#i have pictures on my phone but something about these is different

[rafeovermorals]

YOUR OLD NEIGHBOR JOEL who becomes your personal handyman.. always fixing things around the house for you. something broken? you bring it to him and he’ll take care of it.

he teased you at first. “no boyfriend to do this?” he questioned in his usual nonchalant, grumpy tone.. but when you replied that you were single, you saw his lips tug into a smirk.

after a while you didn’t have to ask anymore. joel came over on his own accord just to find things to repair, it made him feel useful that way.

he warmed up to you over time. “it’s no problem, darlin’. not like i got much else to do these days.” you always offered him a cup of coffee as a thank you, which he accepted.

you would help him too. he was skilled with his hands, but electronics were a different story. when he finally upgraded from his flip phone, he didn’t have a clue in the world on what to do with it. “not my generation.” he grumbled, clearly struggling to figure it out.

he was too embarrassed to ask. “let me do it for you, old man.” you teased with a giggle, snatching the device from him. you got everything ready to go— going the extra mile to downloaded tinder and offering to set up a profile for him.. even though he swore he’d never use it.

you added your number to joel’s contacts. it was the only number, actually. he texted like a dad, responding to your texts with a flat “sure.” or “no.” until you taught him what emojis were, then he sometimes used the thumbs up or a heart.

he gave in one day, deciding to try out the dating apps. his profile was simple— classic joel. nothing really special about it.. except that all of the pictures he had were taken by you.

he scrolled through, pressing ‘x’ on each women that was prompted to him. he was ready to delete it all together.. but a familiar face popped up. you.

your profile was unlike anything he’d seen from the others. you stood out from the rest, of course you did. he swiped back and forth between your pictures.. his cock stirring in his pants at the sight of one with you in a bikini. you were alluring, a seductive smile that was bound to attract endless messages.

he felt dirty for staring too long. it was wrong, yet he couldn’t get himself to look away. why were you on there, anyway? a pretty girl like you had no business searching for love on this app full of perverted, lonely men like himself. even if so.. why would it show your account to him when he’s three times your age? he knew for a fact that the user had choice in what range they were interested in— you told him that.

the thought stuck with him. those flirty remarks, sneaking glances, and lingering touches clicked in his mind. before he could regret it, he pressed the ‘✓’ beside your name with a hold of his breath.

YOU HAVE A MATCH!

quick drabble because this picture posted today sent me into an old handyman!joel spiral. i’ve seen a few neighbor/fixer upper fics, but i want to link inspo to this one as it is one of my favorite reads on here!

[freshl6ve]

. ✦ . 𝑱𝑼𝑺𝑻 𝑨 𝑭𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑫 .ᐣ ⊹　 ❜ ᵎ

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : I sat on the couch, my eyes glued to the TV screen, watching in awe as the triplets kicked off their show. The energy was contagious, even through the TV, and I felt a familiar sense of pride swell up inside me as I watched them sit in front of thousands of adoring fans.

Chris, Matt, and Nick, were answering questions from the audience, each of them taking turns to respond. I could hear the excitement in their voices as they interacted with their fans, their easy banter and playful teasing setting the tone for the rest of the show.

Chris was the next one to speak, and I couldn't help but notice the way his eyes sparkled with excitement. “Next question!” he said, grinning as he waited for someone to speak up.

A girl in the crowd raised her hand, and Chris pointed to her. “Hi! I have a question for Chris,” she said, her voice trembling with excitement.

“Sure. What’s your question?” Chris asked, leaning closer to the microphone.

The girl beamed and asked, “We’ve seen countless pictures and clips of you and Y/N together,”

The crowd seemed to react instantly to the question, and excitement buzzed through the air. Fans eagerly waited for Chris to answer, hoping to get a glimpse into his relationship with me.

Chris chuckled lightly, shaking his head at the question. The girl in the crowd pressed on, asking, “So is she just a friend or something more?” Chris paused for a moment, his expression thoughtful, before finally answering, “Just a friend,” his voice soft and hesitant.

The crowd's reaction was immediate, a mix of surprise and curiosity. It seemed that fans had been secretly hoping for a different answer, but Chris's response seemed to dash those hopes.

Chris continued, trying to dispel any rumors, “We’re just good friends. We’ve known each other for a long time and have grown really comfortable around each other, so nothing ever feels weird or awkward.”

Nick chimed in, sensing the tension in the air, “Next question!” he said firmly, moving the conversation away from the previous topic.

The show had ended, and the boys were making their way to their tour bus. Fans were still gathered outside, trying to get a glimpse of them, but security was keeping everyone at bay.

Chris reached behind him, his hand outstretched towards me, signaling for me to grab it and stay close to him.

The moment we stepped outside, the fans began to chant, “Chris! Chris!” They pushed forward, straining against the barriers at the barricades to get closer to him. Chris, being the charmer that he is, couldn't resist engaging with them.

The fans enthusiastically replied, telling him that they had loved every minute of the show. Chris let go of my hand and began to sign autographs and pose for pictures with the fans, chatting and laughing with them effortlessly.

Some of the fans spotted me standing nearby and began to call out my name. “Y/N! Y/N! Will you sign something for me?” They called out, waving items for me to sign. Others held up their phones, asking me to take pictures with them.

I felt a sense of surprise as the fans included me in their requests. I wasn't used to being the center of attention like this, but I was touched by their excitement. I walked over to the fans and happily signed autographs and posed for pictures, doing my best to make each person feel noticed.

As I interacted with the fans, some of them couldn't help but compliment me. “You're so pretty,” one said, while another added, “You're so lucky to have Chris.” I chuckled, feeling a mix of shyness and appreciation for their kind words. Every now and then, Chris would glance over, his gaze lingering on me as if he couldn't look away.

The fans noticed the way Chris was looking at me and exchanged knowing glances with one another. Some of them even pointed it out, saying things like, “He can't keep his eyes off you” and “You two look cute together.”

I shook my head and chuckled, responding to the fans' comments about Chris's gaze. “Just friends, guys,” I said, before continuing with the pictures.

As I finished taking pictures, I began to shiver slightly, feeling a chill from the cool night air. I walked over to Chris and stood behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and slipping my hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. Chris, without missing a beat, put his hands in the pocket as well, effectively holding my hands as he kept his conversation with the fans.

I rested my head against his back, seeking a bit of warmth from his body heat. As he continued talking with the fans, he squeezed my hands gently, a small gesture of comfort and acknowledgment.

After a few moments, I whispered in his ear, “I’ll meet you inside,” and gave his waist a gentle squeeze before letting go. Chris nodded subtly, acknowledging my words, and continued speaking to the fans.

The fans immediately noticed the closeness between me and Chris and began to scream in excitement. As I waved goodbye to them, they cheered and applauded, clearly enjoying the hint of intimacy between us.

Chris gave me a final look before continuing his conversation, a small smile playing on his lips. After a few minutes, he finally bid the fans farewell and walked away from the barricades. I watched him as he made his way over to me, his eyes soft and warm.

The bus driver pulled away from the venue, the fans outside waving excitedly. The boys and I stood at the windows, waving goodbye to the fans who were still calling out their names.

Chris stood behind me, watching as the fans grew smaller in the distance. The image of me with my arms around him and my hands in his pockets and the way I squeezed his waist before leaving had replayed over and over in his mind, causing an unfamiliar fluttering sensation in his chest.

Nick slumped on the couch, a yawn escaping his lips. “God, I’m so tired,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes.

Matt nodded in agreement, his own exhaustion evident. “Me too,” he said, stifling a yawn. “I can barely keep my eyes open.”

The bus was quiet except for the low hum of the engine. Nick and Matt were visibly drained after the show, and they both looked ready to crawl into their bunks and pass out.

Chris and I sat on the couch opposite Nick and Matt. He laid his head on my lap, resting on my thighs, as he looked up at me with tired eyes.

“The show was good though,” he murmured, his voice soft and heavy with exhaustion.

Nick and Matt nodded in agreement, their own exhaustion visible on their faces.

I began to run my fingers gently through Chris’s hair, massaging his scalp lightly. He let out a soft sigh, his eyes slowly closing as he relaxed under my touch.

Nick and Matt both got up from their seats, yawning and stretching. “We’re heading to bed,” Matt said, his voice tinged with exhaustion. Nick nodded in agreement, his eyes half closed. “Yeah, goodnight you two,” he said, a weary smile on his face.

We sat in silence for a few moments, my fingers still gently running through his hair. Finally, he broke the silence, his eyes still closed. “What did you think of the show?” he asked, his voice soft.

I continued to massage his scalp, my fingers tracing small circles against his head. “It was good,” I replied, a smile in my voice. “You guys did really amazing, as always.”

My hand moved from his hair, down to his cheek. I gently cupped his face, my touch soft and tender. “You looked really good too,” I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Chris’s eyes slowly opened, his gaze meeting mine. He looked at me with a mixture of exhaustion and something else, something I couldn’t quite put a name to. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice gruff.

I nodded, my hand still on his cheek. “Mhm,” I confirmed softly, my fingers lightly tracing the contour of his face.

My finger traced a path from his cheek down to his chest, lingering on the fabric of his hoodie. “But the hat should’ve stayed off,” I said, my voice teasing.

Chris’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “And why is that?” he asked, his tone lighthearted and amused.

I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Because I prefer to see your messy hair instead of it being hidden under a hat all the time,” I teased, a small smile playing on my lips.

Chris chuckled softly, a mix of surprised and amused by my words. “Is that so?” he asked, his own smirk forming.

I nodded, my gaze lingering on his messy locks. “Mhm,” I confirmed, a playful tone in my voice. “I think it suits you better.”

Chris shook his head, still smiling at my words. “And here I thought you liked me in hats,” he said, feigning disappointment.

I laughed softly at his feigned disappointment. “Don’t get me wrong, I do like you in hats,” I admitted, my fingers still tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “But right now, I just prefer you without them,” I added with a smile.

Chris shifted his position, propping himself up on his elbows as he turned to face me. Our faces were now just inches apart, the space between us growing smaller.

“I’ll keep that in mind then,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on me, the air between us charged with a subtle tension.

His proximity sent a shiver down my spine, the intensity in his gaze making it hard to look away. But I couldn’t resist teasing him a little, my fingers trailing lightly down to his neck.

“You better,” I said, my voice a low murmur, my gaze locked on his. “Or I might have to take matters into my own hands.”

Chris chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow at my words. “Oh really? Is that so?” he asked, his tone playful.

I nodded, my fingers still on his neck, lightly tracing the sensitive skin there. “Mhm,” I confirmed, my eyes flickering with mischief. “I’m not afraid to grab that hat and throw it away, you know.”

Chris smirked, his eyes darkening with a mix of amusement and something else. “Is that a threat or a promise?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

I leaned in closer, our faces now just centimeters apart. “Take your pick,” I replied softly, my fingers still tracing patterns on his neck as I held his gaze.

Chris’s breath hitched at the proximity, his gaze dropping down to my lips for a moment before meeting my eyes again. The space between us felt electrified, the air thick with a mixture of tension and anticipation.

I couldn’t help but notice the change in his gaze, the way his eyes darkened as they flicked down to my lips. A thrill shot through me, and for a moment, the world around us seemed to fade away. I let my fingers move up to his jawline, my touch light and teasing.

His eyes flickered to between my eyes and my lips, as if he was fighting against some internal battle. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble.

I smiled, my fingers lingering on his jawline, my touch feather-light. “Maybe I am,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s fun, isn’t it?”

I moved even closer, my body pressing against his as I continued to trace patterns on his skin. “Being this close,” I repeated, my voice soft, my lips almost grazing his.

Chris’s breath hitched again, his eyes fixed intently on my face. He was so close that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and his scent was intoxicating.

I leaned in, my lips hovering just millimeters from his, my breath warm on his skin. “Let’s see how good your self-control is,” I whispered, my voice challenging.

Chris’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes locked on my face. His body was practically vibrating with tension, and I could tell he was fighting hard to control himself.

“You’re not playing fair,” he said, his voice strained. The urge to close the distance between us was almost overwhelming, but he was holding back.

I tilted my head slightly, my fingers still on his jawline, my touch a mixture of gentle and tantalizing. I could feel the tension radiating from him, his restraint obvious but fading by the second.

“No one ever said I play fair,” I murmured, my voice a low, teasing tone. “Especially when it comes to you.”

He let out a soft groan, the sound almost a mixture of frustration and desire. His gaze was fixed on me, his eyes darkening with every passing second.

I pressed myself even closer, my body flush against his. It was as if all my senses were heightened, the world shrinking down to just the two of us in this moment. I could feel everything, his body tense and taut under my touch, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

I leaned in, my lips almost touching his ear. “Come on, break,” I whispered, my voice teasing and defiant.

I brought my thumb up to his lips, tracing the soft curve of his mouth. He inhaled sharply at my touch, his eyes closing for a moment as if to savor the sensation.

His lips, soft and slightly parted, were mere millimeters from my thumb. I could feel the heat radiating from them, the air crackling with tension. I pressed my thumb gently against his lower lip, my gaze locked onto his face, waiting for his reaction.

His eyes fluttered open, and I could see the struggle in them—the battle he was fighting to maintain control. His breath was coming fast now, almost choppy, and his body was so tightly wound that it seemed like he might explode at any moment.

“Come on,” I whispered, my voice low and seductive. “You know you want to.”

Suddenly, Chris lost the battle, his self-control snapping like a rubber band stretched too far. He moved to kiss me, his body surging forward, but I was quicker.

“I win,” I whispered, the words a soft, teasing breath against his lips. I pulled back just enough to keep his mouth out of reach, a smirk playing on my own lips.

I gave his shoulder a gentle pat, a sly smile on my face. “Goodnight,” I said, my voice filled with satisfaction.

Chris sat there, his head hung, a mixture of frustration and amusement evident in his expression. He poked the side of his cheek with his tongue, trying to contain his emotions, while a soft chuckle escaped his lips.

As I settled into my bunk, my thoughts drifted to Chris, a pang of longing in my chest. I wished he was there with me, and as if he could hear my silent pleas, he appeared, pulling back the curtain and sliding into the bunk.

He wrapped his arms around me, his body pressed against mine, his face buried in the crook of my neck. “Since you won’t play fair,” he whispered against my skin, his voice a mix of desire and challenge, “neither will I.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, the intensity in his voice awakening a deep hunger within me. His lips grazed my neck, leaving a trail of feather-like kisses, while his hands roamed over my body, exploring every inch of me.

We were locked in a game of desire, each move a calculated risk. I let myself sink into the sensations, my own desire matching his, fueling the fire growing within us.

I turned to face him in the narrow confines of the bunk, my body pressed against his. “What happened to the just a friend title?” I asked, a hint of playful defiance in my voice.

Chris looked down at me, a smirk in his eyes. “That was already out the window the moment you started this little game,” he responded, his voice low, the huskiness in it sending a frisson of excitement through me.

I couldn’t help but return his smirk, the thrill of our little game palpable in the air. Our bodies were so close in the cramped space, the heat radiating between us growing more intense with each word.

I leaned in closer, my lips hovering near his ear. “So you’re saying you’re not going to fight this anymore?” I asked, my voice soft, almost teasing.

Chris’s voice was low and rough, filled with a mix of desire and a hint of frustration. “Never said that,” he replied, his lips moving along the curve of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

He planted soft kisses, his words a hushed confession against my skin. “I can’t keep pretending like I don’t always want you,” he whispered.

His words were a raw admission, no longer hidden behind the pretense of friendship. The tension between us was palpable, the air thick with unspoken desire. I arched my neck, giving him better access to my skin, my body responding to his touch.

