#and as you can tell I had way too much time on my hands

[angelltheninth]

Love your LADS writings! Could we maybe get them reacting to their girlfriend wearing their shirt?

I love writing for LADS, now that Caleb is here there's even more hot men to fawn over.

Pining: Zayne, Rafayel, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, sharing clothes, domestic fluff, clothes shopping, possessiveness, being playful, flirting

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Wrote this a bit fast because my new PC came in today so I need to set it up. It's gonna be awesome.

Zayne pretends not to notice that it's his shirt you're always wearing in the mornings when you stay over at his place. It's only a shirt, he's got many more just like it. So why is it getting to him when you wear it? Simple, it looks cuter on you, and he tries not to get worked up about it, that would go against his stoic, professional self. However when he sees you waring his clothes he always tells you that it looks good on you. A sort of subltle encouragement that you should do it more often, and also spend more time at his place because he tries not to leave his clothes at your place.

Rafayel wants to buy some matching clothes when he saw that you wear his on ocassion. He's always had a good sense of style and is very happy that you do to, furthermore that you like it so much that you want to wear what he waers. When he sees you wearing his clothes he makes sure to memorize what it looked like on you so he can sketch it later. Before he knows it there are a dozen sketches of you in his clothes. Not that it's a bad thing by any means and he thinks you're catching on to him buying matching clothes because every time you're on a date you're pointing out cute outfits that you say would look great on him.

Xavier doesn't think much of it when he leaves some of his stuff at your place when he comes and goes. What he does think about is how his pants looked on you, too long, cozy, some a bit tight on you, others hanging off your hips, all depending on what you get your hands on at the time. The scene is almost domestic, seeing you not even think about putting on something of his, you don't even say why you do it and he's fascinated by that. Playfuly he tugs on the waistband of the pants and tells you he wants them back, only for you to turn the tables and tell him to take them off you if he wants them so bad.

Sylus is very perceptive of what you do when you're around him so there's no way he wouldn't notice you wearing his fancy shirts around the apartment. Those aren't exactly outfits for casual wear so there was no way you could have mistaken them for one of your own, which means you took them on purpouse. A man like him doesn't do well when other people touch what belongs to him without his permission. It's bad bussiness practice, and dangerous when you're in deep with criminals like he is. But he could be persuaded to let you get away with it, only because you're his girl and his girl can do whatever she wants with and to him.

Caleb leaves his hoodie at your place on purpouse. He did it because he wanted to use it as an excuse to visit again early, he didn't expect that you'd be wearing it when you opened the door for him. All the blood rushed to his brain and caused him to stop all train of thought for a few moments before he smirked and leaned in to whisper how cute you look, his breath hot against your lips before he claimed them in a seering kiss. From that day on he never mentioned anything about you giving him his clothes back. Why would he want it back when it looks so much better on you, sometimes it's all you wear around him.

[girl-lostconnection]

I just wanna say I love your fruit bat!reader and I just had to think about the boys further misunderstanding when reader maybe has a darker aesthetic, but reader doesn't get at all the connection cause like yeah black's just a neat colour, oh I guess vampires are cool. Wait me? *Mouthful of orange or something* me no fruits all the way? I don't know what you mean.

On one side it would be incredibly funny as misunderstanding but the devil is whispering in my ear so let’s walk the other way.

Imagine Reader freshly selected to join the team, nervous about meeting new people who they read EVERYTHING on, just to be ready.

And no one is hostile, right? They are friendly, almost too friendly, which grates on your nerves a little but you know, maybe you are thinking too much about it?

Works up until the first joke about the vampires, huge wolf operator (you find out later that his call sign is Ghost).

“Know why people don’t like workin’ with vampire bats?”, the question catches you off guard, your eyes snapping to the man’s eyes and you tilt your head to the side. You don’t know him yet, you aren’t sure how much of a reaction is allowed in this circumstance.

“‘Cause they are pain in the neck”, he announces, his brown eyes boring a hole into you, his tail wagging like he is waiting for you to start laughing.

You don’t. You stare right back at him, fingers flexing so the sharp points of your claws dig into your palm and you manage a smile that feels a little too forced.

Big wolf in front of you apparently sees it as well, because you can see the way his jaw flexes under the mask.

So for some reason he decides to give it another go. (Only months later you will find out that Simon was desperately scrambling for all the bat x vampire puns he remembered, thinking that the first one sounded a little too abrasive)

“What drink does bat order at the bar?”, he asks, his left ear giving in a small twitch that catches your eye. He sure is big for the wolf, most of their family you met in the past were tall and lean but this guy is built like a bloody tank.

“What?”, you ask, heart beating a little harder than you’d like it, anxiety coiling in your gut.

“A Bloody Mary”, wolf hums out, his ear giving in another twitch and corners of your mouth curl upwards. Cute.

Wolf’s tail starts to wag again, eyes satisfied as he walks off and you follow him to see your new space and unpack.

Isn’t so bad for the first meeting, right?

But in hindsight every interaction from then on felt…somehow forced. Recurring about blood and meat and fucking Halloween. Remarks about wearing too much black or the way Soap once chuckled at the silver chain with a beautiful red cross. Not a religious symbol but simply an accessory you liked.

It all was piling up so quickly you decided to just…stay on the outside. Maybe that would be better. Maybe they were trying to tell you that they didn’t want a bat and didn’t like bats.

That they didn’t like you.

It takes time to undo and the process is slow — you are a tough nut to crack, but they don’t try to crack you. Just…make amends, yeah?

Your relationship with Simon makes a cycle when he peels you oranges, eyes soft as you devour pieces of peaches.

“Do you know what’s a vegetarian vampire bat’s favourite fruit, luv?”, he hums out, placing a peeled orange in your bowl, something in his tone making you feel fuzzy.

“What is it?”, his tail is wagging and god the way he looks at you makes something tender in your chest ache, you mouth voluntarily falling open when he pushes a piece of peach in it, eyes crinkling.

“A neck-tarine”, Simon murmurs, his tail wagging harder when you laugh after a beat, juices from fruit dripping down your chin.

You shake your head at him in faux disbelief and he grins, popping a slice of orange in his mouth.

“Can do it all night”

You roll your eyes and instinctively smack his hand away when he tries to steal your bowl.

“That’s what I’m afraid of”

[ziggy-scardust]

I worked for Elon for two and a half years, some time ago now. He wasn’t part of the alt-right then. At least, he made generally positive statements in company emails about supporting LGBT+ employees and women in STEM. Maybe he changed his mind, or maybe he never believed those things and just said them when they were expected - I have no idea and frankly I don’t care.

In a lot of ways I’m proud of what I accomplished there. I did valuable work and got useful experience and made some good friends. But my good work helped reinforce a credibility he should not have for an expertise he does not possess. He wasn’t often onsite because he was already running 3, then 4, companies. When he was, it didn’t make anything better or faster and in fact was disruptive. When I started, I was told cheerfully that the board had removed his power to fire people on the spot. Some of his ideas were good! And some were terrible and he would insist on technical work that we knew wouldn’t work being done anyway. He was clearly on drugs for at least one company all-hands. He made a couple bad calls on some contracts when I was there, too.

And now it’s been a long time and it’s been at least five years since I first remember telling some relatives that they shouldn’t put him on a pedestal, that that wasn’t a reasonable thing to do for any human being, and that having some good ideas did not make him an oracle or a genius. Unsurprisingly, those relatives are now full-blown Trump cultists and Elon is very much a part of their hero-worship. It is weird and it is sad, because they trust their imaginary image of him more than they trust me.

I hang onto my stock mainly because it’s not publicly traded so the only way I can sell it is back to the company, which gives him more control. At least my family loves me and my engineering degrees are real. And it’s kinda nice to know I wasn’t crazy, so thank you, Philip Low.

[plethorawrites]

TW: Mentions of dub con/non consensual intimacy or coercion. (From his past lovers, not reader) (A/N this is my favorite thing I've ever writtenreader

TW: NSFW content.

2.5k word count

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Okay, this could be a bit of a hot take, but I am a firm believer in soft Jason Todd during sex.

Especially at the beginning of a relationship. He died young and his only sexual experiences were with Talia, who groomed him, Essence, who he believed betrayed him for the longest time and maybe Artemis, (Idk if that's canon? Can someone confirm or deny?) who was probably pretty rough given her arrogant, abrasive, and violent personality.

So, when he dates you, he's more than just hesitant. He's pretty much terrified. But he's used to hiding his feelings because they make him feel vulnerable and weak, which he hates. When you start tearing down his walls, he starts to panic. He likes spending time with you, thinking about you, kissing you. Especially that last part.

But it never goes very far because he always pulls away when things get more heated. Like, you in his lap, him nearly fully hard before quickly picking you up by your hips and moving you to the other side of the couch before standing up, clearing his throat and leaving.

It takes over two months before he feels comfortable enough to even tell you the reason he doesn't want to be intimate and the only reason he did is because you started to feel like he wasn't attracted to you or you had something wrong.

He rushed to reassure you that wasn't the case and finally told you the —partial— truth. He had scars he didn't want you seeing, he had bad prior experiences, he felt like he was being used almost every time he slept with someone and couldn't stand that feeling because it made him physically ill.

It took several weeks after that to slowly adapt to that realization and discuss how to make that feeling go away. Taking things slow, making it last, keeping it gentle, seemed to be the best way. And it was somehow perfect and tortuous all at once. He let you ride his thigh, at first. That was the first time he'd ever allowed any form of intimacy between you too. Partially because you looked desperate and he felt bad and partially because he genuinely wanted to see what you looked like while doing that.

Not to mention, he was still too afraid to be the one doing anything. So, it was best if he just helped.

His grip was firm, his eyes glued to you. You whispered more praise in those few minutes than he had heard from anyone in months all together, maybe even the year. He felt good. He was helping you. You appreciated it. You appreciated him. He was attractive. You were thanking him for giving this to you. Practically begging for his help.

And it made his heart clench, not to mention his teeth. There were other forms of physical intimacy after that, still only to you, because he didn't want to risk showing his scars or get that nausea in his stomach again during sex. You'd allow him pretty much anything and everything, if it meant he was more comfortable with you and your body. Sliding his hand under your shirt while you slept over (quite literally just falling asleep after eating dinner together) brushing his knuckles against your breasts, hesitant to touch them, but finding comfort in it all at once.

You assured him three different times—before he did it, when his hand was just barely under your shirt, and when his fingers first tugged at your nipples. It's when he's finally a bit more comfortable, pressing his lips to your shoulder blade that you hum and roll over. Your hair finds his hair, stroking it and he presses his lips to your neck, almost on instinct. You let him kiss lower and lower, gently guiding his head towards your breasts, all while repeating more and more praise, reminding him he's under no obligation to do anything, ever, if he doesn't feel comfortable.

But he does. With you, he does.

It leads to him kissing and sucking at your chest until he loses track of time and you're painfully wet. That was plenty, you promised. He doesn't need to do anymore than that. But he does, because he doesn't want to take his hands off your soft skin. So you gently drag his hand down, keeping the other firmly on his shoulder while you stare into his eyes, as his fingers slide through your slick. A sharp inhale makes him hold his breath. The other women he'd been with only ever wanted the most physical part of sex, never to do something like this. You were so soft and warm, assuring him he was doing fine while guiding his hand until you eventually couldn't keep looking at him and had to close your eyes. He liked that. A lot.

The way your hand moved, letting him do what he wanted while you gripped the sheets. He listened so well, trying to make you happy or just keep making those sounds—his name falling from your lips. If you wanted his fingers to move faster, they would. If you said deeper, they were. If you said to curl them, they'd curl. You were so... captivating, he had found. Usually, he was too in his head, so focused on how long until it was over that he never even considered being able to enjoy it.

But he wasn't rushing with you. He didn't want you to stop saying his name. When you finally came down from the high he'd brought you, your first words were a question, asking if he was alright. When he nodded, you started telling him how perfect he was, how good that felt. He liked that almost as much as your moans.

Yet, you felt guilty, never taking care of him. He never asked. In fact he repeatedly denied the offer until you chose to stop asking rather than upset him.

Until one day, when you were on the couch, leaning against him as he read, your hand perched on his thigh. He didn't know if it was the fact that you were wearing such a low cut tank top or how you'd been absent mindedly rubbing circles around his sweatpants while reading over his shoulder, but he was worked up. It took twice as long to finish a page with your motion making his mind go to places it shouldn't.

He was worried, about you rejecting his desires, or something like that. Something mocking or doing something that was uncomfortable. People had done that before, eliciting physical reactions he didn't want to feel. But he wanted to try, to feel you on him the way he'd felt you.

His hands grabbed yours and when you looked up in confusion, he just gently and silently slid your hand a bit further on his leg, towards his erection. He'd absolutely taken care of himself, and often, because it was a quick stress relief that left him tired before bed. But lately, the more he did it, the more his mind wandered to you and that, for some reason, made him finish a lot harder than usual.

Your hand brushed against it and you asked if he was sure before pressing a kiss to the side of his shoulder and sinking down to the carpet below, on your knees in between his legs. Running your hands up and down his thighs in a soothing sort of gesture both calmed him and felt like torture all at once. But it only lasted a little bit, while you promised him he was in control, because that's what he needed to hear.

That he could say no at any time if he was even the slightest bit uncomfortable. When you slid his boxers down, his heart jumped in panic. Of course you noticed the scars on his thighs instantly. But ignored them, because he still hardly ever showed them aside for occasionally wearing short sleeves. You were silent and he was scared but all you'd said at last, was that he was pretty.

"Pretty."

That word had never been used to describe him. Not before his death and certainly not after. Even the feeling of your gentle kiss on his skin and your thumb swiping over the top had him gripping the pillows, still stressed. Your hand took his, squeezing it when your lips finally enveloped him, his length disappearing into your mouth. His breaths were shaky, his hold on your hand getting painfully tight.

He felt like he was in pure bliss, his mouth falling open to pant as his head fell back against the couch practically begging you to keep going. The feeling of your hums had done him in. And his moans, loud and tough, getting whiny towards the end as the euphoria wore off assured you he was fine. He slid his boxers and sweats up quickly, his cheeks red, from the act not embarrassment (he'd say and lie) but you just laid your head on his knee, staring at him, asking how he was.

Good was an understatement. Great, too. Incredible. Amazing. None of those compliments came out. He couldn't speak, just looked back up at the ceiling as his breathing came back under control.

All you'd done in response was tell him he didn't have to say anything if he didn't want to, climbing back into the couch and wrapping your arms around his midsection, resting your head against him. You stayed like that—silent. The only question you dared to ask was if he'd want that again and his response was a kiss.

He realized after that, how truly deeply he loved you.

A feeling he was so unused to, he couldn't pinpoint it for the longest time. You felt safe. Maybe that's what made him want to finally seal the deal with you. Or maybe it was the way his body physically ached in a way that no amount of help from his own hand or your mouth could fix.

Something about it was missing.

He wanted the lights off. You had accepted that, but told him you'd really rather see him. He caved almost instantly, because as afraid he was of you seeing him, he wanted to see you too bad to care enough. You were undressed first, naturally. He'd seen that before, in bed while touching you, or just as you changed it got in the shower. He wasn't any less smitten, still obsessed with every inch of exposed skin. It took a few deep breaths and reassuring words before he was willing to unbutton his shirt.

In fact, he couldn't. He'd asked you to do it.

That felt oddly more intimate to him. Your fingers moved slowly, undoing them one by one, a bit more of his chest exposed with each button undone. You had seen a lot of his scars, after he got more comfortable wearing shorts or shirts that showed his arms. He still never revealed his chest and when you did, he looked away, his teeth sinking into the inside of his cheek to keep from tears brimming in his eyes as he heard the small gasp leave your lips.

He almost jumped when you touched one, your fingertips feeling light as a feather. Tears kept pricking but he refused to let them fall. He was being vulnerable but he couldn't allow himself to be that weak. Your other hand found his cheek, pulling his face to look at your face, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip as you pursed your own, tightly to keep from any strangled sounds escaping.

Your voice was equally as emotional when you eventually spoke, telling him in a shaky voice that he was still pretty. Those words or perhaps how your voice cracked when you said them, broke him. A tear slipped down his cheek and you were quick to brush it away with your thumb and kissed his cheek softly, confessing that you loved him.

He couldn't stand it anymore.

He wrapped his arms tightly around you, burying his face in your neck letting himself breathe for what felt like the first time all over again. A real breath. One without any heaviness attached to it because you'd stolen all the stones from his walls one by one. You repeated it, so he knew it wasn't a mistake or accident and he started peppering short kisses to your neck, all the way to your lips, which he kissed deeply, his bare chest pressed entirely around your own.

Your arms were around his neck, in his hair, pulling him closer and his hands started to wander, desperately craving to have you without any barriers anymore. He stared at you, or at least tried to, when he felt your velvety walls surround him, clenching tightly when his hips were finally flushed with yours. His jaw was locked tightly until you started running your hand up and down his spine, telling him he could take a moment, if he needed it.

He did.

Not because he was nervous, since for once, he wasn't, but because he wanted to stare at you in this state and revel in your feeling for a moment more. He did, until it became painful for both of you and every thrust he made was slow and deep, staring into each other's eyes, taking full breaths in at the same time for several moments until his pace was quick, along with your breathing.

Your praise never stopped, even when it wasn't fully coherent and ended in a moan or whine. His own praise for you wasn't lacking either, telling you how perfect you felt, how badly he wanted you, how much he appreciated you waiting on him because he really was enjoying it, probably more than he'd enjoyed anything in his entire life.

When you're both a mess, panting and quiet from the feelings that washed over you both, his body goes limp, laying on top of you. Your hands rub his shoulders reassuringly, although slowly and his hands hold either side of your head, fingers threaded into your hair as he pressed his forehead against yours, feeling your breath on him. It was silent, until he eventually lifted his head to admire you, your stray hairs sticking to your face, your puffy lips, your blown pupils.

He said it back, at that moment.

He loved you too and couldn't stand letting you think anything else for a single moment more.

You didn't respond, but your lips curled into a grin and a heavy sigh left your chest, your hands moving from his shoulders to cup his face and lean up to kiss him.

He rolled you over, causing a slight squeal from you, letting you lay on him so he wasn't crushing you any longer. You rested your head against his chest, silently tracing his scars as he messed with your hair, the moonlight streaming in through the window.

His voice eventually broke the comfortable silence when he whispered to you, asking you to "Say it again."

You didn't hesitate to tell him you'd "Say it as many times as he wanted to hear it."

