#bright stars baby swing

[nuzzle]

"Swinging Strawberry Garden" series 🍓 「ゆらゆらいちごのStrawberry Garden」シリーズ

[luvsupa]

“YOU’RE A STAR!”

tags: musician!choso x manager fem!reader, reader has a secret fan account, both are in 20, choso has lots of tattoos and is an r&b singer, he has piercings, smut (p in v), ōral sex (f!recieving), sub!choso (ish), voyeurism, etc. mdni.

w.c: 3,2k

a/n: YALL I’m almost at 2k LIKE THATS INSANEEEE!! TY GUYS SOSOS MUCHHH AHHH

+ erm if there’s errors lmkk

you sit in choso’s expansive dressing room, surrounded by his makeup and fashion assistants, eyes glued to the big screen as he finishes his final song of the concrrt. the sound of thousands of screaming fans fills the air, their voices blending with his deep, angelic one. even from back here, you can hear the unmistakable roar of the crowd, hanging onto every note he sings. the way he commands the stage, the way he moves—everything about him makes your chest tighten.

he looks unreal tonight, his stylist outdid themselves. the subversive, edgy look suits him perfectly, especially the ripped wife-beater that showcases his inked arms, gleaming under the stage lights. the body glitter you suggested—yeah, that was definitely a good call- catches the light in all the right ways, making him look out of this world.

you’re supposed to be his manager, maintaining some form of professionalism, but damn, it’s impossible when he looks this good. especially when he runs his hand through those messy brown locks , letting a few strands fall over his face. you bite your lip, trying to focus on anything but the way your heart races when he’s on stage.

the thought of professionalism slips even further when you pull out your phone, dimming the brightness low. not for work—no, not tonight. instead, you open the app you use to connect with his fanbase under your secret username.

chogetsmewetter

it still makes you smirk every time you see it. his fans had been relentless, trying to bribe you for the username. but it’s yours, and you're not giving it up for anyone.

chogetsmewetter: are u guys seeing how good he looks… need him immediately

responses flood in almost instantly.

chososwhore: baby, nobody wants him more than i do…

choochoo: y’all send videos of the concert plzzz :(

kamosbaby: my baby daddy lookin good on stage.

you’re too caught up in scrolling through the candid photos and fan reactions, smiling like an idiot, when the makeup assistant catches you off guard.

“what’s got you smiling like that?” she teases, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

you quickly shove your phone into your pocket, plastering on your best fake smile. “just checking cho’s schedule for next week. his brothers want to surprise him at the last show.”

it’s a lie, of course, but you’re used to spinning quick stories, and she just shrugs, moving on. but not without another jab. “girl, you love calling him cho, don’t you? does he let you call him that in bed too?”

your eyes widen as choso’s fashion designer giggles along with her. “guys, nothing’s going on. we’re strictly business—i manage his schedule, and that’s it.” but the words taste bitter, even as you force them out. nothing more. yeah, right.

the deafening cheers from the TV rescue you from any more teasing. all eyes turn to the screen as choso wraps up, thanking the crowd with that deep, velvet voice of his. the camera zooms in on his face, his lips curling into a soft smile as he waves and blows kisses to the adoring fans. gosh, he’s perfect.

a few moments later, the dressing room doors swing open, and there he is. choso, in the flesh, followed by his bodyguards. his team erupts in cheers, swarming him with praise, but you move to the back in the corner, blending into the background. moments like this are too chaotic for you, but you know you’ll have your moment later, probably on the tour bus.

amidst the chaos, his eyes find you, and he frowns a little when he sees you typing away on your phone, oblivious to the world. he doesn't know, of course, that you're replying to posts about him.

before you can finish your latest message, you feel him standing right in front of you, towering over you. the air feels thick between you two, and you curse internally as you slip your phone into your pocket once again, heart racing.

“you forgetting something?” his voice is low, teasing, as he glances down at your hands.

you quickly shake your head, trying to play it cool. “c’mon, cho, you know i’d never survive in that crowd,” you say, nodding toward the gaggle of team still dying for his attention.

his hands, cold from the stage, slide into yours, pulling you just a little closer. you swallow hard. “i knowww, but your support matters the most outta all of ‘em,” he says, rocking slightly, his lips curling into that perfect half-smile. the one that makes your stomach flip.

he smells incredible, the scent of his unreleased cologne wrapping around you, making your head spin. you smile, turning away, but he moves with you, trying to catch a glimpse of that smile.

“c’mon, let’s grab dinner. my director’s waiting,” he says, releasing your hands, and you instantly frown, missing his touch.

you follow him and his bodyguards out, offering a quick farewell to the makeup and fashion team. they don’t miss the chance to wink at you, clearly still enjoying the teasing.

as you near the exit, the noise outside grows louder—fans desperate to catch one last glimpse of choso. this is the part of the night you dread, knowing how insane the crowd can get. but when he looks over his shoulder and gives you that grin, the chaos doesn’t seem so bad.

two guards swing open the doors, harsh light flooding in as flashes from cameras blind you instantly. the screams grow deafening, and you brace yourself. this is always the worst part—being unable to see, disoriented, as the paparazzi go wild trying to capture every inch of choso’s presence.

but choso? he thrives in this. he’s in his element, beaming as he dives straight into the crowd. signing albums, posing for photos, accepting gifts—he eats it all up. you trail behind one of his bodyguards, eyes flickering to where he’s standing. your heart clenches as you catch sight of him—his lips locked with a fan.

you swallow hard. it’s not the first time. he always does this with her—his so-called “number one fan.” he remembers her face, her name, every single time. each time he kisses her in front of his adoring crowd, it feels like a punch to the gut. the fans love it. the media laps it up, turning her into a minor celebrity among his fandom.

how do you know? through your secret fan account.

you scoff quietly to yourself as you slip past the crowf, making it safely onto the tour bus. heading straight for the private area at the back, you drop your bag onto one of the leather couches, sinking into the seat by the window. from here, you can still see him outside, giving the fans hugs, taking endless photos. you watch in silence, jealousy simmering just beneath the surface.

finally, after what feels like forever, choso steps onto the bus, breathless and flushed. he walks down the aisle toward you, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“fuckkk, they’re amazing,” he groans, collapsing onto the couch beside you, still riding the high from the crowd.

they’re amazing? or she’s amazing…

you force a smile, eyes glued to your phone. “you looked like you were having fun, choso,” you mutter, distracted by your personal texts. his head drops back with a groan. one thing he can’t stand is when you don’t give him your full attention.

before he can start whining, one of the fashion designers calls your name from the front of the bus. you sigh, getting up quickly to see what the issue is. in your rush, you leave your phone behind on the couch.

choso watches as you walk away, eyes narrowing when he sees your phone lying there. you never leave it behind, always keeping it close, and curiosity gnaws at him. his leg bounces as he contemplates it. fuck it.

he snatches your phone up, eyes widening as the first thing he sees on your notification center is all he need to see.

[chogetsmewetter] new like from choochoo and 100+ others:

I need to fuck choso nowww, he’s so fuckin hot it’s not fairrr.

damn.

a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. so that’s why you’ve been acting weird. he sets your phone back down just as he hears your footsteps returning.

you return, completely unaware of what just happened. “choso, they said we can’t leave until another hour—” you start to explain, but he’s not listening. his thoughts are elsewhere, his leg bouncing slightly as he bites the inside of his cheek.

“how do you want me to fuck you?” he suddenly blurts out, his voice low and dark.

your eyes widen, body stiffening as his bold words hit you like a train. you fumble for the curtain, pulling it shut so the driver can’t hear.

“w-what the fuck are you talking about?” you stammer, your breath catching in your throat. his dark brown eyes lock onto yours, unwavering. he doesn’t need to say it—his gaze tells you everything.

he knows.

panic rises inside you as you glance toward your phone and then back to him. he nods slowly, confirming your worst fear. he found out.

“so… are you those shy freaks…” he asks casually, standing up from the couch. his towering frame looms over you, and your world feels like it’s shrinking as he removes his leather jacket, revealing his tattooed, muscular arms.

“y-you wanna do this here? in front of the fans?” you whisper loudly, eyes darting toward the windows that are now covered by the blinds.

he chuckles, low and wicked. “you didn’t seem to care posting your dirty thoughts in front of me.”

and he ate with that one.

just like how he’s now devouring you in the back of the tour bus. you’re nestled on the couch, right in front of the curtains that separate the chaos outside from your little world. choso is on his knees, going at you like a possessed man. your legs are pushed tight against your chest as he laps up your juices, sucking and swallowing your sweet fluids. his cold nose piercing nudges your clit as his tongue thrusts deep inside you at an inhumane speed. any trace of shame has long evaporated, replaced by his loud moans vibrating against your cunt, making your eyes cross slightly.

your hands tangle in his silky brown locks, tugging gently, which earns you a whimper as he pulls back, your essence and saliva coating his chin and glossy lips. “mmm, p-pull on it more, pretty,” he urges, gazing up at you with doe eyes, brows furrowed in concentration as he loses himself in you once again.

obeying him, you tug harder on his hair, bucking your hips against his face while his hands grip the back of your thighs, pushing you deeper into your chest. he’s growling now, lost in the pleasure he’s giving you.

“yesss, f-fuck, you’re so goooddd,” you praise, head thrown back as he slurps at your juices like a starving man. he pulls away to admire your twitching hole, his fingers parting your folds wider. he spits a wad of saliva directly into your gaping pussy, making you clench instinctively as he slides in two thick digits, effortlessly gliding through your sloppy walls. his thrusts are calculated as he studies your features, which are now squeezed shut in bliss.

“hmm, she’s fuckin’ wettt,” he comments, your pussy responding with loud, squelching sounds that fill the back of the bus, echoing your mess. “hahh, you put that username to use,” he taunts, your body burning with embarrassment. his thick fingers pick up speed, massaging that sweet spot, and your back arches off the couch, your lower tummy tingling as your breath quickens.

choso can sense you’re close, the way you tighten around him. suddenly, he sucks hard on your clit, swirling his tongue around your poor nub. you cover your mouth with your hands, muffling the moans that threaten to escape .

just before you can cry out his name, he pulls his fingers out, leaving you undone. he retreats from your soaked clit, watching your translucent essence dribble down your convulsing hole, spilling onto the couch. your breath hitches as he delivers a sharp slap to your pussy, jolting electricity through your body, and the sticky remnants of your orgasm cling to his palm, igniting an insatiable addiction to your sensitivity.

“nahhh, is this the wettest you can get?” he says, rising from his knees and unzipping his jeans, pulling his throbbing cock free from its confines. your mind goes blank at the sight. fuck, he definitely never lied about his size, especially in his songs. choso sits beside you, manhandling you onto his lap, your pussy pressing against his hard cock as you whimper,

this is really happening.

“ride me, darling—use me all you want.” he states, and it feels like you’re living out your dirtiest dream, because yu are. he leaves trails of kisses along the side of your neck, his glossy lips—coated in your cum—smudging against your skin. you stare down at his shaft, his leaky tip begging to be touched. raising your hips, you grab the base of his cock, making him wince as you align his rosy tip with your drooling entrance. his crownhead stretches you open, and you whimper at how big he is with each inch you take. your velvety walls accommodate his size, practically expanding as he settles into your pussy.

without warning, choso grips your hips, slamming you down against him. you wail as every inch of his cock plunges deep inside your walls, and he moans at how tight you are around him. “f-fuck, baby, takin’ so fuckin’ l-long,” he says impatiently, thrusting up into you as each movement leaves you more dazed and breathless.

with newfound courage, your hips immediately fuck back into his, faster than his sloppy thrusts, making his eyes roll back in pleasure. your grinding drives him wild, your pussy gripping him like it’s life or death. choso’s head falls back, broken moans slipping past his lips, his adam’s apple bobbing as he struggles to hold back even more sounds of ecstasy.

you can feel the heat building between you, his cock stretching you further with each thrust. you grind down harder, relishing the way his body responds, each movement causing him to whimper and squirm beneath you. his hands grip your waist, guiding you, but you can tell he’s losing himself in the sensation, growing more ditzy with every upward thrust.

“c’mon, baby, ride me h-harder,” he begs, voice thick with desperation. his eyes fluttering as he’s moaning loudly. it’s intoxicating, watching him come undone because of you. you match your pace to the rhythm of his moans, your slickness coating him more with each thrust. the sound of your bodies slapping together drowns out the cheers of the fans outside, your pussy so noisy it’s almost too loud for your own liking.

“mmm, keep your eyes on me, pretty boy,” you purr, brushing your fingertips through his hair, tugging a big- earning a whimper at the pet name. you can see the way he bites his lip, trying to hold back more moans, but you know he won’t last long.

“hgn, you think jus’ cause you’re on top ‘m your bitch?” he groans, the tension between you two thcick. his gaze is wild, pupils dilated, and it only drives you further as you increase your pace, your hips slamming hard against his thighs, coating his throbbing base with your slickness. you giggle as he pathetically moans out, hands gripping your flesh tighter as you grind harder. his chubby tip sloppily kisses your cervix, sending shockwaves through your body as it begins to shake.

the way he reacts to every thrust, every grinding motion sends a thrill down your spine. he’s completely lost in you, his breathing ragged and unsteady. “y-you feel so good,” he stammers, voice breaking as he struggles to keep his focus, each word laced with pleasure. you smirk, feeling powerful, proud at the control you have over him.

“mhmm, ‘m starting to think y’er all talk, cho. you’re not showing me how you’d fuck me,” you taunt, leaning in his ear and tugging on his ear piercings, making him shudder at your seductive voice.

your words truly did something to him, awakening something much darker within. without hesitation, he carelessly picks you up, sliding his cock out of your hole as he slams you against the table adjacent to the couch. bending you over, he realigns himself with your hypnotizing cunt, the air thick with the heat of your lust. choso slams his entire length into your pussy, the sound of slickness echoing in the cramped space as your body squelches loudly, both of you moaning in unison. he grips your hips tightly, pounding mercilessly into you, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body as you cry out, not caring if the bus driver or any staff hears your cries of pleasure.

“cunt so good,” he growls, feeling you clamp down hard on his girthy length. his moan resonates deep within your core as he swats your ass, the sound of skin meeting skin sending electric jolts through you. he feels like he’s deep in your guts, rearranging everything inside you, each thrust making your pussy squelch obscenely. it’s so loud that it drowns out any sounds from outside, the wet slaps of your bodies merging into a symphony of lust. you’re practically squeaking like a damn mouse with every thrust, your body unable to contain the pleasure coursing through you.

without warning, he grips your hair and pulls you up against him, his mouth brushing against your ear as he whispers, “take it all, mama. you can take it.” his words send a shiver down your spine, the duality of his sweet yet dominating tone intensifying your arousal. you nod, feeling yourself surrender completely to him, wanting nothing more than to be his.

“m-more cho’ ,” you whine, and he responds with a primal growl, his hips slamming into yours harder, faster, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. his movements are relentless, each thrust a story to his desire, his need for you. you can feel the tension coiling tighter within you, the pressure building to a breaking point.

but then, in the midst of your euphoric bliss, you slowly open your eyes, and your jaw drops in shock. he placed you directly in front of the window, where all the fans are just outside, oblivious to the scandalous scene unfolding inside. the reality of the moment crashes over you, and you gasp, suddenly aware of the possibility of being seen.

“c-cho… the—fuckk—the fans,” you manage to warn, your entire body jolting with his relentless thrusts, each one motivating him to go even faster, to claim you harder.

“nahh, now you wanna back out?” he snarls through gritted teeth, going absolutely feral. his grip tightens as he reaches to grab the back of your hair, pulling you flush against his chest, forcing you to take him deeper. the blinds rattle as he yanks them open wider, letting in more light for the fans to see everything happening inside. the flashes from paparazzi cameras blind your vision as they snap multiple shots of your fucked out expression, choso grinning behind like a devil at each click.

“say cheese, pretty. you’re gonna be a star,”

[blkbbyprincess]

wutiwant arcane!vi x blk!reader nsfw

*creakcreakkkkkkcreakcreakcreakk*

yes, it’s exactly what you’re thinking; sounds of such could be heard coming from your bedroom located in the firelights’ base where your big brother; ekko built sanctuary for zaunites who were struggling to have purpose in life and needed a bit of help and hope to get to a better place in it.

ekko was now well aware of you and vi’s “entanglements” as he would call them, because he’d usually find you two tangled up in your sheets late at night, giggling and breathing a little heavier than usual.

imagine the awkward first conversation between you and your elder brother after he finally connected the dots to find out you two were fucking each other.

it wasn’t even really surprising to him though, he knew you were into girls; and it was obvious considering vi was your first crush, but he just wished you guys wouldn’t go at it while he was trying to sleep.

back in the day, you and vi would always find ways to sneak off with one another back in your early teen years and sit atop the rooftops on zaun and hold hands while swinging your feet off the tallest building you could find. a few more instances of this, and that’s how you ended up with your first real kiss.

you two never really ended up together though; fearing a relationship could make things complicated in the future.

because living in zaun meant that your life wasn’t guaranteed for a long time, so you both decided to push back stronger feelings for one another emotionally, and instead started to mess with each other in other ways when you got older.

little sloppy makeout sessions in vi’s bedroom turned into her eating you out until you saw stars for the first time in your own room.

you don’t even think your rose had ever given you an orgasm like that before.

after that time, it seemed she was getting a bit comfortable coming in your room, that she’d pop up unannounced after doing gosh knows what in a day. maybe she liked the fact that your room was decorated with cute homemade fairy lights what were just bright enough to illuminate the room in the dark and capture your twisted facial expressions while looking you dead in your eye to make sure she was fucking you right.

this time, she was holding your left leg up from the underside of your knee joint, as she fucked you on your side, so pathetically slow and passionately with a cute dark pink strap that you picked out; dragging her toy in and out of you so deep, that you could have sworn you could feel it touching your liver.

“y-yesss, -hgnnnnn mama pleaseee keep going.”

she began to kiss you up and down your neck as she had her hand intimately intertwined with one of yours above your head.

your whimpers and gasps were nothing you could control at the moment because of the intense intimacy. you’re sure vi definitely wanted to hear a little more than that, but shut you up to avoid yet another noise complaint. without even realizing it, you were back to being loud again, so she hushed you with two of her thick fingers that touched your mouth in a “shushh” motion before pushing them in your mouth, making you gasp and clinch around the length.

“doin’ so good for me mama, ‘m i making you feel good, hmm?”

she temporarily removed her fingers from you mouth to allow you to respond as best as you could, but you were getting fucked so good, you were a bit delayed at first; because you couldn’t even tell that she was talking to you before you moaned “y-yesss m-ma’ammm-oh fuck.”

this look on your face was making that so hard for her, you were trying to look back at her innocently while reaching back with your free hand; arching your back a little more.

she momentarily took her hand that was in your mouth, and grabbed the back of your head to push your head into the sheets a bit more to get a better view of your arch; smudging your mascara.

guess it was a little too much for her, because all she could think in that moment was; “babies, babies, babies.”

so much for trying not to cum too quick.

“ah, s-shittt, you’re about to make me cum cupcake, keep doing that and i’ll make you a m-mmh momma.”

realistically you both knew the closest thing you’d get to a child from her was a baby doll, but it was fun to imagine you being pregnant because of her.

her pace sped up inside you with the strap, but you weren’t even realizing because you were too busy trying to keep up with how she was rubbing your clit at the same pace with the hot, wet fingers she had previously stuffed in your pretty mouth.

she could see your pretty, pink painted toes curling up and your face convulsing in all sorts of ways, letting her know it was about that time you were about to let it alll out.

“o-ohmygodddd vi, s-slow downnn, i’ts tooo m-muchhh.”

“i-i can’t baby, fuckkkkk- this pussy’s too good.”

a few more thrusts and you’ve made a hugee mess everywhere, and vi is kinda pissed she didn’t even get to see your face while doing it because she had her head thrown back with her slitted eyebrows furiously furrowed; accidentally cumming at the same time as you.

“shit, i think we gotta start over, ‘didn’t get ta’ see you cum.” she mumbled to herself.

you were too fucked out to even respond back; your pussy was still sore and sensitive from your recent orgasm, yet you found comfort in vi’s strap that was still in you afterwards, before she carefully slipped it out.

vi tiredly tossed the strap to to ground to deal with at a later time; but for now, she damn sure wasn’t finished. she was determined she made sure she saw you cum this time.

vi pressed her lips against yours, as she gently scooped her arm underneath your waist and flipped you with ease onto your back; getting a good view of your pussy.

vi grabbed your thighs and hiked them up to your chest so she could get a better view; and gosh did she have one. without a second thought, she slid a finger in, and then dragged it out; repeating the motion.

“look mami, she’s already making noi-.”

*knock knock*

with two quick knocks and no warning whatsoever, a swift motion of the door opened to your room to reveal your brother; ekko, who was dressed in a ribbed white tank top with a pair of fuzzy shorts and was holding a plate of your favorite dish; cheese toast.

“sis, you’d never guess what heimerd-“

there wasn’t even enough time for the two of you to properly react and get yourselves covered; as if he hadn’t known you two messed around, but that wasn’t the point, it was still embarrassing to have your brother walk in on you at a rather vulnerable time.

“s-shit!” you slurred; trying to sit up as vi’s fingers were still in you; mimicking a scissor cutting motion. vi whipped her head around to the surprise of your big brother at the door with genuine disbelief in his face as he had walked in on you two “handling” each other.

again.

vi slid her fingers out of your sopping hole and pulled your legs from your chest with a groan; she was just getting started again and was irked that she was rudely being interrupted. she pulled the cover up over your legs, and you instinctively lowered your legs down.

blocking your frame with her intricately tattooed back facing your brother, she gestured her head to somewhat face ekko’s way, with her body towards you still; eyes flickering between you and him.

“we’re a bit busy, little man.” she said with a slight smirk. you could hear it in her voice that she was a bit amused at how embarrassed you got as soon as he walked in; it was kinda cute seeing you all worked up over something that you knew she’d take care of.

“im already knowin’, considering you two cant seem to stay out of each other’s beds.”

“and it seems like you can’t seem to mind the business that pays you.” vi responded with a laugh.

“touché, i’ll have a comeback later though, it doesn’t seem like now’s the time to get to cooking on y’all.”

“i heard they’ve got good ones on google, now close the door; and if i were smart, i’d put some headphones on.”

“and if you were smart, you’d stop playing and date my sister already.” ekko said with a smirk; already having known about you two’s “arrangement” to only be fuck buddies, but with tension like that; there was no way you two didn’t want to be together.

vi damn near had to pick her jaw up off the floor, but she knew that he was right; oh how she wanted to call you her girlfriend, but didn’t want to rush your or make you feel like you had to change your mind on a mutual agreement.

“might have to strangle you after that one ‘ko.” she tried her best to keep a playful composure, when she knew good and well what he said seriously got her thinking and she couldn’t even be mad at him for saying anything either.

“time to mind the business that pays me!” and with that he grabbed the doorknob with one hand, and used the other to sit the slightly warm plate of toast on the near surface before strolling out with a giggle, closing the door shut behind him.

something about what ekko said made vi feel bad; because she wasn’t able to properly give you the love she felt like you deserved; yet you always chose her. of course she’d always choose you, but she wouldn’t be upset if you wanted to be happy with someone who had their shit together.

whatever did she do to deserve you.

once she figured ekko had been long gone from the door, she snapped out of her thoughts and turned back to you, once again giving you her full undivided attention. “you know i love you, but-“ she started as she stared into your eyes lovingly; yet desperately while reaching for your hands to intertwine them with hers.

“i know baby, i love you too.”

“always.”

this isn’t the first time you’ve said “i love you” to one another; there have been multiple instances with absolute casualty, because it just felt so natural to let vi know that you appreciated her dearly and took in every moment with her; just as she did with you.

so hopefully in the end, it wouldn’t hurt as much when that day had to eventually come for the both of you to say goodbye.

ekko had you thrown off a bit with the sap shit, but it gave you perspective; thinking on your relationship with vi. even thought it wasn’t official, you didn’t feel like you needed a label for everyone else to see how in love you were with her; because she already knew the extent.

you’d seriously never fall back off each other.

you had kissed after saying those three words to one another to really lock in the moment; but once you two pulled away, vi seemed like a completely different woman; there was a look of softness and sensitivity in her eye that you loved, because it proved she felt comfortable enough to feel like she didn’t have to show that strong side of her all the time around you.

you immediately noticed the change in her after the kiss and completely fell in love with her all over again like it was the first time. all kinds of memories between you two just began rushing through your mind making you remember how far you’ve come.

god, if only she knew the kinds of things she did to you.

some kind of way, you grew enough confidence in the moment to let vi know exactly what kind of mood you were in now.

“y’know we’ve got some unfinished business; violet.”

when you said her name; boy, did it send chills down her spine. something about the way you said it, made her pussy twitch with excitement just hearing the dominance in your voice.

but she knew better than to get too distracted quickly; because she knew you better than anyone and also knew how quick you were to find an opportunity to dom her; not that she minded ever or anything, but just not before she got to fuck you good first.

and that’s exactly what she did, because in no time thats how you ended up with two of her fingers back inside you, dragging in and out so slow that it hurt.

she could go a bit faster but what fun was that if she couldn’t see every twist and turn of your face reacting to every push and pull of her fingers?

“v-iiii -ohmygoddddd, h-hurtss-s s-soo good baby.” you were barely able to sit back up; she was about to have your ass handicapped and sore yet again by the end of the night, and all you knew to do was take it.

she fastened her pace with her fingers, and the pleasure was getting to be a lot for you, so you didn’t exactly know where to put your hands. instinctively, they threw themselves up to your breasts as she began to squish and squeeze at your nipples.

“ss-soooo goooodd.” you slurred; biting your lip and rolling your eyes back to your skull in a wave of estacy.

vi studied your facial expressions and mannerisms to take note of what really drove you over the edge to save for a later time. but the only thing she was worried about right now was being able to see those eyes of yours cross, as she gave you yet another orgasm that was worth your while.

“looks like i’m about to get exactly what i wanted cupcake, now all you gotta do is cum.”

[mortallydeepestobservation]

Glitter, glue, I love you

Summary: You and Namjoon have been married for quite some time, your relationship having only grown since you first met as bright-eyed students back in the day. Now, you're a passionate primary school teacher, and Namjoon is an inspiring college professor, both deeply invested in shaping young minds. This holiday season, after a long day at work, you find yourselves staying late to decorate your classroom. Namjoon, ever the considerate soul, swings by to pick you up, but of course, you take advantage of the opportunity and put him to work. As you hang twinkling lights and arrange paper snowflakes, the conversation takes a meaningful turn. In the midst of the holiday madness, you talk about your future, and the idea of starting a family emerges… Best Christmas gift ever. Pairing: Namjoon x f.reader Genre: Fluff and smut. Married couple Au. Rating: explicit. Minors do not interact. Warnings: this is honestly just a fluffy slice of life drabble. Namjoon is clumsy, and whipped. Spandex? drinking. Smut warnings: soft dom Namjoon, big cock Namjoon, oral (m and f receiving) praise, multiple positions, a little overstimulation, just a smidge of breeding kink. Word count: 14k Author’s note: Okay. I know I have an ongoing story, but I do this thing, where I get overwhelmed with life and just blurt out a whole drabble. Usually in those moments the story I’m already working on drives me insane, so I… do this. sorry?😊 thank you sweet sweet @callmenoona25 for accepting my... quirk when i just drop a whole new fic on your lap out of nowhere lol. Thank you @rpwprpwprpwprw For the perfectly aesthetic joonie photos!

(fun fact, i used to know a baby chicken little. He'd always break his glasses down the middle) Merry Christmas everyone!❄️🎄

Your new crafting scissors glided against the construction paper with ease. A flurry of cut-off bits, small pieces of colourful paper, glitter, pompoms, and anything else that merely resembled a Christmas theme littered your classroom floor.

A delightful chaos surrounded you—scraps of red, green, and gold paper mingled with stray stickers, twisted up pipe cleaners, and the occasional orphaned googly eye. It was a mess, the kind only a classroom holiday crafting session could conjure, and yet here you were, adding more to it.

The new scissors, sharp and precise, were a joy to wield, effortlessly turning construction paper into stars, trees, and snowflakes. You got so absorbed in your work that the mountain of scrap paper piling up next to your desk barely registered anymore.

The room was silent now. The kiddos had left hours ago, followed by a parent-teacher conference and a staff meeting to finalize plans for the upcoming Christmas holiday party. By the time you returned to your classroom, the exhaustion was bone-deep, and the sight of the disaster awaiting you made you groan.

But as you approached your desk and spotted a few abandoned crafts—a lopsided tree, a glue-smeared snowman—a spark of creativity flickered to life. The supplies were already out, and with autumn decorations still clinging to the walls, you figured you might as well get a head start on transforming the room into a winter wonderland before the weekend.

You lost yourself in the rhythm of cutting and crafting, glueing and arranging, the silence of the empty classroom wrapping around you like a warm blanket. It was practically the only moment during the long, exhausting day when you could to sit down and just let your thoughts wonder.

You were so focused that you didn’t notice the sun setting—or the faint creak of your classroom door opening.

“Mrs. Kim, it seems my wife forgot to come home today after class.”

You froze mid-snip, the scissors poised in your hand, a half-finished snowflake dangling from your grip. The familiar voice carried a teasing warmth that made your cheeks flush before you spun around in your chair, to catch a glimpse.

Standing in the doorway was you husband, Namjoon, leaning casually against the doorframe with that playful grin you loved (or occasionally cursed for how easily it could fluster you).

His tie was loosened, sleeves rolled up, and his coat draped over one arm, a telltale sign that he’d come straight from his own long day at work. Yet his smile was bright, his tired eyes twinkling with delight upon seeing you, like he was about to tell you the best pun he ever heard.

“You know, most people would’ve taken that parent-teacher meeting as their cue to call it a day,” he teased, crossing his arms. His gaze swept over the room, taking in the colourful chaos, before settling on you.

“Well,” you started, trying to sound casual as you placed your scissors on the desk and brushed the glitter from your hands, leaning back against the chair. “After that I also had a staff meeting.”

His grin widened. “Did you cut out the staff out of paper?”

You huffed at his playful remark, picking up a pompom from the desk and tossing it in his direction. The fluffy projectile sailed weakly through the air before plopping to the floor with an overly dramatic bounce, getting lost in the multicoloured mess on the ground. “Very funny, Mr. Kim,” you said, shaking your head as you reached for your scissors to finish the snowflake.

Namjoon laughed, stepping into the room, his footsteps soft against the glitter-dusted floor. “I prefer clever over funny.”

You mused, pretending to consider his suggestion. “I’ll agree when you grab some paper and make something clever yourself.”

Namjoon chuckled, shaking his head. “No way. I’m just here to admire the handiwork—And maybe rescue my wife before she buries herself in glitter.”

“Too late for that.” You laughed, showing him the underside of your hands, covered in an array of colourful plastic bits and flecks of glitter.

He laughed too, his warmth filling the classroom as he settled into a nearby chair. He watched you with quiet amusement as you snipped away the final pieces of the snowflake.

