#and make the decision to look for himself.

[aquarius-johnny]

Baby Fever .ᐟ | Jeong Jaehyun

genre: smut | wc: 5.1k | deadly sins series | m.list navi pairing: husband! jaehyun x afab! reader warnings: breeding kink; pillow princess! reader; jaehyun is hœrny, needy, a soft dom; reader mentions that he's big; lots of praising; talking through it; oral (f receiving); spanking, fingering (if you squint); multiple orgasms; unprotected sex; creampie; a little bit of overstimulation (m receiving) summary: you’re jaehyun’s pillow princess and he loves to please you, but this time with a twist — the goal to put a baby in you! | deadly sin: sloth a/n: it’s not a deadly sins series without falling into the temptation of writing a breeding fic; also i like to say it’s canon that the reader and jaehyun go for multiple rounds ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ this is for those who thrive on praise.

⌞ pinterest board ⌝ ≫ concept photos

Mindlessly running your fingers through your husband’s hair, he lays between your thighs with his head resting on your stomach. You both set your gaze on the tv screen that’s playing your current favorite show while you're both in bed on this Saturday morning. 

“Baby?” Jaehyun softly lets out, his finger tracing loose circles against your bare thigh. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” You lay your hand lazily on the crook of his neck, gently swiping your thumb against his cheek. “What’s on your mind?” Your eyes fall on the subtle movements Jaehyun makes as he shifts his body onto his side – his arm snaking under your thigh and pulling your entire leg against his body.

“Have you ever thought of having a baby with me?” He innocently looks up at you with big brown eyes awaiting your response.

You give him a soft giggle. “Of course I have, who else would I have a baby with if not my husband?” Pushing his hair back, he smiles shyly, realizing how silly he worded his question. 

“No, I mean,” he laughs, positioning himself next to you, legs stretched over yours as he shifts his weight into the palm of his hands, casually leaning backwards. “Have you thought about having kids, now that we’re married.”

You smile, your mind shuffling through the memories of when you came close to risking it all and letting Jaehyun shoot his load into you before he pulled out, like he always did, bringing you back to reality.

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it,” you nod. “Have you?”

“All the time,” he shyly replies as if it was such a sinful thought to want to have a child with your wife; although, he’s probably more embarrassed at the amount of times he thought about the many positions he would want to have you in when he releases into you. 

“Why the sudden interest in this now?” 

Jaehyun falls quiet for a moment. “I don’t know,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “You know how much I’ve always wanted to be a dad and,” he pauses, lowering his voice timidly. “I was curious to know how it feels to come inside of you.” 

You and Jaehyun are both very responsible with your sex life, even after getting married. When you two first got together, he was adamant about having condoms on him just in case something happened between the two of you, which it did and it happened a lot. With your very active, healthy, and regular sex life, condoms soon became a nuisance to replace when they would quickly run out. Eventually, you opted to go on birth control. Even with this decision, you both knew better to have him release inside of you until you both were ready to face the reality of what would happen if he did.

“Is this your not so subtle way of asking if we can try for kids, Jaehyun?” You arch a brow, watching your husband’s ears tint a bright red and the tip of his tongue poke the inside of his cheek as he coyly looks down.

“Is that a bad thing?” He questions, slowly looking up at you, wide eyed. His hand inches closer to your hand before his pinky slowly hooks onto yours, something he often does when his nerves begin to rear its head. 

You cup his cheek, tenderly stroking his soft skin with your thumb to comfort him. “Not at all,” you smile. “Do you want to try it now?” 

Jaehyun’s eyes widen in excitement before disappointment washes over him. “We have errands to run.” He sighs, listing off the things you both had planned today with a dramatic pout.

“Can we do it quickly?”

“While I would never turn down a quickie with the love of my life,” he pauses with a toothy grin stretched across his face. “I want us to take our time.” 

You give him an understanding nod, knowing how important this is to him. “Let’s do it tonight,” you reply, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Maybe before we get home, you can help me pick out a new lingerie set we can use.” 

“I’d love that.” He takes his bottom lip between his teeth. “But…” he trails off before throwing his head back and letting out an exaggerated groan.

“What is it now?” You playfully roll your eyes while you shake your head at his antics.

“How am I going to survive being out with you knowing we’re probably going to have the most amazing sex tonight?” He chuckles at his words, baffled at the idea of needing to keep it in his pants when he’s just so, so excited to start a new chapter in life with you. 

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to survive for a couple of hours, you big baby. Now come on,” you quickly check the time on your phone. “We need to get ready. The earlier we leave, the earlier we can get home.”

You take a mental note of how to get your husband to show you more affection in public: agree to let him impregnate you. 

Normally, Jaehyun wasn’t big on loud public displays of affection. He would hold your hand or place a gentle hand on the small of your back to guide you. He’d occasionally place a subtle kiss on your knuckles to keep his displays of affection to a minimum while still showing you he loves you and loves being around you. The most he’d do is kiss your temple when he notices another man’s stare linger a little too long for his liking. While he wasn’t the biggest fan of pda, you didn’t mind at all because you knew that he isn’t able to keep his hands off you at home, but today was different.

He could not, for the life of him, keep his hands off you as you both went about your errands. During lunch with his parents, his hands were planted on your waist as he stood behind you, pulling you into him as close as he could, while the four of you waited to be seated. When you’re seated, his warm palm rubs against your thigh, parking itself there the whole time — occasionally squeezing and pushing under the hem of your sundress ever so slightly. When his parents disappeared into the restroom after lunch, Jaehyun took this opportunity to place kisses on the crook of your neck while you both waited for the check. When it comes, you fully expected your husband to ease off of you – to your surprise, he didn’t.

“What has gotten into you?” You half-heartedly scold with a tiny giggle, pressing your hand against his chest to keep him at a distance.

“Can’t a husband be affectionate towards his wife?” His words are disingenuous as a wicked grin is plastered across his face. 

“Behave,” you warn, handing the check to him. 

Taking the check between his fingers, he gives you an impressed grin. “I see you’re already practicing your mom voice, huh?”

“Ha ha,” you sarcastically reply, although the smile on your face tells your husband you enjoy the comment as much as he did.

When you stop by your favorite lingerie store, your husband makes you browse a different part of the store while he chooses a new set for you. When he returns, he slings an arm over your shoulders with the shopping bag in the other. A smug look is painted on his face as you both walk out of the store. 

“Picked anything good?” You ask, eyeing the bag he’s holding. 

“Definitely,” he sucks air between his teeth, a toothy smile dancing on his lips as he pulls you closer to his side. “I think you’re going to like it.”

“Mm. I trust you.” 

He stops in his tracks in the middle of the semi-crowded mall. He gently lifts your chin with his index finger and gives you a deep kiss, nearly taking your breath away. “You’re gonna look so hot in it,” he winks.

During your final stop to the grocery store, you sense your husband’s patience dwindle as you walk up and down the aisles, slowly checking off the list on your phone. 

His arms wrap around your waist as you stand there to check for the correct brands to put in your shopping cart. Jaehyun rests his chin on your shoulder, watching in agony as you put the item back to pick up another. You feel his restlessness, desperate to finally get you home. 

“Are you okay, honey?” You question, eyes fixated on the label of the item you’re holding before you carefully place it in the shopping cart.

“It’s taking everything in me to not fuck you right here,” he whispers in your ear — voice low and gravelly. 

You halt your movements, surprised and slightly aroused at his lewd confession.

“Send me the list,” he clears his throat as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. 

You do as he asks and he quickly scans the list on his phone. 

“I’ll take the bottom half of the list, you take the top. We’ll meet in the frozen food aisle.”

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, smiling up at him. “I love when you take control like this,” you gush, pushing his cheeks together with the palms of your hands before placing a quick kiss on his lips. 

“Be quick,” he softly commands, his slender fingers cupping the side of neck before his thumb gently rubs the column of your throat. “Can you do that?”

Your knees grow weak at his words and you simply nod your head.

“Mm,” he smirks. “Good girl.”

On your way home, your husband’s hand lays on your thigh, his thumb circling your skin. A knot in your stomach tightens, slightly nervous under his touch yet you’re also yearning for this next step as much as your husband is. He pulls into the driveway and you begin unbuckling your seat belt. 

Grabbing the shopping bag with your lingerie set, Jaehyun hands it to you — the bag hanging off his index and middle finger. 

You carefully grab the bag, an excited smile creeping onto your face.

“I’ll worry about putting the groceries away,” he lets out, giving you a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “You can check out what I bought for you.”

You excitedly nod your head. “Thank you, baby.”

Jaehyun must’ve set a world record with how fast he put away the groceries as you tried on what your husband kindly got for you — but there’s nothing that gets your husband going more than knowing he’s about to finally have you in the way he so desperately wanted to the entire day. 

You call out his name eagerly as he swiftly puts away the remaining items left on the counter.

His attention turns in your direction as you emerge from the hallway in nothing but the skimpy set he got you. He freezes upon seeing you, blood quickly rushing to his cock, hardening it within seconds. 

“Do you like it?” You ask, giving him a quick twirl. “It’s really pretty!” 

Your husband’s eyes scan your body up and down as he carelessly stuffs the item he’s holding into the cupboard — his gaze never leaving you. 

“Fuuuck,” he drawls desperately, making his way to you. He sighs in satisfaction as his large hands pull you into his body. “Thank god we’re trying for a baby tonight, I don’t think I could pull out if we weren’t.” 

You giggle at his reaction, slinging your arms around his shoulders. “You’re right, I do look hot in this, huh?” You lick your lips, cocking your head to the side as your brows curve in innocence. 

Jaehyun’s pupils quickly dilate as he looks at you — the way the fabric clings onto your body perfectly renders him speechless. “So hot,” he manages to let out. His mind was already dizzy, completely enamored by his beautiful wife. 

Pulling him to your lips, you move them slowly — Jaehyun following your pace. He moves you backwards, trapping you between his body and the wall behind you. 

“You sure you wanna do this?” He questions between kisses. “I can pull out or I can try, at least,” he chuckles. 

“I want to,” you reassure, lifting his shirt over his head and allowing the fabric to fall onto the floor. “I want to have your baby.” 

Jaehyun deepens his kiss and a guttural groan parts his lips, his fingers frantically removing his belt and undoing his pants. The fabric bunches around his ankles before he kicks them to the side. “I’m gonna take care of you, tonight,” he reassures and you hum against his lips in agreement.

You know him well enough to understand that he’s going to do all of the work tonight, allowing you to enjoy every second of it without having to worry about going above and beyond to make him feel good.

He’s breathless as he pulls away from you. Taking your hand, he leads you to the bedroom.

Jaehyun lays you on your back. The pads of his fingers glide against your exposed abdomen, sending chills through your body.

“So beautiful,” Jaehyun purrs as he looks at you, his eyes scanning the pretty lingerie set. He places a loving kiss against your lips before deepening it, causing you to sling your arms over his shoulders to pull him in closer. Your fingers tangle in his hair causing him to smile against you. He slightly parts his lips, giving you an opportunity to slide your tongue over his, you take it and do exactly what he wants you to do — earning a tiny groan from your husband. 

He trails kisses against your cheek, then against your jaw, before settling on a tender spot on your neck. Rolling his tongue over your skin, you let out a tiny giggle, his breath tickling you. 

Jaehyun’s finger hooks into your bra strap, gently pulling it down your arms, allowing your breast to spill out. His large hands scoop them together, letting out a satisfied sigh before his tongue rolls over your skin and takes your nipple into his mouth. He flicks the tip of his tongue against your erect bud before gently pulling it between his teeth. 

“You’re literally perfect,” he praises. “I’m so lucky.” 

Flattening his tongue against your nipple, he rolls over it before giving it a nice suck, leaving it with a pop before doing the same on the other side.

His hands glide down your waist and his lips follow, pecking kisses against your stomach. You feel his long fingers glide against your clothed heat, wetness pooling against your cute underwear. Jaehyun places a gentle kiss on your core and proceeds to lick a strip against the fabric. 

You bite on your bottom lip, propping yourself up with your elbows to get a better look at Jaehyun teasing you. 

“Please,” you whine. “I need you.”

He smiles, dimples making an appearance as he places both of your legs over his broad shoulders. “I promise it’ll be worth it.” He flattens his tongue against your heat and begins sucking on your covered clit — a new and foreign experience despite the years you two have been together. 

Your underwear is soaked with your arousal and Jaehyun’s warm saliva, having the wet fabric outline your pretty folds. You push Jaehyun’s hair back, an endearing expression you often do to let him know he’s doing a good job.

Jaehyun pushes your underwear to the side; sighing in admiration at the sight of your pretty pussy. He quickly licks up your wetness before he slowly flicks the tip of his tongue against your clit over and over again. His movements are sensual and calculated — his eyes flutter open to look up at you between your thighs. A satisfied moan leaves your lips. Your hands opting to massage your breasts while your toes curl from the pleasure. The room fills with the sounds of his tongue slicking up and down your folds. 

Jaehyun picks up his pace, causing your walls to pulse in excitement, desperately wanting to feel him inside of you. His fingers grip onto your thighs, holding them apart as he continues to focus the tip of his tongue on your bundle of nerves between your folds. You hear him hum against your soaking heat, the vibrations adding to your pleasure.

“It feels so good,” you praise softly, pushing his hair back to get a better look at your husband enjoying the taste of you. “Fuck,” You whimper, throwing your head back in pleasure. “ I love you so much.”

Jaehyun lifts his head and smiles, pausing his movements. “I love you too.” His hand pulls you to his lips, rolling his tongue over yours — allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue before returning to your nub, continuing his sensual movements. 

Jaehyun’s hands push against your thighs, opening your legs wider for him. You hear a slap against your skin, causing you to flinch in response before you let out a small giggle. Jaehyun soothes the spot with his hand and places quick, tender kisses before returning to your sensitive nub.

“Again,” you beg, biting down on your bottom lip. “Slap me again, please.”

He follows through with a smirk dancing against his lips, giving you another spank to the thigh causing you to moan at the sting before soothing it again. 

“I-I’m so close,” you desperately let out, feeling the coil in you tighten. 

Jaehyun closes his eyes, hyper focused on your clit and his only goal right now is to make you feel good. He begins to suck on your bud, holding onto your thighs as it quivers. 

You’re a whimpering mess. You bite down on your bottom lip as you feel a shock of electricity run through your legs and up your thighs. Heat spreads under your skin, your heart races, and you feel your orgasm slowly creeping up. The tension in your stomach suddenly snaps and an overwhelming sense of pleasure hits you — causing you to cry out your husband’s name as white creamy substance slowly leaks out of your pretty cunt. 

You push Jaehyun’s head away from your heat, bringing your knees together as a blissed out look paints your face. 

Jaehyun’s pink, plumped lips peck your knees before he slowly spreads your legs open again. He places kisses against your inner thighs before his fingers gently rub against your sensitive slit. 

The movement causes you to shudder, your nipples hardening at the tingles that’s sent through your body.

Pushing your underwear to the side again, he carefully dips his middle finger into your entrance and pumps his long finger into you before sliding in his index finger with ease. 

You hold onto your thighs, keeping them apart for Jaehyun. He pumps and twists his fingers into you, creamy white rings forming against his knuckles. Slowly lifting your hips to grind against his fingers, he pushes his fingers deeper into you, curving them and feeling his digits move against the sensitive spot inside of you causing your legs to lightly quiver. 

“Such a good girl, but you’re already shaking,” he teases — his voice hinting fake concern with a sly grin dancing in his lips. “Will you be able to take my cock?”

You stumble on your words, giving him a pathetic whimper with a rapid nod. “I want you inside of me,” you plead. “Please.” 

Your husband melts at your words. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth and helps you rid yourself of the lingerie that’s already served its purpose. Jaehyun softly orders you to get into one of his favorite positions. 

Laying on your stomach, you prop your upper body with your elbows and watch your husband’s movements in the full length mirror in front of your shared bed. 

Jaehyun helps slide a pillow under your pelvis, slightly lifting your bottom half for easier access. Your legs in between his knees, pressed together ever so slightly.  His hands squeeze your ass cheeks, allowing your supple skin to pillow his fingers before dragging his nails against your backside, earning a giggle from you. 

His leaky tip moves against your folds before settling on the fats of your ass. Gripping his heavy length, he slaps his erection against your skin — smiling from ear to ear at the sight of one of his favorite parts of your body. Jaehyun aligns his erection with your entrance before slowly pushing his tip into you. Your body inches forward as he sinks into you, Jaehyun’s hands clench onto your waist to keep you in place. 

You both moan at the delicious stretch — your tight entrance adjusting to his lengthy size. He watches your reflection — biting down on your bottom lip before your jaw falls open and feeling your warm, velvety walls wrap around his hard length. 

“So fucking big,” you whisper under your breath, brows furrowing together at the pleasure.

Your husband leans forward, his lips pressing a kiss against your shoulder before lifting your chin and turning your head to kiss him. His movements cause him to bottom out inside of you — balls against your slit while you feel his tip kiss your sweet spot inside of you. The feeling is so exquisite it forces you to gasp into Jaehyun’s mouth. 

“That’s it baby,” Jaehyun coos into your ear. “You’re taking me so well.” His free hand tightly grips your waist. “You know, I’m yours, right?” A deep, low groan leaves his lips when he feels your walls pulse around his bare cock. 

You nod your head, dazed by the feeling of Jaehyun filling you up so perfectly and so well — a feeling that always amazes you despite your years together. 

Your pretty lips press against his before he deepens it, parting his to have you perfectly place his bottom lip between yours. You hum at the sweet taste of strawberries that lingered on his lips, enjoying the feeling of every crevice of his member as he warms himself in your walls.  

Without warning, Jaehyun harshly snaps his hips into you, causing you to loudly gasp in surprise. A devilish grin tugs the corners of his lips, relishing in your reaction. 

His cock pumps into you relentlessly, jerking your body forward with every thrust. He holds himself up with his arms, eyes locked onto the mirror in front of him. His gaze falls on your hands, desperately clawing at the beige cotton sheets under you. 

“D-don’t stop,” you repeat over and over again, your words beginning to slowly slur together as your mind goes fuzzy — your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your jaw slacking open, crying out in pleasure. 

He chuckles at your clouded state, seeing how cockdrunk you are because of him. His attempt to kiss you fails as your mouth falls open every time Jaehyun’s cock jabs that sweet spot inside of you.

The sound of skin slapping against each other mixed with your whimpers, moans, and incoherent mumbles bounce off the walls of your bedroom. 

“You’re so pretty,” Jaehyun whispers in your ear, holding your chin and forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. 

There’s a glaze look in your eyes and you feel your cheeks burn as you see yourself completely fucked out, jerking forward with every sharp buck of his hips — mouth agape and nearly drooling from ecstasy.

“Say it.” Jaehyun smirks, placing soft kisses against your cheek while sliding his thumb into your mouth and against your tongue. “Tell me you’re pretty, baby.” 

“I-I’m pretty,” you whimper, words distorted.

His hand moves from your mouth and slivers down to your neck, giving the sides of your neck a squeeze. “Again,” he orders, voice low and gravelly. 

“I’m pretty,” you repeat, grinning at your strained words parting your lips. 

“So fucking pretty, right?”

You nod, repeating his statement. You grip onto Jaehyun’s wrist as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, your orgasm rapidly inching closer with every single one of your husband’s thrust. 

“That’s my girl.” He praises, peppering kisses against your temple.

“Baby, I’m about to c-come.” You warn, nearly sobbing as Jaehyun’s hands press down on the arch of your back helping his cock hit your g-spot over and over again. “Right there, don’t stop, please.” You mewl, your nails scratching the wrinkled sheets underneath you before your breath hitches and you begin to see stars in your line of vision.

He mercilessly pounds into you, gripping tightly onto your waist. “That’s it baby, come all over my cock. You deserve it.”

His words of encouragement sends you over the edge, your body writhes under his as he fucks you through your orgasm, helping you chase your high. You’re gasping for air and you bury your face into the pillow nearest you, muffling the tiny whimpers and sobs you’re letting out. 

You take a moment to recollect yourself as Jaehyun slows his movements before stroking your hair and trailing kisses up your spine to your shoulders. You weakly lift your head and he places a tender kiss against your soft lips — taking it slow as your body recovers from your intense release.

“Think you can hold on a bit longer?” Jaehyun asks, the palm of his hands roaming up and down your hips, further soothing your body. 

“Mm,” you lazily smile, nodding your head.

Jaehyun slowly pulls himself out of you and gives you space to move around to reposition yourself, pumping his length as he watches you.

You slowly push yourself up and adjust your position to lay on your back. Your legs spread open for Jaehyun as your fingers slowly rub circles against your sensitive bundle of nerves ensuring you’re still soaking wet for your husband.

He realigns himself with your pulsing cunt, lifting your hips for access. You give him a squeal followed by a giggle as he roughly pushes up and into you, his hands gripping your hips tightly and he smiles at the sound that leaves your lips. It encourages him to rock his hips back and forth, crudely. Your hands press against his toned abs in a failed attempt to slow him down. 

A low groan escapes him followed by a shaky breath, feeling you clenching around his long shaft as if your warm, slippery walls are molding to the shape of him. 

“You feel so fucking good,” Jaehyun groans, pushing his hips further into you, attempting to dive deeper into your soaking cunt.

“Can’t wait for you to come inside me,” you weakly grin, your nails raking over his abs. “Fill me up please, I want your baby.” 

Your begs cause Jaehyun to go feral. He opens your legs wider, hooking his arms behind your knees and pinning your wrists down to your sides. His hips frantically slam into you, bottoming out with every single brutal thrust into you.

“Say it again,” he growls, eyes darkening at the sight of you. 

“I want your baby,” you pant. “I want to make you a daddy.” Your cries fill the room. Your back arches and your skin prickles from pleasure. You mindlessly repeat your words over and over again, Jaehyun clearly getting off on the idea of getting you pregnant. 