With his lips twitching, the slight wit he always possessed came back, questioning what you'd do if he "Wanted to hear it forever."

Like before, your response was immediate when you replied, telling him you'd "Say it forever, then."

[rosemariiaa]

~The Party & The After Party~

𐙚— pairing: Paige x Azzi

𐙚— rosie’s note: why hello there..yes rosie wrote pazzi smut kill me this is the first and last okay it’s not that much bc i’m testing the waters, basically inspired by the song in the tile by the weeknd, happy reading lovelies 💌

𐙚— themes: language, sexual content (public sex?), jealous p and az

𐙚— taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @bueckersbitch @makethemhoesmad @imaginespazzi @ashortyluvsports @absolutelydreadful @elliesglock @azzibuckets @sierrale8ne @ldapper

The music pulses through the air, heavy and slow, pressing against Azzi’s skin like the heat of too many bodies packed into one space. It’s not really her scene—never has been—but Paige had convinced her to come, her voice coaxing, her fingers tracing slow, persuasive circles against Azzi’s wrist. Come with me, baby. Just for a little bit. I wanna show you off. She begged.

Azzi had rolled her eyes, but she’d come anyway. She always does.

Now, Paige is standing in front of her, still close enough that Azzi can feel the warmth of her body even through the buzz of the room. Paige’s fingers slip under the hem of Azzi’s top, just for a second, a quick brush against her skin before she pulls away.

“I’ma go talk to Lyss and Dijonai,” Paige says, leaning in so Azzi can hear her over the music. “I’ll bring us back some drinks, kay?”

Azzi nods, already missing the feeling of Paige’s body, the way she makes all of this—the lights, the noise, the people—easier to deal with. Paige’s gaze flickers over her, something soft beneath the smirk she always wears.

“You good?”

Azzi huffs, nudging Paige with her elbow. “Go already.”

Paige grins, her fingers grazing Azzi’s wrist one last time before she disappears into the crowd. Azzi exhales, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, suddenly hyperaware of how many people are around her, how many unfamiliar faces blur together under the neon glow.

She lets her eyes follow Paige for a moment, watching the way she moves—easy, fluid, like she belongs here. She’s already talking to her teammates, her hands gesturing as she laughs at something one of them said. Azzi lets herself relax. She can wait.

And then—

“Didn’t take you for the type to come to these things.”

The voice is smooth, edged with amusement, and when Azzi turns, there’s a woman standing too close—tall, brunette, unfamiliar.

Azzi straightens, her shoulders tensing before she can help it. “I’m not.”

The woman smiles. “Then why are you here all alone?”

Azzi shifts her gaze, scanning the room for Paige. She’s about to tell this girl that she’s not alone, that her girlfriend will be back any second, but when she finds Paige, she’s laughing.

With someone else.

A worker, by the looks of it. Some girl in a black T-shirt, grinning too hard at something Paige just showed her on her phone. And Paige is eating it up, laughing just as much, her head tilting back, her hand brushing against the worker’s shoulder like it’s nothing.

What the fuck?

Azzi’s stomach tightens, instinct curling in her chest, but she swallows it down before it can become anything sharp. She’s not doing this. Not here.

So she breathes in. Exhales.

And then she turns back to the girl in front of her, schooling her expression into something lighter.

“You never answered my question,” the brunette says, tilting her head. “Why are you here?”

Azzi lifts a shoulder, gaze flickering down for just a second before she meets the girl’s eyes again. “Why are you?”

The brunette smiles, slow and knowing, and extends her hand. “Name’ Sophia. I play for the Aces.”

Azzi takes her hand, brief and firm. “Azzi.”

“I know,” Sophia says, her grip lingering just a second too long before she lets go. “I’ve seen you play.”

Azzi hums, noncommittal, before letting her gaze slide past Sophia’s shoulder, back to where Paige is—

Watching.

Their eyes meet across the room, and Azzi can tell, instantly, that Paige has seen everything. The way Sophia leaned in just slightly. The way Azzi hadn’t immediately shut it down.

But instead of coming over, instead of pulling her usual hey, baby and wrapping an arm around Azzi’s waist, Paige smirks.

And then she pulls out her phone.

Azzi barely has time to process what that means before her own phone buzzes in her pocket. Her fingers hover over her phone as Sophia walks away to go get them drinks, her sneakers squeaking against the polished floor, disappearing into the crowd. Azzi exhaled slowly, the weight of the charade pressing against her chest. She glanced over to the other side of the room, where Paige was still leaning casually against the counter, her grin wide as the worker she was talking to laughed at something Azzi couldn’t hear. Paige didn’t look tense. Didn’t look bothered. Just relaxed, like she had the whole night ahead of her to charm whoever was in front of her.

But Azzi knew Paige better than that. The way Paige tilted her head ever so slightly, her eyes flickering back to Azzi even while she smiled—it wasn’t nothing. Paige was watching her. Testing her.

Azzi bit her lip and unlocked her phone.

Azzi couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her chest this time. It was quick and soft, but it felt good. She slipped her phone back into her pocket just as Sophia reappeared, two drinks in hand and a bright smile plastered across her pale face.

“Miss me?” Sophia asked, stepping closer and offering Azzi one of the glasses.

Azzi took it with a polite nod, her eyes flickering back to Paige one last time. Paige was watching again,no surprise, her head tilted, her expression unreadable except for the faint smirk playing on her lips.

Azzi met her gaze evenly, raising the glass just slightly in a silent toast before turning back to Sophia.

“Not for long,” Azzi said smoothly, her voice steady as she let the weight of Paige’s stare roll off her shoulders. She took a sip of the drink and smiled at Sophia, keeping her expression just warm enough to keep the game going.

If Paige wanted to play games, Azzi could play too.

Sophia stepped in closer to Azzi, the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the space between them. Her voice dropped as she leaned toward Azzi’s ear, her hand brushing lightly against Azzi’s arm. “Y’know,” Sophia murmured, “I don’t usually do this, but—”

Before she could finish, a firm tap on her shoulder interrupted the moment.

Sophia turned around, a touch of irritation flashing across her face as she asked, “Yeah?”

Standing there, towering over her by a good two inches, was Paige. The confidence in her stance and the sharpness in her eyes made it clear she wasn’t here for the bs. Paige didn’t say anything at first—just raised her eyebrow before muttering, “Excuse me,” and deliberately bumped past Sophia, sliding between her and Azzi.

Her hand found Azzi’s waist like it was second nature, her fingers pressing possessively into the fabric of her shorts. She leaned in close, her voice low but teasing as she asked, “You miss me?”

Azzi sighed, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her drink. “Not particularly,” she muttered, but she didn’t move Paige’s hand.

Behind Paige, Sophia’s eyes widened in surprise. She stood there for a moment, clearly trying to piece together what was happening. “Wait,” she said, looking directly at Azzi. “I thought you were here alone?”

Paige sighed dramatically, turning around with an exaggerated eye roll. “Damn,” she said, her tone thick with sarcasm. “You still here?”

Sophia’s mouth opened as if she was about to argue, but before she could get a word out, Paige cut her off smoothly. “Look, it’s obvious she’s not here alone. So why don’t you go ahead and find someone else to bother, yeah?”

There was a beat of silence before Sophia’s face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. She glanced at Azzi one last time, waiting for her to say something, but Azzi simply raised an eyebrow, silently sipping her drink. Defeated, Sophia muttered something under her breath and walked away.

Once she was gone, Azzi finally turned to Paige, brushing her hands off her waist. “What’d you make my friend leave for?”

Paige scoffed, crossing her arms as she looked down at Azzi. “Yo friend? You ain’t want her to stay. C’mon now.”

“Whatever,” Azzi mumbled, shaking her head. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Paige’s lips curled into a mock pout as she stepped closer, pulling Azzi back in by her waist. “Aw, you seem jealous, baby,” she teased, her voice dropping into a playful drawl. “Was it ‘cus I was talking to her?”

“Fuck off, Paige,” Azzi shot back, trying to sound annoyed, but the faint blush creeping up her neck betrayed her.

Paige tilted her head, her grin widening. “Baby, I wasn’t even doing anything.”

Azzi scoffed, setting her drink down on the table nearby. “Yeah? Sure didn’t look like it. You were having a grand ole time, laughing your ass off.”

Paige’s grin softened into something more genuine as she leaned back slightly, her hands still firmly on Azzi’s waist. “Oh, that?” she said, her tone almost amused. “You mean when me and the bartender were talking about you?”

Azzi frowned, her confusion flickering across her face. “What?”

Paige chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. “She’s a fan, Azzi. She got so excited when she realized who you were. Said she’d been waiting all night to make a drink for the Azzi Fudd.”

Azzi blinked, her annoyance faltering. “What?” she repeated, quieter this time.

Paige’s smile turned softer as she continued, “She even showed me this old picture she had of you two as kids, y’all went to the same school I guess. You both had chocolate all over your faces. I couldn’t stop laughing, so I showed her one of mine from back then. It turned into a whole thing which kinda made me forget about our drinks.”

Azzi rubbed her face with her hands, a groan slipping out as guilt settled in her chest. “oh,” she muttered, dropping her hands to look up at Paige. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” Paige interrupted, but there was no bite to her words. She pulled Azzi closer. Now their chests were pressed together, and Paige leaned down, her lips brushing Azzi’s ear as she whispered, “You know I don’t want anyone else but you, princess.”

Azzi’s breath hitched, her heart hammering against her ribs. Paige was so close, her breath carrying the faint scent of mint and Shirley Temple, her Dior cologne wrapping around Azzi like a second skin.

Paige leaned back just enough to meet Azzi’s eyes, her voice low and deliberate. “I think I’ve made that clear, haven’t I?”

Azzi couldn’t do anything but nod, her hands instinctively gripping the front of Paige’s shirt for balance.

The corner of Paige’s mouth quirked up, her confidence radiating as she murmured, “Good.”

Azzi swallowed hard, trying to pull herself together. “Let’s go,” she said suddenly, her voice firmer than she expected.

Paige tilted her head, her grin turning mischievous. “Go where?”

“To the car,” Azzi replied, already pulling Paige’s hand to lead the way.

Paige followed without hesitation, the smirk never leaving her face as she let Azzi guide her.

—

Azzi didn’t let go of Paige’s hand as they made their way through the crowd, her grip firm. She walked ahead, her pace steady, but there was an urgency in the way her fingers tightened around Paige’s. Paige followed with a smirk tugging at her lips, watching Azzi’s determination from behind, her ponytail swaying with each step.

When they reached the car, Azzi made her way to the passenger side, her hand still in Paige’s. Paige started to move ahead, her free hand reaching for the door handle. “Here, I got it—”

Before Paige could finish, Azzi spun her around, pinning her back against the car with surprising strength. The cool metal pressed against Paige’s back, but the heat of Azzi’s body in front of her erased it immediately.

Azzi didn’t waste a second. Her lips crashed onto Paige’s, her hands gripping the blonde’s hips as if anchoring herself. Paige’s initial surprise melted into something far more eager as she let out a quiet sigh, her hands instinctively finding their way to Azzi’s waist.

Azzi deepened the kiss, her fingers sliding to the back of Paige’s neck, pulling her closer as her tongue brushed against Paige’s lower lip before slipping into her mouth. Paige groaned into the kiss, her fingers tightening on Azzi’s hips before sliding lower.

“Damn,” Paige mumbled against Azzi’s lips, her voice slightly breathless. Her hands gripped the curve of Azzi’s ass through her shorts, and Azzi gasped softly in response, her breath hitching before muttering, “Fuck.”

Paige chuckled against her mouth, her fingers pressing more firmly as she whispered, “What’s that, princess?”

Azzi didn’t answer, too caught up in the way Paige’s soft lips moved against hers. Her voice came out as a broken mumble between kisses, “P…need you,” her words trailing off as her teeth grazed Paige’s bottom lip, her tongue following close behind.

She broke the kiss, her breath heavy as she looked up at Paige, lips swollen and slightly parted. Paige smirked, the glint in her eye making Azzi’s heart pound harder and her core wetter. The blonde leaned in, brushing her lips against Azzi’s ear, her voice low and teasing.

“Tell me, princess,” Paige murmured, her hand still gripping Azzi’s waist, keeping her firmly against the car. “How bad do you need it?”

Azzi swallowed hard, her hands trembling slightly as they rested on Paige’s shoulders. Her big, doe-like eyes met Paige’s, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip before she answered softly, “So bad.”

Paige licked her lips, the corners of her mouth curling into a wicked smile as she tilted her head. “Yeah?” she teased, her voice dripping with control. “Lemme make sure.”

Azzi’s brows furrowed in confusion, her breath hitching as Paige’s hand slid from her ass to the front of her shorts. Paige’s fingers unbuttoned them, slipping beneath the waistband and pushing past the thin fabric of Azzi’s underwear.

The moment Paige’s fingers brushed against her, Azzi’s eyes widened, a soft gasp leaving her lips. She instinctively pressed her forehead to Paige’s shoulder, her entire body shivering as the blonde’s fingers explored her slick heat.

“Fuck..,” Paige muttered, her lips brushing against Azzi’s temple as her hand moved slowly. “You’re so wet.” Her voice was low and heavy, sending a shiver down Azzi’s spine. “Why’s that, huh?”

Azzi let out a shaky breath, gripping the back of Paige’s shirt as if to steady herself. “Because of you,” she mumbled, her voice breaking slightly as she fought to keep her composure. Paige tilted her head, her smirk deepening as she pressed her palm more firmly against Azzi’s clit, making the brunette gasp sharply. Paige’s voice was low, her breath tickling Azzi’s ear as she asked, “Who?”

Azzi’s fingers curled tighter around the fabric of Paige’s shirt, her chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. She tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat, her lips trembling.

“P-Paige,” she finally stuttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “Fuck… P-please, I need it.”

Paige’s smirk only grew, the sound of Azzi’s desperate plea sending a rush of heat through her. Without saying a word, Paige slid Azzi’s underwear to the side, her fingers finally feeling her completely.

“Shit,” Paige groaned, her head dropping slightly as she leaned closer. The slickness she felt against her fingers made her chest tighten, and she couldn’t help but let out a low, satisfied moan. “God, baby,” she muttered against Azzi’s lips, the words barely audible as she pressed a searing kiss to her mouth.

Azzi whimpered into the kiss, her hands sliding up to grip the back of Paige’s neck, holding her closer as her knees threatened to give out. Paige didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, groaning again as Azzi’s hips shifted slightly against her hand.

“You’re so fucking wet,” Paige murmured against her lips, her voice dripping with both desire and satisfaction. “All for me, huh?”

Azzi could only nod frantically, her breath hitching as Paige’s fingers moved in tight circles on her, each touch igniting a fire that spread through her entire body. “Only for you,” she whispered, her voice breaking, as her eyes fluttered shut. Paige smirked into the kiss as she rubbed azzis clit faster, fingers sliding up and down her wet making Azzi moan into her mouth, her soft sounds vibrating against Paige’s lips and only spurring her on.

Azzi’s hands gripped Paige’s shoulders tightly, her breathing uneven as she tried to form words. “P-Paige,” she gasped, her voice shaky. “W-what if someone c-comes out?”

Paige chuckled lowly, brushing her lips against Azzi’s ear as she whispered, “Don’t worry about that, baby. No one’s coming. Just… fuck—” she groaned, moving her fingers faster and Azzi closer, the heat and wetness making her head spin. “You feel so fucking good.”

Azzi whimpered, her head falling forward onto Paige’s shoulder as her legs wavered. But Paige wasn’t about to let her go anywhere. Her other hand gripped Azzi’s waist firmly, keeping her pressed against the car as she dipped two fingers deep inside her without warning.

Azzi gasped sharply, her head snapping back as her lips parted in a soft cry. “Oh my god,” she whispered, her nails digging into Paige’s shirt as her body shuddered against her.

Paige’s lips curled into a satisfied smile as she watched Azzi’s reaction, her own breath hitching as she felt how tightly Azzi gripped her fingers. “That’s it, baby,” she murmured, her voice thick with desire. She leaned closer, brushing her lips along Azzi’s jaw before whispering, “You’re so tight, fuck. Taking me so good mama.”

Azzi tried to respond, but all that escaped her lips was a broken moan as Paige began to move her fingers, slow and oh so deep . Her hips instinctively bucked forward, and she squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed by the intensity of Paige’s fingers.

“Look at me,” Paige demanded softly, her free hand tilting Azzi’s chin up so their eyes met. The intensity in Paige’s gaze made Azzi’s stomach flip, and her lips quivered as she tried to hold back another moan.

“P-Paige,” Azzi whimpered, her breath hitching again as Paige curled her fingers just right, hitting that same spot Paige was always so good at finding. “F-fuck… please.”

“Please what?” Paige teased, her voice a low rasp as she leaned in, her lips grazing Azzi’s. “Tell me what you need, princess.”

Azzi’s head tilted back against the car, her lips trembling as she gasped, “Need to cum.. Please, I—”

Paige cut her off with a deep kiss, her fingers moving faster now, her thumb rubbing tight circles on Azzis puffy clit, each motion making Azzi’s soft cries grow louder despite her attempts to stay quiet. Paige smirked against her lips, knowing Azzi was losing the battle of keeping herself composed. Paige could feel her tightening around her fingers, the brunette’s body trembling against her as her breathing grew uneven. Paige smirked, her lips brushing along Azzi’s jawline as she whispered, “You’re so close, aren’t you, baby?”

Azzi whimpered, her nails digging into Paige’s shoulders as her hips rocked forward, chasing the building orgasm. “Y-yeah,” she gasped, her voice shaky and breathless.

Paige pressed a kiss just below Azzi’s ear, her fingers moving faster, deeper, as she tilted her head to murmur, “C’mon, Az come on my fingers. You’ve been so good—so damn good. I wanna feel you.”

Azzi moaned, the sound desperate and needy as her head fell forward onto Paige’s shoulder. Her thighs trembled, and she could barely hold herself up as Paige’s words pushed her closer to the edge.

“That’s it,” Paige encouraged, her tone low and soothing, though there was a roughness in it that only fueled Azzi’s need. “You feel how good you’re doing? I’ve got you.”

