#he kinds blasts away like crazy

[juniperberries-canisroot]

Do companions have an armour proficiency like they do in Skyrim or is it kinda not a thing in NV? Like maybe Boone should wear light so he can sneak and move better, but Veronica should wear heavy so she can take a hit and tank better, but it ultimately doesn't affect anythin involving skills?

I also don't know what to give Arcade, or even how to use him. I have Veroncia and Rex to be the chargers, taking the front line and using Melee attacks, so they get close to the enemy, assuming Boone and I don't snipe the enemy first. I also switch between the AMR and Chances Knife so I'm adaptable to both. I use light armour to sneak better and I prioritize movement speed and manuverability over damage threshold and slower movement. I don't stay long in a fight cause I can't take too many hits, but the fight is usually over before I loose a quarter of my health, assuming I didn't snipe the thing first.

Aracde uses energy weapons which I SUCK at. I started selling all my non-uniquely named energy gear cause I don't use it. So I don't have alot of ammo for it either. He makes it sound like he'll default to what I do, which is usually guns, but Idk that I need another Melee.

[alexthetrashyracoon]

Simon grinned at himself through the mirror like a stupid teenager in the changing room as Price, god bless this man and his father figure behavior, tugged on his tie to keep it straight and clean.

Wedding Day had come. His wedding day had come.

“Mate, you must be shakin’ with excitement to marry the pretty face.” Gaz grinned from his spot on the couch, all three of them dressed in their best attire. Even Soap hadn’t complained once about wearing a tie.

Simon’s mind wandered to you in the other room, he hadn’t seen you since last night, tradition, that’s what they called it.

He hoped you were having a blast, because you had to spend so many days and nights over the wedding plans that he had to get you to the hospital once after you broke down from exhaustion.

“Anyone ever thought big bad ol’ Ghost gets married?” Soap teased as he rummaged through the drawers at the desk. What exactly was he searching? Simon didn’t know or maybe he was too happy to question his best friend’s motives for now, they usually end in chaos and today was meant no chaos.

“I always believed Simon would find the one true love one day.” Price nodded and patted Simon’s chest, telling him he was done with the tie.

“Liar.” Gaz laughed and shook his head. “If you want to know who always believed in you, Lieutenant, that’s me. Ol’ Captain and MacTavish over here said you would die a virgin. We got a bet running for a while.”

Simon wasn’t even surprised or mad, maybe tomorrow, or the week after. But tonight he wanted to be on Cloud Nine and looking through the pink tinted glasses of love. Tonight he would say ‘yes’ to the person he loved the most, the one that kept him alive and sane and put up with his antics.

“I’m getting married.” He smiled at himself in the mirror.

“You’re getting married, son.” Price looked at him, through the mirror, a proud smile hidden under the beard.

A minute later his phone rang, your name and picture on the screen.

“Yes? Everything alright, darling?” Simon asked and looked at Price, worry flashing behind his brown eyes.

“I’m scared, Simon. I… I know this will sound crazy and you probably think I’m mad. But… I wanna run away.” You say, followed by a shaky breath. “But at the same time I don’t wanna run away but stay and marry you. Does it make sense?”

Simon relaxed immediately, you were nervous, as you should be. Just like him.

“How about this then, darling, we run away together until you know what you want.” He grinned and picked up his suit jacket.

Soap and Gaz were gasping at him.

“Let’s run away together and if you still feel like running, we blew off this party. And if not, we come back, say yes to each other tonight and live our happily ever after.”

Gaz asked if he was insane. Soap was looking between Simon and Price, who simply had the time of his life while opening the door for Simon to leave.

“Are you sure… do you… I mean…?” You started to ramble and mutter under your breath.

“Darling… For you I would go through hell and back. I am not complete without you anymore. There was a time before you, sure. But there will be no time after you. Together.” Simon spoke gently and could see through the phone who your cheeks turned pink and tears pricked your eyes. “I’ll be out in two minutes, don’t let me wait.”

(Spoiler, in the end Simon and you got married surrounded by friends and family. Price lost a bet to Laswell because they both know you two and knew you would pull such a stunt. Soap had gained a few more grey hairs than necessary and Gaz was pretty sure this was some kind of punishment, why else would you two pull something like that.)

[y3sterdaysproblem]

let me love you - matthew sturniolo

summary: your boyfriend sucks, and matt may or may not be in love with you.

warnings: pure smut, cheating, oral f!receiving, fingering, hickeys, unprotected sex.

a/n: thanks for enjoying my ghostface au! this is kind of a slow burn it’s like 1.5k words before they get freaky. yall wanted best friend matt so here you go 😇 ALSO I started writing this prior to everyone talking about no nut november sooooo …. lmk if u want smut from me still or maybe some fluff or angst cuz I am a sluuuttt for angst

wc: 6.2k

-

“No!” You cry out, throwing your body backwards on the white couch you sat on, dramatically slamming the PS5 controller down next to you in defeat. “You guys teamed up on me and cheated! No fair.”

Laughter filled your ears around you, your friends and boyfriend finding your reaction hilarious.

You were at your best friend Matt’s house, along with his two brothers, your boyfriend, and a couple of other friends from high school. Nick had wanted to invite your guys’ old friend group over as it had been a while since you had all seen each other together, and so far you guys were having a blast. You’d ordered a pizza, watched a cringey movie that came out while you guys were in high school, and now were playing Mario Kart, which was never really your strong suit.

“Nobody ganged up on you, kid. You just suck,” Chris laughed from his spot next to you, bringing his phone up to take a picture of the big pout on your face.

“I hate this game,” you tell him, standing up from your spot between him and your boyfriend, getting up to go refill your red solo cup with soda. As you walk to the kitchen, you hear footsteps behind you, and you’ve been friends with everyone here long enough to know who’s creeping up behind you, so you turn around, pout still plastered on your face.

Matt laughs as soon as he makes eye contact with you, unable to hold it in. “Cmon, don’t be a sore loser,” he starts.

Your jaw drops at his comment in disbelief before you pick it up and giggle, dropping the facade. “I’m not being a sore loser,” you assure him with another laugh. “I’m thirsty and was also kind of wondering if there was any pizza left.”

Matt smiles at your change of attitude, happy you’re not actually upset with the outcome of the game, even though he would never mind trying to cheer you up. “I knew you’d want more, actually,” he moves around the table to open the fridge door. “Seemed like everyone was going crazy on the pizza so I grabbed a couple slices and put them aside for you.”

Your heart swells a bit as you walk around to join Matt by the fridge, smiling wide as he pulled out a tupperware container with a couple pieces of your favorite pizza. “Aww,” you drawl. “You know me so well, Matt. Thank you!” You take the container from him and set it on the counter before turning around and wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

He hugs you back with his arms around his waist for a moment before pulling away, patting your sides as he does so. “Of course, just heat it up real quick. I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” he smiles at you, turning and walking away.

You smile to yourself as you pop the tupperware into the microwave, listening to the hum of the machine while you twiddle your fingers and wait for it to heat up. As it beeps, you feel a presence sneak up behind you, hands wrapping around your waist.

You spin around with a small grin, looking up at your boyfriend looming over you. “Hi,” you say sweetly.

“Hey,” he responds, kissing your forehead. “More pizza?” His eyebrows furrow as he looks down at you.

“Yeah,” you respond, breaking free from his grasp to grab your pizza out of the microwave. “Matt put a few slices aside for me because I always eat more later.” You take a bite out of one of the slices, humming in satisfaction, looking up at your boyfriend with a small smile.

He looks down at you with a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes, watching you eat. “Didn’t you have like four pieces earlier?” He questions, raising his eyebrows slightly.

You pause chewing for a moment, furrowing your eyebrows as you look at him. “Huh?” You say, slightly garbled by the food in your mouth. You take a moment and chew what’s in your mouth, swallowing thickly before setting down your bowl, placing both hands on your hips. “Are you questioning how much I’m eating or am I hearing things?”

He crosses his arms as the smile drops off of his face. “That’s not what I mean,” he starts. “I’m just… saying you had a few pieces earlier and you just heated up like four more pieces, that’s all.”

You guys have been friends for almost ten years now, however your relationship was relatively fresh, only about seven months in, and in those ten years that you’ve known each other, you’ve never been known to eat salads or small portions. You’ve always had a faster metabolism, and a more active life, so you weren’t particularly worried about indulging in a few extra pieces of pizza during a night with some of your closest friends.

You tilt your head and narrow your eyes, arms coming up to cross over your chest. “Is this something you’d be comfortable saying in front of all of our friends?”

He scoffs and shakes his head, turning to walk away. “Don’t make this something it’s not, babe. Just a question,” he says, heading back towards the couch where the rest of your friends are.

You’re still standing there with your arms crossed, watching him sit down next to Chris, picking up a controller while he laughs about something somebody said, completely switching up his attitude like he wasn’t just trying to patrol what you were eating and how much of it.

At that moment, Matt comes back, drying his hands on his grey sweatpants, making them a bit darker on the outsides of his thighs. “How’s the pizza?” He asks with a smile, before he notices your demeanor and the pizza resting on the counter instead of in your hands. “Everything okay?”

You turn your attention to your friend, looking at him with a confused expression while you try to decipher the interaction that just happened between you and your boyfriend. “Yeah,” you say, but it isn’t a confident answer, and you sound almost confused. “Come on, let’s go sit back down,” you tell him, grabbing your bowl of reheated pizza before starting to walk back to the couch, flopping down on it aggressively, making sure everyone knew you were back.

Matt follows happily, sitting down next to you. You turn and smile at him before slinging one of your legs over his, his hand habitually landing on your knee as you did so. You two had always been the closest in the friend group, but it was always platonic, as much as some of the people in the friend group wanted you guys to end up together.

Nick came and sat on your other side, smiling at the bowl in your hand, pointing at it happily. “Secret stash?” He asked.

You nod enthusiastically, swallowing the food that was in your mouth. “Matt saved me some because he knows how much I love to eat again a few hours later.” Your tone was slightly bratty, eyes flicking over to your boyfriend who stared at you and Matt. He was clearly mad at how close the two of you were sitting, and the hand placed gently on your knee.

Nick nodded. “Oh yeah, I think we all know how much you love leftovers. I wish I could eat as much as you and still look that good,” he teased. You laughed, knowing Nick had no idea the interaction that transpired in the kitchen a few minutes ago, and his timing was just coincidentally perfect.

The night played on as usual, games continuing to play on the tv, loud chatter filling the room as you all caught up on each others’ lives, talking about how adult life takes so much time to live and leaves so little for socializing.

Soon, people started leaving, and eventually it was just the triplets, your boyfriend and yourself, all sitting on the couch as the conversation started to die out, everyone starting to become tired.

Your boyfriend stands from the couch, stretching his arms above his head, shirt riding up slightly. “I think I’m gonna head out, I’m really tired,” he says. “You want a ride home, babe?” He looks down at you where you now laid on your side, head resting on a pillow by the arm of the couch.

You look up and shoot him a quick smile, shaking your head. “I’m gonna pass out here for the night, thanks though.” You tell him. It was typical for you to stay over at the triplets’ house when you got the chance. You’ve known them the longest and grown the closest with them out of the friend group.

“Oh, you can sleep in my room!” Chris smiles at you, reaching over to grab your ankle, shaking it lightly. “I’m gonna sleep in Nick’s room.”

You sit up and laugh at Chris, nodding your head lightly. “Okay, thanks, Chris. You’re the best.”

You and Chris had an almost sibling like relationship from the start, teasing and goofing off being an essential part of your bond. They were also a little bit younger, so he was like the little brother you never had.

Your boyfriend nods and walks over to you, leaning down to kiss you quickly before straightening back out, heading towards the door. “Bye guys, thanks for hosting,” he says towards the boys before leaving, door shutting behind him.

You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding, looking around at the three boys around you, all comfortably sitting on the couch on their phones. You smile to yourself a bit before pushing yourself up off of the couch, causing them to look up at you.

“I’m gonna go to sleep,” you say. “Thanks for letting me sleep in your bed, Chris.”

Chris smiles up at you and nods. “Goodnight,” he says.

“Night,” you respond, starting your walk through the kitchen to get to the stairs.

Matt gets up and trails behind you, and you don’t even question it, only turning around to look at him when you’ve made it to Chris’ room. “Here to tuck me in?” You tease.

Matt laughs and shrugs, walking to sit on the edge of the bed, looking up at you as you raid the drawers to find a large t-shirt to change into for the night. “I mean I can tuck you in if you want, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay after earlier. I’m not really sure what happened but you weren’t right after that.”

You pull out an old, worn out red sox shirt and walk over to the bed, sitting down in the middle of it. You let out a sigh and stare down at your hands. “I’m okay, it’s just… you know how I was eating those last few pieces of pizza?”

Matt scoots closer to you and turns to face you, nodding his head as he did so. “Did he say something to you?” He asked curiously, head tilting a bit.

You take a deep breath and nod, letting the air out slowly and quietly while you think of what to say. “He just made a comment about how much I was eating and it kind of rubbed me the wrong way. Said I already ate a good amount earlier so I shouldn’t eat any more.”

Matt pulled his head back with a disgusted look on his face. “That’s weird. It’s no different from how you usually eat.” He said.

You just shrugged your shoulders and leaned back against the headboard. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I was so confused when he said it, it was just so out of left field. It’s not like I’ve gained weight since we’ve been together or anything either. I don’t know, Matt, he’s been weird lately. I’m not even sure if we should be together, but if we break up it’s going to make things weird between everybody and… I just don’t know.” You run your hands over your face and groan loudly, smacking your hands back down on your legs when you’re done.

Matt looks at you for a moment, trying to figure out what to say that might make things better, but his curiosity gets the better of him and he finds himself trying to dig deeper. “How is he being weird?” He inquires, sitting still in his spot in the middle of the bed.

You shake your head and look up at Matt, pursing your lips as you think. “He just… he’s not very physical with me, he barely takes me on dates and when he does, I have to ask him to take me out, his texts are so dry it hurts, and… not to be too tmi but… I’m just not very,” you blush and look down at your lap before finishing your sentence. “Satisfied.” Your voice fades off into almost a whisper.

Matt’s eyebrows raise, shocked that you confided in him about your sex life. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, but normally he didn’t know the guys you were complaining about and you could joke about it more freely. “Like… you’re not finishing?” He asks, not sure how far you’d be willing to take this conversation.

You cover your face, embarrassed, but ultimately you make eye contact through your fingers and shake your head, silently answering the question. “I do things for him every time, but I feel like he’s just using me to get off and my pleasure isn’t important. He’s never even eaten me out, just like fingered me before sex but you can tell he’s just doing it because he thinks he should, not because he actually wants to, and I’ve been with guys who enjoy that kind of stuff so I know it’s not a universal thought that getting your girlfriend off is a chore. But he doesn’t even get me off! He just like… plays around down there and then fucks me for like two minutes!”

Matt laughs at your tone, nodding his head in agreement. “Two minutes is… crazy,” he cackles.

You laugh back at him, the mood lifted. “You’re telling me. I feel like I can literally count the seconds without losing track in the time it takes him to finish.”

Matt’s head falls back in laughter, but when he comes back to look at you, he raises an eyebrow at you. “He’s seriously never eaten you out?” He asks, shocked at the earlier statement.

“No,” you shake your head, lips falling in a tight line. “Crazy, right?”

He nods, taking a breath in like he was going to speak, but stopping himself before words could come out. He thought for a moment, not wanting to say anything to make the situation awkward. “I feel like I always eat a girl out and get her off at least once before we actually, y’know. Fuck.”

It’s been way too long, you think to yourself. Way too long since you’ve actually been pleasured by a man that left you satisfied and even craving more. With your boyfriend now it just felt like you should be having sex, but you never craved it.

“I wish that was the case but… it’s mostly just me blowing him and not getting anything in return, or we just have sex without any sort of foreplay,” you tell him. Your eyes bore into his and you swallow thickly. It’s not like you’ve never thought about what sex with Matt would be like. You guys have talked about your sexual encounters before, but mostly as a joke, in ways that didn’t make you guys want each other, at least that’s what you thought. But now, talking about how awful your sex life was and how attentive Matt was in bed, it made you feel even more deprived.

Unbeknownst to you, Matt had thought about sex with you more than he’d like to admit, but would never bring it up due to fear of rejection. He’s had a crush on you for a while now, but the thoughts of getting you naked and in his bed and consumed him recently. He was so turned on by even the smallest thing; the clothes you wore, your hair in a bun paired with your glasses, the smell of your perfume, everything made him want you even more. He felt like this conversation might be the only time he could make a move and actually have it make sense, but he didn’t know how to bring it up.

“You deserve better than that,” he starts nervously, right hand playing with the ring on his left pinky. “Have you talked to him about it?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Yeah right. Doesn’t do anything. He says he doesn’t do that. Says it’s boring and he hates the taste. Like suck it up.”

Matt keeps eye contact with you, taking a deep breath before the words that will change your relationship no matter the outcome slip past his lips.

“I love it,” he says. “I love eating girls out, having them squirm underneath me, pull my hair… it might be my favorite part of sex.”

Your throat goes dry as Matt talks, the eye contact getting almost too intense for you. The air in the room has shifted, and it’s hard to ignore. You swallow thickly, looking down to his lips before flitting back up to his eyes.

“Listen, I.. I don’t want to make this awkward or make you uncomfortable and,” he scoots closer on the bed, reaching a hand up to trail over your thigh. “I know we’ve been friends for a really long time and this would change things forever, but I can’t even tell you how bad I want to make you feel good.”

You suck in a breath, goosebumps arising on your leg where his hand rested, thumb gently swiping back and forth. “Matt…” you look at him with raised eyebrows.

“I know, I know you’re with him,” he interrupts. “But I could make you feel so good. Please.”

Begging was your weakness, the desperate look in his eyes having you more hot and bothered than it should’ve. You were in a relationship for fuck’s sake, this was wrong on more levels than one.

Matt’s hand reaches out to push a strand of hair behind your ear before he rests his palm on your cheek, getting up on his knees to tower over you, looking down at you from his elevated position. He leans down, left hand resting behind you on the headboard, locking you both into place. His face is right in front of yours now, both of your lips merely inches away.

“Please,” he breaths out quietly.

You stare up into his eyes for a second.

Two…

Three…

“Fuck it,” you whisper, reaching up to grab the back of his head and pull him down the last few inches, slamming your lips together.

His tongue slides past your lips almost immediately, meeting yours fervently, his hand that rested on your cheek sliding down to rest on your waist, gripping gently like he was afraid you’d slip from his fingers.

Your hand slides up to thread through his hair, keeping pressure on the back of his head to keep him close. You moaned against his lips, both of you kissing more aggressively than you typically would due to the tension that’s been growing between the two of you for years, finally snapping.

“I need you so bad,” he mutters against your lips, sliding down to kiss your neck, tongue sliding against your skin as he left kisses down your collarbone. “Take your clothes off, please, I need to see you.”

You sit up from the headboard and oblige, pulling your shirt over your head, leaving you in just your sweat shorts and bra. He follows suit and takes his shirt off, throwing it to the ground before sliding down the bed so he can grab your ankles, yanking you down the bed roughly so you were laid flat on the mattress instead of sitting up.

You let a small squeal leave your lips, followed by a giggle. This is exactly what you needed, to be manhandled by a man that wanted nothing more but to please you, and you couldn’t be more excited for the night ahead of you.

Matt crawls back up the bed, looking at you like you’re his prey and he’s about to devour you. “You look so good,” he says quietly, voice deeper than usual. He’s hovering above you again just staring down at your face and admiring, like he can’t believe he’s finally getting what he’s waited so long for.

Your hands reach up to touch his shoulders, dragging your fingers up and down his arms that are braced on either side of you, holding his body up. You admire him for a few minutes yourself, just staring up at him as he looks at you, the silence not awkward at all, instead it’s comforting, and he feels like home.

Finally, he breaks the eye contact as he leans down to kiss you again and your arms come up to wrap around his neck. “Matt,” you mumble, his lips pressed firmly against yours. He hums in response, placing a final small kiss on your lips as he pulls away to hear what you have to say.

You’re nervous as you speak, but push the feelings aside as to come off more confident than you actually are.

“I need you,” you whisper, staring straight up into his bright blue eyes. “Please.”

Matt’s still for a moment before he leans his weight on his left hand, sliding his right one underneath your back that arches for him to have easier access, skillfully undoing the clasp on your bra. As soon as it’s undone, you use your own hands to peel the bra off of your arms, leaving you completely topless in front of him, nipples hardening at the cold rush of air on your chest.

He starts his descent down the bed, letting his lips trail down your body, over your collarbone, through the valley of your breasts, down your stomach, finally reaching your hipbones where he started to suck a mark into as he tucked his fingers in the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down along with your underwear, your naked body fully on display for Matt for the first time ever, but in the back of your mind, you hope it isn’t the last.

He pulls his lips away from the purple mark he sucked into your skin, admiring his work. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to mark you up, to claim you.” Matt looks up at your face to see you already staring down at him. “Need to taste you so bad.”

You nod your head lightly, giving him permission to finally do what he wanted, and what you needed so badly.

His head dips down to kiss your hip again, lips moving over your thighs, his hands pushing them farther apart to give him access to what he needed the most. His eyes stare down at your core, something that would usually make you insecure, but right now only made you feel even hornier, the thought of him soaking in the way that you looked down there turning you on more than anything so far. “Pretty?” You ask him bashfully.

Matt licks his lips in response, taking in a breath to calm himself. “Fucking perfect.” He drops his head and drags his tongue from your hole up to your clit, grabbing the wetness that dripped out of you and spreading it up, wrapping his lips around the nub that needed attention more than it ever has in your life.

You gasp and drop your head down to the pillow, hands instantly tangling in the sheets to ground yourself somehow. “Fuck, Matt,” you cry, arching your back off of the bed.

He uses his hands to keep your legs spread apart as he devours your pussy, the wet sounds coming from his mouth meeting your heat filling the room. You’re grinding up into his mouth and he lets you, wanting to allow you to do whatever felt the best to you, but you halt your motions when he pulls away and lets go of your left thigh, dragging his fingers up your leg until they meet your entrance, slipping two fingers into you, your pussy enthusiastically accepting them.

He brings his mouth to the inside of your thigh as he starts to finger you slowly, thumb rubbing against your clit as he does so, sucking another hickey into your soft skin. You’re a moaning mess as he plays with you, finally feeling something other than disappointment in bed for the first time in a long time.

After he’s satisfied with the mark he’s left on your skin, he moves his thumb away from your clit and trails back up to wrap his lips around it, sucking softly and letting his tongue run over the nub, fingers still working inside of you. The combination of both had you reeling, damn near seeing stars. Not only has it been forever since you’ve been eaten out, but it’s been even longer since you’ve been eaten out well.

“Matthew,” you breathe, exhaling loudly. You were trying to stay quieter, but you were quickly losing your inhibitions. The way he used his tongue on you, sucking on your clit alongside the fingers working their way inside you was making you dizzy, your stomach coiling in a familiar way. “Matt, please don’t stop,” you beg, reaching up to slide your fingers through his hair.

He listens, curling his fingers inside of you as his tongue traced shapes on your clit, the taste of you alone making him so hard it hurt.

You cried out and arched your back against the bed, fingers gripping the overgrown hair that adorned Matt’s head, moans growing louder than you were able to control. “Fuck!” You whined, thighs shaking as they tried to close around Matt, but he pulled his fingers out of you and used both hands to press your knees apart, keeping you exposed to him as he ate you through your orgasm, making you cry out even more, not used to the overstimulation.

He finally pulls away, kissing his way back up your torso until he’s hovering above your face, smiling down at you. “You okay?” He asks sweetly, using his left hand that isn’t covered in your arousal to brush your sweaty hair out of your face.

You pant as you look up at him, desperately trying to catch your breath. All you can do at the moment is nod, eyebrows furrowing together as you stare at him, almost innocently, and the look in your eyes makes his dick twitch in his pants.

He smirks down at you and reaches back down with his right hand, dragging his fingers over your clit again, making your legs twitch and try to close, a small whimper leaving your lips. “Sensitive,” you whine, but you still can’t help the moan that leaves your lips when he dips his fingers back inside you, pumping them slowly.

Your eyes flutter closed as your head rests in the pillow, back arching as you push your hips down to meet his fingers.

The mix of the pleasure and the immortality of the situation is ripping you apart, like an angel and a devil on your shoulder, but the devil was winning tonight and you weren’t even worried about the consequences.

“So good,” you whisper, finally able to respond. “But this is so wrong, Matt.”

He nods, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “I know,” he says quietly against your skin. “Do you want me to stop?” He slides his fingers out of you and starts making circles on your clit, slowly but surely bringing you back towards the edge of an orgasm, but the tone of his voice makes you completely confident that he would stop if you told him to, that he’d cover you up and leave you here to sleep, never to bring up this incident again. Your best friend was way too sweet to you for your own good; unfortunately for him, and especially for your boyfriend, you weren’t quite as good of a person.

“No point in stopping now, not when you got me wanting you so bad,” you tell him, a smirk falling onto your lips. “I need you to fuck me.”

Matt’s breath hitches in his throat at your filthy words, unable to even process the fact that he’s in bed with you right now, let alone the way you’re speaking. He would’ve been completely happy just getting you off and making you feel good, so getting to fuck you really just felt like a bonus for him. “Anything for my favorite girl.”

Matt stands up off the bed and slips his sweats and boxers off, stepping out of them before taking a step back towards the bed, blushing at the expression on your face.

“Holy shit, Matt, I would’ve fucked you a long time ago if I knew you were packing straight heat,” you laugh, gawking at the size of his dick. Your boyfriend was nothing in comparison. You don’t think you’d ever be able to go back after this.

“Shut up,” Matt chuckles, climbing back onto the bed and fitting himself between your spread legs, sitting up on his knees and pulling your hips up to meet his, ass resting on the tops of his thighs. “You sure you want this?” He clarifies, making sure a final time. You guys have already crossed so many lines, but this seemed like the final one, the point of no return. But you’re happy where you’re at, and you let him know by nodding at him, confirming that you’re ready to say fuck it to the boundaries set by the standard rules of friendship.

Matt shakes his head and leans over your body, face hovering above yours. “I want to hear you say it,” he whispers, eyes boring into your own.

You smile and reach your hand up to cup his cheek, tilting your chin up slightly. “I’m ready,” you tell him sweetly. “Fuck me, please.”

He’s nervous, and you could tell, but he pushes it aside as he sits back up and grabs the base of his dick, using his hand to line up the tip with your entrance, slowly sliding himself in until he’s buried to the hilt, a small moan leaving both of your mouths. “Shit, Matt,” you whine, reaching out to grab any part of him, something to ground you in this situation. He sees your efforts and leans over you once more, the angle of him just sitting inside you brushing up against all the right places.

Your hand reaches out and grabs his bicep, eyes fluttering open to look at his face above you, his expression slightly distant as he focused on the reality that has been the subject of every wet dream for at least the last five years. “You okay?” You ask him, and he lets out a breathy chuckle.

“I should be asking you that,” he states. “I’m fine, just can’t believe I’m finally getting to do this. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

You smile and wiggle your hips, pushing down into him. “Show me how long you’ve been waiting for this.”

Matt doesn’t hesitate when he hears those words, and he pulls his hips back just to snap back into you roughly, making you moan and throw your head back, your neck exposed for Matt to do whatever he wanted.

He keeps up a rough pace on you, grunts leaving his mouth every so often. “You feel so good,” he says lowly, leaning down to bury his head in your neck as he fucks into you relentlessly. His lips trail over your skin, until you feel his mouth open, a light suction on your neck sending you reeling.

You know he’s marking you up in places that are going to be visible now, and there’s no turning back from this, there’s no way you’ll be able to hide it without being obvious, but you just can’t find it in you to care.

“Fuck, Matt, you’re fucking me so good, don’t stop,” you cry out, hands reaching around his back, nails digging into his skin.

He listens, like the good boy he is, keeping up his pace on you. He sits up, though, your ass still planted on his thighs as he rocks his hips into you, his arms wrapping around your legs and holding you in place. “I’m not gonna last long like this, I’m so sorry,” he apologizes. He’s far too turned on to last as long as he normally does, too worked up and so enthusiastic about finally getting to fuck you after all these years.

“That’s okay, I’m so close,” you tell him, reaching down to start rubbing circles on your clit to push you farther towards the edge, wanting to finish with Matt, but he pushes your hand away, replacing it with his own, rubbing a quick back and forth motion on your clit in time with his thrusts. “I’ll take care of you,” he tells you, looking into your eyes. “I got you.”

Those words alone had you arching your back off the bed, gripping the sheets next to you as you came for the second time that night, legs shaking as you cried out, muttering out his name mixed in with obscenities. “Matt,” you whimper, breathing heavily as you came down.

He was still thrusting into you, slower and gentler now, but enough to still have you riled up despite the orgasm that just shook your body. “You’re doing so well for me,” he praised, sliding his slick covered hand over your thigh, rubbing the skin lovingly. “I’m so close, baby, where do you want me?”

“Anywhere you want,” you tell him, shaking your head. “I’m all yours.”

The words send him over the edge, his thrusts getting sloppy as he finished inside of you, shooting his load deep into your pussy. “Fuck,” he moans, hips coming to a halt fully inside of you as he collects his breath.

You guys are both silent for a moment before you make eye contact and start giggling, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as you did so, his shoulders shaking slightly. “Oh my god,” he speaks first, looking down as he pulls out of you, his seed spilling out slowly. He acts without thinking and reaches down, using his fingers to scoop it up and push it back inside of you, making you gasp.

“Matt,” you warn, and he snaps his head back up to look at you. “Sorry,” he says, a blush starting to cover his cheeks. “Just don’t wanna waste any.”

He pulls his fingers out and wipes them on the sheets, grimacing slightly. “Definitely going to have to wash these tomorrow, but that’s a tomorrow issue.”

You smile and reach towards him, grabbing his arm to pull him back down to you, sliding your hand up his arm and towards his cheek before pulling him into a soft kiss. He kisses you back happily, his clean hand resting on your waist.

As you both kiss, he moves to lay next to you and slides his hand down your hip until it rests on your leg, pulling it over him so you guys are cuddling face to face.

Matt pulls away from the kiss and smiles over at you. “I guess this would be a bad time to tell you I’ve had feelings for you for a really long time?” He raises his eyebrows as he speaks, pressing his lips in a thin, awkward smile when he’s done.

You laugh and shake your head, brushing a long strand of hair out of his eyes. “I think it’s perfect timing.”

He smiles wide and leans in to kiss you once more, holding your body close to his own.

-

You guys must’ve ended up under the blankets at some point during the night, and thank god for that, because it couldn’t have been later than 9am when you hear the sound of the bedroom door opening and the song Pony by Ginuwine blaring through a speaker, ripping you out of a deep sleep.

Your eyes tear open and you stare at where the noise is coming from, feeling the hand wrapped around your waist tightening before you both sit up and stare at the door, seeing Chris in the doorway jokingly dancing and grinding as he held the speaker up in his hand, looking at both of you on the bed.

You can’t help but throw your head back in laughter, the sight of him breaking into the room like this making you crack up. “Chris!” You yell between giggles, making sure you’re holding up the blanket to cover your chest.

