#i miss the days when i could just write like this for page after page without getting stuck in my own head

[m4rv3l-girl]

I've Recently stumbled across your page and I am already in love with your writing! The way you capture the story and the characters amazes me! I've never done this before but I have a request if you have time to make it come alive✨️

Reader is Tony starks daughter and is dating bucky, her dad didn't agree and right before reader had a solo Misson, she argued with Tony about bucky and they left on bad terms, bucky said goodbye and waved off reader on thier Mission. It was only supposed to be a 3 day mission and then home again but reader goes missing, kidnapped by hydra or something and they keep her captive and torture her for information on thier winter solider and Tony and bucky work together despite thier differences to find you. After bucky did some digging he found an old hydra base and seen there was some recent activity and figured that was thier best shot, once they got to you, you was unresponsive and bucky carried you back to the quinjet, and Tony broke down apologising and praying for you to come back. You spend a few days in medbay with bucky and Tony by your side and when you awaken, Tony tells you he approves of bucky and couldn't be happier that you're with him because he loves and cares about you as much as he does🥹

Crossfire

Warnings: Angst. Violence. Kidnapping. Torture. Injury. Blood.

Y/N paced across the polished floors of the Avengers Compound, her mind a whirlwind of frustration and nerves.

The mission briefing echoed faintly in her memory—a quick in-and-out reconnaissance, a simple data retrieval from an abandoned HYDRA facility. Three days, tops. But the tension in the air between her and her father made it feel like she was walking into a battlezone before even stepping foot on the Quinjet.

"You’re distracted," Tony Stark said sharply, leaning against the counter with arms crossed. His tone carried the weight of the argument they had been having for the last twenty minutes. "And you know what happens when you're distracted out there? You make mistakes. Mistakes that could get you killed."

Y/N halted mid-stride, her shoulders squaring as she turned to face him. "I'm not distracted, Dad. I'm focused. You just don’t like the fact that I’m with Bucky."

Tony threw his hands up, his voice rising. "You’re damn right I don’t like it! The guy has a kill list longer than the history of Stark Industries. I’m supposed to be okay with my daughter dating a former HYDRA assassin?"

"Former," Y/N snapped, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "He’s not that person anymore, and you know it. You’ve worked with him, fought alongside him. He’s saved lives—your life."

Tony’s expression tightened, his jaw clenching. "That doesn’t erase what he’s done, Y/N. You’re too close to see the danger—"

"Danger?" she cut him off, incredulous. "You’re one to talk about danger, Dad. I grew up watching you suit up and put your life on the line every other day. And guess what? You weren’t perfect either. Bucky has done everything to make amends, and I love him. Why can’t you just accept that?"

The declaration hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. Tony’s face softened for the briefest moment, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. But he quickly buried it under a defensive mask. "I’m not trying to stop you from living your life, Y/N. I’m trying to protect you."

"Protect me from what? From being happy?" Her voice cracked, a mix of anger and despair laced in her words. "I thought you’d understand by now that I don’t need you to protect me. I need you to trust me."

Tony opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by the sound of footsteps entering the room. Bucky Barnes stood in the doorway, his blue eyes flickering between Y/N and Tony, tension etched into every line of his face.

"Everything okay?" Bucky asked, his voice measured but tinged with concern.

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Peachy."

Tony shot Bucky a withering glare. "Great. Just in time for the part where I get ignored because you’re here."

Bucky didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he stepped closer to Y/N, his hand brushing hers. "You ready to go, Doll?"

Y/N nodded, her anger with her father momentarily eclipsed by the comfort Bucky’s presence brought her. She grabbed her duffel bag and slung it over her shoulder.

"You’re still not listening to me," Tony said, his voice strained as she moved toward the door.

Y/N paused, glancing back at him. "I heard you, Dad. But I’m still going."

The words hung heavy in the air, a finality that neither of them wanted but neither could avoid. Tony’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze dropping as though he’d already lost.

Bucky followed her out into the hangar, his metal arm brushing against her shoulder. "You good?" he asked quietly once they were out of earshot.

Y/N exhaled slowly, shaking her head. "Not really, but I will be. He’ll come around eventually. He has to."

Bucky frowned, his brows knitting together. "I’m sorry. I know this is hard."

Y/N stopped walking and turned to face him. "It’s not your fault, Bucky. He’ll see what I see in you someday." Her voice softened, her hand reaching up to rest against his chest. "And when he does, he’ll realize you’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me."

Bucky’s lips twitched into a small, grateful smile, but his eyes still held a trace of sadness. "I’ll wait as long as it takes, Doll."

The Quinjet engines roared to life behind them, signaling her departure. Bucky walked her the rest of the way in silence, his hand never leaving hers. At the base of the ramp, he stopped, his grip tightening just slightly.

"Come back to me," he murmured, his voice low and earnest.

"I always do," she replied, forcing a brave smile.

Bucky hesitated, then leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead, lingering just long enough to make her heart ache. He stepped back as the ramp began to close, his eyes locked on hers until the Quinjet doors sealed shut.

Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself as the jet lifted off. The mission awaited, and she had no idea it would be the hardest battle she’d ever face.

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The Quinjet’s descent was smooth, its engines humming softly as it hovered over the outskirts of the abandoned HYDRA facility. Y/N sat strapped into her seat, her mind focused on the mission at hand. It was just a data retrieval—no direct confrontation expected, no heavy lifting. Simple. Yet she couldn’t shake the lingering weight of her argument with Tony, his voice still echoing in her head.

"You make mistakes when you’re distracted."

Shaking off the thought, Y/N tightened the straps of her tactical vest and tapped the comms in her ear. "Quinjet’s holding steady. I’m heading in now," she said, her voice calm and collected.

"Copy that," Natasha’s voice came through the comms. "We’ll be on standby if anything goes sideways. Keep your comm open."

"Always do," Y/N replied, grabbing her pack and stepping off the ramp.

The facility was quiet, overgrown with weeds and moss, the metallic structure dulled by time and abandonment. The surrounding trees swayed slightly in the wind, their shadows stretching ominously over the building’s rusted exterior. It looked like any other defunct HYDRA site—empty, unassuming, and forgotten. But Y/N knew better. HYDRA rarely left things without a reason.

She approached the entrance, her boots crunching softly against the gravel. Her fingers brushed over the keypad by the door. It was broken, wires spilling out like spilled guts. It took only a few moments of tinkering before the door groaned open, revealing a dimly lit corridor beyond.

"First door’s open," Y/N reported, stepping inside.

"Good. Be careful," Natasha replied.

The air inside was stale and cold, carrying the metallic tang of disuse. Y/N moved cautiously, her steps light but deliberate. The map of the facility played out in her mind as she advanced toward the central server room. It wasn’t far—just down a few turns and one floor below.

The first few corridors were uneventful, lined with old HYDRA propaganda and broken equipment. She paused briefly to inspect her surroundings, ensuring she wasn’t leaving tracks or triggering any dormant security systems.

"How’s it looking?" Natasha asked over comms.

"Quiet," Y/N replied. "Almost too quiet. I’m at the main staircase now, heading down to the server room."

Descending the steps, Y/N felt a chill creep up her spine. It wasn’t fear—not yet—but the kind of awareness that came from knowing she wasn’t truly alone. She tightened her grip on her weapon, her other hand brushing over her utility belt.

The server room door came into view, heavy and fortified with an old HYDRA insignia etched into its surface. It was locked, of course, but Y/N was prepared. Pulling a small device from her belt, she attached it to the door’s lock. The device beeped softly, hacking into the outdated system.

"Almost in," she murmured, more to herself than to anyone on the comms.

The lock clicked open with a satisfying hiss. Y/N pushed the door ajar and slipped inside, her eyes scanning the room quickly. Rows of servers stood like silent sentinels, their lights flickering faintly. Dust hung in the air, illuminated by the faint glow of the machinery.

"Made it to the server room. Starting the data download now," she reported, setting her pack down.

"Copy. Keep your eyes peeled," Natasha warned.

"Don’t worry, I’ve got this," Y/N replied, inserting a small drive into one of the servers.

The drive blinked to life, and data began to flow onto its storage. Y/N kept her weapon close, her gaze flickering between the server and the door. Every sound seemed amplified in the stillness—the hum of the servers, the soft beep of the download, the distant groan of the building’s aging infrastructure.

"Download at 30%," she said after a few minutes.

The process was uneventful, just as she’d hoped. At 70%, she allowed herself a small smile. This was exactly what she needed—a straightforward mission, no complications, no distractions. It would give her time to clear her head, to figure out how to talk to Tony when she got back.

The drive beeped again, signaling completion. Y/N pulled it free, tucking it securely into her belt pouch.

"Data’s secure. Heading back to the Quinjet," she said, rising to her feet.

"Good work," Natasha said. "Keep an eye out—something feels off about this one."

Y/N didn’t argue. She felt it too, that unsettling itch at the back of her mind. Her senses sharpened as she made her way back to the staircase, her steps even quieter now. The corridors seemed darker than before, the shadows longer and more sinister.

She was halfway up the stairs when she heard it—the faintest shuffle of movement behind her. Y/N froze, her heart skipping a beat. Slowly, she turned, her weapon raised.

The staircase was empty, but the air felt heavier.

"Nat, I think I’ve got company," Y/N whispered into the comms.

"Do you see anything?" Natasha asked, her tone instantly alert.

"Not yet," Y/N replied, backing up the stairs.

She was almost at the top when a sharp noise echoed through the corridor—a clang of metal against metal. Y/N whirled around just as a shadow moved in the corner of her vision. Before she could react, a figure lunged at her from the side, slamming her against the wall.

Her weapon clattered to the ground as she struggled against the assailant, a HYDRA agent clad in tactical gear. She managed to drive her knee into his gut, sending him stumbling back, but more figures emerged from the shadows.

"Ambush!" Y/N shouted into the comms, adrenaline surging through her veins.

"Y/N, get out of there!" Natasha’s voice was sharp, but the words barely registered.

The agents swarmed her, their movements precise and coordinated. Y/N fought fiercely, her training kicking in as she blocked blows and struck back. She landed a punch that sent one agent reeling, then ducked under another’s swing, sweeping his legs out from under him.

But there were too many of them.

A sharp pain exploded at the base of her skull as one of the agents struck her from behind. Y/N’s vision blurred, her knees buckling. She tried to fight through it, but the world tilted violently, and darkness crept in at the edges of her sight.

"Y/N!" Natasha’s voice was frantic in her ear.

The last thing Y/N saw before the world went black was the HYDRA insignia on one of the agent’s uniforms.

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Consciousness crept back slowly.

Accompanied by the steady throb of her head and the unmistakable ache of her muscles pulled too tight.

Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing dim, flickering light. The air was stiff, carrying the sharp scent of metal and disinfectant. She tried to move, but her body was restrained. Her wrists burned where they chafed against something unyielding. As her senses sharpened, she realized she was tied to a chair, her arms pinned behind her and her legs strapped down tightly.

The room was sterile and barren, its walls an industrial gray with faint streaks of rust. A single lightbulb swung overhead, casting shifting shadows around the space. There was no window, no visible way out except for a heavy metal door directly in front of her.

Y/N tugged at her bindings experimentally, her breath hitching when the cuffs dug deeper into her skin. They were reinforced, leaving little room for maneuvering.

Her comms were gone, her weapons stripped away. She was completely alone.

Before she could test her restraints further, the door groaned open. Y/N’s eyes snapped up, her expression hardening as a HYDRA agent strolled in. He was tall and wiry, with sharp features and a smug grin that made her stomach turn. His uniform was pristine, adorned with the HYDRA insignia on the shoulder.

“Well, look who’s awake,” the man drawled, his voice smooth and dripping with false cheer. He carried a clipboard in one hand, tapping it lightly against his palm as he approached.

Y/N didn’t respond, keeping her face blank despite the fear roiling in her chest.

The man circled her slowly, his boots clicking against the floor. “Y/N Stark,” he mused, as if testing her name on his tongue. “Tony Stark’s pride and joy. And yet here you are, all alone, with no daddy or boyfriend to save you.”

She clenched her jaw but said nothing.

The agent chuckled. “Silent treatment, huh? That’s fine. I have all the time in the world.” He stopped in front of her, crouching so they were eye level. “You’re going to tell me everything I want to know. About Stark. About Barnes. About SHIELD.”

Y/N’s lips curled into a defiant smirk. “Go to hell.”

The agent’s smile didn’t waver. He straightened, setting his clipboard on a nearby table. “I was hoping you’d say that. It makes things more fun for me.”

He picked up a small device from the table—a thin rod with a glowing blue tip. Y/N recognized it instantly: a neural stimulator, HYDRA’s favorite tool for “persuasion.” It sent jolts of electricity directly into the nervous system, causing excruciating pain without leaving a mark.

Y/N forced herself to meet his gaze, refusing to show fear.

The agent tilted his head, studying her. “You know, I’ve always admired your kind. So loyal. So resilient. But everyone has a breaking point.”

He activated the device, the blue light intensifying. “Let’s find yours.”

Before she could brace herself, he pressed the rod against her side.

White-hot pain exploded through her body, stealing her breath. Her muscles seized involuntarily, and a strangled gasp escaped her lips. The pain was blinding, radiating from the point of contact and spreading like wildfire.

When he pulled the device away, Y/N slumped forward, her breathing ragged.

“Still with me?” the agent taunted, tapping the rod against his palm.

Y/N forced herself upright, glaring at him through the haze of pain. “Is that all you’ve got?” she rasped, her voice hoarse but defiant.

His smile faltered for a moment before he regained his composure. “Tough girl,” he said, almost admiringly. “But this is only the beginning.”

The next jolt was worse, targeting her thigh. The electricity tore through her muscles, leaving them trembling and weak. She bit down hard on her lip to stifle a scream, tasting blood.

“Tell me about the Winter Soldier,” the agent demanded, his tone sharp now. “Where is he? What does he know about HYDRA’s operations?”

Y/N spat blood onto the floor, her eyes blazing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He sneered, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head back. “Don’t play dumb with me, Stark. We know you’ve been cozying up to him. You think you can keep secrets from us?”

Her head throbbed where he pulled, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “You’re wasting your time,” she said through gritted teeth.

His grip tightened before he released her abruptly, sending her head lolling forward. “Fine,” he said coldly. “We’ll do this the hard way.”

The next hour was a blur of pain. The agent alternated between the neural stimulator and his fists, delivering calculated strikes to her ribs and abdomen. He peppered her with questions, each one more demanding than the last.

“Where is Barnes?” “What are Stark’s latest projects?” “What does SHIELD know about HYDRA’s current operations?”

Each time, Y/N’s answer was the same: silence or defiance.

Her body screamed in protest, every nerve on fire. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, and her vision swam, but she held onto one thought with iron resolve: Don’t break.

By the time the agent stepped back, she was barely upright. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her head hanging limply.

“You’re stronger than I expected,” he admitted, wiping his brow. “But strength only lasts so long.”

Y/N lifted her head weakly, a faint smile playing on her cracked lips. “You’ll… have to try harder than that.”

His expression darkened, and he raised the neural stimulator again. But before he could use it, the door creaked open, and another agent entered.

“Enough,” the newcomer said firmly, glancing at Y/N with a mix of disdain and curiosity. “We need her alive.”

The first agent hesitated, his grip tightening on the device. “She hasn’t given us anything.”

“Then we’ll keep trying,” the newcomer replied. “But for now, she needs to recover. Dead subjects are useless to us.”

Reluctantly, the first agent set the device down. He leaned in close to Y/N, his breath hot against her ear. “You’re lucky,” he hissed. “But don’t think this is over.”

He stepped back, and the two agents exchanged a few hushed words before leaving the room. The door slammed shut, plunging Y/N back into oppressive silence.

She slumped in her chair, every inch of her body throbbing with pain. Her breathing was shallow, her head heavy. But deep inside, a flicker of hope remained.

Bucky will come for me, she thought. He always does.

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The morning after Y/N left for her mission dawned uneventfully in New York. Bucky Barnes sat in the Avengers Tower common room, staring at the cold coffee in his hand. He wasn’t much of a morning person, but sleeping last night had been nearly impossible. He’d spent most of the night going over his last conversation with Y/N.

Her kiss had lingered, both on his lips and in his memory, but her nervous energy had also left a knot in his chest. He’d tried to reassure her that she’d be fine, but deep down, Bucky hated every second she spent on solo missions. She was capable—he knew that better than anyone—but the fear of losing her gnawed at him constantly.

Still, he’d let her go. She’d hugged him tight and told him to trust her, and he’d kissed her temple, swallowing his protests. Now all he could do was wait.

Tony Stark walked into the room, his usual swagger missing. He had his tablet in one hand and a cup of black coffee in the other. His face was drawn, and though he wouldn’t admit it, the argument with Y/N before she left had taken its toll.

"Barnes," Tony greeted curtly, settling into a chair across the room.

“Stark,” Bucky replied, just as curt. The tension between them was palpable, but both men had agreed to coexist for Y/N’s sake.

Tony’s gaze flickered to Bucky’s untouched coffee. “What, no appetite for caffeine today? Don’t tell me you’re losing your edge.”

Bucky didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing. “Just not in the mood.”

Tony let out a low hum, tapping at his tablet. He wasn’t one to dwell on feelings, but the weight of their last argument sat heavy on his chest. He couldn’t shake the image of Y/N’s frustrated face, her voice cracking as she defended Bucky.

"She’ll be fine," Tony muttered, more to himself than Bucky.

Bucky’s gaze snapped to him. “You better hope so,” he said quietly. “Otherwise, you’re going to regret every word you said to her.”

Before Tony could fire back, FRIDAY’s voice interrupted.

“Mr. Stark, Sergeant Barnes, I’m detecting an irregularity with Miss Stark’s mission. Her comms have gone offline.”

Both men froze, the tension in the room morphing into something heavier.

“What do you mean ‘offline’?” Tony demanded, sitting upright.

“Miss Stark’s communicator went dark approximately seven minutes ago,” FRIDAY responded. “I’ve attempted to reestablish contact, but there’s no response.”

Bucky was already on his feet, his expression hardening. “Seven minutes? And you’re just telling us now?”

“I alerted you as soon as the anomaly was detected,” FRIDAY replied evenly.

Tony swiped at his tablet, pulling up the mission parameters and Y/N’s last known location. A map of Eastern Europe materialized on the screen, marked with a blinking red dot.

“She was in contact before this,” Tony said, his voice tight. “She reported everything was going according to plan. What the hell happened?”

Bucky stepped closer, peering over Tony’s shoulder. “Can you pinpoint her last known coordinates?”

“Already done,” FRIDAY replied. The map zoomed in on a dense forested area. “Her last transmission came from these coordinates. There’s no sign of further movement.”

“She could’ve lost the signal,” Tony reasoned, though his tone was far from confident.

“Or someone took her out,” Bucky said bluntly, his jaw clenched.

Tony shot him a glare. “Real helpful, Barnes.”

“It’s a possibility,” Bucky snapped. “I’m not going to sugarcoat this. If her comms went dark, something’s wrong.”

For a moment, neither man spoke. Then Tony turned to FRIDAY. “Initiate satellite surveillance of that area. I want eyes on the ground, now.”

“I’ve already started the process,” FRIDAY confirmed. “However, the forest cover in the region is dense, and visual clarity may be limited.”

Bucky’s fists clenched at his sides. He hated feeling powerless. The soldier in him wanted to grab a weapon and go, but without more intel, he’d be running blind.

“What about her tracker?” Bucky asked suddenly.

Tony frowned. “She wasn’t wearing a full tracker. Just the one embedded in her comms unit.”

“Of course she wasn’t,” Bucky muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

“Don’t start with me, Barnes,” Tony snapped. “She insisted on traveling light, and I didn’t exactly have time to argue after our—” He cut himself off, biting back the word argument.