His mouth lingered on my collarbone, his teeth grazing my flesh gently, and then he continued to speak, his voice a low, needy growl. “Can’t pretend anymore. You drive me crazy.”

With each kiss, each graze of teeth, his words grew more possessive, more desperate. I could hear the hunger in his voice, the frustration and desire meshed together, driving him forward. “The way you touch me, look at me, it's like torture,” he whispered, his lips trailing up my neck to my ear.

“I can't resist you,” he murmured, his voice rough and urgent. “I've tried, God, I've tried to keep my hands off you.”

“But I want you all the time, every second, every minute.” he murmured, his voice ragged and strained.

As our bodies tangled together in the close confines of the bunk, Chris' hands drifted to the waistband of my pajama shorts, his fingers making small distracting circles on my skin. His touch was gentle but impatient, like he was holding back something, something that could set us both ablaze.

His eyes locked with mine, their intensity searing. And then he said, “I tell the fans we're just friends, but I've always seen you as something more than that.”

My breathing was ragged, my chest rising and falling with each heated moment. I looked up at him, my eyes pleading in the semi-darkness, and I whispered, “Chris.”

His own breathing was labored, his gaze fixed on me, and he responded, “Hmm?” His fingers still lingering on the edge of my shorts, tracing little patterns that sent shivers down my spine.

“I need you,” I said, the words a soft, plaintive moan. The hunger in my voice, the need for him was like a living, breathing thing in the cramped space. I reached up, my fingertips tracing his jawline, wanting, needing him closer.

His eyes darkened at my words, his own need matching mine. He leaned in, his body hovering over me, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “You have me,” he murmured, his voice a raspy whisper. “You've always had me."

His mouth was hot and demanding on mine, his tongue delving into my mouth, claiming me with an intensity that made my head spin. I met his hunger with my own, my arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer, needing him to be a part of me.

His hand slowly left my waist and started a teasing descent downwards, his fingers leaving a trail of fire on my skin. I felt a surge of anticipation, my body craving his touch. As his hand reached the waistband of my pajama shorts, I grabbed his hand and guided it lower, into the shorts.

Our lips broke apart, our breaths ragged and needy. “Touch me,” I whispered softly, our lips still close enough that his response was almost a kiss. His fingers slowly inched lower, finding my center. He teased around the edge, making me whimper. “Here?”

“Mhm,” I moaned softly, my hips shifting slightly to encourage him. He slid one finger inside me, his thumb pressing down on my clit. He started a slow, deliberate rhythm, his fingers curling up to hit that spot inside me that made my eyes roll back.

I bit my lip to stifle a moan as he added a second finger, his pace quickening. His lips and teeth traced kisses and gentle bites along my neck and collarbone, his other hand coming up to gently cover my mouth. “Shh, stay quiet for me,” he whispered against my skin.

I nodded, my eyes rolling back as he hit that spot inside me again. His fingers were relentless, his thumb never leaving my clit. I felt the pressure building inside me, my body tensing up in anticipation. His lips found mine again, his tongue mimicking the movements of his fingers inside me.

I couldn't help but moan into his mouth, my hand coming down to hold his in place between my legs. My hips bucked against him involuntarily as I rode out the waves of pleasure building within me. His fingers curved perfectly inside me hitting every sensitive spot.

“Mmph!” I muffled a cry against his lips, my fingers tightening around his wrist hard, trying to pull his hand away as I got close. He understood my silent plea, but instead of stopping, he pushed his fingers deeper, hitting that sweet spot. “Just a little longer, baby,”

I whimpered, my body tensing as I felt the climax building to a peak. His fingers moved faster, more insistently, his thumb circling my clit with expert precision. “Chris,” I gasped into his mouth, my nails digging into his wrist as I struggled to keep quiet.

His long fingers reached deep inside me, curling up to hit that sensitive spot over and over again. I could feel every ridge and vein on his fingers as they moved inside me, the sensation driving me wild. “Shh, baby, just a little more,”

My back arched as the orgasm hit me hard, my inner muscles contracting around nothing. He pulled his fingers out suddenly, bringing them up to my lips. “Suck,” he ordered softly, his eyes darkening as he watched my mouth part to wrap around his wet fingers. God, he was dirty.

I obeyed, sucking my own taste off his fingers as I rode out the aftershocks of my orgasm. He hummed in approval, pulling his fingers out of my mouth with a pop. “Atta girl,” he whispered, leaning in to capture my lips in a searing kiss.

He pulled back, his eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and something else, something deeper. “Turn on your side, ma,” he said, his voice low and commanding. I did as I was told, my body still trembling slightly from the intensity of my climax.

I heard the sound of fabric being removed and turned my head to see Chris bringing down his sweats and boxers, his large hand wrapping around his thick, hard cock. He lined himself up with my entrance from behind, his other hand gripping my hip possessively.

He pushed inside me suddenly, his length filling me up completely from behind. I gasped, my eyes rolling back as I felt him hit deep spots inside me that his fingers hadn't reached. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, starting to snap his hips against me in deep, slow strokes.

His large hands spread my thighs wider as he buried himself deeper, his thick length hitting my cervix with each thrust. He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me even closer as he pounded into me. “Shit, baby,” he grunted, his hot breath against my neck.

I covered my mouth with one hand to muffle my moans, the other reaching back to grip his hip tightly, pulling him even closer as he fucked me hard and deep from behind. His thick length stretched me out deliciously, filling me up completely with each powerful thrust.

“You take my cock so fucking well, baby,” he whispered huskily against my ear, his pace starting to become more urgent. “Can you feel how deep I'm getting? How hard I'm fucking you?” His fingers dug into my hip as he pulled me onto his length again and again.

With one hand, he managed to lift my leg up despite the limited space, tilting my hips at a perfect angle for deeper entry. “You wanted this, didn't you?” he growled against my ear, fucking me harder. “Teasing me got you here and now you’re getting what you deserve.”

He snapped his hips against me, the angle and his size hitting spots that made my eyes water. “This bunk isn’t giving me enough room to really destroy this pussy like I want,” he panted, “But it’ll do. You’re still taking my big cock like a good girl.”

He removed my hand from my mouth and forced it down between my thighs, curling my fingers against my swollen bud. “Touch yourself,” he ordered, “Let me hear you only, baby.”

I bit my lip, trying to keep my moans quiet as Chris fucked me from behind. “Chris... Mmmph... Right there...” My hand moved softly against my clit, matching his rhythm. The bus’s movement and engine noise helped muffle my sounds slightly.

“Fuck, baby...” Chris groaned against my neck, his kisses becoming more urgent. “I’ve waited so fucking long to feel this tight pussy wrapped around my dick.” He thrust deep and hit a spot that made me gasp. “God damn, you worked me up good.”

“Mmmm... you’re getting so close already, aren’t you, baby?” he growled in my ear, his thrusts becoming more powerful. “Can feel your pussy squeezing my cock... fuck...”

“Fuck...Chriss” I moaned softly, fingers moving faster against my clit. Chris suddenly grabbed my jaw possessively, making me face him over my shoulder. “Look at me when I fuck you,” he ordered, snapping his hips against my ass, going deeper.

“Ahh... Chris...!” I moaned loudly, my eyes hazy and glossy as he kissed me deeply. His tongue shoved into my mouth aggressively, saliva spilling over our lips as he pulled apart for a breath, strings forming between our open mouths. “Mmmph...!”

Chris's thrusts became erratic, his hips slapping against my ass as he chased his release. His kisses grew sloppier with each thrust, saliva dripped down our chins as he moaned into my mouth repeatedly.

“Shit... Baby...” He kissed down my neck roughly, leaving faint hickeys. “Gonna fill this pretty pussy...!” He growled, his body tightening as he came deep inside me. I cried out softly, fingers rubbing my clit faster as I followed him over the edge.

“Mmhmph...!” I moaned, pushing back against him. “Fuck... Yes... Like that... Fill me up, Chris... God...!” My fingers moved furiously against my sensitive bud as he pounded into me, releasing his hot seed deep inside. “Chris...!”

Chris groaned loudly, his body shuddering as he emptied himself inside me. “Fuck... baby...” He panted heavily against my neck, still thrusting slowly as we both rode out our orgasms. “Your pussy feels so fucking good.”

Chris pulled out slowly, causing us both to moan softly at the loss of contact. He settled onto his back, chest heaving from exertion. I turned to face him, placing my hand gently on his muscular chest, still sensitive from pleasure.

I watched his length closely, realizing it was still rock hard. I wet my lips subconsciously and wrapped my small hand around his base. “Need some help with this?” I asked softly, pumping him slowly. His hips jerked slightly. “Baby...” He watched my small hand working him.

I brought my lips close to his neck, my warm breath fanning over his skin. I wanted nothing more than to take him into my mouth, but the small space made it difficult. So instead, I kissed and sucked on his neck gently, my hand continuing to pump him slowly.

“Mm...” Chris guided my hand with his, showing me how he liked it. “Chris...” I whimpered softly, pumping him slower. “I wish I could taste you...” I admitted softly. He locked eyes with me, dark and serious.

“Once tour's over, I'll let you taste whatever you want, baby.” Chris promised darkly, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. My hand tightened around him at the promise. “Good...” I whispered, leaning in to suck a mark onto his neck.

I started pumping him faster, my small hand moving up and down his length quickly. Chris hissed, his fingers tightening around mine. “Fuck, ma... Just like that...” He panted, his hips thrusting up slightly to meet my hand. “Gonna cum again...” He warned darkly.

“Shit...” Chris cursed softly as streams of hot liquid shot onto his abdomen. He made small, unmanly moans that made me giggle. He glared at me suddenly, finding my laugh sexy. “Mm...” He captured my lips, kissing me deeply as his body relaxed.

“Damn... look what you do to me.” Chris grabbed his boxers nearby, cleaning himself, then carefully wiping me. He tossed them aside before pulling me close. “Come here...” His voice softened.

He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me onto his chest. His large hands splayed out on my back possessively. He nuzzled his face into my hair, breathing in my scent. “We should really get some sleep…” He murmured, already feeling sleepy and content.

I snuggled closer to him, my head resting on his chest as I listened to his heartbeat slowly return to normal. His arms tightened around me protectively, and within minutes, his breathing evened out into a soft snore. I smiled softly against his chest, feeling content and safe in his arms.

A/N: a quick little one shot :> sorry for not posting! might post another chapter of “off limits” today if i’m not busy!!

TAGS: @st6rify @jetaimevous @certifiedstarrr @slvtf0rchr1s @l3sbiancvnt @wh0remikasas @r0s3luvr @emely9274 @mimiluvzpicklez @courta13 @talia-unknown @ivysturnss @kissesfromkitty @fmalewokk

╭──────────.★..─╮

𐔌 . ⋮ 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

╰─..★.──────────╯

[psformybss]

hiii! i saw your post saying to send drew asks so i thought i would send one! feel free to not do this it's just an idea :) anyways my idea was angsty with a fluffy ending and drew and reader have been dating privately for about a year and hes been getting more distant lately, and you see a lot of paparazzi posts about him and odessa hanging out together and everyone online is shipping them because they are unaware of his gf. as drew pulls away more reader starts to really second guess their relationship and she breaks down one night when he says hes going out and then he apologizes and comforts her and then he hard launches their relationship :) dont worry if you dont want to do it!

Just Say Something

drew starkey x reader

warnings: angst, miscommunication, emotional breakdown, jealousy, secret relationship, comfort, fluff ending

an: hiii, i absolutely loved this idea! sorry it took me so long to post i had something like this written for my hidden vows series and couldn’t remember if i posted it or not (still not sure about it) but i decided to post this anyway because i loved it.

You always knew dating Drew wouldn’t be simple. Not in the everyday kind of way where you fight over what to watch on Netflix or argue about which coffee beans to buy. There was never going to be quiet normalcy. Not when his life moved under a spotlight that only seemed to get brighter.

But what you have—had—was yours. Quietly, privately, entirely yours.

Until it started to feel like maybe it wasn’t anymore.

It wasn’t one big thing. It was small things. The first time he didn’t call when he said he would. The unread messages. The short replies. The way he came home and kissed your cheek like a habit, not a choice.

You let it go. People get busy. People get tired.

But the distance didn’t fade. It grew, slow and steady, and it settled between you like fog—hard to see through, harder to name.

And then the pictures started.

You weren’t even looking for them. They just showed up. Pushed onto your feed, trending under his name. Drew and Odessa on a sidewalk in Silver Lake, coffees in hand, smiling at something only they could hear. Her hand on his arm. Him leaning in like no one else was there.

The next day, it was Melrose. Different clothes. Same closeness.

The comments were the worst part.

People shipping them like it was written in the stars. TikToks to soft indie music. Edits that made it look like they’d been together forever. Everyone falling for the idea of them. The chemistry. The “meant to be.”

Not one person asked who he might actually be with.

Not one mention of you.

And Drew? He didn’t bring it up. Didn’t joke about the headlines. Didn’t reassure you. He just walked through the door each night and acted like nothing had changed.

But it had.

It had changed, and you could feel it in the space between his hands and your waist, in the way he looked at you like he was somewhere else.

You tried to push it down. You really tried.

But the longer he stayed quiet, the louder the doubt got. It kept you up at night. It followed you through your days. And eventually, it started to sink into your bones like cold water.

The night it all broke, it was raining hard. One of those loud, relentless storms that makes the windows rattle and the air feel heavy. You were sitting on the edge of the bed in his hoodie, sleeves pulled down over your hands, staring at the floor like it might offer answers. Your phone was face-down on the nightstand. You already knew what was on it.

He walked in, already grabbing his jacket, keys clinking in his hand.

“I’m heading out,” he said without looking at you.

You blinked slowly. “Where?”

He shrugged. “Wes called. Might be some people out. I don’t know.”

You stood up before you even realized you were moving.

“Is Odessa gonna be there?”

He looked up then, finally meeting your eyes.

“I don’t know,” he said, voice tight. “Maybe.”

Your heart sank. Not because of the answer. But because he didn’t even flinch giving it.

“Do you know what it feels like,” you asked, each word quiet and sharp, “to watch the whole world think you’re with someone else while you act like I don’t even exist?”

He didn’t speak.

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, forcing the next words out before they dissolved.

“I see the pictures. Everyone does. I see how people talk about you two. I see how you let them.”

His brow furrowed. “You think I’m doing this on purpose?”

“I think you stopped choosing me a while ago,” you said, voice shaking now. “And I think I’ve been pretending not to notice because I didn’t want to lose you.”

Something in your chest cracked open, and it all came pouring out before you could stop it.

“I’m tired, Drew. I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one who remembers what we have. You don’t tell me what’s going on anymore. You come home late and kiss my forehead like a chore. You don’t look at me like you used to.”

His face softened, the edges of his frustration fading. He opened his mouth, but you kept going.

“I’ve been holding it together, trying not to seem insecure, trying not to ask for too much. But this? This is killing me.”

The tears came fast after that. No slow build. Just a sudden wave you couldn’t stop.

“I’m not some secret you keep in your back pocket,” you whispered. “I’m not a placeholder.”

He stepped forward, then hesitated, his hand hovering just above your arm. “Hey. Look at me.”

You didn’t want to. But you did.

His eyes were glassy. His voice dropped.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was making you feel like this.”

You pulled back a little. “Then what were you doing?”

He rubbed a hand over his jaw, exhaling slowly.

“I thought I was protecting us. Keeping you away from all of… this. The noise. The press. The comments. I wanted us to stay ours.”

You shook your head. “But you didn’t protect anything. You just left me out in the cold.”

