#and surprise surprise this is the first one i come back with

[pathologicalreid]

that gold mine changed you | s.r.

in which Spencer won't open up to you following his release from prison and you've reached your breaking point

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warning: post prison/prison arc, lack of communication, chemist!reader, slightly proofread word count: 2.13k a/n: love this song. both the original and the phoebe bridgers cover.

i don’t wanna be here anymore; it all tastes like poison

You rifled through the dish that you kept on the entryway console, looking for your car keys so that you could get out. It was hard to describe the way you felt like a spinning top, not dizzy but out of control. Everything felt so out of control.

How could you let it get this bad? You breathed heavily as you fished your keys from the pottery and looped your finger through the key ring. Wiping your nose with the sleeve of your sweatshirt, your eyes caught onto some movement in your periphery.

“You’re leaving?” Spencer asked from down the hallway; his work clothes were rumpled and creased like he’d fallen asleep in them.

You had hoped that he would have the ability to ease himself back into society after three months of prison, and you always took the time to assure him that you would be there for him. Desperately, you tried to be a pillar of support, but you had reached your breaking point.

He’d been given six weeks to readjust. When that didn’t seem to be working, you thought maybe he needed to find his rhythm again, but going back to work at the BAU didn’t seem to help him either. It wasn’t until his first sabbatical hit that you finally considered the fact that things would never be the same between the two of you again.

When you didn’t answer, Spencer put his foot out but hesitated to take a step toward you. “Are you going to come back?”

Swallowing thickly, you looked down at the keys in your hand, “I don’t know.” You eyed the key to your lab, the one place you could always go to escape when you needed to, but you never imagined needing to escape from Spencer.

You weren’t even sure he had been sleeping in the same bed as you, and if he was, he was getting in after you and getting up before you. There was once a moment when you and Spencer shared every minute detail of your lives with each other, at least the parts you weren’t together for, but now you wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what he was teaching in his lectures, and he couldn’t guess which projects you were working on.

When Spencer was in prison, you thought that was the loneliest you would ever be, but now you were living with the ghost of the man who you once loved, and you had never felt more alone.

Last week, you had practically begged him, very nearly gotten on your knees and pled with him to have a substantial conversation with you. He didn’t seem interested.

you believe that you love me

Looking back up, your eyes widened at the revelation that Spencer had made his way to you in complete silence; he was standing in front of you, “You’re sneaking out?”

Your nostrils flared in frustration; you were sneaking out of your own apartment, a space that you and Spencer were supposed to share, but it didn’t feel like home anymore. “Did I do something wrong?” You asked him, studying his brown eyes as they appeared until the cool light of the moon.

He set both of his hands on your upper arms, and you pulled away from his touch. Spencer flinched back as surely as if you’d struck him. If you pulling away from him hurt, then he wouldn’t be able to fathom how you were feeling right now—how you had been feeling for the last seven months.

“Is it because of your mom?” You tried again, silver lining your eyes as you looked up at him, mercurial tears streaming down your cheeks as you begged for an answer. “I was at work when she was abducted,” you reminded him, having thrown yourself into work while Spencer was in prison. “Is it because I didn’t help her?”

Spencer’s lips parted in surprise, “I didn’t know you blamed yourself for that.” His arms hung limply by his sides, fists clenching and unclenching in an attempt to release nervous energy.

Blinking tears from your eyes, your shoulders slouched at what felt like a rejection, “How would you? You don’t talk to me,” you told him, your tone wholly accusatory.

“We talk every day,” he rebutted, the energy in your conversation veering toward hostility. That’s not what you wanted; you just wanted to feel at peace.

Three months in prison, six weeks of mandatory leave, one hundred days with the team, twenty days into his first sabbatical, and Spencer was refusing to face what you had already run into headfirst. “We haven’t had a real conversation since February, Spencer. It’s September.”

His eyebrows pinched together as he studied your body language, profiling you to deduce what you wanted from him instead of just asking you. “What do you mean ‘a real conversation?’”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line, and you searched every part of your brain for something to say that wouldn’t contribute to taking your life apart brick by brick. You couldn’t. The words simply weren’t there anymore. Maybe you had left them behind months ago, but right now, you shrugged helplessly, “You’re different, Spence.”

He peered down at you as if you had offended him, “Did you expect me to stay the same?”

It was pathetic. You felt pathetic. Staying in your entryway and begging for someone who previously kissed the ground you walked on for a reason to stay. You never had to ask him before. “I’ve never expected anything but love from you, and you know that,” you told him, pulling the truth from the depths of your soul and putting it on display for him.

Spencer took a step back, stumbling as if his legs were threatening to give out beneath him. “You don’t think I love you anymore?” His own tears welled in his eyes, glittering saline along his lash line that made your chest ache.

You blinked, letting more tears fall down your cheeks. You heard the droplets as they fell on the vinyl decal of your sweatshirt, the only noise in the midst of an otherwise deathly silence. “You have given me no reason to believe that you do,” you admitted, your voice tight with emotion.

so, lose your faith in me

“Don’t leave,” he gasped, struggling through his tears. He held a hand out to you, too hesitant to touch you because of the way you reacted earlier.

You felt like you were tearing your own heart from your chest. You held the organ in your hands, blood dripping to the floor and seeping within the woodgrain, and you asked him to put it back where it belonged. “I can’t do this anymore,” you told him.

He set a hand on the side of your neck, and this time, you didn’t pull away from him. Instead, you savored his touch, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin as the two of you waited for something to give. Three months in prison had been a test of your relationship; you had very little contact with each other. Nothing face-to-face, and after a while, Spencer’s mail started to go missing—interference by a prison guard who had it out for him. You thought that getting him back would fix everything.

Spencer was exactly the same, but somehow, he was completely different after his release. You couldn’t fault him for what he had gone through in prison, but you refused to continue your pattern of dancing around each other.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice so faint that you would’ve missed it had you not been searching for it. His breaths were quickening, and if it weren’t so dark, you’d be sure that his pupils were dilated in fear.

You pursed your lips, “Say it again.” You wanted to hear him. You needed to hear him. You so desperately wanted to hear him repeat himself so that you could throw your arms around him and let him know that everything was perfectly fine.

He panted, “I love you,” he echoed. “Please,” his voice broke, “I love you so much.”

“I want to believe you,” you breathed, looking back down at the keys that remained in your hand. As far as you were concerned, Spencer was the Patron Saint of Liars. He had the intelligence and the experience to become a master manipulator. He’d lied to you before. What was stopping him from doing it again? He knew that I love you was what you wanted to hear. When faced with telling a lie and losing you, the choice was laid out in front of him.

He nodded as if he understood, but you weren’t convinced that he possessed the bandwidth to fully comprehend why you were so unhappy. “I’m sorry for lying to you,” he whispered.

You lost your balance, your back slammed against the wall, and your eyes widened as a result of his apology, “Why?”

Spencer’s brown eyes widened as you slid down the wall, waiting until you were sat on the floor to speak again, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Mexico.”

“You could’ve told me,” you told him, “I could’ve helped you, Spencer. Then we could… Then maybe…” your voice trailed off, lost in a sea of hiccuping sobs.

Gingerly, Spencer lowered himself to the ground and took a seat next to you, “Maybe I wouldn’t have gone to jail. You’re right,” he admitted, “but maybe they would’ve killed you too. Maybe there would have been the same outcome as the one we got, or maybe it would have been much worse.”

Releasing a shuddering breath, you pulled your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around them. “Lorenz,” you murmured, closing your eyes to relieve some of the burning.

“The Butterfly Effect,” Spencer commented, “Small changes can have large consequences. I made a decision that had massive ramifications and negatively impacted you, and I haven’t been doing enough to fix it.”

You sighed, “You can’t fix it, Spence. It’s like a band-aid over a bullet hole.” You thumbed the hem of your sweatpants, opening your eyes just to stare straight ahead at the wall.

He hummed in what you sincerely hoped was understanding, “I took six years of building trust with you and destroyed it, and now when I tell you I love you, you don’t believe me.”

“You told me you were going to Houston,” you whispered.

“I told everyone I was going to Houston,” he said softly.

Your head snapped in his direction, “I deserved more than what everyone else got. I deserved an explanation, and instead, you lied to me. You lied to me, and then you wouldn’t even let me see you while you were in prison.”

The corners of his mouth downturned, “I didn’t want you to see me in there, and I didn’t want anyone else to see you in there.” You’d heard second hand from JJ that the men at Millburn had ogled her the entire time she was visiting Spencer, and maybe he had explained himself in one of the missing letters, but he hadn’t mentioned it since coming home.

“Spencer, I just want to talk with you,” you whispered. “I want to have a conversation with my boyfriend that doesn’t end with him creating some arbitrary mental block because he doesn’t think I can handle it.”

There was a moment where you thought he was just going to let you go, but Spencer Reid liked to keep the things he cared about close. “It’s not because you can’t handle it, it’s because I can’t handle it,” he admitted.

You turned your body to face him, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to tell you about prison,” he clarified. “I barely want to tell my therapist about prison, but you—” his voice broke, and your heart went with it. “If I tell you everything I’ve done, you wouldn’t want to be with me anyway.”

You frowned, “Try me.” Your heart was racing; this bit here was decisive. His response would either mean letting go or moving forward.

He looked down at his lap, “Come to therapy with me tomorrow. It’s… there’s something about the leather couch that turns me into an open book.” He told you, nervously running his palms up and down his cloth-covered thighs. Instinctively, you reached out and grabbed his hands, putting a stop to his compulsive movements. He leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling, “Please don’t leave.”

Shaking your head, you sniffled through your tears. If you’d had more energy, maybe you would’ve given him a soft smile, but for now, you answered him, “I won’t.”

[faebled-stories]

No Strings, No Heart

Kinkvember Day 23: Friends with Benefits

ITZY Lia (Choi Jisu) x Male reader

You and Lia had been friends since high school, back when neither of you had any idea what life would have in store. She had been the new girl, fresh from Canada, with a soft-spoken voice and an air of quiet confidence that intrigued everyone, including you. You’d been assigned seats next to each other in English class, and what started as casual small talk soon grew into a friendship you hadn’t expected.

Lia, or Jisu as she’d been known then, had dreams even back then that set her apart. While most of your classmates were focused on cramming for college entrance exams or deciding what clubs to join, Lia was already chasing something bigger: a career in music. She was always humming under her breath, jotting lyrics in the margins of her notebook, and rushing off to auditions after school.

When she finally became a trainee, it wasn’t a surprise, but it did mark the start of a more distant phase in your friendship. She spent most of her time at the company, training long hours, while you finished school and moved on to university.

Despite the distance, you kept in touch—texts here and there, occasional coffee meetups when she had a rare free day. When she debuted with ITZY, you were one of the first to congratulate her, your heart swelling with pride as you watched her music videos and performances from your tiny apartment.

Even as her life grew more hectic, Lia never let go of your connection. Whenever her schedule allowed, she’d call you up, sometimes late at night, her voice exhausted but warm as she asked about your day, complaining about the pressures of idol life in the same breath. She was still Jisu to you, your old high school friend, even as the world knew her as Lia.

-----

It was one of those late-night meetups—a rainy evening in her cozy Seoul apartment—that changed the dynamic between you. Her space smelled of vanilla candles and faintly of jasmine tea, her usual go-to after a long day. You sat awkwardly on her beige couch, holding a mug that was almost too hot, watching her as she lounged on the floor, cross-legged in an oversized sweater and shorts.

“You’re always so tense,” Lia said suddenly, her voice cutting through the soft patter of rain against the windows. Her damp hair fell in natural waves around her face, framing her features in a way that was almost disarming. This was not the poised, camera-ready idol the world saw. This was the Lia you knew—barefoot, casual, real.

You chuckled nervously, unsure where she was going with this. “Work’s been crazy, I guess.”

“That’s always your excuse,” she teased, setting down her mug with a soft clink. “But honestly, you’ve been like this since high school. Always wound up. Always overthinking.”

“Well, sorry for being consistent,” you shot back, a smile tugging at your lips.

She smiled too, but there was something different in her expression—something calculated yet sincere. “You know, we could help each other out.”

Your brow furrowed. “Help each other out… how?”

Lia tilted her head, studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “I don’t want anything complicated,” she began, her tone careful but confident. “No drama, no commitments. Just… something easy. For both of us.”

The words felt surreal, hanging in the air between you. “Wait, are you saying…?”

“I’m saying,” she interrupted, her voice softer now, “that we’re both stressed. Both stuck in our own routines. And you’re… safe.”

“Safe?” you echoed, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted.

Lia rolled her eyes, laughing. “You know what I mean. I trust you. You’re not going to do anything stupid like fall in love with me. And let’s be honest—you’ve never been great with relationships.”

“Wow, thanks,” you muttered, though you couldn’t deny the accuracy of her words. Dating had never come easily to you, and Lia knew it better than anyone.

“I’m just saying it makes sense,” she said, her smile softening into something almost reassuring. “We’ve known each other forever. We trust each other. And I need… an escape, you know? A way to blow off steam without it becoming a mess.”

You hesitated, turning the idea over in your head. “I don’t know, Lia. Stuff like this—doesn’t it get messy?”

“Not if we’re honest with each other,” she said simply. “We set boundaries. We stick to them. And if it doesn’t work, we stop. No harm, no foul.”

Her words were logical, almost too logical, and the idea of being close to someone you trusted—someone who understood you without the usual complications—was more tempting than you wanted to admit.

“I… guess,” you said finally, your voice tinged with hesitation. “If you’re sure about this.”

Lia’s smile widened, a spark of relief and something else—satisfaction?—in her eyes. “I’m sure.”

And just like that, the boundaries of your friendship shifted. You told yourself it was perfect—a way to connect without risking anything deeper.

The first few times were… great. Better than great. There was an ease to it that neither of you had anticipated, a natural rhythm that made it feel less like a new arrangement and more like something that had always been there, waiting to be discovered. The way your bodies fit together was effortless, as though they’d been designed for this connection, every touch and movement aligning perfectly. It wasn’t just about the physical pleasure—though that was undeniable—it was the comfort of being close to someone who understood you in a way no one else did.

Lia had a way of melting into your arms, her laughter and sighs carrying a vulnerability that made the moments feel intimate even in their simplicity. You liked similar things, and exploring that together felt easy, seamless. The way her breath hitched against your skin, the way she responded to every touch with a soft moan or a shiver, made it feel less like an arrangement and more like a quiet escape for both of you.

When she reached for you in the stillness of her room, there was no hesitation, no awkwardness—just a mutual understanding that you could let go with each other.

It was everything she had promised: no drama, no complications. It was a release, a way to step outside the stress of your individual lives and find solace in each other. You told yourself that this was enough, that it didn’t need to mean anything more. And for a while, it didn’t.

But then, one night, everything shifted.

The atmosphere in Lia’s room felt thick with the unspoken, a cocoon of warmth and intimacy as the world outside faded away. The soft scent of jasmine and the lingering notes of her perfume were a quiet contrast to the faint tension in her voice as she spoke.

“It’s been… such a day,” she said with a sigh, leaning back against the headboard, her oversized sweater slipping from one shoulder. Her fingers idly played with the hem, a distraction as she tried to put her thoughts into words. “I feel like everyone wanted a piece of me today. The schedules, the cameras, the smiles—they don’t stop.”

You nodded, sitting close enough to her that the faintest brush of her knee against yours sent sparks up your spine. “You don’t have to explain. I can see it,” you said softly, meeting her eyes. “You’re always carrying so much.”

Her lips twitched into a small, tired smile. “Sometimes, I wish I could just turn it all off. Just… for a little while.”

“You can, here,” you offered, your voice steady despite the way your heart was racing. “You don’t have to be anything but you.”

Her eyes softened, and she reached out to touch your arm, her fingers grazing your skin. “That’s why I asked you to come tonight,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, almost fragile. “I need this. I need you.”

The weight of her words hit you with a force you weren’t entirely prepared for, but you nodded, leaning in slightly. “I’m here,” you said simply, your hand finding hers and squeezing gently.

The next moments unfolded slowly, deliberately, as if neither of you wanted to rush. Her sweater slipped further, pooling around her elbows as she lifted it over her head and let it fall to the floor. Her body, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, was breathtaking. She looked up at you, her eyes steady but vulnerable, as if daring you to say something, to break the spell.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured, the words escaping before you could stop them.

A soft laugh escaped her, and she reached up to brush your cheek. “You’re such a sap,” she teased, though her voice was warm, her expression soft. “But I like it.”

You leaned in to kiss her, your lips meeting in a slow, deliberate connection. It started tenderly, a gentle brush of warmth, but quickly deepened, your hands finding her waist, her hips, exploring the curve of her body. She gasped softly against your lips, her hands sliding under your shirt to tug it off, the cool air of the room making your skin prickle as she traced patterns along your chest.

Guiding her back against the bed, you hovered over her, her hair spilling across the pillow in soft waves like a dark halo. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated her features, her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips evidence of the moment’s growing intensity. Her hands found your shoulders, her touch steady but eager as her breath quickened. The feel of her bare skin against yours, the warmth of her body beneath you, sent a rush of heat through you.

Before moving further, you paused, reaching for the small foil packet on the bedside table. Lia watched you, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, her gaze steady yet filled with trust. You slipped the condom on quickly, her hand brushing lightly against your arm in a silent gesture of reassurance.

As you align yourself with her, you paused again, your gaze locking onto hers. “Are you ready?” you asked softly, the weight of your question hanging in the quiet space between you.

Her lips curled into a faint smile, and her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. “Absolutely, I need this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with unmistakable longing. “I need you.”

The moment of joining was slow, deliberate, her body tensing slightly as you pressed into her. A quiet gasp escaped her lips, her fingers tightening on your shoulders, her nails faintly digging in as she adjusted to the closeness. You paused, giving her time, your heart pounding in sync with hers. Her breaths quickened, each rise and fall of her chest matching the rhythm you were beginning to create. The heat of her skin against yours was all-consuming, grounding and electrifying all at once.

You began to move, slow and measured, each motion deliberate. Her soft moans and quiet gasps filled the air, small sounds that spurred you on, each one sending shivers down your spine. Her hands roamed your back, nails occasionally dragging across your skin, her hips lifting instinctively to meet yours. The connection between you was unspoken but undeniable, a rhythm building that felt less like something physical and more like a quiet surrender.

Her lips parted as she whispered your name, her voice soft and trembling, a plea that made your chest ache. The way she looked up at you took your breath away. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes fluttering open and shut, and the vulnerability in her gaze made you falter for a moment. You’d always thought Lia was beautiful, but here, now, she was something more—raw, open, and completely unguarded. Every quiet sound she made, every brush of her hands against you, seemed to weave a thread between you that went far beyond the act itself.

Your pace deepened, becoming more deliberate as you leaned down to capture her lips. Her response was immediate, her mouth opening to you as her hands slid into your hair, pulling you closer. The heat between you grew, a symphony of gasps, moans, and murmured words filling the space. Her legs tightened around your waist, her body pressing into yours as if to pull you even closer.

You pulled back slightly, your lips trailing down her jawline to her neck, brushing over the delicate curve of her throat. Her skin was warm and flushed beneath your touch, and you felt her shiver as your mouth moved lower, pressing kisses behind her ear. The spot you’d discovered during your time together—the one that always drove her wild. Her reaction was immediate, a soft gasp escaping her lips as her body arched into you.

Her hands clung to your shoulders as your lips continued their path, down her collarbone and toward the swell of her chest. You paused for a moment, letting your tongue flick gently over the sensitive skin there, before capturing one of her nipples between your lips. Lia let out a low, trembling moan, her nails digging into your back as you lavished attention on her. You alternated between gentle kisses and firmer, more deliberate nips, her body responding to each one with a sharp intake of breath or a soft cry.

Your free hand roamed over her body, sliding along the curve of her waist and the dip of her hips. You teased her other breast with your fingertips, rolling and brushing against her skin in time with the rhythm of your lips. Her body writhed beneath you, her hips lifting instinctively as if to draw you closer, the heat between you growing with every touch.

From her chest, your lips traveled downward, leaving a trail of warmth across her stomach. Lia’s breathing grew heavier, her hands tangling in your hair as you moved lower, savoring the way her body reacted to every press of your lips, every flick of your tongue. Her quiet whimpers and soft moans filled the room, a soundtrack to the intimacy building between you.

You moved back up, your mouth returning to the curve of her neck, brushing kisses along her jawline before finding her lips again. The kiss was deep and consuming, her hands pulling you closer as though she couldn’t get enough of you. Her legs tightened around your waist once more, her body pressing into yours as the rhythm between you grew more urgent, more deliberate.

Her reactions—each shiver, each soft cry, each whispered plea—fueled you, blurring the line between physical connection and something deeper. You knew every spot that made her tremble, every touch that left her gasping, and you used them all, the intimacy between you growing with each passing moment. It wasn’t just her body you craved—it was her trust, her surrender, the way she opened herself to you completely, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

Her voice broke through your focus, her breathless words trembling as she gasped, “You feel so good… Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” you murmured, your voice hoarse and strained, barely able to contain the emotions coursing through you. Her flushed cheeks, the vulnerability in her gaze, the way her body clung to yours—it all struck you in a way you hadn’t prepared for.

The tension between you built steadily, every motion pulling you both closer to a precipice. Her moans grew louder, breaking into desperate cries as her body moved in sync with yours. Her hips met you with an urgency that matched your own, and her hands tightened their grip on your shoulders, her nails dragging against your skin.

“I’m so close,” she whimpered, her voice trembling and raw in a way that sent shivers through you. Her head tilted back, her body arching beautifully beneath you as she clung to you like you were her lifeline. “I—oh my god, I’m cumming… I love it, don’t stop, please.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, the raw need in her voice breaking through every wall you’d built around your feelings. Her climax overtook her in a wave, her body trembling violently as she cried out, her voice unguarded and desperate. The sight of her face, twisted in pure ecstasy, sent a jolt through you. Her name fell from her lips like a prayer, her body shuddering as she reached the peak, clutching at you with a force that left no doubt of the depth of her release.

And then, it hit you—seeing her like this, so open, so completely undone, you realized something you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to be the only one to give her this feeling. The thought struck like lightning, leaving you trembling even as your own release loomed. It wasn’t just about the act—it was about her, about how much you wanted to hold onto this moment, this connection, this vulnerability that was uniquely hers.

Your climax followed, surging through you in powerful, unrelenting waves as you buried your face in her neck. A guttural groan escaped you, your body trembling with the intensity of it. The warmth of your release pooled into the condom, each pulse carrying with it the weight of everything you’d been holding back. The sensations were overwhelming, magnified by the realization that this wasn’t casual for you anymore. Maybe it never had been.

Even as the waves subsided, you stayed close, holding her tightly against you. Her fingers traced lazy, soothing patterns along your back, her touch grounding you as your heart pounded against hers. Her breaths were soft, mingling with your own in the quiet aftermath. The intimacy of the moment was almost too much, yet you didn’t want it to end.

Finally, you pulled back slightly, your heart still racing as you pressed a kiss to her damp forehead. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips curved into a faint, tired smile, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you filled with unspoken emotions that neither of you seemed ready to name.

You leaned back carefully, slipping out of her with a quiet groan as her body shuddered at the loss of closeness. Reaching down, you removed the condom, tying it off as you moved to the side of the bed. Lia’s gaze followed you, her cheeks still rosy from the exertion, and when her eyes landed on what you held, her lips quirked into a teasing smile.

“Wow,” she said, her voice still breathy but laced with playful amusement. “You’ve been… pent up, huh?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, the tension between you easing slightly at her tone. “Yeah, maybe a little,” you admitted, your voice still low and rough from the intensity of the moment.

She laughed, a soft, light sound that made your chest tighten again, her fingers brushing over your arm as if to reassure you. “I’ll take it as a compliment,” she said, her smile widening slightly as she leaned back against the pillow, her gaze softening.

In that moment, as you looked at her—flushed, vulnerable, yet teasing—you couldn’t ignore the shift that had happened. Whatever boundaries had existed between you before were gone, and the weight of that realization lingered, pressing gently against your heart.

You stood, disposing of the condom in the bathroom, your mind still reeling from everything that had just unfolded. The intensity of the moment lingered, but it wasn’t just the physical closeness that consumed you—it was the emotions swelling in your chest, threatening to spill over. You tried to push the thoughts aside as you cleaned up, focusing on the simple motions as a way to steady yourself.

When you returned to the bed, Lia was already nestled under the blankets, her cheeks still faintly flushed, her hair spilling over the pillow in soft waves. She looked up at you, her eyes warm and inviting, and without a word, she lifted the blanket in a silent invitation. It was a gesture you’d grown accustomed to—a familiar rhythm that had followed these nights together. But this time, something about it felt heavier, weighted with an unspoken shift between you.

You climbed into bed beside her, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. She moved closer almost instinctively, her body curling into yours, her head resting against your chest as her arm draped across your stomach. The warmth of her, the way she fit so perfectly against you, was both comforting and terrifying.