Bucky turned on him, his blue eyes blazing. “You didn’t argue because you were too busy picking a fight with her about me. And now she’s out there, missing, and we’re wasting time because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.”

Tony slammed his tablet down on the table, standing to face Bucky. “Don’t you dare put this on me,” he hissed. “She’s an agent. She knew the risks.”

“She’s your daughter,” Bucky growled. “And you should’ve supported her instead of pushing her away.”

The room fell silent, both men breathing heavily as the weight of their words settled between them.

“Gentlemen,” FRIDAY interjected, “I suggest you put your differences aside. I’ve detected signs of unusual activity near Miss Stark’s last known location.”

Tony and Bucky immediately turned to the screen, their argument forgotten.

“What kind of activity?” Tony asked.

“Thermal imaging shows multiple heat signatures converging on the area shortly after Miss Stark’s comms went offline,” FRIDAY reported. “It’s possible she encountered hostiles.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “HYDRA?”

“There’s no confirmation yet,” FRIDAY replied.

Tony grabbed his tablet, his hands moving rapidly as he analyzed the data. “We’re wasting time sitting here. Get the quinjet ready,” he barked.

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice. He was already heading for the armory.

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The quinjet hummed as it cut through the sky, slicing through clouds with precision. Tony sat in the pilot’s seat, his knuckles white as he gripped the controls. Bucky sat beside him, silently scanning the mission data on a tablet.

Neither man spoke. The weight of their shared fear hung heavy in the air, but neither dared voice it.

“How far out are we?” Bucky asked finally, breaking the silence.

“Thirty minutes,” Tony replied, his voice clipped.

Bucky nodded, his gaze fixed on the screen. The thermal imaging showed nothing new, just the same cluster of heat signatures near Y/N’s last location.

“She’s strong,” Tony said suddenly, his tone almost defensive. “She’ll hold out.”

Bucky glanced at him. For a moment, he considered saying something comforting, but the words felt foreign on his tongue. Instead, he nodded. “Yeah. She will.”

But deep down, both men knew the truth: time was running out.

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When the quinjet landed, Bucky and Tony moved quickly, stepping into the dense forest with weapons drawn. FRIDAY’s guidance led them to Y/N’s last known coordinates, the eerie silence of the woods amplifying their unease.

The site was undisturbed, save for a few scuff marks in the dirt that hinted at a struggle. Bucky crouched, his fingers brushing against the ground.

“Tracks,” he muttered. “Boot prints. At least six people.”

Tony scanned the area with a handheld device, his jaw tightening. “They took her,” he said grimly. “We need to move.”

Bucky rose to his feet, his expression dark. “Let’s go.”

Together, they followed the trail deeper into the forest, their determination unwavering. Neither man said it aloud, but the same thought echoed in their minds: We’re coming for you, Y/N. Hold on.

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The sharp sting of fluorescent lights buzzed above Y/N’s head, piercing through the darkness she had come to find solace in.

Every time her mind threatened to pull her away, back to a place of quiet oblivion, another jolt of pain grounded her to the suffocating reality of the room.

It had been a full day, though it felt like weeks. Time had blurred, lost in the cycle of pain, silence, and interrogation. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a drink of water. Her throat was dry, her lips cracked, and each shallow breath she took sent spikes of agony through her ribs. She was sure one, maybe two, were broken.

But she was alive.

That fact alone gave her the smallest sliver of defiance to hold onto, even as her body screamed at her to give up.

The metal chair she was tied to groaned softly as she shifted, her wrists raw from where the restraints dug into her skin. Her head hung low, strands of her hair matted with sweat and blood clinging to her face. She blinked slowly, trying to focus her vision, but the pounding ache in her skull made even that a monumental effort.

The door creaked open, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. She clenched her fists, summoning what little strength she had left to steel herself.

“Still breathing, I see,” a voice sneered.

The Hydra agent stepped into the room, his boots echoing ominously against the concrete floor. He was tall, with a thin, wiry frame that belied the strength he wielded. His cold, calculating eyes scanned her, searching for cracks in the armor she wore so stubbornly.

Y/N didn’t answer. She kept her gaze fixed on the floor, refusing to give him the satisfaction of acknowledgment.

“You’ve held up,” he said, circling her like a vulture.

“I always do.” She spat.

“You think you’re strong,” he whispered, his voice venomous. “But everyone breaks eventually. You will tell me what I want to know.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat burning. “Go to hell,” she rasped, her voice barely audible.

The agent smirked. “Ah, defiance. Admirable. But futile.”

He rose to his feet, pacing slowly. “Tell me about the Winter Soldier,” he demanded. “His weaknesses. His routines. Anything useful.”

Y/N lifted her head just enough to meet his gaze. Her lip curled into a faint smirk, though the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through her. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

The agent’s expression darkened. Without warning, he lashed out, his fist connecting with her cheek. Her head snapped to the side, stars exploding behind her eyelids.

“Wrong answer,” he said coldly.

Y/N tasted blood, metallic and bitter, pooling in her mouth. She spat it out, the crimson splatter landing on the floor between them.

“You’re going to regret that,” he said, his voice low and menacing.

The hours that followed were a blur of agony. The Hydra agent wasn’t particularly creative in his methods, but he was thorough. He punched, kicked, and struck her with calculated precision, targeting places that would hurt the most while leaving her alive enough to endure more.

Y/N bit down hard on her lip to stifle her cries, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream. She focused on one thing: staying silent. Every moment she resisted was a victory, a small act of rebellion against the monster before her.

Her mind drifted to Bucky. She clung to the memory of his voice, the warmth of his touch, the way his arms felt around her. She imagined him whispering reassurances, telling her to hold on, that he was coming for her.

“I’ll find you, Doll,” she could almost hear him say, his voice steady and sure. “Just hold on a little longer.”

It wasn’t real, but it was enough to keep her going.

Eventually, the Hydra agent grew frustrated. His fists were bloodied from the beating, and Y/N’s defiance had begun to grate on him.

“Why do you fight so hard for him?” he demanded, his voice filled with venom. “Do you think he’d do the same for you? He’s a monster. A killer. Do you really think you’re anything more than a distraction to him?”

Y/N’s head lolled forward, her vision swimming. She was too exhausted to lift her head, but she managed to rasp, “You don’t know him.”

The agent growled in frustration, slamming his fist into the wall. He turned to the guard stationed by the door. “Bring the electric setup,” he barked.

Y/N’s heart sank. She had endured physical pain, but the thought of being electrocuted sent a spike of fear through her. She closed her eyes, trying to summon the last dregs of her strength.

The minutes stretched into an eternity before the guard returned, wheeling in a cart with a sinister-looking device. The Hydra agent grinned wickedly as he connected the electrodes, his eyes gleaming with malice.

“This,” he said, holding up the wires, “is going to be much worse.”

Y/N’s breaths came in shallow pants. She refused to show fear, but the trembling in her body betrayed her.

The first shock hit her like a lightning bolt, her muscles seizing violently as pain tore through her. She bit down on her tongue, the coppery taste of blood filling her mouth again.

“Talk!” the agent demanded, turning the dial higher.

Y/N shook her head weakly, tears streaming down her face. “Never,” she gasped.

The shocks came again and again, each one more excruciating than the last. Her vision blurred, her mind teetering on the edge of consciousness. She wanted to give up, to let the darkness take her, but the thought of Bucky and her father kept her hanging on.

“They’ll find me,” she whispered through cracked lips. “You won’t win.”

The agent sneered. “We’ll see about that.”

She didn’t know how much longer she could last, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet.

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The hum of the Quinjet’s engines was deafening in the silence between Tony and Bucky. It wasn’t the soothing kind of quiet, the type that offered peace. This was the kind of silence that screamed louder than words, thick with desperation, fear, and the unspoken truth neither man wanted to voice.

Time was slipping through their fingers.

Bucky sat rigid in his seat, his metal hand clenched so tightly around the edge of the table that the material groaned in protest. His flesh hand rested on his thigh, fingers twitching with barely restrained agitation. His sharp blue eyes were fixed on the holographic map in front of them, narrowing on the blinking red dot that marked the last location Y/N had been before her comms went dark.

"Why haven’t we heard anything yet?" Bucky growled, his voice low and edged with a dangerous kind of fury.

Tony stood at the console across from him, his jaw clenched so tight he thought his teeth might crack. His fingers flew across the controls, pulling up every Hydra base within a 200-mile radius, cross-referencing them with known activity. It wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.

"Don’t think for a second I’m not doing everything in my power," Tony snapped, though his tone lacked its usual bite. He was too worried, too consumed by the gnawing guilt threatening to consume him whole.

The argument they’d had—the words he’d thrown at her—played on an endless loop in his mind.

"You think I’m going to stand by and let him ruin you?" "You’re better off without him, Y/N." "I can’t protect you if you don’t listen to me!"

He had been wrong. He knew that now. Bucky wasn’t the enemy, not when the real danger was out there, holding his daughter captive.

"Her last ping was here," Tony said, jabbing a finger at the map. "A base Hydra abandoned years ago. But…"

"But it’s not abandoned anymore," Bucky finished, his voice cold and flat.

Tony nodded, swallowing hard. "Satellite scans picked up heat signatures. They’re faint, but they’re there. It’s our best lead."

Bucky pushed up from his chair, pacing like a caged animal. His hands flexed at his sides, the familiar rage simmering just beneath his skin. "If they hurt her—"

"They did," Tony interrupted, his voice cracking slightly. "You don’t take someone like her and leave them unharmed. We both know that."

The weight of the statement hit them both, a brutal reminder of the clock ticking down on Y/N’s life.

As the Quinjet drew closer to the coordinates, the tension in the cabin became suffocating. Tony adjusted his suit piece by piece, the arc reactor glowing faintly as he prepared for battle. Bucky was already geared up, his combat knife strapped to his thigh and his rifle slung over his shoulder.

They didn’t talk much. There wasn’t anything left to say.

The Quinjet’s navigation system beeped, and FRIDAY’s voice cut through the silence. "We’ll arrive at the designated coordinates in five minutes."

Bucky inhaled deeply, steadying himself. His mind raced with thoughts of Y/N—her laugh, her stubbornness, the way she always looked at him like he was more than his past. She had to be alive. She had to be.

"FRIDAY, scan for life signs as soon as we’re in range," Tony ordered, his voice firm but hollow.

"Already running scans, sir," the AI replied.

The Quinjet began its descent, the Hydra base looming in the distance like a jagged scar on the earth. The surrounding area was eerily quiet, the kind of quiet that made the hairs on the back of Bucky’s neck stand up.

"This feels wrong," he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the horizon.

Tony didn’t answer. He was already moving, the ramp lowering as the Quinjet touched down. Bucky followed without hesitation, his every sense on high alert.

The base was dilapidated, overgrown with weeds and rusted with age, but it was clearly operational. Lights flickered faintly in the windows, and the faint hum of machinery echoed from somewhere deep inside.

They moved quickly and quietly through the corridors, clearing rooms with precision. Every second that passed without finding her felt like a lifetime.

"Anything, FRIDAY?" Tony asked, his voice a strained whisper.

"One faint life sign detected below ground," the AI replied.

Bucky’s heart stopped. "Is it her?"

"Unknown, Sergeant Barnes. The readings are weak, likely due to interference."

Tony exchanged a look with Bucky, and for the first time, they were united in their fear. "Then we don’t have time to waste," Tony said.

The descent into the lower levels of the base was harrowing. The deeper they went, the darker and more oppressive the air became. Bucky’s grip on his rifle tightened, his knuckles white as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

When they reached the door to the room FRIDAY had identified, Tony hesitated. His hand hovered over the panel, his eyes darting to Bucky.

"You ready?" he asked.

Bucky didn’t answer. He simply nodded, his jaw set in determination.

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The room was cold, a damp chill seeping into Y/N's bones as if the very walls around her were trying to finish what her captors had started. Her head lolled to the side, resting against the edge of the chair. Each breath rattled in her chest, shallow and labored. She blinked sluggishly, the dim light overhead casting uneven shadows that seemed to mock her.

The Hydra agent who had come in earlier was gone now, his absence offering no relief. His tools of torment lay discarded on the table nearby: a scorched prod, frayed wires that still sparked faintly, and a bloodied rag he had carelessly tossed aside.

Her body bore the marks of his persistence, evidence of her refusal to give in. The electrical burns on her arms still throbbed, skin raw and blistered, and blood trickled down her temple from a cut that hadn’t stopped bleeding since he had struck her last.

She had screamed. She had cried. But she had not spoken.

"You’ll tell me what I want to know eventually," the agent had sneered earlier, his gloved hand tracing the edge of the prod. "Everyone breaks, little Stark. Even you."

Y/N had glared at him through swollen eyes, lips trembling but silent. Her defiance had earned her another jolt of electricity, the current tearing through her body with merciless efficiency.

She hadn't screamed that time.

Now, alone again, she wasn’t sure if her silence had been bravery or stupidity. It didn’t matter anymore. She was dying. She could feel it in the way her body was shutting down, each pulse of her heartbeat weaker than the last.

The faintest flicker of hope she’d clung to for the last day—Has it been a day?—was now extinguished. She had believed, foolishly, that someone would find her. That Bucky would find her. But the hours stretched on, the silence within the base mocking her.

No one was coming.

Her head tipped back, and a soft, bitter laugh escaped her cracked lips, though it hurt to even make the sound. The effort sent a sharp pain through her ribs, where she suspected at least one was broken.

"Guess this is it," she whispered, her voice hoarse and barely audible. Her throat felt like sandpaper, each word scraping against it painfully.

Her thoughts turned to Bucky, unbidden but inevitable. She pictured his face—those piercing blue eyes, the slight scrunch of his brow when he was worried. The way he always called her Doll with such affection it made her heart ache.

He had always been her safe place, her anchor. But now, she was adrift, sinking beneath the weight of her despair.

And Tony… her dad.

Tears pricked her eyes, blurring her vision. She thought of the last conversation they'd had, the fight that had sent her storming off. The words they’d exchanged burned as much as the wounds covering her body.

"You think you’re untouchable because you’re my daughter? Because you’re dating Barnes?" "You don’t trust me to handle myself, and that’s the problem."

She had been so angry, so sure of herself. But now, sitting here on the edge of death, she couldn’t even remember what she had said to him as her final words before the mission.

Would Tony regret them? Would he care?

A fresh wave of despair rolled over her, heavy and suffocating. She let her eyes slip closed, her body slumping further against the restraints.

She was so tired.

Time lost meaning in the haze of pain and exhaustion. Seconds blurred into minutes, minutes into hours. The only constants were the ache in her body and the pounding in her head, faint and unrelenting.

At some point, the Hydra agent had returned. His boots clicked against the floor as he approached, his silhouette looming over her. He said something, but the words were garbled, unintelligible.

He hit her again—she didn’t know where, only that it hurt. And then he left, muttering something about "usefulness" as he disappeared through the door.

She was alone again.

Y/N’s breaths came in shallow gasps, her lungs burning with every inhale. She tried to lift her head, but it felt too heavy, her strength long since drained.

She tilted her gaze upward, staring at the cracked ceiling. The faintest flicker of a thought crossed her mind—a desperate plea she hadn’t dared to voice before.

"If anyone’s out there… please."

The silence answered her.

It wasn’t until later—how much later, she couldn’t say—that she heard it.

At first, it was so faint she thought she was imagining it. A soft hum, low and soothing, cutting through the oppressive quiet of the room.

Her brows furrowed, confusion flickering across her bruised face. Was it her mind playing tricks on her? A final mercy before the end?

But then it grew louder, more distinct.

A voice.

Her heart stuttered in her chest, the faint rhythm skipping erratically. She strained to focus, to make sense of the sound.

"Doll…?…Y/N?..."

Her eyes fluttered open, wide despite the agony that coursed through her. That voice. She would recognize it anywhere.

"Bucky," she croaked, the name barely escaping her lips.

Her body trembled as she tried to move, to shift against the restraints holding her down. The pain was excruciating, but she didn’t care.

They were here.

She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she did. Bucky had found her.

The faint hum of his voice was joined by another sound—a distant, rhythmic pounding. Footsteps.

Her breath hitched as tears spilled down her cheeks, cutting through the grime that covered her skin. "Bucky," she tried again, louder this time, though it came out as more of a rasp.

The footsteps grew closer, the sound echoing through the hallways like a beacon. She forced her head up, her neck protesting the movement, and fixed her gaze on the door.

Please…

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The door slid open with a groan, revealing a scene that made both men’s hearts drop.

Y/N was slumped in a chair in the center of the room, her head hanging low, her body battered and bruised. Her hands were tied behind her back, her wrists raw and bloody. The floor beneath her was stained crimson, a grim testament to what she had endured.

"Y/N!" Bucky’s voice broke as he rushed to her side, dropping his rifle and cupping her face gently in his hands.

Her skin was pale, her breaths shallow. She didn’t respond, her head lolling slightly as Bucky tried to rouse her.

"Come on, Doll," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Stay with me."

Tony stood frozen for a moment, his mind struggling to process the sight of his daughter in such a state. But then he was moving, fumbling with the restraints to free her.

"She’s alive," he said, his voice shaking. "Barely, but she’s alive."

Bucky didn’t let go of her, his thumb brushing softly over her cheek. "We’ve got you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "We’ve got you, Doll. You’re safe now."

Tony swallowed hard, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "We need to get her out of here. Now."

Bucky nodded, scooping her up as gently as he could. She didn’t stir, her body limp in his arms.

"Hang on, Y/N," Tony whispered, his voice breaking. "Please, just hang on."

As they carried her back to the Quinjet, the weight of their failure pressed down on them both. They had found her, but the fight was far from over.

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The soft whir of the Quinjet engines filled the cabin as it raced back to the compound.

Bucky sat with Y/N cradled in his arms, his hand trembling as it brushed gently against her cheek. Her face was battered, her skin pale beneath the bruises and streaks of dried blood.

“You’re okay Doll, hang in there…” he whispered, his voice cracking as he spoke. “You’re almost there. Just hang on a little longer.”

Y/N’s head leaned against his chest, her breaths shallow but steady. She tried to respond, to offer him the comfort she knew he desperately needed, but her voice was a faint rasp.

Across the cabin, Tony sat hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands tangled in his hair. He stared at Y/N with an expression that Bucky had never seen on him before—raw, unfiltered anguish.

“She’s going to make it,” Tony muttered, as if saying it aloud would will it into existence. “She has to.”

Bucky didn’t reply, his focus entirely on Y/N. He could feel her heartbeat, faint but persistent, as if she were clinging to him with the last of her strength.

“Just a little longer,” he murmured again, pressing a kiss to her temple.

The Quinjet touched down at the compound, and a team of medics was already waiting. Bruce Banner, dressed in scrubs, stepped forward, his expression grim but focused.

“Let’s move her,” Bruce said firmly, directing the medics to carefully transfer Y/N onto a stretcher. Bucky reluctantly let her go, his hands lingering as if afraid she might disappear the moment he wasn’t holding her.

“I’m going with her,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Bruce nodded, sparing him a brief glance. “Fine, but let us do our job, Bucky.”

Tony followed behind them, his silence unnerving. He hadn’t spoken since they landed, his usual bravado replaced by a heavy, suffocating guilt.

In the medical bay, the atmosphere was tense as Bruce and his team worked on Y/N. Machines beeped steadily, monitoring her fragile vitals. Bucky stood at the edge of the room, his fists clenched as he watched them clean her wounds, set her broken rib, and stitch the gash on her temple.

Tony stood beside him, his gaze fixed on Y/N’s pale face. He finally broke the silence, his voice barely audible.

“This is my fault,” he said, his hands shaking. “If I hadn’t—if we hadn’t fought before she left…”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away from Y/N. “This isn’t about the fight,” he said quietly. “It’s about them. Hydra. Don’t lose focus now.”