Once done, you brushed the remains off the desk with a casual sweep of your hand, letting the scraps fall to the already messy floor. Reaching for a spool of string, you began tying a loop to hang the snowflakes.

“You know,” you said, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, “I was just thinking I could use a tall, handsome man to help me hang these from the ceiling.”

His dimples deepened slightly as his lips curled into a smirk. “Should I fetch the principal for you?”

“God, no!” you exclaimed, shooting him a mock-horrified look.

Namjoon’s laughter echoed again, and he stood, taking off his coat and draping it over the back of your chair. “Fine. Lucky for you, I happen to know a tall, handsome man who’s free to lend a hand. On one condition.”

“And that is?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you handed him the snowflake.

“I get to take you out for dinner afterwards.”

“You hang up my décor and I don’t have to cook dinner?” you said with a grin, watching as he reached up to hang the snowflake with ease. “You’ve got yourself a deal, my love.”

Namjoon smirked as he hooked the snowflake onto the ceiling, his long fingers adjusting it so it hung perfectly. “Don’t get too excited. You’re paying, and I’m starving,” he added with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you handed him another snowflake. “Starving? You make it sound like you haven’t eaten all day.”

“I haven’t eaten enough,” he corrected, taking the snowflake and hanging it with the same care as the first. “Besides, all this helping is hard work. I’m burning calories just by existing in this glitter cloud.”

“Poor baby,” you teased, before standing up and stretching as much as possible, waiting for that satisfying pop that made your back come to life after sitting at your desk for hours.

While Namjoon made remarkable progress on the snowflakes, you retrieved your broom and vacuum cleaner, trying to salvage the floor and not declare war with the cleaning staff in the process.

Once it finally started looking like a classroom again—crayons arranged, glue sticks all capped and drawings proudly hung up on the walls —you fetched your seasonal décor box from the supply closet, gathering the autumn leaves and acorns as you went.

The sound of Namjoon’s soft humming filled the room as he continued to hang the rest of the snowflakes. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, so effortlessly blending into your little world. His tall frame moving with ease as he reached up to secure another delicate snowflake.

“You’re really getting into this, aren’t you?” you teased, carefully arranging the autumn décor for storage.

“Just trying to make your life easier,” Namjoon replied, his voice warm. He stepped back to admire his work, hands on his hips like he’d just solved a complex philosophy problem.

You smiled, unrolling the fairy lights on your desk, silently thanking your teacher assistant for her knack for packing them neatly and knot-free.

“Think you can help me with this too?”

When you looked up, you noticed Namjoon standing next to the wall where your classroom photo was hung up. It was a large picture of you surrounded by your students, all laughing and holding colourful balloons.

The parents had given it to you as a gift on the first day of this school year, though it had been taken during the end-of-year celebration when your little first graders graduated.

Around the group photo, you’d carefully arranged individual pictures of each child, their names neatly written underneath and decorated with felt stickers.

Namjoon stood quietly, his eyes scanning the display with a soft smile tugging at his lips. His expression was a mix of pride and warmth, the kind that never failed to make your heart flutter.

“What’s baby Chicken Little up to?” he asked, glancing over at you, the playful nickname making you giggle.

Last year your heart had been stolen by a little boy named Minjun, who made it his yearlong mission to bring you a leaf or a flower every single day of school. His little backpack was almost as big as he was, and he’d always greet you with the brightest, most infectious smile when he walked through the door, before dropping the little plant on your desk and giving you an adorable bow.

You’d told Namjoon all about him at the end of each day, and when you proudly showed him the photo you’d snapped of Minjun on your phone, Namjoon cooed and playfully nicknamed him baby Chicken Little. All because of his “iconic green glasses,” which happened to bear an uncanny resemblance to the ones the animated character wore.

“He’s doing really well. A little genius when it comes to multiplications, although his calligraphy could use some work.”

Namjoon chuckled, his dimples making an appearance as he glanced back at Minjun’s photo. “Multiplications, huh? Guess he’s already ahead of the curve.”

You smiled fondly, scavenging through your storage boxes for the chalk markers. “He’s a sharp one. Always so curious. His mom says he’s been teaching his little sister how to count using her barbie dolls.

Namjoon’s expression softened further. “Sounds like a future teacher in the making.”

You giggle, “Only if he can pass your philosophy 101 class in college.”

“Oh, come on! You know I’m not as mean as you make me out to be.”

You raised an eyebrow, pausing your search for the chalk markers to give him a teasing look. “Not as mean? Should I remind you about that one student—what was his name? Jungkook? —who said your essay prompts were harder than his organic chemistry final?”

Namjoon groaned dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “That was one time! And he clearly didn’t read the syllabus.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, stifling a laugh as you finally found the markers, holding them up triumphantly. “I’m just saying, if Minjun wants to pass your class, he better start practicing his critical thinking skills now.”

Namjoon crossed his arms, feigning offense. “For the record, my students love me. I’m approachable, insightful, and, dare I say... inspiring.”

You watched as Namjoon gave you that challenging look, daring you to tease him further. But deep down, you knew 100% that he was right.

After all, he’d proudly told you about Jungkook— the ‘Muscle Bunny’—who, by the end of the year, would refuse to leave the classroom after lessons, just for a chance to talk with Namjoon about everything from philosophy to general life issues. (And on more than one occasion, you had to swing by the college to collect your husband, because they were both so emersed in the conversation.)

Sure, Jungkook may have started out as a bit of a tough nut, but by the end of the semester, he was one of Namjoon’s biggest fans.

You chuckled softly at the thought. Namjoon had a way of drawing people in, even the most unlikely candidates. It’s what made him such an outstanding teacher. And you couldn’t be happier that you managed to snatch him up before he even graduated with his teacher’s degree.

“I know you are.” You said honestly, watching his posture soften, his eyes almost twinkling with delight at the compliment.

Namjoon’s dimples deepened, and he turned back to look at the photos on the wall. A comforting silence falling over the classroom again as you started drawing with the chalk markers on the windows.

It was just as you were finishing the last details of the snowman that Namjoon spoke again, his voice steady but carrying a weight that immediately caught your attention.

“Do you think we’d make good parents?”

The question hung in the air, quiet and unexpected, causing you to freeze mid-stroke. Your hand suspended, the tip of the marker just inches away from the snowman’s little top hat. You hadn’t expected that. Namjoon had always been thoughtful, but this… this was something entirely different.

You turned slowly, finding him looking at you, his expression unreadable but soft. There was a quiet intensity in his eyes, as if he wasn’t sure why he asked the question, but was waiting for your answer nonetheless.

“Good parents?” you repeated, your voice quieter than usual, the weight of the question settling into your chest. It wasn’t just a casual inquiry—it felt loaded and significant. It felt like he was asking something deeper, something that might change your life in the very near future.

Namjoon seemed to notice the shift in the atmosphere, his gaze flickering to the floor for a moment before meeting your eyes again. His lips parted slightly, as if trying to find the right words, but instead, he stayed silent, letting the question linger.

You cleared your throat, your thoughts racing. Was he asking about parenting techniques? Was this a hypothetical question, or was there something more to it? You couldn’t quite tell. But the thought of it—of you and Namjoon as parents—flashed across your mind, and for a split second, you felt a warmth spread in your chest.

You’d talked about your future many times—even while you were still just dating—and you both agreed you wanted kids. But there was never a set timeline or a specific goal you wanted to reach before starting a family.

You took a slow breath, trying to gather your thoughts as the weight of the question settled in your mind. The idea of having a baby—it was something you’d talked about casually, even dreamt about in passing. But now, with his eyes on you, the conversation suddenly felt real, more tangible than it ever had before.

You finally put the chalk marker down on the desk, turning fully to face him. “You’ve asked me before about the future,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart. “But this... this feels different. Are you asking because you’re actually thinking about it?”

Namjoon looked at you, his eyes soft but filled with a quiet intensity that made your cheeks heat up. “I mean-” he said after a beat, his voice almost uncertain. “I guess I’ve been thinking about it more lately, especially with everything we’ve built together. I don’t think we can get any more financially stable. And we’ve got a good thing, right? We work well as a team. I just... I wonder what it would be like to take that next step, with you.”

Your heart nearly exploded, a big grin spreading across your face that would certainly make your cheeks hurt if you kept it up. He had a way of making everything feel possible, of making you believe in the future even when you didn’t have all the answers. The thought of raising kids with him, of teaching them the way you both wanted to, filled you with an overwhelming sense of warmth and certainty.

“I think we’d be great,” you said, your voice full of honest affection. “We’d make an amazing team. I know we’ve got the love, the patience, and the understanding to do it.”

Namjoon’s eyes softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you, as if taking in your words, before a soft smile crept onto his face.

You knew you weren’t about to get a confirmation from him, not now at least. Namjoon needed to steep in his thoughts a bit more before he would finally and ultimately tell you he wants a baby.

Still, his smile lingered, and he slowly nodded, as if to affirm your words without needing to say anything else just yet.

The silence between you both felt comfortable, like a promise for the future—an unspoken understanding that this was a conversation that didn’t need to be rushed.

After a moment, he reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch soft but sure.

“I love you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you felt an overwhelming sense of warmth and peace settle in your chest. Even despite hearing those same exact words come out his mouth millions of times, they still wrapped around you like a protective embrace, making everything else, every worry, every unfinished plan and every glitter-littered snowflake fade into the background.

You leaned into his touch, savouring the moment. “I love you too,” you replied, your voice steady but filled with the same devotion that was in his eyes.

He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead, before glancing around the classroom, “What did you ask me to do?”

“Fairy lights, Joon.”

Namjoon chuckled softly at your reminder, his fingers still lingering on your cheek for a moment before he stepped back. “Right, right,” he said, shaking his head. “I got distracted from the important things.”

You watched him walk toward the desk to finish hanging the fairy lights, a warm smile tugging at your lips as you returned to your drawing. The weight of the earlier conversation still lingered in the air, but it left you with a spark of excitement.

As he carefully draped the lights along the chalkboard, you noticed how effortlessly he moved, how much care he put into making sure everything was perfect. You’d always admired that about him—his attention to detail, his quiet confidence in everything he did. And now, with every little task, you couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of certainty.

“Almost done,” Namjoon called out, glancing over his shoulder. You gave him a thumbs-up, your smile widening as he finished the last strand of lights.

The classroom now looked like a cozy little haven, with the soft glow of the fairy lights casting a gentle warmth over the space. Everything felt perfect.

 You capped your marker once the windows were done, and walked over to your desk to organize a little bit, putting away the potentially dangerous supplies, before closing the drawers and the boxes.

Namjoon stood beside you, his hands in his pockets as he admired the room. “It’s impressive, I’ll give you that. But it’s still missing one thing.”

You frowned, stopping mid-motion, to glance around. “What’s that?”

He reached down, gently tugging you to your feet and closing the last box for you. “Us. Out of here, enjoying a well-deserved dinner.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, grabbing his coat and your bag before stepping away from the desk. Namjoon fetched your coat from the hanger, draping it over your shoulders with a soft smile. He then took your hand, a firm but gentle hold, and started guiding you toward the door, almost certain that if he didn’t, you’d find something else to do.

As you walked together, you paused by to the classroom pet cage, drawn by the soft rustling inside. The little chinchilla scamped out of his enclosure and over to the bars, his nose twitching as he looked up at you with big, hopeful eyes.

“Did I tell you we need to take Professor Fluff this Christmas break?” You asked, grabbing a treat from the nearby jar and tossing it into the cage, watching as the chinchilla eagerly snatched it up and started nibbling on it.

Namjoon, holding the door open for you, tilted his head as you walked back to him.

“Wasn’t it Teacher Assistant Park’s turn?”

“She’s pregnant, Namjoonie. She can’t.”

You slipped your hand into his, smiling as his fingers intertwined with yours, leading you down the dimly lit school halls.

“She should be able to handle a chinchilla if she expects to take care of a baby.”

You giggle, shaking your head. “No, babe, it’s about allergies.”

Namjoon sighed dramatically but couldn’t fully hide his grin. “That settle it. Definitely getting you pregnant. Even if only for the perks —wife comes home on time, and I get to have her all to myself for the holidays.”

You blushed furiously at his comment, a big, droopy smile tugging on your lips.

“Oh, come on. How much time do you think Professor Fluff is going to keep me occupied?” you tease, bumping your shoulder against him as you walk.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, playful glint in his eyes. “With what I have planned for you, more than I like.” he replied, pulling the door shut behind him as the two of you stepped out into the crisp evening air.

You laugh, your cheeks still warm from the blush he had put there. Namjoon's teasing always had a way of making your heart flutter, but this time, there was something deeper in his words—something that felt like it carried a promise.

“I swear, you really know how to keep me on my toes,” You glanced up at him, feeling the warmth of his touch on your hand as he guided you out into the crisp evening air.

He grinned, pulling you closer to him as you made your way to the car. “That's the idea. Keep you guessing, keep you interested.” He gave you a wink, the playful glint never leaving his eyes, even as he opened the driver’s door for you.

“I don’t think you need to work too hard at it. You're already the most interesting person I know.” You said when he settled into the passengers seat.

Namjoon's smile softened, and for a moment, you could see the sincerity behind his teasing demeanour.

“I like that you think that,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, as he slowly leaned over the console to catch your lips in a sweet kiss.

You melted into him, the soft press of his lips against yours lingering for just a moment longer than usual, making your heart race. It was the type of kiss that had you coming back for more, the kind that melted all your worries away, and made you feel like you two were the only ones in the world.

As he pulled away, he gave you a playful smile, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. “Now please drive. I’m starving.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his sudden shift in tone, your heart still fluttering from the lingering kiss.

“Always about food with you,” you sigh, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot. “I guess I'll just have to accept that food is your first love.”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, his expression turning mischievous. “Well, if food's my first love, you, my dear, are my favourite dessert.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, a mix of amusement and affection swirling inside you, butterflies wreaking havoc in your stomach.

You glanced over at him, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Is that so?” You said, your voice teasing as you focused on the road.

Namjoon's grin widened; his eyes gleaming. “Absolutely. You’re sweet, irresistible, and I could spend hours between your legs.”

A flush crept up your cheeks as your grip on the steering wheel tightened, the tension between you two shifting. His words hung in the air, teasing but also carrying an edge that made your pulse quicken.

“Keep talking like that and I'm taking you home,” you threatened.

Namjoon’s expression shifted in an instant from playful to mock-serious. “No, no,” he whined, leaning back into the seat with a dramatic sigh. “I promise I'll be good.”

You giggle. “What do you want to eat then?”

He lit up again, his mock seriousness giving way to his usual enthusiasm. “That little BBQ place that opened up down the street from us.”

“The one you haven’t stopped talking about since they put up the ‘coming soon’ sign?”

“That’s the one,” he admitted unabashedly, his grin growing wider “It’s fate. They opened just in time for us to have the perfect date.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you turned the car toward home. “I guess it is. But I’m parking at home and we can walk—that way, I can drink too.”

“Oh, is my baby planning to get wasted tonight?” he teased, his tone light and playful.

“No,” you chuckled, glancing at him with a smirk. “But I know for a fact you’re going to order that fancy whiskey you always get, and I don’t want to be stuck as the designated driver.”

Namjoon laughed, his deep dimpled grin lighting up his face. “Fair point. That whiskey is worth the walk. And hey, I’ll carry you home if you have one too many.”

You rolled your eyes, a fond smile on your lips. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. It hasn’t been such a bad week” you smile at him, “But I won’t say no to being spoiled by you a little.”

“Always,” he replied without missing a beat. “I’ll spoil you every chance I get.”

You couldn't help but grin at his words, the warmth in his voice making your blush reappear. There was something so comforting in the way he always knew how to make you feel special, how he was so genuine in every little thing he did for you.

“So, you’re paying tonight?”

“Nope,” he smiled, popping the p, and earning a heartfelt laughter from you.

As the two of you approached your home, you turned the car into the driveway, the familiar sight of your house welcoming you. Namjoon was already getting out of the car, his excitement for the evening palpable.

“Let me grab my bag, and we’ll head out,” you said, stepping out of the car and locking it. Namjoon waited by the gate, glancing around as the evening air started to cool, a few stray little snowflakes lazily drifting through the air. The stars above twinkled in the dark sky, and the soft hum of the city around you made it feel like the world had slowed down just for the two of you.

“Ready?” he asked as you approached him, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

“Let’s go,” you replied with a grin, your arm slipping through his. You walked down the quiet street together, the comfortable rhythm of your steps matching each other effortlessly.

The neighbourhood was peaceful, with only a few cars passing by, and the crisp air reddening the tip of your nose. As you reached the corner of the street, the warm glow of the BBQ restaurant came into view. The scent of grilled meat and spices filled the air, making your stomach rumble in anticipation, and reminding you your last meal was breakfast, many hours ago.

“There it is,” Namjoon said, his voice full of excitement. “I’ve been dreaming of this all week.”

You laughed, the sound easy and full of affection. “It’s definitely been a long time coming, huh?”

“Worth the wait,” he replied, grinning.

As you entered the restaurant, the cozy atmosphere wrapped around you, and the delicious smells only heightened your anticipation. Namjoon gave you a playful glance, watching as you all but jump with excitement, before leading you to a little booth. You, of course, slid in next to him, and cuddled up against his side as you waited for the waiter. Namjoon grinned as you cuddled up against his side, his arm naturally wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you a little closer. The booth was small, but cozy, and the warm lighting of the restaurant made it feel like a private little nook just for the two of you.

As you settled in, your gaze drifted to the menu, although, truthfully, you were more focused on the tall and handsome man next to you. His warm presence besides you, the way he always seemed to know exactly how to make you feel safe and cared for. The man who wanted a family with you, who would undoubtedly take perfect, tender care of your little human being, and who would hang out at the museum talk hours on end about his favourite pieces with the kiddo, like they could grasp every single concept. Before, undoubtedly trying to teach your baby the deepest philosophy concepts ever, and five different musical instruments all at once.

The waiter soon approached, and Namjoon, with his usual confidence, ordered for the both of you without missing a beat. He didn’t even need to ask what you wanted—he already knew. A small smile tugged at your lips as you watched him. He always did that, always taking care of things in his own calm, capable way. It was one of the many things you loved about him.

Once the drinks arrived—a neat whiskey bottle that you couldn’t remember the name of—you clinked your glasses together in a soft toast.

“To perfect dates,” Namjoon said with a glint in his eye, his voice warm and filled with affection as he held his glass up to yours.

“To many more to come,” you replied, your voice light but sincere, the sound of it carrying a promise in the air between you.

The glass met with a soft clink, and the warmth of the whiskey settled in your chest as you took your first sip, savouring the smooth, smoky flavour. Namjoon mirrored your actions, the ice in his glass gently clinking as he took a long sip, never breaking his gaze from you.

You smiled at him, the familiar tenderness filling your heart, a slow, easy feeling of contentment settling over you. There was something special about moments like this—about sharing time in each other’s presence, just the two of you, with no outside distractions.

It reminded you of your first few dates, back when you two were both overworked students with a seriously high number of sleepless nights, and a very poor diet consisting mostly of cola and noodles. Back when he was so nervous that he basically talked to himself the whole date, stumbling over his words in a rush to make the ‘conversation flow’, but still managing to make you laugh with his awkward charm. You didn’t tease him about it back then, how could you? When he’d look at you like you could single-handedly change the world with a flutter of your eyelashes.

And when you agreed to a second date, he gave you the biggest, cheesiest smile you ever saw, before accidentally bumping into you as he leaned down to kiss your cheek, somehow managing to smack you in the face with his forehead.

You froze for a second, both of you staring at each other in stunned silence, before he apologized in a flurry and left you alone and confused in front of your dorm room.

Imagine his surprise when you called him for details about the promised second date.

Even so, there was never a moment when Namjoon ever made you feel unsafe, or like he was going out with you just to make up for his awkwardness. No, despite his nervousness, he always made sure you felt valued, cherished, and like you were the most important person in the room. That was one of the things you’d grown to love about him. He was sincere in every gesture, every word, even when he felt uncertain about himself.

That second date he got to kiss you right.

You had both come a long way since then. The clumsy first kiss was just a part of the story now, a little cherished memory that always brought a warm smile to your lips whenever you thought about it. You’d grown together since that day, and with each date, each shared moment, your bond had only deepened.

Now, here you were, sitting next from him, your husband, in this cozy little restaurant, enjoying the warmth of the whiskey and the various dishes that the waiter brought out for you.

Everything felt right. There was no doubt in your mind that this, right here, was exactly where you were meant to be.

Namjoon caught your eye, a small, playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re smiling to yourself.”

“I’m happy,” you replied simply.

Namjoon softened, his eyes filled with warmth as he leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a more intimate tone. “Me too,” he said, his words wrapping around your heart and making it jump in your chest. You quickly leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, giggling a bit when he let out a soft, surprised puff, his eyes widening slightly at the unexpected gesture. “What was that for?” he asked, his voice light with amusement but still smooth .

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, the devotion in your gaze unwavering. “For making me happy. And for hanging the snowflakes in my classroom.” You paused for a quick second, before smirking. “And for paying for dinner?”

Namjoon chuckled, his dimpled smile lighting up his face. “Nope.”

He laughed at your fake little pout, before holding out his chopsticks to you. “Here, try this.”

You opened your mouth wide, waiting for him to feed you the piece of beef he cooked, only for it to fall from his chopsticks and right on your button-down shirt.

You both froze for a moment, staring at the little piece of beef resting on your chest. Namjoon blinked, his eyes widening in disbelief before he broke into a fit of laughter, his deep voice filling the space between you two.

“Smooth,” you teased, raising an eyebrow as you reached for the beef and popped it into your mouth, before grabbing a napkin to wipe away the mess on your shirt.

“I'm so sorry,” Namjoon said, still laughing, but his voice filled with genuine concern. “I swear I aimed for your mouth.”

You dabbed the spot on your shirt, trying to suppress your own laughter. “That’s what he said.”

At that little comment he gave you a deep belly laugh, a hand covering his mouth, before grabbing another napkin for you.

“I’ll take it to the cleaners tomorrow. I’m sorry.” He still giggled like a little kid watching you try to rub the stain away.

You couldn't help but smile, your heart warm at the small, sweet gesture. “I think it’s fine,” you said, your voice softening as you met his eyes. “It's just a shirt. But it’s the thought that counts.”

Namjoon tilted his head, his dimpled grin returning. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, leaning in slightly, his voice lower and softer. “I swear.”

The temptation to flirt back tugged at you, but the urge to tease him was simply too strong to resist.

“You can start by not burning the rest of the meat on the grill.”

“Shit!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction as he whipped around to check the grill. The sizzling sound of beef filled the air, and he immediately sprang into action, grabbing the tongs and flipping the steaks with exaggerated haste.

“Shit, shit!” he muttered under his breath, his hands moving quickly but still a little too late to save the edges of the tender cuts from burning.

You couldn’t help but laugh, watching the frantic yet adorable way he tried to salvage the meal. "Maybe next time, don’t get so distracted by my chest," you teased, leaning back in your chair with a sly grin

“I swear I’m a better cook when I’m not trying to impress you.” he confessed with an embarrassed smile that made your heart pick up again.

“Why are you still trying to impress me? You’re already getting in my pants tonight.” You flutter your eyelashes up at him, leaning into his side.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered under his breath, focusing back on the grill with renewed determination.

You let out a laugh, unable to resist bugging him further. “Come on, Namjoonie, you don’t have to work this hard for me. I’m already sold. Burned beef and all.”

He shot you a quick look over his shoulder, his dimple making a reappearance as he smirked. “Oh, I know you’re sold. But I still have to keep my reputation intact. Can’t have you thinking you married a man who can’t even grill properly.”

You shrugged playfully. “I mean, I wasn’t exactly drawn to you for your cooking skills to begin with.”

Namjoon smirked, his eyes briefly flicking to yours with a teasing glint before he said, “Good. Then I guess my other skills will have to do now too.”

The innuendo wasn’t lost on you, and you raised an eyebrow, “Careful, Mr. Kim. You keep that up, and I’m taking you home.”

Namjoon’s laugh was loud and deep, echoing around the room as he handed you the piece of meat. “Eat first,” he said with mock seriousness, his tone firm but the amusement dancing in his eyes betrayed him. “And you’re getting dessert too.”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, smirking “You’re just going to eat half of whatever I pick, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he admitted shamelessly, his grin widening in triumph, dropping some veggies on your plate too.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress your laugh as you reached for the menu. “Fine. Let’s get the profiteroles. They look amazing, and you can’t mess up sharing that.”

Namjoon arched a brow. “Are you implying I messed up sharing earlier?”

You shot him a pointed look, lips twitching with amusement. “There’s beef on my shirt, Namjoon.”

Namjoon paused mid-grin, glancing down at your chest, before letting out a sheepish laugh. “Okay, okay, point taken. No more distractions.” He turned back to the grill, but not without throwing you a cheeky wink first. “Although, just for the record, you’re quite distracting when you wear that skirt.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “I swear, you're impossible.”

Yet there wasn’t even a crumb of conviction in your tone.

The evening carried on naturally, the warmth of the alcohol and the steady rhythm of conversation made everything feel comfortable. The intimate little interludes— the flirting, teasing, the way his eyes never strayed far from you—kept the energy between you two charged. You weren’t sure whether it was the drinks, or Namjoon’s smile, or a mix of both, but you couldn’t deny the way everything felt amplified. You were tipsy, needy, and feeling more than a little flushed.

Namjoon noticed it before you did, that little shift in the air around you. He leaned in, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he casually placed his hand over thigh. “You’re looking a little red,” he remarked softly, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that made a shiver run down your spine.

You tried to laugh it off, shifting slightly in your seat. “I think I might’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

“Mm, I noticed,” he said, his voice smooth, low. He didn’t pull his hand away, but instead gave your leg a gentle squeeze, before moving his hand higher up edging the seam of your skirt, “You look adorable though.”

A soft heat spread through you, making your heart beat in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol. There was something in his gaze—something undeniably intense—that made the air between you feel thick. Like you could just eat him up, and he’d thank you.

“Do I need to carry you home?”

“No.” You swallowed, shifting your eyes away. “But you should stop looking at me like that. You’re making me blush.” You replied, trying to play it off, but your words felt like they were slipping from your lips a little too easily. You could feel his gaze on you, assessing, as if he knew exactly what you were trying to hide.

Namjoon’s gaze softened, and the corner of his mouth quirked up as he leaned in a fraction closer. His thumb gently stroked your skin, the simple touch sending a spark of heat straight to your core. “Am I?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that made your stomach twist in the most wonderful of ways.

You tried to steady your breath, but it felt impossible under the weight of his attention. “Yes.”

“Good,” he smirked.

“Namjoon,” you breathed, not sure whether it was a plea or a warning.

The playful banter felt more like a slow burn now, the kind that lingered in the spaces between your words and between your slowed movements.

 “Mm?”

“Please get the tab, so I can pay and we can go.”

Namjoon’s lips curled, his fingers still moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“Impatient, baby?” He murmured, his voice deeper now, like he was savouring the effect he was having on you.

You nodded, the growing need clouding your thoughts. “Yes,” you whispered, barely audible. “I want to go home.”

He leaned in slightly, his face just inches from yours, and for a moment, everything else seemed to blur out of existence. His breath was warm against your skin, and the weight of his gaze made you feel both exposed and electrified. It didn’t even register that you were out in public anymore, or that there were other patrons around. The only thing on your mind was his dark eyes staring at you.

“Alright,” he said, his voice low and steady, his smirk never wavering. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

He slid his hand off your leg, but not without one last lingering touch—soft, deliberate, and devastating—leaving you absolutely wrecked as he leaned back to call the waiter.

(Of course, he didn’t even let you see the tab, snatching it up and paying for your meal without a second thought.)

Every movement of his was slow, measured, like he knew exactly where your limit was and he was drawing it all out with maddening precision. The air between you thickened with unspoken tension, humming in the spaces where his fingers lingered, where his gaze met yours.

And when he brushed your hair to the side to help you slip into your coat, his hand found the back of your neck, resting there for just a second longer than necessary—firm and warm, enough to leave your heart pounding and your mind spinning.

The moment the door of the restaurant swung open, a gust of cold air hit you, the crisp night biting at your skin. The alcohol in your blood dulled slightly, replaced by the clarity of the chill as you instinctively pulled your coat tighter around you. Yet, the thin fabric did little to shield you from the cold, the breeze slipping through the seams.

Namjoon was right beside you, his sharp eyes scanning the darkened street as if the cold didn’t faze him at all. With a glance your way, he stepped closer, shrugging his own coat higher on his shoulders before slipping his arm around you without hesitation. His hand rested lightly on your back, the weight of it both grounding and comforting.

His warmth beside you was enough to make the walk more bearable, and the anticipation bubbling inside you made it all worthwhile.

He turned to you, a slight smile on his lips. “Cold out here, huh?” he said, his breath visible in the night air, quickly leading you towards your home.

You nodded, pulling your scarf up a little higher to shield your face from the cold.

Without a word, Namjoon slid his arm around your shoulders, tucking you closer to his side. His touch was casual yet deliberate, like he didn’t need permission but still silently asked for it. The fabric of his coat was rough against your cheek, but his body heat bled through, chasing away the chill that had started to seep into your skin.

The street was quiet, the glow of streetlights casting long, soft shadows as you walked side by side. Those shy snowflakes from earlier now growing bolder, swirling down in earnest. They clung to your hair and coat, melting into tiny droplets against the warmth of your skin.

Namjoon’s hand shifted after a while, slipping down to find yours. Without hesitation, he slid both into the pocket of his coat, the gesture so natural and intimate that it made your stomach flutter anew. His thumb brushed over your knuckles absently, a small but steady movement that set your heart racing. Each step brought you closer together, your shoulders brushing now and then, as you neared your house.

His presence, the solid warmth of him beside you, was more than enough to keep the chill at bay.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice cutting through the crisp night air as he glanced over at you.

You nodded, your breath forming soft clouds in the cold. “Yeah. This is nice.”

Namjoon chuckled. “Nice? You’re freezing.”

“You’re hot.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them, accompanied by a fit of giggles that felt almost too loud in the still night. The alcohol still hummed faintly in your system, loosening your tongue, but it was worth it just to see Namjoon stutter, his eyebrows raising.

And then he laughed, full and rich, the sound reverberating through you. “Wow,” he murmured, shaking his head with an amused smile. His cheeks tinged pink—maybe from the cold, maybe not—as he reached into his other pocket, pulling out his set of keys.

“Smooth,” he teased, glancing sideways at you as he fiddled with them, making quick work of finding the right one. The lock clicked open, and he stepped aside to let you in first, the warmth of the indoors beckoning you like a sanctuary.

As you passed, he caught your arm gently, his fingers brushing along its length. His eyes met yours, a daring glint in them that suddenly made your heart pick up again.

It wouldn’t be the first time Namjoon pins you to the first flat surface as soon as you walked through the door, fucking every single sensible though out of your brain, and that idea sends a tingle of excitement coursing through your body. You smile up at him, leaning further into his touch.

But Namjoon is undeterred.

“Don’t make snow all over the place. I mopped yesterday.”