He stepped closer again, slower this time, and when you didn’t move away, he reached for your face. His fingers were gentle, tentative, like he wasn’t sure you’d let him touch you anymore.

“I got scared,” he said quietly. “Scared that if I showed the world what we have, they’d ruin it. They’d pick it apart. I’ve seen it happen. But I didn’t see what it was doing to you. That’s on me.”

You closed your eyes. The storm outside felt like it had moved into your chest.

“I don’t care about their opinions. I just care about you being honest with me.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I’ve been a coward. I thought I could keep you safe by hiding us, but that just made you feel invisible. And I hate that I did that to you.”

You opened your eyes. “So now what?”

He was so close you could feel his breath against your skin. He didn’t hesitate this time. His hands framed your face, steady and warm.

“Now I show up,” he said. “Now I stop hiding.”

And then he kissed you.

Not to fix it. Not to shut you up.

It was slow and full of everything he hadn’t said until now. His fingers slid into your hair. Your hands curled into the front of his shirt. The kiss wasn’t perfect. It was messy and wet with the salt of your tears, and it hurt a little, in the way healing does.

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours, neither of you spoke. You just stood there, breathing each other in, letting the silence fill with something softer.

That night, you fell asleep in his arms. His chest was warm against your back, and his hand stayed wrapped around yours like a promise he wouldn’t let go.

You didn’t talk about what came next. You just let yourself rest.

Two mornings later, you wake up to your phone buzzing off the nightstand.

Drew’s already up, standing by the kitchen window in an old shirt, coffee mug in hand. He looks calm. Steady. Like the man you fell for.

“Morning,” he says when he sees you, soft and simple.

“Why is my phone exploding?”

He smiles, a little sheepishly.

You unlock it, scroll instinctively to Instagram, and freeze.

It’s the two of you. A blurry photo, definitely from his phone. You’re tugging him down mid-laugh, half cut off by the frame, hoodie sleeve bunched around your fist where it clutches his shirt. He’s looking at you like you hung the damn stars.

Caption:

Not my co-star. My whole world.

You’re tagged.

You sit down slowly on the couch, phone still in your hand.

“You okay?” he asks.

You look up at him. “You posted this?”

“I meant what I said. I’m done hiding.”

The notification count is ridiculous. Your DMs are a mess. You don’t even want to look at Twitter.

But you don’t care.

Because he’s looking at you the way he used to. The way he always should have. And he didn’t just say it this time. He meant it.

You set your phone down and cross the room to him. He sets his mug aside as you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your cheek against his chest. His arms fold around you like they were always meant to.

“I love you,” he says, quiet against your hair.

You close your eyes.

“I love you too.”

And for the first time in a long time, it feels safe to say it.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

I’m the anon who said someone needs to flirt Joe out of his drawls and I’m glad you’re seeing the vision 😭

follow me, follow me, follow me. keep holding my hand, alright. don't let go. hold my hand, now.

cw: 18+ content (smut/smut adjacent)

sub!joe masterlist | joe burrow masterlist | main masterlist

_____________________________

domme and sub!joe off season. joe's done with his travel; has been home for a week.

she sneaks home during his afternoon nap (a text came through while she was at work from joe about the bed being cold without her). she's been plotting this for a couple weeks. but she couldn't really get a good time to put into action until now. they've done this a few times before.

she tiptoes into the bedroom. the blinds aren't fully closed. just enough sunlight slips in through the cracks for her to see. she's careful over the few spots on the floor that creak with weight and she slithers into the bedroom, grabs a change of under clothes for herself and leaves a sticky note for joe.

dress to impress, baby. after work, meet me @ our rendezvous. see if i still have the juice.

joe swears he hears the bedroom door eeek close, but when he lifts his head, there's no shadows. the door looks like he left it--maybe it's opened an inch more than he thought he closed it. but the alarm system didn't go off. so he tries to go back to sleep, but there's just the itch in the back of his mind, the voice that tells him to check. so he huffs, pushes up, heads downstairs and just as he's peering out of the window he catches the back of domme's car pulling out of the driveway.

joe pouts just a little, a little disappointed he missed her. but he was positive she had her lunch. he handed it to her on the way to her car. after double checking the fridge--no lunchbag left behind--he clambers back up the stairs, slips into the bathroom with the lights off still. but catches the end of something curling up on the mirror. he flicks the light on, sees the note and grins to himself. he knows exactly what this means.

after he finishes, he finds his phone, snaps a picture of the note and replies, i'll be sure to bring the matches.

rest of the day crawls by and around 5 joe starts getting ready. knows she's off at 6, it'll take them both about half an hour with the thinning evening traffic to make it so he's combing through his closet to find something to wear. knows black is always a good option, but wants something a little bit more daring too. he puts together a solid outfit, if joe has anything to say with it--slips on the gold watch she got for him, to set off the black slim fitted jeans, and his black button up. he leaves the top three undone just for her. joe adds a chain too just for something extra. with a couple spritz of his cologne and a few tousles of his hair, he sets out.

joe manages to get the rooftop bar first, slips into the back corner of the bar facing the door. joe watches the swing of the door like children stare at a christmas tree with presents spilling out of it--anticipation and unbrindled want. his heart is hammering in his chest as the door opens and each new body appears that's not domme. couples, older gentlemen, others clearly coming out for a drink after their jobs too.

ten excruciating minutes later, domme walks in, her deep purple work blouses still tucked into her gray pants. She has a couple buttons undone, unlike how she left with the shirt buttoned to the top. Her tits pushed up more than they were when she left home. Joe can't see bra just knows it's a different one, the shape of her chest and the volume pushed to the top is mouth watering and she absolutely would not leave the house like that for work.

his breath hitches at the sight, feels how the surprise makes his jaw slack. he inhales has to remind himself to breath and forces his gaze back down to his glass. the old fashion can't stand a fight in the battle for his attention not with her. But she leans against the bar, slips into a chair--across the bar from joe, and waits.

joe waits too, clutching the tumbler glass in front of him, jaw almost clenching but joe keeps reminding himself to breathe.

the bar tender slips over to her, gets her order. she laughs, pushing up in the seat, chest resting over her arms. oh that bra is definitely different--a delicious pink, the edges of it ruffled just a little. she'd slipped into a black bra this morning--not boring but a classic staple, thin cups, smooth straps, a wide band joe knows it well. helped her into this morning and has helped her out of it many times.

domme's grin is soft and flirty at the bar tender, a guy probably near 30 if joe had to hazard a guess. clean shaven. long hair pulled back into a neat bun. when he turns towards the glasses, joe catches how the bartender smiles, looks over the top of the shades just to catch the faint pink tip of his ears.

man is a goner and he doesn't even know it.

he slides the glass of dark liquor to domme and she nods, settles back into her seat and then takes a sip. as she takes the first step, her eyes close, melts back into the chair. she presses her knuckles--of the hand with the glass--to her cheek. her shoulders drop and as she swallows, joe watches the bobbing of her throat, her eyes flutter back open.

the darkness of the bar doesn't hide the shine of her eyes. joe lifts his glass to his lips, sips at the drink. he watches her gaze fall away, surverying, calculating. they gravity beween them shakes. joe can feel the quaking in his fingertips. she takes another sip, eyes flickering back to joe. only for a second before she sets her glass down.

joe slips the shades to the top of his head, tries to look beyond her, tries to look bored. but he can feel the heat of her gaze, feel each time her eyes land on him. she calls for the bar tender's attention again. they're conversation quiet.

the bartender turns, looks briefly over the counter to everyone and then finally his gaze lands on joe. recognition is immediate, the kind of look of oh shit before it falls into dejection oh fuck. the bartender nods all the same, grabs another small tumbler glass, fills it and then with the faintest sour downturn of his lips sits in down in front of joe.

"oh, i'm good. i didn't order--"

"compliments of the lady at the other end of the bar," the man says. it falls with only just a hint of the sigh that's pressing at the man's chest.

"oh," joe says, looking back to domme, who grins, a wave of her three of fingers as she grips the glass.

joe raises his glass to her and nods, gives just enough of a smile though he can tell he's probably smiling like a fucking idiot. the seconds are thick. joe feels every tick of each minute moment. and then domme slips down, eases around the bar, all the way around the bar and pushes up into next to joe--one seat between them.

"you look like you're looking for something, handsome," she quips.

joe shakes his head with a laugh, a flustered kick in the rhythm of his heart at the word handsome. "enjoying the evening, really."

"one of those know it when you see it types, then i take it?"

"i am, in a way. you?"

she nods, easing down another sip before setting the glass onto the bar. "yeah, i know it when i see it. saw it the second i walked in."

"and, uh, what did you see?"

"you, tiger."

the blush is hot over his cheeks. his chest goes red, the tips of his ears too. joe wants to respond but can't get the words off his tongue. his giggle swallows up every intelligent and clever thing he can think to say.

"but we can talk it slow tonight, sweetheart, just for you. can i get a name?"

"joe," he offers with ease.

domme offers her name too, leaning across the empty chair. joe tries not to look. god does he try not to look, but he can't help but take a glance down to see that pink bra again, pushing everything up, making his tongue salivate.

"i just need you to know did you come here alone?"

joe nods. "ye-yeah i did."

domme winks at him, leaning back in her chair. "don't you know just what to say to make a girl blush. between you and me though, you won't be leaving here alone. that alright?"

his tongue is thick in his mouth, dry too a little. joe nods, more vigorous than he really means. "yeah, that's alright with me," he breathes out.

"good."

they share only one drink each. the one she sent stays on the bar untouched next to the receipt of both their tabs, paid for by domme. she leads the way, weaving around the bodies, throwing a smile back over her shoulder to joe on the way. he smiles back in return, feels it pulling at his cheeks. his body is warm but not from the alcohol.

"my place or yours?" she asks just as they push through to the outdoors.

"oh, uh, i didn't drive. was supposed to meet a friend and they cancelled last minute," joe starts, all of it true in some regards. he didn't drive. he ubered. he was meeting someone. but no one cancelled. in fact, if joe had plans, he would've been the one to cancel.

"oh, count your lucky stars." she brandishes her keys from her pocket. "i did drive."

the drive is filled with laughs--easy as she winds through the streets. goddamn, she looks incredible too. even with a full ten hour day in the office. there's the soft whispers of her perfume filling the car. the soft hum of the radio playing nearly inaudibly in the background, the cut of her eyes to joe in the passenger seat. and his hands that are shaky betwen his thighs because she's pressing one hand into the back of the headrest he's using, the heat of her hand so incredibly close even with the backup camera on the the infotainment center.

and joe's going to cum right there in his pants if he's not careful. if she's not careful. but joe's certain once she eases onto the brakes, she's not going to be careful. because her hand just so gingerly brushes the back of his neck and he sighs, melts into the fleeting touch. his eyes flutter close and then she's gone just before he can inhale again.

"oh, darling, someone not treating you right at home? look like you haven't been touch in ages."

it's only been three days. hardly long enough to classify it as a drought but to joe it feels nearly like an entirety. the illusion is a thin veil--only sheer will and desperation. and god is joe desperate.

he turns to her just as the car engine settles and starts with her name, a broken utterance from his throat before continues "please tell me i can kiss you?"

domme grins. "sweet boy," she coos, slipping a hand over his cheek. "i'm so glad you finally asked."

the car is tight but joe doesn't care, leans over the middle console and claims her mouth, swallows down her grin, the echoing of their lips meeting and parting before meeting and parting again. he loses track of time. doesn't realize how long it's been with just their slow kisses until it presses against his lungs that it's hot. joe cracks open his eyes, notices the fog on the windows, their heavy exhales meeting and dancing in the silence.

"care to come inside to continue?" domme asks, fingers teasing at the valley of his chest. joe can feel how hard he is in his jeans, the way he's nearly bursting, skin buzzing and pressed full of adrenaline, want, need, desire, reverence--her. all fucking her.

"god, please?" joe sighs, resting his forehead against hers.

"stay the night with me." not a question, not a demand. command.

"always."

____________

in conclusion joe gets flirted out them drawls at least once a week with domme. joe does NOT mind in the slightest.

[brinasheqrt]

Supportive things

pairings - sabrina carpenter x masc!reader

warnings - none, light kissing only.

wc - 1.1k

You walk into the nail salon with her, hand tucked casually into your jacket pocket while Sabrina links her arm through yours like you’re her human security blanket. She’s dressed in this oversized sweater and tiny skirt combo that should be illegal, and you? You’re in cargos and a black tank, the sleeves of your hoodie half-pushed up your forearms. The contrast isn’t lost on anyone. Especially not the front desk girl who eyes the two of you like you’re an oddly attractive, confusingly fashionable couple. (She’s not wrong.)

“I have a 3PM with Yuna,” Sabrina tells her sweetly, and you don’t say a word, just nod and follow her to the little corner where her favorite tech always sets up.

As soon as she’s seated, she throws her purse in your lap. “Hold this, please,” she says, all innocent like she didn’t just hand you a glittery, gold-chained micro bag that couldn’t fit a phone if it tried.

“Do I look like your assistant?” you tease, flipping it open and closing it again just to mess with her.

“You look hot and obedient. Be both.”

You snort but settle into the chair next to hers, manspreading a little just to lean into the whole masc-girlfriend energy. It works. She peeks at you from the corner of her eye, smirking.

Yuna starts working on her cuticles and you zone out for a bit, letting the quiet buzz of the salon settle over you. You scroll through your phone, answer a couple texts, and glance up every few seconds just to watch the way Sabrina talks with her hands—even when they’re being buffed and shaped.

Twenty minutes in, she turns to you with the most dramatic sigh.

“Baby.”

“Yeah?”

“I need you to take pics of my nails when they’re done. Good ones. Like, Instagram-worthy.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You mean, like, professional lighting and different angles?”

“Exactly. You’re my photographer now.” She grins. “You get paid in kisses.”

You pretend to think about it. “Hm. I’ll allow it.”

When the nail art starts, you get up and come closer, watching as Yuna paints tiny daisies onto Sabrina’s pale pink acrylics. She’s so focused, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth just slightly. You resist the urge to lean down and kiss her cheek.

Once they’re done, Sabrina holds her hands up in front of her face like she’s posing for a Vogue beauty shoot. “How cute are these?” she beams, turning her hands slowly. “Okay, camera ready?”

You already have your phone out, switching it to portrait mode. You guide her toward a part of the wall with better lighting, gently taking her wrists and posing her hands just right.

“Stop laughing,” you mumble when she giggles at how seriously you’re taking this. “You wanted good pictures.”

“You’re so hot when you’re bossy,” she whispers, smirking at you from beneath her lashes.

You cough. “Focus, Carpenter.”

You take like fifteen shots—some with flash, some without—making sure to get her rings in frame and the tiny daisy detail. Then you crouch down and get a few artsy angles from below because, well, you’re in this now.

When you show her the pics, she gasps. “Wait. These are actually amazing. You understood the assignment.”

You smirk, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “Told you I was worth the kisses.”

And she doesn’t even hesitate—grabs your hoodie, pulls you in, and presses a quick, soft kiss to your lips right there in the middle of the salon.

Yuna pretends not to see.

You definitely don’t pretend not to smile.

As you’re leaving, Sabrina’s scrolling through the pics, already adding them to her Instagram draft. You open the door for her, hand still on the small of her back.

She hums. “Caption ideas?”

You think for a second. “Something like… ‘flowers on my fingers, a simp behind the camera.’”

She nearly trips laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

She glances up at you, all soft and smug. “Yeah. I do.”

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

What happens during their(yes their) pregnancy announcement...part 2 of????

Cw: pregnancy, nausea mention

Based off part one and part two of the a series.

