile of clothes. He takes a moment to look at you, his eyes dark with desire as they rake over your naked breasts.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he murmurs, his hands cupping the soft mounds. You gasp as his thumbs brush over your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

He leans down, taking one of the hardened peaks into his mouth. You cry out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he sucks and licks and nibbles. Your hips buck against his, seeking friction, and he groans around your nipple, the vibrations making you shiver.

He gives the other breast the same attention, lavishing it with kisses and bites until you're writhing beneath him. Only then does he move lower, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach as he kneels before you.

His hands hook in the waistband of your jeans, tugging them down along with your panties. You step out of them, kicking them aside as he looks up at you from his knees. The sight of him there, kneeling before you like you're a goddess to be worshipped, makes your knees weak.

"Bucky," you breathe, and it's half plea, half prayer.

He grins up at you, a devilish glint in his eyes. "Patience, baby. I'm going to take my time with you."

And then his mouth is on you, his tongue delving between your folds to taste you. You cry out, your head falling back as pleasure crashes over you. He licks and sucks and teases, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as he devours you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to you as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he pulls back, leaving you gasping and empty.

"Bucky, please," you whimper, and he chuckles darkly.

"Please what, baby? Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you pant, looking down at him with desperation in your eyes. "I want you inside me."

He stands up, pulling you flush against him as he captures your mouth in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it makes you even more aroused. His hands grip your ass, kneading the flesh as he grinds his hardness against your bare core.

"Bed," he growls against your lips, and you nod frantically, tugging him towards the mattress.

You tumble onto the bed together, a tangle of limbs and desire. He breaks the kiss to sit up, yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. You take a moment to admire the hard planes of his chest, the scars that crisscross his skin like a roadmap of his past.

He crawls back over you, his hips settling between your thighs as he reaches for his belt. You watch, transfixed, as he unbuckles it and shoves his jeans and boxers down, freeing him.

He settles back over you, his head brushing against your entrance. You shudder at the contact, your hips lifting to try and draw him in.

"Tell me you want this," he whispers, his voice rough with need. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you," you breathe, wrapping your legs around his waist. "I want all of you."

And with that, he thrusts into you, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. You cry out at the sudden fullness, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjust to the stretch.

He pauses for a moment, letting you get used to him. Then he starts to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in. You meet him thrust for thrust, your hips rising to take him deeper.

The bed creaks beneath you as he sets a relentless pace, driving into you again and again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, burying his face in your neck. "So perfect."

You clench around him in response, and he curses, his hips snapping forward harder.

"I'm gonna come," you gasp, your body tensing beneath him. "Bucky, I'm gonna-"

But he cuts off your words with a kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure as you come undone beneath him. Your body spasms around him, milking him as he follows you over the edge with a hoarse shout of your name.

He collapses on top of you, both of you gasping for breath as the aftershocks of your orgasms roll through you. He presses soft kisses to your neck, your jawline, your lips as you bask in the afterglow.

"I love you," he murmurs against your skin, and you hope it's just not the sex talking.

Later that week, you’re sitting at a bar with Natasha. She watches you nurse your drink, her sharp green eyes narrowing as you tell her what happened.

“He called,” you say, staring down at the condensation on your glass. “And like an idiot, I picked up, and he came over, we had sex and he was gone in the morning”

Natasha doesn’t say anything at first. She just leans back, crossing her arms. “What do you want me to say?” she asks finally. “That he’s going to change? That this time will be different?”

You shake your head. “No. I just…” You trail off, struggling to put the feeling into words. “I just wish I didn’t miss him so much. I wish I could stop.”

She sighs, leaning forward. “Listen to me,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “He’s not going to fix this. You know that, right? He’s not going to wake up one day and suddenly figure out how to love you the way you deserve. That’s not who he is, you have to know that babe…"

“I know,” you whisper. But the ache in your chest doesn’t go away.

Natasha exhales deeply, tilting her head as if trying to decide whether to push further. Finally, she sets her drink down and leans across the table, her voice quieter but no less serious. “So, what’s the plan? You gonna keep answering when he calls? Keep letting him come over, screw you and your head, and leave like nothing happened?”

You don’t answer, just trace the edge of your glass with your finger. The truth is, you don’t have a plan. You’re not even sure you want one. “He said he loves me, he's never said that before”

Natasha leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studies you. Her sharp green eyes narrow slightly, but there’s no satisfaction in her expression. She doesn’t look impressed, doesn’t look relieved, like you’d hoped she might. Instead, her face softens, just slightly, in that way that means she’s about to say something you don’t want to hear.

“Okay,” she says slowly, her voice calm but pointed. “And what does that change?”

Her question hits like a bucket of cold water, and you blink at her, your fingers freezing mid-trace on the rim of your glass. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, so what?” Natasha continues, leaning forward now, her elbows on the table. “He said the words. Great. But what does that actually mean to you? Did it make you feel better? Did it fix anything?”

You open your mouth to reply, but no words come out. The truth sits heavy in your chest.

“It’s not enough just to say it,” Natasha presses, her tone still steady but with an edge of frustration. “Love isn’t just words. It’s showing up. It’s consistency. It’s choosing someone, not just when it’s convenient, but every single day. Did he do that? Or did he just say what you’ve been waiting to hear and then disappear again?”

The ache in your chest tightens, and you look down, your fingers clutching the glass like it might hold the answers you’re searching for. “He—he’s trying,” you say weakly, but even you don’t sound convinced.

Natasha lets out a breath, her voice softening again. “Babe… I know you want to believe him. I know you love him. But this?” She gestures vaguely, as if to encompass all of it—your tears, the late-night calls, the endless cycle. “This isn’t what love is supposed to feel like. Love doesn’t leave you questioning your worth every time the sun comes up.”

The words settle over you like a weight, and you swallow hard, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill. You don’t want her to see you cry. Not here. Not like this.

“Nat…” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. But she shakes her head, her expression soft but unyielding.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you,” she says gently. “I just… I want you to be happy. And you’re not happy right now. You haven’t been for a long time.”

Before you can respond, the stool next to her screeches, and Sam slides into it, his energy a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere between you and Nat. He plunks his beer on the table and gives you a once-over.

“Well, you look like someone stole your puppy,” he says, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

Natasha shoots him a look. “Not the time, Sam.”

“I’m just saying,” he replies, leaning back and gesturing to you. “She’s been sitting here all night, looking like a sad indie song, and you’re just gonna let her wallow?”

You glare at him, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “Do you have something to say, or are you just here to make jokes?”

“Both,” Sam says, taking a sip of his beer before setting it down. “Look, I love you, but this thing with Bucky? It’s killing you, and everyone can see it. Hell, you can see it, but you’re still pretending like it’s gonna work itself out.”

“Sam,” Natasha warns, but he holds up a hand.

“No, let me finish,” he says, his voice more serious now. “I’ve been where you are, okay? Hanging onto something that’s breaking you because you’re scared to let it go. But you know what happens if you keep holding on?” He pauses, meeting your eyes. “You lose yourself. And I don’t want that for you.”

His words hit harder than you expect, and for a moment, all you can do is sit there, blinking back the tears threatening to spill.

“I don’t know how to let him go,” you admit finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know who I am without him.”

Sam leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Then it’s time to figure that out. Because you deserve better than waiting around for someone who doesn’t see how amazing you are—not someone who only comes around when it’s convenient for him.”

After Sam and Natasha head home, you find yourself walking through the quiet streets, your hands shoved into your coat pockets. The city hums around you, but you feel untethered, like you’re floating between who you are and who you want to be.

Before you realize it, your feet take you to Bucky’s building. You stop at the corner, staring up at the windows. The lights in his apartment are off, but you know he’s there. He’s always there.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out, your heart sinking when you see his name.

Bucky: You up?

The message is simple, familiar, and infuriatingly tempting. Your thumb hovers over the screen.

You: Yes, just leaving the bar.

Bucky: Ill see you in 20.

You see his light flick on.

You: Okay.

You’re sitting in your apartment with Steve. He’d shown up unexpectedly, a bag of bagels in one hand and a concerned look on his face. Now, he’s watching you carefully as you pick at your food, the silence between you growing heavier by the minute.

“I heard about last night,” he says eventually, breaking the stillness.

You glance up, narrowing your eyes. “Natasha?”

“Sam,” he admits with a small smile, but his expression stays serious. “He’s worried about you. We all are.”

You sigh, leaning back against the couch. “I’m fine, Steve.”

“You’re not fine,” he says gently, setting his coffee down on the table. “And it’s okay to not be fine. But you need to stop punishing yourself for wanting more than what Bucky can give you.”

Your chest tightens, and you look away, your voice barely audible. “He’s not a bad person, Steve. He’s just… broken.”

“I know he is,” Steve says softly, his tone patient but firm. “And I know he cares about you, even if he’s too scared to show it. But that doesn’t mean you have to keep hurting yourself to save him.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get stuck in your throat. Instead, you ask the question that’s been clawing at you for days. “Is he seeing anyone else?”

Steve freezes mid-bite, his jaw tightening. “Yes.”

You nod slowly, your hands trembling as you set your plate down on the coffee table. “Are they… are they having sex?”

Steve’s shoulders sag slightly, and he shakes his head. “No.”

The relief you feel is fleeting, quickly replaced by another ache—something deeper, sharper. “He told me he loves me, y’know,” you whisper, your voice cracking.

That makes Steve freeze completely. He sets his bagel down, staring at you with wide, startled eyes. “He said that?”

You nod, the words pouring out of you now, unfiltered and raw. “He’s never said it before. And I didn’t know what to do. Because it felt… real. For a second, it felt like maybe this time was different. But then he was gone the next morning, like always.”

Steve leans back in his chair, his brow furrowed, like he’s trying to process what you’ve just said. “Did he mean it?” he asks finally, his voice cautious.

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes. “I don’t know, Steve. Does it matter? He says one thing, but everything else he does just…” You trail off, shaking your head.

“It matters,” Steve says firmly, leaning forward. “If he loves you, that’s something. But love isn’t enough if he can’t show it, if he can’t make you feel it.” Steve is quiet for a long moment, his expression pained. “You deserve more than that,” he says finally. “You deserve someone who’s not afraid to fight for you. Someone who doesn’t make you feel like you’re asking for too much just by being yourself.”

-----------

The music is loud, pulsing through the crowded bar in a steady rhythm that matches the pounding in your chest. You're friends are off dancing their cares away, while you sit at a small table near the corner, nursing your drink, half-hidden in the dim lighting. The condensation from the glass drips onto your hand, but you barely notice.

Your eyes keep drifting to him.

Bucky is across the room, his arm slung casually around another woman’s shoulders. She’s laughing, tilting her head toward him like he’s just told her the funniest joke in the world. He looks… relaxed. At ease in a way you haven’t seen in a long time, and it’s like someone’s taken a knife to your chest, twisting it deeper with every passing second.

You force yourself to look away, staring into the amber liquid in your glass like it holds answers to questions you’re too scared to ask. But it doesn’t work. Your gaze flickers back to him, almost involuntarily.

They’re dancing now, swaying to a song you don’t recognize. His hand rests lightly on her hip, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her dress in a way that feels too intimate, too familiar.