Her breathing began to slow, her body relaxing as if this was the most natural thing in the world. And it was—for her. For you, though, the usual ease wasn’t there. You lay stiffly, staring up at the ceiling as a moment of dread washed over you.

You’ve broken the rules.

It hit you with the weight of a confession you’d been avoiding for weeks, maybe months. You’d convinced yourself this was fine, that you could keep things casual, that it was just a way to connect without getting too close. But tonight had shattered that illusion. You weren’t just drawn to Lia—you’d fallen for her.

Your chest tightened as the realization settled in. The way she laughed, the way she trusted you enough to let her guard down, the way she made you feel seen in a way no one else ever had—it wasn’t just something you could brush aside anymore. It was real, and it was terrifying.

You glanced down at her, your heart aching as you took in the soft curve of her lips, the peaceful expression on her face. She looked so at ease, so content, and you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb that. But the weight of your feelings pressed heavily against your chest, threatening to suffocate you.

Lia shifted slightly, her arm tightening around you as if sensing your tension. “You’re quiet,” she murmured, her voice drowsy but laced with curiosity. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper as you forced yourself to relax beneath her touch. “I’m fine.”

But you weren’t fine. Because as much as you wanted to stay in this moment—her warmth, her closeness—you knew that everything had changed. You’d crossed a line you couldn’t uncross, and now you weren’t sure what to do.

-----

The weeks that followed were an emotional minefield. Every stolen glance, every shared laugh, every moment Lia curled up beside you after an intense night—all of it dug deeper into the growing pit in your chest. It wasn’t just about intimacy anymore; it was everything. The way she smiled at you, her guard let down for just a moment. The way she playfully mocked your quirks, grounding you with the ease of someone who knew you better than anyone. You craved her in ways that went beyond physical. You wanted all of her—her bad days, her hopes, her fears, and everything in between.

But you couldn’t say it.

The rules had always been clear: no emotions, no strings, no complications. Lia had built walls around herself, walls you understood were necessary given her chaotic life. Your arrangement was her sanctuary, an escape from the pressures of her career, her fame, and the unrelenting expectations placed on her shoulders. You told yourself that being her safe space was enough. It had to be.

That night had started like many others, but it carried a weight you couldn’t ignore. As the moment reached its peak, Lia shifted downward, her lips trailing across your skin with a deliberate slowness that sent shivers coursing through you. When her mouth finally enveloped you, a deep groan escaped your lips, your hand instinctively tangling in her hair.

Her movements were teasing but purposeful, each flick of her tongue measured to drive you closer to the edge. Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, glinting with mischief yet laced with something softer, something deeper. “You’ve been so stiff lately,” she murmured, her breath warm against you before continuing, her voice low and sultry as her tongue worked with maddening precision.

The intimacy overwhelmed you, her familiarity with your body leaving you utterly undone. She knew exactly how to unravel you, to find the places that made you tremble, the rhythm that pushed you to your breaking point. When your release finally overtook you, it was overwhelming, waves of pleasure crashing through you with an intensity that left you trembling. Your fingers tightened briefly in her hair as a hoarse gasp escaped you, the heat of the moment leaving you breathless.

Lia pulled back gently, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as she wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. She moved back up to lie beside you, her body fitting against yours with an ease that should have felt comforting. But this time, it didn’t. This time, it felt different.

She settled against you, her head resting on your chest, her breathing steady and calm. Her hair tickled your skin, her warmth both soothing and torturous as a quiet dread began to build in your chest. It wasn’t just physical anymore—this was heavier, filled with emotions you couldn’t keep bottled up.

Before you could stop yourself, the words rose in your throat. “Jisu,” you began softly, her name catching in your throat.

She hummed in response, her eyes still closed, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Hmm?”

“Do you ever think…” You hesitated, the words feeling too heavy, too dangerous. But they pushed forward anyway, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you ever think this could be something more?”

Her eyes opened slowly, the smile fading as her expression shifted into something unreadable. She propped herself up on one elbow, her hair falling in soft waves around her face, the sheets slipping slightly off her shoulder. Her gaze met yours, searching and cautious, and the seconds stretched into an eternity.

“Why are you asking?” she asked softly, her tone carrying a mix of curiosity and caution.

Your heart raced, panic rising in your chest as you scrambled for a response. “I was just thinking,” you lied, the words tumbling out too quickly. “It’s nothing. I don’t know, just… a thought.”

Her expression didn’t change, her gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before she sat up fully. Wrapping the blanket around herself like a shield, her voice was calm but resolute as she said, “Hmm, no, I don’t think so. The reason this works is because it’s casual. If we start complicating things, it’ll ruin everything.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, sharp and cutting in their finality. You nodded slowly, forcing a smile you didn’t feel. “Oh… yeah… You’re right. Forget I said anything.”

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She lay back down, resting her head on your chest again as if nothing had happened. Her breathing evened out, her warmth against you a cruel comfort. But for you, everything had changed.

The words you’d been holding back, the feelings you’d buried, wouldn’t stay quiet anymore. They clawed at you, louder with every passing day, until the very thought of continuing like this felt unbearable. You had broken the rules, and the weight of that truth suffocated you in ways you hadn’t thought possible.

-----

Over time you tried convinced yourself to accept her boundaries, telling yourself that being with Lia on her terms was better than not having her at all. But that fragile resolve cracked wide open the day you saw the article.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, the kind of day meant for doing nothing. Sunlight spilled through your apartment windows, painting the floor in golden streaks as you scrolled absently through your phone. Outside, the faint hum of the city mixed with the rhythmic ticking of the clock, a peaceful backdrop to your aimless thoughts.

Then your phone buzzed, pulling you from the haze of routine. Without thinking, you tapped the notification.

The headline hit like a physical blow: "ITZY’s Lia Spotted on a Romantic Date with beloved Idol."

Your stomach tightened instantly, a sharp ache blooming in your chest as you scrolled through the accompanying photos. Each swipe felt like tearing open a wound. There she was, walking arm-in-arm with another idol. The soft rustling of the park’s trees in the background, the dappled sunlight falling on their faces—it all looked so serene, so effortless. Their casual clothes hinted at an attempt to keep things discreet, but the atmosphere around them screamed intimacy.

And then one photo stopped you cold.

Her head tilted slightly, her hair catching the sunlight like a halo. Her eyes—soft and filled with a warmth that felt painfully familiar—were fixed on him. She was smiling, bright and genuine, the corners of her lips curving in a way that was devastatingly effortless. That smile was reserved for someone special. Someone who wasn’t you.

Your chest ached, a dull yet unrelenting pain spreading through you as you stared at the screen. The world around you seemed to fade, the sunlight that had once felt comforting now harsh and uninviting. The faint hum of the city became muffled, replaced by the deafening rush of your own thoughts.

Has she ever looked at you like that? Has she ever smiled at you in that way, with that kind of quiet adoration? A part of you knew the answer, even if you didn’t want to admit it. The answer cut deeper than anything she’d ever said or done.

The seconds stretched into minutes as you stared at the image, the knot in your stomach tightening with each passing moment. You could almost hear her laugh in your head, see the way she looked at you during your private moments together. But it wasn’t the same. It had never been the same.

The sharp buzz of another notification snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. Lia’s name flashed across the screen, her message simple: “Are you free?”

The words sat at the top of your screen, directly above the article. The juxtaposition was cruel, a perfect encapsulation of everything that had been tearing you apart. Your thumb hovered over the notification, your mind swirling with a chaotic mix of emotions—anger, hurt, jealousy, longing. Every rational part of you screamed not to reply. To protect yourself. To draw a line before it was too late.

But as always, your heart betrayed you.

The faint sound of your breathing filled the room, shallow and uneven as you tapped her message. You opened the chat, your fingers trembling slightly as you typed the only thing you knew how to say to her.

"Yeah, I’ll be there."

The moment you hit send, the weight in your chest seemed to shift, but it didn’t lift. Instead, it settled deeper, anchoring itself to the realization you were too afraid to face: no matter how much it hurt, you couldn’t walk away. Not from her. Not yet.

-----

Lia greeted you at her apartment door with the same casual ease as always, dressed in a loose sweatshirt that hung just off one shoulder and shorts that left little to the imagination. Her hair was tied back loosely, and the faint scent of her lavender body lotion hung in the air as she stepped aside to let you in. She smiled, warm and familiar, but to you, it felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

“Hey,” she said softly, leaning casually against the doorframe. Her tone carried a cheerfulness that felt almost jarring compared to the turmoil swirling inside you. “Rough day?”

You swallowed hard, your thoughts tangled with the image of the article’s photos. The memory of her walking arm-in-arm with someone else clung to you like a shadow, an ache that wouldn’t loosen its grip. “Yeah,” you said finally, your voice flat. “Something like that.”

Her brows knitted slightly, a flicker of concern crossing her face before she masked it with another smile, softer this time. “Come in,” she said gently, stepping aside. “Let me fix you some tea or something.”

You followed her inside, the familiar warmth of her cozy apartment stirring something deep and painful within you. The dim lighting, the scent of jasmine mingling with lavender, the soft hum of a playlist you knew by heart—it should have felt comforting, but tonight it only made the ache worse. To her, everything seemed normal, unchanged. But to you, every gesture, every laugh, felt magnified, a sharp contrast to the images still burned into your mind.

She led you to the couch, her steps light and unbothered, her usual ease a stark reminder of how differently you were experiencing this moment. She sat close to you, her knee brushing against yours as she turned to face you fully. “You seem tense,” she said softly, her voice lowering into something soothing. Her hand rested lightly on yours, her touch simple yet disarming, as if she could sense the weight pressing down on you. “Let me help.”

You hesitated, the memory of her smile in those photos flashing through your mind. The warmth she had shown to someone else, the intimacy of it, felt like a stark contrast to the Lia sitting here with you now. Part of you wanted to pull back, to say something, to ask her what that meant, but the words wouldn’t come. Her touch, her presence—it was too much to resist, and before you could think better of it, her lips were on yours.

The kiss was familiar, practiced, but this time, it felt different. Your movements were slower, less certain. A part of you wanted to push her away, to demand answers, but the other part—the part of you that craved her touch, her presence—won. You kissed her back, the frustration and longing coiling tightly in your chest, fueling your every move.

Her hands slid beneath your shirt, tugging at it with the ease of someone who knew you too well. Your resolve crumbled under her touch, the confrontation slipping further from your mind. It could wait, you told yourself. For now, you let the emotions swirling within you—frustration, jealousy, and something darker—take over.

By the time you reached the bedroom, something inside you had shifted. The weight of your suppressed emotions guided your actions, a storm of unspoken feelings driving every touch, every motion. You turned her toward the bed, your hand firm on her shoulder as you eased her down to her knees.

Without a word, you unbuttoned your pants, the sound of the zipper cutting through the quiet room like a spark igniting the air. Lia’s eyes followed the motion, her gaze flicking downward before snapping back up to meet yours. Her lips parted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her features before melting into something softer, almost eager. When you pressed yourself to her lips, her hesitation was brief. Her hands found their place on your thighs, steadying herself as she took you in.

The shift in her was immediate. This wasn’t like before—this wasn’t the usual playful or restrained dynamic between you. You gripped her hair firmly, the silky strands slipping through your fingers as you guided her movements. Lia’s soft, muffled moan against you sent a shiver down your spine, the vibration electrifying. The control you felt, the way she surrendered so willingly, was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but give in to the moment fully.

Your hips began to move, your thrusts deliberate but rough, each one pushing deeper as you set the rhythm. Lia’s hands tightened their grip on your thighs, her fingers curling slightly as her body swayed to match your motions. Her cheeks flushed a deep pink, and her breathing grew heavier between moments when you gave her just enough time to adjust. She looked up at you, her wide, watery eyes filled with surprise and a growing hunger. This wasn’t what she’d expected, but the way her body responded told you everything—this was what she wanted, what she craved.

Her moans grew louder, though muffled, as her lips and tongue worked in perfect sync with your movements. Her usual confidence had melted away, leaving behind a raw vulnerability that only fueled you further. This side of you—assertive, unrelenting—was something she hadn’t expected, and the way she gave herself over to it was driving you wild.

You tightened your grip on her hair, guiding her more firmly as her hands clutched at your thighs for balance. Her breathing was heavy, her moans blending with the wet, rhythmic sounds that filled the room. Tears began to streak her cheeks as her throat constricted around you, her body tensing slightly as she fought to keep up. Still, her eyes never left yours, wide and watery but filled with trust and unmistakable arousal.

Her muffled cries grew needier as your rhythm intensified, her nails digging into your thighs as her body trembled. The tension coiled tighter and tighter in your core, every sound she made pushing you closer to the edge. When her moan vibrated against you again, it sent you spiraling, your hips moving faster, rougher, with a desperation you couldn’t suppress.

You felt yourself reaching the breaking point, your control slipping entirely. Lia’s breathing hitched, her hands shifting to grip you tighter as you thrust one last time. Your release hit like a flood, overwhelming and unstoppable. A guttural groan tore from your throat as you came, the heat surging through you in waves. Lia’s body instinctively tensed beneath you. Her throat worked desperately, swallowing each hot pulse as it filled her mouth. Her gag reflex kicked in more than once, her soft, choked sounds blending with the wet, rhythmic movements that echoed in the room. Despite her efforts, some of it spilled from the corners of her lips, trickling down her chin in thin, glistening streams. Her hands gripped your thighs tighter, her nails pressing into your skin as she did her best to keep up, her flushed cheeks stained with tears and exertion.

Her breathing was uneven, her body trembling with the effort to take everything you gave her. When you finally pulled back, a string of fluid connected you briefly before breaking, her tongue darting out to clean her lips as she gasped for air. Lia’s eyes lifted to meet yours, glassy and dazed, her expression a mix of exhaustion, surprise, and something playful.

She wiped at her chin with the back of her hand, her lips curving into a faint, teasing smile. “Fuck that was hot,” she murmured hoarsely, her voice laced with mischief despite her breathlessness. “What's gotten into you?”

You didn’t respond, the fire in your chest still burning too hot for words. Instead, you leaned down slightly and tapped your member against her cheek a couple of times, the wet sound punctuating the charged silence. Lia blinked up at you, her flushed face lighting up with surprise, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

Without a word, you reached down, your hands finding hers as you pulled her to her feet in one smooth motion. She let out a soft, surprised laugh, stumbling slightly against your chest. Her body was still trembling, her knees unsteady from the intensity of what had just happened. She clung to you for balance, her breath brushing against your neck as she steadied herself. 

Before she could add anything else, your hands moved to her sweatshirt, gripping the fabric at the hem. Her laughter faded into a small, knowing smile as she raised her arms without hesitation, letting you strip it off her in one smooth motion. The air between you felt charged, electric, as the garment fell to the floor.

Her shorts followed quickly, her own fingers fumbling with the waistband as though eager to match your urgency. The two of you moved in tandem, discarding every barrier until she stood before you, bare and breathtaking in the dim light. The soft glow illuminated every curve, every flushed detail of her skin, making her look impossibly beautiful.

You climbed onto the bed, hovering over Lia as she lay beneath you, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her body still trembling from the intensity of earlier. Without a word, you captured her lips in a bruising kiss, pouring all the frustration, anger, and sadness you’d been bottling up into the connection. Her soft moan was muffled against your mouth as she melted into you, her hands reaching up to grip your shoulders.

You didn’t stop there. Your lips trailed away from hers, moving down the curve of her jaw to her neck, where you nipped at her skin with sharp, deliberate bites. Lia gasped and squirmed beneath you, her body reacting instinctively to each sting of your teeth, her fingers clutching at you for balance. The sound of her soft whimpers drove you on, each one fueling the storm raging inside you.

Your hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as you moved lower, leaving a trail of heated kisses down to her collarbone. You didn’t hesitate to bite there too, hard enough to make her arch her back, her body pressing closer to you as though craving the sting. Her breaths grew quicker, her chest heaving as she writhed beneath your relentless attention.

Her squirming only pushed you further, your need to control, to channel the storm within you, manifesting in the way you held her down. One hand moved to her neck, wrapping around her throat in a firm, deliberate grip. Lia’s reaction was immediate—her body froze for a second, her breath catching, before her eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours. There was no fear in her gaze, only surprise and raw, unfiltered desire.

You didn’t pause, letting your other hand slide down her body, brushing over her stomach before reaching her folds. The heat and slickness there were undeniable, and it made you tighten your grip on her neck as your fingers teased her entrance. Lia gasped, her body jerking at the touch, her hands clutching at the sheets for balance as her hips instinctively pressed toward you.

You didn’t slow down, slipping two fingers inside her in one swift, deliberate motion. Her reaction was instant—a choked moan escaping her lips as her body arched against your hand, her thighs trembling uncontrollably. You tightened your grip on her neck, holding her firmly in place as you set a rough, relentless rhythm, each thrust of your fingers matching the intensity of your emotions.

Her breaths came in short, desperate gasps, her body completely at your mercy. You didn’t let up, your fingers curling inside her, hitting all the right spots as her moans grew louder. The way she reacted—the way her body writhed and her voice broke with every movement—pushed you further into the haze of emotion driving your every move.

Lia’s hands gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white as she clawed at the fabric, her head tilting back as her lips parted in a silent plea. Her hips began to shift, trying instinctively to pull away from the overwhelming sensations, but you didn’t give her the chance. Each time her body tried to escape, you followed her movement with ruthless precision, maintaining the relentless pace that left her gasping and trembling beneath you.

“Please,” she choked out, her voice cracking as her hips jerked sharply against your hand, torn between chasing the pleasure and trying to find relief from the intensity. Her thighs quivered as the wet, obscene sounds from her folds filled the room, mixing with her soft, desperate whimpers.

Your fingers thrust with relentless precision, plunging deeply while curling just enough to make Lia cry out with every motion. Her gasps turned into desperate, broken cries, the sound spilling from her lips in sharp, uneven bursts. The way her body tightened and arched against your hand drove you further, your thumb brushing over her clit—first in slow, deliberate circles, then pressing firmly and flicking sharply as her hips jolted against you.

The hand around her neck tightened slightly, your fingers pressing just enough to make her breath catch. The mix of pressure and roughness sent her spiraling, her voice breaking into a low, guttural moan as her eyes fluttered open briefly, wide and glassy, before rolling shut again. Her legs trembled uncontrollably, her entire body trembling as your thumb quickened its pace, alternating between firm, relentless circles and sharp, deliberate flicks that made her hips buck wildly.

Her thighs tried to clamp shut around your hand, her body instinctively attempting to shield itself from the overwhelming sensations, but you didn’t stop. Your pace only grew faster, harder, as though chasing something deeper. Her moans turned into broken cries, her hips jerking helplessly against your hand as you pushed her closer and closer to the edge.

The slick heat from her folds coated your fingers as her walls tightened around you, her body reacting to every motion. Her breath hitched, her cries becoming louder, more desperate. Her hips jerked erratically, trying to escape your relentless pace, but you didn’t let up. The grip on her neck tightened again, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her eyes snapped open for a moment, unfocused and dazed.

“God—” she managed to choke out, her voice breaking as her body convulsed. “I—can’t—”

Her body tensed beneath your touch, her breathing erratic as she teetered on the edge of release. Just as the moment was about to break, you pulled your fingers out abruptly and delivered a sharp smack to her folds. The sudden sting and shock sent a jolt through her entire body, her back arching violently off the bed as a strangled moan tore from her throat.

That was it. Lia shattered beneath you, her climax crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her thighs clamped around your hand, trapping you there as her cries turned raw and broken, each sound carrying the intensity of her release. Her body convulsed, trembling violently as wave after wave of pleasure overtook her. Her hands clutched at the sheets, her nails digging into the fabric as her hips jerked uncontrollably, seeking and shying away from the overwhelming sensations.

You held her firmly, your grip on her neck steady, grounding her as your hand returned to her folds. Your fingers worked with deliberate precision, prolonging her climax as her cries grew louder, more desperate. Her hips bucked wildly against your hand, her body writhing beneath you as she gave in completely to the pleasure overtaking her.

Her release seemed endless, the intensity of it leaving her gasping for breath as her body quaked under your control. The room was filled with the sound of her broken moans and the rhythmic slap of your palm against her oversensitive lips. Each touch seemed to reignite the flames, drawing out her pleasure until her body collapsed back against the bed, trembling and spent.

As the aftershocks coursed through her, her breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her skin glistened in the dim light, her face flushed and damp as she tried to catch her breath.

You loosened your grip on her neck, your fingers brushing lightly against her skin as you leaned over her. Lia’s eyes fluttered open slowly, glassy and unfocused, her lips parting in a faint, breathless smile. Her body continued to tremble slightly, the lingering sensations leaving her utterly undone beneath you.

You guided Lia’s trembling, sensitive body onto the bed with deliberate intent, her flushed skin glistening as she struggled to catch her breath. Her wide, dazed eyes met yours, still hazy from the intensity of her previous climax, but you weren’t done—not yet. Slowly, you lay down and pulled her back against you, arranging her pliant body with steady hands.

Her back pressed firmly to your chest, her legs spread wide and bent at the knees, her thighs trembling as you slipped your hands beneath them. Your grip steadied her, your fingers curling securely around the back of her thighs, holding her legs in place and spreading her open. The position left her entirely vulnerable, every inch of her body on display. Her arms rested near her sides, loosely pinned between your bodies, emphasizing her complete surrender to you.

Her head tilted back against your shoulder, her neck fully exposed, giving you an unobstructed view of her flushed cheeks, parted lips, and the faint sheen of sweat that glistened on her skin. Lia let out a soft, breathless gasp as the new position registered, her body tensing briefly before relaxing into your hold.

The vulnerability of it, the way your grip anchored her while she was spread open, only seemed to heighten her arousal. “Where did you learn this?…” she murmured, her voice trailing off into a whimper as she felt you press against her entrance. The sensation made her hips shift instinctively, her body eager and trembling as she surrendered completely to the moment.

Without hesitation, you entered her in one deep, deliberate motion. The pace was fast and unrelenting from the start, your thrusts deep and purposeful as you held her firmly in place. Lia cried out, her voice breaking into a desperate moan as her body responded immediately. The position allowed you to reach depths you hadn’t before, and her body clenched tightly around you, the new sensation overwhelming her.

Her head tilted back against your shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut as she gave herself over to you completely. The sheer submissiveness of her posture, her willingness to let you take control, drove you on. You leaned down, your lips brushing the curve of her neck as you pressed open-mouthed kisses along her flushed skin, your teeth grazing lightly before biting down just enough to make her gasp.

Lia let out a trembling gasp as your hand found her clit again, circling it with a firm intensity that made her entire body jolt against you. Her thighs quivered uncontrollably, her hips writhing in an attempt to escape the relentless stimulation. “Wait—” she whimpered, her voice breaking as she tried to shift away from your touch. “I’m sensitive—too much…”

Her words barely registered, muffled by the storm in your mind. The frustration and anger churned like a relentless tide, the image of her smiling, her hand entwined with someone else’s, replaying in your head like a haunting refrain. It consumed you, fueling the roughness in every movement.

You tightened your hold, your hands locking her helplessly in place. Her legs trembled, trying to close against the overstimulation, but the position left her completely vulnerable. With her legs spread wide and pinned by her own weight, she had no leverage, no way to resist as you drove her higher. Her body squirmed, her hips shifting desperately, but your arm around her wrists and your thighs holding hers apart ensured she couldn’t escape.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to the back of her neck where you could reach, the soft curve of her skin damp with sweat. The kiss was possessive, claiming, and when you bit down, she let out a sharp cry, her body arching against yours. The sting of your teeth sent a fresh wave of shivers through her, her voice breaking into a soft whimper as you soothed the bite with another heated kiss.

Lia’s body trembled, her reactions raw and desperate. Each time you bit down, harder now, her cries grew louder, her head tilting back to expose more of her neck as though surrendering completely. Her thighs tried to press together again, but the position made it impossible, leaving her entirely at your mercy.

Her pleas melted into choked moans when your hand left her clit briefly, only to return with a sharp slap. The sound echoed in the room, followed by her broken cry as her body jolted against you. The sting sent her closer to the edge, her breath hitching in ragged gasps as her hips jerked involuntarily.

The relentless combination—the deep, fast thrusts, the circling of your fingers on her clit, and the sharp bites you pressed to her shoulder and neck—pushed her further into a haze of overwhelming sensation. Her cries grew louder, her body trembling violently as she fought against the intensity. Even as her hips shifted and tried to twist away, her body betrayed her with every shiver of arousal, her movements weak and yielding to your pace.

Just as her body tensed in anticipation of release, you pressed harder against her clit, your fingers moving in swift, relentless circles. Lia gasped, her walls clenching tightly around you as her entire body strained, her climax teetering on the brink.