Tony didn’t reply, but the guilt in his eyes remained.

After what felt like an eternity, Bruce stepped back, pulling off his gloves. “She’s stable for now,” he said, addressing both men. “The next 24 hours will be critical. She needs rest and observation, but she’s a fighter. If anyone can pull through this, it’s Y/N.”

Bucky nodded, his throat too tight to speak.

Hours later, the medical bay was quiet. Tony sat slumped in a chair by Y/N’s bedside, his head in his hands. Bucky was on the other side, his metal hand resting gently over hers.

“She always gets herself into trouble,” Tony muttered, breaking the silence. His voice was thick with emotion. “Just like her mom.”

Bucky glanced up at him, surprised by the vulnerability in Tony’s tone.

“She used to drive me crazy, you know,” Tony continued, his eyes glistening. “So damn stubborn. I see so much of her in Y/N.” He exhaled a shaky breath. “I was wrong about you, Barnes.”

Bucky blinked, caught off guard by the admission.

“You love her,” Tony said, his voice firm despite the tremor in it. “I see that now. And she… she loves you, too. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for her. Someone who’d protect her when I couldn’t.”

Bucky’s grip on Y/N’s hand tightened. “I’ll always protect her,” he said softly. “I swear.”

Tony nodded, his jaw tightening as he fought back tears.

It wasn’t until early the next morning that Y/N stirred. Her fingers twitched first, a faint movement that made Bucky’s breath catch.

“Doll?” he whispered, leaning closer.

Her eyelids fluttered, and she let out a soft groan. Slowly, her eyes opened, unfocused and glassy but undeniably alive.

“Bucky?” she rasped, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m right here, Doll.”

Tony was at her other side in an instant, his expression a mix of relief and overwhelming guilt. “Hey, kiddo,” he said softly. “You gave us a hell of a scare.”

Y/N’s gaze shifted to him, her brows furrowing slightly. “Dad?”

Tony nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah, it’s me. I…” He hesitated, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. For everything. For the fight, for not trusting you… for not being there when you needed me. I…You picked a good one, Sweetie, I’m sorry, He’s..—”

“Stop,” she whispered, her lips curving into a faint smile despite the pain it caused. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Tony exhaled a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging as he reached for her hand.

Bucky leaned in closer, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. “You scared the hell out of me, Doll,” he said, his voice low and filled with emotion. “I thought I lost you.”

Her tired eyes met his, and she managed a small, teasing smile. “You’re stuck with me, Barnes.”

His lips twitched upward, a weak chuckle escaping him. “I’m so glad you came back to me,” he murmured, his voice trembling.

Y/N’s smile softened, her gaze steady despite her exhaustion.

“I always do.”

——————————————————————————————————

Thank you for taking the time to leave a request. Hope you enjoyed it, Hun! 🫶

Requests Open!

[munch-mumbles]

kj post five hundred thousand lamenting the loss of my passion for drawing because its starting to feel like its never coming back

[kookslastbutton]

what love feels like ༓ myg (m)

✑ Summary: Being a mother to a beautiful baby girl and wife to an adoring husband is the most rewarding feeling in the world. But you also work a full-time job, are overtired most of the time, stressed, don't have any alone time, look very different than eight years ago, and sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs on you until one day, all of your deepest insecurities rear their ugly head–that your husband might not love you as much anymore and someone could take him away from you.

Pairing: husband!yoongi x reader

AU/genre: angst, fluff, smut, marriage au

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 6.7k+

Warnings: swearing, both Yoongi and oc are in their 30s, mom and full-time worker!oc, reserved!dad!yoongi, lack of intimacy, mentions of body insecurities post-pregnancy, mentions of fear of abandonment, mentions of jealousy. irrational worries, built-up stress, light fighting, silent treatment, stubbornness, lots of reassurance, nightmares, cute backstory of how they met, a lot of ily, Yoongi and oc being good parents 🥹, Yoongi calls oc doll, and explicit sexual content

sexual warnings: swearing, kissing, neck kisses, pleading, banter, dirty talk, doll petname, asking for consent, b**b squeezing & sucking, hair threading, penetration, f*ngering, big d*ck!yoongi, growling, missi*nary, eye contact, tearing up, c*ming together

Now Playing: Breathing by Anne Marie

a/n: Okay this was for Yoon's bday. Based on the poll, husband!Yoon won. Was intended to be a Drabble but well...heh 😅 Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this fic and Yoon is just such a good hubby for responding well to these very relatable insecurities. (Low-key love this couple...) I'm sorry for any typos or warnings i missed! I checked and double checked but a few might have slipped. Enjoy! Anyway please enjoy! 🥰

“So, you're Jia's father, huh? I don’t think I've seen you here before, and I’m sure I would have recognized you.”

With his back straight and arms folded, Yoongi gives the woman in front of him a quick once-over. Mid-40s, freshly single, and definitely in need of some companionship. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out; she’s been talking his ear off for the past twenty minutes like he’s some kind of remedy to all her problems.

Honestly, he just swung by to pick up his four-year-old from daycare after another grueling day at work. But the moment he walked in, it was as if all the single moms latched onto him like a flock of hungry geese. This one’s name is Sandra in particular.

It reminds him of his college basketball days, how the cheerleaders all too eagerly swarmed around him after sinking the winning shot at the championship game. Shame he was too busy eyeing the girl in the stands to care, her face buried behind a book twice as big as her head. Who reads an 800-page novel during the playoffs anyway?

Fate, as one may call it, intervened about a week later when his best friend became said girl’s lab partner. Yoongi didn’t make any sudden moves at first, but well, he did make her his wife three years later.

“It’s just so nice to finally meet the father of such a sweet child. Especially considering how many dads tend to take a backseat in their child's early years.” Is she still going on? Yoongi does his best to stay present, though it’s proving unsuccessful. “And Jia truly is an angel! It’s clear you’re doing a wonderful job raising her, even with a full-time job and all.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows knit together at the somewhat odd choice of words. “Thanks,” he drawls out, noticing her pupils dilating with every breath. “Most of the credit goes to my wife though. She’s a great mom to Jia.”

“Jia’s m-mom?” Sandra stutters, her mouth slightly agape. Yoongi senses the gears turning in her head as she struggles to process the unexpected presence of his wife. Tempting as it is, he holds down a smirk. Of course, he’s a happily married man–for nearly eight years now.

“Yeah,” he replies simply. “She’s usually the one to pick up our daughter from daycare, but she’s been working a lot of overtime lately. I thought I'd come instead so she can get some rest."

“Oh, well that’s very–“

“Daddy! Daddy, you’re here!” The sound of a familiar high-pitched voice, along with a light pattering of feet, diverts both adult’s attention.

“Hey kid.” Yoongi effortlessly lifts the small child once in front of him, securing her in his arms. “Have fun today?”

Jia gives an enthusiastic nod, bright red ribbons in her hair bouncing cutely as she does. Proudly, she shows him the drawing she made.

“See? It’s me, you, and mommy!” She makes sure to point to each part of the picture with her pointer finger.

Yoongi gently takes the artwork from his daughter’s hand and lets out a soft chuckle. “Now this is what I call a masterpiece! Mommy’s gonna love hanging this one on the fridge. How about I hold onto this and you go grab your backpack, okay?”

As soon as Jia’s feet touch the carpeted floor again, she races off to her cubby in the far corner of the room. Yoongi shoots Sandra a final glance before slowly following behind. “We got to get going, but nice meeting you.”

“You…too.” Sandra’s response is more than disappointed as she watches the father-daughter duo make their way out of the building. Evidently, Min Yoongi isn’t the single dad she originally assumed. Funny, she swore there wasn’t a wedding band in sight. Maybe she missed it.

“No, I’m sorry but I’m certain we haven’t used any of your services in the last six months. My husband canceled it in late October.”

With one hand, you grip your cell phone up to an ear while the other pops open the dishwasher. You’ve been on the phone with the cable company for half an hour, trying to make sense of an unexpected charge that appeared on your bank account this morning. You consider yourself more patient than most, yet after working all day, a pile of laundry waiting to be washed, and dinner threatening to burn on the stove, the last thing you have time for is arguing with your old service provider.

“I understand, ma’am, and I apologize for any confusion. I’m taking a look at my records and they’re all showing me that—oh wait a second.”

The young man on the opposite end of the line interrupts his own thought, piquing your concern in the process.

“What did you say your last name is?”

You answer and in an instant, you’re met with a thousand rushed apologies; something about getting the account names mixed up in their system. It’s difficult to decipher everything you hear with the front door being thrust open that very moment.

“Mommy, where are you? We’re home!” Your daughter not so subtly announces her presence from the foyer. She kicks off her shoes, hangs her backpack on the designated wall hook, and then rushes to the kitchen upon catching a brief glimpse of your shirt.

“It’s alright, these mistakes happen.” You hang up the call and turn around to find Jia only steps away, a big goofy grin on her face. Infectious, you break out into a smile yourself and swoop her up.

“Hey honey, I missed you so much!” You kiss the side of your daughter’s head as she wraps her small arms around your neck. “You look so pretty with all these ribbons in your hair! Daddy did a good job, didn’t he?”

Being that you were called into work earlier than usual this morning, Yoongi was the one who got Jia dressed and ready for daycare. You’re delightfully surprised by the results.

“Mmhm,” Jia nods, twirling a couple of strands of hair between her thumb and forefinger. “But Daddy pulls too much!”

“Maybe if someone had listened and stopped fussing when I told her, I wouldn’t have accidentally yanked on her hair when I was reaching for her favorite Hello Kitty scrunchie.” Yoongi joins you both in the kitchen, walking over to press a quick peck on your lips while tenderly caressing the small of your back. The gesture soothes you of your earlier frustrations. “Who was that on the phone? Cable company?”

“Yeah, they canceled the charge. Wrong account.” As you reiterate the entire mix-up, your eyes wander all over your husband. He’s especially handsome tonight, given his perfectly tousled black hair and navy blue blazer flowing over his body. It’s tastefully oversized with a clean, white top paired underneath. You, on the other hand, are sporting a raggedy old t-shirt and stained sweatpants.

There was a time when you used to put a shit ton more effort into your appearance. It was before you got pregnant with Jia, back when you and Yoongi were going out on weekly dates. Neither of you has that kind of time anymore, or energy for that matter. You didn’t believe the other moms when they told you the romance takes a nose dive after you have your first kid. Yet here you are, proven wrong again.

Being parents to a beautiful baby girl is likely the most rewarding feeling in the world for you and Yoongi. You don’t remember the last time the two of you got real quality alone time though. And sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs more on you with each passing day to be honest. Sure, you’re not the same person you used to be eight years ago, but shouldn’t you and Yoongi still make time for at least a little intimacy?

“How was picking up Jia by the way?” You look at Yoongi who merely shrugs nonchalantly in response.

“It was fine. Nothing too out of the ordinary,” Yoong gives you another peck before heading up the stairs to your bedroom. “I’m gonna go get changed. Why don’t you show Mommy the drawing you did Jia?”

“A drawing?” You shift your attention to your daughter whose eyes sparkle like diamonds upon mention. “We should put it up on the fridge then. Let’s take a look hmm?”

“It’s in my backpack! My new friend and I were drawing together. Her name is Mi-Sun.” Jia continues telling you all about her friend Mi-Sun as you make your way to the front door where her backpack hangs. You’re fully engaged until the very end. “Daddy made a new friend too!” she joyously claps her hands together, not realizing the depth of her remark.

“Oh, who’s Daddy’s new friend honey?” You ask, staying as calm as possible.

“Ms. Cho! They were talking for a really long time today.”

Ms. Cho? You think back to all the moms you’ve met at daycare. Somehow you can’t recall ever hearing or meeting a Ms. Cho. She must be a single mom, you deduce. Was she new? What did she look like? And why didn’t Yoongi mention her when you asked?

This has to be nothing but a little small talk, an acquaintance at most. Besides, the moms at Jia’s daycare are quite a chatty bunch and Yoongi wouldn’t dare overstep any boundaries.

“Do you know what they were talking about?” You don’t enjoy asking your child for details about your husband, yet you can’t seem to help it this time.

“I dunno,” she shrugs her shoulders. "Daddy was laughing a lot."

Suddenly, the self-assurance you gave yourself earlier slips away; seemingly useless given the queasy feeling building in the pit of your stomach.

For the remainder of the night, you purposely dodge every attempt your husband makes to kiss, touch, and hold you. You’ve even begun responding to his questions in one-word answers and at times, with nothing at all.

Yes, you’re being petty; more than usual. The silent treatment frustrates Yoongi to no end and it isn’t very mature of you, but neither is refusing to tell your wife that some single mom was flirting with you in front of your kid! Okay, so maybe that's an exaggeration. Maybe it all sums up to a harmless conversation, but it’s not like you know either way with Yoongi being as reserved as he is. It brings you back to your early dating days when he wouldn’t think to tell you about various aspects of his day; who he ate breakfast with that morning or the one classmate of his that wouldn’t leave him alone for two semesters.

Truth be told, you're simply hoping that your husband will bring up the topic first, without having to be the classic nagging wife. You’re a jealous person by nature so it’s not a simple task. Even now as you fold the first batch of laundry on your shared bed, him on the other side doing the same, you struggle to keep from blurting everything out.

“So,” Yoongi fluffs up a clean pillowcase before sliding it onto one of the bed pillows. “How was work?”

What a basic question, you grumble internally. Is that all he’s got? “Was okay,” you reply. “The usual.”

“You must be tired from the day. Did you get to lie down at all?” Yoongi picks up another pillowcase, repeating the process as before. When he glances your way, it’s clear something’s on your mind. You’ve started pairing Jia’s socks far more aggressively than normal and you’re holding back your responses. “Did you hear me, doll? Or am I going deaf here?” The sarcastic chuckle distracts you from your task, forcing your attention.

You’re about to respond when your eyes briefly flicker down to his hands, his left one in particular. Where's his wedding ring? Yoongi always wears it no matter what. The same sick feeling from before returns tenfold. No wonder that Ms. Cho was all over him–she must have thought he was single.

“No, I didn’t get to lie down Yoongi. I worked all day, came home and made dinner, called the cable guy to get that stupid bill figured out, and now I’m doing the second load of laundry. I’m really just not in the mood to chat.” It comes out a blur as you snatch the empty laundry basket and head for your washer and dryer, your eyes welling up with tears.

“__, wait.” Yoongi tosses the last pillow near the headboard and stops you in your tracks, his hand firmly gripping one end of the laundry basket. The intensity of his stare softens as he speaks. “I'm sorry if it seems like I'm forcing you to talk. I know you've been losing a lot of sleep recently between work, Jia, and upkeeping the house. We just don't get a lot of time to see each other anymore and I miss you…I miss talking to you."

With every ounce of self-control remaining, you hold back any tears that risk spilling out. You don't know why you're acting like this, why you're crying over something that seems so small and insignificant to the rest of the world. Yoongi loves you. He's said it a million times and proven it to you over and over again, for eight years now. He wouldn’t cheat on you, yet you still get so worked up about the idea that someone could take him away from you. Someone half your age, more attractive, or hell even the opposite sex if it means fewer dark circles under their eyes.

"Why- why aren't you wearing your ring?" Your naturally confident voice dwindles to the whisper of a mouse. It's completely out of character, nevertheless, here you are.

"I..." Your husband's voice wavers. His gaze flickers to his left hand, where his ring should be, but isn't. "Shit...I took it off in the shower this morning," he confesses, frustrated by his forgetfulness. "I was in such a rush to get Jia to daycare, and me to work, that it completely slipped my mind. I'm sorry—I fully intended to put it back on." He pauses, then perks up. "It's still in the bathroom. I'll be right back, okay?"

You watch as he makes a beeline for the master bathroom, eager to rectify the situation as soon as possible. You should have kept silent what you say next, but you don't.

"No wonder the moms at Jia's daycare were so drawn to you."

"What?" Yoongi stops in his tracks. The dumbfounded expression on his face tells you that you've caught him off guard again.

"Jia told me about someone named Ms. Cho," you reluctantly continue. "The two of you were laughing and talking and–"

"Baby, don't worry about that." Seizing his chance, your husband walks back over to you and sneakily pulls the laundry basket from under your arm. He sets it on the ground after, then reaches to take your hand in his, but stubbornly you cross your arms.

"Her name's Sandra," he starts explaining. "She's a new mom at the daycare and she didn't know anyone, so she started talking to me. I got the sense she was a little overly friendly but it was all small talk, nothing more."

Still largely unsatisfied, you remain unmoved. "If it wasn't a big deal then why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Because nothing serious happened. The majority of the conversation was her venting about her ex-husband and me wishing you were right there next to me. Please believe me. All I could think about was finally being able to come home to you after a long week with Jia in our arms."

"Really?" Well, now you're feeling guilty for avoiding him in nearly every way tonight. Guilty for believing such wild assumptions that he'd leave you for someone else over one measly conversation. Guilty for letting yourself get so worked up over a situation you, quite frankly, knew few details about.

"I mean it doll." This time, when he reaches out to grasp your wrist, he succeeds. He intertwines his fingers with yours and leads you to the edge of your bed, gently pulling you down to sit on his lap. "Do you really think I could look at anyone else the way I look at you? Or think about you the way I have for the last eight-plus years we've been married and known each other?"

You hesitate your answer, averting his eye contact. "I know but…"

"No, don't finish that. Look at me," he intercepts. "You and our daughter are the only women on my mind–24/7. I can't get either of you out of my head and I don't want to. I'm so sorry I forgot to put my wedding band back on this morning, and again tonight. I feel awful about it and I'll be more careful from now on. And another thing, when Sandra and I were talking I mentioned you multiple times. So, it's clear to her that I'm a happily married man."

The last bit of information manages to perk your ears. "You talked about me?" Your eyes widen as you finally shift your full attention to him. Yoongi eyes widen with you, amused by your sudden change of heart to look at him.

"I said my wife is an amazing mother, works too hard for her own good, and needed to rest today. Give or take a few words."

That's all? You huff to yourself. Would it been nice if your husband also thrown in that you were beautiful or stunning in that mix of compliments? Yes, yes it would have–again, you're pettiness clouds your better judgment. You're not as pissed off as before, but rather semi-irritated.

"Okay…well I guess it's fine then. I'm sorry for being short with you earlier. I shouldn't have made those rash conclusions about the ring and that woman from the daycare. It wasn't reasonable of me." You get up from his lap, yet Yoongi isn't entirely convinced that you're okay.

"There's still something you're not telling me. I can tell."

"No, there's nothing else." You waive him off, placing your hand on your bedroom doorknob "You told her you had a wife so it's fine. I need to switch the second load of laundry.”

"Come on, doll. Let's not leave things unsaid now."

Sighing at his plead, you find yourself giving into all your repressed thoughts and emotions. It swallows you up, like a tidal wave you can't stop. "Look at me Yoon. I'm sweaty, I have dark circles under my eyes, stretch marks, love handles, my hair's a mess, and all I wear are old sweats covered in stains. I'm nothing like I used to be! No wonder we aren't intimate anymore."

Yoongi rises from the bed at once, offended by the sudden digression. "Is that what this is all about? It’s not even about that single mom from daycare is it?" The truth of the matter sinks in as he speaks.

"I guess maybe so…though I'm still annoyed about that too." Great, you're back to square one again.

"Come with me, I need to show you something." Your husband gestures you to follow him, which you slowly concede to.

"What are you doing Yoon?" You both walk into the master bathroom, stopping in front of the large mirror above the sink.

"I'm showing you the woman I'm in love with and have been in love with for nearly eight years now. Sweats and all." Yoongi makes you face the mirror directly, hands around your shoulders. You have trouble stomaching the sight.

"Yoongi please, I can't. The laundry ringing off." You avoid looking into the mirror and make a move to leave the bathroom.