Azzi whimpered again, her grip on Paige tightening as her breathing hitched. “P-Paige,” she stuttered, her voice breaking. “I—oh my god—I’m—”

“Y’gonna come for me, aren’t you?” Paige murmured, her breath hot against Azzi’s skin. She pressed her thumb hard against Azzi’s clit, rubbing in time with her thrusts as she added, “Come on, baby, give it to me”

Azzi’s eyes squeezed shut, and her body went taut as a sharp cry escaped her lips. Her climax washed over her in waves, her hips bucking as Paige held her firmly, coaxing her through it with soft murmurs.

“There you go,” Paige whispered, slowing her movements but keeping her fingers inside Azzi, riding out every shudder and tremble. “You’re so perfect, baby. So fucking perfect.”

Azzi sagged against Paige, her forehead pressed to Paige’s neck as she tried to catch her breath. Her body was still trembling slightly, and she let out a soft, shaky laugh. “You’re too good at that,” she whispered weakly, her voice muffled against Paige’s skin.

Paige chuckled, sliding her hand out gently and holding Azzi close. “I know ,” she countered, pressing a kiss to Azzi’s temple. “C’mon, let’s get you in the car before someone really does come out here.”

[margotw10bis]

BUILD A HOME.JJK [m] Teaser

business partner!Jungkook x female reader

Genre: angst; smut; romance (?); friends (?) to lovers

Words: ?

Synopsis: Working with Jungkook is a pain in the ass, resulting in numerous fights that always end up with angry sex. However, you wouldn't want to work with anyone else than him.

Warnings: none for the teaser

Namjoon and Jungkook have done a miracle: redoing the facade wall in just one day. You can read on their faces their tiredness. That’s why you invite them to a Korean Barbecue restaurant tonight.

While entering the restaurant with your brother and Jungkook, you notice how the waitress instantly blushes after eyeing at the younger man. You can’t blame her: Jungkook with a denim jacket is quite dangerous for young hearts… She doesn’t even seem to see you or Namjoon, her glance being stuck on Jungkook. She leads your group — or only the inked man, you can’t say — to your table and you welcome the sweet rest and the chill atmosphere of the restaurant.

You don’t have time to start any conversation that the waitress comes back to take your drink orders. She must have a special talent because she can write down what you tell her without even looking at her notepad, which allows her to be completely focused on Jungkook. You watch her tentatively flirting with him with an amused grin. You wait for the waitress to leave to speak.

"You should give her your number" Jungkook looks at you with a questioning look and you roll your eyes "She seems to really like you" You explain, pointing at the waitress with a nod of the head 

"She’s cute but not my type" He nonchalantly replies, just like he was taking about a piece of clothing 

"Oh come on! Every girl is your type" You sigh with frustration 

"Really?" He asks, playfulness noticeable in his doe eyes 

"Was it like a week ago?" You fake thinking while tapping your finger on your lower lip, clearly remembering how Jungkook abandoned you at the restaurant to end the night with a random woman "You left with a false blond girl. Before that, you were with a foreigner, a French girl I think. Oh, and one month ago, you had a thing with a forty-year old woman. How can you say you have a type?" You joke 

"Don’t be jealous, you’re the only one I stick to" Jungkook says with a flirty tone that makes you shiver in disgust 

"Please, don’t’"You snap back with a laugh

Namjoon is watching your little interaction with wide eyes. He can’t understand how Jungkook could even think about another girl when there is… whatever it is between you two. And also, how can you be okay with Jungkook dating other girls. You two are so fucking weird. 

Between beer and chatting, you gather some meat on the grill and settle it on Jungkook’s plate — you have noticed that he is so into his weird anecdote that he hasn’t eaten for at least ten minutes. In exchange, without even be conscious of it, your partner fixes your woolen cardigan that has slipped from your shoulder. 

Your bother is watching you two with a suspicious eye. 

"You’re sure you two are not together?" He cuts Jungkook off 

You can’t help laughing, a little too much not to offend the younger man. 

"What? Of course not" You end up answering 

"Hey, don’t be too startled by the idea, I’m a great boyfriend" Jungkook pouts

"No, you’re not. I know you way too well. Stop talking non sense" You reply, grabbing his cheeks to tease him even more 

"Well, the perfect boyfriend that I am is going to take a piss" He announces while snapping your hand away from his face

[sordidmusings]

Ace is now up! He demanded many more words than I had intended any of these to be 💀 such is always my curse. I’m pretty happy with the whole thing but this ending section is my favorite. I need him goofy, I need him sweet, I need that little bit of rat boy energy. I just need him 😩

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Unfortunately, soreness begins to set in your hips and you have to move. Ace isn’t a big fan of the idea; you can tell from his grumble and his arm cinching around your waist. It's endearing, but no match for the protest in your joints.

“Ace, I’m sore,” you laugh out the complaint, too amused by his pouting. “Let’s lay down.”

“That I can agree to,” he says.

You doubt his words when you start to get off him and receive an indignant “hey”.

“Who said you were allowed to get off?”

“Pretty sure I was just letting us both get off.”

“I helped,” he pouts.

“That’s an understatement,” you reassure with two quick pats to his cheek. “But for real, I gotta get off so we can get settled.”

“Agree to disagree,” Ace chimes with that maddeningly bright and charming smile of his. It crinkles his nose a moment and scrunches his eyes in a way that brings out their glimmer and you’re sure you’d never be able to keep a disagreement against that face for long.

“Okay,” you sigh. “How are we going to do this?”

“Clumsily,” he answers without missing a beat and you laugh again.

“Okay, Commander, take the reins,” you say as you settle back into laying against him, happy to let him take over this clown show.

“Ooooo ‘commander’, huh? Wanna try calling me that next time?”

Instead of responding you give his back a half-hearted swat.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he reasons.

“I’m filing it away for later, but please Ace my poor hips. You’re gonna make me an old lady in my twenties,” you whine.

“At least you make a cute granny.” You can hear the cheeky smile in his voice.

“Move!” You laugh and he finally does.

He scoots you both back once, holding you tight through it while you giggle at the bumpy ride. Now back to the center of the bed, he shimmies for good measure and lays himself back. He holds his arms out for you to lay down against him however is comfortable and you just raise a brow at him.

“You’re gonna slip out.”

“I believe in you,” he says. He tried to be deadpan but his lips couldn’t resist the smile.

“There’s your first mistake,” you say and he just smiles wider.

You shift to the right so you can rotate your left leg out and down. You lean your weight on his chest for balance, a palm flat on each large pec, and slide your leg down and back right next to his. You shiver at the release in your joint and Ace shivers at the pressure on his chest and the jostle of your hips. His softened dick twitches in interest.

“Stop that, we need to sleep,” you reprimand with no real heat.

“I didn’t tell it to do that,” Ace deflects.

You chuckle and continue repositioning, leaning to the left this time. It feels just as nice when your right leg gets to be straight again and you can finally lay down. It feels a little strange to be lying directly on Ace’s middle instead of tucked to his side or spooning but it’s not unwelcome. It’s definitely not a permanent feature, though, and you tell him as much.

“Just for a while,” Ace promises. Much softer he adds, “Not ready yet.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Taking stock of your body, you feel a pleasant exhaustion and let it help you sink further into Ace. His hands rest gently on your back, one spread between your shoulder blades and one drawing shapes over your lower back. His thighs are so warm next to yours and the packed muscle feels so soft when he’s relaxed like this. The same goes for the pec currently being used as your pillow. Okay, maybe you could stay this way quite awhile; Ace is unfairly warm and comfortable and having him sit still half in you sates some instinct you didn’t know you had.

“Blanket?” Ace asks.

“Dealer’s choice,” is your non-committal response.

With some reaching and finagling, Ace manages to get a hold of the sheets and flap them to lay over you. He leaves them so that they cover your legs but make it no further than the small of your back. It lets the slight chill of the room continue to cool you off without going so far as to make you cold. It’s absolutely perfect with his high body temperature radiating below you. Yeah, you’re pretty sure you could drift off into some of the best sleep of your life just like this.

A thought strikes you.

“How did you stay hard that whole time?”

“I dunno,” he answers honestly through a yawn. Then he chuckles and adds, “maybe you just have a magic pussy.”

You laugh at the stupid joke, happy he’s relaxed enough in your relationship to joke more about sex now.

“Too bad you can’t go around testing that theory,” you sigh in mock sympathy.

Ace perks up and stares at you real strong. His eyes that were just fighting sleep are now full of life. You don’t say more and just let him look and stew on your words.

“Say it again but like I’m stupid?”

“That’s what I usually try to do.”

He barks a laugh.

“Damn, must be hard loving an idiot.”

“Not at all.” The tenderness that seeps from your words melts him straight through. Thinking better of leaving it (you know he knows you’re joking, but you also know that his mind is exceptionally cruel), you use the last of your energy to get up on your elbows and look him in the eyes. “You’re a dumbass sometimes, especially with those brothers of yours, but more than that you’re really smart.” You place a sweet kiss to his forehead. “And you’re strong and determined and reliable.” A kiss to one cheek. “And empathetic and sweet and thoughtful.” A kiss to the other one. “And you wanna know what you are more than anything else?”

“What?” His voice shakes and his eyes burn and he’s so exhausted from all the emotions of the night but they’ve also been the most precious things ever.

You rest your forehead to his and take a deep breath, savoring the moment.

“You’re very very easy to love.”

A kiss binds your words and lips.

Between Two Points - Masterlist

Stuck with many thoughts on one of my favorite smut tropes, "just the tip".

Each character will have a different plea and reaction to getting what they want but one thing remains the same, they need to feel you, even if only just a little. How will your favorite handle it?

Which ones would be good and stay with just the tip?

They wouldn’t disobey you, wanting to keep you happy, especially with them. Having just a little of your warmth is a gift anyway - who are they to press for more than you’re willing to give? They’ll always take the scraps you throw them and thank you for it all the while. After all, it’s from you. And you always make sure they feel good in the end; they’ve never left your bed without feeling pleasure turn their body trembly and their mind to mush. They’re sure just an inch from you is all they need to get there again, and maybe if they’re good they’ll even get a reward.

Sanji, Usopp, Mihawk, Ace, Buggy, Killer, Franky, Katakuri

Which ones would say it and mean it but then lose themselves to pleasure?

They wanted to listen to you; there were always great rewards when they did. It’s not their fault you feel so good. It’s not their fault that they can never seem to think straight when they touch you. Usually they’re allowed to keep touching you though so it doesn’t matter if they can’t think - becoming a being of instinct and need works well when you’re drowning in what you want. But what if you’re only allowed a sip? What would they do to quench their thirst?

Luffy, Law, Koby, Sabo, Zoro, Beckman, Corazon

Which ones say it and don’t mean it, planning to try distracting you while they do what they want?

They only agreed to get their foot in the door, to keep advancing for more and more and more. It’s so ridiculous you thought you could tell them what to do that it’s almost cute. You really thought you could deny them the thing they’ve come to crave above all else? They’d let you believe that for just a minute so that the lesson sinks in even deeper when they start doing what they want.

Kid, Doflamingo, Lucci

Which ones say it and don’t mean it, planning to tease you enough to make you beg them for more?

After all, they know you need them just as much as they need you. Why pretend that just a little is ever enough? Oh well, if it’ll make it easier to start touching you, they’ll do whatever you ask. Doesn’t mean they won’t steer it into what they know you need. They’ll remind you how alive they make you feel, how your nerves buzz so blissfully when you let them take your body. But it will only be a reminder, just enough pleasure to stoke the craving within you before they continually pull back with the reminder that you asked them for this. How long will it take before you’re the one begging and writhing, thinking of nothing but the need for more. Ah, how sweet it is to see the tables turn.

Shanks, Sir Crocodile, Smoker, Marco, Robin

And finally

Nami is in her own little zone

You promise her you’re just helping practice the stretch - she did want to practice bigger and bigger straps, loving the struggle of you opening her up and being so proud when she makes it. You’ve pulled out a new toy and she’s intimidated by the size but you promise her she only needs to get the tip tonight. That praise you start showering on her when you begin to sink in makes her head all hazy though. It warms her through, body, mind, and soul. Maybe she can get just a little more? Anything to keep you talking to her like that.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Most if not all of the characters listed will get their own smut for this with their own personal flavor of "just the tip". I hope you enjoyed! Please comment if you have any thoughts or suggestions 🤍

Masterlist

Sneak peak at Ace’s

[woniedarlin]

Hi! I actually absolutely love your fic of jungwon being down bad for tsundere reader so I was wondering if you could write something where the roles are reversed and jungwon is the tsundere one 🤍

Chasing a Tsundere

pairing: tsundere! Jungwon x fem! reader

synopsis: You fell for Jungwon—hard. Unfortunately for you, he just had to be the grumpiest, most emotionally unavailable person ever to exist. He pushed you away, rolled his eyes at your persistence, and made it very clear he wasn’t the romantic type.

But giving up? Not an option. Because this is Jungwon we’re talking about.

author's note: Hello, my lovelies! This was so much fun to write. Big thanks to Anonie for the request—I hope you enjoy it! Happy reading!

caution: cursing and a bit of angst (tell me if there’s more!) , this story contains excessive tsundere behavior and a very persistent main character. Side effects may include secondhand embarrassment. Read at your own risk!

permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n

You leaned over Jungwon’s desk with your brightest smile, holding out a bento box wrapped in a pink cloth. “I made this for you. It’s your favorite! I even cut the veggies into stars!”

"Tch," Jungwon dismissed. "I don't want that disgusting slop."

If only he could have tasted that heavenly creation at least once. I mean, imagine turning down a homemade dish made with such effort? Poor you, who only deserved so much more.

He barely glanced up from his textbook as his pen continued to scribble down notes. “Why would I eat food from someone who burns toast?”

You pouted and clutched the bento to your chest. “That was one time, Jungwon. One time! Besides, I didn’t burn this.”

"I don't want your germs. Who knows what kind of gross crap is in there," he said; in which you glanced around the classroom; a few of your friends sent pity looks on your way. No one understood why you were so smitten with him, but they respected it nonetheless.

A few of your classmates looked to be in a similar state of enchantment. Maybe you should try it with them instead of the grinch?

"What do I have to do to make you go away?” Jungwon's words sting a bit.

“I don’t know.’’

You weren't even slightly intimidated or bothered, which was amusing. Most people would have backed off, but you just stood there. It wasn't enjoyable but also somewhat impressive. Not that he'd ever admit that. A long sigh erupted from his lips as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He slammed his pen down, causing a few heads to turn, but he cared little. “Sit. Down. Go bug someone else.” He gritted out through clenched teeth.

”Please accept?’’ you showed the bento.

You were persistent with your efforts; he had to commend you for that, though he’d never admit it to your face. That would give you too much of an ego boost.

He eyed the bento in your hand, his stomach betraying him by growling quietly. He hadn’t eaten all lunch, so the aroma of the homemade food was almost too tempting to resist. But still, the stubbornness won out. "No. I’m not interested in your food. Why do you insist on wasting your efforts on me?”

“Please?”

Shit. He couldn’t help but think, “How can I say no to someone so sweet?”

He sighed, finally looking at you with that familiar, unimpressed stare. “Just leave it on the desk. I’ll think about it.”

A small victory! You quickly set the box down. “I knew you couldn’t resist. I’ll see you later!” You skipped away before he could respond.

He glanced between the bento and the door you’d disappeared through. His stomach growled once more, begging to be fed. With another sigh, he opened the bento box and slowly ate. “Not bad…”

☔️

The rain fell hard as you stood at the school gates, holding your bag to keep it dry. You sighed and watched the heavy rain, getting ready to run for it. Just as you were about to leave, a familiar voice called out to you.

"You planning on running out in that weather? Do you have a death wish or something?"

Jungwon approached you, umbrella in hand. Before you could even respond, he thrust the umbrella into your hands. “Take it,” he said curtly, glancing at you for only a second before entering the rain, completely unprotected.

“Wait!” you called after him, holding the umbrella out. “What about you?” You extended the umbrella, an offer of protection from the relentless rain. Jungwon paused, glancing at you over his shoulder.

"I don't need it."

His face didn't reveal it, but the gesture touched him. He had been trying to push you away, to make you dislike him, but all you did was offer him shelter from the downpour when you needed it. He couldn't help but admit the irony.

“Don’t catch a cold, idiot.”

☔️

It was another typical day. The hallways were busy with students. But all you could think about was how warm Jungwon’s arm felt as you held onto him.

You had been walking together, but you wanted to be closer. So, you wrapped your arm around his and rested your head on his shoulder. You felt the tension leave your body as you relaxed into him. He was always warm, and being this close to him felt right.

You noticed Jungwon stiffen almost instantly, his eyes widening. “What are you—” he started, his fingers twitching slightly, unsure what to do, before reluctantly relaxing. Slowly, Jungwon’s shoulders relaxed, and the scowl that so often resided on his face faded away. You felt his arm loosen, “Weirdo,” he muttered.

For the rest of the walk, you were quiet. Strangely.

He led you through the crowded school corridors, expertly weaving around the students and making a ruckus. Eventually, he spoke up. " Are you okay?" he asked, looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

“More than okay,” you sighed, a dreamy smile forming. “I’m in love.”

Jungwon scoffed. “Love? Seriously?” he retorted. “You fall too hard.”

Suddenly, a girl appeared out of nowhere, walking up to Jungwon and batting her eyelashes at him. “Hey, Jungwon,” she cooed, giving him a flirty smile. “You look so handsome today.”

Oh, the audacity.

You felt your grip on his arm tighten, and without thinking, you made a slight hissing noise under your breath. Like an actual cat. Because that’s totally normal behavior.

Jungwon looked at her blankly. "Uh, thanks," he said, shifting his weight to put some distance between her and himself. After a few moments of awkward silence, the girl caught the hint and excused herself, shooting you a dirty look before sauntering away.

You furrowed your eyebrows. Jungwon noticed and let out a long sigh. He reached over with his free hand, gently touching your arm. "Hey, hey, calm down, alright? I can practically see the green flames of envy raging in your eyes," he says with annoyance. "She means nothing. No one does."

He pauses, "Except you, I guess?" he mumbles under his breath, his voice so low you missed it.

☔️

You were hauling a heavy box of basketball equipment to the gym hours later when a sharp voice stopped you.

"You're an idiot to carry that much all at once. Hand it over before you collapse." Jungwon came out from the corner with a frown on his face. He eyed the box in your arms and rolled his eyes as he took it from you, holding it quickly. “This is what happens when you don’t ask for help.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you replied with a sheepish smile. “The team needed help—”

He shook his head. "There's helpful, and then there's being too nice. You've got to stop saying 'yes' to everyone. That was what? A 40-kilogram box of balls and equipment? Your back would’ve snapped in two by lunch."