And then he kisses her.

Not on the lips, but on her head, his lips lingering against her hair as she leans into him. It’s tender, effortless, the kind of gesture that feels natural, like it belongs to someone who knows how to love without hesitation.

Your chest tightens, and you swallow the lump forming in your throat, forcing yourself to take another sip of your drink. The bitterness burns your tongue, but it’s nothing compared to the ache spreading through you.

You tell yourself you don’t care. That this doesn’t matter. That he’s made his choice, and it isn’t you.

But the truth is, it matters too much.

You drain the rest of your drink, the cold liquid going down in one sharp swallow. You set the glass down harder than you mean to, the dull thud lost in the noise of the bar.

You glance over at him one last time, just to confirm what you already know. He’s still there, his attention focused on her.

But then his eyes shift.

He sees you.

For a split second, your gazes lock across the room, and the weight of his stare pins you in place. His hand pauses on her back, and something flickers in his expression—guilt, maybe, or regret.

You can’t tell, and you’re not sure you want to.

The heat of his gaze follows you as you stand, slipping your bag over your shoulder and making your way toward the door. The noise of the bar fades into the background as you weave through the crowd, your footsteps quick and purposeful.

You don’t look back, but you can feel him watching you, his eyes lingering like a phantom touch that burns even after you’re gone.

The cold night air hits your face as you step outside, and you inhale deeply, trying to push the ache in your chest away.

But it stays. It always stays.

That night, you’re curled up on your couch, a blanket wrapped around you as the city lights flicker through the window. Your phone sits on the coffee table, dark and silent.

Until it’s not.

The screen lights up, and Bucky’s name appears. The voicemail notification lingers like a ghost, and your hand trembles as you reach for it.

You press play, his voice cracking through the silence.

“I know I’ve screwed this up. I know I don’t deserve another chance. But I miss you, and I don’t know how to do this without you. Please… just call me, I’m sorry”

-------

You find him outside on the balcony, leaning heavily against the railing, his shoulders hunched like the weight of the world is pressing down on him. The cold night air bites at your skin, and the faint glow of the streetlights below casts shadows that dance across his face. He doesn’t turn when you step out. He never does. That’s the thing about Bucky—he always knows you’re there, but he’s mastered the art of pretending not to.

The sound of the sliding door closing behind you feels final, like you’ve just stepped into a space you won’t come back from. Your arms wrap around yourself, a weak defense against the cold—or maybe against him—and you take a hesitant step forward.

“I thought you left,” you say, breaking the fragile quiet. Your voice wavers, as unsure as the ground you’re standing on.

He finally looks over his shoulder, his eyes heavy and rimmed with shadows. He looks wrecked. Tired in a way that no amount of sleep could fix. “Almost did,” he says softly, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of the city.

You step closer, your chest tightening at his words, at the way he doesn’t move, doesn’t shift to let you in. “Why didn’t you?”

He shrugs, turning back to the skyline, his fingers gripping the railing. “I haven’t heard from you all week.”

The ache in your chest sharpens at his tone, a flicker of hope you hate sneaking in despite yourself. It’s always like this: just enough vulnerability to keep you tethered. You stop a few feet away, the space between you feeling like a canyon, impossible to bridge.

“This isn’t working,” you say, finally voicing the thought that’s been clawing at you for weeks. “Whatever this is. It’s not working, Bucky.”

He doesn’t react at first, just keeps staring out at the city, like it holds an answer he’s too afraid to look for. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and rough. “I know.”

The simplicity of his admission steals your breath. It’s not that you didn’t expect it. You did. You’ve been here before, standing on the edge of this same cliff, waiting for the inevitable fall.

“So why are we still here?” you ask, your voice trembling, tinged with a desperation you wish you could hide.

He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. The motion is frustrated, exhausted, like he’s tired of his own indecision. “Because I don’t know how to stop,” he admits, his words cutting through the night air with brutal honesty.

You take another step closer, close enough to see the tension in his jaw, the way his knuckles turn white as he grips the railing. “Bucky,” you say, your voice soft but breaking. “I need more than this. I need to know if you’re ever going to stop running every time things get hard. Because I can’t keep waiting for you to figure it out.”

He turns to face you then, his blue eyes locking onto yours. There’s something in them—something raw and fragile and so heartbreakingly familiar. For a fleeting second, you think this is it. The moment he’ll finally tell you what you’ve been waiting to hear.

But then he looks away, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know if I can.”

The nausea hits you like a punch, twisting your stomach into knots. You take a shaky step back, wrapping your arms around yourself like it might keep you from falling apart. “Do you even want to try?”

His silence is deafening, an answer in itself.

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and sharp. “You’re unbelievable,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “I’m standing here, practically begging you to tell me you care, and you can’t even do that.”

“I care,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know I care.”

“Do I?” Your voice rises, anger bubbling to the surface, breaking through the pain. “Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. You say you care, but you act like I’m something you can pick up and put down whenever it’s convenient for you.”

“Stop,” he says, his voice suddenly firm, his eyes snapping back to yours. There’s something desperate in his tone, something pleading that makes your breath hitch. “I don’t… I don’t know how to do this.”

“No, Bucky.” You shake your head, your voice trembling with fury and heartbreak. “You just don’t want to. And there’s a difference.”

The words hang between you, heavy and suffocating. He opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, but then he stops. His eyes dart back to the city skyline, and you see it—the war he’s waging with himself, the battle between what he wants and what he’s too scared to reach for.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of the moment. “Say anything.”

“I’m seeing someone,” he says suddenly, his hands gripping the railing so tightly you half expect it to snap. The words hit like a freight train, knocking the air from your lungs.

The world around you tilts. Your hands tremble as you take a step back. “Of course you are,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. The bitter laugh that follows feels like it belongs to someone else. “I’m done.”

You turn toward the sliding door, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might shatter. Your hand trembles as you reach for the handle, pausing for just a second, hoping—praying—he’ll stop you. That he’ll fight.

But the silence stretches on, heavier and colder than the night air.

When you glance over your shoulder, he’s still standing there, staring down at the city like he’s already let you go.

Your throat tightens, but you force yourself to slide the door open and step back inside. The warmth of the apartment hits you like a slap, but it does nothing to ease the chill in your chest.

The door slides shut with a quiet thud.

And Bucky doesn’t follow.

You’d just moved into a new apartment, one that wasn't tainted with all the places he'd touched, places he'd been. It made things easier it wasn't the reason for your move but it helped. Natasha had decided you were both done unpacking for the night so naturally she had dragged you to a party. Steve’s place, of course. The apartment was alive with the energy of too many people crammed into too little space. Natasha had disappeared into a circle of friends near the kitchen, leaving you to nurse your drink in a corner. That’s when you noticed him.

Bucky.

He was leaning against the wall, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Dark hair falling into his eyes, a leather jacket slung over his shoulder despite the heat of the crowded room. He didn’t see you at first, but when he did, his gaze lingered just long enough to make your pulse race.

You told yourself you wouldn’t approach him, but an hour later, you were pressed against the wall in Steve’s hallway, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands gripping your hips like he couldn’t get close enough. It was messy, impulsive, and thrilling.

“We probably shouldn’t,” you’d whispered, your breath catching as his mouth moved against your collarbone.

He’d laughed softly, his voice low and rough. “Yeah. Probably not.”

Neither of you stopped.

There were moments after that—moments that felt like everything you’d ever wanted. Late nights in his apartment, the room dimly lit by the glow of the city outside. He’d lie next to you, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your arm as you talked about everything and nothing.

He’d tell you about his childhood, the things he rarely told anyone. The weight of his past. And you’d listen, feeling like you were peeling back layers of him that no one else had ever seen.

“You don’t have to fix me,” he’d murmured once, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I like being around you.”

You’d smiled, brushing his hair back from his face. “I’m not trying to fix you, Bucky.”

And in those moments, you weren’t lying.

But then there were the other moments. The ones where he pulled away so fast it left you reeling.

You remember the first time he didn’t text you back. It wasn’t just hours—it was days. Days of overanalyzing every word you’d said to him the last time you saw him. Days of your stomach twisting every time your phone buzzed, only for it to not be him.

When he finally did text, it was so casual it made you want to scream.

“Hey. You good?”

No apology. No explanation. Just like that, he was back. And you let him back in because you didn’t know how not to.

And then there was the jealousy. The way you’d catch him talking to someone else at a party, his body language so open and inviting in a way it rarely was with you. You hated how it made you feel, the bitterness that bubbled up, the way you wanted to pull him aside and demand to know if he cared about you at all.

But you didn’t. You never did.

“Do you even want to move on?” Wanda asks, her tone soft but pointed. “Or is this just who you are now?”

You blink at her, her words cutting through the haze of your thoughts. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

She sighs, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “You deserve better, you know that, right?”

The door swings open, and Natasha walks in, dropping her bag on the counter. She gives you a look, one that’s equal parts sympathetic and exasperated.

“Let me guess,” she says, crossing her arms. “You’re thinking about him again.”

You don’t answer, but the way your jaw tightens is enough for her to roll her eyes. “You know he’s not good for you. Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

“I don’t know,” you snap, harsher than you mean to. “Maybe because it’s not that simple.”

“Actually, it is,” Natasha retorts, her voice sharp. “You stop calling him. You stop answering when he calls. You stop letting him treat you like an afterthought.”

“Nat—” Wanda starts, her tone soothing, but Natasha holds up a hand.

“No, she needs to hear this.” She looks at you again, her expression softening just slightly. “I know you care about him. But caring about him isn’t enough if he doesn’t care about you the same way. At some point, you have to start putting yourself first.”

You glance away, her words hitting too close to home.

“I don’t get you,” you’d once said your voice trembling with frustration. “One minute you’re here, and it feels like—like maybe this could be something. And the next, you’re gone.”

He’d run a hand through his hair, pacing the room. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is, Bucky,” you’d said, your voice rising. “You either want me, or you don’t. So which is it?”

He’d stopped then, turning to look at you. And the look on his face—it wasn’t anger or indifference. It was fear.

“I don’t know,” he’d said finally, his voice breaking.

And that was the worst part.

“You’re spiraling,” Sam said. He wasn’t harsh about it, but he didn’t sugarcoat it either. “This isn’t love. It’s self-destruction.”

Even as you think it, your phone buzzes on the coffee table. The sound feels too loud in the quiet room, pulling everyone’s attention. You glance at the screen, and your heart skips when you see his name. Just his name—no message preview, no context, just him.

Wanda notices, her brow furrowing as she leans forward. “Don’t,” she says softly, but there’s a weight behind the word, a plea. “You’ll just end up back where you started.”

You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the notification. The silence in the room grows heavier, charged with unspoken tension. Your chest tightens as your mind races. It would be so easy. Just one tap, and he’d be there again. One tap, and you’d hear his voice, feel the pull that always brings you back.

“I just…” Your voice falters, your eyes flickering to Wanda and then to Sam, who watches you with a mix of concern and frustration. “What if this time it’s different?”

Sam lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand over his face. “You think this time is different? Come on. What’s he going to say that he hasn’t already said a hundred times before?”