A/N: I once again wake up and choose to make crack I must feed the people and by people I mean me(and also you ily) ;3c

-------

Zhongli's announcement went pretty well with Hu Tao. Perhaps it's because she is used to dealing with all sorts of paranormal nonsense that something like this does not phase her. They come to an agreement that until he begins to show and or have any discomfort he would be given light and mostly desk work. She sends him off on his way alongside Childe and you to go see Madam Ping and Xianyun in a discrete tea shop owned by another adeptus that Childe had rented just for the occasion.

The two women are joined by two men you recognize as Mountain Shaper and Moon Carver in their human forms. They look a little uncomfortable, not quite used to being in Liyue's city but they sip their tea and make pleasant talk with the ladies.

As your little trio gets closer they stop their chatter and welcome you all to sit, some give Childe a light glare considering his past actions but they have accepted that their former lord has made his choice in partners and don't do anything more.

They offer to pour you all a cup but Zhongli politely declines to their confusion and he calls over the owner. The owner comes by with a different pot of tea and pours Zhongli a separate cup, the scent of ginger filling the air.

His friends question if he is falling ill when he gives them a grin.

"Not quite. I am just experiencing some nausea due to my pregnancy. Do not worry I will be alright."

The room is quiet before Xianyun and the others all burst into noise bombarding him with question after question, offering him plates of snacks, and scolding him for not telling them sooner. He laughs wholeheartedly as they flounder about and gestures towards you.

"If you must know they're the "father"." Everyone's eyes lock on to you and you wave sheepishly a bit intimidated by the sudden attention. "We discussed this some months back and agreed that I shall carry while the both of them provide and care for me."

"We would have told you all much sooner but there were some difficulties in finding a proper dosage that was safe enough for them so they could be the "father" of our children." Everyone takes the information in and they congratulate you all, even patting Childe's back though a little awkwardly.

"Are you happy, Zhongli?" Madam Ping asks a little sparkle in her old eyes. Zhongli takes in her question and nods with the softest smile and fond eyes. "Yes. I am very happy."

Jing Yuan rolls over, comfortable as can be as he lazies around in bed ignoring the string of text alerts coming from his phone most likely demanding to know where he is as he's two and a half hours late to show up to work. You stall in the doorway with a tray of food as he rubs his belly fondly and find yourself lost in a trance as you watch him.

But the moment is broken when a projection of Fu Xuan enters the picture. Her hands are on her hips as she glares down at Jing Yuan a bit unkempt dressed in nothing but a light sleeping robe. Her eye twitches as he sends a text to someone.

"General just what time do you think it is?" Jing Yuan doesn't even bother looking at her patting his belly once before sitting up to take the tray from your hands. She notices the congee on the plate, glancing up at his face and notices just how pale his face is her attitude shifting from irritation to concern.

"...Are you sick? Do you need Lady Bailu to pay you a visit?" Jing Yuan hums as he takes a spoonful of the congee making sure to get a bit of egg and takes a bite. He practically melts and you sigh relieved that this didn't make him sick compared to the other stuff he's tried to eat this morning.

He shakes his head. "Perhaps later, I visited her earlier this week but no, I am not sick." Fu Xuan's brows pinch in confusion. "You clearly must be, or poisoned even I'll-" He lifts a hand cutting her off as he smiles cheerfully. "I'm not sick, I'm just pregnant. Surely my charts have predicted as such?"

Fu Xuan's projection vanishes and Jing Yuan hums again as he takes another bite. He finishes at least half the bowl by the time her projection flickers back into the room. She looks absolutely frazzled her mouth opening and closing as she tries to speak.

She barely chokes out a "Congratulations!" before disappearing once more not giving you either a chance to thank her. You watch as he finishes his bowl happily not a care in the world.

"Well that went well. I sent a text to Yanqing, he should be here with the tea from-" Yanqing bursts into the room a hand on the door and an arm carrying a case of tea his face flaming red. "GENERAL YOU'RE PREGNANT?!"

"Yes, indeed I am-" Yanqing runs off without another word and you both hear clatter and clanging as he panics navigating the kitchen. He blinks before laughing to himself. "I'm certainly in capable hands aren't I?"

[x--sinner--x]

"If possible, can you write an age gap [18 x 40 something] about a girl's dad glazing his cum on her food without her knowing? Or where he puts sleeping pills in her food and brutally fucks her while she sleeps? Like, no lube, no condoms, just raw lust and brutality and lots of cum?"

My Favourite Daughter

⚠️ TW: Step - Incest (and other things) ⚠️ (not meant for real life)

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

I take pride in having a lot of self-control. But recently, I have been finding it hard to control myself.

My step-daughter was obnoxious to say the least. I kept trying my best to get her to acknowledge my presence in the family, and also wanted to be a good father figure to her. But whenever I approached her, I only received a cold stare, and sometimes she would just dismiss me.

She would often bring her friends over. Her room would be closed, but I can hear all the shouts and giggles. And her demeanour was so different. It was like she was a completely different person. A side she clearly didn't want to show me. I know she is in her rebellious phase, but I felt alienated by her actions.

One day I caught her trying to steal some money from her mom and I scolded her for it, and it made her resent me even more. With every passing day, she would keep doing something to annoy me. I would come home from work to see my clothes scattered around the room, sometimes my things went missing. But her latest infraction, that was the tip of the iceberg.

She had used my phone while I was in the shower to take naked pictures of me and fabricated a chat to frame me to make my wife (her mom) spite me. But luckily, my wife didn't see the message and I was able to delete the evidence from her phone (yes I know her passcode). I always thought I could tolerate her, but she has taken it too far, and my mind started spiralling with ideas. I had to give a taste of her own medicine.

One day I had the opportunity to be alone with her. Her friends had other commitments, her mom had to work, and I had a day off work. This was the first time she decided to be nice to me, and asked me if I can make a pancake for her. She was nice to me only for the food, I'm sure. I smiled at her and went to the kitchen to make it.

Little did she know, I mixed some sleeping pills in the milk, simultaneously making the pancake. I offered it to her, which she gobbled down in an instant, followed by the milk. It didn't take long for the pills to come into effect, and she was passed out cold. I took her into the bedroom and placed her gently onto the bed. I took a good look at her, and muttered 'sorry darling' to myself. I still couldn't bring myself to forgive her.

I started removing her clothes (but not all of them), just enough to give me free access. Her breasts were exposed by pulling her tank top down a bit, her panties pushed to the side to reveal her pussy, and of course her mouth was free. So I slowly pulled my cock out of my trousers, held her head for support as I pushed it into her mouth, moving in and out slowly. Her lips parted enough for my tip to go through, and her warm lips were enough to send me on edge.

I was groping her breasts as my thrusts increased inside her mouth, each thrust hitting the back of her throat, clenching around my cock so good, I came inside her mouth multiple times, until it started to overflow out of her mouth. I pinched her nipples, and even went down to suck on them, and I found myself feeling good from her unconscious body. It felt like sweet revenge.

It was now time to use her other set of lips, which had been waiting for me. I positioned myself between her thighs, and my hard cock perched just above her clit, as I teased her stomach by moving my hips in and out. I would also slap my dick against her cunt for her to know I will be going in eventually (even though she was unconscious). I took some spit in my hands and applied it on my hard cock to act as lube, and some on the entrance as well to allow me a smooth passage.

Once she looked ready to me, I pushed the tip in slowly, and her walls ripped sideways, allowing my cock to glide in easily, and it gently walloped my cock between her walls and it was so airtight inside. I held on to her hips and moved her body (instead of me thrusting) forward and back on my cock, seeing how her pussy heaved and clenched around my length. It sent a jolt of electricity through my veins, and all the blood flowed directly into my cock, as I increased the momentum of my thrusts. The friction between my cock and her walls was enough to push me into ecstasy, as I started to unload my cum over and over into her pussy. And just like her mouth, eventually it started to overflow out of her.

Even though I had used her mouth just before, I couldn't leave without sending a message. I stroked my cock fast and hard, until another spurt of cum covered her face and neck. And another stroke and it filled her breasts with my seed. I went outside the room for a second and returned with a pen. I used it to write 'a gift for you' on her stomach, and left her in that state.

(this post is fantasy, and I highly want to emphasize to only see it as a fictional story. Aftercare and consent are very important, so keep that in mind).

(hey i am so sorry I can't write about the cum glazing. And yes I made them step-relationship. I don't feel comfortable writing it, so I'll be including the rest. Hope that's okay with you and I hope you will like it)

[lokisprettygirl]

Fix You Fix me (Bill Skarsgård! Eric Draven x Female Reader) (Au)

Chapter 1

Summary : After your boyfriend gives you the ultimatum to lose weight, you end up at the gym owned by a stranger you have known for years.

Warning: Fat shaming, body shaming, manipulation, reader lacks bit of a spine, emotional abuse, reader's weight will be mentioned because the fic demands it

You kept fidgeting with the lace of your dress, your heart felt as if it would jump out of your mouth. You had never been in this position before, you never thought you'd get in this position either but here you were.

“Stop it y/n..and sit up straight” You heard Jake’s voice so you immediately brought your hands up.

Jake was your boyfriend of two years, you had met him at the library you worked at when he came looking for a book on neuroanatomy, he was a neurosurgeon. He approached you and asked you to help him find what he was looking for and then he asked if you'd like to go out for a coffee or something.

You couldn't deny, he was handsome, too handsome, 6 feet, blue eyes, rugged manly face and when you learned that he was a neurosurgeon, you just knew he was good with his hands.

The first time you had met him, he had commented on your dress, telling you how the colour blue would suit you much better than the green you were wearing that day.

Since the beginning he just always knew what was better for you then you did. At thirty you had lost all hope of ever finding love in your life and then he swept in like a knight, serenading you off your feet. And two years later here you were, waiting in a five star restaurant to meet his parents.

“Ummmm, when will they get here?’ you asked him and he looked at you as if you had suddenly grown horns on your head.

“Who?” he asked, his voice nonchalant.

“Ummm your parents?” His eyes went back to his phone as he sighed.

“Why did you think we were seeing my parents?”

“Because you said so yesterday?” His brow raised in confusion as you spoke.

“I said I'd take you to meet them but then i came to a realisation”

Oh no. Was he breaking up with you? He can't be right? What did you do wrong? You did everything right. Was he upset? Why was he upset?

“Realisation?” you gulped, the word barely audible as you spoke.

“Yeah..why don't you finish that unhealthy burger you ordered first?” He snickered, you looked down at the burger as he said that.

“Ummm what's going on Jakey?” You asked, taking a deep breath to simmer down the anxiety building up in your chest.

“Honey, do you remember how you used to look when we met?” He asked with the same carefree nonchalance but before you could even answer he spoke again “Wait I'll remind you” he chuckled as he pulled up a picture..

“See any difference?” He asked as he shoved the phone into your face.

Okay.

Sure you had gained a lot of weight in the past two years, you were happy, you finally had a boyfriend, you got comfortable and in the beginning of your relationship Jake loved to pamper you with chocolates and sweets everyday, that might have gone straight to your waist.

“I might have gained a pound or two”

Cringe. You knew it was more than that.

“Honey bear, this is not a pound or two..this is like twenty pounds we are talking about here” Your eyes teared up as the harshness in his tone stung, reminding you of your mother “Are you planning to keep ballooning up hmm?”

“Jake -” you looked around as he raised his voice. The frustration getting the best of him.

“The reason my parents aren't here today is because honestly y/n I love you but you embarrass me, you embarrassed me at the convention last week. I mean being fat is one thing but wearing that dress?”

“You got me the dress-”

Your eyes welled up as you felt utterly humiliated. You had to squeeze into the dress, it was too small for you, two years ago you might have fit into it but not anymore, but Jake insisted on having you wear it so you did. You put on a tummy tucker and forced the dress somehow.

“Yeah and I got it in the size I remembered you being.. Does that tell you anything?” He asked you and you could barely nod in response as you looked down at the cheeseburger you had ordered, feeling ashamed of how you had allowed yourself to let go.

“So what..what do you umm..what should I do?” You asked him as you quickly wiped your tears.

“First of all stop sulking sweetie..do you think i enjoy this? I am worried about your health, okay?” He said, his voice tender now so you nodded in response.

“Lose twenty pounds .. and we will meet my parents at the end of the year.. I'll take you home on Christmas”

He said to you and you were surprised . So he wasn't breaking up with you?

End of the year, that means you had six months to lose all this extra weight.

At the end of the dinner Jake’s pager beeped, he had an emergency at the hospital.

“Get yourself home…gotta go” he said as he barely pecked you on the lips “Think about what I said, our future depends on it” he said before he turned around to leave.

Your future, your one last chance at happiness, at marriage, one last chance of having your own family. All you had to do was lose some weight. Besides he was right, this wasn't healthy for you in the long term, it's not as if he was being unreasonable with you. He had to be harsh so you'd feel motivated.

You were lost in your thoughts as you walked back home, your apartment was a few blocks down the road. You passed by the cafe you never dared enter because it seemed too fancy.

Then you saw it.

The Crow.

The neon sign glowed faintly in the dark, shaped like outstretched wings that obviously was a crow or it wouldn't make sense.. You’d passed the same gym a hundred times before. It sat on the corner of the next block, its wide glass windows revealing a fine dimly lit interior as all gyms did. Even at this late hour, music thumped inside. You slowed your pace, looking through the glass. Wondering if he was there. The owner.

Eric Draven.

You’d seen him before, you knew him, well not really Knew him but like you knew of him. He lived in the same block as you did.

You had been seeing him for years, at times on your walk to work, or at the local coffee shop, you once saw him from your balcony, running shirtless down your block. He used to visit the library as well before, often spending hours in the fiction section,but you hadn't seen him there in a long time. Probably because he got a little famous. Not as famous as per LA standards but famous nonetheless.

You’d seen him all over your social media pages.. His girlfriend Regina Blanc was an influencer, you didn't follow her, but you had a habit of stalking her and her perfect life. At times she posted their workout videos together. The two of them looked like supermodels—tall, chiseled, confident. Perfect. Sometimes he was shirtless in those videos, tattoos crawling down his arms, they covered his back and chest like vines, his jet-black hair falling over his forehead, sweat rolling down his perfect skin.

As a car passed by you were pulled out of your thoughts.

This was it, this was a sign for you to join the gym and lose weight. You finally build the courage to enter the gym, you worked out at times but always at home, doing the bare minimum, weights terrified you and to be frank they intimidated you. There was nobody at the reception but there was a bell on the counter so you pressed it..

That's when he entered. Eric Draven in all his glory. He was sweaty and shirtless

“Ummm hii… I was wondering if you can tell me about the membership ” He didn’t answer right away as you spoke.

Instead, he reached for a towel hanging on a nearby hook and wiped the sweat from his neck, his chest still rising and falling from whatever brutal workout he’d just finished. Even in the videos he was brooding and distant, as if smiling would somehow make him lose all that muscle.

“Are you looking to sign up or just browsing?” he asked, finally slipping the hoodie over his head.

“I—uhhhh I want to sign up.” you cleared your throat.

He nodded, his expression unreadable, then he walked around the counter and passed you a pamphlet, it had the information for monthly, quarterly and yearly membership. A membership wasn't enough though, you knew you'd be like a deer caught in the headlight here.

You needed a trainer.

“What's your name?” He asked as he went behind the laptop to register your name in the enquiry list.

“Y/n Y/l/n” you said to him so he looked at you for a moment before his fingers tapped on the keyboard.

He then passed you a registration form and asked you to fill it.

You began writing down your information but you knew you needed to ask him about the personal training.

“Ummm i uhhh I need a trainer” you finally asked him, though you felt as if you were committing a crime.