"Just stay with me a minute, please?" Your husband refuses to loosen his hold on you, turning your body so you're looking eye to eye. "No, you're not the same person as you were and neither am I. We're parents to a beautiful daughter now, who we love and adore. We're also overtired 90% of the time, juggling a million things at once. But there's one thing you can count on to always stay the same–my loyalty to you. I'll always be in love with you __, no matter what age you are or however way you look. There's nothing you can do to change that, so why fight it?"

Dammit. A single tear rolls down your cheek as you take in his heart-melting speech. It's not his words alone, it's the sincerity behind them. How he's repeated similar countless times before throughout your entire relationship.

"I love you, Yoon..." you choke out the words, composure fleeting.

"I love you so much, doll." He wipes the wetness of your tear with his thumb. "As far as us not being as intimate anymore, that's my fault. I don't ever want you to feel like I don't desire you every day. Why don't we send the kid to my parents this weekend and let me start making things right hmm?"

"I don't know if we can this weekend. Jia has a playdate on Saturday."

"So, I'll ask Mom to take her. She'll be happy to, trust me. We can finally watch that movie you've been dying to show me since what? December?"

"You're serious?" Your eyes light up at the mention of what is essentially a movie date. The show Yoongi's referring to is one you've been craving to see for months, yet neither of you has found the time to watch. "I've been talking about it for so long, Yoon."

"I know you have, it's why I suggested it. I've been wanting to watch it too with all the trailers you keep sending me. Plus, I'll be able to keep my beautiful wife in my arms for over two hours. That's a lot for us, especially with you being such a busy bee. I can never get you to light in one place! What's up with that, huh?"

Feeling your natural self re-emerging, you throw a playful swat to his arm and scowl at his teasing comment. "You're one to talk! You're basically a workaholic! Besides, you knew who you were marrying when you met me."

Yoongi chuckles and brings both hands to cup your cheeks, squishing them slightly. "A cutie who reads 800-page novels at a basketball game?"

"Stop babying me!" You pull his hands off your cheeks and rub them, trying to regain some composure. "I don't regret my choices, I like books. It's why I'm such a boss at work!"

"Okay, boss," he laughs. "What about what I suggested before then? I can call Mom tomorrow and ask her if she could watch Jia for the day. She'll take her to her playdate, then they can spend the rest of the day together."

It does sound nice, having the whole day with your husband.

"Okay," you agree. "Let's try."

"Good." Yoongi slides his hands down to your hips and pulls you flush against his chest. "How about we seal it with a kiss now?" You nod and he leans his head down, pressing an amazing, tender kiss to your lips. It makes you both giddy on queue.

"Read one more story, Daddy!" Jia leaps off her small, twin bed and bounds for her bookshelf. She lets out a series of giggles when a large pair of hands catch her, lifting her high into the air.

"I already read you three books kid," Yoongi says, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Bedtime." He then tucks her into her fluffy comforter, plugs in her teddy bear nightlight, and closes her bedroom door.

The next second, Jia comes running out of her room, latching onto his right leg. "I don't wanna go to bed. I wanna play!" Figures she'd be hyper at this hour.

Yoongi sighs and picks her up. "Daddy told you to go to sleep, it's not playtime. You'll have lots of time for that tomorrow when you get to see your friend." He then carries her into her room, yet she fusses in his arms; thumping her tiny fists into his chest.

"No, no, no, Daddy. I want to play!"

Sighing, Yoongi looks at his child with sharp eyes. "Jia–"

"Hey," you interrupt, entering your daughter's bedroom upon hearing the commotion down the hall. "What's going on?"

"Kid doesn't want to go to bed."

You give an empathetic look and saunter over to the pair, gently taking Jia into your arms. Yoongi places his hands on his hips as he watches you reason with your daughter.

"Jia, you know tomorrow's a big day right? You and Sana are going to go to the playground together." The child nods. "You don't want to be tired when you're playing do you?"

"No..." She shakes her head. "I want to be awake!"

"Then you need to listen to Daddy and go to sleep. That way you'll be full of energy tomorrow when you and Sana go on the swings or slide down all the big slides." You smile as Jia starts rubbing her drowsy eyes, yawning in the process.

"But I...okay," she slowly concedes, eyes fluttering shut as she gives into her sleepy state. Unsurprising to you and Yoongi, she was tired all along. But like most kids, hated going to bed.

"See?" You lay Jia in her bed and pull the covers up near her chin, giving her a light kiss on the side of her head. Yoongi bends down and does the same after you. "You just gotta talk to her a little, she'll typically fall asleep on her own."

"But I read her three of her favorite books." Yoongi shuts off the overhead light, along with the door to Jia's room, and follows you to your bedroom.

"That's different Yoon," you argue back. "Books excite her."

"She takes after you that way then." Yoongi pulls his t-shirt off, leaving him bare-chested, and climbs onto his side of the bed. You join him shortly after with your head resting on his chest and an arm thrown around his waist.

"I'm so exhausted," you yawn.

"Go to sleep, baby. I'm right here." Your husband places a hand over your wrapped arm, sending you off into a deep slumber.

Well this is just ironic. Almost 2 A.M. and you're wide awake.

What initially started as a nice, relaxing dream quickly turned into a terrible nightmare. In the dream, you woke up alone. Yoongi was gone. Jia was gone too. You can't exactly make sense of it, except for a vague memory of Jia calling another woman 'Mom'. You couldn't see her face very well, so it could've been anyone. You couldn't speak either, so even when you tried approaching the three, they couldn't hear you. You've had nightmares plenty of times, but this one is new. It's a clear projection of all the underlying concerns upheaved from earlier; insecurities, abandonment, loss, and it has you unsettled.

You glance over to your husband's side of the bed. He's fast asleep, no longer cuddling you due to you both flip-flopping in your sleep. You decide to slide closer to him, needing to watch him for a while. It might sound weird, but you love watching him sleep. He's so handsome and you feel a great deal of comfort doing so. Maybe if he was awake, you'd tell him about what you dreamt. Then again...maybe not.

"I love you Yoon," you whisper as quietly as you can, tracing his every facial feature with your eyes.

"'m, I love you too."

Is he-was he awake? As if caught red-handed, you quickly flit your face away in favor of the blank ceiling above. You weren't expecting him to answer at all, and in such a hoarse voice too. You're a little turned on by it to be honest.

"Can't sleep?" he speaks up again, eyes still closed.

"No, I''ll be okay though. You can go back to sleep. Don't worry."

He grunts, a tad unhappy with your dismissal of him. "Do you want to talk about it? Your dream?"

You whip your head in his direction. "How–" You pause, seeing his eyes blink open.

"I didn't meet you just yesterday, doll. I know they keep you up. Just know, I'm always here okay? Always." He reaches for you with delicate fingers as he continues. "Now, come here. Seems we got separated in our sleep."

You accept the offer and cuddle into him again. This time your noses nearly touch and his arm wraps around your lower waist. You feel the growing urge to kiss him, wanting to forget your nightmare entirely. But perhaps silly, you ask permission first, seeing as he's close to drifting off again.

"Yoon?"

"Mm."

"Can we kiss?" Your cheeks flush a little at the request. Why are you acting like this? You've been married for years.

"Sure, 'm tired but I could go for a make-out right now." A small smirk graces his lips as he teases you. You give him a classic 'Yoongi!' in reply. "I'm kidding. You don't ever have to ask me that," he finishes.

"Hmm, maybe I don't want a kiss anymore." You feign stubbornness, just to see his response. And a response he gives you, more than you're prepared for.

"You're ridiculous," he grumbles, capturing your lips in one fell swoop. He moves his lips against yours as the hand on your waist grips tighter. The tiniest of moans escapes your lips.

You attempt to break the kiss first, thinking it will only last for a few seconds. Yet Yoongi slips a hand behind your neck to bring you into another kiss. One that's deeper than the last. You feel your breath being taken away little by little, especially when his tongue licks into your mouth. God, you haven't kissed like this in an eternity. A wetness soon gathers between your thighs.

"'m, Yoon," you gasp when his cool fingers sneakily make their way under your shirt, tickling your bare skin. They travel the expanse of your waist, stomach, and up along your back. "So cold."

Yoongi pulls away from the kiss and retracts his fingers. He then lazily moves his body until his chest hovers over your own, rolling you on your back in the process. He's a bit of a blur due to the dimness of the room, yet you can see the whites of his eyes a bit better than before.

"Help me warm them then," he says, folding his hands on top of yours from where they rest on your stomach. "You're really burning up, doll."

His observation is right. Ever since you woke up, you're body's been hotter than normal. The stress is clear and it's only increasing due to the unexpected turn of tonight's events; your husband seemingly wanting to make love to you in the middle of the night.

"So I am," you reply, staring straight into his eyes. "Must be because of all the sudden surprises today. My body's finally responding to it all."

Yoongi nods, following your implication. "Well let's do something to calm it down, shall we?" He waits for your final go before making any abrupt movements.

"But...you haven't seen me–"

"Naked in a while?" he predicts your next words, unfazed. "I've seen it all, each time better than the last because I love you. You're beautiful to me, no matter what. Let me love you __. I've missed you. I've missed us."

"Okay...please," you sigh, desperately needing his touch. "It's been so long since we've been this close."

Neither of you has it in you to delay another second as you dive into another fiery kiss, your hands wandering up and down each other's bodies. You love his hair the most, so you run your fingers through it repeatedly. Your husband's soft grunts remind you that it's as pleasurable for him as it is for you, and as if to counter, he latches his lips to the curve of your neck.

"Yoon," you moan, shivering at the feeling of being peppered in open-mouth kisses. Your eyes automatically roll up as well.

Yoongi nips at your jaw next, featherlike, yet deadly to you nevertheless. He doesn't allow himself to linger more than a second, though, preferring to keep you on your toes. So with careful fingers, he begins lifting the bottom of your shirt.

"Can I?"

You hum in approval and lean forward for him to remove it.

With your nipples now exposed to the brisk air, stiffening due to arousal, Yoongi brings both his hands up to caress your boobs. He's incredibly gentle, telling you how beautiful you are once again until his thumbs start circling your peaked nipples. A rush of sensation shoots up your spine as he rolls them harder, flicking them once in a while.

"Fuck," you swear.

"Feeling good?"

All you do is nod fervently in response, which Yoongi takes as his signal to lower his head to your chest. He squeezes both breasts in his hand before wrapping his mouth around a nipple, licking and sucking relentlessly. He repeats the same to the other.

"Yoongi, I need you. Please." You're core tightens, thighs struggling not to rub together, as you plead with your husband to relieve you. You are so wet and getting wetter.

"I'm here, doll, I got you. Fingers first hm?"

He pushes part of the comforter towards the foot of the bed, then gestures for you to raise your butt. Any shred of mystery of how worked up he's gotten you slip away as he pulls your underwear and pants down your legs. They both get tossed on the floor, per usual.

Bare pussy exposed, Yoongi guides your legs further apart and brings a hand down to your entrance. One of his long, slender fingers traces up your folds so smoothly that you buck your hips upon the touch. He smiles lightly at the subtle response, pleased that you're finally enjoying yourself; too often you put your needs last. His finger slowly sinks into your well-lubricated pussy, velvety walls clenching around it.

"Oh, g-god," you give a shaky moan as his finger pumps and curls in you, stimulating your g-spot. "Need you now, Yoon, so bad."

"Mm not yet, we need to stretch you out. You haven't taken me for a good three or four weeks," he smirks at your eagerness, sliding a second finger next to the first. "This pussy is drenched but not enough. I need you to come. Can you do that for me?"

Fast, quick movements follow suit as your husband works you up to an orgasm. Oh fuck, oh fuck, you chant in near whines. Your pussy is spasming around him, walls tightening with each push and pull. You know when he draws his hand out that it's covered with your come. Messy, sex is messy and both of you are too far gone to care; the pleasure sweeping over you.

Finally, in what feels like an endless tease, you have your first orgasm of the night. You feel your body relaxing into the mattress again, yet your breath remains short. Yoongi, on the other hand, groans seeing your release dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. For a split second, there's a slight darkening in his eyes while he takes in your post-orgasmic form. The two fingers that had been inside you are sensually brought to his lips, slipping between the seam before being cleaned off.

You're taken aback by the action, though you've witnessed it before. Something about watching your husband willingly follow through with a gesture so lewd makes your head spin–you want him to fuck you right this instant. He must share the same feeling because you don't even need to sound the words due to his hands already making quick work of his pants.

"You drive me mad, you know that? Can never get a break with how sweet you taste. Your lips, your come. All of it makes me go mad." His full length comes in view, hard and tip leaking with pre-cum. You try not to let yourself stare at the thickness but hell, you must've forgotten the extent of your husband's size. You don't remember it being this big before.

"Well," you gulp. "You're not making it easy on me either, looking like this."

Yoongi climbs over to you again, settling into a straddled position, and looks deep into your eyes. "Who's fault do you think that is?"

"It's your fault." You bend your legs and wrap them around his mid-section. You can feel the tip of his cock tease at your entrance. The anticipation is beyond grueling.

"No," he says, aligning himself up to your weeping hole. "it's yours." He then thrusts his hips forward, his length sinking into you so perfectly it has you completely satisfied.

"Y-Yours," you whimper out, unable to form a steady sentence.

"Fine." He picks up his pace. "Let's just agree we both fuck each other up on a daily---ah fuck!" Yoongi growls and gives you a suspicious look when he feels your pussy suddenly clench around his length.

"I didn't do it on purpose this time! You're fucking me too good is all."

"Really? You're not just teasing me?"

Yoongi is slow to believe since you've purposefully clenched countless times before, simply out of playfulness. Tonight is different than those nights though because you're telling the truth–he's truly fucking you so good.

"What the hell," he concedes. "You feel so fucking fantastic, I don't even care." He continues his movements, thrusting into you with deep groans and labored breaths. His fingers grip the mattress harder with the veins in his neck bulging out.

Both your bodies move in sync as the familiar sound of skin slapping on skin echoes off the walls of your bedroom. You do your best to keep your moans low, not wanting to risk waking up your daughter.

"Yoon, fuck! I need to come, it's gonna-fuck-happen soon," you swear, pussy throbbing at the feeling of being so full after weeks of abstinence. You can tell you're reaching your high with the bundle of nerves in your core threatening to snap at any given moment.

Of course, you're wet too, extremely wet.

"I'm. Nearly. There." He barely sounds the words out, jaw clenching. "Just another minute, and we can finish together."

Your eyes, which haven't left his since he entered you, begin to glass over with tears. It's overwhelming; his love for you. No matter the doubts that tell you the opposite, you can't give in to their ugly lies. You'll continue to struggle, naturally, but you won't ever let them win. Yoongi's never once given up on you, and neither should you.

"I love you, Yoon...I love you with all my soul," you choke the words, falling apart all at once. "I'm sorry for today. How jealous and irrational I got."

"Don't apologize, doll. I shouldn't have let it go so far, our lack of intimacy and alone time. I promise we're going to make it all right okay?"

Giving you one last thrust, you both have your release at the same time. Yoongi helps ride your orgasm out by lazily continuing to grind into you. Yeah, you might need to shower and switch out the sheets after tonight, but you don't regret it one bit.

"In all seriousness baby," Yoongi speaks up, guiding your legs back on the soft mattress until you’re comfortable. "Don't feel like you have to apologize for everything. I understand your feelings and where you were coming from. I will say, the silent treatment kills me though. I'd rather you yell at me than not talk to me at all."

"It's not easy for me to raise my voice like that, Yoon." You throw your arms around his neck and sigh softly. "But I can try talking to you more, or at least tell you I need some time to process before I'm ready to have a conversation. I don't know, am I making sense?"

"Plenty of sense. I'll share more about my day with you and who I'm talking to as well. We'll also carve out time to have together. I love our daughter, but I don't see the harm in reaching out to our friends and family to babysit once in a while."

"Well, this sounds good to me," you hum.

"Me too." Yoongi smiles wide and goes in for another warm kiss. Your eyes flutter shut in unison.

This is what love feels like.

a/n: LMK what you think 🥰

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no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

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FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT CH 1 PG 36

Infested will return on June 27th. --- Thank you to the following Ascended supporters: @chaogongoozles, @fiiresiidefrfr, @elizard4227, @grogar, Ezzoh, @susivoi, @calculuscacophony, Eros, @ivycorp, @summersdale @borrelia, @mizukiz, @sanicdetails, @combinegrunt-echo-1, Pica, @veeceear, @quackenburt, ItsmeMonarch, @memendoemori, @trans-girl-sonic, & savarsenic

Content Warnings | Store | Ko-Fi (Discord!) | Read On Comic Fury! DISCLAIMER: "Infested" is a horror comic ft. content not suitable for those under the age of 17.

A long-winded looking back on things below the cut:

The first few pages of Infested were uploaded to this blog on March 2nd, 2023 -- Over a whole year ago! I was so busy, too, that I completely missed its birthday (Sorry Infested). Looking even further back than that, the original story was was something I began writing on December 25th, 2022 (Merry Christmas).

It took two years to get to this point.

And hey, not to toot my own horn about it, but completing even one chapter of a webcomic is a big deal. Especially for me. My first webcomic, Fight/Flight, didn't get very far. I completed the prologue, started Chapter 1, and then had to drop it for a number of reasons (I didn't really agree with what baby-me had to say, politically, anymore).

This comic was born from a lot of intense feelings. The story, itself, too. Some good. Some bad.

I had been forced to move away from my hometown, and with that move, I lost the physical connection that I had to all of my friends. I lost the familiarity of a place I'd known for most of my life. I'm now stuck somewhere... Worse. It felt like a cage. Still does. Disconnected from the life I thought I would be living after college. I didn't have health insurance, either -- Got kicked off of it because of the move -- And as a result, I was off my antidepressants.

So there I was, at a pretty low point in my life. I miserable and lonely and every single day dragged on. And on. And on. And I felt so disappointed in myself. That disappointment became self-loathing, and it all kinda spiraled.

Have I mentioned that I'm a huge Sonic fan? I don't think I need to. I'd say it's pretty obvious. But for the sake of this story, I'll say it again: I'm a HUGE Sonic fan. I've been that way since 2003 with Sonic Heroes. The franchise has been in my life for over two decades. I had a monthly mail subscription to Archie's Sonic the Hedgehog. Sonic the Hedgehog was something that I truly loved more than any other piece of media. It brought me endless joy. Until I didn't.

I had dropped Sonic after Lost World was... Itself. I had already felt pretty irritated with the Meta Era, and Lost World was the final straw. The last bit of hope that the series could recover was snuffed out when Forces was released. It was over. I was done. If Sonic was truly that embarrassed by itself, if they had truly lost touch with what made the series so great, then I wouldn't waste my time any longer. I was so sure that I had to just... Grieve and move on. My beloved childhood game series was dead. Long live the king or whatever. I'd just bitterly read IDW Sonic and think about what could've been. I was lucky to have that comic, at least. Archie had been canceled, too, after all. I was lucky to have my scraps.

Then Sonic Frontiers came out. And it changed everything.

And my god, it was everything. It was everything to me. Flaws be damned, it was everything. To. Me. The spectacle. The serious tone. The vastly improved writing. Kellin Fucking Quinn. It was FUN! It was actually FUN to PLAY. He was back. I was back. Sonic pulled me by my hand out of the ocean of misery I'd fallen into, and he looked me in my eye and he said;

"Hey. You're gonna be alright."

Metaphorically speaking. Sonic The Hedgehog didn't actually literally speak to me -- And sure, okay, maybe it's a little dramatic to describe a game as this great Depression Annihilator but I'm dead serious when I say that, for that time, before I was able to get back on my meds, I was self-medicating with Sonic.

Sonic was all I was thinking about. I reread the Unleashed arc in Archie Sonic, which got me sorta realizing something, and which led to my post where I said something along the lines of "Sonic would hide a zombie bite."

Archie Sonic would, at least. Because he basically did do that in the Unleashed arc of that comic. He let that problem fester until it became an even bigger problem because, ironically, he didn't want to be a problem.

So one thing led to another. I thought more about Sonic becoming a zombie. Bada-bing, bada-boom, Infested was born.

I didn't expect it to get the attention that it did. I felt lucky when the first page I drew Rouge on (Page 6 I think?) blew up. The right people saw it at the right time. I'm extremely grateful for that.

I'm extremely grateful for all of you.

So yeah, one chapter. Woo! Here's to many more.

[aemondsbabe]

Stick it Out to the End

summary: michael is desperate to get into oxford's prestigious bullingdon club; unfortunately for him, they command him to do the impossible to gain admittance

pairing: michael gavey x bimbo!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, bimbo reader, mentions of hazing but nothing horrible/extreme, virgin!michael, breast/nipple play, praise kink, piv sex, protected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), oral sex (f receiving), consensual filming, dirty talk, cursing, what i hope is saltburn-esque humor, mild size kink, mild angst but happy ending, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 12.7k

a/n: images in the header are for aesthetic purposes only & are not used to describe the reader! she's back and she's long as hell but what else is new!!! this is my first time writing bimbo!reader and while she wasn't super bimbo-y, it was fun getting my feet wet! hope y'all enjoy!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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Michael

Michael couldn’t help but feel his heart speed up in his chest as he wound through the quiet corridors clutching tightly to the cryptic note he’d found stuffed in his pigeonhole that morning – just a page torn out of a standard notebook covered hastily written red ink; wholly un-intimidating as far as cryptic notes were concerned. Really, he was surprised to see they didn’t put more effort in; with as secretive and imperious as this little club was, he had been expecting some sort of extravagant stationary, perhaps even some gold embossing. 

Coming to a stop in front of an unassuming janitor’s closet door, he narrows his eyes behind the gold frames of his glasses, staring at the door with a nearly accusatorial expression. Michael swivels his head once more, his brows furrowed as he checks and re-checks every door in the vicinity before turning back to the one he stands before. Scoffing, he unfolds the note with a little irritated sigh and quickly scans the page again, mouthing the words to himself for the millionth time that day. 

The riddle had been easy enough to figure out, some trivial little lines about dead men walking, the mob, finding God, and looking to one’s heart pointed right toward some hush hush basement beneath the Merton College Chapel. That, and it didn’t take a genius to see that each line consisted of a specific number of words, pointing him right to the very door he stood in front of now – 129. 

Fucking amateurs, he’d thought after cracking the code in under half an hour. But that was earlier. And now, as he stares at the stupid dull grey janitor’s closet door in front of him, Michael can’t stop the little tendrils of doubt from creeping into his periphery. He’s sure this is the right door and positive this is the right place and yet… janitor’s closet. He checks his watch, 11:50 PM on the dot, and glances up and down the dark, shadowy corridors once more, half expecting one of the twatty rich assholes to jump out and start snickering at him, making fun of him for thinking that a no one like him would’ve ever received an invite to a club like this. 

Shaking his head, he reaches for the doorknob anyway, he’s come this far so he may as well. He freezes a little when it actually turns and his blue eyes go wide when he pushes the door open, shivering a little as he’s met with a wall of cool, dank air – eau de basement, just as he’d expected. A little actually impressed sigh passes his lips when he pokes his head in, an apprehensive smile blooming on his lips as he takes in the eerie red lighting spilling up the stairwell from the God-knows-what downstairs. 

He winces as the door squeaks when he tugs it open but he doesn’t stop, emboldened now as he knows he had been right once again. He takes the stairs quickly, probably too quickly given that he hasn’t a fucking clue what or who could be down here, but before he can dwell on the idea too much, he’s faced with another corridor. This one, unlike the ones upstairs, is narrow and brick-lined and leads in only one direction, straight to another closed door at the other end. 

Michael squints against the bright red light coming from a spotlight that had been haphazardly set up on the stone floor and walks down the hallway, his steps speeding up as he hears the janitor’s door above him open and close once more. His breath hitches a little as he opens the second door and quickly steps inside, like ripping off a band-aid. 

He freezes once more when a strong hand latches onto his shoulder and quickly jerks him further into the room, making him yelp as he stumbles, trying to keep pace with whoever the hell is leading him. 

“What the –”

Before he has time to so much as blink, his back thuds against a brick wall and finally he looks up, the vicious scowl he’d prepared morphing into a look of disturbed confusion as he eyes a row of other students, about fifteen and all men from the looks of it, dawned with black –

Oh, Christ, are those ski masks? He thinks as he eyes them up and down, How fucking banal… at least it’s not hooded cloaks. He nearly rolls his eyes as he scans the rest of the room, taking in the dim lighting interspersed with blues and greens from more of those stupid party boy spotlights. Glancing to the side, he sees another boy in his year, some guy he only knew from a few classes and passing glances in the hallways, but even still he’s comforted to not be alone down here, no matter how cliché this whole affair seemed. 

His blue eyes snap forward as the door, the only door, to the room is opened once more and some other poor sap is hastily dragged across the room, only to be smacked on the wall to his left. Again, it’s just some other boy Michael knows from classes, though he doesn’t know why he expects any different – it’s not as if he knows many people outside of the forced proximity of a lecture hall. Which was really his only reason for putting up with this bother, for seeking it out in the first place; a quick flash of him placing a tightly folded up sticky note with his name and pigeonhole number in an old, beaten up copy of King Lear in the library played in his mind – the price he seemed to pay for loneliness. 

Distantly, the bells of the chapel began to chime, signaling the hour. Once, twice, and eventually twelve times – midnight. Time to start the show, Michael surmises. 

“Welcome, initiates,” one of the hooded men says in a tone that makes Michael glare judgmentally, his voice pitched down like some idiotic knock-off Darth Vader. He steps forward from the row they stand in and holds his arms out open at his sides, “Consider this your first foray into the Bullingdon Club.”

Again, he has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold in a scoff. This was all just so… juvenile? He was beginning to sincerely doubt that this was the über clandestine club that granted its members all sorts of connections to various businesses, societies, and insider information that even the richest of the rich couldn’t buy. 

Unfortunately, his face seemed to betray more of his emotions than he intended and the masked boy steps forward once more, his dark eyes zeroing in on Michael. 

“You,” he says gruffly, pointing a finger in his direction, “Something you wanna say, initiate?”

Out of habit, he pushed his glasses up on his nose before he spoke, perhaps foolishly bold given the situation. 

“Doesn’t this all seem a bit much for three people?” He scoffs, shaking his head slightly, “I mean, masks, really?”

The hooded boy stops for a second and studies Michael closely, one hand on his hip, “What’s wrong with the masks?”

“Well, what’s the point? There’s, what, fifteen or sixteen of you? And three of us?” He asks, glancing around the room, which he now realized very clearly used to be some run-of-the-mill storage room, probably forgotten about by now.

The boy laughs sarcastically and shrugs his shoulders a bit, his voice back to its natural pitch, “It wouldn’t really be a secret thing if we just invited half the student body, mate.”

Michael supposes his reasoning is sound and says as much with a little hum and nod of his head, eyebrows raising dismissively. 

“Anything else?” The masked boy asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The masks don’t really disguise you lot that well,” he observes, pointing at one of the other boys standing in the row, “That’s Harry from Multivariable Calculus.”

“Shit…” Harry mutters under his breath, the sound carrying through the concrete room. A few of the other boys in the row lean over and place comforting hands on his shoulders and murmur words of encouragement, much to Michael’s dismay.

“Why’re you here, initiate?” The lead boy asks, turning back to Michael.

“Dunno,” he shrugs again, pushing his glasses up his nose, “Friends, I guess.”

A couple of the boys in the row make little noises, mutters of empathy that make the blond’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion as he glances up and down the line. 

“And this was your first thought? A secret society?” Harry from Multivariable Calculus asks with a little laugh, “Not like… chess or something?” 

“Don’t really like chess…” Michael says with a little shrug. Apparently a good enough answer for Harry, who makes a little noise of understanding and nods his head. 

After another moment, the lead boy clears his throat, which shuts up the rest. “Anyway,” he says, his voice falsely low once more. “Each of you will be given a task…,” his dark eyes glance between Michael and the other two boys as he paces in front of them, “Perfectly customized to challenge you, to push you to your absolute limits.” 

The masked boy pauses his little speech and gestures back to three of the other boys standing in the row behind him who then step forward and walk over to the dank brick wall that Michael and the other two boys stand against. He studies the boy that walks towards him carefully, his eyes narrowing in suspicion when he notices how much shorter he appears to be.

Finally, the boy comes to stand before him and presents a plain white envelope, though Michael’s lips spread into a hateful smirk when he sees an all too familiar pair of old, beat up trainers on the boy’s feet. 

“Oliver?!” He hisses meanly, shock lacing his voice as he jerks back the hand he had reached out for the envelope, wincing as his elbow collides with the cool wall behind him. He glances around the room, noting the few pairs of eyes that were on him, before fixing his gaze on the boy before him once more with a harsh glare, “You’re in Bullingdon?”

The boy in front of him hesitates for a second, cutting a sideways glance toward a taller boy that was busy presenting an envelope to the boy to Michael’s left, before he sighs and looks back at him, blue eyes peeking out of the holes in his ski mask. “Yeah,” he huffs, shrugging his shoulders defensively, “How’d you know it was me, then?”

“You look like a goddamn twelve year old!” Michael jeers, his voice low and vicious as his hands curl into fists at his sides, “How’d you manage to get into this club anyway?” He questions, seething, “They only let you in if you have the money or the marks and I know for a fucking fact you don’t have either.”

Oliver sighs again and rolls his eyes, which makes him see red and grit his teeth, although he doesn’t miss how the shorter boy’s eyes cut to the side again quickly. He opens his mouth, but before he can get a word in edgewise, the blond cuts him off with a little mocking laugh.

“Don’t tell me that’s fucking Catton,” Michael groans lowly with a shake of his head, breathing heavily as he feels the same sense of anger and betrayal he’d felt all those months ago well up in him once more, transporting him right back to the stupid damn pub, “You’ve got to be bloody kidding me, is this shite little club only full of cunts?”

“Look, I’m –” 

Oliver starts to speak again, only to be cut off when the head boy traipses over to where they are, coming to stand ominously behind him with his arms clasped behind his back. His dark eyes dart between the two boys before he speaks.

“Problem over here, lads?”

“No,” Oliver answers quickly, staring warily up at Michael as he practically shoves the envelope into his arms, “Just complete the task, initiate. You have thirty-six hours.” 

Before Michael can blink, Oliver turns his back and stalks back over to the other boys, taking his place in the row once more. The head boy looks Michael up and down appraisingly before nodding to the letter in his hands with a sly smirk.

“I can’t wait to see how you fare with that one, Gavey,” he says, his voice low and threatening, as if he’s in on the most delicious joke, “Remember, thirty-six hours, initiate.” He chuckles softly and departs, returning to stand in the center of the room. 

Everyone stands still for a moment, Michael and the other two boys to his left and right holding their respective envelopes nervously, unsure if they were supposed to open them now or not. Thankfully, the head boy clears his throat, commanding all eyes to him once again.

“Initiates,” he says slowly, his voice no doubt already hoarse from this little farce, “Failure to complete your tasks will result in a permanent ban from Bullingdon; no second chances. We expect results as well as proof of those results,” his dark eyes scan over the three boys once more, one corner of his mouth turned up into a mean smirk, “We’ll be seeing you back in this location Sunday at noon. Your thirty-six hours begin now… have fun.” He finishes with a taunting laugh before turning and exiting from the room, the old door creaking as he pulls it open before disappearing into the faint red glow of the hallway, followed by the rest of the fifteen boys in an orderly line.

As soon as the old door closes, the sound of paper tearing echoes around the dimly lit basement as Michael and the other two boys hastily tear open their envelopes. Pulling out a little slip of paper, his eyes go wide as a wave of dread washes over him. His eyes scan over the paper again and again as he nervously shoves his glasses back up his nose once more, silently willing the chicken-scratch words on the paper to somehow change, to give him some other command. 

His heart is pumping so loudly in his ears that he misses it when one of the other boys tries getting his attention, his head snapping up suddenly as a hand waves in front of it.

“Oi!”

“W-What?” 

“What did they give you?” The boy asks, nodding at the scrap of paper in Michael’s hand.

He clears his throat and tries his best to come off as casual, though he hardly cares with the way thoughts begin racing through his mind. “Oh, um,” he starts, glancing down to read over the paper once more, “I just uh, have to sleep with someone is all.”

The other two boys gape at him for a moment before groaning frustratedly. The one that had first spoken to him holds his paper out and smacks it disdainfully with the back of his hand.

“What the hell?” He asks gruffly, glancing between his paper and Michael, “Why’s yours so bloody easy?”

“For real,” sighs the second boy, rubbing the back of his head, “Ours are damn near impossible. They must already be decided on you to go so soft. How am I meant to steal the fucking Selden Map from Bodleian?” He laments, brows furrowed as he stares down at the paper in his hands.

“Yeah, and I have to transfer ten thousand pounds out of the chancellor’s bank account and into mine!” The first boy sighs, shaking his head, “At least your mum’s head of conservatorship here, you can at least get within a stone’s throw of the map. I have to commit fucking wire fraud!” 

The two boys grumble for another moment as Michael silently descends into a tailspin, his blue eyes unfocused as he stares at one of the dingy brick walls of the basement, trying desperately to formulate a plan, any plan. He merely glances up as the other to head for the door, spitballing ideas for each of their tasks.

“Isn’t your dad the president of Julius Baer? Can’t you just get him to pull strings?”

“Oh, yeah, fantastic idea! I’ll just ring him and ask the old man to commit a felony! What could possibly go wrong there?”

Michael tries to tune out their bickering as the three of them ascend the staircase and trail out into the hallway of Merton College Chapel once more; the two other boys don’t pay him any mind as they continue whispering amongst themselves, their voices trailing quietly down the hallway as he leans with his back against the cool metal of the janitor’s closet door. 

Sighing, he reads over the directive again, his blue eyes catching on the sharply scrawled letters of a very familiar name, one that makes his cheeks flush and his heart race. He swallows nervously, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

How could they know to do this? He wonders sheepishly. It’s not like he’d mentioned her to anyone; hell, he’d never even said so much as three words to her! No, his pathetic little crush was entirely in his mind. 

Too much of a coward to even say hi, he bemoans, trying to stave off the sense of shame he felt as he considered how many times he’d finished with her name on his lips, her pretty face and soft curves and sweet smell and little girly outfits whirling around his head since he’d spotted her on the first fucking day; he’d pined ever since and she didn’t even know he existed! How could she?

This is fucking impossible, he thinks miserably, wishing that he had any other task. He’d rather steal the Queen’s own goddamn family jewels than this. He glances at his watch once more and groans when he sees it’s almost already two in the morning; pushing himself up off the door, he hangs his head as he scurries back to his dorm room, thoughts spiraling as he plots. 

You

A laugh bubbles up past your lips as you sway your hips, your whole body vibrating as “Umbrella” blasts through the speakers while you dance with your friends, partying to celebrate the end of term. 

“You can run into my arms, it’s okay, don't be alarmed!” You sing happily, yours and your friends voices mingling together with another peal of laughter; you take another sip of your drink as you move along with the beat of the song, savoring the fizzy strawberry daiquiri as you begin to feel a bit warm from the little rush of alcohol, already on your third drink of the night. 

You smile proudly as you spot Felix in the crowd, his hazel eyes already fixed on you, or well, fixated on your chest. His attention makes you preen and you bite your lower lip, the sickly sweet taste of your cherry lip gloss filling your mouth as you purposefully bounce up and down on the balls of your feet. 

The thin straps of your pastel pink dress hold on for dear life as your chest heaves enticingly, and you giggle when you see those hazel eyes widen just a bit, no doubt tracing over the glittering chain of your necklace, following down to where it settles, a little sparkly pink diamond nestling temptingly at your cleavage. You teasingly wink, blushing a little when you get a wink back, and go back to dancing with your friends, knowing from experience that Felix preferred to approach rather than be approached. 

You dance with your friends for a few more moments, grinding up against any warm body you can find as a raunchier song begins pumping through the speakers, before you feel eyes on you yet again. Smiling at the attention, you glance around again, the low, colorful lighting of the pub making it hard to tell exactly which direction your admirer’s coming from. 

Your eyes flit over a few familiar faces, you can’t help but sigh in relief when you notice that Oliver’s eyes are thankfully planted firmly on someone that is not you, though a confused little crease forms between your brows when you realize that Felix’s aren’t either. Turning your head, you sway along to the music still as you look around quickly, your feet beginning to ache finally from the precious little satin Chanel heels buckled around your ankles. 

Your eyes finally lock onto an unexpected gaze, a fresh wash of pink coloring your cheeks as blue eyes glance shyly away from you. A little giggle titters past your lips as you lean over to one of your friends, patting her shoulder to get her attention.

“You know who that blond guy is? With the glasses?” You call over the music, nodding over in your admirer’s direction as he stands awkwardly back against the wall by the entrance, clutching a still-foamy pint. 

She glances over before turning back to you with a little shrug. “Michael something, I think!” She says, her breath warm as she leans in closer so you can hear her, “I thought Oliver knew him!”

Your eyes immediately find the brunette, predictably following Felix around like a lost little puppy, before you look back over at Michael. You can’t help but feel a bit bad when you see him quickly look away from your direction again before staring intently into his pint glass, one hand shoved in the pocket of his khaki pants. 

“I’m gonna take a breather for a second!” You yell over the loud music, leaning in close and cupping a hand over her ear. 

“Aw, babe, come on!” She pouts playfully, tilting her head at you, “Stay longer!”

You shake your head with another little laugh and gesture at your feet, “These are sooo cute but they’re killing me!” You laugh, finishing off the last sip of your drink, “I’ll be over by the notice board!” You tell her, blowing a kiss as you walk away from the dance floor of the small, cramped pub. 

Finally, you reach the little area by the front door and lean back against the wall, taking in a much-needed deep breath as you pull your little tube of lip gloss out of your bra and carefully reapply some more, smirking when you glance over out of the corner of your eye and see a certain blond boy already shyly eyeing you. 

Rubbing your lips together with a little pouty pop, you tuck your gloss back in your bra once more before slowly approaching Michael, prettily manicured hands clasped behind your back to help shamelessly push your chest out more. His wide eyed stare makes you giggle and blush as you study him, eyes flitting appreciatively up and down his lithe frame; so much potential hidden away under a little button down and khakis. 

“Haven’t seen you here before,” you tease, smirking when he blushes and all but chokes on his beer, coughing for a few seconds before finally speaking.

“I… Me?” He asks awkwardly, glancing around for seemingly anyone else you could be talking to.

Lucky for him, you find his awkwardness endearing. Truthfully, you had for months, never missing the way his eyes always happened upon you in a crowd. There was something impressive about the boy, something that had made your mind drift to him on more than one occasion, even if you were already under someone else. 

“Of course you, silly,” you laugh softly, leaning against the wall next to him and tilting your head curiously, “You’re Michael, right?”

His eyes go wide again and nods wordlessly before finding his voice. “Yeah, Michael,” he says with a reserved little smile, “Gavey! Michael Gavey…” He adds awkwardly, cheeks flushing even more when you giggle, seemingly charmed by his inability to string two words together. He nods as you introduce yourself.

“I know,” he says before blinking, eyes going wide behind his gold framed glasses as he awkwardly glances away, “I just… I mean I’ve heard your name before, that’s all.”

“That’s all, huh?” You echo with a flirty little giggle, twirling a lock of hair around your finger as you let the moment linger, just wanting to push him a little. “What’re you reading?” You ask curiously, cocking your head to the side a little.