“It’s not about what he says,” Wanda interjects, her voice gentle but firm. “It’s about what he does. And what has he done, really, except hurt you?”

You look back at the screen. The notification is still there, a glaring reminder of the mess you can’t seem to escape. Your thumb presses down slightly, not enough to open it but enough to feel the weight of the choice.

“But I love him,” you whisper. The words tumble out before you can stop them, raw and unfiltered.

Sam exhales sharply, standing up from the chair and pacing across the room. “Yeah, we know. Everyone knows. But does he love you? Because if he does, he’s got a real shitty way of showing it.”

You flinch at his tone, the harshness cutting through your defenses. “He does love me,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to him.

“Then where is he?” Sam snaps, turning to face you. “Why isn’t he here, fighting for you instead of blowing up your phone every time he feels lonely? Why is it always you doing the heavy lifting?”

Wanda places a hand on Sam’s arm, pulling him back gently. “Sam…”

“No, I need to say it,” he says, his voice softer now but still firm. “Love isn’t supposed to feel like this. It’s not supposed to feel like you’re drowning every damn day just to keep him afloat.”

The bar is too loud, too crowded, and too filled with memories of Bucky for you to feel at ease. But you’re here because it’s Steve’s birthday, and Natasha had insisted. And of course you came it was Steve.

You’re leaning against the bar, talking to a man you barely know. His smile is easy, his laugh smooth, and even though you’re trying to focus on him, you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you. From across the room, his gaze burns into your back, searing through your dress like a brand.

You glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes for a split second. The tension in his jaw, the way his drink sits untouched in his hand—it’s the most emotion he’s shown all night. But it’s not enough to stop you.

If he wants to act like he doesn’t care, you’ll give him something to not care about.

The man beside you leans in, his hand brushing against your arm as he says something you don’t quite catch over the noise. You laugh, even though you barely hear the joke. You laugh because you know Bucky is watching.

It doesn’t take long for him to snap.

Before you realize what’s happening, his hand is on your wrist. Firm but not rough, his grip sends a jolt through you. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice low and clipped.

“Excuse me?” You pull back, glaring at him, but his grip doesn’t loosen.

“We’re leaving,” he says, not looking at you, not giving the man beside you so much as a glance.

“Bucky—” you start, but he’s already pulling you through the crowd, weaving between bodies with single-minded determination.

By the time you reach his apartment, you’re seething. He slams the door shut behind you, the sound echoing through the dimly lit space.

“What the hell is your problem?” you snap, crossing your arms.

“My problem?” he fires back, pacing across the room like a caged animal. “My problem is you acting like that guy meant anything to you!”

“Oh, and you would know what means something to me, right?” You take a step closer, your voice rising. “Because you’re so good at showing me how much I mean to you.”

He stops, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t turn this on me.”

“Why not? It’s always about you, isn’t it, Bucky? What you want, what you feel. You drag me into your mess every time, and I let you, because I—”

You stop yourself, your breath catching.

“Because you what?” he demands, his voice sharp.

“Because I care about you!” you yell, your chest heaving. “And all you ever do is hurt me for it.”

His face twists, like your words hit him somewhere deep. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something, that he’s going to explain or apologize or do something, but instead, he grabs a plate from the counter and hurls it against the wall. The sharp crash reverberates through the room, the pieces scattering across the floor like jagged confessions neither of you are ready to face.

You flinch at the sound, but the fire in your chest burns brighter, fueled by the chaos. “Oh, real mature, Bucky. Breaking dishes? That’s your solution? Just break things until you don’t have to feel anything anymore?”

He grabs another plate, his hand trembling as he grips it, his knuckles white. His voice breaks as he yells, “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t know I’m screwing this up? That I don’t hate myself for it?”

“Then stop!” you shout back, your voice raw and cracking under the weight of it all. “Stop hurting me, stop dragging me back, stop—just stop!”

The plate shakes in his hand, and for a second, you think he’s going to throw it again. Instead, he slams it down on the counter with a hollow thud. His shoulders slump as he leans over it, his head bowed like he’s trying to hold himself together. His breathing is ragged, his hands gripping the edge of the counter so tightly you think it might break under the strain.

“I don’t know how,” he whispers finally, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it. “I don’t know how to be what you need.”

The vulnerability in his voice slices through you, but it’s not enough. Not this time. The ache in your chest is unbearable, your heart breaking as you look at the man you love and realize he’ll never love you the way you need him to.

“Then let me go, Bucky,” you say, your voice trembling but resolute. “If you can’t give me what I need, let me go.”

He finally turns to face you, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I can’t,” he says, his voice breaking like the plates he just shattered. “I don’t want to let you go.”

Your chest tightens, the pain twisting deeper with every word. “Aren’t you seeing someone?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended.

He shakes his head, his jaw clenching. “She’s not you,” he says, his voice trembling. “They’re never you.”

The admission stuns you into silence for a moment. The tears you’ve been holding back spill over, hot and heavy. “Then why can’t you give me that, Bucky?” you whisper, your voice shaking with anger and grief. “Why can you give it to them but not to me? Why is it always me who’s left bleeding for you? It’s not fair—I give you everything! And you just take, take, take! What’s left of me after this?”

Your words hang between you, raw and unfiltered, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t try to defend himself, doesn’t even try to apologize. He just stares at you, his eyes wide and desperate, like he’s drowning in the mess he’s made.

Then, without warning, he steps forward, grabbing your face in his hands. His touch is rough, almost frantic, his fingers trembling against your skin. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

And before you can say anything, before you can even catch your breath, his lips crash into yours.

The kiss is desperate and messy, his tears mixing with yours as he pulls you closer like he’s afraid to let go. His hands shake as they cup your face, his lips pressing against yours with a fierceness that makes your knees weak.

You hate how easily you give in, how quickly your hands find their way to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. The anger and pain and longing all bleed together in that kiss, every unspoken word, every broken promise, every piece of you he’s taken without giving anything back.

When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and ragged against your skin. “But I can’t lose you. Please… don’t leave me.” He whispers his voice trembling

Your heart shatters all over again. “Okay”

Bucky’s hands tighten on your arms, his breath warm and uneven against your face. His lips hover just above yours, his eyes searching yours for something—permission, maybe, or forgiveness he doesn’t deserve. You don’t give it to him, but you don’t pull away either.

Instead, your hands move on their own, sliding up his chest and curling into the fabric of his shirt. The tension between you snaps like a live wire as he closes the distance again, his mouth crashing against yours with a desperation that leaves no room for hesitation.

The kiss deepens, his lips parting yours, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His hands roam down your sides, fingers gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. You press closer, your body molding to his as the frustration and anger between you melt into something darker, hotter, and infinitely more consuming.

Bucky backs you up until your hips hit the edge of the counter, the cool surface biting into your skin through the thin fabric of your dress. His hands slide up your thighs, his touch firm and deliberate as he lifts you onto the counter. You gasp against his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair as he steps between your legs, his body pressing against yours in all the right ways.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and breathless. “If this isn’t what you want, tell me now.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your chest heaving as you meet his gaze. His blue eyes are dark, filled with a mix of longing and uncertainty that tugs at something deep inside you. “Don’t stop,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

That’s all it takes. He grips the hem of your dress and pulls it up, his hands sliding over your thighs, rough and calloused against your skin. His lips trail down your neck, his stubble scraping lightly against you as he kisses the sensitive spot just below your ear. Your head tilts back, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands and mouth make you forget every argument, every broken moment that led you here.

His fingers find the edge of your underwear, his touch teasing as he looks up at you, waiting. You nod, your breath hitching as he slides them aside, his fingers exploring with a skill that leaves you trembling. He watches you intently, his gaze locked on your face as he learns every reaction, every sound you make.

When his name slips from your lips, low and needy, it’s like something inside him snaps. He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the couch with a strength that leaves you dizzy. The world blurs around you, your focus narrowing to the feel of his body against yours, the weight of his hands, the intensity of his gaze.

“You’re all I think about,” he says, his voice raw as he settles over you. “Every damn day.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. The only response you can give is the way you arch into him, the way you pull him closer, needing him as much as he needs you. And when he finally joins you, it’s slow and deliberate, every movement designed to pull you deeper into the storm of him.

The morning light seeps through the curtains as you stand by his window, fully dressed, the quiet hum of the city below serving as your only company. Bucky is still asleep in the bed, his arm draped across the pillow where you had been just hours ago. You glance at him one last time, your heart clenching in your chest. For a fleeting moment, you consider crawling back into bed, letting yourself believe in the softness of this moment.

But you can’t.

You quietly grab your things and slip out the door, the sound of it clicking shut behind you feeling heavier than it should.

By mid-morning, you’ve buried yourself in mundane errands—anything to keep your mind from circling back to him. You’re at the farmer’s market now, weaving through the stalls of fresh produce and flowers, the air filled with the faint scent of lavender and bread. You clutch a tote bag tightly in your hand, trying to focus on the vibrant colors of the fruit in front of you.

You pick up an apple, turning it over in your hand absently. It’s almost enough to distract you from the ache still lodged in your chest. Almost.

Until you see him.

You freeze, the apple slipping from your grasp and thudding softly onto the wooden table in front of you. Your breath catches, and the world seems to narrow until it’s just him, standing only a few stalls away.

His dark hair catches the sunlight, and for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed, like the night before never ended. His eyes are locked on yours, wide and filled with a mix of emotions you can’t quite place—shock, guilt, something softer that makes your chest tighten painfully.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, suspended in time. Everyone else around you fades into nothing, their chatter and laughter muffled like the background of a dream.

But then your gaze shifts.

To her.

The woman standing beside him.

Her hand is clasped firmly in his, their fingers intertwined in a way that feels too familiar, too intimate. She’s beautiful, her expression warm and open as she looks up at him, clearly unaware of the storm brewing between his gaze and yours.

Your stomach twists violently, and the apple you’d forgotten about rolls off the edge of the table and hits the ground.

Bucky’s face changes when he sees you notice her, his eyes softening with guilt, his mouth parting as if he wants to say something, anything. But he doesn’t.

He just stands there, holding her hand, while your chest caves in.

You swallow hard, your throat tight as you force yourself to look away, your vision blurring with unshed tears. You clutch your tote bag tighter and turn, walking away without another word.

You barely make it out of the market before the tears spill over. You wipe them away furiously, your hands trembling as you duck into a side street, out of view from the crowds.

The weight of his gaze lingers on your back, like a hand reaching out but never quite touching you. You can feel him watching you, but you don’t dare turn around. You can’t.

You stop for a moment, your chest heaving as you lean against the wall of a brick building. The morning sun feels too bright, the world too loud despite the hollow silence pounding in your ears.

He didn’t follow.

You told yourself you didn’t want him to, but the ache in your chest says otherwise.

When you glance back toward the market, just for a second, you see him standing at the edge of the stalls, his hand no longer in hers, his face etched with something that looks like regret.

But he doesn’t move.

And neither do you.

With a deep breath, you wipe your face one last time, adjust the strap of your tote bag, and walk away. The weight in your chest feels unbearable, but your feet keep moving anyway.

The apartment is quiet that night, the silence pressing down on you as you sit by the window, staring out at the city lights. You tell yourself you’re not waiting for him, but your phone sits beside you on the windowsill, the screen dark but heavy with possibilities.