You tilted your head, a little indignant puff escaping your lips before you smirk, toeing off your snowy boots by the door. “You’re so sexy when you do chores.” You push your luck further, but your lovely husband can’t seem to pick up on it.

 “That’s it. No more drinks for you.”

“Mm, you love it,” you teased, stepping past him into the warmth of the hallway.

The cozy embrace of the house wrapped around you, softening the crisp chill that clung to your skin, inviting that sense of ease that only your home could bring. You made quick work of shedding your coat and boots, setting them neatly by the door before stretching your arms high above your head, a little moan escaping your lips as the tension of the day melted away.

Namjoon glanced over just in time to catch your little display, his eyes flickering with amusement—and something else. “Comfortable already?” he shrugged off his own coat and tossing it over a chair.

“Very,” you replied with a content sigh. Without much thought, you made your way to the living room and plopped down on the couch, curling up against the soft cushions.

Namjoon followed behind, shaking the snow from his hair before taking his seat right next to you. His long body settled into the couch with easy grace, his head leaning back against the cushions, eyes lazily studying you as you sink further into the couch.

The warmth of the room wrapped around you like a cozy blanket, combining perfectly with the comfortable silence that filled the air. You could feel the weight of the night slip away.

The alcohol was still buzzing lightly through your veins, making you feel a little lighter, more complacent.

Namjoon shifted slightly, his arm brushing against yours as his hand found its way to your thigh, his fingers resting there with an easy familiarity. The warmth of his palm seeped through the fabric of your skirt, and when he shifted again, his touch grew bolder, fingers tracing slow circles just above your knee.

The small touch made your heart pickup again, and you looked up at him, catching the softness in his expression as he glanced back at you.

“So tired,” he confessed, almost like it was a secret. The day had been long for both of you, and you had no doubt the holiday season weighed just as heavily on him. Sure, yours was filled with glittering snowflakes and loud kids singing out of tune Christmas carols, while his likely consisted of conference calls, paper grading and presentations, but fatigue didn’t discriminate.

Still, there was something about the evening, the silence between you two, that made it all feel worthwhile. The day was over, but the night had a way of stretching on, leaving just enough space for small moments like this. Because with Namjoon, there was always something that made the world feel quieter, easier. Like he was grounding you, helping you recharge in a way no one else could.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed in response, your voice a little dreamy as you let your head fall to the side, leaning against his shoulder.

“You look tired too,” he said softly, his voice laced with tenderness, still his hand shifted to the inside of your thigh, fingers massaging your skin softly.

“I am,” you admitted with a small sigh, your body naturally melting into his touch as the knots in your muscles began to dissolve.

Yet, even as your body relaxed, a spark flickered deep in your belly—undeniable and growing—kindled by the deliberate care in his movements, each touch purposeful and impossible to ignore.

“But I’m also horny,” you tack on after a few seconds, your voice a little breathy, your eyes flicking up to meet his, watching for his reaction.

Namjoon’s hand stilled for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. His gaze dropped briefly to where his fingers rested against your leg, then lifted to meet your eyes. His smile turned slow, deliberate, and his voice dropped an octave when he finally responded.

“Is my baby needy?”

You nodded slowly, feeling completely vulnerable under his deliberate admiration “Yeah,” you whispered, the word falling form your lips like a confession. “I want you.”

“You’re sure?” he asked, as if testing the waters, giving you a chance to pull back if you wanted to. But the way his eyes locked onto yours, the way his touch lingered now a little longer, a little rougher, said he wasn’t going anywhere unless you wanted him to.

Instead of answering, you shifted, turning around to straddle his hips, tugging your skirt higher in the process so you could sit comfortably on his lap.

“Always,” you muttered, your voice a breathy promise before closing the gap between you. You pressed your lips to his with fervour, cutting off the teasing words he was no doubt ready to deliver, swallowing them whole.

 Namjoon’s hands quickly went to your ass, pulling you impossibly closer, and you giggled when he squeezed at your flesh, then shifted like he sensed something unusual.

“What are you wearing?” Namjoon murmured against your mouth, his breath warm and pleasant. The low timbre of his voice made you giggle, the vibration of your laughter mingling with the tickle of his breath.

“Spandex,” you replied with a grin. “How do you think my butt looks so good in this skirt?” With a playful movement, you lifted the hem of your skirt just enough to show him. The spandex hugged your curves perfectly, a sly smirk plastered on your face.

Namjoon chuckled softly, his fingers brushing over the edge of the spandex before his hand returned to its frisky grip on your ass. His gaze lingered, warm and unguarded, as if memorizing every curve.

“Sexy,” he concluded. His other hand grabbing the edge of your shorts and letting it slap against your skin; the gesture drawing another burst of giggles from you.

“The sexiest,” you replied, your laughter dissolving into a grin as you shook your head. With an easy motion, you dropped your head onto his shoulder, muffling your laughter against his shirt.

It was ridiculous, you knew that—the whole moment—but there was something about the way he looked at you that made your heart swell. Like he found you beautiful even in the silliness, even in spandex.

You remained like that for a moment, enveloped in the comfort of his presence, the steady rhythm of his breathing syncing with your own. His hands continued their gentle kneading of your flesh, and you shifted your hips, pressing closer, feeling his hardness through your clothes.

Namjoon let out a soft huff, and you lifted your head to meet his eyes, an impish glint in your own. With a wicked smile, you began moving your hips in slow, deliberate circles, grinding against him, enjoying the way he hardens beneath you. His hands tightened, pulling you closer, a soft moan escaping his lips as he let his head fall back against the couch.

“Ah, babe-” His voice was strained, thick with desire, the heat between you intensifying, his hips buckling up slightly.

Your hands wander up his chest, feeling the muscles tense and relax beneath his shirt. You can feel his heart racing, matching your own as you lose yourself in the rhythm you’d set. With a bit of fumbling, you managed to unbutton his shirt, watching as he shivered under the touch of your cold fingers as you chart his toned muscles.

“Fuck. Kiss me please,” he breathed out, his voice rough and needy.

Your mouth hovered just few inches away from his, the warmth of his wrapping around you like a cocoon. Close enough to count the moles and freckles that dotted his skin, to take in the slight stubble along his jaw. His breath mingled with yours, teasing your lips.

 Your gaze flickered down, lingering on his mouth for just a moment longer.

And then, you didn’t hesitate. Leaning in, your lips find his in a fervent kiss. His mouth moved with yours, tongues tangling as you explored him, your hands roaming the expanse of his now exposed chest. The kiss was all-consuming, filled with the passion that had been simmering between you since he stepped into your classroom earlier today.

Namjoon's hands are not idle either. They roam up your thighs, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, making you shiver. You can feel his arousal pressing against your core, and you grind against him, eliciting a low moan from him.

“You feel incredible,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands squeezing your thighs. “I want you so bad.”

His words send another wave of heat through you, and you deepen the kiss, your hands tangling in his hair. You can feel the tension building between you, your own arousal growing with every passing moment.

With a reluctant movement, you pull away to stand up, your skirt falling back down to your thighs as you stare down at him. Namjoon looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, and you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement as you slowly, deliberately, begin to undress for him.

Pulling your button down over your head, you let it fall at his feet, watching the way his eyes barely flicker to it. Instead, Namjoon watches you, his breath quickening as you reveal more and more of your body to him.

You slip out of your skirt, tossing it aside as you stand before him in nothing but your spandex shorts and a lacy bra. His eyes rake over you, taking in every inch of your body with a hungry gaze.

“God, you're beautiful,” he breathes, his voice thick with longing, watching you kneel between his legs on the floor, your hands quickly moving to his belt to unbuckle it.

You take your time with it, savouring the way his breath hitches as you brush your fingers against his hardness. Once the belt is undone, you unbutton his pants and pull them down, taking his boxers with them. Namjoon lifts his hips to help, his gaze never leaving yours.

Now that he's fully exposed, you can't help but admire him; He's always been handsome, but in this moment, with desire burning in his eyes and his body tense with need, his unbuttoned shirt still clinging to his shoulders, he was downright irresistible.

You reach out, wrapping your hand around his cock, hard and ready, resting against his stomach, and he hisses in a deep breath, melting under your touch.

“Fuck.” His head falls back against the couch pillows, breaking eye contact once you wrap your lips against his him, running your tongue over his leaking tip, swirling it and dipping it into the slit, enjoying the lewd sounds that escaped from his chest without abandon.

Emboldened, you keep taking him deeper in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and finding a steady rhythm that has him unravelling quickly. Your tongue rolling over his head every time you come back up.

Your hand starts working the part you can’t reach mirroring the rhythm you've set with your mouth, unleashing a flood of moans from him.

Namjoon’s hips buck, accidentally bumping the back of your throat, making you gag, and a quick, weak apology falls from his lips, although you feel like he doesn’t truly mean it, because he does it again right after.

 But you barely care, because his taut stomach clenches, showcasing his pretty abs, and the long, low sound he makes sends a new wave of wetness between your legs, urging you on. You were the one making him weak. You were pleasuring him in such a way that made him lose himself.

“Just like that, love.” He reaches out, his fingers tangling in your hair, not tugging at it, but guiding your movements, fucking your mouth. You keep up with him, your lips now redden, tongue rolling on the underside, and your chin covered in spit as you bob faster.

The room is filled with the wet vulgar sounds your mouth makes and his low groans, the air thick with desire and anticipation.

“Fuck. Babe, stop.” He whimpers, tugging at your hair. “I’m close. Don’t want to cum-”

Suddenly, Namjoon pulls you away, holding you just out of reach as his head falls back against the couch, a long miserable “Fuuuuuck,” filling the space between you, as if he’d just received the worst news ever.

You blink up at him, your mind scrambling to understand his sudden outburst. His gaze meets yours again, and the regret swimming in his eyes deepens your confusion.

“Fuck. I knew I forgot something.” He groaned, voice thick with frustration, his fingers releasing their hold on your hair.

Your hand stilled mid-movement, your head tilting slightly as you tried to make sense of his words.

“You… can’t get blowjobs?” you asked cautiously, your knees wobbling as you stood up, bracing yourself against his legs for stability.

“What? No,” he blurted, his brows furrowing in indignation. “I forgot to go to the store. We’re out of condoms.”

Namjoon looked utterly defeated, his hands reaching out instinctively to steady you. Yet, there was something almost comical in the way his lips formed the smallest of pouts.

You bit down hard on the wicked grin threatening to spread across your face. He was adorable—even now, red hard cock pulsing against his chiselled thighs, neck flushed red, chest rising and falling rapidly as his mind raced. Likely scolding himself for forgetting something so crucial.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips, and again, you bury your face into his shoulder, leaning into him to press a kiss against his neck, drawing his gaze back to you. His thumbs began rubbing slow circles against your hips, grounding both of you as you whispered softly into his ear, “We could always go without.”

Namjoon froze. The suggestion sent a visible shiver through him, and his eyes widening slightly.

 For a moment, the room was silent save for the soft hum of the heater in the background, the suggestion hanging in the air between you like a loaded secret. His hands, still resting on your hips, tightened slightly as he stared at you, trying to gauge how serious you were—or how far he could let himself go without losing control.

“Are you serious?” his voice came out broken despite his best efforts, and you lean back to look at his face, your hands holding onto his shoulders.

“It would make a nice Christmas gift.” You admit, almost bashful, but maintaining eye contact.

“You’re not just saying that, are you?” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. The playful tension had melted away, replaced by something heavier, more profound.

You nodded slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. “Of course, not” you said softly, your voice trembling just a little. “I want that too. I want a family with you.”

His hand moved to your lower back, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t quite get enough of you.

Namjoon let out a soft, shaky breath, his forehead pressing lightly against yours. For a moment, he said nothing, his eyes closing as if to let your words sink in fully. When he opened them again, his gaze was filled with a depth of emotion that made your heart feel like it might burst.

“I really fucking love you.” He murmured, his hands settling more firmly on your hips, pulling you closer until there was barely any space left between you.

Your lips quirked into a small smile, your hands moving to cradle his face. “You better,” you whispered back. “I’m your wife, after all.”

Without warning, his arms tightened around you, and in one smooth motion, he stood up, lifting you effortlessly into his embrace.

You let out a startled gasp, your hands clutching his shoulders for balance.

“Namjoon!”

But he only laughed at your reaction, the sound of it lighting up his features as he carried you down the hallway with ease. His fingers pressed gently into your skin, steadying you, and even despite your mock annoyance, your heart still fluttered at the way he held you—like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“Don’t think being my wife means you can get away with teasing me like that,” he murmured. His steps were steady, purposeful, the warm glow of the bedroom lights spilling out into the hallway as he nudged the door open with his foot.

You grinned, brushing a soft kiss against his jaw. “Actually, I think it means exactly that.”

He shook his head, his lips curving into a smirk as he laid you down gently on the bed, his hands lingering as if reluctant to let you go, while your legs remained wrapped around his hips, his hard cock pressing against your thigh. His gaze roamed over you, warm and full of affection, but the spark of desire in his eyes was impossible to miss.

“You’re impossible,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he leaned over you, bracing himself with one arm while the other trailed down your side, sending a delicious shiver through you.

“You love it,” you replied, your tone just as playful as you tugged him closer.

Namjoon hummed, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that started sweet but quickly deepened, every touch and movement making you feel lighter, like you were floating.

His soft lips were moving yours and controlling the kiss, and you melted in his arms, letting him do anything he wanted. He pushed your lips open, and you willingly allowed his tongue to explore every inch of your mouth, moaning against him when he hooked it around your lip to softly bite on it.

His movements were slow and deliberate, as if savouring every second of the connection between you two. Your hands dropped down to his shoulders to push away his shirt, letting it fall off somewhere, and in response, Namjoon pressed against you further, pushing you into the mattress.

You can feel the weight of his body on you, every inch of him pressed against your curves, and you revel in the sensation, though it does very little to soothe the burning ache spreading through you. You try to arch your back, try to make your hips meet, desperate to feel more of him, but Namjoon keeps you pinned down. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, and you're lightheaded from the kiss, each one of his lingering touches drawing you deeper.

His hands move with purpose, gliding down your arm and leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake. Each touch feels purposeful, yet it only strokes the fire within you, the tension between you building with every measured caress.

Namjoon shifts, his lips abandoning yours to travel along your jaw and neck. Soft and warm, they graze your skin, leaving a searing path of heat that makes your breath hitch with every press of his mouth.

The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the warmth of his breath on your neck made your head spin, the room narrowing to just the two of you.

 You gasp when he nips at your neck, his lips a welcome contrast to the sting of his teeth. His hips rock against yours, and you moan at the feeling, even if it's just his length pressing against you, but at this point, you’d take anything to ease the lustful haze that clouded your mind.

“Joonie,” you whimper squeezing your thighs around his hips, “Please.”

You fought to keep your breathing steady, but it was a losing battle.

 “You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered against your skin, his voice soft like caramel, dripping with longing, his hands still caressing the sides of your body, stopping over your breasts, teasing your nipples through the lacy fabric of your bra.

You mewl, arching instinctively towards his touch. “Then show me,” you whispered back, your voice hushed, sounding so needy that you barely recognise it as your own.

His eyes shift to your face for a quick second, a big teasing smirk tugging on his lips.

“Mmm, I will.” He replies casually, before pinching your nipples through your bra. A little whimper falls from your lips as a jolt of pleasure shoots through you.

He tugs your bra down, letting your tits spill out, and with an almost primal movement, he takes a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while his hand continues to tease and pinch the other one. You gasp, throwing your head back, letting out soft moans as your fingers weave themselves into his hair, pulling him closer.

“God, you’re so hot,” he breaths against your chest, goosebumps erupting across your skin, before switching his attention to your other nipple.

You look down at him, your eyes heavy-lidded with desire. His hands slide down your body and you feel his fingers hook around the waistband of your spandex shorts, tugging them down your legs, leaving you completely bare and vulnerable before him.

He lifts his head from your breast, his lips red and slightly swollen, his gaze sweeping over you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. You feel a flicker of shyness wash over you, an instinctive reaction under his steady, adoring eyes. It isn’t that Namjoon ever made you feel uncomfortable—far from it. If anything, he had taught you more about how to love yourself than anyone else ever had.

But still, those small insecurities lingered, faint whispers at the back of your mind. The little things only you noticed, the things you thought didn’t measure up. You tried to push them away, focusing instead on the warmth in Namjoon’s gaze, the way his touch seemed to erase every doubt and hesitation.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice soft but brimming with conviction, like he couldn’t hold the words back even if he tried. His eyes traced every curve and detail, lingering as if memorizing you all over again. “Fuck, you’re going to kill me,” he whispered, the words tinged with awe before he leaned down to place slow, deliberate kisses along your ribs.

A shaky moan slipped from your lips, a sound of your clear frustration as his seemingly endless patience began to test your resolve. He chuckled softly against your hip, the vibration of it sending a wave of heat through you.

“Namjoon,” you breathed, your voice teetering on a plea, your fingers threading through his hair to tug gently.

His lips paused their trail, his gaze lifting to meet yours, mischief and adoration mingling in his dark eyes. “What is it, love?”

“Stop teasing,” you demanded, your tone shaky but resolute. “I swear to god-” but before you could finish your threat, Namjoon’s fingers swipe across your pussy, rendering you absolutely speechless.

“Holy fucking shit.” Namjoon breathed, the disbelief in his voice almost comical as his wide eyes flickered from your face to your cunt. “You’re dripping wet.” His fingers parted your lips, pulling them apart so he could see better. “Is the idea of me knocking you up turning you on this much?” His other hand joined in, both of them exploring your wetness, spreading it around. “Fuck.” He muttered, his fingers positioning at your entrance, sliding in and out of you easily.

You couldn't help but moan, your back arching as you pressed yourself into his touch. “Namjoon,” you sob, your voice filled with longing. “Please, just fuck me.”

“I will. I will,” he mumbles, moving lower to settle between your legs, spreading your thighs further apart, “After I get a taste.” He tacks on, quite proud of himself.

You couldn’t help but huff in frustration and desire as you felt his breath against your slick folds, ready to complain. But before you could get the words out, Namjoon quickly shuts you up, his mouth on you.

“Be good.” He warns, his tone firm but gentle, voice muffled against your pussy. As the words left his lips, his tongue darted out, tracing a line from your entrance all the way to your clit and then back down, causing you to shiver in pleasure. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you open for him as he explored every inch of you, his fingers moving in tandem with his lips.

“Joon,” you whimpered, your fingers tightening in his hair as you tried to control the rhythm, your hips trashing against his face. He chuckled against your skin, the vibrations sending another wave of heat through you, but his patience never wavered, even as your breaths became shorter and your whimpers turned into moans.

He slurped loudly, pressing his face in hard as he moved his lips and tongue expertly. You couldn’t help throwing your head back and moaning, the movement completely involuntary to you. His head moved around as he devoured you like a starving man, moaning to himself as he worked, his tongue lapping at your wetness, before coming back up to your clit and sucking hard, driving you crazy with the way his fingers moved and arched against your sweet spot.

“Namjoon!” Your eyes closed and you bit your lip, trying to muffle your moans, feeling the way his tongue swirled around your opening and licked up your wetness like he was savouring every drop of you.

He was worshipping you, consuming you like he’d been starving for you, growling whenever you pulled his hair too hard or moaned for him in a way he liked. Your back arched and you let yourself close your eyes, unable to stop yourself as your loud moans turned into gibberish, raising in pitch as he brought you right up to the edge.

His name was falling from your lips like a prayer, your hips bucking, thighs trembling and stomach clenched. You felt like you were about to explode, but he didn’t let up, not until you were unravelling against his touch. Your orgasm was so sudden, so violent and unexpected that you didn’t even get a chance to warn him, wave after wave of staggering pleasure washing over you, rendering you an absolute useless mess in his grasp.

 Namjoon didn't miss a beat, continuing his assault on your pussy as you came hard around him. Your muscles quivered and pulsed, and he groaned, the sound reverberating through you and adding to the intense pleasure crashing through your veins. And he didn't stop, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to wring every last ounce of pleasure from your body, his fingers pushing your release in his mouth.

As you slowly came down from your high, Namjoon gently kissed your inner thighs, his lips warm and soft against your sensitive skin. You could feel his proud smile against you, and you couldn't even find the energy to glare at him.

It wasn't until your breaths evened out and your body went limp that you finally managed to push him away, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips when he looked up at you.

“Feeling better, baby?” he asked, his voice twinged with amusement, although a little breathless.

You couldn't be bothered to reply, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. But you managed a small, satisfied smile, your eyes closed in contentment.

“I told you I would take care of you,” he murmured, his lips brushing softly against your hip. At that you chuckled, the sound light and airless, the remnants of pleasure still humming through your body like an electric current.

Namjoon began a slow ascend, pressing soft kisses against your skin as he went, each one making your breath hitch just a little more. When he finally reached your lips, his gaze was heavy with intent. He kissed you deeply, and the moment you tasted yourself on his tongue, a wave of heat crashed over you.

Your lips parted instinctively, drawing his tongue deeper as you sucked on it, the sensation unravelling something primal in your mind. A soft, desperate moan escaped against his mouth, your hands fisting into his hair as you clung to him, utterly consumed by him, by his mouth, by his hands against your hips. By Namjoon. Your husband.

“Ready for me to fuck you now, my love?” he asked, his voice low, a whisper against your lips, but one that sent a new wave of wetness to your core.

 You were too fucked out to form a coherent sentence, so your let your hand drop to hips and pull him closer, eager for him to take you.

You could feel his hard cock press against your entrance, and you couldn’t resist the temptation to glance down and watch as he positioned himself at your opening. A low moan falling from your lips as you waited for him to thrust inside you.

But instead, Namjoon teases you further, swiping his cock against your wet folds, driving you wild.

“C’mon love, don’t leave me hanging. Say something.” He chuckles, watching your expression carefully as he pushes the head of his cock against your clit, circling it.

That completely makes you snap, a flurry of uncoherent begging and threatening falling from your lips, filling the little space between your heavy breathing and his low chuckles.

“Please, please, please Namjoonie. Fuck me. Get me pregnant. God! Move! You always do this,” your head falls back against the pillow, tears prickling at the inside of your eyes, your fingernails digging in his skin. “Knock me up, please. Just fuck me. I’ll delete your homework gradings if you don’t.”

He bets you have almost no idea what you were spewing, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. Not when his heart swelled with love and desire at your words. He couldn’t resist you any longer. He presses the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you just for a second longer, before he finally pushes inside, agonizingly slow.

You gasp, your body trembling in his arms, feeling him fill you all the way to the brim. The feeling of him bare inside you, the warmth and the intimacy of it, is almost too much to bear. You can feel every inch of him, every ridge and vein. You feel every movement and every thrust as if it's the first time all over again. The sensation is so intense, so overwhelming, that you can't help but let out a series of weak, trembling moans every time he moves inside you.

“Holy fucking shit, you feel so fucking good.” Namjoon whimpered, his hips slapping against you, pulling almost all the way out before filling you up again, “Fuck, you're so tight. I can feel every inch of you, gripping me, love.”

The sound of your skin slapping fills the bedroom with his steady thrusts, punctuated by the occasional slap of his balls against your ass. You gasp, your orgasm building deep inside you. You can feel it coiling in your belly, ready to explode at any moment.

“Yes, yes, just like that, baby,” you moan, your hips moving in time with his.

“Shit love, look at that.” Namjoon presses a hand hard against your lower stomach, “Can you feel it?” he asked, his voice hoarse with desire. “Can you feel how deep I'm inside you, how close I am to filling you up?”

His words sent another wave of heat crashing over you, and you nodded eagerly, your breath hitching as you felt his hand press against your stomach. His cock, so deep  and snug in you that you can feel the bulge faintly against your abdomen as he moved.

You nodded frantically, your eyes wide as you felt him pulse inside you. The thought of him coming inside you, of him potentially getting you pregnant, only served to heighten your pleasure. You were so close, so unbearably close to the edge, and with each thrust, you felt yourself slipping closer and closer to the brink.

“Yes, yes, I can feel it,” you gasped, your hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. “Please, Namjoon, please fill me up. I want to feel you cum inside me, fill me up, I want to carry your baby.”

Namjoon's thrusts grew more desperate, spurred on by your pleas, more urgent as he chased his release, his grip on your hips tightening as he drove himself deeper and deeper inside you, hitting places you didn’t think possible.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling with the effort of holding back.

“Don't stop,” you beg, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Don't you dare stop!”

But of course, ever the contrarian, Namjoon pulls out, making you scream in frustration. An elongated, miserable “Nooo,” falling from your lips, your body going limp, “God! Namjoon! I swear-” but he ignores you, flipping you over on your stomach.

You still angle your hips up in invitation, although angrily, your body trembling with anticipation and frustration. You’ve known your husband long enough to know how he liked to play, and how to play his games. You plant your knees on the mattress, lifting your ass higher in the air as your chest falls against the pillows, slowly swaying your hips for him.

 Namjoon takes a moment to appreciate the sight before him. Watching you offer yourself to him so willingly, so eagerly. He can’t resist your lure much longer. He positions himself behind you, his fingers tracing a path down your spine before grasping your hips firmly. You feel the head of his cock against your entrance once more, and you can't help the whimper that escapes your lips, as again, he swipes it against your clit before sinking into you.

This new position allows him to reach deeper somehow, and you can feel him hitting your sweet spot with every movement. Your fingers clench the sheets as he starts to thrust harder, his hips meeting your ass with a satisfying slap, and you push back against him, meeting him stroke for stroke, your pleasure mounting right back up, bringing you closer to the edge.

 Sweat starts to collect at your hairline, your breath hitching with each of his powerful thrusts.

“That's it, love. Take all of me,” Namjoon growls, his lips finding your neck as he continues to fuck into you. His hand snakes around to find your clit, and he starts rubbing slow circles around it, making your knees buckle under your own weight.

Your body trembles as he pushes you closer and closer to ecstasy. You can feel your orgasm building, the pressure coiling deep in your belly, ready to explode at any moment, with any one of his thrusts that hits right against your g-spot.

“Namjoon, I'm so close,” you gasp, your fingers gripping the sheets like a lifeline.

“I know, love. I can feel it. Let go, let me feel you come undone for me,” he whispers in your ear, his voice filled with need, his fingers flicking your clit softly, completely stealing the breath from your lungs. “Let me feel you clench around my cock baby.”

His words are your undoing. You cry out, dissolving into pleasure, everything around you cutting to white noise. Your elbows give way, and you collapse onto the mattress, completely boneless as he coaxes wave after wave of bliss from your trembling body.

His hands fly to your hips, holding you up for him as his thrusts grow more erratic, dragging out your orgasm and making you clench so hard against him that his movements stutters. You felt utterly weightless, as though your body had melted into the sheets, as if you had no strength left to hold yourself together.

“I’m so close,” Namjoon moaned your name, his sounds growing lounder and more uninhibited, as he relentlessly chased his own climax.

“Cum inside me,” you beg, egging him on. “Fill me up with your seed. Make a baby with me.”

His movements falter, his most base instincts taking over, and with one final, powerful thrust, he releases. Filling you up with his hot, sticky cum, you can feel it, coating your insides and leaking out. You clench around him, another orgasm, less intense but just as blissful as the first one washes over you.

The feeling of him coming inside you, the warmth and the intensity of it, is almost too much to bear. You can feel your heart racing, your entire body trembling with the aftershock. You can feel him still inside you, pulsing to the rhythm of his own release, and the sensation of it is just overwhelming.

“Fuck, love,” Namjoon whispers, his lips finding yours in a gentle kiss. “That was...incredible.”

You can only nod in agreement, your breathing still heavy and uneven. You can feel him softening inside you, but you don't want him to pull out. You want to stay like this forever, connected in the most intimate way possible, his full body weight on you.

But eventually, he does pull out, rolling onto his back beside you and you snuggle up against him, your head resting on his chest as you catch your breath. You can feel his heart racing, matching the rhythm of your own.

After a few moments of peaceful silence, broken only by your breathing, a soft, tired chuckle escaped your lips. You rested your chin on his chest, gazing up at him through fluttering eyelashes, a playful glint in your eyes.

“You have a breeding kink.” You state with a sly grin, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Namjoon huffs, his lips quirking into a faint smirk as he mutters, “Maybe.”

“Good,” you reply, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. “Means you’ll enjoy these next few months.”

He groans, running a hand through his hair as his gaze locks onto you, full of equal parts amusement and surrender.

“Fuck. You’ll be the death of me, woman.”

[pedrospatch]

baby, i’m yours

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You remind Joel that you’re his.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION however she does wear Joel’s t-shirt and he semi lifts her onto a counter? sorta but not really? UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (Joel is in his 50’s but reader’s specific age is not mentioned). established relationship, sort of. consumption of food (if you are allergic to peanuts, i so sorry). angst, Joel and Ellie’s strained relationship is lightly implied, Joel is insecure, it’s implied reader did some horrible things in her past, reassurance, brief smut, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, consider it a quickie idk. apologies if i missed anything.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this short lil thing has been sitting in my drafts forever. i finished it while i was in ireland and finally had the chance to sit down and do a quick edit and when i say it was quick, i flew through it so i could hop onto my next wip so please excuse any errors! here’s a spotify link to the song if anyone’s curious, it’s an oldie but a goodie although it may not be everyone’s cup of tea.

main masterlist l fic notifs

Joel rolls over in bed, his arm outstretched and seeking the warmth of your soft, naked body.

“Mmph,” a small, sleepy groan falls from his lips as his long, thick fingers feel around on your side of the bed—of his bed. Of course, you have your very own bedroom in the house you all had been placed in when you first arrived in Jackson. Your very own bed to sleep in is just down the hallway, but lately, you’ve been waking up beside him a lot more often than not, especially now that Ellie’s a bit older and she’s gone and made herself her own space out in the garage behind the house. Being under the same roof as Joel did those two more harm than it did good, and while you missed having her around, it was for the best.

“She’ll come around, Joel,” you’d assured him. “I know she will. She just needs a bit of time is all.”

“Hope you’re right, darlin’,” he had murmured sadly in response.

Still lost somewhere in between sleep and full consciousness, Joel continues feeling around for you, but all he finds are the wrinkled sheets, cold and abandoned. Confused, his eyes finally flutter open and with a painful protest from his sore, stiff back, he sits up, blinking furiously as he looks around the darkness of his bedroom. The door’s been left cracked open ever so slightly, and as his vision adjusts now that he’s fully awake, he notices the dim glow of the hallway light that’s peeking through into the room.

He turns and glances over at the old digital alarm clock perched on his nightstand, the obnoxious, bright red numbers practically screaming at him that it’s a quarter past midnight. With a small, tired grunt, Joel switches on the lamp beside the clock and swings his legs over the side of the mattress, goosebumps erupting across his flesh the instant that his bare feet meet the cold, hardwood floor. He stands and fumbles around for his clothes, which he’d tossed carelessly somewhere over his shoulder hours earlier when he’d been lost in the heat of the moment with you. He finds his faded, navy blue sweatpants strewn across a chair next to the door and pulls them on over his naked lower body before searching for his t-shirt. When he doesn’t immediately see it, he doesn’t bother, figuring that it’s just going to come back off when he climbs back into bed with you.