Jungwon continued, "Besides, Do they not have arms? If you need help, ask me.”

You opened your mouth to protest but hesitated when you noticed his face, “I’m fine, really,” you reassured him.

"And that's the problem. 'I'm fine.' What happens when, one day, you're not? When you're tired or overwhelmed and still say 'I'm fine' while falling apart inside?" He scolded you, "It's okay to say 'no,' and it's okay to ask for help. Do you not understand? This isn’t a game, and you’re not invincible!"

He turned and walked away, his final words echoing down the hall.

"Don't wait for a mistake to learn."

You didn’t expect this from him.

☔️

For weeks, you did everything. You put in the effort that he rejects, but on rare occasions, he accepts it. Well, you force him to take it. After classes, you were sitting on the rooftop, watching the view. For once, you weren’t seeking Jungwon out; you were trying to gather your thoughts.

Were you tired of chasing someone who always seems to push you away? Absolutely.

Jungwon noticed you perched on the rooftop. He couldn't help but wonder, what's got her so down? He knew he was causing you heartache but he also knew that with every rejection, you came back with more effort. He wanted you to see him as what he truly was. A jerk. Someone not worthy of your devotion... but you never seemed to give up, that determination was something else.

He wondered if he may have gone too far…

“Hey.”

His voice startled you, and you turned to see him standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“What are you doing here?” you asked softly.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, walking closer. “You’ve been avoiding me all day.”

You looked away, fidgeting with your hands. “I… I don’t think I should bother you anymore.”

Jungwon froze. “What are you talking about? Bother me? You’re not…” He trailed off, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I know I’m an ass. I push people away and make it seem like I don’t want anyone’s company. But you… you never left, even when I wanted you to.” He sat down next to you, keeping a comfortable distance.

“I mean… you’re always annoyed with me. I just figured…” You trailed off, biting your lip.

“Stop saying that,” he interrupted, his tone sharper than usual.

“You think I enjoy acting like a jerk to everyone?“ He let out a humorless laugh, his eyes focusing on the horizon. ”The truth is, I am afraid to open up, to let people in because I know how easily they can break me.” He glanced at you briefly before averting his eyes again. “I’ve seen it happen to my parents and my friends. I don’t want to be another sad soul wandering the world broken.”

You hesitated before whispering, ‘’I’m sorry…’’

“Don’t apologize. Hell, I’m sorry. I’ve been so caught up in pushing you away that I didn’t even realize how much you were trying to get closer to me. I don’t deserve your attention, let alone your kindness.”

He continued, “You’re not… You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met, sure. But if you stopped being around…” He trailed off, looking away as his cheeks turned red. “I’d probably hate it.”

“Jungwon…”

“What? It’s true. I don’t know when or how it happened… but my day feels..lacking if you’re not there.” He shrugged as though admitting that wasn’t a big deal. “So…don’t you dare think about stopping.” He added sternly. “I like you, alright?”

“Thank you…for liking me back’’ you said shyly.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. “Don’t get all mushy on me. You make it sound like I’d run into a burning building for you. I like you, but it’s not like I would get matching tattoos or serenade you under your window.”

“But will you?’’

He scoffed. “Really? Of all the things I’ve said, that’s what you focus on?” He shook his head, then looked directly into your eyes. “Fine. Yes, I'd run into a burning building for you. I’ll do anything for you. Happy now?’’

“Very.’’ You giggled, ‘’Come on, walk me home, boyfriend.’’

“Boyfriend?”

He raised an eyebrow at your quick upgrade in the relationship. “You're lucky I like you cause anyone else suggesting that might've been laughed out of the school." He stood up, dusting off his pants and offering you a hand. "Well, come on, girlfriend.“

☔️

Days later…

You sat across from Jungwon at the small restaurant table, your heart doing little flips every time he glanced your way, even though his usual unimpressed expression hadn’t faltered since you arrived. The date wasn’t even bad—just, well, awkward. But awkward in a way that had you wanting to laugh every five seconds because of how seriously Jungwon took things.

Like now.

He's been staring at his menu for ten minutes. It's three pages long, and each item has a picture next to it. How complicated can it be?

"What's taking you so long?" you say, resting your chin in your hand.

"Shut up." He replies, never taking his eyes off the menu. “Do you want water?” he asked, his brows slightly furrowed.

“Uh, sure?” you said, smiling awkwardly.

He waved the waiter over and ordered two glasses of water. After all this careful deliberation, he's just ordering water?

He barely looked at you as he added, “Bring her water. Lemon water.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, which Jungwon noticed.

Jungwon blinked at you, tilting his head slightly. “What? You don’t like lemon?”

He looked a bit hurt at the rejection of his thoughtfulness. This was the same guy who'd throw paper planes at the teacher but couldn’t handle not knowing if you liked lemon in your water? You were so endeared that it took every ounce of self-control not to squeal.

“Oh, no, you’re adorable today,” you assured him, finally letting out a soft laugh.

“Cool,” he managed, cheeks turning pink as he looked down at the table.

“No, I mean—it’s just water,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ll live either way.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “It’s not a big deal. Just let me handle it.”

The corner of your lips quirked up. Why is he so serious about water?

The date went on, and the conversation flowed a little more naturally (after you decided to do most of the talking). Jungwon, though, still had his moments. “So, how much do you like me?” you teased halfway through your meal, grinning at him over the rim of your glass.

He choked on his drink.

He coughed, hitting his chest slightly as he cleared his throat. You didn’t think the question warranted that kind of reaction. But then again, you talked to the boy who spent ten minutes deciding whether he should get fries. “W-what kind of question is that?” he asked once he regained composure

You leaned in a little, resting your chin on your palm. “I’m just curious. Am I your type?”

He met your gaze, his eyes softening slightly. It was the first time all evening he'd looked directly at you without an expression of mild annoyance.

“What, you think I’m here for the ambiance?” he replied, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “You’re… not that bad a company when you’re not talking about nothing.”

It is a backhanded compliment, but from Jungwon, it might as well be a love confession.

“So,” you continued. “How much do you think I like you?”

Jungwon avoided your gaze, shoving a piece of meat into his mouth to avoid answering. “You’re so annoying,” he muttered, cheeks puffed slightly as he chewed. He ran a hand through his hair, looking quite flustered. His eyes darted around, possibly seeking an escape route. No dice, he’s sitting opposite you in a relatively small restaurant.

He asked again, “What kind of question even is that?”

“A valid one,” you teased, grinning. “But you’ll have to pay me if you want the answer.”

He frowned, confused. “Pay you?”

“Yeah, like—give me, I don’t know... probably 500,000 won, and I’ll tell you all my secrets.” You held up your hands dramatically.

“You said 500,000 won, didn’t you?” he said, pulling out the exact amount and sliding it across the table with an entirely serious expression. “Here. Talk.”

He stared at you expectantly, looking like he expected you to take the money and answer. It was a ridiculous situation. Here you were, in a normal restaurant on a Friday night, with your new boyfriend, who had just put 500,000 won on the table, waiting to know how much you liked him.

It took every ounce of will in your body not to laugh. Oh, he’s so cute…

Your jaw dropped. “Jungwon, I was joking!”

He froze, the faintest flush creeping up his cheeks. “What?”

You could see the cogs turning in his head as if he was contemplating what to do with you now. The situation was getting more absurd, and you pressed your lips together to keep from laughing. It was probably rude to laugh in his face when he just tried to pay you for the information he thinks is valuable.

Still, you laughed.

“I didn’t actually mean it!” you laughed, pushing the money back toward him. “I wouldn’t charge you to know something like that.”

He looked down at the table, “Yeah, well, you started it,” he muttered, returning the money. After a few seconds, he slid a 50,000 won bill across the table, looking slightly embarrassed. “Fine. But this will do?”

He looked up at you, his gaze uncertain. You smiled, tucking this little tidbit of information away for later. The Jungwon is willing to pay you to know you like him. What a night.

“Jungwon, you don’t have to pay me.’’

“Look,” he said, looking at you pointedly. “Just..” He huffed, rubbing a hand across his face. “Just take the damn money, okay? It’s not like I’m breaking the bank here.”

He nudged the money towards you again, his eyes holding a silent plea. Clearly, he didn’t know how else to go about the situation, resorting to his only known means of communication: his wallet.

“Uh…okay?” You accepted it with amusement.

He smiled, nodding in relief. “Good. Now what…what were you saying before?” He asked, trying to hide his embarrassed flush with a cough. “About how much you like me,” he mumbled, his words barely audible.

“You know, you’re too serious,” you teased, poking at his hand lightly. “But I still like you anyway.”

Jungwon looked away, but a smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “Hmph,” he finally said, flicking a sugar packet towards you. “You’re not so bad yourself. In small doses.”

☔️

The date continued similarly. You’d offer to split the bill, but he’d insist on paying. You’d reach for the menu, but he’d swat your hand away, insisting on ordering for you instead.

He was trying hard, and you couldn’t help but adore him even more despite the awkwardness.

Just as you finished teasing Jungwon, music began to play in the restaurant. The lively beat echoed through the room as the servers clapped their hands and started encouraging diners to join them in the center of the floor to dance. You perked up immediately. “Oh my gosh, Jungwon! They’re dancing!”

He glanced at the crowd gathering in the middle of the restaurant and frowned. “Yeah, I can see that. What about it?”

“Let’s go!” you squealed.

His brows shot up. “What? No way.”

“Come on!” You were already out of your seat, grabbing his hand and pulling him up. He barely had time to protest as you dragged him toward the impromptu dance floor.

“I don’t dance,” he muttered, resisting slightly, but you didn’t let go.

“Well, you’re about to learn!” you declared with a grin, already swaying to the music as you pulled him into the crowd.

Jungwon looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole, but he sighed in defeat as you started twirling. He awkwardly moved his arms, shuffling his feet in time with yours. “This is embarrassing,” he grumbled, his face heating up.

“You’re doing great!” you cheered, beaming at him as you twirled again, laughing. “Come on, loosen up a little!”

“Loosen up?” he echoed incredulously. “I’m not a dancer!”

“You don’t have to be! Just have fun!” You reached for his hands, placing them on your waist as you guided his movements. “See? Not so bad!”

Jungwon muttered something under his breath, but his steps started to match yours. He tried to keep a scowl on his face, but the way you were laughing so freely made it impossible for him to stay annoyed.

“You’re smiling!” you teased,

“I’m not,” he argued, though the pink tint on his cheeks betrayed him.

“You are! Oh, Jungwon, you’re having fun!”

“I’m not having fun,” he deadpanned; his hands didn’t leave your waist as you swayed together.

“You’re lying,” you sang, twirling yourself and accidentally stepping on his foot.

“Ow—okay, now I’m definitely not having fun!” he groaned, wincing.

You gasped. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he muttered, shaking his head. But when you smiled sheepishly up at him, his chest felt lighter despite himself.

As the song ended and the crowd cheered, you clapped your hands excitedly. “That was so much fun!”

He sighed, muttering, “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” but the faint smile never left his face as you pulled him back to your seats.

☔️

The evening had been fantastic, but it was time to say goodbye. The cool night air surrounded you as you reached your front door. Jungwon walked you home, although he hardly admitted that he liked it. Every second of it.

“Alright,” he said, avoiding your eyes as you stood by your door. “You should lock the door when you get inside. And… don’t forget to check the windows too. It’s late, and you never know.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how concerned he sounded, even though he tried so hard to hide it. “Got it, Jungwon. Thanks,” you said, already knowing how sweet he was, even if he’d never admit it.

He shuffled on his feet, clearly not ready to leave just yet. “I’ll… I’ll call you when I get home, okay? Just in case. And make sure you don’t open the door for anyone unless you’re sure it’s them. You’re… you’re too nice, okay? People could take advantage.” You could hear a slight shake in his voice as he talked on. “And, uh… make sure you stay safe, alright?” He finally looked at you with worry.

You couldn’t help but giggle at how adorable he was being. You stepped a little closer to him, surprising him with a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll be fine, Jungwon,” you said softly. “And thank you. For everything.”

His face turned a deep shade of red, and he immediately turned his head away, muttering something that sounded like, “I-I wasn’t doing this for you to kiss me, okay?” But his voice was quieter now, a little softer than usual.

You laughed, enjoying the moment, but before he could say anything else, you stepped back and smiled at him. “Call me when you get home, okay?”

He nodded quickly, still blushing furiously. “Yeah, I will. You—don’t—don’t worry about me!” he stammered, turning on his heel to leave. But just as he was about to walk away, he stopped and turned back toward you, his face hidden in his hands.

“I-I love you, alright?!” he shouted, his voice cracking. He quickly turned away, clearly embarrassed, and started walking briskly down the street.

You stood there, frozen for a moment, a broad smile slowly spreading. That was all he needed to say, and you knew exactly how much he cared. You couldn’t help but laugh softly to yourself, feeling your heart flutter as you watched him walk off.

“Love you too, Jungwon,” you whispered to the night air, knowing he wouldn’t hear. But somehow, it felt like the most perfect moment.

[Extra Scene]

Months later…

Jungwon lay on his bed with his phone resting on a pillow. He looked at you through the screen.

“You miss me, don’t you?”

You scoffed as you shifted under your covers. “We saw each other three hours ago.”

He hummed. “That’s three hours too long.”

“Why are you smiling like that?” you asked while squinting at him through the screen.

He glanced at you and smirked. “What, I can’t smile?”

“Not like that,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “You look like you’re up to something.”

Jungwon sighed dramatically as he turned onto his side. “Can’t a guy just admire his girlfriend?”

You scoffed. “You’re so full of it.”

“I’m serious,” he said, resting his chin on his hand. “You look cute today.”

You blinked. “…It’s a video call. You can barely see me properly.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied smoothly. “You’re always cute.”

His door suddenly creaked open before you could even think of a response.

“Mom! He’s at it again!”

Jungwon’s head snapped toward the door, his face instantly turning sour. His older sister stood there, arms crossed, and seemed to be entertained at her brother, who was way out of character.

You burst into laughter.

Jungwon groaned. “Can you not?”

“Oh, wait—” She smirked, peeking at the screen. “Hi! Are you the poor soul who has to listen to his crap every day?”

You bit your lip, trying so hard not to laugh. “Hi…”

“Oh my God.” Jungwon groaned, grabbing the nearest pillow and chucking it toward the door. “OUT!”

His sister dodged effortlessly. “Okay, okay, lover boy! calm down.” She wiggled her fingers at you. “Bye, future sister-in-law!”

“Just saying! You’re embarrassing,” she said to Jungwon while backing out of the room.

‘’GET OUT!’’

The door shut, leaving Jungwon lying there, face buried in his pillow.

You were still giggling. “Lover boy?”

He exhaled sharply as he peeked through the screen. “We’re never talking about this again.”

You grinned. “Sure, lover boy.”

“Okay, I’m hanging up.”

“No, you’re not.”

“…No, I’m not,” he admitted and groaned.

[ch0llies]

FOREVER NOW | CHRISTOPHER STURNIOLO. PT.2

oneshot - chris x reader

You and Chris have been tied together by an invisible string ever since you met at 10. As you grew older, Chris became your safe place. He was always there, unknowingly shaping himself into the person you'd eventually fall in love with. By the time you were 18, you had become each other's first everything- first kiss, first love, first promise that neither of you could ever belong to anyone else the way you belonged to each other. And now, standing in the bathroom with ten pregnancy tests lined up on the counter, that promise felt heavier than ever.

story warnings: fluff, smut, pregnancy kink, basically everything that has to due with pregnancy and childbirth, established relationship, etc... if any of these topics upset you... don't read!

word count: 6k

MONTH 2

The sterile scent of the doctor’s office does little to calm your nerves as you sit on the exam table, your fingers gripping Chris’s hand like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the room. The last week had been a blur- between the endless late-night talks, the baby name debates, and Chris spending way too much time researching the best prenatal vitamins- everything still felt surreal.

“Alright, let’s take a look,” the ultrasound tech says with a warm smile, squeezing the cold gel onto your stomach.

Chris tightens his grip on your hand. “You good, baby?” he murmurs.

You nod, exhaling a shaky breath. “Yeah. Just… nervous.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles. “Me too.”

And then, the screen flickers to life.

At first, it’s just static, a mix of shadows and shapes you don’t quite understand. But then- there.

A tiny bean-shaped figure appears, nestled inside of you. The heartbeat echoes through the room, fast and steady, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, tears instantly pricking at your eyes.

Chris lets out a breathy laugh, his eyes glued to the screen, pure awe written all over his face. “That’s our baby?”

The tech smiles. “That’s your baby. And judging by the measurements, you’re about two months along.”

Chris lets out a stunned chuckle, running a hand down his face. “Two months,” he repeats, like he’s trying to wrap his head around it. He turns to you, his expression softening. “We’ve had our baby with us for two months already.”

Tears slip down your cheeks, and Chris leans over, kissing your forehead. His hand stays firmly in yours the whole time, never letting go.

And just like that, the little bean on the screen makes everything real.

You decide that night to invite everyone over and tell them the news. Your apartment is full- packed, really- with family, laughter, and the unmistakable scent of home-cooked food. Your mom, dad, and brother are here, chatting with Chris’s parents and all his brothers. It’s the first time everyone’s gathered together in a while, and they think it’s just a normal family dinner.

But you and Chris have other plans.

Chris squeezes your thigh under the table, shooting you a knowing look. It’s almost time.

“Hey, Mom?” you call out casually, getting up and heading toward the kitchen. “I think something’s burning… can you check the oven?”

Your mom, who’s been deep in conversation with Chris’s mom, Mary Lou, immediately moves toward the oven. “Oh shoot, yeah, of course.” She opens the door, peering inside. “There’s just a… roll?”

Mary Lou tilts her head, coming over. “Let me see this.”

Chris, still seated but now grinning widely, leans forward. “What’s in the oven?”

Your mom and Mary Lou both frown at first, then look at each other as realization dawns.

“A bun…”

Their heads snap toward each other, eyes widening, mouths parting in shock.

Then, utter joy.

Screams, happy shrieks, as they grab each other and start jumping up and down like teenagers. Your mom clutches Mary Lou’s arms, her eyes already welling up.

“Oh my God, oh my God, OH MY GOD-”

Chris laughs, standing up just in time for his mom and yours to practically tackle you in a hug. “Are you serious?!” your mom exclaims, pulling back just enough to look at your face.

You nod, laughing through your tears. “Two months.”

Another round of screams.