It’s almost midnight when the buzz breaks the silence. You glance at the screen, your heart stopping when you see his name.

The message is simple. “Please, can we talk? I miss you…I’m sorry”

[maskedbyghost]

love your writing so much 💖

could we have some more pure fluff? i’ve been feeling pretty down recently, and want some of your writing to help. :)

maybe something like simon trying to cheer the reader up after being upset over something? i’m giving you creative freedom!!! ❤️❤️❤️

thank you sweet anon, hope you like this! <333

it starts with him noticing the way your shoulders slump. you’re good at pretending everything’s fine—always have been—but not with him. he sees through the fake smiles and forced laughter like glass.

“what’s wrong?” his voice is low, and you shake your head, not trusting your voice, and focus on the mug in your hands, the tea long gone cold.

“you can’t fool me, love,” he says, crouching down beside the couch so he’s at eye level with you. “spill it.”

it takes a moment, but the words finally tumble out—half-formed explanations about a rough day, small things piling up, and the weight of it all sitting heavy on your chest. by the time you finish, your voice cracks, and you’re sure you sound ridiculous, but simon doesn’t laugh. he just listens, nodding when needed, and waits until you’ve said your piece.

“’s not silly,” he says firmly when you mutter something about overreacting. “your feelings aren’t silly, sweetheart.”

he stands then, and you think he’s about to walk off, but instead, he grabs your jacket from the hall and wraps it around your shoulders.

“c’mon,” he murmurs, holding out a hand. “let’s go for a walk. fresh air’ll do you good.”

you hesitate for a second before taking his hand. his fingers are warm, and when he gives yours a small squeeze, it feels like a lifeline.

the two of you step outside, the cool air brushing your cheeks. it’s quiet, save for the sound of your footsteps and the occasional rustle of leaves. simon doesn’t say much, but his presence is enough. he keeps his hand in yours, his thumb tracing absent patterns over your knuckles, grounding you.

at some point, he stops, crouching to pick up a particularly funny-looking leaf. “look at this,” he says, holding it up like it’s some grand discovery.

you can’t help the small laugh that escapes you, the first one all day, and he grins like he’s just won something.

“there’s that smile,” he says softly, brushing a thumb across your cheek.

when you get back home, you feel lighter somehow, the weight on your chest not as suffocating. simon makes you a fresh cup of tea and insists on sitting beside you, close enough that his arm brushes against yours. he doesn’t push you to talk more; he just sits there, his presence a quiet comfort.

and when you finally lean into him, letting your head rest on his shoulder, he doesn’t say a word. he just shifts slightly to make you more comfortable, his hand coming up to rest on your back, holding you like he’ll keep all the bad things at bay.

because he will. for as long as you need.

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

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic

[lena-kieran-zor-el]

First of all, bless you for your immeasurable contributions to this fandom, Steph.

I’ll come clean on this - Con put in this request for me, specifically for one Very Good reason (not horny).

I’ve been curious as to why Vi’s hair is so drastically different between Act 2 and Act 3.

I started wondering how long she was out, and what transpired when she was recovering. And I also thought, you know who really hated the oil?

Cait.

You could hear it in her tone, completely undisguised. “Your *hair*.” Actual revulsion that Vi would do something like that to something she thought was so perfect.

There’s a lot to be said for Vi running from herself with that dye, and trying to erase the Vi that was. So, I conjectured that Cait, while Vi was recovering, would wash out the dye as a sign of care and also apology. To be the hands that brought Vi back to Vi, as recompense for being the catalyst for her spiral.

As such, I wondered if there was evidence left behind. Especially if it was something that doubly tied into “the dirt under your nails.” The only place I figured I could get a good glimpse was this particular shot, one in which zoomed up close on Cait’s hand as close as possible to when the event might have occurred.

Sadly, as we can see, it’s not the case in canon per se. That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, and that the oil didn’t wash out after the fact. To me, I’ll probably hold onto that view. I’d bet anything Cait refused to let anyone else do it.

Anyhow, I wrote an entire fic about this I’ll be posting this week. Stay tuned if you like have your heart ache.

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS: 2x08 - “Killing is a Cycle” ↳ "I don't need consolation. I need a plan."

[insidekatmind]

When everyone's asleep-Pope Heyward

Wearning: +18,smut, english is not my first language.

The night had fallen on John B’s cottage, enveloping everything in a silence broken only by the chirping of crickets and the rustling of waves in the distance. John B and Sarah had taken refuge in their room, leaving the rest of you to settle down in the kitchen, which had been converted into a makeshift camp. Thin mattresses and blankets spread on the floor welcomed Kiara, Cleo and JJ, already immersed in a deep sleep.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep. You felt your heart beat faster than normal, but it wasn’t the waves or the wind that shook the windows. It was him. Pope.

He was lying beside you, his face relaxed as he pretended to sleep. But you knew him too well. You noticed the way his hand barely moved, looking for yours under the shared blanket. A slight smile curled your lips as you let your fingers intertwine.

"Don’t you sleep?" he whispered, his voice a breath in the silence.

"And you?" you replied in a similar tone, the smile evident even in the dark.

The others were all too tired to notice what was going on between you. Pope came a little closer, his warm breath caressing your cheek.

"You’re the one keeping me awake," he admitted, with a glimmer of malice in his dark eyes that you could glimpse in the dim light.

"I didn’t do anything," you replied quietly, trying to keep an innocent tone.

But it wasn’t entirely true. The tension between you had been building up for days, weeks perhaps. You were always close, but lately every touch, every look seemed to carry a deeper meaning.

"You don’t have to do anything, Y/N. I just look at you," said Pope, the sincerity in his voice making your heart beat even faster.

You did not answer, but let your face draw near to his until your lips touched. It was a soft kiss, almost shy, but the way Pope drew you closer made all doubts vanish. His hand gently laid on your cheek, his thumb drawing imaginary lines on your skin.

"They’re sleeping," you murmured against his lips, your hands clinging to his shirt.

"I don’t care," he replied, the voice charged with a sweetness that made you tremble. "I’ve waited too long for this."

The kiss grew deeper, and each touch seemed to set the air between you. Your hand slid down his chest, feeling the muscles tense under the cloth, as he left a trail of caresses along your side.

"Pope..." his name slipped away in a whisper, a mixture of desire and uncertainty.

"Shh..." he silenced you, his smile lighting up his face. "You must say nothing."

It was not easy to remain silent with the way his lips explored your skin, descending down your neck. You would sometimes glance at others, but they were completely unaware of what was happening. JJ snored slightly, while Cleo and Kiara were wrapped in their blankets, lost in their dreams.

"Promise you won’t regret it tomorrow," you whisper, biting your lower lip as his eyes met yours.

"The only thing I would regret is not having done it," said Pope, his voice full of determination.

Your heart seemed to explode at those words, and you let the moment overwhelm you. It was risky, crazy, but every second with him made you feel alive like never before.

As the night continued, it seemed that the world outside the chalet had vanished, leaving only you two, your whispers and kisses exchanged, as if the rest did not matter.

Pope’s breath deepened as your lips continued to search for each other, hungry but slow at the same time, as if you wanted to savor every second of that stolen moment. His hands gently slid on your hips, drawing you closer.

"Come here," he whispered with a thread of voice, and before I could answer, you felt his strong hands guiding you, gently sliding on him.

Your heart seemed to beat so fast that it could wake up others, but at the time you didn’t care. His hands were on your sides, holding you with the right pressure, while his gaze was lost in yours.

"You’re amazing, you know?" Pope whispered, his tone loaded with a sweetness that made you melt.

You looked down, a shy smile curving your lips. "You shouldn’t say that so often, I could get my head blown."

"I’ll stop saying that when you stop driving me crazy," he replied, a flash of fun in his eyes before drawing you back to himself.

The kiss became more intense, and your body instinctively responded to his. You felt the warmth that emanated, the way in which his hands explored the curve of your back, going up and down with a delicacy that contrasted the obvious desire that you felt growing between you.

"Pope..." whispered against his lips, your hands clinging to his back, trying to balance.

"Tell me," he replied, his voice low and crusty, as his fingers brushed the skin of your bare side.

"If anyone wakes up..." you started, but his lips settled on yours again, interrupting you.

"They won’t wake up," he assured with a mischievous smile, his eyes shining bright as they were looking for yours. "And even if they did, I don’t care. I want you."

Those words made you shiver, and without thinking too much, you let go completely. Your hands moved towards his face, caressing his jaw as your lips continued to move in perfect harmony.

Sometimes you would glance at others, but their sleep seemed deep and peaceful. JJ was curled up under a blanket with a peaceful expression on his face, while Cleo and Kiara were not even making the slightest movement.

"See? Everything under control," Pope whispered, noticing your worried look.

"You’re too sure of yourself," you replied, trying to keep a firm tone, but the smile that formed on your lips betrayed your true mood.

"Only when it comes to you." His words left you breathless, and you felt the need to reciprocate the gesture. You bent down again to him, your lips finding his neck, leaving light kisses that made him barely shake.

"You’re torturing me," Pope muttered, his voice broken by pleasure as his hands clenched even tighter on your hips.

"I didn’t think you were so sensitive," you joked, but the smile on your face turned into a slight moan as he decided to counter-attack, his lips moving down your neck, leaving a trail of heat that made you tremble.

The moment seemed eternal, a mix of audacity and desire that completely enveloped you. For a moment you forgot everything: the chalet, the others, the possible consequences. There was only you and him, the dark accomplice of that night, and the desire to continue discovering every nuance of each other.

Your movements started almost without thinking about it, slow and uncertain at first, but soon the need to feel more, to be closer to him, took over. Move your hips against him, creating a slight friction but enough to make him jump under you.

"Y/N..." Pope whispered at your lips, the tone charged with a mixture of surprise and pleasure.

You noticed the way he clenched his teeth, desperately trying to hold back a moan that could have broken the silence of the chalet and attracted the attention of others. But the way his hands clung to your hips made you realize how much it was making him lose control.

"Is something wrong?" you asked with a whisper, a mischievous smile curving your lips as your hands flowed on his shoulders.

"You... know it exactly," he replied with a clenched teeth, a flash of fun mixed with desire in his eyes.

You kept moving, your hips following a slow but steady pace, while he tried to keep control. His hands guided you, holding you tight enough to make you feel the warmth of his skin through your clothes, but never too much to be intrusive.

"You’re incredible," he muttered, interrupting the kiss to stare at you with eyes that shone in the twilight.

"You’re not bad yourself," you joked, but your voice betrayed the effect he was having on you.

He bent forward, his lips finding your neck, and this time did not hold back. He left a more determined, almost possessive kiss, followed by a trail of light bites that made you shiver. Your movements became more fluid, more natural, while his breath became irregular.

"If you keep this up, I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to hold back," Pope whispered in a husky voice as his eyes settled on yours with an intensity that made you tremble.

"Who told you I want you to hold back?" you said with a whisper of voice, your hands sticking in her hair.

The way his body reacted to those words was enough to make you realize how close it was to the limit. He moved just below you, trying to make more contact, while his lips returned to urgently seek yours. Every kiss was an unspoken promise, an invitation to let go completely.