“I don’t keep trainers here,” he said, voice casual as he chewed on his gum. “Just me.”

“Oh. So you’re the only one?” you asked just to confirm.

“Yeah.”

“Do you take clients?”

“I do,” he said, “but I’ve got my hands full right now. I don’t do casual coaching for women that come here once and then never again.”

Your heart sank. You weren’t exactly disciplined, you hadn’t worked out in years or ever really. But you were serious. At least now, more than ever.

You set the pen down once you were done and looked up at him, eyes wide and hopeful.

“I am serious. I just need to lose twenty pounds and I need to do it by the end of the year—I don’t know anything about gyms. I need someone to push me. I need this. Please.”

He chuckled as you said that but then his expression shifted. Why did he look so mad at you? You hadn't even done anything. Yet.

“End of the year? Is that your goal?” He asked so you nodded desperately, he kept staring at you as if he was judging you hard. You weren't absolutely perfect like his girlfriend with zero percent body fat.

“Ummm what is your fee?”

You asked, knowing already you'd have to sell your soul but he had great reviews, he knew what he was doing. Women raved about his work, he didn't just make them lose weight but also made them stronger.

“My fee doesn’t matter if you’re not serious,” he said flatly. “This isn’t a bootcamp for New Year resolutions or post-breakup glow-ups”

“It’s not a breakup,” you said quickly, too quickly. His brow arched, but he didn’t say anything. “I just let myself go and he's just worried about me. I want to change.. I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

Something in his jaw ticked, like your words hit a nerve he didn’t want touched.

“My fee is twelve hundred a month. Three sessions a week. No refunds. No reschedules unless you’re dead or hospitalized”

Yeah. Would definitely need to sell your soul.

“Twelve hundred umm..thats uhh—”

“Expensive?” he cut in. “So is wasting my time.”

“Can you do EMI for now please..once I have the money I'll pay at once i promise”

His eyes found yours again as you said that. So serious. He was the most intense and intimidating man you had ever met in your life.

“Be here tomorrow. 6 AM sharp,” he said. “Five minutes late and I'll drop you.”

Your mouth dropped open a little, but you quickly shut it. He wasn’t joking. Not even a little. That sharp tone, the dead-set expression, he meant every word.

“Okay,” you said softly, barely above a whisper as you paid the first installment “I’ll be here. Six. Sharp.”

He gave a short nod, like a final stamp of approval, then turned away, walking into the gym area again.

As you stepped out of the door you took a deep breath in.

6am.. you had never been so early for anything in your life.

That night as you went back to your apartment you couldn't really sleep. Maybe it was the nerves, 6 am. You had to be there right at 6 or he'd not help you and you needed his help.

You got up from the bed and reached for that red dress in your closet, the one Jake had gifted you, the one that had him embarrassed in front of his peers.

You undressed out of the nightwear you had on and attempted to pull the dress up.

It caught at your hips.

You sucked in your stomach as much as you could, tugging harshly. The fabric strained between your fingertips, not budging at all without the help of a shapewear.

When you finally looked at yourself in the mirror, your eyes welled up, no wonder he was embarrassed of you.

You could see every flaw you had staring back at you. The way your stomach bulged from every corner.. it was a miracle he was still attracted to you.

Stepping out of the dress you threw it in the closet again

“I'll fit you again i swear”

You murmured as you pulled up the phone and texted Jake, his response came immediately.

You got into bed and set the alarm for 5 am.

The next morning you woke up feeling dread in your chest, you quickly grabbed the phone and it was 8 am…

“Oh god no no no” how did it happen?

Do not disturb mode was on.

How did it turn on?

Panic clawed up your throat as you sat up straight, your blanket tangling around your legs.

“Shit. Shit!”

You fumbled with your phone, heart pounding like a drum in your chest. The “Do Not Disturb” icon glared back at you like a silent accusation. Somehow it had been turned on, maybe you’d hit it by accident last night, or maybe Jake’s text had distracted you and you hadn’t noticed. Either way, the alarm hadn’t gone off at 5 the way it was supposed to.

It was 8:03 AM.

You were more than two hours late. A part of you didn't want to go, didn't want to face him but then you rolled out of bed, nearly tripping as you yanked on the nearest leggings and an oversized hoodie that belonged to Jake, scrubbing your face quickly before pulling your hair into a lopsided ponytail. There wasn’t even time to think, you had to go.

Maybe if you got there now, maybe if you explained, maybe he'd not drop you if he'll see your desperation. Maybe he'll pity you.

You burst out of your door, barely locking it, and ran a few blocks to the gym, your lungs burning as your body wasn't used to such a speed.

“Oh god” you stopped right outside the gym to catch your breath, with your hands on your knees you bent down and braced yourself.

After a minute you finally stepped in, you walked past the reception area and entered the main gym, breathless and flushed from sprinting all the way there. It was 8:20. You were more than two hours late.

There were people all over, some at the treadmill, others at the several machines you didn't understand and he was there too.

Eric stood across the floor, coaching a tall, sculpted woman through heavy deadlifts. She was laughing at something he said—laughing—and he gave a curt nod in return, correcting her form with a light touch to her spine.

He didn’t look at you even though he could see your reflection from the mirrors. He ignored you. Completely. As if you didn't exist.

You weren't even sure whether to call his name or just walk out in disgrace. You didn’t want to interrupt. You didn’t want to make a scene. But your heart was already cracking open in your chest. You knew you were late but you had worked up the courage to come here. You’d gotten ready. You wanted to show him you weren’t a quitter but he wasn't even looking your way.

You stood there for five minutes. Then ten. He still didn’t glance your way.

A few other gym goers passed behind you, one gave you a strange look, as if you were loitering in a place you didn’t belong. Maybe you didn’t. Of Course you didn't. What would Jake think when he finds out you gave up on something again? He'd be so disappointed.

That's when the tears came fast.

You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to threaten them away, but your chest was tight with the panic building up every second. Your vision finally blurred. You didn’t even realize you’d started crying until you felt a tear slide down your cheek.

You turned around, ready to run out of there and never face him again but as you did, he called out your name..

“Y/N”

His voice cut across the gym, loud and unmistakable.

You froze at the spot, you didn't want to turn and have him see your tear soaked face.

His client was already putting her weights away, wiping her forehead. He murmured something to her, then stepped towards you with that same unreadable expression.

When he reached you, he walked past you.

“Outside” he said, his voice quieter now as he expected you to follow him.

And you followed him like a ghost, out the back door and into the alley behind the gym.

He finally turned to you, arms crossed as he looked at your swollen, just out of bed, tear puffed face.

“Why are you crying?”

You wiped your face as he questioned, feeling utterly humiliated by the situation.

“I messed it up. I wanted to prove I was serious. I put an alarm I swear I did, but somehow I pressed the do not disturb icon as well so it never rang and I overslept and I missed our meeting and then I came here and you didn’t even look at me..even though you knew I was here you didn't acknowledge me at all and I—” Your voice cracked as you felt overwhelmed again “I don’t want to be like this anymore.”

Something flickered in his eyes, he have had desperate clients before but he had never had someone who was so…broken.

He was quiet for a long minute, just staring at you while you cried and then he spoke.

“Why now?”

“What?” you blinked as if you didn't understand the question.

“Why are you doing this now?” His gaze was sharp, you couldn't help but stare at his long frame, he was sculpted like a Greek god.. “Why do you suddenly care about changing after all these years?”

You hesitated, hands trembling at your sides. You knew why, but you didn't want to seem pathetic.

“I Just want to change” you said. “I want to fit into this dress..i need to fit into this dress that i have.”

His jaw clenched as you spoke. He was angry you could tell but he held onto his words. It was more than that, it wasn't just about the dress, people don't break down like this for a dress.

“6 am tomorrow..last chance” he said as he walked past you. A gasp escaped your chest

“You're giving me another chance?” You asked as you followed him, he stopped as he reached the backdoor of the gym.

“Don't make me regret y/n. You want to fit into a stupid dress? Fine..show up and work for it” he said as he looked at you from head to toe as if he was scrutinizing you.

“I will i promise i will be here tomorrow right at 6”

He nodded before he stepped back into the gym. As he disappeared out of the sight you jumped a little in excitement..

You won't be late, you promised to yourself that you'd show up tomorrow. You just had six months after all.

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

Dae-ho having his first ever sexting session with reader,at first he’s so puppy like and shy just like the dae-ho we know…and then he gets carried away with pics and even facetime ;)

Sexting, It isn't sex it's the next best thing

Pairing: Dae-ho x Reader Rating: Explicit (18+) Tropes: First-time sexting, shy-to-dominant transformation, dom!Dae-ho, daddy kink, facetime tease

Word Count: ~4.3k

Warnings: Sexting, explicit content, dom/sub themes, dirty talk, mild praise/degradation, consent emphasized

You hadn’t expected anything more than your usual late-night back-and-forth with Dae-ho. Sweet little check-ins, some flirty banter, the occasional teasing meme. But tonight, something was different.

Dae-ho: Are you still up?

You smiled. Of course you were. He knew that.

You: Yeah, just in bed. Why?

Three dots danced at the bottom of the screen for longer than usual. You could picture him hesitating, maybe fidgeting, maybe biting his lip in that shy little way he always did.

Dae-ho: I’ve never done this before but… can I say something kind of bad?

Your heart skipped. Something shifted in your stomach—part nerves, part anticipation.

You: Always.

Dae-ho: I was just thinking about you. Like, really thinking. I keep imagining your skin. Your thighs. Your lips.

You blinked, heat blooming across your face. Dae-ho? Your soft, bashful Dae-ho? He could barely hold eye contact without blushing, and now he was texting you about your thighs?

You: You’re thinking about my thighs, huh?

Dae-ho: …Yeah.

Dae-ho: And your moans.

That one-word reply hit hard. You could feel it in your core, how your body reacted to just a few letters on a screen. You stared at your phone a moment longer, before your fingers moved on their own.

You: You’ve never heard them.

Another pause.

Dae-ho: I want to.

Dae-ho: God, I want to so bad. I want to hear you fall apart just because of me.

You were soaked already, stunned by how fast he flipped the switch. Still, you had to tease. You had to remind him of the boy you met, the one who got flustered just by brushing your hand.

You: Look at you. So confident all of a sudden. What happened to shy, blushing Dae-ho?

He replied instantly.

Dae-ho: He’s still here. But he’s hard now. And thinking about you touching yourself for me.

You gasped softly at the boldness. Before you could type another word, another message dropped.

Dae-ho: Can I see you? Just a little?

The rush of blood to your cheeks was immediate. But you reached for the hem of your shirt anyway, fingers trembling with adrenaline as you angled the camera just enough to catch the swell of your breasts in the dim glow of your bedside lamp.

You sent it.

And waited.

Dae-ho: Fuck.

Dae-ho: You're perfect. You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.

Dae-ho: Can I send you something?

You bit your lip.

You: Yes.

The photo came through—low angle, shirt lifted just enough to show toned abs, a trace of the waistband of his boxers. And below it… unmistakable. Thick and hard, straining under the fabric.

Your breath hitched. You tapped on the image once. Twice.

You: Jesus, Dae-ho.

Dae-ho: I want to be inside you so fucking bad.

Gone was the shy, hesitant boy who used to stammer when you called him cute. This Dae-ho? He was throbbing through your screen. Demanding. Needy.

And you loved it.

You: Tell me what you’d do if you were here.

Dae-ho: I’d push your legs apart so slow, so fucking slow. Just to watch you squirm. You’d be soaked, wouldn’t you?

You: I am.

You didn't wait for him to ask. You slipped your hand under the waistband of your panties, took a photo that barely caught your fingers between your folds. Wet. Swollen. Glowing with heat.

You sent it.

A video call request came seconds later.

Your heart skipped.

You hesitated.

Accepted.

And then he was there, his face filling the screen—hair messy, pupils blown wide, lips parted. And behind the camera, his hand moved. Up. Down. Slow strokes. You could hear the wet slide of his palm on his cock.

“Baby,” he groaned, low and raw. “Fuck, I can’t stop thinking about how tight you’d be.”

You whimpered, spreading your legs, letting the camera tilt just slightly to show the damp patch on your sheets.

“Touch yourself,” he commanded.

His voice was different. Deeper. Steady.

“Put two fingers in. Now.”

You obeyed.

“Good girl. Keep them there.”

God.

You were panting now, unable to hide it as you thrust your fingers in and out, matching the rhythm of his strokes.

“Fuck, I wanna bend you over this bed,” he grunted, his movements jerky now, faster. “Wanna grip your hips and fuck you so hard you forget your own name.”

You whined, close.

“I’d make you beg. Call me daddy. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasped.

“Say it.”

“Please, daddy—don’t stop. Please.”

He growled. You watched his whole body shudder, muscles tensing as he came hard, thick ropes of cum spilling across his hand.

But he didn’t stop watching you.

“Don’t hold back. I wanna see your face when you come.”

It only took a few more seconds. You moaned loud, fingers curling deep inside you as your climax crashed through your body. Your thighs shook. Your lips parted in a trembling cry.

Dae-ho’s voice came again—softer this time, low and reverent.

“Fuck… you’re so beautiful when you come.”

You both sat there, catching your breath through a screen glowing with desire.

Shy, blushing Dae-ho was still there.

But so was the man who’d just ruined you with a look.

[strangetomato]

do you have any advice/things you wish you knew starting out for a neurodivergent person wanting to work on a sims story as ambitious as SHWC? particularly related to workflow, burnout, and other periods of mental unhealth. (also patiently excited for the next update — i first started reading SHWC in high school and seeing your ripp and ophelia again feels a little like coming home in a way i can’t explain)

This is a great question. 

It is honestly very pleasantly surprising to me that I've been able to persist and come back to this story, and I'm not sure what’s been different about this project to keep me coming back. I think it comes down to loving the game and the source characters so much and then diving so deeply into developing them. They are so fully formed for me that they will just resurface in my mind from time to time, even now after 7+ years after the last update. I dream about them sometimes.

I tend to cycle through interests/fixations in the way many of us NDs do. Some come and go after a good run and never really seem to return. Others are perennial faves that I know will resurface eventually. The Sims 2 has been the most significant one in my whole life so far, so I think that really helps.

So as for advice: pick something you love. I'd say even do one better than me and zero your focus in on your favourite characters, your favourite character, period. Really weed out anything that isn't exciting to write about for you. 

Upon returning this time, I’ve given myself permission to not bother with the stuff that doesn't interest me as much, or that once did but doesn’t so much now. If you're struggling with having enough spoons or getting enough dopamine to get through the work, forcing yourself to tell a story you aren't that interested in is not going to work. I previously stalled out mid chapter in a Veronaville side story precisely because I really wanted to be writing about JRO or the other main cast instead.

Posing scenes with characters you love provides you with dopamine because it just brings joy to get the shots looking just right, seeing their expressions, etc. I also like doing sorta arty things with the images, because that tickles my brain and keeps me interested, too. Or decorating. Sometimes decorating the set is what does it for me. Find what interests you the most and do it. 

I'd also say simplify the image-making, too. Cut corners. Don't pose everything! You don't have to illustrate every little movement. Use the text. I can't count how many times Ophelia has ruffled Ripp's hair, but I have never once shown it. You can get away with so much in just the writing. If posing it all out sounds fun and the result would please you, then do it. If not, describe it in the text. Easy. Done.

Similarly, you can have a scene, say, where two characters are talking or someone is thinking and the image is just a close up of a picture in a frame. Vary things up and it will keep things interesting and your attention span will thank you.