His fingers digs into your hips, tilting your pelvis up and hungrily hammers his cock into you. 

A choked out sob leaves your lips from pleasure and bliss, clawing into Jaehyun’s wrists before your eyes loll back, your back arches, and your mouth falls open from satisfaction. Your face grows hot and your thighs begin to shake seconds before you become undone, nearly screaming out in euphoria — your climax washing over you like a tsunami. 

You’re a whimpering mess from sensitivity between your legs. Jaehyun slows down and places open mouth kisses against your chest as his hands rub against your skin — soothing your trembling body. 

“Good job, baby.” Jaehyun kisses, trailing his lips up towards your neck. “I’m proud of you.” 

You simply hum in response. Your body goes limp and you’re panting, heart nearly ready to jump out of your chest. Your eyes shut and your mind blurs. You clutch onto Jaehyun’s arm, trying to keep yourself grounded in reality. 

His hips slowly begin to move again, kissing your cheek to keep your mind on him.

“What’s my name, baby?” Jaehyun whispers into your ear, something he always asks to keep you focused when you mind is clouded and hazy. 

“Jaehyun,” you weakly reply, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. 

“There you go,” he coos as he continues to plunge into you, slowly and harshly. “I love how my name sounds when you say it. Keep talking, baby, I’m almost there.”

You do as he says, repeating his name after every brutal thrust, causing you to jerk up and down. 

Jaehyun’s hips stutter as he feels your walls flutter around his cock. “I’m gonna come.” His voice hitches. “Tell me where you want it.” He begs, wanting to hear you say it one more time.

“Inside me, please. I need it. I need to have your baby,” you whine, pulling him closer to your chest. You cross your legs against his back.

After a powerful thrust, Jaehyun freezes — pads of his fingers pressing hard into your skin and he spills his seed into you, flooding your walls with his creamy ropes. Pressing your heels against his lower back, you muster the energy to keep him in place as you roll your hips — milking him of every drop of his come. 

“F-fuck!” He hisses, pushing your waist into the mattress. His cock twitches inside of you and he lets out a shattered breath. “Too m-much,” he softly whimpers, begging you to stop moving your hips. 

“But I need every drop,” you pout, causing him to let out a tiny chuckle before you let your legs drop onto the mattress under you.

He pulls out of you — his thighs shaking from his intense release. 

Looking down, he sees the trail of his essence oozing out of your pretty cunt and sighs happily. His fingers gently push his creamy ropes deeper into you before he brings his digits to your lips, gladly taking his long, slender fingers into your mouth and sucking his fingers clean. 

“How’d it feel?” You question, propping yourself with your elbows. 

Your husband chuckles, bringing his hand to your cheek before stroking your heated skin with his thumb. “Fucking amazing,” he happily sighs. 

You giggle at his reaction, falling back into your mattress. There’s a dip before seeing your husband laying next to you. 

You turn to face Jaehyun who does the same. He rolls to his side and slings his arm over your waist, easily pulling your body closer into him. 

“I think you’re going to be a great dad.” You gently push his hair back, earning you a shy smile. 

“I know you’re going to be a great mom,” he smiles against your forehead followed by a tender kiss against your skin. 

“Do you think it’ll be enough to get pregnant?” You ask, feeling the thick liquid slowly dripping out of you.

Your husband pauses for a moment before a cheeky grin appears. “We should do it again,” he smiles. “You know, just in case.”

[astars-things]

“why are we cuddling on the floor” with luke please 🫶🫶🫶

Drunken Cuddles

You blinked, your vision slightly blurry as you registered the warmth wrapped around you. Your head was resting on something firm yet comfortable, and there was an arm draped lazily over your waist. Your body was tangled with someone else's—Luke.

“Why are we cuddling on the floor?” Luke's voice was groggy and confused, his face half-buried in your shoulder.

You barely had time to process his question before another voice cut in. “Because you two got too drunk,” Jack said, arms crossed as he stared down at the two of you with a mix of amusement and judgment.

You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to recall how you ended up like this. The last thing you remembered was you and Luke deciding it would be a great idea to have a little drinking competition. Well, more like you challenging Luke, and him—being the competitive guy he was—accepting without hesitation.

“I don’t feel drunk,” Luke mumbled, tightening his hold on you and nuzzling into your neck.

Jack snorted. “Yeah? Tell that to the fact that you guys are literally spooning on my living room floor like two love-drunk idiots.”

You peeked up at him, blinking slowly. “Well, the couch looked uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t even try the couch!” Jack shot back, exasperated.

You and Luke exchanged glances before bursting into giggles, the alcohol still making everything feel funnier than it actually was.

Jack sighed dramatically. “Unbelievable. I leave you two alone for one night, and this happens.”

“We’re not hurting anyone,” Luke reasoned, his voice muffled as he rested his head back against your chest. “Just vibing.”

Jack groaned. “You’re not ‘vibing.’ You’re passed-out drunk on the floor of my apartment. Do you know how ridiculous you look?”

You grinned up at him. “Nope. But I bet we look cute.”

Jack gave you a deadpan look before pulling out his phone. “Oh, don’t worry. I already took pictures. Plenty of them.”

Luke groaned, attempting to swat weakly in Jack’s direction but failing miserably. “Delete them.”

Jack laughed. “Not a chance, buddy. These are getting saved for blackmail purposes.”

You pouted. “Jack, that’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair,” Jack shot back. “Now, do you two plan on getting off my floor anytime soon?”

Luke hummed thoughtfully, hugging you even tighter. “Mmm. Nope. Floor is nice. Y/N is warm.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “God, you’re so whipped.”

You laughed, but instead of arguing, you only snuggled further into Luke’s embrace. He was warm and comfortable, and your fuzzy brain decided that you had no desire to move.

Jack huffed. “You guys are impossible.”

“Love you too, Jack,” you mumbled sleepily.

Jack groaned. “That’s it. I’m stepping over you. Don’t be surprised if I ‘accidentally’ kick one of you.”

You and Luke barely reacted, just letting out sleepy giggles as Jack muttered to himself about how annoying you two were.

As you started drifting off again, Luke squeezed your hand. “Best drunk decision ever.”

You hummed in agreement. “Definitely.”

Jack, from across the room, groaned. “I hate both of you.”

[mephestopheles]

Speaking in pure mechanics for a moment, he was a grave cleric subclass. That subclass is so tied up with death and decay and the natural processes of it that they heal better after a player goes down. Caduceus kind of got roped into being the 'healer' as a gag to offset Jester, but his main thing was

"am I within 30 feet of that nat 20" then: *insert middle finger.gif" at Matt every chance he got. Mechanically if he healed someone after they dropped he could heal them for max.

And he played him, like you said, very aware of nature's destructive power and that nature can offer bounty but also famine.

I think his panic and freak out on the boat woobified him a bit at least to some of the fandom, and that wasn't him getting queasy over bloodshed. He'd been fine with their antics and bloodshed up until then. His freak out was a moral one as he watched his new friends very easily switch from "we're just gonna talk to him" to "okay might as well steal the ship" (through a series of chaotic rolls and some really desperate decisions above table) but nonetheless, he think he was asked to heal the dude that Jester clipped with an axe in the head. That fight was fundamentally a downturn on their morality and Caduceus was wondering what he'd gotten himself into by following them. On some level he still believed the wildmother set them, but reality vs assumptions is a lot harder.

Prior to this he'd been living in a tiny section of a cursed forest. He was soft spoken and generally kind, but in that way of "death comes for us all, and I am here to make your rest comfortable, or hurry it along. Your behavior will determine which you get."

So it doesn't shock me that Taliesin intentionally looked at the scarred, bleak, war destroyed Exandria and went "oh she's angry and it's only because this is literally all she has that she cannot be on the side of the betrayers, destroy Exandria and destroy me."

And let's not forget, he looked at Trent and wished for someone to mourn him, as a blessing.

I am still blown away by the babygirl-ification the fandom threw at Caduceus, to the point there was a whole subset of critters watching Downfall and murmuring about “wow what would Caduceus think if he saw his goddess being so wild?” as if the man didn’t roll up to the group in his inaugural episode saying that death and violence are a totally natural part of nature, and that he wasn’t opposed to putting people into the ground as mulch. His primary motif is carrion bugs that eat rot and cause disease. His advice to Fjord about joining the Wildmother is that nature is powerful and dangerous. He is literally the meme of “I’m a healer, but—(cocks gun)”

Of course he’d be fine with the revelation of what happened in Aeor! And the fact that caught critters by surprise is a shame. Caduceus is freaky, and we love him for it.

[comatosebunny09]

sensitive | sylus

— summary: sylus gets his ears pierced. — cw: reader is not mc, fluff, silliness, self-indulgent, a little suggestive, romantic dribble, inspired by the ear-piercing scene from loveless — wc: 1.8K

You’re surprised he can even get his ears pierced, given his rapid healing ability. 

Still, they look good on him—the onyx studs that take up most of his earlobes, matching his cufflinks. 

You stifle a quiet laugh behind your fist as the twins crowd around him, stars in their eyes. Their body language is animated as they praise Sylus and his fashion sense. He stands amid them, akimbo, smirking like a proud dad, a chuckle in his throat.

You wonder what influenced his decision to pierce his ears. 

That is until a pretty hunter pops her head into the front door behind him, her eyes creasing with mirth. 

She sidles up beside you, beaming like the cat who got the cream. Pats your shoulder, and you smirk at her in your periphery, shaking your head.

Of course.

“Let me guess: this was your idea, wasn’t it?”

“I know. I’m pretty awesome, right?”

You snort over folded arms. Leave it to Emcee to manipulate your boss into doing something so drastic.

—

You can’t keep your eyes off them—his ears.

One, because you’ve always found them to be one of his most adorable features. Two, because they’ve looked more irritated than usual, burning an angry red beneath the heavy gems in his lobes.

He seems uncomfortable with them, too. Wincing in meetings when he positions himself a certain way in his seat. An occasional, barely-there sound drawn from his throat when his hair scrapes his ears. And he’s more irate than what’s typical of Onychinus’ kingpin, lashing out unprovoked or being more quiet and reserved than you’re accustomed to.

You offer him painkillers to ease the ache. Even suggested he take the earrings out a few times; his ears are clearly sensitive, and perhaps the studs are too much for them to bear. 

But he waves you off with a tired smile. Reasons that they’re still healing, so he’ll just have to put up with the discomfort until then. 

—

“I feel terrible,” says Emcee for the umpteenth time, fiddling with the strap of her bag as she walks beside you through the mall.

“It’s alright,” you assuage, “you wouldn’t have known. I don’t even think he knows he can’t just wear anything. You know he’s bourgeois.”

She studies her feet, remorse twisting up her features. “I know. But I picked them out, ya know? And I’m the one who talked him into getting them pierced in the first place.”

You squeeze her shoulder, a reassuring smile curling your lips. “You did good. They look good. Maybe we can find something a little less gaudy, though. Something that won’t make his ears fall off.”

Emcee snorts, nudging you. She seems to be in better spirits, taking you in with those big eyes. “Yeah. Well, hey! Let’s stop here first!”

You don’t protest when she comically drags you into a jewelry store, her somberness an afterthought.

—

You’re as quiet as a secret, thanking your years of training for making you so. 

You slink into Sylus’ study, clutching a palm-sized, black box behind your back. He’s out conducting business, leaving the various trinkets and adornments of his office unprotected.

Giving the room another once over to ensure he won’t appear from the shadows—and that Mephisto isn’t around—you pad over to his desk, strewn with various papers and fountain pens.

Discreetly, you place the box on the edge near his chair where he’ll easily find it, the intricately curled scarlet ribbon catching in the ambient light. You try to make it look inconspicuous. Arrange some papers around it, fussing over its positioning before giving up.

You don’t know why you’re so nervous—it’s just your boss. Sylus, the man who isn’t afraid to sing like a metal pipe dragged over concrete in public. You’ve given him gifts before. Though you don’t think you’ve ever given him something so…personalized.

With your heart in your throat, you flee his study, praying to the powers above that he likes your present as much as you enjoyed picking it out.

—

“I wouldn’t put it past you to plant a bomb in my office,” Sylus teases.

You scoff from the opposite side of his desk. “If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it four years ago, bossman.”

He quirks a brow, studying you from the safety of his leather, high-backed chair. Seems to consider your words before you give him an exasperated look. 

He summoned you to his office a few hours after you’d snuck in. Of course, his security system picked up everything. You should’ve known.

You watch him fiddle with the box, your chest swelling with anxiety. 

“Just open the damn thing. It’s not a bomb.”

He taps his temple in that customary way, humor tugging at his lips. “That’s something that someone trying to kill me would say.” 

You roll your eyes, growing impatient.

Sylus doesn’t make you wait much longer, and you watch him tug at the ribbon with bated breath. Your heart seems to stop beating as he peels the box open, and he’s stock-still when he beholds what’s inside. 

He appears considerate. Quiet as his expression softens, eyes wavering between you and the box.

“Are these for me?” he queries hoarsely. Almost disbelieving.

You nod rigidly, fear and rejection coiling around your spine. You picked out hypoallergenic studs to hopefully curb his sensitivity. They’re modest yet stylish enough to complement his style.

Does he like them? Shit, does he hate them?

He chuckles something low. Something fond, and you feel it curdling in your stomach. He suddenly pushes away from his desk, and you blink rapidly, alarmed.

Sylus peers at you with a rare tenderness shining in his eyes. Expectant. “Would you like to do me the honor?” 

You gape like a fish out of water, owlishly blinking before you pick up what he’s talking about. “Uh, sure?” 

You inwardly kick yourself for how small you sound, how your voice cracks, and you awkwardly round his desk to stand before him, nerves wound tight. He leans back in a casual slouch, the soft mirth never leaving his handsome face whilst his eyes slide shut.

You step between his splayed legs, heat surging like molten liquid through your body. You pluck the matte box from betwixt his fingers, and you shudder when your skin meets. It’s strange; you’ve been close to him before. So why does tonight feel so…intimate?

Determined, you wet your drying lips with your tongue, pushing out a breath and resigning yourself. You bend slightly at the waist, fingers cautiously grazing over his skin to clasp one of his earlobes. You flinch when Sylus winces, a strained sound torn from his throat. 

“Sorry.”

“No, no. It’s alright.” He turns his head, offering you his ear, pretty lashes fluttering beneath a slightly furrowed brow. “Keep going.”

You swallow thickly past the sand in your throat. Try again, his fingers tightly gripping the armrests of his chair in your periphery. 

You feel awful. Know that his ears are still a little sensitive. But they’re soft and elastic beneath your fingers, and you’re hyper-vigilant as you remove one of his earrings.

His body tenses, legs threatening to lock around your hips as you stand between them. But he stops himself, instead giving you his other ear to repeat the process. 

He seems to relax once you’ve removed both earrings, lips slightly parting with a relieved breath out. You can’t help wanting to run your fingers along the cartilage. Want to rub the pain away. Maybe sink your teeth into it. 

“You’re sure this is alright?” you caution, plucking one of the studs from the box and setting said box on his desk behind you. 

He nods, holding his breath, brows knitting together. You feel like you’re doing something you shouldn’t be. Touching him in intimate places with the way he bristles and lightly gasps as you carefully slot each new stud in his lobes.

You’re grateful it’s over, taking a step back to appraise your work. And dammit it all, if he didn’t look good before…

“How do they look?”

“Hot,” you reply before you can think. 

Sylus chuckles at your brazenness, and the air seems to shift. An arm creeps around your waist, his massive hand finding the small of your back, its warmth bleeding through your blouse. Without warning, he tugs you closer until you stumble into him, your knee propped on the chair between his thighs. 

The look he wears is predatory. His eyes shine like dwindling coals, falling to your mouth before easing up to drill into your soul.

“Wouldn’t you like a closer look?”

His warm breath fanning over your face is dizzying. The proximity of his body to yours, his chest so pleasantly rigid and hot beneath your palms, and that devastating scent he carries is a recipe for disaster. There’s no mistaking his body language, the languid stir of his eyes. 

But you’re you, and this is your boss. Sure, you’ve been attracted to him for a very long time. But you’ve never acted on your infatuation, figuring he would reject you in favor of someone else. You didn’t want to muck up the relationship you’d worked so hard to construct. 

So, you laugh off his flirtations, attempting to quell the thumping of your heart in your throat. “Did Emcee talk you into doing shrooms, too?”

His voice crackles like a hearth fire. “Why? Do I look like I’m under the influence?”

You catch your breath, unaware you were even holding it. “No, but you’re acting kind of…strange.”

“Am I?” His hand makes several expeditions up and down your back, his free hand falling to your waist. 

You gasp, lips quivering, eyes hooded.

“If I’m making you uncomfortable, sweetheart,” he murmurs, enamored by your mouth, “feel free to tell me to stop.”

How could you when he makes you feel like this? Witless, confused, hot? The English language eludes you when a slender finger crooks under your chin, slightly tilting your head back.

Your body is under his command as he lures you closer, fully intending to kiss you. Pleasant tingles ricochet through your bones when his lips graze yours, and you’re about to abandon your inhibitions and just kiss him.

Until the door of his study flies open, the heavy oakwood cracking against the wall, and you don’t think you’ve ever moved faster, scurrying away from Sylus to stand rigidly at his side.

“Hey, bossman,” says Kieran, oblivious to what he just interrupted. “Your guest is here.”

You don’t miss the growl roiling in Sylus’ chest, and if looks could kill…

You take the opportunity to slip out of his office while he’s giving Kieran an earful about manners, and you slink against a wall in the hallway once you’re out of earshot. A lovestruck smile crests over your face, your heart pounding beneath your fist curled to your chest. 

Perhaps you should invest in these heartfelt gifts more often if it means having more close calls like that with the object of your quiet pining.

[enhani-ki]

BMF part i - reader x ni-ki

warnings : smut, nsfw, dry humping, explicit languages, etc.

notes : inspired by sza's song. reader is downbad & desperate but that's the point. i had to break this down into two parts, the part two is more explicit version of this BMF. you can read it [here!]

you've been in love with ni-ki for a long time now, and recently, it finally felt like all your patience, all your hard work, was already starting to pay off.

he was actually acknowledging you, paying attention to you now.

because before, ni-ki would always reply late, always busy, barely sparing you more than a few words and there were so many times you almost gave up, so many moments where you thought,

"maybe i should just move on."

but you really, really like him.

even though you didn't really have the right to expect anything, you hoped and pretend he can still be your man no matter how many mixed signals he gave you, no matter how confusing or frustrating he was, you stuck around.

ni-ki, on the other hand, had just gotten used to you.

you're always praising him, you say you feel different when you're with him, you tell him anything.

always making him feel good about himself.

and whenever he feels lonely, it was actually nice to have someone checking in on him, asking how he was doing. and whenever he was bored? well, you were always down to accompany him anywhere, anytime.

you make him laugh. you're a little wild (which is an understatement btw) and always keeping things interesting.

so, without even realizing it, ni-ki had let you become a part of his routine.

y/n: i'm curious tho :(

ni-ki furrowed his brows, typing back.

riki-san: hm, about what? :)

y/n: how many kids do u want me to give you?

his mouth fell open. "what the-" he just stared at his screen for a moment, completely appalled. he was not one to share his texts, let alone let others peek into his phone, but this?

he just had to.

he turned his phone around to show your text with others in disbelief. "hyung, look at this," he scoffed.

heesung let out a low whistle while jungwon, on the other hand, immediately facepalmed. "oh my god…"

you sat there, waiting. kicking your legs in the air.

even if he was busy, even if he slept all day, you were always there, waiting for him to respond.

though, what ni-ki didn't know was that you actually wanted to blow up his phone just to ask what he was up to.

luckily, you didn't… whew.

you haven't seen ni-ki for so long, and when he finally came back, it felt like you were still missing him. every time he texted or replied, it was always after you had already fallen asleep. his schedule was a mess, and judging from the headaches he had been getting, it was starting to take a toll on him.

so when he asked if you wanted to spend some time at their dorm, of course, you agreed without hesitation.

the plan was just to play video games, maybe take a quick nap together, but the moment ni-ki laid down, his exhaustion won. he was knocked out almost instantly, breathing steadily and deeply as he curled up in bed.

your phone buzzed, a while later. then again. and again.

heeseung: yo, come out and eat with us?

sunghoon: why are you guys still in there?? we’re starving.

you glanced at ni-ki who's still lost in sleep, his expression seemed completely relaxed for the first time in weeks. you hesitated, but your stomach already made the decision for you.

y/n: yeah. i'm coming out, sorry.

the boys were already gathered when you stepped out. "he's still out cold?" jay asked, and you just nodded.

they all chuckled, and you let out a small laugh before eating dinner with them. their conversations were nonsense but somehow still entertaining, and even though you enjoyed yourself, you felt bad because ni-ki didn't get to eat with everyone.

and by the time he finally woke up, the dorm was already silent. it was near midnight, and everyone had already gone to bed. he stumbled out of his room, eyes barely open with his messy hair. his body moved on autopilot as he walked to the kitchen to reheat some leftovers.

he ate alone at the counter, scrolling through his phone in between bites, texting you, apologizing how he didn't get to take care of you.

he sighed, rubbing his face before clicking his phone off but just as he was about to head back to bed, he saw you sleeping in the couch.

you stayed.

he sat beside you, brushing a few strands of hair away before pulling a blanket over you.

he grabbed the remote, and switched on the tv, immediately lowering the volume.

the soft glow illuminated both your faces as he clicked on a baseball replay, slouching further into the cushions.

ni-ki's jaw tensed as he watched the game unfold. "oh, what the fuck?" he muttered under his breath when a player completely fumbled an easy play.

you moved slightly, shifting in your sleep.

he glanced at you, immediately biting back any of his further commentary but every now and then, he couldn't help it—sharp exhales, quiet cursing, groaning in frustration whenever something stupid happened.

you started waking up, not fully, but enough to recognize the occasional, "eh?" and "tsk, are you serious?" from beside you.

you never thought you'd be a little rude to him, but you had just woken up too, and your entire body ached from uncomfortably lying on the sofa. so with a frown, you mumbled, "is that live or a replay?" totally annoyed.

ni-ki stiffened, suddenly feeling bad for being so loud. "replay. why?" he answered, looking away from the screen.