Nick comes up and stands behind Chris, shaking his head. “I told him not to,” he states, clearly unamused with his brother’s antics.

Chris giggles and turns the music down, staring at the two of you in bed, one of you laughing and one of you glaring back at him. “Hey, I’m happy you guys finally fucked, just really wish it wasn’t in my bed.”

Matt narrows his eyes and reaches underneath him, grabbing the pillow he was previously laying on and flinging it at his younger sibling. “Chris, get the fuck out!”

-

a/n: …..

u likeee??? I definitely like this one a little less than the last one but it was still fun to write 🤭 please leave feedback and send requests on what to do next

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[josephandrewstarkey]

beach fight - part 2

part 1 here

warnings: fingering, kind of public, cheating, mentions of ruthie, jealousy

disclaimer: making a part 3!! message me to b on the taglist <3

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

It had been a week since the showdown on the beach. Ruthie had ended up with a busted lip and bruises, and Y/N’s knuckles were still sore from that fight. Word spread fast, and now, wherever Y/N went, people whispered. She didn’t care. Ruthie got what she deserved. She wasn’t going to lose sleep over it.

Tonight, the Pogues were hitting up a huge summer party at a Kook mansion, and as expected, there were plenty of stares as soon as Y/N walked in. People threw shady looks, some even whispering to each other when they thought she wasn’t looking. But Y/N just rolled her eyes, keeping her head high.

“Let them talk,” she muttered under her breath as she entered the party, brushing it all off.

She quickly found Kie and Sarah dancing in the middle of the room, music blasting so loud you could feel the bass in your chest. With a smile, Y/N joined them, laughing as they pulled her into the rhythm. The three of them danced, their energy wild and carefree. Y/N threw back a few drinks, feeling the buzz settle in, making her forget about all the drama for a while.

Across the room, Rafe had been hanging around with Sofia, who tried to pull his attention toward her. She clung to his arm, making a big show of laughing at his jokes and trying to stay close, but his mind was somewhere else. Every time Y/N moved, Rafe’s eyes followed, unable to stop himself. He wasn’t even trying to hide it.

It pissed him off seeing her like that—dancing with her friends, completely unbothered, like he didn’t exist anymore. Especially when she hugged Pope. That nearly sent him over the edge. She wrapped her arms around him, laughing about something, and Rafe clenched his jaw, jealousy burning in his chest. He hated that she could be so close to them.

“Rafe, you’re not even listening,” Sofia said, snapping him back to the moment, tugging on his sleeve.

He blinked, tearing his eyes away from Y/N for a second. “Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, clearly distracted.

Sofia rolled her eyes, frustrated. She knew where his mind was, and it wasn’t on her. “Why are you so obsessed with her?” she finally snapped, crossing her arms.

But Rafe ignored her, his gaze back on Y/N as she laughed and danced with Sarah and Kie.

Eventually, Y/N excused herself from the group to get some air. She walked away from the crowd, heading down one of the quieter hallways. Rafe didn’t hesitate. Without a second thought, he brushed off Sofia’s protests and followed Y/N, his heart pounding as he watched her disappear around a corner. Sofia called after him, but he didn’t stop, too focused on catching up with Y/N.

Y/N had noticed him watching her all night, but she didn’t care. She had felt his eyes on her, burning holes into her, but she wasn’t going to let him ruin her night. Still, she knew him too well, and when she rounded the corner into the hallway, she leaned against the wall, waiting. When Rafe finally caught up, she raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Why are you following me, Rafe?” she asked, arms crossed as she subtly pushed her chest up, making sure he noticed. His eyes flicked down, staring at her for a second before meeting her gaze again.

Rafe hesitated, trying to come up with some excuse. “I was just heading to the basement…got some shit to sell,” he said, a weak attempt to brush it off.

Y/N scoffed. “There’s no basement in this house, Rafe. You really expect me to believe that?”

He dropped the act, knowing she wasn’t buying it. “I miss you, alright? I’ve been thinking about you ever since we broke up. It’s driving me crazy, seeing you with them.”

Y/N shook her head. “You don’t get to miss me, Rafe. You have Sofia now, remember?”

Rafe stepped closer, his voice low, desperate. “I don’t care about her. I never did. You know that.”

But Y/N wasn’t having it. “You made your choice. You chose her, Rafe. So why don’t you go back to her?”

He ignored her words, his hands already finding their way to her waist, pulling her closer. Before Y/N could push him away, he leaned down, kissing her neck softly, making her breath hitch.

“Rafe, stop,” she whispered, her hands on his chest, trying to shove him off, but her voice wasn’t as firm as it should’ve been.

“You still want me. I know you do,” he murmured against her skin, his lips trailing down her neck. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“You have a girlfriend,” Y/N said, trying to hold on to some sense of control.

“I don’t care about her,” he repeated, his voice husky, hands gripping her waist tighter as he pressed her back against the wall. “You’re the only one I want. Always have been.”

“Stop,” Y/N repeated, but it was weaker this time, her resolve slipping as he kissed her harder. Before she knew it, he was dragging her into the nearest bathroom, locking the door behind them.

The moment they were inside, Rafe didn’t waste any time. His hands slipped under her shirt, fingers tracing her skin, and Y/N gasped, feeling the familiar rush she’d tried to forget. His lips crashed against hers as he lifted her onto the bathroom counter, his hands roaming everywhere.

She tried one last time to resist. “Rafe, you can’t…you have a girlfriend.”

“She’s not you,” Rafe growled, pushing his hand into her shorts, finding her wet and ready despite her protests. Y/N’s breath hitched as he slid his fingers inside her, his mouth inches from hers as he whispered dirty things into her ear.

Y/N couldn’t think straight, the heat between them clouding everything else. Her body betrayed her, responding to his touch despite the voice in her head telling her to stop.

Meanwhile, outside the bathroom, Sofia stood in shock, watching from the hallway as Rafe dragged Y/N into the bathroom. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her heart sank, anger and jealousy bubbling up inside her. JJ, who had been passing by, saw it too, his face twisting into a mix of confusion and frustration. Not knowing if he should tell the pogues about this.

part 3 here

taglist:

@carolina6677 @lovrsin @alayaaaahhhhhh @esquivelbianca

[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Part 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

Chapter warnings: First kiss with this Yoongi (have fun with that), one sexist remark from your dummy bestie, baby mama shows up, cliffhanger

Word count: 5.3k

Posting date: November 19, 2024

Notes: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. Icymi, we did a poll and results show y’all wanted to break this into two parts so we shall have a part 3. Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕🫶🏼

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Masterlist

Ever since that dinner when you inadvertently confessed about your age-old attraction to him and assured him that any residual feelings are buried in a metaphorical time capsule, Yoongi seems to have made it his personal mission to rizz you up on purpose.

Haneul’s been especially rambunctious all day. Mealtime is no exception. Yoongi volunteers to feed him, thinking he can rein in some of the pent-up energy. At some point, Haneul squeezes his pouch of organic muesli and carrot puree with so much enthusiasm that it explodes everywhere, sending bright orange flecks across Yoongi’s face and pristine white tee.

“GAHHH!” Yoongi yelps, staring down at the mess, while Haneul absolutely loses it, tiny belly-shaking laughter filling the room.

“Silly, silly sarang,” you coo, using the pet name you’d started calling Haneul lately. It’s adorable how he beams every time he hears it, flashing you that gummy grin like he knows he’s your favorite troublemaker. You laugh too, as you wipe a splatter of puree from Haneul’s cheek with the muslin cloth you were holding.

“Do I have something on my face, too?” Yoongi leans towards you expectantly with the barest of smirks.

“Uh… yeah.” You say, flipping the cloth to a clean side and wiping off the smudge on his cheeks and his chin, and that pesky little morsel on the side of his lip.

For some reason, you seem to need a blast of oxygen straight to your lungs. Stat.

With a lick of his lips, Yoongi nods his thanks. “Gotta change,” he mumbles, lifting the shirt away from his chest with a grimace and walks towards the hallway to his room.

And you almost regret your decision to look back, almost.

Because, oh wow, he’s taking his shirt off. Yep. Fuckin’ dammit. The shirt is off.

Christ.

His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing as he runs a hand through his hair. The infamous “7” tattoo on his shoulder is taunting you. You are unable to pull your eyes away, already knowing you’re doomed.

Then, before he mercifully disappears into his room, he glances over his shoulder and catches you staring. Shit. Your heart plummets straight to your ass. He smirks, U-turns towards you shirtless and utterly shameless.

Your nerves short-circuit as he reaches out, just barely brushing your thigh to pick up his phone from the mat. His eyes hold yours, a dark glint of mischief in them, “You good?”

“Huh?” The brain fog is crazy. You will yourself to keep your eyes above his chest, but of course you gone did it.

Why are his nipples so cute? And damn is that a happy trail?

He snickers softly, like he knows exactly what’s going through your head. “I’ll be back. Han’s eating the remote by the way.”

And with that, he saunters off, leaving you there, a blushing, flustered mess as you find Haneul gnawing on the remote control.

You pull it quickly from his grasp, muttering under your breath, “Sarang, why are you and your appa being such a menace?”

He babbles happily at you, as if he knows he’s not the only troublemaker with a gummy grin in this house that got you wrapped around their finger.

The next time you’re at the Min’s, Yoongi is clearly in a rush, checking his phone and mumbling to himself as he zips up his jacket. “Just text me if you need anything, okay?” he calls over his shoulder, already half out the door.

“Got it,” you reply, bending to set your shoes on the rack. You glance down, expecting to see your usual house slippers—but something else catches your eye.

It’s a… capybara? Big, fluffy, and incredibly cozy-looking slippers, with soft little ears and embroidered eyes, just waiting for you. They’re exactly your size. They’re yours, right? It’s in your usual spot. Beside it… another pair. Same goofy capybara face, but larger. Did Yoongi get a pair for himself, too?

You slip them on, feeling their warmth, their plushness, and a little shiver of wonder and disbelief spreads through you. Yoongi thought of this—thought of you. The butterflies in your stomach are in a frenzy now, and you can’t help but smile, giddy and a little stunned. 

The door swings open. “I forgot my—” Yoongi stops mid-sentence.

You’re standing there, wiggling your toes inside the ridiculous capybara slippers, and when you look up, you catch the slight flush creeping across his cheeks. There’s something so unmistakably soft about his expression and it makes your heart do a strange little flip.

“Please tell me they’re mine,” you jut your bottom lip out, a hopefulness you can’t quite hide.

Yoongi steps inside just enough to grab his keys from the table, shrugs, “Who else would they be for?”

And just like that, he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

You’re left standing there, the capybara slippers snug around your feet, Yoongi’s words replaying in your mind. Your heart flutters as you stare down at them, wondering if maybe, just maybe, this small, thoughtful gesture means as much to him as it does to you.

Since then, you start noticing the small ways Yoongi shows his care. Each time he heads out, he leaves little comforts behind—an extra pillow for you on the couch, a plate of fruit on the coffee table, a cup of Silver Moon tea he prepared for you.

More and more, you start to extend your day to night that Yoongi almost expects you now to stay for dinner or join him for Haneul’s nighttime rituals.

Haneul’s bedtime stories have become a team effort—one night you’re reading, the next it’s Yoongi, who’s surprisingly great with voice acting and sound effects. (You should have known!) When Haneul finally drifts off, Yoongi always waits a moment, exchanging a small, tired smile with you as if to say, We did it.

And before you know it, that age-old crush that you said was buried in a metaphorical time capsule? Yoongi just dug it right back up.

One evening, as you rock Haneul to sleep in your arms, Yoongi comes in quietly, setting down a couple of takeout boxes and two cans of Coke on the coffee table. The baby’s small breaths are warm against your shoulder, his eyelids fluttering as he settles into sleep. You gently lay him down in his crib, brushing a hand over his soft hair before joining Yoongi on the couch. 

“Hungry?” Yoongi asks, sliding a takeout box in your direction. He’s not looking directly at you, focused instead on peeling back the lid of his own food.

“Starving,” you admit, smiling as you pick up your chopsticks. “Thank you.”

The quiet clinks of chopsticks and soft laughter fill the room as you both dig in. Conversation with Yoongi has started to come easier lately, and tonight, it flows so naturally you barely notice the time passing. 

“So, what got you into teaching?” he asks, glancing over at you between bites. “You seem good at it. Really good, actually. Haneul has so many party tricks now.”

You pause, laughing a little to mask the warmth in your cheeks. “I just love kids. I enjoy their energy, even if it’s chaotic.” You glance down. “I’ve always wanted my own. Just… hasn’t quite worked out that way yet.”

He nods, not pressing you, just letting you continue.

“I was in a long-term relationship, but things ended because he wasn’t looking for that kind of future,” you say quietly. “I really wanted a family, kids, but he didn’t. He didn’t even believe in marriage. So, it ended, and I guess that’s why I left and went back home.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that. Must have been so difficult for you.”

You nod, swallowing down the ache that lingers. “Yeah. I think part of me is still working through it, honestly. I hope you don’t think this is weird. But being here, with Han…” you sigh. “I don’t know, it’s helping. Even if he’s not quite mine.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his gaze shifting to his hands, fingers tracing the rim of his soda can. “It’s not weird. Look, you’ve helped us a lot, too. Having you here has made things feel… lighter. Happier.”

The words send a flutter through you, a feeling that scares you as much as it comforts you. Because this feels too domestic. A taste of that life you’ve always longed for. With Jiyong, for years. But now, it’s only Yoongi’s face you see in your mind’s eye. Yoongi and Haneul. You then realize how badly you want this, but you’re afraid of wanting it–afraid of what it might mean to get attached to someone like Yoongi.

“I appreciate that.” You reply. “How have you been adjusting to life as a single dad?” 

Yoongi glances over at you, his gaze thoughtful. “I didn’t expect that it would be this rewarding,” he says, his voice soft, but it trails off. “But… it’s lonely sometimes.” He pauses, his fingers absentmindedly toying with the edge of his sleeve. “Not just the parenting stuff, but the other parts. Like when Haneul does something for the first time—takes a step, says a new word—and I just… look around.”

He shrugs, his lips twitching into a small, self-conscious smile. “And it hits me that there’s no one there to share it with. No one to laugh with, to say like, ‘Hey, did you see that?’”

He laughs quietly, a little embarrassed. “I don’t know. Maybe that sounds selfish. But it’s the truth.”

You shake your head. “It’s not. I think we all want someone to share our life with. It’s not wrong to want that.”

He looks over at you, his gaze holding yours with a gentle intensity. “I guess… it’s easier to admit that with you here. It’s funny because in some ways, you’ve been that person for me, for us.”

The words hang between you and the silence stretches, buzzing with a feeling you can’t quite name. You’re painfully aware of every detail—the curve of his lips, the way his hand rests on his lap, the tenderness in his eyes. You know there’s something there, simmering, and you wonder if he can feel it too.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “Thanks for being here tonight. Really.”

You smile back, heart racing. “Thank you for trusting me. I know… this isn’t easy for you.”

As you sit there, side by side in your matching capybara slippers, the feeling of wanting more, of something real and lasting, settles into your chest. It’s a feeling you thought you’d put on the backburner, but here, with Yoongi, it’s igniting again.

You find yourself chilling at Namjoon’s apartment, days after that dinner, sprawled across his couch with a plate of instant jjajangmyeon balanced precariously on your lap. Some indie album is playing in the background, and you’re too caught up in your spiraling thoughts to even notice Namjoon observing you between bites.

“I’m screwed,” you say suddenly, poking at your noodles with your chopsticks.

Namjoon doesn’t even look affected. “What now?”

“It’s your fault, you big oaf.”

“K stop being cryptic,” he says, motioning for you to explain. “What did I do this time?”

You drop your chopsticks with an exasperated sigh. “Yoongi.”

“Mhm… What about hyung?”

You hesitate, pressing your lips together before blurting out, “I think… I think I like him… again.”

For a moment, Namjoon just stares at you, his expression unreadable. And then he has the audacity to laugh, nearly choking on his noodles as he leans back against the cushions.

“You’re so predictable,” he says between chuckles, shaking his head. “God I knew this was coming.”

You narrow your eyes at him, offended. “What do you mean you knew this was coming?”

“I mean, come on,” he says, gesturing at you with his chopsticks. “You’ve been spending all this time at his place, basically co-parenting Haneul with him. You’re acting like this is some big revelation when it’s been written all over your face.”

You stare at him. “Wow. Are you done?”

Namjoon smirks, tossing his empty takeout box onto the table before leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Okay, okay. Let’s unpack this,” he says, mock-serious. “You like him again. Fine. Why is that a bad thing?”

“Because, dude, it’s Yoongi. What if he’s not actually feeling it, which won’t be the first time? And! I still don't know why he suddenly has a son.”

“You have to ask him that.” Namjoon sets his drink down, his expression sobering slightly. “But answer this—Are you over Jiyong?”

The mention of your ex makes your stomach twist, but you nod, sighing. “Yeah. I’m over him. I’ve come to terms with it. He wasn’t the one for me.”

“Damn right, he wasn’t,” Namjoon mutters, shaking his head. “That guy was an asshole. I never liked him, you know.”

“I know,” you say, laughing softly. “You made it pretty obvious.”

“Good,” he replies firmly. “Because you deserve better. Way better.”

You glance at him, your heart warming a little. “Thanks, Joon.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he says, leaning back against the couch. “We’re not done talking about hyung.”

You groan again, flopping back against the cushions. “This is so pathetic.”

“No, it’s not,” Namjoon says, his voice softening. “It’s cute. Gross, but cute. And honestly, if hyung’s finally starting to let someone in, I’d rather it be you than some rando.”

You blink, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “You’re really still shipping us after all these years?”

“Of course,” he says, nudging your knee with his. “You’re good for each other. I’ve known this all along.”

A pause settles as you finish your meal and Namjoon, his drink.

Then, he shakes his head like he’s just realized something. “So this is why Yoongi hyung has been sneaking in some extra work out time in between rehearsals.”

“He’s been walking around his house shirtless. Well, it’s his house, so…” you shrug, pretending you dgaf when really you’ve been thwarting mini heart attacks.

Namjoon’s eyes widen. “No fuckin’ way.”

“Don’t you dare tell him,” you warn, pointing your chopsticks at him.

He smiles wide, teeth blackened by the jajangmyeon sauce. “Only if you say yes to a night out.”

You groan, already mourning the loss of a perfectly good night of doom scrolling, as you toss him a paper towel. “Fine. When?”

You arrive at the bar later than planned. It’s some newly opened speak-easy in Gangnam owned by Joon’s friend. As you push the door that looks like a bookcase from outside, a rush of cool air ruffles the skirt you’re wearing. You definitely took a bit of time selecting your outfit and doing your makeup today, and now you feel really good, great even, even though you initially dreaded going out.

As you scan the room, you spot Namjoon in a large circular booth near the back, surrounded by familiar faces. He spots you first, waving you over with that dimpled grin of his. As you approach, you notice that the atmosphere is already loose and lively, evidenced by the various bottles and half-consumed glasses already on the table. 

Jin is leaning back, looking exasperated, and Hobi is covering his mouth as he laughs, his face flushed from the drinks he’s clearly had more than a few of. And there’s a girl beside him, who you vaguely recognize as the same one from when you watched their rehearsals.

“Look who finally decided to show up!” Namjoon calls out, standing up to envelop you in a hug.

“The star has arrived,” you jest, doing a flower pose on your face. Hobi rises to give you a hug, then Jin follows suit. 

“This is Yunjin,” Hobi introduces the redhead beside him. “My lovely wife.”

Yunjin has the same megawatt smile to match Hobi’s. “Glad to meet you.”

“Good to meet you, too!” you say back as you hug.

“You clean up nice,” your best friend comments as you all settle back inside the booth. “When you’re not acting like a hermit in your condo.”

“I know,” you roll your eyes, surreptitiously scanning the vicinity. “Who else is coming?” you hope you’re not painfully obvious on who you were wishing would be there.

“Just us,” Joon side eyes you, before adding. “Yoongi-hyung just stepped away for a second.”

“Ah.” 

As if on cue, Yoongi steps into view.

And goddamn. Your brain corrupts for a moment, and you swear you hear soft K-drama OST music in the background.

He runs a hand through his hair as he surveys the room as if he has some invisible wind machine following him. He’s wearing a black blazer that fits perfectly over a simple white tank. There’s a flash of silver at his waist from his belt that hugs his light-wash jeans. A small pop of pink on his neck somehow softens the whole look, a cute touch.

He looks so effortlessly good it’s almost obnoxious. The thing is, you’re pretty sure he knows it. That smirk on his face is very telling.

“Hey, you made it,” he says quietly, sliding into the seat next to you as if he belongs there. He grabs the drink by your elbow to take a sip and you get a whiff of his scent—musky, woody, dangerous.

“Yeah,” you squeak, no clue how you will manage to act normally around him now, but a joke seemed appropriate. “Shit. Nobody said my ‘employer’ was gonna be here. Now I have to be on my best behavior.” You say to the others in a whisper.

“DON’T,” Yoongi groans, shaking his head, lower lip bitten in mock irritation.

The rest laugh at your exchange. Hobi slides a shot of whatever to you, and you take it, grateful.

“You missed a big reveal by the way,” Namjoon says. “Apparently, Jin-hyung has officially sworn off women for all eternity.”

Jin rolls his eyes. “Ha-ha. It’s called having a life outside of getting your dick wet, thank you very much. Not everyone needs to be a simp like you.”

“Who is it this time, Joonie?” You ask, taking a tiny sip from the shot glass.

“Soyeon.” Everyone says in chorus. Even Yoongi says it under his breath.

“Oh, god,” you breathe out. “You’re on again?”

Namjoon sighs, “I know, I know. She’s got me in a chokehold.”

Jin raises his drink. “To Namjoon-ah, the biggest simp we know.”

Namjoon shakes his head, laughing in defeat as everyone clinks glasses.

“…and to Seokjin being forever bitchless.” You add under your breath, exchanging giggles with Yunjin.

“Yah!” Jin shouts from his beer glass and you throw him a wink.

“Speaking of simping,” Hobi says, drawing out the word as he looks pointedly at Yoongi. 

“Hoba.” Yoongi warns. You’re curious now.

“The new songwriters Si-hyuk on-boarded from America. They saw you with Haneul. I heard them calling you a DILF.”

Hobi practically falls apart, laughing so hard he clutches his sides. Jin and Namjoon aren’t far behind, their cackling attracting stares from neighboring tables. Even Yoongi can’t fully suppress his grin, though he tries valiantly to play it off. You laugh along, but you feel your face heating up and you don’t know exactly why.

“So you already have an in,” Jin says, reaching over to give Yoongi a hearty slap on the back. “Even you could use a good distraction once in a while.”

“Hajimaaaa,” Yoongi complains, brushing off Jin’s grasp on his shoulder. “Hoba’s just making shit up.”

“I’m not lying!” Hobi raises his right hand up as if he’s swearing an oath. Then he mock-complains, “Nobody ever calls me a DILF.”

Yunjin elbows him on the stomach and Hobi splutters, as they start bickering playfully.

Then Namjoon turns his sights on you. “Hey y/n, you're a girl,” he starts and immediately, you know he is setting you up for something.

“Keen eye,” you deadpan, placing the shot glass on your lips.

“So,” Namjoon says, dimples deepening as he leans in, gestures to Yoongi, “objectively… is he?”

“Is he what?” you grit, but your eyes are screaming ‘Don’t you dare, Kim Namjoon. Don’t you fucking dare, you piece of shit.’

Namjoon raises his eyebrows, looking every bit the trouble-maker. “A DILF?”

Motherfucker.

You nearly choke on your drink, fighting the urge to strangle your best friend as his grin widens, clearly enjoying your discomfort. 

“You’re an asshole, objectively speaking. And I need a real drink if this is how tonight’s gonna go,” you down the entire shot before moving to slide out of the booth to escape before you’re forced to answer.

Yoongi moves out to give you space and decides, “I’ll go with you.” 

As you head toward the bar together, you feel the warmth of Yoongi’s hand on the small of your back. You chance a quick look back at Namjoon, who’s wearing an absolute shit-eating grin, clearly pleased with himself, like this has been his master plan all along—more than ten years in the making.

You decide to go to the bar outside. It’s quieter here and you also need the fresh air.

“Sorry about that…” Yoongi scratches the back of his neck.

“Oh please, no need to apologize for Namjoon’s dumb behavior.” You wave a hand, as if it’s really no big deal. But your insides are still churning.

“So who’s with Haneul tonight?” You ask as you perch on the bar stool.

“My eomma. She’s going to be staying in town for the next two weeks since it’s Han’s birthday.”

“Wow,” you say, excited. “What’s the plan?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Ah, something small. Just family, maybe a couple of friends. Nothing too big. He won’t even remember it.”

You laugh lightly. “Yeah, but you should be celebrating your first year as a dad, too.”

He smiles faintly at that, nodding. “Maybe. But I’m terrible at planning stuff like this. I was gonna keep it simple—a cake, some balloons, that’s it.”

“Well, if you need help, let me know,” you offer casually, trying to keep your tone light even as your stomach flutters at the thought of being part of something so special.

“You sure?”

“100%,” you say, nudging him lightly with your elbow. 

“I don’t want to impose, though. You already do so much.”

“You’re not imposing,” you reply firmly. “I want to help. Besides, I’m already halfway to being Han’s favorite person.”

“Halfway?” he repeats, huffing. “You’ve already taken that spot–100%.”

You grin, feeling your cheeks warm. “What can I say? I’m irresistible to one-year-olds.”

Yoongi’s still for a moment, his gaze lingering on you. There’s something thoughtful in his expression, before mumbling under his breath, “Maybe not just to one-year-olds.”

Eh?

But before you can say anything, he already gestures to call the bartender to take your drink orders.

You’re glad you went out tonight. It’s been a while since you had spent time with a group that made you feel so welcome. Despite the jovial mood you’re in, your social battery is definitely drained. Yoongi notices and asks if you want a ride home since he also needs to go for father duties. You both say your goodbyes and head to his car in the parking lot.

The drive is quiet but not awkward, the soft music filling the space between you during the quick drive to your apartment. When he pulls up in front of your place, you hesitate for a second, debating whether to invite him in. But then you remember the absolute disaster inside—clothes flung everywhere, shoes scattered, your makeup bag abandoned on the kitchen counter in your rush to get ready. Plus, you don’t even have a couch, so…

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’d invite you in, but, uh… my place looks like a crime scene right now.”

He has a confused look on his face, so you explain, “Tried on half my closet before settling on this.”

His gaze sweeps over your outfit, but not in a way that feels invasive. If anything, he looks appreciative. “Worth it,” he says simply, and your heart does a somersault.

There’s a moment, a pause where you should say goodnight. Get out of the car. But something about the way Yoongi’s eyes are still on you makes your pulse quicken, and suddenly, it’s like the air between you feels heavier.

“Stay here,” he says softly, stepping out of the car and walking around to your side. He opens your door, his hand outstretched to help you out, and you take it, letting him guide you onto the sidewalk.

He doesn’t let go of your hand. The short walk up to your apartment feels longer than it should, yet you don’t want it to end.

When you reach your door, you turn to face him, suddenly unsure of what to say. “Well… goodnight, I guess.”

Yoongi hesitates for a moment, hand still lightly grasping yours. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay…” Your throat felt dry saying that.

“I umm found Haneul a nanny. Youngbae-hyung recommended this agency they used to find theirs and I’ve signed on someone who’s starting soon.”

You’re a little shocked at the news. This is good though because Yoongi really needs a more reliable and constant solution to their caregiving needs. Despite the heavy feeling that has settled in your chest, you try to lighten the mood with a joke that doesn’t quite land, “Why does this feel like a break-up?”

Yoongi shakes his head, lips curved into a small smirk, as he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, “Not even close.” He releases a sigh. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you nod, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Can I kiss you goodnight?”

The question takes you by surprise, the vulnerability in his voice making your heart ache, but this time, in the best way. You nod, smiling softly. “Yeah. You can.”

He steps closer, his hand brushing lightly against your arm before tilting your chin up gently. The kiss is soft, tentative, like he’s savoring every second. You are, too. It’s just… sweet. Like a first kiss should be. Perfect.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. For a moment, neither of you moves, like you can’t believe what just happened.

Yoongi’s eyes flutter shut as he confesses, “Is it bad that I want to do that again already?”

“No, ‘cause same…” Your hands reach out, grasping the lapels of his jacket, and you pull him back in.

Yoongi responds instantly, his hands sliding to your waist as he presses you gently against the wall, his warmth and weight upon you dangerously addictive. His tongue brushes yours, soft and slick, that spark of contact so electric that you feel yourself melting further into him. Your arms loop around his neck, bringing him closer, and when his lips part against yours, his teeth catch your bottom lip, sucking on it softly before letting it go. The sensation sends a shiver racing down your spine, and you can’t help the quiet moan that escapes you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, threading through the silky strands before one hand slides down to find the belt loop of his jeans. You tug on it, pulling him impossibly closer, until there’s no space left between your bodies.

Yoongi groans against your mouth as your bodies collide, your chest against his, his leg in between your thighs, fitting into each other like tetris pieces. As your nails scratch the tufts of hair by his nape, a rumble, low and rough, escapes his throat, sending another wave of heat straight to your core. His hands grip your waist tighter, grounding you even as your world shifts.

When you finally pull back, your breaths come fast and uneven. His hair is slightly mussed from your fingers, his lips flushed and slightly parted, and he looks at you with a mix of wonder. You feel kind of proud, taking in his sexy, disheveled appearance.

“I really should’ve tidied up my place,” you murmur, your fingers still loosely hooked in his belt loop.

Yoongi blinks, dazed for a moment, before letting out a soft chuckle. “It’s fine. There will be other times.” His fingers brush against your shoulder as he gently hooks the strap of your top that had slipped down, carefully sliding it back into place.

“Other times, huh?” you tease.

He licks his kiss-bitten lip, smirks and says, “Good night.”

“Good night,” you reply as you watch him retreat down the hall.

“I’ll text you,” he calls over his shoulder before disappearing into the elevator, leaving you standing at your doorway, your lips still tingling and your heart on your sleeve.

You close the door, leaning back against it with a sigh.

That same night, you resolve to go to IKEA to finally buy a damn couch and a bedframe. You know, just in case. For those other times.

Yoongi: haneul says he misses you You: Oh, rly? He talks full sentences now? Yoongi: yes? You: I miss him, too. Yoongi: good. see u tomorrow? You: I’m so there, no question Yoongi: good night

Yoongi’s apartment is alive with energy, the living room transformed into a whimsical—but slightly chaotic—mix of cats and capybaras. It’s a theme that feels both playful and oddly fitting, a nod to Haneul’s love for capybaras (which you take full credit for) and Yoongi being a literal cat daddy. Yours, hopefully, but the thing is… it’s been awkward. At least for you.

You spent the morning hanging streamers, tying balloons, and carefully setting up the decorations while Yoongi grumbled about the sheer number of things to assemble.