And vary things between closeups and wide shots, use different perspectives. Do a birds eye view… then you don't even need a facial expression. A shot of just the feet. Why not? Wide shots with a lot of very posed characters in them takes a lot of effort. Use them wisely. You simply don't need to do that all the time. Varying the perspective and closeness of the shot conveys different things in the story as well. It's part of the storytelling, particularly the emotion.

Okay, what else…

Keep a tiny notebook or document on your phone with you at all times, so you can jot things down as they come to you. Take your best advantage of those moments when your brain is firing, even if you’re in the lineup in the grocery store, etc. I have written entire scenes in my brain while driving on the highway, then pulled over to jot it all down. (Obviously, pull over to write, if you’re driving, lol.)

I have a very nonlinear brain, for better or worse. I tend to work up a bunch of stuff simultaneously, rather than going from point A to B. Currently, I have documents for about 5 or 6 updates, which I jump around in. Also one for “story bits’ where I dump any little snippet that pops up in my brain. I've stopped doing images that far in advance, though. Too often I change things and it helps me to focus on the update at hand if I only shoot scenes within the current update.

Working so far ahead in writing can be helpful with sticking it out, because I have good stuff I really want to share further down the line.

That said, I've also had success doing Camp Nano and sitting down and just writing. For me, this is also still jumping around and doing a lot of little scenes. But sometimes just starting to write and letting it all randomly flow out will be surprisingly productive.

Burnout is very real. Taking a break is really the best idea. Playing the game or posing very indulgent shots just for fun for can help. Rest as much as you can, and do things you enjoy.

Mental health concerns are tough when it comes to this stuff. Again, taking a break and focusing on recovery is for the best. I find that when my mood goes off, I need to get off of all social media. If you find you are feeling bad more often than good when in the sims community, it’s probably time to get offline for a while.

I'm still feeling out the difference between ND burnout and depression in my own life, even in my past. For myself, the mood stuff is more of a seismic shift (and has the more distressing negative thoughts) while burnout does still settle in from time to time, even when I’m otherwise well. Burnout needs rest. Depression needs movement. Both need sleep. This obviously goes beyond what I’m going to get into here. Try to find a good psychiatrist.

In general: take your meds, get enough sleep, get some physical activity, find community.

I really like going for a walk with headphones on. (Be careful, obviously.) I have a nature trail nearby, so that works well for that. Like many, I use music to inspire me with writing/creating, so this is a nice combo of exercise/nature/sensory immersion/creative inspiration, and I can easily stop to jot down notes. Or do it really sloppily while I’m still walking.

I’m not sure if that fully answers everything. 

Workflow is not my strongest area. I do think having smaller goals is helpful. If you have the writing all completed, try not to think about the chapter as a whole and how much is left to do. Set a small goal, like doing something every day, no matter how small. I make physical checklists to feel the progress more concretely as well. You can storyboard things out to help guide you, or give yourself permission to freestyle it and not worry about it matching the text perfectly. I have changed the text to match the image when something new came up like that. It’s nice to have the ability to do that.

Thank you so much for the kind words. :) Coming back to work on the story has given me a positive obsession that I’ve been lacking in more recent years, despite being otherwise mentally well. The update is coming along. It’s hard to predict exactly when I will complete it, but it is steadily approaching. Thanks for the great ask and have a nice day! :) Good luck with your project.

[buwheal]

YAYYYYYY Birthday cake for the birthday boooyyyyyy hooray 46!!!!!!!!!! Made him a cake cause he deserves it :^D

#1 Salesman 1997 !!!!

....look familiar perhaps..?

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

[reignpage]

She's Crazy But She's Mine

Synopsis: In which everyone wonders why hockey player!Toji is with the weird girl  Warnings: smut, fluff, porn with some plot, fem!reader, cringe galore beware- might hit home for some people lol, cockwarming, semi-exhibitionism, blowjob, unprotected sex, roleplaying, biting, dirty talk (at parts cringy on purpose), boxers sniffing, improper use of hockey stick, cunnilingus, fingering, not proofread - like seriously, not at all. sorry Word Count: 2k

Toji’s the star of the hockey team — highly skilled, a strong performer, speedy, agile, a visionary, and so damn hot. Everyone loves him: the guys want to be him and the girls want to ride him. With those broad shoulders, his slutty waist, sinful smirk and tempting scar, he’s earned his title as MVP. 

What people don’t get, though, is why he walks the halls of campus with his arm slung over a girl who is clearly not on his level: you wear anime merch, galaxy leggings, and big, boxy glasses you don't seem to actually need. People who have classes with you gossip about how you sit at the back, in the far right corner, chewing on your hair and drawing male characters in intimate positions. One cheerleader even swears you hissed at her when she said she likes your art style. 

After practice, he doesn’t hang back with the guys, instead, he’s heading over to the robotics lab to pick you up.  You’re rambling about circuits, the future of android domination or whatever to some nerd. He blushes when you press close. Toji, at the doorway, is staring daggers at the lanky little shit, who obviously didn’t get the memo about his claim. 

“Ya like nerds, ma? That why you were practically milking his dick in the lab?” He’s bullying his fat cock inside your tight, sloppy pussy. Your ugly-ass leggings are ripped apart at the crotch, legs spread to their limits as he fucks you against some shelves in the janitor’s closet.

Breathless, glasses askew, you reply. “N-no. Was just -ah, Toji, slow down!- just excited to tell him about LADS… I think he’d -hah- really like Zayne.”

He laughs against your neck, sucking at a sensitive spot just to feel you tighten around him. 

“God, if your moans didn’t sound so damn good, I’d stuff your panties in your mouth.”

In the locker room, after a good game, the guys ask him why he’s even with you. They point out that you talk to yourself sometimes, that you have different pictures of pretty men in your phone case every day, wear brightly-coloured clothes you made yourself, and have only ever been seen drinking cans of Monster.

Toji doesn’t bother answering. Why would he? They’ll never understand your dynamic, your appeal, and the fact that he wouldn't be able to shake you off even if he did want to. 

With the pummelling of the water, he hides the nasty slurrrrrrps coming from your mouth as you kneel between his legs in his stall, at the very back of the showers. Toji's always the first one in the locker room after a game because he knows you'll be hiding somewhere; you love to lick, suck and fondle his balls after he's gotten all sweaty and sticky. Something about his 'musk' and 'pheromones' unlocking your 'inner moon goddess.'

You’ve got a tail plugged in your ass, all soaked and pathetic looking, but when it twitches as you clench, empowered by the taste and enormous size of him filling your throat, your hockey player boyfriend can’t help but cum hard. 

“Drink it all up —yeah, just like that, good girl.” He licks his scar when you stick your tongue out, playing with the cum on there with your long fingers, making yourself gag just for him. “Shh, keep quiet, yeah? Don’t want them to catch you. Alright, turn around, baby, show me your pretty pussy.”

Bent over, you smoosh your face against the cold tiles and spread your cheeks for him, purposefully clenching so he can see your juices drool out when he lifts your soggy tail up. Wriggling your ass, you whisper, “Come and plant your seed, oh Dark Lord. Make this mudblood bear fruit for my serpent king.”

He shakes his head in disappointment but sinks his cock into you anyways. “You got back into your Harry Potter phase again, didn’t ya?”

Since he's started dating you, his understanding of pop culture has broadened considerably. For example, just recently, the new Marvel movie came out and you couldn't stop replaying edits of Bucky. He was doing push-ups when you dropped to the ground and crawled right under his body, his arms fully extended. That mischievous grin on your lips could only spell out one thing: trouble. 

That was how he found himself, folding you into a pretzel, in his bedroom. And despite the dangerous hold he had around your neck, you could only whine out, "Harder, Buck!"

"Yeah, Steve, take my fat cock. Milk the Winter out of my Soldie—God, these lines are so shit, ma. Who wrote this garbage?"

Nails digging into his meaty forearm, sweat-slicked and delirious, you reply with a giggle, working your ass back against his pelvis to feel his tip kiss your cervix. "My mootie. Don't worry about it. Come on, we're only in Act Two out of seven. Think you can last?"

He grunts. "Worry 'bout yourself, doll. I can do this all day."

Sometimes, your weirdness doesn't even involve him. Just last week, he came home after practice and dumped his duffel bag in the living room on his way to the bathroom, keen to get clean. When he finished, he noticed the bag unzipped and rifled through. Sighing, he saunters into his bedroom, bends down, grabs your ankle, and drags you out from under his bed.

With his boxers covering your entire face, he tuts. "What have I said about taking my shit? Huh? What did I say about going around and sniffing my boxers like some kinda dog? Said you just gotta ask, didn't I?"

Shamelessly, you come to a kneeling position, pulling his towel off so you can nuzzle his already half-hard cock, still wearing his boxers on your head. "Sorry, Toji."

"Show me, ma. Show me how damn sorry you are."

Not a moment of peace is given to him with you as his girlfriend. Not when you always have a new hobby, when there's drama unfolding all the time in all the online communities and fandoms you're part of, and certainly not when your appetite is seemingly endless. He can't even tape his new stick up for grip without you climbing on his back and laying kisses all over his neck. "No."

"But I wanna!"

Trying to shape you off, he says, "You gotta wait. Need to get a feel for it before I keep taping."

Of course, you don't listen to him. So, he's forced to throw the tape aside and let you crawl onto the floor, between his legs. The hockey stick is hooked on your clothed pussy, pressed deliciously right against your slit.

"Needy fucking girl, aren't ya? Can't fucking wait. Well, fine. Go on, then. Make it a good one. Make it worth my damn time."

Grinding, you get lost in the friction, groping your bouncy tits over your shirt. He huffs a laugh when you meet his gaze, eyes clouded over with desire, and lick a long stripe up the shaft. "Toji, tie my wrists to the ends and fuck me from behind, please."

"Sure, but I get to choose the movies for the next week. Getting tired of all the Lord of the Rings shit."

You moan in agreement when he suddenly tugs on the stick, pulling it hard against your clit. Your pussy juices coat the toe and he can't resist rubbing his throbbing cock over his shorts, already imagining all the good luck seeping into the stick, carrying him onto his victory.

"Cum, baby. Get it all wet for me, yeah? I'll be sure to thank you real good when I win next time."

Showing up to practice with a crick in his neck, Toji shrugs off any questions about it. His teammates would only tease him for being a simp if they found out he had spent hours the night before eating you out under your desk as you gamed.

He had three fingers stuffed inside your drenched cunt, curling them again and again against your gummy spot as he sucked hard on your pulsing clit. Your thighs quivered around his head, keeping him close, threatening to suffocate him; there are worst ways to die, he supposed.

"Fuck! Whose goddamn Venti is that? Did they even equip any fucking artefacts? I gotta carry this team with my Yaelan. Again."

Toji fought the urge to roll his eyes, and instead focused on rolling your clit around with his tongue, teasing the bundle of nerves with his skills. Despite your less than perfect diet, he finds that you actually always tastes good. You only eat fast food and chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs, yet you're sweet, mild, and completely addictive.

Sucking hard, partly to bring you closer to an orgasm and partly so he could bring your attention back to him rather than whatever's on your screen, he listened to your sharp intake of breath. "Ah! T-toji, be gentle. I'm still -ngh!- sensitive."

"Hurry up and win then, ma. My balls are about to fucking burst."

You giggled, brushing a hand through his hair, scratching just right and gaining a low groan out of him. "Give me one more -hah- o-orgasm and I'll let you -fuuuuuck, Toji- creampie me. You can watch it ooze out like custard filling, whatd'ya say, baby?"

"Yeah, sure. But don't make me recite any lines from whatever mafia erotica shit you're reading, yeah?"

He bit back a chuckle when he felt you pout, through some cosmic connection (your words, never his) and shoved your chair back suddenly. Standing to his full height, he lifted your hips with him, leaving you dangling in the air, clinging to the armrests desperately as he sucked the soul out of your drooling pussy. "Yes, fuck! God, y-you're so good to me. I love -hngh!- you! Marry me!"

"Shut up. That's my fucking line."

Even his brother sometimes wonders why you two are even together. It’s not that the younger boy doesn’t like you, no, of course, he does — you’re nice, and you bake him cookies. He just thinks you two are so different from each other. Toji likes sports and fitness. You like anime and bedrotting.

He's brought it up before, and his older brother would only muss his hair and tell him, 'You're asking questions you're not ready to hear the answers to.'

What he doesn’t get to see, because he’s at school, is that you two have found a common ground, a way to blend your worlds together. 

Your boyfriend watches sports on the TV, beer in hand and you on his lap, arms and legs wrapped around his body. You watch whatever anime you’re obsessed with at the moment on your iPad, which you hold up behind his head, nuzzling close into the crook of his neck. Occasionally, you’ll take a long whiff of his scent or chomp on his skin, and in retaliation, he’ll rut his cock deep inside you. Something about quality time and cockwarming really gets you going, apparently. 

“Up, baby. Need to get another drink.” He grunts when you tighten your hold around him, even going as far as to clamp down on his throbbing cock, grinding your hips around. A dribble of cum runs down his balls. “No? You’re a real piece of work. Alright, hold on tight then.”

Every step he takes drives him deeper inside you, nudging his fat cock head against that gooey spot inside of you. “Ah, Toji, your rock-hard member is impaling me!”

Groaning, he smacks your ass. “Do you gotta call it those weird ass names, ma? Ain’t ‘dick’ just fine?”

“What about ‘manhood?’”

“Try again.”

You hum. “‘Shaft?’ Or, ‘wizard’s staff?’”

He takes a swig of his beer, sighing. “Forget it.”

Yeah, his girl might be weird, but you're cute. Toji’s never met anyone else who can get his dick hard and leaking like there’s no tomorrow all while you ramble about which fictional world you'd love to be ‘isekaid’ into, whatever that means. You might be weird, but you help his brother out with his homework, massage aches out of his limbs after a particularly violent game, don't judge him for not having many real friends or for his family situation, and you push his desires to their very limits with your wild imaginations and lack of reservations. You’re incredible and people would never understand that.

And plus, Toji really doesn’t think you’re that weird, anyway.

“Hey, Toji? Can you cum inside and then eat me out? I want to record you making bubbles on my clit.”

Never mind.

[tojisteddy]

Acknowledge Me

or: Simon finally gives you attention after you piss him off.

“The power it takes, to make me cry that way. Baby, I hate me when you get under my skin.”

cw: 3.6k words (lord), 18+ MDNI, Toxic!Simon/Meanie!Simon, smut with plot, daddy kink (daddy, pa), dubcon, p in v, dacryphilia, degradation (like hell), water park amusement, pvssy slapping, creampie, marathon!, intoxicated sex, pet names (lovie, doll, pup), overstim, orgasm denial, straight debauchery, after care, y/n visuals.

a/n: acknowledge me by doja cat was the big inspo.

Were you a fucking stupid brat?

Or were you simply itching for attention that you deserved?

If you told your friends, they wouldn’t call you a fucking brat. Stupid? Yeah.

For being with a man who didn’t hesitate to curse you out when you annoyed him. Simon Riley didn’t even flinch when you started hearing those hiccups over the phone, he could already picture your trembling bottom lip, huffed out cheeks and tears forming at your water line. If anything it pissed him off further.

“Don’t fuckin try it with those tears [+]. I fuckin told you, you tell me where the fuck you’re goin. Why the fuck did I have see you move to five different bars in three fuckin hours and you didn’t say a word to me about it till now!?” Simon yelled through the phone.

“You and your dumb ass friends are too fuckin reckless—“

“—Don’t call them that-“ you chided.

“-Oh, I promise you lovie, I don’t give a shit.” his voice with venom.