"then watch it tomorrow…"

his grip on the remote tightened slightly. "i- i just have… 40 minutes left."

"you could watch it tomorrow though," you repeated.

he shook his head, his lips forming a small pout. "no way."

you, however, were also not having it. "riki…"

no response, he's barely even looked at you, leaning to the side to keep watching the game.

you tried to stand up but the second you moved, dizziness hit you. you vision went blank for a second, your body were still sore and stiff that before you knew it, you lost your balance.

you stumbled, ass landing right onto ni-ki's lap.

his hands instinctively shot out, gripping your waist to steady you.

and holy shit, you felt it.

you already knew it was big—you'd seen the print in his gray sweats plenty of times but now you were actually sitting on his lap, fuuuck, you could feel the size pressing up against you...

ni-ki was definitely packing.

he sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers twitching against your waist. "don't move."

you weren't moving. you couldn't, and you wouldn't, not when you could already feel inches of him beneath you. heavy and starting to throb against your ass.

then, as if you lost all your shame, you rolled your hips just slightly. making ni-ki hiss your name out, "y/n..."

your core clenched at the sound of his voice.

his hands flew to your shoulders, his fingers digging into your skin as his head fell back against the couch.

a soft moan escaped your lips as you rocked your hips again, grinding against him, rubbing your ass against his clothed length.

"oh, that feels good, y/n..." he groaned. his voice deep and strained.

the way he said your name sent more heat straight between your legs.

you stood up just to sit in his lap but it's to grind while facing him this time. your clothed cunt was pressing right against his length. a sharp gasp left your mouth at the direct friction and fuck yes, it really feels so good.

ni-ki's dick grew harder and longer under your ass, his hands were gripping your waist to steady not only you, but also himself.

oh, and he bet you were already so wet down there too.

you stared into each other's eyes, chests were rising and falling, both just breathing together.

he was looking up at you, then he gently grabbed the back of your head and crashed his lips onto yours to kiss you sloppily.

your first kiss with him.

messy, heated... he's pushing his tongue into your mouth desperately.

you whimpered, grinding harder against his cock, rolling your hips like your life depended on it.

ni-ki groaned into your mouth, his looking up at you, watching the faces you make while riding him on top. his hands were squeezing on your tits, then trailed down to grip your ass, pushing your body more down onto him.

your pleasure was building fast, burning hot in the pit of your stomach all because the friction was perfect—the fabric of your thin shorts rubbing against your soaked panties, his thick length pressing right into your clit, right where you needed it.

your movements turned frantic, your head was swinging in all direction while chasing your high that is already within reach. "oh, shit- ah-"

click. the light's turned on

"fuck-" you panicked, shoving him away, and he pushed you back.

you quickly hid. ni-ki sat up straight, grabbing a pillow and shoving it into his lap, covering the very obvious problem straining against his sweats.

both of you sat there, frozen.

"what are you two doing?" sunoo asked, standing there, still groggy, his lips forming a small pout. "i swear i heard..."

ni-ki rolled his eyes, cutting him off. "you're weird for even thinking about it, hyung…" he said, trying to gaslight his sunoo hyung.

sunoo squinted at him suspiciously.

"yeah, yeah, that's crazy…"

but shit- you can't stop cumming right under that blanket.

sunoo crossed his arms. "i'll tell the others tomorrow. you're so dead, y/n. especially you, ni-ki." he threatened and walked away, leaving the two of you even more frozen in place.

you sighed, cupping your blushing face and without another word, you got up and made your way to the kitchen, needing a drink of water... and probably a moment to process what just happened.

you can't blame sunoo, because even yourself, you can't believe you just did something like that either.

you can't believe you dry humped ni-ki, using him like that just so you can cum.

the realization was awful, heat started rushing to your cheeks even more as you gripped the glass in your hands.

it's too embarrassing to even think about going back. what would you even say to him? how would you face him?

but then a pair of arms wrapped around your waist from behind. ni-ki's warm lips pressed a kiss to your cheek.

"hentai."

you squeezed your eyes shut in pure embarrassment. "i'm so sorry…"

but it's okay, ni-ki always knew just how down bad you are for him.

you decided to go home after. ni-ki sat on the couch again after, running a hand through his hair, feeling his body still burning from everything that just happened.

he glanced down at his lap, his cock is still a bit hard but it was also painful because you already left, leaving him with the first worst case of blue balls in his life.

his mind flashed back to the way you were riding him... wishing you can come back and take responsibility for this.

everyone gathered in the living room the next morning, forming a very obvious intervention circle with ni-ki. he sat in the middle, arms crossed, his legs were spread out, looking all nonchalant.

sunoo had already spilled everything, being the absolute snitch. now ni-ki was being forced to sit through the most painful conversation of his life.

"ni-ki, as the youngest, you need to be responsible..."

"we know you have needs, but please be discreet..."

he sighed, nodding along, pretending to listen but their words were just coming in one ear and going straight out the other.

he wasn't trying to be disrespectful, but did they really think he wanted to be here, listening to a sex talk from his own members?

"and always remember, protection is key..."

"you don't wanna end up on some news-"

ni-ki nearly choked. "hyung, what?!"

jake shrugged. "there's also those shows where young couples get unexpected babies..."

jay nodded, completely serious.

sunghoon sighed dramatically. "imagine the headlines, man-"

jay smacked sunghoon on the arm, stopping him from making the talk serious. "bro-"

he doesn't wanna hear it, he loves them but hell no... they don't know any better? so as soon as he escaped to his room, he grabbed his phone to text you.

riki-san: they already talked to me :)

you stared at the message. a smiley face? okay… so it must've gone well. it's probably not that serious, right?

y/n: great…

riki-san: just great?

you groaned, scratching your head in stress and embarassment. "what does he want me to say?!"

then another message popped up before you could even think of a reply:

riki-san: can i come over to get the record?

more notes : back from the dead.

check : part two of BMF ; マスターリストm.list

taglist: @dolliewon @ziiao @17ericas

[mehtallee]

Pumping Dumb

Troy wasn’t exactly the sharpest guy when we first met, but back then, at least he could form full sentences. He was my college roommate—a six-foot-four, gym-obsessed wall of muscle who somehow balanced his protein-shake-fueled lifestyle with being a student. Well, tried to, anyway. It didn’t take long before he started asking me for “help.”

“Bro, I need to get bigger,” he had groaned one night, staring at himself in our dorm mirror, flexing his arms. “But, like, I dunno, bro… I feel like I ain’t doing enough, y’know?”

I adjusted my glasses and leaned back in my chair, hiding my smirk. Oh, I know. I had been waiting for this moment.

“You need a system, Troy,” I said. “Someone to guide you. Someone… smart.”

His eyes lit up. “Like you, bro?”

I nodded. “Exactly like me.”

And just like that, I had him.

The plan was subtle at first. I started with supplements—my own special mix, designed to boost his energy, accelerate his gains, and, well… gently suppress his higher thinking. The changes crept in slowly, so Troy never noticed. But I did.

He stopped questioning things. If I told him to do something, he’d do it—no hesitation.

“Drink this.”

“Okay, bro.”

“Do one more set.”

“Hell yeah, bro.”

“Skip that lecture. You don’t need it.”

“Yeah, bro, waste of time.”

Each day, he lifted heavier weights while his thoughts got lighter. His sentences got shorter. His vocabulary shrank. But he felt great, and that’s all that mattered to him.

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

At first, I had to be careful. There were still traces of thought left in that thick skull of his. I learned that the hard way when I got too bold too soon.

One day, while he was sitting on his bed scrolling through his phone, I took the opportunity to get a little… hands-on.

“Damn, Troy,” I murmured, moving closer. “You’ve really packed on some size.”

He smirked, flexing his arm. “Hell yeah, bro. Feels tight.”

I reached out, letting my fingers graze over his biceps, testing their firmness. Perfect.

But then—

“Uh, dude?” His expression shifted, uncomfortable. He pulled his arm away. “Kinda weird, man. Like, chill.”

I forced a laugh, raising my hands. “Hey, just admiring the work, dude.”

He gave me a wary look, then shrugged it off, going back to his phone. But I made a mental note. Too soon. There was still something in him that resisted. I’d have to fix that.

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

By the time we hit week three, Troy was skipping every single class. His idea, of course—or so he thought.

“Dude,” I said one morning, watching him struggle to put on a tank top that barely fit his swelling torso. “College isn’t really for guys like you, y’know?”

He frowned, his thick brows scrunching. “Huh?”

“I mean, look at you, Troy. You were born to lift, to grow. You really think wasting time in lectures is gonna help you get swole?”

His lips moved slightly, like he was trying to process what I’d said, but I could see the gears in his head turning slower than before.

“Uh… yeah, bro,” he finally said, nodding. “Yeah! You right! I gotta, like… focus, bro. Just—just LIFT. Get BIG.”

I grinned. “Exactly.”

And just like that, Troy stopped attending College entirely.

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

By week five, he had completely surrendered his decision-making to me without realizing it. He thought he was in control.

“Bro, should I eat this?”

“What do you think, Troy?”

His blank stare lasted a second too long. Then: “Uh… I think… I dunno, bro. You think for me.”

“I do, don’t I?”

He nodded, beaming, completely unaware of how empty his own head had become. I had done it. Troy wasn’t just dumb anymore. He was mine.

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

6 months has passed since then, and now? Now I could touch him as much as I wanted.

“Hey, Troy,” I murmured, running my fingers along his thick arm. “You cool with this?”

Troy blinked, his dopey grin unwavering. “Huh? Uh… yeah, bro. I don’t mind.”

I squeezed his bicep, watching the way his muscle flexed under my grip. Perfection. “Why’s that?”

He tilted his head, slow to process. “’Cause… uh… I’m just… muscle, bro.”

I smirked. “That’s right. You’re just muscle. Just a big, strong body. No need to think, right?”

Troy’s lips parted slightly. “Yeah, bro. Just… body.”

I ran a hand down his chest, pressing into his pecs, feeling their firm weight. No resistance. Nothing but dumb compliance. My fingers brushed under his arm, grazing the warm, musky skin of his armpit. The scent hit me instantly—strong, masculine, overpowering.

“Man, you really are just a muscle,” I murmured, inhaling deeply. “Crazy, right? You used to think this was weird.”

Troy’s slack expression didn’t change. “Huh? Uh… nah, bro. Ain’t weird.”

I chuckled. “Oh, but you did think it was weird before. Remember?”

His forehead scrunched slightly, trying to think. “Uh… nah, bro. I don’t… remember.”

I grinned, giving his pec a playful squeeze. “Of course you don’t. Because a muscle doesn’t need memories.”

Troy nodded slowly. “Yeah, bro… just muscle.”

“Just a muscle that belongs to me, huh?”

There was a pause. Then, with a slow, stupid nod: “Yeah, bro. Yours.”

I smirked and grabbed the hem of his shirt. “You don’t need this, do you?”

Troy blinked, watching as I pulled it up over his head and tossed it aside. His bare torso gleamed under the light, thick with sweat, pulsing with heat.

“Just a big, dumb toy for me to play with,” I murmured, trailing my hands across his chest, his stomach, his arms. “And you’re fine with that, aren’t you?”

Troy’s lips curled into a mindless smile. “Yeah, bro… fine with it.”

“Good boy.”

I dug my fingers into his flexed bicep, relishing the way he didn’t even flinch as I placed my fingers dip into the crevices of his bicep to his armpits...

This dumb muscle hunk is really far gone. all his work, all his excursion, all his efforts to build this majestic body, all of it is all mine.

[dalliancekay]

As @hasturswig says in a comment, it's Aziraphale who is constantly worried. He looks up with worry, he looks around, he looks behind, he dithers at Crowley's suggestions to do something they should not. He questions, he looks scared, he blames himself before anything even happens. And he has every reason to be worried. They got lucky partly because Hell does not give a damn about Crowley unless he does not deliver results (which with our proclivity to be creative in the pursuit of sins he had no problems doing) and Crowley rarely runs into a problem until the day they find out he mislaid the Antichrist. While Heaven seems to think Aziraphale is at best a dumb little lamb who occasionally needs checking on and a few encouragements and who sometimes pops in with inane questions and at worst is too inconsequential to make any difference to anything so why bother actually checking what he does with his stay on Earth. Until one fateful day when Metatron shows up to tell him he knows of his and Crowley's 'partnership' and Aziraphale understands the day he feared has come and he will have to do all he can to save his demon and so he makes the hardest decision and returns to the place he despises.

Kinda disturbing how in the show heaven turns out to have surveillance photos of crowley and aziraphale it’s quite dark if you think too hard about it — how they can never truly feel safe and they have no privacy, not really

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Handle With Care 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your work blurs the lines between professional and personal.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

"Sam's not gonna make it," Bucky huffs as you stand at the sink. He puts his phone face down. "He's an important guy now." He turns and leans on the counter as you rinse the plate in your hands. "I told you, I can clean up after myself."

"And I told you, it's not too much," you put it in the rack. "My mother tried to raise a lady, despite how I turned out."

He tilts his head as he eyes you, "there's a dishwasher."

"Aren't you the cranky old man who tells the youngins they don't know what hard work is?" You scoff.

His lips thin, "you heard that?"

You shrug, "you're a good trainer, Barnes."

"It's a short leash," he growls.

"Is that what you think?"

He sighs and crosses his arms. "You're not like me. I know what people see when they look at me."

"Is that barbecue sauce on your chin?" You smile. He frowns and quickly rubs his chin with his knuckle. You chuckle. "Messing with you."

He huffs.

"What do you know about me, Barnes? You read my file."

"I don't know," he scratches his neck. "You're a demolitions expert."

"Oh, and do you know how I got to know explosions so well?"

"File said you worked with the PD--"

You scoff. "You really didn't dig into the archives? The real ones?"

He shakes his head.

"I didn't work with the PD. I got arrested for setting up IEDs around a farmhouse. Several."

"Farmhouses?" His eyes flash. "Why--"

"Long story short, you meet a lot of backwards people out in the country," you put the second plate in the tray and scrub a knife. "Couple years in, they showed up. Offered me a deal. I saved an embassy. Got my freedom. With conditions."

"Hm."

"Should they really trust me? You think I won't go back and try again? After they've taught me how to do it ten times better?" You laugh. His cheeks twitch. You shake your head. "Barnes, really."

"Well..." he drops his arms. "I don't know, do I?"

You laugh. He lets himself smile.

"Sorry about Sam. I'll let him know he's a real shit for bailing," you pull the stopper in the sink. He hands you a towel. You dry off and give it back. "If you can tolerate me a little longer, we could watch something. From this century."

"You didn't like Showtime?"

"Oh, it was fun, but I need more than moony eyes and tapping toes," you retort. "And I don't mind the snuggles." His brows furrow and you turn to look around, "where is that kitty?"

He's silent as you make clicky noises in an effort to entice the cat from her hiding spot.

"Didn't take you for an animal person."

"Might say the same of you," you toss back. "I had a pet snake. Wasn't much of a cuddler."

"Huh," he utters.

"Huh, what?" You turn and face him from the doorway.

"Nothing. Just the definition of a lady's changed a lot since my day."

"I'm sure a lot's changed. Can't even imagine," you say. "I did three years and came out, totally lost. You did... a lot longer."

"Yeah, well, it was easier... before."

You know who he's referring too. You can't blame him for being bitter. It must sting more now that Sam chose not to come hang. You almost want to call him up and bitch but you doubt he'd answer.

"Alright, my choice," you declare as you enter the front room. "You need a dose of pure schlock."

"You don't have to feel sorry for me," he grumbles.

"If I did, you'd know it," you scoop up your phone and ignore him. "I'm thinking the trashiest action crap we can find."

"You really don't have to--"

"Barnes, I'm here, and to be honest, I don't really feel like dealing with rush hour," you sneer. "So be a good host and get me a beer."

He stares back at you and blinks.

"Oh, wait, wait, I'll ask like a lady." You bat your lashes and force a smile. You add a few octaves. "Oh, please won't you get me a drink?"

He makes a face, "don't ever do that again."

You snort. You look around for his television remote. You click on the screen and flop onto the couch.

His suggested is a bit predictable; war docs, Lord of the Rings, The Sopranos? Alright. No wonder he's so goddamn serious.

He comes back with two bottles. He offers you one. He turns and stand next to the couch as he presses the glass neck to his lip but doesn't drink.

You continue your search for something less dire. Arnie is always a good time, right?

"Barnes," you select a classic; Predator. "You wanna sit? The whole lurking in my peripheral thing makes me itchy."

He flinches, "uh, sure."

He steps around the couch and sits right against the armrest. You look down at yourself. There's the stain on the borrowed shirt but otherwise you're presentable. You lift your arm and sniff.

"I smell or something?" You ask and put the remote down.

"Huh?" He glance at you.

"You think I'm contagious, or something?" You tease.

His forehead wrinkles and he shows his teeth.

"You don't have to tuck yourself into the corner like a misbehaved child," you say.

"It's not... no, just making sure you have space."

"Relax, I don't got any explosives on me," you sit back and face the screen.

A white blur jumps up beside you and you wince. Bucky does too. Alpine walks in a circle, seeking pets from her owner before spinning back. She comes to nestle against your leg, putting her head on your thigh. You stroke her gently.

"I can see why you don't like to go out, Barnes," you snort.

"She's alright." He eases just a bit. "She'll be making all sorts of racket at midnight."

"Good kitty," you praise and reach for your beer. "You give him hell, pretty kitty."

He sighs and turns his bottle in his hands. Too bad that stuff can loosen him up.

[akirathedramaqueen]

The Chandelier and Comfortable Lies

So, @tealvenetianmask and I started rewatching Helluva Boss not so long ago to refresh it in our minds and we occasionally find new layers to the narrative and subtexts and symbolism . . . and we thought we'd literally taken it apart frame by frame at this point.

Dudes. Chandelier. THE fucking chandelier.

Of course, there's an obvious parallel of them, mulled over millions of times:

The chandelier's all bright and shiny, they're both under it, laughing and having a good time.

The chandelier, covered by satin and turned off, separates them as they're breaking up.

But that's not what I came here to tell.

We're used to assosiating light and soft colours with something light-hearted and sincere, and dark, muted ones often suggest that ominous and villanous things are about to happen.

But what if I tell you it's the other way around? What if we flip the narrative, take the assumption that something bad happened the first time they were playing around the chandelier?

Here, look at this moment in The Circus, which follows right after the chandelier scene.

We're instantly getting reminded that Blitzø hadn't come to the palace with good intentions. In fact, he robs the place, dupes Stolas into the whole thievery thing, and makes him an unknowing accomplice.

Now, I'm not here to blame Blitzø. He, himself, was coerced by his father to do this, literally sold to royals as a fucking asset to entertain the Goetian prince for five bucks and a slim-fit condom.

Yet, the fact stays that Stolas's and his interactions were built on nothing but lies. They might have developed some warm feelings toward each other, but it's impossible to form anything meaningful, while the foundation is flimsy and built on force, power plays, and trickery.

Twenty five years later, Blitzø enters Stolas's life again, and the lie continues. This time, the decision to steal the book is in his full agency.

Long story short: he gets caught, he beguiles Stolas, spends a not-so-fast night with him, then finally steals the book. Stolas, in turn, pulls a royal demon card and suggests Blitzø gives something in return for the access to the grimoire. Hence, starting their strange transactional relationship.

Nothing more but a comfortable lie.

Later, Stolas, seeing the futility and unfairness of it, finds a way to end the deal and untether Blitzø. Comes clean about his feelings.

And it goes horribly wrong.

But, despite how rocky it went, it was the end of the age of lies and deception.

And that chandelier, now hidden and bleak, is a symbol of that.

Stolas ruined those little props built with mud and sticks, ripped the curtains down, and laid the stage bare. And while it certainly took time to recover and realize some thuths, the stage still stayed, for, hopefully, another play.

They try again. They start a new relationship, with sort of clean slate—after everything that happened, after they'd reunited. And now, it might grow stronger than ever before.

[petertingle-yipyip]

WAITING ROOM - JOAQUIN TORRES

Pairing: Joaquin X Reader // Word Count: 2,282

Summary: It’s not easy to date a superhero, so you stop. But when your biggest fear actually happens, you can’t seem to stay away.

You were sitting in Joaquin’s desk chair, using your toes to spin slightly side to side. You were - again - waiting for him to come back from whatever assignment he had with Sam.

The hard part about dating a superhero-in-training was getting used to the potential life or death situations he put himself in.

Yes, he was capable. Yes, he was strong and brave. Yes, you admired what he did and loved him for it. But it was harder than you thought to make the adjustment.

Sleeping alone because he was out of town, saving someone who needed it. Eating alone because the mission went sideways. Caring for wounds he shouldn’t have gotten, but he couldn’t help the intel was outdated. Putting a smile on your face everytime he left with the promise of coming back in one piece. Those were the cuts that always bled.

How many nights had you stayed awake, waiting for him to walk in? How many nights did you stay awake when he was recovering in case he needed you? How much food had you left out to get cold because you just couldn’t eat? How many messages had you left on his phone when he didn’t come home on time?

How much longer could you do it?

He was back from training exactly when he said he would be. A rare occurrence that you were both glad for and dreading. You spun to face him and smiled.

“Hey.” He grinned and you felt a weight settle in your stomach. This conversation wouldn’t be easy. “Told you I’d be on time today.”

He passed by you to put his stuff away, making sure to stop and kiss the top of your head first.