At some point, Yoongi takes your hand and introduces you to his mom. Just your name—no label, no context, no indication of what you are to him beyond someone who is here, present, and involved. It had been a brief, polite exchange, but you couldn’t help the twinge of awkwardness that followed, even if Yoongi’s hand stayed clasped with yours and he may have dropped a chaste kiss on top of your head before he had to go say hi to other guests. 

Your relationship—or lack thereof—still feels undefined. You haven’t had the talk with Yoongi since that kiss after the night out. You’re in this off, lukewarm state, caught somewhere between the heat of semi-flirty late-night texts and the cold hard truth that he’s been too busy to really sit down and talk. With their comeback just weeks away, his rehearsals have been relentless, and you’ve told yourself not to take it personally. You know how this goes.

But still. Seeing him now, watching him laugh softly at something Namjoon said while adjusting Haneul’s tiny party hat, a knot twists in your stomach. You just don’t know how to properly operate in this space that’s in flux.

You shake the thoughts away, willing yourself to shelf the conversation for later. It’s Haneul’s day, you remind yourself. Whatever questions you have about you and Yoongi can wait.

“Noona, these cupcakes are so good!” Jungkook calls out, holding up one with a cat face on it.

“Thank you, Kook! Can’t take credit for them though. I just got them from a pastry shop near my place.”

“Still, you’ve got good taste,” he says, licking the frosting that makes up the cat’s tail.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings. Yoongi, closest to the door, moves to answer it. You don’t think much of it until you hear Yoongi’s voice croak. “What are you doing here?”

Curiosity piqued, you glance toward the doorway, and that’s when you see her.

Tall, gorgeous, and impossible to miss. Lee Sung Kyung steps inside, her polished, effortless elegance making her stand out. She barely spares a glance at anyone else, her focus entirely on Yoongi.

Your stomach drops. You have a bad feeling about this.

Namjoon is at your side in an instant, his voice low. “Hey… I think we need to talk.”

“What?” you ask, forcing a smile as you pick up a napkin, pretending to tidy the already-organized table. But your eyes are glued to the scene by the entrance, at Yoongi’s clenched jaw, and Sung Kyung’s outstretched arm.

You feel a little miffed that Namjoon takes you by the elbow, voice insistent as he says, “NOW.”

"Joon," You ask, mustering all your courage, even though you are terrified of the answer. "Who is she?"

"She's Lee Sung Kyung."

Your ears are ringing and you grit your teeth as you respond, "I fucking know her name." You repeat the question, slower, a little angrier. "Who. is. she."

Namjoon hesitates, his jaw tightening before he answers. “She’s Haneul’s mom.”

Part Three >

A/N: dun dun DUN. 🙉 I need y'all in the comments! <3 How are you feeling??? Feedback is super appreciated and helps keep my motivation high ✨

I am so excited to share part 3.

Hope you all are sattt 🪑

Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful human! 💜

& If you want to read more of my work, please check out my Masterlist

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[dadvans]

when I want to run away (I drive off in my car) [bucktommy]

Chimney comes over with an armful of DVDs. Mandated brother-in-law break-up bonding time. Buck is pretty sure that isn’t a thing, at least not the kind that Chimney seems to be suggesting with what are discernibly all romcom titles. Buck is pretty sure Chimney should be taking him out and getting him wasted and encouraging him to get laid, but then again he’s friends with Tommy too so there might be some allegiance at play here.

He groans when Chimney puts on Say Anything.

“What, you actually know a movie made before 2012?”

“Tommy loves this one,” Buck replies. There had been a showing at repertory cinema in July and Tommy had dragged them both to escape the afternoon heat. It had been… sweet. There had maybe been three other people in the place who ignored them in the back row, making out like teenagers.

“Yeah, he’s always been a secret softie,” Chimney says.

“I’d say you should be over at his place with these,” Buck continues, flipping through the titles. Love Actually. The Proposal. Crazy, Stupid, Love. “These are actually his favorites. Wait, was I your second choice?”

“What? No,” Chimney says, but he sounds kind of cagey about it.

“He’s probably too busy cliff diving or BASE jumping.” Buck drops the DVDs. “He was the one who dumped me, remember? I don’t think he’s too hung up to need a chick flick movie marathon.”

“Now that is not true. Secret softie, remember? He’s hurting as much as I’ve ever seen, he just doesn’t wear it on his sleeve like some people.” Chimney gives him a very pointed look. “I bet he stood outside your door a half hour after he left hoping you’d chase after him, feeling like a total idiot.”

That’s new. “Did he tell you that?”

Chimney shrugs. “Maybe not verbatim, but he may have let something slip in a moment of total weakness.”

Buck snorts. “So, what are you doing over here with me and these then?”

“I was maybe hoping I could inspire you into some of your usual Buck heroics,” Chimney admits, then has the gall to look offended when Buck twists to stare at him, confused. “What? I’m a meddler. I notoriously meddle. C’mon, he said some things he wishes he could take back, but maybe he’s not as confident as you give him credit for. He’s a romcom guy. He could use a little woo-ing too, you know. Someone who makes him feel like he’s worth fighting for. A big gesture! Not—not moving in or anything, but just—you see what I’m saying here?”

Buck stares at young John Cusack paused on his TV screen and smiles to himself. “Yeah, I think I might.”

He spends the rest of the day off his couch driving through half the pawn shops in Glendale before he finds himself, sun setting at his back, outside Tommy’s house. He parks between Tommy’s truck in the drive and walks down the sidewalk where Tommy’s kitchen window is lit up and open.

Tommy comes outside thirty seconds later to the sound of Peter Gabriel blasting out of the second hand stereo Buck’d finally found with an aux input at St. Vincent de Paul’s. His mouth twitches as he crosses his arms before he coughs and tucks his head down, briefly.

“Really?” He asks when he blinks back up at Buck, eyes wet like the last time Buck saw him: hope there, fleeting, wanting so badly to swim to the surface and stay. “Wait, did you plug your phone into that thing?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, loud enough over the music the whole neighborhood can probably hear him. “I don’t know how to burn CDs.”

Tommy’s smile finally cracks through, and he nods before taking several careful steps across his dead lawn, feet bare, so he can get two tentative hands on Buck’s hips. “Well, if you want to come inside,” he says, “I can show you.”

[11rosebunny]

Hiiii, just to say I love your Shishitoren and Bofurin contents, I'm so glad that I found your blog 😊. Personally, I prefer Togame, but your writing of them all is so great ^.^

Could you maybe do a jealous story like them reacting to you beings jealous or just them being jealous/possessive (I love this trope)?

Like Togame and Suo being jealous, just give me life 😂

It's okay if you don't want too no worry ^^❤️

(Sorry if it's not clear. English isn't my first language)

When they are jealous

—Haruka Sakura, Toma Hiragi, Jo Togame, Hayato Suo

Haruka Sakura

When it comes to someone else taking your attention away, as much as he'd like to convince himself he's chill about it, inside he is jumping around in circles.

For the most part, he's able to control himself and differentiate when you're being just kind and flirting back, so usually, he doesn't mind it if another guy speaks to you in a nicer tone.

However, if he comes to notice that the guy begins to go on a tangent, ultimately speaking a little too much to you than he'd like, starts to grow a bit irritated. Of course he won't go up to the guy and punch him, after all, the person he so happens to be usually jealous of is Nirei.

His face transforms into a small scowl, while trying to shift his eyes away from the scene. At the same time he keeps repeating to himself,

'I don't care I don't care I don't care I don't care.'

Spoiler alert, he does care.

The worst part is, he can not blame the air-headed male for acting like how he acts, when it's literally his personality. So when he witnesses the both of you becoming a little too friendly, the best he will do is force himself into the conversation, regardless if he was even in it or not.

Afterwards when Nirei finally leaves, he waits till he's far enough before launching his body towards yours in a flash.

Toma Hiragi

If you've never seen jealous, then you have now. It's not the usual for Hiragi to explode on sight at another dude that seems to be hitting on you, other than if it was a random guy, then he's surely dragging you away with him to wherever, while cussing out the boy to leave you alone.

But when it comes to people he knows, he's jealous of Umemiya, and not for those reasons. Hiragi is aware that he's best friend simply has an outgoing and extroverted personality, he doesn't blame him whenever he gets a little too close. But jeez does it drive him crazy on the inside.

His mood instantly shifts, but not in way anyone would expect it to go. Rather then blowing up at the grey-haired male, instead, the atmosphere around him grows calmer, almost as if he's trying to avoid its not happening. The tactic for him, is it straight up ignore it by any means possible.

He'll start responding with dryer answers to anyone and spends a hefty amount of time on his phone to get the scene off his mind of Umemiya guiding you with him around the place on the roof top. He might even throw in some earbuds and blast rock music.

Afterwards when you two are back together, you can't tell if he had a scowl on his face while walking away with you by his side.

"Is something the matter?" You asked looking up at him. He doesn't say anything, still too pissed about what happened earlier so instead, he reaches his long arm behind your back to the side of your hip and brings you a bit closer to him without saying another word.

Jo Togame

Whenever he finds himself in a tight situation, specifically in public when a guy that's being friendlier than usual comes by to say hello, he's able to hold himself together very well for the first few minutes.

He even adds himself to the conversation whenever he sees a chance to—purely because he does not want to seem like a loose thread just watching the both of you speak when he's right beside you standing like a weirdo. However, when he starts to take note of how the other guy is getting closer, all up in your face, flat out ignoring whenever your boyfriend chimes in, and worst of all throwing in hints that you two should meet another time, he knows right away.

This is one of the very few times where he finds it extremely hard to keep his cool and usually, he's able to do that.

Seeing that he can't really talk to the guy because he keeps ignoring him, he'll slickly wrap his arm around your shoulder to lean on you or he'll wrap his arm around your waist and at the slightest—pull you closer to him. He stays quiet the entire time, he won't see this situation as such a huge deal where he has to hammer the guy into pieces, but there is a tiny part of him where his ego begins to escape.

He'll never cut your time short simply because he wouldn't want his time to be cut short either, but the most he'll ever do (which is quite intimidating), he will whisper in your ear.

"Are you trying to piss me off?" All while putting a smile on his face.

He only does this when he feels like it's going too far and for him, it works. Hearing his deep voice whisper in your ear to watch what you're doing makes you do a reality check that if Togame really wanted to beat up the guy right in front of you, he would without a doubt.

Hayato Suo

It's extremely hard to make him feel jealous. He knows how to keep his cool and trained himself to never lash out at all, only if something absurd had happened right before his eyes. But aside from that, even if you try to get him jealous, chances are—it's not working.

Even speaking to another guy, spending more time with your friends, or replying late, he will never get jealous or mad at you for that. So what is the only circumstance where he does feel a slight hinge of jealousy?

That is only when you get physical with another guy. He can flirt with you for all he cares and yet, he will never get upset at the sight of the random guy calling you pretty (he might even add on and say "She is, isn't she?") but the moment he sees him trying to lay a finger on you, there's a chance where he'll grip his arm in midair to stop him from touching you.

"I think that's enough yes?" He says while pulling you closer to him and putting the guys arm away.

Afterwards, the whole mood of the conversation changes, in fact he might be the only one who continues his happy go lucky personality and on with the conversation. It's awkward, the way he flat out rejected the guy for you without you even asking. Not to say that you didn't appreciate it, but now it made the other guy uncomfortable which was what Hayato was striving for anyways.

He's pricky whenever someone tries to touch you and the only time where you'll see his attitude changes.

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife #10 : Snack Time

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Momma bird hungry for all the snacks in the world. Takes some time and frustration before Joel figures out the exact kind of snack you really want.

Warnings: Pregnant reader, Angry!Joel, oral M!receiving, face fucking, throat bulge, throat-pie, dumbification, junk food binge, eating meat, bossy reader as always

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel didn’t know he married the Hungry Hungry Hippo, Galactus the planet devourer, Garfield the tabby cat.

You’re on your phone texting while cuddling Joel. He’s more interested in the movie than you are, but that doesn’t stop him from tracing his finger along your arm, occasionally kissing the top of your head and nuzzling his nose. He loves the scent of your shampoo after a wash, damp and cold against his warm chest. Sometimes you protest how closely he wants to cuddle you, all smushed up on the couch. Your body temp skyrocketed with the baby changing everything. But since he’s keep the AC on full blast, your warm heavy body keeps him from being a popsicle.

The landlines chimes in from the kitchen.

He rolls his eyes. Of course, something to interrupt the comfort that took 40 minutes for you to settle into. "I'll get it,” He grumbles quickly and hoists himself up off the couch. He wants to make whoever the fuck is calling at such a late hour a quick convo. If it’s fucking Tommy needing bailed out again, he thinks begrudgingly, I’ll just hang up on him. 

He clears his throat and answers: “Hello, Miller Residents.”

"Can you get me a bowl of Cap'n crunch while you're up?"

He glances back over at you sitting up on the couch, your cell to your ear as you wave at him. you point to your belly mouthing I T S  F O R  T H E  B A B Y.

It’s for the baby, my ass. You’ve been a hungry hungry hippo who’s been snacking like crazy and ignoring the doctor’s warnings. 

But cranky Momma is way worse than a scolding doctor. 

He grits his teeth and slams the receiver a little too hard down on the desk.

You can hear him shuffling around in the kitchen, a clash of a bowl on the counter  and the jingle of overly processed cereal filling it up. 

He walks back into the living room. You’ve taken up the whole couch now, with no inclination to move over to let him back on.

You shove a fist into the bowl and pop a bunch of the crunchy orange squares into your mouth “f’anks” you mumble, eyes not once making contact with him as you stare ahead and much away. Crumbs fall onto your chest and down to the floor and sofa, as if Joel hadn’t just cleaned all of it this morning.

.

The next night, Joel's cooking some steaks. You weren’t really a meat-crazed person, having maybe one or two helpings of poultry or occasionally red beef a week, but normally ,you could go without it for a few meals without thinking about it. 

Pregnant momma? She was a fucking carnivore. He had barely set the sizzling steak down before you snatch one onto your plate. He turns around to slice into one, checking its temp before serving, only to see it was a bit too red and bloodied on the inside.

"Oh babe I gotta cook these a little longer; they're too rare--"

You were hacking away and tearing a large chunks of the red, near pulsing meat, juices pouring out your lips, a vampire gorged on a fat blood sucking meal. Despite its tenderness, you chew endlessly and stare off into the table like a Llama enjoying its food on the field. 

"Maybe...we should—slow down a bit,” he suggests with uncertainty. His fork and knife frozen in midair, still in each hand. He hasn’t shifted view or blinked, but clear worry (and maybe a tad bit of fear) stretch across his face.

"Uighgrrfmggmmdeeofxsw,” you reply with gargled cow remains sloshing in your wide open trap. 

 “Right. That."

You swallow what’s left. Joel’s does a double take: your steak is somehow gone, juice licked clean off the plate in front of you.

“Can I have yours???"

He had only sliced 4 cuts  for himself so far. But the hungry look in your pupils, licking your lips while watching his dinner, it’s clear you’ve answered for him. He sadly sets his cutlery down and slides his plate to you. 

Its even more interesting when you douse it in salt and throw a slab of butter on top of it, watching it melt before slicing a big chunk off.

"You gotta watch the salt intake—“

“—Can you make chicken? I want chicken now.”

“N-no,” he shakes his head, whiplash from the conversation. Maybe you’ve gone def AND blind AND lost your taste buds. “I made steak. You've had 2 steaks now. Why do you need chicken?”

“That second one was for the baby. The chicken is for me.”

“What about the fist one?”

“….We split that.”

“Awfully hungry baby,” he says with a dead tone, straight faced as he eats the one roll left in the basket that hasn’t been devoured by you. 

“Well she’s yours, isn’t she?” 

-

You wipe your face with a napkin, a fried chicken leg and wing now securely packed tight in your tum tum along with the famished baby.

"What's for dessert?" You chime eagerly.

Joel turns to wash the dishes, hiding his smirk. He’s got you now, no surprise cravings will catch him short on this one: He boasts proudly, “I bought you apple pie--"

"I want cupcakes. Whip cream icing. Chocolate.”

His grin quickly deflates into a frown. “No.” He says sternly, a little aggravated. “I bought you pie—“

"Did I say I want pie? L I S T E N,” you snap, slapping your palms together with each syllable. 

He puts his foot down with tense sudsy hands going to his hips. “No. I'm not going out again.”

You raise your eyebrows threateningly. One look.

30 minutes later Joel is shuffling into the house with a pack of 12 cupcakes he bought at the bakery.

-

You’ve managed to prop yourself up on the couch after some heaving. “Ha! The baby is making me workout get strong! Obviously that’s why I’m so hungry.” You shrug it off. “Oh! I want raw cookie dough.”

Joel was on his phone the entire time, but the second you said I want, his brain queued in and he quickly retorts, “No.”

He goes back to replaying the voicemail he missed, settled and focused on the opposite couch.

Of course he Doesn't realize you’ve somehow lumbered up past him and now waddling back with 4 chunks of raw cookies in your hand, popping them in your mouth one at a time.

His eyes dark up to watch you, transfixed on the screen as you bend your knees, hardly paying attention to the way you’re about to fall on the couch. He has half the mind to help, but what’s one lesson you need to learn the hard way?

Regretfully, you bounce down successfully and pull your legs up.

And then, as you dust your hands off from the chocolate stains melted on your palms, Joel’s lips part in a o as you reach behind you and pulling an entire gallon container of animal crackers. 

"Babe"

"Wha?” You don’t turn around to look at him, still shoveling them into your mouth. “Yuu wan wan?"

"You need to stop eating every damn thing in the house.”

You gasp incredulously, your hand over your heart in painful offense. “The baby is very hungry! She's related to you and that belly.”

He only remembers to stop himself from reminding you that your belly is much bigger than his now. 

"The baby—“ (that was the new thing now: the baby  this baby that. The baby is why I need this shirt in blue and green. The baby is why I need the ice cream layered horizontally not stacked vertically. The baby —)

"No. Not the baby,” he snaps. “You."

You start to cry. "I thought I AM your baby!!!" 

He gives you a “seriously” look and you stop the fake tears.

“So how about it?”

“I don’t want you getting salmonella.”

“ugh fine. You can bake them I guess.”

He’s about to protest the idea of any dough going into your body, cooked or raw, but knows its going to be a lost cause.

Joel makes you a platter of Assorted cookies: chocolate chip, fudge, triple chocolate, sugar, and oatmeal raisin.

You clap your hands as he carefully places the little plate atop your bump. Humored by the custom “mini” table you’ve got going on now. Maybe his baby doesn’t like her head being used as a countertop, but with the way you close your eyes and moan after biting into the chocolate chip, babygirl must be pleased too.

He goes to the bathroom quickly and then comes back only to glare down at you. You've taken exactly one bite out of every single cookie, leaving crescent shapes for him to scathe.

Every cookie, except oatmeal raisin. You clearly did take a bite ,but spit it out and put the lump back near the undesirable #1 cookie.

“These mine?” Joel asks bemused.

You nod happily. You felt very proud to have enough control and leave him some this time! 

-

It’s about 9:30 pm. You're acting drunk and woozy even tho you're just a new level of tired and achy

"Woopppoooooo!!! Paaartttaaayyy!" You shout with fists in the air, drinking down a shot glass of sugar water. 

“Alright party Momma. It’s bedtime.” 

"Ppfffttt! No old man! Dont steal my fun.”

Joel stands over the couch, blocking your view from the TV, his hands on his hips. “You're being difficult "

“YoU’rE bEiNg DifFicUlT,” you mock and wave him off. "Oop I need to pee. Help me up.”

Joel” grabs both your grabby hands and hoists you up to your feet. “Now up the stairs, you.”

You waddle towards the stairwell, one hand cupping your lower back. Joel is right at your heel. you up at the treaturous journey ahead, all 8 steps to the top floor. Cracking your neck side to side, you wave your arms over to the handrail and begin: “Left foot. Right foot. Left. Fuck. Fuck stairs. Who invented stairs. Left foot…”

Joel’s so sleepy that he nearly falls forward. And he knows you would not take too kindly to him ramming his face into your ass as you battle your worst enemy.

Finally to the top, you scurry over like a penguin to the bathroom. He fears the long night ahead, with all the sugar swirling in your system undoubtedly going to keep him up.

He rubs his wears eyes. Startled when a moment later you’re right next to him by your side of the bed, patiently waiting for him to help you up.

"Get in the covers,” he hums with exhaustion.

But you don’t move. “No"

"Now.”

"I want an orange.”

"No. You—you just had your snack."

"That was the baby's snack. I want MY snack”.

Dear Christ almighty, bless me with a boy next time so that I have a fighting chance against her and mini her. “If I get you an orange, will you go to bed?" He asks irritably, his voice enunciating each word to ensure the contract that he’s making with you right now is solidified on both ends of the bargain.

You think it over before nodding with a little innocent beam. 

You crawl into the covers just as Joel descends the stairs once again. It takes the entire time for him to grab some oranges, a peeler, and paper towel just for you to rotate your middle and sit your ass in bed.

You sit up against the headboard and clap your hands, so excited when he reappears with the goods. He puts the towel on your mini-table bump and plops one orange atop.

Joel sighs and begins to walk towards his side of the bed, but is haunted when you clear your throat for his attention.

“Yes?”

"Peel it.”

He tries not to visibly roll his eyes before he's opening the round orange with his large fingers and clubbed nails. Everything smells like nectarine now.

Picky as can be, you peel off the extra dried white veiny bits and suck on each pod of the orange.

You expect a sweet simpleness to squirt on your tongue, but instead, a sour, bitter, unripe taste floods your mouth. “Ugh these are gross, now I want—“

Joel closes his wardrobe drawer, his shirt off and only halfway down to his boxers. “NO. NO means fucking NO. I’M TIRED. YOU’RE TIRED. WE'RE GOING TO BED. NOW,” he barks sternly into the mirror. His shoulders huffing from such aggression without being able to look at you.

You throw the covers off, orange skin and slices flying everywhere.

“Fuck you! I want ice cream! I want bananas and steak and potatoes and tacos and—!" 

-

He bares his teeth in a snarl, deep angered eyes casting downward with each poignant rut. “You're so annoying, so goddamn spoiled,” he grunts. His huge hands are wrapped around the top of your head and  cupping your jaw and bulging cheek, keeping you in place as he pushes his length into your mouth over and over again. “You’re gonna do shit when I tell you, the first time I say—shit—fuck there we go—gonna listen—unnggghhfff—listen ta me from now on. Just be my good little silent. Slutty. Pregnant. Wife.”

Your teary eyes are fixed upward at his imposing figure. Feeling each time his tip nudges the back of your throat has you gagging but you can’t pull away to breathe—not that you want to.

“You get—what I give ya—and you be grateful bout it.”

You gargle a moan in agreement. His balls slap against your chin with brutal punches. by this time tomorrow, there will be Joel-finger prints bruising your face and neck.

You love it. You love it when Joel forces you out of the hormonal phase of bossing him around, the endless need to want more and more, no end in sight to your greedy gluttonous desires, until he’s blowing up and blowing off steam using you instead. And it becomes very clear to you how much you just really wanted him this whole time. 

“That’s it—that’s it—you were hungry for my cock weren’t ya? Yeahhhh. Just begging me all night for it. Wanted all that meat for dinner, huh? Couldn’t just come out n’ say it? Your little brain didn’t know what ya truly needed. S’okay, Momma. I’m takin’ care of ya, aren’t I?”

The gluglugglug sounds mixed with strained pitchy whines echo in the master bedroom.

You grip his thighs with your hands to steady yourself, allowing him to abuse your throat. Maybe your knees hurt. Maybe the baby is settling uncomfortably against your lower back, and maybe it’s going to be really difficult to get up from this position in a few minutes. But each thick throb of his length filling your mouth over and over again, the spit slick strings dropping from your lips to your swollen tits, and the dent in your throat from his cock stretching to accomodate his size has your swollen pussy dripping into the carpet for more, more, more. 

It’s been at least a week since Joel drained himself. No wonder he’s been so on edge with each demand. Usually marveling how cute you are, but tonight he was at him limit. You were about to get a hefty, Joel Miller sized load filling your belly, and it’s going to be better than any cookie, steak, or orange in the entire world.

He feels the way your lips suction tighter. Your eyes are leaking tears, and he smirks as he brushes his thumb over to collect it. Briefly bringing it to his tongue and sucking on the salty taste before holding your head in place. 

“Shhh-shhhhhhhh. You gonna take it? Shit—shit—fuck yeah you are. Gonna fuckin take what I give ya, that’s right. My sweet wife. Bossing me around. Shit. Love when ya get like this. Known I’m gonna wreck that ass or that pussy or that mouth—all belongs to me. Fuck—fuck—fuuckk—“

His mouth drops into an o, brows drawn tightly together as slams his pulsing member balls deep into your mouth one final time. You choke, eyes wide as the tip of his cock breaches the deepest part of your throat, your nose suffocated by his pubic hairs and the fat of his lower belly surrounding your cheeks. His balls twitch against your lower lip, and you feel it coming. The travel of his seed from his sack, up his shaft along your tongue—a generous spurt of cum finally shooting from his tip and down your throat. You gag with each fat load that he pumps down your esophagus, too much to swallow at once yet having no other choice but to gulp it down quickly. Your face feels hot. He’s cumming endlessly, your mind blanking and eyes feeling blurry.

“Take it, take it, take it, that’s it,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

You nod just a little, hugging your arms around his thick thighs tighter. He grins, humming “That’s my good fucking wife, and throws his head as the last of his pleasure makes its way safely from his sated balls to your full womb.

Joel pulls you off his length gently. You sputter out cum and saliva onto his feet, sucking in air through your lungs like a newborn. 

Joel gets to one knee, his thumb pressed gently under your chin so you look directly at him. He’s got such softness in his eyes again, the ones that just switch on a dime the second he’s satisfied his aggress out on you. 

You’re completely wrecked: snot spit connecting to your nostrils and swollen lips, cheeks warm and eyes puffy and hazy with exhaustion and tears.

“That—mmffffgg!—was—definitely—my—snack,” you rasp with a hoarse voice. A lazy grin spread across your face only briefly as you continue to suck air.

Joel shakes his head before planting a long kiss atop your forehead. his hands glide along your body, and just in time as your knees give way and you’re falling into him. 

If you had half the mind right now, you’d curse him out for scooping you up and carrying you to bed like his once youthful bride, too concerned with the size and weight of your new body putting unnecessary stress on his aging knees and back. But Joel doesn’t protest once. Just watches you with loving eyes as he settles you into the soft bed. His tongue dips to your chest and breasts, kissing and sucking away any remnants of his rough face fucking. His cum, your spit, and fuvk it, even the little snot specks—all of it he cleans up before coming up to your lips. He kisses you softly with gentle pecks, enough to ensure you can still catch your breath. He sucks your lower lip into your mouth before wiping his own with his thumb. You’re calmer now, sated and drifting so close to sleep.

Joel clambers into bed next to you, wrapping his arm under your head and swaddling you close. You instinctively roll into his embrace. Kissing his peck and rubbing your face against him dreamily with soft breaths. “Tha hit ther spert juss rite. Ur da bess, Jol.”

“I know. So are you.” He waits for a reply, but nothing comes from you. “Are you goin’ into a food coma, baby?”

Your gentle snores answer him, along with the drool now pooling on his peck.

He chuckles and pulls your head into his face, inhaling your scent. Strong, secure, graceful hands caress your big belly. Your very very full belly, the one that he’s not going to envy when it gives you a the tummy ache tomorrow from stuffing it with so much junk food tonight. 

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Seven: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink (Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation[Be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin is perfect boyfriend material. He’s also insane, but that’s okay. He’s thinkin’ some thoughts [diary entries from Ani AND you] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: July 14th

You’d better be so fucking glad that I’m not insane.

I offered you my weapon and you didn’t take it. You have zero self preservation skills, your fight or flight response is so low that it concerns me. You’re worse than a opossum, instead of playing dead you play pretend that it’s normal to have a home intruder with a knife in your bedroom.

You didn’t even attempt to get up and run, not that you could’ve. You wouldn’t have made it more than two steps without collapsing. You could hardly speak, slurring your words like a drunken fool.

You didn’t even call anyone after I left. Didn’t text anyone. Didn’t get out of bed until 1:00pm this morning. If I didn’t have the audio on full blast all night I would’ve busted back in and made sure you were still breathing.

Honestly I’m alittle jealous.

Stupid I know, to be jealous of myself. But you didn’t know it was me. Yet you still let me sit there, you let me talk to you, you let me scratch your head like a good little girl.

Did you really believe it was all a dream?

Do you remember it today?

Can you feel my hands on your skin? Can you taste my cum on your lips?

Did you know it was me?

Date

July 14th

You woke up groggy, way, way past the normal time your internal alarm clock jolts you awake. Disoriented wouldn’t even begin to describe how you felt right now. This was a feeling like nothing you’d ever experienced before.

Unlike last night when your mind was refusing to kick off the blanket of sleep while your body could scarcely react… now your mind was wide awake and running rapidly while your body was aching and not properly calibrated.

You’d been so utterly relaxed during your deep sleep that your muscles got the rest they’d been searching so desperately for your entire life. You felt loose, rested and smooth while also feeling as though you’d been stomped to a pulp by a stampede of angry cattle.

Your head felt swimmy, your lungs felt like they’d been working too hard. Your eyes still couldn’t fully focus either, so it was no surprise that you stumbled clumsily to the kitchen and spilled coffee grounds all over the counter.

You rested your forehead against your folded arms on the counter top, needed a moment to rest your eyes from the harsh lighting. The pounding in your head traveled from one side to the other, keeping a continuous presence behind your sensitive eyes. The moment of silence, well, it gave you time to think.

You had wanted so badly to believe last night was nothing but a weird ass dream, it wouldn’t have been the first time.

But your hopes were squashed when you woke up and saw your diary on the edge of your bed. Even the air felt disturbed, like your room itself was letting you know that it wasn’t all in your head.

He had said he wouldn’t hurt you and you believed him.

He didn’t hurt you.

But if not… why drug you? Was he planning on it and you’d interrupted his plans? Though being a kind, caring, crazy person he backed off instead of forcing you to endure whatever he decided for you while you were awake?

Or had you caught him after the deed had been done?

That ache. That horrible longing in your gut that just refused to go away… was gone. Not dulled, not in hibernation. You felt satisfied and sated.

He said he didn’t hurt you… maybe he just...

You shoved your thoughts into a corner and taped the box shut. That was absolutely sick, you cannot think that way. You can’t. What the hell is wrong with you? You shouldn’t be okay with that.

You should cry. You should scream and wail and cry and throw up.

But how could you be disgusted by a man that had taken away the yearning that had been so deeply rooted within you for so long? Maybe… maybe he didn’t even touch you like that.

Maybe whatever drug he’d given you had somehow flipped the reset switch.

“Sure.” You whispered to yourself, leaning against the countertop. “Sure, that’s all it is. Just that.”

“I have no reason to doubt him. If he wanted to hurt me he would’ve done it. I caught him, if he was truly a terrible person he probably would’ve killed me.” You reasoned with yourself.

“He just came to say hello.” You put your face in your hands, breathing deeply. “Yep. Yep. Yep. That’s all.”

You chose to ignore that fact that your panties were glued to your cunt that morning.

Conveniently over looked the obvious hickey on your left breast.