For fucks sake, it was supposed to be a fun night out and if you were one of your friends, it would’ve been. You and your friends loved bar hopping, enjoying the vibe wherever you went and free alcohol that men and women would order for you. You don’t remember how many bars ago, but your phone died somewhere in the middle and you did spend about five minutes at the last 6 bars trying to find an outlet before your friends dragged you away to the dance floor. That had to count for something, right? You did try to get some form of life on your phone for thirty minutes!

You’d finally gotten to an outlet, right next to the fucking bathroom. ‘15 missed called 4 new messages.’ A string of curses leaving your mouth once you dialed that memorized phone number. And there Simon was, talking to you out the ass while the music was booming in the distance, you had your phone in one hand and a finger in the other trying to hear him properly, the smell of only-god-knows from god-knows-what filling your poor nose all so you could attempt to fix your accidental boo-boo :( — but that bastard had to have you crying in the club.

Like you were thirsty for his attention. you were.

No, none of this was your fault. You didn’t need to update the 6’4, blonde, hunk of a damn brat, when he hadn’t even bothered to contact you in a month.

Yup, the ghost was actually known for ghosting you.

Purposely declining your calls, leaving your texts on read or worse: replying with a ‘k’ when you tried to meet up when you knew (least for the most part) he kept to himself. When he was stationed near by, he was at his own fucking house minding his own business. He was the worst. And the cherry on top?

The fucker had your location on.

You swore he did this to get a rise out of you, to see you teetering off the brink of sanity— and you had to attempt to reel yourself back in every. fucking. time. You weren’t his little plaything, you didn’t need him.

“Don’t fuck with me.” you mumbled, salty tears hitting your mouth. Those would be the last for the night, you swore it. It was like the liquor finally left your heart and went to your brain. Liquid courage.

“What’dyou just say t’me?”

Louder, “I said, don’t fuck with me! I’m sick of your shit Simon!” You snapped. You weren’t an angry person, you’d just hit an annoying wall you needed to get though. The annoying wall called Ghost Riley.

“You always- always come out of the fucking blue ‘nd think you tell me what to do! I’m not a fucking idiot, I know what the fuck I’m doin! Don’t be bitchy at me cause I like to have a little fuckin fun with my friends even when you’ve been ignoring me. Fuckin ignoring me instead of telling me what’s up! The fuck do I gotta do to get you off my dick?!”

“You like the messy shit, Si! You like seein me pissed at you just so you’re the one who has to come and fix it! I can’t stand it. You should go find a bitch who likes that shit because I don’t! I hate how I feel right now and I hate that you can’t be one of those kind boyfriends who’ll come and fuckin hold me nice and shit! Hell, maybe I’ll go find someone to hold me realll nice like since you fuckin won’t!” You spat, nose flaring, you were trembling with rage.

“Pup,” one word. Cut throat. Yanking you right back down to reality. “You take your pretty ass home, ‘nd I’ll go easy on you, yeah?”

You felt your chest rising and falling rapidly, you were frustrated that he clearly didn’t listen to your little rant but you felt your panties get damp. Just a bit. Just like always when you saw a punishment coming. You couldn’t help yourself.

“I-“

“—She’s busy right now please leave a message after the beep. Beeeeeeep.” Your friend, Sharon, has snactched your phone out of you hand, quickly interjecting your conversation with the man and hanging up. She hiccuped, nodding her head in satisfaction.

“You can’t spend the whoooole night by this stinky ass bathroom. Let’s go daaaaance, or-or drink.” She giggled, taking your hands. “Or both!” She squealed at her own words.

Fuck it.

You went out with your friends so you could have a good time, and that’s exactly what you were going to do.

Simon had such a nice way of breaking you down to your knees, so you were the one sobbing and begging then bringing you back up. He didn’t do it often, he wasn’t that fucking mean, but he did it when you really pissed him off. Simon needed you to understand— you weren’t in charge. He was. The man doesn’t remember exactly what you did to piss him anymore, it had been a long and grueling month for him anyway. But he had to follow through with something because he’d be damned if he had to actually apologize, you being with your idiot friends didn’t help your case. So he threw it in the melting pot of why he had a right to bully you.

The motherfucker couldn’t help himself.

When he entered your empty and annoyingly small studio apartment, he added another mark to his ‘reasons to fuck babygirl up’ list. He told you to take your sweet ass home, didn’t he? And where were you?

He’d make sure the neighbors knew exactly who the fuck he was.

It should’ve been easy for you to check in, no? He worried about your safety above all else, but it always seemed to fly out the window when you were with your friends who were notorious and extreme party girls while you just went with the flow. He didn’t not like them sober, it’s when you went clubbing you, for some reason, would get hard headed, defiant. It pissed him off, which would always lead to an argument. Usually he’d come snatch you up while you were tipsy, you’d have a cry in the car, mumbling something about how you just knew the man didn’t like you or take you serious.

And partially, Ghost didn’t. He brushed your insecurities away at first, thinking nothing of it as you went about your life. But you kept being on edge drunk or sober. So he would be right there, finger fucking you otherwise while the car was still in motion. And maybe you were right, maybe he wasn’t the sweet and soft boyfriend you wanted who’d hold your cute little hand when you made him angry. He wasn’t the type to coddle you, chicken peck your face with kisses when you felt down. Simon Riley was the gruff and overbearing man you needed to set you straight, keep you grounded when the world went to shit.

That’s what your cute little tantrum was about, least part of it was. Simon knew he was distant, you just needed a reminder he was yours and you were his. And only his. You craved him like you needed food, it was obvious to anyone who saw you two together. He chuckled, couldn’t believe you even suggested fucking some other man. As if they could handle you, as if they knew what you needed.

He’d set that attitude straight.

The shower was running when the front door of your flat closed behind you. There’s no way you left it on this whole time, did you? You didn’t remember. The night turned into a long one.

No, you didn’t get black out drunk like your friends suggested. You had another shot or two, deciding to stay on the sober side with your DD. You two did smoke a fat blunt before hitting another club though, that made you feel like you were starting to lose your hearing. But it mellowed you out completely. The anger you felt, all that angst and sadness? Gone like a snap of your fingers. The person who was yelling and crying earlier? Technically it wasn’t you, you just needed a little peace. A little medicinal help.

After singing and dancing as hard as you could, your drunk friends taking blurry photos and videos of you that you’d probably post later, you persuaded them it’d be best to get something to eat and head home around two am. It took thirty minutes to find a convenience store that was open so you could chow down on something, and fifteen to get home. With a basically empty bag of chips in one hand, purse slung over your shoulder like a duffle, a bag of junk food in your other hand, low red eyes and a small smile— you finally got home.

You’d deal with that asshole tomorrow. Or next week— maybe next month if you gave enough of a fuck like he did.

Who knows.

You sat the bag of food on the coffee table, right now the priority was your skin care routine, then eat, then zonk out till 2 pm. You still can’t believe you left the shower and the bathroom light on that was now blinding your eyes but whatever. You’d turn it off as soon as you were done since it was warm due to the slight steam.

Routine, routine, routin— you stumbled over a pile of clothes. Large male clothes— okay, maybe you were in the wrong apartment.

Not your first rodeo.

You’d just slowly back out and try looking for your apartment. No big deal.

But the shower curtain swung open and you tripped over the clothes, falling right on your ass with a yelp.

“Ya can’t be that fuckin drunk, can ya?”

Your eyes darted open, right at the familiar deep cockney accent— Simon Riley was right there in the flesh, water dripping down his scarred and large body, making him dazzle like a God in that fucked up bathroom light.

Now that was blinding.

“Hello? Are ya listenin?”

Oh, he really wanted an answer.

“ ‘M not drunk.” You said breathlessly. Intoxicated? Yes. But not drunk. The shots had worn off ages ago. Hell, maybe your high was too at the sight of this brute.

What the fuck was he doing here?

The blonde ignored the confused look on your face. Taking a towel that sat on the sink and drying his hair. No point in drying off anything else, he was about to sweat.

So were you.

Simon continued on, stepping past you and you quickly got up, following right behind him like a starved puppy. For someone who hated your apartment, he sure walked around like he owned the place. Nude, large cock swinging, and the look of annoyance written on his handsome unmasked face.

He sat on the bed, manspreading nonchalantly. Knowing you were looking at it, your eyes immediately went elsewhere.

“What do you want?” You mumbled out, shifting from foot to foot.

As if you didn’t know what was bound to happen.

The older man laughed, sarcasm dripping down his throat.

“Be good ‘nd strip, won’t repeat myself.”

“Si-Simon!” Your breath hitched once a large hand came down on your ass, once for good measure.

“Who?” He slapped his thick member on your ass, sliding it through the crevice of your cheeks.

“But- but Simon-“ another slap.

“You’re gonna make it worse for yourself, call me proper.” He smacked his cock over your glistening folds. So fucking wet.

“Daddy mmph,” You moaned.

“All this ‘b-b-but’ bullshit from ya. You’ve pissed me off more than enough. You’ll take all of it today.” Simon slipped inside your hole, filling you to the brim even with half of that girthy cock in you. You both hissed, fuck, it was always so good when he was inside your walls. Simon slowly started to rock his hips into you, slowly but surely making sure you took every inch if his manhood had to offer.

It was when he bottomed out, you knew you were in for it. Simon wasn’t talking to you, he forced your head down on the bed, forcing your back to arch further as he thrusted right at your spot. Over and over and over.

“Gonna cum pa, gonna cum.” You stuttered, feeling the pit in your stomach starting to turn.

“No you’re not.”

“—But—”

“I dare you [+]. I know you’d just looove seein how that turns out.”

You hiccuped, tears brimming as Simons pace got faster. You could feel him throbbing inside you but he wouldn’t cave. He was making the both of you suffer over a petty argument— a mistake that in any normal relationship wouldn’t be that serious.

“I- no- anngh— I need to cum—”

“-You don’t need shit you greedy. fuckin. bitch.” He grunted, swatting your ass with every thrust.

The man yanked you up by your tosseled hair, “You had your oh-so lovin Daddy fuckin worried about’cha so you can be safe then when I finally get a hold of ya ‘nd tell you to go home, you ignore me. Threatenin to go fuck some idiot, but he couldn’t fuck you like I can? Can he? Can’t keep you pretty ‘nd upright? Can he?” His hand trailed from your throat to the buldge at your stomach. He scuffed, “now you’re itching t’cum just because I have my cock right here in ya? Fuckin dumb bitch shit,”

“You a dumb bitch?” He asked, making sure you were fucking him back. Ripples forming on your ass with every thrust.

“Noooo.” You cried out, trying to get away but it only made the brute dig into you further.

“What?”

“No sir.”

“Thaaats right princess. You're my smart little girl, listen to me next time. Good on you- fuck— for tryin to salvage yourself.” He huffed.

You didn’t realize your own toes curling at that small praise, your body trembling as you reached your peak.

“Hold it, did you just fuckin cum? When I told you not to?” He growled, forcing you to look at his eyes that were practically red with anger.

“Wait, wait, wait.” You really couldn’t help yourself, you’d been holding it for how long? And you were still kinda high which made you feel the sensations ten fold, Simon was drilling into you like no tomorrow and then he gave you an inch of kindness after being so mean to you this whole fucking time.

Your body unconsciously took a mile.

“Nope.” He yanked you back to lay your back on him, the rest of his drenched length in you, and lifted your leg so it was over your head, legs parted like the red sea. The first smack on your cunt for the night had you screaming, water spraying out.

Simon gripped your chin, forcing you to look down at the mess you created while harshly rubbing your pearl, still thrusting into you from behind, “You wanna act like a greedy bitch and think with your pussy? Then you cum like a greedy fuckin bitch. Cum you dirty pup.”

And he kept smacking down on your poor cunt, unable to stop yourself from cumming and squirting. Completely creaming Simons girthy cock so that a ring of cum formed around the base of his length.

“Daddy I can’t-“ you keened.

The man scowled, “-Shut. the fuck. up. You never shut the fuck up, the only thing I wanna hear is how fucking wet that pussy is. Keep fuckin cummin like a dirty slut you are.”

And you did.

You were wetting the bed like a dog. Water flying everywhere with every thwack of Simons hand on your abused and misused clit. You didn’t even know how many times you had cum by that point. Words? What were those? You wouldn’t even be able to read a street sign or name your favorite color if asked.

You were seeing pure white, the only thing you could hear was the loud squelching of Simon pumped himself in and out of you. He pulled out for a second causing you to whine at the loss of him, but he slipped back into your tight walls, fucking you in a nice missionary.

He gave your face a few light smacks to the face, tutting “Ah, ah, ah, pup, don’t you fuckin pass out. Eyes on Daddy.”

You managed to pry those long lashes open, hooded and lower than they could ever get when you were high.

“Therrrre my pretty girl is. Look so good bein fuckin stupid on my dick doll. This is alllll my girl needed. A good lesson, yeah? Remind ‘er who’s boss, huh?” He smirked, dragging himself down to you so your legs were at your chest.

“Shit baby, feel you squeezing down on me. Wanna cum with me? Missed me given it to ya just like you always need?” Oh, you were crying again. Yeah, you did miss his mean ass.

And his mean beautifully scarred up face, the mean way his muscles flexed when he did anything, his stupid fucking mouth that had to say some stupid shit touching your full lips, his disgustingly sexy muscular yet pudgy stomach with a happy trail touching your stomach everytime he wrapped those arms around you. His massive presence when he stood next to you, mean brown eyes watching while you did your hair, your makeup, or got dressed. Heartless hands that rubbed your neck everytime he didn’t know how to comfort you because that asshole trying his hardest to understand you.

And that undeniably cruel, overly massive cock fucking you like you were the final girl getting a well deserved an award for making it out the trenches in a horror film.

Your head was full with the thought of daddy, daddy, daddy— you shook your head but you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. You hung on to whatever bullshit that man gave you. Only him. Always him.

“Wan- I wan it pa! Wan your cum in me.” you babbled through your sobs.

“Course ya fuckin do. Can’t do shit without me.” The older man crooned. He finally planted his lips on yours, you moaned at just the feel. Pink walls fluttering in ecstasy as he filled you to the brim. Slow thrusts making sure he pumped everything he had into your perfect cunt.

So much for not crying anymore.

The only sound you could be heard in that studio was you cries, like a fucking baby, bouncing off your thin walls. The headboard was finally able to rest, you knew for a fact your neighbors probably despise your being now.

“Why didn’t you- you come see me? I wanted- hicc- I wanted to see you. But- but- you wouldn’t come see me! Wouldn’t even talk to me on the phone,” You sobbed, tripping and falling through your words. “you must hate me.”

The older man rolled his eyes, “Didn’t ever say tha’. How can I hate’cha ‘nd your mine? Doesn’t make sense mama.”

“Didn’t call me though.” You were sprawled out on the bed now, fat tears escaping your eyes. The blonde was sitting on the bed, grabbing the bottled water that he kept in the nightstand, opening it and putting it to your lips to drink. You did, lifting just enough for a bit to go down your bound to be sore throat and flopping back on the bed.

“Was busy swee’art.” Half truth, half lie. Though it was habit, he was trying to keep you in the loop of his life this time. But old habits die hard. The man forgot to reply. His work schedule was fucked, and he was busy spending his free time moving house. The house he planned to give you, it just wasn’t ready yet. Simon was actually being good for you, for once.

“You’re not always busy Si, you just don’t like my annoying voice!” You whimpered.

It took everything in the older brute to not laugh, you were bein so fucking cute. Babbling nonsense but still clinging to him like a lifeline. Still wanting, still his baby girl.

“Told ya, you weren’t annoyin. Got a nice voice, so get it out silly skull.” He cooed, sitting you on your bottom to face him.