When you sensed she was at her limit, you delivered a sharp, deliberate slap to her clit. Lia screamed, her voice raw and broken as her body convulsed violently. The sharp sting mingled with the overwhelming pleasure, the combination tearing through her with a force that left her trembling uncontrollably. Her thighs twitched against your hands, her chest heaving as she sobbed softly, her cries a mix of pleasure and surrender.

You didn’t stop, your fingers continuing to flick and slap her nub while your thrusts maintained their relentless pace. Her body collapsed further against yours, her legs trembling as the overstimulation sent her spiraling beyond her limits. Another broken scream tore from her throat before her body finally gave out, her muscles going slack as she slumped back onto you, her head falling onto your shoulder.

Her breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, her body trembling as aftershocks coursed through her. You released her wrists, your hands smoothing over her legs as you pressed soft kisses to her temple and along the marks your teeth had left on her shoulder. Her breathing gradually steadied, her skin still flushed and damp as she tried to catch her breath.

Your pace didn’t falter, even as Lia slumped further against you, her body trembling and utterly spent. The overstimulation of her climax had left her broken in the best way, her cries now soft whimpers, her breath hot and uneven against your neck. Her legs remained pinned, trembling as your relentless thrusts sent aftershocks rippling through her. Each deep motion made her body react instinctively, her hips twitching as though trying to pull away, but the position left her helpless, completely at your mercy.

As the intensity built, her breaths grew sharper, her head tilting back against your shoulder. The haze of her earlier release lingered in her glassy eyes, her thoughts slow and unfocused. Yet, as your thrusts grew faster and more erratic, realization flickered faintly in her expression. She gasped softly, her thighs twitching against your hold.

“Wait…” she murmured, her voice trembling and breathless, her mind catching up to what her body already knew. “Don’t… don’t cum inside me,” she pleaded, her tone cracking under the weight of her exhaustion and arousal.

Her words were faint, almost drowned out by the rhythmic sound of your hips meeting hers. Her protest lacked strength, her body betraying her as her warmth clenched tightly around you, pulling you deeper with every motion. Even as she tried to speak again, her words dissolved into soft, broken whimpers, her thighs trembling violently as her overstimulated body refused to resist what was coming.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter, the edge drawing closer with every thrust. Her whispered plea echoed faintly in your mind, but the overwhelming heat, the way she writhed beneath you, the way her body pulled you in, made it impossible to stop. The last thread of your restraint snapped as her walls tightened around you one final time.

“Fuck…” you murmured hoarsely, your voice trembling with the urgency of your release. Her body stiffened briefly, her lips parting in a faint gasp of realization, but she couldn’t move, her legs pinned wide and her body limp in your hold.

With a guttural groan, you pressed as deep as you could, your release surging into her in powerful, shuddering waves. Lia’s breath hitched sharply, her fingers weakly clutching at your arms as she felt the warmth spreading inside her. “Oh my God…” she whispered, her voice barely audible as her head fell forward, her body twitching in response to the unfamiliar sensation. The flush on her cheeks deepened, a mix of disbelief and something unspoken as she lay trembling against you.

When the last tremors subsided, you loosened your grip slightly, your hands smoothing over her legs as they remained draped across your hips. Her breathing was ragged, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. The room was quiet except for the faint sound of your mingled breathing, heavy with the weight of what had just happened.

Lia’s voice came out as a whisper, trembling with exhaustion but edged with frustration. “Too much… it was too much…” Her body twitched beneath you, her trembling legs sprawled limply against your hips. Her chest rose and fell in uneven gasps, her gaze hazy but laced with something sharper as she tried to steady herself.

Then her eyes locked onto yours, and the flush on her cheeks deepened, no longer just from exertion. “I can’t believe you came inside me,” she muttered, her voice low but biting. “You know we can’t do that.”

Her words cut through the heavy air, and for a moment, her expression hardened as she tried to assert control over the whirlwind of emotions swirling between you. But the tension in her brows faltered as her body gave a faint, involuntary shudder, the lingering sensation of everything pooling inside her impossible to ignore.

She shifted slightly in your hold, her thighs twitching, her skin hypersensitive and her mind torn between anger and something much more confusing. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say more, to reprimand you further, but no words came. Instead, she turned her head to the side, her expression tight, though not entirely resolute.

Inside, you could tell she was battling herself. The heat spreading across her neck and cheeks, the way her legs trembled against yours, betrayed a truth she didn’t want to face. Even though she was angry—she had every reason to be—the intensity of what had happened, the rawness of being completely at your mercy, lingered in ways she couldn’t deny.

Lia let out a sharp exhale, her body relaxing slightly against you as her anger seemed to ebb, replaced by a reluctant acceptance. Her head fell back onto the pillow, her breathing still uneven, her lips pressing together in a faint line. The silence between you was heavy, her internal conflict palpable, as the reality of the moment settled over both of you.

Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, the air between you was filled with something unspoken, a tenderness that lingered even as exhaustion pulled at you both.

“Jisu,” you said suddenly, the word breaking the silence like a crack of thunder.

She turned onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow to look at you. “Hmm?”

“Can this ever be more?” The question came out unsteady, raw with emotion, as though it had torn its way out of you.

Her smile faded, replaced by something gentler but distant. She sighed softly, the blanket slipping slightly as she shifted to sit up. “We’ve talked about this,” she said, her tone careful but firm. “The reason this works is because it’s casual. It’s… uncomplicated. That’s why it’s good.”

You turned your head to look at her, searching her expression for something—anything—that might suggest she felt the same way you did. But all you saw was a calm resolve. “You’re great,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “You really are. But if we start complicating things, it’ll ruin what we have, could you imagine even trying to do this while one of us has feelings.”

Her words struck you like a punch, each one cutting deeper than the last. You forced a small, hollow smile, nodding as if you understood. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “You’re right…”

Lia’s hand brushed over your arm lightly, reassuringly, before she lay back down beside you, curling into your side as though nothing had happened. But something had. For you, the illusion that this could be enough had shattered, and no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself otherwise, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of the end.

As Lia slept peacefully beside you, you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing. You couldn’t keep doing this—not when your feelings for her only grew stronger with each passing day, and not when she had made it clear she would never see you the way you saw her.

You slipped out of her bed quietly, careful not to wake her. The city lights outside her window cast long shadows across the room as you let out a soft apology,dressed and left. You told yourself that it would be the last time, that you couldn’t go back—not for her, not for anyone. You needed to find someone who would value you, who would want you the way you wanted them.

-----

The next morning, Lia woke up alone, sunlight filtering softly through her curtains as the warmth of the day began to creep into the room. She stirred slowly, her body aching in unfamiliar ways—her neck, her thighs, her core—all reminders of the intensity of the night before. She shifted slightly, wincing at the tenderness, and as the memories flooded back, her cheeks flushed with heat. The rawness of how you had been with her, the way you had consumed her so completely, lingered in her mind, each thought sending a fresh wave of warmth coursing through her.

Reaching for her phone, she hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the screen. After a deep breath, she typed a quick message: “Last night was amazing. Thank you.”

She hit send, expecting the usual quick reply. You were always good at responding, rarely making her wait more than a few minutes. It was one of the constants she had come to rely on—your availability, your attentiveness. But as the minutes stretched into hours, her screen remaining frustratingly blank, she shrugged it off. You’re probably just busy, she told herself, though a faint unease began to creep into her thoughts, like a whisper she couldn’t ignore.

Life moved forward, as it always did, her schedule swallowing her days whole. But the unease grew, a quiet nagging in the back of her mind that wouldn’t go away. Still no reply. No follow-up. No late-night texts asking about her day or teasing her about something silly. It was unlike you, and with every passing day, it became harder to shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Desperate for distraction, she agreed to another date with the idol, convincing herself it was the right thing to do. But from the moment they sat down at the trendy café, everything about the evening felt wrong. The vibrant chatter of the other patrons blurred into background noise, his words barely registering as she stared down at her phone, her thumb hovering over the unanswered message. It sat there, unopened, like a stark reminder of your absence.

He tried to make conversation, asking about her work and cracking lighthearted jokes, but her responses were flat, distracted. Her mind kept drifting—back to you. She could almost hear your laugh, picture the way you would have teased her about spending too much time scrolling on her phone. She thought about the little things you did, the gestures that had woven themselves into her daily life: bringing her food after late practices, the way you always seemed to know when she needed comforting, and the talks that stretched into the early hours of the morning when her world felt too heavy.

Her chest tightened as she realized it wasn’t just about the sex anymore—though that had been incredible. It was everything else, the way you had quietly become her anchor without her noticing. She missed you, in ways that went beyond physical, in ways she couldn’t ignore.

As the date dragged on, her unease grew heavier. She looked at him across the table, saw the effort he was putting into keeping her attention, and felt the guilt creep in. He wasn’t the problem. He was polite, charming even, but he wasn’t you. He didn’t make her feel grounded the way you did. He didn’t know her tells, didn’t know how to navigate her quiet moods or the way her smiles didn’t always reach her eyes.

She excused herself earlier than planned, her heart heavy as she walked out into the cool night air. Her fingers hovered over her phone again, the thought of calling you overwhelming her. But as she stared at your name in her contacts, she couldn’t bring herself to press it. Not yet.

Days turned into a week, and Lia’s desperation grew. Every thought of you tightened the ache in her chest, the longing building until it was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just about the intimacy anymore—it was everything else. The little moments, the times you made her feel understood, cared for, seen. The absence of those moments was suffocating.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something inside her was shifting. Something she hadn’t wanted to see before but now couldn’t deny. You weren’t just her escape, her comfort—you had become something so much more. Finally, she turned to someone she trusted: Yeji.

The three of you had always been close, bonded not just by your ages but by a shared sense of humor and camaraderie. After practice one evening, Lia found Yeji in the lounge, scrolling through her phone. Her heart pounded as she sat down across from her, working up the courage to speak.

“Yeji,” Lia began, her voice quieter than usual as she fidgeted with the edge of her hoodie.

Yeji glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Lia hesitated, her usual confidence replaced by uncertainty. “You know about… my arrangement, right?”

Yeji set her phone down, her gaze sharpening slightly. “Oh, yeah,” she said, a hint of amusement in her tone. “I know about it.”

Lia’s fingers twisted the fabric of her hoodie, her nerves fraying. “Have you… talked to him lately? Do you know where he is?”

Yeji’s expression softened, the teasing fading as she leaned back against the couch. “Yeah, we’ve talked,” she admitted, her voice even. “But I don’t think I should tell you more than that.”

The words hit Lia harder than she expected. Her stomach twisted, and her voice dropped. “Why not?” she asked, almost pleading. “I just… I miss him. I didn’t think I would, but I do. I didn’t realize how much he meant to me until he wasn’t there anymore.”

Yeji sighed, studying her closely. “Lia, you have to ask yourself why he’s not here right now,” she said, her voice steady but not unkind. “You had to know how he felt—maybe you didn’t want to admit it, but it was obvious.”

Lia looked down, her throat tightening as Yeji’s words sank in. “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” she murmured. “I just… I didn’t know.”

Yeji leaned forward slightly, her voice softer now. “I think he needed space, Lia. He couldn’t keep pretending to be okay with what you two had. And now? I think you’re realizing how much he really means to you.”

Lia’s fingers curled tightly around her hoodie, her heart sinking further. “I miss him,” she said quietly. “Not just… what we had. I miss everything. I don’t know what to do.”

Yeji shook her head gently. “I’m not going to tell you where he is—it wouldn’t be fair. But if you feel this way, you need to figure it out before it’s too late.”

Lia nodded slowly, Yeji’s words settling heavily in her chest. For the next few days, she replayed every moment in her mind—every late-night talk, every thoughtful gesture, every quiet look that made her feel safe. The realization of how much she missed you, how deeply she cared, grew sharper with each passing day.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. Lia grabbed her phone with trembling hands and called. The first call went to voicemail, then the next, and the one after that. Still, she didn’t stop. Each unanswered ring only heightened her desperation. She began texting, her messages growing shorter and more frantic with each passing hour.

“I need to talk to you.”“Please, can you call me back?”“Just… say something.”

When the texts went unanswered, she left voicemails, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “I… I really want to talk. Please, can we meet? Just let me know.” Every message sounded more raw than the last, the silence on the other end of the line gnawing at her chest like an open wound.

She lost count of how many times she called—her phone logs a mess of missed attempts, her inbox filled with drafts of unsent messages she couldn’t bring herself to delete. Each night, she lay awake, staring at her phone, willing it to light up with your name. The waiting was unbearable, each moment stretching endlessly as hope began to waver.

Just when she was on the verge of giving up, her phone buzzed. Her heart skipped a beat, and she scrambled to pick it up. It was you. A simple message: “Okay. Let’s meet.”

Relief and apprehension washed over her in equal measure. She stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure how to respond. After a long pause, she simply typed, “Thank you.”

-----

When you finally met, the air was heavy with tension, every unspoken word between you settling like a weight in the small café. Lia sat across from you, her usual poise stripped away. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, twisting the edge of her sleeve, her eyes fixed on the untouched coffee in front of her. The faintest hint of color rose in her cheeks, betraying the vulnerability she was trying to hide.

You watched her carefully, your own nerves coiling tighter with every second of silence. Her lips parted slightly, as though she wanted to speak, but the words didn’t come right away. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked up at you.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling but steady enough to hold your gaze. “For everything. For not seeing how you felt, for taking you for granted.”

Her words caught you off guard, the raw honesty cutting through the tension. You blinked, unsure how to respond at first. “I should be the one apologizing,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter than you intended. “For ghosting you, for catching feelings in the first place. I—”

“Don’t,” Lia interrupted gently, her voice firm but laced with regret. Her eyes finally met yours, and the warmth there made your chest ache. “Don’t apologize for liking me. Please. I need to say something first.”

You froze, her words silencing the flood of guilt that had been building inside you. She fidgeted with her sleeve, her gaze flickering downward for a moment before she looked back at you, her expression unguarded.

“I like you,” she said softly, the words landing with a weight that made your breath catch. “So much. I think I have for a while, but I didn’t know… or maybe I just didn’t let myself realize it. I got so comfortable with you always being there, and when you were gone, it felt like a piece of me was missing.”

Her cheeks flushed deeper, and her hands stilled as she continued, her voice trembling but resolute. “I thought keeping things casual was easier—safer—because I didn’t want to risk losing you. But I was selfish. I didn’t think about what you needed or how much it might be hurting you.

Her voice cracked slightly, but she didn’t stop. “I’m so sorry for everything. For not being considerate of your feelings, for pushing you away when you tried to tell me how you felt. You deserved more than that—more than I gave you—and it kills me that I hurt you because I was too scared to be honest.”

Her words tumbled out in a rush, raw and vulnerable. She took another breath, her eyes glistening as she looked at you, waiting. “Do you still…” she began, her voice quieter now, hesitant. “Do you still like me? Because if you do… I promise I’ll be better. I’ll try harder. I won’t take you for granted again.”

The question hung in the air, heavy and trembling with sincerity. You stared at her, the tight ache in your chest threatening to spill over. The vulnerability in her eyes, the way her fingers nervously twisted at her sleeve, the unsteady rise and fall of her breath—it was Lia, stripped of all pretense, offering herself to you in a way she never had before.

“I miss you,” you said, your voice thick with emotion, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “More than I can even say. And yes, Lia, I still like you. I don’t think I ever stopped.”

Her lips parted slightly, her eyes widening as relief and hope washed over her face. A small, trembling smile broke through her uncertainty, and she reached across the table, her hand brushing yours. You didn’t hesitate, your fingers curling around hers as the tension between you seemed to dissolve, replaced by a quiet, tentative warmth.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you heavy but no longer with tension—this time, it was full of possibility. Lia’s fingers tightened slightly around yours, her gaze searching your face as though she was committing this moment to memory. Then, softly, she asked, “Can I… kiss you?”

Her voice was quiet, almost shy, a stark contrast to the confident Lia you had always known. You felt your breath hitch, the question catching you off guard even though you knew the answer. You nodded, unable to form words, and her lips twitched into a faint, nervous smile.

When she leaned forward, the world around you seemed to still. The noise of the café, the clinking of dishes, the hum of conversations—it all faded as her face came closer, her hand still firmly in yours. The first brush of her lips against yours was tentative, testing, but the moment they met, something shifted.

This kiss wasn’t like the others. You’d kissed Lia before—passionate, heated, messy kisses in the haze of your arrangement. But this? This was entirely different. This kiss wasn’t rushed, wasn’t fueled by lust or need. It was soft, deliberate, full of emotion you hadn’t allowed yourself to name before. It felt like kissing her for the first time, like discovering something new, something sacred.

Her lips were warm and inviting, moving against yours with a tenderness that sent shivers through you. There was no urgency, no pretense, just the quiet connection between you as the kiss deepened, your free hand instinctively reaching up to cradle her cheek. She leaned into your touch, her fingers threading lightly through your hair as she let out a soft sigh, her body relaxing into the moment.

For Lia, the kiss was no less transformative. She’d kissed you countless times before, but this—this felt like peeling away every wall she’d built, every mask she’d worn. This was the kiss she hadn’t let herself imagine, the kiss she hadn’t realized she needed until now. It wasn’t just the physical connection—it was the way your hand trembled slightly as you cupped her cheek, the way you held her like she was the most important thing in the world.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as your eyes met. Her lips were parted, her cheeks flushed, her gaze full of something you couldn’t quite describe but felt deep in your chest. You could see it reflected back at you: this wasn’t just a kiss. This was everything.

“That…” Lia murmured softly, her voice trailing off as she searched for the right words, her fingers brushing against your jaw. “That felt… different.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice low and raw with emotion. “It did.”

Neither of you moved to pull away, the space between you too fragile, too precious to break. For the first time, it felt like you were both on the same page, and the weight of everything that had come before fell away, leaving only the warmth of this moment.

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt less heavy, more open—like the air between you had shifted, lighter somehow. You cleared your throat, your fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the table as you searched for the right words, your heartbeat quickening with each passing second. “So, um…” you began, awkwardness thick in your voice as your eyes darted away from hers. “If you’re free later… I mean, after this—if you want, we could, I don’t know, grab dinner or something?”

Lia tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile that widened just enough to let you know she understood exactly what you were trying to say. Her cheeks flushed faintly, the color rising against her soft complexion. “Are you asking me out?” she teased lightly, her tone warm, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

You let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of your neck as you tried to play it cool. “Maybe. I mean… yeah, I guess I am.”

Her smile softened into something more genuine, more tender. “I’d like that,” she said quietly, her voice carrying just the right hint of sincerity to make your chest feel lighter. “I haven’t eaten yet.”

The relief that washed over you was palpable, and without a second thought, you stood, holding out your hand. Lia’s gaze flicked down to your outstretched fingers, hesitation flickering for only a moment before she reached out and took your hand, her fingers curling around yours in a gesture that felt at once familiar and entirely new. Her touch sent a warmth through you, steadying your nerves as the tension between you eased further.

As you walked out of the café together, her hand warm in yours, the world around you seemed to blur into insignificance. The usual noise of the city streets—honking cars, chatter from passersby—faded into the background as the two of you fell into an easy rhythm. Lia’s steps matched yours, her shoulder occasionally brushing against your arm, and every now and then, you glanced at her. Her soft smile, illuminated by the golden glow of the streetlights, carried a quiet promise that made your heart ache in the best way.

You gave her hand a gentle squeeze, testing the waters, and she looked up at you, her eyes bright with a mixture of shyness and excitement. The small action spoke louder than words, her slight squeeze in return confirming what you both already knew: this wasn’t just two friends reconnecting. This was something new, something fragile yet full of possibility.

By the time you reached the restaurant, the hesitation you’d felt earlier had all but melted away. The hum of the city was a distant backdrop as you opened the door for her, gesturing for her to enter first. She smiled, murmuring a quiet “thank you” as she stepped inside, her gaze lingering on yours for just a beat longer than necessary.

Inside, the warm, inviting glow of the restaurant felt like an extension of the moment you were sharing. As you sat down, the conversation flowed more easily, the earlier tension giving way to lighthearted laughter and comfortable silences that spoke of a connection neither of you could deny. And as you watched her, her smile radiant and her eyes sparkling across the table, you knew without a doubt: this wasn’t just a return to what you had before. This was the beginning of something real.

[witchywithwhiskey]

only man allowed

pairing: toxic!bucky barnes x toxic!female reader

summary: you're feeling particularly needy one night, but when you text your situationship to come over, he reminds you that he won't wear a condom, which is a problem since it's a risky time of the month for you. but you tell him to come over anyway.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), established situationship, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering (f receiving), consensual non-consent and consensual sexual coercion, sexual roleplay, 'just the tip' trope, breeding kink, bdsm elements, some biting and marking, some dacryphilia, some pain play, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, pet names (baby), begging, teasing, multiple orgasms, aftercare, taking and sending nude photos, possessive behavior, toxic behavior, jealousy, referenced but not shown situationship between reader and john walker, very anti-john walker behavior

word count: 8.5k

a/n: listen, i definitely wrote this at a certain time of the month and i'm not going to apologize for it!!! what i will apologize for is the fact that this ended up being way longer than i expected!! i wanted these to be short little fics, but apparently toxic bucky won't let me keep things short 🤭 anyway, this was fun to write and i hope y'all enjoy it!! ♡

you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist

You missing me, baby?

You could perfectly imagine the arrogant smirk on Bucky Barnes’ stupidly handsome face and the playful glint of mischief in his eye as he asked you that question in response to the picture you’d sent. It was a hastily taken photo of your body clad only in one of Bucky’s t-shirts, your fingers pulling up the hem to show a pair of panties—the ones that had made him groan like he was being tortured when he’d first seen them. 

The truth was, you were missing him. You were horny as fuck and you didn’t care if he knew it—which, you were certain he did, because you only ever sent him lewd photos of yourself when you wanted him—but would it kill Bucky to show a little bit of reciprocity, instead of sending you that teasing response?

It didn’t matter that his playfully cocky words only drove your need higher, your body warming as heat flooded between your thighs. You were missing Bucky’s brand of arrogance, and it was all you could think about, the deep rasp of his voice in your ear while he pounded into you, the dirty and depraved things he’d say as his cock slid into your pussy, stretching you out just the way you needed.

You knew, without even touching yourself, that neither your fingers nor your toys would be enough for you that evening. You needed Bucky. Not John Walker, not any of the other guys on your roster—only Bucky Barnes could satisfy the need burning through your body.

So you rolled onto your knees and lowered your upper body to your bed, arching your ass high in the air. You positioned your phone and took a photo of your curved ass, barely clad in your panties, with the TV on your dresser also in frame. You took photos until you got one that you liked well enough and sent it to Bucky.

I’m bored, come chill.

Your text deliberately didn’t acknowledge Bucky’s question—and you weren’t asking him to come over, you were demanding it. You refused to beg a guy like Bucky Barnes, who refused to be exclusive with you, to come over and fuck you. 

But you knew the simple request would drag him away from whatever he was doing on that Saturday evening and get him to your apartment.

So you were surprised when he texted back and didn’t immediately say he was on his way.

You sure? If we end up fucking, I’m not wearing a condom.

The second you finished reading Bucky’s text, you shoved your face into one of your pillows and let out a frustrated groan. Of course Bucky hadn’t forgotten you were in the process of switching to a new birth control and you’d told him that if he was going to fuck you, he’d have to wear a condom.

He’d taken it better than you expected—especially for a guy who claimed sex with you “didn’t feel as good” when he wore a condom. He hadn’t thrown a tantrum or tried to talk you into fucking bare while it was unsafe. He’d seemed happy enough with handjobs and blowjobs, and had always reciprocated by getting you off with his fingers or mouth.

But you could tell from his text that he was reaching his limit and, truthfully, so were you. 

You missed the feeling of Bucky’s bare cock sliding into you, the heat of his stiff length and the drag of his veins against your sensitive inner walls. You were desperate to feel his cum flooding your cunt, filling you up with his seed while his balls twitched against your ass or clit, and he groaned low and deep in your ear. 

Bucky was the only man on your roster allowed to fuck you bare, and it was entirely contingent on him swearing on his mother’s grave that you were the only girl he fucked without a condom. As far as you knew, Bucky had kept his promise—which you knew because you made him get tested at the local clinic at least once a month. 

Still, you were only four weeks in to the 4-6 week period where your doctor had told you to use secondary methods of birth control while you were switching prescriptions. And you were so horny that you were probably ovulating—but you wanted Bucky so bad you could barely think. 

In fact, the thought of letting Bucky cum inside you when it wasn’t a safe time of the month, and was extra not safe because you were switching your birth control, turned you on so much, your whole body shivered with need. Something about the idea, how risky it was, how it might mean Bucky would knock you up, was too good to be ignored. 

You were so horny, you were seconds away from shoving a pillow between your thighs simply so you’d have something to hump against. That probably should’ve been a sign that you weren’t thinking clearly, but instead, it had you making up your mind.