For a moment, you forgot where you were. There was no longer the risk of being caught, or awareness of how risky what you were doing. There were only you and him, lost in a vortex of emotions that seemed to grow with every movement, every whisper, every kiss.

You started to lower your pyjamas and thongs and then do the same thing with his shorts and boxer shorts. Pope was already shirtless and having Pope all naked and needy under you was a sight.

You joined your lips with hers while you lined up your pussy on her cock and sank in it while trying not to moan. Pope was going crazy: your pussy was squeezing his dick and the fact that he couldn’t moan was killing him.

Your lips kept searching for hers with increasing urgency, the kisses getting deeper and more messy, while the heat between you increased inexorably. Your movements on his hips became more determined, the rhythm you followed sent shivers down your back and, judging by the way Pope clenched his jaw, also along his.

"God, Y/N..." He whispered with a thread of voice, his hands clenching even more on your hips, as if trying to control what was happening, but without really being able to. " You’re riding me so well"

Every movement of yours was a sweet torment, and you felt it in the way his breath became more and more irregular, his eyes closing for a moment before opening again and looking for yours.

"Pope..." you murmured, his name coming out almost like a moan as you felt the growing warmth between you. Your hands clung to his hair, the touch that seemed the only way to anchor yourself in reality as you lost yourself in him.

"You’re playing with fire," he said in a hoarse voice, the tone that had a warning note, but his smile betrayed how much he loved everything that was happening.

"I see you more than comfortable with the fire," you replied, your voice a mixture of provocation and desire.

Pope laughed softly, a muffled sound to not wake up the others, but immediately after his lips returned to yours, hungry, as if he needed that touch to breathe. Each of his kisses was deep, slow and incredibly intense, and the way his hands held you made you feel wanted in a way that you had never felt before.

Your movements became more natural, as if your bodies spoke a language you had never learned but instinctively knew. Every touch, every pressure created a crescendo of emotions that left you breathless.

"I can’t think of anything but you right now," Pope confessed, his voice broken by pleasure as his gaze waned into yours.

Those words made you melt, and you returned with a long kiss and full of feeling, your hands slipping down her back, wishing the moment never ended.

"Neither did I," you replied in a whisper, your foreheads touching as you both tried to catch your breath.

The sound of a slight movement from the sofa made you freeze for a moment. You both turned your head towards JJ, who turned under the blanket, mumbling something in her sleep.

You both held your breath, holding up a nervous laugh when he showed no other signs of awakening. Pope looked at you with a complicit smile, the desire in his eyes now mixed with a touch of fun.

"You’re too dangerous," he quipped softly, putting one hand on your back and moving closer to him again.

"Yet you don’t seem to want to stop," you replied with a mischievous smile, your lips resting on hers again in a long and sweet kiss. And as palpable as the risk was, neither of you seemed willing to give up that stolen moment.

You started rolling your hips on his cock feeling how his dick went on your g-spot and you lowered your head biting his neck not to chase the moan that was coming out of you while he left a small moan at impact.

"shit y/n" he murmured as you left him sucking his neck, leaving a mark. " you’re my death" said Pope as he put your hands on your ass and squeezed it to make you move more against him.

You bit the inside cheeks of your mouth not to groan but always small groans were coming out so Pope joined his lips with yours swallowing all the groans.

"you’re holding it so well to me" I whispered near your lips and then kissed you again while you groaned.

You both came to the climax and Pope cum inside of you while you were still kissing.

After a while you recovered you adjusted and fell asleep hugged.

The next day you were all out and only JJ was still sleeping. When he came out, he seemed amused." Guys I had a strange dream... I dreamed that someone was fucking while I was sleeping, what a cool thing" said JJ amused and unaware of everything.

You and Pope looked at each other and were holding back a laugh amused.

[trendywaifus]

↳ you’re my violet in the sun! (part one!)

a/n: ngl if i were to truly make this a friends with benefits fic, it would of been a bit toxic and sad. two parts btw. ly all.

cw: gn! reader with a dick, virgin! reader, reader down bad asf, no established relationship, reader is a pubsec! officer, reader described to be taller and have pretty lips at some point but gn ofc, you’re such a honest loser and jane’s a sucker for it, confessions during sex, creampie, praise, worship, oral fixation, cum-eating, tail-job (lol), cursing, mind dumbfication, size kink, vaginal penetration, pussydrunk, blowjob

you walk through the bustling streets of lumina square, fresh off your shift with an aching body. fortunately, you shed your heavy equipment from your person after clocking out so you’re able to tread around easier. who would of thought that solving mundane cases like chasing after lost cats and calming down rowdy teenagers would make you drained today? since you had worked with your rookie squad partner, seth, it made things a little easier. since he was a cat thiren, he has a natural affinity with cats and is certainly proving himself to be a good addition to the criminal investigation response team. but, his character is a little too. .earnest for your liking. seth is a textbook good guy but you don’t like how he endangers himself sometimes. however, it was either him, qingyi, or the captain. zhu yuan doesn’t like messing with furry animals and isn’t exactly good at talking to teenagers. qingyi. .isn’t really good with teenagers or cats either for obvious reasons so there’s not much to say there.

with a heavy sigh, you walked through the crosswalk as the pedestrian signal light turns green. a nice cup of coffee should do it and then when you return home, you’ll make some dinner. you should have enough ingredients for alfredo after doing a grocery run recently. you’re deep in your thoughts as you walk with a small crowd of civilians who’s busy with their own plans. suddenly, a finger lightly taps you on your left shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts. you crane your neck to glance over at that shoulder and left puzzled when you couldn’t find the person who did it.

“ haha, on your right~ “ the familiar saccharine voice snickers.

your stomach flutters as you turn your head to the source of the voice. you lock eyes with your colleague, jane. she gives you a playful smile, siren eyes crinkling. “ y-you play too much. .a normal hi would of sufficed. “ you groan, crossing your arms as she softly laughs besides you. she always sounds so pretty when she laughs. her voice pleasantly rings in your ears and you try your best to not let it linger on your mind. subconsciously hooking her left finger back with her coat strap, she steadily matches your walking speed.

“ sorry, sorry. i saw you walking down here after a important phone call. you seemed a little exhausted so i wanted to make you smile. i guess i should try a different method, huh sweetheart? “

sweetheart? your cheeks burn.

“ th-there’s no need, “ you start, fiddling with your belt to distract yourself from the butterflies jittering around in your tummy. “ i was going to get some coffee at coff’s cafe to help my exhaustion. um, thank you though, miss jane. “

you’re so polite and awkward, it’s adorable.

“ oh? “ you feel her interested gaze on you. “ you don’t mind me coming along, do you? i could use some caffeine right now because i’ve been pushing myself a little too hard lately. i feel like eating a energy bar right now wouldn’t give me the extra kick that i need. ”

you thought about it for a moment. although you’re quite shy around jane, you enjoy her company. you just need to swallow back your social anxiety and hold a decently long conversation with her. it’s quite hard though when she’s gorgeous. “ i don’t mind, miss jane. i. .would appreciate your company. “ you’d admit, sending the shorter woman a warm smile that came out too awkward for your liking. there’s a certain glimmer in her siren eyes as they slightly widen. her rodent ears lightly jitter before she reciprocates your smile back with a soft one.

“ . .alright, good. “

after a minute of walking, you stroll into coff’s caffe with jane at your side. you greet tin master with a small wave and ordered what you want. “ mochaccino, please. what about you, miss jane?”the rat thiren hums thoughtfully.

“ hm, a latte is fine. “

tin master enthusiastically collects your orders and fixes up your coffees.

“ so, “ the tin master begins as he swirls the cream on your mochaccino. “ are you two perhaps a couple now? it’s my first time seeing you two together. if so, you made the right choice, miss jane. they maybe a little shy and stiff but hopefully you can help get them out of their com—“

bashful, you abruptly cut him off, sputtering, “ n-no, tin, w-we’re just grabbing coffee today—not dating, just c-colleagues! “

“ . .oop! i’m sorry! l-let me just finish with your orders! forget what i said! “

jane blinks several times, glancing between you hiding your flustered face with your head tilted away from her and the tin master nervously humming away as he does the last finishing touches with her latte. such a comedic sight to see—it feels like she’s in a comedy romance movie. jane bursts into a fit of giggles, bringing a palm to her mouth as she does. “. . .hahaha! i will, i will. but, i do like to admit that they’re quite the cutie~”

“ j-janne. . “ you grumble, carefully taking your cup of coffee after the tin master slides yours and hers on the counter.

“ i’m just teasing you, (name). you don’t have to take everything i say to heart sometimes~ “ though, what she said was the truth. you’re very easy on the eyes.

jane gets her own cup and follows you over to the small tables. you sat down at a seat with a soft sigh. she sits down alongside you, and plucks a spoon from the small bin containing the silverware. jane curls her tail around her leg to keep it contained. a small moment of silence sinks in between you two and you anxiously think about what to say. maybe ask about the important phone call she mentioned about earlier? no, she’s a consultant, most of the information she receives is classified, even for you. perhaps her day? that’s a good general question to ask. you wonder why she’s been pushing herself lately.

“ so. .miss jane? “

“ hm? “ the light sound of metal hits your ears as she aimlessly stirs her coffee, dissipating tin master’s latte art. poor guy.

“ . .how was your day? you mentioned to me earlier about how you’ve been pushing yourself lately. by any chance, are you prepping for a big case? “

jane nods with a “mhm” before explaining, “ yeah, but i can’t really say anything given the severity of the case and i’m sure you’ll be brought to light about it soon enough. “

she sips on her latte. the relaxing, rich contents seeps down her throat, filling her body with a satisfying warmth.

you give her a puzzled expression. ‘brought to light about it?’ since jane works under pubsec and the criminal investigation response team as the specialist—perhaps captain zhu yuan assigned her to the case first before informing the rest of the team. you might be expecting another raid operation in the following days or so.

“ so, when are you leaving for it? are you going under a different alias this time? “

she shakes her head, chuckling, “ i’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning. for this case, jane doe will do just fine. “

oh? so her actual fake name. you lift the cup to your lips, the creamy fluid explodes on your tongue. you’re unaware of jane’s keen gaze watching you. with a satisfied sigh, you set the cup back down, feeling the soft cream on your top lip. you stick out your tongue to lick away the residue. jane’s ears flutter with unknown intent, cyan eyes slightly narrowing. “ so, how was your day? anything interesting happened?”she inquires, lazily propping a leg over the other, and rested her chin on her gloved palm.

you perk up nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. “ well, not exactly. chasing pets and squashing teenager squabbles was really all i did. “ jane drums her finger against the wooden surface, silently identifying your awkward tendencies that makes her smile a little. rubbing your neck, fiddling around with your fingers, while having that small, sheepish smile on those pretty lips of yours, and you’re glancing around—you can barely look her in the eye. despite your size, you’re quite the adorable little officer.

“ oh, really? squashing teenage squabbles? i’m wondering how you’re able to do that when you can barely look at me while we talk. you don’t have to be nervous around me, i’m just here to give you company. i don’t bite. “ she teases light-heartedly, her carmine lips curling upwards more as you laugh awkwardly.