Padding out of his bedroom, he makes his way down the hallway, heading towards the staircase. As he draws closer, he hears it—the soft music that’s coming from downstairs.

Baby, I'm yours

and I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky

yours until the rivers all run dry

in other words, until I die

He’s led towards the kitchen and that’s where he finds you.

Joel wants to be annoyed. 

Fuck, he tries to be annoyed. But he can’t help the way that the corners of his mouth threaten to turn upwards when his eyes take in the sight before him.

You’re standing at the center island slowly swaying your hips from side to side along to the beat of the song that’s playing from the record player perched next to the instant coffee maker on the counter behind you. He’d nearly wrung your neck when he found out what all you had traded just to get your hands on it, but you loved that thing more than life itself it seemed, so he couldn’t stay mad for very long. You’re making yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—the peanut butter you’d learned how to make yourself with the old food processor he found deep in one of the kitchen cabinets, and the strawberry preserves you had picked up from the market earlier that week. Clad in nothing but his t-shirt, you’re singing along quietly to the lyrics as you finish making your late night snack.

Baby, I’m yours

and I’ll be yours until the sun no longer shines

yours until the poets run out of rhyme

in other words, until the end of time

Joel leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his bare chest as he watches you carefully lick the remnants of peanut butter off of the knife you’re using before setting it down on the counter. You then pick up the two pieces of bread and slap them together—you’d also learned how to bake homemade bread using some old nineties cookbook you had found in the commune’s library. Your sourdough is the reason he had to go up a notch in his belt.

Sandwich in hand, you do a little spin, humming happily as you take your first bite.

Joel loudly clears his throat from the doorway.

Startled, you whirl around and freeze, your eyes wide.

“Enjoyin’ yourself there, darlin’?” He asks amusedly as he approaches you.

“Jesus Christ! You scared me, Joel!” You hiss at him. You then realize what time of night it is and a look of guilt crosses your features. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, did I wake you up? I honestly thought that I had the volume down low enough in here—”

Frowning, you turn around and reach towards the record player to turn the music off, but much to your surprise, Joel stops you. “No, s’okay. I woke up on my own,” he assures you. “I reached over for you and you were gone.” The admission slips before he can even think to stop it. He notices how taken aback you are by what he’d just said and quickly asks, “What’cha doin’ up so late, anyway?”

“I was hungry,” you tell him, sheepishly holding up your food. You always have one hell of an appetite after Joel was through fucking you senseless. You take another bite and offer it to him. “Want some?”

“Sure.”

He accepts and takes a corner of the sandwich before handing it back to you. His fingers brush against yours and his face burns at the contact.

Fucking Christ. 

You’re standing there in nothing but his fucking t-shirt after he had, yet again, made you his in his own fucking bed, and that’s what gets him?

Truth be told, the only time he holds your hand is when he’s inside of you—his fingers lace with your own as he comforts you and praises you for being such a good girl for taking his cock the way you do.

For being so, so fucking good for him.

He’s thought about taking your hand in front of others. Particularly when he notices the way some of the men in town stare at you. Joel wants to make it known that you’re already spoken for. Only, you’re not spoken for, not really. 

You’re his, but you’re not really his. It’s not that he doesn’t want to take the leap and acknowledge the two of you are far more than just patrol partners, far more than just two people who fought like fucking hell to get some smart assed teenager—and the world’s only hope for a cure—across the country.

He feels undeserving of it. Of you and your heart.

Several seasons had come and gone since you’d both arrived in Jackson with Ellie in tow, and somehow, Joel still can’t fathom what you’re doing by his side. She’s out of the house now and there’s nothing tying you to him, so why are you still here?

He’s so much older. Closer and closer to being on his way out, while you still had your entire life left ahead of you. He’s worn down, hardened from the post outbreak world. And you, you hadn’t lost any of your softness, your sweetness. Not even after the things you’d been forced to do to survive because of him.

You could meet someone younger, someone closer to your own age. You could marry, even start a family. You could be with someone who could give you a good life, the life you deserve.

The life that he’s too fucking broken to give you.

“Joel?” Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. M’fine.” He gestures to the record player with a nod of his head. “Y’know, this song’s older than me. By a few years. Came out in the early sixties.”

Joel half expects you to make some wisecrack joke and tease him over his age like you have done in the past—especially when the kid would get you going. Instead, he watches you set what’s left of your sandwich down and brush the crumbs from your hands before holding one of them out to him.

Confused, he stares at it for a moment before his dark eyes meet yours. “What are you doin’?”

“Dance with me,” you say, smiling at him.

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me, right?” When he realizes you’re being serious, he shakes his head. “Y’know I don’t—I can’t dance.”

Dropping your hand back down to your side, you turn around and flip the record, starting the song over again before whirling back around and taking Joel’s hands in yours.

“Just follow my lead,” you tell him as you place them on your waist. Your own hands settle themselves on his broad shoulders, his skin warm beneath your fingertips. “Don’t overthink it.”

“You’re fuckin’ ridiculous,” Joel grumbles underneath his breath, however he finds himself moving along with you without further protest. Subconsciously, he pulls you closer against him as the two of you slowly sway from side to side along to the beat of the music. He chuckles, “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

“And your point is?” You rest your head on his shoulder and exhale a soft, contended sigh.

Joel’s lips threaten to pull down once more.

Could it be that you’re actually content with him?

Head still on his shoulder, you sing along softly with Barbara Lewis. 

“I’m gonna stay right here by your side

do my best to keep you satisfied

nothing in this world can drive me away

‘cause every day you'll hear me say…”

It quickly becomes too much for him. Joel’s hands leave your waist. Taking your wrists, he tugs your arms from around his neck and gently pushes you away from him. “Why?” he finally asks the question that’s been hanging off the tip of his tongue for the better part of the last three years. “Why me?”

You stare at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Why me?” he repeats himself. “Why me when you can have anyone else—”

Your reply is prompt and you say it so simply.

“Because I don’t want anyone else.”

“You deserve better.”

You peer at him curiously. “I deserve better?”

“You do. Ain’t got no business being with someone like me. After all the terrible shit I’ve done—”

“I did the same exact shit, Joel. Sometimes I did even fucking worse.” Somehow, softness laces your tone. You have never been angry with him and you weren’t about to start now. “What makes my hands any cleaner than yours?”

Joel begins to sputter. “M’older than you. Much older. Should’a been a lot more careful. Should’a done more so you didn’t have to do those things.”

His hands still curled around your wrists, you reach up and gingerly cradle the sides of his face. He winces, but then quickly melts into your touch, the very same touch that could heal his wounds, if only he would allow it.

“I made my own choices,” you remind him, quietly. Neither of you realize the music has stopped. “Quit acting like blood doesn’t stain my hands too because it does.”

His lips press into a tight line. “Blood stains your hands ‘cause of me. S’my fault. I was responsible for you. I was s’pposed to take care of you. I didn’t protect you the way I should’ve.”

You sigh.

“When are you going to stop blaming yourself, Joel?”

The muscle in his jaw ticks as it clenches. He averts his gaze, his eyes falling to the floor. He doesn’t answer.

You stroke the scruff of his beard lightly with your thumbs. “When are you going to stop thinking you’re not good enough for me? What’s it going to take for me to prove to you that you are all I could ever need and want?”

“You’re just wastin’ your fuckin’ life on me, darlin’. S’the truth and you fuckin’ know it as well as I do.”

Pulling your wrists out of his hands, you pivot on your heel and suck in a sharp breath, stubbornly blinking back the tears stinging your eyes. You’re frustrated.

It cuts you to your very core to know the man you’ve grown to love more than anything and anyone else on what’s left of this fucking planet can’t see that he’s enough. He’s more than enough.

Joel bites back his own frustrated sigh. He knows he can’t rely on you to tell him, rely on the reassurance—he needs to do his part and believe it. If he keeps trying to push you away, he just may very well succeed one day. He will lose you.

After a moment, he walks up behind you and wraps his arms around you, his lips lightly brushing your neck. “M’sorry,” he mumbles, his own voice thickening as a lump forms in the back of his throat. He’s quick to swallow it down. “Jus’ have a hard time believin’ you’re mine. S’almost like my mind is lookin’ to prove me wrong.”

“But I am yours, Joel. I’m yours, I’m fucking yours.”

It’s more than just reassurance. It’s an oath, one you’ll honor for the rest of your life.

He holds you tighter. “Yeah?” He nips at the delicate spot right below your ear, his teeth scraping along tender flesh. “S’that right, baby? You’re all mine?”

“All yours,” you confirm breathlessly as his hands slowly begin trailing down the length of your sides, his fingers skimming the hem of his t-shirt.

Joel swiftly turns you around in his arms and slips his hand between your thighs. The next thing you know, he has you backed up against the counter and he’s shoving his sweatpants down, freeing his hard, thick cock. With one of your legs hooked around his waist, he buries himself into the warmth of your cunt and begins to deliver smooth, languid strokes.

“Say it again, baby,” he rasps into your neck. He coaxes your other leg up and around his waist and his large hands curl securely underneath your thighs as he bucks up into you. He’d deal with the back pain later. He pants, “Need—need to hear you say it, my sweet girl.”

You hold onto the countertop behind you as he fucks you, your fingernails digging into the laminated wood. “Fuck, I’m yours,” you moan into his shoulder. “I’m all yours, Joel. Oh fuck—”

You say it over and over again and he believes it.

He finally fucking believes it.

Sweet nothings fall from his lips with each thrust.

“S’lucky you’re all fuckin’ mine.”

“My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

“Gonna keep you for the rest of my fuckin’ life.”

When he spills into you, there’s no regret on his part nor yours. You’d always wanted to feel him come inside of you—secretly, so did he. Joel’s deep, guttural groans bounce off of the kitchen walls as your pussy fills with him, with all of him, taking as much as it can before he begins leaking out of you and down the insides of your thighs.

“Jesus,” he exhales. He dips his head for a kiss. “You’re all messy now, baby,” he mumbles against your lips. “How’s about we go upstairs and get back into bed so I can clean you up?”

Giggling, you mimic him and remind him of what he’d said earlier. “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

Joel grins. “And your point is?”

You laugh again as he leads you out of the kitchen and back up to his bedroom—to yours and his bedroom.

[thevillainswhore]

New Tricks: Celestial Heavens

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.4k

Summary: Life couldn’t seem any better — your life long crush, and the football star of your fantasies is now your boyfriend, and your relationship is running smoothly. It’s a dream come true. But when Bucky admits he’s ready to take things to the next level, you’re anxious to make sure losing his virginity is an experience he won’t forget — for all the right reasons.

Which means, a first date is in order.

A night beneath the stars brings the two of you closer together, where emotions run high and confessions sit on the tips of tongues.

Warnings: College AU, Smut, kissing, grinding, dirty talk, praise, reassurance, fluff, fluff and more fluff, pet names, swearing, teasing, first dates, Bucky is a smooth little shit, cute astronomy puns.

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine’s Day my loves 🥰 here is the highly requested part two for New Tricks 🥹 the support I have received for part one has been so overwhelming and I want to thank all of you who expressed your love 😭

Beta and divider graphic credits go to @rookthorne - I can’t thank you enough for spending hours of your time helping me bring this AU to life, you’re incredible — this one is for you ❤️

I hope this follow on lives up to your expectations and does our favourite college babies justice. Once again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Happy reading my lovelies 💜

New Tricks Masterlist 🌼🐾

New Tricks Playlist 🎵

‼️ Small disclaimer ‼️- while I have done some research, I in no way consider myself to be an astronomy expert. If any of the facts or information I have included are wrong, I apologise profusely.

Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, you hum a tune to yourself while waiting for the door to open. 

The impulse to knock again after only a moment of waiting is overwhelming and your impatience begins to wane. You grip the canvas strap of your tote bag which is full to the brim with notepads and books, when the door suddenly swings open to admit you.

“Hey–! Oh, it’s you.” Disappointment sours your tone upon seeing Steve in the doorway. You push past his broad frame and enter his apartment to look for the true reason you are there, paying no mind to the scoff that falls from his lips. 

 

“Yes, hello sis. So good to see you, too!” Steve stays by the door, unmoving and starts conversing with himself. “How am I? I’m great, thanks for asking—how about you? Come on in, we’ll have a drink.” 

You shake your head, huffing a laugh while you scold him playfully, “Oh hush, Stevie, don’t be so butthurt.” From down the hallway, you see a light casting shadows along the floor — the source coming from a slither of an open door. A flicker of red hair disappears around the door frame. “Huh,” you muse, a smirk dancing on your lips. “You should know by now I’m not here for you. Where is he?” 

Steve sighs. “He’s–”

“Buttercup!” Bucky’s shout from his bedroom interrupts Steve, and it snaps your focus towards the direction of his voice. “Baby!”

The heavy thud of his rapid footsteps echoes down the hallway towards the living room, where you currently stand waiting for him, and you can’t help but giggle with amusement at his excitement. 

He appears in a blur, skidding into the room with grace akin to a drunken swan — a pink blush dusts over his cheekbones and the boyish charm of his eager smile makes your stomach flutter. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down when he swallows, and he covertly attempts to catch his breath from the sudden burst of excitement. 

“–There,” Steve finishes, lamely. 

The bright, pretty smile on Bucky’s lips and how his eyes grow wide when he sees you makes you feel like you’re floating on cloud nine. “Hi, Buttercup,” he breathes, and the pure innocence of his greeting melts your heart.

You can’t help but copy his smile as you make your way towards him, where he positively vibrates in place. “Hi to you too, handsome.” The cotton of his shirt is soft under your palms, and you meet his lips with a small kiss. The brush of his plush lips against yours makes you sigh against his mouth, and his hands sneak around your waist to grip your hips, keeping you in place against his chest.  

He wasn’t going to let you sneak away with just the one kiss — he never does. 

A more insistent press from his lips makes you part your own, and he runs his tongue over your bottom lip.  

“Guys,” Steve whines, “Get a fucking room — I don’t want to see that shit!” 

The effort to pull away from Bucky’s lips is beyond tolerable, but you refuse to turn and look at Steve as you say, “Sorry, bro,” with little to no remorse for his fragile disposition as the older brother. Bucky does not tear his focus from you, rather, his lips quirk in a playful smirk at your snark. 

Unbeknownst to you and behind your back, your brother’s mouth upturns in a smile; the two most important people in his life finally together and so sickeningly in love. 

As of a few weeks ago, Bucky and you started officially dating after a shy, whispered question during the late Sunday morning of your first weekend together. 

Bucky’s small, timid question of what the two of you were once he dragged you back to bed — after the clean-up from a spilled gift basket in his haste — set the butterflies in your stomach aflame. 

Of course, there was no other answer but to rid the doubt in his mind and reassure him. 

From then on, the two of you lived in your own bubble of bliss. You, over the moon to finally be with your long-time crush; Bucky, unbelieving of the reality that he has and is deserving of the girl of his dreams, who loves and nurtures all aspects of him. 

The only way to describe you both during this honeymoon phase is inseparable — spending every single spare moment through college life with one another. 

But no matter how badly you wanted to be with him, and spend more time staring at his handsome features, your art finals were also crucial business — as was keeping Bucky’s GPA intact. The scholarship he revered depended on it. 

Steve’s voice brings you from the torrent of memories and back to the present where Bucky held you fast against his chest still. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

You reach around Bucky’s neck and twirl your fingers through his hair before whispering loud enough for only him to hear, “Ready to go, Puppy?”

The red flush of his cheeks and the part of his lips has you trying to hide the satisfied smirk that threatens to pull at the corner of your mouth — his new nickname borne from a quick-witted quip you thought nothing of, truly is one of your greatest accomplishments to date. 

You remember it perfectly.

Bucky leaned against the headboard, his lips in a full pout, and arms crossed tightly across his chest. The bare expanse of skin was shadowed by the low light of your bedside lamp. “No,” he grumbled, furrowing his brows with his sudden, foul mood. 

“Bucky— come on, we have to eat something,” you reiterated for the umpteenth time. 

“No.” The dramatics of his brooding had you struggling to rein your laughter in. 

“We’ve been cuddling for three hours,” you insisted, deciding to reason with the stubborn idiot. “I literally heard your stomach rumble an hour ago. You need food.” 

Bucky sulked. “No. Only need you.” 

“Oh my god,” you giggled, “you look like a kicked puppy, Bucky.” 

There was a deep, impatient huff, and then he stared at you, an expression of longing covering his features. It only exaggerated his puppy eyes. 

A bright idea came to you then, the comparison may just be what you needed to make the boy move… “Here, boy,” you called, patting your thigh with one hand and snapping your fingers with the other. “Come on, who’s a good boy? Huh? You want a treat, baby? Do you wanna be a good pup for me?” 

Bucky’s reaction was more than you could have ever hoped for — his entire body became deathly still for a moment, then his arms slackened to fall onto the bed and a deep flush of blotchy red trailed up from his chest and up to his neck. 

You would have been worried about overstepping if you hadn’t spotted the dazed, glassy look in his eyes, darkening the cerulean to an Aegean blue.  

Bucky liked it. 

The praise, humiliation, spliced with a pinch of demand — the entirely accidental recipe for how to break him. 

Ever since then, Bucky’s new nickname causes the most visceral reaction he so desperately tries to hide, with very little success. The quiet hitch of his breath has you trying to keep your composure, and if only to tease him a little more, you wink at him. 

In the present, he chokes on a sharp intake of breath and coughs. 

There’s a quiet, short bout of laughter behind you from Steve, but you focus on Bucky while he catches his breath, still beet red. “You ready to go, Buck?” you repeat, squeezing the back of his neck.  

The rapid semblance of composure did nothing to hide the effect your words have. He blows out a breath, and stutters a determinedly stoic, “Y–yeah— almost, just gotta— um— run and g–get my jacket.” 

You hum and bump your nose against his before stepping back to let him breathe, “Okay, Buck. I’ll be waiting by the door.” 

Bucky wastes no time in spinning around before taking off like a shot down the hallway towards his bedroom. As he disappears, you chuckle to yourself and wonder how embarrassed he will be when he realises that he is already wearing a hoodie.  

“You’re wicked.” Steve stands with his arms crossed and a raised eyebrow. But by the small smirk upturning his lips, you know he’s just as entertained with Bucky’s fumbling than you are. “He’s so whipped.”

Before you have a chance to retort, a honeyed, feminine voice calls from your brother’s room. “Steve, stop hounding your sister and leave her be! You promised me a foot rub.” 

“Oh?” It's your turn to cock your eyebrow, and you watch, all too righteously, while his cheeks turn bright red. “Remind me who’s the whipped one again, hm?” 

Steve flounders in place, his mouth opening and closing while he searches for the words to no doubt put you back in your place, but another voice beats him to it by calling out to you from the hallway. “Flower, you have no idea! Last week I got him to–” 

“Okay! That’s enough of that,” Steve interrupts, quick to shut down the reveal before it knew the light of day. He stalks down the hallway towards his bedroom, and as he goes, he yells over his shoulder at you, “Enjoy your time with Buck, sis, please don’t break him, we’ve got training tomorrow. Love ya — see you next week!” 

The door slams shut just as Bucky appears around the corner, clad in both a hoodie and a jacket, and his eyes dart everywhere around the room but at you. The realisation must have hit him, and he was far too stubborn to come back empty handed. 

Decidedly, you don’t question him on it. Instead, you hold your hand out to him and say, “Come on, handsome, we’ve got some studying to do.” 

And just like that, Bucky’s face lights up and he bounces towards you to interlace his fingers with yours. He follows you with ease while you lead him out his apartment to the elevator, the doors opening for you instantly for the both of you to step in. 

The floor numbers descend on the screen, and a companionable, comfortable silence floats in the air. Until you turn to the side when you feel the stare of your boyfriend. 

Bucky’s blue eyes shine brightly while he looks you up and down, taking you in once more, and your heart flutters against your chest with the soft smile pulling at his lips. “You look beautiful today,” he whispers, a line of worship that makes your stomach flip. While holding your gaze, he lifts your hand up to his mouth and places a kiss to the back of it. 

If the heart eyes from the cartoons were real, then your boyfriend takes the gold. 

You barely fight the urge to squeal out loud with the show of heartfelt adoration. “Thank you, baby.” 

The elevator doors open with a swoosh as you reach the ground floor. Squeezing his hand gently, you begin to lead him out the lift and towards the exit. “Let’s get going — we gotta make sure you ace this test.”

In the beginning, it took a while to process that you were Bucky’s girlfriend — an ease unlike any other helped you both fit together so seamlessly, as though you had been dating for far longer. 

That same ease also makes itself known in your shared sexual compatibility.

Ever since that fateful movie night back in Steve and Bucky’s apartment, the two of you went no further than making out at every opportunity that presents itself (or that you make) and grinding against each other until you both came — though it didn’t stop you both from doing it a lot. 

Sex for the first time is a big deal. Bucky’s admission of still being a virgin, and his comfort being your priority, you take every old and new venture into pleasure at his pace. But your hesitance is met with an unprecedented hunger that leaves you breathless with need, every single time. 

Bucky’s eagerness to feel you against him, the heat of your bodies intermingling as best they can between the layers of clothing always made him feral with want, and each time he ventures closer, further than he did before in his exploration of your body, it grows with such passion it scorches your skin.   

You were going to wait on his signal no matter how long it took. But a few signs were telling you, however, that Bucky wants it. 

Recently, your boyfriend has been a little more desperate, more so than usual. 

His whines and whimpers turn from breathy and high, to deep, animalistic sounds that send shivers up your spine. Bucky was already putty in the palm of your hands at the best of times, and to witness him let go of his inhibitions was addicting — you wanted more of him, and you have the inclination that he longs for the same. 

And although the both of you swore to one another that you would head to the campus library to focus on your studies, somewhere along the way, your feet took you straight back to your dorm room and into your bedroom. 

Your giggles and sighs echo off the walls, along with the rustling sound of your bed covers. “That tickles!” 

Bucky, the clever, sly boy he is, figured out far too quickly where the sensitive spots on your neck are. “‘M sorry, baby,” he whispers against your neck, his breath hot and fanning over the delicate skin. His sweet, tender kisses start to turn heated — more passionate and intense as his hands begin to wander over your body. 

“Fuck,” Bucky breathes against the curve of your jaw. “You smell so good, Buttercup — could jus’ eat you up.” 

You softly moan in reply. The sudden hunger in his tone makes a shiver run down your spine and settle heavily between your thighs.

“C’mere,” he growls, and he rolls his body over yours, forcing you to lay flat against the mattress. You quickly wrap your legs around his waist as he trails sloppy kisses from the curve of your mouth and down the slope of your neck. “Atta girl, good girl.”

The feel of his lips against your skin makes your eyes flutter closed, and it’s entirely impossible to withhold your upper body rising with the arch of your back, pushing your covered breast up against his chest.

You can’t help but think of how confident Bucky has grown in such little time — his boldness only adding fuel to the fire.

Bucky firmly grips your waist in his hands with a thready moan, and he slowly, torturously inches them up towards the bottom of your tits. You feel the brush from the tips of his thumbs through the fabric of your bra and shirt, the pressure of them indescribable. 

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty.” He squeezes his eyes shut as he tests a roll of his hips into you. The high moan that tumbles from your lips jolts him, and he thrusts forward with a small, disjointed groan — the heavenly pleasure of grinding his cock against your clothed cunt almost too much for him to bear. “Feel so good, Bee — holy fuck.”

You grin up at him, squeezing your knees against his hips. Another thing Bucky grew confident in: being vocal in the bedroom. His litany of curses and range of vocabulary comes to life if he loses himself enough; bold in his actions, he takes charge more and it leaves you a wreck every single damn time.  

“Gotta keep going, baby,” he pants into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, “don’t make me stop, please don’t make me stop.” The desperation in his voice is as addicting as the pleasure he so freely gives, and you moan loudly to the ceiling. His pure, feral need to take what he wants only sends you closer to the edge. “Fuck–”

Your whines and pleas for more mix with his deep grunts on every grind into you. “Bucky, don't you dare stop,” you gasp, grabbing at his shoulders and wrinkling his shirt in your grip. “Oh my god, please don’t stop.” 

“Not gonna stop,” he promises as he pants against your neck. “Not gonna stop till you fuckin’ cum for me, Buttercup.”

You grab onto the back of his thighs, forcing him to rock against you faster. Harder. 

Bucky’s whimpers only serve to drive you crazier and with wild abandon, you buck your hips to meet his thrusts. “So close, baby. Almost there— oh, fuck,” you cry. 

Bucky bites the skin of your neck, causing you to gasp loudly and moan. 

“Fuck, doll,” he groans, and he swallows your whines with frenzied need, his tongue laving over yours. The harsh pants for air when he pulls back to speak send you into a whimpering mess. “Drivin’ me crazy, Bee. Need you so bad, you got no idea—” 

“Keep going, please, keep going!”

“—Gotta have you,” he grunts. “Need these fuckin’ clothes off — wanna see your perfect body.”

It’s hopeless to keep your moans at bay. His ferocity has you on the edge and your thighs shake as you balance on the precipice. “Gonna— gonna cum.” You tangle your fingers into his damp hair and pull. “Bucky, baby—”

“I know, pretty girl,” Bucky coos. “I’ll get you there, don’t worry—” 

“Please, please, please!” you frantically beg. The knot in your stomach is wound tight; the fast rhythm of Bucky’s thrusts pushing it to the point of shattering. 

With a slight shift in angle of Bucky’s hips, the tip of his cock rubs against your swollen clit through your leggings, and you scream from the sheer ecstasy that flows through your veins with your climax. “Cumming! I’m cumming— oh my god, I’m cumming!”

Bucky’s hips falter, and he chokes out a raspy moan, “Fuck!” 

The shattering of built-up tension rushes over the two of you; harsh moans fall from Bucky’s parted lips while he rides out his high, his hips continuing to grind against you. 

It all falls on deaf ears while fire still runs through your veins.  

“Holy shit,” Bucky whispers, finally slowing down his breathing and stopping the faltering, aborted thrusts of his hips. The growing wet patch that stains the crotch of his sweatpants no longer makes his cheeks flush with shame. 

Quiet whimpers and gasps for breath leave you unable to speak, to utter just how wrecked you feel beneath him. 

“Holy fuck,” Bucky repeats, and he gently rests his lower half against yours while carefully keeping his upper body propped up on his elbows. “That was–” Hot breaths fan over your lips as he rests his forehead against yours. “So fuckin’ good.”

You laugh breathily and squeeze his shoulders, the press of your fingertips meeting hard, strong muscle.

It’s a peaceful moment; a serene bliss you only find in the comfort of Bucky’s arms. It feels right to be cocooned in his warmth — your boyfriend always making you feel safe. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Bucky says softly, placing a quick kiss to your nose, then a lingering, passionate one on your lips. “I can’t– fuck, can’t believe you’re mine.” 

You smile brightly up at him, lost for words, and with a tired huff, he rolls off of your body to lay beside you. Your chests rise and fall in a soothing sense of synchronisation. 

The slow drain of adrenaline from your body erupts in a sudden fit of giggles.  

Bucky blinks, then smiles hesitantly, a confused quirk of his lips. “What’s so funny, Buttercup?” 

“I just–” You bite your lip in an attempt to stop your laughter so you’re able to respond to him. “Sorry– it’s just a little crazy to me how you’re not as shy as you used to be.” A teasing smirk pulls at your lips. “You’ve gone a little rogue, Pup.” 

Heat creeps up Bucky’s neck and covers his cheeks with an adorable red flush. Even if your man has gained a lot of confidence, he will never be able to rid the bashful puppy inside of him. 

“I should be worried,” you tease. “You’re giving me a run for my money.” 

“Right, that’s it.” Bucky suddenly shoots up and climbs over you, pinning you in place with his hips and thighs. One of his hands snakes up your arm, then the other, and you shiver with the ghost of sensation, only, he smirks. “I’ve got you now.” 

Your wrists are suddenly together, unable to move from the top of the bed and in the grip of his hand. “Hey–!”

There’s a wicked, playful glint in his darkening eyes as he looks down at you. “You’ll learn, Bee, that I’m not a man to be teased.” The hand he has free begins to flit over your ticklish spots. 

“Bucky,” You warn as you nervously chuckle, trying to edge away from his touch. “Don’t you even think about it.”  

That doesn’t deter him though. He runs the tips of his fingers, a feather light touch, underneath your tank top. “Oh, no– no, no,” he tuts. “I have the upper hand now, baby.”

“No!” you loudly squeal, trying to kick your feet to dislodge the weight of Bucky’s athletic build over your lower half, but it’s of no use. 

You burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter — tears start streaming down your cheeks while your boyfriend watches in cruel amusement above you. “Where did all that fighting talk from earlier go, huh, Buttercup? Where did it go?” 

“Okay, okay! I– I lose, you w–win!” 

With a satisfied sigh, Bucky yields and lets go of your wrists to bring one hand down to your waist, closely following with the other as he starts to gently stroke the exposed skin of your middle. 

“You’re too easy, baby,” he chuckles, fondness bursting over his features. 

“Yeah, well,” you sigh in defeat. “You played dirty. Best believe I’ll get you back, big guy.”

A comfortable silence stretches between you both while you breathe heavily and close your eyes against the exhaustion overtaking your limbs. The rush of endorphins and all manner of happiness still flowing through your veins.  

Until, “Did I go too far?” Bucky asks suddenly, his voice timid, small. 

The tone of his question indicates a sense of duality — he’s not just asking only about the tickle fight. 

You open your eyes to the view of his long hair hiding the two of you from the world; your room obscured by the curtain of it. The bright, shining blue of his irises steals your breath with the depth of emotion swimming in them — keeping you firmly within the bubble the two of you created in your passion.  

“Oh, Bucky,” you whisper soothingly, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek — the soft strands of his hair against your fingertips sends an unprompted shiver down your spine. You move your hand from his cheek so your index finger could press against his nose, then up to smooth over the furrow between his brows. “Not at all, handsome.” An effortless smile pulls at your lips, one that he hesitantly returns. “It was perfect, I promise.” 

Though he doesn’t seem to settle. Something is on his mind, that was obvious — his tells are easy to decipher from the time you spent studying his expressions. When he is unsure, hesitant, the tip of his tongue runs over his bottom lip; when anxious, his shoulders hunch inwards in an attempt to make himself smaller. 

Bucky swallows thickly. 

You frown. “Are you okay, Puppy?” 

The soft lilt of your voice soothes his worries, and he takes a deep breath before responding with a wavering, “I think I’m ready.” 

The implication of such a comment makes your eyes widen slightly — while the possibilities are endless for what he could possibly be referring to, you’re almost certain you understand exactly what he means. 

As though he suddenly realises how it could be interpreted, he barely whispers, “I w–wanna have— have sex.” There’s a slight tremble in his voice despite his courage to confess. 

You blink once, twice, hesitating only for a second before opening your mouth to reply, to question him, but Bucky rushes to add, “With you.”  

It’s your turn to swallow — despite the harsh dryness coating your throat. In the past, you had partners, summer flings. Few stayed, and even fewer were worth the trials and effort of a proper relationship. And through those couplings, sex became something that didn’t faze you. 

With Bucky it feels different. 