You decided having Bucky over—having him fuck you raw—was worth the risk. In a brief moment of clarity, you reasoned with yourself that there was always the morning after pill. That was good enough for you.

So you texted him back.

I’m sure.

Bucky showed up to your apartment so soon after you texted him that you were sure that he either broke a number of traffic laws driving over from wherever he’d been, or he’d already been on his way. You loved both ideas, and didn’t want him to give you another reason, so you opted not to ask.

But for how fast he’d gotten to your place, he seemed content to take his time getting to the main event. When you opened the door, you’d been expecting (or, rather, hoping) he’d pounce on you. Instead, he pulled you into his arms and gave you a brief, chaste kiss, asking how your week was and how you’d been since he last saw you.

Then, as you entertained his desire for small talk, Bucky made himself comfortable, stretching out on your bed after kicking off his shoes and beckoning you to curl up with him. You did so, a little warily, and even put on a show you’d seen a million times since you figured Bucky would distract you from it soon enough. 

But he didn’t. 

You lasted all of five minutes before you were lifting your head from Bucky’s chest to look at him, surprised to find the guy you’d texted to come over and fuck you was seemingly engrossed in your show. You whined his name in a pitiful voice, “Bucky.” 

The arrogant smirk you’d pictured when he’d texted you earlier spread across his face and he squeezed you tighter in his hard, muscled arms. 

“Shhh, baby, watch your show,” he rumbled, rolling you onto your back so he was curled around your side, throwing a leg over yours and burying his scruffy face in your neck. “I’m just here to chill, right?” There was a teasing note in his voice that had you huffing out a frustrated sound.

“Bucky…” you grumbled, even as you shifted your head on your pillows to give him easier access to your neck. He rewarded you by kissing your soft skin, sending a tendril of heat curling down your spine and settling heavily between your thighs. “You know this isn’t what I meant when I told you to come over.” 

Bucky lifted himself up onto his forearm, hovering above you so he could stare down into your eyes. His arrogant smirk had slipped off his face, leaving a serious expression as he took in the pinched, frustrated look on yours. He seemed to come to some kind of decision as he stared at you.

“It’s not a safe time for you, right, baby?” he asked, each word said slowly, intentionally, another meaning laced within. “You don’t want me to tell you that I’m horny as fuck and the only thing I want is to bury my bare cock in you and cum in your unprotected pussy—you don’t want me to try to talk you into it, to coerce you, right, baby?”

At his filthy words, your heart thundered in your chest and your pulse thrummed between your thighs, and for a brief, blistering moment, you considered throwing a whole entire hissy fit because that’s not what you wanted. You wanted the opposite of what Bucky was saying—and then the deeper meaning in his words hit you. 

Bucky wasn’t really asking if you wanted him to be nice and respectful of the boundaries you’d set, even though you’d already essentially given him permission to ignore them. He was asking if you wanted to play along with the idea that you were reluctant to let him fuck you without a condom while you were at risk of getting knocked up.

“That’s not what you want, is it, baby?” Bucky rumbled, his gaze holding yours as he nodded his head slowly, the gesture so at odds with his words, it could only mean he was asking you the opposite of what he said.

You’d been eager for Bucky to fuck you—you were so horny, it was the only thing you could think about—but the opportunity of playing this game with him was too enticing to pass up. Pretending to be reluctant, pretending to slowly give in to Bucky’s whims when it was what you both really wanted, would only make the sex that much hotter. 

An excited smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, and you saw Bucky’s gaze drop to your lips, his own face flickering with elation as he took in your reaction. You waited until his eyes returned to yours before you answered him.

“Noooo, that’s definitely not what I want, daddy,” you whimpered huskily, the barest hint of sarcasm in your tone as you struggled to stop from smirking. Your head was nodding just as Bucky’s had, and he was the first to break, an eager grin spreading across his face. 

He ducked down and brushed another frustratingly brief kiss to your lips. “You got it, baby, no fucking tonight—just chilling,” he murmured, a teasing tone in his voice that had your body tingling with anticipation.

You were less surprised that time when Bucky snuggled back down on top of you, his mouth going back to your neck where he was working on sucking a hickey into the side of your throat.

Since you knew the game you were playing, it was a little easier to settle in and watch your show, all the while trying to forget the way your pussy was pulsing with need. Still, you wouldn’t have said it was easy to ignore the steady twitching of Bucky’s cock against your thigh as he hardened in his sweatpants.

It only got more difficult to keep your attention on your show when Bucky’s hand slid under your shirt, his fingers trailing idly over your stomach until he eventually reached your tits. He began kneading your soft flesh lazily, his fingers plucking teasingly at your nipples, while his mouth sucked on your neck. 

Despite how obvious it was that Bucky was taking his time, it wasn’t long before you were a wet, whimpering mess beneath him.

“Bucky, w-we shouldn’t fool around,” you murmured breathily, mouth tripping over the words as you voiced the exact opposite of what you wanted. It was like your lips didn’t want to play the game you’d started, but you were rewarded for their effort by his frustrated growl, which had you throbbing between your thighs.

“It’s fine, baby, we’re not doing anything we shouldn’t…” he rumbled against your neck, his teeth nipping at your sensitive skin and making you shiver. 

The word “yet” hung unspoken in what little space there was between your bodies, and the promise of it had you warming even more, pressing your thighs together against the ache pulsing in your core. “Bucky,” you whimpered his name, your hips twisting toward him like they had a mind of their own.

“Are ya getting wet, baby?” he asked teasingly in your ear, his fingers tripping down your body until they skimmed along the hem of your panties. All you could do was whine in response and Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, I bet you’re dripping for me.”

Your chest was already heaving with heavier breaths just from the way Bucky was teasing his fingers beneath the edge of your panties, taking his sweet time going any lower to where you really needed him. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, and your intention had been to shove his hand deeper into your panties so he’d finally touch your pussy, but instead he stopped.

“Don’t worry, baby, ‘m not gonna fuck you, no matter how wet your pretty little pussy is,” Bucky murmured in your ear, brushing a kiss to your cheek. 

Though his words might’ve sounded reassuring, his tone was a deliciously teasing rumble and you could feel his smirk against your cheek. Your body trembled, your thighs parting for Bucky of their own accord, which had him humming a pleased sound. 

“Good girl, just let me feel you.”

Bucky’s fingers finally dipped into your panties and slid down to your pussy, a breathy little moan bursting from your lips. The feel of his warm, skilled fingers slipping through your soaking wet folds, bumping against your clit before swirling around your aching, clenching hole, was almost too much. 

You had to bite your lip against the urge to beg Bucky to fuck you already, not wanting to ruin the game that was making everything hotter. But he seemed to lose himself for a moment, burying his face in your neck and groaning while his fingers slipped between your swollen and soppy lower lips.

“Fucking hell, baby, you’re drenched for me,” Bucky growled, his voice low and no longer teasing. His fingers were dipping shallowly into your hole and spreading your wetness around, making a mess of your pussy. “You feel so fucking ripe, I gotta feel it—gotta feel you against my cock.”

Bucky was already pushing your panties down your thighs, rising above you and tearing his shirt off over his head before tugging your own shirt from your body. 

At the same time, you were kicking your panties from around your ankles and spreading your legs, sitting up shove at the waistband of Bucky’s sweatpants. When his cock bounced free, you reached for his perfect length, saliva already pooling in your mouth as you gave his girth a reverent stroke.

But then Bucky was urging you back down, guiding your shoulders to the bed and covering your body with his own. You arched up into his warmth while he settled between your thighs, your fingers clinging to his sides.

His darkened eyes were fixed on the juncture of your legs, his fingers going back to playing through your wetness and spreading it around to make a mess of your pussy. Occasionally, he’d bump against your clit, which made your body jolt every time he brushed the needy bundle of nerves. 

Bucky felt so good, and you were so close to getting what you really wanted—his cock inside you—but you forced yourself to remember the game you were playing.

You grabbed Bucky’s face in both hands, tipping it up so you could catch his eye. There was an almost dazed look on his face, but he blinked and focused back on you.

“It isn’t a safe time of the month,” you said, as sternly as you could manage. But your breaths were coming too quickly for there to be much steel in your voice. Bucky’s thumb brushed over your clit purposefully and your hips bore down on his hand, your body begging for more as you whined, “You can’t fuck me bare, Bucky.” 

“I won’t, baby,” Bucky purred, wrapping the fingers that were sticky with your desire around the hard length of his cock. He chuckled when you whimpered at the loss of his touch, leaning down over you and brushing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Just let me rub against you—you’re so wet, it’ll feel so good. I won’t push inside your drippy little pussy, baby, I promise.”

You knew he was lying, and you knew Bucky knew you knew he was lying. For some reason, that made everything so much hotter. So did playing the reluctant participant, which was why you bit your lip with fake nervousness as you stared up at Bucky, your panting breaths adding even more uncertainty to your voice when you spoke.

“Oh-okay, daddy, you can rub against me—but no more.” 

The words were barely out of your mouth before Bucky was sliding his thick, hard cock between your pussy lips, making you moan and spread your legs wider, raising your knees toward your chest to give him all the access he needed. 

Bucky let out a groan and dropped down to cover you with his body, his arms digging beneath your back to hold you pinned tightly against his chest. Your sensitive nipples rubbed against him, teasing you relentlessly.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Bucky rumbled, rocking his hips so his cock dragged between your swollen, dripping folds, rubbing against your clit and sending sparks of pleasure swirling through your body. “So wet… You’re making a fucking mess on my cock, baby.”

“Oh god,” you whimpered in Bucky’s ear, your body shuddering under the onslaught of blistering pleasure and aching emptiness in your core. 

You wrapped your arms around Bucky’s shoulders, hands digging into his soft brown hair and holding onto him while his hips kept rocking into the cradle of your body, his cock grinding against your clit until you were gushing with wetness all over his stiff length.

“Doesn’t it feel good, baby?” Bucky murmured in your ear, his voice sweetly entreating, like he was trying to convince you of something, though you were already very well aware that his hard shaft grinding into your dripping wet pussy felt better than it had any right. “You’re creaming all over daddy’s cock, baby—tell me how good it feels.”

“Nngh, so goooood,” you keened, hooking your ankles around the backs of Bucky’s thighs to get better leverage to grind against his hard length. You were caught between wanting more and wanting to keep grinding against him. “Your cock feels sooo good, daddy, so big and hard against my drippy pussy.”

“Fuck, ‘m so hard for you,” Bucky groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he rutted into your soft, drenched folds with rough, punishing thrusts. “My dick’s throbbing for your cunt, baby, can you feel it?”

He pressed his shaft deep into your slit, the flared head of his cock bullying your clit, and you could feel it. You could feel the pulse in his hard length, joining the rhythm in your center. 

Your body reacted on instinct, your inner walls clenching hard around nothing while you whined his name, “Buckyyy.”

“I can feel you, baby,” Bucky rumbled, the teasing tone back in his voice. “I can feel your cunt mouthing at my cock.” 

Bucky’s words sounded so deliciously depraved that you wanted to turn your head and kiss him, to taste his debauchery straight from his tongue. You knew he had a filthy mouth, but his dirty talk was even hotter because of the game you were playing—and he just kept talking. 

“Feels like ya want me to fuck you, baby,” he cooed, lifting his head to speak directly in your ear. “Does your pretty little cunt wanna get fucked?”

It was on the tip of your tongue to scream, ‘Yes!’ You wanted to get fucked so bad. You practically desperate for Bucky to push inside you and impale you on his cock, to pump into your pussy bare and cum inside you. You managed to bite it back at the last second for the sake of the role you were playing, but you couldn’t get any other words out.

When you were quiet, save for your panting breaths while Bucky’s hips kept up their torturous rocking, he lifted himself, bracing on his forearms so he could hover above you and see your face. He raised an eyebrow in question, his body slowing its movement as his gaze raked over your face, uncertainty flickering in the depths of his blue eyes.

It was clear he was questioning whether you still wanted to play the game you’d both started, and the fact that he was taking the time to check in with you had your heart squeezing uncomfortably in your chest. 

It was an annoying reminder that Bucky wasn’t the kind of man to be selfish and self-absorbed in bed. Even if he was only your situationship, he made sure you were enjoying everything he was doing. 

And you wanted him to know you were enjoying yourself very much—and that you still wanted to play the role you’d been given.

“I want you so bad, Bucky.” The words tumbled from your lips as you gave in to the urge to assuage Bucky’s concern. “I want you so bad, but we shouldn’t,” you whined, pouting up at him as you slipped back into the game. 

The furrow of concern smoothed itself from Bucky’s brow and he smirked before ducking down to capture your lips in a quick kiss. 

His hips began rocking into you again, and he swallowed your responding moan greedily. He groaned himself when you used your ankles hooked around his thighs to grind back against him, your soft, wet pussy sliding against the rough ridge of his cock and making a mess of both of you.

“What if I…what if I just push the tip in?” Bucky rasped, pulling away and catching your eye, a smirk fluttered at the edges of his mouth, like he was trying to hold it back but was failing. “Just the tip—just let me feel you. Please, baby, I wanna feel you so fucking bad.” 

Bucky bowed his head, pressing sweet kisses to your collarbones, a barely restrained chuckle rumbling his chest. It seemed he’d lost the battle with being able to keep a straight face and you couldn’t blame him, your mouth was spread in a mischievous grin while your nails raked through his short brown hair.

“It’s not safe,” you reminded him, but there was an edge of glee in your tone. 

You couldn’t hide the fact that you were having fun with Bucky, playing out the little game he’d started. You were so close to getting what you wanted, that it only made it more difficult to pretend you didn’t want it. 

So when you murmured, “If you cum inside me, Bucky…” your voice was breathless with desire, and you had to cut yourself off to bite back the moan that wanted to be set free. 

Bucky smirked against your neck, his teeth nipping playfully at the mark he’d left on your throat before he responded. “It’s just the tip, baby, promise—I won’t cum inside you.”

Had it always been so easy for you to hear when Bucky was lying, or had he given up on the pretense of the game so much that it was even more obvious? 

The question flitted across your mind but didn’t stay long. You were too busy gasping a quick, “Ok,” your hips tilting, trying to catch the tip of Bucky’s cock in your hole on one of his grinding thrusts. However, it wasn’t until he pulled his hips back that the head of his hard length notched at your tight, clenching pussy.

Both of you held your breath when Bucky pushed inside. He stopped when just the tip was nestled inside the entrance of your warm, wet cunt. 

“Fuuuck,” Bucky groaned, pressing his face into the side of your neck, his hot breath fanning over the hollow of your throat and his scruff rasping against your sensitive skin. “You’re so fucking warm, baby,” he rumbled into your neck, the sensation of his mouth against your throat making you shiver all over. “Gotta do it again.”

His muttered words were your only warning before his hips reared back, the broad tip of his cock pulling free from your grasping hole. A tortured whimper slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, and Bucky chuckled as he slid back inside you, your pitiful sound dissolving into a moan when the head of his cock popped into your cunt.

“Yeah, that feels good, doesn’t it?” Bucky crooned in your ear, doing it again, slower that time, making you feel every tiny bit of his tip pushing into your weeping hole. “My cock sliding into your drippy little cunt—you’re so fucking wet for me, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yes, Bucky, so wet for you,” you echoed, unable to do more when all your focus was on not impaling yourself on Bucky’s cock. Your body squirmed beneath his larger form, one of Bucky’s big hands pressing down on your hip like he knew you were barely holding back from pushing yourself down on his cock.

“It would be so easy for me to slide all the way inside, don’t ya think, baby?” Bucky purred in a teasing tone, his hips rocking forward until he’d pushed another inch deeper before pulling back so only the tip was inside you again.

Just that little tease had you moaning mindlessly beneath Bucky, tears of desire and frustration springing to your eyes. 

Your arms wrapped tightly around Bucky’s shoulders and your legs hooked around the backs of his thighs, trying to pull him in deeper. You needed more, to hell with the game you’d been playing. You needed him inside you already. 

“Bucky, please,” you begged on a sob, pressing your face into his cheek.

“I can feel your cunt gripping me, baby, sucking on me—she wants me to push deeper,” Bucky rumbled in your ear, a gruffness to his voice that told you he was reaching the limit of his patience with the game as well. 

In that moment, you’d have done anything to get Bucky to fuck you properly, but before you could speak, he went on. 

“Do you want it, baby?” he asked, his voice rough as crushed rock, his own breaths hot and heavy against your skin. “Want my cock buried deep inside you, filling you up and fucking you hard?”

“Yes, Bucky, please,” you gasped, your hands diving into his hair and pulling his head up so you could look him in the eye. You had to blink the tears from your eyes to do it, but you didn’t want there to be any confusion about what you wanted. “Fuck me, daddy, please!”

A slow, depraved grin spread across Bucky’s face as his eyes roved over your tear-stained cheeks. You felt the tip of his cock twitch inside you, and your body gave an answering clench, like it was begging him to slide inside. But Bucky seemed happy to let his eyes wander over your face, relishing the sight of you crying and begging him to fuck you. 

It felt like a small eternity before his gaze met yours again and he seemed ready to give you what you wanted. 

“But don’t cum inside you, right, baby?” Bucky asked, a devious tone in his voice. His hips pulled back and thrust forward slowly, pushing his big cock inside you at a torturous pace. Bucky’s grin was teasing as he went on, murmuring, “Wouldn’t want daddy knocking you up, right, baby?” 

At Bucky’s words, something inside you snapped. Your mind went blank and your body moved on its own, your legs hiking up Bucky’s sides to wrap tightly around his lower back. Your heels dug into his firm ass and you whined loudly until he let you pull him deeper inside you.

Bucky’s cock impaled you with one thrust, a pleasured grunt slipping from his mouth, half-muffled against your neck. He filled you up all the way to the root of his thick cock and you moaned, long and loud in his ear. 

You finally got what you wanted. Finally, you were full of his cock.

Bucky was buried so deep inside you that you could feel his balls pressed against your ass—his big, heavy balls, full of the seed you desperately wanted him to pump inside you. The desire left you dizzy and dazed, your body thrumming with a need to be filled, to be knocked up, to be bred by your situationship.

“Breed me, Bucky,” you whispered breathlessly in his ear. 

He stilled for a very brief second, but then he was groaning obscenely, sucking hard on the hickey he’d already left. Whether it was a reward or a punishment, you didn’t know—nor did you care.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky grunted, his legs shifting on your bed and repositioning himself to fight against the stranglehold you had on his body. 

He pushed up onto his forearms so he could hover above you, his eyes raking over your face as he rolled his hips to fuck you in hard, shallow thrusts that had your lips parting, punched-out whines slipping from your mouth. 

You were so consumed in basking in your pleasure that it took you a moment to realize Bucky had gone quiet—quieter than he normally was when he was fucking you. It took another moment for you to blink your vision back into focus and when you did, you sucked in a sharp breath at the look of pure, depraved desire on Bucky’s face. 

“Do you have something you want to tell me, baby?” he asked dryly, lifting an eyebrow in question. Before you could answer, he ducked down and captured your lips in a searing kiss, the heat of his tongue flicking into your mouth making you moan. “Does my girl have a breeding kink she failed to tell me about?” he asked in a teasing tone, plunging his cock deep into your pussy and grinding hard against a spot inside you that had you seeing stars.

“Not your girl,” you managed to gasp, even through the pleasure. 

A low growl rumbled in Bucky’s chest, but it cut off abruptly. It seemed your situationship didn’t like being reminded that he wasn’t the only one who fucked you. Bucky nipped at your bottom lip, biting it a little harshly, making your pussy clench around his cock as you whined through the brief sting.  

“Does John fucking Walker know about your breeding kink?” Bucky seethed, his voice suddenly furious. His anger was reflected in the way he picked up the pace of his hips, fucking you in rough, hard thrusts that had you crying out and clinging to his shoulders, your nails sinking deep into his golden skin. “Do you let John fucking Walker fuck you raw—fucking tell me, baby.”

“No,” you cried, tears of pleasure slipping from your eyes and trailing down your temples into your hair. Bucky’s lips found the salty tears and he kissed them from your skin, making your heart and pussy clench simultaneously. “You’re the only one allowed to fuck me bare, Bucky, you know that.” 

“That’s fucking right,” he growled, punctuating each of his words with brutal thrusts. “I’m the only man who fucks this pussy raw,” he went on in a gruff, furious voice, raising up onto his arms so he could look you in the eye. “I’m the only man who cums inside this cunt, who fills you up until you’re leaking my seed all down your pretty thighs—I’m the only man who breeds you, isn’t that right, baby?”

“Yes—yes, Bucky, only you,” you cried, squirming beneath him, using your ankles hooked around his thighs to meet Bucky’s thrusts. It didn’t even occur to you to fight him on his possessive questions—he was right. He was the only one allowed to do all those things. “Only you, only you—please, I need you to breed me Bucky!”

You were getting close, but before you could tumble over the edge of your release, Bucky sat up, breaking the hold of your arms as he pushed up onto his knees. You let out a frustrated wail, but stopped short at the expression on Bucky’s face.

The look in his eye was wild, nearly feral. His hands were rough and possessive when he grabbed your plush thighs, pushing them up toward your chest until you were folded in half. His cock was still inside you, but not nearly as deep as you wanted it in the position Bucky was in. 

Your hips squirmed, a whine working its way up your throat before spilling free.

Bucky leaned back down on top of you, pinning your legs to your chest and your body to the bed as his cock slid deeper until you were so full of him, you swore you could feel him in womb—even though you knew that was impossible. 

He stayed like that, buried inside you, his cock stretching out your tight cunt while he rocked his hips, grinding deeper into you. All the while, he stared at you, his gaze glittering with the wildness that spoke of a deep-rooted possessiveness, but when he spoke, his voice was deceptively sweet.

“You want daddy to breed you, baby?” Bucky cooed in your ear, his mouth pressing wet, messy kisses to your cheek and jaw. “You knew it wasn’t a safe time of the month, and you let me fuck you raw anyway—such a silly little cumslut pretending you didn’t want it, but you do, right, baby?”

All you could manage was a punched-out, “Uh huh,” Bucky’s heavy weight pressing the air from your lungs while he crushed you to the bed. He shifted a little, so you could breathe, but it didn’t seem to matter that you’d responded, because he went on as if he hadn’t even heard you.

“You wanna feel my fat cock bruising your cervix, baby?” he huffed, pausing only to nip at the lobe of your ear with his teeth, making you clench hard around his cock. His next words came out on a filthy groan, pouring into your ear and settling deep in your mind. “Ya want me to flood your fertile little cunt with my seed and breed you—is that it?” 

You were half feral yourself with desire, with your need to cum—with your need to feel him cum inside you—and you weren’t sure if Bucky was checking in with you, or if he was getting off on teasing you, but you rushed to answer, telling him the truth.

“God, Bucky, yes—please,” you whined, your fingers digging into his soft hair and towing his head until your mouth found his, kissing him messily while he kept fucking you in hard, rough thrusts. “Fill me up with your cum, daddy, make me your pretty little cumdump, please, I want it—I need it!” you cried into Bucky’s mouth, your words half muffled because neither of you wanted to pull away. 

“Jesus fucking christ, baby,” Bucky grunted, his hot breath panting past your lips. You felt his mouth curve into a sly smirk. “First you don’t want me to fuck you because it isn’t safe,” he murmured in a teasing tone. “And now you want me to breed your little pussy full of cum—which is it, baby, d’you want me to pull out or cum inside your unprotected cunt?”

A mindless moan slipped from your lips at his filthy question, your mind going entirely blank for a split second. All you could do was feel—Bucky’s thick cock pounding into your pussy, the tip hitting a spot inside you that felt so good, you never wanted him to stop. It was too good, you didn’t want him to pull out, even if it would’ve been the smart decision.

“Breed me, daddy,” you begged in a throaty, desperate voice. “Breed me, cum inside me—please, please, please!”

“Fuck,” Bucky cursed, but he sounded pleased, too. “I’m so fucking close, baby, so close to draining my balls in your tight little cunt.” 

His body shifted and then he was pounding into you in a new, better angle, making you feel impossibly good as you careened toward the edge of your release. 

“Tell me, baby,” he rasped, his forehead pressed to yours. “Tell me you never let John fucking Walker cum inside you—tell me I’m the only man allowed to breed you.”

You whined, well aware you’d already told him—and he already knew he was the only one allowed to cum inside you. But it fed the possessiveness Bucky felt, and it felt good to give him that, so you did. 

“You’re the only one,” you promised in a thready voice, your pleasure dripping from every word. “The only man allowed to cum inside me—you’re the only man allowed to breed me, daddy!”

Bucky captured your mouth in a dominating kiss, his tongue plunging past your lips like he was desperate to fuck as many of your holes at the same time as possible. You moaned into his mouth, gripping his face and holding him close while you sucked on his tongue, your nails raking through the scruff on his jaw, both of you groaning at how good the other felt.