Pretended not to notice the taste of something salty in the corner of your mouth.

That’s all in your head. He didn’t do that, you didn’t feel sore. You would feel that wouldn’t you? You would’ve woken up right?

‘Right. I would’ve felt it. I would’ve woken up. So it was a dream. Yes.’ You nodded resolutely in agreement with your inner voices.

Some guy dressed as Ghostface was not in your bedroom.

You got out your diary to write about your night at the bar and how wonderful it was, and you fell asleep before you could put your pen to the paper.

Someone slipped something in your drink and it made you sleep very soundly. Someone who didn’t get the chance to take advantage because your two best friends walked you home.

Your subconscious knew that’s what happened and it made all that other stuff up. It’s time to reevaluate your bookshelf. No more dark romance. It’s turned your brain to mush.

Anakin. You should go ask Anakin to review the footage from the bar security cameras. Put your mind at ease that no one had even attempted to follow you home. Maybe you’ll see that no one even drugged you in the first place and you just have one hell of a hangover and an overactive imagination.

First things first though, scoop up those spilled coffee grounds and dump them into the filter. The water gets hot enough, it’ll be fine.

Absentmindedly grabbing your new hello kitty mug, you failed to notice the slip of paper inside until you almost poured creamer over it.

You quickly snatched it up and unfolded it.

‘Sleep well?’

——————————————————————————

“Anakin!” You banged on his front door and he answered relatively quickly.

He appeared in a pair of flannel checkered pajama pants and a short sleeved white shirt, socked feet and messy hair.

“I’m not picking my nose I swear, I’m changing my nose ring.” He grinned, one finger in his left nostril while he screwed on the ball to a new black steel ring, replacing the previous plain stainless steel one.

“M’sorry I didn’t mean to-“

“No worries baby, what’s up?” He asked, running a hand through his hair before shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Can you do me a favor please?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Of course, what’d you need princess?” He asked, his face full of sympathy. “Wanna come in? We can chat.”

He didn’t wait for you to answer, he simply stepped aside and held the door open, lifting that arm slightly so he could usher you underneath his arm and into his apartment.

“Need a drink or anything?” He asked, thumbing toward the fridge.

When you shook your head he gently grasped one of your elbows and brought you to the couch, he kneeled on one knee and held both your hands with his. He looked up at you like he was studying the most delicate piece of artwork on earth.

“What’s going on doll?” He whispered, tucking a hair behind your ear, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Your eyes flashed at his lips quickly, and widened slightly, but you shook your head.

‘If only you knew.’ You thought, your inner voice giving a mirthless laugh.

“N-no.” You sighed. “Is there anyway you can convince your boss to let me look through the security footage from the bar last night?”

“Yeah sure, I doubt he’d care.” Anakin shrugged. “Why? Did you lose something?”

“Um no.” You said, contemplating on telling him your story, no matter how stupid it might make you look.

“You can tell me anything sweetheart.” Anakin cooed.

“It’s just… I think maybe someone slipped something in my drink last night.”

“You think someone drugged you?” He repeated, his hands tightening around yours.

“Well I don’t know for sure!” You said quickly. “I just woke up feeling weird and dizzy… n’ well I don’t know it doesn’t matter.”

“I’ll make sure we get that footage okay?” He promised, pulling you into his chest and smoothing your hair down your back.

You didn’t speak, you just let him pet you for a moment. The thought of telling him what had actually happened scared you. It made your stomach flip, twist into knots and yank your guts so tightly that you thought you’d never be able to eat again.

He’d think you’re nuts. He’d think you’re a liar. He’d think you wrote that note yourself. He… what would he do? If he believed you? Would he call the cops? Get angry at you for not doing it yourself?

You were vaguely aware of Anakin speaking to you and once he realized you weren’t comprehending a single word, he stopped. He leaned back to look at your face where it rested against his chest.

“Babydoll?” He said worriedly, waving his hand in front of your face to get your attention. “What’s got you all tore up?” He asked in a whisper.

You shook your head, hoping to scramble your thoughts back into order.

“It’s nothing, I just…” You breathed deeply, realizing only now that you’d started to cry.

The safety you felt with Anakin had allowed you to feel these confused feelings in a closed and controlled environment. You chided yourself for thinking he’d react offensively, you may as well just tell him. At least part of it… right?

“Hey, princess.” He said, his voice tinged with a worried kind of uncertainty. “You’re kinda scaring me, I need you to talk to me baby.” He whispered softly.

“I think someone broke into my house last night.” You blurred out suddenly, your words surprising yourself. The moment they left your lips the words caused you to shudder, eyes watering, staring at Anakin like a poor hopeless little kitten on an ASPCA commercial.

“What do you mean someone broke into your house?” He asked sternly, his hands firm on your shoulders.

“I don’t know. Maybe I imagined it.” You said embarrassedly.

“I checked all over the apartment this morning and can’t seem to find out how they got in. I just remember someone being there.” You added, biting your lip as you picked at the skin on your fingers.

“Do you want me to go look?” He asked softly. “You can stay right here, I’ll go look if you want.”

“Really?” You sniffled. “Will you?”

“Of course.” He soothed, cupping your face with both hands and wiping the remnants of your tears away. “You stay put. I’ll be right back.”

Anakin grabbed a thick Sherpa blanket…

Sherpa blanket? He has a Sherpa blanket? Hot. A man with good taste in throw blankets is a man worth pursuing.

He covered you up and patted your head, his fingers stalling momentarily as he gave you a wide-eyed, quizzical look as though he might ask you something or maybe had an odd thought. But, you could see him internally shaking whatever it was that crossed his mind away.

“I’ll be back in a sec okay?” He said, walking to his front door and shutting it with a click behind him.

Anakin walked into your apartment and idly stood in the kitchen, thinking to himself and wondering just how much you remembered. Boogie purred and looped around at his feet so he scooped her up and held her like a baby while pacing the room.

“What should I do? Hmm?” He asked, scratching beneath her chin.

“You have great advice usually.” He muttered. “C’mon… I- fuck.” He groaned.

“I can’t just ask her can I?” He huffed. “No, I can’t.”

“I’ll just… offer to put up some cameras,” he chuckled to himself. “Easy. It’ll make her feel better huh?”

“Thanks… good kitty.” He said giving her a peck on the head before sitting her on the kitchen counter and walking back to his apartment.

He popped his head around the corner to see you still sitting exactly where he left you.

“Good news is: there isn’t anyone there now.” He said with a sympathetic smile. “I can’t find any evidence of a break-in…”

“I know!” You said, exasperatedly throwing your hands up.

“Hush.” He said sternly. “Just because I didn’t find anything, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen okay?”

He doesn’t believe you. He doesn’t believe that your space had been invaded, that your sanctuary had been tainted. But, he believes that you believe it was. And that’s enough of a reason for him to play along for your peace of mind. Within reason of course. He’s not confirming your fears, he’s leaving it open ended but putting up a gate to keep it in check. He’s protecting you from yourself and your own anxiety.

Too bad he’s wrong. Although it’s real sweet that he’s trying.

“Okay.” You blushed at his change in tone, like he was speaking to a child having a tantrum.

You didn’t fully understand why, but every time he did that, it made your stomach flip- in a good way. It was… strangely comforting? Maybe? Or maybe it was just hot, either way you weren’t complaining in the slightest.

“Do you want me to set up a security system for you? Some cameras or?” He offered, sitting next to you and opening his arms which you quickly leaned into.

“Cameras?” You echoed, why hadn’t you thought to put those in when you moved in? You’re a girl, living alone, in a less-safe area of town.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Would that make you feel better?”

“I don’t know… maybe just those window and door alarms?” You suggested. “You know the ones that make that horrible screeching sound when they’re armed and someone tries to open the door?”

“Yes.” He chuckled. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

“I had one on the back garden gate at my moms house.” He said, smoothing out your hair.

“Really? Why?” You asked.

“Cause she thought I was sneaking out.” He chuckled.

“Were you?”

“Yes.” He laughed. “I just wanted to go smoke with my friend who lived in the same subdivision as us. Apparently she’d been hearing the gate open and shut.”

“She was never one for confrontation, so I guess scaring the shit out of me was her way of telling me to stop sneaking out to smoke pot.” He smirked. “I screamed, like a real actual scream. Sounded like a little girl.”

“Oh poor you.” You laughed, looking up at him as you giggled. “My parents never found out I snuck out.” You said teasingly.

“Oh really? What were your methods?” He snorted.

“Well, we didn’t have a fence first of all.” You said. “Second, I was on the ground floor and my bedroom window didn’t have a screen in it.”

“Mmm.” He nodded, his chest rising and falling methodically. “Smart.”

“Yep.” You smiled. “So how bad did you get in trouble?”

“Trouble? None.” He chuckled, leaning back to look at you. “I was momma’s pride and joy, I could do no wrong. She just gave me a warning, unspoken. But still very, very loud.”

“Oh so what you’re saying is she let you get away with it huh?” You laughed.

“Pretty much.” He smiled, pausing for a moment. “So is that what you want then?”

“Yeah… I think I’d rather have those. Maybe it’ll scare ‘em off and make ‘em scream like a little bitch, like you.” You teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Oh baby, you wound me.” He sighed. “Guess you’ll have to find someone else to install them for you, huh?”

“What?” You sat up and furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

“What?” He said mockingly. “You really want a little bitch installing your security system? My little girly hands just won’t get the job done.” He teased.

Little girly hands? Little girly hands?

Those hands were anything but little, everything masculine. Strong and firm. Long fingers that would lace perfectly in yours, those same fingers would feel at home between your…

“Fine, I take it back.” You said quickly, pulling yourself from your dirty thoughts. You couldn’t seriously be drooling over those veined hands while discussing your potential house invasion.

“Good girl.” He grinned. “I’ll order them for you okay?” He said, brushing his knuckle against your cheek.

“Thank you.” You sighed in relief, ignoring the shiver his touch sent through you.

“No problem princess.” He said softly.

Diary Entry: July 14th

God I feel so… conflicted.

I never feel conflicted when it comes to you. It’s so strange, this feeing. It’s like I’m being pulled in two directions.

I love you. So much baby.

I love the way you felt in my arms today. I loved the way you let me hold you, comfort you. We have such a good connection. Such a normal, real, blossoming relationship.

But I’ve went and made things complicated haven’t I?

I should’ve waited. I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve sucked it up and just watched through the cameras and kept my hands to myself. I have patience, I should’ve used it.

It’s just… you’re so tempting.

You love it. Whether you know it or not, I know it. I see it, hear it, taste it. You need me. Conscious and consenting or unconscious and oblivious. Either way, you need me.

So it’s really not my fault. I might’ve thrown the snowball that’s triggered the avalanche, but you’re not running from it. You’re letting it drag you under and doing it with a blush and blissful smile.

Ghostface has thrown an unexpected but possibly very interesting wrench in my plans. You reacted so strangely. I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s eating me alive inside, the way you just… accepted it. It’s amazing.

Truly, it’s astonishing. This side of yourself that you’ve kept locked away and hidden from view, maybe even hidden from yourself until now. Do you have a Pit too? Did that surprising reaction crawl out of the depths of your enigmatic mind?

It’s a mystery to me. One I will never crack, it drives me nuts. Knowing that there’s a truly unsolvable puzzle in front of me, I can pick and pick and pick, but I’ll never find all the pieces. You’re too smart, too clever, too perfect. Why would your mind maze be any different?

What have you got hidden in there? In that one place I can’t break into? The one part of yourself you can hide from me?

I’ve gotten a taste, a small one. Lightly salted, hardly seasoned thoughts sprawled on the pages of your diary. No one, not even me, writes everything down. There are things that will stay locked away in my mind, never to be spoken or written. I’m sure you have those things too. Probably not anywhere near as… depraved as mine. But strange and unusual enough that you’d never willingly allow anyone to learn.

As much as I hate that I can’t read your mind, I love it too. That hidden side of yourself that is only for you. It’s something I’m not sure that you would ever show me, not even when you’ve finally fallen in love with me. Not even when we’re too old to care about anything but our happiness… I don’t think you’d share it then either.

That’s a shame. It really is.

But you might share that side of yourself with Ghostface.

I know you.

I know you well enough to realize that the fawn who timidly, but let their curiosity guide them to speak with Ghostface is not the same doe that blinks up at Anakin with adoration.

You. Are. So. Much. Like. Me.

Anakin looks at you with a sense of love, pure and unfiltered. He wants the best for you because he cares so deeply. He wants to keep you safe and warm and forever happy. Because that’s his duty as a loving and caring partner. Your protector and provider.

Ghostface looks at you with love yes, but also obsession and deeply rooted perversion. An infatuation so strong that he’d shed gallons of blood just to get to you. He wants the best for you, in his own way. He wants to keep you safe while giving you the danger he knows that you crave. He wants to keep you warm by feeding the flame of your own twisted little fantasies. The ones so dark you won’t even write them in your diary. He wants to keep you forever happy too, just not in the traditional sense.

And if he gets to have his own fun along the way… well, we both know I’m a fan of killing two birds with one stone. Of course Ghostface would have some mutually beneficial, selfishly planned ideas too, right? He’s unafraid to be what Anakin tries to keep hidden.

Maybe we can have both? Separately… at least for a little while.

You can have us both.

We can have the fawn and doe.

That could be fun. I think I’d like that. You’re just perfect, you’re so perfect. I never would’ve imagined I would be lucky enough to find someone who was as fucked in the head as me. The theory is of course untested, but I have a feeling that I’m right. I think you’ll love Ghostface just as much as you love Anakin.

Because I love the fawn just as much as I love the doe.

The doe that blinks up at me like it’s been caught in the high beams of a truck. The doe that is clever enough to carry on a good banter with me. Sweet and kind and gentle. That’s the recipe for the perfect little deer, they’re such a gentle animal. Soft.

Just like you. They bed down in the softest grass, nest themselves up in a way that keeps them hidden and safe. You do the same, all those stuffed animals and the ridiculously thick and fluffy comforter you sleep under.

They’re smart. They can be sneaky and quiet if they need to be. They have hard and dangerous hooves if they truly need to use them. So do you, but you’ve proven that just like a doe, you’d rather return to the safety of your nest instead of bucking up to kick your problems square in the chest.

Even though they’re smart enough to know they’re prey, they’re too sweet, too pure to believe anyone could have bad intentions. That’s why the bucks have antlers. Sharp and precise, ready to clash into whatever threatens his doe, head first.

Sound familiar?

Then there’s the fawn. The you I’ve only just begun to know. Tiny, meek, fragile. A bleat so small and unsure that it’s comical, like the way you spoke to Ghostface.

They cower, hide. Walk on unsteady legs that cause them to flounder when they’re nervous. They get overconfident; leaping and running on those lanky limbs and regretting it when they fall to their knees, legs folded beneath them and calling out for their protector.

They have those innocent doe eyes all the time, not just when caught off guard. Like the you that Ghostface met. So curious and wrongfully trusting. They don’t realize danger until it’s too late, they’re just exploring the world around them and suddenly they’re gone.

That’s why it’s important that you stay within arms reach of me. That’s why I watch you so closely. That’s why you need me.

They’re so easily taken advantage of; the purity, the innocence, it’s a recipe for disaster if it’s left to develop on its own. But when it’s nurtured? Well cared for? Allowed to roam within reason? In the safety of the net it’s protector has spread out for them?

Well, they’ll blossom. Just like you. You’re so eager to learn and soak up all the knowledge you’ve been so curious about, but too afraid to seek out on your own.

Ghostface can help with that. He’ll keep you safe while giving you the room to explore. He’ll allow you to think that you’re independently experiencing a new world, even though he’s the one who’s crafting it for you.

What a surprise it’ll be when we tell you we’re the same guy. It’ll be your dream come true huh? Sweet and tender boyfriend material, bring home to momma, respectful and gentle Anakin. With a side of… well controlled obsession motivated lunacy.

See? I’m self aware. Crazy people don’t know they’re crazy. I’m not a psycho, I’m. Not. That. Kind. Of. Guy.

But Ghostface is.

I love you. You love me. We can just merge the four of us together. Fours a crowd but twos a party or some shit like that.

Date

July 19th

Anakin waltzed into your apartment and locked the door behind him. In his break and enter self imposed uniform. No mask though, he just had it tucked under his arm just incase. He liked to be prepared, especially after you’d surprised him by waking up when he’d so carefully planned for you to do the opposite.

He scooped up Boogie for company, went to your bedroom and locked the door behind him. He kicked off his shoes and climbed into your bed, staying standing to adjust the camera above your bed. He needed to uncover that lens. No reason to suffer with just the audio anymore, not when he had a perfectly good excuse that you were semi aware of now.

With task one complete he propped up his phone against one of your many stuffies to have the background noise of one of the shows he’s finally getting around to watching: Narcos. He can understand the hype around it when it was first released now and kind of wishes he’d sucked it up and jumped on the bandwagon to watch it with everyone else in the world back then.

With his work area set up he reached under your mattress with one long arm and pulled out your diary. He’d been impatiently waiting for you to formulate some questions and he’d hear you speaking to yourself about it the night before.

So he cracked open the little pink book and pulled out the red ink pen he’d brought along.

It just wouldn’t be as fun to use one of your cutesy little gel pens or just a plain old black one. But it would be fun to add just a dash more intimidation into the scenario.

It’s a proven fact that red is an uneasy color for humans. It’s one of those things that never fully went away when people developed past the primitive brain. Most people don’t even realize it, but studies show that red ink really does affect the brain. It’s very subtle but it’s still there. The mind is a strange place.

Red bad, blood red, scary.

That’s why all good horror movies have the killers write in red ink… or just straight up blood. It’s unsettling.

Anakin leaned back and got comfortable, flipping through the pages to read the few entries that he hadn’t yet, before moving on to the main course, a page titled: Answer Me

——————————————————————————

Your Diary Entry: Answer Me

Do I know you? If I don’t then who are you?

We’ve met.

Nice try, you’re not getting that out of me yet. Bold of you to ask though, I like that.

Just call me Ghost.

I’m sure that I know you, why else would you hide your voice?

Clever girl.

What do you look like?

You saw me. I didn’t realize you needed glasses.

Do appearances mean that much to you? Well, here’s what I look like under the mask:

Funny, huh?

Why me?

I don’t have enough room in this book to answer this question sweetheart.

So I’ll shorten it: you’re perfect, precious… and I love you because of it.

How did we meet?

You’re really confident that you’ve met me. It would’ve been embarrassing if you were wrong.

:)

I saw you, you saw me. That’s how most people meet isn’t it?

Will you come back?

I’d have to be dead to be kept from you, even then you’d never be without me.

The afterlife is just a step behind the living.

It’d be fun to try out that poltergeist stuff anyway, don’t you think?

How did you get in? I checked and had a friend check… no sign of forced entry.

I know. I saw you both.

Not too long ago, you left your window unlocked. My main goal is to keep you safe and happy, you can’t be safe with an open window easily accessible by a fire escape. So I climbed in and closed it for you.

Have you looked for your spare key lately? I know where it is. It’s in my pocket. On my keychain.

How long have you been watching me?

I like the way you asked this. Not ‘how long have you been doing this’, not ‘how many times have you broken in’.

I’ve been watching you for quite a while now. Long enough that you should’ve definitely noticed by now. Just another reason you need me to protect you. You’ve been completely oblivious.

Go to the next page for the rest of this. I have more to say; you need a lecture.

Hello again, let’s continue shall we?

You’re utterly hopeless in the way of self awareness and keeping watch of your surroundings.

I walk you to and from work nearly everyday.

I sat on your fire escape every night for weeks, to watch you fall asleep on the couch, watching your little shows.

I’ve been to your sisters house, I’ve been to the library to see who is in your book club, I’ve even been to the gym with you.

You never noticed. That’s… forgivable. I’ve been very good at keeping myself hidden, ie. all the times I laid on top of the roof next door to watch you sleep through your bedroom window. But that was before I started visiting your home.

(Have you noticed that those curtains stay closed now? I always shut them for you because you’re forgetful.)

But you know what isn’t forgivable? Everything I’ve done inside your home that you’ve never noticed.

Sweetheart, I love you. I really do. But god you’d probably die without someone around to hold your hand. Haven’t you noticed that certain things seem to be growing into less of a chore and more of a manageable task?

I know that you have, but you thought it was all you, all on your own.

I’ve been making sure your favorite mugs are washed. I’ve been vacuuming because you never do it enough. I’ve been taking out the bathroom trash on the off occasion because I know you hate doing it.

I replace things for you. This one really gives me a giggle.

You’ve been using the same bottle of Persil laundry detergent for almost two months. Ever wondered why it stays half full? No?

Your favorite cereal never runs out either.

You’re adorable, so clueless.

It’s all helpful things sweetheart. No worries, I’m not just some weirdo creep. I do actually care about you and your well-being too. I love you.

You haven’t missed a single birth-control pill since I’ve been setting it out for you.

You’ve been sleeping so much better, in your own bed where you should be, because of that yummy SleepyTime tea. It’s nice to wake up feeling rested isn’t it?

I did my research, remember when you felt real down a while back? That’s when I started setting out your medicine and giving you that tea. I read that it was probably a hormone imbalance because you’re too forgetful to take your pill consistently.

I like to help, I want to help. It makes life easier for you and that’s what’s most important. That’s what a man should do, take care of the one he loves, keep her happy, safe and loved. I’m dedicated to you. I want you to know that.

Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked and you have more questions to be answered my curious girl.

If you didn’t plan on hurting me, why did you drug me, why did you bring a knife?

Valid question.

Am I being watched ALL the time?

No, I’m not a psycho. You deserve privacy, I’ve never peeked in on you in the bathroom in any capacity. I don’t always watch you in your bedroom. But I do listen. I like to hear you snore, it’s like ASMR.

I’ve never accidentally seen you naked if that what you’re asking. It’s always on purpose.

Why haven’t you made yourself known? Why no weird calls or notes or anything? Isn’t that a thing stalkers do?

No. It’s not. At least not for me.

I don’t want to freak you out. Leaving weird calls and notes would scare you. That’s the last thing I want.

I’ll start, let you get the full experience lol.

(Not creepy shit though I promise.)

What do you get out of watching me sleep? Have you touched me?

You’re beautiful, peaceful, angelic. It’s just nice to be in your presence. It’s calming in a way. Like how grandmas knit to wind down in the afternoon. Kinda like that I guess.

Maybe.

Are there cameras here?

Yes. But not everywhere, like I said, you deserve privacy.

They’re here for security reasons, but also because it sucks to sit in the rain on a fire escape. My ass would get frozen to the metal grate when it was cold.

I don’t use them for what you think though.

Will you ever tell me who you are?

Would you be able to cope with knowing my identity? I mean, there’s a reason I wear the gloves and mask, change my voice. Like I said, you know me in the real world. I won’t ever show you my face if it means losing you there.

I’d stop coming here like this though. If you wanted. But I don’t think you do. Do you?

You’ve obviously read my diary. Is that why you chose Ghostface?

What do you think? :)

There. Questions answered.

Don’t expect me in person for a bit, you should take some time to process. I know it’s a lot.

I’ll still be there for you though, I wouldn’t leave you completely. Never.

I have a feeling you won’t tell anyone. But I do of course have to ask: please, don’t tell anyone okay? It’d make me sad :(

Not even Lukey or Anakin okay?

I’ll warn you before I make an appearance next time.

Date

July 28th

The bell above the door at the Bluebird chimed and your head perk up immediately. There he was, right on time.

Anakin had been much, much closer to you since your meeting with Ghost. You still hadn’t told him. Probably never would.

Who would believe something so insane anyway? Anakin had handled the whole ‘home intruder and I’ve been drugged’ situation extremely well. He was very supportive, your certain that if you did ever share the information on Ghost with him, he would do his best to validate you, but he’d definitely make you go to therapy.

“My princess.” He grinned, walking up to the counter and sitting on a barstool, both hands palm up on the countertop for you to place yours in.

“Hey Ani.” You smiled softly, you loved this.

You loved what this had bloomed into. You never thought you’d fall for a traditional guy, but here you are, with Anakin.

“Whatcha got left? Almost done?” He queried, rubbing the backs of your hands with his thumbs while he gazed at you with those dreamy blue eyes.

“I’ll be ready to leave as soon as Sara clocks in.” You peered back into the kitchen, hoping to see her walk in the back door any moment.

“Good, we’ve got places to be.” Anakin teased.

“Do I have to go in my work clothes?” You whined. “I smell like french fries!”

“Mmm my favorite perfume of yours.” He snickered. “No, you don’t baby. I brought you a change of clothes. Dress or pants?”

“Oh? You brought options?” You asked in surprise.

“Of course I brought options. I’m not a mind reader.” He smirked.

“No, but you might as well be.” You laughed.

“Mmhmm.” He looked down at your hands and laced his fingers with yours. “Pants?”

“Yes please.” You nodded with a laugh. “See? Mind reader.”

“I wish.” He rolled his eyes. “Just know my girl well that’s all.” He smiled, one hand leaving yours to cup your cheek.

“Sara’s here.” He nodded to the back door as it was opening.

“Oh good!” You said, patting his hand on your cheek and spinning around to clock out.

Once Anakin had led you out to his car he opened the back passenger door and handed you one of your small backpacks with clothes in it.

“Change inside?” He asked, nodding toward the restaurant.

“Ew no.” You scoffed. “I’ll just change in the backseat.” You shrugged.

“Sure thing baby.” He laughed, gesturing for you to get in.

He stood outside with his back resting against the side of the car, ever respectful of you and your boundaries. Soon enough you knocked on the window and he moved out of the way to open the door for you and help you into the front of the car.

“Lookin’ good princess.” He let out a low whistle that had you blushing.

“Thanks.” You squeaked, despite being so comfortable with him, you couldn’t help but be bashful sometimes.

He was never not confident in the things he said to you. If he wanted to tell you something, he did. With his full chest.

Tonight was your first real, official date. Anakin had planned it all for you, you weren’t privy to his choices but you assumed it would be casual considering the clothes he’d offered you. He’d said ‘men should plan the dates and their girls should just enjoy them’.

Fuck feminism. Anakin made you forget you had the right to vote, he made you forget what it was like to do things on your own, he made you forget the horrors of being a girl left alone.

With him around you never had to lift a finger.

So it was no surprise that when you arrived at the restaurant he walked around, opened your door and offered you his arm. Not unexpected that he would order your food for you, somehow he always knew what you wanted, you didn’t even bother picking up the menu anymore.

Not a shock at all that when he got you home you didn’t have to do anything but lay back and be loved.

Part Eight

Just realized that probably not everyone knows what a butterfly knife is, so here’s a gif (I’ll put one in the previous post too) like you’re telling me this isn’t Anakin’s weapon of choice??? Show off.

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwarssmut t @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @doblasftcisco o @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @rorysbrainrot @hopesworlld @lonaah @guiltycherries @syralix

THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Me or him (part 2)

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader x felix

a/n: this is part 2, read part 1 here! there will be more parts, tho idk if anyone waited for this but if you enjoyed it, please consider reblogging!🫶🏻

word count: 1.9k

genre: smut, angst

warning/s: toxic behavior, cheating, manipulation, unprotected sex, dirty talk

~check out my: Masterlist ~part 3, part 4

8 months ago

Tears blurred your vision as you sat behind the wheel. You started the car, wiping your tears away, the last song you listened to blasting through the speaker.

You had a huge fight with your boyfriend Hyunjin, the worst one that happened between you in the last two years you'd been dating. You have no idea how it started, it was a culmination of little things and you were both so busy to work on them that you just exploded at each other.

Things were said, things you didn't mean and you had to just leave the apartment and give Hyunjin and yourself some space to calm down before you said even worse things to each other that couldn't be reversed.

You hit the gas and drove to the first place you thought of, your mutual friend's apartment.

When Felix opened the door and took in the state of you, wearing your pjs, hair messy and mascara streaks stained on your cheeks, he hugged you without a word.

You ended up on his couch, crying and telling him what happened as he held you and shushed you, trying to calm you down. He did feel bad that you were in distress, and he felt bad for Hyunjin too, but he couldn't help himself. Thinking that this was his chance, a chance to somehow come between the two of you. Prove to you that he was deserving of you, maybe even more than Hyunjin was.

You knew Felix liked you, he confessed to you once before but it was already too late as you and Hyunjin just started dating but haven't announced it to him or anyone else for that matter. You saw how his smile faltered and how his eyes lost the sparkle they always carried when you told him. Even though he said he was happy for the both of you, you could see through the fake smile he put on his face. Neither of you ever told Hyunjin about his confession.

Felix wiped your tears away with his thumbs gently before he leaned in and started peppering your face with little kisses. You sniffled and hiccuped, completely lost in your crying that you didn't even feel him press his lips on yours for a few seconds.

"Felix!"- you said pushing him away when you realized what he was doing.

"What Hyunjin said to you was out of line. I would never say things like that to you. You know how I feel about you."

"Felix, stop it."- you shake your head, heart beating fast as you try to catch your breath. Everything was too overwhelming tonight.

"Let me show you that I appreciate you more than he does."- Felix says and grabs your face, kissing you again.

"W-we can't do this..."- you whimper, fresh tears spilling out of your eyes.

"We can do whatever we want, sweetheart. Give me just one chance to prove myself to you."- he whispers sweetly, hands under your shirt, caressing your hot skin.

"L-Lix..."- you whimper as his lips attach to your neck. 'You're crazy' - you think. You can't believe you're actually letting this happen. Felix is kissing you, his lips on yours again, hungrier and messier than before.

His hands are roaming all over your soft skin and he cups your breasts and plays with your nipples. You gasp and he pushes his tongue in your mouth, suffocating the moans in the back of your throat.

You feel arousal between your legs, in the pit of your stomach mixed with an uneasy feeling of doing something you definitely shouldn't be doing. One big fight and you ran into another man's arms. How weak are you?

You part for air and Felix's eyes are dark with lust, making you shiver under him.

"You want me, don't you?"- he smirks.

"This is wrong, Felix."- you say, but your body screams for him, your hips lifting up towards him involuntarily, chasing some kind of friction.

"I don't care about wrong or right in this moment."- he shakes his head, his hand on your cheek. "Tell me you don't want this right now and I'll stop... but if you do, there's no going back."

You shiver at his words, driven by some kind of desire and insanity you grab Felix's shirt and pull him into another passionate kiss. He grunts into your mouth, his hands sliding down to your pants. He wastes no time in sliding them down your legs together with your panties, throwing them somewhere behind him.

"Fuck, so pretty."- he whines, taking in the sight of you with legs spread out for him.

"Lix"- you moan, crazed with hunger for him.

"I'll take care of you, don't worry love."- he smirks, leaning down, his breath ghosting over your wet cunt. His plump lips leave kisses on your inner thighs, hands squeezing your flesh, and you sigh impatiently.

"I can smell your arousal from here. So sweet."- he licks his lips, smirking and leaning his cheek on your inner thigh.

"Please, Lix!"- you whine, trying to push your hips up but he holds you tight.

"Tell me what you want love. I'll do anything to please you."- he says, his voice dipping lower, sending shivers through you.

"I want your mouth, please."- you beg.

"You ask so nicely."- he smirks and leans in, his lips attaching to your clit immediately, sucking on the sensitive nub.