“Joaquin?” You quietly tried for his attention while your eyes landed on your shoes. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about…”

“I already know.” He answered and your head snapped up. “Date night. We could try that new Mexican place? I’ve heard good things.”

“Oh…” Your gaze fell again. How could you forget date night?

You made your decision then. You could talk about it later. You shook your head and stood, plastering that fake smile again. No one breaks up on date night.

“Hang on.” He stepped in front of you, a hand on either of your shoulders. He scanned your face and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” You tried the smile again.

“It’s not nothing. I know that look. That’s the ‘I have to say something I don’t want to’… Oh, shit. Did someone die?”

If only it was that simple.

“No one’s dead.” You said honestly. “We can talk later, okay? It’s date night.”

“We’re not going anywhere until you talk to me, querida.”

You closed your eyes with a deep sigh.

“I need you to know it’s for the better.” You spoke, still hiding behind closed eyes. “Please know that.”

“You’re scaring me… What’s going on, Y/N?” He said quietly. He gave your shoulders a small squeeze and you had to force yourself to push his hands off. “Y/N?”

“It’s for the better.” You said again, turning away from Joaquin. You’d never be able to say it if you had to look into those damn eyes. “I love you, J. You know that, and I love what you do. I’m so proud of you. You’re a superhero. That’s amazing. But I…”

“Hey…” His hand landed on your arm but you pulled away almost immediately. “Did I do something?”

“No, you… Well, yes, but… I think we should consider taking a step back.” You finally managed. “You know it’s for the better.”

“I…”

“I want to be selfish. I want to ask you to pack it up and just be with me.” You forced yourself to face him despite the tears welling in your eyes. “But who am I to ask you for more? Sam needs you. You need this.” You gestured vaguely towards the door. “I know that, but I need you too.”

“You have me.” He reached for your hand and you let him take it. He placed your hand over his heart and held it there. “You have me.”

“I love you.” You cried.

“I love you, too.” His eyes were welling with tears of his own. “Don’t do this, Y/N.”

“It’s for the be-“

“No, it isn’t!” He cut in. “In what world is this better? You need me, right? That’s what you said. You need me. Well, I need you, too. Just- Just tell me what you need me to do, querida. Tell me, please.”

You shook your head. “I can’t… What I need you to do, I can’t ask you. I can wish all that I want, but I can’t bring us together, Joaquin. I can’t have you.”

“But you do.”

You pulled your hand free. You felt a deep cold settling under your skin, as if breaking up with Joaquin stole all the heat from your body. You watched him nod slightly and wipe his sleeve across his eyes.

“I love you.” You whispered. “You’re going to be the perfect Falcon. I always believed in you. That’ll never change.”

He forced a tight smile and then blew out a sigh. You reached a hand for his cheek and then thought better of it. You patted his chest instead before leaving.

You didn’t talk to Joaquin much after that. There were a few exchanges, sending something the other thought was funny. Joaquin sent a picture of the skyline when you assumed he was flying. You liked that he still thought of you in those moments. He even tried to call you once or twice. You hadn’t answered either attempts, but he did leave a voicemail that you hadn’t listened to.

Something about hearing his voice would leave you missing him all the more.

It was a few weeks after the break up that you got the call.

“Y/N?” Sam spoke quickly, anxiously. The background sounded busy so you assumed he was on mission. But if Sam was calling you during a mission…

“Sam?” You answered with the same urgency. “What’s wrong?”

“He went down.”

“What?”

Everything in your body ran cold. Your worst fear was happening on the other end of the call, taunting you from a distance you just couldn’t reach. Your kind just kept repeating one simple word.

Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.

“I’ll send you the address. Get there as soon as you can.”

“Wait.” You tried but the call ended.

Your phone buzzed with the address and you were shoving your feet into the closest pair of shoes. Snatching your purse, you stumbled over untied laces on your way out the door.

Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.

Miraculously, you arrived at the hospital without a speeding ticket. The receptionist directed you to the room and your heart stopped in your chest when you got to the viewing area.

“Dear God…” You whispered.

Sam came to your side and put a gentle hand on your back. You practically threw yourself at him. You hugged your friend tightly and he returned the embrace.

“He’s gotta be okay.” You cried against him. “I need him to be okay.”

“He’s a tough kid.” Sam offered. “He’ll pull through.”

“How do you know?” You leaned away to look at Sam.

“Cause he knows you need him.” Sam gave a strained smile. “And he’s stubborn.”

You chuckled weakly. “I thought it’d be better if we broke up.”

You and Sam went back to the window. Watching the doctors move efficiently, seeing the tubes sticking out of him, glimpsing the numbers for his vitals. It all felt like a sledgehammer in your chest. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were wrong. Wrong to break up with him, wrong to not be stronger, wrong to walk away from him.

He wanted to fight for your relationship. He was willing to do whatever you had asked. He begged you to stay and all you could say was ‘It’s for the better’.

Looking at him in that state, how was anything better?

You curled up in one of the chairs on the other side of the room. You stared at the wall, tears quietly falling in steady streams, until your eyes were so dry and heavy you had to close them. Even in sleep, your mind was on Joaquin.

Sam eventually shook you awake and led you to Joaquin’s new room.

“How’d he do?” You asked quietly.

“Doctors had to restart his heart.” Sam confessed.

You stumbled over your still untied laces.

“Did he tell you the last thing I said to him?” You said weakly, practically clinging to your friend. “That I loved him and I’d always believe in him… Right before I walked away from him. What if he had died, Sam? What if they couldn’t get his heart going again? The last thing I said would’ve been breaking up with him.”

“Y/N…” Sam stopped in front of the door and frowned at you. “Right now, he’s gonna need you. I’m in the middle of some heavy shit, so you need to step up for his sake.”

“He won’t want to see me.”

“Last time he called you, you didn’t answer. He left you a voicemail. You ever listen to it?”

You shook your head.

“Go in there and listen to it. If you can tell me he wouldn’t wanna see you after, then you won’t have to come back.”

You sighed in resignation. Truthfully, you were too mentally drained to argue anymore. You shook your phone in silent confirmation and snuck into the room. The door clicked shut behind you and you settled into one of the chairs.

“If you wanted me to come around, you didn’t have to get shot out the sky, J.” You tried to joke, though you were the only one to hear it. “You always were dramatic though, huh? … You better pull through, or else I’m going to the afterlife and dragging you back by your ear.”

You sunk deeper into the chair and pulled up the voicemail.

‘Hey, Y/N! I guess I didn’t really expect you to answer. Kinda hoped you would, though. Just so I could hear your voice again… Hey! I, uh, I was flying earlier with Sam and I just couldn’t help thinking that you would hate it.’

He laughed a little and your heart ached. You scooted the chair a little closer to prop your feet against the bed frame and keep a gentle hold of his hand.

‘I know you kept saying it was for the better, but not a day has gone by without me thinking of you… I miss you, y’know? I come back from training or something and I- I look for you still. I check my phone for your text. I found your sweatshirt in my car and I almost started crying… Just call me back. Maybe? If you want. Huh?’

There was a bit of background conversation. You could just make out your name and some light teasing. Whatever Sam was saying, you couldn’t quite make out but judging by Joaquin’s embarrassed laugh, it was poking fun at him calling you.

‘I gotta go, but… Call me back? Okay, bye.’

You locked your phone and leaned your head back with a heavy sigh. Your heavy eyes closed again.

“For the better, my ass.” You muttered.

You hadn’t meant to fall asleep again. The emotional rollercoaster of the day wore on you more than you had expected. There hadn’t even been time to fight the second nap.

The only thing that drew you out of it was the light squeeze of your hand. Your eyes snapped open and you sat up quickly. The bright sun coming through the windows blinded you momentarily.

A hospital room, the beeping of the heart monitor, the faint smell of sanitizer, a warm hand in yours.

“This is what it takes for you to come by, huh?” He asked playfully, a rasp in his voice that made your heart lurch.

“You idiot!” You scolded quietly. The aforementioned idiot smiled. “You could’ve died, J!”

“But I didn’t.” He offered with that stupid smile on his face still.

“Stop smiling! This is serious! If you had died, I don’t know what I would’ve done.” You admitted quickly. Being in that hospital, seeing the doctors restart his heart, it put everything into a new perspective. “Goddammit, Joaquin. I love your dumbass and you decide to get shot out the sky over the ocean! You’re lucky to have survived!”

“Y/N, I-“

“No, this is where you listen.” You said firmly. Tears were welling in your eyes so you dropped your gaze to the floor. Joaquin squeezed your hand slightly in response. “I thought it was selfish to keep you to myself. And, yeah, maybe it is. But I am selfish. I don’t want to share you with the world… I will, because I have to. Because you’re the Falcon and you’ve earned that.”

You forced your eyes up, ignored the tears down your cheeks, just so you could see Joaquin’s expression. His smile had fallen by then and his eyes were wide and attentive.

“You deserve to live your dream, J.”

“You’re my dream, querida.” He said softly. “I don’t want to do this without you.”

“I need you to live.” You stated plainly. “You’ll get hurt and you’ll be gone late and you’ll be off-grid sometimes. But you have to live.”

“If I’m coming home to you, I’ll live as long as you’ll have me.” He chuckled weakly. “I love you, Y/N.”

“This is for the better.” You nodded. “I love you, J.”

[4linos]

toilet phobia rescue.

seo changbin x gn!reader

synopsis: desperate to escape a boring date, you enlist a stranger, changbin, who creates a bizarre emergency to get you out.

warnings: strangers to friends, awkward date, no romance! completely platonic.

wc: 937

It was supposed to be a simple date, a casual meet-up with someone you'd matched with on an app. But the moment he opened the door to the restaurant, you knew you were in trouble.

His idea of a “romantic” dinner was at a place that looked like it hadn’t seen a new menu item since the '90s. The dim lighting wasn’t charming, it was just bad, and the scent of old leather mixed with... fried food didn’t scream intimacy, it screamed regret. But the worst part? You two weren’t clicking at all. He was either too eager to talk about his collection of rare baseball cards or awkwardly staring at his phone. You couldn’t even pretend you were enjoying it. You were already planning your escape, but it wasn’t until you made the fateful decision to take a bathroom break that things really took a turn.

As you exited the restroom, ready to face the social torture ahead, you bumped into him, Changbin. He’d just stepped out of the men's room and, frankly, looked way too cool for this place. Maybe it was his quiet confidence, or maybe it was the fact that he looked like he could do absolutely anything, even if he didn’t know who you were. His strong presence was like a beacon in the middle of your disaster, and you didn't hesitate.

You walked straight up to him, ignoring the fact that he had no clue who you were. "Excuse me!" you said, almost too urgently. "Can you help me? I’m in a terrible situation, and you’re literally my only hope."

He blinked at you, clearly confused, but something in his eyes, was it curiosity? It made him pause. "Uh... sure? What’s going on?"

"Look, I’m on the worst date of my life right now," you explained in a frantic whisper. "This guy—" you jerked your thumb back toward the table where your date was visibly waiting, probably texting his mom about how things were going "– is so boring, and we’re not even connecting! Can you pretend to know me? Like, seriously, just make something up. I’ll pay you. Name your price."

Changbin’s eyes lit up at the mention of money. "Oh, so you need an acting job? Let’s do it."

You quickly returned to the table, barely able to hide the excitement bubbling in your chest as you returned, apologizing profusely for your extended absence. "Sorry, took longer than I thought," you said with a forced smile. Your date nodded but gave you a look like, What took you so long?

And then Changbin swooped in, strutting over like he owned the place, exuding confidence with every step. "Hey! What’s up, Sarah?" he said, slapping you on the back in a way that made it clear he definitely didn’t know your name.

Your date blinked. "Sarah? That’s not... her name?"

Changbin’s face froze, eyes flicking over to you, and you could see the wheels turning in his head. He had no idea what your name was. You leaned in quickly. "It’s… uh, Y/N. Yeah, Y/N. You know, Y/N’s my name."

Your date looked skeptical but nodded slowly, like he was trying to convince himself this was real. Meanwhile, Changbin, with a flair for the dramatic, turned to him and nodded knowingly. "Oh, right, Y/n, my bad. I’ve known her for years! I’m Changbin, by the way. We go way back."

Your date squinted at him, clearly trying to make sense of the situation. Changbin didn’t seem phased in the least. He grinned, and just as you thought the situation might actually work out, he struck.

"Actually," Changbin said, his tone shifting dramatically, "I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I need Y/n’s help with something urgent. It's... an emergency."

Your date raised an eyebrow. "An emergency?"

Changbin nodded gravely. "Yeah, see, I’m really nervous about cleaning the toilet. It’s a long story, but I can’t do it alone, okay? It’s... it’s a whole thing. Y/n promised she’d help help me clean it. I get this weird... phobia about toilets. Like, I’m convinced I’ll fall in. You know how it is."

You could barely keep a straight face as your date stared at Changbin in disbelief. It was the most ridiculous excuse ever, but somehow, Changbin was selling it like an Academy Award-winning performance.

Your date, finally processing the absurdity of the situation, looked at you for confirmation. You shrugged dramatically, as though this was completely normal. "Yeah... he’s really sensitive about the toilet. It’s just one of those things, you know?"

Changbin pulled you away, nearly dragging you across the room. You could hear your date muttering something about “toilet phobias” and “strange friends” but you were already halfway out the door. Changbin stopped abruptly, turning to you with wide eyes.

“Alright, where’s the money?” he asked, his hand outstretched.

You sighed, defeated, and pulled out your wallet. Then, just before you handed over the cash, you paused.

“No,” you said firmly, pulling the money back. “You really couldn’t think of a better excuse? This one was so far-fetched, I’m not paying for this one. You really saved me from that disaster, but you’ve got to earn it a little more.”

Changbin gasped, dramatically clutching his chest. “Oh, so you’re saying I didn’t just save you from the worst date of your life?” He grinned mischievously. “Alright, fine, I’ll take the glory. You can keep your cash.”

And just like that, you realized that despite the disaster of a date and the absurdity of the whole situation, maybe this strange encounter with Changbin was the best part of your night after all.

//

masterlist.

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Tails had been told he had low self-esteem more than once. 

Sometimes he’d say something and Amy would look at him with concern. Sometimes he’d make a comment and Knuckles would frown, a deep-set scowl on his face. Other times he would clench his fists and yell at Sonic, and the most important person in the world to him would just grin down at him and ruffle the fur on the top of his head. 

“Hey, watch it, that’s my friend you’re talking about.” 

And Tails could only clench his fists tighter because they didn’t understand that it wasn’t about him. 

Tails didn’t really think he was stupid. Forget stupid, he knew he was smart. Smarter than most anyone he’d ever met. But he was never smart enough to stop Sonic from getting hurt. 

It wasn’t about Tails.

It was about Sonic. 

At first, when he was younger, Tails had thought the way to help was to put himself in the line of fire so Sonic didn’t have to. It was smart. It was the logical, obvious choice, to put the small, useless two-tailed fox at risk instead of the hero hedgehog that everyone loved and relied on. Without Sonic so many people would be lost, Tails included. But He discovered very quickly that no matter how smart he tried to be, Sonic was faster. No matter how much he calculated the risks, no matter how stupid it was, Sonic always saved him. Even if it was the worst decision to make, even if it ended in Sonic with blood running down his arm, soaking into his quills like oil. And he’d never stop grinning, even when he moved Tails to the side, even when there was tension thrumming throughout his entire body and sparks coming off his quills, he always turned to give him a wink and a thumbs up to show just how fine he was. Even when he wasn't fine. Even though he was never fine. 

Tails learned quickly that Sonic would never let this small useless fox be hurt. Even if it would be something small, even if it was a papercut traded for broken arm, Sonic would take the broken bones so Tails didn’t have to take the small, painful, insignificant papercut. 

And Tails could not do anything about it, too slow, too weak… 

“I’m useless.” 

“You’re not useless,” Amy’s voice was sharp. 

Tails gripped his hands into fists and didn’t argue. She didn’t get it. She hadn’t seen it yet. Because she was strong. Strong like Sonic, strong like Knuckles. Strong so Sonic didn’t always have to save them, even if he still did, they could make sure he didn’t get hurt so much. 

But Tails? Tails was nothing without his tech. Without his gadgets and his plane and his remote controls he was dead weight--worse than dead weight because Sonic wouldn’t get hurt for dead weight. Sonic didn’t carry dead weight, but he carried Tails. 

Sonic looked after him because Tails couldn’t look after himself. So he changed that. He carried his heavy equipment without asking Sonic for help, even swatting his hand away when he tried to grab things from him, even yelling at him when he took it speedily to the garage without his permission.

“Why are you so upset?” Sonic was almost laughing. It wasn’t funny.

“I can do it myself.” 

Sonic looked at him with eyes so bright they were starting to hurt to look at. They’d been getting brighter and brighter with every use of the chaos emeralds. Tails didn’t think anyone else had noticed. He didn’t think Sonic noticed. 

“I know you can.” 

“Then stop treating me like a baby. I can carry a screwdriver.”

Sonic scratched the back of his head, quiet private thoughts that he never voiced running through his head, his controlled smile on his face giving away not one iota of that information. “Okay.” And he was gone in a streak of blue, leaving Tails alone in his workshop. 

He stood, staring at the ground between his shoes until he’d fought off the heat in his eyes, then he moved to clean up the mess of dropped tools. 

Tails shooed Sonic away when he tried to ask about what he was inventing. He swatted his hand away when he tried to help him cook his breakfast. He glared at him when he ruffled his fur, even when he wanted to lean into it, even when he missed it after Sonic stopped doing it so often. 

This was important. This was more important than warm hugs and fur ruffles. This was more important than Tails feeling happy to have Sonic around. 

This wasn’t about Tails, this was about Sonic. 

Tails worked harder, got smarter, built bigger and better gadgets, focused more and more about where in a battle it was safe to be. He felt triumph when Sonic looked up at him with wide surprised eyes and then a grin. He hid when he cut his fingers while trying to sharpen a saw and bandaged it up in the bathroom while Sonic was out, fighting back tears so Sonic wouldn’t come running and covering the bandages a new pair of gloves. He built a ladder so he wouldn’t have to rely on sonic to get things from the top shelf. He became someone who didn’t need Sonic looking after him. 

And Sonic spent less and less time with him. 

And it scared Tails with something new, something he had hidden away, tucked in his chest and locked with terror and worry. What if Sonic decided Tails didn’t need him anymore? What if he left and never came back? 

But this wasn’t about Tails, this was about Sonic. If he had to lose him to save him he would. Because Tails wasn’t strong. He wasn’t fast, he wasn't even all that smart. He couldn’t stop Sonic from using his body to shield Tails from danger. He couldn’t force him to take care of himself, he couldn’t ask him to not be himself, to not be the hero for once, it was who Sonic was. 

But Tails could stay out of the way. Tails could invent and invent until his gloves were ripped and stained and there were dark circles under his eyes. Tails could leave Sonic behind in a collapsing tunnel. Tails could grab everyone else and get out of the way so Sonic didn’t have anyone to jump in the way for. Tails could save himself. 

It was small, useless, practically nothing, but he did it. He did it no matter how scared he was leaving Sonic behind in the midst of a battle, he did it no matter how others asked him how it was possible that he wasn’t worried for Sonic’s safety--he was, he was--he still did it. 

Because Tails realized very quickly that saving himself was the only way he could save Sonic.

Yes im thinking about Sonic being the source of most of Tails issues. Not on purpose but just because of who he inescapably is. Yes im thinking about Sonic being so dedicated to making sure Tails never has to worry over him or feel afraid that he won't bounce back being so focused on smiling through everything and anything that he becomes unreachable. Yes im thinking about Tails needing so desperately to be self sufficent because he knows Sonic wants to adventure to run headfirst into danger and Tails needs to be capable and smart so he can be there with him he needs to be brave and mature so Sonic doesn't have to worry about him and can focus on looking after himself and most importantly he needs to not be a burden because Sonic loves running more than anything he loves being free and Tails needs to make sure he never ever slows him down because what if he cant keep up and Sonic runs away and never comes back?

So Tails expresses concern for Sonic after a rough battle and Sonic brushes it off with a grin despite the pain in his side. Sonic reaches to pass Tails something he can't reach and Tails swats his hand aside saying he can get it himself even if it's something so small and simple to have let Sonic pass him the screwdriver. Even if admitting he'd gotten nicked by that last laser would have been easier than wrapping up his side in a cave where no one could see. They've gotta let each other know they're untouchable and they don't need each other. So they won't worry. So they'll know they're okay. So they'll be safe. So he'll stay.

[junedenim]

the shutterbugs

because it lasts forever

part 1

warnings: very smutty, very fluffy, slight slapping, chow town, blowie vill, piv palace, flash warning, recording warning

word count: 4k

You're standing in front of the produce, strawberries to be specific. One hand on the small shopping cart, the other on your chin. You're contemplating the strawberries. They aren't in season but they look perfectly sculpted, painted in a daunting red, designed to grab your eyes.

Then you hear the click. There he is. Alex. His tiny camera sitting in his hand. His brown leather jacket crinkles as he drops the camera down from his eyes, revealing his face. He plays the shy innocent card—bashful smile with those enamored brown eyes staring straight at you.

You giggle at the familiar sight. "God, you're like glorified paparazzi. You never leave me alone with that thing." You swat your hand at him and gaze back upon the strawberries.

He comes closer to you, one of his hands landing on your shoulder. "How could I?" He lands a kiss upon your cheek, gentle and soft.

You lift a carton, examining it. "Should I get strawberries?"

He pulls back, landing a hand on the small of your back. "Get whatever you want, love."

"I don't know if it'll be a waste of money." You tilt them in your hand trying to decide. It's easy for him to get lost in you in moments like this. That's why he takes pictures of all these little things. You make everything seem fun. The idea of the grocery store is a joy to you and something that was such a pain in his day, you make an adventure out of it, not only with his photography but with your behavior. 

"All eat 'em if you don't like 'em, so get 'em," Alex insists.