Finally, Bucky managed to wrench himself away from your clinging grip and his face hovered above yours, a devious smirk on his plump lips.

“Ya know I heard,” he started, his voice a little breathless and gruff, the deep sound of it singing through your body and making you shiver as your pussy pulsed around his thrusting cock. “If you cum at the same time as me, you’re more likely to get knocked up.” 

A violent shiver raced down your spine and your pussy clenched hard around Bucky’s cock. His words were going to be the end of you, you just knew it, but what a glorious end it would be.

Bucky grinned at your body’s reaction, looking far too pleased with himself, though you were too far gone in your pleasure to try to wipe that smirk off his face. Not that he gave you much opportunity, ducking down to murmur in your ear.

“Rub your clit, baby, I wanna feel you cumming on my cock while I’m knocking you up.”

“Oh my god, Bucky,” you whimpered pleasure spiraling through you at his words, but you did as he said. 

You slipped your hand between your bodies, finding your clit messy and sticky with your desire, your fingertips brushing the thick shaft of Bucky’s cock as he fucked you. Rubbing your clit in ruthless little circles, your body pulled tight.

“Bucky, I’m gonna cum—don’t stop!”

Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream as the coiled tension in your body finally shattered, and you came with a strangled cry, pleasure consuming your mind and body. 

Your release washed over you in waves of bliss that were so intense, you could feel your arms and legs trembling, your cunt clenching hard around Bucky’s thick length that was still plunging deep into your grasping channel.

“That’s it, baby, cum on daddy’s cock,” Bucky rasped, brushing sloppy kisses to your face as he rutted into you, his thrusts turning wild and rough. “You feel so fucking good, baby, you’re doing so good for me, gonna make me a daddy for real, baby—Jesus fuck.” 

Bucky cut himself off on a groan, his hips pressing flush to the backs of your thighs, his cock impaled to the hilt in your still fluttering cunt. He came with a loud moan, his cock twitching inside you as he shot rope after rope of cum into your pussy. Your inner walls milked every last drop of seed from his balls while he painted the inside of you white.

When Bucky was finally spent, he collapsed on top of you, your bodies easing into a more comfortable position. He lay on top of you in the cradle of your thighs, his palms smoothing over your hips and sides while your fingers stroked idly through his soft hair. You made small sounds of contentment, and an answering, pleased rumble, sounded in his chest. 

Finally, just when it was beginning to get uncomfortable bearing so much of Bucky’s weight, he heaved himself up onto his knees and carefully slid his cock from your thoroughly used pussy. You watched him, his gaze focused on the slit between your thighs, and you saw the moment his blue eyes darkened when his cum started dripping out of you.

You reached between you thighs, which were splayed over his his spread knees, to clean up the cum before it made a mess of your bedsheets, but Bucky knocked your hand away. He fished through the mussed up bedding until he found his discarded sweatpants and pulled his phone from the pocket. 

Your body was limp with sated pleasure, and he’d taken enough post-sex photos of you, that you let Bucky arrange you how he wanted. You even held your legs open for him so he could position his phone above your pussy and take a couple close-up photos of his cum spilling out of your pussy. Then he pulled his phone back, so your whole body was in the shot.

“Say, ‘I’m gonna be a mommy,’ baby,” Bucky ordered, a lazy grin on his face.

Between your thighs, your pussy pulsed at the words, which sounded so innocent and so filthy at the same time. Heat filled your cheeks and you turned your head to the side, trying to bury your face in a pillow while you whined, “Bucky.” 

You knew it was silly to be shy about saying something so innocuous, especially after everything you and Bucky had just said and done, but the moment was over. You didn’t normally have such a breeding kink, but you’d been so horny and it had made you so hot to talk about getting bred while Bucky was inside you. 

However, it felt like a whole other thing to play into it when the heat of the moment had passed. It felt like the kind of thing boyfriends and girlfriends did, and you knew better than to tread into that territory. 

Still, your body warmed at the idea of looking into Bucky’s camera and saying those words…

“Baby,” Bucky crooned, leaning over you and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “C’mon, I know you wanna,” he murmured in your ear, his mouth brushing butterfly kisses along your jaw. “You don’t have to be shy with me, baby, I know you’re a dirty little breeding slut desperate to be daddy’s good little cumdump.”

“Jesus Christ, Bucky,” you groaned, but you were smiling when you turned your head and met his mouth for a kiss. 

Bucky let you kiss him for a few moments before he pulled away and sat up, holding his camera in position while he raised his eyebrows at you in an expectant expression.

“I’m gonna be a mommy,” you mumbled, pouting up at the camera while Bucky snapped a few photos. It wasn’t long before you were smiling and preening for the camera, sticking your tits out and holding your legs even wider for Bucky.

“Good girl,” he murmured, catching your eye as he lowered his phone. He was giving you a pleased smirk, and you smiled up at him in return.

Bucky gently moved your legs from around his waist and flopped down on the bed beside you, swiping through the photos he’d taken of his cum leaking out of your pussy while you curled around his bicep. You had to admit, they looked hot—even the ones of you pouting and mumbling up at him.

Seeing yourself like that was turning you on and you were just about to shimmy down Bucky’s body and lick his cock clean until he was hard again when he spoke, derailing your dirty thoughts.

“I’ll pick up the morning after pill for you before I head home,” he rumbled absentmindedly, still focused more on his phone. You could see him favoriting some of the photos he’d taken and saving them to a separate folder. “And if you are knocked up, I’ll pay to have it taken care of—but don’t expect me to cuddle you and do boyfriend shit after.”

For a moment, you restrained the urge to smack Bucky in the face with a pillow. And then you thought, why not? You weren’t his girlfriend, you didn’t need to play nice. 

So you grabbed the pillow behind your head and brought it down right on Bucky’s face. He let out a satisfying, startled ‘oomph’ sound, and you chuckled as you rolled out of bed. 

“Gee, thanks,” you shot over your shoulder sarcastically as you padded toward the bathroom, intent on cleaning Bucky’s cum from between your thighs. 

But then you had an evil thought and a wicked smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. You wiped that look off your face, though, as you turned and leaned against your doorway, striking a casual pose.

“Maybe if I’m knocked up, I’ll just let John fuck me bare and tell him it’s his,” you said, giving a carefree little shrug while trying not to make it obvious how close you were watching Bucky.

You were delighted when his head snapped toward you, his gaze finally pulling away from his phone as his brows lowered into a glare. His soft mouth turned down at the corners, a furious frown darkening his face.

“D’you think John would offer to marry me?” you asked, ignoring Bucky’s reaction and tapping your chin with one finger like you were thinking. “He strikes me as the type of man who’d want to make an ‘honest woman’ out of me.” You couldn’t hold in your eye roll, even as you were trying to torture Bucky with the possibility of you marrying John fucking Walker.

In an instant, Bucky was up and off the bed, pinning you to the doorframe of your room with every inch of his big, strong body pressed against yours. You only had time to gasp while Bucky quickly gathered your wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head. His hardening cock was trapped against your belly, the stickiness of both your releases rubbing into your skin.

“You’re not marrying John fucking Walker, baby,” Bucky growled while he loomed over you. He was so close, you had to tilt your head back to look up at him, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smirking. “And you’re certainly not raising my kid with Walker’s last name.” 

At that, you had to laugh. But when you saw how serious Bucky still looked, you realized he didn’t realize you were just trying to get a rise out of him. Something about the thought of you marrying John Walker had clearly made all rational thought completely abandon Bucky in that moment. 

Instead of thinking too hard about Bucky’s reaction, you explained yourself to him.

“Bucky, it was a joke,” you wheezed, giving him an incredulous look. “Of course I’m not gonna marry John.”

Bucky’s eyes flitted back and forth between yours, like he was checking to make sure you were being honest. He must’ve decided you were because he blew out a breath and closed his eyes, his forehead falling to yours. 

“Jesus, baby, you drive me fucking wild sometimes,” he rumbled, but there was humor in his tone, albeit reluctant.

A breathless laugh slipped from your lips and you leaned back against the doorframe, hiking your leg up around Bucky’s waist. He caught it in his free hand, the movement pressing his thickening cock between your thighs, making both of you groan.

“I think you should show me exactly how wild I make you,” you purred, rocking your hips against his stiff length, coating him in the mixture of your desire and his cum still leaking out of you. 

Bucky growled, his eyes flying open as he stared at you and worked his cock against your pussy. 

“Careful what you ask for, baby,” he rumbled, his tone a delicious taunt that had your toes curling against the floorboards and your hips tilting so you could rub your clit against his hard shaft. “Or you’re gonna get another load pumped into your tight, unprotected little cunt.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, daddy,” you sassed, smirking up at Bucky and watching as his eyes darkened with desire.

In a flash, Bucky dropped your leg and let go of your wrists, spinning you around to face the doorframe and yanking your hips toward his lap with a rough, possessive grip on your body. Your upper body fell forward and your hands clung to the doorframe, nails digging into the wood when Bucky entered you in a swift, hard thrust.

Bucky fucked you in the doorway of your bedroom, making you promise yet again that you’d never let John Walker fuck you without a condom before emptying a second load inside you.

After, he followed you to the bathroom, hopping in the shower with you where he drained what little cum was left in his balls inside your pussy before helping you clean up—though you suspected he only offered to help so he could finger his cum deeper into your cunt under the pretense of cleaning you.

When you were both finally, finally sated, you collapsed into your bed together. Your mind was blissfully blank and your body deliciously sore as you cuddled together. Bucky dozed for a bit, his head on your chest while you carded your fingers through his hair and watched your show.

After a while, Bucky roused and got dressed, going out to get you the morning after pill from the nearest drug store, just like he’d said he would. 

He also brought you back your favorite sports drink and snacks, explaining in a gruff voice that he’d read the potential side effects of the pill on the box and wanted you to be prepared. You refused to feel any type of way about that.

Then Bucky kissed you and left to head home.

All things considered, it was a good thing your new birth control had taken effect, or the morning after pill had worked, and you didn’t get pregnant despite the evening you’d had with Bucky. It was a relief when you were able to tell him that your risky night hadn’t led to any of the consequences the both of you had willfully ignored.

When you texted him to tell him you’d gotten your period, he responded quickly, messaging twice in quick succession. The first text made you roll your eyes, because you thought that was all he’d have to say. 

Good.

But then you saw the second message, and you could imagine the arrogant smirk on Bucky Barnes’ ridiculously handsome face and the playful glint of mischief in his eye when he’d sent it.

It made you smile, and you had to bite your lip against a giggle, forcefully reminding yourself that he was just a situationship.

Let me know when you wanna play ‘just the tip’ to ‘breed me, daddy’ again, baby.

you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist

[galaxitix]

Ehhh... I'm wasn't even sure what to write...(⁠─⁠.⁠─⁠|⁠|⁠）

I accidentally set my friend up with a guy without realizing till I become the third wheel on a recent outing. (I don't mind being a third wheel but I'm more shocked that they were dating, nothing official yet. she nicknamed him shoe stepper, name self-explanatory. annoyed her by stepping on her shoes and pretending nothing happened in a joking way). My friend thought I set them up on purpose, calling me a secret shipper, I didn't confirm or deny that statement, cause it was funny to me, didn't even knew they were dating till that moment. Fyi, he knew I was coming along and had no problem, so no i didn't crash their date(even though I thought it was just a regular outing between friends). Happy for her all the same, kinda wish love was that easy for me, it's only been 3 months since we started school T-T.

Once had a guy get mad at me for 'leading him on' despite making myself clear from the start that I wasn't going to get start dating a guy who happened to walk up to me randomly one day, but I wouldn't mind being friends to get to know each other (I didn't knew the guy and he was like 5 or so years older than me who just graduated highschool at the time). I also re-stated this over text that I only wanted to be friends. Couple weeks of texting then he randomly asked how I 'felt' about him. Long story short, I 'friendzoned' him then he got all mad at me for being fake and 'like other girls', leaning him on and I reminded him that I told him before I only wanted to be friends from the start, send him proof of my text that specifically stated that. He ghosted me after that text and I couldn't care less, blocked him then and there. He was just playing nice guy to eat in my pants anyways. How I know? 1. this guy's first question to me was if I still have my 'V card' (should have blocked him then but curiosity killed the cat I suppose. ) 2. His status that he post said a lot about him, it's disgusted me but I wasn't really surprised 😑 (I'm a girl that hardly checked people's status on Whatsapp, hence why it took me longer to see his true nature)

Oh and I have freckles on the back of my hands, inherited from my father.

(realize I just ended up rambling but oh well ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯)

Tags...hmm @donnietheterrapin @littlemissartemisia @bubblegum-flavored-timemachine and anyone else who want to do a lore drop

it's so weird to me that everyone on this website is a human person outside of their weird internet niche so rb this with a random bit of your lore

[solxamber]

And I Pick...

In which you choose the club that caught your eye

Part 1

After much contemplation you've finally decided to pick the:

Basketball Club

The basketball court was quiet for all of two seconds after you announced your decision.

Then Ace exploded.

"HA! I knew you’d pick us! I called it!" He was practically doing laps around the court, pointing at nothing in particular. "Ace Trappola: the ultimate recruiter, the club MVP, and now the guy who brought you on board! This is the best day of my life!"

"Eh, it’s about time," Floyd drawled, stretching lazily. "Took ya long enough to figure out where the fun is." His sharp-toothed grin widened. "Now we can play my version of full-contact basketball. Hehehe."

"Absolutely not," Jamil cut in, but Floyd wasn’t listening.

"Don’t worry," Floyd said, throwing an arm around your shoulders like you’d been lifelong teammates. "If you survive the first practice, you’ll survive all the practices. Probably."

Ace jogged back over, breathless but triumphant. "I told you we’re the best club! No boring rules, no endless laps like in Deuce's lame track team, and best of all—" He struck a dramatic pose, arms wide. "You get to hang out with me every day!"

"Please don’t make them quit on the first week," Jamil muttered, giving you a look that seemed to say, Are you sure about this?

"Quit? Nahhh!" Ace grinned. "They’re gonna thrive here. I’ll even teach them my signature moves—like my no-look, backwards, mid-air layup."

"You can’t even do that," Jamil said flatly.

"Not yet," Ace shot back. "But it’s the thought that counts."

Floyd leaned in closer, his grin somehow growing wider. "You better keep up, shrimpy. Otherwise, I might have to… spice things up a little."

"Spice things up?" you echoed, immediately suspicious.

"He means doing things like replacing the basketballs with watermelons," Jamil deadpanned.

Ace snorted. "Or throwing the ball at the hoop so hard it breaks the backboard. Oh wait, that actually happened. Twice."

"It was fun," Floyd said, completely unrepentant.

Jamil sighed like a man who’d aged a decade in the last five minutes. But then, to your surprise, he turned to you and offered a small, genuine smile. "Still… I’m glad you’re here. Welcome to the team."

The words were simple, but coming from Jamil, they felt like a warm endorsement.

Ace clapped his hands together, clearly ready to move things along. "Alright, enough talking! Let’s get you on the court and see what you’ve got!"

"Or we could start slow," Jamil suggested, but Ace was already dragging you toward the center of the court, Floyd trailing behind with a basketball under one arm.

"Don’t worry," Floyd said, tossing the ball up and catching it effortlessly. "If ya mess up, we’ll just laugh at ya a little. No big deal~."

"No one’s laughing at anyone," Jamil said firmly, already pinching the bridge of his nose.

Ace threw an arm around your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. "Ignore him. We’re gonna have a blast! First practice starts now!"

You weren’t sure what you’d gotten yourself into, but judging by their enthusiasm (and Floyd’s maniacal laughter), you were in for one chaotic ride.

Track and Field Club

The moment you declared your allegiance to the track and field club, Deuce’s face lit up like someone had just told him he passed his midterms.

“You’re… really joining?” he asked, like he needed double confirmation. When you nodded, his grin widened, the kind that made him look both relieved and excited. “That’s awesome! Uh—welcome to the team! Seriously, it’s great to have you.” His usual earnestness shone through, and he scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m still kind of learning the ropes, but we can figure things out together. It’s gonna be great!”

Jack, standing beside him, gave a firm nod of approval. “Good call. Track and field’s a solid choice. You’ll fit right in.” His tail wagged just enough to betray how happy he was, even if his tone stayed calm.

"Yeah!" Deuce agreed. “And, uh, don’t worry about keeping up or anything. It’s all about improving at your own pace. Right, Jack?”

“Sure,” Jack replied, glancing at you. Then he added, almost casually, “We’ll work on your stamina. You’re gonna need it.”

It took you a second to catch the faint glint in his eye, and then you remembered—oh no, the fridge comment. Jack had been disturbed ever since.

Deuce, oblivious to the subtext, chimed in, “Yeah, Jack’s great at that stuff! He’s got this crazy endurance. Like, he can run forever. I’m still working on it, but, uh, you’re in good hands!”

Jack’s tail swished again. “Just be ready to push yourself. But don’t worry—we’ve got your back.”

“Exactly!” Deuce said, his fists clenching like he was ready to run a marathon right there. “This is gonna be awesome. I mean, not that it wasn’t already great, but now it’s even better. Right, Jack?”

Jack gave a small, satisfied smile. “Right.”

As they led you toward the field, you couldn’t help but wonder what you’d just signed up for. One thing was certain, though—Jack’s still thinking about that fridge, and he will make sure it’s not an issue anymore.

Board Game Club

The moment you declared your allegiance to the board game club, Azul adjusted his glasses, looking smugly pleased with himself, like he'd just negotiated the deal of the century.

"An excellent decision," he said, his voice as smooth as the perfectly polished board games stacked behind him. "With your addition to our club, I foresee a new golden age of strategic victories."

Idia, sitting half-hidden behind a pile of unopened game boxes, choked on his energy drink. "W-Wait, you’re serious? They actually chose us?" His hair flared a brilliant shade of pink for a moment before he pulled his hoodie tighter around himself. "Th-this isn’t some prank, right? Like, I’m not gonna look up and see them bolting out the door laughing, right?"

"Nope," you replied with a grin. "I’m all in."

Ortho, ever the enthusiastic hype man, zipped into the room with his jet thrusters. "Welcome to the club! Now we have a full party for dungeon raids. This is amazing!"

Azul cleared his throat, waving a hand. "Ahem, while cooperative RPGs are certainly an option, I believe we should start with a game of strategy and wit to introduce them properly. Perhaps a round of Chess of Betrayal?"

Idia groaned, sinking further into his hoodie. "Ugh, that game takes, like, three hours. If you’re gonna scare them away, at least wait until they’re too deep in to quit. Why don’t we start with something easy, like Goblin King Gauntlet?"

Ortho clapped his hands. "Ooh, I love that one! It has a random trap mechanic! Let’s play that!"

Azul raised an eyebrow, his smile shark-like. "Trap mechanics are hardly a proper welcome. It would be far better to demonstrate the finer nuances of strategy, wouldn’t you agree?"

Idia muttered something about Azul turning everything into a power play, but you interrupted before they could spiral into a full-blown debate. "Honestly, I’m fine with anything. Just deal me in."

Azul’s smirk widened. "Very well, then. I shall prepare the game board. And don’t worry, I’ll make certain you’re fully equipped for our upcoming campaigns. You’ll find we offer more than just fun—we offer victory."

Idia peeked out from his hoodie, a small, hopeful smile creeping onto his face. "You’re not bad at this whole club thing. Maybe this won’t be so terrible."

As they started setting up the game, you felt an unexpected warmth. Sure, it was just a board game club, but there was something endearing about their chaotic enthusiasm.

Though one thing was clear—Azul would probably try to sell you game tokens at some point, and Idia would absolutely try to teach you how to min-max your dice rolls.

But hey, you were ready for it.

Film Studies Club

When you announced your decision to join the film studies club, Vil paused mid-sip of his herbal tea, one elegantly arched eyebrow rising. For a moment, he looked like he was considering whether he had heard you correctly. Then, with a practiced air of nonchalance, he set the teacup down.

"Hm. Acceptable," he said coolly, though his tone betrayed a slight uptick of satisfaction. "It’s rare to find someone with enough taste to appreciate the art of cinema. I suppose your presence will be… useful."

But the slight curl of his lips gave him away.

He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his coat, and gave you an appraising look. "We have much to discuss. If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to commit entirely—no half-measures, no excuses. The camera is unforgiving, and I have no intention of allowing this club to falter under subpar contributions."

You opened your mouth to respond, but he was already pacing, gesturing dramatically like the star of an avant-garde production. "Lighting, blocking, composition—they are all integral to creating art, not merely entertainment. I trust you won’t embarrass yourself, or me, for that matter."

Despite his words, you caught the faintest hint of pride in his gaze as he turned to face you fully. "And, if for some reason, acting isn’t your strength, there are other roles. Cinematography, set design, editing… Perhaps backstage work would suit you, should you fail the audition."

He didn’t say it to be harsh; this was Vil’s version of encouragement. And as he continued outlining the club’s vision—"a modern renaissance in storytelling"—you realized he was genuinely excited to have you there, even if he’d rather gargle poison than openly admit it.

Finally, he stopped and gave you a small, approving nod. "Welcome to the film studies club. Don’t make me regret this."

Translation: I’m glad you’re here.

Science Club

The moment you announced your decision to join the science club, Rook’s eyes lit up like you’d just declared him the ruler of the universe.

"Ah, mon ami! What a magnifique choice!" he exclaimed, sweeping you into a theatrical bow so deep you thought he might topple over. "You possess the soul of an explorer, a true seeker of knowledge! Together, we shall unlock the mysteries of nature and celebrate its beauty in all its forms!"

"Uh… don’t scare them off, Rook," Trey interjected, though he was smiling. He adjusted his apron, clearly relieved that you hadn’t bolted under Rook’s enthusiastic greeting. "We’re glad to have you. Really. It’s nice to have someone else around who won’t accidentally set the lab on fire."

You raised an eyebrow. "That’s a low bar."

Trey shrugged. "You’d be surprised how many fail to meet it."

Before you could respond, Rook was already spinning grand plans. "Imagine the adventures we will have! Scaling mountains, crafting elixirs, nurturing delicate blossoms—ah, the poetry of science!" He clasped his hands to his chest, radiating so much joy that you were worried he’d break into song.

Trey, ever the grounded one, sighed fondly. "What he means is: we do a little bit of everything. Growing plants, chemistry experiments, cooking—you’ll fit right in. Assuming Rook doesn’t scare you off first."

Rook turned to Trey with an exaggerated gasp, as if the very suggestion of him being overwhelming was the greatest insult he’d ever received. "Chevalier des Roses, how could you wound me so?" He turned back to you with a theatrical flourish. "Fear not! I shall be your guide, your companion, your—"

"Assistant," Trey cut in, giving you a knowing look. "We'll assist you. Don’t let him take over your projects."

You grinned, feeling oddly at home already. Between Rook’s boundless enthusiasm and Trey’s steadying presence, you realized the science club might just be the perfect balance of chaos and calm.

Pop Music Club

When you announced your decision to join the Pop Music Club, Lilia was the first to react. He shot up from his chair with a dramatic flourish, his cape—where did the cape come from?—billowing as if on cue.

"Ah, an excellent choice! Welcome to the most electrifying club in the entire school!" Lilia declared, his voice reverberating like an arena announcer. He played an imaginary riff on an air guitar, complete with sound effects that you were almost certain were magically amplified.

Kalim clapped his hands, beaming as brightly as the sun. "This is going to be so much fun! We can sing duets, make up dances, throw a party for every new song we write—oh! We should have a welcome party for you right now!" He was already halfway to grabbing balloons out of thin air before Cater stopped him.

"Easy there, Kalim," Cater said with a laugh, pulling out his phone to snap a picture. "We haven’t even started jamming yet! Gotta document this first—‘New Member Alert 🚨🎶! Welcome to the coolest club at NRC!’” He posed next to you, flipping through filters. "Ooh, should we do a pastel vibe or go all-out neon?"

"Why not both?" Lilia suggested, somehow holding a tambourine he hadn’t been holding two seconds ago. He shook it with gusto, the jingles creating an impromptu beat.

Kalim joined in instantly, dancing around the room with energy that could probably power a small city. "This is going to be amazing! Do you play any instruments? Can you sing? Or maybe you’ll write the songs? Wait, can you do all three?!"

Before you could answer, Lilia leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. "Don’t worry, even if you’re terrible, I can teach you. After all, I’ve had centuries of experience."

"Centuries of experience at what exactly?" you asked, though you weren’t entirely sure you wanted the answer.

"Everything," Lilia replied cryptically, shaking the tambourine once more for emphasis.

Cater gave you a wink. "Don’t let him intimidate you. He’s mostly harmless. Mostly."

As the chaos swirled around you, you realized joining the Pop Music Club was probably going to be as much about managing everyone’s energy as it was about making music.

But looking at their genuine excitement, you couldn’t help but feel you’d made the right choice. It was going to be loud, unpredictable, and—most importantly—a lot of fun.