"Ah, f-fuck!"- you moan and his tongue darts out to lick between your folds.

You find yourself comparing him to Hyunjin, and your heart skips a beat. Your sweet Hyunjin, who has no idea you have his best friend between your legs, eating you out like no tomorrow.

Even though you had a horrible fight, you know he loves you more than anything. And you love him too, so why are you doing this?

Felix brings you back to the present when you feel his fingers pushing inside your wetness.

"Oh my god!"- you whimper, hips coming up to meet his hand.

"So eager."- Felix says, his deep low voice sending shivers through you.

The faster he moves his fingers, the more Hyunjin keeps fading somewhere in the back of your mind.

You try not to think about anything, only focusing on the feeling Felix brings you, and the euphoria builds up.

"Are you gonna cum, sweetheart?"- he asks.

"Mm, yes, so close!"- you whine. "Don't stop!"

"Wasn't planning on stopping."- he smirks, curling his fingers and touching your sweet spot.

"Fuck!"- you whine, your legs shaking before you spill your juices all over Felix's fingers. He pulls them out of your went cunt and puts them in his mouth, sucking on them.

"Mm, so sweet."- he looks at you darkly. "I want you so bad."- he adds, pulling his pants and boxers down.

"How do you want me?"- you ask.

"I want you on top of me, beautiful."- Felix smirks, pumping his cock and hovering over you.

"Okay."- you sit up and Felix lays down so you can climb on top of him.

You grab his cock, touching your folds with his tip, your eyes already rolling back.

"Take me in deep, sweetheart."- Felix groans as you slowly start sinking down on his length.

The stretch is perfect as you take him in completely, your walls clenching around him making him groan.

"Move baby, please."- he practically begs.

You start fucking on him, wasting no time as you speed up immediately, feeling hungry for him in that moment like you've never been fucked before.

His hands are on your hips, guiding you and holding you down so you don't lift up too much.

He groans as he looks up at you, your fucked out face, your titties bouncing and the way his cock disappears inside you.

"Yeah, just like that. Fuck yourself on my cock baby. Make yourself feel good. Use me."- Felix groans, hips pushing up to meet yours.

"Ahh fuck, Felix!"- you whimper as the both of you start losing control, fucking each other like there's no tomorrow.

It doesn't take long for you to cum all over his cock, the way he kept perfectly hitting your sweet spot.

"I'm close, sweetheart."- Felix groans.

"You can't come inside me."- you groan, still trying to come down from your orgasm.

"Okay, whatever you want."- he whines, his hips chasing you.

You pull off of him and grab his cock, jerking him off fast and Felix whimpers, his hands grabbing at the couch beneath him, hips pushing up into your hand.

With a final groan mixed with your name and curse words, he cums all over your hand and his stomach.

Both of you sit there for a moment, trying to catch your breath.

"What the hell did we just do?"- you ask, coming down from the high and panicking.

"We fucked. And it was really good."- Felix smirks, lifting up and grabbing some tissues from the coffee table so he can clean himself up.

"This is wrong on so many levels. If Hyunjin ever finds out-"

"Hyunjin doesn't have to know anything. As far as he's concerned you're at a friend's place."- Felix shrugs. "I wont tell him anything unless you want me too. I don't wanna put you in a position like that."

"You kinda already did."- you say, too shocked of your behaviour that you couldn't even cry.

"I'm sorry."- he starts. "Actually, I'm not. I loved you first. Hyunjin didn't even care about you that way when we first met."

"Stop talking! You don't love me, Felix. You love the idea of stealing me away from Hyunjin."

"That is not true-"

"I'm not having this discussion right now. I'm gonna take a shower and then leave."

"Stay the night, please. Just this once."- Felix begs, grabbing your hand.

And you stayed the night. And you found yourself running into his arms multiple times after that, whenever you were sad or whenever you and Hyunjin got into an argument.

You know how wrong that is and that you should be working on your relationship, not going behind your partner's back but something about Felix always being there for you, listening to your problems and fucking your sadness away made you addicted to that feeling.

-

Present time

You had to drive around the empty roads to empty your mind before finally arriving home around 2 in the morning. The apartment was quiet and dark, meaning that Hyunjin already went to sleep.

You tiptoed to your room and opened the door, finding your boyfriend hugging your pillow and sleeping on your side.

Your chest feels heavy.

You walk slowly towards the dresser to grab some clean underwear so you can take a shower and Hyunjin stirs.

"Love, are you back?"- he asks sleepily.

"Yeah. I'm gonna shower, keep sleeping."- you say quietly, grabbing your clothes.

"Did you have fun?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did."- you say, your chest becoming heavier and heavier, the feeling of guilt overwhelming you.

Tears prick at your eyes.

"I'm glad. Come cuddle when you're done."- Hyunjin whispers, his eyes still closed.

"Ofcourse."- you whisper back and disappear into the bathroom.

You break down under the shower, hot tears streaming down your cheeks as the hot water warms your skin.

But you can't wash away the feeling of Felix's lips and hands on you.

They're burned into your skin. And you wonder how much longer can you do this?

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @janepg

[gingerylangylang1979]

Gifs courtesy of @gentlesleaze

Carmy wants Sydney... carnally. 

I’ve debated about what his epic face journey here meant for a year now and I’m without a doubt convinced he was seriously attracted to Sydney from the day they met. There is no other explanation. I mean, if somebody wants to try another explanation go for it, but um. Who looks at a new employee like this? Would he have looked at Marcus like this? Let’s be for real. 

Why is he like this? It’s just too weird. He looks like he just saw a sexy angel (he did). Carmy is a bit odd but this is the weirdest he has ever acted. I mean it’s really stunning and I think just shows there was always something there with him for her. I don’t see how you can deny he is acting so extra. He can’t speak at first, he forgot he was expecting her because he is so surprised by her, he’s just staring, he can barely talk professionally, he forgets what UPS is, then he does this crazy shy double take. His voice is hella soft with her. He needed to look at her again, but it’s almost like he feels guilty. I could analyze these acting choices forever. It’s a really fascinating scene. 

Carmy thinks Sydney is gorgeous. He thought so from the first time he saw her. Now, he kind of tucked away that info super quick. He’s a gentleman and he’s professional. She’s qualified, actually overqualified, of course he’s gonna hire her. But Carmy’s not a pervert so he’s not gonna hire her and sexually harass her. He’s gonna keep it chill. He’s surely worked with attractive women before. No biggie... right? He can keep it together. When Richie calls her sweetheart he checked him. See, it’s all good. No worries. 

But he can’t stop staring. Carmy stares at Sydney often. He loves her face. There are times when what he is communicating could easily be communicated without being up in her face. But no, he is like as close to her face as he can be without being on it, examining from multiple angles as much as possible. He likes to turn to her. He likes to look up at her. He likes to look down at her. He likes to side-eye her. He appreciates art, beauty. Her face is that. She’s so precious to him. Notice how when we see her from his perspective she’s always extra glowy. 

Anyways, I’m sorry when this man gets her the lovemaking is going to be so raw and passionate. I’m telling you. He wants this woman, in his bed, like Moonstruck style. He just isn’t fully aware, but he does think she’s absolutely beautiful. He probably also thinks there is no way she wants him. 

This has to be fun for Jeremy to act. None of his Shameless romances had this kind of depth. This is an epic, super nuanced slow burn on a quality drama. He gets to be spicy, but sneaky, and unsure. And Ayo is so funny. They must be having a blast with this. 

[tomssexdoll]

The Unspoken Truth

PAIRINGS: Tom 2010 x Female reader

CONTENT: ANGST + SMUT + FLUFF

SYPNOSIS: Tom and Y/N are enemies and have been for years, he shows up to one of the parties she's at and tries to start shit with her, she is having none of it and tries to ignore him but he would stick to her like a fly, never leaving her alone. Finally she snapped, revealing a secret he never thought would leave her lips..

A/N: HI

WARNINGS: dom!tom, sub!reader, p in v (doggy), sucking d, degrading, hair pulling, spanking, teasing, arguing, mentions of alcohol

Me and Tom were enemies, we had been since we were young, every time I had to be near him it was like the world was about to end, everyone knew we despised each other, sometimes even purposefully putting us in situations where we had to be with each other, we both drove each other crazy and it would always end up in an argument.

I always yelled at him, screaming in his face for the little things he did, whatever he did just pissed me off. I had been invited to a party hosted by one of the most popular guys in our grade, he usually threw annual parties like this, my friend was dating him so of course I was invited.

I had no idea he was going to be there, my friends hiding it from me because they didn't want it to ruin my night. I got dressed, wearing something skimpy in hopes for a hookup, I did some basic makeup and straightened my hair, putting some heels on and running outside to the beeping car.

My friends blasted their music, booming throughout the street. They opened the door for me and I hopped in, speeding off to the address of the party. Every year he'd surprise us with where the party was being held, usually it was his house but this year it was at a random location in the middle of no where, a mansion he rented on air bnb.

We never had to worry about bringing out own alcohol, he was loaded with money and bought copious amounts of alcohol for everyone. As we pulled up, multiple other cars scattered the driveway.

The music filled the air, windows full of lively teenagers drinking and dancing. We all walked inside, I split from my group and went over to the alcohol stand in the kitchen, the kitchen island was full of different kinds of alcohol, vodka, gin, tequila, beer, etc.

I heard a familiar voice behind me, as it came closer I realized it was Tom, I grunted and just decided to ignore him, I didn't want him to ruin my night like he always would at these parties, one word from him and i'd go crazy.

As he noticed me not willing to fight he just glared at me, his piercing gaze narrowing as he watched my every move. Despite the animosity between us, he couldn't help but notice my skimpy dress, the way my tits sat so well. As he approached the counter he just ignored me, turning away from me so he could focus on his friends.

I grabbed my drink and quickly walked off, not wanting to hear his stupid voice, the sound of it making my blood boil. I reconnected with my friends, grabbing their hands and dancing with them, my hips swaying to the music.

Tom couldn't help but stare, his mind racing with dirty thoughts as he watched me dance. His pulse quickened as he took in every curve and angle of my body, he quickly snapped back to reality and took a sip of his drink, pretending like nothing happened.

As the night wore on, I could see Tom's eyes constantly wandering over to me, his mind a mix of desire and annoyance. He didn't want to admit it, but he was becoming infuriated with my fiery spirit and the way I moved, acting so careless about him being there.

I honestly found it weird how much he was staring at me, usually he'd just ignore my existence or annoy me, yet this time he was doing the opposite? I just left it and kept dancing with my friends, enjoying the booming music, rattling the house from its intensity.

His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched as he watched me spin and twirl on the dance floor, my laughter and smiles captivating the attention of everyone around me. He couldn't help but feel a pang of jealously, wonder why he couldn't be the one there, holding me close and making me laugh.

I eventually got too tired and went into the kitchen, my forehead glistening with sweat as I searched the cupboards for a cup, I quickly grabbed one and poured myself some water. His gaze followed me into the kitchen, his eyes fixed on my sweaty body, the way my chest heaved with each breath.

He strode into the kitchen, his movements slow and deliberate. I noticed a presence behind me and quickly turn around, rolling my eyes as I realized it was Tom. "What do you want?" I sighed, focusing my attention back to my water.

His eyes seemed to burn with an intensity that made my skin prickle, his voice low as he replied, "I want to know what's going on, why you're deliberately ignoring me," I scoffed, "that's all? I just want to have fun without you fucking ruining my night, is that so bad? Can I not, not argue with you for once?" I huffed out, anger bubbling up inside me.

"You're being so fucking boring, cmon, lighten up," he rolled his eyes, stepping closer to me, trying to intimidate me. "Oh fuck off Tom, stop trying to start shit, you always do this!" I raised my voice, turning a few heads.

"Oh, you're one to talk about starting shit. Tell me, when have you ever backed down from a confrontation? When have you ever let anyone else have the last word?" he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Just leave me alone tom, stop trying to start shit with me I'm not fucking interested, I want to have a fun night without seeing your face," I spat out, walking off but he just kept following me, taking a step closer to block my path, interrogating and annoying me, "you can try to run but we both know you're not getting away from me that easily," Tom grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he continued to pursue me.

"Fuck off!" I yelled, trying to push past him but he grabbed my arm, yanking me back against his body, his grip firm and unyielding, "cmon, fight back y/n, you know you want to.." he chuckled, whispering tauntingly in my ear, his fingers digging into my skin.

"Fine! For fuck sakes if that's what you want I'll do it, you are so fucking annoying! This is why I can't stand being around you, you always fucking bring me to my breaking point!" I screamed at him, everyone turning around, staring at us as I berated him.

"Ah finally, the real you comes out to play," he said, his eyes flashing with excitement, a wicked smile spreading across his face as he revelled in the intensity of the moment. He didn't flinch, even as I screamed at him, his grip on my arm only tightening.

"I fucking hate you Tom! I hate you!" I yelled, my voice bouncing off the walls, by now everyone was invested, peeking around the corners and pushing others out of the way to see the fight. "You always ruin my night Tom, always! I can never have fun without you making me miserable!" I pushed him off me, my chest heaving with intense emotion.

"Oh you hate me huh?" he scoffed, his smile only growing wider as he absorbed the full force of my venomous words, "you think I don't fucking hate you too? I fucking despise you," he yelled back, never backing down, instead taking a step closer, his voice low and dangerous.

"Oh really? If you hate me so much why were you destroying my pussy last year? If you hate me so much why were you groaning my name as you came in me?!" I screamed, everyone around us gasping and whispering to each other.

His face turned pale, his cocky smile wiping off his face, his eyes flashed with anger and embarrassment as my words cut deep, He took another step closer, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper, "you fucking slut..how dare you bring that up, in front of fucking everyone," a muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth.

"Well guess what, I just fucking did! What are you going to do about it, huh?" I kept yelling, "should I tell them about how you were calling me yours, marking me with hickeys and saying if you saw me with another guy you'd kill him?" I kept interrogating him, driving him closer to the edge, his face red with anger.

"You're playing with fire.." he growled, his voice low and menacing, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards him, his grip tight as he glared down at me. "Should I tell them ab-" but before I could finish my sentence he suddenly grabbed me, slinging me over his shoulder and storming off, bulldozing through the crowed in front of us.

He carried me off, my flailing legs kicking gin the air as he strides purposefully throughout the house, his powerful physique easily shouldering aside anyone who dared to get in his way. The air was thick with tension, the murmurs of onlookers echoing around me as he marched into a random room, slamming the door behind him and locking it.

"Get off! Fucking let me go!" I screamed, trying to escape his deathly tight grip. His grip only tightened on my legs, ignoring my futile attempts to break free. He carried me further into the room, dropping me unceremoniously into a nearby armchair, "you're going to fucking listen to me!" he yelled, his hands tangling in my hair and grabbing a fistful of it, tugging it roughly.

"Ow! Tom!" I whined, swatting at him, desperately trying to escape. His eyes flashed with anger, his grip on my hair relentless as he leaned in close, his voice a low, menacing snarl, "you think you're so smart, don't you? Trying to expose our business to the whole fucking world," I scoffed, oh shut up, it wasn't that bad.." I muttered, glaring at him.

"Not that bad? NOT THAT BAD?" he screamed, "get on your fucking knees.." he growled lowly, his arousal growing in his pants. My eyes widened, shocked at his words, "Tom...what.." I mumbled, scoffing slightly at his confidence, "what did I say? I said GET ON YOUR KNEES," he pulled me to my feet, shoving me down onto my knees.

He used his free hand to unbuckle his belt, his eyes never leaving mine as he slowly stripped down his pants, revealing his throbbing member, "tom.." I gasped, my mouth slightly agape as his cock stood tall in front of my face, twitching in anticipation.

His grip on my hair tightened, guiding my head forward as he pressed his cock against my lips, a bead of precum glistening at the tip, He smirked as he watched me hesitate, knowing full well the effect he had on me.

I couldn't lie, the way he was acting so dominant turned me on to a max, my pussy throbbing with each passing second, the tension so high any slight movement would break into us destroying each other.

I came back to my senses, wrapping my hand around his cock, pumping a few times before taking him in, inch by inch gliding into my mouth. His hips subtly thrusted forward as he savoured the sensation, his grip on my hair relaxing slightly, but only to allow him to gently guide my head back and forth, dictating the pace.

He groaned, a deep, guttural sound that echoed through the room as I worked his cock with my mouth and hand. His fingers threaded through my hair, guiding my movements with an unspoken demand for more. His hips started to rock, fucking my face with slow, deliberate thrusts.

"Mmh.." I moaned softly, the vibrations on his cock driving him crazy, rolling his eyes back at the sensation. I bobbed my head up and down on his cock, jerking off whatever I couldn't fit in my mouth, occasionally I could swirl my tongue over his sensitive tip, gaining a reaction out of him every time.

He threw his head back, "fuck...that's it you dirty slut.." the sound of his ragged breath filling the air as he succumbed to the pleasure I was bestowing upon him. With a sharp intake of breath, he bucked his hips, thrusting even deeper into my mouth, making me slightly choke. The veins on his shaft bulged as he struggled to maintain control.

His body began to tense, the muscles in his abdomen and thighs flexing as he reached the peak of his arousal. A low growl rumbled in the back of his throat, and he seized a handful of my hair, holding my head in place as he prepared to release his load.

"Gonna cum soon, gonna make you swallow all of my cum like the dirty fucking whore you are." My eyes began to water as his tip repeatedly hit the back of my throat, I whined as I felt my jaw tensing, but I was determined to give him the best orgasm of his life, working as hard as I could despite my jaw about to give out.

Saliva built around my mouth, dribbling down my chin, mascara tears falling down my cheeks. His balls started to tighten, his orgasm dangerously close. He loved the sight of me being so obedient, taking his cock so deeply, being a mess for him.

He brought his thumbs to my face, smudging the already ruined makeup, making a mess on my face. With a guttural groan, Tom erupted, his cock pulsating as thick ropes of cum shot deep into my eager mouth. He held me in place, forcing me to swallow every drop of his release as his orgasmic pleasure consumed him.

He slowly slipped his cock out of my mouth, a long string of saliva connecting from his tip to my lips, I slowly stood up, his eyes still glazed with pleasure, raking over my trembling form, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he watched me struggle to stable myself.

He reached out, his large hand cupping my chin as he tilted my face to meet his gaze, "strip, now.." he commanded, leaving no room for further discussion.

My heart picked up it's pace at his words, I hesitated for a second, "but..tom.." I looked up at him, his smirk growing wider at my resistance, his eyes glinting with an unyielding intensity. "Don't make me repeat myself," he warned, his fingers tightening around my chin.

"Strip. Now." his tone left no room for argument, every word dripping with authority and a hint of menace. "O-okay..." I said softly, his gaze and words making me instantly crumble.

I slowly backed away, turning around and moving my hair to my chest, signalling for Tom to help. He instantly got the memo, stepping forward and slowly zipping the zip down, exposing my back to him, his cock twitching in anticipation, trying to hold back from ripping my dress off me.

As the zipper descended, Tom's hands lingered at my waist, his fingers grazing at the small of my back. He let out a low whistle, his eyes roving over my exposed skin, taking in the curve of my spine and the swell of my ass.

I smirked at his teasing and gently slipped the dress off, revealing that I was only wearing a lacey thong and no bra, my tits completely exposed, the cool night air brushing against my nipples.

"God..you're so beautiful.." he whispered, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me in closer, his breath hot against my neck. I tilted my head to the side, gasping softly as he placed gentle, demanding kisses.

His hands slid up to my tits, gently cupping them as he continued to kiss my neck, his kisses now becoming rougher as he sucked on the skin, leaving marks in their path. His lips whispered dirty things on my skin, his words only heightening the sense of anticipation building inside me.

His teeth grazed my earlobe, sending shivers down my spine as he ground himself on my ass, the firm press of his cock a reminder of the inevitable. "Get on the bed baby and get on all fours, I want you spread and ready for my cock.." he whispered, gently grazing his fingers over my nipples, pinching them ever so slightly.

"Mmmh...okay..." I said, completely hypnotized and under his control. I slowly took my thong off, letting it fall to the floor, walking over to the bed and climbing on top, getting myself ready in the position he so desired.

I felt the bed dip behind me, his eyes locked onto my provocative pose, his gaze burning with an intense desire. He scooted closer, his hands reached out to caress the curve of my ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. "You're a vision, baby.." he whispered, his voice husky with lust.

I giggled softly at his words, pursing my ass high in the air, revealing my dripping pussy to him, aching for his cock. He growled lowly in his throat at the sight, his control slipping as his cock throbbed with need. He grabbed my hips, pulling me back against him so he could grind his hard length against my wet heat. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard, you'll forget my own name.." he smirked, lining the head of his cock with my entrance.

Without further notice he slowly started to bury himself inside me, groaning as my pussy engulfed him, the overwhelming sensations bringing him to the brink of insanity. He gripped my hips tightly, setting a fast and brutal pace as he pounded into me, each thrust bringing him closer and closer to his release.

"Fuck! Take it all you dirty whore!" he said, his voice loud and laced with desire, "ohhh fuck! Mmh, Tom!" I moaned loudly, feeling his tip hit my g spot repeatedly.

"You like that, hmm? You want me to fuck you harder?" he asked, his voice strained as he continued to thrust into me with reckless abandon, his hand coming down and smacking my ass roughly, leaving a prominent red mark, "yess! Harder, fuck!" I cried out, depserately gripping onto the sheets.

With a feral growl, Tom complied, his powerful hips driving me into unrelenting force. The bed creaked under the force of his thrusts as he ravanged my pussy, his cock pounding against my cervix with each brutal stroke.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair again, pulling me up towards him, his chest resting against my back, "you wanna reveal our private business, hm? You wanna tell everyone what we do behind closed doors? Fucking take it..take my cock you fucking brat.." he grunted, slamming his cock deep into my quivering hole as I whined and moaned.

"Tommm! Fuck!" I practically screamed, the pleasure and pain mixing into an addicting sensation, his spare hand moved down to my clit, his fingers moving swiftly over it, his strokes rough and demanding as he sent me spiralling into ecstasy, making my roll my eyes back.

It was almost too much to bear, his cock slamming into me with unrelenting force as his fingers worked on my clit like a professional. "Come for me, slut. Cum all over my cock..." he grunted, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine.

"I'm gonna cum! Oh my god!" I cried out, feeling my stomach turn in knots, he smirked as he felt my walls tighten around his cock, a clear sign I was about to cum. "Good girl..cum for me.." he praised as he continued to fuck me with reckless abandon, his fingers never stopping their assault on my clit. He wanted to see me fall apart beneath him.

His grip tightened on my hair, adding pain to the pleasure, heightening it even more. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I squealed, feeling his fingers double their efforts, rubbing faster and faster, bringing me dangerously close to my orgasm.

"Shit!" I screamed, moaning loudly as I came on his cock, my legs trembling at the strength of my orgasm. He groaned, feeling my orgasm milk him for all he had as he continued to thrust into me. He couldn't hold back any longer, releasing himself inside of me, filling me up with his seed, "fuckk! Take my cum you fucking cumslut!" he growled into my ear, his grip loosening on my hair, letting me fall into the mattress.

"Jesus..." he muttered as he caught his breath, our chests both heaving from the intense sex we had. He collapsed beside me, pulling me close and letting me cuddle up to him, gently caressing my hair to calm me down.

After a few minutes I finally spoke up, "Tom..?" I looked up at him, "hm..?" he lifted his head, his chest still heaving as he looked down at me, a small, satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

"Why do you always act like you hate me if we just end up like this? I mean, cmon Tom..." I sighed, "why do we even hate each other?" he chuckled, tucking a stray hair behind my ear, "I mean I could ask you the same but, I don't know, I guess it's always been that way," he shrugged.

"Look..." he sighed, "when im with my friends i just put on a front, but when i'm alone i'm always thinking about you," my eyes widened in surprise at his words, "Tom...I...I don't know what to say," my cheeks flushed a light shade of pink.

"Don't say anything baby...all I need is you here, in my arms. I don't want to "hate" you anymore, I want to love you, to show everyone how much I love you, to prove them wrong" he leaned in close, pressing his forehea2d against mine, I smiled gently, "me too Tom..I want nothing more then to just be like this with you every day, I'm sick and tired of acting like I hate you.."

"We'll break the news to everyone later..for now I just want to hold you.." he whispered gently, placing a few soft kisses to my head, holding me tighter as we rested from our mind blowing orgasms.

tags: @ballhair @billsdolliest @kaulitzswhxre

tags: @tomsonlyslut @bills-wife-1 @bkaulitzlover

tags: @miyukafujii @tomscumdoll @tomsfuckdoll

tags: @pa1n-0f-l0ve @ella1289

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Running with You

Kevin Tran x Winchester sister!reader, Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: just a little series of snippets of your relationship with Kevin (and Sam and Dean…it was mostly supposed to be about Kevin, but those stupid brothers wormed their way into more scenes than I thought they would)

Meeting a prophet for the first time didn’t go exactly as you’d thought it would. First of all, he was your age. Second, he was a total nerd. And third…

He was kind of cute.

The two of you hit it off almost immediately. But of course he had a girlfriend, so you had to back off—but Kevin still made a great friend.

He was incredibly panicked to find out he was a prophet, and your idiot big brothers weren’t very good at calming or comforting, so you took over that role. Ever since then, Kevin and you became fast friends.

You were there for him when his life fell apart. He was there for you when you were scared for Sam—just out of hell and very traumatized. You comforted him when Crowley killed his girlfriend, and…

And you were both there for each other when Dean went to purgatory, and Sam was too traumatized to keep going.

Sam walked away from the leviathan fight with no will to fight…really, no will to live. But when Crowley took Kevin, you couldn’t just let him go.

You were the one who helped Kevin escape, and you were the one who was there with him on the run for a whole year…

…

“C’mon Kevin, let me in! That was the secret knock!”

“But you didn’t do the secret password!” Kevin’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door. You groaned.

“Kevin, I did the password.”

“That was the old one.”

“You changed it again,” you groaned. “Kev, I can’t keep up with the password if you change it every week. Just let me in.”

“Fine,” Kevin grumbled, and you heard lock after lock begin to unlock. “But I’m spraying you with holy water the second the door comes open.”

“When have you ever not?” You teased him. True to his word, your face got blasted from Kevin’s water gun the minute the door creaked open. You wiped the water off your face good-naturedly and stepped inside with your groceries. You liked to tease Kevin about all of his safety precautions, but only because it was better than the alternative; if you couldn’t laugh about how scared the two of you were all the time, you’d just…well, you’d just be scared all the time.

The two of you had spent the past year on the run from Crowley and his black-eyes minions, and there was no such thing as too careful. You’d thought about calling Sam once or twice, just to check in, but you didn’t know how. He’d gotten rid of his usual numbers, and so had you; the two of you were completely cut off. That was by far the hardest part of being on the run. You hoped that Sam was happy—that he’d really gotten away from the life like he’d planned—he deserved it, he really did.

You couldn’t blame him for checking out after Dean…after he died. You couldn’t; because you knew exactly how it felt. After Sam had gone to hell, you hadn’t wanted to hunt either. You’d thrown away all your old phones, and you’d gone to Lisa’s with Dean, and you had just checked out. You knew what Dean was doing late at night with those books and with the computer—he was trying to find a way to save Sam. Once or twice you had even found it in you to join him in his research—but the dead ends just hurt too much, and you couldn’t do it anymore.

So you couldn’t blame Sam for checking out the same way. But that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt, especially since you hadn’t seen him in almost a year.

You forced yourself to shake off your melancholy as you focused on Kevin.

“How’s Patricia?” You asked. “She do anything crazy while I was gone?”

“Just shook the fridge a couple of times.” Kevin shrugged. “She seems to be in a good mood today.”

“Patricia” was an inside joke between you and Kevin. Ever since you’d found this safehouse, the weirdest things seemed to happen inside—the fridge shook in the middle of the night, food went missing, and even good things like the holy water guns being refilled without either of you touching them. You couldn’t remember who had named Patricia, but it didn’t matter; she was here to stay, and you’d done every test for a ghost or a poltergeist with nothing to show for it.

A harsh knock at the now-locked door behind you broke the lightheartedness in the air. You whipped around, and Kevin instinctually raised the holy water gun.

“Y/N?” You could’ve sworn your heart stopped at the sound of your big brother’s voice.

“Sam?” You reached for the handle, but Kevin grabbed your arm.

“It might not be him,” he argued. “Or he could be possessed.”

“Y/N it’s me!” Sam’s voice came again. “I know you’re here, and I know Kevin’s there too. We tracked you down, we need to talk to you.”

Neither you nor Kevin moved, but your mind was now going a mile a minute. Why would Sam track you down after so long? What did he need? And why did he keep saying “we”? The last question seemed the easiest to ask.

“Who’s we?” You demanded. There was a long silence on the other side of the door.

“Honey, please just let me in. I promise I can explain everything, but—“

“How do I know you’re you?” You challenged. Again, you were met with a king silence.

“Sweetheart—“ your heart stopped at the voice of your oldest brother. “Let us in. It…it’s us.”

You threw Kevin’s hand off your arm even as he argued with you—

“Y/N, no, it’s not them, you don’t know that—“

You completely ignored him, pushing him out of your way and clicking lock after lock until finally, you flung the door open to see the two people you missed most in the world.

The three of you stood there in silence, sizing each other up—Sam and Dean seeing how much you’d changed, and you gaping up at your brothers in disbelief. The silence was broken when Kevin took a half step forward and sprayed both of your brothers with his holy water gun.

“Seriously?” Sam grumbled, but Dean didn’t complain. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off you, and you couldn’t seem to tear your gaze away from him, either.

“Dean?” You whispered, the sound of his name shattering the silence.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

You couldn’t hug him fast enough.

…

“So…” Dean glanced between you and Kevin, his features twitching into a suspicious glare. “What have you two been up to?”

You’d gotten the year recap from Sam and Dean, so now it was your turn to give your account.

“Oh, you know, running from Crowley,” you scoffed. You knew that wasn’t all that Dean meant—he was eyeing Kevin strangely, and you knew why.

“And you two are…” you resisted the urge to roll your eyes as Dean searched for a word. “What, just besties now?”

“Actually…” Kevin glanced to you for permission, and you nodded subtly. “We’re kinda going out.”

“Well—“ you shot Kevin a wry smile. “Not out. But we’re dating.”

Kevin responded to your smile with one of his own. It wasn’t really possible to leave your safe haven for non-emergencies, but the two of you spent so much time together that dates weren’t all that necessary. You weren’t sure when exactly your relationship with Kevin moved on from “just friends”, but it probably had something to do with the first time you kissed him…

It was at the first safehouse you’d bunkered down in after escaping from the demons. You were both soaked to the skin—you’d gone on a supply run, and it had started raining; you’d had to stuff the groceries under your jackets to keep them dry. The two of you hadn’t been in the safehouse ten minutes before a hoard of demons made their presence known by kicking down the door.

“Kevin!” You yelled a warning to the prophet just as a demon made to grab him—Kevin twisted away just in time, reaching for the holy water gun. He struggled to get a grip on it, his hands still soaked. Before he could, a second demon grabbed onto Kevin’s arm while the third and final demon knocked you back, keeping you away from Kevin.