You hum, tapping your chin before exclaiming your decision, "Okay!"  You place them in the cart and start your stroll again. He lags behind to capture a picture. "Alex," you whine, "don't make me do all the work."

He snaps a shot of your frustrated face—nose wrinkled up, hand on your hip—before putting the camera away and taking over for you by pushing the cart. 

Things came easily in your relationship. He felt it was something you both just relaxed into the inevitability. In other relationships, this would have caused him trouble. He’s been called uncommunicative and taciturn for a time or twenty—something inherited from being a natural perceiver hidden behind the camera.

But this time was different. It was like a puzzle piece had fallen into place. Part of him slotted into part of you and that missing gap was no more. Maybe he’s becoming soppy, he’s been accused of that by some, including you—though that is more a teasing flirt than ridicule. 

He doesn’t mind. He takes it all with a shrug of his shoulders like yeah, no shit, how can you not be in love with her? 

*

Alex finds it weird that you, as a model, think having pictures of yourself is egotistical. He won’t pride himself and say he’s the greatest photographer of all time and he doesn’t have an altar dedicated to his work but he thinks homes are supposed to have pictures of loved ones. He reasons you’re a loved one so he should have pictures of you. He tries to convince you of this when you’re moving in.

You refuse every picture. He scrolls through each one trying to get you on his side. You shake your head at each one. There are the grocery shopping photos. There are the photos of you by the ocean wearing only bottoms (fair enough, if your parents ever visit). There’s one of you doing laundry, pissed off he was getting in your way. There’s the one when you painted his bedroom walls. 

You told him no person should have stark white walls. It makes you insane and the walls get super dirty. So, you painted them yellow with a bandana tying your hair back and a sunshine smile on your face. He asked you to move in that day.

“I’d like to have you around more often,” he said, standing on the ladder, perfecting the lines between the wall and the ceiling.

You giggled. “But I’m here all the time already.”

“Maybe you could live here all the time,” he offered plainly.

So, now there’s your clothes next to his clothes and way too many shoes on the rack and you have this weird powder you put in all your drinks that makes the water green. He had a taste of it once and almost vomited. But he sees that shade of green everywhere now because he thinks of you everywhere now. He likes the sight of your body next to his body.

The bed is warmer now and his house is starting to gain personality now, covered in colour and books and artwork, no longer looking like an asylum’s padded room. The world just seems to brighten up. He always found that to be cheesy, the way those people who aren’t in love roll their eyes when someone gushes, but he gets it now. As if the world was blurry and you’ve shifted it into focus.

Sometimes he feels crazy. He desires you violently. It’s kind of his every waking thought and he knows that’s crazy because it makes his heart beat really quickly and he’s aroused by just the thought of you. That’s certifiable. 

But then one time you straddled him in the morning. He had just woken up, barely had enough time to open his eyes before you were all over him. He never considered that he may want him this intensely too. Enough to crawl all over him during your first wink of the day. You’re uncontrollable. You’re licking up his body and you’re making him feel like he’s dead and you are the gates of heaven, slowly opening to him.

He reaches down in between the two front gates, runs his fingers through you. He brings it back up to his mouth just to taste it because he’s never tasted something quite so sweet. “They should make that into a lollipop,” he says.

“Shut up.” You hit his chest and he can tell you’re hungry for it. You would usually laugh at something like that but you’re horny, rubbing your cunt along his thigh, soaking your wetness on him. 

He puts his hands on your hips and stops your movement. He has you groaning and writhing against his hold. He’s hungry too but it’s nice to see you starve. “I was gonna give you a blowjob,” you say, “now I’m not so sure.”

Alex pouts. “You don’t behave well enough to give me a blowjob.”

You lean over him, your hair making a curtain around the two of you. “What do I behave well enough for?” Fuck. You’re whispering seductively, your breathing making love to his breathing, and it’s unfair when you have a voice like that. “What? Are you going to spank me?”

No, he doesn’t have the nerve for that. He doesn’t ever want you to hurt, even if you ask for it. Also, he thinks he’d be bad at it. Like it would be too soft or too half-hearted or he would rather fuck you within an inch of your life than smack you around. Fucking you sounds really fucking nice.

“Do you want to spank me?” He counters.

You straighten and laugh at him. It’s ruthless but he likes the feeling. You sober when you see his face. “Wait. Are you serious?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. Hit me.”

You giggle nervously. “Like on the ass?”

“Wherever you want.” He does mind pain if it gives you pleasure.

You scoot down so you’re sitting on his thighs. “What if I kick you in the balls?”

He blushes and chuckles. “If you want, I would like to still have working function of my dick and I think you would too.”

You put your hand on his cock over his boxers. You press down on it placing pressure but not hurting him. “I wouldn’t kick you that hard.”

“I’ve seen you work out. I think I’d have to get a new set.”

You tilt your head back in laughter. Then, you pounce, laying your mouth on him, covering yourself over him. You kiss his bare chest, a straight line down from his Adam’s apple to his pubic mound. You bite into the waistband of his boxers, teething on them. Then, you drag until he pops out. 

You sit up again. “Should you roll over now so I can smack you?” You’re touching your lips together to reduce giggles.

“Don’t make fun of me. It’s natural sexual desire.”

“I’m not making fun of you.” Despite the insistence, your laughter bubbles up. “Swear.”

“Uh-huh,” he sounds. He can barely be heard over you losing it.

To hell with this, he thinks. He lifts his hips and rolls until you’re on your back and unable to breathe because of the shock. “I could blow air on you and you’d fall over,” he says.

You smirk. “I’m already laying down.”

He groans and ground his head into your stomach. It would be annoying if you weren’t so cute. 

His mouth is right there, kissing just above your clit. He would tease you if he wasn’t voracious. He sticks his tongue in and you crack almost instantly. Hands to the roots of his hair, yanking as if to scalp him. It hurts and he loves it because it’s a sign of your uncontrollable gratification.

“Higher,” you command, so he goes higher. He sucks right on the clit, pucker his lips out to tweak it, to put his tongue on it, to turn it in his mouth. He goes harder with each of your moans.

Alex traces his fingers up your leg until he reaches the middle of you. He runs his fingers through and then pushes in, fucks you with his fingers because he wants to be soaked by you. He wants his fingers to prune with the taste of you. 

You wanted more and now you think you asked for too much. It’s overwhelming and you’re beat red and you just woke up but you’ve never felt more exhausted in your life. But you don’t want him to stop. You want to dissolve into his hands.

You weren’t inexperienced when you met him but you were young and you had never felt lovemaking like this before. Sex was something to make guys like you. Sex was to make babies. Sex was something to fake your way through in the hopes of maybe, one day, that boyfriend will figure out how to make a girl cum.

Men are more appealing when Alex is included with them. Before men were gross, stuffy, stuck-up beings with only a handful of good ones that were either taken or related. You wake up smiling every day because you realize you’re one of the people you used to be jealous of. You’re consumed by the idea people look at you guys together and are green with envy. He’s one of the taken ones now and he’s taken by you.

And then you cum and it all goes white, those thoughts in your head. It’s the only time in your life when you don’t think it all. And then you spend the rest of your day replaying it in your head. You knew orgasms were good but you understand now why all guys think about is sex because it feels like that’s all you think about now too.

When you can see again, he’s lying on top of you, brushing your hair off of your face. He’s smiling and not in the pride way, but in the plain old happy way. Because making a woman cum isn’t an achievement for him. He’s never struggled with you and you doubt he’s ever struggled much since he figured out where a woman’s clitoris is. 

The urge suddenly possesses you because the thought has been ticking in your head since he mentioned it. You slap him. Clearly across the face. It barely makes a noise but it puts a red mark on his face. He squints his eyes and shakes his head before he’s able to process everything.

You’re laughing below him, clearly sheepish by the action and waiting for his response. He can’t think of anything to say. He didn’t think you’d actually do it and he’s kind of stunned, but, you know, incredibly turned on.

“Do you still want that blowjob?” You ask, a slight blush on your cheeks like you’re a schoolgirl with a crush. He lets out a breathy laugh. You feel the way his stomach rubbles, tickling up against your skin. Sometimes you’d like to rip him limb from limb, other times, you’d like to just stare at his softness.

He rubs his nose against yours, his mouth hovering over yours. “You can if you like. I won’t object.” He’s kissing you gently like a cushion for your soul to rest on.

You nudge him to signal him to roll off of you. When he’s on his back, you assume your previous position straddling his legs. You take him in your hand, squeezing him slightly before putting him in your mouth. He’s half-hard. You like the way he feels when he’s soft like you have to work for it. Sometimes you like to feel him when his dick is in its resting position. The slight window into his natural body.

For better or worse, he arouses quickly. You take the compliment and suck him off. You lick his shaft because it always gets him kicking his legs and he’s fighting against your body resting on top of his legs, unintentionally brushing against your pussy. 

You kiss his tip, treating him delicately after the harshness inflicted on his face. You want to treat him right and make him squirm from the lightest touch. You mouth your way down his cock and begin to stroke him with one of your hands.

He curls his toes and squeezes his eyes shut, despite how much he wants to look at this. He wants to capture every moment of this. He wants someone to transmit the whole scene into his brain to replay over and over again. He sees why people become sex addicts and he might even be one because he wants to stay buried in this. He pets your hair back before fisting it, cumming, jerking up, and shaking his legs. He can’t help but mutter, “Fuck.”

He opens his eyes and sees you wipe your mouth after taking every drop of him. He tosses his head back. “Fuck.”

*

You like watching him take pictures. You don’t often get to center in on him because you’re usually the one he’s taking photos of, but every once in a while he’s able to take you with him. You fake being an assistant and sit in his chair and watch him work. You’ll get him a bottle of water to play into the act but other than that you simply watch him.

He leans a certain way depending on how good of a photo he thinks it’ll be. If he’s standing straight up, he hates it. If he’s all the way forward, willing to get on the ground for the photo, he’s completely in love, swooning for the photo (you know from experience that he likes getting on his knees, at least for you).

It’s probably not the smartest thing for you to be on set with him because he’s easily distracted. It’s hard to pull his attention away from the camera but he’s beginning to understand the beauty of his own eyes. It’s much sweeter to look at you than whatever person is before him.

People used to ask him how he didn't fall in love with all these beautiful models. Before you, he had always viewed this as work. He keeps work and pleasure separate. What a fool he was because mixing pleasure with work was the best decision of his life. But nobody else has had that ability. You drive your personality into the photo. Your gaze only turns any picture into art. He thinks whoever said eyes are the windows to the soul was only referring to you. Everyone else is just a model, nothing else.

This doesn’t do well when he’s on a professional photoshoot and he’s distracted every two seconds by you—your laugh, your eyes, your smile, the way you leave to talk to Jerry (because nobody else ever wants to talk to Jerry).

He has two models yell at him for getting distracted but he doesn’t understand how they can blame him. How are they not staring at you? 

He’s a fool who should never bring you to work again but can’t bear to leave your side. He has an attachment issue.

*

Alex gets an idea. This can either be the smartest idea ever or the dumbest one. This one might be the first to lie somewhere in the middle.

“You want to make a sex tape?”

“An artistic film,” he says because he’s a pretentious prick who claims everything you do is art. It’s flattering but sometimes you want to brush your teeth in peace.

“A porno.”

He purses his lips. “An erotic film.”

You furrow your brows. “Do you jerk off to photos of me?”

He stands up and collects your plates from dinner, silently.

You gasp. “You totally do. You perv. I never gave you permission to do that!”

Alex chuckles. “What did you think I was doing with nude photos of you?”

You follow him to the kitchen sink. “Admiring their aesthetic quality.”

“Believe me, your tits are very aesthetically pleasing.”

You smack his arm and walk down the hall.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

You don’t bother to turn back and walk straight to the bedroom. “To prepare for my porno debut.”

*

The sex tape, or whatever you want to call it, doesn’t happen until the weekend. Alex wants to shoot it on film because he’s a weirdo (he admits it) and you want to get cute lingerie because you're self-absorbed (you admit it). You’re two peas in a pod.

“Are you rolling?” You ask him as he sets up. “Oh, god, that was the most pornographic thing I could have said.”

“Relax,” he commands. You’re on edge, he can tell. 

In an effort to put you at ease, he walks over and lies on top of you. He wraps his arms around you and holds you to him. He digs his nose into your neck and breathes you in. He told you once that you smelled like what he imagines clouds smell like and cherries. It puts him at ease and his body in this position calms you. It’s familiar and there’s no reason to be performative.

“Do you ever wish that film could capture smell?” He asks into your skin.

“When there’s cookies on screen, yeah, but what if someone farts or just smells bad?”

He chuckles and looks up at you. His smile is joyous and there’s something about this being for only you—the smile and this film. It makes this idea of his even more interesting because it’s not about sex, it’s about these little in-between moments.

Each move is delicate. He’s always been a smooth lover, even when he’s harsh and raw, his touch is always soft. He parts your legs and drags your underwear down. He takes his shirt off and you unclip your bra. He stands off the bed to take his pants off. 

“Film is expensive so we’re gonna have to go quick,” he says. It leaves you cackling and already out of breath.

“That’s up to you. You’re the one who drags things out for so long.”

Alex joins you back in bed. “I can’t help it if I last long.”

You squint. “I didn’t say that. It takes you a long time to make me cum.”

He leans over you, pushing you down against the mattress. “I know that isn’t true.” He moves closer and closer. It would be threatening if his eyes weren’t so swoon-worthy. You want to kiss every inch of his face. You’d give butterfly kisses to his eyelashes. You’d make love to every last inch of him.

He’s fast, but in a controlled manner. His hips meet yours and he lines himself up with your core. He eases in slowly as you engulf his cock. He hums at the wetness and you moan at being open. Sometimes it feels like the first time all over again. Sometimes it feels like you’ve been doing this all your life and you’ll do it for another hundred years. Either way, you don’t mind, both feel this good.

“Should we be loud?” You ask.

Alex smirks. “You’re already loud.”

You roll your eyes. “I mean so the camera can hear us.”

He’s moving in and out of you now. “I don’t think it’ll have a problem hearing us.” He thrusts straight into, knocking your head against the wooden headboard, eliciting a moan from you. He knows every move in the book. He could write a manual on you to fuck you.

You push against his shoulders. “Should we do a sexier position?”

His grin is shit-eating. “Like what?” You’d slap him again if you didn’t think he’d enjoy it so much.

“I don’t know. Should I ride you? Or doggy? What way do you want it?”

“Whatever way you want it.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows. He’s still moving, albeit slowly, but still pleasantly. “I don’t know that’s why I asked you.”

“Alright.” He pulls out of you and it aches. It isn’t right, he should always be there. It feels like a part of you slipped out. He flops onto his back beside you. “Go to work.”

“Facing you or the camera?”

“Me.”

“But the camera won’t be able to see my boobs.”

“But I’ll be able to see your boobs.”

“But does future you want to see my boobs?”

“Every me wants to see your boobs.”

“So, I should face the camera.”

“No, I still want to have sex with you, not the camera.”

You giggle and don’t say anything else. You want to give yourself over to him. The whole point of this was to commit your sex to film not have sex for the film. You sink down onto him and rock against him. It’s quick because you want it to be, not because the amount of film calls for it.

It’s the perfect sight for him. Some people like sunsets or the ocean, he likes your body. He doesn’t care if it’s naked, clothed, or covered by bubbles in the bath, every part of it is poetic. He’s a bit self-conscious about him being on film. He isn’t used to being in front of the camera. But he so desperately wants you committed to filmic memory. He’s terrified one day you’ll leave or he’ll get dementia or amnesia. He wants to remember every second of this. 

You arch your back and throw your head back. You’re shaking. His hips buck up, slamming into you, finishing you both off. You land on top of him and this is his favourite part, other than the incomparable act of coming for a man, this is his second favourite. He wraps his arms around you, still inside you, and holds this moment in his arms. 

The physical thing will always be better than any photography or piece of film. Only here can he feel your laughter and see your smile and smell that cloudy scent and feel the touch of your delicate, little hands. Only here can he kiss every bit of you while resting inside you. He feels you as you slowly fall asleep. He whispers, “I love you,” only for himself to hear, but you know it just as well as he does.

*

The film cuts off right around when you straddle him. Something is better than nothing. You can always do it again. Neither of you mind.

*

a/n: sigh, the long-awaited part 2. is it as good? probably not. but it's the most smut i've written in a while i feel like (two scenes in a fic, very impressive for me as of late, i am no longer a prude). i wrote the first part of this fic back in september and now here we are in march with 3.3k words more. anyway, take a picture, it'll last longer. and someone please take more pictures of alex. please & thank you!

[paucubarsisimp]

HEYY! Could you make a fic where Pau Cubarsi starts liking Hansi Flick's daughter, who is the same age as him? At first Pau was afraid to approach the girl because he was scared of Hansi's reaction, but eventually they become friends until they both start to like each other. Idk how else to describe it haha, just something cute and fluffy please 🥰🧡

coach’s daughter

pairing: pau cubarsi x reader

summary: in which pau falls for his coach’s daughter

warnings: none

a/n: this was such a good idea 🥹! lmk if i should do a part 2 with hansi finding out!

tagged: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, lmk if you want to be added to the taglist

it was a cloudy morning when your father first walked through the doors of the barcelona training facility as their new manager. you had seen the excitement in his eyes, that familiar fire that burned when he stepped into a new chapter of his career. but for you, things were different. you had always been a shadow behind him, following his success, his every move. but now? now, you were part of the club, even if you hadn’t officially started anything. the pressure was suffocating.

you weren’t exactly involved in the club’s operations, not the way he was. still, the fact that you were there—sitting in the stands during every practice, standing by when your father needed to make a decision��it made you feel like you were just as much a part of it all as the players themselves. and that’s when you first saw him.

pau cubarsi.

at first, it was hard to focus on him in the sea of players running drills. you were used to watching professional athletes, to the smoothness of their movements and the precision in their steps. but something about him caught your eye. maybe it was the way he held himself—shy, yet determined. maybe it was how his hair always fell over his forehead in a messy, but somehow charming way, or how his greenish-blue eyes looked like they were always searching for something, someone.

he was only 18, but there was something about his presence that felt different. not like the others. more… vulnerable. like he was carrying the weight of something bigger than himself. it wasn’t just the training that wore him down. it was the weight of expectation, the desire to prove himself under your father’s watchful eye.

you saw him during breaks, always off to the side, quietly observing. he would often steal glances at you, like he wasn’t sure if he should look or if he was imagining it. when his eyes met yours, it wasn’t awkward. it was almost like he was trying to figure you out.

you tried not to pay too much attention to it. you were here for your father, to support him as he made his mark at barcelona. still, the way he looked at you… it left a strange feeling in your chest. like he was scared, but not in the way you’d expect from someone younger or less experienced. it was more like he was afraid of getting it wrong, of disappointing someone.

it wasn’t until the next practice that you found yourself sitting alone in the stands, watching the players run through drills again. most of the team was there, but your eyes kept drifting back to him. pau was standing on the far side, focused but quiet, always a few steps removed from the rest of the group. he didn’t speak much, didn’t seem to laugh or joke around like the others did. he was just there, working.

that’s when your father came up behind you.

“you’re watching cubarsi, aren’t you?”

you blinked, surprised that he’d noticed.

“yeah. he’s different, isn’t he?” you said, glancing at your dad.

your father nodded, eyes never leaving the field. “he’s got potential. he’s just young. and he’s still trying to find his place here.”

you could tell your father respected him—there was a quiet kind of admiration in his voice. “does he talk to anyone?” you asked, half-joking. you had rarely seen pau interact with the others. he always seemed… apart.

“he’s shy,” your father said simply. “but he’s also determined. i’m hoping he’ll come out of his shell soon enough.”

the idea of pau being shy surprised you. most professional players had an air of confidence about them, or at least, that was the image they portrayed. but pau was different. there was a quiet intensity about him, something raw and unpolished.

“he’s not like the others,” you murmured, more to yourself than to your father.

“no,” your father agreed, “but that could be a good thing.”

days passed, and as your father settled into his role at barcelona, you found yourself at the training facility more often. you’d attend the sessions, watching the players and occasionally offering a word of encouragement to some of them. but mostly, you kept to yourself. it was easy to get lost in the routine.

but then there were those moments when your eyes would inevitably drift to pau. you couldn’t help it. there was something about the way he carried himself, the quiet determination he had. and though he rarely spoke to anyone, when you two made eye contact, it was always a different kind of moment. almost like there was a quiet understanding there.

it wasn’t until a week after you first really noticed him that you got a chance to talk to him.

after one particularly brutal practice, most of the team had already left. you were walking toward the exit when you saw pau sitting on one of the benches near the field, his shoulders slumped, a towel draped over his neck. he didn’t look exhausted—he looked… thoughtful.

without thinking much about it, you walked over to him.

“hey,” you said, softly, not wanting to startle him.

he looked up, his greenish-blue eyes wide, almost surprised, like he hadn’t expected anyone to approach him. “oh. hi.”

you offered a small smile, taking a seat next to him on the bench. “how’s it going?” you asked, hoping to start a casual conversation.

“uh, good,” he said slowly. “i think. just… a lot to process, you know?”

you nodded, understanding completely. “yeah. it can be overwhelming at first. i’ve seen it with my dad so many times. the pressure, the expectations.”

“your dad…” he trailed off, glancing at you. there was something almost shy about the way he spoke your father’s name, like he was still getting used to the idea of being coached by someone so accomplished. “he’s… he’s tough.”

“yeah,” you said with a quiet laugh. “he is. but he’s fair. if you put in the work, he’ll notice.”

pau nodded, his fingers playing with the edge of the towel around his neck. “i just don’t want to mess up. i don’t want to be the guy who lets everyone down.”

you could hear the weight in his voice. it wasn’t just about the game for him. it was about proving himself, not just to your dad, but to everyone around him.