The commotion quickly draws in the rest of the family. Chris’s dad steps into the kitchen first, followed by your dad and your brother, then all of Chris’s brothers- Matt, Nick, and Justin, who were mid-conversation and now just staring at the scene unfolding before them.

“What’s going on in here?” your dad asks, looking mildly concerned.

Your mom turns to them, face lit up with pure joy. “THEY’RE HAVING A BABY!”

Silence.

Then, another explosion of excitement.

Chris’s dad claps him on the back, shaking his head with a wide grin. “You little shit.”

Your brother lets out a stunned laugh. “Holy shit, I’m gonna be an uncle?”

Nick lets out an exaggerated gasp. “I’M GONNA BE AN UNCLE TOO!”

“You’re not special, we’re all uncles!” Matt chimes in, and Justin just shakes his head, laughing.

Chris, overwhelmed but beaming, pulls you into his arms, kissing you right there in the middle of the kitchen, his hands cradling your face.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips.

Tears still streaming, you smile against his mouth. “I love you too.”

MONTH 3

By the third month, your body is starting to change, though you’re not fully showing just yet. Your lower stomach has a tiny bump, just enough for Chris to become obsessed.

Every morning, before even kissing you good morning, he lifts your hoodie or pajama top to check your belly. “Lemme see our baby,” he mumbles sleepily, pressing a kiss to your skin. He does this every single morning.

At your 12-week ultrasound, you both hear the baby’s heartbeat loud and clear for the first time. Chris records the whole thing on his phone, his eyes misting over as he grips your hand tightly. “That’s our baby,” he whispers in pure awe.

Month 3 was fun but it came with mood swings. And they hit hard. One moment you’re laughing, the next you’re sobbing because you saw a video of a puppy and now you need one. Chris is patient, rubbing your back while hiding his laughter when you cry over the most random things.

Not to mention the weird cravings too…pickles with peanut butter. Chris gags every time you eat it but stocks up on both anyway.

MONTH 4

Your energy is coming back, and so is your sex drive. It’s like a switch flips, and suddenly, you need Chris all the time.

“You’ve been insane, baby,” he teases one night, hands tracing over your growing belly. “Not complaining, though.”

Chris also starts buying baby stuff constantly. You come home one day to find him unpacking an absurd amount of onesies, soft blankets, and a tiny Bruins beanie.

“We don’t even know the gender yet!” you remind him.

Chris just shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Our kid’s gonna be a Bruins fan either way.”

MONTH 5

One night, you wake up to something- a small fluttering sensation in your belly. It happens again, and your breath catches.

“Chris,” you whisper, shaking him awake. “Chris, the baby just kicked.”

He sits up so fast he nearly falls out of bed. “Wait, what?!” His hands are on your belly immediately, waiting, eyes wide. When he finally feels the tiny kick against his palm, his breath stutters.

“That’s-” He swallows hard, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s our baby.” He spends the next hour whispering to your belly, telling them all about their parents and how much they’re already loved.

This is also the month you start turning the office into a nursery. You decide not to find out the gender until the baby is born and instead choose a yellow theme- bright, neutral, and happy.

You both spend an entire Saturday painting the walls, music playing, the windows open. Chris is in jeans, no shirt, covered in paint, while you’re in overalls, your baby bump finally visible. He insists on taking a picture of you holding a paintbrush to your stomach.

“For the baby album,” he says with a grin.

MONTH 6

Your bump is really showing now, and Chris is in love with it. He touches it constantly- rubbing it absentmindedly when you sit together, spooning you at night with his hands protectively splayed over your stomach, kissing it whenever he gets the chance.

“You’re glowing,” he tells you one day, watching as you fold tiny baby clothes in the nursery. “Like, actually glowing.”

The nesting instinct is kicking in full force. You’re suddenly obsessed with organizing and cleaning, and Chris is doing his best to keep up. One night, you wake up at 2 a.m. convinced the nursery needs rearranging immediately. Chris groans but helps move the crib- only for you to change your mind an hour later.

“Baby,” he mumbles, flopping onto the rug. “Please. Let’s just go back to bed.”

“No.”

MONTH 7

Your back hurts constantly, your feet are swollen, and even sleeping is uncomfortable. Chris gives you back rubs every night, rubbing your feet and making sure you’re drinking enough water.

Sex is still happening, but it’s… different. Your growing belly makes some positions impossible, limiting you mostly to doggy, but Chris doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he’s more patient, more attentive- his hands steadying your hips, his lips pressing soft, lingering kisses along your spine. He’s careful with you, always checking in, always making sure you’re comfortable, but there’s something else in his touch lately- something hungry.

And then, one night, as his fingers trace the curve of your belly, lingering just a little longer than usual, he finally admits, “Baby… I think your belly turns me on.”

You blink at him, taken aback. “What?”

He shrugs, but the way his eyes darken as they sweep over you betrays his casual tone. His hand drags slow and deliberate over your bump, fingers spreading possessively. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, voice lower now. “Just… knowing our baby is inside you. That I put them there.” He shakes his head, smirking as he licks his lips. “It’s kinda hot.”

You roll your eyes, but the way your pulse quickens betrays you. Because honestly? It is hot.

“Yeah?” You challenge, your voice playful but laced with something deeper. You tug your shirt over your head, baring your swollen breasts and belly to him, your skin hypersensitive, your body already aching for him. “Wanna show me just how hot you think it is?”

Chris exhales sharply, like you’ve just knocked the wind out of him. His pupils dilate, his jaw clenches, and for a second, you think he might actually lose his mind.

Then he’s on you, hands already reaching, already touching. His lips find your neck, warm and open-mouthed, his breath hot against your skin. “Get on your hands and knees, mama,” he rasps, voice thick with need.

You obey without question, shifting onto your hands and knees, arching your back just enough to give him the perfect view.

You had thought that since gaining pregnancy weight that Chris would be turned off… or maybe even stop finding you attractive completely. But it was the opposite. He loves it.

He grabs your love handles every chance he gets and rubs your thighs and massages your back, not because you asked, simply because he wants to. Because it turns him on.

Chris groans behind you, his hands immediately finding your hips, fingers digging in just enough to make you feel grounded. He spreads his palms over your skin, dragging them down to your thighs, then back up, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

You shiver at the heat in his voice, at the way he sounds almost wrecked already.

“Then show me,” you challenge, glancing over your shoulder at him.

His eyes flash dark with something dangerous, something wild, and then he’s moving- leaning over you, pressing his chest to your back as he kisses along your shoulder, his hands never stopping their slow worship of your body.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. His hands slide under your belly, holding you, supporting you like it’s second nature. Like taking care of you is just as much a turn-on as anything else.

And when he finally pushes into you, slow and deliberate, a deep groan rumbles through his chest. His grip returns and tightens on your hips, and he drops his head forward, his breath hot against your skin.

“Jesus Christ,” he swears, voice strained. “You feel even better like this.”

A gasp escapes your lips as you adjust to the stretch, your fingers clutching the sheets. Chris moves carefully at first, like he’s afraid of hurting you, but it only makes you want more.

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” you pant, pushing back against him, desperate for more. “You’re not gonna hurt the baby.”

Chris lets out a deep, shaky breath, his hands tightening on your hips as he keeps thrusting into you at an achingly slow pace. His self-control is tangible, the restraint in every roll of his hips almost maddening. Then, suddenly, his hands slide from your hips back to your belly, spreading wide, cradling the swell of it with something so tender it makes your chest ache.

“I know,” he murmurs, his voice rough, almost wrecked. “I just- fuck.” He exhales harshly, thumbs stroking the soft skin of your stomach. “I just love you like this.”

Your breath catches, and before you can respond, he moves- his grip tightening, his thrusts deepening, more purposeful now. He’s still careful, still mindful of you, but the hesitation is gone, replaced by something more raw, more desperate.

“Chris,” you moan, your fingers clutching the sheets, your body arching into him.

His hands stay on your belly, holding you there, like he’s grounding himself in the feeling of you- of the life you created together. His pace picks up, each thrust pushing you forward just enough to make your breath hitch. He’s panting above you, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your spine, his voice thick with need.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he groans, his grip flexing as he moves. “Carrying my baby, taking me so well.”

The words send a shockwave through you, heat pooling low in your stomach. You whimper, pushing back against him, needing more. He growls low in his throat, like you’re unraveling him, like he’s barely holding on.

“Yeah?” he breathes, one hand sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your sensitive nipple. “You like that?”

You nod frantically, gasping as he rolls his hips harder, deeper, hitting that spot that makes you cry out.

“Fuck,” Chris groans, his voice strained, his movements more desperate now. “Gonna make you cum just like this, mama. You ready?”

Chris’s thrusts grow more purposeful, deeper, his control slipping as your body clenches around him. His hands remain firm on your belly, holding you close, grounding himself in the feeling of you- the mother of his child, his woman, so perfect beneath him.

You’re burning, every nerve in your body alight as pleasure coils deep in your stomach. The way he’s touching you, how he’s holding your belly like it’s something sacred while still fucking you so thoroughly- it’s overwhelming, too much and not enough all at once.

“Chris- ” you gasp, pushing back against him, desperate for more. “I’m- oh my God- ”

He groans, gripping your hips again, pulling you back onto him harder. “I got you, baby,” he pants, his voice wrecked. “You feel so fucking good- so tight, so perfect. You gonna cum for me?”

You nod frantically, the tension inside you about to snap. His hand slides from your belly down between your legs, fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing firm, tight circles that send shockwaves through you.

Your moan is almost a sob as the pleasure crashes into you, your body shaking as you cum hard around him. Your walls clench tight, dragging him deeper, and he groans, losing whatever fragile control he had left.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” he grits out, his rhythm growing erratic. His grip tightens on your belly again, his forehead pressing against your spine. “Gonna fill you up- fuck-”

You’re still trembling from your own orgasm when you feel him go rigid behind you, a deep groan ripping from his throat as he cums inside you, his thrusts slowing but still deep, still pushing every last bit of himself into you.

For a long moment, all you can hear is the sound of your mingled breaths, heavy and uneven. Chris collapses against your back, wrapping his arms around you, his hands still possessive on your stomach.

He lingers inside you for a moment longer before he finally pulls out, groaning softly at the loss of warmth. He presses a lingering kiss between your shoulder blades before sliding off the bed, heading to the bathroom. You hear the water run, and moments later, he’s back with a warm washcloth.

“Let me clean you up, mama,” he murmurs, his voice still thick with exhaustion and satisfaction.

You sigh as he gently wipes between your legs, being careful with every touch. His hands are slow and methodical, taking care of you like he always does. When he’s done, he tosses the washcloth into the laundry bin, then climbs back into bed, pulling you into his arms.

You melt into his embrace, your back pressed against his chest, his hands instinctively finding your belly again. He rubs slow circles over your skin, his lips pressing lazy kisses to the back of your neck.

Just as you’re about to drift off, his voice cuts through the quiet.

“Baby,” he says, his tone laced with something mischievous.

You hum sleepily, too comfortable to open your eyes. “Hmm?”

“We’re gonna have to record a movie or some shit with you pregnant,” he says, his breath warm against your ear. “It turns me on way more than it should.”

Your eyes snap open as you twist to look at him. “What?”

He grins, completely unapologetic. “I’m serious. You obviously can’t be pregnant all the time… unless I get you pregnant again right after the first baby is out.” He smirks, his hand splaying possessively over your belly. “How do you feel about Irish twins?”

You stare at him, half amused, half horrified. “Chris.”

“What?” he chuckles, nuzzling into your neck. “I mean, just think about it…. another baby, back to back? You’d look so fucking good carrying my baby again.”

You swat at his arm. “Let me get through this pregnancy first before you start planning the next one.”

He laughs, squeezing you tighter. “Alright, alright. But just so you know, I’m putting the idea out there.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “You’re insane.”

“And you love me,” he counters, kissing your shoulder.

You sigh dramatically. “Unfortunately.”

Chris just chuckles, pulling you even closer. “Get some sleep, baby. We’ll revisit this conversation later.”

You shake your head but don’t argue, letting yourself drift off in his arms, knowing full well he’s absolutely going to bring it up again.

MONTH 8

Your families throw you the most beautiful baby shower. Chris spends most of the day looking at baby items like he’s in awe that they’re for his child.

He’s also officially in full-on dad mode. He refuses to let you lift anything, scolds you for overexerting yourself, and installs the car seat a month early.

One night, you find him sitting in the nursery, staring at the crib.

“Chris?” you whisper, stepping inside.

He looks up, a soft smile on his face. “I just can’t believe we’re gonna have our baby sleeping in here soon.”

You walk over, taking his hand and resting it on your belly. “Me neither.”

MONTH 9

Everything is ready. The nursery is done, the hospital bag is packed, and Chris is on edge 24/7.

Every time you shift in bed, he bolts upright. “Are we going? Is it happening?”

“No, Chris. I just have to pee.”

He starts leaving work early, checking on you constantly. One day, he comes home with even more baby clothes, a yoga ball, and a brand-new breast pump.

“Chris,” you laugh. “We already have everything!”

“I just… wanna be prepared,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

One night, as he’s helping you into bed, he kneels down, pressing his lips to your belly.

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs, voice full of love. “We’re ready for you whenever you are.”

And just like that, the final stretch begins. Any day now, your baby will be here.

MONTH 9, WEEK 1

Lying in bed, your body aching from the sheer weight of pregnancy, you shift slightly, trying to find some comfortable position. Chris, ever in tune with you, adjusts immediately, tucking himself behind you and rubbing slow, soothing circles on your belly.

“We need to talk names,” you murmur sleepily, your head resting against his chest.

Chris hums, his fingers trailing absentmindedly over your bump. “Yeah, we do. We can’t just keep calling them ‘baby’ forever.”

You smile, but then a thought strikes you. “Okay, hear me out- if it’s a boy, I still wanna name him Owen.”

Chris stills for a moment before tilting his head down to look at you. “Still?”

You nod, suddenly nervous. “Yeah. I just… I love the name, and I thought it’d be a sweet way to honor you.”

Chris is quiet, but then his lips press against the side of your head. “You know what, I love it,” he whispers.

Relief floods you, and you nuzzle closer. “For the middle name… I was thinking maybe after my dad or my brother?”

Chris grins. “Perfect. We’ll decide when we meet him.”

You nod before shifting again. “And if it’s a girl?”

Chris chuckles. “Do you remember what my pick was?”

“Aria?” you question, remembering what he had said months and months ago.

Chris exhales, and you swear you feel his heart pick up. “Yes. Aria,” he repeats, like he’s letting it settle. “Do you like it?”

“I love it, baby. And for the middle name,” you continue, tilting your head to look at him, “I was thinking… Lou.”

Chris’s breath hitches. “After my mom?”

You nod, watching as his face softens into something unbearably tender.

“I love you so much,” he whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Aria Lou… that’s perfect.”

And just like that, your baby- Owen or Aria- finally has a name.

MONTH 9, WEEK 2

The first time you feel contractions, they hit out of nowhere. Your stomach tightens, and a dull ache spreads through your back, making you pause mid-step in the kitchen.

Chris notices instantly. “What? What’s wrong?”

You grip the counter, wincing. “I think… I think I’m having contractions.”

Chris immediately launches into action. “Okay! Okay, let’s go- hospital, now!” He grabs the pre-packed hospital bag, his keys, his phone, his soul practically leaving his body as he rushes to the door.

You exhale through the pain, holding up a hand. “Chris. Chris! It’s fine. They’re just Braxton Hicks contractions.”

Chris blinks, still frozen mid-panic. “The fuck is a Braxton Hicks?”

You sigh, rubbing your belly. “False contractions. My body’s just practicing.”

Chris stares at you like you just betrayed him. “Practicing?! Baby, I was ready to sprint down the hall and flag an ambulance!”

For the rest of the week, every single time you shift uncomfortably, Chris is on guard. If you so much as groan while rolling over in bed, he’s wide awake, scrambling for his phone.

You sigh. “Chris. I just have to pee.”

He squints. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

You’re not sure how he’s gonna survive the real thing.

MONTH 9, WEEK 3

By now, the baby is almost a month overdue and you want nothing more than to push it out. God must’ve heard your prayers because you wake up to an intense pressure in your lower belly, a sharp pain that pulls you out of sleep with a gasp. For a moment, you think it’s just more Braxton Hicks contractions- until you feel it.

A rush of warmth liquid. A pop.

Your eyes go wide as realization slams into you.

“Chris.”

Chris, who had been sleeping like a dead man, groggily lifts his head. “Mmm?”

You slap his chest. “Chris, my water just broke.”

It takes him exactly three seconds to process that before he shoots upright, fully awake.

“OH, SHIT.”

“CHRIS, GET THE FUCKING BAG!”

Chris dives out of bed, scrambling for the hospital bag while simultaneously pulling on his jeans and trying to call everyone at once. “Okay, okay- uh, shit, okay- baby’s on the way, holy fuck!”

“Chris, breathe!” you hiss, gripping the bed as another contraction rolls through. “Just get me to the-”

And then you glance outside.

It’s snowing.

Not just a light dusting- a full-on blizzard.

Chris follows your gaze, his face draining of color. “No. No, no, NO- Fuck. Okay, hold on.”

He rushes to the window. Your car is buried under the snow, the driveway completely covered.

“Oh no….”

“DON’T WORRY! I GOT IT!”

And for the first time in your life, you see Chris move with the efficiency of a goddamn Olympic athlete.

He grabs his coat, shoves his feet into boots, and runs outside with nothing but a shovel and pure desperation.

You’re standing in the doorway, gripping the frame through another contraction, watching him shovel like his life depends on it.

“CAREFUL, CHRIS!”

“I’M BEING CAREFUL, BABY!” He yells as his left boot slips on ice and he almost takes a tooth out on the frozen pavement.

After what feels like forever, he finally clears enough space to get the car out. Panting, sweating, frost forming on his damn eyelashes, he runs back inside, scooping you up like a firefighter.

“Okay- okay, we’re going, baby, let’s go.”

He gets you into the car, throws the bag in the back, and peels out onto the snowy road, one hand on the wheel, the other gripping yours tightly.

Between contractions, you hear him frantically calling his parents, your parents, anyone will who pick up. “Baby’s on the way! We’re coming- SHIT, THESE ROADS ARE ICY- but we’re coming!*”

“Chris, focus on driving!”

“I CAN MULTITASK!”

But through the excitement, the panic, the snowstorm- Chris still finds a second to glance over at you, his free hand tightening around yours.

“We’re about to meet our baby, baby.”

And despite the pain, the stress, the absolute shitshow of this entire night- you smile.

Chris has the gas pedal pressed way too hard, white-knuckling the steering wheel as he simultaneously calls every single family member he can think of.

“Mom! We’re on the way- baby’s coming NOW. I don’t care about the storm, just- just get to the hospital!”

You groan through another contraction, gripping your belly, your nails digging into the seat. “Chris, shut the fuck up and focus on DRIVING!”

He immediately hangs up on his mom and dials someone else. “Dad! Baby’s coming- YES, RIGHT NOW- NO, I DON’T KNOW HOW LONG LABOR TAKES, JUST GET THERE!”

“Chris,” you grind out, trying to breathe through the insane pain in your abdomen. “If you call one more person, I swear to God-”

“Hold on, babe- Nick’s calling.”

“CHRIS!”

“OKAY, OKAY, I’M FOCUSING!”

Chris barely slows the car as he swerves into the hospital entrance. He parks right outside the ER doors, throws it into park, and launches himself out.

“Hang tight, baby, I got you!”

You let out a pained groan as another contraction tears through you, doubling over in your seat. Chris yanks the hospital bag from the back, sprints to your side, and immediately pulls open the passenger door.

“Come on, come on, we gotta go- ” He tries helping you out, but you’re moving too slow for his patience. His head whips around and locks onto the valet guy standing nearby.

“TAKE THE KEYS!” Chris chucks them at him before turning back to you.

“Chris,” you grit out, “I need a second-”

“NOPE, NO TIME, HOLD ON-”

Before you can argue, he sprints inside and grabs a wheelchair.

And when you say grabs a wheelchair, you mean full-speed, NFL linebacker, dodging obstacles, yanks one from the hallway and sprints back.

“Okay, baby, up you go- ” He lifts you carefully, places you into the chair, grabs the bag, and immediately pushes you through the sliding doors, moving like a man possessed.

“WE’RE HAVING A BABY!” he yells to the entire hospital lobby. “WHO CAN HELP DELIVER IT?”

A nurse rushes over, calm and professional. “Sir, please lower your voice-”

You groan, grabbing onto the wheelchair handles, “Shut the FUCK up, Chris!”

The nurse blinks, unimpressed. “Yeah, you heard her. Follow me.”

You’re wheeled into a triage room, and Chris hovers like a nervous wreck as the nurses work quickly around you.

“How far along are you?” a nurse asks, helping you onto the hospital bed.

“Nine months and three weeks.” Chris answers way too fast. “She’s been having contractions for…how long, baby?”

You glare at him through the pain. “CHRIS, I DON’T KNOW, I’M IN AGONY.”

“Okay, okay, right, sorry-”

A doctor comes in, pulling on gloves. “Let’s check how dailated you are.”

Chris freezes. “Wait, check what?”

The nurse gives him a look. “Sir, if you’re gonna faint, step outside.”

“I’M NOT GONNA FAINT,” Chris yells, then immediately looks pale when the doctor starts checking your cervix.

“She’s already seven centimeters,” the doctor announces.

Chris’s eyes widen. “Wait, so that’s close, right? Baby’s coming soon?!”

“Labor can still take time,” the nurse says calmly, way too used to panicked fathers. “Let’s get her into a delivery room.”

Once you’re settled into the delivery room, Chris refuses to sit down. He stands beside you, gripping your hand way too tight, bouncing on his feet like a fighter waiting to enter the ring.

“Okay, baby, just breathe. Remember the breathing exercises? In through your nose, out through your-”

“I swear to fucking GOD, Chris, if you tell me to breathe ONE MORE TIME-”

“Okay, yep, shutting up- ”

The contractions are getting worse. Chris watches helplessly, his eyes flicking between you and the monitor tracking each one.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “How are you this strong?”

“Because I have no choice,” you snap, panting through another contraction. “Because you put a baby inside me, Christopher.”

Chris gulps, squeezing your hand. “You’re doing amazing, baby. I love you so much-”

You barely register the doctor’s next words.

“You’re at nine centimeters- almost time to push.”

Chris blanches. “WHAT? ALREADY?”

“You ready to meet your baby?” the nurse asks, beaming.

Chris nods rapidly. “Oh, hell yeah, let’s go, let’s do this-”

The doctor smirks. “Dad, maybe sit down before you pass out?”

“I’M FINE!”

You glare at him. “Chris, SIT THE FUCK DOWN.”

And for once, Chris actually listens and sits down in the chair next to your bed.

And then It’s time.

Chris stands up again, gripping your hand both excited and terrified, his forehead pressed to yours as the doctor counts down.

“Push, baby, you got this- Oh my God, I can see the head- holy fuck- ”

You’re exhausted, screaming through the pain, every fiber of your being focused on getting your baby into the world.

And then-

A cry.

A loud, beautiful baby’s cry.

Chris chokes on a sob as the doctor lifts your baby up.

“Congratulations! You have a-”

But Chris isn’t even listening. He’s already crying, already pressing kisses to your damp forehead, whispering “I love you, I love you, I love you so much, baby, you did it-”

And then, they place your baby in your arms.

Tiny. Perfect. Yours.

Chris stares at them, absolutely wrecked with emotion, whispering, “Hi, baby,” his fingers brushing over their tiny hands.

“It’s a girl,” the nurse says softly. “6 pounds and 7 ounces. Perfectly healthy.”

Chris lets out a breathless laugh. “I knew it.”

Tears spill from your eyes. “Aria Lou,” you whisper, and Chris breaks, pressing his face into your shoulder.

“She’s perfect,” he chokes out. “You’re perfect.”

Chris holds out his arms the second the nurse gives the okay, gently lifting Aria from your chest. The moment she’s in his arms, his entire face crumbles. His hands tremble slightly as he cradles her tiny body against his chest, his thumb brushing over her impossibly small fingers.

A shaky breath leaves him as he leans down, pressing the softest kiss to her forehead. His voice is barely a whisper, full of so much love it physically aches.

“Hello, my baby girl. My beautiful, beautiful baby girl.”

Tears slip down his cheeks as he stares at her like she’s his whole world. Because she is.

SIX HOURS LATER

The hospital room is quiet now, the energy finally settling after a whirlwind of family visits. Both of your parents, Chris’s parents, his brothers, your brother- everyone had come rushing in, crying, hugging, taking turns holding Aria.

Mary Lou had sobbed the second she heard the name. “You named her after me? Oh, honey…” She hugged you so tightly you thought you’d burst into tears again.

But now, the room is peaceful.

Chris is sitting up in bed beside you, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you cradle Aria against your chest. The hospital room lights are dim, and for the first time all day, it feels like time has slowed.

“She has your eyes,” you murmur, staring down at her delicate face. “Your beautiful light blue eyes.”

Chris hums, his hand trailing up and down your arm. “Yeah… but she has your lips. And your nose.” He leans down, tilting his head to study her. “And your little chin. And your cheeks.”

You laugh sleepily, pressing a kiss to Aria’s soft hair. “She’s perfect.”

Chris sighs, completely in awe. “Yeah, she really is.”

An hour later and you’ve fallen asleep, exhaustion finally pulling you under, but Chris stays awake. He sits there, just watching you breathe, his heart swelling at the sight of you curled up beside him, completely worn out from giving birth to the most precious thing in the world.

Carefully, he lifts Aria from your arms, cradling her to his chest. She’s so tiny, so fragile, her breaths warm against his skin.

Slowly, he stands, rocking her gently as he walks back and forth across the room. His fingers ghost over her little ones, his lips brushing against the top of her head.

And then, in the softest, most reverent whisper, he murmurs:

“I’m gonna love you forever now.”

And with that, his whole world is complete.

a/n: dad!chris is literally my favorite thing EVER😭😭😭

tags: @mattsobvimyfav @bernardsbendystraws @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt @sturniolohohoho @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @matthewsturnsgf @aaa-mi @bigbeefybitch @hopelesslydevotedsstuff @wastelandzella @yourmother29 @whore4-chrissturniolo @idefinitelyhateu @madisonnxtdoor22 @user1smvtysturniolo @briisturniolo @sturniololuvz @hesvoid34 @butterflytsblog @mommymomm @mattsbunnyxx @blushsturns @i8kth @annalisesturnioloxo @kenziesturniolo54 @ribread03 @sturnl0ve @grace-sturniolo12 @sophsturns @mattsturnfx @lilyloveschris @milo-the-dog @riggysworld @scrumptiouskoalabasement @tenaciousearthquakeperson @sturnlovematt22 @seros-girl @sofsturnz689 @sturniololuvz @eeyoresturnz

[plaidcowboy]

taking care of 𓂃 rafe cameron while he’s spiraling

⟳⠀ a little inebriated rafe ⟳⠀after an argument with ward

⊹ you blinked into the open space of your room, slowly collecting your coherence as you listened to the voice over the phone. it took a second to realize you were hearing rafe mumbling, not sounding like himself. you quickly jolted up in bed at his quiet, but frantic words.

“i just don’t get why everything i do goes unnoticed.. unappreciated. i saved him. she didn’t do anything but run off and betray us. i got the cross. i killed that sheriff for him. me, rafe.. i don’t understand what happened with us..”

it broke your heart to hear his voice crack. you nursed your phone against your cheek, letting him get everything out. where was he? did his words sound partially slurred or was that your still half asleep mind? but you were so glad he called you in a moment this vulnerable. after months of being with rafe, he had a habit of keeping his feelings in and not letting you into his mind. despite this, you constantly told him you were always there if he needed an outlet.

you heard a dry chuckle across the line. “he even tried to blame you. my precious girl.. does he know how much i didn’t know i needed you? he can’t even begin to understand the love we share. he doesn’t have someone to take care of him like you do with me. he crossed the line when he mentioned you.. i just lost it..”

you placed a hand over your mouth, letting his words and current state settle in. you couldn’t let yourself get focused on ward’s thoughts of you. you knew he wasn’t a good man. you knew he didn’t deserve rafe’s respect. after months of knowing this, and knowing the fights he and rafe got into, never was it like this. this truly was breaking you.

you softly sniffled, not realizing you were getting worked up. “it’s okay, baby. it’s okay to let out that frustration. i’m so proud of you for letting yourself feel it. i’m even prouder you called me. that’s so good, rafe.”

you heard him breathing over the line, not speaking for a second. you took this opportunity to find out his whereabouts.

“um.. do you know where you are right now? can you see any signs?” you got up, walking to your closet to throw on a jacket and slip on a pair of shoes, waiting for him to answer.

it was another second of silence before he responded quietly, prompting you to listen closer. “i needed to hear your voice. i know you told me you’d be an outlet, but i didn’t think i’d have to use that outlet, but i needed it..”

you paused after grabbing your keys, listening intently, clinging on to his every word.

“..i needed to hear you. that makes everything better. i can’t see you right now, and i can’t let you see me, but i needed to feel you somehow.”

you slightly panicked at rafe telling you, you couldn’t see him. “rafe, i already see you even if i physically can’t. but i would really like to see you. do you think you could tell me where you are, handsome?” you didn’t let your voice portray your desperation too much. you didn’t want to let him know he was worrying you. then, he really wouldn’t let you go near him. not if he knew he was making you scared.

you could hear chatter grow louder around him as he answered. “i..” he pushed out a heavy sigh. “..i’m not disappointing you, am i? because i.. i won’t tell you if you’re disappointed in me right now. i’ll fix it.. i’ll fix myself and give you time to think.. i can’t have you upset with me..” he voice broke off softly at the end.

you were out of your room and outside, heading towards your car as he finished his sentence. “rafe, i think it’s impossible for me to feel anything diminishing about you. that feeling doesn’t exist inside of me. there is nothing, rafe, you could do or say that would make me view you differently from the caring and gentle hearted man you are.”

you were pressing on the gas, making your way toward where you knew rafe was without him having to say it.

this time it was him that sniffled, and you couldn’t grip the wheel tighter at the sound. he affirmed your thought of his location after a beat of still silence from his side.

“this might be impossible for rafe cameron, but can you please stay still?” you softly chuckled, attempting to lighten the tone, panic easing from you now that you were making your towards him.

“yeah, i’ll try” was his muttered response.

you were pulling up to the restaurant a few minutes later, rushing out of your car and looking around for rafe.

it wasn’t long before you spotted him outside at a high rise table, his head hanging slighty over his arms that were pressed atop of the table. standing tall, and standing oddly still. doubt didn’t dawn on you that rafe would listen, but him literally holding himself still was something you weren’t expecting. you softly shook your head, walking up to him.

he saw you from his peripheral, but sensed you before he actually knew you were approaching. turning his head, his expression couldn’t seem to turn softer and his posture more relaxed.

his face started to crumble, and you quickly reached around him to pull him into a hug, tugging his head down to rest on your shoulder.

you couldn’t feel the clawing and gripping of his hands as he tried to hold you inhumanly closer. only relief that he was in your arms now, and not afar over the phone.

“i’m sorry..” he softly uttered into your top. “..i’m sorry you have to see me like this.. but it’s messed up that i don’t care. i needed to feel you, to touch you, even if it meant you seeing me this way..”

you dug your face into his side, willing your eyes to not produce the tears you felt coming on.

“i can’t.. i won’t let go. you’re gonna leave if i let go, and you can’t leave me. you can’t..”

he spoke so softly you knew it was a thought that he didn’t mean to say out loud.

you reared back, pulling up his head to face you. the sorrow in his eyes felt like the last tug at your heart to finally pull it from its strings.

“i’m never letting go, so you can’t.”

rafe’s arms came down, his hands both cupping over one of your hands. you took it as the sign rafe was ready to leave. was ready to only be near you.

you turned, walking back towards your car, feeling his hands tighten. you went to open the passenger side for rafe when he pulled you back, halting you.

you turned towards him to ask what was wrong when he pulled the back door open instead. he nodded his head into the opening, gesturing for you to climb in first. you did so, not once letting his hands slip from your one. rafe was right behind you, closing the door behind him.

you laid your legs out, letting him settle between them and rest himself against you. he was holding you up to your promise of never letting him go.

you wrapped your arms around him, listening to his breathing. he had done so much talking, it was time for you to return it.

“you’re perfect to me. for me. if no one else can see your worth, they’re not worth your time, rafe. there’s nothing for you to be sorry for. i am so, so glad you called me. it doesn’t hurt seeing you like this as much as it would hurt to know you were going through this alone. there’s nowhere i would rather be than right here with you.”

rafe settled closer into you, always needing to be so close to you it seemed as if you shared the same skin.

“i don’t need anyone but you. i only need you seeing me and really knowing me.. can you just hold me for right now? please.”

as if you would ever deny him. “of course. whatever you need.”

it was a second before you heard him mutter something, not aware he was responding to what you said.

“just you.”

ϧ𝑒ׅ ࣪

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

bath. l Joel Miller

Summary: Joel is immobilized and giving you a hard time

Warnings:  nothing much, some intimacy, shared bath, Ellie wants to get rid of Joel, boring conversations

A/N: it's something before something, so it's boring. it doesn't contribute much. if you want to support my tired mind, feel free to . kisses

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

A broken collarbone wasn't what Joel expected. When the doctor at the clinic in Jackson, where you took him the next day, told him that he would be immobilized for a few weeks, Joel just sighed heavily. He was put in a sling and told to take care of himself so that the bone would heal properly. 

It was humiliating.

Even when you left the clinic together and you took his left hand in yours, he didn't feel any better.

"I'm useless now." he mumbled, watching you choose apples and vegetables for dinner.

"Not at all." you replied calmly. "You'll just rest now. See how good it will do you."

Where did you get that optimistic belief? Joel had no idea. He was glad that your argument hadn't affected your relationship, because his head was telling him all the tragic scenarios, but now he was dependent on others for help. And worst of all, he couldn't help you,

You were the one who brought the box of food home. And then you hung the laundry out in the warm spring sun. You made dinner, and Joel...

"Can you take him somewhere?" Ellie rushed into the kitchen for the third day, a blush covering her cheeks. "He's unbearable!"

"Please, have mercy on him." you sighed. "This is the first time since..."

"He just came asking if I did my homework!" Ellie rolled her eyes and raised her hands in despair. "I'm not eight! Can we abandon him somewhere? In the forest, for example?"

You looked at her with amusement. "Of course not! But this is new to him. You know he doesn't go on patrol now, that he can't do much in the stables either."

"So you're sacrificing me?"

"Hey! I can't drag him around with me forever, he's an adult."

Ellie folded her arms across her chest and looked at you with satisfaction. "Maybe he's getting on your nerves too, huh?"

"That's not... That's not true!"

But sometimes it was like that. Joel was looking for something to do, something he could do with one hand. When he tried to help you with the laundry, it took longer than usual. Things weren't going his way at the stables either and when you went to visit him there, you saw how furious he was. Even Tommy washed his hands and didn't want to come near him.

"Fine." you finally sighed "I'll take care of him. He won't follow you around anymore."

The girl's face lit up. "I'm sure you'll have a great time!"

You didn't know if she was joking or serious.

You found Joel in the bedroom where he had been struggling with his shirt for a few minutes. He was already irritated enough and when you stood in front of him to help unbutton it, he only mumbled something incomprehensible.

"Don't pout like that." you said, smiling "That won't help you."

"Ellie already complained about me?" you nodded "I just wanted to..."

"I know, and she knows it too. Don't think about it now." You carefully took off his shirt, noticing how he winced when you helped him free his arm. "I'll draw you a bath."

"I can do it myself."

"Let me take care of you, Joel." you murmured, kissing his pouty lips.

This was amazing. A completely different level of sensation and pleasure. The bathroom was filled with steam and the pleasant scent of lavender. He could feel your body behind him, your legs were on his sides, and his back was resting on your chest. Joel closed his eyes in pleasure. You slowly washed his hair, massaging his scalp carefully. This made him turn into a purring mess, which he clearly liked.

"When was the last time someone really took care of you, huh?" you chuckled as a soft growl escaped his chest.

"I can't remember. You take care of me, don't you?"

"As much as you let me. Close your eyes." you poured a cup of warm water over his hair to rinse off the shampoo. "You should use this time, rest, get some sleep..."

His hand slid up your calf. "I feel useless." he mumbled. "Like I'm a fucking cripple or something."

"Nobody thinks of you like that." you wrapped your arms around him and kissed his temple. "Sometimes you're just a pain in the ass. Joel!" he squeezed your calf harder and you jumped. "Stop it, or I'll forget you're hurt!"