The connection is far more meaningful to you than any casual hookup from a club, and to know he is in a space where he is comfortable enough to place such vulnerability in the palms of your hands… It is not lost on you, the importance of his choice. 

You look deep into his eyes while you seek his full consent — if only just to quell the doubt that swells within yourself. “You’re sure about this?” 

“One hundred percent,” Bucky confidently assures. “I want all of you, Buttercup. And I wanna give you all of me.” 

Fuck, you curse to yourself. You didn’t deserve him. 

You nod, then say, “Alright, baby.” Bucky grins at you, and this time you rush to add, “Let me do this properly though, okay? I want to take you out; treat you like you deserve.” 

A sudden sheepishness clouds his expression, and his eyes dart downwards to your lips while he licks his own. “Mhm,” he mumbles quietly, “Y–You can do that if— if you like.” 

You take both of his cheeks in your hands, and you tilt his head up to place a soft, loving kiss to his swollen lips. When he makes direct eye contact with you, you whisper against his mouth, “You deserve the world, Pup — nothing less. So yes, I would love to.” 

The night of the long anticipated date night arrived faster than you realise — after classes, study sessions, and accompanying Nat to the boy’s football training to cheer them on, time flew by in a blur.

As much as Bucky begged you for a scrap of a hint or clue for what you planned, you kept it under tight wraps; a lock and key that will not budge for even the sweetest of pleas.  

It hasn’t been an easy task to stay strong against his wide, puppy eyes — on more than one occasion, you almost let slip. But with severe determination, you successfully keep it a secret. 

And by god are you proud of yourself for such an achievement. 

You know for sure that Bucky is going to enjoy himself tonight — every last stop pulled, and with the help from your brother for the venue, you feel confident in the plan.

That is, until you smooth over the invisible wrinkles of your dress for the umpteenth time while you make your way down the hallway towards their apartment, your stomach roiling with anxiety of the unknown. Will Bucky truly like it? What if he hates it–?

A hand with perfectly manicured, blood red nails grabs yours, and pulls your fidgeting fingers away from the seam of stitching to the pockets of your dress. “Babe, please stop panicking.” Natasha’s soothing tone brings you back down to earth. “You look incredible — Bucky isn’t going to know what hit him.”

After hearing of your plans from your brother, she was quick to offer her help with your makeup and hair, which you graciously and gratefully took her up on. You were desperate for some feminine support, and Nat came in the form of an angel sent from the heavens.  

The way she worked her magic left you unable to believe it was you staring back at yourself in the mirror; hair flawlessly styled and makeup ethereal. A shaky sigh escapes you. “You really think so?”   

All in all, as you walk down the hallway to the door that hides your date from view, arm in arm with your guardian angel, there is not one reason for why you are so anxious — though the pressure you place on yourself to make sure this date is perfect is among one of the chief suspects. 

You meant, wholeheartedly, what you told Bucky before — he deserves the world, and you crave to hand it to him. “I mean–”

“Listen to me,” Nat says fiercely as she steps in front of you, blocking your path to the door of the apartment and stopping you in your tracks. Her hands grip your arms, tethering you to reality. “I know for a fact that boy is going to positively die when he sees you.” 

The tension releases from your body with her comforting words, but Nat still goes above and beyond to bring you out of your spiral. “Hell, if I wasn’t already with your brother, I'd have snatched you up myself.” 

You can’t help the small smile that quirks your lips for her instilled confidence, and she winks. 

You’re grateful that Steve has found someone so genuine who you easily get along with. Natasha is a beautiful woman both inside and out, faultlessly honest and loyal — traits that are hard to find in a person, yet here she is, extending her help with little thought or expectation of it being returned.  

“Thank you,” you murmur, trying to convey how much you appreciate her. “Y–You didn’t have to do all of this.” 

“Maybe not.” Her hair bounces as she shrugs. “But us girls gotta stick together — especially now that we’ve got two helmet heads stuck to our back.” 

“Come on.” Her arm hooks around yours, and she pulls you along. “Let’s go get your boy.” 

Before you can blink, you are standing outside your brother’s apartment, and with a deep breath and moral support of the redhead on your arm, you bring your closed fist up to the wood. “Here we go.” Three, firm knocks ring through the silence, and you step back to wait. 

The anticipation doesn't last very long at all before the door swings inwards with a flourish. 

Steve stands in the entryway, his back turned towards you while he shouts into his apartment. “Hurry your ass up, Buck–!” You lightly switch your weight between your feet, waiting for him to turn around. “They’re at the door!” 

There’s a clattering bang and more curses from inside the apartment, when Steve finally turns around to greet you. “There’s my favourite girls—” He freezes in place, mouth slack from shock, and his eyes trail up and down your body. “Flower,” he gasps in awe. “Oh sis, you look so beautiful.”

The sincerity in his words immediately brings tears to your eyes, and Nat hisses at her boyfriend, “Hey, don’t ruin her makeup!”  

“I’m sorry,” Steve says slowly, still taking you in. “I just– you’re so fucking beautiful. Look at you.” 

Nat hums happily while her hand rubs your shoulder. “Isn’t she? I said Bucky’s going to die when he sees her.” 

“Guys,” You whine, the hot flush of embarrassment leaves you feeling utterly flustered.  

Steve ignores you though, readily agreeing with his girlfriend as he opens the door wider to let you both enter. “She’s right, Flower. It suits you perfectly.” 

A surge of giddiness hits you — after a time of intense deliberation of your wardrobe, you chose one of your favourite sundresses to wear for the special night, a spaghetti strap in a soft, cornflower blue. A small surprise and homage to someone special. “Thanks Stevie, I really appreciate–”  

“Okay, okay, wait–” Bucky rounds the corner from the hallway as he enters the living room, interrupting you. “What about this one?”  

The cufflinks on his navy blue button-up steal his whole attention, while his long, chocolate hair conceals you from his view. He struggles fastening the cuffs with the subtle shake of his fingers, and you can almost hear his inner frustration when he huffs an annoyed breath, blowing strands of hair from his face. “Dammit, I swear–”

You stand there with thin lips to contain your laughter while waiting for him to look up.  

“Steve?” Bucky asks frustratedly after he doesn’t receive an immediate response. “Do you think Buttercup will like this outfit or not–” His head tilts upwards, hair falling either side of his handsome face that is painted with exasperation at being ignored, and his words falter.

Blue eyes widen in surprise to find you standing there next to his best friend. 

“Oh– fuck,” Bucky gasps, and his jaw slackens with the gravity of your presence; truly awe stricken by the sight of your opulent outfit and appearance. His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps uselessly around his inability to speak. 

The click of your shoes against the floorboards doesn’t snap him out of his daze let alone register in his mind, so deep in his fixation of you.  

You take the chance to admire his appearance. 

The navy, button-up shirt clings to his broad shoulders, accentuating the definition of the muscles all the way down to his forearms, and with each movement, the material tightens sinfully. The top few buttons of his shirt are left undone — a choice you’re most thankful for because of the tease of his bare chest. Black slacks fit snug to his hips and grip his thick thighs. 

On any normal day, when Bucky wasn’t out in the field in his football gear, he normally stuck to his casual clothing of an old t-shirt and sweatpants — comfort over presentability, not that you ever complain about the sight of him in sweats. But this is the first time you’ve ever seen him remotely dressed up.

You walk towards him and grab his hands with yours, stopping his absentminded fidgeting — gravity keeping him routed in place. 

“I think you’re absolutely gorgeous, Bucky,” you say, gazing into his eyes while you wonder how lucky you are to hold his attention in a room of his favourite people. “If that answers your question.”

“My god, Bee,” he whispers, finally able to give a voice to the flock of thoughts circling his mind. “You look stunning, baby — ethereal.” He laughs, a little deliriously. “You’re kinda killing me here.” His large hands encircle yours, bringing them up to hold against his chest. 

There’s so much emotion in his eyes as they dart over your figure like there’s not enough time in the world for him to take you in. 

“Give us a spin!” Nat calls into the charged air while she clings onto Steve’s arm, who watches on teary eyed. 

Bucky takes one of your hands and lifts it into the air, encouraging you to twirl. The skirt of your dress fans out around your thighs, and you can’t help but grin wide as your boyfriend whistles low. “You're a goddamn dream, Buttercup.”

He guides you back into his hold, before gently gripping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger to bump his nose against yours. “And all mine.” 

The way Bucky’s stare burrows deep into your soul and makes a home where he rightfully belongs — it takes everything you have to not blurt out the three words residing on the tip of your tongue, but something has you biting your lip against the impulse. 

Instead of declaring aloud what your mind and heart feel, you settle with another truth, “And you, Bucky Barnes, are a sight for sore eyes.” 

A dusting of pink spreads high over his cheeks, and you take pride in being able to fluster him so easily — your adorable Pup would never lose his bashfulness. 

“What did I tell you, honey?” Natasha bumps her hips against Steve’s as she snickers into her hand. “He’s practically drooling over her.” 

You join in with their laughter while Bucky pulls you close and buries himself into your neck, even more flustered from the insistent teasing, and he grumbles low into your ear, “Great, now there’s two of them.” 

Leaning back to better look at his flushed face, you assure him, “I think you’re adorable, baby.”

His eyes twinkle with a spark only you could ever bring out of him. “I’m excited for the night, Bee,” Bucky declares, honest and sweet. 

“Me too, handsome,” you readily agree while you step back, the small hops of uncontainable excitement making Steve and Nat chuckle. “Are we all set to leave?” 

“Oh!” Nat cries, “Before you forget—” She slips out of Steve’s hold and rushes into the kitchen, coming back a second later with a wicker basket full of food, the very same that she insisted on when she first found out about your date. With a wink, she hands it to you. “You can’t leave without this.” 

“You’re an angel,” you praise, walking towards her and holding your arms wide for a hug. She readily accepts it and kisses you on the cheek. “Thank you so much for this.”

Just as you step back from her embrace to grab her offering, Bucky swoops in and grabs the basket before you can even touch the wicker handle. “Hey! Excuse me, Barnes,” you scold, frowning at him. “I am more than capable of carrying that.”

“I know,” Bucky teases while he walks backwards towards the apartment door, a devilish grin on his lips. “But I don’t care for a picnic basket gettin’ in the way and ruinin’ the view of my girl in a pretty dress.” 

Your jaw drops from his suave words, and you stand there, flustered as you watch his retreating form. Without looking, he opens the door with his free hand and bids farewell to his best friend with a nod, then he smiles at Nat. 

Bucky then looks to you. The flick of his hair as he nods towards the hallway pulls you from the reverie. “Come on, beautiful. The night is young; the possibilities endless.” 

Where the hell has he gotten his silver tongue from? your mind questions. 

“He’s gotten too smooth for his own good,” Steve comments as though he read your mind, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“You don’t say,” you reply easily. To get to the door, you walk past your brother, and he slips a folded piece of paper into your hand while Bucky is walking into the hallway, his back turned. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

Steve grins. “Have fun, Flower — you deserve this.” Naturally, it wouldn’t be a traditional sibling farewell without a departing shout of, “And make sure you wear protection, shithead!” 

The Brooklyn streets are aglow from the overhead lights while the moon creeps up the horizon, watching over you and Bucky holding hands. He blindly follows you towards your best kept secret.  

“Let me get this straight.” Bucky swings your arm with his gently. “You’re telling me I can’t have any clues about where you’re taking me?” 

“Nope,” you respond, staying strong to your oath of silence. “We’re a couple of blocks away, you dummy. You’re going to find out in five minutes — be patient, I know it’s hard.” 

“C’mon, Bee,” Bucky begs. “You don’t wanna put a poor man out of his misery?” He lightly tugs on your intertwined hands to spin you into his chest. 

“Hey–” You look up at him to find his eyes hooded with barely restrained lust.  

“I almost died already after seeing you in that dress for the first time, and now you’re torturing me, I have to watch you walk in front of me in the damned thing.” 

Oh, you laugh to yourself. He’s really turning the charm up. 

“Puppy,” you whisper breathily, intentionally running a hand down his chest. The action and your touch makes Bucky shudder. “Believe me when I say I could make you do a lot worse.” 

A deep flush of red paints his cheeks and spreads blotchily down his neck, and his breath hitches when you cup his jaw in your palm. “Be good for me, and be patient,” you warn, the fan of your breath over his lips only worsening his flustered state. “I promise the wait will be worth it.”

“Y–Yeah, okay–” He clears his throat and sets you back onto your feet, though he does not release your hand.  

A flash of mischief darkens his eyes when you pull him onwards, and you look over your shoulder at him when he says, “Yes ma’am.” 

That is something you could get used to hearing. “Atta boy.”

The rest of the walk is quiet but calm — a mutual contentment stretching between the two of you where words aren’t needed. 

You know that around the next street corner lay your surprise, and Bucky still has no idea what is in store — the piece of paper that Steve gave you begins to burn a hole in your dress pocket.  

The exclamation of surprise that falls from Bucky’s lips when he lays eyes on the museum makes all the effort worth it, though it grows to a state of clear confusion from the furrowing of his brows. “Wait, it’s late — isn’t it closed?”

“Come on,” you say in reply, and instead of going to the main entrance, you lead Bucky towards an alleyway where Steve told you the back entrance for staff is situated.  

The crinkle of paper is louder than the cheering crowd at a football game, and you grip the invaluable information as you near the locked door. Steve’s offering rings in your mind: It will get you into the main foyer, from there, you’re gonna need to get sneaky.

Bucky’s hand squeezes yours in an attempt to get your attention. “Bee?”

You’re too homed in on the memory of Steve talking to you about your plan — one of their teammates works within the museum, and he was able to pull a few strings and call in a couple of favours for the gold mine in your hand. 

You determinedly walk towards the keypad built into the wall next to the door and unfold the note. In the process, you let Bucky’s hand go — you instantly feel the loss of connection.    

“Um— Buttercup,” he chuckles nervously, glancing over his shoulders to spot any onlookers. “I think this is classified as illegal trespassing right now.” 

“I mean,” you say, then you stick your tongue between your teeth as you work the six-digit code from the piece of paper to the keypad. The low tone press of each digit covers up the shuffle of feet behind you. “Bucky, it’s okay — it’s safe.”

“But–” He hesitates when the mechanism clicks to signify it's open. 

You look at him and suddenly grasp the idea that he is anxious — his football scholarship and prospective future could be ripped away from him within the hour should the two of you get caught by the authorities.

“Hey, hey, we’re good — no one’s gonna catch us, I swear,” you assure. Though he still looks on edge. You don’t want Bucky to feel apprehensive for the sake of his headspace or the rest of the evening, and your only option is to offer him your most sincere form of faith. You hold out your hand, palm up. “We’re gonna be okay. Trust me?”

  

There’s a small, nervous twitch of a smile on his lips, and then, finally, his tense shoulders and posture relax as he steps forward and sets his hand into yours with an ease that shocks you, only strengthening the solid connection you have. 

“Come on.” Bucky follows behind you, a slight laugh on his breath as you all but run into the museum. 

Different eras of evolution pass by in a flash; hundreds of exhibits dedicated to all corners of the world go ignored in lieu of taking Bucky to one place that, normally, was not an easy area to walk through and explore, given how popular the exhibit is. 

By the time you reach the doors hidden behind a set of double, velvet curtains, you’re out of breath. “O—kay,” you pant, hands on your hips as you slightly bend forward. “We’re — we’re here.”  

Your boyfriend, the teasing bastard he is, chuckles while he extends a hand to your shoulder, “Are you okay?” 

The bastard hasn’t even broken a sweat. 

“Fine — I’m fine,” you gasp, and you gesture at the curtains. “Come on, I can’t hold it in any longer–” The heels of your shoes click over the floor, and you push aside the curtains to reveal the door — only then do you turn around and smile at Bucky. “Here we go.”

The doors fly open with a flourish and reveal a domed planetarium with the signage above a giant moon: A Journey Through The Stars. 

It is a coveted event within the science community, and only after you hear of it through whispers in the halls of your dorms and classes did you realise it was perfect. 

Darkness cloaks and envelopes the two of you as you step inside — Bucky moving slowly in his daze of amazement. On strings and platforms above and lining the dome ceiling are twinkling lights and stars, the only source of lumination to show the wonderment in his cerulean blues. 

You watch from a distance with bated breath while Bucky stares to the ceiling, mouth agape, taking in the moving three-dimensional hologram above him and everything it has to offer. 

The galaxy, with its swirls of pinks, purples, and blues among millions of stars, are brought to life before his very eyes. Planets thousands of times bigger than the two of you cross and circle one another above your heads, closer than either of you could have ever thought possible, and yet, still only just out of reach — the concept achieves the impossible. 

In the end, you realise as you stare at Bucky, your heart swelling with the love that courses through you, that you have gone beyond the very goal you were desperate to attain; to give Bucky Barnes the world. 

He spins on the spot, eyes bright with a childlike awe you have only ever seen on the mornings you've woken up in his arms. The glow of the celestial wonders captures in that second, a memory that will last forever — the sight of your man, the centre of your world, underneath the stars. 

Ever so slowly, Bucky delicately brings his gaze back down to earth, and notices the distance between the two of you. His voice echoes across the room, off of the planets and stars as he asks with a waver in his voice, “H–How did you know?” 

You smile. “That you’re kind of an astronomy nerd?”  

Bucky only nods his head, still at a loss for words. Strands of his neatly tucked hair fall over his eyes, and you take a deep breath and steady your own voice. “Do you remember our first movie night with Stevie and Nat?” 

There is a small hum of acknowledgement from deep in his throat. 

“Well,” you continue, “I remember the two of them were arguing, it took them ages to settle on a film choice. I was beginning to lose my tether.” The recollection of the memory — their voices and banter make you chuckle. “Anyway, a trailer came up on the TV for an upcoming film about an astronaut getting stuck in space — the Martian, maybe? I’m not too sure.” 

He is purely focused on you as you speak, and you begin to recall your favourite part of the memory with a fond smile, ignoring the slight lump in your throat from the overwhelming flood of fondness and adoration. “But I watched– I watched as your head snapped up instantly. You were enamoured, Bucky — I’ve never seen you so hooked into anything more in my life.”

Time freezes as Bucky stands there, unmoving and speechless. The lack of reaction from him makes your stomach twist with nerves, and you rush to fill the silence, rambling on, “Then I noticed the smaller things. Your stack of astronomy books on your nightstand, the NASA merch I find when I steal one of your sweaters.” A small laugh escapes then at his incredulous expression. “And so, I went out on a whim, piecing everything together, and I– well, I thought I should try my chances.” 

“You really—” Bucky swallows the lump stuck in his throat. “You noticed all of that?”

“Of course I did, Bucky,” you tell him with reverence. “How could I not notice something you’re in love with?” The colours of the night sky shimmer over his face and over the sheen in his eyes as he stares at you. Hesitantly, you ask, “D–Do you like it?” 

“Do I like it?” He repeats, huffing a breath. “Do I– do I like it–?”

There’s a thud as the basket he was holding falls to the floor, and you gasp while he storms towards you and picks you up around your waist to spin you around in the air. 

His grin is wide while you squeal with shock. “Damn right I like it!” he shouts with pride. “My girl is the fucking best!” 

“Ah–! Bucky!” The skirt of your dress flutters over your thighs as you hold onto his shoulders.

He whoops and yells his happiness, and after a few rotations, he carefully places you back down onto the floor, only he doesn’t stop his persistent touch — kisses scatter over your face, never lingering in one place for more than a second. 

“You’re — so — amazing.” His lips move downwards from your face to your jaw, then your neck. “Can’t — believe — you’re — actually — mine.” 

The ache in your stomach flutters from your laughter, though you are on cloud nine and find it difficult to care when the boy you’ve had a crush on for so long is kissing your face like there is no tomorrow. 

Eventually, Bucky begins to calm down, settling his forehead against yours while wrapping his hands around your waist. “This means everything to me, Buttercup.” He grants you a slow, final kiss to your lips. “Thank you.” 

“You are more than welcome, sweet boy.” You move closer into his chest and peck him on the lips. “Now let’s have that picnic.”

The two of you sit under the largest planet, and you dive into the contents of the picnic basket to find Natasha has packed a whole range of finger foods from sandwiches, mini cakes, to strawberries and grapes. A small bottle of your favourite drink is tucked into the side of the basket, next to two glasses.  

After a toast, “To what the universe has planned for us,” you both bask in one another’s company — two tiny specks of the universe coming together as one. 

You listen intently as Bucky excitedly rambles about the different planets, as well as his love for Mars in particular. The gesticulation and smile on his face is priceless, and you only wish you had thought to bring a camera. 

Bucky continues endlessly — listing interesting facts about each planet and star he knew, and he goes into detail about any active NASA projects or upcoming ones he’s been keeping track of. 

Not only is he an avid storyteller, he makes sure to involve you in the conversation, engaging you with silly questions on whether you believe in other life out there, and any of your thoughts you have about historical space ventures. 

It is easy to fall into step with his passion, and you know that you could stare all night as his whole face lights up, especially his eyes, while he talks about something he thought no one noticed before. 

But you did. 

The highlight is when Bucky begins to talk about star constellations — his love and adoration surpassing that of anything you had heard from him before.   

He sits behind you, legs resting either side of your body while he holds you to his chest with one arm, the other pointing up towards the dome ceiling. “You see that one there, Bee?” There’s a cluster of twinkling stars in the direction of his gesture. “The large rectangle one — that’s Orion.”

The soothing rumble of his voice against your back is remedying — home.  

“It’s also known as Orion The Hunter,” Bucky explains further. “A Greek name, but its true origin is believed to come from the ancient times of Babylon.” 

“It’s beautiful, Bucky,” You sigh happily. The cluster and the whole of the night’s sky is truly beautiful — once they were just a pattern of lights in the sky to you, now they hold far more meaning. 

“Yeah,” your boyfriend agrees. You don’t see how his eyes flicker down to you, rather, you only feel his cheeks rising in a smile. “It is.” He clears his throat. “The constellation includes two of the brightest stars in the sky.” 

“Really?” You hunch forward a little to look upwards. 

“Mhm,” Bucky confirms with a hum. 

With a huff of effort, you push yourself up onto your feet, and walk closer to the constellation until you are directly underneath the pattern of stars. It’s with a new appreciation you stare up at the twinkling lights that you didn’t have before — admiring the complexity of the placement but the simple beauty of it. 

The reflection from the dome ceiling illuminates onto your skin, tattooing patterns of a realm that will never be discovered for its full existence. 

Bucky, however, focuses entirely on you — his girl, in a reality the two of you once never thought possible. 

A shuffling of feet comes from next to you, and Bucky stands and makes his way towards you. He places both of his hands onto your cheeks to tilt your head back down, to be back in the present with him. “Maybe not the brightest. But that’s okay, because that one is only meant for me anyway.” 

It’s sudden, but it consumes you whole — mind, body, and soul — of the realisation that Bucky Barnes is the love of your life. 

You fight the tears threatening to bubble to the surface, though it’s futile — a few escape and trail down your cheeks to collect on Bucky’s thumbs. Those three pesky words fight to spill from your heart and out into the open, to hang in the closing distance between Bucky and you. 

But somehow, it doesn’t seem like the right time. A fragile moment that while you know could truly never break, uttering those words feels like it will shatter the last of your resolve. 

And so, you save them; sealing your mouth closed with a sworn promise to let them go soon. 

Seconds go by as you collect yourself, and then you manage in a choked voice, “My, my — What have you done with my Bucky?” 

“He’s still here,” Bucky vows. “You just make me so dizzy — so goddamn fuckin’ dizzy — that I’ll spill whatever comes to mind.” 

That makes two of you.

You place your hands over his, still encapsulating your face. “Well, you certainly know how to make a girl swoon, handsome.”

His lips turn upwards in a lopsided grin that shows a slither of his pearly whites. “I would find a way to pull the moon out of the sky if you asked me to, Buttercup.” 

There is no doubt in your heart over that — Bucky would go to the ends of the earth for you. But you didn’t need that, you have everything you could wish for already in the palm of your hands. “Lucky for you, I’ll only ask for a dance underneath it.” 

Bucky’s lopsided grin turns into a thousand-watt smile, as bright as the stars above you both. “Now that is something I can make happen.” 

There’s no music, no beat for the two of you to follow, but that doesn't stop Bucky from gathering you closer to his chest — his arms cross over your back to pull you flush with his front. 

You turn your head to the side and lay your cheek against him, wrapping your arms around his neck to better hold him. 

The steady rhythm of his heart guides the steps to your dance, the slow sway side to side of your bodies. You feel the brush of his lips at your temple, then he mutters something under his breath; a barely there string of unintelligible words that do nothing but add to the peace of the moment. 

Bucky sighs and hugs you tighter. 

The night is only just beginning. 

Part Three

[rafecameronsversion]

bright beverly hills || r.c

summary : kooks bully you at a party, and rafe reassures you.

warnings : bullying, discrimination, cursing, use of y/n, feminine descriptions.

i'm unsure if this is any good 🥸 i feel like i rushed it a lot. but hope u likey

rafe and i were two sides of the same coin, opposite but inseparable. he grew up in a silver spoon gated community, everything was served to him in a silver platter. a bubble-wrapped future, footsteps for him ready to follow.

while i was having candle-lit dinners at the cut, he had them in fancy michelin star restaurants. rafe had a cold exterior when it came to other people; to protect himself. however, when it came to me, he was the most caring boy.

clandestine meetings at the age of 12, his father would berate him for hanging out with a "pogue" like me, but he couldn't let him take away the one thing that brought him peace. we were best friends, eventually becoming more with lingering touches and longing glances.

he became a honorable part of my humble family, sometimes being invited over to our most simple of dinners, dancing in the living room late night swims in the beach.

it was friday night in outer banks, a party in full swing. this house belonged to topper. i was clinging to rafe's arm, feeling out of place. the tension in the air was palpable. i had debated that i didn't want to go here, knowing i would feel singled out and small.

this place yelled every single thing that was different between us two. the glistening chandeliers, polished floors, and snobby laughs coming from kooks who have never worked a day in their lives.

rafe smiles, looking at me. "i'll grab us some drinks real quick, alright baby?" he spoke, a gentle tone in his voice that was reserved only for me. i hesitated, not wanting to be left alone in this damned place. but i nodded, i couldn't be the one to hold him back, especially in his world. glamorous, shining, bright beverly hills.

he turned around, getting lost in the crowd of super rich kids. i stood in a less crowded corner, trying to attract the least attention, and it seemed to have worked.

three girls nearby were whispering among the other, yet they were louder than they realized.

"could you believe rafe cameron brought that girl here?" the blonde one scoffed, jealously reeked out of her mouth. the other two agreed, chiming in.

"must be hard living on the cut, always desperate to climb their way out." another one insinuated. i couldn't help but scoff at the idea, my heart was heavy and i couldn't bare being here. the bimbo chimed in, a confused look on her face.

"you really think she slept her way to be his girlfriend? i don't think even cameron would allow that..." she spoke, eyes wide. the blone one rolled her eyes. "well, even the richest men can still think with their dicks, jessica." she was an absolute mean girl, and her tone displayed it perfectly.

i felt like the walls were moving in on me, it was all too much. this place was too much. i quietly turned away, going outside by the porch where no one seemed to stay. i breathed in the fresh air, fidgeting.

soon after, rafe had found where i was. he looked at me fondly, a soft smile on his face. "hey... there you are. i thought i lost you in there." he said, rubbing his hand over my shoulder. i exhaled sharply.

"why am i here, rafe?" i questioned, my voice was low as i stood against the railing of the front porch of toppers' home, that was as big as the living room of my family's house. rafe looked at me confused.

"what do you mean, baby?" he asked, a soft and confused look in his eyes.

i laughed out a scoff, a bitter tone. "i don't belong here, rafe. your world... this mansion, these people." i paused, unsure how to continue. "i grew up on the cut, these people do nothing but look down at us. i can't be here rafe, i can't be in this world."

rafe's jaw tightened, looking away for a second before looking back at me. "you know that's not fair" he spoke, his voice on the edge.

"what's not fair is you pushing to bring me here! i don't have any of the things the girls here have. you'd be better off with someone from your world..." i spoke, my voice breaking a little from frustration.

rafe's eyes softened, he moved closer toward me. "baby..."

"don't you see how different we are? your world is all polished floors and bright chandeliers. mine is messy and chaotic." i spoke softly, afraid my voice will betray me.

he reached out, grabbing both hands and bringing them closer to him. "listen, i didn't bring you here to make you feel small. i don't want these girls, they can all go fuck themselves! i love you, and i love that we're different." he spoke softly, kissing the knuckles of my hands.

"none of this matters to me, baby. it doesn't mean anything if i don't have you." rafe spoke, his blue eyes warm.

i searched his face, looking into his eyes. i want to believe him yet doubt lingered in the back of my head. "you say that now..."

"but what happens when your friends remind you of who i am? when your dad tells you i'm not good enough." my voice was below a whisper, afraid of the possibilities of this relationship we had.

rafe held me by my shoulders, "i don't care. i'm done caring what they think. i want you, and the messy and chaotic world you've shown me." he said, leaning in and kissing my forehead.

"i don't need this world. i want the one where you showed me it's okay to be real, that it's okay to feel." he says softly, looking deeply into my eyes.

the way he looked at me so gently, so genuine. i felt as if i could cry. i attacked him in a hug, my arms wrapped around his torso.

"its just... those girls get under my skin. kept talking about how i slept my way out of the cut." i admitted quietly, my head still against his chest.

rafe shakes his head, hugging me back. "never ever let them get to you. they're just pissed." he pulled back to look at me, smiling. he pressed his lips onto mine, for a short and delicate kiss. "how about we just get out of here?" he said, a cheeky smile on his face.

i laughed, nodding my head yes. "i'd like that so much. please." he grinned, putting my hand in his as he guided us out of this place.

[vvampirelust]

PLSPLSPLS I NEED SOME MORE READER X ELLIE X SHANE

of course baby girl xx

warnings: smut, the plot was plotting omg, fingering (e and r receiving), oral (e!receiving), jealous shane?? 🫢 not proof read as always xx

part one here

“CUT“

The lights are blaring as the studio returns to normal. You laugh awkwardly with your co-star as you are finally able to detach from the intimate position you’ve both been in. “I think that’s the one, guys” the director announces after what felt like 50 takes of the borderline wild sex scene you’ve been filming, “Great job, you two. Seriously.”

You sneak a glance over at Ellie whilst slipping on your robe. She’s staring intensely over the directors shoulder, watching the playback. It sets off butterflies in your stomach, the way she’s so infatuated with you. Her face bright red and throat bobbing, as if she’d never seen you in that way before. You’re doing your best to conceal the grin threatening to come to life.

“Hey, Els,” you chirp, passing by, “Walk with me?”

The trailer wasn’t far, thankfully. Taking her hand in yours once you were out of sight. Knowing it would make her nervous. “So you liked the show, huh?” you joke, watching as she drops her chin in a huff. “Shut up.”

Ever since that night, you’d been seeing her more often. Shane too, of course, but that was mostly for sex. Not that you didn’t love that time with Ellie, it just felt like it always meant more to her. That she seen you for more.