“you won’t,” you said quietly. “you’ve got talent, pau. just trust yourself. no one expects perfection right away.”

his eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was silence. the kind of silence that felt charged, like something was about to shift between you two. and when he looked away, it felt almost like a weight had lifted, though neither of you had said anything that would explain it.

“thanks,” he said, offering a small, uncertain smile. “i… i appreciate it.”

it was a small moment, but it lingered.

as the weeks passed, you found yourself talking to pau more often. it started with simple exchanges after training, but then, those moments became more comfortable. there was a quiet ease to your conversations. he began to relax around you, and you found yourself looking forward to those little moments when you could catch a glimpse of him, or maybe even share a few words.

he didn’t talk about himself much, but little by little, you learned things about him. he came from a small town, his family had sacrificed a lot for him to get this far. he was quiet, introverted, and seemed to have a deep passion for the game. but there was more to it than that. it wasn’t just about playing for the love of football. it was about a personal drive, something that pushed him to constantly work harder, to never settle.

and you couldn’t help but admire that.

one afternoon, after a particularly tough training session, you were walking toward the exit when you saw him again, sitting on the same bench. this time, he wasn’t alone. some of the other players were there too, chatting and laughing, but pau sat slightly apart from them, his eyes fixed on the ground.

you approached, and he looked up, his eyes meeting yours with that same hint of uncertainty.

“hey,” you said, offering a warm smile.

“oh, hey,” he replied, his voice a little shy, but warmer than before.

you sat down next to him. “how’s it going? still processing?”

he smiled faintly. “yeah. but it’s getting easier.”

the conversation felt easy, comfortable. and even though you hadn’t admitted it yet, there was something growing between the two of you. something unspoken.

as the days turned into weeks, you both began to realize that maybe… just maybe, this was the beginning of something more.

it had been a few weeks since you and pau had started talking regularly, and already, you could feel the difference. the tension that had existed between you—mostly because of your father’s position, and the fact that you had to maintain a certain distance from the players—had started to fade. with every quiet conversation and every shared glance, you felt a shift. you were beginning to see pau differently, and he, it seemed, was starting to see you in a different light as well.

it was a friday afternoon when the team had their last training session of the week. the sun was lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the field. the mood was more relaxed than usual. the pressure of a mid-week match had passed, and now, it was all about fine-tuning.

you found yourself sitting in the stands, like you always did, watching the drills unfold below. your father was in the middle of a tactical discussion with a few of the senior players, and you could hear the occasional bursts of laughter from the rest of the squad as they ran through a scrimmage.

but you weren’t really paying attention to that. no, your eyes kept drifting to one person: pau.

he was on the far side of the field, quietly running through his exercises. his hair was slightly messy, as usual, and his bright greenish-blue eyes were locked on the ball at his feet, as though it held the secret to everything he needed to do. he had always been so focused, even in the little things. it was something you admired, but it also made you wonder if he ever allowed himself to relax.

as if sensing your gaze, pau looked up. his eyes met yours for a split second, and there was that familiar feeling again—a kind of unspoken understanding between the two of you. his mouth twitched into a small smile, and you couldn’t help but return it.

the moment was fleeting, but it felt like something more than just a glance.

after practice ended, as the players began to disperse, you stood and made your way toward the locker room. your thoughts kept drifting back to pau, to the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t looking. there was something there, but neither of you had dared to say it out loud.

just as you reached the door to the locker room, you heard someone call your name.

“hey, wait up.”

you turned to see pau jogging toward you, his strides quick but careful. there was a slight hesitation in his steps as if he wasn’t quite sure what he was about to say.

“hey,” he said, breathless from the run. “you heading out already?”

you nodded, offering a smile. “yeah, just thought i’d grab some air before heading back to the office. you finished for the day?”

“yeah, just… stretching a little,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “i usually stay after practice to work on a few things.”

you raised an eyebrow. “like what?”

he glanced down at his feet, a slight blush creeping up his neck. “you know, just… some drills. trying to improve my footwork. i feel like it’s one of the things i can control the most, but… i’m still not quite where i want to be.”

you tilted your head, considering his words. pau was always trying to improve himself, always trying to become better. but it was clear that his drive came from a place of insecurity, not arrogance. it was a part of him that you hadn’t seen before, and it made you admire him even more.

“don’t be too hard on yourself,” you said gently. “you’ve got the talent, pau. you just need to trust it.”

he met your gaze, and for a moment, it seemed like he was going to say something more, but he hesitated. instead, he gave you a small smile.

“thanks,” he said, his voice quiet. “i’ll keep that in mind.”

there was a long pause, an awkward silence hanging in the air between you. and then, as if to break it, he stepped forward slightly, the uncertainty clear on his face.

“do you… want to hang out for a bit?” he asked, the question coming out slowly, almost nervously. “i mean, it’s just… after a day like today, i figured maybe it’d be nice to have someone to talk to.”

you felt a warm flutter in your chest, surprised by his invitation but also flattered. you had spent so much time watching him, observing his quiet intensity, but you hadn’t considered that he might want to spend time with you too.

“yeah,” you said, smiling. “i’d like that.”

the two of you made your way to a nearby café, a small, cozy spot a few blocks from the training ground. it wasn’t much—just a quiet place with warm lighting and the smell of fresh pastries in the air. you sat at a small table near the window, sipping on your drinks and talking about everything and nothing.

at first, the conversation was light—talking about training, small observations about the players, and the general chaos of your father’s schedule. but as time went on, the conversation deepened. pau started to open up more, sharing things he hadn’t said before. he told you about his life growing up, the pressure he felt to make it big in football, the sacrifices his family had made to support him. he talked about how hard it was to be seen, to feel like he was good enough, even though he was always told he had potential.

and as he spoke, you listened. really listened. you could see the weight he carried, the vulnerability he hid behind his quiet demeanor. there was a quiet pain there, but also a fire that burned, one that pushed him forward despite all the doubts he had about himself.

when he finally paused, looking down at his drink, you couldn’t help but ask the question that had been on your mind.

“you don’t have to be so hard on yourself, you know?” you said gently. “i mean, you’re doing great. you’re already here, at one of the biggest clubs in the world. that says something.”

pau glanced up at you, his greenish-blue eyes meeting yours with a quiet intensity. “i just… i don’t want to let anyone down. especially not your dad.”

your heart skipped a beat at his words. you knew what he meant. your father’s expectations were sky-high, and pau knew it. he didn’t want to fail in front of someone who was already so accomplished.

“he won’t let you fail,” you said softly. “he sees your potential, pau. and so do i.”

the words left your lips before you could stop them, and for a moment, the air between you felt thick, charged. pau’s eyes widened slightly, and he looked away, clearing his throat.

“thanks,” he said, his voice a little rough. “that means a lot. really.”

you smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. there was something in the way he spoke to you, something that made you feel seen, too. not just as your father’s daughter, but as you—someone he was starting to trust.

and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t just watching the world from the sidelines. you were a part of it. and so was pau.

after that evening at the café, something shifted. it wasn’t immediate, but gradually, the little moments between you and pau grew more natural. it started with small interactions: a quick smile across the field, a casual hello when passing each other in the halls. but those small moments began to build into something more.

every time you saw pau, you noticed how he seemed to open up a little more. he wasn’t as shy around you anymore. he’d hang back a little after practice, waiting for you to join him, and when you did, the two of you would talk about everything—football, life, and sometimes just random, silly things that made the hours fly by.

and you found yourself looking forward to those moments. they were always simple, but something about being with him made everything feel more… alive. it wasn’t like he was trying to impress you. he didn’t need to. the quiet sincerity in his words, his unspoken vulnerability, was enough.

it was after one particularly intense training session that you found yourself walking to the locker room, ready to head out for the day. you’d been sitting in the stands, watching the team run through drills, when pau’s eyes had caught yours again. this time, though, you didn’t look away. you held his gaze, and the corner of his mouth lifted in that familiar, shy smile. you smiled back.

as usual, he waited for you by the exit. when you saw him standing there, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, looking more comfortable than usual, your heart did that little flutter it always did now.

“hey,” you greeted him, approaching with a smile.

“hey,” pau responded, his voice warm. “you heading out?”

“yeah,” you said, falling into step with him as the two of you started walking towards the café. “feels like it’s been a long week.”

“tell me about it,” he replied with a small laugh. “but at least it’s friday, right?”

you nodded, glancing over at him. “yeah, at least there’s that.”

the conversation was light, just two people sharing the casual rhythm of a Friday afternoon, but something was different about it. maybe it was the way pau wasn’t as hesitant anymore. maybe it was the way you both felt comfortable in the silence, the occasional chuckle breaking the stillness.

as you approached the café, pau turned to you with an almost uncertain look in his eyes. “i, uh… i was thinking about something,” he said, voice a little quieter than usual.

“what’s up?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

he hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing his words. “well, i’ve been… kind of thinking about how much time we spend talking about football and all that,” he said, his hands fidgeting. “but i want to know more about you. like, outside of your dad’s job and the team. what do you like to do? i mean… i know you probably have your own life, too, right?”

the question caught you off guard, but in the best way. it felt different, more personal than anything he had asked you before. you thought about it for a moment, then smiled.

“yeah, i do,” you said, your voice soft. “i’m actually really into art. i sketch a lot. when i have the time, i mean. but mostly, i like to just… go out and explore the city. see new places.”

pau seemed to brighten at that, his interest piqued. “art? that’s cool. i didn’t know that.”

you shrugged, feeling a little shy at the attention. “it’s just something i’ve always done. i guess it’s my way of… getting away from everything. it helps me clear my mind.”

“that’s really cool,” pau said, sounding genuinely interested. “maybe you can show me some of your sketches sometime.”

the invitation was light, but you could hear the sincerity in his voice. and you found yourself feeling a little warmer, a little more at ease with the idea of sharing that part of you with him.

“maybe,” you replied with a smile. “i think you’d like them. but no promises—they’re pretty rough.”

“rough is good,” he grinned. “rough means it’s real, right?”

you chuckled, and the two of you settled into the café, each of you feeling a little more comfortable in the quiet space. as the days passed, you found yourselves hanging out more often, even outside of the café. sometimes it was walking through the city, other times it was grabbing lunch together, but the more you spent time with pau, the more you realized how much you liked him. not just as a player, not just as someone you shared casual conversations with, but as a person.

and it wasn’t just the way he made you laugh or the way he seemed to understand your silences. it was the way he paid attention. the way he saw things about you that others didn’t. he saw the little things—your half-smile when you were nervous, the way you tugged at your sleeves when you were deep in thought. he noticed how you’d take a deep breath before speaking, like you were trying to find the right words, the right moment. and he didn’t rush you.

it was small, but it was everything.

one afternoon, as you and pau sat on a bench overlooking the city from a high point in the park, there was a shift. something unspoken lingered between you two, heavier than before.

pau had been quiet for a while, staring out at the horizon as the golden light from the setting sun bathed the city in a warm glow. you’d been talking about football, about how the team had been preparing for an upcoming match, when the silence fell.

finally, pau turned to you, his expression serious, and for the first time, you saw a vulnerability in his eyes that took you by surprise.

“can i ask you something?” he said, his voice low.

“of course,” you said, looking at him.

he paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before speaking again. “do you ever feel like… like you’re just a part of someone else’s story?” he asked, his voice unsure.

you blinked, taken aback by the question. “what do you mean?”

“i mean,” he said, his gaze shifting downward, “with your dad being who he is, and everything… do you ever feel like people see you as just ‘the manager’s daughter’ or like you’re only important because of that?”

the question hit a little too close to home, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to answer. but you took a deep breath, glancing down at your hands, trying to find the right words.

“sometimes, yeah,” you said quietly. “it’s hard to not feel like that when everyone expects so much from him, and by extension, from me. it’s like… i’m always just trying to fit into the world they’ve built around him.”

pau looked at you with an understanding that made something inside of you shift. “i get that,” he said softly. “i know i’m just starting out here, and everyone’s watching me, waiting for me to be this big thing. sometimes i wonder if i’m good enough to be part of this.”

the words felt like a confession, and it made you realize that pau’s vulnerability was much more than just insecurity—it was a window into his true self. someone who was trying to carve out a space in a world that had already decided who he was supposed to be.

“you’re good enough, pau,” you said, your voice firm. “you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. especially not me. you’re already more than enough.”

he looked at you, his eyes soft, and for a moment, there was no pressure, no expectation—just the two of you, sitting side by side, quietly understanding each other.

the shift was subtle, but undeniable. there was something there now. something more than just friendship.

the days after that afternoon in the park felt like they were suspended in time. everything around you seemed to continue at its usual pace, but there was a growing awareness between you and pau, something that wasn’t there before. it was subtle—his lingering glances, the way his smile held a little more warmth, the way he was a little more open with his thoughts. and with each passing moment, you felt a connection that was becoming harder to ignore.

it wasn’t just about the quiet walks or the café visits anymore. it wasn’t even about the conversations that started light but ended with something deeper, more intimate. no, it was something else. it was the way your heart would race whenever he was close, the way your stomach would flutter when he said your name with that softness in his voice.

you couldn’t deny it. you were falling for him.

but you also couldn’t ignore the fact that you were starting to sense something in him, too. it wasn’t just your imagination. there was a shift in the way he looked at you—his eyes held more meaning, and he seemed to notice the smallest things about you. when you were tired, he could see it even before you said anything. when you were happy, it showed in the way you smiled, and he’d smile back, like it was a secret only the two of you shared.

you tried to keep things casual, but it was becoming harder.

it was a rainy evening, and after a long day of training, you found yourself sitting in the stands, waiting for the last few players to finish up. the rain had started to fall in soft sheets, and the cold breeze made you pull your jacket tighter around your shoulders. most of the team had already cleared out, but you didn’t mind the quiet. it gave you time to think.

the only thing you didn’t expect was pau.

he appeared out of nowhere, emerging from the locker room door with his hoodie pulled over his head, looking like he was going to head out—but then he saw you. he hesitated for a moment, then jogged toward you.

“hey,” he greeted, his voice a little breathless, like he hadn’t quite expected to find you here. “what are you doing out in the rain?”

you shrugged, trying to make light of it. “just thinking. didn’t expect the rain, honestly.”

“yeah, it’s been like that all day,” he said, settling down beside you. “you want me to walk you to the car? it’s not a good idea to stay out here alone, especially when it’s this cold.”

you smiled at the thoughtfulness behind his words. “you don’t have to do that. i’m fine.”

“i know i don’t have to,” he said, his eyes locking with yours for a moment. “but i want to.”

your heart skipped a beat. it was a simple sentence, but the way he said it—so casually, yet with so much sincerity—made your chest tighten. you felt like there was something he wasn’t saying. something just under the surface.

“alright,” you agreed softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “thanks.”

as you stood up, pau moved a little closer, falling into step beside you as you both made your way toward the parking lot. the rain was still falling, but it wasn’t as heavy as before. the sound of the droplets hitting the ground was oddly calming, the rhythm of it matching the steady beat of your heart.

the walk was quiet at first, but then, pau spoke again, his voice hesitant, like he was testing the waters.

“do you ever wonder…” he began, and you looked up at him, raising an eyebrow.

“wonder what?”

he paused, a small frown crossing his face. “i don’t know. i guess i just wonder if things are going to stay the way they are. i mean, with us. i don’t want to mess it up, you know? everything feels so… natural when we talk. but i don’t want you to think i’m just some guy who doesn’t get it.”

you could hear the vulnerability in his voice, and it made your chest tighten. he was scared. scared of crossing that line between friendship and something more. scared of ruining what you had.

you stopped walking for a moment, turning to face him. the rain had slowed down to a drizzle, and the streetlights cast a soft glow across the wet pavement. you looked into his eyes, those greenish-blue depths that always made you feel like you were seen, really seen.

“pau,” you said softly, your heart racing. “you don’t have to worry about messing anything up. i’m not going anywhere. and neither are you, are you?”

his eyes softened, and for a brief moment, you saw something vulnerable flash across his face. it was as if he was waiting for you to tell him that it was okay, that it was safe to admit what had been building between the two of you.

and you did.

“i… i like you, pau,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “i really do.”

the air between you two seemed to stop for a moment. everything else faded into the background—the rain, the noise of the world, the people rushing around. it was just the two of you, standing there in that small space, with everything hanging between you like a secret neither of you had dared to say out loud before.

pau’s breath caught, his eyes searching yours for any hint that you didn’t mean it. but there was no doubt in your voice, no hesitation in your gaze.

“you like me?” he asked, his voice almost incredulous. “really?”

you nodded, smiling shyly. “yeah. i do.”

it was then that you saw him let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. a relieved smile spread across his face, and for the first time, you saw him look at you like you were the only person in the world. his gaze softened, and without another word, he stepped forward, his hand gently brushing against yours.

“i like you too,” pau admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the confession was something fragile, something he was only just now allowing himself to believe.

the air around you two seemed to shift in that moment. the world was quieter, the rain falling around you both almost like it was a backdrop to this newfound understanding. there was no turning back now—no pretending this connection wasn’t there.

his fingers brushed against yours again, this time intertwining, and you felt a warmth spread through you at the simple touch. it was a promise, an acknowledgment that this was real.

you looked up at him again, your heart in your throat, your pulse quickening as he gazed back at you. and then, slowly, ever so gently, he leaned in. the space between you closed as his lips hovered just above yours, waiting for you to meet him halfway.

and you did.

the kiss was soft at first, tentative, like neither of you wanted to rush this moment. but as you deepened it, you felt the tension, the weight of the last few months, melt away. everything felt right. the rain falling around you felt like it was a world all its own, a perfect backdrop to this moment that you would never forget.

pau’s hands moved to cup your face gently, pulling you closer, his lips pressing against yours with more intensity, as though he was finally allowing himself to feel what had been building between the two of you for so long. the kiss was everything—gentle and urgent all at once. and as the rain soaked through your clothes, it didn’t matter.

you pulled away slowly, breathless, your forehead resting against his, both of you trying to catch your breath in the silence that followed.

“wow,” pau whispered, his voice a little hoarse. “that… that was perfect.”

you smiled, still a little dazed, and brushed the wet hair from your face. “yeah,” you agreed softly. “perfect.”

you stayed there for a moment, just holding each other, letting the rain wash over you both, the world outside fading into nothing.

and for the first time, you felt like this was only the beginning.

don’t forget to leave a request!

[slutsareteacherstoo]

ME WISHING THIS WAS MY FIRST TIME BC WHAT?!?! You, like Kelvin, pulled out all the stops in this one like whattt

SABRINA?!🤣😭 oh i love her she’s funny

“For years, she'd convinced herself that time had passed her by. There were no more opportunities for first dates or first kisses. Men worth their snuff in the world wouldn't waste their time with a woman so demonstrably unsexy that she made Mother Teresa look like a lingerie model. Long-term relationships were for your early 20s. And if those days were lost to being dismissed by any potential love interest within the county line, one was essentially doomed to a life of pet-fostering and spending Valentine's Day indoors to avoid spilling your patheticness on people who'd figured out the game.”- i love how apt this is for like movement in the brain like a bee buzzing cuz its like that fr. Idk if that makes sense

Not the art hoe 🤣

NO IM JUST LIKE AUNTY FR WHATS THE LINK 🧐🫣👀

This description of Kelvin i feel like ive seen a picture or video of it before and if not damn your imagery is good

KELVIN IS A PREPARED MAN!!!! He had has spennadanight bag together during 101! He’s so true to this!!!!

They both got the shop in a tizzy 🤣

ALSOO NOT THE CHINA/ASIA MIX UP. Black people are so 🤣🤣i love us

Threatening to fuck up the fade over tea? I think about that tweet daily that go, “think of the messiest person you know…it’s a man isn’t it?” Bc 🤣🤣

“…Next thing I know, we eating lunch, and I'm askin' this girl about her goals and shit." Kelvin laughed to himself while internally watching the memory unfold like a rom-com for his heart and mind only.  "She ain't ask nothin' about me, and I ain't even care. I just wanted to be around her." - oh he BEEN smitten. This the type of shit niggas need to say out loud more often. Like fuck nonchalance!!!

Wow Kel! 🥺I also liked his beeline of thought but fuck! Decisions to make 😫

And Brandon and Kelvin are real with each other. I like that. This aint no surface level friendship 😤😤

YEAH BE ORCHESTRATED ALLADAT!!! He said from your smile to God’s ears like wow! 😫 manifesting manifesting 🙏🏿

They are too cute!!! Asia is just as enchanting and smooth as Kelvin and I love seeing her in her element when she knocks him down a bit. Lmaoo not they got caught🤣and love 👀🫣 what they gon say??

“We’re enjoying our time together” 😩 and they support each other, support the other be better and move together as a unit like yes i love this trope!!!

"I like you, Asia. Shit, even 'like' is too small," He laughed. "I…I adore you. I crave you. I look forward to seeing you. I think about you constantly. I feel connected to you. I want to be with you. Does any of that make sense?"  - OMG 😱 THIS CONFESSION. VERY CHALANT!!! VERY CHALANT! I approve 🙂‍↕️🥹

Now Asia going the nonchalant but she did her thing she did her thing 🤪

Asia said we cool but we need to go home RIGHT NEOW!!!!😅😅 but yes all that boo😘

IM IN THE ROOM WHERE ITS HAPPENING *squeals* like im IN THE ROOM this set up and the headiness of moment like 😍

“But, as Kelvin slowly sank into her and twin groans of pure, unadulterated ecstasy eclipsed the opening notes of Love Galore, all of her assumptions became background fodder.” OH YOURE A GENIUS!!!!

"I'm right here, baby. Open those pretty eyes for me. Your first time only happens once. Don't look away." - OH IM UP AND EYES WIDE OPEN FR!!!