Equestrian Club

When you chose the Equestrian Club, Riddle’s reaction was immediate and deeply Riddle. He straightened his posture, cleared his throat, and gave you a small but dignified nod, though his ears turned the faintest shade of pink.

“A wise decision,” he said primly, but his voice wavered just enough to give away his excitement. “The Equestrian Club values discipline and care, and I trust you will uphold those values. Welcome.” He paused, then added with uncharacteristic softness, “I’m glad you chose us.”

Sebek, on the other hand, reacted with his usual intensity, which was to say, very loudly.

“AS EXPECTED OF SOMEONE WITH DISCERNING TASTE!” Sebek bellowed, saluting for no discernible reason. “THE EQUESTRIAN CLUB IS A PLACE OF HONOR AND DILIGENCE. YOU HAVE MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE, AND I, SEBEK ZIGVOLT, SHALL PERSONALLY ENSURE YOU MEET OUR HIGH STANDARDS!”

“You’re going to scare the horses,” Silver muttered, patting a dozing mare who didn’t even flinch at Sebek’s volume. Clearly, she’d built up an immunity.

Silver turned to you with a sleepy but genuine smile. “Welcome. It’ll be nice having another person around who actually seems calm. I’ll show you the best places to ride, and we’ll make sure you’re comfortable with the horses.”

“And with the rules,” Riddle interjected, already retrieving a stack of laminated pages. “Equestrian care is not something to take lightly. You’ll need to memorize these guidelines to ensure both your safety and that of the horses.”

Sebek leaned over your shoulder to inspect the stack and immediately saluted again. “AN EXCELLENT INITIATIVE, HOUSEWARDEN ROSEHEARTS! I, TOO, WILL MEMORIZE THESE IN CASE THEY EVER REQUIRE REINFORCEMENT!”

“I think they’re fine,” Silver said. “We don’t need to make this harder than it needs to be.”

Riddle frowned. “Standards exist for a reason, Silver. Though I appreciate your enthusiasm, perhaps we can—Sebek, stop shouting—perhaps we can go over the basics first before overwhelming them.”

As Riddle and Sebek debated, Silver handed you a carrot to feed one of the horses. “Don’t worry,” he said, as the horse happily munched away. “It’s not as intense as it seems. Usually.”

You glanced at the stack of rules in Riddle’s hand and the fervent look in Sebek’s eyes. It was definitely going to be an adjustment. But seeing how genuinely happy they all were to have you—yes, even Sebek—you felt like this would be worth it.

Magift Club

When you announced your decision to join the Magift Club as their manager, the reaction was instantaneous and… surprisingly chaotic.

Ruggie let out a whoop, immediately dropping to the floor in a mock bow. "Ayo, everyone, bow to the boss! Finally, someone who can keep this circus in line!"

Leona, lounging on the sidelines, cracked open an eye and smirked. “’Bout time. Herbivores usually flake out, but I knew you were better than the rest.” He stretched lazily, like he’d personally orchestrated your decision. “Just keep the snacks coming, and we’ll get along fine.”

Epel looked between them and grinned, his enthusiasm much more grounded. “It’s great to have ya! With you around, maybe Leona will actually show up to warmups... or not just sleep through it.” He shot a pointed glance at their captain, who was, of course, ignoring him entirely.

“Eh,” Leona drawled, flicking his tail dismissively.

“You could work on that attitude,” you muttered, earning a low chuckle from him.

“See, I told you they’d fit right in!” Ruggie said, gesturing at you dramatically. “They’re already roasting him. This is gonna be great!”

Epel, suddenly inspired, added, “And they’ll keep Ruggie from stealing the fresh apple juice we get after games. That’s worth it alone.”

As the reality of your new role settled in, you felt a bit like a lion tamer walking into a den of mischievous cubs and one very lazy big cat. But their enthusiasm—expressed in their own peculiar ways—was endearing.

Ruggie threw an arm around your shoulder. “Alright, boss, first order of business: snacks! Let’s discuss our game day budget and whether I can convince you to sneak me a sandwich before practice.”

Leona snorted but didn’t argue, which you took as a sign of approval. Epel pumped his fist. “We’re gonna crush it this year!”

Maybe managing this bunch wouldn’t be so bad after all. If nothing else, it’d definitely be entertaining.

Mountain Lovers Club

When you joined Jade for a hike to "test the waters" of the Mountain Lovers Club, you had your doubts. You were prepared for a lot of things—maybe getting lost in the wilderness, maybe Jade pulling out his eerie cryptid knowledge, or maybe just a weirdly formal lecture about moss. What you weren’t prepared for was… actually enjoying yourself.

Jade led the way with an unhurried confidence, pointing out various wild plants, their uses, and fun facts about the environment. He wasn’t his usual enigmatic self, either. He seemed lighter, almost enthusiastic, as he described a tiny wildflower you would’ve missed entirely.

“This particular species only blooms during the autumn months,” he said, crouching to show you. “Quite fascinating how it adapts to the cooler temperatures, don’t you think?”

You nodded, trying not to stare too hard at how his face lit up when he spoke. Jade was… cute? When he wasn’t talking about mushrooms in a way that made you question your mortality, he was actually kind of charming.

By the time you reached a rocky outcrop with a gorgeous view of the campus, you realized you’d been smiling for most of the hike. Jade noticed too.

“It seems I’ve made a decent impression,” he said, turning toward you with a soft grin. “I’m pleased to see you enjoying yourself.”

“It’s… relaxing,” you admitted, surprising even yourself. “I didn’t think it’d be this fun.”

Jade tilted his head. “Does that mean you’d consider joining the Mountain Lovers Club?”

You hesitated for a moment, but as you looked at the breathtaking view and the rare, genuine smile on his face, the answer came easily. “Yeah. I’ll join.”

For a split second, Jade’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly schooled his expression into his usual composed smile. “Wonderful. I must say, I wasn’t expecting this outcome, but I’m glad. It’s not every day someone sees the beauty in what I love.”

There was an odd warmth in his voice that made your heart skip a beat. As he turned to lead the way back, he added, “Now that we’re a team, I look forward to our next adventure.”

Jade Leech was genuinely happy. And, you realized, so were you.

Gargoyle Research Society

When you told Malleus you were joining the Gargoyle Research Society, his reaction was almost imperceptible at first. A slight widening of his eyes, a pause as though he was waiting to see if you were serious, and then—pure, unfiltered delight.

"You have an interest in gargoyles?" he asked, his voice both surprised and reverent, as if you'd just confessed to enjoying a rare and ancient art form.

You nodded. "Yeah. I think they're fascinating. The designs, the history… They’re like stone guardians with stories etched into them."

For a moment, Malleus simply looked at you, his emerald eyes shimmering like the light of distant stars. Then, as if unable to contain his joy, he smiled—a soft, genuine expression that sent a wave of warmth through the chilly Ramshackle evening.

"This pleases me greatly," he said, his tone unusually light. “Not many share my appreciation for gargoyles. Often, I speak of them, and others… how do I put it? Pretend to listen.”

“Well, I’m definitely not pretending,” you said, grinning. “I’m in for real.”

Malleus clasped his hands together in what could only be described as regal excitement. "Then I must share something with you. Sometimes, I create gargoyles myself."

“You what?” you asked, laughing in delight.

“Yes,” he replied earnestly, his eyes alight. “Carving stone requires patience, but there is a certain satisfaction in breathing life into something lifeless. Well, not literal life, of course, but a soul of sorts.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, the image of Malleus with a chisel and hammer popping into your head. “I never would have guessed. That’s… really cool.”

“I can show you some of my creations, if you’d like,” he offered, almost shyly.

“I’d love that,” you said, genuinely glad to have joined him. “I think I’m going to enjoy this club.”

The glow in his expression was impossible to miss. It wasn’t just that you had joined his club—it was that, for once, someone truly shared his passion. “And I am glad to have you,” he said softly.

In that moment, under the watchful eyes of the stone guardians scattered around campus, it felt like you had chosen exactly the right place.

Masterlist

tags: @techno-danger

[vroom--vrooming]

Lando Norris x Girlfriend!Reader

University AU. Lando despises libraries, but missing you drives him to the one place he swore to avoid.

The library is quiet, except for the faint sound of pages turning and pens scratching against paper. It's your favorite place on campus, especially during exam season. The tall shelves are packed with books, the air smells faintly of old paper, and the warm lighting creates a cozy atmosphere. You’re at your usual corner, surrounded by an intimidating stack of textbooks, your laptop, and your trusty sketchpad and notebook.

Your hair is tucked back behind your ears, and you’ve barely touched the iced coffee sitting on your table. Architecture exams are brutal, and your mind is buried in blueprints and calculations.

Meanwhile, Lando is pacing in his dorm, looking at his phone every five minutes. He hasn’t seen you all day, and it’s driving him insane. He’s texted you twice—no response. Called you once—you declined. You told him you were studying for your exams, but he misses you too much to stay away.

So, for the first time in his university life, Lando decides to do the unthinkable. He heads to the library.

The moment he steps inside, the quiet buzz of the room shifts. Heads turn, whispers ripple across the space, and people glance at him with wide eyes. Lando Norris? In the library? It’s practically campus legend that he’s never set foot in here.

But Lando doesn’t care. His eyes scan the room until they land on you, sitting at your usual spot, completely absorbed in your work. A soft smile spreads across his face. You’re beautiful, even in your stressed-out, focused state.

He walks toward you, his sneakers squeaking slightly on the polished floor. The sound draws even more attention, and now people are openly staring. Lando Norris, campus joker, actually in the library? It’s like a solar eclipse—rare and impossible to ignore.

You don’t even notice him. Your pencil moves furiously over the paper, your brow furrowed in concentration. Lando stops right beside you, watching you with an affectionate grin. He sits down quietly, resting his chin on his hand as he admires you.

For a few seconds, he just looks at you, soaking in the sight of you biting your lip in concentration. It’s adorable.

You turn the page of your notebook and finally notice him sitting there. You let out a small scream, your eyes wide with surprise.

“Lando!” you hiss, your voice a mix of shock and confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you,” he says simply, his voice soft but with a playful edge. “And honestly, this place isn’t too bad. Quiet, cozy... I think it’s a great spot for a date.”

You stare at him, still processing the fact that he’s here. In the library. You glance around and immediately notice the other students staring, some whispering to each other.

“Everyone’s looking at you,” you whisper, leaning closer to him.

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “Let them. They’re probably just jealous I’m sitting next to the prettiest girl in here.”

You roll your eyes, your cheeks flushing slightly. He’s ridiculous. “Seriously, Lando. What are you doing here?”

“Told you, I missed you,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve been ignoring me all day. How could I not come find you?”

You shake your head, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips. You get up, heading to a nearby shelf, and return with a thick textbook. You place it in front of him.

“Since you’re here, you might as well study,” you say firmly.

Lando stares at the book like it’s a foreign object. “Study?” he echoes, looking at you like you’ve just suggested he run a marathon. “I didn’t come here to study. I came to watch you.”

“If you want to stay, you’re studying,” you insist, crossing your arms.

He groans, flopping dramatically in his chair. “You’re so mean to me,” he whines, but there’s a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Start reading,” you say, pointing at the book.

With a dramatic sigh, he flips it open, but within seconds, his eyes drift back to you. He drags his chair closer to yours, the legs scraping softly against the floor.

“You’re so cute when you’re serious,” he whispers, his tone low and teasing.

“Lando,” you warn, trying to keep your face stern, but your cheeks are already warm.

“I can’t help it,” he says, smirking. “You’re irresistible.”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. The students around you are still sneaking glances, some clearly entertained by the scene.

“Focus, Lando,” you say, turning back to your work.

“I am focusing,” he retorts, resting his chin on his hand. “On you.”

Despite his protests, Lando eventually starts flipping through the book, though it’s clear he’s not actually reading. Every now and then, he leans closer to whisper another ridiculous compliment, making your face heat up even more.

After about an hour, the teasing stops. You glance over and see Lando slumped over the book, his head resting on his folded arms. He’s fast asleep, his messy curls falling across his forehead.

A soft smile spreads across your face as you watch him. You shift closer, leaning gently against his shoulder while you continue studying. The library feels a little warmer, a little cozier with him there.

[karikitdemonrp]

The two listened to Hawks then looked at eachother and grinned. "We shouldn't say what we plan on doing out loud." Kari chirped with a slightly mischievous giggle.

"Yea, that would be giving away our plan to our opponent." Core added with a hum and stretched, moving to take his side of the ring again after setting his water down. "Ready when you are Kari."

Kari gave a wide smile and sat her water down, trailing behind Core not long later. "Coming!" She called and went to her side. Both took their stances and waited for a moment. Kari acted first again, this time rushing forward a bit and stomping on the ground, sending spikes made entirely out of earth rushing towards Core, who jumped out of the way and used his super strength to vault off one of the spikes and rushing toward Kari at an insane speed. Kari barely managed to slide out of the way, moving to throw rocks at Core's back after the teen practicly flew by her.

Core took the hits, skidding to a stop and turning around, blacking some hits with his arms, then rushing at Kari again while using his enhanced strength to make himself faster via strengthening the muscles in his legs. He ran forward rather quick, appearing infront of Kari in an instant and rushed to try and grab her in a tight hold, but she ducked and barely dodged his attempts. She swiftly sound her leg in a circle to try and knock Core over which kind of worked but Core caught his balance before he hit the ground.

The teen smirked, now on all fours and lunged at Kari, now holding her really tight and squeezing. Kari yelped in surprise and struggled to get free only to let out a small giggle. "Ok, ok, I yield." She said and Core put her down carefully and smiled.

"Nice try with the round house kick. Almost got me with that but I have enhanced reflexes as a sort of side effect of my quirks."

Kari huffed. "I didn't know that." She muttered, a silver dot was in her pupils visible but it was fading away. But Core noticed and grinned.

"Well, now ya do. C'mon. Lets go finish our water." He said and walked to grab his water bottle while Kari did the same. "This round was over a bit quicker than last time."

"I just bit off more than I should've and didn't think things through." Kari hummed. "Next round I'll win for sure!" She chirped with a wide smile. Core laughed and looked at Kari.

"Nit if I have anything to say about it. Better give it all you got next time, ya hear." He taunted playful and Kari nodded with a smirk.

Hawks, leaning casually against the wall with his iced coffee in hand, chuckled as he watched the sparring match unfold. “Man, you two are full of surprises. Little Bird, that was slick. And Core, props for keeping your head in the game with all those projectiles. You didn’t make it easy on her.”

He took a sip of his coffee, enjoying the cool drink as he observed. "Kari, you’ve got some great control with those quirks—managing distance, keeping the pressure on. And Core, I liked how you were trying to counter her moves and stay strategic. You both gave it your all."

As they took a break, Hawks walked over to them, his signature grin still in place. "So, what’s the plan for the next round? Core, you ready to shake things up and maybe pull out a surprise move of your own? Or Kari, you thinking about experimenting with something new?” He gave them a teasing wink.

[honeyedclementine]

beg for it

sevika x f!reader, smut, established relationship, strapping, top!sevika usage of 'good girl' (one shot, 1.8k words) ageless blogs, minors, and men dni

reply to be added to my tag list ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

it was rare these days that sevika came home in a playful mood. work was weighing down on her, silco's pressures getting worse and worse, but you understood, you always understood. you didn't pretend to know the extent of the work she did for silco and she never told you—you just sighed and tended to her wounds whenever she came home with them. that was how you two had met, in fact. you were one of the more notable healers in zaun, always caring for others with a gentle touch. she had come to you all those years ago when she first lost her arm and never stopped. somewhere along the way, things changed between you two and well, now you have a shared apartment in the lanes and make good use of your free time.

speaking of making good use, sevika is in a good mood when she comes home for once. it's a pleasant surprise when you hear the door while you wash up from dinner, arms wrapping around your waist—one warm, one cool. lips press into your neck and you sigh contentedly.

"good day at work, baby?" you hum, feeling the way her kiss intensifies at the pet name. she'll never admit it to your face that she likes it, but you know her and her body well enough to know what drives her crazy. her kisses grow playful as she nips at the crook of your neck, hands strong at your waist and thoroughly distract you. the plate you were cleaning slips softly into the warm soapy water of the sink as you grip the edge of the counter, eyes slipping closed.

"couldn't wait to get home," sevika mutters against your neck, biting and sucking a mark into it that you know will last for a few days. you love letting her mark you up—of course, always places you can cover up so you can maintain some professionalism when you need to, but you like knowing they're there. pressing fingers to bruises on your collarbones through your shirts, just to feel the hiss of old pain, remembering the nights you two shared. "to you."

you mewl softly against her touch, her flesh hand coming dangerously close to the waistband of your jeans. you can already feel desire pooling softly in the pits of your stomach, surely manifesting itself into a mess in your underwear. you groan as her metal hand climbs up the hem of your shirt, sharp fingers just barely grazing against an erect nipple. you moan softly, pushing your ass back against her hips and feeling her groan at the friction.

"gods, i need you," you moan, head hanging, hair falling into your face as you struggle to remain standing. she always has a way of making you weak in the knees while doing barely anything. "fuck me, please, it's been too long."

she picks up on exactly what you're asking for without you having to say much more, a chuckle falling from her lips as she pulls away from you. you mourn her warmth immediately, but her rough velvet voice washes over you as she says, "wait here, then."

a chill runs down your spine as you hear her retreat to the bedroom. she returns only moments later, this time without her jeans, a strap comfortable on her hips above her underwear. you bite your lip, tugging her close as soon as you can and smashing your lips together with the edge of the counter pressing into your back. she pulls away from you if only to tug your shirt over your head.

her hands roam your chest, flesh fingers teasing a hard nipple as she kisses along the line of your jaw, tongue exploring the hollow of your throat. her hands lower, undoing the button of your jeans and tugging them down until they're stuck around your thighs, taking your underwear with it.

she's impatient, it seems, not even bothering to remove the clothing completely before turning you around and pressing your stomach into the edge of the counter. you gasp at the strong hand she has on the back of your neck, relishing in the way she can just push you around as you see fit. you've always loved how strong she is, especially in times like this.

you gasp as the strap presses against your back, not quite where you want it. her fingers find your clit, pressing down slightly before dipping lower and gathering more of your slick desire onto her fingertips. "so ready for me already."

"fuck," you gasp as two of her thick fingers breach your entrance with little warning, stretching and preparing you for her cock. "i need you."

she leans in close, her teeth nipping softly at your earlobe, the tip of the strap just barely teasing at your entrance, not giving you nearly enough. you whimper at the contact, relishing in the warmth of her stomach pressed against your back. "beg for it."

you don't need to be told twice. "please, sevika, i need your cock, baby, please. i've been so good, give it to me, please."

"good girl," she coos, caressing your face with one hand as her lips dive against your neck once more, sucking more marks into the soft flesh.

you're practically shivering with anticipation as her metal hand tangles in your hair, getting a solid grip on it before she presses you down until your stomach is almost entirely flush with the counter. she angles the strap against your entrance, just barely pushing in as if she knows this is driving you absolutely insane. you whimper at the slightest touch, chest heaving as you crave to be filled by her.

after the initial tease, she slams into you with little warning, drawing a pleasurable scream from your lips. her grip on your hair and back keeps you where she wants you and you don't fight it, content to let her fuck you however she sees fit. despite her initial roughness, she eases you into it, rocking into you slowly and letting you get used to the fullness. you groan, making an attempt to shove your hips back against her, but the strong hand on the small of your back keeps you from doing so, causing a soft mewl to fall from your lips.

"gods, you're beautiful like this," she breathes out, so quiet you almost wonder if she even meant to say it out loud. as if trying to hide the statement, she picks up her pace, pulling out of you almost entirely before slamming back in and keeping that same rhythm over and over again.

your legs shake and you almost certainly would have fallen if not for sevika and the counter holding you up. her strong hands ground you, even as you press your face against the coolness of the counter, no thoughts in your mind except for sevika, sevika, sevika. you already know if she keeps this pace, along with the gentle hand tugging at your hair the way she knows you love, you're not going to last long at all.

"sev, baby," you moan, the words barely sounding real as they fall from your lips mingled with soft whimpers and groans. you can already feel your climax at the edges of your nerves as she fucks into you relentlessly. you can't get over how she groans like she can feel it, too, the kitchen quiet save for a mess of moans and the wet sounds of her cock pushing into you again and again. you can feel yourself leaking down the insides of your thighs, surely coating the strap in an absolute mess of desire.

"you're doing so good, so good for me," sevika coaxes more moans out of you with her soft words, your hands white-knuckling the counter as you feel your orgasm growing closer and closer. your legs feel absolutely weak as she slams into you.

your orgasm washes over you quickly, like a bucket of warm water being dumped over you as your nerves light up with the release of tension, clenching around her cock before spilling over it, making a mess of yourself. sevika continues fucking into you, barely even slowing her pace as her flesh hand moves from your back. she reaches around, trapping her wrist between your stomach and the counter as her fingers tease at your clit, applying pressure to the sensitive bundle of nerves, clearly trying to draw another orgasm out of you.

you don't fight it, leaning into her touch as more incoherent moans spill from your lips, focusing only on the hand on your clit and the cock thrusting into you over and over again with little remorse. you love when she's like this—rough and unforgiving, not letting you go until she's done with you.

already sensitive from your first, it's not long before you're coming again, this time against her fingers and pushing back against her cock. her hand moves back to your hips, guiding you through is as her pace lets up only slightly. as you come down, her thrusts slow down almost entirely before she stills, her cock fully buried within you and her back pressed against yours against the counter. you ground yourself in the weight of her against you, your eyes watering slightly just from the pleasure of the stretch.

she kisses down the nape of your neck and your spine, sending shivers across your skin. after a moment, she pulls out of you slowly. you sigh, going to push yourself away from the counter, but she stops you with a hand to the small of your back. so, you stay there, hands braced against the cool counter as sevika sinks to her knees. you shudder as her tongue finds your inner thigh, cleaning up the mess she made of you.

her lips and tongue are careful around your cunt, knowing how sensitive you are right now. you sigh contentedly as she cleans you up before rising to her feet.

"baby—" you start to say, but you're cut off by her hooking her arms around your back and the backs of your knees, effectively sweeping you off your feet. you're grateful for the help, considering you're not entirely sure you'd be able to walk after that. "i can walk, you know."

sevika just tsks as she carries you to the bathroom, starting up the faucet and waiting for the water to get warm. "not if i've done my job right."

she sits you on the edge of the ceramic tub and you watch as she undoes the harness around her hips, tugging her shirt and underwear off—a silent confirmation that she'll be joining you in the bath. you reach for her hips, tugging her close as she bends down and presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

as soon as the bath is full, she climbs in, the tub barely big enough for her tall form, tugging you in after her and settling you against her back. you sigh, letting your eyes slip closed as she presses a kiss to your temple.

you love when sevika has a good day at work.

tag list: @puppyels @njm63522 @fict1onallyobsessed

[ylangelegy]

After MAMA awards I'M VERY PROUD OF MY BOYS and seeing Woozi crying, nooooo my mannnnn

So can I request Woozi or anyone after awards, all members celebrating with their partners hehe LOVE YOUUU!!!

PLEASE PLEASE 🛐🛐

🍑 i will really live the rest of my life repaying you.

you don't see seungcheol until the next day. such is the life of the general leader, it seems— the never-ending heralding, the non-stop worrying. he deals with his boys, first, then the fans, then the staff. but once that's all done, he's at your front door, collapsing into your arms before he's even past through the entryway. it doesn't matter how many awards its been. he is still overwhelmed by it every single time, and you are a soft place to land. he comes home to you and whispers the sweetest nothings in your hair. i'm so proud of them and they did so well and they're so happy. as he holds you tight— like you're the only thing keeping him upright— it's your turn to let him hear those words. i'm so proud of you. you did so well. you get to be happy, too.

the jeonghan on the other end of the video call has been quiet for the most part of the past half-hour. you'd be more worried if you hadn't already predicted where his solemness was coming from. "hannie? still with me?" you prompt gently, and he finally tears his gaze away from the ceiling to look back at you. "yeah. yeah, i'm with you," he answers. a beat. there are some things you no longer have to say out loud. how he wishes he was there. how he misses them and tries not to let it show. instead, you give him a reminder that's quiet and firm. "this is yours, too," you say. this award. this moment. these boys. all still his. there's a ghost of a smile on his face as he mumbles, "right. of course. how could i forget."

joshua likes keeping lists. a running one he has with you is that of gratitude, where the two of you try to end each day with acknowledgements of what you're grateful for. you're expecting a whole essay for him after tonight. he surprises you by keeping it short, sweet, and straight to the point. in no particular order, he types out into your shared note. music, the boys, you. hours later, he adds a footnote like it'd occurred to him as an afterthought: i'm always grateful for those three, but especially so today.