Once inside, you begin fixing a drink for each other. Beer, as fancy as it sounded. “You know,” you start, popping off the lid, “Seeing you watching me like that, it uh, kinda turned me on.”

“Oh really?” She takes the bottle, fingers lingering as they brush yours yet again. After a swig, she continues, “Tell me more.” You take a step closer, humming as you faux think, bringing a hand up to brush her bangs back. Leaning in, you whisper in her ear, “I was thinking about you…yano, when i was,” you cut yourself off, taking her ear between her teeth.

“Fuck,” Ellie sighs, rolling her head back. Her palm gently finds your waist, walking you backwards ever so slowly. A sharp gasp leaving you when your back hits the edge of the table. Ellie sets her beer dow, stealing your own next. The subtle clank of the bottle sending a shiver up your spine. “Well, we could turn that into a reality.”

You waist no time in kissing her. Feeling Ellie’s plump, chapped lips slotting between your own. Ellie moans, letting you take the lead. Your hands slide to cup the sides of her face, planting kiss after kiss to her sweet lips. You want her so bad, to make her feel as good as she always does to you.

Ellie’s panting when you pull away, attempting to chase after you. “Uh-uh.” Keeping your eyes on her face, Ellie keeps close watch as your fingers trail down to the knot keeping your robe in place. You almost coo at the way Ellie gulps. She’s so cute, you think. “Want me to take it off, baby?”

“Please,” she blurts almost immediately.

And with a smirk, you do. You let the fluffy white robe drop from your shoulders, fabric sliding over your skin almost sensually.

Black lace adorns your body, lingerie from your scene not so long ago. Tight bra holding your breasts perfectly, pushing them up in a way that has Ellie near drooling. Matching garter wrapping around your waist, securing your pretty lace stockings. Ellie doesn’t know where to look, pretty eyes trailing up and down your body. There’s a change in the way she breathes, as if the air was becoming thinner.

“You’re so beautiful,” she swoons, hands finding your waist, needing to feel you against her skin. You smile, always feeling so adored in her presence. All you want is to show her the same. Your own hands finding purchase on her slender shoulders. “You’re so beautiful, Els,” your voice is sickly sweet, “Let me show you.”

It’s why you now have Ellie beneath you on the couch. Straddling her now bare thighs as you swing your hair over to one shoulder. Knowing exactly what you’re doing to her. “Baby, you’re killing me,” Ellie near whines, head dropping back. You laugh teasingly, whispering “I know,” as your lips brush against the sensitive and exposed skin of her neck. Taking the opportunity to litter her with kisses and nips of your teeth, feeling the way she squirms in response.

You don’t have the strength to stop there, leaving a trail of wet kisses in your wake as your lips move lower and lower. Pushing the strap of her bra aside, Ellie’s fingers bury in your hair, soft sounds puffing past her lips. You push lower, exposing her perky tits, nipples already hard and begging. You can’t help but moan at the sight, letting your tongue swirl around her hardened peak. Ellie arches into you.

And that’s when you both heard the door, “Well well well.”

The voice is familiar, you don’t even need to look to know who had shown up unannounced. Ellie however releases a sigh of relief, confirming your suspicions, “It’s Shane.”

“Don’t let me stop you,” Shane announces, there’s a hint of a scoff in her voice. This time you do look over your shoulder, her arms are crossed as she leans against the wall of your trailer. You can’t read her expression, yet her eyes are trained on you perched atop Ellie, head tilting ever so slightly. “Gonna fuck her or what, babe? Go on.” It sets off a spark in your tummy, that she wants to watch.

Feeling a new wave of confidence, both women appearing to enjoy you putting on a show, you drop down to the floor at Ellie’s feet. Kneeling between her parted legs, your hands softly trailing along her thighs. They tremble beneath your touch as you near the place she wants you the most.

You moan once her boxers are hanging from a single ankle. Ellie’s wet, wanting cunt a sight for sore eyes. You can hear her ragged breath ringing in your ears, she clenches and your eyes follow the dribble of slick which pours from her. You can’t wait any longer.

Ellie groans out loudly, finally feeling your warm tongue delving through her folds. Her hands fist at her sides, the unbearable need soothing at last. You can’t get enough of her taste, humming into her pussy as you lap at her sweet slick, nudging your face closer than possible, no care in the world for the mess you both make. You paw at her thighs with force, silently communicating how much you love having your mouth on her.

“Fuck,” Shane mutters, Ellie whimpering in response. You sneak a glance up at her face, mouth agape and cheeks flushed, those pretty eyes of hers on the woman standing behind you. It causes your cunt to clench, the erotic nature of the situation at hand turning you on more than ever.

With a suck to her puffy clit, those eyes are back on you, a mewl tumbling past her lips. Ellie calls your name, thighs tightening around your head, keeping you in place. Not that you’d rather be anywhere else. Your tongue toys with her clit, circling in a way that has Ellie arching off the couch as she moans, sounds catching in her throat when you hit a spot that has her feeling euphoric.

A sudden heat at your back has you flinching slightly, Shane’s cool hand sliding to your waist to shush you. “I think she likes that,” she chuckles, giving your side a squeeze.

“Mhm!” Ellie whines, beginning to grind against your face, fucking herself on your tongue. You can’t enough of her. Her scent, her taste, her warmth, the feeling of her soft pussy pushing on your tongue. Everything about her. You’re moaning as if it was your own cunt being ate.

“Gonna make her cum, baby?” Shane rasps, palm now slowly running up your back, “Yeah, you are.” She slides her hand into your hair, gripping the back of your head as she forces your face further into Ellie’s cunt. Whose pitiful moan in response is music to your ears, morphing with the heavy breaths falling from Shane. Each puff hot on your back. She leans down, planting light kisses to your bare skin, urging you on.

Ellie shakes when she cums, barely able to make a sound as the feeling takes over. You watch her face contort into complete pleasure, an image that will be imprinted in your mind forever. The defined crease between her eyebrows almost adorable despite what you were doing to her. She’s gushing on your tongue and still you make no move to stop, letting her ride out her high until it’s too much.

And then Shane’s hand in around your throat, tugging you back against her chest. Your head falls back on her shoulder, blinking up at her as you catch your breath. “Good girl,” She praises, so simply getting you under her spell. She knows this and smirks. Her free hand rises to your face, thumb smearing the mix of Ellie’s slick and your spit over your lips.

“No invite for me, hm?” Shane was jealous. That was obvious to you now, it was side you would never have expected from her. As you go to respond, the hold on your neck tightens, she doesn’t want you to answer that. You sneak a glance at Ellie, still droopy from her recent orgasm. “Hey.” Shane steals your attention once again, “S’okay.” You’re unsure if she means it.

“You look so pretty in this getup,” Shane hums, hand leaving your face to trail down your body. Taking the time to trace the lingerie decorating your figure, stopping only when the tip of her finger dips ever so slightly beneath the waistline of your panties. Shane dips down, kissing the side of your neck passionately, sucking on your skin, she was gonna leave a mark. Part of you knew she was doing it on purpose, an attempt to stake claim. “Keep going,” She whispers, gently pushing you back between Ellie’s legs.

Shane’s hand fully dips into your underwear as you lay your head down on Ellie’s thigh, her fingers skimming through your soaked folds and wasting no time sinking her fingers into you.

Your teeth sink into Ellie’s flesh to muffle the moan dragged from your throat, she whimpers loudly from the pleasurable pain. You’re winding your hips down, meeting every thrust from Shane. Her fingers are so deep inside you, gliding against your walls, the sound of your wetness filling the room. You can feel her smiling smugly against your shoulder before she plants a kiss, free hand giving a light slap to your ass, reminding you to stop neglecting poor Ellie.

You skim your own fingers up along Ellie’s thigh, dragging close to her cunt. Your eyes flick to meet hers, she’s staring right back at you, eyes glossy and hooded. Keeping them there as you slide your fingertips up and down the length of her cunt, watching as she gasps and flinches from how sensitive she is.

You start with one, staring at one another in such overwhelming pleasure, you’re sure if you were shown a side by side of your faces, your expressions would be identical. Lips parted as soft sighs fall, eyes seemingly so innocent as you both beg for the pleasure to continue.

Shane’s fingers curl inside you and you whine, bucking into her hand. Ellie strokes your hair, nodding to you, she knows. You slip in a second finger, fastening your pace, Ellie’s head falls back against the couch as she basks in your touch.

Turning your head, you seek for Shane, whimpering out her name. She fucks you faster, harder, leaning forward to press her forehead against your own. “Please,” You mewl, unknowing of what you’re even begging for. Shane captures your lips, letting you release every sound into her mouth, her tongue sweeps in, having missed the way you taste.

The connection urges you to fuck Ellie with more passion, matching Shane’s rhythm. You can feel her clenching around your fingers, hear the way her moans rise. You know exactly how she’s feeling, Shane bringing you closer and closer to the high that’s been building ever since you first put your mouth on Ellie’s cunt.

You whimper into Shane’s mouth, feeling her hum in response, she knows. And squishes another third finger into your cunt, you gasp and she grins against your mouth, whispering, “Cum for me.”

You want Ellie to slip over that line with you, and with another few pumps of yours and Shane’s fingers, you’re both letting go. Hard. Your shared whines echo, almost in tandem. Shane’s kissing along your jaw, your neck, soothing you as you release, soaking her fingers, clenching so tight she keeps them snug within you. The pads of her fingers pressing rhythmically against that spot, hurtling you into overstimulation.

Ellie’s fingers tighten in your hair, legs shutting around your hand, hips raising off the couch. You don’t stop until she’s grabbing at your wrist, murmuring “Too much, too much” through high pitched gasps.

Shane slips her hand out of your panties, leaving you cold on the floor as she gets up and plops herself down on the couch beside Ellie. She brings up her fingers to Ellie’s mouth, pushing them inside so the freckled brunette could get a taste of you. Her eyes flutter as she moans around Shane’s digits, the sight downright erotic in your eyes. Shane’s mouth is wide in a grin, watching Ellie suck your juices off her fingers.

She pulls them out slowly, and the pair both look down at you. Ellie, fucked out and panting for air. Shane’s eyes hooded with lust. This was gonna be a long night…

[certainlynotasimp]

Okay, first of all, how are you? Hope you’re doing well! Drink plenty of water, stay hydrated- Second off, your Sunny fics? *chef’s kiss* so mainly, what if anybody made Sunny cry and Miguel had to find out about it? And Sunny’s trying not to make it seem like a big deal in order to keep Miguel from, you know, absolutely obliterating anyone.

Come on, Baby, Cry.

((Miguel O' Hara X Female! Reader))

A/N: Oh my goodness, thank you so much for the compliment. All my readers? *Extra chef's kisses* I am very hydrated and I got so excited to write this for you and to add some angsty content lol. I hope you enjoy this and let me know if you are disappointed or if you love it.

A/N: I also wanna address two things before I post this too. 1) thank you so much to the anon who asked me to include translations for the Spanish phrases as I was honestly not thinking about doing that. I will do better to include the translations at the end of the fics. 2) There are gonna be some triggering topics explored in this one-shot so if you don't want to hear about near injuries to children or child loss, then I understand if you don't want to read it. Feel free to enjoy my other fanfics and here's the post where you can stay notified on happier Sunny and Miggy fanfics.

Warnings: Grumpy x Sunshine, Barely using (Y/N) ((Sunny is just their nickname, not their actual name.)), Female pronouns, PTSD, Mentions of Child Loss, Endangerment of a Child ((No children were actually hurt, just traumatized)), Trauma, Comforting, Fluff, Angry Miguel, and Google Translate Spanish.

The room fills with squeals and giggles as the chase between the chubby toddler and the jumping spider. Mayday swings her little self around the corridor as the young woman follows behind amused by how agile the little tyke was. 

‘Maybe she’ll make a good sidekick in the future.’ The smiling woman muses in her mind before a bloody image flashes in her mind. Shaking her head, she clears the idea out of her mind as Mayday reaches an open window. 

Her quick scream of horror as she accidentally swings herself out of the window causes the woman’s blood to run cold as she flings herself out of the window after her. “MAYDAY!”

The adrenaline coming from her heightened fear causes the whole thing to appear to be trapped in time as the spider woman falls with the screeching infant falling inches away. Tears clouded her vision as she shoots out her webbing to the pillars around them as the images of flames lick at her eyes. 

So many flames, and too many buildings at once. Screams and pleas from below as she tries to be there. They didn’t matter to her, not at that moment. The only one who mattered was him. Did he scream like that too or did he not even feel it?

Using her webbing, she quickly creates a hammock for Mayday to fall on a few feet from the ground, thankfully trapping the wailing infant so she can’t escape. Unfortunately, reality doesn’t set in time for the spider as she slams into the titanium flooring below, knocking the air out of her lungs.

Many spidermen gathered as they heard the commotion, but she could only focus her blurry vision above her as she tries to regain her sight. A familiar blur of bright pink swings up and grabs the ball of ginger hair in a muddled mess of cries. He quickly drops down to where the disoriented woman was splayed out below with the whimpering infant in his arms.

“Hey, Sunny, you alright?” Peter calls his friend. The damage didn’t look bad from the outside, but he was sure she had some nasty concussion with how she was looking at him.

Hobie crouches down beside the crumbled girl and carefully lifts her head up with one hand. “Oi, Sunshine, you there?” He mutters as he looks into her eyes. He holds up his hand and makes three fingers pop up. “How many fingers do you see, love?”

With a cough, the woman croaks out, “Three?” Her eyes begin to focus as her enhanced healing works out the stars in her vision. With the help of Hobie and Peter, she stands up with a whimper at the feeling of her shattered ribs forming back together. “Damn, I forgot that falling several feet actually hurt.” She attempts to joke despite her wheezing breath. The crowd around them laughs as Peter sighs in relief.

“Thank god, you’re alright.” Peter mourns as a glint of regret shines in his eyes. “I’m sorry for all this, Sunny. I shouldn’t have let her bring the web shooter here. She almost swings herself out of the window all the time and MJ told me that one day I won’t be there to help the next time it happens.” Mayday’s cries end as she sees her favorite play partner up and well as she shows off her gummy smile.

“Well, luckily I was here to save the day.” The disoriented spider muses as she returns the infant’s smile as the men chuckle. The crowd dissipates leaving the injured spider with her two friends.

“I’m still really sorry, P. I got distracted and didn’t see that the window was open.” She winces as she blames herself for being so neglectful.

“Don’t sweat it, kid. This little rascal will probably send me to an early grave with all the mischief she causes.” Peter jokes as he tickles his now roaming daughter, chuckling at her excited squeals.

“Good thing you don’t have a kid, Sunny.” Hobie chuckles. “You would lose them in a heartbeat.”

The bright atmosphere shatters as the woman abruptly pulls away from her friends. The men look at her confused until they saw the look in her eyes. The normal warm and inviting gaze that they all thrived under was gone, only a dark void was staring back at them. Their light now shining in hurt and sadness as memories cloud her mind. Her lip trembles in a tight line as tears begin to roll down her face. 

Hobie looks confused at the sudden shift, but Peter realizes something as he looked at his trembling friend. Her eyes burned with tears as they locked with his. She had a haunted look about her. It's a look only parents can ever understand and fear. The look Peter himself almost experienced. “Hey,(y-” Before Peter can comfort her, she activates her mask and turns invisible before running off, her muffled sobs leaving them speechless.

Hobie groans as he realizes two things. One, he just made the sweetest person in the world cry. And Two,...

Miguel is gonna kill him.

~~~~~~~

The warm glow of the portal illuminates the surveillance room as the blue spider steps out covered in a musty yellow goo. Lyla smirks as she observes the little chucks slipping onto the ground as Miguel attempts to dust off the slime from his large shoulders.

“Was your mission successful, boss?” The assistant snarks as she sends out a little robot to follow the annoyed Spiderman. The little bug-like contraption eagerly swallows up the disgusting mess Miguel left as he walks up to the platform. “The anomaly was captured and disposed of. Next time, warn me if William Baker is made of anything except sand.” He grumbles as the sound of the little robot annoyed him even more. 

“I’ll make a note of that.” The AI giggles as she downloads the mission info from Miguel’s gizmo. “Also ‘Miss Sunshine’ is here and she doesn’t seem too happy.” She says before fading out.

Miguel’s eyes widen upon hearing that his sunny partner was upset. She was never upset. Never. With concern eating away at him, Miguel shoots out a web and swings himself to the platform above. He lands softly as he sees the scene in front of him.

His sunshine sat in his usual seat in front of the monitor. Her costume was dirty with a chest compression brace wrapped around her ribs as her choked sobs wheeze out of her. Her mask was off as her head rested against the ice pack in her hand, her back leaned forward as her attention was focused on the image before her.

He already knew what was on the screen.

He knew that file name by heart just like how he knows Gabriella’s.

File SW-0001425

World 16457-0

Spider-Woman- (Y/N) (L/N)

Age of infection- 23

Occupation- Intern Medical Research Assistant in the Genetics Department of { REDACTED } working under Dr. {REDACTED}

Sacrifice: Ben (L/N), age 4, Son of (Y/N) (L/N), 1 year into being Spiderwoman

Cause of death: Blunt Force trauma and Smoke inhalation caused by a multi-location attack caused by { REDACTED}

Status of Universe: DESTROYED

On the screen, the laughing face of a younger Sunny shines as a chubby cheek of a baby boy with dark curls smooshes into hers. The faint sound of a child mimicking the smooch of a kiss can be heard as the overexaggerated gasp of the woman causes the toddler to squeal. “That was such a sweet kiss, Benny. Can mommy have another one?” The sweet voice soured the air as the sobbing woman mournfully watches her baby boy.

The baby she failed.

Miguel approaches behind her and slowly takes the mouse from her weak grasp. The broken woman sighs as she realizes her miggy is here with her now, but doesn’t turn to look at him as he pauses the video. Her baby’s matching eyes stare right back at her before Miguel turns the chair around to face him as his mask disintegrates. His eyes glow red under the light of the monitors as he searched her sore eyes. Her face was red with a noticeable bruise along the left side of her face. Tears and snot crusted over her soft features as her lips remained turned into a trembling whisper. Her pupil shone in self-loathing and searching for his comfort. He could tell that this episode isn’t just one of her low days, something happened.

Something happened and he wasn’t here to stop it.

Miguel closes his eyes as his hand caresses her cheek. The warmth of her flushing face nuzzling into his palm allowed him to ground his rage as he focuses his gaze back onto his beloved.

“Mi luz, ¿qué pasó?” He seethes as he looks deep into her eyes. 

She shakes her head as she tries to avoid looking into his concerned ruby gaze. The glass bridge was already cracked as she internally debated with sobbing everything that happened into his warm embrace or to protect her friend from the wrath she knows Miguel will unleash if he knows what was said. The warmth of his other palm cupping her cheek, guiding her to a wandering eye to look at his frowning face nearly broke her.

“It was nothing, Miggy…”She whispered as her voice trembled again. She tried to control her eyes from unknowingly confessing while she tries to bite the wobbling pout. “It was an accident…”

“What.” Miguel runs his thumb under her abused mouth as a piece of her disheveled hair was swept back. “Happened?” His demand is punctuated as he holds her in his stare. His eyes burned with barely contained fury and protectiveness as he studied her reactions. “Odio verte como la suya, mi amor.” He admits with a sigh.

Leaning forward, Miguel places a firm kiss on her forehead as his beloved’s breath shudders at his touch. The gentle heat under his touch left her trembling as the glass began to crack. “Let me ease your pain…” He whispers as he trails his kisses down to her eyelids. “These eyes are meant to be filled with happiness, not sorrow…” The cracks deepen as he gently kisses her nose. “I can’t undo what has happened…” The corners of her lips were caressed by his as his nose brushed against her cheeks causing her eyes to meet his mirrors. Her sorrow and helplessness are reflected in his ruby eyes as he kneels on the ground between her legs. A silent plea breaks the resolve she built as he mutters into her ear.

“Please, mi sol, at least let me feel your pain too…It's me and you against the universe remember…Por favor no me dejes solo ... No quiero perderte de nuevo.” He begs as the tension shatters. 

With her arms snaking around his shoulders, the little spider confesses all that happened hours prior into his ear. Each detail, each scar, burned into his mind as she clung to his neck and hair. His inferno of rage almost imploded until he looked back into her eyes again. The relief of letting go of all of her troubles made her face look years younger as she looked at him with her big vulnerable eyes. 

Hobie will have to wait. His love needed him now.

In a silent nod, Miguel wrapped her weak legs around his waist before he stood up. Feeling her snuggling into his throat, he carries her toward her room down the hallway while the annoying robot follows them to clean up the mess. As he enters the room, he releases some of his anger by smashing the bug with his foot. 

“What was that, Miggy?” She croaks as she weakly tries to look over his shoulder.

“Just a bug,” He sighs as he approaches her dresser and grabs his spare set of clothes from his drawer. “You want your clothes or mine?”

“Yours…” She shyly admits as he feels the heat returning to the cheek on his neck. 

“Muy bien, niña bonita. Lo que quieras.” He whispers as he grabs another set of clothes that he knows will swallow her. With that, he carries them into her personal bathroom and spent the night slowly bringing back his sunshine.

~~~~~~~~

A deep scream rings out through the Lobby as they see a flash of blue fury tackles the residential metal head into the ground. Peter hurries to save his colleague along with a few other Spidermen as Mayday laughs at the anarchist getting thrashed by the clawed man spewing Hispanic curses at him.

~~~~~~~~~

Translations:

Mi luz, ¿qué pasó? - My light, what happened?

mi sol - my sun

Por favor no me dejes solo ... No quiero perderte de nuevo. -Please don't leave me alone...I don't want to lose you again

~~~~~~~

taglist:

@ameliadraws 

@tojisrightnut

@whyareyoubored

@silly-lovestruck-em

@luvil1y

@chims-kookies

@himesuedi

@22carolina08

@chaoticevilbakugo

@boredwithlifeatthispoint

@hoshhoshh

@isaidoop

@pheroineux

@rosiepetalss

@aniya7

[tenswrld]

true romance

popstar!haechan x upcomingartist!reader, angst, fluff

summary: haechan's the world's boyfriend — and yours too, i guess.

word count: 4.1k

listen to: true romance - pinkpantheress

a/n: first, sorry that its been so long...im trying to be better about writing but inspiration comes and goes,,i hope you will indulge in whatever this is!!! everytime i hear this song my mind goes to haechan for some reason sooo yeah >_< i have lots of drafts its just a matter of when or if i finish them LOL love yall tho & enjoy

•°. *࿐

tell me, do you view me the same or do you call me a stranger?

"leave a bit after me so no one sees."

haechan is popular — without a doubt one of the most popular artists of your time. everyone either wants to be him or be with him, to which you completely understand. everything about him screams someone who was born to be on a stage, stealing hearts and whatnot. with such a bright personality, it was almost impossible to not like him.

you've had the privilege of getting to watch haechan grow from singing songs he wrote in his bedroom on youtube to him performing them in sold out shows. you're a fan, of course, but somewhere along the way — with crazy luck — you've wiggled your way into his life and into his heart. the two of you were music artists wishing on every star for some kind of breakthrough to the industry (take a guess on who got it). naturally, it brought you together. you were there when haechan reached 5,000 subscribers, and you were still there when he was selling out shows to 50,000 people. you've stuck by his side for so long that you're sure that its where you fit best.

in the moment, however, you're not so sure anymore.

"leave a bit after me so no one sees."

the small smile on your face slowly disappears at haechan's words and hurt quickly settles into your chest. "...why? what would be so bad about that?"

haechan seems unable to grasp how upset you are at his words. he shakes his head with a small laugh. "it's not like that, y/n. but a scandal at this time wouldn't be good."

"a scandal?" you scoff slightly. "since when have you ever cared about that?"

he sighs and runs a hand through his hair that's still slightly wet from his post-performance sweat. "i just don't want to take any risks right now. especially since my album is coming out soon. you understand, right?"

"i fly all the way out here to see you, and you don't want to be seen with me?" you say with a trembling lip and a weak voice. you're hurt and you're angry, but can't seem to keep your tears at bay.

"i didn't say that."

"you might as well have," you spit back at him.

"let's talk about this later, okay? trust me, it would be a lot worse for you than it would for me." haechan picks up his bag and swings it over his shoulder, making his way towards the backstage exit door.

frozen in place overwhelmed with emotion, you watch your boyfriend open the door. you think he's had a change of heart when he pauses at the door and turns back to you, but somehow he's managed to hurt you even more.

"maybe you should take these too," he says, placing the bouquet you made him back into your hold. the smell of roses and sunflowers taking over your senses as more tears well up in your eyes. you hope the flowers hide them from haechan's gaze. though, you're not so sure he'd notice anyway, as he'd already let the door close and left you behind.

•°. *࿐

'cause, baby, i don't care about the fame

people talk. as an upcoming music artist, you're aware that people talk. as the (hidden) girlfriend of a global superstar, you're more than aware that people love to talk about anything and everything that doesn't concern them.

you and haechan aren't on the same level of fame — not that it matters to you. it never mattered to you, really. even as haechan grew and grew and you remained with your significantly smaller (but still decent) following, fame was never your strongest desire.

yet, now, you're wondering that maybe if you were just a bit more famous, more popular, more well known, then you wouldn't feel as far away from haechan as you do right now. even as he sits beside you on the king bed of the luxury suite he booked for this stop of his tour, you feel further away from him then ever.

"i mean, what would people say about us, y/n? about you?"

"you keep saying that, hyuck, but you're not explaining it to me," you say, growing frustrated with him. "why is it just about me?"

he purses his lips before averting his gaze to the floor. "they'll say nasty stuff about you — that you're using me for fame, or money, or something like that."

you shake your head. "but you and i both know that's not true. we've been together for how many years now? their words shouldn't matter." you take hold of his hand and rub your thumb against his knuckles. "you could have nothing and i'd still be here."

"people don't know that," he scoffs. "they'll assume the worst about you."

maybe he's right — you're sure they will assume the worst about you regardless of your long, deep history with haechan. would he start to believe them? you think it, but you don’t ask — too afraid of the answer you might receive.

"what are you so afraid of?" you ask him softly, begging him with your mind for him to look at you.

but he doesn't, his eyes stayed trained on the ground and he can only weakly squeeze your hand that holds onto his own.

"i don't know."

•°. *࿐

tell me, why i don't play about you

every song is about you

haechan finally has a short break in between the legs of his tour and he chooses to spend every waking moment of it with you.

things between the two of you have felt rocky for a while. it makes haechan ashamed to say it, but he's been so focused on tour and his new album that he's pushed everything else to the side. he's a perfectionist and he feels like he's barely made it — he wants everything to work out perfectly and is committed to making sure that happens. he's not sure how long he's been brushing off anything non-career related, but he misses you — even if you're with him.

he flys the two of you out to a small, quaint place in kyoto where he finally gets to enjoy some peace and quiet in his life. he chooses to turn off his phone, not too keen with the idea of his manager berating him about all his responsibilities he'll have to tend to when he gets back. he's on vacation and he's here with you: the one person who's been with him through every up and down.

you're laying in his arms and haechan misses you to the point where it hurts — when was the last time he laid with you like this? the revelation urges him to pull you closer, placing a soft kiss to the crown of your head as you lay on his chest. he sighs into your hair, breathing all of you in. it's silent, for the most part, until you ask a question that rattles haechan's being.

"why do you not sing about me?" you ask it so softly that haechan almost misses it.

"what? what are you talking about?" he's genuinely confused as to what you mean. who do you think he sings about?

"i know a handful of your old old songs are about me, but you don't perform those anymore," you murmur into his chest. "ah, don't mind me, i'm just talking."

you sound embarrassed and defeated and haechan wants to cry. did you really not know? how long has he been pushing you away?

"y/n, every single song i write is about you," haechan professes. "i couldn't write about anyone else if i tried."

his words shock you, even if they shouldn't. you tilt your head up to look up at him and he looks down at you with the softest gaze.

"not that i ever would, anyway," he continues, a sad smile painting his face.

"you mean it?" you whisper to him, wanting so badly to believe him.

when haechan's resolve breaks and his eyes glaze over, you know he means it. his hold on you tightens with one hand and the other comes up to caress your cheek, swiping a tear you didn't even know had fallen.

"of course," he croaks. "you're my muse, y/n. you."

this time, you're wiping his tears away as he cries and cries into your palms. you shift the two of you so that he lies in between your legs, arms wrapped around your waist and face buried into your torso, your hands running through his hair. he's apologizing over and over and doesn't say why, but you know why. you regret ever doubting haechan's love for you — even if he was to blame.

but, just as you're certain you love him more than anything, you know that haechan loves you back all the same.

"it's always been you, y/n."

•°. *࿐

and everybody’s shouting out your name

“you look too handsome to be pouting like that, you know,” you tease lightly, approaching haechan to adjust his tie fondly.

he can’t help but smile at you as you do so, his hands easily finding their place around your waist, tugging you close. “if you tell me to stay, i will.”

you sigh and place your hands upon his chest, allowing you to push yourself up to place a soft kiss on his lips. his lips trail after yours once you pull away and he pouts at you again, eyes begging for another kiss but you push him back ever so slightly.

“you can’t miss this, hyuck, you know that. this could be really big for you!” you beam, swiping a bit of your lip gloss off of his lips. “some important people might be there.”

“but you won’t be there,” he whines. “what’s the point?”

you roll your eyes playfully. “you’ll be fine. now go, your manager has been waiting.” haechan sighs and leans down to place one more kiss on your lips.

you pull away before he can get carried away. “go! and put a good word in for me with taeyong, yeah?”

haechan rolls his eyes but smiles at you, pecking you on the cheek as he bids you farewell. “no promises.”

ੈ♡˳

it’s barely been over an hour and haechan wants to leave.

normally he’s able to tolerate these sorts of things — the bright lights, loud music, snobby people all trying to one up each other. he can get by and chat with anyone as if he’s known them for years. typically, events like these breeze by for haechan. why was he hating every second of it?

it’s lee taeyong’s end of year celebration party. of course, as his junior, haechan was invited. he’s grateful that he’s made friends with lots of other artists under his company, otherwise haechan would have been long gone within the first 45 minutes of arriving. but, haechan stays, mostly because he admires taeyong and does, in fact, bring up you and your songs — which, to his surprise, taeyong says he knows you and enjoys your music.

haechan isn’t given the chance to talk more, unfortunately, due to an excited kim jungwoo who locks an arm around haechan’s shoulder and drags him away.

“ow — hyung! i was in the middle of a conversation!” haechan grits to jungwoo, lightly shoving his arm off of him.

“my bad, it looked like you needed saving,” jungwoo chuckles. “come on, everyone’s been looking for you.”

jungwoo leads haechan to a small circle of people to which haechan knows as his small circle of friends: mark, his company's beloved canadian rapper; johnny suh, one of seoul's most popular djs; and of course there's kim jungwoo, kim doyoung, and jeong jaehyun who make up dojaejung, korea's heartthrob boy group.

"yo, where have you been?" mark greets him excitedly, lightly slapping him on the shoulder playfully.

"what do you mean 'where have i been', i saw you yesterday, mark," haechan grumbles.