“Maths,” he nods quickly before looking down into his pint glass once more as if fizzling beer is the most interesting thing in the world, “I don’t really like it all that much, though… I mostly only picked it because I’m good at it.”

“Ooh,” you coo softly, nodding along with his words as you watch him carefully, “You must be wicked smart, I can’t do maths to save my life.” You comment with a little giggle, biting your lip when he seems to perk up at that comment and looks up at you with a little grin. 

“I can do it in my head,” he says lowly, an unexpectedly cocky edge to his voice that has your heart picking up in your chest, “Ask me a sum,” he says, a challenging glimmer in his eyes. 

You hum softly, biting your lip as you think for a second, “Uhm, seventy-two plus a hundred and thirteen?”

“One eighty-five,” he chuckles after no more than a second before scoffing a little, “Come on, give me one that’s hard, love.”

Love? The little pet name makes you raise an eyebrow before you laugh softly. “What do you mean a hard one?” You giggle, shaking your head, “That one was hard!”

“That was hard for you?” He teases, making your cheeks tingle as a pink flush settles over your skin, “What’re you reading, then?”

“Art history!” You chirp proudly, chuckling nervously when you see him roll his eyes a bit, “What? Something wrong with that?”

He shakes his head dismissively, quickly polishing off the last of his pint before setting the empty class on a table and turning back to you, pushing his glasses up his nose with a grin, “Ask me another one, then. Biggest numbers you can think of.”

You don’t know why, but something about his little challenge has you blushing again, like he’s testing you somehow. But still, you take a moment to think of some numbers, biting your lip and quirking your eyes up toward the ceiling. 

“Six hundred thirty-two times… eight hundred ninety-one,” you hum, cocking your head to the side as you watch him closely. His eyes seem to glaze over, only for a second, before once again he’s spouting off numbers like a calculator. 

“Five hundred sixty-three thousand, one hundred and twelve.” 

Your eyebrows raise at that as you gawk at him. “Wow…,” you breathe after a moment, blinking as you stare up at him, “You’re, like, super smart, then?”

“Suppose so,” he says, smiling shyly again as he tucks both hands into the pockets of his khaki pants.

You study him for a moment as the conversation lulls, finding something endlessly fascinating about the boy; the way he could swing from being so cocky and self assured to shy and awkward makes your stomach do summersaults. Turning your head, you spot your group of friends still dancing and you look back at Michael with a little sigh as another upbeat song blasts loudly through the pub. 

“D’you wanna get out of here?” You ask, smirking when he looks up at you shyly.

“W-What?”

“My dorm’s only, like, a minute from here,” you flirt, sweet and enticing as you make him blush somehow more, “We could go somewhere more… quiet?”

He stares at you for a moment, shocked that you’re asking him of all people to come back to yours before he nods and nervously runs a hand through his wheat colored hair, unsuccessfully trying to act casual. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that.”

“Yay!” You giggle happily, flirtatiously grabbing one of his hands as you saunter past him, heading for the exit, “C’mon, it’s like a five minute walk!” He nods wordlessly and you can’t help but smirk as he follows you like a lost little puppy. 

True to your word, it’s only a few minutes later when you and Michael reach your dorm room, after you’d stopped for a minute at the entrance to your hall to chat with Farleigh, who seemed very interested in the nerdy boy following at your heels. You just couldn’t wipe the smirk off your face as you and Michael left him standing at the doors, mouth open and a wicked little gleam in his eyes; no doubt, he’d immediately scurried off to the King’s Arms. 

The door to your room opens with a tiny squeak, blasted old building, and you all but prance inside, turning back to the blond boy still lingering in the doorway with a smile. 

“Am I going to have to invite you in like a vampire?” You joke with a little laugh as you bend down to quickly undo the buckles of your heels, letting out a relieved sigh when you finally step out of them, leaving you in frilly white ankle socks.  

Michael finally steps into your room with a huffed laugh and quickly kicks off his shoes, you smirk when you see his Star Wars themed socks. “‘M no vampire, love,” he quips, gold framed eyes darting around your room as he looks over every detail. You grin at the little blush on his cheeks and perch on the edge of your bed to watch him, head tilted ever so slightly. 

“It’s, uh, it’s cute in here,” he observes, his voice a low hum as he takes in your frilly, lacy curtains, plush white rug, and equally girlish floral bedding, all encased in the faint pink glow of the heart-shaped fairy lights strung up around the room, “Just like how I imagined…” He breathes, so lowly you doubt he meant to say that bit aloud. 

“Like you imagined?” You echo with a little giggle, quickly reapplying your lip gloss before setting the little tube on the corner of your desk. 

“I just… I – It’s just very… you, is all I meant,” he stutters, running a hand through his hair awkwardly, the apples of his cheeks flushed a dark pink. 

His awkwardness is so endearing, you can’t help but grin. The more time you spend with him, the more interesting he seems to become; this bumbling, nervous boy is so different from the one you’ve seen on campus so many times. On campus, he’s comfortable, quiet still, but with a definite air of confidence – clearly in his element as he prowls through bookshelves in the library or explains some complex math formula in the quad. 

“So, you think about me often, then?” Your voice stays sweet, innocent almost, though you can’t help but tease him; he’s so pretty when he blushes. 

“No!” He answers quickly, whipping his head toward you from where he’d been studying the various pictures tacked up on the walls, everything from boy band posters to stills from Clueless and Legally Blonde. “I mean, yes, sometimes, I…,” he fumbles again and pushes his glasses up his sharp nose, “I think about you a normal amount.” He says finally, glancing at you quickly before looking away. 

You hum softly and stand before walking toward him with a kind smile, though you don’t miss the way he keeps glancing down at your cleavage, or the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat when he swallows nervously. 

“A normal amount?” 

“Mhm,” he nods, gaze unsure as you come to stand in front of him, teeth biting into your plush lower lip as you twirl a piece of hair through your fingers, “As much as I think of anyone else.”

“So…,” you breathe, drawing out the word as you reach up and fiddle with the collar of his button down shirt, the turquoise gingham a bright blue blip among all the blush tones of your room, “Every time I’ve caught you looking at my tits in the library or in the quad or in the hallways… that was just a normal amount?”

You giggle as his eyes go wide, his lips opening and closing like a fish out of water. Deciding to take mercy on him, you run a finger down his chest, playfully fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

“Relax, I’m not mad,” you shake your head, smiling when the tension in his shoulders visibly eases, “Why wouldn’t I want a cutie like you staring?”

His lips part at that as he sucks in a little breath, blue eyes widening behind his glasses. “You think I’m… cute?” He asks breathlessly, heart pounding under your fingertip. 

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip once more as you nod, cocking your head to the side just slightly as you peer up at him. “‘Course I do, honey, what’s not to like?”

Again, he gawks at you, blinking in shock and swallowing nervously.

“I –” 

“I do have one question though…,” you tease, pouting a bit as you slowly and carefully undo the very top button on his shirt, relishing the way his breath hitches in his throat. 

“Y-Yeah?” His voice breaks, making you giggle while he blushes somehow deeper.

“Mhm,” you nod, undoing the second button and pausing when you find a splash of hair across his chest, the same shiny wheat color as the hair on his head, causing a familiar knot to begin twisting itself up in your belly, “Why were you at the end of term party?”

He blinks for a second, evidently taken off guard. “I… W-Was it invite only?”

His question nearly makes you snort and you shake your head, the corners of your lips twitching as you try not to laugh. “No, sweetie,” you peer up at him through your lashes as you rest your hand against his bare chest, smirking ever so slightly when he shivers, “I just meant, I haven’t seen you at parties before… doesn’t really seem like your kind of thing.” 

“I, well,” he stammers, the bottoms of his glasses fogging up from the heat radiating off his cheeks, “I just –”

“It’s for that club, yeah?” You ask finally, giggling at the shocked expression on his face.

“How do –”

“You lot are not nearly as sneaky as you think,” you laugh cheekily, bouncing excitedly on the balls of your feet, “Plus, I heard Felix and Oliver whispering about something to do with tasks a few weeks ago… and boys are very bad at keeping secrets once you get their cocks out.” You add with a little giggle, taking Michael’s hand once more and dragging him over to your plush bed. You sit him on the edge before all but climbing in his lap, smiling cheekily as you straddle his thighs, your knees digging into your soft bedding.

“So,” you start, holding onto his shoulders to balance yourself and smiling a little when he finally touches you, lightly resting his hands on your hips, “What’s your task, hm? I heard they made them, like, particularly brutal this year.”

“I don’t think I should say,” Michael murmurs with a little shake of his head, making you pout.

“Oh, come on!” You bounce on his lap a little, not missing the way his eyes seem to be drawn to your breasts like magnets, “I want to help! Is it something at the King’s Arms?”

“N-No, I really don’t think –”

“I know they keep the important rugby trophies there,” you think aloud, still playing dumb, just wanting him to say it, “Is that it? D’you have to steal one? One of the boys that works there owes me, I could get him to let you in after hours…” You prattle on, speaking faster and faster as Michael shakes his head beneath you.

Finally, he seems to reach a breaking point and his grip on your hips tightens. “I have to fuck you!” He blurts out before sighing.

“Oh, really?”

“I… I have to fuck you –”

“Mhm?”

“And prove I did somehow.”

“How interesting!”

He narrows his eyes at that and peers up at you suspiciously, studying you carefully. You can’t help but giggle, loving the way you feel when his eyes are on you, and you smirk when he finally blinks in realization.

“You… you knew this whole time, didn’t you?”

A sly smile spreads across your lips as you nod, squirming excitedly on his lap. “Like I said,” you chuckle with a little shrug, “Not. Sneaky!” You tease, punctuating each word with a little boop to the tip of his nose, unable to resist. 

He stays silent for a moment, gazing up at you with a strange mixture of awe and unease before he finally speaks through a deep sigh. “So, I suppose this is the part where you tell me to leave?”

Well, that comment throws you off. You cock your head to the side, confused, as your eyebrows furrow together. “Why would I ask you to leave?”

He sighs again and grits his teeth, looking dejectedly at the floor. “Come on, love,” he mutters, looking anywhere but you, “I-It’s not like you’d ever want to –”

“Ever want to what?” You ask with a frown, gently grabbing at his chin and tilting his head up, forcing him to meet your gaze, “You think I don’t wanna fuck you, honey?”

“Well, I –”

“Michael,” you say pointedly, raising your brows as you smirk slightly, staring deeply into his blue eyes, “I’m the one that came onto you, yeah?”

“I… I suppose.”

“Mhm,” you hum, nodding your head as you run your fingers through his short hair, not missing the little sigh that leaves his lips when you push yourself closer to him, your chest pressing tightly against his, “And while I’m not thrilled at our first time being for some stupid little task –”

“It’s,” he cuts you off shyly, shaking his head ever so slightly, “It’s – I’ve never…” He stammers, nervously gripping at your waist once more. 

You can’t help but smile softly, so charmed by him over and over. You nod your head knowingly, raising your brows just a bit. “I know, honey,” you whisper reassuringly, “We don’t have to, I’ll let you take a pair of my panties or whatever else, but we don’t need to do anything.”

He sighs up at you again, so taken with you he feels like he could scream, and shakes his head more, grabbing at your hips tighter, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “N-No, I… I want to,” he nods, swallowing anxiously, “I do, I just… don’t really know what I’m doing.”

You nod again, listening carefully as he speaks. “So, is it all new or…?”

He shakes his head and smiles a little, shyly, though the sight of it still makes that knot in your belly tighten further, making you blush on his lap while butterflies swirl around inside you. “I’ve kissed before,” he says lowly, chuckling awkwardly as he seems to get bolder, causing you to shudder when he lightly rubs his hands over your waist and hips, “And done… hand stuff.”

You giggle at his boyish explanation and bite your lip when you smile at him, wiggling in his lap as a heat begins to settle at the apex of your thighs. “Can I kiss you, honey?” 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat again, making you want so badly to press soft, glossy kisses to it, but you resist, determined to make this good for him. 

“Yeah,” he nods eagerly, blue eyes fixated on your lips.

You smile softly before leaning in and finally pressing your lips against his, both of you sighing at once. One of his hands stays at your hip while the other comes to rest in the small of your back, pressing you more tightly to him as your lips move together, his motions surprisingly fluid and practiced. 

You make a small noise in the back of your throat when you feel his tongue licking at your bottom lip, and eagerly allow him access with a little sigh. Your fingers busy themselves with unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, making him shudder beneath you when you skim your hands over his bare chest and stomach as his tongue flows with your own, the bitter, coffee-ish flavor of the pint he’d had earlier still on his tongue.

Impatient, you pull back long enough to look at him for reassurance, smiling when you earn a little nod. You kiss him once more before tugging his shirt off, flushing when he groans lowly as you trail kisses down over his jaw and neck before swiping your tongue greedily over his Adam’s apple, making his breath hitch. 

“F-Fuck,” he sighs brokenly, bolding tracing over your thigh until his fingers are tucked up under the silky, baby pink material of your dress. His touches make you shiver as goosebumps bloom over your skin, making you whine against the pale column of his throat, “Can I?” He breathes, fingers toying with a strap of your dress while the others slowly inched the bottom of it up higher and higher. 

“God, please,” you mewl, nodding against his throat, your head on his shoulder. He shudders at the feel of your breath on his neck and nods once before tugging at the bottom of your dress. You sit up to help him, whining when you feel his hard length pressing against your thin, lacy underwear, “You don’t need to ask, Michael. Want you to take me however you want.” You whisper as he tugs your dress over your head, blue eyes meeting yours for a second as he nods before they skim lower, widening as he takes you in on his lap wearing only a bra and panties. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes, making you giggle shyly as you lean in and softly kiss over his cheeks, “You have…you’re – you’re perfect,” he sighs, brazenly cupping your breasts, skimming his thumbs over your nipples through the thin pink fabric of your bra and smiling proudly when he feels them harden at his touch, “You’re perfect, but these are… holy shit.” He repeats, his voice breathy and mesmerized as he takes in your chest for another moment while you softly card your fingers through his golden hair. 

You gasp through a little giggle when you feel his length twitch, even through his trousers, and wiggle on his lap, blushing when the movement earns you a broken groan. “Yeah?” You whisper cheekily, watching as he marvels at your chest for a second longer before quickly unclasping your bra and shrugging out of it, tossing it down onto the floor with his shirt and your dress, “What about now?” You tease, proudly arching your back as you bite your lip.

He groans again, louder than he has all evening, and instantly ducks his head down. The feel of his soft lips wrapping eagerly around one of your nipples makes you cry out, gasping sharply as he sucks at the sensitive bud before he runs his tongue over it. You cradle the back of his head in your hands, fingers lightly pulling at the short strands of hair, as he switches from one breast to the other, kneading whichever one is free with his hand. 

Needing something, anything, you finally pull him off of your chest after a few moments, laughing when he all but whines, and smiling even more when you take in his disheveled appearance – blond hair sticking up at odd angles from where you’d run your fingers through it, cheeks flushed as his glasses sit crooked on his nose, and his blue eyes staring up at you hungrily. 

You shift back on his thighs just enough to snake a hand between the two of you and he gasps when you cup the bulge pressing against the zipper of his khakis. “You want me to suck your cock?” You ask cheekily, lightly squeezing at his length. 

He surprises you by shaking his head no,gulping slightly with an awkward laugh before answering. “I do, I really fucking do, love,” he breathes, kneading at your breasts as he stares up at you sheepishly, “B-But I really want to last and if you… if you suck it, I –”

“Okay, okay,” you stop him with a kiss, “We’ll table it for next time.” 

“N-Next time?” He questions, fighting to keep his eyes open as you press kisses against his neck once more. You nod against his shoulder and press kisses up to just beneath his ear. 

“I’m not letting you go that easy, honey,” you whisper, chuckling when he shivers. You spend another moment softly kissing and biting at his neck before speaking again, “Have you ever eaten anyone out?” You question, pulling back to look at him.

He shakes his head, his eyes flicking between both of yours as he looks up at you. “No.” He answers simply, his voice hardly a whisper. 

You can’t help but smirk coyly and cock your head to the side, running a finger through the little patch of hair on his chest just to see him shudder. “You wanna try it?”

He nods eagerly and surprises you once again by quickly swinging you around, maneuvering you until your head rests on the pillows of your bed. You squeal at the movement, laughing with him as he settles over you, his narrow hips slotting easily between your thighs as you silently marvel at his unexpected strength, the shock of it going right between your legs. 

“You want me to lick your pussy?” He asks lowly, grinning when he sees your eyes widen ever so slightly. 

“You’re quite something, huh?” You breathe, still gazing up at him in surprise. 

“Observant,” he shrugs, smirking as he sits up, kneeling between your legs, “You aren’t the only one who is, love.” He teases, quickly undoing his belt and trousers and groaning as he pushes them down his thighs, stopping at his knees. 

Your eyes go wide at the size of his length, it’s clearly very impressive and it’s not even out of his plaid boxers yet. That smirk stays plastered on his face as he leans back down to hover over you, hastily removing his glasses and sitting them on your desk before sloppily kissing you for a moment, surprising you yet again by trailing wet kisses down your neck. 

“Michael…” You sigh dreamily, arching your back toward him when he starts kissing over your chest. He groans from deep in his chest, mouth pressed against the fat of your breast. 

“Fucking hell,” he curses, teasing your nipple again with the tip of his tongue, “Say it again, love.” 

His simple command sends shivers down your spine and you mewl, squirming underneath him, “M-Michael!” You moan again, fumbling over your words as he sucks at your breast again before he lifts his head. 

“Good girl,” he purrs with a sly, easy smirk that makes your heart jump, a soft sigh tumbling past your lips. He shifts further down the bed, kissing down over your ribs and stomach, his confidence seemingly growing every time he presses his lips against your skin; the thought makes your head spin.

Finally, he hooks his fingers into the lacy sides of your panties, and his eyes peer up at you as he tugs them down over your hips before flinging them onto the floor. “Oh, my God…,” he sighs, staring greedily at your pussy, a broken groan sounds from his throat when you spread your legs more. 

You bite your lip and giggle, smiling shyly as you tangle your fingers in his hair once more. “Like what you see?” 

He nods his head rapidly, making you chuckle again as he stares up at you, an almost pained expression on his face. “I… uh, w-what now?” 

He’s so endearing, you can’t help the little sigh that leaves you and you sit up a little, leaning back on an elbow as you use your other hand to spread your center open. You bite your bottom lip once more when he whines a little, seeing you all spread out before him, flushed folds already slick and shiny. 

“Lick here, honey,” you whimper as you skim your fingers over your clit, so keyed up from only a few kisses that you gasp a little when you feel yourself clench; Michael looks like he may pass out. 

Ever the dutiful student, he gives you one last look before diving in. Your head falls back with a whiny gasp as his tongue snakes over your clit, just as you’d instructed. A long, shuddery moan leaves him, vibrating against your cunt and you watch as his blue eyes all but roll back in his head. 

“Just like that, Michael,” you praise, tugging at his hair ever so slightly, which only serves to make him moan more. Your chest heaves as you watch him, determined not to let your eyes squeeze shut while he licks and kisses and sucks at your pussy like a man possessed, “Holy shit!” You whimper loudly when he pushes his tongue into you, groaning lowly when he feels your walls clench around it as he presses his nose perfectly against your clit. 

“You taste so good,” he gasps, wrapping his hands around your thighs to keep you exactly where he wants. He peers up at you through blond lashes as he feasts on you, sucking eagerly at your clit and savoring the way you shiver and squirm from his motions. 

Unbelievably, you already feel that warm, familiar tug in your belly beginning to grow, making your whole body feel flush and taut. “Just like that, just like that,” you whine urgently, grabbing onto his hair tighter and guiding his mouth exactly where you need it, your eyes finally rolling back and fluttering shut, “Holy fuck, don’t stop!” 

Michael grunts as you tug at his hair, his own hips rutting greedily against your pretty bedding — cock throbbing so hard there’s no doubt he’s leaked through his boxers. He watches you carefully, studying your movements and reactions as best he can while he rhythmically licks at your clit. 

“Oh, shit!” You cry not even a moment later, your whole body seeming to stutter as your muscles finally relax. You mewl as your high finally washes over you, savoring the way Michael groans into your cunt as he feels it contracting on his tongue. Your eyes stay squeezed shut as shivers roll up and down your spine, shuddered cries leaving your lips. 

Just as his touches begin to border on overstimulation, you have enough wherewithal to push him away, and he releases your center with a lewd little pop. 

“Was that good?” He asks through a breathless laugh, swallowing as he looks up at you, evidence of your arousal still shining on his lips and chin. 

“Good?” You huff, eyebrows raised as you gaze down at him, “You’re sure you’ve never done that before?” You question in disbelief, chest still heaving. 

He smiles shyly, already pink cheeks seeming to flush deeper from your praise as he chuckles. You cup his cheeks when he leans over you again, whimpering as you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“You’re unbelievable.” You sign as he kisses down your neck again, making him chuckle against your skin. 

“Just observant,” he grunts, shuddering when you wrap your legs around his trim waist. You gasp as his length brushes over your still sensitive pussy, impossibly hot and hard even through the thin fabric of his boxers. His fragmented sigh makes you smile and you tug his head up, blushing as you look up at him. 

“You ready, honey?” You breathe, giggling when he nods his head again eagerly, his hips stuttering instinctually against your center. “Here, let me…” You trail off, the two of you separating for a moment as you lean over and pull open the top drawer of your desk, pulling out a pack of condoms and tearing one off before laying back down. 

You watch enraptured as he kneels between your legs again, pulling down his boxers finally. “Holy…” you gasp when his cock finally bobs free, twitching up to rut against his lower stomach; he’s long and thick, curving a little as veins run up the underside, leading to a flushed, leaking head. He smiles shyly again at your attention as he shuffles awkwardly out of his trousers and underwear, kicking them off and onto the floor.

You hand him the condom and watch as he rolls it on, giving him a little reassuring smile as he does. Once it’s securely in place, you pull him back to you, eagerly kissing him once more and wrapping your legs securely around his waist. Both of you moan in unison when his length glides through your folds, the head catching perfectly on your clit. 

He pulls away with a little gasp, hovering over you as he glances down at your hips. “S-So, I just…” He trails off, watching as you reach down with one hand, grunting softly when you wrap your hand around his cock. 

Carefully, you position him at your entrance and angle your hips a little. “Go on, honey,” you encourage with a soft smile, running your other hand over his chest. 

Nodding once, he presses forward and swears he sees God. “F-Fucking hell,” he groans, loudly sighing your name as he carefully guides himself into you, absolutely in awe at the way your hot cunt grips him. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips resting firmly against yours as his chest heaves, breaths coming in short, sharp pants. 

You aren’t fairing much better, head spinning at the way he splits you open, pressing incessantly at each and every sensitive spot within you. You pant against his neck as he stills, pressed deeply within you. 

“D-Do… fuck, do I just…?” Michael stutters, giving half-hearted little thrusts to test the waters. 

“Yes!” You answer instantly, anxiously nodding up at him as your hips wiggle against the bedsheets, making him swear and shudder above you, “Just move, honey, do what feels good.” 

He groans again and gives a little nod before experimentally moving his hips again, pulling out more this time before pushing back in. “Shit,” he breathes above you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he grunts with each roll of his hips. 

You pant underneath him, spurring him on by pressing your feet against his backside, urging him to move faster and faster as the frilly lace from your socks tickles his pale skin. “You’re doing so, so good, oh, my God,” you breathe, your voice high-pitched and whimpery as you tangle your fingers in his hair again, knowing by now that it drives him crazy. 

Above you, Michael’s hips slowly but surely begin to stutter, his thrusts starting to peter out as his breathing picks up. “I’m —!”

“Wait!” You blurt suddenly, smiling wickedly as he comes to a screeching halt, pushing himself up enough to stare down at you with wild eyes, “I have an idea…” You tease with a little giggle. 

“W-What?” 

“You have a phone, yeah?” 

“…Yeah?”

“One that can, like, take video?” 

“Yes?” 

“Grab it,” you laugh, pushing him off of you with a laugh. He rolls his eyes with a smirk but does as you ask, clumsily pulling himself from your heat before stumbling over to where his khakis had landed. He shuffles about for a second before pulling a silver phone from the pocket of his trousers. 

“Now what?” He asks curiously, positioning himself back between your thighs, cock twitching meanly. 

“Film me.” 

“What?!” He gapes at you, brows creased. 

“Film me, honey,” you giggle, biting your lip conspiratorially, “For your little task, you need proof, yeah?” 

“Well, yeah, b-but I can just take your panties or something, I don’t —“

“Or you could bring back something better…” You smirk, shrugging your shoulders playfully, “We don’t have to but… it could be kinda hot?” 

He pauses for a moment, eyes flicking between you, your pussy, and the phone in his hand before he nods once, curtly. “We… we can try it.” 

“Yeah? You wanna?” 

“Yeah,” he quips, catching you by surprise as a mean little smirk spreads over his lips, “Wanna see the look on Catton’s face when he sees you creaming on my cock.” 

Your eyes widen and you huff out a shocked laugh, a zing of electricity lighting behind your eyes. “You’re insane,” you say softly, an endeared smile on your lips. 

He snickers, his whole demeanor seeming to change before your eyes as he transforms from this shy, stuttering boy into an astonishingly cocky man. “You like it, love,” he teases, grabbing his dick and positioning himself at your entrance yet again. 

“Wait!” You giggle again, blushing as he groans. 

“You don’t want to anymore?” 

“No, no, not that,” you assure him, affectionately running your hand down one of his shockingly muscular arms, “You can film me… on one condition.” 

“‘N what would that be?” 

“Take me on a date.” You breathe, suddenly shy. You know he’ll agree to it, but even still, your heart pumps wildly in your chest. 

He stares at you for a second, blinking dumbly as he processes your request. “You want me to take you on a date?” He asks, flushing so deeply that the soft pink hue cascades all the way down to his chest. 

Giggling, you nod your head, giving his forearm a reassuring squeeze. “You need to start giving yourself more credit, honey.” 

He sighs at that, a little astounded huff, before he’s suddenly grabbing at your calves and pushing your legs up toward your shoulders, all but bending you in half, anxious to get his cock back into you. You gasp at the movement, and chuckle at his eagerness, a sound that morphs into a whiny moan when he slides back home. 

“Christ,” he grunts, shoulders heaving as he gets used to the way you feel around him once more, “Y-You feel so good, love, fucking perfect.” 

“You’re so big,” you whine, nodding as you look at him like he hung the stars in the sky, “You’re so good, Michael, you have no idea.” 

He groans above you, hands shaking as he grabs for his phone, flipping it open and quickly opening the camera as his hips rut into you, making the springs of your bed creak softly. 

As soon as Michael gives you a little nod to let you know he’s filming, you truly put on a show — or well, you at least stop trying to quiet yourself down and be conscientious of the people in the rooms next to you. The way he has your legs bent back makes him feel somehow bigger and causes his cock to hit that sensitive spot within you with pinpoint accuracy every time he thrusts in, making you clench around him and moan loudly each time he moves his hips against you. 

You watch as he angles the camera down a bit, no doubt pointing it at the spot the two of you are joined together, letting the camera record his cock sliding in and out of you. When he moves it back up, however, to get your face as evidence, you plaster on the cheekiest grin you can muster. 

“H-Hi boys,” you tease breathlessly, smirking as you lean up on one elbow. You wave with your other hand before blowing a kiss to the camera, which makes Michael cockily laugh.

“Fuck, I gotta…” he mutters after a few more seconds, carelessly dropping his phone down on the bed before roughly grabbing at your thighs with a bruising grip, one that makes you mewl and arch your back toward him. The two of you moan and whimper in unison as he begins thrusting wildly, seemingly too worked up to care about anything but cumming. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chant over and over, head spinning as he bullies your sweet spot. 

“That’s it, love,” Michael murmurs, his voice gruff and low as he stares down at you, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead; he looks wilder than you’ve ever seen him, the thought only serving to push you closer and closer to the edge. “S-Shit, that’s it. Fucking come for me, cream on my cock; please, please, please,” he murmurs, leaning down to press desperate kisses against your neck and collarbones. 

The new position causes his pubic bone to rub deliciously over your clit, making you seize beneath him with a loud whine. Your toes curl, heels still pressing into the small of his back. “M-Michael, holy fuck!” You practically squeal as your high finally washes over you once more, stars dancing behind your eyelids as you go lax and pliant underneath him. 

The feel of your walls pulsing around his cock has Michael reeling, his hips somehow thrusting even faster as he both desperately wants to cum while also never wanting this feeling to end. “C-Cum, honey, cum,” you pant softly, cupping his cheek with one hand and turning his face toward yours. 

That does him in and the rubber band in his belly viciously snaps, making him shudder above you as his thrusts come to a halt, cock twitching wildly inside you as he empties himself into the condom. You watch him in awe, taking in every detail from the way his nose scrunches up as his eyes squeeze close to the way he whispers your name over and over like a prayer. 

The two of you lay in silence for a moment, his breath warm against your neck as he slumps against you trying to catch his breath. 

Eventually, you can’t help it anymore and let out a breathless giggle, which only intensifies when he props himself up on an elbow to peer down at you with a smirk. 

“Something funny?” 

“Just,” you breathe, trying to calm yourself enough to get words out, “Just… wow,” you finally say, giggles petering out as you look up at him, the soft gleam in his eyes makes your heart clench in your chest. 

“Good wow?” He blushes, looking down between the two of you as he pulls himself from your walls with a little hiss. 

“Very, very good wow,” you confirm, grinning as you watch him pull off the condom before he peers up at you with a sheepish grin. “Tie it off, honey,” you instruct, smirking as he does just that, before nodding to the little wastebasket by your desk. 

He gets up with a groan and quickly tosses the condom in the trash before turning back to you, the bashful look on his face making you blush. 

Unable to resist, you grin at him and spread your arms with a giggle, wordlessly inviting him for a cuddle, which he gladly accepts. The bed creaks slightly as he lays back down, relaxing his head on the pillow just beside yours. Again, the two of you stay silent for a moment, content to merely gaze at one another, before he shyly looks away and sighs. 

“I…,” he starts, blue eyes blinking and flitting around your room as he gathers his thoughts, “Thank you,” he finally says, looking back at you with a little half smile. 

Your brows furrow at this as you grin at him. “What’re you thanking me for?” 

“Well, f-for… this,” he says, gesturing vaguely at the two of you before sitting up just slightly and fishing around in the blankets for a second. “And this,” he sighs, holding his phone up before twisting around to set it on the corner of your desk, turning back to you. “I just… I know you didn’t have to, is all, so…” 

You cock your head to the side as you prop yourself up on an elbow, eyes narrowing as you study him closely. “And people have the nerve to say I’m thick,” you joke, lips spreading into a wide grin as you gaze down at him, “I wanted to do all this, Michael. I’m the one that came onto you, remember?” 

“W-Well, yeah, but —“

“No buts!” You laugh, pressing a finger against his lips as you shake your head, “I have eyes too, you know.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“You haven’t been the only one watching someone for months,” you giggle shyly, pressing your forehead against his, “I meant what I said about that date, too.” 

His arms wind around your waist, holding you tight as he processes your words with a dumbstruck smile, blushing under your gaze. “Whatever you say, love,” he concedes finally, pressing his lips against yours sweetly. 

He yawns tiredly when he pulls away from you after a moment, which only makes you yawn as well, and you glance over at the little clock on your dresser. “Christ,” you gasp, turning back to him, “I didn’t realize it’s already almost four… you can crash here, if you want?” 

He considers it for a moment, knowing he has to be back in that stupid little basement by noon and making a mental map of where exactly your dormitory is in relation to the Merton College Chapel. “I… I can stay, yeah,” he finally nods after a moment. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Love, I’m not sure my legs work well enough yet to walk out of here anyway.” 

Michael

Groaning, Michael slowly blinks his eyes open, rubbing them softly as he sits up in bed with a yawn. Blindly reaching over for his glasses, he’s confused when he doesn’t feel them in their usual spot and finally opens his eyes properly. 

He stares, confused for a moment as to how exactly he somehow got transported into what appears to be Barbie’s damn dream house, before the events of last night come flooding back to him. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes when he turns his head and sees your still-sleeping form beneath your flowery sheets, your hair tousled wildly on the pillow as your shoulders rise and fall evenly still with each breath. Looking around, he finally spots his glasses and puts them on before reaching for his phone, and cursing again when he sees the time. 

11:47 AM. 

He practically falls out of your bed as he tries to extricate himself from the sheets, and he hears you wake with a start behind him as he grabs wildly at his clothes on the floor. 

“Michael?” You ask questioningly, your voice still hoarse from sleep as you, frankly fucking adorably, rub at your eyes before fixing him with a curious look. 

“Gotta, shit, gotta run,” he explains quickly, cursing as he nearly loses his balance trying to tug his trousers on, “Need to be at Merton Chapel in, like, Christ, ten minutes!” 

“Ohh,” you giggle softly, watching with amusement as he finishes getting dressed, hair and clothes so disheveled that he’s sure he looks like the very definition of the walk of shame. 

Just as he’s tugging his shoes on and making a mad dash for the door, you stop him. “Here,” you smirk, holding out the same lacy pair of pink panties you wore last night, “For proof,” you explain, nodding to the phone in his hand, “Along with that. Should be more than enough,” you giggle proudly. 

He smiled sheepishly as he pockets your underwear. “T-Thanks,” he nods, turning to leave before you stop him once more. 

He can’t help but blush when you lean in and press and quick kiss to his lips, your cherry chapstick rubbing off on him some. Pulling away, you playfully smack his chest with a little grin. “Go get ‘em, honey.” 

Nodding, he smiles again before finally pulling your door open and bounding down the hallway. “I’ll text you, love!” He calls, peering back just before he rounds a corner, “About that date!” 

It’s 11:58 on the dot when he flings the basement door open, only to be pulled over to the same stupid dank basement wall, his back hitting it once more with a dull thud. 

Glancing around, he sees the ski-masked boys again, all fifteen of them, standing in a row with the head boy slightly out of line. To his left stands one of the other initiates, clutching a black tube of some sort. 

The basement stays silent for a moment before one of the masked boy’s watch alarms goes off just as the bells in the tower begin to chime. 

Once, twice, all the way up to twelve. Noon.

Right on cue, the head boy steps forward even more and looks between Michael and the other initiate. “Your friend couldn’t be bothered to show his face, then?” He asks, dark eyes peering at the boy next to Michael. 

He scoffs and shakes his head, glaring at the head boy. “He’s still at the bank!” He snaps, “All the way in bloody Switzerland,” he kicks at the dirty stone floor as he explains, “Dickhead,” he finally mutters lowly under his breath. 

“Shame,” the head boy quips, clasping his hands in front of his waist, “Some men are simply not cut out for Bullingdon.” 

The boys in the row behind him nod knowingly, each making some little noise of affirmation until the head boy quickly stops them, holding a fist up by his head, bringing it back down to his side when they shut up. 

“So, initiates, what’ve you got?” 

The boy next to Michael steps forward first and hands the black tube to the head boy with a sigh. “There,” he says, gesturing to it, “There’s your bloody map. My mum could get sacked for that.” 

The head boy pops open one end of the tube, a document sleeve Michael now realizes, and gingerly extracts a rolled up piece of parchment from it, unrolling it just enough to confirm it's what they asked for. 

“Well done, initiate,” he nods, seemingly impressed as he flashes a smile at the boy, white teeth gleaming creepily through the slit in his ski mask. Carefully, he rolls the document up again before sliding it back in the tube, “Your commitment to Bullingdon will take you far. Welcome to the fray.” 

The boy stands still for a moment, eyeing the document tube with an almost regretful expression before curtly nodding and taking his place back against the wall. 

“And then there was one,” the head boy murmurs, dark faze fixed on Michael, “I seem to remember we gave you quite the… interesting task indeed, initiate. How did you manage?” 

Smiling damn near arrogantly, Michael all but skips up the head boy and proudly pulls your panties from his back pocket, letting them dangle from his index finger. “See for yourself.” 

The head boy grabs them by the edge and studies them for a moment, turning back to the row of boys behind him with a questioning glance. The boy Michael knows already to be that cunt, Oliver Quick, glances between him, the panties, and Michael, before cutting a sideways glance to a tall boy standing next to him. 

“These could be anyone’s,” the head boy says, turning back to Michael as he shakes his head, “You could’ve nicked them from your sister or something, we’ll need more than this, initiate.”

“Don’t even have a sister,” Michael quips, shrugging his shoulders with a little frown. 

“Okay, like, your cousin or something then –”

“Don’t have a female cousin,” he says with a shake of his head, “All boys.”

“The point still stands!” The head boy finally snaps, making Michael bite the inside of his cheek to hide a little laugh, though the corner of his lips still quirks up in a smirk, “You haven’t got any proof, do you? Is that why you’re stalling?”

Huffing a little laugh, Michael finally lets himself smirk meanly and steps closer to the head boy as he pulls his phone from his pocket, flips it open, and navigates to his video gallery. “Is this enough proof?” He teases, pressing play on the most recent video. 

The picture is small and grainy but there’s no doubt as to what’s happening as the sound of your pretty whimpers and moans echoes around the brick basement, along with the wet smack of Michael’s cock driving into you again and again. 

The head boy stares at the screen still as curiosity gets to a few of the boys in the row behind him and they all come crowd around Michael’s phone, eyes widening behind their ski masks and mouths falling open. 

The tallest one, the one Oliver keeps glancing at, lets out a long sigh as he peers down at the small screen and brings a hand up to his head as if he were going to run it through his hair before remembering the mask he has on. With him this close, Michael finally notices the little silver barbell stuck through his eyebrow and shivers as his lips curl up into a sadistic Cheshire cat smile, a tidal wave of savage pride crashing through his system. 

Finally, fucking finally, I get something he wants, he thinks as your breathy moans continue to pour from the speaker of his phone, tinny and muffled in some spots where he’d accidentally covered the microphone, but beautiful, beautiful and because of him.

After a moment, the video ends, the tiny phone screen reverting back to it’s little thumbnail as the head boy peers up at Michael, the rest of the club members taking their places back in line, though he can’t help but notice that Felix’s broad shoulders are slumped now and Oliver stands ever closer to him, like some kind of fucked up bodyguard. 

“I’ll be damned, initiate,” the head boy sighs with a shake of his head, “I really didn’t think you had it in you.”

He watches as Michael merely nods and pockets his phone again, holding it tightly in his fist even still. After a second, he smiles widely and claps a hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly.

“Welcome to Bullingdon.”

Some time later, Michael finally exits the basement, a few of the club members, sans ski masks now, nodding goodbye to him as they disperse across campus, meeting adjourned. 

He wasn’t really sure what he’d been expecting from the initial meeting but it was mostly them prattling on about where exactly they had all their grubby little fingers, poked in seemingly every facet of society from Parliament to local newspapers. 

Braggy cunts, Michael thinks as he ambles outside, glancing up at the sky as he steps into the Mob Quad, surrounded by stony old buildings. 

Smiling to himself, he pulls out his phone and quickly finds your number in his contacts list, blushing when he sees you’ve taken the liberty of adding some girly heart emoticon next to it. He hardly has time to press it against his ear before you answer.

“Well?” You demand with that now familiar giggle, some unfamiliar pop song playing in the background.