“ w-well, it’s just you’re. .”

“ i’m what? “ jane eggs on with an amused expression on her features. her tail unwraps from her leg and lowly sways.

“ you’re very. .beautiful so it’s hard for me to talk to you sometimes—“

“ pfft, hahaha! “ jane lets out an endearing laugh, nearly hunching over with a hand on her stomach.

“ d-don’t laugh, miss jane! i didn’t know what else to say—i was only being honest! “ you stammer, lips pursing into a thin line.

“ no, no, you’re fine, sweetheart. that’s what i like about you. i-i was just taken back by how cute you really are. i haven’t laughed like that in a while. “ jane wipes the tears from the corner of her eyes with a thumb. you decide to take a few more sips of your coffee, fighting back the dopey smile threatening to spread across your lips.

after an hour of talking, you long since finished your coffees. she’s so lovely. you only worked with her a few times in operations and had some occasional small talk during your patrols. this was the first time you sat down and had a long conversation with her. you learned about her taste in action movies, taste in music, and what she usually does on her days off. despite how quick she is on her feet, jane’s more of a laid-back person. you almost can’t believe that she likes to have lazy days where she snacks on energy bars? that’s unexpected but somehow fitting for her. it’s starting to get late but admittedly, you want to spend more time with her before she leaves for her case the next morning.

you stand outside of the cafe with jane, swallowing thickly as she wraps up her conversation with you so she can head back home and prepare for her next case. before she can bid you goodbye, you blurt out, “ actually. .i’m making alfredo tonight. do. . you want to come over and have some dinner with me, miss jane? i-itt’ll also be beneficial for you so you wake up with extra energy in the morning. . “ you offer awkwardly, shifting your weight on the opposite foot.

the fairly, sable haired woman merely stares at you with a quizzical look on her face for a short moment. anxious under her stare, you shift your weight on the other foot. jane breaks out into a fond smile, her tail swishing slowly, mirroring her delight. “ i guess it wouldn’t hurt to join you, sweetheart. how far are you from here? “

you exhaled a quick puff of air in relief. “ at least twenty minutes away from here. i take the metro. “

“ interesting. .we could be in the same neighborhood because i take the metro and that’s the estimated time that it usually takes for me to come home from here. “

that really is interesting. how come you never see her if you and her are from the same neighborhood?

“ i’m usually out and about during evenings and throughout the nights so that might be why we don’t really see each other. “

ah.

you unlock the front door of your home and opened it for her. “ you first, miss jane. “ you smile politely at her and she smiles back. she brushes past you, the pointed end of her tail gingerly grazes under your chin as a silent, playful thank you. “ o-oh. . “ you murmur, easily flustered by her mischievous gesture and followed her inside, closing the door behind you then locking it. jane slips off her boots and steps inside your living room. she scopes out the decently large space with visible interest. it’s tidy and feels homey, not to mention, it smells just like you.

“ so, um, yeah this is my home. “ you force out a little shy laugh that she finds endearing. “ i’m going to go freshen up and change first before i cook anything. you can rest on the couch and listen to the radio, o-or watch tv while you wait. do you want me to give you some water before i go? “

jane slips off her bomber coat and sets it on the elbow of the couch she have decided to rest on. a black, sleeveless mock neck crop top that fits her and her style perfectly. that’s what she usually wears underneath? she’s looks so good in that. you hold yourself back from staring longer than you should. “ no, i’m okay. thanks. i’ll be right here when you come back~” she sing songs, plopping down on the sofa and stretches out her limbs. jane waves at you playfully and giggles when you scurry off to your bedroom.

“ sweet thing. .today may not be so tiresome after all.” she trails off, skimming a quick thumb over her polished red nails.

jane decides to turn on the portable radio that’s settled on the coffee table in front of her. carefully, she adjusts the notch, glossing over channels until the one that suits her taste pops up. a slow r&b song that she often hears from time to time fills the quiet atmosphere of the living room. exhaling, she leans back against the head of the couch and checks her phone for any new dms and calls. she sighs with relief when she discovers none and rests her device on the rounded table. it took a little over thirty minutes before you come back out—in a tank top and sweatpants. jane always wondered what you’d look like outside of your uniform and she is not disappointed by the sight in front of her. how could you look so good while being such a socially awkward sweetheart? there are many interesting characters within pubsec but it’s still surprising that you’re one of them and a good one at that. her primal thiren instincts softly kicks in the longer her stare lingers on your form.

“ sorry that i kept you waiting, let me go make the food. “

“ or better yet, “ jane purrs, admiring you from head to toe with an inviting gaze that makes you shiver. “ come here. let’s talk some more. ” she pats a spot next to her. you gulp and made your way over to the long sofa where she resides at. your fresh scent pass through jane’s nostrils as you sat down next to her which stirs something from within her. yet, jane tries to ignore the growing sense of yearn that’s slowly chipping away at her self control. there’s that nervous glint in your (e/c) eyes that almost makes you look innocent.

“ miss jane— “

“ just jane, sweetheart. you’re making me feel old when you say it so sweetly like that. we’re just about the same age. “ the rat thiren corrects through a soft, half whisper and chuckle, running a steady hand down your arm and squeezed your biceps. you slowly bob your head, subconsciously running your tongue across your lips. jane’s gaze follows the movement of your kissable lips before flickering back up at your eyes. “ jane, um, so what is there you wanted to talk about? “ you inquired gently, cheeks hot and so is the blood coursing through your veins. she doesn’t think she can hold herself back—not when her thiren senses is beginning to act up like this.

her rat ears flutter, not once, but twice.

“ have you. .ever been with anyone like this before, sweetheart? “

your gaze shifts off to the side.

“ no, eyes back over here. look at me. “ she holds your jaw with her gloved palm and maneuver your head back to her. a helpless noise vibrates in your chest as her siren eyes bleeds into yours.

“ i. . no. “ you muttered, ashamed.

jane releases your jaw to caress your cheek, “ that’s okay. there’s no need to be ashamed about it. do you trust me? “ she asks in a hushed tone, closing the proximity between you and her until the intoxicating scent of her perfume wafts strongly against your nose and you can feel her calm breath against your lips. her thumb massages your cheekbone in a tender manner while she waits for an answer. you swallow, gathering the courage to say one word that’s threatening to spill from your tongue.

“ y-yeah—“

soft lips press against yours in a quick kiss, gladly consuming the surprised sound rumbling in your throat. jane shifts forward, her free hand plants itself on your shoulder and gently push your upper body downward until your back hits the cushions. she hovers on top of you, situating herself between your legs. one of your legs is hanging off the long sofa while the other is bent on it. her fingers skim down to your jaw and slowly traced the outline of it. your heart is beating fast against your rib cage, pumping blood lower and lower to the specific part of your body that exposes your excitement.

“ ah? “ jane momentarily pulls back to eye the tight outline of the growing bulge hardening in your sweat pants. she’s only seeing the preview and she can already tell that you’re big. you’re full of surprises aren’t you? excitement flows her veins like an injection of anti-corruption serum. she rolls her bottom lip between her teeth with profound anticipation. “ . . .j-jane, you’re staring. .”you pointed out shyly, tentatively placing your hands on her waist. a nonchalant hum simmers in her chest.

“ am i baby? sorry, it’s hard not to when you’re under me like this. “ jane simpers, dipping down to lay sweet kisses on your cheek before targeting your lips again. unlike last time, it’s a firm press which is nearly not enough to signify her want for you. but because you’re obviously inexperienced, she want to take it slow with you. you nervously apply pressure to her sweet lips, faintly tasting the cherry balm and latte she consumed earlier with you. your hands lack confidence as they run down her sides.

“ don’t be nervous. touch me more, i’m all yours for tonight. “ and maybe for many nights more. she takes one of your hands and guides it to her right breast. with the help of her delicate guidance, you gently squeezed her through her black, mock neck crop top. the plump flesh feels tender and pliable even through the silk fabric. a pleased hum leaves her. jane’s pillowy lips smoothly slot between yours by the slight tilt of her head. your head becomes light-headed as the slow, dizzying kiss lasts longer and longer. the hand that was once over yours drops and slips under your tank top. your body slightly arches into her warm palm as it explores the plane of your belly.

your mouth parts and so does hers, following after your lead. “ j-jane, “ you murmur in between quivering breathes and soft open-mouthed kisses to your lips. a mhmm?, rasps in her throat. the aforementioned woman’s hand edges near the waistband of your sweats.

“ th-this is my first time. . “ you mutter breathily as if to remind her.

jane slowly pulls away, half-lidded teal eyes softening once they pool into yours. “ . .i. .know, “ then she reels herself back from her carnal desires for a moment to rationalize. was she really intending on taking your first time when she’s not even in a romantic relationship with you? you don’t even know much about her or her true name. did she seriously allow herself to give in at the heat of the moment? didn’t you originally invite her over to eat dinner with you? your first time should be with someone you wholeheartedly know and love. you deserve a genuine experience with someone who’s just as genuine as you are. it shouldn’t be her. she belongs in the shadows, not in the soft light of your eyes. she shoves back her growing feelings for you before things get more complicated than they are now.

jane sighs almost dejectedly, straightening up her back. you hold onto her waist. she’s vague as she apologizes. “. . let’s stop. i’m sorry, i should of known better than to do this when you’ve only invited me over as your guest to eat. . let go, i’ll take my leave. “

your eyes widen with confusion and hurt.

“ j-jane, no. please don’t apologize and go, i want this too. “

her turquoise hues study the expression on your face; you look like a sad, kicked puppy. damn, it’s making her not want to go. she doesn’t want to leave you alone like this and prefers it when you’re happy with that crooked smile on your face. things really are starting to get more complicated now.

“ you should want this, “ she chuckles bitterly, ears subtly flattened, “ but not with me, sweetheart. come on, let me go—hm! “

you take jane by surprise by firmly pulling her down by the forearm and she lands on-top of you. you place your hand on the back of her head and pulled her into a clumsy, open-mouthed kiss. teeth clash as you kissed her. your other hand clamps down on the small of her back. you arch your body into her, grinding the ache that’s straining your sweats up against her.

her breath audibly hitches. “ i want you, i never wanted anyone more in my life, “ you confessed, splaying hasty, wet kisses against the corner of her lips, down to her chin and sharp jaw. “ please don’t leave me. “ you beg, voice thin yet filled with honest passion.

jane’s tail replies before she herself does; the thick appendage softly thumping against the firm cushion. her chest bloom with profound infatuation as her heart starts to bleed with warmth. it wouldn’t hurt to escape the underlying loneliness of her disingenuous lifestyle for just one night with you—it wouldn’t hurt to bask in the pleasure of feeling genuinely loved and sought after.

“ i. .won’t. are you sure about this though, baby?” she checks, her nose brushing against the plush flesh of your cheek.

“ y-yes, yes—so please, “ you grasp one of her hands and moved it downward until she’s touching your throbbing cock. you babble, “ touch me, fuck me, i’ll do whatever you want just—“

“ alright, alright. slow down, “ jane chuckles at the needy tone clinging to your strained voice. she applies weight to her palm, rubbing you in broad strokes. you slip out a drawn-out soft moan that cements the infatuated woman’s desire to stay. “ i’ll stay. “ she finishes in a tender whisper. thrilled by her change of decision, you press your lips against hers, again and again and again until her rosy lipstick has faded.

finally, she returns upright again—her hungry gaze striking down on you. “ you really are something else.” jane notes playfully, pulling off her fitted, sleeveless top from over her head. your eyes grow cutely wide as her generous, supple mounds spill and sit prettily on her chest. bright pink, perky nipples gleaming like gems under the soft lights of the living room. her milky skin looks so soft and pristine. your fingers twitch, itching to touch her. she tilts her head, fang-like strands hovering her eyes as she sends you a roguish smile. “ go on. “ she encourages, once again having to take your eager hand and place it on her bare right breast. just as you expected, soft and pliable like clay. when you squeeze, it slightly spills between your fingers like a stress ball. jane draws out a breathy groan and bites at her lip.

sticky pre-cum stains through the cotton fabric of your boxers and sweats. you feel so swollen, it’s starting to hurt.

whining, you retract your hand away, taking quick puffs of air as your frantic fingers pull at the waistband of your bottoms and hurriedly tugged them down to your thighs. your leaking length springs out, nice and tall, surprising jane. you sigh of relief from freedom. the baffled expression on the rat thiren’s face makes you regret giving into your impulse.

“ m’sorry jane, i-it was starting to get uncomfortable. .” you whimpered out, fighting the urge to stroke yourself right in front of her to relieve the ache. she recovers, teal eyes softening apologetically with a twinge of amusement.

“ my poor baby, “ she coos in a smooth drawl, slipping off her gloves and tosses them onto the table. “ ‘should’ve told me so, i would’ve helped you relieved it sooner. now, relax for me. “

jane transitions downward until she’s face to face with your needy cock. she encircles her hand around you, starting the momentum off slow and aimed. “ . .you’re bigger than i thought. “ she mutters under her breath, noting how she can barely fit one hand around you. her hand size is above average than a typical rat thiren.

you try to suppress the small groans as jane pumps you—all the way to the base and back up to your leaking tip. her thumb swipes over the rivulet of pre-cum and skillfully uses it as lube. “ hang in there, sweet thing~ “ she purrs, her sultry voice sweet like candy and smooth like butter, “ i’ll take care of you.”she plants a saccharine kiss against your cockhead. her tongue slips through parted lips and leaves a longg wet stripe up your shaft. your toes curl with trickling pleasure while she butters you up with her elongated tongue. once your cock meets the inside of her hot, humid mouth, you become a whimpering mess.

“ ‘so warm, so good. . “ you moaned, smoothening your face with a shaky hand. her gaze is focused on you, filled with amusement and lust as she sucks at your cockhead and twirls against it with her skillful tongue. she slowly sinks down, taking in heavy inches of your shaft. even when she’s relaxing her jaw, you’re heavy just enough that it’s tensing. a guttural noise bubbles in her chest when the thick head of your cock stretches down the opening of her throat. she deems it enough and moves back up to the top, leaving behind a sheet of her slick saliva. “ f-fuckk. .i. . “ you cursed, propping a forearm over your eyes.

her brows raises with mirth. she managed to get you to curse like that already, huh?

jane does it all over and over again—until you’re completely drunk off her mouth. the slick noises escaping her stuffed mouth while she pleases you sounds so vulgarly satisfying, it’s teetering you closer to sweet release. when she sucks hard at a particular sensitive vein, your hips judder and you utter out a loud, strained whine. “ imightcumimightcum, “ you repeated like a desperate prayer, sucking in quick breaths of air to battle the rapid rise and fall of your chest. the hand that’s not busy stroking what she can’t reach, massages your trembling thigh.

jane ascends to the tip and spoils it with attention with her slick tongue. she flicks at it and drags the thick ball of her tongue along the puffy slit in tight, circular rotations. your cock twitches erratically as you cried, “ c-cumming! “ billowy spurts of cum shoots into her mouth without warning. a stunned noise vibrates in her chest as she struggles to swallow rope after rope of velvety cum. you let out a cacophony of broken cries, rickety hips leaning up into her mouth.

“ pl-please tell me i’m not dreaminggg, “ you slurred, staring up at the ceiling with blurry vision while trying to catch your breath. jane swallows the rest of your load, the slightly salty and bitter taste of your cum marinating in her mouth. she laps up the remainder of your cum with her tongue. by now, her neglected heat is dripping and her panties soaked.

pop!

the rat thiren titters as she pulls away temporarily to undress herself, “ maybe you are, maybe you’re not~ i’ll leave it up to you to figure that out, baby. “

it takes her a minute to undo her black, fitted shorts and the straps to her ripped stockings. you hear her sigh and mutter under her breath, mostly complaining about how inconvenient it is to take off her stockings without ripping them more. your droopy gaze shift away from the ceiling and onto jane who’s now completely naked. your mouth goes dry as you admire her breathtaking figure. she herself looks like a dream you’re lucky to witness—to touch with your own hands. then, your eyes fall to her pussy that’s practically dripping. her transluscent essence trickles down her inner thighs and your mouth almost instantly salivates.

“ j-jane, you’re. .”

and she gives you a knowing smirk, knowing exactly what you’re referring to by the direction of your entranced gaze. her hand travels down to her soaked pussy and with two fingers, she skims them across her folds, smearing her juices. “ all of this is because of you, sweetheart. here, “ she brings the two slick-coated digits to your lips and they part open immediately. “ have a taste. “

your eyes flutter at the addicting taste, a slutty moan releases from the base of your throat. your slimy tongue hungrily licks at jane’s fingers, lapping up the left-over juices. jane finds herself enjoying how needy you are for her—just like a desperate puppy. drool rolls down the right crevice of your lips once the saliva overflows. “ w-wan. .more. .” you groaned after jane removes her digits from your mouth. the thread of spit thins out and dissipates.

“ oh, you do? “ she queries, the modulation of her voice is meant to almost be mocking, feigning ignorance. you bob your head frantically.

“ f-fuck yes. pl–please baby, sit on my face. i-i promise i’ll make you feel good! “ you’d beg hoarsely, your mind is practically hanging onto a thread.

licking her faded peach lips, jane’s cobalt eyes crinkles. “ you already are, no need to promise. but since you’re giving me those puppy eyes, i can’t say no, huh? “

it only took a moment for jane to adjust her whole body and hover her sopping pussy over your face. her thick thighs sunk into the cushion on both sides of your head. you feel yourself growing hard again as you hungrily eye her pink, dewy folds and engorged clit. “ tap me when you need to, got it? i can’t guarantee that i’ll get up though. .just kidding~ “ your colleague teases and you wish that she wasn’t.

after nodding your head, she carefully sits down on your face. the strong, heady scent of her has your mind gladly slipping off the singular thread. you get straight to eating without prior experience, your hands envelop around the plush fat of her thighs. you run your greedy tongue up and down her messy pussy, coating her essence all over your tastebuds. she tastes so heavenly. jane rasps out a moan before biting her lip. “ mm, move your tongue a little lower—yeahh, focus right there, baby. “

you focus your attention on her sopping hole, lapping and slurping up her syrupy juices. smushing your face further into her cunt, your nose graze her pulsating clit. her blessed hips rock back and forth on your tongue, chasing the ever-growing pleasure that’s clouding her rational thought. you drag a sloppy strip back up her folds to suck on her neglected clit. “ haha, you’re a natural. .” jane lets out a strained laugh, kneading her left breast. she rolls her hardened bud between her index and middle finger.

sluurrp! sluuuurp!

you’re soo pussydrunk, nestling your face into her delicious heat, making a mess of yourself. through heavy breathing, you whimpered out, “ i-i’m so in lovee. .” while digging your nails into tender skin.

“ oh y-yeah? “ she smiles roguishly, teeth baring as a sense of pride flows into her. the pointed end of her tail trails down your abdomen and to your groin. it meets with your fresh boner and you melt. she wraps the thin ends of her tail around your cock and slowly strokes you. a sharp gasp retracts from your swollen lips. “ j-janeeee. . “ you utter out, buckling your hips to her strokes. her fingers thread into your hair, curling around (h/c) strands.

she tugs, urging you to continue. “ aht, no. keep using that gifted mouth of yours. “

through quick, quivering breaths, you gloss your tongue all over her cunt, swerving your head side to side. your nose brush against slick, black hairs as you suck on her clit once more. her thighs tremor from each hard suck of her nub. her back arches, head thrown backwards as you stimulate her to the edge. “ d-damn, i-i needed this, baby. . “ jane moans out, pressing her thighs harder against your head. you’re starting to feel light-headed from the limited room of oxygen and the heat of her skin. yet, you still devour her pussy without a care in the world.

“ just like thatt, mmmh, hah. .haha, “ she exerts out a raspy laugh at the obnoxiously loud slurping noises you’re producing from between her legs. “ just like a thirsty puppy th-that’s having its fill. .”

jane rides your face while also fastening the pace of her tail around your cock. beads of sweat roll down her furrowed brow, beautiful features crunching together as the urge to climax accumulates in her body. without a second thought or a thought lack there of, you push your tongue into her sensitive, sopping hole and she squeaks. jane grabs the elbow of the couch for support as she hunches forward, digging her teeth into the tender flesh of her bottom, plump lip.

your tongue swirls inside before thrusting along her gummy walls. she’s close. she’s so so close. despite her hips stuttering, she rolls her hips sloppily. “ ugh, g-gonna cum, take it all for me, yeah? i-it’s only fair after all. “

you grip her thighs tighter, holding her down as a response. with one last prolonged moan and the tight press of her thighs, she cums. globs of thick, syrupy essence pour down on your eager tongue. a throaty whine crawls out of your throat, sending sweet vibration through jane. “ i-i think i might be dreaming too. .” slightly light-headed, she jokes breathily, taking in soft gulps of air. by now, her tail is already unwrapped around you and swaying slowly in the air. you’re still slurping away, cleaning up the candied mess between her thighs.

after jane catches her breath, she slowly removes herself from your face to witness the mess she’s made. the lower half of your face is covered in her cum. there’s something that ignites a candle within her as she eyes that drunken expression you currently have. “ what a mess eater. .my messy eater.” she mutters possessively, positioning herself on top of your body. her fingers softly curl around the left side of your neck while she leans in and laps up her own fluids from your face withy filthy intent. her long, warm tongue wetly swipes up your chin and stops right below your hot cheek.

chuuu.

she plants a damp kiss on your cheek. “ kiss mee. .” you’d slur, slightly turning your head to her, chasing for her sultry lips. jane chuckles, giving you what you want without teasing. your head angles to deepen the kiss and moaned from the bittersweet taste of her cum and your own on her tongue. your hand finds a spot on her bare back and slowly skims down the gentle slope of it. “. . i want you to stay here tonight. “ you mutter against her lips and kissed her again.

“. . .you know i can’t. don’t tell me you’ve forgotten and we haven’t even finished yet. “ she mutters back, stifling back a frown at the thought of having to leave you in an hour or two to prepare herself for the undercover mountain lion gang infiltration in several hours.