Your back smashed against the kitchen counter, and you found yourself grasping for anything in reach to use as a weapon. Your hand closed around something cool—glass, maybe. Without even giving it a glance, you threw it at the demon keeping you from defending Kevin.

You got lucky—the glass container shattered against the demon’s face, and he began to scream as the cuts sizzled and burned; it was a salt shaker.

The second and first demon—both of whom now had a hold on Kevin—were momentarily distracted; it was all the prophet needed to twist away long enough to latch his fingers onto the water gun, and he brought it around and sprayed both demons in the face.

“Kevin, let’s go!” You’d gotten around the demons while they howled in pain, and now you hesitated in the doorway, waiting for Kevin to escape with you.

“No!” The demon howled. You saw the knife too late to stop it. “If we can’t have him, no one can!”

The demon buried the knife into Kevin’s stomach.

“No!” You screamed. Kevin gasped in pain—or shock—his mouth hanging open and his eyes darting down to the knife. The first demon glared at you, while the other two shared twin grins; then all three vanished.

“Kevin…” you whimpered as you took hesitant steps forward. Your hands were shaking as you reached for your friend—you knew enough to know not to take the knife out—and you grabbed hold of his jacket and eased it to the side to get a better look at…

The knife, stuck in a pound of ground beef from the market that Kevin had forgotten to take out of his jacket.

Kevin’s face brightened, his features lightening in relief. You just stared for a long minute, unable to still your runaway heart.

“Y/N?” Kevin breathed. “It’s…it’s ok. I’m—“

He never got to finish his sentence. You yanked the stabbed beef out of his inner pocket, throwing it across the room before snatching hold of his collar and yanking him towards you.

Kevin was stiff from shock for the first few seconds of the kiss, but as soon as he realized what was happening, he relaxed.

“Never scare me like that again,” you breathed when you finally pulled away.

Kevin’s grin was a mile wide.

“Yes ma’am.”

You snapped out of your memory when you heard your brothers start to speak.

“Congrats, guys,” Sam muttered awkwardly, while at the same time Dean grumbled—“oh boy.”

You couldn’t resist the eye roll this time—you should’ve known your brothers would make this weird.

“So—“ you broke the awkward silence. “I assume you came here for a reason. What’s going on?”

…

“Hey Kevin, let’s talk.”

Things had been calm for less than five before Dean brought up what you knew was coming.

“Uhh…” Kevin’s panicked eyes met yours. “Yeah, just, uh…just give me a second.” Kevin pulled you out of earshot of Dean.

“What?” You hissed. “You knew this was coming.”

“Yeah but you said you’d be there!” Kevin argued.

“No I didn’t,” you countered. “I said I’d step in if Dean went too far, I never said I’d babysit you any time Dean was around. This conversation is inevitable Kevin, I can’t stop Dean.”

“Fine.” Kevin huffed. “Can we at least have a code word.”

“For what?” You bit back a laugh.

“For if things get crazy!” Kevin struggled to keep his voice at a whisper.

“This isn’t a secret mission, Kevin.” You couldn’t hold back a little snicker at this. “If you need me, just say my name. It doesn’t have to be in code.”

“Your name.” Kevin took a deep breath. “Your name. Ok, I can do that.”

“Good.” You grinned, and you hoped it didn’t look too mocking. “Now go get him.”

…

“See?” You greeted Kevin as he returned from his talk with Dean—Dean looked much more happy than Kevin. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Uh…uh huh,” Kevin muttered. You cringed.

“He was a jerk, wasn’t he?” You asked.

“Uh huh.”

“Oh boy. C’mon, let’s go get some ice cream.”

…

“Hey Sam,” you greeted as you and Kevin watched Sam stride purposefully into the war room of the bunker. Sam however, didn’t say a word.

In three long strides, he reached Kevin. You watched in bewilderment as Sam stretched out his hand, realizing too late the truth—it wasn’t Sam.

His eyes flashed blue just as Dean burst into the room behind him.

“No!” Dean cried, and you turned just in time to see Sam—Gadreel—press his open palm against Kevin’s forehead. Kevin’s eyes flashed bright white.

You were screaming, you knew you were screaming. You could hear the inhuman screech piercing the air, but somehow it didn’t feel like you—you felt absent from your body, you felt like a floating, frozen nothing, forced to watch as your boyfriend slumped to the floor, his eyes just charred remains, as someone who was supposed to be your big brother turned his back and walked away.

“Kevin?” Dean choked. The air was a vacuum of nothing—no one moved, no one breathed, as you and Dean waited for a response that you both knew wasn’t coming.

You were reaching for him now, desperate to help him, to bring him back…but Dean pulled you away, turning you until your face pressed into his shoulder so you couldn’t get a closer look at your boyfriend.

As if he could make you unsee what had already scarred itself into your mind.

…

“Kevin?”

You held your breath as the apparition in front of you blinked out, then stabilized. It was him—after all this time, it was him.

“Yes!” Kevin breathed—could ghosts breathe?—a sigh of relief when he realized you all could see him. “I’ve been haunting this place for weeks and all you guys do is mope. It’s about time.”

“Kevin?” You said again, like you still didn’t believe it.

Kevin let his eyes wander for a long moment towards you, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach for you.

“I don’t know how long I have,” he said, reluctantly turning his gaze back to your brothers. “So listen up.”

…

“My mom’s going to take me home until you guys can get the veil closed.” Kevin avoided looking at you as he spoke.

“Ok,” Dean said, and Sam nodded.

You huffed, uncomfortable with the silence.

“Can I have a minute?” You asked your brothers. They shuffled away without a word.

“It’s what I want,” Kevin said before you could speak. “I don’t want to just…being here as a ghost, it’s too much. It’s not what I want.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” you said quickly. “I…I wish you could stay here, but I understand your choice. I know it’s not the same as really being here.”

Silence reigned for several seconds.

“This sucks,” Kevin huffed finally. You couldn’t help but crack a sardonic smile.

“Yeah, it really sucks.”

“I wish we could’ve had more time.”

“Yeah.” You smirked. “We were quite the power couple.”

“Well now you’re just being cheesy,” Kevin chuckled, and you grinned.

“Hey, we got to at least try out that relationship thing—I guess that’s gonna have to be good enough.” You sighed. “Try not to drive your mom too crazy, ok?”

“Ok,” Kevin scoffed. “But only if you promise to fix your stupid brothers’ argument.”

“I’ll do my best,” you promised. Kevin turned to go. “Hey Kev?”

“Yeah?”

“Say hi to Patricia for me, ok?”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz

[macabr3-barbi3]

hear me out- Vox. Reader. Gloryhole. I rest my case 💼

listen I had a fucking BLAST with this!!!

on my ao3 this is going to be it's own fic instead of going in with the other oneshot requests, I got an idea that's going to be part of a longer series so it's separate!

Big thanks to @fraugwinska for hyping me up and helping with the title! you are near and dear to my heart and my creative process 💕

Tags: Glory Hole; Blow Jobs; Past Relationship(s); Vox is a little pathetic; Reader has a contract with Val (for now)

Heart Reset 📺💙

Valentino calling him down to the studio is rarely ever a good thing- Vox usually ignores the summons when he can. It’s hardly ever anything important, usually just Val wanting to fuck or invite him to participate in some orgy or another, whining that he would be such a big draw if he would just let Val switch the camera on.

Which, duh, of course he would be. He was fucking sexy, and powerful, which was an extra level of sexy in his opinion. But he didn’t revel in the idea of the masses of Hell being able to pull his face up on their screens whenever they liked- he wanted that ability to stay in his hands, thank you very much, so Valentino’s offers to make him a star were always ignored.

But today Vox’s refusal was met with a threat to not release any videos for a month, and as distasteful as Valentino’s whores could be they drew in the big bucks, and Vox wasn’t willing to lose out on that profit. So he made his way to the studio and wondered what kind of clusterfuck he would be walking into today, what sort of problem he would have to fix for the moth.

When he arrives it’s not to the usual hustle and bustle, glaring lights directed at the huge, gaudy bed against one wall- instead, the lights are dimmed, Valentino draped across his chaise, no cameras anywhere that Vox can see. A personal call, then, but he really wasn’t in the mood. The news had been fucking crazy this week with the early extermination, Alastor almost dying, the usual chaos of Hell. “What do you want?” He asks, cutting to the chase, and the moth turns lazily to look at him.

“Voxxy, you made it!” 

“You threatened business, Val.” He lets his hypnotic eye swirl a bit, upping the brightness of his screen to make sure he has his attention. “I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t do that when you were being pissy.”

“Amorcito, this isn’t about me!” He unfolds his long limbs from the chaise and strolls over, bending at the waist to hang his arms over Vox’s shoulders and get closer to his screen, trailing his tongue up the side of his casing. “You’ve been so stressed, darling- I thought you could use the latest addition to the studio to blow off some steam.”

Vox feels his lip curl. “I’m not interested in touching any of your sluts, I’ve told you this so many times-” He backs away from Val, ignores the pout that takes over the moth’s face. “I’m fucking leaving, how many times do I have to-”

Val grabs his arm and tugs him back, drips off his body like a scarf with how lanky and tall he is. “You don’t have to touch anything, papi,” he whines, “just come look at what I have for you, hmm?” He drags Vox by the wrist to a distant wall of the studio, gesturing to a hole that sits, naturally, right at dick level. When Vox turns his glare to Val he pouts. “Don’t look at me like that! I’m trying to help, amor, you’ve been so tense- I thought a nice hole would be the perfect thing for you to relax a little.” He lowers his tone, smoke falling from his lips with his words and curling sweetly around Vox’s head. “You don’t have to touch or look at the whore behind the wall, there are no cameras; you just have to stick that lovely polla of yours through the wall and let yourself be taken care of.”

Vox… isn’t not interested, he supposes, glancing at the wall. His usual objections to anything in the studio have been addressed- this is a surprisingly nice gesture, coming from Val. Offering to let Vox enjoy himself without pushing the idea of a camera on him, without having to worry about their pleasure like he did with the moth. “What are you getting out of it?” 

Val smiles, the gesture wide, dripping as his smoke billows around them. “I’ll be over there,” he says, gesturing to the chaise across the room. “I’m content to watch and listen, amorcito, and let you have what you need. Our little friend behind the wall knows not to do anything that would disappoint me, isn’t that right?”

Vox raises his eyebrows when he hears two little knocks against the surface on the other side of the wall. “Trade secret,” Val chuckles, “two knocks for ‘yes’ or ‘keep going.’ One for ‘no’ or ‘stop.’ She’s agreed to help me out with this little favor since her shoot on set B got fucked by a busted up bed, so she knows what she’s doing with the knocks. Keep that in mind while you have your fun!” He saunters away, lays across the chaise again and pulls out his phone while he waits for Vox to get to it. 

He looks down at the hole, not nervous but maybe a little hesitant to just shove his dick through the wall for one of Val’s people. “Hey there,” he says, chuckling nervously as he asks, “you come here often?”

There’s an almost amused silence before you knock twice on the wall, and he finds himself smiling while he undoes his belt and pulls it from the loops, discarding it behind himself. “You can talk if you want to,” he says, looking over at Val who’s entirely focused on whatever is on his phone. “I won’t tell- you don’t have to be totally silent.”

A single, immediate knock. No.

That was surprising- normally you couldn’t get one of Valentino’s actors to stop talking, so your refusal was perplexing. He wonders briefly if it’s Angel Dust on the other side before shaking his head at the thought. Val was way too possessive about Angel to not be recording if he was here, regardless of it was a favor to him or not. There had to be some reason though- would he recognize your voice if you spoke? Who could you be?

The thought of a wet, warm mouth around his prick had been enough to make his lower half interested in the proceedings, but the mystery tied to it now- who you were, why you wouldn’t let him hear you- sent him the rest of the way there. He wondered what it would take to get you to make a noise around his prick, if he would know the sound of your moans while he fucked your mouth or while you touched yourself on the other side of the wall to the thought of him using you-

Fuck, maybe he should get to the fucking point. He shifts his pants down enough to bring his cock out, a gentle stroke of his fist down the shaft before he guides it slowly into the hole in the wall. Its big enough that he can comfortably fit within its confines, and almost as soon as his hips are pressed flush there’s a hot, wet tongue curling around the head, then lips pressing to the warm skin of him in little kisses that you trail to the base of his cock and a hand gripping him. And wasn’t that just lovely? 

But you were quiet- you drew him into your mouth and sucked without even a whimper, and that just wouldn’t do. “Can you take more?” He asks softly, and he sees Valentino’s head whip in his direction in time with the soft double knock.

Vox grabs the helpful little handle attached to the wall for leverage before he shoves his hips forward, and he’s rewarded with the sweetest little whine when he brushes the back of your throat. In an effort to keep yourself from making any noise your throat constricts around his tip, and he moans low, feeling the wood of the wall vibrate from it. He wishes he could see through the damned thing- see if your eyes were clenched shut to hold yourself back or if they were wide open and glazed, teary in your need. If your hands were dipping in between your legs to take the edge off of your arousal, if you were aroused knowing who he was when he had no clue who you were.

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, trying to goad you into responding, and he doesn’t miss how Val sits up a little straighter on the chaise across the room- they weren’t really together right now, but that didn’t mean that he wanted Vox having too good of a time without him, clearly. “Let that pretty voice out- I wanna hear you moan on my cock, doll, can you do that?”

Val had you trained well, he would give the moth that much credit; you moan low in your throat and the vibration ripples deliciously along the length of him. Even with the sound sending electric bolts of pleasure through his body, he thinks he recognizes it. Some faint whisper in his memory processors tells him that he’s heard that sound before. He needs something else, some other way to get you vocal.

He looks down at the hole in the wall- he thinks if he could get it just a bit wider he might be able to get a hand through it, pull on your hair a little bit. He releases the handle on one side to slip his fingers through the hole, relishing in your hum of surprise and sharp intake of breath through your nose when you see his claws come through. “If I can get this open more,” he says lowly, glad for once for Val’s shitty eyesight so he can’t watch him prepare to potentially destroy part of his set, “can I touch you?” Two hesitant knocks on the wood, but that’s not good enough for him anymore. “I need a verbal confirmation on this, no porn shit.”

Hesitation. Vox worries that he’s ruined it somehow before he hears your voice, low and raspy on the other side.

“Yeah, okay.”

And fuck, he knew it! He did know that voice- something he had suppressed forever, from when he was new to Hell, still a fucking nobody. You had watched him fall, helped replace parts of his screen when he had hit the ground and was still processing the fact that he even had a screen to replace. You had watched over him for weeks, the pseudo-relationship taking a headfirst dive into the sexual before you had just fucking vanished on him a couple months in, leaving him to fend for himself again after taking care of him, making him need you. 

It had been fucking decades but Vox remembered. What you looked and sounded like bouncing on his cock in your shitty apartment, fingers rubbing frantically at your clit while your other hand dug claws into the skin of his abdomen. The tilt of your eyebrow when you got pissy with him about something. The way that your lower lip trembled with your stuttering whines when you approached orgasm, or when you cried for him, over the cuts and scars that littered his body when you first brought him home and cleaned him up. Now that he was allowing himself to remember the memories flood back, and if he closes his eyes he can almost picture you on your knees before him the way you had been, lips stretched around the girth of his cock, eyes teary and wanting and ready for him to sink into you at a moment’s notice. 

The wood creaks under his fingers, threatens to crack in his grip, and he hears the curious sound you make before he feels it.

Val is going to be pissed if Vox breaks this wall, he knows that much. He also probably won’t react well to him just popping around the back of it to see you, to fuck you if you would allow him that. A glance back to the moth confirms that Val has gone back to looking at his phone, and Vox figures that he can take his chances. He strengthens his grasp on the wood of the wall- “lean back a second, doll,” he warns you, and only temporarily laments the loss of your hot mouth around his prick before he leans out of the hole himself- and yanks, the cheap wood splintering under his hands, showering down on the floor on either side and opening a space wide enough that he can fit at least one of his arms through it. That’s all he needs. 

“¡Qué coño! What the fuck was that?” Val stands from his chaise, phone going into his pocket as he prepares to stomp over to Vox, eyes angry.

Vox turns his hypnotic eye on the moth. “I think that was the bed on set B again,” he says loud enough for him to hear, and he watches Val stop, transfixed. “You should go check it out- you’re the boss, after all.”

Val’s feet stutter against the floor. “I- you’re right! I should go check it out- you keep la puta occupied Voxxy, I’ll be back.” He wanders off, muttering in Spanish as he goes, and no sooner has he turned the corner than Vox is sticking his arm through the widened hole that he’s created, finding your head closer than he thought and twisting his fingers into your hair. 

His thumb brushes against one of your ears that rests atop your head, soft and fluffy just like he remembers and his stomach drops, his want intensifying suddenly, sharply. Other hand wrapped around his cock he guides it back into the hole, using his new grip on your head to pull you closer, take him further down your throat. “Fuck, baby, that’s good,” he mutters, and your responding whine is fucking delicious. “So fucking hot and wet- some things never change, huh?”

You stiffen slightly under his hand and he shifts his grip, pinches your cheeks where they’re hollowed from his length keeping your mouth open. He lets his thumb trail across your cheekbones, and you exhale through your nose at the sensation, a tremor in your body now. “Did you think I wouldn’t recognize your voice, princess? Those sweet little sounds that you let out when you’re stuffed with my cock? What are you doing here?” He asks, unable to keep the desperate curiosity out of his voice, or to keep his hips from still lazily thrusting into your mouth. Not great for a conversation or answers that he did actually want but fuck had he missed this. He hadn’t let himself even think about you for decades but you had been his first for nearly everything in Hell and then you left him like he was nothing- he thinks he’s entitled to being just a little mean, a little selfish.

“Come on, darling, don’t hold out on me now.” He bucks forward, feels you constrict around his tip again and groans low in his throat. “Show me that you missed me, too.” He forces himself to hold his hips still and let you come to him- you huff out through your nose and suck hard almost defiantly, bringing a hand up to grip his base where you can’t reach with your mouth. You pull off and place kisses down his shaft once more, the whimpers you emit sending sweet shocks of pleasure through his nervous system. He lets his hands tangle back in your hair, not guiding, simply holding on while you kiss and lick and take care of him, his orgasm fast approaching with your attention. “Gonna make me cum, baby, you want it?”

Vox scratches behind your ear as he asks, and the whine you let out is low, pathetic, fucking sexy. “Say the word and it’s yours. All of it, sweetheart, I’ll give you anything you ask. Fuck, I missed you.” There’s the faintest tinge of shame at admitting it- admitting that he didn’t have something he had wanted for so long, that he had had to scrub you from his processors to exist without you. “Did you miss me? You want me to cum in your mouth, claim you again like old times? Tell me.” He pulls you forward and you choke a bit, gag reflex hitting hard and moaning when he pulls you off enough that you can answer him.

“Fuck, Vox, yes,” you whisper, barely audible but its enough. He doesn’t even care, really, which question you’re answering as he guides himself back into your open mouth, hips stuttering once, twice, and losing himself in the slick grip of your throat. His release is met with a soft cry around his cock before he’s coming, spilling into your mouth like so many dreams and memories of the past that he had tried to erase. It’s almost painfully good, his muscles tensing and his fingers clenching hard in your hair while you take him in, swallow him down like the good girl you had always fucking been for him.

You clean him up, lick the remnants of his orgasm from him so sweetly before he pulls himself back through the hole and drops to his knees, pulling your head forward so your mouth is where it was before. He can’t kiss you like this, not really, but he tries his fucking best, licking into your mouth as well as he’s able to and trembling with the effort of not completely destroying the wall to get to you properly. You moan into his mouth and he’s desperate, suddenly, to get you off, too. “How do I get in there?” He asks, pulling away, and he’s mesmerized by the sight of your lips, open and panting when he looks down. “I need to see you, doll, it’s been too fucking long and I- please, tell me how to get in there to you.” He hates that he’s basically begging you but pride be damned; he had already lost you once.

You’re quiet for a moment, and Vox watches your mouth move when you answer. “H-head towards studio B,” you say quietly, “there’s a red door to the right in the hallway. I’ll… I’ll wait for you.” Your mouth pulls away from the hole and Vox is fucking out of there, zipping into the powerline of the nearest camera to find that door, to get to you.

He’s going to have to have a discussion with Valentino, he thinks, when he spots the door and brushes his clothes off before stepping inside. You couldn’t belong to two people at once, and he would let himself fall to an angel’s blade before he lost you again.

[bumblebeehug]

A Way Into Your Heart

Summary: After a friendly night out, Natsu and Lucy connect under the street lights. Notes: I just wanted to write about them kissing. I have no other excuse for not writing on my last nalu week fanfic - I just wanted them to smooch for ten pages, so that's what I did! Ao3

***

Lucy was feeling hot. She was currently mushed between a fire dragon slayer and a very sweaty Ichya at the bar. The Fairy Tail guild had been invited to yet another event that they didn't deserve to go to. Even if they helped save Christina from getting destroyed by enemies, the town beneath the flying ship hadn't been as lucky. Still, Blue Pegasus were persistent that they had to thank Fairy Tail, so here they all were, crammed into a semi big pub in the outskirts of Magnolia, drinking and celebrating yet another victory.

"You okay?" Natsu leaned towards Lucy and whispered in her ear. The blast of hot air made Lucy sweat.

"It's weird that he doesn't smell bad," Lucy complained, adding a slight nod towards Ichya. As she glanced towards him she noticed that he was flaring his nostrils and bending towards her. She could only cringe. "He's smelling me…"

Natsu poked his head forward and gave Ichya a menacing stare. Sadly, Ichya was far too drunk to care. When Natsu's tactic to scare him away didn't work, he slid off the bar stool and pulled Lucy away.

"That creep," he muttered, placing a protective arm over Lucy's shoulders. "How hasn't he gotten locked up yet?"

Lucy let out a small giggle.

"It's not against the law to be weird. Plus, he's dating my great grandmother, he can't be that crazy."

Natsu huffed in response.

"Don't brag 'bout having a weirdo family tree."

Lucy stuck out her tongue. No matter how close they got, or how long their friendship lasted, Natsu would never stop calling her that. She wouldn't be surprised if he wrote R.I.P. Weirdo on her headstone one day.

On another note, Lucy was craving a new drink. She had only gotten halfway on her previous one since Natsu pulled her away, so after some coercion she got him to pay for her new one.

"I'll get us some seats," she said, pushing him back towards the bar, along with a small prayer that he wouldn't get carried away and confront Ichya. That could only lead to the fire alarm going off, best case, or worst, the bar turning into ashes, which would definitely ruin the festive mood. After scanning the tables she noticed a table for two where one guy had fallen asleep. The many empty beer glasses in front of him indicated that his night out was coming to an end. Lucy threaded over to him, careful not to bump into anyone with a drink in their hand. A sticky dress wasn't pleasant.

"Excuse me, sir?" Lucy spoke loudly in hope that he hadn't fallen asleep just yet. After a couple of pokes he finally looked at her. "Sir, could my friend and I use this table?"

The man looked like he was going through the worst kind of drunk — the kind where he'll wake up the next morning in a bush with his pants halfway down, wondering why his lip is hurting and soon learning that some other drunk guy tried to pierce it with a safety pin. He had left a puddle of drool on the table in front of him, and it was obvious that Lucy's words didn't connect. They had gone in through one ear and out the other. Still, she tried again, being sure to keep her distance, just in case.

"Could we have this table?" She shouted this time, finally hearing her own voice over the myriad of others. That seemed to go through to the man as well.

"Y-yearh…" he slurred, slowly standing up from the chair, knocking down multiple glasses in the process. Good thing they were plastic and not glass. "Hu… here ya' go sweetie…"

Lucy smiled politely as thanks. She wasn't exactly scared of drunk people — most of them were quite kind, and she knew that if anything were to happen, she'd have two guilds and all her spirits to back her up. Still, she preferred to not start a commotion. Natsu didn't have a reputation for staying calm and collected when people bothered her.

Luckily the guy left before Natsu came with the drinks. The table itself was disgusting, but it was nice not having to sit all crammed in between people in the bar. Besides, a waitress was quick to spot them, wiping down the table and bringing the used glasses with her.

"One pornstar martini for you," Natsu said, placing a pretty reddish orange drink in front of her, "and a whiskey on the rocks for me." Lucy smiled brightly.

"Thanks!" She picked up the rounded martini glass and held it up. "Here's a toast then, for a free drink!"

"And for finding a table," Natsu added, picking up his glass as well.

"And for Christina!"

"And toast to another victory for Fairy Tail!"

"Hear hear," Lucy said, giving Natsu's glass a small clink before finally tasting her drink. It was a delicious blend of sweet passion fruit, mixed with vanilla vodka and a splash of lime. She let out a squeak in delight — few things made her happier than an alcoholic drink where she couldn't taste the alcohol. They may be dangerous, but she saw no joy in consuming drinks with that bitter spiciness. "This is delicious! What's it called, did you say?"

"Pornstar martini!" Natsu leaned slightly over the table to ensure that he was heard.

"What a vulgar name…" Lucy muttered under her breath, confirming to Natsu that she had heard him. It sure was convenient that he had that excellent hearing — way less shouting. "How was yours?"

"Pretty good," Natsu said, "wanna taste?"

Lucy couldn't resist the offer. She knew she wouldn't enjoy it herself, but after drinking with Natsu for a few years, she learned that different whiskeys had different tastes. Some were quite sweet and fruity, others had nutty notes. With a tiny sip from this glass, she learned that he had gotten his favourite kind — the one with spicy and smoky notes. She made a face.

"Bleh! It's your type of drink, alright," she confirmed, sticking out her tongue to lessen the strong taste. The most she could enjoy whiskey was if it was as a highball or a whiskey sour — she avoided straight on the rocks as the plague. Luckily, she always had Natsu to drink them for her if she was served any.

"What an ugly face!" Natsu laughed, snickering at her scrunched facial expression.

"It's unnatural to be calm after drinking something like that," she countered with a sour face, trying to hide the smile in the corner of her mouth. "At least my drink resembles something edible instead of sharing more similarities with gasoline than a drink." This time Natsu was the one to poke out his tongue.

"Let me taste yours then," he dared her.

"Fine." She slid her drink over, watching him take a sip.

"Too sweet," Natsu said, contorting his face to further prove his point. "It's just sugar! Makes my teeth feel icky."

"It's not just sugar! It's fruity and sour and has that perfect amount of vanilla flavour to it. Don't pride yourself in having uncultured taste buds."

They always ended up bantering like this when they shared drinks, but Lucy found it to be pleasant banter. The kind she remembered when she woke up the next morning, earning a giggle, thinking of all the fun retorts that had been said. She knew that Natsu shared her sentiment, not letting his soft facial expressions go past her. Even when he tried to rile her up by blowing raspberries and feigning annoyed sighs, she could see how his eyes were squinted together into a constant smile. She never felt like she had to second guess their friendship.

Four drinks and three shots later, they decided it was time to head back to Lucy's apartment. Natsu wasn't as much of a lightweight as Lucy, but even he felt the effects from having one too many vanilla vodka shots. Plus, the constant blush on Lucy's face and her jokes that were gradually getting flirtier were enough for Natsu to close the tab for the night.

He stood up from his chair and swiftly helped Lucy up as well. She was still giggling at a joke she had said ten minutes earlier and was swaying like crazy once she stood up. As the pub was still crowded, Natsu held a tight and steady arm around her as they made their way to Makarov and Bob's table. Even though he'd never let anything bad happen on the way home, he felt like it was good to inform them that they were leaving.

"Natsu," Lucy called out, squirming around in his grip around her, trying to face his ear. "Doesn't Master Bob's head look like a chestnut?" She whispered silently, making sure not to be heard by anyone other than him. When her lips accidentally brushed against Natsu's earlobe he felt a violent shiver – a pleasant, but violent shiver throughout his body.

"I wouldn't tell him that though," Natsu answered, leading to a new fit of giggles from Lucy. After all, he agreed with her statement.

After giving the supposed responsible adults a heads up, Natsu could finally lead Lucy out of the premises. The cool night breeze was heavenly after having breathed the same air as at least a hundred other drunkards for hours. Some fresh air was precisely what Lucy seemed to need as well, since she sobered up quite a bit from just stepping outside. She was still clearly loopy, but at least she wasn't laughing like a crazy person anymore.

"Finally, some air!" Lucy exclaimed, stretching the one arm that wasn't glued to Natsu's upper body. He still hadn't let go of her – for all he knew, she could have been too drunk to walk straight. Though as soon as he noticed that that wasn't the case, he lightened his grip around her, settling for resting his arm over her shoulder. That way she wouldn't be out of reach if she stumbled and fell.

"Our friends really know how to party," Natsu said with a big grin. He really loved having fun with everyone – it was an unparalleled bonding experience in his eyes.

"Yeah they do," Lucy giggled, resting her head against Natsu's shoulder. "By the way, who won the shot contest before?"

"Cana 'fcourse."

"But she wasn't in the contest," she puzzled, furrowing her eyebrows in an attempt to piece it all together.

"You think she cared 'bout that?"

"Ah, of course not."

They continued walking in silence for a while. The pub they had been to was on the opposite side of Magnolia, though luckily Lucy's place was pretty much right in the middle. They hadn't walked on this side of Strawberry Street in a long time – last time must have been back when Lucy, Natsu and Happy had just formed a team and Natsu and Happy had taken her sightseeing in the city. Most stores and pubs were between Fairy Tail and Lucy's apartment though, so on this side there were mostly residents. Still, the river was as thrilling as always to a drunk Lucy. She managed to slither her way out of his grip four times, attempting to balance the ledge. Natsu, however, absolutely couldn't let her do that. He wasn't sober enough to tend to her like he usually could, so the risks were too high.

"Come on," she whined after being caught again, giving the o an emphasis. "I've never fallen in, you know that!"

"Yeah well that's 'cus I always catch ya'!"

Before Lucy could slip out of his half embrace for the fifth time, Natsu took a firm grip of her hand. Rough in his motion, he brought their hands up in front of her face, making sure she saw him holding on tightly.

"I'm not letting ya' go this time." His eyebrows weighed heavily on his eyelids as he tried to emphasise his annoyance with her. Of course, he wasn't actually annoyed, but if he looked like he was joking, Lucy would just giggle and continue struggling. He'd gone through this before.

Lucy wasn't blind. She saw the smirk in the corner of his mouth, but she decided to follow his lead this time.

"Fiiine." She quickly stuck out her tongue at him before she looked forward again. They had already gotten quite far, they'd be home in just under ten minutes.

It only took a couple of steps before Natsu softened his grip around Lucy's hand. With the new motion range she'd received, she swiftly changed the position, braiding her fingers into his. Another couple of steps and she felt a soft caress against the back of her hand. Natsu's rough, warm thumb, rhythmically moving. His hand was warm, she noticed. Well, of course it would be. It was Natsu after all. She rarely held colder hands, other than Levy's now and then when they were sharing excitement over a new book arriving in their library. Levy's hands however were small and soft, nothing like Natsu's. She was once again made aware of the fact that he wasn't just another girlfriend she hung out with – he was a man. Broad shoulders, big square hands, feet several sizes bigger than hers. Most days she wore heels, but when they were in her apartment, only socks on their feet, she noticed that she had to bend her neck a little bit further back when talking to him. He wasn't the tallest man, but he was over half a head taller than her.