"look at them!" jun shrieks. his video call pixelates, either from spotty connection or his sudden burst of enthusiasm. you have half a mind to warn him that he may get a noise complaint again, but this time it'd be completely warranted. he's positively vibrating with excitement, his eyes glued to the livestream of his twelve brothers ascending the stage for their second award of the night. "look at them," he repeats, and this time his voice is more reverent than anything. you could comply, could do as he's asking, but your eyes are trained elsewhere. and look at you, too, you want to say. look at you and all that you've done to get this far.

even though it's been an exceptionally long day, soonyoung comes home brimming with adrenaline. he does dance routines in your living room. he jogs around your block until you beg him to just come back. he sings in the shower before collapsing onto the bed next to you, where he suddenly becomes boneless. the glow of pride stays even as the exhaustion hits. he pulls you against him and cuddles right into you. to soonyoung, this is as good as any trophy: the peace that comes with falling asleep next to you.

wonwoo has no destination in mind. he has a car with a full tank, and a playlist of all his favorite songs, and you in the passenger seat. that's more than enough. you pass through tunnels with warm lighting; expressways where he keeps the windows down so the wind will whip at your hair. occasionally, you'll stop to grab a snack or take a photo of something interesting on the side of the street. after hours of just going in circles, he'll ask, "should we keep driving?" even though he knows you'd never deny him this. this. his little celebration in the form of getting 'lost' with you.

nobody hears from jihoon for the next couple of days. the managers are worried, but the boys all just shake their heads and say that he's in good hands. which means: he's wherever you are. the two of you don't talk about his speech, about his public breakdown, because both things make him want to hide forever. instead— he sleeps in. he watches movies from months ago that he promised he'd get to. the two of you go on walks at night, and have breakfast at lunch time. the vicious cycle will soon have to begin again. jihoon knows that. but for a few, precious moments, his heart is not a heavy burden because it's safe and sound in your capable hands.

seokmin takes you on the textbook definition of your perfect date. a shopping spree? here's his black card. an amusement park? he'll rent out lotte world for the day, if he must. you're understandably baffled. he's the one who just won big, and yet you're the one being treated like royalty. try to resist and he'll only push back on you. seokmin already spoils you enough as is, but this is just a little more over-the-top than the day-to-day stuff. at the end of it all, his rationale is as sweet as it gets. "you keep me going," he tells you. "and so you deserve just as much credit as i do."

mingyu has always liked to celebrate with a meal. you'd expected his usual fare of some swanky restaurant or high-end café, but, this time, he asks for only free reign of your kitchen. he props his phone up against the salt shaker and pulls up a youtube video before flashing you his best 'just-trust-me' grin. your trust is not misplaced; the two of you do manage to bake the celebratory cake, though whether it's any good is an entirely different story. the end result doesn't matter as much as the process. mingyu is happiest about the flour marks on your cheeks, about the kisses he steals while you whisk eggs. it's not a birthday cake, but you light up a candle for him anyway. just for the hell of it. "make a wish," you tease. he's looking straight at you as he blows at the flame.

minghao asks for a beach day. the two of you set out for the nearest one. maybe the sand is a bit rocky; the shore, lacking in shells. he doesn't care. he only seeks out the sun beating on his back, the saltwater clinging to his skin, the first punch of air after emerging from the water. as the stolen weekend winds to a close, the two of you sit at the point where the water lap at your toes. neither of you have to speak. here, minghao lets the tide wash away the ache of homesickness. here, minghao redefines 'home' as a future with the boys of his youth, with the music that is as constant as the waves— and with you, of course.

the ferry ride to jeju is about four or so hours long, but seungkwan doesn't mind. there's just something so right about getting on the first vessel that will take him back where he has family waiting with a homecooked meal and a play-by-play of the award show. besides, the ferry means having four hours of uninterrupted leisure time with you. the pair of you literally have nowhere else to be except this boat and this point in time, which seungkwan is a little guilty to be so happy about. he's a glutton for your time and attention, and these ferry rides— these trips home— remind him just how much he likes taking the scenic route.

vernon treats it almost like it's just another day. almost. you're thrown off by his initial nonchalance, by the lack of utter fanfare in the way he asks you out to lunch and the two of you barely discuss the recent accolades. when you prompt him about it, you realize it's not because of arrogance or ignorance. "we're just doing what we always do," he says with an expression of mild confusion. winning?, you almost inquire half-jokingly, but that's only part of it. he elaborates, "we were just ourselves, y'know?"

when chan suggests a rage room, you're understandably confused. the wrath-based activity doesn't seem like the most optimal celebration, but you're not about to cramp his style. the two of you queue the angriest songs known to man before smashing some defunct appliances and throwing empty bottles against a wall. once your time is up, chan looks at you with that familiar spark of fire in his eyes. that dedication you fell in love with, that passion that has always burned bright. "again?" he asks, and you know it's not just the rage room that he's asking for.

[munsonsmixtapes]

hii i love your writing soo much your so talented!! could you write eddie and reader fake dating (their both best friends btw) and their doing this because it was eddie’s idea to make chrissy jealous but secretly the reader is in love with eddie and when eddie finally gets with chrissy the reader distance her self from eddie and eddie realizes that chrissy’s not what he expected and at the end eddie and reader gets together it’s a bit long sorryyy thank youuu🫶🫶🫶🫶

cw: hurt/comfort

You won't lie, you've been crushing on Eddie since long before you even became friends. So when he suggests that the two of you fake date, you jump at the chance, because if you can't actually date him at least, you'll know what it's like.

He's doing it to get Chrissy's attention and you can't even be mad at him because Chrissy is sweet and pretty and you unfortunately totally understand the appeal. And the worse part of it all, you think, is that they would actually look so cute together.

You always see them giggling in the hall and you don't even know why Eddie needs you. You wish he would leave you out of it, but you agree because he's your best friend and you're madly in love with him. You'll do anything for him and you're surprised that he doesn't ever use that to advantage. That man has you wrapped around his finger and he's so totally oblivious to it.

The whole thing is pathetic, actually. Because after the whole arrangement is over, Eddie will hopefully have a girlfriend, but what do you get? The satisfactory of a job well done? That doesn't exactly seem fair to you, but you suppose it's what you deserve for being a coward and not telling Eddie how felt when you had a chance.

"Act like you love me. She's coming," Eddie commands, pulling you out of your thoughts. Little does he know that you're not acting.

He grabs hold of your waist and pulls you closer to him, whispering compliments to you as he plays with your hair. And you hate how much you're eating it up because absolutely none of it real. You think he should be an actor because the way he's speaking sounds so genuine that you almost believed him at first.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Chrissy approaching the two of you, her signature bright smile on her face and Eddie's totally going to blow the whole thing because of how obvious he is. The way he looks at her as if she's hung the moon is borderline pathetic.

"Hey guys," she greets and you turn to her, not even having to fake your smile because you actually genuinely like Chrissy. She's nothing but a sweetheart and she's one of the few girls at school that you would consider one of your friends.

"Hey," you smile back.

"I'm having a party tomorrow night and I was wondering if you guys wanted to come," she says and you have to be the one to reply since Eddie seems to be hypnotized by the girl.

"We'll be there," you tell her and her smile brightens.

"Perfect," she nods and then heads down the hallway. As soon as she's out of earshot, you turn to Eddie, smacking him on the shoulder.

"Ow," he winces, turning to glare at you. "What was that for?"

"Could you be any more obvious? I swore I could see you drooling."

"I wasn't drooling," his eyes narrow even more.

"Well you might as well have been. Come over tonight because clearly we have a lot to practice." Eddie rolls his eyes but agrees, especially because he always ends up at your house almost every night anyway.

You pace back and forth in your room, feeling nervous to see Eddie for the first time in your life. You can't believe you actually suggested that you practice. You don't exactly know what you meant but that, but all you cant think about now is roleplaying being a couple and that makes you anxious for some reason.

The door to your room opens and there Eddie is, looking like he walked straight out of your dreams and you honestly can't seem to pull your eyes from him. You hope that he doesn't notice, but also know Eddie's always so caught up in his own head that he doesn't notice little things like that.

"So," he sighs as he sits down on your bed and you hate how you're imagining yourself straddling his laps, kissing him stupid, only stopping so you both can catch your breath before going in for more. You know it won't happen, but a girl can dream.

You sit next to him and even though you've sat this close more times than you can count, your heart is suddenly pounding in your chest and you really hope that Eddie can't hear it.

"What did you want to practice?" He asks and you wonder when his face got so close to yours. You can see every single detail on his face, those damn Bambi eyes and his pretty lashes that he can bat and get you to do anything he asks. His pretty, pink lips that you so desperately want to kiss. His hair that you're itching to run your fingers through.

"Let's roleplay," you reply, thinking on the spot since you didn't actually plan anything out and were just pulling things out of your ass.

"Roleplay?" He asks then a smirk plays on his lips. "Kinky, I like it," he winks and you feel your face flush. He always knows what to say to embarrass you and you hate it.

"Shut up," you shove his shoulder. "You know that's not what I mean."

"Relax, babe. I'm not kink shaming if that's what you're thinking."

"Can you be serious for once in your life?"

"Sorry, sorry," he apologizes as his face softens. "I was just trying to lighten the mood since you seem so tense. What's got you so worked up?"

You, you want to tell him. You're so close to laying it all out on the table and tell him the truth. That thinking about him being with Chrissy is breaking your heart and that you're the one he should be with. But you know you have no right to tell him who he should or shouldn't date, so you stay quiet.

Eddie can see that you're staring at his lips and he just smiles at you, finally catching onto why you invited him over. He's surprised he didn't see it sooner. He kind of feels like an idiot for not catching on as quickly as he should have.

"I see what this is about," he smirks knowingly and he can't help but chuckle when he sees your eyes bug out.

"You do?" You ask with a gulp and he doesn't know why you're so nervous. It's just a kiss and nothing else.

"Of course." He's laughing now and you want the floor to swallow you whole. "You think we should practice kissing."

That's not at all what you had in mind, but there's no way you can tell him he was wrong. And you're also not going to miss an opportunity to kiss him.

"And I agree," he nods, leaning even closer, this closest he's ever been to you that doesn't include cuddling.

He slowly reaches up to cup your cheek, gently rubbing along it with his thumb as his eyes bore into yours. Your heart pounds in your chest as you lean closer to him. your eyes fluttering closed as you do so.

"Tell if I do something you don't like," he says softly and you almost shiver as you feel his breath fan across your lips. All you can do is nod and you feel him keep your head steady as he cradles your head in his hands.

Eddie's lips capture yours and your hands rest on his thighs, scooting closer to him as your brain short circuits. You can't believe that this is happening, and the thing is, you don't even care if it's not real. You're just so caught up in him that it doesn't even matter.

He pulls away before you're ready and you can't help but stare down at his kiss bitten lips, deciding that you could do that for hours and never get bored of how his hands and mouth are so gentle with you.

But you want him to be a little more rough. You want him to stick his tongue into your mouth, to nip at your bottom lip, to give you a hickey that's damn near impossible to cover up with make up.

Eddie wants to stop there before he gets carried away, but he can see how hungry you are for more. You look like you want to devour him and who's he to tell you no?

"I think we should practice a little more," he says and you're nodding enthusiastically.

"I agree," you continue to nod and Eddie smiles as he leans in again, more rough this time and he can't help but notice how your fingers are digging into his skin through his jeans.

His hands move to your neck and his thumbs rest on your jaw, tilting your head back as he licks into your mouth, his tongue tangling with yours and in one swift motion, he moves you so that you're straddling his waist. Your hands are in his hair and if it goes any farther, you'll be at the point of no return.

Eddie's hand move down to your waist and slowly travel up your shirt, but they stop, resting on the small of your back, deciding not to go any higher even though he really wants to. He has to remind himself that it's just kissing and nothing more.

You both pull away when you're out of breath and in that moment, Eddie's not thinking about Chrissy at all. He's thinking about you and how pretty and sweet you are. And how he wants to spend the rest of the night right there, kissing you until the early hours of the morning then cuddling in your bed, fully intending on staying there for the rest of the day watching cartoons and kissing even more because now he's addicted to the feeling of your lips on his.

"I could do that for hours," he tells you, his pupils blown. His hands are out from under your shirt and they're rubbing up and down your back so gently.

He has to know what he's doing to you, right? How he's hurting you because you think you've been so obvious about your feelings for him and now it feels like he's toying with you. But you know Eddie would never do that and it's clear that he has no idea how much you're in love with him because he's oblivious to everything in that department.

He’s looking at you like you look at him and Eddie doesn’t know what he’s feeling but it’s odd. He thinks he’s starting to see you as more than a friend, which was honestly a long time coming. He thinks he’s always been in love with you but was too scared to admit it to himself because one, you’re his best friend, and also because he’s not used to people reciprocating his feelings so he doesn’t think there’s a point in telling you the truth. 

He wants to run, but he stays and you let him wear a t-shirt that he’s left there and the two of you go to bed wrapped up in each other’s arms, talking about everything and nothing until you eventually fall asleep, the two of you knowing that your friendship is never going to be the same. 

“How do I look?” You ask as you emerge from the bathroom. You’re wearing a black party dress and as soon as Eddie sees you, he swears that he’s died and gone to heaven. But if he’s being honest, he doesn’t even want to go to the party anymore. He just wants to stay there and maybe kiss you some more. Okay, definitely kiss you some more. But you seem so excited so he’s going to go just for you.

“You look-” he cuts himself, trying to come up with what adjective he wants to use. “Fucking amazing,” he decides on as he takes you by the hands, pulling you to him as he presses a kiss to your lips. 

“Eddie,” you say as you pull away. “There’s no one around so you don’t have to pretend.”

“Who says I’m pretending?” He smiles, pulling you in for another kiss before he lets go of you so you can finish getting ready. He doesn’t even know if he’s interested in Chrissy anymore, but he’s trying to convince himself that he is because it’s easier that way. If the two of you were to get together and then break up, he doesn’t know what he’d do if he lost you. You’re the most important person in his life and he wants you to stay in it forever. 

So the two of you show up to the party hand in hand, making sure to be all flirty around Chrissy. You still don’t know why you’re doing this. Why couldn't he just ask her out instead of talking you into this elaborate scheme? It’s not only unfair to Chrissy, it’s also unfair to you. It doesn’t even seem to be working as she flirts with Jason over by the punch table. 

Everything shifts, though, when Chrissy announces that it’s time to play “Spin the Bottle”. Your stomach churns as Eddie pulls you over, forcing you to sit right next to him even if it means that he probably won’t get to kiss you. He wants to keep you by his side the entire night, not wanting to let you out of his sight. 

You feel so sick as the game starts and it’s Eddie’s turn to spin the bottle. You almost don’t want to watch, but you can’t draw attention to yourself so you watch the bottle spin round and round. It seems that the universe has a sick sense of humor because it lands on Chrissy. Of fucking course. Eddie crawls over to her and you can see them whispering about something, smiling at each other before they both go in for a kiss. 

You don’t stay and watch, physically unable to as you rise to your feet, hurrying to the bathroom because there’s no way you can be there anymore. You tried to be happy for Eddie, you really did. And you hate yourself for feeling so hurt and betrayed because all of it was fake and Eddie still has no idea that you’re in love with him. 

So you lock the door and sink to the floor, leaning against the tub as you bring your knees to your chest, crying into them, thankful that the loud music is drowning out your sobs. There’s a knock on the door before whoever is on the other side wiggles the door knob. God, could this night get any worse? 

“It’s occupied,” you say through sobs but your ears perk up at the familiar voice. 

“Baby, it’s me. Can you open up?” It’s Eddie. Why’s he at the door? You figured he’d be making out with Chrissy somewhere. You ignore him, not wanting him to see you like that and bury your face back into your knees, more sobs raking through you. 

“Honey?” He asks, his voice nothing but soft as he knocks on the door lightly. You get on your knees to unlock the door then turn away, not wanting him to see how horrible you probably look. But he gets on his knees in front of you anyway, his smile falling as he sees the mascara tears dried on your cheeks. “Oh, baby,” is all he says, so much sympathy in his voice as he reaches up and wipes away makeup from your face.”What’s with the tears, hm?” He asks, his thumbs rubbing back and forth across your cheeks. 

“It’s nothing. It’s…stupid.”

“If you’re upset about it, then it’s not stupid.” 

Eddie being so nice to you is making it really hard to be mad at him. You want to, but you can’t. And you know that you have no real right to be mad at him anyway. He has every right to be with Chrissy and you just have to be okay with that.

“Why are you even here? You got Chrissy so why aren’t you with her? That was the whole point of this whole thing, right?”

“It was,” he nods. “But last night made me realize something.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

“It made me realize that you’re the only one I want to kiss.” 

You freeze as soon as the words leave his mouth. There’s no way you heard that right. Your mind is just playing tricks on you. It has to be. 

“But-” you try to argue, but you just end up furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. 

“I know it doesn’t make sense,” he chuckles. “But I think I’ve always been in love with you and I was just so scared of losing you that I didn’t want to pursue it. What you saw was Chrissy and I just playing the game.”

“Then what did you say to her before? I saw you whispering.”

“She told me not to screw things up with you. Someone told her about you and I fake dating in order to get her attention and she said that she was flattered. And that was when I realized that I didn’t want her anymore. All I could think about was you. And she’s with Jason now so it’s not like it matters anyway.”

This all feels like a surreal dream, but you can feel Eddie’s hands on your cheeks so there’s no way that it can be. It’s real. It’s what you’ve been wanting for so long and now you have it. All you have to do is tell him you feel the same way and that will be that. 

“Because I love you, y/n. I want you and only you. I’m…I’m yours if you’ll have me.”

“You love me?” You ask, your mind still not grasping what’s going on. 

“More than you’ll ever know, baby,” he says as he goes in for a kiss, pulling you into his lap as his arms wrap around you so tight as he doesn’t plan on letting you go. You’re his now and you will continue to be until you take your last breaths. And that’s exactly how you want it.

[thebiggerbear]

Oh, this hit me right in the heart! In a good way. You know, I love Beth and Rip, don't get me wrong, and I love their dynamic but it was so nice to see someone taking care of Rip for once. To be the one willing to go the extra mile for him and withstand the storm. Not that Beth doesn't fight for him and will do whatever, but you get my point.

As much as I love Lee and grew to love the other characters (don't even ask me about John lol, I have a very love and hate relationship with him which is compounded by my admiration for Kevin Costner, this 2nd half of the season is just tearing me apart), Rip is the one I fell head over heels for (besides Beth herself) when I first binged the show a few years back. So reading this just applied some soothing balm to my Rip Wheeler heart that I didn't even know I needed. 🥹

Rip doesn’t have a heart, at least that’s what they say about him. They see his hard edges, his gruff exterior, the aura of violence and they think there’s a barbed wire where one should be. For a while even he thinks it’s true. The world has battered him, bruised him, broken him, he doesn’t have the capacity for softness anymore.

This absolutely broke me. Because I absolutely can see Rip thinking that about himself.

He tries to fight the fall, really he does but it’s a constant war deep inside of him. He forces himself to leave your bed when he’s finished with you, he redresses in the dark as you sleep, ignoring the urge to climb back into your sheets, to hold you, to love you.

Absolutely one hundred percent Rip.

You must see the exhaustion in him, the toll of the day has taken. He thinks that’s why you reach for him, why you catch his hand when he walks by. The gesture surprises him because the women he’s been with, they’ve steered clear of his moods, they didn’t walk head first into them.

Beautiful moment and perfectly written. Especially, that last line, omg.

“Come home with me tonight.” You say as he turns to face you, and he sees the sincerity in your features as you draw him close. “Let me look after you a little.” It’s the first time that anyone has ever offered him that, that they’ve cared enough to consider his wants, his needs.

Not going to lie, I flat out squealed in happiness at this part of the scene. That is exactly what my guy needs, what he deserves.

“Alright darlin.” He concedes, his thumb chasing over the blush of your cheek. “If you want me, you can have me.”

Oh. My. God. JUST SO PERFECT!!!!!!

So well done. As always. I have to dive into the rest of your Rip masterlist and all of your Yellowstone fics. You write this world so flawlessly, my friend. Thank you. 🥹💖💖

For Rip Wheeler

“Oh, if all I got is your hand in my hand Baby, I could die a happy man”

Tagging: @1-fuzzy-squirrels @nerdypinupcrystal @babygirl8900 @domquixotedospobresblog @buckysteveloki-me

Companion piece to Thrill of the Chase (NSFW) - Rip has always loved the thrill of the chase.

Rip doesn’t have a heart, at least that’s what they say about him. They see his hard edges, his gruff exterior, the aura of violence and they think there’s a barbed wire where one should be.

For a while even he thinks it’s true. The world has battered him, bruised him, broken him, he doesn’t have the capacity for softness anymore. He tells you that after you fuck him for the second time.

“Don’t expect anything from me. I don’t have anything to give you.”

His relationships have aways been physical, raw, primal. It’s about stress relief, not connection. He assumes it’s going to be the same with you until it isn’t.

There are so many ways you’re different to the women he’s been with before. There’s a softness in you he doesn’t anticipate. You aren’t rough with him like the others, you’re teasing, gentle. When he’s camping out alone, he thinks about the light caress of your fingertips across the scars that line his left shoulder, the tender brush of your lips as you explore every inch of him.

He might fuck but you, you make love.

He tries to fight the fall, really he does but it’s a constant war deep inside of him. He forces himself to leave your bed when he’s finished with you, he redresses in the dark as you sleep, ignoring the urge to climb back into your sheets, to hold you, to love you.

He’s tired, sore and pissed off when he comes across you in the barn. He’s been pulling up hemlock all day in one of the pastures and you’re finishing a check up on John Dutton’s horse Starbuck. The old girl is getting up there these days, she’s starting to have more health problems. There’s going to come a day soon where you make the recommendation to put her down and the thought of that…

It devastates him because the two of them, they sort of grew up together. She was the first foal he birthed back in the day.

You must see the exhaustion in him, the toll of the day has taken. He thinks that’s why you reach for him, why you catch his hand when he walks by. The gesture surprises him because the women he’s been with, they’ve steered clear of his moods, they didn’t walk head first into them.

“Come home with me tonight.” You say as he turns to face you, and he sees the sincerity in your features as you draw him close. “Let me look after you a little.”

It’s the first time that anyone has ever offered him that, that they’ve cared enough to consider his wants, his needs. He’s tired of this war he’s been waging with himself, he’s tired of resisting you. All he wants right now is to curl up in bed, with the woman he’s falling in love with.

“Alright darlin.” He concedes, his thumb chasing over the blush of your cheek. “If you want me, you can have me.”

Love Rip? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[inktopuck]

juno | quinn hughes social media au (pt.9)

pt. 8

yournamehughes

Liked by elblue06, trevorzegras and others

yournamehughes happy birthday, you stunner. thank you for making me the happiest woman in the world and for being the best father to our children 🩵

trevorzegras i'll never forget you made me give him my mustard costume instead of matching with me!

yournamehughes well baby he was my bf by then, right

trevorzegras omg Y/N bros before hoes ALWAYS

l_hughes06 you didn't have to post the first one bro.

yournamehughes it's so cute!! he's taking a nap!

l_hughes06 don't try to gaslight me i know what you were doing before

bradytkachuk happy birthday qball!!! tea party at yours when?

_quinnhughes from all the pictures you could've chosen you went with me dancing on the table?

yournamehughes yes, coyote ugly queen

captainhughes childREN?????? plural???????

_quinnhughes

Liked by l_hughes06, jackhughes and others

_quinnhughes another great one! so thankful!

jackhughes pack it up with the pda quinn please some of us are single

colecaufield you guys went to the pumpkin patch without me. i see how it is i take back my happy birthday wish.

_quinnhughes you're literally 3k miles away

colecaufield YEAH BUT WE PLAY YOU NEXT WEEK WOULD IT HAVE KILLED YOU QUINTIN

_quinnhughes yes. get your own kid.

colecaufield WELL IT'S NOT LIKE I HAVEN'T TRIED

yournamehughes we need to know less about each other's lives

l_hughes06 you're cool sometimes. mostly not. but sometimes.

yournamehughes

Liked by _quinnhughes, elblue06 and others

yournamehughes oops we did it again

_quinnhughes ✌🏻❤️

elblue06 this is the best news ever! Jack and Luke you're falling behind!

trevorzegras quintin you dooooog

colecaufield omg quinn get off her

l_hughes06 another kid who will look up to me... we love to see it

jackhughes you're not winning this one over

l_hughes06 we'll see

jackhughes so if you really like the new kid can i get belly?