"woah, someone needs a drink," johnny chuckles. doyoung is quick to hand haechan a glass of champagne.

haechan takes a large gulp, hopefully to ease whatever tension he feels in his shoulders. he's trying to enjoy the party, he really is, but all he wants to do is come home to you.

"everything okay?" doyoung asks him, concerned with the way haechan seems to be downing his drink.

the younger boy sighs. "yeah, i'm fine, sorry. just stressed out."

"oh, your album is coming out soon, right?" jungwoo remembers, nudging haechan with his elbow. "congratulations!"

the rest of the boys congratulate him and haechan can only half-heartedly reply despite being very grateful.

"i'm sure it'll be great," johnny reassures him.

"saw a lot of love songs on that track list," jungwoo teases. "got a special someone?"

haechan stills at his words and he's caught in an argument with himself. does he mention you? does he say no? is this how he wants people to find out you’re together? before he can even reply, though, jaehyun cuts in.

"speaking of, i heard that kim minjeong has had her eye on you for a while, haechan," jaehyun says. he raises his eyebrows at the younger boy and haechan gulps, the rest of his friends nudging him playfully as they coo at him.

"that's the model, right? and singer?" doyoung asks. "you should talk to her!"

haechan feels like he's going to be sick. maybe he's being dramatic — its not like they're shoving him into minjeong's face and asking him to profess his love. still, he feels like he's betraying you in some way and he realizes he has to go home.

"i can talk you up, probably," mark says. "we're normally at the studio at the same time."

“i heard that shin ryujin has been talking about you, too,” johnny pipes in. “honestly, who hasn’t been talking about you? i’m surprised you’ve done nothing about it.”

doyoung hums. “she seems like your type, donghyuck! i know some people over at —“

"no! no, don't — " haechan places his champagne glass onto a nearby table abruptly and sighs shakily. "just...don't. sorry, i-i don't feel well. i should go."

confused and concerned eyes watch haechan as he rushes towards the nearest exit. he doesn't bother saying goodbye to taeyong, but makes a mental note to send him an apologetic note tomorrow. haechan sees kim minjeong catch sight of him, and he's sure she's about to make an attempt to stop him to chat with the way she looks at him with a flirty gaze. haechan is quick to turn in the opposite direction and flees out of the nearest door.

haechan's manager comes out soon behind him, frenzied after trying to catch up to a frantic haechan. he doesn't get the chance to ask the latter if he's okay, too occupied with calling their driver upon haechan's request.

"home," he chokes out. he's out of breath and he feels dizzy — whether its from the champagne or from guilt, he's unsure.

"i want to go home."

•°. *࿐

i'm in the crowd, can you see my hand?

haechan has reached the encore of his final show of his tour, yet he still feels a pressure that he cannot explain.

its not from all of his seniors and friends that attended in support of him, he knows that. it's not from the different producers and music artists that flew to seoul for him, either. its a pressure that weighs on his chest that has made him feel unsatisfied with each stage, despite putting 150% effort in everything.

the crowd is going crazy for him after he delivers his final ment, and he takes a moment to soak in it all, in hopes it would give him some peace of mind.

then, his eyes finally spot you.

you, in the back row of some random section, sitting with your manager, with a banner with his name on it and a headband with bear ears perched on top of your head. he doesn't know if you can tell that he's staring right at you, but you start waving around the banner with excitement. haechan can't help but adore you even more than he already does.

time stops for him as he realizes that you're here. through thick and thin you've always been there — what has haechan ever done for you? he hasn't given you even a sliver of what you deserve, yet you've never left him. you stayed when he was a nobody, and even now when he's been terribly selfish, you let him be.

there are thousands of other hands waving at him, but haechan can only see yours.

"actually," haechan starts, quickly silencing the crowd. "there's one more thing i wanted to say."

from your seat, you feel your heartbeat quicken. haechan is still standing and looking into your direction and you know he sees you.

"there's someone very special to me that's here tonight."

your heart stops as you realize what he's doing and you can't help but glance at your manager in a panic. fans around you are murmuring in confusion since haechan had already given a shoutout to his guests.

"they've been by my side since i was writing silly love songs in my childhood bedroom," haechan says, a fond smile taking over his features. "i wrote those love songs about them then, and i still write every love song about them now."

the gasps and shocked noises at his confession fall upon deaf ears — to you, you and haechan are the only two people in the world.

"some of you may know her — she's an amazing music artist as well. far better than me, in my opinion, but maybe i'm a bit biased." haechan sees you laugh and can't help but chuckle too.

"my girlfriend, y/n, is here tonight, and i couldn't be more grateful. wave, y/n!" haechan calls out to you. surprisingly, the camera cuts to you as you wave shyly, hiding behind your haechan banner. even more surprising, the crowd cheers loudly for you.

"isn't she cute?" haechan asks. he's delighted when he sees and hears the rest of the stadium agree.

haechan finally feels that weight lift from off of his chest and he feels like he can breathe. he's happy — ecstatic, even — now that the world finally knows he's yours.

"y/n, you once asked me what i was afraid of, and i said i didn't know," haechan recalls gently. "but i know now." he purses his lips to prevent himself from choking up.

"you've always been so supportive of everything i've done. you've done so much for me and i'm not sure how i could ever repay you." haechan sucks in a sharp breath. "i'm afraid that i'll never truly deserve you."

the crowd coos and some fans in front of you turn around to look at you. you're a mess: tears are streaming down your face, and your hands are shaking. you hide pathetically behind your banner again as your manager wraps a comforting arm around your shoulder.

"i'm sorry for making you wait." haechan puts a hand over his heart, and you do the same. "i love you."

the camera cuts to you again and haechan glances at the monitor to get a better look at you as you mouth something back. haechan doesn't even attempt to conceal his smile or to hold back his tears. there's no use.

"i love you, too."

•°. *࿐

say what you want, this is true romance

“did you really have to mention that, hyuck?”

your boyfriend settles next to you on the couch, arm draping over your shoulder, as you scroll through his recent interview with vogue korea.

you pout at him and he's unable to stop the smile that takes over his face. he pinches your cheek and you quickly swat his hand away.

"what? what did i say?" he rests his chin on your shoulder to read the article for himself.

"i mean, does the public really have to know about me crying on our first date?" you complained. you continued scrolling and laughed as you read. "in what context would you ever have to tell vogue about our matching crayon shin-chan pajama pants?"

haechan laughs and presses a kiss to your shoulder. "honestly, i don't remember half of what i said during this interview. or any of what they asked me." he tugs you a little closer to him so that you're leaning against him, laying the two of you down. "all i know is that i'm pretty sure i started talking about you so much that they just called it a day."

"you're that obsessed with me, huh?" you teased.

haechan scoffs, wrapping both of his arms around you tightly. "obviously."

he watches you open instagram and sees you check the likes on your new post. he gasps dramatically, loosening one arm around you to snatch his phone from his pocket. "you posted?! where was my post notification?" he whines cutely.

he's a little too quick to find your account and he then quadruple clicks the picture to give it a like. "babe, why are your comments off? i was about to get really out of pocket," haechan whines again.

"okay, first, don't do that, please. save some of your dignity," you scold him. "but its because people are mean," you admit softly.

haechan's eyebrows furrow together and his tone stiffens. "who? what did they say?"

you sigh. "no one specific, don't worry. some people are just not too keen about us. your predictions were right, i guess," you attempt to joke, but it only makes haechan upset.

"here, come here," haechan beckons you up with him as he sits up. you're still under one of his arms, which he locks around your neck as he tugs you into his side. you're caught off guard, but lean into him anyway, arms wrapped around his torso. haechan lifts his phone up and takes selfies of the two of you, cheeks pressed together as you both smile uncontrollably.

you're both giggling like two high schoolers fresh into a relationship and you've never felt more happy and in love in your life. haechan presses wet kisses against your cheek before you eventually push his face away. still, he steals one more kiss from you — this time on your lips — and you let him.

"okay, i'm posting all of these," haechan declares casually, leaning back against the couch.

your eyes widen and you reach for his phone in an attempt to stop him, but haechan has already dodged you and raised his hand up. "hyuck, don't."

"why not? i'm in love with you, people just have to deal with it," he shrugs. "anyone who has a problem with us can get blocked."

you fall onto haechan's chest and he gladly wraps you up in his arms again. "you're stupid, but i love you."

"good, because i just posted it."

you peer up at haechan's phone and you see that he was true to his word. all of the selfies you just took piled into one singular post to which haechan captioned 'my heart'. you watch as he scrolls through the comments and blocks anyone with anything bad to say.

"wow, you weren't kidding," you say, amused.

"'course not. these people need to learn true romance." he leans down to kiss you one more time, this time letting the kiss linger. he pulls away but rests his forehead against yours, staring at you with eyes full of love. "i love you, too, by the way."

ੈ♡˳

haechan is popular — without a doubt, he's one of the most sought after guys in the industry. he's confident, charismatic, and he's bright. he's everyone's dream guy, it's no secret.

but, above all, he's yours, and you're his as well. he has devoted his heart and life to you and its not a secret to anyone anymore.

this time around, haechan wraps you up in his scarf to protect you from the cold before the two of you leave.

"i already have a scarf on, hyuck, just keep yours," you mumble from underneath the thick fabric.

haechan doesn't hear you (not just because he literally can't) because he's too focused on zipping up your jacket and tugging your beanie over your ears.

"okay," he says as he intertwines a hand in yours. he clutches the bouquet you made for him proudly in his other arm while he carries your bag and his own over his shoulder. "let's go home!"

its bittersweet as you realize how familiar yet different the situation is. you clutch haechan's hand tighter as he tugs you towards the backstage exit door, outside where the press and his fans are waiting.

he doesn't hide you anymore. no, instead haechan shows you off proudly and wholeheartedly as if it was what he was meant to do.

[tvdelrey]

a swim under the stars | m. sturnㅤ᭄᭡

bf!matt x reader

warnings: long, tooth-rotting fluff

a/n: this'll be my first ever published fanfic, so I'm open to tips and constructive criticism! all i ask is that you keep kindness in mind; negativity is not something i want lingering on my page.

happy reading my friends <33

It was nearly 1 am when Matt had changed into his black swim trunks and a loose, patterned button-up. His baby blue eyes were glued to your peaceful figure, a small wave of guilt washing over him as he sat on the edge of the mattress to wake you.

You felt a cold draft once the hotel comforter was pulled away, goosebumps arising on your limbs. They were quickly soothed by Matt's warm hands, which would've lulled you back to sleep if it weren't for the cold metal wrapped around his two fingers.

"Wake up baby," Matt muttered, leaning down to place a kiss on your plush stomach as you stretched, the smell of complimentary vanilla body wash lingering on your skin. "I've got your swimsuit laid out already, c'mon."

His hand slipped down your side as you reluctantly sat up, massaging your left hip. You almost immediately leaned forward, forehead landing on his shoulder. Your senses were filled with the smell of his aftershave. Matt chuckled softly as his nails dragged up and down your back, patiently waiting for you to fully awaken.

You whispered a sweet reply to him before pecking his cheek and swinging your legs off the bed and onto the cool carpet. He bit the inside of his cheek to contain his smile as you left to the bathroom, the sight of you in his pink Hershey's shirt making his stomach flip. After a good amount of time, the two of you left for the pool, hand in hand.

ㅤ᭄᭡

Stay Ready (What A Life) echoed softly from Matt's portable speaker, which was placed on a nearby lounge chair that you stood in front of. His lips curled into a mischievous smile as he crept up on you, making you jump as he quickly turned your body around.

"Damn what ha-" you tried to reply, shocked at how fast he'd moved you, but you were quickly cut off by his lips crashing passionately into yours. Your eyes fluttered shut and arms were maneuvered around each other as Matt waddled away from the chair. You were lost in him, his touch setting your skin on fire and the ferocity of his kisses making you dizzy. So much so, that you would've never expected what he'd do next.

Your eyes suddenly shoot open when you feel his strong hands grip your waist and pick you up off the ground.

The kiss was a distraction.

Luckily, you were familiar with nearly all his tricks, so you managed to tangle one of your legs around his before he could toss you. Your heart raced, screaming as both of you tumbled into the bright blue pool. You swam up to the surface almost immediately after hitting the water, wiping your eyes.

"You're not fucking slick, Matt!" You shouted, voice shaking with laughter as he rose and pushed back his wet curls. His eyes rolled back when he groaned playfully, swimming toward you. "It seemed like I was!"

Witty banter was thrown between the two of you as you bounced in the water, putting distance between you and your boyfriend. As time went by, you raced, played Marco Polo, and jumped into the pool numerous times to see who'd make the biggest splash. Fellow guests at the hotel would've assumed it was children goofing off just by hearing the joy in your combined laughter.

Once the adrenaline had died down, Matt swam over and reached for your thighs, smoothly wrapping them around his hips. The arm decorated with tattoos pulled you against his chest, body heat cutting through the coolness of the water. Sounds of the night mixed with music and sloshing water filled your ears.

"I'm glad you're here with me, baby," said Matt as he softly pinned you to the wall of the pool, hands caressing your thighs.

Your cheeks grew warm as a smile bloomed, arms slipping from his neck. Your palms found their way to his face, the stubble scratching your fingers. Both eyes glimmered with love as you studied his features, the stars & moon brightening them even more than they already shined in your eyes.

"There's no place I'd rather be," you answered with complete honesty. There truly was no other place you'd rather be than safe in your lover's arms.

taglist!

@flouvela @ovrour @missmimii @luverboychris @mattsfavbitchhh

@sturnthepot @sturniluvr @satvisfavetoodles @sassysturniolo2008

[inuyashaluver]

hi hi!! can i request a mlt one where she meets single parent reader, they fall in love and then reader + kid go to her games to support her!!!

my girls - maya le tissier

maya le tissier x reader

description: in which maya practices at a park and your daughter steals her ball, when you go to apologise, the both of you are star struck

warnings: so. long. swearing

a/n: ITS MAYA BABY!!! thanks so much for the request, hope you enjoy, got a little carried away, whoopppss❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, maya have to thank your daughter, ellie for your introduction to each other.

you always knew you wanted to be a mother, and so, at 20, you decided to go to a clinic and become one alone.

sure it was hard to balance the baby and work as a physio, but the continual support of your friends and family made it worthwhile. and your daughter, was one of the best things that happened to you, and you couldn’t help but say maya was one of the best things that happened to you as well, maya feeling exactly the same.

ellie, was in her ‘terrible-twos’ stage, all round meaning she was a little shit at the moment. she was a mini you, your attitudes and mannerisms completely passing onto her, she was definitely your daughter, something that your clients loved to tease you about as she sat in on their appointments.

you had recently discovered that your daughter had quite a fascination with balls, specifically, soccer balls. everytime you put on a football game, your daughter stares at the screen in front of her, completely entranced and copying their every move. you can’t help but think maybe you’ve got a future, famous footballer on your hands.

—

one day, you had taken ellie to the park on an early, sunday morning. the air was crisp, you and your daughter were completely bundled up amongst the cold, matching red noses and cheeks prominent on your features. walking hand and hand, you take her towards the equipment, watching her every move.

“mummy, look!” ellie giggles, going down the small slide, dressed like a small snowman. “wow, baby!” you exclaim, lifting her in the air and pecking her pink cheeks repeatedly, her little giggles bringing a big smile to your face. you hold her hand around the equipment, pushing her on the swing, playing on the playground with her, whatever she wants.

you watch her play, a bright smile evident on her face, until you see her face light up and she bolts away from you. your eyes widen, she’s running towards a girl on the field next to the equipment. she’s wearing a hoodie and shorts, her hair tied into a loose ponytail, she dribbles the football up and down the field, doing her own drills.

all you kept thinking as you ran was: “when did my child become this fast? i need to put her in football” you chase after her, “ellie, no!”, she continues to sprint towards the mysterious girl, finally stopping in front of her and pointing at the ball. the girl looks down at her surprised, “oh! hello, little one, is your mummy around?”, ellie looks up at her with awestruck eyes, nodding her head slowly at the girl's words. she continued to point at the ball that was stopped under the girl’s foot, “do you want this?”, ellie didn’t speak, just nodded her head.

at this point, you were lightly jogging, carefully watching the interaction between the two. the girl lightly kicks the ball towards ellie, ellie grabs it with her hands and sits on the ground, the older girl quickly sitting down cross legged in front of her. “what’s your name?” the girl questions softly, “ellie” she gives her a toothy grin, “hi, ellie, i’m maya” she returns the grin. “ellie!” you finally reach them, absolutely breathless. you stand with your hands resting on your thighs, breathing laboured and difficult, staring at the ground.

“i’m so sorry about her, she really loves football and-” you look up from the ground, looking at one of the prettiest girls you had ever seen. “hi” maya breathes out, she thought you were absolutely breathtaking. “hi” you reply shyly, kneeling in front of her, hands on ellie’s small shoulders. “what did mummy say about strangers?” you quirk your brow at the small girl in front of you, she just looks at you with a guilty smile.

“stranger danger!” she exclaims, you nod your head in response, “yes, good girl!”, you weren’t too caught up in the interaction, the girl in front of you seeming trustworthy. “but mummy, she’s pretty” she pouts up at you, your cheeks go slightly pink, “yes she is pretty, but still a stranger” maya in front of you stared on with wide eyes and pink cheeks. “oh, sorry! i’m maya” she cautiously sticks her hand out, you immediately take it and gently shake her hand, “(y/n), and ellie, obviously” maya nods her head with a smile.

“now, ellie, we’re not strangers, so it’s okay” ellie makes a small noise of understandment before focusing her attention back on the ball in front of her. “not to be rude or anything, but how old are you? you seem very young to be a mum” she asks, scared she may have offended you, “no, you’re not being rude at all, i’m 22, young but worth it, i think” you shrug with a giggle, maya smiles at you brightly, “ah, i see”, “and how old are you, maya?” you question, “i’m 21” you nod your head, both of you just softly smiling at each other.

the attraction you felt for each other was obvious, both of you wanted to get to know each other better. “sorry if this is weird, but um” she scratches her neck sheepishly, “would you like to, maybe go for a coffee, only if you have time of course!” she rushes her words, not even stopping for a breath. you can’t help but smile at her shyly, “i’d like that”, she returns your shy smile, it only grew when your daughter rolls the ball over to maya expectantly, all of you could sense a special connection forming.

all of you had walked to a nearby coffee shop, ellie holding onto your hand tightly as you walked. you engaged in small talk with maya, conversation flowing so smoothly, you felt as though you’d known each other your whole lives. when you’d found a table, ellie insisted that she sat next to maya, tightly gripping her hand. maya smiles at her so brightly, your heart soared.

“so what do you do?” maya questions, slowly stirring the sugar into her coffee cup. “i’m a physiotherapist” you say cheekily, grinning at her brightly. “wow! that’s awesome!” you giggle at her words, “nah, not really” you wave your hand at her, “and what do you do?” you lean forward, resting your head on your clasped hands.

she gets slightly nervous at your closeness, “um, i’m a football player” you widen your eyes, “no way!” you exclaim, she winces at your volume, putting her hand over your mouth. “mummy, shhhhhh!” ellie holds her finger up to her mouth, the two of you look down at her, giggling profusely.

“sorry, that’s amazing, maya! for what club?” she smiles shyly, “manchester united” ellie whips her head from her colouring page, “mummy!” she grunts, opening her mouth but she can’t get her words out, but you know what she’s saying. “her favourite club” you grin, maya looks down at her with a bright smile, “you’re a smart girl, ellie” she laughs when your daughter nods her head, she gently pats the top of it before turning her attention back on you.

the rest of the day went exceptionally well, you’d spent at least 4 hours with maya and only wanted more, but your daughter fast asleep in her arms meant it was time to go home. maya walks you to your car, placing ellie into her car seat and doing her seatbelt up. “you’ve done this before” you give her a surprised grin, “cousins” she shrugs cheekily, standing in front of you. she’s slightly taller than you, so you look up at her slightly with a smile.

“i’d love to see you again” you say, lightly squeezing her arm before letting go. her breath hitches at your action, “me too,” she breathes out, your smile brightens, you grab your phone from your pocket, she does the same and you exchange numbers. “you know, you a physio, me a footballer, match made in heaven, don’t you think?” you give her a light slap on her arm, your smile never ceasing, “you know, i think you’re right” you match her energy. she pulls you into a tight hug, lasting for a couple before she reluctantly pulls away.

“see you around?” maya questions, lightly gripping your hand, you give it a gentle squeeze, “absolutely.”

—

and you did see her again, you started dating after about 4 dates. your relationship was pure, loving and genuine. you’d been dating for about a year and a half, it couldn’t have been any better. you and maya absolutely loved each other, positively head over heels. it also helped that ellie was absolutely obsessed with the girl, her face lighting up everytime she walks through the door. she eventually moved in, it might have seemed quick but it just felt right.

you’d managed to get a job at manchester united as one of their physios. maya always made an excuse to come and see you.

“baby, my hamstring is playing up” you look up to see your girlfriend leaning on the doorframe with crossed arms. you shake your head at her gently, gesturing for her to lie down. you get up to examine her, lightly helping her stretch, maya always sending you smirks when your hands roamed over her body, clearly different from your regular client consultations.

“okay, baby, you’re good” you grab her hands to pull her up but she just pulls you down on top of her, “baby, no” she whines out, “it hurts” she pouts at you. you laugh at her expression, giving her a quick kiss on her lips, maya’s hand immediately going to the back if your neck and holding you there, deepening the kiss. you hum into her when her hands move up your shirt before you pull away, you knew you’d get walked in on knowing your luck.

“sorry, baby, i don’t want you getting in trouble” you breathe against her lips, quickly pecking them one more time before moving off her and going back to your desk.

“you’re no fun” she huffs out, a scowl evident on her face before she gives you a quick kiss on your lips, going to walk out of the room back to training. “i love you” you sing out, she shakes her head at you, “yeah, yeah, i love you too” she sticks her tongue out at you and you return the gesture.

—

it was game day for manchester united, a grand final in fact. you and ellie had been hyping maya up, telling her that she would do amazing. the girl was convinced you weren’t watching the match, you told her you’d be working in the back in case anything happened, in reality, you had a little surprise up your sleeve for your special girl.

you and ellie sat in the friends and family section, wearing your ‘le tissier’ jerseys, matching grins plastered on your face. “you excited, ells?” you remark at your daughter's bright face, her eyes focusing on the pitch in front of her. she nods her head enthusiastically, “where’s may may?” (a nickname she loved to call maya), she sits on your lap, looking around in search of your girlfriend. “she’s coming, lovey, we need to be patient” you coo, gently hugging the small girl on your lap. she nods in understanding, playing with your fingers and rings.

surely enough, the girls started coming out, you and ellie cheering loudly when you see your favourite girl. maya hadn’t seen you both yet, she was so focused you watch maya with a proud smile, watching her stern expression as she high fives the opposition, taking her position. ellie was so focused, you couldn’t believe how stimulated she was. the game was intense, but manchester united managed to secure the win.

the girls and the crowd cheer loudly, ellie screaming and jumping on the chair, you hoist her up on your waist so she can get a better look. ella sees you first, her eyes widening and immediately rushing to get maya. the girl drags her over to your direction, maya immediately perks up and sprints over to you, bundling the both of you up into a tight embrace. “my girls!” she exclaims, “le tissier jerseys, huh?” she smirks, giving ellie a loving kiss on her head until she turns to you, pupils wide and kissing you passionately, pulling away when she feels a little hand on her cheek.

“my mummy, may may” she frowns, “ellie, we share mummy, darling” she explains, giving the girl another kiss on her cheek. she lets out a little squeal, you laugh at the interaction. kissing both of them on the cheek. she takes ellie from you, holding her on her hip and talking to you until she gets called to receive her medal.

“can i take her?” maya looks at you cheekily, you laugh and nod, watching them both walk over to the podium, maya puts the medal on ellie’s neck, taking her quickly to the rest of the team, all of them excited to see her. you have access to the pitch, you walk on and take numerous photos.

they hoist up the trophy, celebrating with one another. maya runs over to you with ellie hand in hand, both of them with matching grins. maya lifts her up again, you gently take the medal off ellie and drape it over maya’s neck, “congratulations, beautiful” giving her a quick kiss on her and ellie’s cheek, ellie seems to doze off in the girls arms, maya finally gets to kiss you the way she wanted, leaving you absolutely breathless. she loved her girls. and you definitely loved yours.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

liked by ellatoone and 44,232 others

mayaletissier: my best girls, love you to bits

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yourname: you’re the cutest, i love you

↳ mayaletissier: milf

↳ yourname: WOW OKAY

↳ mayaletissier: my ultimate, dream milf

↳ yourname: maya.

↳ mayaletissier: sorry

read part two here!! [part 2]

[wynnyfryd]

let’s get experimental, baby

1.9k | E | gratuitous f/f steddie smut | ao3

(written for @steddie-week and cross-posting here for @mrsjellymunson pspsps)

“Are you insane? I can’t just—!” “Yes, you can!” Robin runs her hand down her face, tugging at the skin, clearly done with the conversation. “For the last time, she literally winked and gave me her number and said, and I quote, ‘pass that along to your little lost sheepie.’” “Oh, gross.” “I know. This whole thing is gross for me, honestly, so just— ugh. Just shut up and call her. God, I’m such a good friend.”

“Just shut up and call her,” Stevie mocks under her breath, goosebumps pebbling her skin as she wraps her arms around herself and waits for someone to answer the door. The tank top and running shorts made sense when she left the dorm earlier to play frisbee, but now, with the stars peeking out behind thick clouds and a humid breeze rolling in, she feels a little exposed. Underdressed. Inappropriate, the echo of her mom’s voice chastises in her head. Just a sunburned, silly straight girl, shivering on a stranger’s doorstep with her tits spilling out of her sports bra. Oh, god, she should uncross her arms. She should leave, actually, because this whole thing is stupid, and she’s—

“Hey, there.” 

Eddie swings the door wide open, leaning her shoulder on the frame with an easy, inviting grin. If Stevie’s outfit is inappropriate, then Eddie’s is a downright scandal. She’s not wearing a shirt, for starters, just a tight sports bra that cuts off some tattoos and accentuates others, a riot of black ink on pale skin, soft and stark contrast sprawling over her shoulders and curling around her ribcage, snaking down her sides to slither over sharp hip bones, just visible over a pair of low-slung black sweats. 

Stevie’s mouth is so dry. “Hi,” she squeaks.

Eddie’s eyes glitter in the low light. “Oh, you’re cute.” She sounds pleased. Almost predatory. “Come on in.” 

She steps to the side, bowing a little in a sweeping gesture of welcome, and behind her, a guy with black hair down to his waist leans over the coffee table and rips an insane hit off a three-foot-tall green plastic bong and starts coughing like he might die while another guy pats his back in sympathy. 

“Oh.” Holy shit. “Um.”

Eddie follows Stevie’s gaze; barks a loud laugh and a Jesus Christ at the opaque cloud hanging in her living room. “My roommate, Argyle, and my roommate’s roommate, Jon,” she smirks. “If you can see them through the smoke.”

“You want some?” Argyle offers when he finishes coughing, already working to load another bowl. 

“I’m good.” She scrunches her nose. “Wait, your roommate’s roommate?” she asks Eddie. “But wouldn’t that make him…?” 

The guy, Jon, looks up at her and laughs, holding up air quotes as he turns his attention to Eddie, clearly repeating something he’s heard a dozen times. “Nah, ‘cause I’m ‘not on the lease, I just never leave their house.’” 

“Would you prefer I call you what you really are, huh?” Eddie narrows her eyes, playfully mean. “Snack thief? Squatter? Good for nothin’—”

“My sad boy musical stylings enrich your life, and you know it.” 

Another laugh — full volume, all teeth, her chest bouncing with it. Stevie likes how expressive she is. How free. 

“Don’t worry,” Eddie tells her, “they were just heading out.” 

—

“So, how do you want to do this?” Eddie asks after they leave; sitting side by side on the sofa, close but not quite touching, one arm draped casually over the back of the couch.

Steve tries to calm her breathing. Can’t quite manage it. “I— I was hoping you’d tell me?” 

“You were hoping I’d tell you how you want it?” Eddie teases, big, dark eyes running all over Stevie’s face. Stevie flushes bright red — stupid, stupid, oh my god. Why is she so bad at talking? Why did she even agree to this at all? “Hey,” Eddie pulls her back to the moment, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Her fingers are warm, the nails bitten short. “I’m good with that.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure.” She stretches her arms back out over the couch. “Got a lot of experience DMing, so. I don’t mind playing the narrator if that’s what you’re asking for.” 

“I don’t know what I’m asking for,” Stevie mumbles, embarrassed. She doesn’t even know what half that sentence meant, but something about Eddie’s casual confidence makes her want to learn. 

“Listen,” Eddie chews her lip. “We don’t have to do this, you know. I’m not gonna, like, pressure you or whatever, so uh, if you just want to sit here and talk, then we can—”

“No! No, it’s—” A nervous giggle bubbles up. Oh, my god. She cuts herself off with a sharp exhale, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling and her shoulders down her back and willing herself toget it the fuck together. She’s Stevie Harrington, damn it. She knows how to get laid. “I want to do this,” she says, steady and sure. And she should end it at that, but then: “You’re super hot and I want to let you do whatever you want with me, which honestly? I, like, was not expecting that reaction from myself when I agreed to this, y’know? So that’s kinda crazy — and also I don’t really know what my options are here, like I understand the anatomy, obviously, because I have the same stuff, but I don’t, um— and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or say the wrong thing or—”

God, is she Stevie Harrington? Because she’s pretty sure Robin Elizabeth Buckley just took over control of her mouth. 

Eddie’s eyes are doing the glittery thing again. “You think I’m hot?” 

Wow. “Of course that’s the only part you heard.”

“Well, sure.” She licks her teeth, smile going cocky. “You don’t highlight the whole paragraph when you’re studying for a test, do you?” You don’t?? “Do you have a safeword in mind, by the way?” 

“A what?”

Eddie makes a muted noise that sounds a lot like Robin when she sees a service dog she’s not allowed to pet. “Nevermind. You can just say stop or tell me no if you don’t like something I’m doing, mmkay?”

“Well, duh.”

“Mm.” Stevie wishes she understood what the smirk was for this time. “I’ll check in first, too, of course,” Eddie assures, tucking her chin, ringed hand splayed over her heart. “Not gonna just spring shit on you without asking.” 

Stevie’s eyes drift down to Eddie’s chest, to the black painted thumbnail nearly dipping into her cleavage. “What if I’m into that?” 

Eddie throws her head back when she laughs, curls springing free from a messy top bun. “God, you’re cute, you know that?” Her voice dips low, raspy with want as she tips Stevie’s chin up to look at her, her tongue dipping out to wet her lips. “Fuck,” she hums, “Yeah.” 

Stevie’s breath hitches. She sways closer. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm.” Ringed fingers slide into her hair, tugging just a little, sending tingles down her spine. “Real pretty, baby. You gonna let me kiss you?”

“Yeah.” 

Their noses brush. “Say please.”

“Eddie, please.”

—

Stevie’s gonna die. Like Argyle coughing up a lung in the living room earlier, only Stevie’s halfway off Eddie’s mattress with Eddie’s tongue between her legs and she’s pretty sure she’s about to snap in half like a glow stick and fucking orgasm to death. “Stop, stop-stop-stop, oh, my god!” she gasps, wriggling up the bed as another wave threatens to crash over her, her thighs shaking around Eddie’s ears, pulse throbbingagainst the two fingers buried deep inside her. 

Eddie pulls her fingers out and looks up with a feral grin. Red-faced, mouth shining, bangs frizzy with sweat and friction, she crawls her way up Stevie’s body, dragging a trail of wet, happy kisses up her heaving belly as she goes; ducking to kiss one breast and then the other before landing a featherlight kiss on the tip of Stevie’s nose. “All good, sweetheart?” 

Stevie giggles like a schoolgirl. God. She’s never felt like this before, didn’t know sex could be this bubbly. She feels like she’s high. “Yeah. Just need a second, I’m… Wow.”

“Hi Wow, I’m dad.” 

“Oh, my fucking god.” 

Eddie chuckles and bends to nip at Stevie’s jawline, hands squeezing at her waist, sliding down to her hips and back up, thumbs skimming the swell of her breasts. “Jesus Christ, the curves on you,” she mutters, breath hot and fast on Stevie’s throat. “So fucking beautiful, you know that?” Her tongue draws a wet line up to the skin just below Stevie’s ear, and she pauses to suck a bruising kiss there; makes Stevie squirm and whine, high-pitched, nasal noises that should be embarrassing. “Want to eat you out all night,” Eddie confesses in her ear. “Make you come over and over again on my tongue, on my cock—”

“Oh, my god.” 

“Yeah, baby?” She rocks her hips, shifts her weight to wedge a thigh between Stevie’s legs and grind down, firm, steady pressure that isn’t nearly enough. “You want to wrap your pretty legs around me and come all over my strap?” 

“Oh, fuck!” Her eyes fly open, something like panic as she realizes she’s about to come and not yet not without you inside me Eddie please, “I’m— holy shit, Eddie, please, I’m—”

She scrambles to clasp Eddie’s hand and drag it down her trembling body, squeezing the two sticky fingers and hoping Eddie speaks the language of “desperate cum bomb about to blow” — she’s fluent, apparently, because her eyes light up when she gets the message, and she wedges her arm between their bodies and slips her fingers through the slick mess Stevie’s making for her, rubbing over her swollen clit with her thumb as she hooks two fingers inside and says, “Fuck, yeah, baby, that’s it. Show me how badly you want to come, honey; come on, I know you want to, be good for me and come.”

Stevie’s whole body clenches, a star collapsing under its own gravity before it explodes across the cosmos, wave after wave of pleasure as she sobs out Eddie’s name. Eddie kisses her through it, tongue slipping into her mouth in rhythm with her fingers, fucking her slow and sweet and good, no one’s ever been this good before, and Stevie imagines this moment from Eddie’s point of view — how it must feel to make a pretty girl shiver and shake apart, how God must feel when he makes stardust. 

“Holy shit,” Stevie stutters on a winded laugh when she can speak, chest heaving under Eddie’s comforting weight. She kinda likes the way their boobs squish together. “That was…”

“Wow?” Eddie supplies, rolling off to lie on her back. 

“So wow,” Stevie nods. 

They catch their breath in comfortable silence for a second, and then Eddie hops up; comes back with a warm washcloth and a bottle of water. “So,” she says, dragging the damp rag over Stevie’s inner thighs, “I take it the experiment went well?” 

“Who’s experimenting?” Stevie jokes, sitting up to take a sip of her drink. “I think I’m ready to propose after that.” 

“Ha!” Eddie smacks a playful kiss to a mole just above Stevie’s knee. “Maybe dinner first.” 

“I’d like that.” 

It’s too sincere, maybe — too honest, laying all her cards face up on the table, which… historically hasn’t worked out so well for her. But she’s pretty sure the deck is in good hands this time around. Gentle hands with pretty rings and blunt black nails, and when Eddie answers her eyes shine like the night sky. “I think I’d like that, too.”

[hobiebrownbrowser]

Date Night

Hobie Brown x FEM!Reader 💜

Summary: Hobie takes you out on a date, A small skating ring tucked away in the crevice of a tall building inside a pub.

It was late at night. The bright lights of the city shining through your window. It was around 11PM. The sound of cars driving past your window as you play some soothing music, Scrolling through your phone to spot something that would clear your everlasting boredom.

You eventually gave up, Letting out a sigh and tossing your phone on the bed. It was a quiet foggy night. Cold air seeping through the crack in your window. You poked your head out, memorized by the stars that lit up the night sky.

You couldn't help but close your eyes, Listening to the music that played from your speaker that was tucked away on your desk, Tapping your finger against the cold window headboard. Not having to deal with any kind of problems tonight.

"Pretty lil thang aren't ya?" You look up a bit startled. A smile soon beaming on your face as a certain punk spider makes his way down towards you. It was Hobie, Hobie Brown that is. The famous punk who happened to also be your boyfriend.

"Only for you Hobs~" Hobie took off his mask, placing his scarred calloused lips on your soft ones, His lip piercing clinging against your teeth. You pulled him closer, a chuckle leaving his throat as he slowly pulled away.

"Seem' like someone's been missin me." You smiled, Opening your window wider for him, Letting the tall 6ft man climb through. You took time staring at his gorgeous eyes. The same smug smirk still plastered on his lips.

You couldn't help but return the look, Placing a peck on his chin. Hobie wrapped his arms around your waist, turning you around until you were face to face with a wide opened window.

You looked up at him a bit confused. A cheeky grin on his face as he tells you to get ready for a special night. You wanted to know where he was taking you but he kept quiet, Teasing out a few hints but you were still stomped. You eventually gave up trying to get it out of him, Looking through your closet to see what you had.

You ended up just picking out something random. Hobie putting a thumbs up even if he wasn't looking directly at you. You rolled your eyes, a chuckle coming out after. You got dressed, Hobie making a few quick glances before you'd caught him staring.

"Like what you see baby?" Hobie raised his brow, grabbing your hand and twirling you around so he could get a good look at you. You could hear him agreeing before a gasp left your lips. The palm of his hand making contact with your ass.

"Yea I do actually luv~" You playfully punched him in the arm, getting the rest of your things and letting Hobie take the lead out the window, Taking your hand in his as he waits for you to get a firm grasp onto his vest, Intertwining your legs with his.

"Ready beautiful?" You nodded, a gust of wind hitting your face as he swings above the alarming city. You leaned in on his shoulder, clinging onto him until his feet had hit the ground. You slowly peeked around, A purple neon sign catching your eyes as Hobie leads you down a small stairway tucked in a back alley.

He swings the door open and steps aside, Dozens of people skating with loved-ones. Genuinely having a good time. You gave Hobie a questioning look that was replaced with laughter, Letting him lead you inside and towards a small bar in the corner.

"Ayo, what up young chap!" The bartender greeted Hobie with a handshake. Hobie returning the favor by giving him a high five.

"This my gal I've been talkin' bout. She the sweetest person I've eva met." You shyly wave, the bartender greeting you with a salute before handing Hobie a few drinks he ordered. You take a small sip, your mouth curling as he'd ordered tequila.

"Too strong luv? I can get sum' else for ya." You shook your head, swallowing the tequila like it was nothing. He praised you for your brave actions, Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. You couldn't help but feel flustered.

He smirked, placing a finger under your chin and pulling you closer to him. You hummed as you can taste the bourbon on his tongue. Wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to get as close as possible to him. You whined once he pulled away, chugging the rest of his drink down before leading you to the skating course.

Hobie helped you put on your skates, slowly leading you to the ring. He immediately wraps his arms around you, Matching his rhythm was easy, placing your head against his chest as you both let the music tingle your ears.

You could feel the alcohol starting to kick in, Closing your eyes and letting the man you love lead you anywhere. Shivers sent down your spine as he praised you every now and then.

You could feel your body temperature rising, The feeling of his hands touching your body going straight to your arousal. You intertwined your fingers, looking in his eyes. You were practically pleading for him to touch you. His hands wondering towards your hips, caressing them.

He could feel how desperate you were, Your back arching away from his chest as you purposely grind your hips. One of his hands in your back pocket while the other rested on your abdomen.

"You alr' luv?" He whispers softly. Occasionally biting the top of your earlobe to bring you back from euphoria. Your body burning as his hand glides down towards your thighs.

You wanted him, Watching as he squeezed your thigh in his large palm, The clothes blocking him from touching your skin fully. You gasped as he slid his hand across your chest, Teasing the sensitive buds under your shirt.

"Hobie..." You could feel his chest heaving, The song slowly coming to an end. Hobie leading you off the skate ring and towards a door that was tucked behind the bar, The music being cut off once you both were inside, Hobie locking it behind himself.

Moans escaping your lips as he pressed you up against the wall, Showering your neck in kisses. Your lips quivering as he gently pulls on them. You plead out his name again, His hands roaming under your shirt until his palms made contact with your breasts.

Your body trembling under his touch once he pinched your nipples between his fingers. You wrapped your legs around his waist, Feeling his cock twitch underneath you. You clasped your finger on the rim of his belt, wanting him to desperately take them off.

You wanted nothing else but his cock buried inside of you, Shimmering out of your undergarments until they rested on your ankle. A shaky sigh leaving you once he trails his fingers inside your mouth. You cry out as he spreads your folds, Pushing a finger inside of you before adding another.

Incoherent mumbles falling from your lips as he teased your clit with his thumb. You buried your face into his neck, the scent of charred wood and bourbon coming into contact with your nostrils, Your arousal seeping down your thighs.

You whined from loss, Hobie pulling his fingers out and hosting your body up. His cock catching your eyes before he pushed himself inside of you.

You cry out in pleasure, Wrapping your arms around his neck. He whispered how good you were for him, your legs trembling as he devours your body.

Your cried drowning out the muffled music from outside, Every thrust making your body grow weaker. You begged Hobie to go deeper. His chest putting pressure onto yours. Your arousal coating his cock, Your mind in a complete daze, His groans getting louder every second that's passed.

You tightened your grip, Your moans turning into high pitched squeals as you cum all over his cock, so fucked out of it until you were seeing stars. Hobie's orgasm sending you over the edge as you scream out his name.

Hobie gently placed you down, Making sure you don't slip or fall. He kissed your temple, Showering your face in kisses. He waited for you to calm down, Cooing you out of your fucked state before picking you up bridal style and leaving out of the bathroom.

Your sweaty body shivering as the cold air pierces your skin. You slowly come back from your senses, Still a bit cock drunk from what just happened. You watched as Hobie took off your skates, To worked up to say anything.

You both finally looked at each other. Lovable smiles on both of your faces as he takes you home for tonight. Hand in hand as you both decided to walk.

"So how was it?" You looked at him, narrowing your eyes with gleaming eyes. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to reward him with such praise.

"I had fun tonight.." You look away clearly flustered, Hobie placing a kiss on your cheek before hosting you back up towards your apartment room. You bit your lip, not wanting to leave his side just yet.

"Please stay with me Hobie.." All he had to do was say yes, His brow arching slightly before climbing in the window and closing it behind him. He laid down on your soft comforter, Patting his lap for you to come closer.

You happily obliged, Sitting between his legs. His eyes softened once he got a closer look at you, Pulling you closer by your hand until you sat on top of him. You placed a kiss on the tip of his nose, His hands caressing your hips as he closed his eyes.

You placed a hand on his chest, Gliding your finger across the scars that were on his stomach, Placing one last kiss on his lips for a good night's sleep before putting on some pajamas and climbing by to his side.

"Goodnight Honeybun~" You placed a kiss on his forehead before following suit. Closing your eyes as you lay down on his bare chest.

Damn I write a lot. Hope y'all enjoyed lol

[lunajay33]

The Day Will Come

Summary: Going out to help bring Maggie to the hilltop ends up with you and the others on your knees infront of Negan, you’re one of his victims everyone thinks you’re dead until you wake up in hilltop

Daryl Dixon x f!reader

Warning: Gore

•Masterlist•

Daryl had ran out with Glenn and Rosita going to try and stop him, I desperately wanted to go after him aswell but Maggie needed me, I’m her sister after all and I could tell she was extremely sick and if Glenn wasn’t here I needed to be

The rest of us loaded in the RV and were off the hilltop, I was sat in the back with Maggie holding her against me hoping it might help knowing I’m here to protect her

“You’ll be okay sis, we will get you there” he whispered as I ran my hand up and down her back

“I’m scared”

“I know……..” in all honesty I has just as scared, I didn’t wanna lose her or this baby

The RV slowed to a stop confusing us

“Damn it…….its the saviours” Rick groaned instructing Abraham to back up and take another road

This happened over and over again, there was no getting away from them, finally we had to go on foot, having Maggie on a makeshift bed so she didn’t have to walk

My heart was in my ears she was getting worse and my anxiety was at its peek, something was going to happen out here and it’s nothing good, the saviours are after us

As if on cue bright lights flickered on as whistles of the saviours surrounded us, placing us in a line up I was at the end next to Michonne, Maggie was shaking, everyone was scared that’s when they brought out Rosita, Glenn and……Daryl, he was in bad shape, covered in blood, they shoved him down next to me and it was hard not to reach out to him but I couldn’t take my eyes off him the tears streaming down my face, he was shaking obviously in pain

“Let’s bring out the big guy” and out came Negan, swinging around his bat embedded with barbed wire, after his whole speech about how it’s only right to take one of us out considering we killed a whole group of his and that’s when the counting started

“Enie” Carl

“Meenie” Sasha

“Miney” Rick

“Moe” Michonne

“Catch” Me

“A tiger” Daryl

“By” Glenn

“His toe” Rosita

“If” Abraham

“He hollers” Eugene

“Let him go” Aaron

He kept going picking us at random as he pointed his bat at us

“My mother” Maggie

“Told me” Carl

“To pick” Me

“The very” Rosita

“Best” Sasha

“One” Rick

“And you” Daryl

“Are” Glenn

He looked around at everyone of us until he stood infront of Abraham

“It” Abraham rose on his knees starring him down just like he always did

“Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father, and then we'll start, You can breathe, You can blink…..You can cry, Hell, you're all gonna be doing that”

His bat came down hard on Abraham splattering blood all over Michonne and Maggie

“Suck my nuts” Abraham slurred out

Negan kept going over and over and over until there was nothing left of his head except a mush of brain and skull, everyone was crying Sasha and Rosita losing someone they loved on another level

He stood infront of Rosita placing his bat full of blood and Abraham infront of her

“Oh dear were you two a thing…….take a look”

She refused obviously traumatized

“LOOK AT IT”

Daryl shot up punching Negan square in the face

“DARYL NO!” I screamed as the other men pinned him down next to me

“Now, I don't know what kind of lying assholes you've been dealing with... but I'm a man of my word, First impressions are important I need you to know me, So... back to it” his bat was up again coming down on Glenn, my heart stopped hearing the painful heartbroken scream come from Maggie, Glenn was like my brother

They were dead two of us were gone so quickly and painfully, I watched as Glenn was pulverized someone who was so dear to me, who was next the sight made me sick, I leaned forward throwing up all over the ground running down my legs

“Look at this….so weak, now I said y’all could cry and scream but now I didn’t say you could go and make a mess here, gotta pay for that” he said as he kneeled infront of me

“No please please no” I cried I couldn’t die not yet I still had so much left to do with my family with Daryl this couldn’t be the end

“Relax darling, you’re gonna get a different punishment

“Don’t ya touch her” Daryl growled from beside me

“Oh is she yours” all Daryl did was look between me and Negan with a scared look I’ve barely ever seen

“Even better” I felt hands on my shoulders dragging me forward infront of the group looking back to see other men holding Daryl down

“Please I’m sorry………I didn’t mean to” I whimpered unbelievably scared

He laughed pointing to the man behind me, the man held me down so I couldn’t move

“No darlin, this might hurt a bit, but it’s your own damn fault, SIMON GET THE MELON SCOOP”

Oh dear god he’s gonna take out my eyes, i tried to squirm away and break free but it was no use the guy was way too strong, Simon handed Negan the tool, obviously modified to be sharper

“LEAVE HER ALONE” Maggie screamed

I was facing the whole group now seeing all their panicked faces

I looked at Daryl seeing the fear and the struggle he was doing to get to me

“I love you Daryl, I love you Maggie”

Negan took the back of my in one hand as Simon use metal tools to hold open my left eye so there was no way I could stop this, the melon baller got closer and closer until I felt the edge of it at the side of my eye, it was quick and I let out the most blood curdling scream then everything felt numb, my ears ringing everyone infront of me a blur

“Dar……Daryl” I said then everything went black

Third POV

Negan held your eye laughing as he sees you out on the ground

“Such pretty eyes…….well eye, what a shame” he said as he threw your left eye at Daryl

Negan took Rick away only coming back when the sun was rising, your body still limp on the ground everyone hoping and praying you’d wake up

“We’re done here men” all the saviours got in their trucks and left

Daryl scrambled quickly over to your limp body lifting you into his lap

“Baby please, please come back” he cried looking at all the blood smeared down your face

“We gotta get Maggie and her to hilltop, maybe there’s still a chance” Sasha said as she helped Daryl lift you and lay you in the back set of a truck, your head still resting against his lap, Maggie in the passenger seat, and Sasha driving as the others headed back to Alexandria

They got to hilltop, the doctor checking on Maggie and helping her before he moved onto you

“I’m gonna have to clean out her socket, she’s still alive thankfully but if she wakes up she’s gonna have a hard time adjusting to this” he told Daryl

You got cleaned up and was laid on a spare bed in the main house, thankfully Jesus convinced Gregory to let her stay in the house along with Daryl

Y/ns POV

My head was pounding as I heard shuffling around me, I opened my eyes but something was wrong I could only see out of my right side, I looked around panicked when I saw Daryl sat on a chair next to my bed asleep

“Daryl” my throat was incredibly dry

His eyes shot open quickly coming to my side

“Here have some water” he said giving me a glass that was waiting on the night stand, I chugged it down

“Why can’t I see on my left side?” I asked scared

“Ya don’t remember?” I shook my head confused

“Negan took yer eye peach” everything came rushing back, Maggie sick, Abraham dying then Glenn

“Oh god” I laid back down feeling sick and dizzy

“Yer gonna be okay, I’m gonna help ya” he said as he brushed my hair back

“Don’t look at me” I said as I turned my back to him

“What’re ya talking ‘bout”

“I’m hideous Daryl I’m probably disfigured”

“Ya ain’t, yer still the woman I fell in love with, ain’t nothing gonna stop me from loving ya”

“I love you too D”

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𖥔

summary ; rafe begins to push you away when he realises the true nature of his feelings towards you

pairing ; rafe cameron x kook turned pogue!fem!reader

notes ; this series will contain mature themes, such as : p in v sex, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), swearing, physical altercations, potential nightmares and anxiety, arguments, drinking and drugs. if i forgot any please let me know.

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

summer nights in the outer banks always felt like a mist of nostalgia washing over you as you ventured to the boneyard. the humidity was high, and the stars were bright. speckling across the night sky like a blanket of magic, each holding a promise to return the next day like they had every other.

tonight’s party had passed by in a flurry, whisking you away with your friends for a night of unconventional fun. just the way you liked it.

the boys were up to mischief, as per usual, as they took part in numerous bets and dares to see who was the ‘best pogue’ while sarah dragged you and kie to the bonfire for a dance. and despite the fact that you had spent most of the night in high spirits, you couldn’t help the sudden plunge of morale as you watched john b sneak up behind sarah and wrap his arms around her.

the two of them holding each other close and swaying to the music as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear. it made your heart heavy knowing how badly you both craved and desired the love that they so openly shared with the world.

“hey, i have a question..." jj declares after the six of you had found somewhere quiet to hunker down away from the general vicinity of the party, and with a joint in his hand, he moves to lay his head in your lap as he gazes up at the night sky.

“what now?” kie rolls her eyes, waiting to hear what high-induced thoughts the blond had conjured up

“if oranges are called… oranges, why aren't lemons called… yellows?" silence fell over you all as you tried to hold back your laughter,swapping confused looks, only to eventually give in.

“okay. i think you've had enough of that for tonight,” pope grabs the joint from jj’s hand, despite his protests, and takes a puff for himself before passing it to john b.

“agreed. i think i’m getting a contact high just from being near you,” you laugh softly.

he lets out a small gasp, clutching at his chest as though he were wounded, “you should be grateful.”

“yeah, okay, j,” you shake your head, laughing, and ruffle his hair before turning to the others to ask, “hey, does anyone have the time?”

pope’s the first to check his watch, “almost midnight.”

“shit…” you groan quietly and throw your head to the side, sinking into sarah’s shoulder for a moment, “i’ve gotta go. are we still meeting before the dinner tomorrow?”

“yeah, of course.” sarah nods, knowing that the question was intended for her and kie.

picking yourself up and dusting the sand off your shorts, you swing your bag over your shoulder and wave goodbye to your friends. they blow you kisses as you start to walk away, shouting out a jumbled mess of their own goodbyes, but nothing was more distinct than jj's "see ya tomorrow, bubba!"

making your way through the remainder of the party, a group of kooks pass you by, each of them narrowing their eyes and one even blatantly whispering about you. your family’s history wasn’t uncommon knowledge on the island, and so, unlike the pogues, a lot of the kooks didn’t want to be seen hanging out with a ‘half-breed’, as they would sometimes call you.

like kie, your parents came from two different worlds, but unfortunately for them, they didn’t have quite the happy ending that the carrera’s did. so now you live with your mom and her new husband with all the other figure eight trust fund babies, but you weren’t really one of them — you never would be.

“y/n!” a voice calls your name, and you turn just in time to see topper wrap his arm around your shoulders. the strong scent of alcohol consuming your senses, and you sway off-balance from the impact of his weight.

“hey, top,” you pat his chest affably.

“hey, we’re friends, right?” he smiles drunkenly this time, and a slight hum leaves his lips.

you knew the question was of good nature, and you didn’t dislike topper, but he wasn’t exactly your favourite person either. so, not wanting to hurt his feelings while he clearly wasn’t all there, you decide to indulge him a little, “of course we are, buddy.”

“it’s just… i know you hang out with the pogues, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends? i’ve always been nice to you, and i know kelce thinks you’re cool, but rafe, he’s a tough one. he really hates pogues, and you’re like choosing to be-”

“topper, let’s go, man!” kelce shouts as he makes his way over to you, and a few steps behind him staggered along rafe cameron, “some of us are going back to mine.”

seemingly frustrated, kelce tries to get his friend to leave while rafe appears far more interested in the cup between his lips. when he does eventually look up at topper, his eyes fall on you under his friend’s arm for a moment before he runs a hand across his forehead and looks away as though he hadn’t paid you any attention at all.

“maybe you should get him a leash?” the suggestion falls from your lips, and from behind the cup in his hand, you swore you saw rafe smirk. though, it’s gone faster than it had appeared.

kelce lets out a soft chuckle, “don’t tempt me.”

“hey, y/n, why don’t you come with us?” topper turns to you with more enthusiasm than you could handle on a good day. like a golden retriever that was just given his favourite ball.

“as tempting as that sounds... i will have to pass.” removing his arm, you push him towards kelce, who reluctantly catches him.

“why not? it’ll be fun, and kelce and rafe will be there!”

“actually, i’ve, uh, i’ve got somewhere to be,” rafe discloses, taking the last sip of his drink before throwing the empty cup into the trash pile and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “so, i’m going to have to skip on tonight too.”

not wanting to stick around for the conversation about to be had, which would mostly consist of topper whining for rafe to go with them, you take your leave from the trio, “alright. well, i’m going to go. you boys have fun.” and as you pass through them, your arm accidentally brushes against rafe.

you don't think much of it, but the small graze seemed to have attracted his attention, because when you look back, his eyes are already watching you walk away.

the air was no longer sticky as you walked towards the main road. the temperature had dropped enough to cause an array of bumps on your arms and you cursed yourself for not bringing a jacket. the coolness nipped at your skin, and you helplessly wrapped your arms around yourself to gather as much warmth as possible.

the street was quiet, other than the distant sound of music from the boneyard and the occasional bark from a neighbourhood dog. the sky was dark with nothing but the stars helping guide you home, which only made it more noticeable when a set of headlights turned into the street. the sound of an engine began to approach you, slowing to meet your side before eventually coming to a stop.

“y'know, it’s at least an hour walk back to figure eight, right?” the driver points out, and an undeniable smirk tugs at the corner of your lips before you turn to see rafe leaning his head out the open window.

“really?” you retort, cocking your head to the side. “... what took you so long then?”

rafe licks his lips to try and downplay the smile on his face as you near the car, his eyes trailing up and down your body, "well, you know how it is?"

"topper wouldn't shut up," you say in unison, scrunching up your face as you nod.

"i guess that means i'll just have to make it up to you," he looks you up and down once more, his eyes lingering on the skin surrounding your chest and noting how the smallest cherubs of your nipples were poking through your bikini top.

smiling coyly, you sink towards him, pushing a hand to run across the stubbled hair on his head, and press a chaste kiss to his lips, "you better." your words muffle against him.

he hums with approval, a smug look on his face as you pull his bottom lip between yours, giving it a small tug, "you better hurry up and get in then."

you scrunch your nose at him before running around the other side of the car, and it doesn't take long at all for the two of you to reunite with the comforts of rafe's bedroom. the familiar scent of his vanilla lotion, cologne, and a hint of tobacco filling your senses the second he opens the door, and what was once a relevantly clean floor was now being littered with discarded clothing.

his fingers were gentle as they danced across your skin, loosening the knot in the back of your bikini with ease, before hoisting you up around his waist and leading you to his bed where he places you down atop his cotton sheets. his fingers make haste to remove the last pieces of your clothing as he peppers sweet kisses along your jawline, down to your neck.

rafe's kisses were reverent, his touch worshipping, as he slowly revealed every last piece of you. like a precious gift being unwrapped for all to see, but only rafe got the pleasure of doing so.

his breath is hot as he traipses his kisses further down your chest, and his lips soft as he presses them perfectly around the nubs of your breasts. flicking his tongue over the sensitive skin and erupting a whirlwind of rampant butterflies in your stomach.

"god, look at you," he mumbles, a hand now rolling down your waist, your thigh, stopping just shy of where you needed him the most. you needed to feel him, needed him to touch you, and he knew it. he could tell by the way your hips were ever so slightly bucking up to try and reach his hand. "so needy, baby."

smirking, he slowly glides his fingers over your clit and then begins working small torturous circles over it. your chest starts to rise and fall, the breathe being pulled from your lungs, and rafe pushes the side of his other hand into your mouth to help muffle your moans.

it's then that he presses two fingers inside you, letting his thumb continue to work you as he slowly pumps them in and out. your hips jut up, the pleasure working it's way through you until you couldn't bare it much longer. then it stops.

"rafe..." you whine, panting.

"what? you really think i'm going to waste the chance to have you cum around me?" he meets your face, bringing his fingers to his lips and licking your juices off of them, "not when you taste this sweet."

then, without warning, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you into his lap. letting nothing else stand between you both, he takes your mouth in a heated kiss. his tongue teasing you skilfully until you're left breathless. you could taste yourself on his tongue, and it only made you want him more.

with one hand gripping at your thigh, he uses the other to give himself a few pumps before swiping along your slit to gather your wetness. you jolt as the tip of his cock touches your clit, which he can't help but snicker at, and he slowly starts to push himself in.

rafe was big, there was no denying that, and you would have to bury your head in his shoulder from time to time to stop yourself from crying out as you sink down on him. you could feel him everywhere, and while you didn't have anything to compare it to, you had never felt so full in your life than when rafe was inside you.

it takes a moment to adjust but once he starts moving, all the pressure that had built up quickly turns into pleasure. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him as close to you as you possibly could, your chests moving together as one as he maintains his rhythm. you try to kiss him, but he feels too good inside that all you can do is let out breathy moans.

his thumb moves down to work your clit once more, adding to the pleasure tightening and compressing within your stomach. waves of ecstasy taking over your body as you succumb to your high while rafe tries his best not to cum in you.

you press your head against him as your orgasm rolls through your body, your walls clenching around him and daring to push him over the edge, "fuck, i love watching you cum."

you notice the way his pupils had dilated as he stares up at you now, and you press your lips to his as you slowly lift yourself off of him, immediately feeling empty inside.

"told you i'd make it up to you," he stretches his neck as he leans back to rest on his elbows, closing his eyes long enough for you to work your way down to his waist and take him in your mouth.

he was still so hard, and creamy from being inside you, that the second your lips came in contact, his head lulled back with a sigh. he was already so close to the edge that it didn't take long for him to blow his load in your mouth. and you didn’t waste a drop.

after recollecting yourself, rafe throws you one of his t-shirts to put on and you make yourself comfortable against the headboard of his bed. he, however, instinctively moves to rest his head in your lap, and your fingers idly run circles on his head.

whenever you were with rafe, it felt like all of your problems simply washed away. he made you feel things you never had before. he made you feel alive. and while you loved spending as much time with him as possible, there was always a bittersweet feeling gnawing at you, reminding you that none of this was real, because your time together always had to come to an end.

it was always easier to just rip off the band aid rather than to let it fester until it consumed your every thought.

"you okay?" rafe asks, taking notice of how quiet and spacey you were being. you nod, not wanting to turn this into anything. "you can tell me," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand this time.

it was the small gestures like that that made it all the more difficult to keep sneaking around with him. you knew you could never tell him how you were really feeling but the longer you had to lie to your friends or hide away like he was ashamed to be seen with you, the more you wondered if this was how things would always be with him.

he had told you from the start that he had too much going on to be able to commit to anything or make promises he knew he couldn't keep, but that didn't mean it hurt any less. and no matter how many times he tried to reassure you that this wasn't just sex for him, he would always follow up with the fact that he couldn't let himself get carried away. not when ward was watching his every move.

“it’s fine, really,” leaning down, you press another kiss to his lips and then to his nose, “i promise.”

reluctant to believe you, he eventually nods before moving into your touch and nuzzling his face into yours as he kisses you once more. his hands move to guide you as your breath becomes ragged, and just as you’re about to get lost in him once more, you pull away, knowing that if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself.

between breaths, you whisper, “it’s late. i should get going.”

rafe throws his head back into his pillow, heaving a sigh, and where you expected him to agree or even help you gather your clothes from where you had left them all over his floor, he instead stops you. his eyes flutter for a second, and his jaw tenses the way it did whenever he was fighting the thoughts in his head, trying to flush them out, and with a soft voice, he says, “… stay.”

an inaudible gasp leaves you as you contemplate whether or not you had heard him correctly and when you don’t answer, he pulls you back to the bed, "stay... please."

rafe had never asked you to stay before or vis versa, the night always ended with one of you sneaking home, and while you were ecstatic over the revelations, you were also sceptical as to what had changed his mind all of a sudden. he doesn't say anything else, just pulls you back between the sheets and wraps his arm firmly around your waist.

you hadn't given him an answer, but you knew you weren't going to say 'no', who knew if he would ever ask you to stay again. instead, you let yourself melt into his warmth where you remained until the sun began to rise.