Even with the cool breeze outside she felt her cheeks getting warm. She'd blame it on the booze if he asked her, but she knew very well that she was getting flustered. Natsu was a really cool guy after all, chiselled features and fierce, fiery eyes.

To distract herself she started swinging their hands. It started out mild, but soon enough she noticed Natsu was in on it and the swinging motion rapidly became comically big. Since Natsu didn't hold back on his strength he almost lifted Lucy up in the air on the upswing.

"Eeeek!" Lucy's high pitched shriek left Natsu in a fit of snickers, though he stopped swinging his arm.

Lucy had to find her balance again. Even if she wasn't wearing her highest heels, the ones she wore were thin and extremely wobbly on the cobblestoned path.

"To think that you'd be the one who would try to throw me in the river, out of all people," she teased, leaning her weight on him.

"Thought ya' wanted the lesson," he countered, leaning back. He couldn't help but love Drunk Lucy's cravings to be physically close. She never declined holding his hand or hugging him when she was tipsy, hell, she usually begged for cuddles. Though, to be fair, he hadn't exactly tried to hold her hand very often while sober, either, so she wasn't the one to blame for that.

Just then Lucy saw a familiar brick wall in the distance, dimly lit up by the sparsely placed street lights surrounding the area.

"Hey, we're home!" She started picking up the pace, eager to wash up and surround herself with her warm blankets. Soon they were in front of the building, and Lucy started digging for her keys in her purse. She just managed to get the key into the door before she turned around to say something to Natsu.

As soon as she spun her head around though, she got stopped in her tracks. Whatever she just wanted to say flew straight out of her head. He looked gorgeous. His hair was a bit messy from the long night, and his usual styled bang was hanging down over his forehead. The light from the street lamp behind him, made his hair lit up like a halo around him. And his face, she couldn't recall a time he had looked at her this softly. His lips were curved into a gentle, mild smile, and his eyes were practically sparkling. For a second it looked like he was going to say something, but it seemed like he had stopped himself mid thought. Instead his head tilted the slightest to its left, gaining an observing gaze. He was thinking of something, and she couldn't quite tell what.

Lucy looked like a puppy, Natsu realised. Her eyes resembled gemstones, glimmering between a deep chestnut colour and a lighter amber tone. He could stare at them all night, though, sooner or later she would probably want to go to sleep. For now though she had this questioning look to her. She was smiling, but her eyebrows were slightly raised, as if she was inviting him to ask her anything – tell her anything. He almost felt dizzy looking at her, her hair was giving this golden sheen, her skin looked airbrushed with that pinkish blush on the apples of her cheeks. She was angelic. Before he had noticed, he was hovering slightly over her. Had he gone a centimetre closer their noses would have bumped together.

Suddenly he got this urge. A question he had to ask her, something he'd never let pass his lips if he had taken one less whiskey tonight.

"Can I kiss you?"

The air between them stood still. In fact, they could swear the time stood still as well. Lucy was processing his words, and Natsu was waiting for an answer. A yes, a smile, even half a nod would suffice. And there it was. Lucy had wetted her lips.

She barely had time to take a breath before Natsu crashed his mouth against hers. For some reason she was surprised – she thought the moment had called for a soft, fluttery kiss, but soon her surprise was drowned in awe. After all, this was her very first kiss. She wanted to be in the moment. The initial crash had been the most forceful part. Natsu quickly adapted, moulding his lips against hers with a soft motion to it. One of his hands had been cupping her cheek when he first brought his face to hers, and now his other hand was on her waist, pulling her entire body closer to his.

Lucy, who felt like she was melting under his hot touch, was quick to wrap her arms around his neck in an attempt to hoist herself up, getting tangled up in his scarf. His mouth was burning hot, but just cool enough for her not to want to pull away, and at the edge of his lips she could feel his stubble scratching her. How could they have waited so long to do this?

She hadn't yet gotten the hang of breathing while kissing yet though, so soon she had to pat out. While panting for air, she noticed that Natsu was still bent over, giving light pecks on her cheek, continuing down, kissing a trail along her jaw. As he neared her ear he gave her a nibble, earning a giggle that could easily have been confused with a gasp to someone with an untrained ear. She could feel her entire body tingling, every fluttery graze from Natsu's lips leaving her with goosebumps. Did he know the effect this had on her? That she couldn't help but to get confused about what their relationship was currently. What were they doing?

When Natsu noticed that Lucy had catched her breath, he picked his head up from being buried in her neck. The eyes he earlier had compared to a puppy's glimpse, were now darkened in a seductive gaze. Her rosy, now plump, lips were slightly parted as an aftereffect of her panting, and he suddenly had to know what they tasted. They looked so soft, no – they were evidently soft, so certainly they had to be sweet as well. Her lip gloss, though smudged from him having mushed it around, made her look appetising.

Once again Natsu closed their distance, though this time he left his mouth slightly open. He just wanted to see if those lips really were as sweet as they looked. Lucy, who still was in a daze, having closed her eyes to invite him to further action, suddenly became aware of what he was doing. Natsu's tongue brushed over Lucy's bottom lip. She could feel her heartbeat pick up – she had never felt another person's tongue on her mouth. That didn't mean she didn't like it: if anything she wanted to do the same to him. Lick him, see what sensations he could give her, what she could give him.

On accident, Lucy's tongue met Natsu's. She was about to retreat it back into her mouth when she felt Natsu's tongue enter her mouth completely. The bodily reactions she had to his action was like nothing she had ever felt before – hadn't she known better, she would think she was about to get eaten. Devoured by the lust that had taken over their brains. Natsu tasted like smoke and whiskey, and she wondered if he could feel the aftertaste of the drinks she had had as well. Lucy quickly decided that she couldn't just be on the receiving side. She brought her hands to his head, did a combing motion through his hair that almost stopped Natsu in his tracks, and when he no longer dominated their combined mouthspace, Lucy pushed forward her own tongue. She started exploring his mouth, examining every single part of that grin that she found in all her happiest dreams. This was Natsu, no frowns, no barriers, nothing that kept space between them. They were melting together into one.

Natsu had been caught off guard when Lucy's slender fingers started combing through his hair. A motion he had always connected to being soothed while motion sick, was now edging him on, giving him the extra courage to go all in. As Lucy's tongue searched around in his mouth, feeling the sharp canines with its tip, Natsu started sucking hers in retaliation. Kissing reminded him of sparring, in a way – a balance between fighting for the upper hand and learning to give up when the other clearly was winning.

Their arms had been flailing around for the past five minutes, tugging and pulling at their partner. Lucy was busy holding on to Natsu's shoulders, sometimes trailing down to rest on his chiselled chest, but mostly finding themselves back around Natsu's face – cupping his cheeks, getting her fingers tangled up in his soft hair, drawing small circles on the back of his neck, all things that made Natsu feel like he was going insane. How could her soft touches have such huge impacts? But he absolutely wasn't complaining, he was soaking everything up, wanting to remember every detail. He was totally wrapped around her finger.

Lucy shared his sentiment, as Natsu's hands had been trailing down her waist, sometimes staying there in a massaging motion, sometimes going down further to grip her hips. Then she found him going back up again, cupping her face, bringing her so close that not an atom could pass by. She was obsessed. He was pressing his entire body against her, even putting a leg between hers, resulting in a very embarrassing moan from Lucy.

This entire time that they had been kissing, Lucy hadn't heard a single thing, being so wrapped up in their actions and in her own headspace. When she suddenly let her voice out, it was as if the bubble that had been around them burst. She could only take another few seconds of their smacking and panting, before she had to pull away.

"Oh my god, Natsu," she breathed, taking in the scene of the man in front of her. He, too, was panting, but had the air of being able to continue for eternity. His eyes looked even darker than usual, like they were in this limbo of determination and lust. He seemed to be waiting for her to continue talking. "We're still outside."

She almost smiled when she heard how stupid she sounded. Being outside wasn't the problem – kissing her best friend in a drunk haze was. Natsu seemed like he hadn't even considered the consequences of what they were doing. He just smirked as he answered.

"Then we'll go in." His voice was huskier than it had been earlier this night. Like a switch had flipped and some instincts were speaking, deep from his soul. Those words were all it took for Lucy to swing the port open from behind, falling back into the dim hallway that led up to her apartment's front door. Natsu immediately kissed her again, while simultaneously struggling to get the keys out of the keyhole. When he did manage, however, he didn't hesitate a second to hoist Lucy up so she was straddling his lower stomach. Lucy was quick on the notes, wrapping her legs around him so she wouldn't slide down when he carried them up the stairs.

As soon as they went through the door and threw off their shoes, Lucy jumped down from him. The kiss, that had been deep on their way up – lots of tongue and saliva, was interrupted as she took his hand and headed straight for the bed. Natsu was walking slightly behind, worshipping the sway of her hips and her sculpted back underneath that flowy red dress. He would have kneeled, hadn't he been following her footsteps towards his version of heaven – Lucy's bed, with Lucy in it.

The apartment wasn't big, so it took ten steps to stand in front of the bed. Lucy turned around, and Natsu's breath was once again taken away. He wanted to treasure her like gold, yet at the same time he wanted every piece of her. He wanted the privilege to touch her, feel her, know her. And as Lucy's lips turned upwards into a smile, he knew that she was allowing him. So he brought her face close again, accidentally bumping their foreheads together, like they had done many times before, and then he closed his eyes and gave her the softest peck on her lips he could manage. Their first kiss, outside of the apartment, had been rough and clumsy, experimental even. Now he just revelled in being allowed to feel those soft, warm lips that had been plumped up by his own doing.

And after that first peck, he gave her one again. Then a third time. Then he slowly brought them down on the bed, and then Lucy took the lead again. She figured that they could do a mixed style of kissing – no major tongue events, no extra saliva, but also no pecking. She held her mouth half open, sort of closing off any attempted entrance Natsu might want to do with his tongue, and instead softening her lips and tongue, making the make out style deep, but gentle. Natsu was of course quick on the notes and followed her lead, liking the mood it set between them. No crazy panting, no feelings of rushing, just them, there, kissing.

Now, even if Lucy could have done this all night, she realised something important. More important than the half-way relationship they had created this last half hour. Yes, she realised she was lying in bed with outdoor clothes. The realisation made her still, prompting Natsu to pause the kissing. He was still hovering over her, though their legs had tangled together, and now that he wasn't kissing her he realised Lucy's skirt had ridden up quite high. He swooped her sweaty bangs to the side.

"What's the matter?" He asked.

"We have to strip," Lucy said, crawling out of his grip and up, walking to her dresser.

"What?"

"Oh, Natsu, come on. Think! We've been to the pub in these clothes, it's disgusting!" Before Natsu could even register the fact that she first of all hadn't implied what he thought she implied, and then register that he had to change out of his clothes, Lucy had switched her dress to a night gown and taken off her jewellery.

"Right," he mumbled, surprised that Lucy was so composed, despite their situation. He certainly didn't feel composed. "Are my sweatpants in the drawer?"

"Yeah," she said, picking them up and throwing them on the bed. She wanted to brush through her hair before going to sleep – it helped it stay tangle free during the night.

Natsu took off his scarf and unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing. He didn't mind undressing in front of Lucy, but after tonight he felt like it was odd. His life had just changed for the better, yet they still had to eat, sleep, brush their teeth, go to the toilet – change clothes. It would be much better if he could just kiss Lucy non-stop, for eternity.

As he changed out of his dress pants and into his sweatpants, Lucy took a glance at him. He looked like a God with his physique, the perfect muscle definition and the tan he had left from the summer – she wanted to feel every crevice. Normally, she would have shaken off the thought and made some tea to cool her head off, but with alcohol in her blood and with the current situation, she allowed herself to be bold. She snuck up behind him, though she knew he could probably hear her footsteps. With a soft touch, she felt the dip where his spine was buried with muscle – starting at his neck and slowly following it down to his lower back, stopping once she felt the curve change from convex to concave.

She had never seen him this turned on. The entire room felt electric, and when she looked up from his back, she saw that he was watching her in his peripherals. It only took him a second to turn around and lock himself to her lips, and this time she was practically thrown onto the bed. He was eating her, lightly pulling at her bottom lip until he once again dove down in her mouth. If the previous kissing had been gentle and kind, this was the heavy stuff. A string of saliva connected their mouths when they pulled apart for a second, like it was telling them to get back in again. And they obeyed.

Natsu's hands were roaming Lucy's body, no longer stopping at the friendly zones. Her nightgown showed so much skin that he would have thought she wore it to seduce him, hadn't he known better. Luckily, that meant easy access to grab a handful of her ass, earning an airy moan from Lucy.

She, too, was busy feeling Natsu up. She consistently held him close to feel as every muscle on his back was working. When she felt company at his groin being rubbed up against her, she once again felt her voice slip out, though this time she stifled it by clawing at his back. That only seemed to edge him on more though, since the accidental rubbing started feeling more intentional.

Natsu started kissing Lucy's neck again, though this time he didn't leave dry, fluttery kisses, but rather a wet trail of saliva as his tongue travelled down towards her collar bones. Lucy felt like she was floating – he was warm, made her sweaty, yet he gave her goosebumps like he was paid for each shiver, searching everywhere on her body to earn a new one. As he settled on a spot right below her collarbone, just where the flesh of her breast started, she felt a sucking sensation. He was grabbing the skin in the area with his teeth, and Lucy wasn't sure if it was painful or the best feeling ever – perhaps a mix of both.

"God, Natsu," she breathed, feeling her voice waver as one of his hands held her waist tight.

Natsu, who must have decided that his hickey was finished, hoisted himself up. Lucy suspected he was having a hard time holding himself back, the sheen on his temples and his puzzled eyes giving it away. Without a word they seemed to have agreed to take a breather, Natsu leaning himself against the window while trying to compose himself, Lucy throwing her legs over the edge of the bed to gather her thoughts as well.

Though the silence was loud now that the room wasn't filled with their smacking and panting, it wasn't uncomfortable. It was ambiguous worst case, which Lucy didn't associate with bad.

"Look, I…" Lucy started, turning her head to face Natsu's. "I don't have any condoms."

Her face immediately turned red once she said it, and she regretted having turned to look at Natsu's reaction. His eyes widened and his mouth fell agape – had her implication been that horrible?

"Now that'cha mention it, me neither."

He laughed. Slowly at first, but when Lucy joined in they fell into giggles. It wasn't the end of the world, so there were no hard feelings. Though Natsu had a hard feeling that he had to deal with… He'd have to do it quietly in the bathroom before they went to bed.

Lucy turned around properly to look at Natsu again.

"I think we should… talk. About this." She looked serious again, but not in a stern or menacing way. "It's not that I don't want to do it. I do." Her face was blushing, but she continued speaking. "I just don't think it's a terrible idea to wait. At least until we're sober?"

Natsu nodded. Of course he could wait, he wasn't exactly fond of the idea of going all the way when they were this drunk and naive. He wanted her to feel into it, for her to be able to call their first night special.

"Yeah, let's do that. Should we go brush our teeth?"

Lucy let out a tired giggle.

"Yeah, I need some water as well."

As soon as they went back to bed, they realised that they didn't want to stop kissing just yet. After all, once you got the hang of it, it turned out to be easy to replicate.

[comphy-and-cozy]

Playing Pretend - Tyson Jost

Pairing: Tyson Jost x OC (f)

Summary: When Delaney Taylor needs a date to her family reunion, Tyson Jost volunteers his services. As they navigate their fake relationship, the line between what’s real and what isn’t begins to blur.

Word Count: 9.8k

Author's Note: Happy birthday, @senditcolton! Surprise, I was your Little Women anon 🤓🥳 I had a blast creating this and infusing the March family into the characters - I hope you enjoy! S/O to @wyattjohnston for helping to beta and to @smileysvech & @jostystyles for the extra details because I'm insane. 🖤 The birthday bingo prompts I selected were: Fake dating / Drunk confession / Argument Scene / She's oblivious / Free Space (Inspired by... Little Women)

Warnings: Angst, language, alcohol use. NHL Masterlist

A buzz on the coffee table alerted Delaney Taylor’s attention away from the television. Beside her, the gentle hum of a Theragun sounded over the low volume of an Avalanche game. She was at Tyson’s house, having accepted his invite to hang out and get takeout on his night off. They’d met through friends, and after finding a mutual interest in The Lagoons and bad reality TV, their friendship naturally veered off to form a branch and blossom on its own.

The phone buzzed again, prompting Delaney to lean forward and grab it upon seeing a text from her sister. 

“Fuck,” she said, “Alyssa just texted asking for a final count for my family get together in July.”

“And that’s a bad thing… why? You love your family,” Tyson said, confused. He set down his Theragun on the ottoman, reaching for his water bottle. A car dealership commercial flashed on the screen.

Across from him on the couch, Delaney sighed. “I know. It’s just… I’m kind of the disappointment of the family.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I’m poor, in a mass amount of debt, and working at a Kohl’s instead of at the Met like I was supposed to by this time,” she said, counting each sin on her fingers. Lifting a fourth, she added, “Oh yeah, and I’m single.”

Tyson rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. They don’t care about that.”

“Maybe not, but I’m only 26 and they make me feel so pressured to get married, start having babies,” she sighed. “My older sister, Alyssa? Happily married with three kids. Violet? In a long-term, happy relationship. And Rachel—she’s not even married but she still has a baby who is basically the light of everyone’s life. Even both of my little sisters have ‘made it’ more than me. I’m just a grad school dropout who broke up with the boyfriend that everyone loved. They spent all of Christmas asking me if we were going to get back together.”

“Yeah, well, did you tell them that Mark was a fucking douche?” Tyson asked, to which Delaney snorted in amusement. You’re the only other person who seems to think so. He let the moment settle before adding, “Delaney, you don’t have to check all of the same boxes as your sisters. You’re literally the smartest person I know.”

“Dropping out of grad school does crazy things for your self confidence,” she said, heart heavy with defeat. It was over halfway through the semester, but saying it out loud never got easier. Delaney wondered what her former classmates were studying, if they missed her absence. 

At the end of the fall semester, she’d been crushed to make the decision to pull out of her classes for the spring. Between work, schoolwork, and trying to balance the rest of her little free time between having a social life and having a healthy sleep schedule. her stress levels skyrocketed at the same rate as her student loan payment. It was a painful, but necessary, goodbye. Though she knew she made the right decision, she still felt sad and disappointed when her mind drifted, doing her best to quiet the what ifs that ran through her mind.

Delaney forced herself to focus her thoughts back to the present. “I just… I can’t stand to be a disappointment anymore. I already failed at being a grad student. I don’t want to have to fail at finding a boyfriend, too.”

“I’ll be your boyfriend.”

He blurted it out so quickly that Delaney stared at him for a moment before the confusion seeped in. “What?” 

“I mean,” he said after a gulp of water, a slight tinge coating his cheeks, “I’ll come with you. Pretend to be your boyfriend. That way at least there’s one area they can’t rip on you for.”

“Tyson, I can’t ask you to do that,” she said, ignoring the swell in her heart at the image of Tyson Jost holding her hand. She didn’t have time to unpack that yet. 

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” His voice was confident, like he wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer, but gentle, like he’d back down if she really vetoed the offer a second time.

Delaney considered. She felt guilty at the thought of subjecting him to her entire family, making him put on the doting boyfriend act without anything in it for him. That was just how he was, though; generous, giving, willing to do anything for his friends. It really was such a kind gesture of friendship, it almost made her heart ache.

On the other hand, it would save her a headache—she couldn’t deny how much she dreaded the hopeful look in her dad’s eyes when he asked if she was seeing someone—and she did think Tyson would get along with her family. And who wouldn’t want Buffalo’s cutest resident to be her arm candy?

“Okay,” she agreed. “But you need to promise to tell me if you change your mind.”

“Deal,” Tyson said with a grin, holding out his hand. Delaney accepted, shaking it; she ignored the warmth of his palm pressed against hers. “What’s our story, then, babe?”

Heat instantly rose in her cheeks at the pet name. “Okay, rule number one, don’t overdo it with the nicknames. It’ll be too obvious.”

“So no snookums? Honey pie? Sugar plum?”

“No, no, and double no.”

“Aww man,” he pouted. “I was even gonna let you call me ‘cupcake.’”

Delaney rolled her eyes before returning to his original question. “I think our story is the same, for consistency’s sake: We met through friends.”

“Our first date was putt putt and dinner,” he supplied, nodding along. “Kissed you outside your apartment after the second.”

Again, warmth melted over Delaney’s face at the mention of kissing; she felt like a teenager getting teased for having a crush on a boy in her class. And then she realized that she would, in fact, probably have to kiss him on the trip, if they were really hoping to make it believable.

Judging by the way Tyson’s face turned a shade of crimson, she assumed he’d come to the same realization she had.

Maybe they were in for more than they anticipated.

Six weeks later, after creating an entire relationship backstory and studying Delaney’s family tree, Tyson was on a plane to Boston, Bose headphones snugly over his ears. How I Met Your Mother was playing on his iPhone, propped up on the tray table in front of him. Seated beside him was Delaney, lost in her Kindle. Her elbow rested against him on the armrest, her long braid tucked between their arms.

When they landed, Tyson knocked his knee against hers with a grin. A strange flare of nerves and excitement radiated in his chest for a moment, then was gone again. 

“C’mon babe, I’ll get your bag for you,” he said. Delaney chuckled, shaking her head with a teasing roll of her eye.

He followed her to the rental car booth, waiting patiently while she sorted out the paperwork for a red Toyota Camry for the hour-long drive to Cape Cod. She nominated him road trip DJ, a title he wore with honor, and the two chatted comfortably as she made her way down the MA-3 South.

Nerves began to flutter again when the GPS had them exiting the highway and indicated he only had about eight more minutes to prepare for his new role as Delaney Taylor’s boyfriend. If she could tell, she didn’t say anything, and he did his best to hide it. He could handle being surrounded by reporters with cameras and phones shoved in his face, peppering him with the same questions about his career and his future; if he could handle that, he thought, he could handle meeting his pretend girlfriend’s family. 

Soon enough, they were pulling into the driveway of a large white house, and not thirty seconds after Delaney put the car in park, a small blonde head was running down the front porch steps to greet his new girlfriend. Tyson smiled as he watched Delaney throw the door open and scoop the little girl into her arms before spinning her around in a hug.

Olivia. Delaney’s seven-year-old niece—and favorite one.

“I mean, of course I love all of my nieces and nephews,” she’d explained, “but Olivia and I are soul bonded.” “Liv,” she said gently after setting her down, “there’s someone I want you to meet.” When two wide, inquisitive eyes peered up at him, Tyson instantly understood why she was Delaney’s favorite. He crouched down to meet her gaze as Delaney introduced him. “Olivia, this is Tyson.”

Olivia eyed him and he smiled, waving. She studied him thoughtfully, then said, “Hi. Are you Aunt Delaney’s boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Is that okay?”

The little girl looked over to her aunt. “Do you like him?”

Delaney’s eyes flicked over to Tyson’s, an amused smile on her face. Heat lingered in his cheeks after her gaze returned to meet Olivia’s. “Yes, I like him.”

“Like-like him?”

“Yep.” Tyson felt a flutter in his chest, like he was a kid on a playground finding out his crush like-liked him too. He hoped it didn’t show on his face.

Olivia turned back to Tyson, observing him keenly for a moment before sticking out her hand. “Okay. It’s okay.”

Tyson laughed again, relief unexpectedly washing through him at her instant approval. “Thank you. I’m really so honored to get Princess Olivia’s blessing.”

The other introductions were easier—Alyssa and Ben (Olivia’s parents), Rachel (Delaney’s sister) and her eight month old daughter, Isla. Tyson smiled warmly at everyone, feeling almost instantly at home amongst the easy way they welcomed him in. Inside the house was the rest of the family: Delaney’s sister Violet, her girlfriend Preethi, Hailey and Noah (Olivia’s older siblings), and Delaney’s dad.

Though he knew it didn’t matter much if he actually made a good impression, as he’d likely never see her family again, Delaney’s father was the person Tyson was most nervous to meet; he knew firsthand what growing up in a single-parent home was like and how close the bond can become with the remaining parent. Based on everything he’d heard about Delaney’s relationship with her father, he knew it was an important impression to nail.

“Mr. Taylor,” he said, extending his hand for a firm handshake. He was surprised at the way his voice trembled slightly, though he did his best to hide his nerves with a smile. “Really great to meet you.”

“Call me Dean,” he said with a wide, genuine smile. It put Tyson at ease, even as he registered how much larger Dean’s hands were than his own.

They exchanged pleasantries, and Tyson was happy with how the first meeting was going. He was impressed with himself, though he couldn’t deny that it was Dean’s easygoing, warm nature that really made it seamless. As a single father of four girls, Tyson wondered how many people had come through the door with the intention of dating one of his daughters—how many people had Dean had this exact interaction with? He wondered what Mark’s was like. He wondered how he measured up.

Tyson told himself it was just his competitive nature, but he found himself hoping that he was at the top of the list. 

After introductions, Tyson and Delaney brought their bags in and settled into the third bedroom on the left, their home for the week. Once the door closed, Delaney turned and asked, “How’re you doing out there?”

Tyson laughed, unzipping his bag to hang up a few of his shirts in the wardrobe. “Are you kidding? Your family is great, Delaney. I think we might have to get married. I want to come here every summer.”

“Relax, cowboy. You haven’t even had a single meal with them yet,” laughed Delaney. She was grateful her face was hidden as she knelt to pull her toiletry bag out of her suitcase. Heat burned in her cheeks even as a grin spread across her face. Then, eager to change the subject, she added, “You passed Olivia’s inspection.”

“Dude, I think I fell in love with her. Those eyes!?”

Snorting, Delaney nodded as she walked toward the bathroom to set her bag on the counter. “She does have beautiful eyes.”

She thought she heard him say something like, “Must run in the family,” and she opted to wash her hands in the sink in order to will away the burn on her cheeks before returning to the bedroom to finish unpacking.

They returned downstairs a little while later, having unpacked and changed out of travel clothes to something more beach-friendly. Though it was nearing the end of the day and the sun was beginning to go down, the kids were not ready to give up swimming and making sandcastles for the day. Delaney gestured for Tyson to make himself comfortable when they sat down in the chairs on the deck. A few others trickled out, giving Delaney the opportunity to sit and catch up with a smaller group at a time; she spoke with Rachel about Isla’s new daycare, asked Violet about her anatomy final, and told Preethi about the latest book she read. She was grateful that no one seemed to be interested in asking about her future career plans; for now, it seemed, everyone was content with her handsome, charming boyfriend.

Rachel’s eyes flicked over to Tyson, who was smiling as he took in the conversation. He didn’t have much to say or contribute, but he seemed perfectly happy just listening. It made Delaney’s heart twist a little bit at the thought.

“How you doing over there, buddy?” asked Rachel. Delaney cast an appreciative glance over at her sister, grateful that she was making an effort to include him.

“Me? Oh, I’m doing great,” he said with a grin after a sip of his Labatt. “You guys kind of remind me of my mom, sister, and cousins when they’re all together.”

“Wait, that’s really sweet,” Preethi cooed. 

“Okay, you’ve heard us yapping,” Violet said after agreeing with a nod. “Tell us about this infamous Tyson—who I’m still pretty pissed that I only just learned about your existence.” 

Delaney offered her sister a sheepish grin and a shrug as Tyson recited the story they’d concocted about their relationship, peppering in details about their first date and their transition from friends to more. Violet seemed skeptical at first, but she seemed to warm up when he shared that he’d harbored a crush on Delaney for months before he asked her out—somehow, that was enough to explain the lack of talk about him.

“We wanted to keep things light in the beginning,” she peppered in. “Just in case things didn’t work out. Didn’t want to make things weird with the rest of our friends.”

Tyson nodded, going along with her ad-libbing and taking it a step further by reaching his hand over to hold hers on the armrest of her Adirondack. His thumb stroked her knuckles, a quiet and subtle gesture of affection that sent warmth flooding to Delaney’s heart. “Fortunately, it worked out and we still have friends.”

It wasn’t long after that Rachel went inside to put Isla to sleep and Violet and Preethi left to pick up Chinese takeout for dinner, leaving Tyson and Delaney alone. The other kids had gone inside to shower, which left their view of the beach unmarred as the sun went down, oranges and purples dancing across the surface of the water. Warmth splayed over her legs, the cool breeze making an otherwise warm evening quite pleasant.

This, she thought, is pure happiness.

“Wow,” Tyson awed, “I mean, I believed you when you said it was beautiful, but this is… it’s insane.”

Delaney laughed, nudging his foot with hers.

“Thank you for coming,” she said softly after a pause. “It really—I can’t say how much it means to me that you really came and did… all this. For me.”

Tyson smiled, the chocolate of his eyes warm as his hand reached over to give hers another squeeze. “For this view? I should be thanking you.”

Though Delaney was sure he was referring to the glowing horizon in front of them, she found herself wishing that wasn’t all that he meant.

—

Dinner was simple, casual, and perfect, with everyone scattered around amongst the dining room table, kitchen bar, and coffee table in the living room. Delaney could feel her heart contract at the sight of it, her family, the sound of their voices and their laughter filling the room of her most favorite place on planet Earth. Every time she looked over at Tyson, he seemed to be laughing, that contagious, bright smile etched across his face. He flitted around, too; one moment, she’d see him at the table with Olivia, Noah, and Dean, the next, at the bar with Rachel, Alyssa, and Hailey.

She was surprised at the way in which he fit in with her family as if he’d been around for years, the way Ben and Preethi had. It was so natural; she was impressed at how well he was selling their fake relationship without missing a single beat. Not a single person, she mused, had any suspicion that it was all a sham.

It sure didn’t feel like a sham to her when he tugged his white t-shirt over his head, tossed it in his bag, and crawled into bed beside her later that night. Delaney did her best to keep from gaping, but she’d never even seen that many abs on a person, let alone the shape of his bicep and the tempting dip of muscles that disappeared into the waistband of his plaid pajama bottoms.

“So how’d I do?” he asked, pulling her out of her head—the one that was imagining exactly where those lines ended beneath the cotton material. Heat flushed to her cheeks, realizing how blatantly she’d been staring, darting her eyes away.

Delaney plugged her phone in on the nightstand and regained her composure before turning to face him. “You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

“Aw, thanks, buttercup,” he said, tapping her on the nose with a fingertip. “I’m ready to play so much Marco Polo with Olivia tomorrow.”

“You better get some beauty sleep if you’re planning to be the entertainment for the day. The girl’s got stamina.”

“Baby, I was born ready.”

When Tyson woke, it took him a moment to register where he was. The blue paint on the walls, the wooden beams, the spinning fan overhead was all unfamiliar, but there was something sweetly scented that he recognized.

Delaney.

She was sleeping beside him, hair disheveled and falling out of her loose braid. Her breathing was steady, soft, so quiet Tyson could barely hear it. He smiled, watching her for a few moments, appreciating the quiet simplicity of the house’s aura and the effect it had on Delaney; she seemed so at home, so comfortable, like she could take off the armor and be unapologetically herself. He liked seeing that side of her, like it was a privilege to be able to witness her at her most authentic self. He couldn’t wait to see more.

Delaney shifted, causing a strand of hair to fall into her face. Tyson felt a tug in his heart when she nuzzled into his warmth, exhaling softly. 

He was her boyfriend now, and as much as he’d bonded with her family the night before, it was still early and he didn’t fancy an awkward conversation over coffee with the few people who had awoken. So, he gave himself a mental shrug and let her sink into the crook of his arm, savoring her warmth.

The subtle floral scent of her shampoo made its way into his nose, and the steady rise and fall of her chest lulled him back into a cat nap, morning sun warming the ocean-cool air. It was her stirring in his arms later, after the sun had risen higher in the sky, streaming light and buttery warmth through the window, that woke him again.

“You were snoring,” she said. Her freshly-awake voice was sleepy, softer than usual. “It was so cute.”

Tyson hummed a soft apology and his cheeks warmed, heat weaving its way through his body when he realized how much of her was pressed against him. He found himself both disappointed and grateful when she stretched and rose first, padding quietly into the bathroom. The bed beside him felt cold, empty, and it was only then that he realized how much he’d been relying on her body heat for warmth.

Breakfast was casual, everyone helping themselves to the assorted bagels, fruit, and yogurt in the fridge. Delaney’s leg brushed against his when he sat back down after a coffee refill, answering Noah’s earnest questions about how to become a professional athlete. He wasn’t sure how he did until he received a grateful look from Alyssa after he told Noah that he always made sure to eat all of his vegetables at dinner.

Since he didn’t need much time to prepare for a beach day, he offered to help Dean clean up the kitchen and load the dishwasher—he was confident he’d made a good first impression, but wanted to solidify a spot on the Good List. By the time he’d started the cycle, Delaney had returned from their shared room and Tyson nearly choked on his coffee when his eyes landed on her. He’d never seen her in anything less than a t-shirt and jeans, and the expanse of her golden skin wasn’t something he had prepared himself for. 

Of course he’d noticed the way her eyes bulged when he took his shirt off before bed; he’d bitten his lip to keep from smiling. She had told him to act normal and be himself—it wasn’t his fault he preferred to sleep sans shirt. But after seeing her in beachwear, Tyson’s confidence in his ability to manage his emotions as Delaney’s fake boyfriend was starting to waver. The black linen pants she sported were enough to have him sweating for a moment before he collected himself, tearing his eyes away from the curve of her ass.

Fortunately—and unfortunately—for him, he didn’t have much time to dwell on how well her pants fit her hips and her ass, for Olivia was barreling down the dock, followed closely by Noah, both of whom were calling to Tyson to help them build the world’s largest sand kingdom. Delaney grinned at him, offering a sympathetic shrug before he was being tugged to a spot on the beach by Olivia.

Right away, she directed him to dig the moat, while she and Noah worked on starting the base. Tyson kept the conversation going, asking them both about school and letting them ask him questions about life as a hockey player. Every so often, he’d glance over at Delaney, sitting on the deck with Rachel, Isla, Violet, and Preethi. He smiled at the light in her eyes as she sat, chatting and laughing with her family that he knew she missed dearly. For the first time in a few weeks, she was smiling, the weight on her shoulders temporarily lifted.

This was why he came. Why he traveled 500 miles from home, voluntarily staying in a house full of strangers and was now elbow-deep in wet sand: To take away a pressure point so that she could enjoy her weekend with her family without the unspoken still-single? narratives. She thanked him more times than he could count, but it honestly hadn’t even occurred to him as something that was worth thanking him for.

She was a friend, and she needed something from him. Simple. There was no decision to make. If she needed him, he was there. When a friend asks for help, you help ‘em.

Even if it meant he had to spend an entire weekend with her loud, large family and pretend to be her boyfriend.

Something about playing that role, envisioning himself as the man beside her in her life, made him feel… warm? And kind of fuzzy? Prior to arriving, he’d been a bit anxious at the immense pressure of being able to act the part and pull it all off, but being Delaney’s boyfriend was easy. Her warmth attracted everyone; it was only natural to be drawn to her. 

“Tyson?” Olivia’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Are you gonna marry Aunt Dee?”

Tyson felt his cheeks tinge with pink heat, stuttering for an answer; he got the strange sense that Olivia had been reading his thoughts. His gaze flicked over to the girl in question, gently rocking Isla in her arms. For a brief moment, his brain conjured the idea that she was holding their daughter, and he couldn’t keep up with the surge of emotions in his chest.

He cleared his throat, blinking away the thought. “Um, yeah. Maybe. Do you think I should?” 

“Yeah,” she said after a moment of introspection. “She smiles a lot with you.”

“She does?”

“Duh. You’re her boyfriend.”

Tyson hummed, letting Olivia drop a handful of sand into the bucket he was holding. He packed it in before helping Noah place the next section of the wall.

He’d be so lucky to marry someone half as wonderful as Delaney.

The sun warmed Delaney’s skin, amplified by Isla’s body heat, sleeping soundly in her arms. She smiled down at her newest niece, drinking in her tiny features.

“You got yourself a good one, Del,” Rachel said, causing Delaney to glance up at the use of her name. “He’s wonderful.”

Delaney swallowed the urge to respond that Tyson wasn’t hers, that he could only ever be hers in her dreams—or, in this case, in an entirely fake scenario. Even in the first 24 hours, everything had come so naturally to them, she had to remind herself that he was only there out of pity, not out of any sort of inkling of real feelings for her. The thought stung, but she pushed it aside to unpack later.

“It’s actually so sweet how in love with you he is,” Violet agreed. “I love watching him look at you.”

“Oh my God, right?” Preethi gushed. “Every time I look over at him, he’s staring at you with that dumb little smile on his face. It’s so cute.”

The thump of her heart quickened at her family’s words. She’d never seen the looks they were talking about. In fact, she’d never even seen him looking in her direction when she’d sneak glances at him across the room, keeping tabs on his whereabouts and if he generally appeared to be enjoying himself.

“Do you loooove him?” Violet asked. Her sing-song voice made Delaney roll her eyes.

“No, of course not,” she said, far too quickly, before she realized that being in love with her boyfriend is kind of the end goal when in a relationship. “I mean, not yet. It’s not been that long.”

She ignored Rachel’s glance, allowing Violet to nudge her knee with her own. “Alright. Well, no time like the present.”

“Judging by the way he looks at you, I think your boy is already there,” Rachel said.

Heat surged to Delaney’s cheeks. She knew it wasn’t true, but they had every reason to believe it. It was strange to be at the center of a lie, watching as the strings began to weave an intricate pattern—all because she couldn’t bear to disappoint her family again.

And Tyson had been more than willing to jump in and help her; in fact, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. She was overwhelmed with his generosity, his kindness. The display of friendship made her heart ache. And now, here he was, convincing everyone in her life that he was her boyfriend—so well that her sisters were convinced that this wonderful man was in love with her.

She made a mental note to compliment Tyson on his acting abilities. “Stop. He’s not.”

“Girl,” Violet said disbelievingly. “You go off to la la land with that dopey-ass smile on your face when your sister says he’s in love with you, and you think you don’t love him?”

“Let her get there on her own, Vi,” Preethi said, resting a hand gently on her girlfriend’s arm. She winked at Delaney before saying, “You’re right, though.”

After another roll of her eyes, Delaney glanced to the sparkling water beyond the dock for a reprieve from her interrogation. The waves softly rolled toward the shore, whispering her name on their breath. She nudged Isla into her sister’s arms before rising from her seat, stretching. “It’s time.”

Rachel’s “Have fun!” followed Delaney as she headed down the dock, slipping her linen cover-up down her legs and tightening the straps on her bikini. At the end, she wasted no time diving in, letting the water surround her.

Delaney swam around, letting the coolness of the water soothe her warm skin. Ever since she was a little girl, she’d been coming to this place, and something about the feeling of the water on her skin was cleansing; purifying even. The weight of the world seemed to melt away in this place, pressures and stressors and everything else muted while she was there with her people. 

This time around was different. This time, her life back at home was in shambles, unable to catch a break. But this time, she also had Tyson by her side, there to alleviate the pressure so she could have an escape. His presence was different from how Mark’s had been, despite the fact that Mark was actually her boyfriend. Tyson seemed to understand her, listened without judgment, supported her without question.

Tyson saw her in a way that Mark never had—maybe in a way that even her family never had.

—

Tyson was helping Olivia put the final touches on the sandcastle, which included a garage for her Barbie Jeep, when movement on the porch steps caught his eye. His throat went dry when he saw what—or who—was making their way toward the water.

Delaney, stripping out of that linen outfit, excitedly speed-walking down the dock. He felt heat rush to his cheeks, his heart thudding in his chest. Unable to help the way his eyes traveled over her skin, he let his gaze drag up her legs, over her curves. Fuck. She looked good.

A shriek sounded beside him, and Tyson’s eyes went wide as his head whipped to Olivia. Only when he saw her smiling did he realize that she was shrieking with joy, presumably at the sight of Delaney jumping in the water, if the cheering was any indication.

“Aunt Dee! Aunt Dee!” she squealed, dropping her sand shovel and running back toward the shed. She handed him a Frozen floaty, indicating for him to help her blow it up. Once she was situated, the floaties wrapped securely around her upper arms, she was bounding down the dock toward her aunt. The sound of a splash, followed shortly by a squeal and laughter informed Tyson that she had successfully made it.

He smiled fondly, making his own way down to the end of the dock where Delaney was helping Olivia make a whirlpool.

“Incoming!” he shouted, tossing his t-shirt and sunglasses to the side before he cannonballed in amidst screams from both girls. Rising to the surface, he was met with splashes from Olivia’s tiny feet, which he quickly grabbed and tugged her toward him to lug her over his shoulders. Another squeal left her mouth as he launched her—safely—out of his arms, crashing into the water.

Delaney laughed beside him, watching Olivia’s triumphant smile as she rose to the surface. Moments too late, she realized that she was Tyson’s next target, her eyes going wide when his hands found her waist. He ignored the feeling of her skin beneath his fingertips and the way she fit in his arms as he lifted her, too—much to Olivia’s delight, who was chanting for him to toss Delaney. 

“One, two—”

“Tyson, put me down!” Delaney shrieked.

With a wink at Olivia, he shrugged and said, “You asked.” With that, he launched her and watched her land in the water with a satisfying splash. When she emerged, Olivia was laughing so hard that Tyson couldn’t help but join in. Delaney spluttered, sending a splash of ocean water toward him that he quickly dodged.

He turned to Olivia, still giggling, and ignored Delaney’s sharp protests beside him. His eyebrow raised and he leaned in to Olivia. “We playing mermaids next, or what?”

Prior to arriving at the Taylor family cottage, Delaney had taught Tyson the family dynamics and the Annual Family vacation rules. First and foremost, to relax and spend time with family. If you weren’t having fun, you weren’t required to participate in anything—and there was usually so much going on that it wasn’t difficult to find something to do.

Another rule they’d developed early on was that each couple gets a guaranteed, guilt-free date night. Established after Hailey was born so that Alyssa and Ben could have a night to themselves, it had simply stuck as each sister added a significant other to the ever-growing Taylor family.

When Violet announced that Tyson and Delaney’s assigned night was Wednesday, his faux girlfriend was quick to assure him behind closed doors that they didn’t have to do anything crazy— “like a real date, or anything.” Tyson, though, brushed her off and was determined to commit fully to the bit.

It took a fair bit of wrangling and no shortage of dawdling to get himself alone with Alyssa to ask where he should take Delaney on a date. He couldn’t explain why his cheeks were so warm talking with her, taking note of her suggestions like he was in a Calculus class. While their relationship was a farce, he reasoned, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t take Delaney out for a memorable evening.

When the night arrived, Tyson fought a flutter of nerves in his chest. He had to actively fight the feeling of being a 16-year-old boy nervous for his first date, despite the fact that he was well into his twenties and had quite literally been sharing a bed with his date for three days. Waiting downstairs with Preethi, Violet, and Hailey, he did his best to act normal like it wasn’t his first-ever date with Delaney.

Like a scene from a movie, he felt his heart leap into his throat when she made her way down the stairs. She was stunning, despite having thrown on “just a sundress”; the body of the dress fit her torso like a glove, the skirt flowing at her waist. A milkmaid dress, he was told it was called—whatever it was, he liked it.

Dinner was simple, one of Alyssa’s top recommendations at which he somehow managed to snag the last remaining reservation. Once they arrived, he understood why: the wall facing the beach was made entirely of windows, leaving the entire restaurant a gorgeous view of the bay and the subsequent sunset. The room was already beginning to fill with the rich oranges and pinks as the sun slid closer and closer to the horizon.

“How romantic,” Delaney commented with a smirk, nudging him with her elbow. “Candlelit dinner at sunset? Should I be expecting a proposal later?”

Tyson’s face split into a grin, patting his pocket. He could’ve sworn his arm radiated warmth when she pulled away from him. “Shh. Don’t ruin the surprise!”

“Aww, you’re so sweet, honey bee.”

The meal itself was good—homemade pasta and some kind of whipped eggplant that had him contemplating ordering a second helping—but the highlight was sitting across the table from Delaney, talking freely and feeling on top of the world when she laughed at his stupid jokes. The flickering flame of the candle on her face, illuminating her skin, her smile, the glint of her necklace resting on her collarbones; her thick hair falling in loose waves, the strands around her face soft and so very Delaney. All of it—all of her—had completely sucked him in, fully underneath her spell and he couldn’t have been happier.

Tyson didn’t realize how much he’d been craving her individual attention until he had her uninhibited attention: her eyes locked on his, so in tune and in touch with everything he was saying, nodding along enthusiastically with every word out of his mouth. It was intoxicating to have her all to himself, immersed in him as he was in her.

He was addicted.

Tyson saw the waitress lingering out of the corner of his eye, praying she wouldn’t interrupt Delaney’s story—something about a new exhibit at Buffalo’s art museum; honestly, he was mostly just consumed by the spark in her eyes. Instead of checking in, the waitress approached the table silently, refilling water glasses and wine without a word before walking away.

I’m tipping you 50%, he thought to himself, leaning right back into everything Delaney, Delaney, Delaney.

Eventually, the waitress did return and burst their bubble, but Tyson was already on cloud nine, suggesting a walk on the boardwalk to get ice cream just to prolong the feeling for a little longer. The evening breeze paired with the lack of sun had goosebumps dotting Delaney’s arms, and it was all too easy for him to slip an arm over her shoulder and tuck her into his warmth. 

Driving home was like a scene from a movie, her phone plugged into the aux cord and Taylor Swift’s You Belong With Me blaring from the speakers. With a grin, Delaney cranked the volume up and Tyson found himself loudly singing the words alongside her; fortunately, the sound of his off-tune serenade was drowned out by the music. She sang to him, using her fist as a microphone as she danced in the passenger seat of his car.

Pulling in the driveway didn’t stop Tyson from continuing his performance, instead throwing open the door and running around to open Delaney’s, tugging her out to spin her in a circle at the instrumental break. He pulled her back into his arms, relishing the laughter she let out when he dipped her backwards.

The song faded to its end, the sound replaced by a softer one, the melody sweet and lulling. A faint beachy breeze blew past, and Tyson found himself pulling Delaney’s body closer. Her eyes were warm, looking up at him with a softness that made his heart melt and time stand still.

Tyson told himself it was gravity that drew him in, pulling him closer to her lips, suddenly yearning to know what her lip gloss tasted like. The world came to a spinning halt around him when he pressed his mouth to hers, like the universe wanted him to savor the moment. He kissed her more firmly, a strange tug in his chest letting his tongue flit against the seam of her mouth. She tasted sweet, like the strawberry ice cream he’d bought her on the boardwalk.

His hand moved up to her neck, cupping the side of her jaw to deepen the kiss, savoring the next sigh she expelled. He didn’t want to ever stop kissing her, not now that he finally knew what her lips felt like against his own. It warmed him from the inside out, like a buttery sunshine spreading through his veins, pulsing in time with the beat of his heart. 

Tyson forced himself to pull away, consciousness seeping back in through the Delaney-infused haze surrounding him. The expression painted on her face was dreamy, her eyes unfocused as she blinked them open, a little hitch of surprise in her throat as reality seeped back in around them. He swallowed the urge to kiss her again.

—

Blinking, Delaney stood in shock. A rush of cool air hit her face from the space that Tyson had just occupied. She blinked again, lips tingling.

Once Delaney managed to get her wits about her, she did her best to keep her voice level. “You didn’t have to… we don’t have to—”

Tyson’s smile was nearly enough to make her knees wobble—though she was stabilized by his hands firm on her waist. He didn’t seem to be nearly as impacted as she was—heart thumping rapidly in her chest, mouth dry, fumbling to right herself on shaky legs. “Violet and Preethi have been spying on us from the upstairs window for ten minutes.”

“Oh.”

In an instant, Delaney deflated. She glanced down at her feet, trying to hide her embarrassment—at both the idea of her intimate moment being impeded on, and at her own stupidity for thinking that the entire evening hadn’t been just an act. He’d been so sweet, so perfect, that she’d allowed herself to really believe in their lie, even for just a few hours. She could’ve sworn there was something so genuine about the way he held her hand on the boardwalk, the way his eyes watched her lips—

And that kiss. She really needed to ask him where he’d learn to be such a good actor, because he was convincing.

“C’mon, pookie,” Tyson said, taking her hand. Her thoughts vanished upon hearing his voice. “We’ve given them enough to look at.”

Back in the house, they were greeted by a few people in the sitting room, gathered on the couches watching a movie. Ignoring the barely-hidden grins from Violet and Preethi, Delaney offered a quick ‘hello’ and exchanged a few words about dinner before heading upstairs—“I’m tired,” was her excuse. 

She hoped her family didn’t notice that she couldn’t get upstairs fast enough.

Inside the locked bathroom, she turned on the faucet to imitate washing her face. Instead, her face crumpled as a sob wracked her body, warm tears spilling freely out of her eyes. The shift from on top of the world after the kiss to the fall in realizing it was all for show was jarring; she knew what she was agreeing to when he offered to pose as her boyfriend, but she hadn’t thought of the tease it would be for her heart to have Tyson be hers for the week. It hurt more than she’d expected to have him openly acting, to know what it felt like to kiss him and have it be all for show.

The little smiles, soft touches on the back of her arm as he’d pass in the kitchen, the brush of his fingertips on her waist in the lake. All of it so natural, sly, clandestine, like he wanted it to be a secret just for the two of them—and because it wasn’t an elaborate public display to uphold the falsehood for her family, it had only naturally drawn her to the conclusion that maybe there was some truth behind it.

That kind of thinking was too good to be true, she told herself. She wasn’t the main character of some romance novel; she was just Delaney.

And guys like Tyson didn’t go for girls like Delaney.

The next few days passed peacefully: jet skiing, swimming, and plenty of mermaids. If Tyson could sense any change in her after their date, he didn’t show it. In fact, if anything, he’d doubled down on his affection, brushing her cheek with his lips when he walked by, falling asleep with an arm loose around her hip, stroking the back of her hand by the fire. 

It was wonderful and infuriating all at once. Delaney couldn’t help but lean into him, unable to resist his touch, even though she knew it would crush her even more once Sunday rolled around and it was time to leave. She could barely even think about telling her family they’d ‘broken up’—but she was getting ahead of herself.

She knew she should bring it up with him, tell him how she felt, but she couldn’t bear to make things weird and ruin the rest of the trip. For the rest of the week, she reasoned, she’d let herself live in the fantasy. Enjoy another few days of blissful ignorance. And she’d deal with the consequences of her actions later. 

Hurt feelings were future Delaney’s problem. 

It was Friday when the kids announced that everyone was cordially invited to a play performed by them that evening. Both Delaney and Tyson helped them to construct a few of the props necessary—including a reindeer made out of a tarp and a bike and multiple paper crowns. 

Before the show, Delaney followed Tyson into the kitchen to retrieve a beverage for the show. As she poured herself a glass of wine, Tyson passed behind her, hand brushing against her waist when he reached past her to grab a High Noon from the fridge. They turned at the same time, bumping into one another, causing her white wine to spill down her front.

“Shit, I’m sorry—” she said, only to have him interrupt with a sudden kiss.

Initially caught off guard, it only took her a few moments to recover before she was kissing back, addicted to the feeling of his lips against hers. That same beautiful warmth filled her, a kind of light that she only experienced with him. She wanted to devour him, to have him devour her, to think and feel nothing but Tyson—

And then he pulled away. Lips wet, cheeks flushed, she could see the emotion swirling behind his beautiful brown eyes. “Delaney—”

But, with her wits about her now that he wasn’t making her dizzy with his kiss, she knew what came next. She interrupted him before he could finish. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” Tyson’s brows furrowed together, confusion knitting between them. “Don’t what?”

Delaney shook her head and repeated herself. “Whatever you’re about to say, I don’t want to hear it. It isn’t fair.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You think you’re catching feelings, right? Because you’ve had to act like it all week.”

Tyson blinked, clearly surprised that she’d taken the words out of his mouth. But the surprised expression quickly morphed into one of frustration. 

“So you’re not even going to give me the chance to speak?”

“I can’t hear you say it, Tyson—not unless you mean it,” Delaney said, then added softly, “Not when this has been the best week of my life because I’ve gotten to pretend you were mine—which is all I’ve wanted since we met.”

She watched his eyes soften, and the pity she imagined there nearly made her sick. It was a necessary evil, though; she needed to intercept his confession before he said it out loud. She couldn’t bear to hear him emit those words, couldn’t hear him confirm what she knew to be true: a future with her wasn’t in the cards for him. He’d never say it, probably wouldn’t even admit it to himself, but she knew that he was too good for her, that someone like her didn’t deserve someone like him. She wasn’t ready to burst the final bubble of her beautiful fantasy, leaving her cold and sad and alone.

But instead of sympathy, or a patronizing statement, Tyson adopted a bite to his words. “You think I fell for you on purpose? I didn’t have a choice, Delaney.”

Something about the way he said it felt like a slash to her heart, like he had fallen for her but wished he hadn’t. It stung more than she expected, more than him simply not reciprocating her feelings.

“This was your idea in the first place, Tyson. You committed to this,” she reminded him coolly. “It’s not my fault you’ve never seen a rom-com before. I didn’t force you to do shit.”

“Delaney, that’s not what I’m saying—”

Against her will, tightness formed in her throat, a sting hot behind her eyes. “I thought I could handle it. Having you be mine. I’ve always known it would come to an end, that I’d have to go back to life as it was. But I didn’t realize how much different it’d be knowing how it feels to kiss you, to hold your hand. To have you look at me like I’m the only person in the world.”

“Then you should’ve fucking told me that before you let me be your boyfriend!”

This is going nowhere, she thought to herself. She needed to walk away from him, right now, before the wall of tears threatening to burst through came pouring out.

Delaney took a breath, searching for the words that would wound him the way he wounded her. She steeled herself, feeling a cool exterior blanket her and harden into place like a cast. “Well, I didn’t. Sue me. I just need you to do your job for another 24 hours, and after that, we don’t ever have to speak again. Okay?”

She turned on her heel without waiting for a response, though she heard him say her name as she walked back outside to where her family was gathered on the patio. Her body thrummed as she returned to Rachel’s side, her younger sister casting a glance of concern in her direction. Delaney ignored her, smiling and turning to Hailey, Noah, and Olivia’s performance—Frozen, the musical.

A movement in her periphery told her that Tyson, too, had returned to the group, taking the seat beside the makeshift stage that Olivia had saved for him. She could feel his gaze lingering on her, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him.

“Good?” Rachel’s voice was quiet, subtle, concerned. Delaney nodded, and she knew that her sister knew she wasn’t, in fact, good. She was grateful that Rachel knew her well enough to know to let it be, that she’d talk when she was ready. For now, Delaney wanted to stew a little bit.

So stew she did, staying mostly quiet as the musical wrapped up. The performers received a standing ovation before a fire was started and the usual chatter began. Darkness fell, the moon rising higher in the sky, their voices swallowed by the night air. Delaney offered a few comments here and there and helped Noah with his s’more, watching the group dwindle as more and more of them went off to bed for the night. Tyson, to his credit, remained by the fire too, helping to keep the kindle stocked—almost like he was saying, ‘I can go all night.’

But so could she.

—

The crackle of the wood and the lick of the flames hypnotized Tyson, pulling him in and quieting thoughts running through his mind as he replayed the conversation they’d had. Admittedly, he’d lost his temper a little bit, frustrated that Delaney wouldn’t let him get a word in edgewise, that she’d somehow made him out to be the bad guy.

As the kids began to make their way to bed, Tyson indulged in another beer—or three. Not enough to be drunk drunk, but enough to wash away some of the rogue emotions swimming around inside of him. He kept his eye on Delaney, who appeared to be stewing silently across from him and refusing to make eye contact with him.

But he was determined; he wasn’t going to let her slip away—not this time. Not after her confession. Not when he still had things to say that she needed to hear.

So he waited, making casual conversation with those remaining, the chairs around him slowly emptying out until it was only him, Dean, and Delaney remaining. He cast another glance over to her, startled to see her already looking at him. He couldn’t read the expression on her face, but he held her gaze through the tips of the orange flames dancing between them regardless. Something in his heart swelled, even though he was pretty sure he’d fucked it all up—he just wasn’t exactly sure what he did wrong.

“You know, your mother and I looked at each other like that.”

With a blink, Delaney broke eye contact to turn and look at Dean. Tyson had never heard her talk about her mom, save for an occasional memory. Her lips parted—in surprise, maybe—before she said, “Like what?”

“Like there was no one else around,” Dean said simply.

Delaney’s eyes flicked to Tyson’s. He swallowed carefully, suddenly all too aware at Dean’s implication, whether intentional or not. As her boyfriend, he was supposed to want a future with her: that was the end goal.

He didn’t have to feel guilty. 

So he smiled, letting her see the warmth and happiness that Dean’s statement filled him with. He wanted her to know that when he was with her, the rest of the world faded away.

She was his Cape Cod. His escape from the upcoming pressures of free agency, of the already-exhausting training regimen that waited for him upon return home, of his future in the NHL on the line. With Delaney, none of it seemed to matter so much. As long as she was by his side, everything seemed like it’d be okay.

“Goodnight, you two,” said Dean’s amused voice. In his inner monologue, Tyson had completely forgotten that Dean was around, and he jumped slightly when he’d interrupted his train of thought. “Put the fire out when you come inside, will you?”

“Yeah,” Delaney called after him, glancing back at Tyson. “Goodnight, dad.”

Tyson waited until the crunch of Dean’s shoes on the sand disappeared up the lighted walkway to the house. “Delaney…”

“I’m sorry,” she interrupted. “I was being selfish. I shouldn’t have— it wasn’t fair of me to not even let you say your piece.”

“I didn't know how you felt. I… I wish you’d told me,” he said, gently. “I wouldn’t have wanted to tease you.”

“I didn’t want to make things weird between us,” she confessed. “I didn’t really think about anything being different after this.”

Tyson nodded in understanding. The fire crackled beside him, burning bright in the cool darkness around them. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or his proximity to Delaney that made everything seem so damn beautiful. Probably a mix of both.

“You can say your piece now. I won’t interrupt this time.” She smiled, following where his gaze had just been, watching a spark pop beneath one of the logs.

“It’s not much of a piece,” he said. “I didn’t really think about how I was going to say this.”

“So, just say it.”

“I love you.”

Delaney snorted, rolling her eyes. “Tyson, you’re drunk.”

“I know. This isn’t exactly the way I envisioned first saying it to you, but I need you to know,” he confessed, aware that he was on the verge of drunk rambling. He composed himself and repeated, “I love you, Delaney.”

Delaney’s smile faded, staring at him. Her eyes studied his face, almost like she was searching for the truth in his own eyes. Convinced he could prove it, he stood and walked around the fire, moving into the empty seat beside her—only wobbling once en route. Her breath caught in her throat at the new proximity and he reached across the armrest to take her hand in his. 

“You said not to say it unless I meant it,” he whispered. “I mean it.”

He watched as the weight of his words settled in, even drunk Tyson having enough wherewithal to know that it was time for silence. Slowly, a smile began to spread across her features. 

Illuminated by the glow of the fire, Tyson thought it was the most beautiful he’d ever seen her look.

“Are you still gonna mean it when we leave here on Sunday?” she asked, eyeing him. “You’re not going to get back to Buffalo and shake out of this vacation high?”

“Whatever you need me to do to prove it to you, I will,” he said solemnly. “But I really, really would like to kiss you first, if that’s okay with you.”

Her eyes widened with surprise, just briefly, but then she was smiling again and nodding. With a finesse that only a drunk person could manage, he leaned forward to cup her jaw with his hand, nose brushing her own affectionately. He savored the feeling of her breath against his lips and closed his eyes.

As it had both times before, her kiss lit him on fire from the inside out. He poured himself into her, hoping that he could convey his sincerity with the depth of his kiss.

SIX WEEKS LATER

The buzz of her phone had Delaney setting down the Lego instruction booklet to glance at it. Smiling at the contact photo—Tyson, freshly awoken, his hair sticking straight up—she turned the screen to Noah, earning a wide smile with an extra tooth missing. She swiped to answer, letting the camera face her nephew.

“Noah! Hey, buddy,” Tyson’s voice greeted with a laugh. “What’re you up to?”

“We’re making a Spiderman Lego set! Look!”

“Wow, that’s awesome. I wish I could do it with you. You look like a real hockey player with those teeth missing.”

Noah smiled again, showing off the two gaps where his baby teeth had recently fallen out. Delaney started to flip the camera back to herself when a voice sounded from the other room. “Tyson! Tyson!”

Little feet pattered excitedly through the doorway, Olivia’s face beaming as she ran to grab the phone from Delaney’s hands. “Hi, Tyson.”

“Hey, Liv. When are you coming to visit me and Aunt Dee?”

She jumped up and down excitedly, looking at Delaney. “Aunt Dee said we can come and have a sleepover over winter break!”

“That sounds awesome. We can wear matching pajamas,” he said, earning a giggle from Olivia, who launched into an elaborate itinerary for their slumber party, including candy, a makeover, and a Frozen marathon.

“I can’t wait,” he said. “Hey, do you think I could talk to Aunt Dee?”

With a nod, Olivia said her goodbyes and made him promise to text her goodnight. Flipping the camera back to herself, Delaney smiled and raised her eyebrows. “Hi.”

“Hi, muffin,” he said, an easy smile curling up on his own face. He was sitting outside on a porch, curls peeking out from under a gray hoodie. “How was your interview?”

“Really good. We’re going to schedule a final interview at the museum next week once I get back. I’m pretty sure I’m going to get the job.”

Tyson’s smile grew wider. “That’s great news. One step closer to the Met!”

“I’m good with Buffalo’s art museum for now,” she said. “I don’t want to be that far from you.”

“Aww, honey bear,” he teased. Delaney wrinkled her nose, rolling her eyes at him. Her interview had been over video call, taken from Ben’s office at their house in Rochester. If all went well, she would soon become Buffalo AKG Art Museum’s new Membership Coordinator.

Things were looking up for her. And even though life wasn’t perfect, she had Tyson and her family to help her get through whatever came her way.

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