Here at KHJ, we turn small ponds to great lakes🤝🏿😭

I meant it, dont make me regret. *plays Ambré’s I’m Baby*

AND DID AS SOON AS I READ THE LINE AND IT MADE RHE ENDING SO 👩🏿‍🍳💋🤌🏿

Chile let me manifest this as a first time - extended edition😅 like shit im giddy and excited like hmm 🤔 im ready for the challenge and confronting all these thoughts if this is on the other side of the reset.

I adored this chapter sooo much!!! Like they are really enjoying their time together even though Chicago got me scared but wow this build up to this moment. Asia’s confidence in saying exactly what she wants and succumbing to the feelings and being in her body and in the moment with Kelvin like yessss girl!!!!!

No but seriously thanks for this. You gave me hope and lit a spark that’s gonna stay alive about whats out there fr 😇🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️💜

Group Project

Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: Mature Content (18+)

Word Count: 5.9k

MASTERLIST

"Okay. I think…I think I'm ready." 

For seven straight days, Asia moved through life, reliving her response to Kelvin and feeling like she'd just written a check her ass couldn't cash. The real thing. What the fuck had she agreed to?

As she sat next to Sabrina with her feet submerged in tepid, bubbling water, the reality of sex unspooling from a far away abstract thought into a tangible possibility with only hours separating her from facing her wildest fantasies smacked her so hard in the face she almost choked on the flat champagne sliding around her plastic cup. 

"Are you all right over there?" Sabrina asked without looking away from the laminated list of pedicure options. 

Asia attempted to take a steadying breath between coughs. "I think I'm dying," she sputtered. Another sip of the offending beverage helped force down residual mucus until she was able to speak without her throat burning. "Honestly, that might not be such a bad idea." 

"Oh, girl. You're losing your virginity, not going off to fight on the frontlines. Tighten up!" 

"Sabrina," Asia whisper-yelled before shooting a nervous grimace meant as a smile to a few older women thumping about in the massage chairs across from them. "You wanna tell everybody my business over the PA system or tap folks individually?" 

Rolling her eyes, Sabrina passed the laminated menu of pedicures to Asia before taking a sip of red wine. "I'm just sayin', friend. I came out today to help you loosen up, but you're stressin' me out. If you're having second thoughts, I'm sure your man will let you reschedule. I heard y'all on the phone earlier. He seems nice enough."

"I don't want to reschedule. I wanna do it tonight. I'm just…I don't know. I'm nervous about the before stuff. If that goes wrong, the whole night is ruined." 

Asia had spent the better part of a week trying to negotiate with the truth, only to realize that reality drove a hard bargain. She couldn't escape the rising tide of nascent romance threatening to wash away all her preconceived notions about her place in love land. He had to know their no-strings-attached suddenly developed enough strings to power a symphony.

For years, she'd convinced herself that time had passed her by. There were no more opportunities for first dates or first kisses. Men worth their snuff in the world wouldn't waste their time with a woman so demonstrably unsexy that she made Mother Teresa look like a lingerie model. Long-term relationships were for your early 20s. And if those days were lost to being dismissed by any potential love interest within the county line, one was essentially doomed to a life of pet-fostering and spending Valentine's Day indoors to avoid spilling your patheticness on people who'd figured out the game. 

Then came Kelvin, who, by all accounts, seemed to neatly pack each of her insecurities and hang-ups into a tiny box before chucking them into the wind. Asia couldn't understand why he hadn't dropped the entire experiment to canoodle, with women undoubtedly vying for his attention. She knew falling for your first, no matter what stage of life the experience found you, was a rookie mistake. But, the wrongs felt so right with him. How could she not at least try?

Sabrina paused her perusal of neon gel nail lacquer and smiled at her friend. "That boy likes you, Asia." Her matter-of-fact delivery came with a light chuckle as she pushed Asia's shoulder for emphasis. "He's not taking you on a date and sending flowers to the house because y'all are best pals. You can spend today worryin' yourself crazy, but I'm tellin' you it's for no reason. Get out of your head. Take it from somebody who is just now realizing her man never really liked her."

"Damn. I'm guessing you and Eric are back off?"

"Girl, yes. For good. But whatever, it's fine." Sabrina scoffed, waving Asia off as if her split second of vulnerability was nothing more than an observation about the weather, and smiled. "Today's about you! We gon' get these nails done, grab you something sexy for the art hoe, and teach you how to use lube. Condoms are being used, right?"

Asia's eyes darted around the room to catch horrified reactions from anyone who might've heard her business being openly discussed. "Bitch!" She lowered her voice before responding. "Yes, we are using condoms. I went and got them myself."

"That's what the fuck I'm talking about. I got this silicone-based lube that I know you'll love. Makes it feel like nothing's separating y'all. My girl is rubbing fronts tonight! Yesss!" 

"Oh God," Asia groaned as she slouched further into her chair, wishing she could poof into a thin layer of pixie dust if it meant she could escape embarrassment. "I'm gonna die."

Throat clearing and the grating squeak of leather under shifting weight stopped Sabrina's ongoing teasing mid-sentence to bring their attention to a greying black woman with curiosity etched in her barely wrinkled face. "Now, I know y'all weren't talking to me, but I need the name of that lube. Do I need to order it off the Amazon? I just got Prime from my son for Christmas." 

"Oop. I got you, Auntie. Let me see your phone." 

While Sabrina drew in a small crowd of elders looking to get back in the saddle with some slippery assistance, Asia found solace in another scroll of her favorite text thread. 

Can't wait to see you later Missed your face this week

Kelvin's last message included an air kiss gif that Asia would consider corny if not for the sender. Pitch decks, client meetings, and last-minute PTO set them on paths winding in different directions, stealing away all chances at a face-to-face meeting before they were body-to-body. 

If not for an impromptu call before the sun could fully take its rightful place in the sky, all communication would belong to iMessages full of jokes with no context and memes they considered fully fleshed-out thoughts. 

Asia read each message repeatedly just to feel the flutter of butterflies in every corner of her belly. He liked her. He had to. The sweet messages, the peach tulips bound in a pretty brown bow, and the early morning wake-up call couldn't all be kind gestures from a friend. Right? 

An internal battle between logic and wishful thinking played out in Asia's mental colosseum. She volleyed a million possible outcomes back and forth until stilted buzzing and a quiet trill against her wrist drew her attention to an incoming FaceTime call from the man of the hour. 

She slid in an earbud and then answered, instantly smiling as she watched his chain bob back and forth with every step while he kept the camera positioned below his face. Grown-out facial hair created the right amount of scruffiness to turn the heads of young and old women alike. His baseball cap cast a shadow across his cheeks. A cerulean sky boasting specks of fluffy white clouds and bright rays of flattering light highlighted the gleam in his earrings. It fanned outward, turning him into a walking, talking work of art. 

When he finally realized the call had connected and he had the rapt attention of his lone audience member, he looked down and grinned. "What's all that about?" 

"All what?" 

"That little smile," he chuckled. "You showin' teeth and everything, girl. Must be happy to see me." 

Caught. Asia tried to return to a neutral expression but found her face ignoring mental orders to accommodate more and more cheek burning as her smile grew wider. "Whatever! This is your second time calling. You need something, or you just like to hear me talk?" 

"Both," he answered, splitting his attention between an incoming crosswalk and the screen. The usual playfulness in his tone abruptly dissipated, leaving behind a seriousness Asia hadn't experienced. He looked down at her and licked his lips before speaking again. "I just, um…I wanted you to know that I'm cool with not staying the night. That was one of your rules, so don't think you have to change it on account of me. I'll leave in the middle of the night if that means you're comfortable." 

"I want you to stay, Kel. But only if you want to." 

"I already got my bag packed with extra pajamas and my laptop just in case this turns into a whole weekend. C'mon, now. This me you talking to!" 

Asia lifted a brow, shocked by his eagerness to spend days on end in her cramped apartment. "My bad! Didn't know you'd be so excited for a sleepover with little 'ol me." 

"I'm always excited to be with you," he answered. Dual smiles radiating from opposite ends of the city held steady over the phone until Kelvin pulled open a door and ushered in a harsh mix of sounds. "I gotta go. My boy's already on my ass for being late. He about to lose his tip, to be honest."

Asia's laughter drew attention, forcing her to shoo Sabrina away before she could interrupt. "Go ahead and get your haircut. Let me see when you're – girl, go away!"  

"Tell your girl I said 'hey,'" Kelvin chuckled as he eased his way into an empty barber chair. His eyes lingered on her face for a moment longer, trying to commit her scrunched nose and knitted brows to memory in case their time together was winding down. "I gotta go. I'll see you later, pretty." 

Her farewell was lost to petty arguments with her best friend on her end and a groundswell of hooping and hollering behind an offending opinion amongst a shop full of men on his side. A huff of air pushed past his lips in a short laugh as he slid his phone into the front pocket of his jeans. 

His barber and friend, Brandon, shook his head and tapped his foot on the pedal to lift Kelvin to the right height. "That's shorty from the bar that night? China?" 

"Asia," Kelvin corrected, a miffed frown deepening the lines at the corners of his mouth. "And, yeah. That's her." 

"My fault. You be way too secretive though, bro. How did y'all meet? Do you like her? Y'all just kickin' it? Tell me something, or I'm fuckin' up the fade."

Black nylon cascading in front of his face gave Kelvin a split second to decide how much information he could share with his notoriously talkative right-hand man without opening the door to prying questions and needless revelations. 

He scratched at the itching hair on his jawline, trying to appear nonchalant. "We met at work. She was new, I showed her around, and now we cool. Simple." An instant smile betrayed his forced tough-guy act. 

"Nah, you cheesin'! Tell the real story!"

The poker face he'd tried to maintain continued to slip into a full display of all thirty-plus teeth. 

"Alright, alright," Kelvin conceded. For months, he kept the truth relegated to his personal journal and mental interviews with Jimmy Kimmel while he practiced for superstardom in the shower. At least one other person should hear how he willingly tangled himself in Asia Scott's web. "I actually saw her when she interviewed. Bad, bro. I'm talkin' make you stop in your tracks just to watch her walk by type fine. Had me stuck at the coffee bar looking stupid." 

Brandon hummed as he pushed Kelvin's head down to start his cut. "Mhmm. That's how it starts, for real. She said something to you first, or what?" 

"Nah, I approached her. Not even trying to cross that line, really. I was supposed to just say what's up and keep it professional, but I couldn't stop talking after that. Next thing I know, we eating lunch, and I'm askin' this girl about her goals and shit." Kelvin laughed to himself while internally watching the memory unfold like a rom-com for his heart and mind only.  "She ain't ask nothin' about me, and I ain't even care. I just wanted to be around her."

"Sound like you got it bad, my boy."

Kelvin released an air he didn't know he was holding through his nose. "Yeah, man. I like her. A lot, actually. I'm thinkin' about saying something when we go out tonight, but…I don't know. It might not be the right time considering what I got goin' on."

"They must be talkin' 'bout some money in Chicago." 

"And then some," Kelvin added. "Crazy perks, revenue share, development plans. My whole life might change."

A loose connection from portfolio school and an expensive cold brew on a rainy weekday afternoon turned Kelvin's professional world upside down in less than two weeks. Initially, he wasn't interested in a move, even if the current work was no longer challenging and forward motion had stalled. His job was easy, flexible, and enough to pay the bills with a little extra on the side. But, a half-hour chemistry meeting with two creative leads over Zoom ran fifteen minutes too long from vibes alone. Then, solid chemistry turned into a first-round interview with a few department heads ogling over his professional and personal work for almost an hour before promising to keep in touch. Radio silence on their end for over a week convinced Kelvin that the circus was over, and he was free to go back to his life of easy money for even easier work. Hell, he didn't want to live in cold-ass Chicago anyway. 

Then the phone rang. And the inbox blew up. Flights got booked. Hotel arrangements were made. Hasty, last-minute PTO requests were granted in good faith. Tired eyes shielded by blue light lenses watched clouds part over a glittering city from thousands of feet in the air. A non-traditional second-round interview over piping hot pizza turned him into the center of attention. Corporate banter while he sipped freezing cold beer in lower-level seats at a Bulls game ended with a handshake and Kelvin sensing that he'd have a decision on his hands in the coming weeks. 

Asia. She popped into his mind more than a few times while too-cool advertising types wined and dined him in hopes his talent would fill out their roster. All of the progress, all of the accidentally tender moments and slip-ups he knew in his heart were more than happy accidents flooded him with ceaseless anxiety. Sure, he could see them planning weekend trips back and forth to keep the flame alive in a budding relationship. Long-distance courtship wasn't ideal, but he'd manage for her. However, his feelings about the matter were inconsequential. One false move, and he'd be out of a friend and potential lover. The thought alone threatened to upend a night he'd carefully planned since they agreed to their unconventional arrangement. 

The soft buzz of clippers near his right ear rescued Kelvin from spiraling as chunks of dead hair fell around him. 

"Aye, man, I ain't no love expert or nothing, but," Brandon started, his attention far off while he focused on his money-making blend. "You like her. I could tell when you brought her over to us that night, but I ain't wanna blow up your spot. Might as well say something. Why you wanna go to Chicago with regrets? You already 'bout to be up there with a slaw ass haircut because I ain't givin' up no contacts. Lose my number after this, nigga." 

Kelvin kissed his teeth and waved Brandon off. "I deleted your contact this morning if we being honest. Been tired of your ass." 

Shared laughter between two men who'd seen each other, from the naivety of boyhood to the hurdles and joys on the journey to becoming a man, added levity to a bitter inner storm. Kelvin tried to savor the moment and advice without dwelling on impending decisions but found the task harrowing once he popped the bubble they'd created to re-enter the real world. 

Regrets. Kelvin had a lot of them. Skipping out on senior prom, not answering his sister's FaceTime call for free Kendrick Lamar tickets, choosing that sketchy roommate to make ends meet in his first year out of school – the list went on and on. Asia couldn't be one of them. Not knowing if there could've been more would gnaw at him til kingdom come, and he didn't have room to harbor more what-ifs.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with Asia, half listening to instructions with sweaty palms and a heart nearly cracking ribs in his chest, Kelvin resolved to use his last bits of nerve to step out on a limb. 

Sax heavy jazz selections wrapped a rented test kitchen and the couples within its walls in a sensual embrace under dim yellow light. Kelvin had TikTok and a favor to thank for snagging the final spot in Shawn and Terricka's coveted Couples Night In cooking course. In one night, he and Asia would take a culinary trip to Italy, complete with expert wine pairings and handmade pasta to bring them together as two parts of a whole. Kelvin couldn't say he was much of a fettuccine, linguini, bow tie, rigatoni guy. Still, he'd never forget how Asia's face lit up when she showed him videos of young women making noodles from scratch. He went to the ends of the Earth and his wallet to orchestrate an experience she wouldn't forget on a night when every detail down to the minute required perfection.

"Are you listening?" Asia asked with a teasing smile as she adjusted the complementary apron, shielding her from what was sure to be a mess if she had anything to do with it. 

He puffed his chest and straightened before clapping his hands and looking around their station at the ingredients in front of them. "Y-yeah. I heard everything she said. Eggs, flour, this thing…" He paused to satisfy his curiosity with a single crank of the pasta roller's handle before continuing. "It's, uh…all here." 

Asia watched him search the depths of his mind for any crumb of retained information, enjoying the way his lips shifted back and forth in pensive silence. 

Overhead light bathed Kelvin in a flattering glow, making the small stud in his ear and the watch on his wrist shine each time he moved his head. A soft black cashmere cardigan cradled strong arms, while his signature crisp white T-shirt displayed his broadening chest. His fresh haircut and trimmed facial hair sent tingles to all the right places, reminding Asia of the first time she noticed he was fine. 

"You're cute when you pretend you know what you're doing." 

Kelvin gave her a half smile without tearing his eyes away from the short list of step-by-step instructions in his hand. "Oh yeah? Only then?" 

"Well, all the time. But especially when you're thinking. Like how you're trying to remember Terricka's instructions when she hasn't even given us any yet. She was introducing the class and telling us we'd be sharing a little about ourselves in a bit.”

A sheepish grin preceded a gentle bump against Asia's forearm before Kelvin's shoulders bounced in quiet laughter. "Why you doin' me like that? If you didn't look so damn good in this dress, we'd have a problem." 

"Oh, so it's the dress?" Asia quipped as Kelvin leaned back for a better look. 

He nodded and reached out to pull her closer by the waist. His lips quickly found a home on her ear to keep their conversation private in a room full of chattering adults. "It's more than the dress. You're gorgeous, baby." 

Sweet compliments mumbled against soft, brown skin drowned out couple after couple sharing their names, length of relationship, and fun facts until a loud hand clap snapped Asia and Kelvin's attention to the center of the room. 

"And you two," Shawn questioned with all eyes directed toward the youngest two in attendance. "Tell us about your love." 

Kelvin gripped Asia tighter and cleared his throat. "Uh, I'm Kelvin, and this is Asia."

"Hey, y'all," Asia chimed with a quick wave. 

"And we're…" Kelvin looked at Asia, smiling at her while she smiled back at him, to find an explanation for what they'd been doing for a month. "We're enjoying our time together." His gaze remained steadfast on Asia's bashful grin. "Maybe we'll finish tonight on a different note, though." 

Red wine, teamwork, and a stack of questions printed on thick white note cards would ensure that the pair at least ended their first date with a greater understanding of each other. Asia learned Kelvin was an artist in every sense of the word. He preferred freestyling the tedious pasta recipe when directions called for specificity in every regard. Asia kept them on task, but not without redirecting her excitable companion along the way. 

Kelvin quickly discovered that all of Asia's know-how completely disappeared when faced with kitchen matters. She didn't know a ¼ cup from a half and didn't have any intentions of learning. Her forte was delegating tasks, not sullying her painted fingernails and oiled cuticles with egg yolks and wet dough. 

Separately, they were a clusterfuck of missing parts trying to navigate an arduous task. Together, though, they crafted the best mafaldine their instructors for the night had ever seen from amateurs. 

Tucked in a corner at the far end of the space's makeshift eating area, Kelvin and Asia plucked cards one after the other in a back-and-forth Q&A over flavorful mafaldine pasta bolognese. 

"Mm, this is a good one," Asia said after a sip of cabernet. "What is your favorite thing about your partner? What's one thing you would change?" 

Kelvin twirled pasta around his fork and thought for a moment. "You don't take a lot of shit. I like that you're very direct and in charge of what you want." 

"And something you would change?" 

"That's easy," he answered through a chew. "You're too hard on yourself. I wish you could see yourself how everyone else sees you. I know you think we're all just being nice, but you really are incredible. I love watching you blossom." Kelvin watched Asia digest his words over her glass, the wheels churning in her active mind. He reached across the table to grab another card. "What's one thing you want me to know about our relationship?" 

That I'm falling for you, and I don't want this to end. One hundred answers flooded in at once, but Asia settled on one. "I want you to know how appreciative I am for…all this. You've been kind when you could've called me a loser and left me in that bar to be with your friends." 

"I wouldn't have done that, Asia. Not to you." 

"I know," Asia assured as she dragged the last vowel. "But, you could've. So, thank you for being so kind and patient. By tomorrow, that'll all be done, and we'll go back to our lives, so I didn't wanna miss the chance to let you know how I feel." 

Confusion made Kelvin tilt his head to one side, studying her face under the haze of full-bodied wine and growing affection. "Go back to my life? Where's that coming from?"

"I just mean, it seems like we're coming to the natural end of this thing we're doing. We'll still be friends, but you'll be free to fly. Maybe sweep somebody off their feet. You're good at that," Asia clarified, her smile lingering as the familiar bloom of feelings coursing through her veins made her stomach flutter.

Kelvin placed his fork against his plate before pulling the napkin from his lap and depositing it on the table. No regrets. Now or never. A short laugh brought with it a charming grin aimed at his favorite girl. 

"Asia, I guess haven't been super clear with you from the start,"  He started while motioning for her hand in the center of the table. Asia answered his wordless call and placed her fingers in the center of his warm palm. He leaned closer, hoping she could detect his eyes' sincerity when he finally breathed out, "I like you, Asia. Shit, even 'like' is too small," He laughed. "I…I adore you. I crave you. I look forward to seeing you. I think about you constantly. I feel connected to you. I want to be with you. Does any of that make sense?" 

Asia sat stone still and unblinking for a moment, mulling over words she had only dreamt of hearing from another. An explicit declaration of intent – feeling foreign in her ears but familiar to a heart that longed for reciprocation. 

Her thumb caressed the back of Kelvin's hand as a smile spread her cheeks to their limit and deepened dimples she almost forgot existed. "Guess I'm a better kisser than I thought, huh?"

"Actually, I don't know. Let me check real quick." Metal dragging across stained concrete brought Kelvin's chair closer to Asia until their knees touched, transferring heat between their bodies. His fingers grazed her jawline, never averting his attention from her equally unwavering gaze. "Come here." 

Asia's favorite command, delivered in a sultry mumble, made hair all over her body stand straight up as they moved to meet each other in the middle. 

One tentative peck introduced a slow progression of deep, passionate kisses, translating latent feelings into a language only bodies could speak. A barely audible moan slipped out of Asia's mouth when Kelvin nipped at her lip, reminding them an audience wasn't far away. They pulled away slowly with equally glazed-over eyes and goofy grins.

Kelvin smiled and swiped at Asia's bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Way better." He listened to her sweet giggle, grinning back until the sound reminded him of the question left unanswered. "Look, four weeks didn't spark how I feel about you. They helped, don't get me wrong, but I knew I wanted you as more than a friend the second you strolled into that office. If we're not on the same page, I understand. But if there's any chance we are, any chance –" 

"We're on the same page, same sentence, same word. But we can talk about what all that means tomorrow, okay?" Carnal desire propelled Asia forward for another slow kiss and feather-soft caress that threatened to bring Kelvin to his knees. She inched away to keep her lips on his as she spoke. "Right now, take me home. I don't wanna wait anymore."

------

Hopefully, Alister liked SZA. 

As barely intelligible love songs oozed from her Bluetooth speaker, Asia attempted to stifle sounds of pleasure with her forearm pressed against her mouth and one leg draped lazily over her lover's shoulder. Languid, thorough oral affection kept her lower back levitated off the mattress. Soft moaning melding with subtle slurping and smacking treated her ears to a beautiful symphony catered to her. 

Kelvin's fingers pressed into Asia's flesh to keep her steady while he lapped at the beginning of what he hoped was only her first orgasm for the night. Nervousness had him self-conscious. Skills he'd practiced and mastered long before she stepped into his life felt foreign. Was he doing it right? Did she like it? Was she happy? He suppressed the urge to question her satisfaction, instead leaning on every wanton sigh and muffled moan as proof he was on the right path. 

"Oh my God," Asia whispered to the ceiling. "Don't stop!" 

Immeasurable euphoria washed over her naked body as her hips bucked to accommodate electric shocks from head to toe. Hey, eyes crossed behind closed lids. Her toes curled while all ten fingers gripped the sheets. 

"One down," Kelvin thought to himself as he smiled against thighs pressed tight to his face. 

If not for her hand prying his face away after she'd exhausted herself from cumming, he'd start from scratch and bring her to the mountaintop until his jaws locked. But, he relented under her breathless pleas for a break. 

Slowly, Kelvin kissed his way up Asia's belly, making pit stops at both breasts and his favorite spot beneath her right ear before connecting their lips. They groaned at her taste intermingling with remnants of alcohol while their tongues reacquainted in a waltz too perfect to be a sin. He could feel his rational thoughts running south to stiffen his neglected member against briefs, growing more and more uncomfortable as the minutes passed.

Kelvin shifted his attention back to Asia's neck so he could speak against the spot. "You feel ready or need more?" His tongue sliding across the pulsing stretch of hot skin made Asia shiver under his body weight. He smiled and pulled back to get a better look at Asia's face. "You feel ready. Talk to me, pretty." 

"Okay," she answered as her arms encircled his neck. "Promise you'll go slow?" 

He nodded before dipping his head to peck her lips. "As slow as you need. I'll take care of you."

Years of waiting for someone to cherish her enough to take the plunge had culminated in undergarments discarded across the room and a single sleeve of thin latex covered in expensive lube separating her from the only man to see her in her most vulnerable form. 

This was it. This was the moment. She'd dreamed about it plenty of times, imagining the most minute details, from the weather to how she'd sound at the height of her climax. Mirages filled with rose petals on the floor and a soft breeze coming through the window made up a scenario better suited for a romance novel than the reality of finally releasing pent-up sexual tension.

Asia expected pain for the first time. She'd heard the horror stories and done enough research to know what was waiting on the other side of first-time penetration. Breathing recommendations and practiced facial expressions to mask her true feelings came flooding back to the front of her mind as Kelvin ran his palms up and down her hips to soothe her while he positioned himself at her entrance. She held her breath. Waiting, anticipating limb-splitting fire to consume her body.

But, as Kelvin slowly sank into her and twin groans of pure, unadulterated ecstasy eclipsed the opening notes of Love Galore, all of her assumptions became background fodder. 

Asia gripped Kelvin's tensed bicep while he stilled deep in her heat, watching her face for any signs of discomfort. "You okay," He questioned through shallow pants.

"Mhmm," she hummed before reaching to bring his face closer. "You feel so good already." Kelvin closed his eyes to will away premature release while she pulsed around him. Asia stroked his cheek and arched into his chest to beg him to move inside her. "Please. I trust you, Kel. It's okay." 

As promised, Kelvin started slow, rolling his hips into her for shallow strokes that made Asia's voice hoarse and her head spin. He reveled in the feel of ridged walls greeting his arrival as they tugged and released him according to pace. He lowered himself into the crook of her neck and felt instant relief when she cradled him close. The bed creaked in time to every measured back and forth, adding another layer to the duet their individual moaning created. 

Hot, slick skin on crumpled cold sheets wouldn't allow Asia to drift too far into La La Land. She feasted on Kelvin digging deeper and gripping her tighter while her body did the work to accommodate inch after glorious inch. 

Kelvin tried to remain quiet, tempering each grunt and unidentifiable sound as his hips loosened to find a rhythm perfect enough to elicit high-pitched mewls from the apple of his eye while she dug her fingernails into his back. 

"Look at you," Kelvin cooed as he pushed back up onto his forearms to get the full experience of Asia's face twisting in pleasure. "You're so fucking pretty. Open your eyes." 

"Kel…" 

He moved to bring one leg up to his waist for a new angle. "I'm right here, baby. Open those pretty eyes for me. Your first time only happens once. Don't look away." He waited patiently for Asia to force her sagging lids open enough to reveal the punchdrunk haze of a methodical fucking. He smiled down at her. "There she is. How you feelin'?" 

"So…oh my God…so good." 

"That's what I like to hear. I feel you getting close. You feel that?" 

A long, choppy moan came out before Asia's slurred response. "Mhmm. I think I'm…. mmm, I think I'm… I'm close." 

"Yeah, you are. Relax for me. Breathe deep." Asia tried to keep track of instructions but lost the plot and her sense of hearing the moment Kelvin slipped his hand between them to rub her clit with his thumb. 

The barely familiar coil of release tightened in her lower abdomen as Kelvin rocked into her while whispering sweet everything onto the corner of her mouth. Asia wrapped her arms around his shoulders for stability, anticipating the first wave of heat trying to prepare her body for something more intense. 

Her breathing grew rigid. The world slipped away pixel by pixel. Thoughts turned into mush. Kelvin's instructions returned as fleeting anecdotes. Asia tried to breathe through it but found the task playing second fiddle to the natural tense and release of her thighs around his waist. 

In through your nose, Asia. The reminder pinged around the empty corners of her mind until they found a way to burrow into the only functioning part of her brain. 

Kelvin watched her cycle through a range of all too familiar feelings from overhead, pride, and a competitive spirit he thought he left in high school, convincing him to go above and beyond. He drove his hips a little harder to hear the headboard thumb against paper-thin drywall. Added pressure on her sensitive button was the magic key to turning a small pond into one of the great lakes. 

Asia's jaw dropped to force out a throaty, "Fuck, baby…yes!" before he eased up to allow her to experience all the joy of post-coital bliss without the overstimulation. He'd save that for another time if the universe allowed. 

Sabrina was so wrong about what to expect. All Asia's hang-ups about ending the night unsatisfied or unimpressed were washed away as sensation returned to her fingers and toes. 

"Kiss me." It's all she wanted – Kelvin's lips on hers until her oxygen became his. 

They lay there, hot, sweaty, and still connected at the waist while Kelvin pressed tender kisses on Asia's lips. He nuzzled his nose against hers. "You called me 'baby.'" 

"I know," she answered as she brought her hand up to rub a spot at the base of his neck. "I meant to. Don't make me regret it." 

Guilt smacked into Kelvin like an 18-wheeler, but he maintained his composure to maintain the hopeful smile on Asia's face. "I won't." 

"Good. Don't hold back on me this time. I want all of you." 

"This time" turned into another, a short break and a few more for good measure while SZA sang them into the wee hours of the morning. Kelvin poured himself into making every minute worth Asia's while as a reward for trusting him with her body. 

Chicago and its host of budding issues belonged to another day. He wasn't leaving the room, her apartment, or the city with any regrets. Not while he still had so many more lessons to teach.

-------

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[mandoalorian]

dangerous liaisons [bucky barnes x f!reader]

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Personal Assistant!Reader

Synopsis: After a heated argument at dinner, the dynamic shifts between you and Bucky. Bucky swears that from this moment onwards, he will respect your decision to maintain a strictly professional relationship, but is that really what your heart desires?

Word Count: 3000

Tags/warnings: 18+ explicit content. employer x employee, m masturbation, making out, very brief description of an assault, bucky gets violent, politics, jealousy, high stakes

Masterlist

prev chapter <3 | congress & carnality masterlist

Bucky sat on the edge of his bed, shirtless, the Tokyo moonlight glowing behind him through the hotel window. His jaw was clenched, his fists pressing into his thighs as he tried to shake the sound of your voice from his head.

But it was impossible.

You had been moaning his name.

Before you, Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he had actually fallen for someone, or if he had ever. Sure, he’d been with women before, but it was never anything serious. Back in the day, he dated to marry, and now, for the longest time, he’d never even considered marriage to be an aspect of his life. He didn’t have time for it; from being a soldier to a weapon to an Avenger to a politician, but then again, there had never been someone quite like you. 

He tried to shake the feelings, he really did. Bucky had no idea how to navigate something of this magnitude.

What really got to Bucky was the way you were so angry about the whole thing. He was trying, really. He’d already told you just about how he was feeling, how special you were to him. He’d be lying to himself if he thought you weren’t interested — he would’ve given it up by now. But he saw that glint in your eye and the way your lips would turn into a smile under his gaze and he noticed things. Bucky was perceptive. 

He had gone after you last night. Ignoring your words, ignoring the way you told him not to follow. But when he reached the door to your hotel room, hand raised to knock, he heard it—your breathless, desperate whimpers. His name, spilling from your lips.

He had never felt anything like it.

It had sent a raw, primal heat flooding through him, straight to his cock. He had backed away, gone to his own room, but the damage was done.

Now, he sat in the dark, his cock throbbing in his hand as he fisted himself to the memory of you. His jaw tightened, head tilting back as he stroked himself, trying to chase relief—but it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

All he wanted was you — not Tara, not anyone else, just you. But he had already pushed you away and he knew you wouldn’t entertain a conversation. Bucky had tried. There wasn’t much more that could be done. You wanted things to remain professional, and so for you, Bucky would accept that. 

Bucky gritted his teeth as his release hit him, his body tensing, his breath ragged as he spilled over his stomach. His muscles twitched with frustration, the pleasure barely scratching the itch that had burrowed into his skin.

He needed you.

But the next day, when you walked into breakfast, you wouldn’t even look at him.

The morning was heavy with unspoken words. You sat at the long hotel breakfast table, staring at the untouched coffee in front of you, stirring it absentmindedly while avoiding the one person you could feel watching you.

Bucky sat across from you, his own plate barely touched. He wasn’t talking much—just quietly sipping his coffee, the muscles in his jaw tight. The rest of the team carried on like normal, chatting about the last press conference, the success of the trip, and the flight home later that afternoon. But you? You felt suffocated by the silence stretching between you and Bucky.

“Late night?” Tara’s voice was playful as she slid into the chair beside Bucky, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She gave him a smirk before tossing you a glance, like she knew something. “You disappeared pretty quickly after dinner.”

You tensed, gripping the spoon in your coffee just a little harder.

Bucky, to his credit, didn’t look at her. Instead, he took another slow sip, then set the mug down with a quiet clink.“Didn’t feel like sticking around,” he muttered, voice flat.

Tara raised a brow. “Shame. We could’ve had a drink, unwound a little. The trip’s been exhausting.”

Your stomach twisted. You weren’t sure why—you had no right to feel possessive over him, not after everything—but something about the way she spoke to him, the way she looked at him, made your skin crawl.

Bucky exhaled through his nose and finally looked up—not at Tara, but at you. His eyes searched yours, but you gave him nothing. Instead, you picked up your coffee and took a slow sip, pretending not to care, pretending you weren’t still reeling from everything that had happened last night.

“I’ll be outside,” you said abruptly, pushing back your chair. The sound scraped against the floor, drawing a few glances, but you didn’t care.

Bucky didn’t stop you. But when you turned to leave, you could feel his eyes trailing after you, burning a hole in your back.

And the worst part?

You wanted to turn around. It took all the strength you could muster to just keep on walking. 

This was hurting you so much and the pain was unprecedented. You should have never crossed the line between professional and personal. And now you were facing the repercussions. You decided to travel to the Embassy in preparation for the press conference later today. You figured if you got there early, you could distract yourself with some work. It just sucked that your work was Bucky — being his assistant and figuring out his life for him, organising meetings and campaigns and press releases. 

Slipping into the back of a cab, you pulled out your tablet and opened up your emails only to see an invite to the Late Late Show with Jimmy Coors. You knew, deep down, that having a moment on cable television would work wonders for Bucky’s campaign, but it’s not something you could exactly agree to without having a conversation with him first. Fuck, a conversation. You were going to have to speak to him at some point. Otherwise, you could be out of a job. After stewing on it for a mere few seconds, you replied to the email.

Congressman Barnes will honourably accept the invitation to be on the Late Late Show, with the sole intention of promoting his campaign. Please direct all relevant documents to this email address. 

You managed to cram a good amount of work in at the Embassy offices before you noticed the commotion outside, as Bucky’s Mercedes pulled up along with his security and campaign advisory team. Time to face the music.

The conference room was packed. Cameras flashed, journalists murmured, and every seat was filled with eager reporters ready to pick apart every word Bucky said. You felt nervous for him, you always did. You knew that if you were in his position, you’d crumble under the pressure. But he’d been through worse. 

You stood off to the side, hands clasped in front of you, eyes trained on him. He looked good—too good, dressed in a dark navy suit that fit him like sin, his tie loosened just enough to make him look effortlessly in control.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Bucky Barnes was always in control. Always composed, always measured. Even after last night. Even after the things he knew you had done alone in your hotel room.

“Congressman Barnes,” a journalist called out, and you straightened. “Considering the recent diplomatic talks, do you believe this summit has strengthened U.S. relations with Japan?”

Bucky leaned forward slightly, his voice smooth, authoritative. “I do. We’ve had productive discussions about trade regulations and infrastructure, and I think we’re walking away with a stronger foundation for future collaboration. Open dialogue is key to international relationships.”

Another journalist spoke up. “There’s been some criticism about your approach to negotiations—some say you’re too aggressive, too direct. How do you respond to that?”

Bucky gave a knowing smirk. “I don’t believe in wasting time. I say what needs to be said, and I stand by my convictions. If that’s aggressive, then so be it.”

There were quiet chuckles from the audience, but you could tell the reporters weren’t done yet.

Then came the question you hadn’t expected.

“What do you think of the rumours about the government reinventing the Super Soldier Serum to enhance the US military?” One lady asked, prompting commotion amongst the other journalists in the audience.

Bucky’s jaw ticked, and he shot you a confused look. This was the first you had heard of such a rumour, and also the first time Congressman had acknowledged you all day. When Bucky didn’t reply, the journalist spoke up again.

“How do you respond to the allegations that you killed President JFK?”

Jesus Christ, they were hounding him. You wanted to storm onto the stage and put an end to this madness. How could they ask such invasive questions? Bucky swallowed before speaking up.

“For seventy years I was trained to infiltrate, assassinate and destabilise. If I wanted to, I could have taken a whole country down in one night. I will not run away from my past. Not anymore. I am proud to be your Congressman and do everything I can to make the world a better, safer place. That means no more war and, for as long as I am alive, no more Super Soldiers.”

In a daze, the journalist scrambled down to her notebook and scribbled his response. You breathed an air of relief but your heart still sank in your chest. Bucky never liked talking about his past, not even to you, and you could understand why. So for him to speak up in a room full of needy, clingy, journalists, in a conference that was being globally televised… that couldn’t have been easy. 

“Congressman Barnes, you’ve been in the public eye for years now, but you’ve kept your personal life relatively private. Is there anyone special in your life right now?”

There it was. The question that had seemed to dominate every single press conference since landing in Japan. Your breath caught in your throat.

Bucky didn’t even blink. He leaned back in his chair, running his tongue along his bottom lip in thought before answering, “I’m focused on my work right now. Love isn’t a priority for me.”

The words felt like a slap, business as usual.

You stared at him, your heart thudding against your ribs.

Bucky didn’t look at you. Didn’t hesitate, didn’t stumble. Just a clean, simple answer, like it was nothing.

Tara, standing beside you, leaned in and whispered, “Yikes. Guess that means you’re out of the running.” Her voice was quiet, teasing, but there was an edge to it.

Your jaw tightened. “Maybe I’m not interested in running at all.”

She hummed, unconvinced, her gaze flicking toward Bucky. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You turned to her then, sharp and pointed. “Shouldn’t you be doing your job instead of making catty comments?”

Tara only smirked, raising her hands in mock surrender. “Just an observation, sweetheart. No need to get defensive.”

You clenched your teeth, but you didn’t rise to it. Instead, you turned your attention back to Bucky, who was wrapping up the conference.

Your pulse was still racing.

You weren’t sure if it was from anger, embarrassment, or something far worse.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

It was late afternoon now, and you were standing at the curb back outside the hotel, waiting for the driver to pick you and Bucky up for the airport. You tried distracting yourself with your PDA, but neither you nor Bucky had spoken a word to each other since last night. You wondered if the silence and tension were hurting him, as much as it was hurting you. 

Today had been hard.

You noticed the press on the other side of the road, and paparazzi too, waving around cameras and making discussion amongst themselves.

Bucky stood rigid, about three or four meters away from you. You tried to find the right words, to say something to him. Anything. You felt as though you owed him an apology. You were so embarrassed after the previous night and the scene you caused at dinner. You acted in total jealousy. But how could you even say that to him? Thoughts raced in your mind a million miles an hour and suddenly, you felt the blood drain out of your skin. You felt your soul leave your body before it even registered: hand skimming your lower back, resting just above the curve of your ass.

You jumped slightly in shock, looking to your left to find a man. He was tall, well-dressed, and persistent. And his hand was still on you. 

"You alone, sweetheart?" he asked, stepping into your space.

You forced a polite smile, stepping back. “I-I’m waiting for someone."

"Shame," he smirked, his eyes dragging over you. "A girl like you shouldn’t be left waiting."

You stiffened as he reached out, brushing his fingers along your arm.

Before you could react, before you could even breathe, Bucky moved.

It happened in a blur.

Bucky’s fist slammed into the guy’s face. A sickening crack echoed through the air as the man dropped to the pavement, unconscious.

Gasps erupted around you. Paparazzi cameras flashed wildly. People shouted.

"Bucky—!" you gasped, grabbing his arm and noticing the purple bruises already beginning to dash over his knuckles. 

But his chest was heaving, eyes dark with pure, unfiltered rage.

"Did he touch you?" Bucky’s voice was low, dangerous. Bucky knew the answer, he saw it with his own eyes. 

"I—he—Bucky, let’s go." You pulled him toward the car, shoving him inside before the chaos exploded further.

The second the doors closed behind you, the air between you crackled with tension.

"You didn’t have to do that," you muttered, staring out the window. “You could have killed him.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. "He put his hands on you,” he replied simply like his violent response was unapologetically warranted. Honestly, the guy got what he deserved but people saw. Paparazzi saw. What were people going to say when Bucky returned to the US? You dreaded to even think. “He’s lucky I didn’t use my other hand.”

You frowned, looking at the Congressman with concern in your eyes. “Bucky…” you whispered. “Are you okay?”

Stupid question.

When he didn’t reply, you sighed. "You can’t just punch everyone who looks at me the wrong way."

He turned to you then, something fierce and unguarded in his eyes.

"You think this is about anyone else?" he said quietly. "You really don’t get it, do you?"

Your breath caught.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice so small you were unsure if Bucky could even hear. “I do get it.” 

“Did you hear what they said at the conference?” Bucky asked, his voice low. “They’re reinventing the Super Soldier Serum.”

You knew this was plaguing him, you were just surprised he was bringing it up with you.

“It’s just a rumour…” you said softly, placing your hand over Bucky’s hoping to ease him just a little bit. 

“They can’t do that, if they do that, it will be like history repeating itself. I can’t let that happen.”

You could sense the fear in Bucky’s voice. The vulnerability.

But there was only so much Bucky could do, after all, he wasn't President. “We can investigate it when we get back home. But for now, let’s just be together, please.” Bucky didn’t move and you felt your eyes prick with hot tears.

You’d really fucked it up now. Everything. Trying to comfort him felt foreign, and you wished it didn't. It was like he didn't trust you anymore, and could you blame him? For the past few days you had been essentially stringing him along, reluctant to have a serious conversation or address your feelings.

Because you were too damn scared.

And now he was burdened with his workload and politics and the fact he'd just knocked a man unconscious on the street; not to mention this thing that was going on between you two.

“Please, Bucky… say something.” You begged, holding back a sob. You were losing him. All you wanted was him, this whole time, and you just kept pushing him away. 

Bucky shifted in his seat and pulled his hand from underneath yours. He looked you in the eye.

“You want me to say something?” He asked rhetorically, all hardness in his face softening. His expression was still unreadable. You nodded and sniffed as he searched your eyes for answers. “Okay. Fine. You confuse me.”

You scoffed but smiled, relieved he was finally opening up. “That’s fair,” you replied. “I confuse me too.”

Bucky hummed, waiting for you to say more. You owed it to him.

“I got so jealous of Tara the other night,” you admitted sheepishly with an anxious exhale, a sharp pain in your chest making you flinch as you spoke the words out loud. You were in the car, and there was nowhere to run. You knew you had to have this conversation sooner rather than later. It had to be done. “I— I didn’t know why but I know why now. I um— I couldn’t stand the way she was all over you, and the way you entertained it. I wanted that to be me.”

Bucky blinked hard, but again, he didn't speak.

“And when you touched me under the table… I felt hot with rage. I couldn’t understand. Did you want me or her?”

Bucky pressed his lips against yours in a sudden, passion-filled movement. In shock, you parted your lips, and Bucky took no time to slip his tongue in, intoxicated with the urge to taste every part of you. You moaned your thoughts and feelings from last night resurfacing. Fuck, you’d missed this. You missed him. 

You pulled on his dark brown hair and ran your fingers through the length of it before clicking open your seatbelt and sliding onto his lap, straddling him, without breaking the kiss. Bucky’s hands roamed your body, his erection growing and pressing between his briefs and dresspants, begging to be released.

When you pulled away to catch your breath, Bucky held your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

“You, it’s you. I always want you.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

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