You both fell silent for a moment, soaking up this intimate time. These were special moments, you wanted to have them just for yourselves, because they made you feel that what you felt, that you were - was real. Only his voice, quiet but deep, tore you from your reverie.

"Do you remember the first time you hugged me?"

"Yes, I remember."

"I would never have dared to dream of being with you like I am now... I was convinced that I would lose you. It scared me. I didn't remember what it was like to have someone so close. I was sure that when you saw what I was like, you would run away."

You ran your fingers through his wet hair. You remembered exactly how tense Joel was then. You were sure that he would push you away, but he didn't. He just patted you awkwardly on the back as if he wasn't sure if he was doing it right. 

"I was scared too..." you said quietly, glad that Joel couldn't see your face. "I haven't done this in a long time... And you were... Yourself. I saw how you were to Ellie, but I was a stranger to you."

His hand found yours, he brought it to his lips and kissed it. "You were the best thing that happened to us, really. And certainly to me. But... You never told me."

"About what?"

"How did you even end up there? You said you were with a group, then you were left alone, but nothing more."

He felt it immediately. Your body tensed, you took a deep breath.

"This isn't a good time, you know. It's not even important."

"But-"

"We should get out, you know. I'll make dinner, you must be hungry."

Joel didn't protest. You could see the consternation on his face, questions swirling in his eyes, but he didn't want to push you. That was wonderful about him, he didn't push, he just waited until someone was ready to talk. 

It was the second time he asked you about it, and you dodged it again. Joel understood that no one wanted to talk about difficult and painful things, but he had a strange feeling that nothing good had happened to you. And that broke his heart.

"Tommy asked me today if I would go on the next patrol with Sam and Anthony." You said as you both sat down on the couch after dinner, and you reached for the book you were currently reading together.

"I was supposed to go with them." Joel noticed.

"I know, but I thought... After that last trip for supplies, I didn't go anywhere further than the beaten patrol paths. It could be fun."

Joel didn't think it would "be fun," but he knew that you cared about feeling active and important again. He talked to Shane, he knew that your joint patrols were peaceful, but there Walsh kept an eye on you. And now?

"If that's what you want." He finally said and saw the smile on your face. "Just be careful."

"I always am." You opened the book and glanced at the next chapter. "Alright, let's get back to our Bennet sisters. I really liked them."

Your calm voice soon filled the living room, but it didn't reach Joel's mind at all. He was still considering your words, strange fears starting to churn under his skin. 

If it weren't for that damned arm...

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again

[lucygraysboy]

“my ma had once attempted to teach me when i was little, but i was too rambunctious to be able to focus on knitting for more than fifteen minutes. promise i’m a lot more patient now,” the cowboy laughs, pale blue eyes taking in the look on lucy gray’s face, hypnotized. these doe-like hues will be the death of him. all the kindness that’s buried deep inside her chest seems to be shining right through, making him feel so mushy and warm on the inside. she truly deserves the world, and he’ll do everything in his power to give it to her. “speakin’ of songs… was you singin’ a song when i first saw you? i was so exhausted and dehydrated, it’s all so blurry now but i thought i was at the gates of heaven and an angel was welcomin’ me with a song. what were you singin’ ‘bout?” he wonders out loud, just now reminded of the moment he first laid eyes on her. he was so out of it, and now he can barely tell what really happened and what’s only a figment of his imagination. “thanks for thinkin’ so. i didn’t want ‘im to be no outlaw. i wanted ‘im to have an honest job an’ a good life.” but now that joe’s gone, billy can’t help but wonder if maybe he was a little too hard on the boy, expected too much of him. “always. well, except for the time i went and beat up her husband ‘cause he kept makin’ her cry, bringin’ no money home, stealin’ hers… spendin’ it all in brothels and saloons. she told me to leave ‘im be, but i couldn’t.” his pride and honor and the love he had for her wouldn’t let him. 

“yeah? good ‘cause i would never.” boss her around. he thinks that’s how it should be — men should listen to women more often, they’d benefit from that. “i’m mr. sugar bucket sweet potato, and you’re miss birdie boo little carrot,” he laughs, not caring the names make little to no sense. it’s the thought and affection that counts. “i mean, i kind of understand. if i was a goat, i wouldn’t let no strange cowboy near my udders either. i’d kick ‘im in the head.” expression softening as she touches his cheek, his heart melting into a puddle, making it difficult for him to focus on anything but the way her hand feels so nice and somehow soothes the sunburn on his skin. “i’m hungry, too. it’s ‘cause of that lake. water always makes you hungry, is what i’ve noticed.” he follows her back outside, where the last rays of the setting sun have painted the porch a warm, golden hue. it’s a little more humid now, but the wind remains pleasant, lacking its bite. he lays the potatoes down on the table and takes a seat opposite to her, just so that he can admire her beautiful features in this light. if he only could paint, he’d paint her like this. “this is real nice. this table, i mean. beautiful carpentry.” he praises, but what he actually means is this, the two of them doing something so mundane together after a long, fun day, is nice. he wouldn’t mind spending every afternoon for the rest of his life doing this. “i don’t know if i’ve ever told you this, but i’m a very experienced potato-peeler. it was always my job to peel ‘em when i was little,” he brags with a smile, his hands, rough and calloused moving with practiced ease, as if peeling potatoes was as natural as roping a steer to him. 

"that's exactly why i was thinkin' it'd be good to teach you." he already read her mind, she was thinking it could be useful when he sets out on his own. a shy smile spills over kind visage at being called sweet, of course she remembered. and of course each time he says another sweet thing, it flushes her in a warm sensation of love. fills that void and all the hurt that being talked down to by the preacher that has carved a hole in her chest with, a little at each time. "course i think so. poem's are beautiful. poem's are a lot like songs... and i do love writin' songs." speaking fondly, smiling affectionately. "well, for some reason i think that's cute," lucy gray laughs, the part about bossing his brother around because he wanted to take good care of him. "and at least you listened to your mother." so safe to say, she finds that cute too. putting a cute grin on her face because it's adorable he was stubborn but still so respectful to his mama. "i'm just playin' with you, billy. i don't think you would." a gentle expression softens her features as she peers up at him, after handing him his armful of vegetables. "you're a sweet potato." since they're holding potatoes, small laugh emitting.

hand reaches up to gently pat his cheek, he's so cute, he's gotta stop being that cute in personality and his eyes are too big and pure for her heart to handle. "it's best i do that, anyway. she really is picky with that. she might really try to bite you if you grab on her udders." the brunette laughs, but genuinely feels bad for shamus for being scarred by men. "i'm hungry." amusingly replying, scooping out an armful of carrots next before shutting the lid back. "alright, let's go." grabbing a pan, she leads them back out of the house and off the porch and climbs onto the picnic table's seat before dumping her vegetables on the table top and sitting the pan down. she's got a knife sitting in the middle, she goes ahead and grabs that and starts cutting.

[downbad4sylus]

“Spare me, Doctor Buzzkill”

synopsis: While Sylus is away on a business deal, you miraculously get Zayne and Greyson to go on a night out with Tara, except you get very drunk and you miss your boyfriend a lot.

content: sylus x afab!reader; reader is MC; use of Y/N; established relationship; zayne/greyson/tara cameos; excessive drinking; mentions of throwing up; god-awful amount of fluff; mostly proofread

word count: ~2.4k

a/n: the people cast their votes and so here is the fluff fic requested by the masses~~ can you guys tell zayne is my second favorite or no? this is sort of? a continuation of the last fic where zayne and sylus first met (tagged anyone who replied or liked the poll from earlier this week)

You couldn’t believe you’d convinced Zayne to come out with you and your Hunter friends. Tara—who had accompanied you a handful of times to Akso Hospital for your check ups—had been flirting with Doctor Greyson at any opportunity she could. So you both hatched a plan to invite Greyson on a night out and, by some miracle, got Zayne not only to play along but to join you as well. He’d agreed that Greyson would be more comfortable going as long as he had a familiar face there with him.

And so here you all were, at a club many Hunters frequented, having the time of your lives.

Well, you and Tara were.

Zayne and Greyson, not ones for partying, mostly stayed at the bar nursing their (non-alcoholic) drinks. You and Tara managed to get them on the dance floor at one point, and once Tara and Greyson’s attentions were locked on each other, you and Zayne made a swift exit.

“Do you think Greyson will ask Tara out?” you asked Zayne as you ordered another drink. Admittedly you were a bit drunk, but you were having too much fun to quit now.

“I’m not sure,” Zayne replied. “He seems quite fond of her, though.”

You nodded your assent, too busy sipping from a straw to speak aloud.

“How many drinks have you had tonight?” Zayne asked.

“Don’t go all doctor on me right now,” you said. “I’m fine.”

He arched a brow. “I’m not sure your boyfriend will be pleased with me if I bring you home drunk out of your mind.”

You gaped at him. “Drunk out of my mind?” you repeated, incredulous. “That’s a little dramatic, Zayne. And besides, Skye is away on business right now anyway, so you’re safe.”

Talking about Sylus sent a pang of longing through your chest. He’d been away for three days already, handling a rather important business deal involving modified Protocores. He wasn’t supposed to come back for another two days, and you missed him terribly. It was probably why you were pounding drinks, insisting you were fine and not at all drunk. You wished he was here too, to have fun and enjoy the night with you and your friends.

“I feel like him being away means I’m far from safe,” Zayne grumbled. “I am your primary care physician, I’m responsible for making sure you remain healthy.”

You rolled your eyes at your primary care physician. “Spare me, Doctor Buzzkill.” You drained the rest of your drink and slapped the glass onto the bar. “I’m going to dance, you coming?”

Zayne shook his head. “Go on.”

Throwing him a little wave, you rejoined Tara and Greyson on the dance floor.

—

“I’m not drunk!” you yelled, your words blatantly slurred. “I’m not ready to go home yet.”

“Y/N, you can’t walk straight and your eyes are barely open,” Zayne admonished, tugging a stumbling you toward the exit.

Tara and Greyson trailed behind you, their hands grazing with every other step, bright pink blushes staining their cheeks. Too bad you were too drunk to notice the exciting progress they had made, but Tara would be sure to fill you in once you were sober.

“Mmm’not drunk,” you repeated so quietly no one even heard you.

You wished Sylus was here. You missed him so much. You missed his snowy hair, his striking red eyes. The slope of his nose and the curve of his lips. The way those lips felt on yours, on your bare skin.

“Zayne I’m really hot,” you declared.

Zayne turned and placed the back of his cool hand on your forehead. “You feel a little warm but nothing to be concerned with. Would you feel better if I carried you on my back?”

You nodded, your bottom lip sticking out as you pouted.

Zayne smiled softly at the sight before turning again and dropping into a crouch. You clambered onto his back, Greyson and Tara needing to rush forward to steady you when it looked like you were going to fall off. With your arms securely around Zayne’s neck (to the point where you were almost choking him) he straightened with ease.

Greyson looked at Tara. “Were you going to call a taxi because I can drive you home, you know, if you wanted.”

Tara’s face lit up. “Are you sure?” she asked. “You didn’t drink too much?”

Greyson chuckled. “Doctor Zayne and I didn’t actually have any alcohol, I’m perfectly sober.”

“Okay!” Tara agreed excitedly.

Greyson smiled. “My car is at the hospital, but it’s not that far of a walk.”

“I don’t mind,” Tara said. “It’s a nice night out.”

“Zayne,” you whispered in his ear. “Zayne, do you—hic—think Greyson will ask her out tonight?”

Zayne chuckled. “It’s possible.”

“How are we getting home?” you asked.

“Your apartment isn’t far, I’ll take you there then grab a taxi back to my place,” he explained.

“Mmmkay.”

“Looks like we’ll be going our separate ways then,” Greyson declared.

You perked up and began waving excessively. “Goodbye Doctor Greyson! Bye Tara! Call me tomorrow!”

They both laughed at your obvious drunken state and offered their goodbyes before heading off in the opposite direction.

Zayne started the walk to your apartment, adjusting you on his back.

Your thoughts returned to your boyfriend.

“Zayne,” you mumbled. “I miss Sylus.”

His steps faltered. “Who?”

You huffed, not realizing the mistake you made in not using Sylus’s alias. “I said I miss Sylus, you know, my—hic—my boyfriend. I don’t like it when he leaves for his stupid business trips.”

Still slightly confused, Zayne said, “Why don’t you call him?”

“Call him?” you echoed. “Oh! You’re right! I can call him.” You started tapping Zayne’s cheek. “Let me down, let me down.”

Zayne carefully lowered you to your feet, keeping a hand hovering close by in case you started to sway. You pulled out your phone from your pocket, but no matter how many times you pressed the power button, it never turned on.

Tears pooled in your eyes as you stared at the black screen. “It’s dead,” you mumbled. “I’ll never talk to Sylus again!”

Zayne swallowed a laugh. “When we get to your apartment, you can plug your phone in and call him once it’s charged.”

Your tear-filled eyes looked up at Zayne. “Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

—

You threw up once, in a random bush, on your way to your apartment. You almost threw up all over Zayne, whose back you had climbed onto once more, but managed to get him to put you down in time to avoid covering him in vomit.

You walk-stumbled the rest of the way, just in case you had to throw up again.

When you reached your apartment door, it took you three tries to remember the code to unlock it, despite needing only your fingerprint.

The second you walked through the door, another sudden wave of nausea hit you. You bolted for the bathroom, leaving a concerned Zayne in the entryway.

After closing and locking the door, Zayne made his way to the bathroom and found you hunched over the toilet, puking your guts up. He held your hair and rubbed your back as you retched.

“I told you you had too much to drink,” he teased.

“Shut up!” you cried.

You gagged and spit a few more times before collapsing onto the floor. Zayne carefully observed your condition—clammy and pale—and rose to his feet.

“Stay there, I’m going to get you some water,” he said.

You nodded, having zero intention of getting up anytime soon.

Zayne hurried to the kitchen. He had to search through a few cabinets before finding your glasses, then went to the water dispenser in your fridge. As he waited for the glass to fill, he heard a noise from the entryway, like someone was trying to unlock the door.

He moved quickly, depositing the half full glass on the counter and going to the entryway. He didn’t know who had the code to your apartment but he certainly didn’t think you were expecting visitors, especially when your phone had been dead this whole time.

Zayne decided it was best to catch whoever was trying to come in off guard. He grabbed the handle and yanked the door open.

“Doctor Zayne, what a pleasant surprise. Did you help my drunk girlfriend home?”

Skye—no, Sylus? Whatever his name was, stood on the other side of the door, giving Zayne an assessing once over.

Sylus and Zayne—in the little time they had spent together since Sylus became your boyfriend—had gained an unspoken, mutual respect for each other. They both acknowledged the importance of the other in your life, and as long as you were happy and taken care of, that was all that mattered.

So Sylus wasn’t upset that the doctor was currently in your apartment when he was supposed to be away on business. In fact, he was rather relieved that you had someone looking after you while he wasn’t there, especially when you were drunk. But he was here now, and he fully planned on assuming the role of your caretaker.

“Skye, I thought you were on a business trip,” said Zayne, stepping aside for the snowy-haired man. He wasn’t going to ask about the name thing, he honestly didn’t want to know.

Sylus held up his phone, the screen open on a myriad of texts you had drunkenly sent him throughout the night. “How could I not come home early when Y/N was practically begging me to?”

Zayne snorted. “Her phone died by the time we left the club, she was very upset she couldn’t call you.”

Sylus huffed, taking off his shoes. “Poor thing. Where is she—”

“Sy?”

Both men’s heads snapped up to where you stood in the living room, disheveled as all hell. But to Sylus (and Zayne) you were still the most beautiful treasure he’d ever laid his eyes on.

“Hi sweetie,” he drawled. “Miss me?”

You cried out a strangled laugh and ran for him, launching yourself into his waiting arms so hard he nearly fell backward.

“I missed you,” you whispered in his ear, relishing in the way his warmth enveloped you.

“Oh I know, you made that abundantly clear,” he teased.

You drew back, your brow furrowed. “When?”

Sylus raised a brow. “Just how drunk are you?”

“Very,” answered Zayne.

You pouted, craning your neck to look at your doctor. “I feel better now.”

“Because you threw up everything you drank,” said Zayne. He looked at Sylus. “She needs water to rehydrate, but don’t let her chug it. Slow sips only. Have her take some painkillers before bed so she doesn’t end up waking up with as bad of a hangover and don’t let her sleep on her back. If she still isn’t feeling well tomorrow, give me a call and I’ll bring over some medicine. I trust you can take over from here?”

Sylus nodded. “Thank you for taking care of her for me.”

Zayne smiled slightly. “Of course, I’m her primary care physician after all.”

You shoved your face into Sylus’s neck. “He’s Doctor Buzzkill,” you muttered into his skin.

Sylus barked a laugh. “Okay, kitten,” he said, patting your back, “let’s go get you cleaned up, yeah?”

Sylus and Zayne exchanged a curt nod as Sylus finally walked out of the entryway. You waved weakly at your doctor over Sylus’s shoulder as he carried you to the bathroom.

“Don’t forget to charge your phone,” Zayne said by way of goodbye.

“I’m so glad you came home early,” you told Sylus as he sat you on the lip of the sink.

Sylus pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “‘Sy come home, I miss you.’ ‘I miss you, Sy, when are you coming home?’ ‘It’s not as fun going out without you, Sy.’ And many, many more messages like that, all throughout the night. I don’t think you gave me any other choice, sweetie.”

You grinned, not feeling even the slightest bit guilty for being the reason he cut his trip short. “I really did miss you,” you said, reaching for his hand and twining your fingers. “Though I think I said your real name in front of Zayne.”

Sylus shrugged. “I don’t think it’ll be a big deal, plus we could always blame it on your drunken state.” He frowned as he looked you over. “You really shouldn’t drink that much, kitten.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “It’s like Zayne said, I threw it all up.”

Sylus scoffed. “Yeah and your doctor gave me specific orders for me to follow so how about we get you in the shower so I can do that?”

You didn’t move, instead your expression softened as you stared at your boyfriend. “I think you and Zayne could be good friends, if you both gave it a chance.”

Surprise flitted across Sylus’s face. “I don’t need friends, sweetie. I only need you.”

“What about Luke and Kieran?”

“They’re my subordinates.”

“Mephisto?”

“He’s a mechanical bird.”

“Okay, next time we go out, you’re coming with us so we can make you some friends.”

Sylus laughed. “Sure, whatever you say, kitten.”

—

Bonus:

*the next morning*

You squealed into the phone, effectively startling Sylus awake.

“So you’re going on a date?” you asked. You waited for the person on the line to reply, then squealed again. “Tara this is so exciting! Our plan actually worked!”

Sylus stared up at you, wondering if you were even human to have drank so much the night previous yet seemed to have woken up perfectly fine. So fine that you found it appropriate to scream into your phone at whatever unholy hour of the morning it was.

“Okay, so I already have our next mission planned,” you said excitedly. “Operation Make Skye Some Friends.”

Sylus groaned loudly and covered his head with his pillow. He did not want to hear what you had to say next.

tags: @bookfreakk @blorbohunter @randomgurl2326 @worldly-fluster @athanasia-day

[sloaneispunk]

“a real man”

dbf!in-ho x you

when a family party takes place, you finally met the one and only hwang in-ho, your father’s best friend. when unsettled disputes take place, you find shelter with the man who was thrice your age.

“y/n, get the door will you?” your dad asked, taking the plates from your hands as you made your way to the front door.

you yanked the door open, mumbling under your breath. why did he have to throw this party anyway? it’s not like it was the first time you were home, why was he making such a big deal out of it?

“hey, sweetheart. is your dad home?” a man said.

you took a good look of the man that stood before you in the doorway. holy shit.

“in-ho! there you are! was starting to think you were ditching your old pal!” your father’s voice boomed from behind you, pushing you away from the door as he took your place, inviting the unfamiliar man in.

“it’s good to see you too, man.” he chuckled.

“i’m assuming you’ve met y/n?” your father introduced, stepping aside, revealing your confused face.

“i did…” in-ho nodded, “quite a pretty one.”

a blush crept onto your cheeks. “thank you.”

“polite too? you raised her well.”

“of course i did. don’t know what her mum’s been teaching her though, been a little angsty lately.” your dad revealed, making your eyes grow wide.

“can we not do this now?” you gritted, glaring at him.

after that, you never saw much of in-ho, being cooped up in the house while everyone was having the time of their lives outside with your dad in the party that he had organised for you.

eventually, you grew bored, grabbing a drink and hopping onto the kitchen counter as you watched the party unfold in the backyard with your father.

“hey, what are you doing here?” in-ho’s gentle voice rang in your ears, snapping you out from zoning out.

“these aren’t even my friends, they’re my dad’s.” you said defeated, peeking at the ongoing party outside.

“guessed it. didn’t think you’d be friends with all us older men.” he joked, making you chuckle, shaking your head. “you know, if it’s not pushing your boundaries, can i ask-why did your dad throw this get-together again?”

“i’ve been living with my mom for a few months, today’s the first time i’m back in awhile.” you told him. “oh, i’m sorry, do you want a beer or something?”

“don’t be silly, kid. this is your party, i’ll get it myself.” he smiled.

the two of you sat in comfortable silence as he leaned against the counter beside you, giving you the silent company you needed.

“you know for what it’s worth, i think you look beautiful.” in-ho broke the silence, turning his head slightly to face you.

“you’re not so bad yourself.” suddenly, he felt a sense of pride overwhelm him. he couldn’t possibly grasp the thought of you finding him attractive as he found you. afterall, he was almost thrice your age.

when it was finally time for a sit-around at the dining table, you were way out of your comfort zone. eyes burned holes into you from every angle, giving you no space for privacy whatsoever.

“so, y/n… youe dad tells me that you’ve been living with your mom?” a friend of your father’s questioned.

there we go. “uh, yeah.”

“how’s it like there? she any better than your dad?” he teased, making your father let out a low laugh as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

“c-can we don’t talk about this-”

“of course it is!” youe father interrupted. “couldn’t even get her to come over for a good few months, must have been really great.”

only in-ho noticed you were in distress, your breathing getting faster as your leg shook under the table. testing waters, he placed a hand on your thigh under the table, hoping to give you some stability to get through the dinner.

when you felt his warm hand on your thigh, you jerked away initially, thinking that it was one of thise old creeps who had touched you. but upon realising that it was only in-ho you shifted closer to him. as if you were silently begging for his help.

“we can all be gentleman at this table, let’s not give the lady any trouble, huh?” in-ho had intervened, anger slowly building up inside of him as they continued to press you with uncomfortable questions.

“hey speaking of your mom, she ever bring anyone home recently? like a colleague? maybe a friend?” you father asked.

“no.” you stated bluntly, you could already feel your eyes being welled up with tears.

but it didn’t stop there, you father as well as his friends made no effort to stop their interrogation.

eventually, you broke, letting the tears spill onto your lap as you tried your best to play it off without drawing anymore attention to yourself, but it was in vain.

“kid, are you cryin’?” one of them laughed, catching the attention of the rest.

“she is!”

“why are you crying, little girl?”

“do you want your mommy?”

in-his fist grew tighter around the handle of the fork he was holding, he couldn’t sit there and watch as you were being tormented by these sick bastards.

“boys, that’s enough!” he suddenly yelled, causing the room to go dead silent.

without another word said, he stood up, his chair scraping ear piercingly on the wooden floor as he grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the table and out the front door.

luckily for you, in-ho was only staying a couple blocks down, no more than a good three minute walk. the whole time, he said nothing, only changing his grip on you from the hand to your waist, leading you to his porch.

when you got to the doorstep, you stopped on your tracks, making him turn around, quickly taking a quick scan of your face to see if he had hurt you on accident.

“hey, talk to me, what’s wrong, love?” he asked in a soft tone, as if he were talking to a little girl.

“i can’t be here.” you said, looking up at him teary-eyed. “my dad will kill me.”

“nonsense… i won’t let him lay a hand on you, i promise. it’s better to stay here than with all the rascals there anyway.”

you winced at his harsh words, reminding you once again of the conversation at the dinner table.

“let’s not think about any of that anymore, alright? come in, you must be exhausted too, pretty girl.” he said as he ushered you inside.

in-ho’s house was warm. it smelt like him, the dim yellow lights bluncing off the perfectly decorated walls of his home. it was so quiet, just perfect.

“here, you can change into this. make yourself comfortable.” he said as he offered you a shirt and sweatpants which looked like it was his.

you thanked him and headed to the bathroom to change out of your clothes. when you were returned bacm to the living room, he was already on the sofa, legs spreaded out cozily as a tv programme played.

“there you are, do you have anything you wanna do in mind?”

‘no’ you shooke your head.

“then why don’t we just stay here and watch some movies. how does that sound?”

a smile broke on your face, making him feel a sense of relief. but to his surprise, you didn’t take just any emoty end of the sofa. you shuffled up close to him, merely centremeters away as he could smell your perfume that hadn’t worn off. it was driving him crazy.

as the two of you sat in silence, watching the show, in-ho noticed how your head was starting to fall closer and closer to his chest. he took a peak, seeing that you were now barely awake, struggling to keep your eyes open. he chuckled, pulling away, making your slowly open your eyes and lifting your head.

“no, no, stay there.” he cooed, moving closer in a more snug position for the both of you. and wirh his signal, you laid your head on his chest, your body and legs curled into a ball as he draped his arm over you while the other found its way to your hair. he combed through the soft, lush strands, lulling you to sleep as he did so.

“goodnight, y/n.” he whispered before leaning down carefully, placing a kiss on your forehead, watching as you tried to snuggle up closer to him.

in-ho knew he was doomed. it was a dangerous game he was playing with his best friend’s daughter. but at that moment, he realised just how bad he had had it for you. and there was no turning back.

[puckinghischier]

Jealous Nico

i struggle with this one bc can he get jealous? yes, extremely so. does he often? i wanna say no.

i feel like he’s just so trusting and obsessed with you that the thought doesn’t even cross his mind half the time, because you never pay people any mind. he knows he holds your attention, so why would he ever get jealous?

but sometimes…just sometimes, when you’ve had one too many drinks and your attention starts flitting around the room, looking for anyone who will entertain you to have a conversation with? he wants to scream “i’m right here!!!” at you. but he doesn’t want to be that guy, so he just lets you wander and mingle. never too far, though.

and as much as we wants to, the feeling that settles in his stomach when he sees you laughing with some finance bro over at the bar when you’re getting a refill is something he can’t really ignore.

maybe it’s the way you’re giving him so much excitement, clearly passionate about whatever topic is pouring from your lips. or maybe it’s the way this douche is looking at you, like you’re the brightest light in the room and he’s a moth that can’t escape your glow. whatever it is, it has him walking away from his conversation mid sentence, warm eyes turned dark in dislike of what he was witnessing.

as he makes his way through the crowd towards you, he realizes he can’t even be mad at you, because you’re just being the social butterfly he knows you are. all you want to do is converse and enjoy all the liveliness in the building, you’re not purposefully ignoring him. you were actually trying to talk to him a few minutes ago, but he was trying to listen to what jesper was saying before he got lost in whatever topic you deemed so important. so really, he thinks to himself, this is his fault, and he shouldn’t even be jealous in the first place.

but when you start jumping up and down slightly, clearly excited with whatever response you were just given, and douchebag’s eyes go straight to your chest instead of your ear to ear grin and bright eyes, he realizes yeah…maybe he can be jealous and a little bit of an asshole right now.

“müsli? did you ever get your drink, sweet girl?” he tries the sweet approach, not wanting to be overly gruff in front of you.

his chest puffs out at the way all of your attention is focused on him the second you hear his voice, forgetting all about the stranger in front of you.

“nico! hi! i feel like i haven’t seen you in….in….like…thirty minutes ago!” your words make no sense, a small hiccup making you giggle out an “excuse me” as you turn towards him.

he smiles down at you, your glossy eyes focused on his own, just how it should be.

“oh! frank, this is nico!” you turn back around to the stranger, his gaze raking down your figure, making nico see red all over again. you lean in closer to the man, cupping your hands around your mouth to try and whisper, but failing miserably. “he’s my boyfriend!” you giggle out, acting like a school girl talking about her crush.

turning back to nico, you miss the hard gaze he was throwing your new friend. “nico, frank and i were just talking about how fun it would be if there was a slip’n’slide in here!”

nico’s demeanor involuntarily softens a bit at your enthusiasm over the random topic, amused at how excited you are over the thought of a slip’n’slide in the middle of winter in new jersey.

but when he looks back up at your new friend frank, he can practically see the thoughts running through his head, and why he’s also be enthusiastic about the idea. if it wasn’t him ogling your tits earlier, it was the way he was checking your ass out while nico is standing right there.

“oh yeah?” nico speaks to you but keeps his attention on the man too lost looking at your ass to realize he’s being summoned into the conversation.

“yeah! tell him, frank! tell him what you said about making sure i’d be able to take as many turns as i wanted! that no one else would be allowed on it, because it would be my own special slip’n’slide!”

it’s endearing, really, the ideas you get in that smart head of yours when you’ve been slamming vodka crans all night. nico always loves to find out what theories and plans you come up with everytime you two have nights out. he’s thought about writing them down a time or two, because you never believe him when he tells you about the the next day, always claiming you “would literally never say that,” because you’re “a college educated woman, thank you very much.”

but this one? the one that has frank all but salivating at the thought of seeing you repeatedly have a wet t-shirt contest of one on a theoretical slip’n’slide? this one is just pissing him off.

“hmm?” frank’s attention is finally snapped away from your body and back to the conversation at hand.

“she was just saying how you told her how wonderful her own, special slip’n’slide would be, considering you wouldn’t let anyone else on it,” nico answers, letting his voice lower.

“oh yeah, dude. wouldn’t that be the hottest thing ever?” frank, so stupidly, decided to respond.

nico’s dry chuckle is the only response frank got. and either frank was smarter than nico gave him credit for, or he looks a lot more menacing than he thought, because the sound wiped the smug, disgusting smile right off of his face.

“frank…buddy….just walk away, yeah?” nico suggests, not used to being the scary boyfriend type but hoping it does the trick.

and much to his surprise, it works, frank nodding and walking the other direction, but not before you call out a sweet “bye, frank! it was nice to meet you!”

grabbing your hand, nico leans down to suggest it’s time for the two of you to leave, because he’s “tired of sharing you with everyone tonight, schatz. need my daily dose of hiding you away so i can get all of your attention,” while nipping playfully at your ear.

and, get all of your attention he does, considering you don’t stop talking to him from the time he gets you in the car to drive you home to the time he gets you settled in bed, behind closed doors, soaking up every second of not having to share your sweet voice. he drank it in like you were his own personal oasis in a dry and vast desert, just how he liked it.

[melosliving]

hi! I was wondering if you could write a story about aaron and reader are arguing because reader is jealous about him having to kiss a girl in a movie he was doing and he had to prove to them that he loves them and only them. please and thank you

Let me cook !! I hope you’ll like ! (I felt free to add smut to it because why notttt)

aaron pierre x actress!reader

Warnings : +18 (MDNI), nasty smutty, established relationship, jealousy, cranky reader

It’s been a long day for both of you. The set was chaotic, the director demanding, and the long hours had made you cranky. But what truly sent your heart spiraling was the news you’d just heard.

Your man had to kiss another woman for a scene in his movie. You hadn’t meant to overhear the conversation, but as you stood in the doorway of his trailer, the words hit you like a ton of bricks. Your stomach twisted, your chest tightened. You knew it was part of his job, but that didn’t stop the jealousy that clawed at you, irrational but raw.

Now, sitting in his car, you can barely look at him. The tension between you two is palpable, and the silence is thick, uncomfortable.

Aaron looks over at you, his jaw clenched, but his eyes soft. “Baby, talk to me. I don’t like when you’re like this.”

You scoff, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, staring out the window. “Like what?”

He takes a breath, turning fully towards you now. “You’re upset. I can tell. I don’t know why, but I can feel it.” You huff, shaking your head, but you can’t hide the hurt in your voice. “I just… I don’t get why you had to kiss her. I know it’s your job, but—”

His hands fly up in frustration, but not in anger. It’s more like he’s frustrated at himself for making you feel this way. “No, listen to me, okay? That kiss meant nothing. Nothing at all.”

“I know it was just acting,” you say, voice small. “But still… You kissed her. I don’t know if my weak ass can handle that."

He reaches over and gently places his hand on your knee, his touch warm and grounding. “Baby, I’ve been kissing you for years. There’s only one person who has my heart, and that’s you. No matter what’s in the script, no matter what I have to do on set, you’re the one I’m coming home to.”

You glance at him, searching his face, looking for any sign of insincerity. But all you see is love. His eyes are soft, pleading, and filled with everything you need to hear.

“And I’m sorry I made you feel this way,” he continues, his voice low. “You mean everything to me. I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t want anyone else.”

Tears start to sting your eyes as his words hit you. Slowly, you reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “I’m sorry, too papa,” you whisper, gently playing with his fingers. “I didn’t mean to be jealous like this. I just… I love you so much. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else touching you like I do.”

Aaron leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “And you never will. Because no matter what, it’s you and me. Always.”

Now, as the rest of the trip was quiet, the only audible sound being the radio, you thought things had calmed down between you. How wrong you were. You didn’t even the time to step out of your shoes that aaron took you to y’all’s bedroom.

"Aaron- what are you doing ?" You asked, following him as he entered the room, closing the door behind him.

The tension between y’all thickened, and even if the only source of light in the room was the sunset’s, you could still see aaron slightly tightening his jaw as he looked down at you.

It was like he was actually realizing just how deeply all of this was affecting you. He pulled you closer to his, brushing his lips against your ear. " I’m sorry you felt that way. I need to show you you’re the only one who can have me.”

He never actually felt like this, never been the object of one’s jealousy. But this was nice —apart from the part where it makes you upset– it made him feel even more connected to you.

That’s how he now had you wrapped in his body, almost in his skin. His dick was buried in you so deep, but his fingers were so delicate on your skin, his kisses so gentle. "Papa is so sorry for making you jealous baby, will you forgive him ?" He asks as he fucked himself into your sweet pussy. You felt so good around him, your hips grinding to try to meet his.

"haa– fuck !"

"C’mon tell me bub. You forgive me ?" He asks again, lips against your shoulder. You whine softly, trying to push back against him.

"Yeah baby, you’re forgiven- mh !" You whine. Aaron chuckles a bit before his hands grasp your hips to hold you steady. With one firm thrust, he is breaching your folds and sliding deep inside you. your head dropping to the pillow below you as you whimper through the burn. The stretch burns more then you anticipated, and you hear him groaning softly, which sends another wave of liquid heat rushing through you.

"God you feel so good baby, you take my cock so fucking well." He praises you, gently pulling out to slowly thrust back in. His eyes are locked on the place where you two connect, watching with hooded eyes as his cock disappears inside you.

"Oh my— why are you fucking me like this ?..feels so good.."

"I wish you could see this baby." He praises again through a soft moan, and you drink up every sound he makes. "I’m yours baby, take your dick."

You needed this so bad and you actually loved the fact that you were the only one who could give him this type of relief.

Yours yours yours yours yours. he was yours.

Your forehead presses against the bed, muffled and strangled cries escaping your lips every time aaron hits deep inside you. His cock stretches you perfectly, and always hits places deep inside you. Places you didn't know existed. Soon you feel your orgasm creeping up on you, almost making you feel lightheaded.

"Please make your pussy cum papa, im so close." You beg, muffling your moans with your palm as he drives his cock into you. You feel sweat covering your entire body and aaron holds your hips with a bruising force. You feel that coil winding tighter and tighter, and you release a high pitched whine when his hand actually snakes around your body to thumb your clit.

"Papa this dick feels so good, soo good baby. Always feels so good, fuck baby I love you," You're not sure what you're saying at this point, an incoherent mess of praises for the man above you. "Nah, this is your dick baby, say it."

"My dick—It’s mine, mine, mine." You repeat mindlessly, pleasure taking over you. "shit, I love you too baby." He answers.

Aaron loved when he could reduce you to incoherent words and disconnected statements because of him. slamming his cock inside you and rolling your clit before you're squeezing around him tightly, your mouth falls open in a silent scream. You cum in hot gushes around him and he can only offer a few more sloppy thrusts before he's cumming with a loud growl, coating your walls in his hot cum.

chest heaving from the exertion, aaron feels more relaxed than he has all day. There's a small smile on your face and your eyes are closed as your legs finally give out and you collapse against the sheets.

"Are you okay bub ?" You hear, and you can't help but smile when you hear that he's panting slightly. You hum with a smile on your face. "I’m sorry i got cranky over this, I love you."

"That’s okay mama. I understand you, but I want you to know I’m yours, only yours."

@ melosliving 2025