_quinnhughes no

bradytkachuk i say keep 'em coming!

elblue06 I said the same thing!

bboeser oh yeah! another hughes for the nhl

yournamehughes or pwhl!

bboeser of course!

eliaspettersson yessss time to bet on the gender again! last time i won some big bucks! thanks belly!

l_hughes06

Liked by yournamehughes, _quinnhughes and others

l_hughes06 first pic with the new baby

jackhughes you just HAD to didn't you

l_hughes06 yeah :)

lukeypookie what even is luke's feed

colecaufield Y/N get ready..... i'll be fist bumping that baby soon

_quinnhughes please don't punch my wife's stomach

curtislazar95 rusty you're always at the scene of the crime

dylanduke25 it wouldn't surprise me if luke walked around waiting for y/n to give birth so he could be the first one to hold the baby and not jack

yournamehughes what about the baby's father

dylanduke25 pushed aside immediately

[bunnys-kisses]

⋆⋅☆max v. with a trans masc partner☆⋅⋆

max verstappen knew what he liked. while he usually put the front as a heterosexual man, he had always been a little more fluid about his sexuality outside of the limelight. he had kissed many men in his life as with women, even those who were neither men nor women. kissing was fun, sex was fun. and he wasn't going to limit himself to one set of tools to get the job down. a cock down the throat could be as delightful as sinking into a sweet pussy.

so it was more of a surprise for you to receive max's advances than it was for him to give them.

you remembered when you grandmother told you that she was concerned about you transitioning because you may "never find love" and you told her that it didn't matter. cars were your love, you didn't need a person to fill that gap. so when you met the three time world champion as the new mechanic for the 2024 season, you honestly didn't think too much about wooing him romantically.

but, max was wooed by you. especially when he saw that your lockscreen of your phone was a picture of your two cats, and when he brought up his cats, you just lit up. max liked that you treated him like he was a person. and you simply said, "mate, i'm pretty certain they don't let robots drive these cars." then slapped him on the back, "but i will make you bleed red if you total my car." then flashed him a smile.

you remembered the first time max kissed you. the dutch grand prix had been a total success and within the quietness of the garage post-race with the trophy max had won near by. he took you by the waist and kissed you. he'd later admit that he wanted to do it right on the track.

"do you kiss all your mechanics like that, verstappen?"

"no, only the ones who allow me to win." you two had spent almost the entire season bitching about red bull. max wondered if or when he eventually jumped teams, if he could take you with him. as he held you in his arms. chest to chest.

you admitted close to his ear, a little insecure, "i hope you know. i've built myself... i was born a girl, but became something more. different." then tried to pull back, fearful of his response. you weren't trying to trick him, you'd rather have it on the table.

but he pulled you back in, his blue eyes on you, "you act like i don't know what transgender people are, mechanic." he said as he leaned you back a little, to get a fuller look at you, "you act like i've never been to bed with one."

"i don't want to be a one night stand." you said, your hands on the front of his polo shirt. his hat long hit the floor in the heat of the kiss. you swallowed, "i won't be a toy, verstappen. i have too much respect for myself."

he chuckled, "that's what i like to hear." he held you around the waist and you kissed once more. he could feel the rise in his blood pressure. while you could've easily done it in the garage, max gave you the address of where he was staying and the lie to tell security.

the mechanics team were in another hotel, but if you wore your red bull branded uniform and had your mechanic's pass then you'd get in easily. they'd never suspect that you'd be intimate with the star of the team. and you did just that. even flashing a smile at security before you headed up to the elevator. they didn't even ask questions, which made your life easier.

you found max's room and he happily brought you in. but once the door was closed behind you. his strong arms were around you. he smiled at you, happy to see you. you carefully touched his face, part of you believed this was a strange dream after too many rum and cokes. but as you felt his facial hair under your hand, this was all painfully real.

"do you want this?" he asked.

you nodded and responded with a question of your own, "do you?"

his smile grew a little more, he leaned in closer to you. you only now realized how blue his eyes were, "since the moment i saw you come to the garage. you were more impressed with the car than with me... i found it endearing." he chuckled.

you held his face with both hands and gazed at him, "yeah, because it's a piece of shit car for a champion. it's like giving the king aluminum instead of gold."

he laughed before he leaned in for a kiss. you held his face close to yourself and you felt something bloom in your gut. eventually you got your worn sneakers kicked off and the jacket of your uniform off. it left you in a white t-shirt and max started to strip as well. you eyed his form and he eyed yours.

you felt his heated gaze linger on your chest for a moment and without thinking you crossed your arms across where your top surgery scars were. it was habit at that point.

max was in just his jeans and socks. he reached for your arms. feeling your warm under his palm as he carefully moved your arms away. he wanted to admire you, all of you.

"must've felt very different after the surgery." he said as he held your wrists, his eyes gazed on the fading scars. he was in no way to judge about scarring. at least yours were for something worthwhile, to change yourself in such a fundamental way, "was it scary?"

you shook your head, "no... i wanted to do everything afterwards. my doctor basically put me on bed rest because i was trying to push myself too hard. what was a four week recovery turned in seven."

he placed his hands on your flat chest and could feel the slight raise of the scars under his palms, "you push yourself too hard."

you swallowed, feeling the heat in your cheeks, "if you want to be the best. you have to do more than your best." your gaze met his. it felt so painfully intimate. this wasn't just sex in a hotel room, this was intimacy. max wanted more than your body, he wanted to know all the nooks of your soul and what inhabited them.

he leaned in once more, "we have that in common." before he kissed you once more. his kiss was sweeter, an assurance that you and your body were nothing to be ashamed of. if anything he admired it, even though he couldn't relate to the feelings you carried. he could at least understand the guts it took to go through it.

to become more than you what was given to you. it endeared you to him as you broke the kiss and continued to get undressed. the more of your bodies exposed to one another, the hotter the room got. even with the air conditioning rattling in the room. you could feel the heat between you two.

max sighed, "i don't have condoms... i can pull out or we can do something else." he explained as he got into the bed with you. both naked. his broad hand grazed across your body.

you responded and placed his hand on your lower abdomen, right before your pussy, "hysterectomy. six months before i started. are you clean though?"

he replied, "yes. been a long time since i've been with someone anyway." he was telling the truth. since you started at the season, everything had become a blur with you and the championship being a central focus.

his pointer finger trailed across the scar for a moment before he took your face in his hands and kissed you once more. you could go on about the shape of your face, but in his hands it felt very small. you hadn't realized that max verstappen had paws instead of hands. the thought made you giggle a little into the kiss.

he pulled away and looked at you before he laid you out on your back. he asked with a small smile, "what are you laughing about?"

you looked up at him and said, "didn't realized that formula one drivers had such big hands. every seen them up close like this before." then yelped a little when max grabbed you by the hips and pushed himself up against you.

he curved his back over you and maintained eye contact, those blue eyes were swimming with lust, "well. it's good you haven't seen others this close up. i might get a little jealous."

you looked away for a moment with a stupid grin on your face, "okay, flirt. why don't we get to it before i melt into this bed." then a soft moan left your lips as he rubbed his cock up against your wet cunt.

he admired you for a moment, hoping the image of your naked body stayed with him for weeks to come. you looked masculine. he wasn't going to say "technically" it's not having sex with a man. you were a man just as much as he was if not more. you had to create your manhood and you made it to perfection.

"i want you." you said softly.

he leaned forward and kissed you gently on the lips before he eased his cock into you. he replied with an equal softness, "i want you too, mechanic." the nickname made your ears hot as he moved against you. he thrusts were gently but gained a steady momentum.

you held onto the covers under your back and let him move against you. once you got a hold of his rhythm, you were able to meet his movements as well. the kisses you two shared grew hot as max planted both hands on either side of you and moved.

you two were moving against one another, locked in a heated kiss. the bed shifted slightly under your movements. max was thankful that were was not a bed on the opposite side of the wall. and that this place had enough insulation to keep your noises muffled.

the last thing he wanted was your integrity to come into question. that you only got to where you were because of your seductive ways. the noises between you two were soft. there was no need to rush, the race was over and tomorrow you'd be on the flight to the next one.

he took your hands and held them by your head, which kept you two close but also allowed him to keep you pinned under him. when you broke the kiss, you rested your forehead against his. the noises were harder to keep under wraps the more you moved. the pleasure felt like fireworks in your brain.

you moaned a little bit before you said, "i was thinking something stupid."

max chuckled his sweaty forehead against yours, "tell me."

"i realized what your eyes remind me of." you admitted softly, "i couldn't quite pin it after we met." you were breathing heavily as you locked your fingers further with his.

"and what do they remind of you?" he asked, curiously. he had heard people refer to them like the ocean, the sky after a store, the definition of blue.

you replied, "home. the lake near where i lived. not scary like the ocean. familiar like the lakes i grew up near."

max had no words, he simply laid another kiss on you. his hands grasped your tightly as you two moved together more. the pace quickened and max knew that he wanted to be in your life for a long period of time. he wanted you to be his home.

you moaned against the kiss, feeling the heat leap in your belly as you felt closer to orgasm. you came first with your lips against his. your back arched but your hands were pinned to the bed. it felt good as pleasure rushed to your brain.

max broke the kiss and continued to move against you. he let go of your hands in favour of your hips where he bounced your further against his cock. it made crackles of pleasure appear in your brain. and he was no better, his heavy breathing and occasional moan fueled his need to finish. and when he did, he did so inside of you. max never thought too much about the surgery you had, but he was thankful for it tonight.

he stayed inside of you for a moment as he cooled down before he left a kiss on the corner of your mouth. full of such tenderness as he pulled out of you and ran his fingers through his short hair.

you laid out next to him and heavily panting, feeling so vulnerable. he stayed closer to you, eventually pulling you to him and resting his chin on top of your head. you got comfortable against him.

"if you have any questions, i can answer them... about the whole trans thing." you swallowed, even now you felt embarrassed bringing it up. you felt it was a mood killer.

he took you by the chin and made you face him. he smiled down at you. he asked one question, "are you happy? did you get the life you wanted?"

you nodded in response, "everything and more." and that was enough for max. anything else you felt the need to tell him would be told with time, after all, max expected to be in your life for many years to come. both as his mechanic and lover.

-

max would only come clean about the relationship two years later. the end of his contract with red bull and a final championship was enough for the driver to retire peacefully. and when he retired, you retired and you made a home in monaco.

the coming out post set the internet ablaze. especially given how long you two had been together. wasn't anything too special, just a small collection of photos that he had taken over your time together. like the time you wore his helmet in 2025 with a big thumbs up. and that time you thoroughly messed up a birthday cake for him, and with the camera in your face, he rubbed the icing off your cheek. the one that really captured eyes was the one that a friend took of you at a house party when max came to visit your home country, with his legs over your strong lap and his lips against your face. you were smiling like the sun. being the center of a media storm was only braved with max by your side. at one point turning your phone off and throwing it onto the couch. his kisses were still loving as always, his words soft, and his affirmations of your gender were often so sweet that you'd cover your face in embarrassment.

you were always comfortable with the idea of not meeting your 'other half', you had been given a second chance at life once you came out. and if no one could accept you then so be it. but as you laid out on the couch laid out against your boyfriend with sassy at your side and your cat between the crook of your knee, you felt loved. <3

a/n: i do write for masc readers as well, both cis and beyond. just not as often because many request femme readers. but if an idea is cooking in your head. hit me with it!

[thrfted]

꩜ DATING MR. CRAWLING .ᐟ

SFW GN!Reader HCS after the blissful love life ending.

Italics is in the other world’s language! Sometimes more the implied message rather than a direct translation. I'll probably do Mr. Hood later too :3 !

Your bed is much more comfortable than anything in the other world, and it only makes it better that mr. Crawling gets to be in it with you. He grows accustomed to your nightly routine and is always excited to cuddle up. Big spoon, little spoon, facing each other—all of it makes him as happy as can be!

(^ As someone who still has a twin size, some of us have to invest in a much bigger one lol)

Generally so so affectionate and loves when you’re physically affectionate !! You can kiss his head and he’ll giggle, maybe point at his face and ask “Again!” You leave kisses all over his face, and his hands pull you in close when you finally kiss his lips.

One of Mr. Crawling's strongest traits is his patience—especially when it comes to you. The first day you come home without him trailing behind (much to his dismay, and honestly yours), he’s at the door to greet you, smiling and giggling as you wrap your arms around him. You find out he hadn’t done much but wait for you to come home. (With no complaints of boredom on his part, and all the worry on yours.)

He'll sit as you play with his hair, trying out new hairstyles or putting in clips. “Me cute? Pretty?” he asks. And if you let him do the same in return, he'll giggle and compliment you too.

I think he’d look through your closet and enjoy watching you try on clothes too. He compliments you and feels each of the fabrics, liking the ones that feel softest. He might try on some of the accessories if none of the actual clothes (sort of…) fit, and is really happy when you match!

Mr. Crawling is a fast learner. You worry he'll feel overwhelmed with all the new technology and words and whatever else, so you focus on making sure he’s comfortable. But he points at things and ask what they are, repeating after you. “You teach me language?” he asks and you laugh softly before nodding. “I teach you language.”

He will accidentally touch a hot stove top or pot if you don't remember to warn him beforehand. Then whenever you cook he gets worried you'll hurt yourself, watching to make sure you're alright (forgive him if he pulls your hand away and says “Danger! Don't touch!”)

Since he doesn't know his birthday, you make the day you returned special instead! He's happy to just stay in with you, eating a good meal and watching or learning something new.

Mr. Crawling also learns when yours is and does his best to make it a good day for you too. He tries singing happy birthday and makes food with what you have at home, mimicking the meals he's seen you prepare.

You teach him how to call your phone while you're away. It's supposed to “be for emergencies,” but you both know he's going to call just to hear your voice, and who are you to complain?

I think he gets sad sometimes when he sees or hears you talking to friends—the way you communicate and laugh so easily compared to conversations with him. The other world's language itself is limited, and he hasn't learned enough of your own. You spend some evenings reassuring him, reminding him learning is a process, and it doesn't change your feelings!!

He does his best to learn on his own. You buy (exercise) books and show him shows for younger kids and he spends a lot of time alone with them, both to surprise you, and also just because he loves talking with you and wants to talk more and more.

The first time he speaks your language is a special day. After many days of calling out that you’re back, he decides to say it himself. “You home!” You almost drop everything in your hands, and that’s when he continues, “Miss you.” It feels odd hearing it in his voice, but he’s grinning so wide, and you won’t find out for a while just how excited and nervous he was waiting for you to get home.

One of Mr. Crawling’s favourite things to say and hear is ���I love you.” Every time you say it, he gets all giddy and tries to get closer to you (as if that’s possible while already cuddling in bed). He says it a lot while you’re doing chores or really nothing, just to remind you and see you smile. There’s no way in his mind for those 3 words to lose their meaning, or become any less special.

[keepingitformyself]

especially for tender ones like us

A/N: hehehehehehehehehehehehe synopsis: humor, anxiety, and the salvation of love.

pairings: natasha romanoff x reader

genre: fluff.

warnings: no?

MASTERLIST

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

natasha tries not to stumble over her words when she suggests staying in, instead of going out. she does not mean to, but she does. 

how could she not? could you really blame her for wanting a quiet night? something that isn’t so public. she wanted to see you, of course, but she wanted to see you in a space you could be comfortable in, without any of the outside world and free from any distractions.  

you listen intently through the other line, you fight the giggle at catching her little stutter. she can’t see, but you smile widely at the whole thing.

“yeah, we can stay in. i can cook us dinner,” you nod. natasha’s shoulders drop in a quiet sense of relief at your words. her lips curl into a smile. “i’d like that. i can’t wait.”

although this would only be the fourth time you had met up together, to natasha, it felt like the first every single time. 

you continue talking for a little while more. natasha shares details about her day, work, and what she ate during lunch. she tells you how on her way to grab her usual coffee order, an americano, she decided she’d switch her order to a matcha latte after having had you recommend it to her. she tells you, 

“it was good, but not nearly enough caffeine for me to keep up with,” she said, her tone light but teasing. and while it hadn’t become her new favorite drink, just knowing she’d tried it for you was more than enough. her words sent your thoughts spiraling, a warmth blooming in your chest. you were certain that if she were standing next to you, you wouldn’t hesitate to kiss her right then and there.

but you can’t do that so instead, you just fall back on your bed like a high schooler talking to her crush. 

when you finally do meet up the following evening, natasha is buzzing with nerves she doesn't understand. she has taken down whole regimes and has fought aliens from space, yet she seems to draw the line when it comes to facing you. 

she knocks on your door, her other arm clutching a brown bag containing wine and flowers. a reasonable offering if you’re having dinner with someone you want to impress. 

when you answer the door, you're wearing a cream-colored knit sweater. 

“i thought i heard pacing out there.” you joke. 

natasha’s cheeks flush as she tries—and ultimately fails—to fight the smile tugging at her lips. “i wasn’t pacing,” she says, though the slight crack in her voice gives her away.

you step aside and invite her in, and neither of you acknowledges the quiet intimacy of the moment. it feels like more than just dinner, more than just a simple evening in your apartment.

you’re about to cook for her, and somehow, that feels monumental.

natasha’s nerves are a mess, though she can’t quite figure out why—or maybe she can. maybe it’s the way your presence makes her feel unsteady, as though the ground beneath her shifts whenever you’re near.

but natasha doesn’t want to be nervous.

she saw once—a penguin mistaking a sleeping walrus for a rock. the penguin had been caught completely off guard when the walrus stirred, nearly crushing it before it scurried away just in time.

natasha had found it funny at the time, the way surprises can sneak up on you. but now, thinking about it, it doesn’t feel so funny. it feels… unnerving.

surprises are bad for the heart, she thinks. she’s been taught her whole life to avoid them, to anticipate every possibility before it unfolds.

but knowing too much, being too prepared—that can hurt, too.

her thoughts are interrupted by your laughter, light and unburdened, as you guide her toward the kitchen. your smile is so easy, so genuine, and she can’t help but feel how good it is to exist in this space with you.

she offers to help you cook, but you shoo her away instead. you make her watch.

she sits there, with her hands on her lap, and just stares. and she can’t help the look of longing on her face. the kind of thing that suggests she wouldn’t mind this being a constant. 

you made pasta for the evening. nothing too spectacular, but natasha had treated it like you were a top chef and had spent hours crafting everything with your bare hands. 

and then once you’ve plated food for you both and you’ve gotten down to a few bites, you notice the small sigh natasha lets out. the flutter of her eyes as she takes in the meal. 

you smile at her reaction as you move some of the food with your fork. 

“do you like it?”

she looks at you, mid-chew, her mouth stuffed with the food, but she manages a smile. 

“yeah, uh, yes it’s good. it’s so good,” she says, hand over her mouth. 

you continue eating, talking about everything and anything. the night was filled with small moments that would bleed into much deeper ones. you laughed, she smiled, you smiled, she laughed. the kind of things one feels they become when around those who make you tender. 

and you don’t know how or when but you try not to notice how little by little natasha seems to retract a little. 

you decide maybe she needs a small moment for herself and start cleaning up the table. she offers to help, but you wave her off, insisting she relaxes. 

she tries to, but realistically, natasha doesn’t know how to relax. so she sits back and stares at you like she isn’t sure what to do with herself. she isn’t used to this at all. spaces like this–warm, cozy, comfortable.

the impending guilt comes. it’s all so layered. she feels so much at once. the nervousness, the anxiety, the fear of loss, the fear of not being present enough. 

natasha doesn’t know how to be here without sacrificing so much. 

after a while, natasha speaks up. 

“i should probably get going.” her voice too casual to sound like she meant it. she tries not to notice the look of disappointment on your face when you turn around to face her. 

“you don’t have to.” you find yourself saying, not wanting her to leave. 

she hums, something that says she’s already made up her mind. she gets up and gathers her things. 

you follow her to the door, or at least try to—but you pause at the end of the hall when you see her linger near the door, uncomfortably. unsure if she should leave. 

you call her out on it. “you can stay longer if you want.”

natasha wrestles with herself because she really wants to. she looks at the door as if it’d answer for her. 

you’re letting her know. 

natasha feels awkward, clammy hands. she doesn't know what she’s doing. and it’s hard to think of anything else when your eyes are screaming, don't actually leave, at her. 

you look at her carefully, trying to see if you can find any clear indication of what she may be feeling, but it isn’t hard to figure out the redhead in front of you. 

you’ve noted quite quickly how easy it comes for her walls to lower when you’re around. and if there’s anything you’ve learned from that, it’s that natasha romanoff isn’t the trained killer everyone thinks she is. 

sure we all have certain versions we show to certain people. but the natasha you know is anything but rough-edged. the natasha you’ve come to know is actually quite the opposite of what everyone else perceives. 

she’s tender, in her own silent way. too afraid to ever let too much slip away that she’s so painfully aware of everything around her. 

natasha is tenderness wrapped in quiet strength, a paradox of someone who feels deeply but guards herself fiercely. she sees the world clearly—the beauty and the harm—and carries that weight like a constant ache.

like she knows the world hurts more for those most aware of hurt. 

her tenderness isn’t soft; it’s sharp, vigilant, always bracing for the pain that comes with letting others in. you can see it in the flicker of her gaze, the way she hesitates as if expecting the world to hurt her.

and yet, she doesn’t harden. she holds onto that fragile, open part of herself, even when it would be easier not to. it’s beautiful and a little heartbreaking.

natasha looks up at you, then back down at her hands. just above a whisper, she says, 

“i don't know what i’m doing.” 

“that’s the most fun part.” you joke. she smiles, she doesn’t know how to say she wants more time. 

how could she say she feels greedy at this moment? she wants to protect being here with you. we have such little time, she thinks. 

bashfully, she steps closer to you, “i don't want to go.” she says. 

“then don’t.” and natasha almost complies. instead, she takes a step closer, her hand lifting towards your cheek. she’s so close now. 

she kisses you, soft, and shy, but you make her feel sure when your arm circles her neck, deepening the kiss altogether. when she pulls back, her forehead rests against yours, she lets out a shaky breath. 

“maybe i’ll forget my scarf,” she murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

“please do,” you replied. please leave your scarf, please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of leaving. please always come back. “that way you’ll have to come back later for it.”  

and just like that, her quiet uncertainty washes away. 

she takes her scarf off and drops it near the door. you follow her actions, you smile, amusement in your eyes. 

later that night, when natasha gets home, she texts you. 

i forgot my scarf. 

you reply, you’ll have to come get it then. 

[loverafey]

water fight !  rafe x f!reader

          ꕀ warnings - pure fluff and bickering! suggestive at the end.  wc -  612.

“come back here!”

rafe was chasing you around the house, a big grin etched onto his lips and a water gun in his arms. he couldn’t comprehend how you were so sneaky, spraying water on him from that gun of yours when he was least expecting it. well now, you have to pay the price.

your giggles echoed through the walls as you continued to run from him, trying not to slip. there will be lots of cleaning to do when you both are done, but it was all worth it. plus he loved hearing those infectious noises you were making, so full of joy. all targeted towards him.

“catch me if you can, rafey!” you snickered, waving at him as you jogged towards the entrance of the pool, not before turning around to spray some water from your water gun on him once again, admiring the way his wet shirt was clinging to his torso. fuck, those biceps.

“you brat.” he huffed, feigning anger. gripping his water gun tight, he finally got near you before shooting the water towards you, eyes lighting up as it hit the front of your shirt, pressing the trigger once again to spray the water right on your face, enjoying the sight of your nose scrunching.

“not wearin’ a bra, huh?” of course you weren’t, and he knew that quite well. you both hadn’t even woken up that long ago, and the first thing you did was hop into one of his buttoned shirts and wearing nothing else but your panties, surprising him awake by spraying him with water. he couldn’t even be angry at you after that adorable display you made, so he sought to take revenge instead, grabbing another one of his water guns. he’d make sure to thank topper later for leaving those behind.

“stop staring like that, pervert.” you sprayed water on him, causing him to do the same, the water fight going on back and forth with both of you laughing. it was cute in his eyes how you were so focused on trying to shoot him, not even realising that he was very much close to you now, closing the distance between you both.

“should’ve just surrendered, baby.” he cooed coyly, giving you a gentle shove as you tripped and fell into the water with a squeal. thankfully the depth of the pool wasn’t that much, he knew that you were safe.

“hey, that’s not fair!” you wiggled your arms dramatically in the air, blush rushing to your cheeks as you grumbled, aiming the water gun at him again. you, unfortunately, didn’t get a chance to spray water on him once again as he stepped into the pool himself, rushing towards you, swooping you in those strong arms of his, splashing water everywhere.

“got my shirt all dirty.” his fingers edged closer to the buttons of his shirt that you were wearing, slipping in through one of the holes, grazing against your skin. “woke up in a playful mood, huh?” his lips brushed against your nose, smiling as he felt you nod almost excitedly, your arms wrapping around his neck after letting go of the water gun, letting it float around in the pool. “just had to mess with me.”

“mhm, i guess.” you replied, shrugging, feeling your breath hitch as his fingers begin to undo the buttons of the shirt you were, little by little. "just wanted to see your, well, boobs." you added, grinning down at the way his shirt was pressed against his pecs, earning a scoff from him.

“maybe i’ll forgive you…” he trailed off, not specifying anything, leaning down to capture your lips with his.