You sniffed, moaning and groaning in annoyance but choosing to accept those words. And only those though.

“Fucks sake, Stop it.”

“I caaaant.” You whined, profusely wiping your tears.

“No, dummy.” Simon pushed your hands off your own face, gently wiping the tears with his thumbs that continued to poor out, “Yer gonna throw a fuckin fit if your face ends up bein puffy cause you wipe your tears so damn rough. Take it easy.”

No one knew how to wipe your tears better than the man who created them.

“I wanna make up, you don’t want to?” That was as close to an apology you’d ever get. Always.

A proper Ghost apology was rare as is and you wouldn’t be getting that after your little tantrum tonight. So you ate up what you could get.

“I wanna- I wanna make up too Daddy.” You croaked, dragging out your words. Adorable princess.

“Pfft,” he ruffled your now messy, sweated out hair, “I gotcha.”

“Up you go.” Like a feather, Simon lifted you from the bed, walking to the bedroom you too had been at who knows how many hours ago. He gently sat you on the counter of the sink,

“Let’s get you all ready for bed, yeah?”

a/n: I really love meanie!Simon the most. Let me know what you think about him.

[seumyo]

yearning drunk!husband ushijima wakatoshi.

NOTE. contains a bit of alcohol content—though nothing too explicit or anything concerning <33

It always started the same way—kind of like an inside joke that grew wings, feathers, a tab, and Ushijima’s name on the reservation list.

Ushijima never initiated going out drinking with his Schweiden Adlers teammates. In fact, he rarely said anything about it at all. It was always someone else who mentioned it after a game. Always someone else who slung an arm over his shoulder and declared, “C’mon, Ushiwaka, we have to celebrate,” even though Ushijima had never once expressed interest in alcohol, bar food, or drunken conversations.

Still, he always went.

Because it’d be rude if he didn’t at least stay for a few minutes, he thinks.

Sometimes he showed up in his team windbreaker, sometimes in a long, dark gray coat that made him look like a trench-wearing monument of silence. And he never said no, even when the clamor of celebration was already grating at the edges of his patience.

Tonight was one of those nights.

They’d won by the skin of their teeth—an overtime set against a grueling opponent, the kind of match that made even the benchwarmers feel like champions by the end. So of course Heiwajima had started the round-up in the locker room. Hoshiumi had shouted over everyone about their lucky bar down the street, and within twenty minutes, the entire team had found themselves in their regular private suite.

Ushijima sat at the end of the table, his back straight, a glass in front of him filled with alcohol he didn’t particularly like. His teammates were loud and loose and chaotic—laughing at Sokolov trying to arm-wrestle the bar’s bouncer, clapping every time someone dropped a fork, and yelling across the table in at least three different languages.

“A thousand yen says he’ll ask about his wife in twenty minutes,” Hoshiumi said quietly, leaning toward their captain, Hirugami Fukurou.

“You’re giving him way too much credit,” Romero replied, fondly grinning. “He gets wistful around minute twelve.”

“He gets wistful the moment he sits down.”

Ushijima was unmoved. He stared at his drink, took a single sip, and let it rest in his hand. He didn’t participate in the yelling, the toasts, or the story someone was animatedly telling about a missed serve from three seasons ago. He just existed—quietly, stoically—as a satellite to the chaos.

Except, of course, they all knew he was waiting.

He always was.

There was a pattern to the transformation. First, he’d sit there like stone. Then he’d blink a little more slowly. His brows would draw together—not in anger, but in vague confusion, like he was lost in a thought he couldn’t solve. His fingers would move against his glass, not to drink but to fidget, just a little.

And then…

“Has anyone seen my phone?” Ushijima asked, barely louder than the buzz of conversation.

Hoshiumi slid it across the table immediately. “Right here, Ushiwaka. Sorry! We took a few pictures here and there.”

“Thank you.”

He looked down at the screen. It was still lit with the last message from you from earlier that day: Good luck, baby. Don’t forget to stretch your left shoulder. He’d never replied—he never did, not when he was already in headspace—but now, he stared at it like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

“You want to text her?” Hoshiumi asks, lightly teasing, which Ushijima didn’t catch onto.

Ushijima didn’t answer. He opened the thread and typed a few letters. Deleted them. Typed something else. Backspaced. Then just stared.

And then finally: “She hasn’t replied.”

His teammates laughed.

“There it is!”

“It’s only been seventeen minutes! I win!”

“No, you cheated. I said ten, and he didn’t even check his phone until minute twelve!”

“Shh, shh, look at him—he’s pouting.”

“Wait, is this the pout phase? I thought that came after the silent brooding phase.”

“Technically we’re entering pout-brood overlap. It’s a dangerous time.”

Ushijima didn’t argue. He simply set the phone down again and folded his hands in front of him. Kageyama leaned over.

“You want me to call her for you, Ushijima-san?”

Ah, yes. Kageyama was too nice for his own good. Trying to enhance his socialization and trying to lessen his awkwardness with his teammates when the conversation didn’t revolve around volleyball.

Ushijima nodded. Just once. Immediately. “Yes.”

...

“Amazing! He’s not even trying to hide it.”

“Can you imagine being that in love?”

“He just wants his wife. Look at him. He’s a whole sad poem in one sitting.”

“She’s gonna get here, and he’s gonna light up like a lantern.”

“May this love run me over.”

Kageyama stood and walked a few paces away from the table, already dialing your number. Meanwhile, the others watched Ushijima sip his drink again—not because he wanted it, but because it gave his hands something to do. His eyes were glued to the screen even though no new notifications had appeared.

Romero leaned in conspiratorially to Hirugami. “Do you think she talks to him in, like, soft tones? Calls him ‘baby’ and stuff?”

“I think so,” he shrugs. “I think they’re sweet like that.”

“Aw, young love.”

The teasing continued, but it softened. Because underneath the jokes and the laughs was a sort of awe.

Their teammate—so serious, so focused, so unreadable on court—was completely and utterly soft when it came to his wife. Not in a loud way. Not in any way that could be easily teased, really. It was quiet. Heavy. Real.

When Kageyama returned, he had a pleased expression. “She’s on her way. Said she just got off work and is driving over.”

Ushijima gave another slow blink.

“Thank you.”

Kageyama nods. Somehow they manage to have conversations even if they just continue nodding to each other.

As soon as Kageyama said it, his phone buzzed with a new message. He didn’t even need to open it. He could tell by the way his entire body relaxed by a single, barely noticeable degree.

Sorry, hun. Just got off work. Are you okay?

He replied.

I’m okay. I miss you.

And then he set the phone down and folded his hands again, this time with more calm. More certainty. You were coming. That was all he needed to know.

The others noticed the shift immediately.

“He smiled.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“He did! Don’t argue with me; I saw it. It was micro. But it counted.”

“He’s already halfway out the door with his heart.”

“Watch, the second she walks through that door, he’ll go full puppy mode.”

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, the door opened. A gust of cold air followed you inside, along with the soft jingle of the bar’s entrance bell. You spotted them easily—your eyes landing on Ushijima before anything else. And his entire body seemed to change shape.

He stood up—not quickly, but instantly, with a kind of gravity no one else in the room had.

You smiled as you approached, slipping out of your coat and brushing off the cold that nipped your nose softly. “Hi, love,” you greeted softly. “You ready to go?”

“Yes,” Ushijima said, already reaching for his jacket.

As he shrugged it on, you turned to the table. “Hope he wasn’t too much trouble?”

Hoshiumi leaned on the table with a grin. “[Name], your husband is the definition of ‘not trouble.’ We’re just grateful you came to collect him before he sighed himself into the carpet.”

“Tell them what he said!” someone shouted.

“He asked if anyone had seen his phone like it was a national emergency.”

“And he didn’t pout—he brooded. Like a man out of a romantic novel.”

“I think I did,” Ushijima just nodded at their comments about him.

He then stood by quietly, waiting for you to finish your goodbyes. When you looped your arm through his, he leaned ever so slightly toward you.

As they left, Romero raised his glass.

“To [Name]’s husband,” he declared. The table cheered.

Outside, as you two walked toward the car, you glanced up at him, fingers tightening around his arm.

“You really okay?” you asked.

He hummed. Then, in that low, steady voice only you ever got to hear, it softened—

“I missed you,” he said again. “They were loud. I wanted to see you very much.”

You smiled and gave his arm a firm, loving squeeze. “Well. I’m here now.”

And... yeah.

That’s what he’s been wanting to hear all night.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[navybrat817]

Late Night Recap

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky tells Steve and Sam about his encounter with you.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Mention of drunk reader, humor, attraction, Sam and Steve are good friends, a bit of grumpy!Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay? And he has a crush).

A/N: Based on an anon ask and a continuation of Late Night Shenanigans. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Steve and Sam sat across from Bucky on the couch, blankly staring at him once he finished his story. He stared back with a scowl and was pretty sure Alpine was scowling at them, too, daring them to tell him that he was making the whole thing up about what happened earlier. That he didn’t encounter a beautiful drunk stranger snuggling with his cat. That you didn’t seem at all intimidated by his presence. That he couldn’t get your smile or voice out of his head.

Wait, he didn’t tell them that last part and he sure as hell wasn’t going to.

Steve cleared his throat after exchanging a look with Sam. “So, to recap, you were looking for Alpine and she was just… snuggled with a complete stranger?” He waited for a beat. “In the middle of a sidewalk at night?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what she did,” Bucky said through his teeth. His friend was old, but not hard of hearing. 

“A sweet stranger who said you were the hottest man she had ever seen in her life?” Sam smirked. Yes, that was what you said and Bucky hadn’t forgotten it. Nor would he admit to his friends how nice the compliment made him feel the more he repeated your words in his mind. “And she snuggled with Alpine? Pictures, or it didn’t happen.”

Bucky made a face. Why would he make something like that, or you, up? Did he really not believe him?  “Why the hell would I take a photo of her? That’s something a creep would do, and I’m not a creep,” he snapped, thinking about it while Sam chuckled. Grumpy with his share of issues, yes, but he was not a creep. “But there were security cameras outside of her building. Hacking the system wouldn’t be too difficult if you really wanted to see what happened.”

Was that creepy? It wasn’t like he was trying to get feed to watch you or to see your beautiful face again. It was to prove to Sam that he wasn’t lying about what happened, nothing more. Not that he had anything to prove. He was telling the truth. It wasn’t his fault if Sam didn’t believe him.

“You’re not going to hack anything,” Steve said, trying to be the voice of reason. It wouldn’t be the worst crime committed if he did. “I think Sam meant the picture thing as a joke.”

“No, I didn’t,” Sam said. 

Steve held a hand up when Bucky’s fists curled. “What he means is we’re surprised because, besides you, Alpine doesn’t usually cuddle with people right away. She likes us, but it took her time to do that.”

“Yeah, well, she’s obviously different,” the brunette mumbled, scratching behind Alpine’s ears. “Alpine really liked her.”

Alpine purred in agreement, bringing a small smile out of the former assassin. Though part of him still wondered if you put some sort of spell over his cat to get her to warm up so quickly, he knew that wasn’t it. She was a good judge of character, so she had to take a liking to you since you were a friendly person. It was either that or she decided that you needed her to look out for you. And by extension that meant he had to look out for you, too. Someone had to.

Fuck, now he did feel like a creep with that train of thought.

“Listen, I’m not saying this… dream girl or whatever you want to call her doesn’t exist, but I do have to ask.” Sam had a shit-eating grin on his face. “Did she really boop you on the nose?”

If Bucky clenched his jaw any tighter he would’ve cracked his teeth. “She did. Twice.” 

Steve looked like he was trying not to laugh and Sam didn’t bother hiding it. Why did he trust these punks with anything? “Okay…” Sam held his side as his laughter died down. “I have to meet her so I can ask where she got the balls to do that and say ‘you’re welcome’ for accidentally letting Alpine out so you two could meet.”

“You’re not going to meet her or ask her anything,” Bucky said, looking up at the ceiling. “Because I probably won’t see her again.”

It didn’t make sense why his heart ached so much at the thought of not crossing your path again. He didn’t know you, and you didn’t know him. Fairy tales and meet cutes or whatever they were called didn’t exist in his world, not for people like him.

“Well, with that attitude…” Sam mumbled, which Bucky pointedly ignored. It wasn’t like he was trying to be pessimistic, but getting his hopes up wouldn’t help either. “If I didn’t know any better, it sounds like Alpine isn’t the only one who liked her.”

Steve tried to catch his eye. “Do you like her, Buck?”

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek. Of course, his friends would latch on that he was possibly interested in someone. He hadn’t dated anyone since Leah, and his relationship with her hadn’t lasted long. Was the universe giving him a chance by putting you in his path, or was he reading too deeply into it? It had to be the latter. 

Sam sighed when Bucky didn’t respond. “Can you message her? Tell her Alpine’s trying to get out to see her?”

Bucky almost laughed because he could see the feline trying to sneak out to find you. “I didn’t get her number.”

“Wait, you didn’t ask for her number or give her yours?” Steve asked.

Bucky finally lifted his head and fought the urge to say that he wasn’t the suave guy he used to be. “She was drunk, Steve. I didn’t ask since there’s a good chance that she might not even remember me,” he answered, which somehow felt worse than the thought of not seeing you again. Call him crazy or selfish, but he wanted you to remember him. It was only fair since you were affecting him so much.

“Well, you know where her apartment building is,” the blonde smiled. “That’s a start.”

“But not her apartment number,” he sighed. 

You were alert enough not to give away that piece of information, which he appreciated. Though you joked that it was how “true crimes” began, did you have any idea how many laws he had broken over the years? No, how could you? If you knew, there was a chance you wouldn’t run straight inside.

Regardless of what he had or hadn’t done over the years, it didn’t change that he didn’t get your phone number or your apartment number before you parted ways.

Alpine batted her paw against his chest and meowed, sensing the subtle shift in his mood. “What would you suggest, Al? That I just walk you up and down her sidewalk with you until she comes out?”

Silence filled the living room. Was he really asking his cat for advice on how to see you again? Jesus fucking Christ, he needed help and he was already seeing a therapist.

Steve shrugged after a minute went by. “...It’s not a bad idea.”

Sam snorted. He was enjoying this way too much. “Or you could just start by finding her on social media like a normal person since she at least gave you her name.”

Bucky sat up, his cheek twitching. You had given him your name. “But wouldn’t that be weird to add her as a friend?” he asked.

Because, again, there was a chance you wouldn’t remember who he was. It would give him a chance to see photos of you if you shared them. Maybe get a feel for some of your likes and dislikes. Where you hung out. If your relationship status said “single” like he hoped.

…Was he venturing into creepy territory again?

Sam’s smile fell. “It’s weird to add her on social media, but it’s not weird to walk up and down her sidewalk like a wolf stalking its prey or talk about hacking the cameras of her building?”

“And that’s the end of this conversation,” Bucky said, shooting both of them a glare to drop it.

“You’ll see her again,” Steve smiled, quickly adding, “Now that’s the end of the conversation.”

Bucky wasn’t an idiot. It would not be the end of that conversation, not now that Steve and Sam knew he was interested in someone. He should’ve kept his mouth shut and said that he found Alpine all by her lonesome, but he didn’t want to keep you a secret. 

He wondered how you were doing. Did you have your water and aspirin like he suggested? Would you feel okay in the morning? Did you hope to see him again? He just had to find a way to see you, if only so you could see “Queen Alpine” while you were sober.

And if he couldn’t figure out a way himself, he had a feeling Alpine would take matters into her own paws.

I swear, he will see his girl again. Because, yes, you are his girl. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi