#gonna try to keep my expectations low for this thing too

[thoughtfulseason]

17 days until i’m 27

[septimusmoonlight]

You doing ok?

hi

[guinevereslancelot]

oh shit what's the etiquette for having a date over to watch a movie i just realized i haven't done this since high school and never w a new relationship why did i think this was a good second date activity 🫣

[em-ontv]

Need some space — d.w.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: Dean could never keep his hands off of you, latching onto you whenever he could

Content: fluff, established relationship, clingy/touch-starved Dean, not proofread, English is not my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: 912

Dean was a lot of things—sharp-tongued, reckless at times, stupidly brave—but you hadn't expected "clingy boyfriend" to be added to the list.

Yet somehow, here you were, flipping through dusty books with his head in your lap, eyes half-closed like an oversized housecat. He shifted to a more comfortable position on the couch, clearly uninterested in the research you were trying to get through.

"Dean," you sighed, nudging the book away from where it almost brushed against his face. "How am I supposed to read with your giant head in the way?"

"Don't mind me, sweetheart." he mumbled, eyes closing and voice bordering a purr. "You're doing great. Keep it up."

You gave his forehead a flick, earning a dramatic groan. He swatted half-heartedly at your hand but refused to move an inch. Instead, he stretched his legs out further, making himself even more comfortable.

"Seriously? You're not even gonna pretend to help?" you glared at him. "You know, I'd really appreciate it if you started flipping through some books too."

"Helping," he said lazily, cracking one eye open and giving you a smirk. "Emotional support."

Without waiting any further, he reached up, took your hand, and pressed it to his head. Your fingers tangled in his hair instinctively, and he melted under your touch like butter on a hot pan.

When you stopped and started to pull your hand back so you could flip a page of the book, he let out a pathetic whine, pushing your hand back against his head, like he’d die before letting you go.

"You're such a baby. I have to get this done before Sam comes back." you muttered, squishing his face between your fingers, making him pout.

"Cut it out," he grumbled, frowning up at you, though the way his frown dissolved when you laughed said otherwise.

"If you're not gonna help, you're not gonna complain either." you said, and he retaliated by kissing your wrist, peppering soft, warm kisses all the way up your arm.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. Dean's touchy-feely tendencies had only escalated since you started dating. Take the case last week, for example.

You'd been interviewing a witness at a diner, trying to keep your questions subtle and professional. Dean, however, had other ideas.

"So, you're saying the lights flickered just before you heard the noise?" you asked the frazzled waitress.

"Uh-huh," she nodded, glancing nervously between you and Dean.

Before you could respond, his hand found its way to the small of your back. Not a casual graze either—nope—it was a slow, deliberate caress, his fingers curling just enough to make his presence known. You froze, shooting him a warning glance, trying to shrug him off, but he was already leaning in closer, the picture of shamelessness.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, low enough that only you could hear. "You're doing amazing. Keep it up."

"Dean," you hissed through a forced smile. "Go sit down."

"What? I'm just keeping an eye on you," he replied, all wide-eyed innocence, grinning like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

The poor waitress looked like she wanted to crawl into the freezer.

And then there was that time in the library when you'd been deep into research, scanning page after page. Dean had sauntered in, plopped down next to you, and proceeded to rest his chin on your shoulder while humming AC/DC under his breath.

"Keep reading, sweetheart. I’m comfy." he murmured when you tried to shoo him off, knowing he'd just distract you. His arm snaked around your waist, and before you could protest, he was already pressing slow, feather-light kisses along your jaw.

Or the night you snuck into the kitchen for some quiet time with a PB&J. Five minutes later, Dean appeared in the doorway, his hair sticking up in every direction. He looked half-asleep, his brows pinched in sleepy frustration.

"What are you doing?" you asked, mid-bite of a PB&J.

"Couldn't sleep," he said, padding over to you with a frown. "Why'd you leave?"

"Dean, I was gone for five minutes."

He made a noise of dissatisfaction, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, nuzzling lazily into the crook of your neck. "Come back to bed with me." he muttered, his voice soft and heavy with sleep.

It was ridiculous. The same tough-as-nails hunter who'd taken on demons, monsters, and literal death couldn't go five minutes without missing you. But as much as you teased him for it, it brought a certain warmth to your heart.

Because for all his bravado, Dean was just a guy who'd spent most of his life terrified of losing the people he cared about, loved. His over-the-top clinginess? It was his way of making up for lost time.

"Alright, fine," you said, swallowing the last bite of your sandwich and dusting your hands off.

He grinned—smug at first, but it quickly melted into something far softer. He let out a content hum, nuzzling closer.

"Right now, please." he murmured, his voice heavy with drowsiness.

"Alright, just don't fall asleep on me in the middle of the kitchen." you said, rubbing his arm, leading him back to the comfort of your shared bed.

Under the covers, Dean curled up against you, his arms wrapped around your body, his face buried in your neck. His breath was gentle and even, warm against your skin. Just before sleep took him, he murmured faintly, "Love you, sweetheart."

[poguehearted77]

Wild Child

summary: after being sent away to boarding school for being a wild child you're finally back and celebrating your return in the only way you see fit.

smut: pool party, ragers, drug use (alcohol, vapes n weed), size kink, Rafe is cocky, mentions of old flings, manhandling, hot tubs, they do it on her parents' bed, rough sex, step-mom slander, reader is such a flirt n a tease, curvy reader, dom! rafe, bratty! reader, skinny dipping, mentions of body shots, choking, spanking (like once).

The morning sun was ascending high into the sky when you finally managed to get yourself out of your king-sized bed, fit for someone of your status and your parents' financial standing.

Your socked feet took padded steps towards your window where you overlooked the hills of figure eight. This was the first time you'd looked out your bedroom window in years. With a deep inhale a soft smile etched its way across your lips. You were finally home, and you had the house all to yourself. Or so you thought.

Your ears pick up on muffled indistinct chatter that managed to travel from the kitchen, down the halls up the elaborate staircase and into your room. Quickly, you headed for the source of the voices and were disappointed to see your dad and his wife plaything, Maria, conversing over coffee at the kitchen island.

"I thought you said the Jet leaves at dawn? What are you guys still doing here?" You try not to sound too curious, arms crossing naturally with your inquiry. With a clearing of his throat, your dad speaks up, "You only just came back two nights ago. Maria and I just don't think it's the right time to leave you alone for the weekend."

You scoff, "Why? You still don't trust me after what happened last time? Get over it, I'm twenty-one now, you can trust me." As you walked over to the fridge for a glass of water, you heard a muted exchange of ideas behind you.

"You can't expect us to forget about all the damage you caused. We still haven't found anyone to repair my crystal vases." You take a long sip, trying to swallow your toxic thoughts with the water.

She thinks she can just waltz up and down the house with that huge ring on her finger and think that her opinion carries any value to you.

You took a deep breath and plastered on a fake smile, pitching your voice to become as sweet as honey.

"I can never apologize enough for what I did back then, but how will I ever earn your trust if you don't give me the chance." Your doe eyes land on your father, specifically his weakened composure.

You're about to break him, you can see it.

He exhales, all the air escaping through his nostrils.

Broken.

He glances down at his watch, "Fine, but if you throw another party so help me god Y/n you'll never see grass again." You play it cool, thanking him with a simple hug and completely disregarding Maria before you make your way back upstairs.

It's as though a weight had been lifted off your chest. You needed them out of the house, you'd been planning this party since you got back and made sure all the guests knew to keep it on the down low, just until they were gone.

The hours fly by, and you hardly keep track of time as you and some of your long-time friends set up the house for the party that you shouldn't be hosting, but you're Y/n Sinclair. Parties are your thing.

"Macy, you let the people in, kay? I'm gonna go get changed." The sun was beginning to set and the music was already blasting, vibrating over the marble floors of the house. Every lyric was punctuated with a shaking of the speakers that could be felt even outside.

The neighbours hated to see you coming.

You know your dad's jet was en route to Fiji and he wouldn't be able to reach you until he landed which wasn't for another six hours at minimum but by then the damage will be long done and far too late to stop.

You make your way up the stairs, the bass thumping through the house and vibrating beneath your feet. As you step into your room, your reflection catches your eye, excitement sparking in your gaze.

With a quick flick of your wrist, you reach for the strappy black and red two-piece, slipping it on, the cool fabric hugging every curve just right. Each strap crisscrosses elegantly, bold yet balanced, making you smile at how perfectly it all came together.

Next, you grab the sheer cover-up, wrapping it loosely around your waist so it drapes with a hint of movement, a playful edge that sways with you. You run your fingers through your curls, scrunching them gently to bring out their bounce, each coil framing your face in soft waves. Reaching for your lip gloss, you swipe it carefully over your lips, catching the light with a glossy shine.

One last look, and you’re ready, your heart beating in rhythm with the music below. The speakers are already blaring, the energy practically calling you back down. You step out with a final tousle of your curls, ready to join the night.

The energy crackles through the backyard as you make your way to the top of the outdoor staircase. The sun has slipped beneath the horizon, casting a dusky glow over the massive pool below, illuminated by floating lights that shimmer across the water.

The bar is buzzing with people grabbing drinks, and in the corner, the foam pit is already filling up, laughter and splashes mixing with the heavy beat of the music.

A neon sign hangs across from the bar, glowing boldly against the evening sky: The Queen of Kildare is Back. You grin, amused at the sight of it knowing it was 100% Macy's doing, and take a step down. Conversations hush, replaced by the roaring blast of excitement as heads turn your way. Hundreds of people, from familiar faces to those you only vaguely recognize from your past in Figure Eight, pause and look up, anticipation brimming in their eyes.

As you descend, your cover-up billows behind you, revealing the bold lines of your black and red two-piece. The crowd’s reaction is instant, erupting into cheers, whistles, and applause that echo across the yard.

"Y/n! Y/n! Y/n" They chant and you laugh. Every step closer to the party, you feel the atmosphere thicken, charged with that infectious blend of excitement and admiration. By the time you reach the bottom, someone’s already handing you a drink, while friends rush over to pull you in for hugs and greetings, their voices nearly drowned out by the music and shouts.

"Y/n Sinclair, s'Been a while."

There's a voice all too familiar addressing you from behind, prompting you to pivot to come face to face with a much taller Rafe than your brain could recall.

"Rafe Cameron. Long time no see." He goes in for the hug, your arms reaching over his broadened shoulders while his longer ones wrap around your waist before pulling back. He not so subtly checked you out, his tongue darting out over his lips briefly as he took you in and you did the same.

The buzzed hair sharpens his features, you think. Making his eyes seem darker, more intense, as they focus on you. His open linen shirt falls loosely over his frame, giving glimpses of his toned chest and the subtle gleam of a thin chain resting against his skin.

The shirt flutters with the breeze, barely hanging on his shoulders, hinting at the strong lines of his arms and drawing your eyes down to his relaxed, dark swim trunks.

He’s saying something, leaning slightly toward you, and his voice cuts smoothly through the bass of the party. Your eyes wander back up to his face, catching the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as if he knows he’s caught your attention.

"You look good, too good. How long's it been?" It's hard for you to think with the heat of his gaze on you, but you don't falter, never surrendering to this never-ending game between the two of you.

"About 3 years." He hums, the way he looks at you, casual yet purposeful, makes your pulse quicken, and suddenly, every sound around you fades, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the way he looks right at you, but you remind yourself to focus.

Rafe looks around the scene, eyes lingering over the wet t-shirt contest and then the game of chicken being held in the pool while others lounged on the various floaties or indulged in ungodly amounts of alcohol at the bar. As he does so, the pungent scent of weed drafts across your nostrils.

"Your old man know you're hostin' tonight?" You had to laugh, "Oh please, like he would ever let me have any kind of fun while he's in town. He and the skank are in Fiji."

The slight smirk that etches over his perfect lips taunts you. "So the house is yours?" He leans in, a little closer, closing the gap between you. "Until he comes back and banishes me again," You place a confident hand against his chest, pushing him away, "But for now, I'm here to party, and you should be too."

With that said you walk away from him, letting your hips sway with seduction radiating with each step. Rafe lets his thumb and fingers stroke over his jaw, feeling the weight of the pressure you'd just applied.

God, it was good to have you back.

The party raged on, slowly approaching its peak, body shots were going on at the bar, girls were doing lines in the bathrooms and the guys had insisted on a drunk game of volleyball in the pool.

Rafe took a break from the events of the party and watched from the sidelines on the couch, taking another hit of the vape that someone had passed to him, he's not sure he can remember who, and it wasn't relevant anyway.

The only person he had his sights set on is you. Watching you have the time of your life with your friends on the platform in the middle of the pool. Your little group, clearly intoxicated danced carefree while you'd begun to put your hands on the ground and throw your ass in circles.

Rafe choked, sitting up, some smoke coming through his nostrils at the interrupted airflow. He leaves his shirt behind on the couch with the abandoned vape, just as he heads for the pool topped hands him a beer which Rafe accepts before he gets in.

Maintaining a straight face as his body acclimatizes to the cool water he's almost immediately swarmed and roped into a round of whatever the current pool game was.

His icy gaze looks up to the center of the pool where you once were but are now nowhere to be found. "Looking for someone?" Your voice was mocking and he was grinning before he even turned around.

"I am actually." With little ripples in the water, he steps towards you maintaining a respectful distance that was driving you insane. "I was looking for someone to join me at the bar," He puts on a convincing facade but you roll your eyes, feigning innocence.

"Let me know if you find her," He slowly steps towards you and step back, "Don't play dumb with me, Y/n." Your plush lips form a gut-wrenching pout, "What do you mean?" Another step forward, another one back. The cycle repeats itself until he has you backed up against the edge of the pool.

Rafe’s hands find your waist, and before you can react, he’s lifting you effortlessly, placing you on the edge of the pool. You're reeling at the slutty display of his sheer strength.

Your legs dangle, brushing against his chest, and he steps closer, slotting himself right between them. His hands rest on either side of you, his arms framing you in as he looks up with that sly grin, every bit as teasing as you are.

“Always out here playin' games, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his voice low, a quiet rasp just for you. “Gotta say, I respect it—always sticking it to your old man, doing your own thing.” He leans in, his gaze drifting down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “Not many people around here have the guts for that.”

You scoff lightly, though your heart skips as his gaze lingers on you, intense and challenging. “Oh, please,” you tease, rolling your eyes. “Since when do you care about any of this?”

A quiet laugh slips from him as his fingers trace slow, deliberate circles along your thigh. “You think I haven’t been paying attention to you all these years?” he murmurs, leaning closer, his breath warm against your neck.

“You might’ve been gone a while, but don't think I forgot all those nights we had our fun.” His words hang heavy between you as he pulls back slightly. Now his hand rests on your waist, his voice dropping lower.

He tilts his head, studying you with that familiar glint of mischief. “Now that you're back, I think we should relive some of our traditions, for old time's sake,” he says, leaning in until his lips brush against your jaw, light and teasing, close enough to make your pulse race. He pauses, his thumb skimming your cheek, his lips hovering just above yours, waiting. “But don’t act like you don’t want this as much as I do.”

Before you can snap back, his mouth claims yours, the kiss charged with all the years of pent-up tension and that all-too-familiar heat. His hands slide up to cradle your face as you wrap your legs around him, pulling him even closer. The kiss deepens, and when he finally pulls back just enough to catch his breath, he watches you with a smug, knowing grin.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your lips, his thumb tracing your jaw as if memorizing every inch. “That look you get right before we make a mess of things. I knew it—you missed this just as much as I did.”

If only someone could recount how the two of found yourselves stumbling up the stairs towards your room, your soaked sheer cover-up left forgotten somewhere in the house after Rafe pulled it off of your frame.

"Shit-- Rafe," your teeth dug into the flesh of your bottom lip as you reached to open your bedroom door, horrified to see two other people had monopolized it. They hadn't even noticed the door was opened so you quickly closed it.

"What the fuck, I thought everyone knew my room was off limits." With a quick scan, you noticed items were hanging off almost all the guest rooms in the hall letting others know the room was occupied.

"Shit, there's nowhere else to go in here?" You think quickly on your feet before rushing off to get something before returning with a key in your grip.

Rafe pulls you close with a smirk as you clutch the key to your father’s room, the gleam in your eyes daring him to follow. “Breaking all the rules tonight, aren’t we?” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with approval. His hand slips around your waist as you unlock the door, both of you glancing down the hall to be sure no one’s watching.

You twist the handle and push open the door, and his hand slides down to squeeze your hip, pulling you against him. “I knew there was a reason I liked you,” he whispers against your ear, his lips grazing your skin, sending a thrill down your spine.

Once inside, you barely have a chance to lock the door before he has you pressed up against it. His lips are on yours, urgent and fierce, his hands roaming over your body with possessive ease. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he breathes between kisses, his fingers tracing the bare skin of your waist as he lifts your top, letting it fall to the floor. “Thought I’d forgotten?” you tease.

Rafe just about growls, dipping down to kiss along your collarbone, his hands sliding lower as he backs you towards the bed. His fingers hook under the waistband of your bottoms, tugging them down with a smirk that sends heat rushing through you.

Your heart races as you feel the cool, forbidden sheets beneath you, the thrill of defying every rule and having Rafe look at you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted. His hands slide up your thighs, lips trailing down your neck as he leans over you. “You know,” he murmurs, voice heavy with desire as he takes in the sight of you sprawled out before him, “I always knew you were trouble. Guess that’s why I can’t stay away.”

With a smirk, he leans in, his lips brushing over yours as his hands explore, both of you savouring the thrill of being tangled up in each other once again.

"Look at these perfect fuckin' tits." He curses, big hands cupping your breasts, kneading them and rolling your nipples between his index and thumb. Your back arches slightly with a gasp, chest pressing up into him and he laughs.

"Still so sensitive here, angel? Some things never change." He reminisces and you roll your eyes, "Fuck off, Rafe." With the blink of an eye, his much larger frame was caging you in from above, his bulging biceps giving him an erotic juxtaposition in comparison to your head.

Balancing himself on one arm he slinks his palm around the expanse of your throat with a weighted pressure. "Been gone so long you forgot your manners? Mm? That's fine, I'll be sure to fuck some sense back into you."

Your eyes flutter shut at his filthy words as you feel his hand move and begin to work you between your legs. "Your pussy's fuckin' soaked--shit." He hisses, gaze hungry and his body acts on his thoughts faster than you can register.

A particularly loud moan slips from you as you feel his tongue skillfully lap over your folds, splitting you open as the warmth of his tongue protrudes into your core. "Yes, fuck! Please, don't stop Rafe." You moan, one hand reaching down to hold him by the hair and it hits you that he'd shaved it all off.

You let out a frustrated gruff, both hands fisting the sheets while you're forced to feel the vibrations of his sick laugh running through you at your dramatics. Even the tip of his nose had been covered in your slick, your juices running down his chin as he ate you out like a man starved.

He wouldn't be surprised if they could hear you from outside, but he knows everyone is far too high, too drunk or both to hear you. It wasn't long before your legs were beginning to shake and came with his name falling from your lips over and over like a prayer.

Taking deep breaths to recover from debatedly the best orgasm you've ever experienced, Rafe walked over to the far wall, out of sight, doing something you couldn't see before returning.

Without speaking he scoops you up into his arms, bridal style, another shameless display of his strength but it would be a lie to say it didn't drive you crazy. "What-what are you doing?" Your questions are ignored until he approaches the bubbling hot tub.

A wicked smirk curls across his lips as he eases you onto your feet in the warm water, his hands lingering on your waist, keeping you close. He gazes at you with that knowing glint, the steam rising around you both.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” he murmurs, his eyes trailing down your figure, unapologetic. His fingers skim over your sides, sending a shiver through you that’s from anything but the water.

“Are you really just gonna stand there?” you call, feeling the thrill of his attention but wanting to turn the tables, your voice laced with playful challenge.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he chuckles, unfastening his swim trunks and letting them fall to the side with a carefree grin. “I plan on joining you,” he says, slipping into the water and closing the distance between you two with smooth, unhurried steps. You take a hard swallow at his size, you don't remember him being this big.

He was going to destroy you.

You raise an eyebrow, matching his smirk. “Pretty bold of you, Rafe,” you say, your voice teasing as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Just like old times, hmm?”

“Better than old times,” he murmurs, dipping his head so his lips graze your ear, his voice a low rumble. “Because now, nothing is stopping us.” He punctuates his sentence by pressing his body up against your back, elevating you a bit so your torso leans over the edge of the tub, granting him easy access to you.

"Fuck, can't believe your ass got even more fucking perfect since last time." His hand raises and comes back down with a loud spank that pulls a sinful moan from your throat. "Rafe, stop teasing." You whine, arching your back and pressing back against him.

His composure already weekend, he decided to let you get away with it this time before he lined up the swollen head of his thick cock with your entrance, "Better grab onto something." That's the last thing you hear before you're being impaled on his dick, your upper half immediately falls forward, and he stills, giving you a second.

You're breathless, it feels like his cock was taking up all the room in your lungs. Some water had splashed over the ledge but that was the least of your worries. Your mind was hazy and focused on Rafe's grunts that escaped him with every snap of his hips.

"Wish you could see how hot you look right now. The Sinclair wild child knows how to take big dick like a champ." His words run straight through you like electricity, fanning the flames of the burning heat that was beginning to form in your belly.

"Shit--This pussy was fuckin' made for me, y'know that?" You moan at his possessive statement. You can only nod, your body had gone limp long ago as he drilled into you. "R-rafe! I'm-" As if you weren't close enough, his fingers begin to rub over your clit aggressively and you jolt with a shriek.

"Oh- fuck, don't stop! Fuck! I'm gonna cum! Please, Rafe." You beg, over and over, arms hanging onto the edge of the tub for dear life as more water splashes around you.

"Wait for me, hold it until I say you can come." You're chewing your lip raw, desperately trying to hold yourself back as he wrecks you from the inside out, his moans getting more frequent, a little more airy and breathless as he tumbled toward his edge of pleasure.

"Cum with me, Angel." Your body spasms as you finish together and he leans his weight against your back, his laboured breathing fanning your ear as you come down from your high.

"Not bad, princess." You couldn't respond and Rafe took note of this, carefully holding you up with one final smug remark, "Hope I didn't wear out the queen of Kildare."

[k9wa]

⟁ A BULLET A DAY, ft. BOOTHILL.

⠀ — where teasing, annoying, poking and prodding all fall under the same category; flirting.

⚠︎︎ more mechanic! reader, gn, boothill being an idiot, flirting, suggestive, he has fake teeth to me, something about tension + leaving him high and dry is soooo ….

from this request !

it’s a miracle, truly, how boothill manages to be so tempting and endearing yet so utterly irritating and infuriating at the same time. 

and it’s hot, sure, but that just makes it all the more annoying, leaves you frustrated and with an odd pool in your stomach.  

boothill managed his way into your supply of bullets, happily tossing back the brass casings like a simple snack. it was a genius idea at the time, really, giving him a stomach that can store ammunition. though had you expected him to chew on the damn things instead of swallowing them— you know, like he was intended to— you would’ve just given him a little side bag to save yourself the work.

you half hoped the lead stuffing the things would seep into his still intact brain, but chastised yourself for the thought soon after having it. you don’t hate him that much. your brain should check back and try the thought again in twenty minutes. 

“y’know what’d be real neat, buttercup?” boothill’s legs were kicked up lazily on your workbench as he sat next to you, waiting for you to finish a small modification on his revolver. “spikes in my boots.” he lifted a foot up, rolling his ankle a bit. “you know, them retractable ones. be able t’a have some real fun with those things.”

you snorted, his efforts to dodge his synesthesia beacon as entertaining as always.

“since when do i take requests?” you asked, eyes focused down on your work— far too used to his antics to lift your head anymore.

“since when d’you deny gettin’ to tinker with me?”

he brought his feet down to the floor and leaned forward on his thighs, the denim of his pants tightening around them. “what, gonna make me say please and thank ya now?” 

you truly wanted to reply, say it wasn’t a half bad idea and that you’d look into the upgrade. until he started shaking a few bullets around in his palm like they were fucking almonds.

now boothill noticed the clench of your jaw, and oh how he revelled in it. he’s fully aware how the crunching of brass and lead peeves you, ie. you telling him to knock it off an hour ago— (“it ain’t hurtin’ nobody, is it now?”—) but you’re just so darn cute when you’re ticked off. he’s gotta push your buttons just a lil bit. 

“somethin’ the matter?” the way his sharp teeth gleamed through that damn grin weren’t doing anything to help. 

he took a bullet between his thumb and forefinger, the shiny gunmetal digits pinching the ammunition as he held it up next to you. “d’ya care for one, sugar plum?”

fine, you thought. two can play that game.

you tore your attention away from the old steel revolver, finally turning to look at him. boothill prepared for an insult, one he’d tell you was ‘flatterin’ and all,’ but it didn’t come.

you leaned towards his hand, keeping your eyes locked with his that glowed a familiar and faint red. 

then you took the bullet between your tongue and top front teeth, gently pulling it out of his hands with your mouth.

his smirk actually dropped— you’d think someone stuck an infected usb into his ear with all the ideas that flooded the forefront of his brain, making his circuits just tingle with excitement. something about the hot single mechanic in his area.

you turned back to your desk, removing the bullet from your teeth and twirling it between your fingers idly as you gave a once over to his revolver, as if nothing had happened.

boothill blinked, chuckling gruffly with a shake of his head as he slumped back in his chair, flicking another bullet into the air with his thumb and catching it in his palm with a gentle clink! the cyborg gave a low whistle as he kicked his feet back up.

“ain’t you somethin’,” he drawled, earning a chuckle from you. “y’sure know how t’keep a man on his toes, don’t ya buttercup?” 

“i dunno what you mean, boothill.” you only offered a hum, willfully ignorant to boothill’s colourful imagination.

“oh i’m real sure y’don’t.” he shook his head, another chuckle rumbling his chest and sending a shiver down your neck.

“say,” he leaned towards you, his shoulder to yours, feeling a little lucky and dropping his voice to a knee-weakening purr, “if that pretty mouth a’yers likes metal, i’m more’en happy t’a—” 

“all done.”

all bets go down the drain. boothill deadpanned as you clicked the barrel of his gun into place and handed it back to him, standing up to stretch your arms.

“shops closed for today,” you fold them, leaning back against your bench. “you better get a move on before i have to kick you out.”

boothill’s eyes trailed up your figure, taking his sweet time finding your face. the cowboy raised an eyebrow into a cocky arch despite him swearing his body was on the verge of its cooling protocol. 

“you keep woundin’ me, sugar.” 

“i dunno what you mean, boothill.”

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[hoshifighting]

svt and pussy slapping 😭😭😢😢😢😞😞😥😭😖😖😓😭😭😭😭😭😭😢😢😢😢😢😖😥😖😥😖😞

(please please please ignore if uncomfortable)

seventeen slapping your pussy

WARNINGS: pussy slap, cum, dick slap mentioned, face slap mentioned.

seungcheol would do it unconsciously, maybe during the heat of the moment. the slight sting on your clit would catch you off guard, making you gasp and arch your back. “shit, did i hurt you?” he’d ask, concern flashing in his eyes. but when you moan and your hips buck up, he gets the hint.

jeonghan would do it for the first time when you slapped his face. it was a reflex, but it left him stunned for a second. “oh, you’re gonna get it now,” he’d say, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. without warning, he’d slap your pussy, the sharp sensation making you both gasp. “wasn’t expecting that, huh?” he’d tease, and it quickly becomes a new habit.

joshua would be so uncertain at first. “are you sure?” he’d ask, looking almost concerned. “i mean, if someone slapped my dick, i don’t think i’d like it.” but when you beg for it, his reluctance starts to wane. he gives a slight slap, barely more than a tap, but it’s enough to make you gasp. the surprise and pleasure in your eyes embolden him a bit. “like that?” he asks, his voice low and uncertain. you nod, encouraging him to continue, and he gives another, slightly firmer slap, a small smile tugging at his lips as he sees your reaction.

jun would frown in confusion the first time you asked him to do it. “like this?” he’d ask, giving a tentative slap. the sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and you nod, breathless. he watches your face closely, gauging your reaction. “does it feel good?” he’d ask, his curiosity piqued. each slap after that is more confident, and he quickly learns just how much you enjoy it.

soonyoung would accidentally slap your belly while trying to spank you. “oops,” he’d laugh, immediately embarrassed. but when he sees the way your eyes light up, he grins. “guess i hit the wrong spot,” he jokes, before aiming lower and landing a slap right on your clit. the sting makes you gasp, and he chuckles at the sound. “there we go,”

wonwoo would do it during your first time together, maybe without even realizing it. the unexpected slap on your pussy makes you squirt, and he pauses, stunned. “didn’t know you could do that,” he’d say, a smirk on his lips. it becomes a regular thing for you, the rougher side of your intimacy something you both crave. he’d always follow up the slap with a deep thrust, loving the way your body reacts, the way you tremble and moan under his touch.

jihoon would be startled when you asked him. “slap it?” he’d repeat, looking at you confused through the mirror. but the moment he does it, the sharp sound echoing in the room, your reaction is immediate. you squirm, a desperate moan escaping your lips. “oh.” his fingers start to move faster, slapping your clit repeatedly. your moans grow louder, and his lips curl into a small, knowing smile. “looks like i found a sweet spot,” he’d tease, his confidence growing with each slap.

minghao would use it as a form of punishment. when you moan too loud or can’t stop squirming, especially in public places, he’d give you a sharp slap on your pussy. “keep quiet,” he’d whisper, his voice low and commanding. the sudden sting makes you bite your lip, trying to hold back your sounds. each slap feels like a reprimand, but the way his eyes darken with desire lets you know he enjoys it just as much as you do. “good girl,”

mingyu would do it just to see your pussy puffy and flushed, loving the sight before diving in to eat you out. he loves the contrast of the reddened skin and your arousal, the way it makes you look so ready for him. “so pretty,” he’d murmur before giving you a soft slap, then another. his eyes would sparkle with amusement and lust as you gasp. he’d continue, each slap followed by his tongue lapping at you, enjoying the way you react to every touch.

seokmin is a slapper, through and through. he’s slapped your face, your tits, your ass, your thighs, your back. and if you ask him to, idk, slap your earlobe, for him is an in. he was just waiting for you to ask him to slap your pussy because he wasn’t sure if you’d like it. when you finally do, he grins. “finally,” he’d chuckle before delivering a sharp slap. the sting makes you gasp, and he watches your reaction closely.

seungkwan would do it playfully, but your surprised reaction would make him pause. in reflex, you’d slap his cock back, both of you frozen in shock for a moment. “didn’t expect that,” he’d laugh, the situation too funny to be serious. but the way your body reacts, the flush spreading across your skin, it’s something new and exciting for both of you. “want me to do it again?

vernon would give harsh slaps that make your sight go white. the sound echoes in the room, each slap sharp and deliberate. “you like that?” he’d ask, his voice low and rough. you can only moan in response. he’d continue, each slap harder than the last, pushing you to the edge. “such a good girl,” he’d murmur, you like pain + pleasure, and he knows exactly how to play with it.

chan would give those light, fast slaps, just enough to stimulate your clit and make you cream. his hand and your pussy would end up covered in your slick, lines of cum connecting each slap. “feels good, huh?” he’d tease, a cocky grin on his face. he loves the way you react, the way your body flinch into his touch. “look at you, all wet and ready,”

[luvismenu]

Only When It's Us — JJK ,, index ,, about taglist

Chapter 02 — distraction ✎

fic summary: you both say it’s nothing serious, but with every touch and argument, it gets harder to stay away.

nsfw warnings: smut; lots of kissing, lots of touching lol, oral (male recieving, fem too? kinda), sucking fingers, doggy style, unprotected sex (shes using birth control so yep, be safe!) use of ‘good girl’

wc: 6k

📜 permanent taglist: @lovieku @kyuupii @fluttershypoo @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @mar-lo-pap @jungkooks-wife @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @leemonis-blog

📜 series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @sweetmimosa28

abt series taglist: send me an ask w the series title !!

“i have to go.”

“why don’t you just come back home? you can start over, and this time, maybe you’ll be more like your brother.”

you sigh.

“mom, i don’t want to be him,” you say quietly, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. on the other end, you hear her let out a soft, disapproving tsk, a sound that always manages to make you feel a little smaller.

“aren’t you clearly struggling with school? if you were here with us, with your brother, we’d help you. you’d be fine,” she insists, as if coming home would magically fix everything.

you roll your eyes.

“i really have to go.”

“___, just listen to—”

but before she can finish, you end the call, staring at the blank screen for a moment.

there’s an unsettling feeling in your chest, one that refuses to fade, no matter how much you try to brush it off. its like a quiet reminder of all the things you’re trying to avoid.

go back home?

after everything you’ve been through to study what you want, to finally live on your own terms. every argument, every latenight fight with your parents, all just to claim a bit of freedom.

you worked so hard to break free from their expectations, to stand on your own.

you even transferred universities just to escape the constant pressure back in your hometown. no matter what you did, it was never enough. every choice was somehow wrong, not ‘their way.’

you can’t go back now.

not until you’ve made it, not until you have something real to prove them wrong. you have to be successful, if only to show them that your way was the right way all along.

“hey, are you done thinking? never seen anyone contemplate cheerios this hard.”

min yoongi’s low voice pulls you out of your thoughts. you look up, finding him behind the cash register, his lips curving into a small smile.

“just wondering if i can actually trust your store’s products. what if you are some sort of cheerio secret agent and you're trying to poison me?” you joke, handing him the money.

“oh no, you figured it out. we’ve been poisoning the cheerios. now how am i gonna explain to my boss that our mission failed?” he dramatically placesb a hand on his forehead as if you revealed his deepest darkest secret. you can’t help but chuckle, the tension in your chest loosening just a bit.

“bad day?” he asks, his gaze softening a bit as he opens the cash register.

min yoongi; your friend.

well, he's more like your senior. he graduated last year and he is working parttime at this convenience store cuz he thinks in this way he could spend some time outside.

you didn't question him about it any further.

you don’t usually come here unless it’s an emergency, and breakfast for tomorrow qualifies as pretty urgent, or so you tell yourself.

“something like that,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

he nods slightly. “well,” he begins, “i’m sorry i can’t give you a discount,” he adds, trying to lighten the mood.

you chuckle, the corners of your mouth lifting. “aw, that’s too bad. i thought i might get these cheerios for free.”

he smiles softly, “maybe some other time,"

you smile back at yoongi and turn to leave. but then you almost bump your head against a man’s chest, stumbling back in surprise.

that was close.

you look up to apologize, but your words get caught in your throat as you take in his appearance.

he’s handsome.

no, that doesn’t even begin to cover it. his face is sculpted to perfection, with sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. his dark eyes seem to pierce right through you, and his long, dark hair falls effortlessly over his forehead.

but there’s something else,

he looks... mad?

you quickly gather yourself, your cheeks warming slightly. “sorry,” you blurt out, stepping aside to let him pass.

as you walk out of the store, you catch a snippet of conversation behind you.

“are you still upset about her, jungkook?” yoongi’s voice carries just enough for you to hear.

you try to shake it off, not wanting to dwell on whatever is unfolding behind you. it’s not your business, after all.

you step outside, the cool air hitting your face as you leave the store, and try to focus on the tasks ahead of you.

“it doesn’t make any sense, hyung,” jungkook scoffs, the frustration bubbling up inside him.

“when did she ever make sense?” yoongi replies dryly, not backing down as he meets jungkook’s glare. the tension in the air feels thick, but yoongi isn’t afraid to speak his mind.

“from my point of view, you’re now a free man. free from all the bullshit you’ve been through,” yoongi explains, hoping to lift jungkook’s spirits.

“what bullshit? i was happy. we were happy,” jungkook frowns, his confusion evident. he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, struggling to comprehend yoongi’s words.

“that’s what she wanted you to think,” yoongi replies, his tone serious. “and to be honest, that’s what you always did. you did whatever she wanted. you changed for her.”

“i loved her,” jungkook insists, his voice a bit softer but still filled with conviction, as if saying it out loud would make it true.

“did you? really?” yoongi presses, searching jungkook’s eyes for any hint of doubt. he knows this is a tough conversation, but it needs to be talked out.

jungkook looks away and mutters. “you don’t get it,”

yoongi’s expression softens. he presses his lips together as he looks at jungkook, feeling bad for him. “i’m sorry, jungkook. but you really have to let it go now. it’s been two weeks. it’s time to start moving on.”

jungkook stays silent.

instead of responding, he reaches for a lollipop displayed near the cash register, the bright colors contrasting sharply with his gloomy mood. he hands yoongi some money, more than what the lollipop costs, as if he’s paying for more than just candy.

“do you want the change, or can i keep it as a tip for my great service slash friendship?” yoongi tries to lighten the mood, hoping to bring a smile to jungkook’s face.

and it does.

jungkook’s lips curl into a faint smile, a small but genuine response. “keep it,” he says softly.

as jungkook turns to leave, yoongi watches him go, feeling sad for his friend.

“bad day indeed.”

you're sat on a bench in the park near the convenience store, lost in your own thoughts. the quiet sounds of the evening settle around you, the faint rustle of leaves, the distant hum of traffic, and your own sighs mingling with the cool air.

you’re not really thinking about anything in particular, just letting your mind wander in that aimless way it does when everything feels overwhelming.

then, a loud voice cuts through your thoughts.

“no, i know you're hiding something from me!” someone snaps, his voice taut with irritation. “fine! have it your way then.”

curious, you glance over and recognize him immediately; the same man from earlier at the store, the one you’d nearly bumped into.

he’s pacing as he talks on his phone, one hand running through his dark hair in exasperation. his jaw is clenched, his brows furrowed, and you can practically feel the tension radiating off him even from a distance.

after a moment, he ends the call with an aggravated sigh, stuffing his phone into his pocket as he makes his way into the park, still visibly upset. he barely notices his surroundings as he walks closer to where you’re sitting.

he sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, muttering something under his breath as if willing the frustration to melt away. you can’t help but stare a little, like an idiot.

then his eyes snap open and land directly on you.

“got a problem with me?” his voice is sharp, cutting through the silence between you.

you blink, startled, and stand up instinctively. “excuse me?”

he turns fully to face you, his eyes never leaving yours. “i asked, you got a problem with me?”

“no.” you shake your head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“good.”

wow. nice attitude.

just as you’re about to walk away, he calls out again.

“never seen you around here before.”

“pardon?” you turn back, surprised.

“you’re yoongi's friend, right?” he asks,

you cross your arms, giving him a wary look. “why do you care?”

he shrugs, almost nonchalant. “my bad, just curious. never seen yoongi smile at a normal customer before, so i assumed.”

“oh,” you reply, softening just a bit. “well, i guess you could say we're friends.”

he raises an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you guess?”

you offer a small shrug of your own. “he used to help me when i was still a freshman, and he still tries to whenever he can. i'd say he's like my teacher, in a way. it’s not like we hang out or anything, though.”

he tilts his head, considering your words. “well, consider yourselves friends. trust me, he doesn’t just help anyone.”

you narrow your eyes slightly, still wary. “and who are you, exactly?”

“jeon jungkook,” he says, extending a hand with a surprisingly polite nod. instinctively, you reach out and shake it, his grip firm. “since you're yoongi's friend, i think we go to the same university. though this is the first time i’m seeing you.”

“same, i am ___,” you pull your hand back.

“what are you doing here, in the middle of the night? didn’t your parents ever tell you not to go out alone?” he asks, the way he talks is somewhere between teasing and serious. you can't quiet get what it is but something about it grates on your nerves, like he's playing at being concerned but in a way that feels almost mocking.

“i could ask you the same thing,” you shoot back, meeting his gaze head on.

he doesn’t flinch, only tilts his head slightly. “i always come here,” he says, his voice calm, almost like a matterof fact.

“same,” you respond. “during the day.”

he quirks a brow, “so why are you in my night shift?”

you scoff, a laugh slipping out before you can stop it. “this isn’t your place or ‘shift,’ you know."

“well, you come here during the day; i come here at night. sounds like shifts to me,” he says with a shrug, and you catch the playfulness on his face.

“guess i’m overtiming, then,” you say, glancing away to hide your own smirk. “don’t mind me.”

he stays silent.

“you’ve got your own shit to deal with, huh?” he says, his voice breaking the quiet.

“why are you talking to me?” you blurt out, catching him a little off guard. “i mean, you don’t even know me.”

he raises an eyebrow, unphased. “i could ask you the same thing,” he replies, mimicking your answer from before.

you narrow your eyes, folding your arms. “i don’t think i want to talk about my problems with a random stranger.”

“problems…” he echoes, looking you up and down like he���s trying to figure you out. “let me guess. got into a fight with your boyfriend?”

“no,” you say quickly, rolling your eyes. “i don’t have one.” for a second, you think you catch a flicker of surprise on his face. “what about you? girlfriend mad at you?”

his face shifts, something almost vulnerable passing over his features before he looks away. “guess you could say that,” he mutters. “since she broke things off with me.”

a silence stretches between you two.

“i’m… sorry to hear that,” you finally say, feeling the awkwardness settle around you.

you didn't expect that.

honestly, the idea of someone like him getting dumped hadn’t even crossed your mind. a guy who looks like that—that intense aura—doesn’t exactly seem like the type to get left behind.

you assumed he’d be the one calling the shots, the one walking away. but here he is, single and clearly dealing with the aftermath of something that’s weighing on him. its surprising.

a thought crosses yourmind.

if someone could leave him, someone who had a place in his life and a claim to his heart, maybe he’s not as perfect as he seems on the outside. maybe there’s something beneath the surface, something that’s harder to deal with than his looks would suggest.

it’s like a puzzle you didn’t even mean to start solving, yet here you are, wondering if there’s more to him than just that handsome face.

but then you shake the thought away. he’s a stranger. a random guy you happened to bump into, quite literally, at a park in the middle of the night. it’s not like you’ll see him again after tonight. or, at least, that’s what you’re telling yourself.

because, really, why should you care?

whatever his story is, it’s none of your business.

“anyway, hope you figure your problems out.” he says, his gaze flickering away as if he’s eager to dodge any deeper conversation.

“likewise,” you reply.

without warning, he pulls a lollipop from his pocket, holding it out to you. “here,” he says, waiting for you to take it.

you reach out slowly, raising an eyebrow. “thanks?”

he smirks, “again, did your parents never tell you not to take candy from strangers?”

“maybe i like to be a little rebellious,” you say, smirking back at him and he shakes his head smiling.

“well, go ahead, eat it. i don’t want you tossing it away. i spent a lot on that sucker,” he says, a playful grin spreading across his face. despite the oddness of the moment, a corner of your mouth quirks up.

you unwrap the lollipop, examining it with a critical eye before giving him a look that says it all.

he catches it, tilting his head in curiosity. “what?”

“i don’t think i like raspberry flavor,” you admit, holding the lollipop up like a trophy of sorts.

he squints at you, “you’ve never tasted one before?”

you shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. “i don’t like raspberries, so i’m guessing this is more of the same.”

he shakes his head, lips twitching into a smirk. “that’s pretty bold, making assumptions without even trying it.”

“just give it a taste; maybe you'll like it,” he suggests, a teasing smile forming on his lips, clearly wanting you to try it. deep down, he doesn't even like raspberry flavor; he just picked it out randomly at the store.

“uh, no thanks. i don’t want that nasty taste on my tongue,” you reply, scrunching your nose a little . “but thanks, you could have—”

your words are abruptly cut off as he grabs your hand, the lollipop still held tightly between your fingers. in one swift motion, he leans in, wrapping his mouth around it. his tongue swirls around the candy, and then he pulls it out, his lips glistening with a reddish-pink hue that matches the flavor.

you're completely taken aback, eyes widening in shock.

oh what the fuck.

“yeah, you’re right. it does taste nasty,” he says, licking his lips as he releases your hand. “give it to me, i'll just throw it away or something”

suddenly, the lollipop feels trivial compared to what he just did. you stand there, completely speechless, your mind and heart racing as you try to process what jus happened.

“what?” he stares at you.

“you’re good with your tongue,” you say, the words slipping out before you can really think them through.

he pauses, his eyes widening for a second, and he chokes on nothing, almost like he’s been caught off guard mid-breath. “uh, what?” he finally manages, blinking rapidly.

realizing how that might’ve sounded, “i just meant... the lollipop. you seemed pretty skilled with it,” you clarify, though you’re aware it’s not really helping.

what are you even trying to say?

he looks at you, a smirk playing on his lips now. “uh-huh, sure,” he says, teasing you. “that’s what you meant.”

you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “don’t flatter yourself, i was just making an observation.”

but the way he’s looking at you now, dark eyes glittering with amusement and something else you can’t quite place, makes it hard to pretend that slip of the tongue didn’t mean more than you intended.

“so, do you want to suck on it?”

“huh?” you blink.

suck on what now?

“the lollipop” he clarifies, a small smile playing on his lips.

oh.

you clear your throat, fighting to keep a neutral expression. “no, definitely not, especially now that you had your tongue all over it.” you try to scrunch your nose, but any attempt at showing disgust falls flat with the heat rising in your cheeks.

“alright then, just asking if you changed your mind,” he shrugs, still holding your gaze.

“i still don’t want it,” you say quickly, trying to sound convincing.

“okay.” he blinks, unfazed.

“okay,” you repeat, awkwardly.

he gestures to the lollipop still in your hand. “uh, so… are you gonna keep holding it?”

you glance down, pulling your hand back. “i’m gonna throw it away,” you declare, though it feels a bit ridiculous now, given everything that just happened.

“i hope so,” he says, one side of his lips quirking up.

why do you kind of like his smile?

you try to shake your thought off, tossing the lollipop into a nearby trash can, trying to act as casual as possible.

“well, guess that's the end of that,” you say, hoping to sound nonchalant. he nods as he crosses his arms.

you raise an eyebrow, mimicking his stance. “do you usually hand out half-eaten lollipops to strangers?”

he laughs, low and soft, the sound surprisingly warm in the quiet night. “only when they look like they need a little distraction.”

you tilt your head. “oh? and what made you think i needed one?”

his eyes meet yours, his expression softening. “just a hunch,” he says, his voice dropping to a murmur. “we all got stuff we’d rather not think about, right?”

a pause.

there’s something unspoken between you two, a quiet understanding in the way you hold each other’s gaze.

he's right.

you are stressing about things you'd rather not think about, things that seem to cling to your mind no matter how hard you try to push them away.

and then there's him, a stranger but somehow not, going through his own mess. you can see it in his tired eyes, the way he keeps looking off into the distance as if trying to shake off whatever weight he's carrying.

you realize you don’t mind it; you don’t mind his company, or even the strange comfort of this shared silence.

both of you are here, each trying to forget whatever it is that’s eating at you. maybe that’s why this moment feels so easy.

”yeah,” you finally say, “guess we do.”

“i gotta go now,” you announce, hoping to put an end to whatever weird tension is building between the two of you.

he doesn't say anything. no goodbyes, no attempts to stop you. so you turn and start walking away, trying to shake off whatever just happened.

but before you can take more than a few steps, his hand shoots out, wrapping around your wrist. you stop, surprised, and turn back to face him. his grip isn’t tight, but it’s firm enough to make you pause.

you meet his gaze, and there's something in his eyes—something intense, something that makes your stomach flip.

“would you like a distraction?” he asks, voice low, almost like a whisper meant just for you.

you blink, not sure if you heard him right. “what?” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

instead of answering, he tugs you gently closer. your body stumbles forward, and your hands land on his chest to steady yourself. his heartbeat is strong under your palm, and suddenly, everything feels too close, too intense.

he looks down at you, his eyes flickering over your face like he’s searching for something. “i think i do,” he mutters. “don’t you?”

your mind is racing, trying to make sense of this.

is he asking what you think he’s asking?

he’s a stranger. someone you barely know beyond a couple of conversations and an awkward encounter in a convenience store.

yet there’s something about the way he’s looking at you, something that makes it hard to think straight.

“yes,” you hear yourself say before you can even process it.

his lips curve into a satisfied smile, and without another word, he leans in and kisses you.

the world seems to stop as his mouth meets yours. it’s not hesitant or soft; it’s urgent, as if he’s been wanting this for longer than the short time you’ve known him. his hands slide up to your face, cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss.

your fingers clutch his shirt, feeling the heat of his body against yours. it’s messy and impulsive, and he doesn't even care that you’re both in the middle of a park, under the dim glow of the streetlights.

right now, all you can think about is him. the way he tastes, the way he kisses you desperately.

maybe you do need this distraction.

his hands grip your waist, pulling you closer, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, letting the kiss deepen. his lips are soft, and you moan as if you're melting into the kiss. there's something about the way his mouth moves against yours; like he's been waiting to do this.

“wait—” you pant as pull back, your heart pounding against your ribs, trying to gather your thoughts. he looks into your eyes, his brows furrowing slightly as he asks in a low voice, “what happened?”

“we're... we're outside,” you point out, glancing around.

he tilts his head, his brows raising slightly as if that’s the least of his concerns. “so?” his voice is low and almost teasing, like he finds your hesitation cute.

you let out a scoffing laugh, “what do you mean so?wee’re literally in a children’s park.” you gesture to the swings and slides nearby, deserted at this hour but still... it’s a public space.

he pauses for a second, “my car’s parked just over there,” he nods towards a sleek vehicle at the edge of the park, his lips curling into a smile. “we could, uh... relocate or—”

before you can even process that, your curiosity gets the better of you. “wait— you have a car?” you cut in, a little surprised.

he chuckles. “yeah, and it’s a pretty one at that.” there’s a glint in his eyes that says he’s enjoying this back-and-forth with you, like it’s some sort of game.

you sigh, still trying to wrap your head around the craziness of this entire situation. “okay,” you murmur, almost to yourself, deciding to just go with it. what’s the worst that could happen?

he releases his grip on you, but only so he can grab your hand and guide you towards the car. the walk feels a little awkward now, a heavy tension hanging in the air. you're not sure what to say.

what’s the protocol for walking towards a car with a guy you’re about to hook up with?

as if sensing your nerves, he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “come on, my car’s comfy. don’t worry,” he says with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. the way he’s holding your hand... it’s surprisingly tender, making it feel just a little less awkward.

when you reach the car, he opens the back seat door for you. you hesitate for a second, “you won’t, like, kidnap me or something, right?” you half-joke.

he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “for someone who’s so aware of the things you shouldn’t be doing, you sure do them anyway,” he teases. his words send a shiver down your spine, both a warning and an invitation.

but you ignore that nagging voice in the back of your mind. instead, you climb into the seat and he follows you right away.

“why are you—” your words are cut off as he crashes his lips against yours, the urgency in his kiss making you lose your breath. one of his hands grips your waist, pulling you against him, while the other tangles in your hair, tugging gently to tilt your head for better access.

the way his lips move against yours, hot and hungry, sends sparks shooting down your spine, and before you know it, you're moaning into his mouth, matching his intensity. your hands scramble to find something to hold onto, eventually locking behind his neck as if he's your lifeline.

“are we seriously gonna fuck in your car?” you gasp, your words shaky when he pulls away just enough to start trailing hot kisses down the side of your neck. your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, drawing him closer.

“no,” he breathes and sucks on a sensitive spot just beneath your ear, his teeth grazing the skin before he soothes it with a slow lick. “just couldn’t stop myself,” he admits, voice low and breathy, and then his mouth is back on yours, devouring you with a hunger that makes your head spin.

your hands move restlessly over his broad shoulders, wanting to feel more, wishing his clothes were gone so you could touch him everywhere.

his hands roam your body like he's memorizing it, fingers pressing into the curves of your waist, teasingly brushing against your chest. each touch has you arching into him, wishing he'd just tear your clothes apart already.

it's all too good.

too overwhelming, and before you know it, five minutes have passed with the two of you tangled in each other. when he finally pulls back, panting, his lips are swollen and glistening. your chest rises and falls rapidly as you try to catch your breath, both of you staring at each other in the dim light of the car.

he’s leaning back slightly, his hard on pressing against your thigh. it’s impossible not to notice how turned on he is, and it only makes your own arousal spike.

you're so fucking wet right now.

you’re laid back on the seat, eyes locked on him, watching the way he runs a hand through his disheveled hair, pushing it back revealing his forehead.

“hotel? or my place?” he asks, trying to catch his breath “hotel’s just a minute away, but my place… well, it’s a bit further.”

you can practically see the options laid out in your mind like a checklist.

a) go to the hotel, have your fun, and slip away without looking back. no strings, no regrets. just a quick fuck and disappear like it never happened.

b) go to his place, let him fuck the shit out of you, see if he’s worth all this heat between your thighs. maybe wake up in his bed with his arms still wrapped around you... and if he's good enough, maybe get his number so it doesn’t have to be a one time thing.

you bite your lip, your decision already made before you even realize it.

“yours.”

the drive to his apartment is quick, the tension between you both barely held back. you're glad it’s late at night, because the two of you can’t seem to keep your hands off each other and you don't want anyone witnessing it.

the second you step into his apartment, the door slams shut behind you, and it's a scramble to rid each other of clothing. shirts are yanked off, belts undone, pants shoved down until you're both stumbling towards his bedroom in a mess of heated kisses and needy touches.

“o-oh fuck—yes baby, suck it just like that,” jungkook throws his head back, moaning, his breath ragged. he’s sprawled on the bed, legs spread wide, hands gripping the sheets. you're on your knees between his thighs, sucking him hard, your lips stretching around his thick length.

you glance up at him, eyes half lidded, watching the way his abs flex as he tries to keep himself steady. “shit... you look so fucking hot,” he rasps out, voice rough. his gaze darkens, and he pushes himself up, one hand threading through your hair.

“can you take it, baby?” he asks, his voice low, a hint of a challenge in his tone.

you know exactly what he’s asking. you nod, barely managing it with your mouth full, and he smiles, almost wickedly, his eyes gleaming.

“good,” he murmurs, his grip tightening just enough on your hair. “tap me if it’s too much.” and with that, he starts moving his hips, fucking into your mouth with slow, deep thrusts.

you gag slightly as he pushes deeper, but you relax your throat, trying to take him in. the room is filled with the wet, obscene sounds of him moving in and out, his groans echoing off the walls.

“fuck—you’re taking me so well, baby,” he praises, his voice thick and raspy, sending a wave of heat straight to your core. each time his cock hits the back of your throat, it forces a choked gasp from him, his hands instinctively tightening in your hair.

your eyes water, tears pooling at your lashes, but you don’t stop, even as your throat aches. your nails dig into his firm thighs, using them for balance as he fucks your throat. you want to show him just how much you can handle.

“i’m gonna—” he grunts, voice rough and strained. a hot burst of his release fills your mouth, and you swallow it all, not breaking eye contact with him for a second. his chest heaves as he watches you, mesmerized, as your tongue slides slowly along his length, cleaning up every drop. his jaw clenches, the sight clearly driving him wild.

“get up,” he orders, voice still a little breathless, and you obey instantly, letting him pull you to your feet. “on the bed, all fours.”

you get onto the mattress, positioning yourself as he asked. there's a moment of stillness as you feel his gaze roam over your exposed body. your heart races, anticipation building as you wait for his next move.

“you’re dripping,” he murmurs, leaning in closer until his breath is hot against your soaked core. he licks a slow, deliberate stripe along your folds, and your eyes flutter shut, a soft, breathy moan escaping your lips. his mouth envelops your pussy, sucking and licking with an rhythm that makes your thighs tremble.

he pulls back just enough to catch his breath before moving up, positioning himself between your legs. his right hand trails upward, skimming over your skin until his fingers brush against your lips.

instinctively, you part them, taking his fingers into your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around them. the low chuckle that escapes him tells you just how much he enjoys it.

“you like that, hm?” he asks. you moan softly around his fingers, your response muffled but desperate.

he withdraws his fingers, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk. leaning down, he wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you slightly until your back is against his chest. you can feel his length pressing against your ass, you move your hips a little causing a little friction.

his hands slide over your breasts, kneading them with just enough pressure to send shivers down your spine.

you melt into his touch, your head lolling back against his shoulder as his fingers pinch and roll your hardened nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

“want me to fuck you, baby?” his voice is soft against your shoulder as he places feather light kisses along your skin. he nips gently, his hands never stopping their teasing, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes when his fingers pinch just a bit harder.

“y-yes,” you mewl, voice shaky with need, “fuck me, jungkook.”

he squeezes your breasts harder, a groan rumbling from his chest as he sinks his teeth lightly into the curve of your shoulder.

“yeah? can i fuck you raw?” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

“yes,” you gasp, your voice barely more than a whimper. “p-please.”

his grip on you loosens slightly, and he leans back to look at you, his eyes dark, like he's stopping himself. “you sure?” he asks, one last time, his tone gentle but urgent.

you nod quickly, breathless. “i’m on the pill,” you assure him, and the tension in his shoulders eases.

“fuck. okay, bend over.”

without hesitation, you resume your previous position, arching your back and presenting yourself to him. he groans softly at the sight, his hand sliding down to rub slow circles over your entrance.

he teases you, slipping a finger inside, making you moan softly as your walls flutter around him. he withdraws his finger, watching the way you clench around nothing, desperate for more.

grabbing his cock, he taps the swollen tip against your slick hole. you whine, impatience leaking into your voice, “just fuck me already.”

a smirk curves his lips, and without another word, he pushes into you.

you grip the sheets tightly as you take him in fully, your walls stretching to accommodate his thick length. a choked gasp escapes your lips, eyes squeezing shut at the delicious burn that quickly morphs into pleasure.

each inch fills you so completely, leaving you breathless, your body trembling at the feeling.

“fuck,” he groans behind you, his voice low and rough, a sound that makes your toes curl. “you’re so tight, baby... taking me so fucking good.” the words are almost a growl, filled with barely restrained control as he fights the urge to pound into you.

his hands move to your hips, gripping them hard enough to leave marks, steadying himself as he sinks even deeper.

your moans spill freely now, raw and needy, muffled slightly by the pillow you bury your face into. he starts to move, slowly at first, pulling out just enough before thrusting back in, his cock brushing against that sweet spot inside you.

the rhythm is torturously slow, each stroke making you whimper, your back arching even further in a silent plea for more.

“please... more,” you manage to gasp out, your voice shaky. “jungkook, i need it.. need you.”

“yeah?” he rasps, picking up the pace, thrusts becoming sharper, each one driving you into the mattress. “want it harder, baby? want me to ruin you?”

“yes.. yes mmph- more!” you cry, your voice breaking as he slams into you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. your nails claw at the sheets, the friction of his hips against your ass making stars dance behind your eyelids.

his fingers snake around to your front, finding your swollen clit, and he rubs it in tight, quick circles. your entire body jolts, your hips bucking back against him as you let out a loud, broken moan.

“oh, fuck, that’s it, that's a good fucking girl,” he hisses, feeling you clench around him, your walls fluttering as you near the edge.

“you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?” he growls against your ear, bending over you now, his hot breath fanning against your neck. he bites down on your shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to drive you wild.

“you're gonna cum like the good girl you are?”

“yes n-ngh.. i’m close.. s-so close,” you whimper, your thighs trembling uncontrollably. his fingers press harder against your clit, his thrusts turning frantic.

“cum with me, baby” he demands, his voice thick and commanding. that’s all it takes. your body shatters. your vision going white as you scream his name. your walls squeeze him so tightly, milking his cock, and with a deep, guttural groan, he loses himself too, spilling inside you as his thrusts grow sloppy.

he stays buried inside you, his chest heaving against your back, both of you panting heavily. he leans down to press soft, lazy kisses along your shoulder.

after everything that just happened. you've made up your mind.

you're definitely going to ask for his number.

a/n: erm.. don't get into random strangers cars !! haha

[ultimate-shipper-blog]

I'll Send an SOS to Your Heart

-------

"Ok, I'm imagining things."

Steve is laying on his bed watching his lights flicker.

He plugged in one of those space projectors that's supposed to make your ceiling look like the night sky.

It's not weird that they're flickering, the light was a dollar at Melvads he wasn't expecting it to work long.

The weird part is that the stars keep making a heart shape.

He sees the heart flash a couple of times before he flips over and hides deeper into his pillow.

"No." He groans. "No more upside down shit."

If some upside-down monster was flirting with him he quits.

All the lights in his room surge to maximum brightness.

"Fuck off."

The lights draw a middle finger.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" He jumps out of bed and points at the orbs.

It draws a winky face. (;P)

"Who are you?"

His blood runs cold. An upside down monster can't flirt with him. They don't know English. He has an idea but it can't be true.

They left him there. He's dead.

...isn't he?

'SOS' the lights read.

"Fuck." Tears spring to his eyes. "Eddie?"

'Hiya'

-----

He spends a while talking to Eddie.

It's tough.

It takes a while to write everything out and Steve is still trying not to hyperventilate or cry or pass out so it's taking a lot of energy to keep up the conversation.

'Sleep?'

"No."

'?'

"Nothing I'm just...not tired."

'Liar'

"WHAT! I'm not I just-"

'-_-'

"Fine."

':)'

"I'm scared."

'Me?'

"No, I'm scared this is a dream. That I fell asleep hours ago and I made you out of my guilty conscious. I just don't want to lose you...again."

'Back'

"Back?"

'Bring back'

"Bring...you back?"

'YES'

"You think we can bring you back?"

'Plan'

"Yes! I'll call everyone we can figure it out. Oh! We have El to help us this time! You're gonna love her Eds she's just like the kids you look out for and she's magic! I'll call them right-"

'NO'

"No?"

'tom- sleep now'

"I think this is a little more important than-"

'Sleep <3'

Steve looks over at the clock, 4 am.

Shit.

"Ok. I'm going to sleep. Will you...will you be here in the morning?"

'W STEVIE'

"Ok. Goodnight Eddie."

'GN <3'

----

The plan goes off without a hitch.

It takes them about two weeks to formulate and execute the plan.

Steve spends his days and nights talking to Eddie, keeping him updated. Keeping him in his life.

He speed runs a crisis or two when he realizes he wants to spend the remainder of his days speaking to Eddie.

He can't wait until he's here with him.

Alive.

-----

So it's more complicated than he thought.

Maybe there's a hoard or bats blocking them from Eddie.

Maybe Steve throws himself in front of the kids and fights off the creatures long enough for them to find Eddie and get him back home.

Maybe Steve bleeds a little too much and collapsed as soon as they reach the other side.

----

He wakes in the hospital to nine pairs of eyes staring at him.

They're all arguing with each other. Their voices low as if they're trying not to wake them.

He wants to talk he wants to reach out.

Eddie is standing by the door in a baseball cap and sunglasses as if he was trying to be inconspicuous.

As if Eddie could ever hide from Steve. Steve would find him anywhere he is.

God, he's here! He's in the room! All this time apart and he's so close!

"Mphahhpsh" he can't form words but it doesn't matter.

Everyone stops and Eddie's eyes meet his. His eyes look wet and he looks skinny and exhausted.

He's never looked more beautiful.

Eddie's eyes turn down into a determined glare. He pushes past everyone until he's inches away from Steve.

He takes a deep breath and then leans down and kisses him.

Flat on the mouth. In front of everyone.

The shocked noises are what pulls them apart.

"I'm so happy to see you, I really like you," Steve says.

"That's my line." Eddie smiles and kisses him again.

"Don't ever try to save me again I can't ever see you in a hospital again," Eddie presses their noses together.

"That's my line."

Eddie chuckles and pushes his nose into Steve's cheek. "Dork."

"Yes, yes, you're both terrible. Now what the fuck is happening."

They break apart to see the crews shocked faces. Mike's face is pale and Dustin is an interesting shade of red.

Robin is staring at him a little proud.

He sends a wink her way and pulls Eddie in closer.

They'll figure it all out later. They have time.

----

This started with once sentence in my brain and grew into three different plot points I put together in a rush. :P

Please comment I love to read em!

[lee-laurent]

Just Friendly Things -- Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn brings his "friend" Hayden to meet the guys, only issue... they all wanna get on his nerves by flirting with her

content: arguing, teasing, flirting, some posssibly sexist jokes, suggestive jokes, making out, implied smut but no explicit smut

wc: 6.6k

notes: this took way longer than i expected because i hated the first few versions of hayden that i wrote. hope you guys enjoy! and pls pls let me know which fic from my most recent list you wanna see next!!!

Quinn had been convinced he had a type, until he met Hayden. The moment he laid eyes on the freckle-covered brunette behind the bar, all his ideas of the perfect woman went out the window.

He hadn't planned on approaching her that night--he rarely did that sort of thing--but something about her made it impossible to stay in his seat. Maybe it was the way her eyes sparkled as she teased the patrons, or the quick, confident way she moved, shaking cocktails and sliding beers across the counter without missing a beat. Or maybe it was her laugh, low and raspy, floating above the noise of the crowd and hitting him like a bucket of cold water.

When he reached the bar, he still hadn't figured out what to say. But she noticed him right away, tipping her head at him with an arched brow. "You gonna order something, or just stand there looking pretty?" she asked, smirking.

It had taken Quinn half a second too long to respond, his brain short-circuiting at the sound of her voice. Her smirk only deepened as she watched him scramble for words.

"Uh, yeah--just a beer. Whatever's on tap," he finally managed, shoving a hand through his hair.

"Sure thing, champ." She poured the drink in one smooth motion and set it in front of him, wiping her hands on a bar towel. "That'll be six bucks."

Quinn handed her a twenty. "Keep the change."

Her green eyes flicked up to meet his. "Big spender, huh?"

He shrugged, suddenly unsure of himself. "Just figured you deserve it. You're working hard."

That made her pause. The teasing look on her face softened for a split second, and she gave him a small smile before moving on to the next customer.

That had been six months ago. Now, Quinn had her memorized in ways he wasn't sure were healthy. He knew how her lips curved when she smiled, the exact spot on her shoulder that made her shiver when she kissed it, and the way her voice sounded when she moaned his name in the dark.

Not that they were anything serious--she'd made that clear from the start. "I'm not looking for a boyfriend, Hughes," she'd said one night, perched on the edge of his bed, wearing nothing but one of his hoodies. Her legs had been tucked under her, and her fingers toyed absently with the hem of the sweathshirt. "I don't have time for that right now. Gotta focus on work and school, and I don't need a distraction."

"Fair enough," he'd replied, leaning back against the headboard and trying to sound nonchalant, like her answer didn't sting just a little.

It wasn't like he could blame her. She worked crazy hours at the bar, saving every spare dollar for tuition. And yet, every few nights, she still found her way into his bed--or his car, or his couch--looking at him with those green eyes and making it very clear she wanted him.

And that was the problem, really. He knew exactly what she wanted from him, but the feelings that had started creeping up on him were a hell of a lot messier.

Like now, as they drove through the winding roads to the lake house. Hayden was sitting in the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone, completely oblivious to the way he kept sneaking glances at her. She'd insisted she could come as a friend--"We're just hanging out, right? Your brothers don't need to know anything."

Quinn had agreed, mostly because he didn't want to push his luck. But the idea of her spending an entire weekend around his brothers and friends--Jack, Luke, Cole, and Trevor--while pretending they didn't have history? He wasn't sure how he was supposed to keep it together.

Especially not when she looked like that.

~~

Quinn tightened his grip on the steering wheel, forcing himself to look at the road instad of Hayden. She was lounging in the passenger seat like she owned the place, legs pulled up and bare feet resting on the dash--something that normally annoyed him, but didn't when it was her. Her hair was twisted up on top of her head with a claw-clip, dark sunglasses perched on her nose, and her shorts were so short they were more like denim underwear. And worse, she didn't seem to have a single clue what she was doing to him.

"Any bets on how long before Trevor starts acting like an idiot?" she asked, not looking up from her phone.

Quinn exhaled, shaking his head. "Two minutes after we pull in."

Hayden snorted. "I'm giving him 30 seconds. Kid doesn't have an off switch."

"Don't let him get to you," Quinn warned, though his jaw clenched at the thought. He already knew how this was going to go: Trevor was going to flirt, Jack and Luke were going to egg him on, and Cole was going to sit back and stir the pot like the chaos-loving menace he was. The last thing Quinn needed was his brothers and friends turning this weekend into some weird interrogation.

She finally looked at him, dropping her phone onto her lap. "Relax, Hughesy. I can handle myself."

That was the problem. He knew she could handle herself. Hayden could flirt and toss back jabs like it was nobody's business. She was cool under pressure, quick with comebacks, and completely unfazed by guys like his friends. If anything, they were going to love her. Which was great--except it also meant they were going to keep pushing, keep prodding, and Quinn was going to have to sit there and pretend it didn't bother him.

He wasn't entirely sure he could pull that off.

The house was already crazy when they arrived. Quinn barely had time to turn off the engine before the front door flew open, and Jack and Trevor came sprinting out like a couple of dogs that'd been cooped up too long.

"Quinny!" Jack hollered, dragging out the name like he was twelve. His eyes darted to Hayden before a shit-eating grin stretched across his face. "And you brought a friend!"

"Careful, Jack, you're drooling," Hayden teased, sliding out of the car like she hadn't just turned Quinn's brain to mush.

Trevor skidded to a stop next to Jack, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head as he gave Hayden an exaggerated once-over. "Who's this?" he asked, like Quinn wasn't standing right there.

"Hayden," she said, unfazed. "You must be Trevor."

His grin widened. "Guilty. Did Quinn tell you that I'm his favourite?"

Quinn groaned, dragging their bags out of the trunk. "Literally no one has ever said that ever."

Trevor ignored him, zeroing in on Hayden. "So, you a hockey fan? Or did Quinny trick you into coming up here?"

Hayden shot Quinn a quick, amused look over her shoulder before turning back to the blond. "No tricks. I just like the lake."

"I'm gonna like you."

"Trevor," Quinn said sharply, but it was too late. Hayden was already laughing, and Trevor looked delighted, like he'd just discovered a new game.

This was going to be a long weekend.

~~

The kitchen was already loud by the time Quinn woke up the next morning. Jack was rummaging through the fridge, muttering complaints about the lack of skim milk, while Luke stood at the stove making ovens. Trevor was leaning against the counter, already drinking despite the early hour.

Then there was Hayden, perched on a stool like she'd been part of the group for years. She was wearing a tank top and athletic shorts, her legs crossed as she sipped a mug of coffee one of the guys had made for her. She looked completely at ease, laughing softly at something Trevor had just said.

"Morning, sunshine," Jack called out when he spotted Quinn. "You sleep okay on the couch?"

Trevor smirked. "Guess you're more of a gentleman than I thought, letting Hayden have the bed."

Quinn ignored him, heading straight for the coffee pot. "Someone had to make sure you idiots didn't scare her off already."

"We're harmless," Jack said, grabbing a yogurt and joining Hayden at the counter. "Right, Hayden?"

"Sure," she smiled. "Totally harmless."

Trevor licked his lips, setting down his beer. "So, Hayden, what's your deal? You work at a bar, right? Bet you've got some wild stories."

"Plenty," she said easily. "But I'm guessing you don't wanna hear about drunk bachleorette parties or old guys claiming they already tipped me when it's the first time I've ever seen them."

"Come on," Trevor said, flashing her his most charming grin. "What about the weirdest pickup line you've ever gotten?"

"I don't know... probably the guy who told me I had eyes like a mermaid and asked if I wanted to 'swim into his arms.'"

Jack snorted. "That's terrible."

"Right?" Hayden laughed again. "I told him I'd rather drown."

Trevor laughed so hard he nearly spilled his beer. "Okay, that's solid. But what about the best pickup line? You've gotta have one."

Quinn, pouring his coffee, clenched his jaw. He knew where this was going.

Hayden glanced at him briefly. "I don't really go for pickup lines," she shrugged. "If a guy's confident, he doesn't need one."

"Oh, I'm confident," Trevor leaned a little closer.

Hayden smirked. "Good for you, bud."

Quinn's knuckles tightened around his mug as he turned and leaned against the counter. "Shouldn't you save some of that energy for the lake, Trev? Or is embarrassing yourself in the water not enough anymore?"

Trevor shot him a look, but Hayden only smiled, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. "Careful, Hughesy," she said lightly. "You're starting to sound jealous."

Quinn froze, scrambling for a response. "I'm not--"

"She's got a point," Jack interrupted. "You're lookin' a little tense there, Quinny."

"I'm fine!"

Hayden raised her coffee mug to hide her smile, but the damage was already done.

Quinn's nerves were frayed by the end of breakfast. Hayden had slipped easily into the background, chatting with Luke about something or other, but Trevor and Jack were relentless in their interrogation.

"Hayden, what kind of guys do you usually go for?" Trevor asked carefully as they started clearing the plates.

Quinn stiffened, glancing at Hayden out of the corner of his eye. She didnt' miss a beat.

"Hmm. I guess I like guys who can make me laugh."

"That's me!" Trevor said excitedly.

"Right," she said, deadpan. "But I also like guys who know when to quit."

Jack laughed, clapping Trevor on the back. "Ouch! Guess you're out of luck, bud!"

Quinn didn't bother to hide his smirk, but his amusement didn't last long. Trevor wasn't giving up, and Hayden seemed determined to keep sparring with him.

The group wasted no time in dragging all their gear down to the water. Paddleboards, kayaks, and inner tubes littered the dock, and Jack was already trying to wrestle Luke into the water just for the sake of it.

Quinn had just finished setting up a folding chair near the edg of the dock when he caught sight of Hayden emerging from the house.

His brain short-circuited.

She was wearing a simple blue bikini, nothing overly flashy, but it might as well have been haute couture for the way it made his chest tighten. Her hair was loose now, claw clip abandoned, and her sungless perched on her pale nose as she carried a towel in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

She walked like she owned the place, completely oblivious to how every head on the dock turned her way.

"Jesus, Quinn," Jack grinned. "Where'd you find her?"

Quinn scowled. "Shut up, Jack."

"Hey, Hayden!" Trevor called, waving her over like they were old friends. "You ever paddleboard before?"

Hayden stopped at the edge of the dock, plating her hands on her hips. "Once or twice. Why?"

Trevor pulled a board toward himself. "Because you're about to get a free lesson from the best."

"You mean Luke?" she quipped, smirking proudly.

Trevor clutched his chest like she'd stabbed him. "That hurts. I'm actually really fucking great at this!"

"Uh-huh." Hayden tossed her towel onto a chair, kicking off her sandals. "Fine. Show me what you've got."

Quinn groaned internally as Trevor guided her toward the paddleboard. He tried to focus on adjusting one of the chairs, but his eyes kept returning to Hayden as Trevor "helped" her climb onto the board.

"Keep your knees bent," Trevor said, standing waist-deep in the water beside her. "It's all about balance."

"Got it," Hayden said, adjusting her stance.

"You're a natural," he grinned up at her. Then, with an exaggerated wave of his arm, he tipped her board slightly to the side, sending her wobbling.

Quinn tensed instinctively, stepping toward the edge of the dock, but Hayden quickly recovered, giving Trevor a look that could melt steel.

"Do that again, and you're swimming home with this thing shoved up your ass," she said flatly.

Luke burst out laughing from where he was lounging on an inner tube. "She's not wrong, Trev. You're annoying as fuck."

Trevor ignored him, hopping onto his own paddleboard. "Alright, then. Let's race."

"You're on," Hayden paddled toward the deeper water with ease.

Quinn really wanted to stay out of it, but watching Trevor and Hayden laughing and splashing each other in the middle of the lake was slowly driving him insane. He stood at the edge of the dock, hands on hips like a dad, until Jack strolled over and gave him a knowing look.

"You good, man? You've been standing there glaring at Trevor for five minutes."

"I'm not glaring," Quinn said, moving to cross his arms.

"Sure," Jack said, dragging out the word. "Hey, maybe we should all take turns teaching Hayden how to paddleboard. I mean, I've got skills."

"Don't."

Jack raised his hands in surrender, laughing as he walked away.

~~

Quinn moved from standing to sitting, his feet in the water, when Hayden paddled back toward him. Trevor had abandoned his board by this point, leaving her to float leisurely near the dock.

"Not bad, huh?" she said, smirking as she climbed off the board and into the shallow water.

"You handled yourself," Quinn said, shrugging like it didn't matter.

Hayden raised an eyebrow, stepping closer until she was standing waist-deep in the water in front of him. "You sure you're okay? You've been looking kind of... tense."

"I'm fine," he said, though his shoulders gave him away.

"Right." She reached past him to grab her towel, her arm brushing his in the process. The touch was brief, accidental, but it was enough to send a jolt through him.

"Hayden," Trevor called from the shore, "you wanna head out again? I think I can beat you this time."

Quinn didn't miss how Trevor's eyes flicked down to Hayden's legs as she pushed herself up on the dock, or the stupid grin on his face when she finally looked at him.

"Pass," she waved him off. "I've already proven I'm better than you."

Quinn couldn't help it; he smirked.

As Hayden sat down beside him to dry off, he caught her looking at him through the corner of her eye. "You're glaring again," she mumbled, covering it with a fake cough.

"I'm not."

"Sure..."

Quinn didn't say anything, looking back out over the water. Trying his hardest, and failing, to think of anythingbut how much longer this weekend was going to last.

~~

Dinner was even more chaotic... if that was possible.

The dining table was a mix of empty beer bottles, half-eaten burgers, and bowls of chips scattered across every inch of available surface. Luke and Jack had teamed up on the grill, burning half the patties while Trevor heckled them from his seat. Cole had claimed his spot across from Hayden, watching things unfold with a look on his face that Quinn was starting to resent.

And of course, Hayden--perfectly unbothered--sat at Quinn's right, sipping a beer and laughing at the guys' stupid antics. Quinn tried not to notice how her shoulder brushed his every time she shifted in her seat.

"So, Hayden," Trevor said suddenly, wiping ketchup off his fingers, "we've all been wondering--what's your deal?"

"My deal?" she bit back a smile.

"You know," he leaned foward on his elbows. "What's a girl like you doing hanging out with a guy like Quinn?"

Quinn choked on a sip of water, sputtering into his napkin. "Jesus, Trevor."

"What?" he innocently flashed a grin. "I'm just saying. You're cool, Hayden. You've got, like, a vibe. Quinn's... well. Quinn."

Hayden turned to Quinn, tilting her head dramatically as if evaluating him. "You're right. I could probably do better."

The table erupted into laughter, Jack banging his fist against the table as Trevor fell back in his chair. Quinn groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, though he couldn't stop the smile tugging at his lips.

"See?" Trevor said, pointing at Hayden like she'd just proven his point. "I like her. She's honest."

"Honest, huh?" Hayden smirked, lifting her beer to her lips. "Careful, Z. I don't think you can handle honest."

Trevor was undeterred. "Oh, I can handle honest. Hit me."

"Alright. Honestly? You talk a lot of shit for someone who fell off a paddleboard twice today."

"Hey! The second time didn't count!" Trevor argued, pointing a potato chip at her. "I was distracted."

"By what?"

"By you," he smirked, like he thought he was the smoothest guy ever.

Quinn's hand clenched under the table. He forced himself to take a sip of his drink, trying to mask his irritation.

"Well, don't let it happen again. I'd hate for you to embarrass yourself three times today," she giggled.

Luke snorted into his drink, while Cole howled from the other side of the table.

"I don't embarrass easily."

"Could've fooled me," Hayden said, giving Quinn's thigh a squeeze under the table.

"You're good at this," Jack laughed. "You should come to dinners more often."

"Don't encourage her," Quinn rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on, Quinny," Jack nudged him with his elbow. "You're just mad she's better at coming up with comebacks than you are."

"Not mad."

"Uh-huh. I'll see it when I believe it, Quinnifer."

~~

Once the plates were cleared and the guys had moved outside to do god-knows-what, Quinn hang back in the kitchen, rinsing dishes just to keep his hands busy. Hayden lingered, drying plates as they were handed to her.

"You sure you're okay, Q?"

"I'm fine," he said, though his jaw was still tight.

"You've been 'fine' all day," she teased. "You sure you don't want to try a different excuse?"

He sighed, setting down the plate he was holding. "They're onto us."

"So? Let them wonder. What's the worst that could happen?"

Quinn stared at her, incredulous. "Are you serious? We're not... dating. I... don't need them knowing about... us."

"You're worried because we're casual? Quinn, I'm sure they've all had flings before."

"But, you--"

"Hayden! Quit flirting with my brother and come play pong!" Jack called from the sliding door.

"Coming!" she pressed a quick kiss to Quinn's cheek before rounding the corner and disappearing out of his sight. Maybe Hayden was going to be the death of him and not this weekend.

~~

The house was finally quiet.

Quinn lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling lit dimly from a lamp in the corner, the soft hum of fridge the only sound he could hear along with the occasional snore from upstairs (Trevor). His pillow was lumpy, the blanket was scratchy, and he'd long given up trying to get comfortable. He wasn't sure how long he'd been lying there, but it felt like hours.

Everyone had settled for the night, laughter and shouting just a ghost of the day now. Trevor had been the last holdout, talking loudly about his plans to crush everyone at volleyball the next day until Jack shoved him up the stairs to the guest room.

Quinn waited until he was sure--absolutely sure--the house was still. Then, as quiet as possible, he swung his legs off the couch, folding the blanket and tossing it over the armrest.

The door to his bedroom creaked slightly as he opened it, and he winced, glancing over his shoulder to make sure nobody had heard. The hallway remained silent, and he slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind him.

Hayden was lying on her side, her back to the door. She was scrolling through her phone, her hair splayed out across the pillow, one of his old t-shirts draped loosely over her frame.

"Took you long enough," she murmured, not bothering to turn around.

Quinn rolled his eyes, tugging his hoodie over his head and tossing it onto his desk chair. "I had to wait for them to fall asleep."

"They're not asleep," Hayden said, her voice low but teasing. "Trevor's probably lying awake right now, trying to figure out if you're sneaking up here or not."

Quinn froze, his hand on the edge of the bed. "He's not."

"Wanna bet?"

He sighed, pulling back the covers and sliding into bed beside her. "If he was, he'd already be at the door making some dumb comment."

"Fair point," she sighed, finally setting her phone on the nightstand and turning to face him. Her eyes gleamed faintly in the low light from the hallway. "Still, you're playing a dangerous game, Quinny."

Quinn propped himself up on one elbow, frowning at her. "I'm not the one who spent the entire day letting Trevor flirt with me."

She smirked. "What was I supposed to do? Tell him to stop? That'd make things way more suspicious."

"You didn't have to encourage him."

"I wasn't encouraging him," Hayden cocked an eyebrow. "I was shutting him down."

Quinn scoffed. "You call that shutting him down?"

"What would you call it?"

"Flirting," he muttered, unable to keep the bite out of his tone.

Her smirk only widened. "You sound jealous."

"I'm not--"

"Relax," her tone softened. "If I wanted Trevor, I'd be in his bed right now."

Quinn stared at her, unsure of how to respond. Her tone was casual, but held a quiet reassurance he hadn't been expecting.

"Besides," she added, shifting onto her back, "he's not my type."

"Yeah? What is your type?"

Hayden turned to look at him, biting her lip to hold back her smile. "You really wanna know?"

"Yeah," he said, his throat dry.

She didn't answer right away, letting the silence stretch between them. Then, finally, she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his arm. "Go to sleep, Huggy."

He exhaled a quiet laugh, lying back against the pillow. "Night, Hayden."

If I wanted Trevor, I'd be in his bed right now.

He wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse... so much worse.

~~

Jack and Trevor had dragged the volleyball net out from the shed, while Luke attempted to detangle it and Cole sat nearby offering unhelpful commentary.

"Hayden, you any good at volleyball?" Trevor asked, tossing the ball lazily in the air and catching it.

Hayden shrugged, standing at the edge of the makeshift court in one of Quinn's t-shirts knotted at her waist. "I can hold my own."

"Perfect! You're on my team then," he said, his grin widening.

Quinn grimaced, adjusting the net. "We didn't even pick teams yet."

"We don't have to," Trevor said, tossing the ball at Hayden, who caught it easily. "I already called dibs."

"Dibs don't count," Jack argued, stepping into the sand. "Besides, I don't trust you not to ruin every single serve she makes."

"Guys," Hayden interrupted. "We can rotate teams."

Jack and Trevor exchanged a look then both shrugged, apparently satisfied.

"Fine," Trevor smirked. "But don't be mad when we crush you."

~~

"Out!" Luke yelled, pointing as the ball bounced into the sand.

Trevor threw his hands in the air. "That was not out!"

"Dude, it was so out," Jack said, shaking his head as he jogged to retrieve the ball.

Meanwhile, Hayden stood at the net, adjusting her ponytail and smiling. Quinn couldn't help but stare, admiring everything from the curve of her neck to how her shorts fit her thighs.

"Q, stop staring and serve the ball!" Jack called.

"I'm not staring," Quinn mumbled, lining up to serve

The next rally was fast-paced, with Jack diving to save a ball and Luke lobbing it back over the net. Hayden held her own, quick on her feet and unflinching as instructions were barked at her.

"Nice hit!" Trevor exclaimed after she spiked the ball, raising his hand for a high-five.

She slapped his palm lightly, her smile easy, but Quinn caught the way Trevor's hand lingered for just a second too long.

"Focus, Trev," he snapped, tone sharper than intended.

Trevor turned to him, eyebrows furrowed. "I am focused. You okay, man?"

"I'm fine."

~~

A few points later, Hayden stumbled as she went for the ball, her foot catching in the sand. Quinn moved without thinking, reaching out to steady her before she could fall.

"You good?" he asked, his hand warm on her arm.

"Yeah," she said, brushing the sand off her leg as she looked up at him. Her eyes get his and the rest of the group seemed to fade away.

"Thanks," she added softly.

"Anytime."

"Alright, lovebirds," Cole called, ruining their moment. "Can we play now?"

Hayden laughed, stepping back to her spot. Quinn shot Cole a glare but didn't respond, his ears burning.

The final play came down to Hayden, Trevor, and Cole on one side, with Quinn, Jack, and Luke on the other.

"Just hit it over," Quinn muttered to Jack, who was already bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Trevor set the ball perfectly, sending it sailing towards Hayden. She jumped, spiking it cleanly over the net and straight into the sand on the other side.

"Game!" Trevor yelled, throwing his arms in the air.

Hayden raised her hands in victory, giggling as Trevor ran over to give her a congratulatory hug. Quinn gaze looked like it could kill as Trevor lifted her slightly off the ground, spinning her once before setting her back down.

"Alright, alright," she said, patting him on the shoulder as she escaped his grasp. "Calm down, Z."

"Can't help it," Trevor said grinning as he turned to Quinn. "You guys put up a good fight, though. Better luck next time."

Quinn didn't respond, heading straight for the water with the ball tucked under his arm.

Hayden watched him go, her smile fading. She didn't follow right away, but when she did, she caught up to him at the water's edge, where he was skimming the ball across the surface.

"You okay?" she whispered, wanting to keep their conversation private.

"I'm fine."

"Still just fine? Because you seemed... tense back there."

"Not tense," he muttered, thought Hayden knew him well enough to know he was lying. She could tell from the tightness in his posture.

"You know you can quit the protective act, right? Trevor's harmless."

Quinn snorted. "Harmless isn't the word I'd use."

She knocked his shoulder with hers. "Chill, babe. You need to be more... zen."

"Zen?"

"Shut up, I'm trying. And... just for the record, you're way more fun to play with."

"Yeah?"

"Duh," she said, her smile teasing. "But don't let it get to your head."

"Noted."

~~

The fire crackled softly, sending soft ambers into the air around it. The group lounged in mismatched deck chairs around the campfire, beers and marshmallows in hand. Luke was poking at the logs with a stick, while Jack balanced on the two back legs of his chair... strongly against Hayden's wishes.

She was curled up in one of the chairs, her legs tucked up to her chest, the glow of the fire casting shadows across her face. Quinn sat across from her, trying--and failing--not to stare at how majestic she looked.

"This is nice," she mumbled, sipping her drink.

"Best part of the trip," Jack agreed.

"Well, second best," Trevor added with a grin.

"Let me guess," Hayden said dryly. "The best part is beating everyone at volleyball."

"You fucking know it!"

Quinn rolled his eyes, taking a long sip of beer.

"Alright, I've got a question for you, Hayden," Trevor giggled to himself, already tipsy.

"Here we go," Cole cackled.

"No, no, it's a good one," he insisted. "If you had to date one of us, who would it be?"

The group erupted into groans and howls of laughter, with Luke flinging a marshmallow at Trevor's head. "Dude, what's wrong with you?"

"What?" Trevor asked, popping the sweet into his mouth. "It's a valid question!"

"Is it?"

"Yes! And you have to answer. It's the rules."

"What rules?" Jack asked with a snort.

Trevor ignored him, looking back at Hayden. "Come on. Hypothetically. Who's your pick?"

Hayden looked around the circle, her lips twitching like she was holding back a laugh. "Hmm," she said, drawing out the word just enough to make Trevor lean forward in anticipation. "I think... I'd pick... Cole."

Cole nearly choked on his s'more. "What?"

"You're the least annoying... I think," she shrugged.

"Fucking brutal," Jack shook his head.

"Good choice," Cole lifted his beer to her in toast.

Trevor pouted. "That's not fair. I'm not that annoying."

"Very debatable," Cole said, earning a hard shove.

Trevor, however, wasn't done.

"Okay, new question. What's the most romantic thing a guy's ever done for you?"

"You're fucking killing me," Luke groaned.

"Just answer the question!"

"Probably this guy who made me tea every morning for a week after my late-night shifts. And he didn't even drink tea himself."

"That's cute," Cole nodded.

Jack frowned. "Quinn doesn't drink tea."

Hayden bit her lip, trying to hide her amusement.

Quinn's cheeks burned as every eye in the group turned to him. "What?"

"Nothing... just making an observation."

"Interesting."

"I think it's time for bed," Quinn said abruptly, standing and brushing the sand from his shorts.

Hayden lingered for a moment, finishing her drink before standing and following him.

~~

Quinn was already lying on "her" bed when Hayden slipped into the room, closing the door softly behind her.

"You okay?"

"You keep asking that."

"Let me guess you're fine?"

"Yup," he said, popping the 'p.'

Hayden shook her head, pulling off her tank top and replacing it with one of Quinn's t-shirts before climbing into bed beside him. "You didn't look fine."

"They're fucking relentless."

"It's their job. They're... feeling out my vibe."

"Trevor sucks dick," he rubbed his hands over his face.

Hayden reached out, running her hand through his hair. "You didn't like his questions?"

"No."

"You're cute when you're worked up, you know that?"

Quinn rolled his eyes, but smiled despite himself. "Go to sleep."

"Fine," she said, rolling onto her back and pulling the covers over her. "For the record, I wasn't lying about the tea."

"Goodnight Hayden," he chuckled.

"Night, Huggy."

Hayden couldn't help but wonder if this weekend was proving that maybe... they weren't meant to just be "friends."

~~

Breakfast passed as normal, Trevor making comments about "volleyball rematch strats" and Jack pestering Hayden about if she'd ever stay for another "family" holiday again. Quinn kept his head down, gritting his teeth through most of it.

By the time they made it down for another round of games in the late afternoon, Quinn was wound so tightly he could feel it in the back of his neck.

And then... Trevor started again.

"Hayden, I think you should be the ref," he said tossing the ball between his hands. "You're way too good at this. It's like totally unfair to the rest of us."

"She's not that good," Quinn said, adjusting the net.

"Oh, come on, Qball. Don't be bitter just because she carried my team yesterday."

Hayden cocked an eyebrow. "I'm standing right here, ya know?"

Trevor smirked. "Trust me, I know."

Quinn felt a rush of heat flood his chest, a sharp pang of jealousy and irritation that he couldn't ignore.

"Alright," he snapped, letting go of the net and stepping back. "Can we just play already?"

"Jeez, man. Relax," Trevor blinked, his grin fading slightly.

"Quinn," Hayden mumbled, but he was already walking toward the house, his jaw set and his fists clenched at his sides

~~

She found him a few minutes later, standing in the kitchen and staring out the window at the water.

"What are you doing?" he exhaled sharply.

Hayden frowned. "What'd you mean?"

"This," he gestured towards the lake. "With Trevor. With all of them. You're enjoying this way too much."

"So what if I am? It's harmless, Quinn."

"It's not harmless," his voice rose. "They're pushing, Hayden. They're asking all these questions, making comments--and you're feeding into it!"

"I'm not feeding into it," she said, her tone defensive. "I'm just... playing along."

"Well... maybe you should stop."

"What's your problem, Hughes?" she narrowed her eyes. "You're the one who agreed to keep this under wraps. I'm just doing what you asked."

"Yeah, well, it's not fucking working. They clearly know."

"So what?" she challenged, stepping closer. "What's the worst that could happen? They find out we're sleeping together? Who cares?"

"I care!" Quinn yelled, his voice echoing off the walls.

Hayden froze, her eyes as wide as saucers.

He sighed. "I care, Hayden. Because this isn't just some game for me. It never has been."

The tension in the room was thick, the weight of his words hanging between them.

"Quinn..."

"You have no idea how hard this has been," he said, his voice low and intense. "Watching them flirt with you, tease you--like you're just some... some random girl I brought along."

"Q..."

"I know we're not serious. Not official," he continued, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I know you don't want anything serious. But you're mine, Hayden. And it's fucking killing me to sit here and pretend that you're not."

Her breath hitched, her eyes locked on his.

"Say something," his voice was rough, almost pleading.

Hayden didn't say anything. Instead, in two quick steps, she grabbed his face and pulled him down into a kiss.

Quinn froze for a quarter of a second before his hands found her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss was hot and urgent, everything that Quinn had been bottling up for months spilling out at once.

They stumbled back toward the counter, Hayden's hands tangling in his hair as he lifted her onto the edge. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer as his lips trailed down her neck, leaving a burning path in their wake.

"Quinn," she whispered, breathless.

He pulled back just enough to look in her eyes. "Tell me this isn't just casual for you."

She stared at him, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed. "It's not," she admitted. "Hasn't been for a while."

"Good," he murmured, leaning in to kiss her again.

~~

The lay tangled together in his bed, the room quiet except for them both trying to catch their breath, Hayden drawing patterns on Quinn's bare chest with her finger.

He felt lighter than he had in days, the knot in his chest finally loosened... maybe even gone.

"You okay?" she whispered, pressing a kiss to the skin of his pec.

"Yeah, you?"

She tilted her head up, scruncing her nose as he kissed it. "I'm good."

Finally, they could both breathe easy.

~~

Jack and Trevor were already bickering as Hayden headed downstairs in the morning. She paused in the doorway, taking a second to tug the hem of Quinn's hoodie further down her thighs. It was comically oversized on her, the sleeves swallowing her hands, but it was warm and soft, and she hadn't felt like getting dressed into her own clothes.

Her hair was a mess from both sleep and sex, and her skin was flushed in places Quinn's stubble had brushed against the night before. She wasn't even thinking about it was she padded into the kitchen, bare feet against the hardwood floor.

Trevor was the first to notice. Of course.

"Morning, Hayden," he said cheerfully, taking a bite of his eggs. Then his gaze dropped to the hoodie, and his smile widened. "Wait a second. Is that--"

Jack turned, taking in her appearance. "Oh, no way! Is that Quinn's hoodie?"

Hayden blinked, feigning innocence as she grabbed a mug from the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee. "Good morning to you too, Jack."

"Don't 'good morning' me," he pointed the spatula he was using at her. "What is going on here?"

Trevor's eyes flicked to her neck, and his jaw dropped. "Oh my God!"

"What?" she asked, sipping her coffee like nothing was amiss.

Trevor laughed, loud and incredulous, gesturing wildly. "You've got-- Jesus, Hayden."

"You're gonna have to be specific, Trevor."

Jack moved closer, squinting his eyes like he was solving a crime. This his eyes widened. "No fucking way!"

"What?" Luke asked. He followed Jack's gaze and nearly dropped his fork. "Oh, damn."

"What?" Cole said, peeking over Luke's shoulder. His eyes moved from Hayden to the hoodie to her neck, and then to Quinn, who had just walked in from the living room.

Quinn froze, his hair still damp from the shower and a fresh t-shirt clinging to his chest. "What's goin' on?"

Jack and Trevor turned to him in unison, both grinning like maniacs.

"Quinn," Jack started, his voice high-pitched with fake shock. "Care to explain why Hayden is wearing your hoodie and why her neck looks like she lost a fight with a fucking vampire?"

"Can we not do this right now?"

Trevor cackled, doubling over. "Oh, we're absolutely doing this right now."

"Dude," Luke shook his head. "I thought you said nothing was going on."

Cole smirked, "Guess the couch wasn't so comfortable after all."

"Not helping," Quinn shot him a glare.

"Y'all are making a big deal out of nothing," Hayden said, popping a piece of bacon into her mouth.

Trevor pointed at her, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. "Oh, no. This is not 'nothing', Hayden."

"Looks like something to me," Jack wiggled his eyebrows.

"Guys," Quinn's voice was strained. "Can you please just drop it?"

"Oh, come on, Quinny!" Jack nudged him in the ribs. "This is a big moment. You've got a girlfriend now!"

"She's not my--" Quinn started, but Hayden cut him off.

"Careful, Jack," she smirked. "You sound jealous."

Trevor howled with laughter, gripping the counter for support. "She's good. She's so good."

Quinn groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I hate all of you.”

“No, you don’t,” Hayden said lightly, taking another sip of her coffee.

Luke, who had been mostly quiet, finally spoke up. “So, uh... are we gonna talk about this, or are you just gonna keep pretending it’s ‘nothing’?”

“It’s nothing,” Quinn muttered, glaring at his brothers.

“Yeah, sure,” Cole said, smirking. “We believe you.”

Hayden laughed softly, setting her mug down. “Alright, boys. Enough interrogation. Let the man eat breakfast in peace.”

“Fine,” Jack said, holding up his hands. “But this isn’t over.”

Quinn sighed, grabbing a plate and filling it with eggs and toast. He sat down at the table, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

Hayden slid into the chair beside him, her smile softening as she leaned in close enough for only him to hear. “You okay, Hughes?” she asked for the millionth time that trip.

He exhaled a quiet laugh, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’m fine.”

“Good,” she said, squeezing his hand three time under the table.

Quinn didn’t look up, but the faint smile tugging at his lips didn’t go unnoticed.

Maybe the chaos was all worth it in the end. Because Quinn Hughes finally had the girl of his dreams.

[dinodaweeb]

Surprise, Bub | ᡣ𐭩

Deadpool x Gn!Reader x Wolverine

summary: You break into Deadpool’s house to confront him only to find a mysterious man who’s kind of your type.

— ᡣ𐭩

Breaking into Deadpool’s apartment was almost too easy. You’d expected more—laser tripwires, explosives, maybe a pit of rabid raccoons. Instead, there was a simple lock, easily picked, and now you were standing in his living room, clutching your gun with a mix of tension and adrenaline.

The place was as chaotic as you’d imagined: mismatched furniture, a clutter of weapons and comic books, and the faint smell of old pizza lingering in the air. You glanced around, your eyes narrowing as you prepared to confront the man who had been causing you so much grief lately.

But before you could locate your target, a deep, gravelly voice interrupted your thoughts.

“You lost, bub?”

You spun around, gun aimed and ready, but the sight that met you was… unexpected. A man stood in the doorway, arms crossed over a broad chest. He was ruggedly handsome, with wild hair and piercing eyes that seemed to cut through you. There was an air of danger around him, something primal that made your heart beat a little faster.

“Who the hell are you?” you demanded, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Logan,” he replied, his voice carrying a low, rumbling growl. “And I could ask you the same thing.”

Before you could respond, the familiar, obnoxiously cheerful voice of Deadpool echoed through the room.

“Hey! Look who decided to drop in unannounced!” Wade exclaimed, popping up behind Logan. He looked between the two of you, a mischievous grin spreading across his masked face. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

You shot Wade a glare. “I came here to settle things with you, not—”

“Not to get distracted by my handsome, hairy friend here?” Wade interrupted, waggling his eyebrows. “I mean, I don’t blame you. Logan’s a catch. But hey, we can all play nice, right?”

Logan let out a snort, his eyes never leaving yours. “You got some guts breaking into this place, kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” you retorted, feeling a little braver than before. “And I came here to—”

���To kick my ass?” Deadpool interjected, bouncing over to you with an exaggerated pout. “Aw, you shouldn’t have. I’m flattered, really. You know, peanut over here tried the same thing one time.”

Before you could even begin to respond, Wade wrapped an arm around your shoulder, leaning in close. “But I gotta warn ya, if you’re gonna take me on, you gotta deal with him too.” He jerked his thumb toward Logan, who was now smirking at the both of you.

You weren’t sure what you’d expected when you broke into Deadpool’s apartment, but this was definitely not it. Confronting one was bad enough, but both of them together? The thought should have made you uneasy, but instead, there was something thrilling about it. The tension in the room was thick, charged with an energy that was both dangerous and alluring.

“What’s it gonna be, bub?” Logan asked, his voice low and challenging. “You gonna make a move, or are you just here to gawk?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked between them. You could feel Wade’s eyes on you, feel the heat radiating from Logan’s presence. This wasn’t what you’d planned, but maybe plans were overrated.

You squared your shoulders, smirking back at Logan. “Maybe I’m here for both.”

Wade let out a delighted cackle. “Oh, I like this one, Logan. Can we keep him?”

Logan just chuckled, shaking his head. “We’ll see about that, Wade.”

“Besides, you already got a pet.”

Before you knew it, the tension shifted from dangerous to something else entirely. Wade’s hands were on your shoulders, his masked face inches from yours, while Logan stepped closer, his presence towering and imposing.

The confrontation you’d come for was far from over. But as you stood there between them, you realized that maybe, just maybe, this was exactly where you wanted to be.

You stared at Logan’s chest and grinned.

Definitely where you wanted to be.

“Now time to stop the one-shot or we’ll end up forcing the author to write a threesome.” Wade implied.

“Ugh.” You and Logan both groaned at his comment.

Fin.

a/n: I would apologize but im not sorry.

[lionneee]

What a marriage

English is not my first language, please be kind

Masterlist

Taglist

Part 1 -> Part 2

•Warnings: fake marriage, arranged marriage, smut, piv, kissing, cheating, degradation.•

Modern!Husband!Aemond x Wife!Reader

She didn’t know if she should have been happy about how her marriage with him has changed.

She always woke up sore, tired, and had trouble walking.

Aemond was still a ghost during the day.

Not at night.

She screamed as she leaned forward on the bed, making him slip out.

She was panting and sobbing, her face pressed against the mattress, her knees bent at the end of the bed. He was standing behind her, panting as well.

He growled and grabbed her hips, pushing her back, but she whined and got up on all four and tried to crawl away.

“Get back here.” He snarled, grabbing her ankle and pulling her right back. She quickly got back on her knees, but before she could try to move again, he grabbed her by the back of her neck and pressed her face back on the mattress.

You whined loudly as he pushed right back into you, his cock filling you up again, the pleasure was mixed with pain and overstimulation.

“I’m gonna keep you here until your cunt will be able to make me come.” He panted as he resumed his thrusts, hard and deep, picking up the pace in short time.

You screamed against the mattress, the sound muffled by it, as you clenched your hands on the covers.

“Fucking come!” You moaned as you felt another orgasm threatening to wash over you. You didn’t know if you were going to be able to take it, again.

“If you'd shut up, maybe I will.” He slapped your ass as he scolded you, grabbing your hips again and starting to thrust harder, faster, the sound of skin slapping loud in your bedroom.

You scrambled on the mattress again as your hands clenched harder around the blankets.

You tried to clench around him, trying to make him come before you could reach another orgasm, and when you felt him moan you finally knew he was really close.

You tried to clench again, trying to hold back your orgasm, but it was hard with the way he was merciless pounding into you like you were a fuckdoll.

He moaned again and let go of one of your hips.

“You’re gonna come first.” He grunted, you didn’t need to turn around, you knew he was smirking. You groaned loudly and your back arched as his fingers brushed against your clit, and that was all you needed to come again.

Your walls clenched hard around him as your fluids covered his cock, again, getting even more wetter.

He thrusted a few more times, then, he pushed all the way in and stayed there as he came too with a low moan.

You let out a sound of relief as he pulled out, and collapsed on your bed as he walked out of your room to get on his own.

So the last thing she expected as she prepared lunch, was for him to come out in the office to join her in the kitchen.

“I have an event tonight.” He said as he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms as he looked at her. “And you’re coming with me.”

She turned and looked at him, raising one of her eyebrows.

“Dress, shoes, hair and makeup.” She turned to look at him. “None of those are prepared for an event.”

Aemond rolled his eye and scoffed.

“Dress and shoes are in your room, I already bought them. Makeup and hair whatever, you’ll look good anyway. Be ready at six.” He pushed himself off the doorframe and walked closer, inspecting the pans on the stove.

“Bring me a plate when you’re done. I’m in my office.” Said that, he walked away.

She gritted her teeth in annoyance.

It might have sounded like a compliment, but to her, it only felt like another confirmation that he didn’t care about her.

She stared at the spot where Aemond had stood, her hand gripping the wooden spoon a little too tightly. 

He didn't even ask if she wanted to go.

Her frustration simmered as she returned to stirring the sauce. She hated the way he treated her, as though she was just another accessory in his life. 

She glanced toward her bedroom, the thought of the dress he'd already picked out for her prickling at her pride. 

Not even the decency to let me choose that. 

With a sigh, she finished preparing lunch and plated his portion, setting it on a tray. She stared at the plate for a moment, her irritation flaring once more, before taking a deep breath. Confronting him wasn’t going to do anything but start another argument. She wasn’t in the mood to battle with him, not today.

Carrying the tray to his office, she knocked gently before entering. Aemond sat behind his desk, his eye glued to his computer screen as he typed rapidly. He barely glanced up when she set the plate in front of him.

"Thanks." He muttered, his tone neutral, devoid of any real appreciation.

She stopped but didn’t turn around, after a moment she resumed walking out and closed the door behind her with a little more force than necessary.

Back in her room, she found the dress laid out on her bed. It was stunning, she had to admit that much. Midnight blue silk, with a sleek silhouette that promised to hug her body in all the right places. The shoes, a pair of delicate, strappy heels, matched perfectly. It was clear Aemond had spared no expense, but that only made her feel more like a decorative piece for him to show off.

She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the dress. A part of her wanted to rebel, to refuse to go, to show him that he couldn’t just control her like this. 

With a sigh, she stood up and headed to the bathroom. She’d go to the event. She’d wear the dress and the shoes he’d picked, and she’d play the role he expected her to. But that didn’t mean she had to enjoy it.

She walked down the stairs, ready, and she found Aemond dressed in a suit, his head bent down as he looked at his phone. 

She sighed and quickly reached him.

“I’m ready.” She said dispassionately. “Let’s go.” Aemond raised his head to scan her body, and hummed with a single nod.

She clenched her jaw at his disinterest, and followed him as he opened the door, walking straight to his car.

They drove in silence, the tension thick between them. Aemond kept his eyes on the road, one hand casually resting on the steering wheel, the other tapping idly against the gear shift. She stared out the window, watching the city blur past, the weight of her resentment pressing heavily on her chest. She couldn’t shake the feeling that, for him, she was just another checkbox on his list for the evening, a trophy to flaunt at his side.

The event was at a luxurious venue downtown, a large gala hall lined with sleek black cars and finely dressed people. Aemond pulled into the valet station, and the car stopped. Without a word, he got out, tossing the keys to the valet before making his way around to open her door. His hand extended toward her as she stepped out of the car, his touch cold and formal.

“Stay close." He murmured as they entered the hall. She nodded, though it wasn’t as if she had much of a choice. 

Inside, the room was filled with the elite, men in tailored suits and women in shimmering gowns, mingling beneath chandeliers that sparkled like stars. The air buzzed with the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses.

As they moved through the crowd, Aemond’s grip on her arm tightened slightly, a signal to stay at his side. He greeted people with ease, his voice smooth, his expression composed. She remained silent, smiling politely as introductions were made, her mind drifting in and out of the conversations around her.

Time passed slowly, she had to pull out one fake smile after the other, trying to make small talk with the wifes as Aemond spoke with the husbands. The way he spoke to others with charm and ease was a sharp contrast to the way he treated her. Here, in this world of polished surfaces and false smiles, he was the perfect gentleman. 

As they moved toward a quiet corner, Aemond turned to her, his eye scanning the room. “You’re doing fine." He said, as though it were a performance she had to perfect. There was no warmth, no genuine praise, just the acknowledgment that she was fulfilling her role.

She bit her tongue, swallowing the retort that threatened to spill from her lips. Instead, she took a slow breath and looked away,grabbing another glass of champagne.

She was surprised when she saw Aemond walk away from her, this time without dragging her with him. 

She watched as approached a woman, a beautiful woman. He took her hand and kissed it, he talked closely to her, too close.

Did he forget he is married?!

She clenched her jaw tightly as she shot the rest of the champagne in the glass.

As the night dragged on, the crowd thickened, and Aemond became more engrossed in his conversations. She found herself drifting to the edges of the room, standing by the bar, always with a glass of champagne in hand as she kept looking at Aemond and that woman. The laughter and chatter around her felt distant, like a world she didn’t belong to.

And she hated it.

He didn’t even introduce her to the woman. All the husbands had to see his precious, younger, beautiful wife, but not her.

The warmth of the champagne fizzed in her chest, but it couldn’t dispel the cold knot of jealousy twisting in her stomach. She forced herself to look away, taking a deep breath to calm the rising tide of emotions. Aemond’s laughter echoed across the room, too bright, too carefree. She felt like a stranger in her own life, watching him charm this woman who was clearly enamored by him.

Another glass of champagne appeared before her, and she took it without thinking. It was easier to drown her frustration in alcohol than to confront the feelings swirling within her. As the bubbly liquid slid down her throat, she scanned the room for anything to distract herself. The crowd was a blur of elegance and sophistication, all laughing and mingling as if the world outside didn’t exist.

But here she was, standing alone, feeling like a ghost haunting her own marriage.

Without thinking, she moved closer, wanting to hear what they were saying. Aemond leaned in closer to the woman, his voice low and intimate. “You should join us for dinner next week. I’m sure my wife wouldn’t mind.” He said. 

The words hit her like a slap. A wife who was just a footnote in his conversation, a mere afterthought. The woman laughed, a light, airy sound that felt like daggers to her heart. She couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Excuse me.” she interjected, her voice sharper than she intended.

Both Aemond and the woman turned to her. The playful atmosphere of their conversation evaporated instantly, replaced by a taut silence.

“Someone wants to talk to you.” She said, her voice steady, though her insides churned. She met Aemond’s gaze, and she saw a flicker of hate on his face.

“I just have to finish with Floris.” He replied, an edge creeping into his tone.

Floris.

“They seemed impatient.” She lied, not wanting to admit how deeply his interaction with the woman had affected her.

Aemond’s expression shifted, a mix of annoyance and anger. “Fine.” He narrowed his eye, as if he perfectly knew that she was lying.

Floris cleared her throat, taking a step back as the tension between them grew palpable. 

“Talk to you later, Floris.” He nodded at her and grabbed his wife’s arm, dragging her along with him as she gave Floris a spiteful smile from behind her shoulder.

He pulled her outside, in a quiet spot in the garden, turning her forcely to look at him.

“What the hell was that about?” Aemond’s voice cut through her, his tone filled with anger. 

“What was about what?” She replied, feigning to not know what he was talking about crossing her arms defensively. “Can’t I have my husband all for myself? This is one of the rare moments you talk to me, after all.” She rolled her eyes as she spoke the last phrase. Aemond gritted in teeth, the struggle to contain his anger was clear in his face.

“Is it your empty cunt that is talking?” He hissed as he took a step closer. “Or just some basic, pathetic jealousy?” Aemond smirked cruelly as he looked down at her. “I wasn’t flirting with her,” He scoffed, his voice low but firm. “She’s just a colleague. It was nothing.”He sighed as he looked down at her with a hard glare. “This is how it works. I have to network, to meet people in this world, and sometimes it looks more personal than it is.”

“Yeah, it was obvious how personal you wanted it to be.” She clenched her jaw as she narrowed her eyes.

“Shut the fuck up.” He growled. “You were the one who kissed another guy right in front of me just a few weeks ago.” He hissed as he took a step closer, towering over her. “So just be a good wife, and smile.” He passed his hands through his hair. “Don’t make me angry.”

She clenched her jaw tighter. She didn’t want to be a stupid doll by his side. She was tired of all this, tired of faking so much. She was tired of pretending she wasn’t stuck in this marriage.

“No.” She hissed. “I’m going home.” She turned her heels and started striding away, but she didn’t manage to get far, Aemond grabbed her arm again and started dragging her to a nearby building, a hotel, probably the owners of the venue where the event kept going.

He walked in with her and stopped in front of the receptionist.

“One room, king bed, one night.” He said as he pulled out his wallet.The receptionist glanced between them with a smile, then she quickly gave the number of the room and the key.

Without much more words, Aemond strode towards the elevator, grabbing her hand tightly.

She stood awkwardly beside him as he pushed the button for the floor, and watched the display with the numbers changing, his hands in his pocket.

He almost seemed calm, peaceful.

She was in trouble.

As soon as the doors opened, Aemond shoved her outside the elevator, then in the hotel room as soon as he opened.

She stumbled inside, glaring back at him as she stepped back, putting some distance between them.

“No?” He snarled. “No?” He quickly stepped closer, grabbing a handful of her hair,. “Who the fuck do you think you are, mh?” He tugged downward by her hair, forcing her to bend her knees. “Get, On your knees.” He growled as she pushed her down completely, until she was forced to kneel.

He looked down at her, his gaze dark and angry.

“My sweet, little wife wants my attention?” He mocked her. “Because she is jealous of a colleague?” He almost laughed. He took off his belt, and unbuttoned his pants.

As she looked down, she could see that he was already getting hard.

“You have my attention now.” He said, an amused, sadistic grin on his face. “And I am going to give it all to you, wife.” He pulled down his pants and boxers just enough to let his cock spring free from its confines, the tip only inches from her face.

It was the first time she got to see it clearly. She had stolen glances from time to time when he walked naked in her room, but because of the darkness or because he didn’t give her time to, she never really saw how beautiful and big it was.

“Come on, suck it.” He wrapped his hand around his thick, long cock and pushed the head against her mouth.

Oh, hell no.

She glared up at him, keeping her lips pressed together, and he growled at her defiance. He tilted her head back and bent down.

“I’ll force it down your throat.” He threatened.

“How, if you can’t even get it in my mouth?” She smirked. Aemond snarled and pulled her back uo.

“You’re useless. Can’t even suck a cock properly? Why am I even keeping you?”

“Then divorce me, so I won't have to see your stupid, hateful face anymore.” She hissed as she pushed him back with a newfound force, driven by her anger. He landed back on the bed, and he quickly rose on his elbows, his eye full of hate for her.

“Oh, you’d like that, uh?”

“Yes.” She raised her dress and sat on top of him, pushing him back on the bed.

She never rode him. She was never on top.

Every time he came in her room, he just pushed her on her stomach and fucked her from behind, controlling everything.

Not this time.

She pushed her panties to the side, and grabbed his cock, squeezing it in her hand, making him twitch beneath her as he inhaled sharply.

“Fuck, careful.” He grunted, raising her dress from him, so he could get a clear view of her cunt sinking on him, enveloping around his cock, squeezing it and wetting it.

She bit back a moan as she slowly sank down, trying to take him all. 

It was strange to be in a different position, on top, controlling.

She finally sat down on him with a long sight. Aemod’s hand flew immediately to her hips, but she slapped them away and pressed her hands down on his chest with force.

“I’m on top.” She groaned as she slowly started to move up and down, briefly, making his cock barely slip out of her.

Aemond started to thrust his hips up, trying to control the pace, but she sat down, making his efforts futile.

Amend growled and slapped her ass as he sat up.

“You think that just because you’re on top you’re in control?” He growled as he squeezed her cheeks in his hand. He laid back down, bringing her with him, his other hand flying to her ass, grabbing a handful of the skin. “No, wife. No.” He started to thrust up his hips quickly, his feet raising on the bed to help him thrust harder, faster.

She let out a moan, unable to hold it, as her eyes rolled in the back of her head. Aemond moved his hand from her cheeks to the back of her head, grabbing a handful of her hair, pulling her head back, forcing her to arch her back so her tits kept jumping up and down in front of his face, threatening at every movement to spill out of the cleavage.

He grunted and let go of her ass to pull down the cleavage and let free her tits, eagerly taking one in his mouth, suckign hard on her nipples.

She managed to look down, and seeing him sucking it hard, with neediness on her boob made another string of wetness coat Aemond’s cock.

“A fucking baby-” She mocked him as she panted, a smirk playing on her lips. 

Of course Aemond grew furious at the mock. He pulled away only to slap her breasts.

“Such a hypocrite. Like you didn’t just get even more wet. Slut.” He laughed as he thrusted harder into her, bullying her sweet spot, that his cock seemed to aim on itself every time it entered her.

She hated it, how easily it was for him to pleasure her.

“Like you don’t get hard on being hated.” She spit back, string to move her hips as well, the pace increasing as she squeezed him inside her, trying to bring him close to the orgasm.

“God, I wish I had never agreed on marrying you –” She groaned as she felt another pull at her hair, her back arching even more.

“Considering how much time you put on your hair, I thought you would have been way more careful on the other’s.” She mocked him. He suddenly sat up and grabbed her ass tightly.

“So talkative, wife.” He smirked. “Are you trying to turn me on to show me that you’d be better than Floris?” He grinned, amused by her attitude. 

She clenched her jaw as she glared daggers at him.

“I don’t need to prove myself. I am better than her.” She clenched her jaw as she looked at him.

Aemond hummed, looking at her in silence for a moment, unmoving.

“Surely her cunt is not as tight as yours.” She didn’t even have the time to register his words or get angry because he stood up, taking her in his arms, and he started to thrust his hips again, slower, but with much more intensity and hardness.

“Fuck –” She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck immediately, to secure herself from falling. Aemond chuckled.

“Scared to fall, wife?” He clenched his jaw as he sped up the pace, making her jump on his cock.

“Fuck you. I’d bring you down with me.” She hissed, her nails digging in the back of his shoulders.

“I’d come.” He grunted as his head leaned back, a moan escaping his mouth.

She looked at him with a hint of surprise.

Surely he didn’t mean it. He couldn’t. He hated her.

Her thoughts got quickly washed away by a wave of pleasure. She didn’t even realize she was so much on the edge.

She looked at him as he straightened his head, his singe eye meeting hers, filled with affection.

She tightened her arms around his neck and closed her eyes, moaning loudly as she hit the edge, the pleasure washed over her, shaking her from the insides.

“God – Yes –” He moaned as her walls sucked him in, squeezed him, wetted him even more, turning the sound of his last thrusts squelched, louder.

He came hard, emptying his balls deep inside her with a low grunt. He stepped back, until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, then he let himself fall back, keeping her close to his chest.

They landed on the mattress with a tud. 

‘I’d come’, his eye full with affection.

She sat up on him and looked down at his face, placing her hand on his cheek to turn his gaze to her.

It happened for a brief moment, but she saw it, right before his gaze hardened as his usual stoic face.

“I hate you.” She said between pants looking down at him, watching for a reaction in his face, a confirmation that he felt the same.

“I hate you too.” He turned his head to the side, diverting his gaze, looking somewhere ahead of him.

She nodded to herself, then she moved back down on his chest, resting her head on it.

His heart beated so fast and loudly.

Taglist: @ka1afbr @cynic-spirit @ladythornofrivia @zenka69 @queenofthekeep @adorewhatever @diannnnsss @kotadislikesthissite @iloveallmyboys @valyrianflower @dixie-elocin @gelacat0413 @quinquinquincy @mamawiggers1980 @darylandbethfanforever9 @rhaethoughts @believeinthefireflies95 @urfavnoirette @summerposie @sk1mah1 @queenofshinigamis @anukulee @chlmtfilms @m-riaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @malfoycassimalfoy @agoldenwoe

[mythicalmaven]

Helloooo love, could I have nr 1, 13, 23(reader) and 28 with Daniel ricciardo?🤍 so needy for him

Forbidden - Daniel Ricciardo (requested)

As requested: a Daniel Ricciardo fanfic with a few prompts from the list! It's my first Ricciardo fanfic, so I hope I wrote it like you hoped lol :) It turned out a little longer than I expected, but I honestly like how it turned out! (I didn't proofread it, so excuse any mistakes lol)

masterlist | promptlist ↳pairing: daniel ricciardo x female!verstappen!reader ↳word count: 7,7K ↳prompts used: 1 - 'Use my thigh", 13 - "You're fucking soaked". 23 - "I..Uh.." - "I have never done this before" & 28 "We shouldn't do this" ↳warnings: friends to lovers, brothers teammate trope, age gap (8 years), kissing, alcohol, drunk, explicit sexual content, 18+ (MDNI!), jealousy, sexual tension ↳summary: In which it's 2017 and Max Verstappen's twin sister gets a little too involved with her brothers teammate

You honestly had no idea how you'd come up with the not-so-clever idea of getting wasted in a Monaco nightclub, but right now, you couldn’t care less. The music thumped through the room, blending with the haze of alcohol and dim, colorful lights, and a certain curly-haired Australian who had slipped off to the bar for another drink lingered in your mind.

As the beat softened into something deeper, sultrier, you found yourself moving with Carlos once more. His hands rested casually on your hips, his thumbs brushing over the fabric of your dress as you swayed together. Ever since your twin, Max, joined the Formula 1 grid, Carlos had become one of your closest friends.

Carlos leaned in, his lips close to your ear, his voice a low murmur against the music. "So… when are you finally gonna hook up with Danny?"

You scoffed, playfully swatting the back of his head. “Oh, shut up, will you?”

Carlos only grinned, knowing exactly how you felt about Daniel. He'd been trying to push you toward him for ages, but as always, you deflected. “I don’t think Max would be thrilled if I hooked up with his teammate,” you replied, though a part of you knew that wasn’t the real reason you’d been holding back.

Carlos shrugged with a smirk. “Did you forget how convinced Max was that we were hooking up back at Toro Rosso? He didn’t seem too bothered by that idea, did he?”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling as you swayed in rhythm with him, your fingers linking behind his neck. “Yeah, vividly. But that was different…” You let out a laugh, trying to keep your tone casual. “For one, our age gap was a lot smaller than Daniel and mine.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “You’re 20, who cares? Daniel’s 28—it’s not like he’s ancient.”

Sighing, you dropped your forehead against Carlos’s shoulder. “Besides, even if he would consider hooking up with me, he’d probably be disappointed. I’ve never… well, you know. I’ve only gone as far as giving a guy a blowie in a club bathroom, and even that was a drunken disaster. Somehow, I doubt a 28-year-old is looking for a hookup with a 20-year-old virgin.”

Carlos chuckled under his breath, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. “You're really that blind, aren't you? The guy is absolutely head over heels for you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Carlos shifted his grip, spinning you around so your back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist to guide your movements. To anyone watching, it looked like a slow grind, intimate and close, even though he left enough space to keep things comfortable.

He steered you both around the dance floor, inching you closer to the bar. “Look at him,” Carlos murmured in your ear, lifting a hand to tilt your chin ever so slightly. “See for yourself.”

Your gaze landed on Daniel, and your breath caught in your throat. There he was, leaning against the bar, drink in hand, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity you hadn’t seen before. His jaw was tight, his lips set in a straight line as he took in every shift of your body against Carlos’s, his gaze dark, brooding, and unmistakably heated. The way his eyes drifted, tracing the curve of your legs, lingering on your hips as they moved, made your heart race. He wasn’t just watching; he was studying, every look brimming with tension and frustration.

Carlos’s laughter hummed against your back, pulling you out of your trance. “The guy’s been staring daggers at me since the second we started dancing.”

“No way,” you murmured, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady, even though your pulse hammered in your ears. “He’s just… looking. Nothing more.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he leaned down to murmur against your ear, “Who are you trying to convince? Me… or yourself?”

“Fuck,” you huffed, feeling your cheeks flush under Daniel’s gaze, heat spreading through you in a way that felt as dangerous as it was thrilling. “I need more alcohol.”

⁺⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺ ⋆⁺

Hours and too many drinks later, you’d long since shed your usual shyness, finding a brazen confidence in the music, the crowd, and the glimmer of alcohol-fueled ease in every movement. The world felt hazy but thrilling, every pulse of the bass reverberating through you as you let yourself sink into the beat.

Carlos watched your transformation, amused at how you threw back shots and laughed a little louder than before. At one point, you looked back at him over your shoulder, eyes bright and mischievous, completely oblivious to the intensity with which a certain Australian had been watching you both.

With a chuckle and a playful push, Carlos nudged you forward, aiming you right in Daniel’s direction. “Go on, dance with him already,” he teased, his smirk saying he knew exactly what he was doing.

You stumbled into Daniel, feeling his hand steady you, his fingers lingering just a second too long as you regained your balance. “Well, fancy seeing you here, Ricciardo,” you quipped, your voice carrying an edge of flirtation that you didn’t usually dare with him.

Daniel’s lips curled into that easy, charming smile, his fingers still on your waist. “Fancy that. You’re looking a little… spirited tonight,” he replied, his eyes raking over you with a mixture of amusement and something darker, something almost hungry that you couldn’t miss, even in your haze. He was trying to play it off, keep things casual, but his gaze lingered just a bit too long, drawn to the curve of your hips, the dip of your collarbone, and the dress that had ridden up just enough to reveal more of your thigh.

“Oh yeah?” you leaned in close, fingers grazing up his arm, catching the way his eyes followed every movement. “What do you mean, ‘spirited?’” You were close enough to catch the hint of his cologne, something warm and subtly spicy, like he was, and it made you feel just a little bolder.

Daniel chuckled, but his fingers tightened slightly at your waist as if grounding himself. “Just saying,” he replied, “I don’t usually see you dancing like that.” His eyes sparkled with a mix of fondness and something a little more conflicted. He was trying so hard to keep things cool, but you could tell he was affected. “Especially with Carlos. Didn’t know he was your type.”

You laughed, moving your body a little closer to his, playfully ignoring the tension that brewed between you. “Carlos? Nah. He’s more like… a dance partner for the night. Besides,” you added, looking up at him through your lashes, “I think my type is just a little taller… curly hair.. and definitely Australian.”

A flicker of something like surprise crossed his face, his eyes briefly widening before he collected himself. He swallowed, looking away, almost as if to compose himself. “Is that so?” he murmured, his fingers curling at your waist, his voice low.

Just then, the music changed to something slower, a sensual rhythm that had you pressing a little closer against him. Daniel’s hands slipped to your waist, pulling you flush against him, his heartbeat thrumming fast under your hands as you settled into a rhythm together. You let your body sway, your hips pressing against him as his hands guided you, holding you steady and closer than he should.

“Gotta stop moving like that,” he mumbled, his voice tight, a strained note of amusement as he tried to mask how breathless he sounded.

You looked up at him with a smirk. “Why?” you asked, feigning innocence, though the mischievous gleam in your eyes told him you knew exactly what you were doing.

He swallowed, his gaze darkening as his grip on your hips tightened, pulling you flush against him. The movement brought you closer than before, and in that instant, you felt him—hard, pressing against you through his jeans, undeniable and unrestrained. A thrill shot through you as your eyes met his, your gaze drifting downward for a fleeting second, then back up to find his expression transformed, conflicted and charged. His voice was rough, edged with that undeniable tension. “You know very well why,” he murmured, his tone thick with barely restrained desire and frustration, his fingers gripping your waist as if to hold himself back.

Your lips parted in surprise, but you didn't move away. Instead, you let a slow smile spread across your face, your body swaying against him just enough to deepen his predicament. Daniel’s jaw clenched, his gaze darting down to where your bodies pressed together, his expression shifting between longing and resistance, the internal battle clear as he tried to keep himself grounded, even as you blurred every boundary between you.

You felt the heat radiating off him, the subtle hitch in his breathing, the way his fingers trembled slightly against your waist.

⁺⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺ ⋆⁺

Hours later, you stumbled out of the bathroom, trying to make your way back to the dance floor but feeling far less coordinated than before. The world tilted slightly as you bumped into a table, a stray chair, and even a few club-goers who offered you amused or annoyed glances.

“Alright, I think you’ve had enough to drink for one night, darling,” came a familiar voice from behind, warm and steady. Before you could turn, a hand wrapped around your upper arm, steadying you, and the familiar scent of Daniel surrounded you, grounding you.

You turned to him with an exaggerated pout, his arm still holding you up. “I… I’m definitely… not,” you managed, words slightly slurred as you tried to shake off his grip, failing miserably. He chuckled softly, clearly amused.

Daniel’s gaze softened, his eyes roaming over you with a mix of tenderness and barely concealed desire. Your dress had shifted, one strap sliding off your shoulder, the hem hitching up to reveal more skin than you intended. He took in the sight, pausing for just a moment too long before swallowing hard and composing himself.

“Let’s get you sorted out here,” he murmured, reaching to fix your dress. His fingers brushed over your shoulder, grazing your skin, and he swallowed hard, the gentle touches sending a thrill through you. His hands moved lower, trying to straighten the hem, and his fingers brushed over the curve of your thigh, a touch that made you let out a soft, involuntary whimper. His eyes darkened, and he hesitated, looking like he wanted to pull away but unable to tear himself away from the way you looked at him.

“Mm… feels nice,” you murmured, leaning into his touch, your gaze half-lidded as you looked up at him, lips parted slightly. You noticed how he tensed, his jaw clenched, clearly struggling to resist.

“Come on,” he said, clearing his throat, his voice a little rough. “Let’s get you back to the hotel.”

He led you through the club, supporting you with one arm wrapped securely around you. As you stumbled along, your hand brushed over his chest, lingering a little longer than necessary, your fingers tracing small patterns as you walked. He glanced down, swallowing, his throat bobbing as he tried to keep his focus. Along the way, you nearly collided with Max, who took one look at you and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm bringing your sister back to the hotel," Daniel explained, nodding toward you with a hint of amusement. "She’s absolutely hammered."

Max smirked, his eyes flicking between you and Daniel. "You sure? I can take her back if you’d rather stay. I know she can’t hold her liquor."

“Hey!” you interjected, stumbling slightly as you tried to regain your balance, waving off your brother with a slurred, “I-Ik ben niet eens d-dronken…” (I’m not even drunk). You gave him a half-hearted glare, rolling your eyes in exaggerated annoyance.

Daniel glanced at Max with a small, amused shake of his head. “I have no clue what she just said, but don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he reassured him. “I was planning to head home anyway, and besides,” he added with a smile, “our apartments are in the same building anyway, so it's no hassle”

Max nodded, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder before turning back to Daniel. "Alright, mate. Get her home safe."

With that, Max watched as Daniel guided you gently but firmly toward the exit, his grip steadying you as you leaned against him, too tipsy to resist.

When you reached the curb, he helped you into a cab, sliding in beside you. You leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder, your hand slipping to rest on his thigh, your fingers drifting ever so slightly higher, sending a rush of heat through him.

“You’re drunk,” he murmured, his voice low and strained, trying to keep his breathing even.

You looked up at him with a playful, tipsy grin, fingers tracing the fabric of his jeans. “So?”

He bit his lip, fighting a losing battle against his own desires, his hand covering yours to stop its teasing ascent. He’d never seen you this forward, this flirtatious, and though it thrilled him, it terrified him all the same. The line between you had always been thin, but tonight, with every touch, every brush of your skin against his, you were slowly erasing it.

When you arrived at the apartment building, you had began starting to sober up a tiny little bit. Still wasted obviously, but it seems as if you had a little bit more control over your own actions.

As you fumbled through your purse, your expression shifted from confidence to frustration as you realized your keys weren’t there.

“I… I had them,” you muttered, searching again, only for the reality to settle in. “I must’ve left them with Carlos or Max.”

You looked up at Daniel with a mischievous glint in your eyes, swaying slightly on your feet. “Guess that means I’m staying with you?”

Daniel hesitated, his resolve weakening as he searched your face, taking in the way your lips quirked in that daring, flirtatious smile. He was already in too deep, the familiar ache in his chest too hard to ignore. After a moment, he let out a resigned sigh, offering a small, reluctant smile as he nodded.

“Yeah, alright,” he said softly, his hand brushing over your back as he guided you inside. “But you’ve gotta promise me you’ll go straight to bed.”

You leaned in, closer than necessary, your breath warm against his cheek. “We’ll see about that,” you murmured playfully, sending one last spark of heat through him as he led you toward his apartment, both of you caught in a delicate balance of desire, restraint, and the thrill of the unspoken between you.

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Daniel led you to his kitchen, pulling out a stool by the bar, gesturing for you to sit. But you had other ideas. Following him over to the sink, you leaned back against the counter, lifting yourself up onto it. Your dress slid up as you settled, exposing nearly everything to anyone watching.

Daniel turned off the tap, glass in hand, and was about to pass it to you when he caught sight of you. His gaze trailed over your bare thighs, and his breath hitched, eyes widening as he muttered, “Fuck.” His eyes lingered, and he dared to glance lower, noticing the smallest glimpse of black lace between your slightly parted legs.

Swallowing hard, he gripped the counter edge, his knuckles whitening as he fought the overwhelming urge to close the distance between you, his lips already tingling with the desire to claim yours. Forcing himself to look away, he pressed the glass into your hand, his voice husky and tight. “Drink this. It'll help,” he murmured, barely able to keep his composure. “I’ll… I’ll go grab a shirt for you. So you don’t have to sleep in that dress.”

You downed the water in one swift gulp, letting your gaze drift back to him. The proximity hit you both, close enough for you to see the tension in his jaw and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. But what captured your attention most was the unmistakable bulge in his jeans, straining against the fabric, betraying the restraint he tried so hard to maintain.

A slow smirk crept across your lips as you reached out, letting your fingers graze his arm, traveling in a slow, tantalizing path up to his shoulder, then down his chest, inching ever closer to his belt. But before you could reach it, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist firmly. “We… we shouldn’t do this,” he muttered, voice low and rough as he gently pushed your hand away, though his touch lingered just a second too long, his resolve wavering.

Undeterred, you hopped down from the counter, stepping forward until there was barely any space left between you. Confidence you hadn’t realized you possessed surged through you, and you reached out, cupping him through his jeans. He let out a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a moan, his resolve crumbling under the pressure of your touch.

Bringing your lips close to his ear, you whispered, your voice a hushed, sultry tease, “That’s what you say… but your body’s telling me something else entirely.”

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Daniel forced himself to gather every shred of self-control he could muster, putting a few steps of distance between you before he turned on his heel, heading to his bedroom to grab a shirt from the closet. His mind raced as he moved. He wanted you—God, he wanted you more than anything—but he knew you were drunk, teetering on that edge where even a soft touch or glance was hazy with the thrill of it all. And as much as he ached to feel your lips on his, to let every longing he’d harbored for so long finally spill over, he didn’t want to take advantage of your current state.

Yet, you were making it damn near impossible to keep his composure. Every touch, every glance, every whisper made his restraint crumble bit by bit, leaving him clinging to the last threads of resolve.

When he made his way to the bathroom with the shirt in hand, he stopped in the doorway, noticing you struggling with the zipper of your dress, your back turned to him. The zipper was halfway down, leaving a tantalizing glimpse of your bare skin, and his heart pounded harder, fighting between propriety and desire.

“Danny, can you help me with the zipper, please?” Your voice was soft, but the note of longing was unmistakable, each word sparking something primal within him.

He hesitated, but before he could stop himself, he stepped forward, leaving the shirt on the sink, and positioned himself behind you. His fingers brushed your skin as he reached for the zipper, feeling the warmth radiating off you. You shivered at his touch, a soft, involuntary whimper escaping your lips that sent a jolt through him. He dragged the zipper down slowly, his fingers grazing your skin, unable to resist lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

Once the zipper was down, you slipped the straps off your shoulders, the dress falling effortlessly down your frame, pooling at your feet. Daniel’s breath caught in his throat as he took you in, standing before him in nothing but your black lace lingerie. He clenched his jaw, feeling a wave of heat course through him, the last of his rationality slipping as his eyes traced over every curve, every inch of you laid bare.

You turned to face him, the look in your eyes a mixture of vulnerability and desire, a silent plea that tugged at the very core of him. Reaching up, you let your fingers graze the stubble on his jaw, caressing his cheek as you held his gaze. “Kiss me, Daniel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, a soft, desperate invitation.

It was all he needed. His restraint finally shattered, and he closed the distance between you in a heartbeat. His hand cupped your cheek, fingers threading through your hair as he captured your lips in a kiss that was fierce, urgent, filled with all the pent-up emotion and longing he’d been holding back. You melted into him, pressing closer, every brush of his lips igniting sparks that spread through your body.

His hands slid down to the small of your back, then lower, gripping your thighs as he lifted you effortlessly, setting you onto the countertop of the bathroom sink. He stepped between your legs, his body pressing firmly against yours, grounding you in the heat and solidity of him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. The slight tug on his hair drew a low, guttural moan from him, his chest heaving as he leaned into you, lost in the feel of you against him.

His hands roamed over your body, sliding along your curves, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You gasped against his mouth, a sound that turned into a soft moan, each note pushing him closer to the edge of his composure. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips, exploring, tasting, savoring every second. You could taste the hint of whiskey on his lips, warm and heady, mingling with his natural, intoxicating flavor. Every brush of his tongue against yours sent a surge of heat pooling between your legs, each movement building the need that pulsed through you.

Daniel pulled you closer, his grip tightening as you felt his hardness pressing against you, undeniable, unmistakable. The sensation made you dizzy, your entire body responding to him, the ache between your thighs intensifying as you instinctively rocked your hips against him. His breath hitched, and he let out a soft, unrestrained groan, his head dipping to press heated, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot behind your ear. His lips left a trail of warmth, each kiss setting your skin alight, making you ache for more.

“Daniel,” you murmured, voice barely a whisper, breathless as you held him closer, “I need… I…”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and filled with a barely contained fire. “Use my thigh, love,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, encouraging you, his words laced with both restraint and indulgence. The suggestion was almost too much, the heat in his eyes spurring you on, each word sending another pulse of arousal through you.

You didn’t hesitate, shifting your hips to grind against his thigh, a soft moan slipping from your lips as you felt the friction, your panties already damp against his jeans. Daniel’s hands gripped your waist, guiding you, his own breath coming faster as he watched, the sight of you losing yourself in the pleasure unraveling him bit by bit.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice rough as he pressed a kiss to your temple, his hands urging you to move, encouraging every motion. “Been wanting this… wanting you… for so damn long.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin as he spoke, his voice shaky, every word spilling out in a way that only fueled the fire between you.

“Seeing you with Carlos tonight,” he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear, “it drove me crazy. Couldn’t stand it. I wanted to kill him for touching you” He paused, lifting his head to look into your eyes, his gaze raw, vulnerable, every wall he’d built around himself now shattered. “I’ve wanted you like this… needed you like this… for so long.”

Every word, every touch, every heated gaze pushed you further, his encouragement spurring you on as you moved against him, feeling the delicious friction, the warmth spreading through you as you both succumbed to the intoxicating pull of each other.

Daniel’s breathing grew ragged as he watched you move against his thigh, each roll of your hips sending a wave of heat through him. The way you looked at him, with that mixture of need and adoration, was undoing him in the best possible way.

Your breathing came in shallow, needy gasps as you looked up at him, eyes heavy with desire. “God, Daniel… you have no idea how good you look right now,” you murmured, your voice thick with arousal.

Your soft moans and whispered praises only fueled him more, each one pushing him to explore, to give you everything you were craving. His gaze darkening even more as he captured your lips in a searing kiss, pouring every ounce of pent-up desire and affection into it.

Without breaking the kiss, he slid you back a little on the counter, his hands gripping your hips firmly. You gasped as his fingers traced the edge of your panties, his touch light but electrifying, and he paused, his gaze meeting yours as if asking for permission.

You gave a small nod, your breath catching as his hand slipped beneath the lace, his fingers brushing over you, his touch igniting every nerve ending. His breath hitched when he felt just how wet you were, a low groan escaping his lips as he murmured, “God, you’re soaked.”

The words sent a thrill through you, making you arch into his touch, craving more. His fingers moved with deliberate slowness, exploring and teasing, drawing out your reactions, each moan and gasp fueling his own desire “The way you make me feel… God, it’s like you know exactly what I need.”

Your words lit a fire in him, a spark that deepened the hunger in his gaze as he pulled you closer. His lips curved into a smirk, fingers dipping lower as he murmured, “Yeah? I think I could get used to hearing that.”

He watched you intently, captivated by every expression, every sound that escaped your lips as he continued, building the tension higher with each movement.

You clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as his fingers moved with perfect rhythm, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He whispered soft words of encouragement, his voice low and full of affection. “That’s it, love… you’re doing so well. Let go for me,” he murmured, his tone both comforting and enticing.

And then, as his touch pushed you over the edge, a wave of pure ecstasy washed over you, and you cried out his name, your body shuddering as he held you through it, his gaze never leaving yours.

Once you came down from your high, your hand started making their way to Daniel's jeans, intending to return the favor, yet your movements where halted once again by his fingers around your wrist "I won't be able to hold back if you continue" he mumbled, his lips pressing soft kisses against the skin of your neck.

"Maybe that's the point" you whispered seductively.

He shook his head "As much as I would love to, I'm not sleeping with you while you're drunk" he whispered as he pressed one last kiss against your cheek, before he pulled away, grabbing the shirt that was still on the sink with his free hand, assisting you to pull it over your head "We'll talk about it tomorrow, and then we'll see"

As if the post orgasm haze started to kick in, you felt yourself getting tired, giving yourself over to the Australian driver as he carefully lifted you off of the sink and carried you over to his bedroom, placing you down onto it.

He was intending to get up and sleep on the couch, just in case you wouldn't remember things tomorrow, or worse, remember it, but regretting things. But the soft plea that left your lips stopped him in his tracks "Please, stay with me?"

It was as if his legs moved on their own accord, slipping into the bed next to you, feeling you crawl into his arms, your head resting on his chest. Once he noticed you were sound asleep, he grabbed his phone from his pocket and send Max a quick text:

Daniel: Your sister is sound asleep btw, she's crashing here, since she apparently forgot her keys or something.

Max: Figured as much indeed, Carlos came over and handed me her keys, said she forgot to take them before she left. Max: Thanks for letting me know, I'll torture her tomorrow about her headache ;)

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As the soft morning light filtered through the curtains, you stirred, feeling the gentle warmth touch your skin as you blinked awake. It took a moment to piece things together, the room unfamiliar, the quiet hum of an unfamiliar space settling around you. When realization dawned, it hit all at once. This wasn’t your apartment—this was Daniel’s.

Your eyes widened, and you scanned the room, momentarily panicked. But the bed beside you was empty, the sheets cool to the touch, which brought a small wave of relief. Sitting up slowly, you took a breath, glancing down to see yourself dressed in one of Daniel’s shirts. The soft fabric brushed your skin, and you realized, with a sudden blush, that you were only in his shirt and your lingerie.

Heart pounding, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, trying to clear the fog of last night’s hazy memories. The details were elusive, flashes of warmth, laughter, and maybe… something more. You felt oddly refreshed, but the lack of clarity gnawed at you. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself to find him, needing some answers.

Moving carefully down the hallway, you made your way to the bathroom, hoping to splash some water on your face, collect yourself before facing him. You twisted the doorknob, assuming the room would be empty. Instead, steam filled the space, and you froze, the faint outline of a figure behind the frosted shower door capturing your attention.

Your gaze locked on the silhouette, recognizing Daniel immediately—the shape of his shoulders, the familiar line of his back. A rush of heat flooded through you, your mind replaying a rush of emotions from last night, and you pressed your thighs together instinctively, trying to banish the sudden surge of desire. You knew you should turn around, slip out quietly, but you were rooted to the spot, utterly transfixed.

Before you could retreat, Daniel turned off the shower, reaching for a towel and wrapping it low around his waist before stepping out. His gaze landed on you, his mouth curving into a smirk, droplets still trailing down his chest and abs. His dark hair was wet, small drops sliding from his curls, and the steam radiated off his skin, casting him in a hazy glow.

“Well, good morning to you too,” he said, his voice a rich, low rumble, his signature smirk making your pulse race. “If you wanted to see me naked this bad, all you had to do was ask. No need to sneak up on me.” His tone was teasing, though his gaze held a hint of something deeper, something almost daring you to respond.

Your cheeks flushed, and you raised your hands to cover your face. “Oh God, I’m so sorry,” you stammered, feeling a mix of embarrassment and that same lingering heat from last night.

You heard him chuckle softly, and when you dared to peek through your fingers, he’d already dried off and slipped into a shirt and a pair of boxers. He stepped closer, gently pulling your hands away from your face, his expression softened, a trace of warmth in his morning-rough voice. “No need to be so shy, darling,” he murmured, the words filled with a quiet affection that sent a shiver down your spine.

You glanced at him, unable to ignore how close he was, feeling both relieved and oddly disappointed that he was now dressed. You couldn’t deny how good he looked, fresh out of the shower, the lingering scent of soap and warmth filling the space between you.

But the question weighed on your mind, and finally, you managed to ask, “Please tell me we didn’t…?”

Daniel’s gaze softened further, his eyes flickering with an understanding smile as he placed a steadying hand on your shoulder, letting it linger for just a moment before he replied. “If we slept together? No, we didn’t.”

A breath you hadn’t realized you were holding slipped out in relief. Before you could fully process it, though, Daniel added, “But I’m also not gonna pretend that you didn’t try to… and I’m definitely not going to act like nothing else happened.”

His words hung in the air, and you felt your breath catch, a wave of both nerves and arousal coursing through you. “Oh God,” you mumbled, lifting yourself onto the countertop by the sink, feeling a little dizzy, staring at the floor as you tried to piece together what he meant. “What did I make you do?”

Daniel leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his gaze steady and entirely too knowing as he took in the expression on your face. “You didn’t make me do anything, darling,” he said softly, his tone gentle yet firm. “It takes two to tango.”

The words lingered in the quiet, settling over you with a weight you couldn’t ignore. He shifted, stepping closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “Let’s just say… this isn’t the first time you’ve sat on that countertop in the last 24 hours. Although, last night it was for… different reasons.”

As soon as he said it, memories rushed back in vivid, unfiltered flashes—the feel of his hands, the press of his lips, the way he held you as if he’d waited forever to do so. Your cheeks flushed deeper, the weight of those memories flooding you, the reality of what had happened leaving you breathless.

“Oh God,” you murmured, looking down, struggling to meet his eyes. The blush deepened, and you tried to banish the embarrassment, but it was impossible to hide the way your body reacted to just being near him, recalling every detail of last night.

Daniel watched you, his gaze contemplative, and he let out a small sigh, pressing his lips together before speaking. “Look… you were drunk. I’d had a bit to drink too. I understand if you regret it” His voice was steady, but there was a subtle tension underneath, as if he was holding something back.

You took a deep breath, fiddling with your hands as you struggled to find the right words. "Yeah, about that.." you said, taking a deep breath before continuing "There might be a slight problem to that"

Daniel studied the way you were acting, unsure of what to expect “We can pretend it didn’t happen, if that’s what you want. That's no problem” he offered, though his tone held a hint of something unresolved, something unsaid.

Finally, you looked up at him, your gaze meeting his, the sincerity in your expression clear. “Well… I guess the problem is that..” you whispered, voice barely audible at first, but then you gathered your courage and continued, “I don’t regret it, Daniel… not at all.”

The words hung in the air between you, thickening the silence, every hidden feeling and unspoken desire now out in the open. His eyes widened slightly, the guarded expression slipping as something raw and vulnerable crossed his face.

Daniel's eyes softened at your words, the vulnerable confession drawing him closer, dissolving any remaining space between you. He stepped forward, situating himself between your legs once more, just like he had done last night, but this time you were both sober.

His presence warm and steady, grounding you in the intimacy of the moment. His hands reached up slowly, one gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing a soft line along your skin, the other tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His gaze was deep, intense, and full of affection as he looked into your eyes, his face only inches from yours.

"Good," he whispered, his voice low and tender, “because I don’t regret it either.”

Without another word, he closed the distance, his lips finding yours in a gentle, unhurried kiss. There was no urgency, only a steady, deliberate affection that conveyed every unspoken emotion he’d held back. His kiss was soft and careful, full of warmth, each touch of his lips conveying the depth of his feelings as he held you close.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, and you both shared a quiet, contented breath, wrapped up in the warmth of the moment. But the tenderness only fueled the lingering desire that had simmered between you both, and with a sudden burst of confidence, you grasped the collar of his shirt, pulling him back to you.

This time, the kiss deepened, your lips moving in sync as the restraint melted away, giving way to something more fervent, tinged with longing. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you even closer, his fingers splaying against your skin. The gentle intimacy turned heated, your mouths exploring, tongues teasing as the passion escalated with each passing second. You could feel his breath hitch as your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groaned softly against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

Without breaking the kiss, your lips began to wander, trailing a path from his mouth to his jaw, where you lingered, pressing soft, teasing kisses that made him shudder under your touch. You could feel the subtle stubble against your lips, the warmth radiating from his skin as you moved lower, planting slow, lingering kisses along his neck, tasting the faint hint of his cologne mixed with his natural scent. Each kiss seemed to draw a deeper, ragged breath from him, his chest rising and falling as he leaned into every touch, unable to hold back the quiet sounds of pleasure escaping his lips.

You let your hands roam freely, exploring the strong lines of his shoulders, fingers tracing down the curves of his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. His pulse thrummed beneath your touch, quickening with each passing second. He swallowed hard, his breathing growing heavier as you continued, savoring every inch of him.

“God, Daniel,” you whispered against his neck, letting your lips brush the words over his skin. “You have no idea how good you look like this… or how good you feel.” Your voice was soft but laced with genuine admiration and a suggestive edge that had his grip on your waist tightening.

“Fuck…” he muttered, his voice thick with need as your words and touch clearly had an effect on him. He tilted his head back, giving you more access, his eyes closing for a moment as he absorbed the sensations.

Your lips brushed his ear, and you could feel him shiver as you whispered, “I’ve wanted this for so long, wanted to feel you… just like this.” Your words spilled out as you continued trailing kisses, his low groan fueling your confidence as you let your hands drift lower.

You let your fingers slide down his torso, tracing every line and curve of his body with deliberate, teasing slowness. Your hand finally ventured to the waistband of his boxers, and you pressed your palm against him, feeling the unmistakable hardness through the fabric. His breath hitched, a deep, guttural sound escaping his throat as he instinctively pushed into your touch, his fingers digging into your waist.

“God, you feel incredible,” you murmured, palming him gently, feeling his arousal grow beneath your hand, hardening with each brush of your fingers. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Daniel… wanted to know how you’d feel like this,” you admitted, voice a mix of admiration and desire.

“Shit… you’re… you’re killing me here,” he managed, his voice a strained whisper as he looked down at you, his eyes dark and filled with unrestrained want. His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer, his breathing growing heavier as he lost himself in every touch, every word you murmured against him.

You continued your slow, deliberate movements, letting your fingers trace along his length through the fabric, a satisfied smile crossing your face as he groaned in response, his hips pressing into your hand. “God, you look so good like this,” you breathed, meeting his gaze for a moment, taking in the way his face was flushed, his expression filled with raw, unfiltered desire.

“Keep talking like that, and… fuck, you’re gonna drive me insane,” he rasped, his voice low, rough with need, his hands gripping your hips with more intensity, clearly unable to resist the effect you were having on him.

Emboldened by his reaction, you slipped a hand inside the waistband of his boxers, your fingers wrapping around him, and his entire body tensed, a shuddered moan escaping his lips as he exhaled sharply. As you started running your thumb along his length, savoring the way he twitched in your hand, his face contorted with pleasure as he bit his lip.

“God… that feels so good,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked down at you, his expression a mixture of awe and arousal. His hands roamed up and down your back, and you could feel the effect of every touch, every word, as his breathing grew heavier.

Between breaths, you whispered softly in his ear, “I want you, Daniel. All of you.” The words tumbled out, filled with a raw honesty that made him draw back just enough to meet your gaze.

In one swift, effortless motion, he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to his bed. He laid you gently onto the soft sheets, hovering over you as his lips met yours once more, igniting the same passion that had brought you here. Each kiss was heated and lingering, hands tracing and memorizing every line, every curve, savoring every moment that had led to this.

As his lips left a trail of kisses along your collarbone, your breaths came faster, and the anticipation tightened around you. But then when Daniel started removing your panties, you felt a familiar wave of nerves rise, and your voice trembled slightly as you spoke.

“I… uh…” you began, hesitating, feeling vulnerable but needing him to know. “I’ve never done this before.” The words left you in a shy, almost apologetic murmur, your cheeks heating as you admitted it. You lowered your gaze, fidgeting slightly under his gaze, before adding, “I mean, I’ve done… other things. Just… never got to, well, this part.”

He paused, taking in your words, his expression softening instantly. Cupping your face gently, his thumb brushed along your cheek, his gaze reassuring and kind. “Hey, there’s no pressure here. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he whispered, his voice steady, genuine. “We can take it slow. Or… we can keep things just like this.”

You bit your lip, the vulnerability still lingering as you met his gaze. “You’re not… disgusted, or something?” you asked, feeling a wave of self-consciousness bubble up. “I mean, I probably won’t be… any good. You’re… you know…” You trailed off, your face warming as the words left you.

He let out a soft chuckle, leaning forward to kiss you gently, his lips reassuring as he lingered for a moment before pulling back to look you in the eyes. “Disgusted? Not even close,” he murmured, a faint smile on his lips. “And I promise you, that thought never even crossed my mind.” His thumb brushed along your cheek again, his gaze warm and encouraging. “Honestly, it doesn’t matter to me. Not at all.”

You took a steadying breath, feeling his words soothe the nerves that had crept in. A smile tugged at your lips as you looked up at him, heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and newfound confidence. “I don’t want to take it slow,” you admitted softly, voice barely above a whisper, but the words full of determination. “I want it to be with you, Daniel. I’ve… I’ve thought about this more times than I dare to admit,” you confessed, the warmth of your cheeks betraying the shyness that lingered, but you held his gaze.

His eyes softened at your words, a slow smile spreading across his face as he leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Then I'm all yours,” he whispered, his voice filled with affection.

Without another word, Daniel leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was deeper, hungrier, every ounce of restraint between you both slipping away. His hands roamed up your back, pressing you firmly against him as your bodies melded together, the heat between you palpable. His lips moved over yours with an urgency that matched the rhythm of his heartbeat, each kiss filled with the passion that had built up over all this time, all the unspoken moments leading up to this.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer as you felt his quiet groan against your mouth, his own hands exploring your curves, fingers tracing your waist and pulling you flush against him. His body hovered over yours as his gaze met yours, filled with both desire and a lingering tenderness that made your heart race.

His lips found yours again, and you welcomed him with a fervor that matched his own, your mouths moving in perfect sync as the kiss grew deeper, more intense. You could feel his body pressing into yours, the weight of him grounding you, making the moment feel all the more real. His hand traveled down your thigh, lifting your leg to wrap around his waist as he settled between your legs, his hips pressing against yours in a way that made your entire body ache with anticipation, before slowly but surely entering you inch by inch.

Between kisses, his hands caressed every inch of your body, learning and savoring every curve, every response he drew from you. His mouth left a trail of kisses along your jaw, down your neck, lingering on the sensitive spots that made you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he continued his slow, intoxicating descent. Each kiss, each touch seemed to stir something deeper within you, the desire building to a crescendo with every shared breath.

“Fuck…” you whispered, your voice soft and laced with longing, and he looked up at you, a question in his gaze, waiting for any hint of hesitation.

But you only pulled him closer, guiding him to you as your hands roamed his back, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. He leaned down again, his lips finding yours as the kiss deepened, turning into something that went beyond words—a culmination of everything you’d both been holding back.

In that moment, every barrier fell away, and you lost yourselves in each other, the moment filled with soft murmurs, quiet laughter, and the tender, passionate intimacy you’d both waited far too long to share.

masterlist

[buckyalpine]

Cheating Steve x reader, Steve x Sharon, Bucky x reader

How Bucky and reader get together

Warnings: angst, cheating, smut, Steve regrets his choices, Bucky is the sweetest, fluffff

-

Steve knew.

Not that it was surprising at this point.

What more could he expect after you walked in on him and Sharon months ago. It was never supposed to happen but he gave into the heat of the moment. He didn't have the excuse of being drunk or drugged. He was stone cold sober. No stressful mission increasing his stress.

Maybe you agreed to try and work things out but he knew from the heartbreak in your eyes and their void of warmth, the hurt was too deep.

And yet still.

He didn’t realize just how badly that hurt would be until he experienced it himself. He didn't even see it but could hear it and damn his enhanced hearing, he could hear every detail.

There was no loud banging.

No over the top, obnoxious moaning.

No spews of filthy words exchanged.

Which is why this hurt so much more.

Because it was real.

This wasn't about revenge or getting back at him for what he'd done to you. They had no idea Steve would be back so early. They had no idea he'd be standing outside, hearing everything. Steve stood outside of Bucky's bedroom, the flowers he held in his hand crushed, staying rooted in place, nostrils flared, eyes squeezed shut.

Bucky was making the softest sweetest most tender love to you and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He could hear the faint creak of the bed.

Your soft whines and whimpers.

Bucky's low moans and heavy breaths.

He was taking all his time in the world to touch you gently, making you feel good while also giving you all the pleasure he possibly could.

“You’re so pretty doll” It was just a whisper, but Steve heard it. He hated the mental images that came up in his mind each time you moaned a bit louder or the sounds of wet skin carried through the door. "My pretty girl"

Maybe it was a good thing he couldn't see. Because if he did, Steve would've seen the way Bucky's hand stroked your hair softly with each thrust. The way he looked at you with nothing but love. His lips kissing every bit of your face, nuzzling himself into your neck while his hands pinned you under him.

Steve would've seen the debauched mess on the sheets, messy and sticky with your mixed arousal that had been leaking out of you, the both of you unable to keep your hands off each other. He would've seen your legs tightly wrapped around his best friends waist while his cock stretched you open, his much larger body shielding you.

Steve wouldn't have been able to handle the way your eyes were glassy, tears slipping down your cheeks from how good it felt, both emotionally and physically. He would've hated seeing how blissed out you looked, eyes unable to focus, jaw slack each time Bucky pushed himself deeper, grinding his hips into you. You couldn't possibly be any closer and it still felt like it wasn't enough.

Steve would've lost his mind, seeing the way your both desperately clung onto each other, meeting each others thrusts, Bucky's thick arms moving from your hands to wrap around your body instead. He held onto you tightly, his pace faltering and Steve knew. He could hear the increase in breaths, the stutter of his movements making the bed creak irregularly, fuck he didn't want to hear this shit anymore but he couldn't move.

"I'm gonna cum baby"

Fuck.

"Cum in me Bucky"

No. He wouldn't.

It wasn't like he could stop it. Steve gritted his teeth hearing your muffled moans, it should've been him. It should've been you in his room, him making love to you, him making you feel good, him filling you up till you dripped onto his sheets, him desperately moaning and feeling good with you.

"M'gonna cum, m'cumming for you doll, hnngg" God, his best friend sounded so desperate and broken but Bucky would never, he wouldn't, he couldn't, he- "Fuckkk y/n, feels so good, cumming so much for you. Take it all, sweet girl"

Fuck.

He wouldn't have handled seeing the way Bucky's muscles tensed, burying his face into your neck, your teeth digging into his shoulder while he rutted into you, cock swelling and throbbing ropes of cum into you while you convulsed around him.

FUCK.

“I love you my doll”

No. She's not fucking yours.

God how he wished it was one sided, that you’d just moan in response. That you were just using Bucky as a rebound with no actual feelings. Steve knew you didn’t say those words in vain, you wouldn’t say it back, not unless-

“I love you too James”

Steve was going to burst through the door until a voice chirped behind him, tapping his shoulder, pulling him from his spiral.

"Those for me?" Sharon blushed, pointing to the now half destroyed roses Steve held, pulling his shoulder away from her.

"No" Steve's jaw clenched, shoving her touch away, his irritation growing when Sharon followed him down the hall.

"Don't tell me you're still thinking about that stupid bi-"

"DON'T" Steve turned back and glared at her, clenching his fists before he did something stupid, "Just- don't"

"All high and mighty now, are we?" Sharon spat while he shook his head, wishing she'd leave. "Y'know they've been sleeping together behind your back the entire time you were gone away for the mission. And you're still hung up on her? Now she's the one cheating on you"

Cheating. Was it cheating? He was never able to mend your heart after he broke it. He tried. He tried so hard.

"Doesn't matter" Steve replied while Sharon huffed, daring to follow him into his room.

"We only hooked up once. She's been fucking you're best friend ever since and you still want her back?"

"I fucked up first Sharon" Steve gritted but the blonde rolled her eyes in response. "It was my mistake that led to this"

"Mistake" She shook her head in disbelief, biting her bottom lip staring at the broken Captain in front of her, "So what we did was just a mistake?"

"Worst one I've ever made" Steve nodded, not bothering to look back when Sharon stormed off, the sound of Bucky's bedroom door opening making his ears perk up. He threw the flowers he brought for you to the side while he heard your soft footsteps approaching, his stomach churning when you appeared at his door.

You blinked, surprised at the sight of Steve sitting at the edge of his bed, a crushed bouquet of flowers sitting on the dresser while he was still in his tac uniform. Your heart was pounding, he wasn't supposed to be back until next week.

"You're back early" You kept your voice steady, hoping he wouldn't notice anything askew.

But you knew. There was no way he didn't hear. Even if he didn't, your hair was tousled, skin warm, you smelled of sex, smelled of Bucky. There was no hiding it; the Captain looking up at you with watery eyes, the tears threatening to slip they landed on your disheveled form..

"Does he make you happy?"

You swallowed before nodding, while Steve gave you a tight lipped smile in return. He didn't say anything else, a silent way of him letting you go, hanging his head when you turned back around, going back to the one who now had your heart.

He wished he had it in him to feel happy for you both. You deserved happiness and Bucky would've never done what he did. He closed his eyes at the sound of your happy giggles and squeals of laughter, Bucky's following right after before the door shut again, leaving Steve alone in his room.

He'd better get used to it.

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ᴡ ᴏ ʟ ᴠ ᴇ ʀ ɪ ɴ ᴇ ⸻

Pairing: James Howlett x Fem Reader

Headcanon: how would he be when he's obsessed?

Note: English is not my first language. Requested by lovely @fexi626. Hope you enjoy!

Logan first notices you when you move into the same small town he’s been hiding out in. It’s supposed to be a temporary stop for him—stay low, avoid attention, move on. But then there’s you, sweet and quiet, with a kindness that catches him completely off guard. It’s the way you smile when you pass him at the local diner or the soft “Good morning” you murmur when you see him on the street. It sparks something primal inside him.

Logan’s the kind of guy who tries to convince himself to stay out of it. "Don’t need to drag her into my mess," he tells himself, nursing a beer at the bar while you laugh with your friends a few tables over. But he keeps looking your way, and when some jackass sidles up to you and tries getting handsy, Logan’s out of his chair before he’s even thought it through.

The guy gets the message fast—hard not to when Logan slams him into the nearest wall. "You touch her again, you’re leavin’ here in pieces. Got it?" The look in his eyes isn’t one anyone would argue with, not if they wanted to keep breathing.

After that, Logan decides he’s gonna keep an eye on you. For your own good, he tells himself. You’re too damn sweet, too damn trusting, and the world’s full of people who’d take advantage of that. He’s doing you a favor, really. "You don’t even know how much trouble’s out there, darlin’," he mutters, walking a few steps behind you on your way home, just close enough to make sure nothing happens.

Logan’s not subtle, though he thinks he is. You start noticing him everywhere—leaning against the counter at the diner where you work, walking past your building more times than coincidence could explain. When you ask him about it, he just shrugs. "Town ain’t that big. Guess we keep runnin’ into each other." But there’s something in his tone, in the way his eyes linger on you, that makes it feel like more.

He starts inserting himself into your life. Fixing your car when it won’t start. Showing up at the bar when you’re out with friends. "Just lookin’ out for you," he says gruffly when you question it. "Not like anyone else around here’s got the balls to."

Logan’s protectiveness is… intense. If someone so much as looks at you wrong, he’s ready to start a fight. And if someone flirts with you? Forget it. You don’t even hear about half the times he’s dealt with someone behind the scenes. He doesn’t see it as a problem—it’s just him taking care of things. "Don’t need you worryin’ about shit like that. That’s my job."

Despite the rough edges, there’s a softness to him when it comes to you. When you’re upset, he doesn’t say much—just pulls you close, lets you bury your face in his chest while he rubs your back. "I got you," he murmurs, his voice low and steady. "Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you while I’m around."

But make no mistake—his love comes with a possessive streak a mile wide. If you ever tried to pull away, Logan wouldn’t take it well. He wouldn’t yell or plead; he’d just… make sure you understood. "You don’t get it, do you? You’re mine, darlin’. Always gonna be. Doesn’t matter where you go—I’ll find you. And I’ll bring you back."

Logan doesn’t think of himself as a good man, but when it comes to you, he’s downright delusional. "You deserve better, I know that. But better ain’t what you got. You got me. And I ain’t lettin’ go."

His jealousy burns hot, but his devotion runs even deeper. You’re the one thing in his life that makes him feel… human. And he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if it means crossing every line he swore he wouldn’t. "The world’s a shitshow, sweetheart. But you? You’re the only good thing in it. Don’t expect me to let that go."

Logan’s a rough-around-the-edges—possessive, protective, and dangerously loyal. He doesn’t sugarcoat things, doesn’t try to hide who he is. His love is raw, fierce, and unrelenting, just like the man himself.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[wolvietxt]

𝓭ay 𝓮ight.

daryl dixon and forced proximity.

staring at the single bed in the middle of the small room, you can’t help but stifle a laugh. it’s the last thing you expected when you and daryl rolled up to the abandoned cabin, both exhausted and hoping for a bit of rest after a long day of scavenging.

“just one bed,” you murmur, glancing over at daryl, who’s already crossing his arms and scowling.

“you take it,” he grunts, turning away to rummage through his pack for a blanket. “i’ll sleep on the floor.”

“what?” you blurt out, shaking your head. “no way, daryl. you’ve been running yourself ragged all week - you need a good night’s sleep.”

“don’t need it that bad,” he mutters, tossing the blanket down on the wooden floor as if that’s the end of the discussion. “ain’t no big deal.”

but there’s a stubbornness in you that matches his, and you don’t budge. “come on,” you plead, “the bed’s big enough for both of us. i’ll even stay on my side.”

he snorts, still not looking at you. “not sharin’ a damn bed. i’ll be fine.”

with a sigh, you step closer, your voice softening as you look at the tension in his shoulders, the lines of exhaustion etched on his face. “please, daryl,” you say, “i can’t just let you sleep on the floor.”

he finally meets your gaze, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. “why’s it matter so much to you?”

you hesitate for a moment, then shrug, giving him a small, tentative smile. “because you’re always looking out for everyone else, and… i don’t know. maybe i just wanna look out for you, too, for once.”

there’s a beat of silence, and something flickers in his expression - almost like surprise, though he quickly masks it with a gruff huff. “ain’t like i’m gonna drop dead from one night on a floor,” he grumbles, but his tone is softer now, less resistant.

“i know,” you reply, taking a step closer. “but wouldn’t it be better to be comfortable? i mean, come on, daryl. we’ve both slept in way worse places than this.”

he runs a hand through his hair, his jaw working as he looks from the bed to you and back again. finally, he lets out a low sigh. “fine,” he mutters, sounding almost reluctant. “but you better stay on your side.”

“deal,” you say quickly, unable to hide the small triumphant smile that creeps across your face. “promise i won’t hog the blankets.”

the bed creaks under his weight as he lies down, and you settle on the other side, making sure there’s enough space between you. the silence stretches out, filled only by the sound of your breathing and the faint rustle of leaves outside the cabin window.

you stare up at the ceiling, feeling the warmth of his body not far from yours, even though you’re not touching. you hadn’t realized just how tired you were until now, the day’s exhaustion catching up with you.

“this ain’t awkward or nothin’,” daryl mutters after a long stretch of quiet, his voice gruff but edged with a touch of humor.

you can’t help but smile, turning your head slightly to glance at him. “could be worse,” you say, your tone light. “at least we’re not stuck outside in the cold.”

“s’pose,” he grunts, shifting a bit like he’s trying to get comfortable but doesn’t quite know how.

you watch him out of the corner of your eye, the way his brow furrows as he stares up at the ceiling, the tension that still lingers in his body despite being in a warm bed. there’s something about his restlessness that tugs at you, and before you can stop yourself, you reach out and place a gentle hand on his arm.

“hey,” you say softly, “it’s okay to relax, you know.”

his gaze snaps to you, eyes narrowing as if he’s about to brush you off, but the words seem to get stuck in his throat. he swallows, his jaw clenching and unclenching before he finally looks away. “ain’t used to this,” he mutters, almost like an admission.

“i know,” you reply, keeping your hand where it is, the touch light but steady. “but maybe it’s okay to let your guard down. just for a night.”

he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, then lets out a low breath. “you’re a stubborn one, ain’t ya?”

“takes one to know one,” you shoot back, your voice teasing but gentle.

the corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s fighting a smile, and then he shifts a bit closer, just enough that your hand slips from his arm to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“fine,” he murmurs, his voice low, “but if you start snorin’, i’m kickin’ you outta the bed.”

you laugh softly, the sound easing some of the tension between you. “guess i’ll have to sleep real quiet, then.”

for a moment, there’s nothing but the quiet, shared warmth of the bed, and you let your eyes close, feeling the heaviness of sleep start to creep in.

but then, daryl’s voice breaks the silence once more, softer this time, almost hesitant. “thanks,” he says, like the word doesn’t come easy to him.

you open your eyes, glancing up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “anytime.”

he doesn’t respond, just lets out a low hum as his arm moves ever so slightly, shifting to rest around you, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“you don’t gotta be this nice, y’know,” he mumbles, his thumb brushing absently over your shoulder. “most people just… don’t bother.”

“well, i’m not most people,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper as you settle closer, the warmth of his body chasing away the last chill of the night. “i bother because i want to.”

daryl’s grip tightens a fraction, like he’s holding onto the weight of your words. he lets out a long exhale, and you can feel the tension slowly seeping out of him, his posture finally relaxing as he leans into the comfort of the moment.

“guess i don’t mind it so much,” he admits after a beat, his tone softer than usual, almost vulnerable.

your smile widens, and you nestle your head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong beneath your cheek. “good,” you murmur, “because i’m not planning on stopping anytime soon,” you utter, your grin evident in your happy tone.

he doesn’t say anything else, just lets his hand drift up to rest in your hair, his fingers gently threading through the strands as you both sink into the warmth of the shared bed. for the first time in what feels like ages, there’s a sense of peace, the kind that doesn’t come often.

as you settle closer, your head resting against his chest, you can feel daryl’s heartbeat gradually slowing under your touch. there’s a quiet comfort in the shared warmth, something you hadn't realized you’d both been craving.

daryl shifts slightly, his arm tightening around your waist as his fingers continue to comb through your hair. you glance up at him, your gaze meeting his, and there's something there - an unspoken pull, a quiet understanding passing between you.

“you really don’t gotta be this nice,” he murmurs, his voice rougher, lower, like he’s struggling to keep it steady.

“i told you,” you whisper back, your hand resting against his chest, “i bother because i want to.”

the corner of his mouth twitches, and he lowers his head just a fraction, his breath warm against your cheek. “reckon you’re gonna keep on botherin’ me, then?”

“guess i will,” you reply, your voice soft but edged with something bolder as you tilt your chin up, closing the small space between you.

and then, before you can second-guess yourself, you press your lips to his, the kiss gentle at first, a question in the way you touch him. daryl’s breath catches, and for a heartbeat, he stays still - almost like he doesn’t know how to respond.

but then he lets out a low, rough sound from the back of his throat, and his hand slides to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss, the roughness in his touch betraying how much he’s holding back. there’s an urgency to the way his mouth moves against yours, a hunger that simmers just beneath the surface, and you can feel it in the way his fingers tighten in your hair, the way his other hand settles at the small of your back, keeping you pressed close.

when you finally break apart, breathless and flushed, he rests his forehead against yours, his eyes dark and half-lidded as he studies your expression. “damn,” he mutters, his voice low and a little hoarse, “you really don’t let up, do ya?”

you smile, your hand slipping up to cup his jaw, your thumb brushing over the stubble there. “not when it comes to you,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

daryl lets out a quiet chuckle, and before you know it, he’s leaning in again, capturing your mouth in another kiss - this one deeper, slower, as if savoring every moment. the warmth of his lips, the roughness of his touch, it all makes your head spin, and you can’t help but melt into him, letting yourself get lost in the way he’s finally letting down his guard.

when he finally pulls back, there’s a new warmth in his gaze, something softer but just as intense. “reckon i could get used to this,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing lightly over your cheek.

“good,” you reply, your voice a little breathless, “because i’m still not planning on stopping anytime soon,” you giggle out, repeating your words from earlier.

he doesn’t answer, he just smiles and pulls you closer, his lips brushing yours again in a promise that lingers long after the kiss ends, leaving you both a little less guarded, a little more open to whatever this might become.

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