“ i-i haven’t. .i just. .— “

“ don’t worry, “ jane interjects, “ i’m sure we’ll see each other soon enough. but. . “ just not like this goes unspoken.

“ b-but what? “

“ let’s make the most of the time we have now, sweetheart. come on, both legs on the couch. “ she instructs gently, and you do so, propping the leg that was once hanging off the bed on the couch. her hand skins down your collarbone before she moves away to align herself with your thick length. she throws you a easy smirk, “ watch closely now. “

squeeelch.

jane slowly sinks down on your cock, her face twisted into a concentrated expression. you watch with lovesick eyes as her pussy greedily swallows all hefty inches of you, bottoming you out. “ oh my god. .” you’d whimper, feeling everything raw —from the heat of her insides, the fluttering of her slick walls, your cockhead brushing against a tender spot. “ i can’t believe th-this is happening. . “

you’re so big. even as a rat thiren who has an impressive ability to adapt to nearly anything, she’s struggling to adjust to your sheer girth and size. you’re stretching her out in every which way. but, she can’t help the thrill rushing into her veins like a dopamine rush. “ i’ll h-have to admit, i can’t believe this is happening either, “ she dips her chest against yours. her weight on top of your body makes you trip over your desperation all over again. her long tail slithers out to the radio and carefully turns it up a few notches. the music plays noticeably louder in the background.

“ but l-like i said, we’ll make the most out of it—of my stay that is. . “ jane finished, gyrating her hips on your eager length. she has stuck you in place with tight circles, leaving you utterly breathless. you throw an arm around her midsection, pressing her more against you to leave no space behind. all you want to feel is her bare skin sliding over yours like the perfect puzzle piece. her sweet, breathy moans fan against your left perky ear. your unsteady hips pump up into her and she’s nearly gasping for air. “ i-i wanna know more about you. .” you begin, kissing at her pierced, rodent ear.

‘can’t quit you, you’re like drugs.

“ i w-want to hold you close just like this whenever i get the chance too. “ you continue, and moaned in sync with the woman of your dreams as you clumsily thrust into her ruined pussy. her hands grip your shoulders, velvet nails digging into your skin to withstand the immense pleasure. your tongue trace the cool metal of one of jane’s ear piercings, her ear twitches. “ i often wonder about your name. i-is it just as memorizing as you are? hngh. . “ you almost choke on your own spit over the firm squeezing of her gummy walls.

‘swear I tried to clean up.

“ wh-where. .hah. .is all of this coming from? “ jane finally asks amongst her trust issues, confusion, and well-hidden doubt. frothy cream pools from her sloshing pussy, causing a ring to form around your member.

‘too much shared between us.

“ . . i-i don’t know but i just don’t w-want to leave you alone. “ you confessed honestly, the three words not developed on your tongue just yet. your other arm wraps around her body, hugging her fully as your rutting hips piston into the fat of her ass. her heart skips one of many beats. the filthy sounds of plap! plap! plap! resonates loudly in your ears. you turn your head, the tip of your nose grazes her flush, milky cheek as you find her lips. jane also turns her head to meet you in a passionate kiss full of tongue and teeth. hot breaths mingle as the desperation between you twists and turns into a endless spiral.

she holds your jaw in place, firmly pressing the pads of her fingers into your jawline. you twitch erratically inside of her, yet you still continue to fuck into her. even when you shoot globs of cum inside of her, you still keep going; not wanting to stop.

‘saved my soul like jesus!

you desperately suck on her tongue, ignoring the exhaustion of your burning thighs one last time and snapped your stuttering hips up off the cushion. jane produces a strangled moan as your fat cockhead smack against her g-spot, emptying yourself into her more. suddenly, jane pull away from the kiss to bury her face into the crook of your neck. thick fluids seep out of the cracks of her stretched hole while her tail is stiffened, signaling her quiet release. she breathes heavily into your neck and you hold her tight in your arms, coming off from your high. the long, faded red piece of her hair runs past your fingers as you comb through them shakily.

you swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking, “ i. .i know we’ve done these operations multiple times now but. .please be safe since you’ve mentioned about this case being severe. hopefully captain calls the squad up for a special meeting about this case soon. “

it takes a prolonged moment for her to respond. she drags a finger along your collarbone. jane feels vulnerable, stripped away from her armor and the only thing she has now is her true feelings—its raw and indescribable. oddly enough, the way you’re holding her close feels like a blanket around her; she feels warmth. “ . . if i knew you were this much of a sweet talker, i wouldn’t have come here for ‘dinner.’ ”jane finally whispers against your skin playfully.

“ what d-does that suppose to be mean? “

she giggles at your flustered voice. “ think about it. but i was only kidding though, sweetheart. “

jane removes her face from your neck to gaze at you with her lidded eyes. her thumb gently brush across your bottom lip as she stares into your eyes, as if to decipher anything that’s hidden behind the colored shades of them. the sharp edges of her gaze softens when she finds nothing but raw devotion. “ you’ll stay for a little longer right? “ you ask hopefully in a weak voice and she sighs before resting her forehead against yours.

“ mhm. it’s not like i can move anyways when you’re holding me tight like this and while you’re. .”

she alludes to you still being inside of her, cockwarming her. your face visibly grows shy and jane laughs. she leans in to kiss you, slow and brief. “ aht aht, don’t be shy, take responsibility~ “ jane purrs, tapping your cheek affectionately.

“ u-umm, i will! i-i promise that i’ll take care of you and our baby and—“

flabbergasted by your misunderstanding, jane was quick to correct you, “ woah, woah. that’s not what i meant. what’s going on in that mind of yours, baby? did i get you dumb just like that? “

it’s cute that you’re willing to take responsibility of that role though.

“ o-oh! sorry, sorry. m-my brain is still in a daze right now. .“

“ figured~ “

you pout and she kisses it right off. after a few long moments of music and silence, the question that’s been floating around in your head now sits on the tip of your tongue.

“ jane? “

she hums, caressing your warm cheek with her thumb as a slow jazz song plays in both of your ears.

“ what are we now? “

her thumb stops, ears subtly flattening, and her gaze shifts somewhere else.

recognizing that look, your heart plummets.

[willowed-wisp]

sweethearts [ johnny ‘soap’ mactavish ]

johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x f!reader

You had known him forever. Since nursery school and all the time in between.

John MacTavish- though, you called him Johnny. And in later life, that turned into calling him ‘Soap’.

He had been gunning for that uniform since you were 15 and he was 16… falsifying his age only to fail miserably.

It was culture shock to when he left when he was 18… he was your first friend, first kiss, first young love. Yet, it was nothing official. Just two best friends experimenting with each other. You couldn’t have asked for a better person.

You were there when he came back- more of a man than the boy who left. All of him larger than before even that indicative smile. But HE hadn’t changed, still the same snack eating, football loving Scotsman.

That meant your attraction for him was worse than ever- having been in love with Johnny for most of your life. His sky bursted gaze enough to drive you crazy.

Someone like him would never feel the same about you- strictly friends.

Mates who got mistaken for boyfriend and girlfriend most days of the week. Neither of you minded it but it was always you who persisted the, ‘as if… he drives me insane…’ the pining kind of insanity.

His return led you to distance yourself, an insecure freshly turned 18 year old, distracting herself from the boy next door. Johnny could do much better for friends than you, he was the youngest SAS recruit to pass the selection.

HE COULD DO MUCH BETTER THAN YOU.

You didn’t even go say goodbye to him when he left for his first mission- somewhere you’d never know.

Instead, he came to you. Stood at your doorstep.

His face gloomy, “So you weren’ even gonna say goodbye?” Not knowing what to do, your shoulders shrugged and silence ensued. “You’ve been off for weeks, when was the last time we had a movie night? Is it because of the training? Me leavin’?”

Fingers picking at your nails; you’d never been nervous around him. But this was the first time seeing him in god-knows how long, when you hadn’t spent a day away from each other. “I don’t know, John- ,”

“You do know and that’s the problem, Y/N, because you won’t bloody tell me what I’ve done wrong,” he spoke harsher than intended, regretting it within an instant as your stepped forward- sizing the six foot something soldier up.

Staring up at him, “Why do you bother with me when you could have anybody around you? I’m not going anywhere with my life!” It wasn’t envy that spurred you on, it was the fact he was going to leave you.

Heartbroken and yearning. Lost without the boy who had always bolstered you up when you had been thrown to the ground.

Johnny’s eyes welled with tears, “What’s made you think that?”

In a whisper, “You’ve just gotten into the fucking SAS, Johnny…”

“So what? I’m still the same guy… nothing’s ever gonna change me… you should know that by now…”

You wanted things to change- the dynamics between you. Before he found somebody who would knock him off his feet and you’d never get the chance.

His fingers trailed your arm, before he cupped your hand. Blue coveted your vision, “Nothing’s goin’ to change us, you’re my absolute best mate…”

Like a dagger, he struck a nerve, “Maybe I don’t want to be your ‘best mate’, I’m sick of pining for you when clearly you’ll never feel the same way,” a quick pause, “Go and find a pretty gir- ,” Before you knew it, his kiss smothered you. More intimate than when you were twelve, with more intent.

Instead of resisting, you caved in. Hands balanced holding his jawline, clean shaven.

Exploring every inch of your body in that hurried kiss. It was better than anything you had dreamed.

Before you pulled away first, “You’re my everything, Y/N…” Thumbs rubbing circles at your waist. “I cannot tell you how long I’ve wanted to do tha’…”

The memory ran writhe in your brain. That was 8 years ago…

Since then you were happily married with a baby on the way. Johnny had been deployed for over a month. Today he was supposed to be returning- from where you didn’t have a clue but he always came home safely.

That’s what mattered.

You expected the phone to start buzzing, the usual unknown number saying to go to the airport. Instead, a knock at the door.

It was like him not to want to run you around pregnant. But it was Simon who answered the door.

Not able to help the tremble. Air caught in your throat, choking on nothing. “He’s not… is he?” Stopping those tears from coming down- clutching your belly.

You’d have fallen to your knees- had it not been for capable hands.

You looked up, blue eyes for days and a face contorted worriedly, “What did you say, to ‘er, LT?” He held you close, but it would never be enough for you. “You and munchkin okay?” He rubbed your large stomach.

You crushed him in your arms. “Darlin’, I’m a bit tender…” Only then did you notice the sling in his arm, a bandage skirting beneath his shirt.

“What happened?” He shook his head, a grin on his face.

One of nervousness, “It could have been a lot worse,” Simon was as gruff as usual. You would never be allowed to know what happened.

“I’m just glad you’re safe and sound,” Thumb rubbing along longer stubble on his cheek, there was more to the story than either him or Simon were telling you. “You too, Si, thanks for taking care of him.” Spoken wholeheartedly, “Dinners on, you can stay if you want?”

He accepted as he usually did. The mood held less tension as time went on. You came to the conclusion that you were lucky to have Johnny in front of you, laughing at some stupid dad joke Simon said.

All you did was sit there, looking at the guy you had loved all your life.

Your Johnny…

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I contemplated 💀 Johnny but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. He’s just too sweet and just too tragic to write.

Thank you for reading :) xx

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