“I’m in,” he confirms, nodding to himself as he slowly walks in the direction of his dormitory, “Thanks to you.” He smiles like an idiot when you laugh.

“Don’t sell yourself short, honey,” you tease, he can picture your bright, glossy smile in his head, “You earned that spot.”

Michael merely shakes his head with a happy little sigh. “So,” he starts, clearing his throat and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “About that date… I was thinking the King’s Arms? Tonight at six, if that works?”

“Oooh, tonight at six,” you repeat teasingly, an image flashing in his mind of you twirling your hair around a perfectly manicured finger, “Someone’s quite eager, hm?”

“Can you blame me?”

“Hmm, I suppose not,” you giggle, pausing for a second, “It’s a date then.”

“Fantastic,” Michael sighs, trying with every fiber of his being to sound casual and cool about the whole thing, even as his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. 

“See you tonight, Mr. Bullingdon,” you tease, making a little kissy sound into the phone before hanging up. 

Michael pauses for a moment, standing to the side on the pavement as he nods to himself. If it weren’t so fucking cheesy, he’d raise his fist in the air, victorious, à la Judd Nelson at the end of The Breakfast Club. 

Instead, he flips his phone back open and navigates back to your video. Sighing, he stares at the little thumbnail for a second before deleting it, pocketing his phone once more, and continuing back to his dormitory. 

He has the real thing now.

taggled lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @imawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @fan-goddess @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc @moonriseoverkyoto @wolfdressedinlace @do-double-g @kennafild

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[stressforu]

♯ itoshi rin — what he does

started making bllk fics today >:) , kinda new to the fandom since I just started reading the manga after the anime

itoshi rin x gn!reader

fluff, no warnings

home page ...

ITOSHI RIN acts cold, and he grumbles when you try to cup his cheeks when he's cold. he sighs when you eat his favorite food which he stored in the refrigerator the other day, and the way he'd roll his eyes when you'd try to show pda in public.

(hey, eating his favorite food is debatable!)

though he never meant it that way, he would get all jittery and nervous that he'd try to put up a cold facade whenever you would cup his cheeks. and he also never meant it in a bad way when he doesn't like to show pda, he's a guy who would rather keep you all to himself !! (you might not know but rin secretly boasts you to his private insta with all his dick teammates close friends.)

he would often try to put up that cold image, but his walls crumble when you're with him. he becomes soft to the point he would watch your sappy romance movies just so he can cuddle you.

you'd never notice this but, he keeps a special album solely just for you in his gallery !! he tries to listen to your music tastes, and tries to learn your interests just so he can talk about it with you !! (he'd probably listen to your gossips when you're with him, he feels like your enemy is his enemy.)

" you know that girl i was talking about last night, yeah? well she got pregnant by her ex boyfriend. "

" ...what... that's crazy... "

okay, he might be a little crazy... but he keeps your favorite keychain in his duffel bag ! imagine an all-black duffel bag and a small pinkish keychain in the strap of his bag !

he's so downbad for you he wouldn't let you sleep without cuddling with him. your head below his chest, feeling his heart beat with the rhythm of yours.

he loves loves loves you.

did i note that he loves you to the point he'd actually wear the promise ring that he gave to you on your anniversary? not in his finger but in his necklace. he'd subconsciously dangle his fingers in his necklace whenever he's stressed or he misses you >:(

does. not. forget. important. dates

occasion or not he gives you flowers. yes, he's just that kind of man !

" ... flowers ... for you .. "

" what for rinnie? our anniversary isn't till next month. "

" just because i want to..." " just take it.. "

do not forget to reward that ice king with kisses :(( !! he loves loves loves it when you kiss him, pamper him with kisses and he would immediately turn into a full make out session with him ! be careful tho ;)

rin looks at you amid the crowd. whenever he scores? he would look at your figure cheering for him loudly, he wasn't focused on the crowd their voices were a blur, and he could only hear your shouts.

you make it all so worth it.

note : did ya'll ike it?? :333 lemme know !! my man itoshi rin sbdhshshdhdb i will probably write for him next time!!!!!!!! share ur thoughts??? :3333333

[mayasaurusss]

hey how are you? could you write jinx x reader? something like jinx taking the reader's virginity. thanks ❤️🫰🏻

My favorite piltie

A/N: Hello! I am okay anon, thanks for asking! Just a bit sad that tomorrow Arcane will end😭.

I want to make it clear that I tried to do this before the next act drops, so I wrote it in two days and some things might not be very good, but I hope you will enojiy it nonetheless!!

Contains: female reader, detailed description of a wound, smut. All characters are 20+ years.

2,8 K/4 pages

When Jinx came knocking at your door tonight, you didn't think you'd end up in this position: her hands gripping at the skin of your chest and with her head buried in it.

The beginning of your night had kicked off with a strange twist when you heard a knock on your fifth floor appartment's window. You gulped down your fear and with a fast beating heart, looked past the window's glass to see a crouching figure with bright pink eyes staring at you. Any other occasion and you would have died on the spot, but you knew who she was. As soon as you opened the window, the figure let herself in, crawling out of the darkness and into the light of your room. "You are so nice letting me in, piltie" she said, and you don't miss the venom laced in the last word she spoke. "Your people aren't really known to be kind" her long fingers mess with the many little trinkets displayed on your shelves, checking their mechanisms and turning their gears.

"What do you want, Jinx?" you can feel a tingling sense of anger inside your skull at her continuous teasings.

You still remember the first time you had seen her, running from enforcers and covering her wounded shoulder.

You knew how ruthless they could be, especially since Miss Kirramman had taken control over the city. In a strange turn of events, you had found her curled up in one of Piltover's abandoned alleys and brought her with you to your home, taking care of her for the next few days until you found your window open and the blue haired criminal nowhere to be seen. During that time, you grew fond of her and were sad when she disappeared. Some weeks had passed and your life continued to flow normally, until she showed up at your door again. You were actually kind of amazed by the fact that she managed to sneak inside the appartment's building without being noticed, but after the third time, when someone called the enforcers on her, she had begun to climb on the building's exterior and knock at your window instead.

"Oh nothing, just wanted to pay a visit to my favorite piltie" she falls back on your bed, sizing you up from head to toe with that smirk of hers that makes your heart beat faster. "That's all?" the mattress dips under your weight as you sit next to her, always keeping your eyes on hers. "Mhmm, maybe" she fishes something from a bag -one you've just noticed- and shakes it: a small glass globe filled with water and fake flakes of snow. The tallest buildings of Piltover reflect the warm lights of your room, making the city of progress look ethereal under the glass. But it wasn't the shiny buildings or the snowflakes that got your attention, but a small name made with metal and gear parts glued to the bottom of the globe. "No way...is this a real Valdiani?!" the shock in your voice makes Jinx's heart flutter, something that she has never experienced before.

She lets out a proud snuff of air from her nose, pushing her chest outwards, "Consider it a gift for my fav- shit!" the sudden swear catches your attention and you look over to see Jinx doubled over. "Jinx! What is going on?!" It's faint, but you can see her hands wrapped tightly around her left side, traces of blood seeping from between her fingers. "Oh shit! Jinx what happened?" she lets out a breathless chuckle, her skin suddenly far paler than normally. "Hah, just some gift the bluebellies have given me" she sucks in a breath when you move her hands, biting a scream away. A deep wound runs along her side, pus forming where her skin had been pulled back from the slash, bleeding red on your covers. You run outside of your room and collect gauze, antiseptic, healing creme and a glass of water.

"Here, bite this" you hand her an old cloth, which she promptly places in between her teeth. "Ready?" she nods, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. The heat of your hand is the only thing that brings her comfort. She isn't ready though when you pour the liquid over her wound: it feels like billions of needles stinging and burning her flesh, making her want to vomit.

"There there, it's over..." you quickly dry her skin and massage the healing cream on her, finally finishing when you cover her stomach with the gauze. She releases a huff of relief, mindlessly tangling her fingers with yours. When the pain subsides, she realizes how close the two of you are. You on your knees, her panting and sweating, how close you are to her and how fast her heart is beating. It would take a second, just a second for her to reach for your lips and melt into you...

"Uh... I- uh, just-, what happened?" you try to not sound too shy but your voice gives your feelings away. "I..." Jinx's throat bobs and it seems that she'd rather curl herself up like a hedgehog than admitting whatever she did. "You know, the usual. Went on a walk, stormed a shop, stole some things, got the enforcers called on me and..." she gestures towards her side, "...this happened".

Jinx isn't clear with her words, but something about the blush on her skin hints at the fact that there may be something else underneath her facade. You might try at least, right? Reaching for the glass globe, you twirl it in your hands, watching the snowflakes fall on Piltover. "Jinx...did you get chased after stealing this?", she doesn't answer, but her shy silence is enough for you.

"Why? Why do this for me?" she pouts her lips before answering, still held back by some sort of pride. "W-what can I say? Anything for my favorite piltie...".

A heavy silence fills the room, of the kind that is difficult to bear.

You can't believe it. You just can't believe that she'd be so reckless, so stupid! It's difficult to bite your anger back, but you do so, and instead of crying or screaming or scolding her, like Jinx thought you were going to do, you just hug her tightly against your chest. Your grip is so strong against her that she feels like she'll choke on it.

But you are so warm in comparison to her body, so, so warm. For the first time in a while, after Silco's death, after Vi's betrayal, after everything went to shit, she feels like she can breathe. And so she does, inhaling your scent in between, tasting it on her tongue. When you pull back, Jinx's eyelids are heavy with want, her mouth slightly open and her skin red.

It takes a second for her lips to push against yours, for her hands to come up and grab your face and pull you down towards her. The kiss is surprisingly tender for it to be Jinx's: you expected teeth and tongue, not pecks and soft touches. The way she sighs and runs her hands on your chest has you keening for her. "Jinx..." a small line of spit connects your lips, and before you can say anything else, she wipes it off on your bottom lip and sighs, "You know what piltie? I think I deserve something too".

Blinking at her a couple of times, she groans at your naivety and continues while taking your cheeks in her hand. "It has been a hard day for me: running from enforcers, bleeding all the way here... I think I deserve a gift too".

And that's where you are now, naked from the waist up with Jinx on your lap, diligently taking what's hers. The way her tongue teases your nipple is something to die for. It seems all her softness has died with the kiss you shared before, now tugging and biting every part of you. You gasp as she bites your nipple, leaving the indents of her teeth on the delicate skin.

"If I knew I could see you all shy and fidgety-" she tugs your left nipple with her long fingers, smiling cruelly when tearing a gasp from you, "...I would have done this earlier". Her lips leave your right nipple, spit chilling the skin, before she teases both of them with the point of her fingernails, moving and tickling them.

Jinx lets out one of those cruel laughs of hers before diving right back on your nipple, giving it one last kiss and moving towards your stomach. She kisses and strokes every one of your scars, every mole or freckle, every inch of skin, until she comes across the hem of your pants. "N-No wait, Jinx..." you place your hand on her forehead, strands of blue hair falling in between your fingers. She halts immediatley at your discomforted voice, billions of little alarms going off in her head and an attentive yet scared look in her eyes. "What is it?".

"I... I have to tell you something" and with that, her heart beats faster and faster and that obnoxious voice inside her head speaks; 'You've hurt her' and 'Look at what you've done' and 'Did you really think she would genuinely like you?'. But your voice is stronger than theirs. "Hey? Is everything alright? We don't have to do this" in the meantime, your hand cups her cheek, thumb stroking at the pale skin. "Yeah I- I am okay. And I want to" her own fingers close in on you and she takes a moment to breathe. Your own warmth is one of the only things that can make her calm. When the voices blur away and only you and her are left, she opens her eyes again, your reflection sharp inside their pink. "What do you have to tell me?" now it was your time to take a breath, because knowing Jinx, she could have two reactions over your news: making fun of you or absolutely losing her shit. "I... I am a virgin".

She takes a moment to process the information and then lets out a wheezing laugh, making blood rise quickly to your face. "That's it?! I thought I accidentally hurt you or something!". The only thing you can do at this point is pout and look away offended. "Oh come on toots" her hands take a hold of your face before turning you to her, who is smiling softly and with tenderness. "I am just kidding. Don't be so moody. And besides..." she captures your lips, biting and licking and sucking until they darken, leaving a faint trace of blood where her teeth were, "...It's so fucking hot".

The descent to get to her prize is tedious and long, but Jinx can't help but want to savor each one of its steps. Her fingers finally hook on the hem of your pants and pull down, revealing your naked thighs to her; the only thing stopping her from claiming her prize is the fabric of your underwear. "Wait a second..." despite how cute you look to her, Jinx rolls her eyes at yet another one of your attempts to stop her. "What, toots? You don't want me to fuck you?" your eyes widen when she so bluntly says that, without an ounce of embarrassment on her face, but continue. "What?! N-no I want to....it's just that..." you eye Jinx's position on the floor. "The wound might be painful if you crouch... I don't want you to hurt yourself".

"So, what do you want me to do?". You look back between Jinx and the plush, comfortable bed, a lightbulb popping off on your head. "Lie on the bed", you say, making Jinx blink a few times before processing and understanding your intentions. "Ohh, I didn't take you for the kinky type, toots". She crawls over the bed, making sure to look as alluring as possible, then lies down with her head pressed on one of your pillows. "There. Do you like this more?" the way that she's so smug about it, with that stupid smirk of hers, makes you want to choke her to death.

"Shut the fuck up", you follow her, placing yourself on each side of her head, feeling her hands rise on your tighs to curl on the soft fabric she so wishes were to disappear. "Hmhm, alright" she eyes the patch of cloth that has begun to show a wet stain, images of what she is going to do to you already flashing in her mind. But this position prevents her from sliding them off without you having to move away from her, and she'd rather keep you and your pussy here. "You know, as much as I love how cute you look with these..." you only have a brief moment to see a malicious glint in her eyes, before she tears your underwear apart, leaving you naked in front of her "I'd much rather have you bare". "Jinx! I just told you to shut up!" it doesn't help that she doesn't mind you and whistles loudly, making you feel more and more embarrassed. "And I -shut up!-. And-and those were expensive! Do you know how-!" but all your words die in your throat when she, with a strength you didn't know she had, pulls you flat against her mouth.

She licks your clit like a starved woman, like it will be the last meal she'll ever have. She doesn't dive right in your pussy, instead takes her sweet time to torture you, making you wish she'd just fuck you already. "Jinx...please, I-" she opens her eyes to see you above her, naked and panting with pleasure, something she only ever dreamt of seeing.

She can't say no to her favorite piltie. Her cold hands grab your ass, propping you up in a new angle on her face so you can't move, but she can do everything she wants to. She spends the next minutes milking your pleasure out of you, before pushing one finger slowly inside of you. You gasp in pain at first, a small trickle of blood wetting your skin and her fingers, and after a few minutes, feeling need arise from the depths of your guts. Jinx's eyes widen when she first feels you move atop her fingers, riding them messily; and she already has a new idea. "No, none of that toots" with her left hand, she yanks your hips down on her fingers, preventing you from moving further. Her next words feel like ice cold water on naked skin; "I won't make you cum if you do it again" and as if that wasn't bad enough, she emphasizes her point with a trust of her fingers. "You will be a good girl, won't you?".

"Yes, yes, yes I will be a good girl..." her smile is all you see before she disappears underneath your thighs. As soon as you get used to the alien feeling of her fingers inside of you, her pace is unrelenting; fast and hard, torturing your clit with her lips. She takes your hips and places your slit directly onto her tongue, forcing you to grind down on it. When you start to wheeze from her touches, she decides to move onto the next phase of her plan. "Hey baby, get up a sec" you would rather keep on grinding on her tongue, but comply anyway. You get up, putting ditance between your slit and her mouth, but while you do, she directly shoves in her fingers, making your legs almost give out. With her other hand she pushes you until your ass is flat against her lap. "Come on, bounce" you don't let her repeat herself twice, already fucking yourself on her fingers at the best of your abilities. What she's seeing is far better than anything she could have ever dreamt of: her favorite piltie bouncing up and down her fingers, eyes heavy and panting above her. And your movements on her own crotch only make her feel more and more euphoric. Oh, if only she could feel you... When she curls her finger on that spot that has you keening, you finally come undone; finger intertwined, billions of stars exploding beneath your eyelids and electricity coursing through your veins. You collapse on her, skin against skin, puffing and gasping for each breath. Your whines reach Jinx's ears and right now, she wants nothing more than to tear orgasms upon orgasms from you, but she'll have to wait.

You roll over, taking a place near her on the bed, shivering from the intensity of your first time. And when Jinx, with a horrifyingly both sweet and sadistic smile turns to you, excitement clear on her face, your pussy clenches around nothing and your blood turns to ice. "So, wanna go again?"

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

TF141 getting a boudoir photo album as a wedding gift ♡

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

A/N: THIS WAS SO FUN!!! Great, absolutely phenomal idea, dear anon. Simon's part is very sappy (I cried) which might be ooc for him?? Idk, that's how I write him/interpret his character! :) let me know who's your favorite 👀

~Fi 🐝

《Warnings》: NSFW content. proceed with caution. PiV, creampie, cunnilingus, Johnny's oral fixation (yes, that is a warning.)

It's still very sweet and lovey dovey with all of them bc I'm a certified sap <3

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

John would be grinning and smirking like a proper idiot when he lays his eyes on those delectable photos of you.

I imagine you had a date night at home, sipping wine on the couch and talking about your wedding that's supposed to take place in only 3 days. He's telling you how he can't wait to see you in your wedding dress and slip that ring onto your finger.

Sneaky bastard.

Be prepared to he called Mrs. Price the days leading up to the big day. John excuses it with:

"Need to practice, love. Don't wanna mess it up in front of anyone, eh?"

He knows what he's doing, you know what he's doing, all is well because if he only knew what that did to you. You're just talking, trying to get the nerves out now so you can go into your wedding with a clear mind and have a good time. When you tell him you have a gift for him, his eyebrows almost overshoot his forehead. Yeah, he knew that was a thing some people did, but he never gave it another thought.

In all honesty, marrying you was the best gift he could ever get. Which is why he feels slightly guilty that he doesn't have one for you (at least that's what you see, internally he's crushed) but that all goes out the window when you sit back down with a sleek beige photo album that has a little romantic quote on the front.

What he doesn't expect, however, is the angelic image of your plush body on full display, draped over a velvet chaise lounge with layered pearl necklaces hanging from your neck. This man is shell-shocked. If he wasn't frozen in place, he would've snapped the book shut.

"And what's this, doll, hm?"

His heart feels warm and fuzzy, thinking these are some lovely pictures of you together on holidays you went on, casual trips to the local pub or just some domestic shots you managed to sneak during his leave.

You can basically see the connections to his brain frying. His jaw slacks, and only after what feels like 10 minutes he regains his ability to think and close his mouth. John is sweating and his cock is rock hard as he flips through the remaining pages.

He shoots you the occasional glance while he's trying not to hyperventilate. You just sit back and savor your wine, trying to hide your laugh behind the rim of your glass. You'd expected a reaction, of course, but you didn't think you'd render the John Price speechless just from a few suggestive photographs of you.

But what absolutely breaks the camels back (or John's, in this case) is the last picture of you. You're kneeling, slightly leaned back and supported by your arms, with one of his Flannels covering your soft tits. That alone would've been enough to drive him crazy, but the sight of his old dogtags sitting against your sternum has him groaning out loud.

The only other thing covering you is a simple pair of lace panties, cupping the soft curve and rolls of your tummy so beautifully, John was ready to take a bit out of that damn page.

He nearly misses the inscription underneath the photo;

To my John; the love of my life, the man of my dreams,

I love you.

You hold my heart and you will forever.

May I be so lucky to find my place in the stars by your side when the time comes, so we'll never have to be apart.

With all my love,

Mrs. Price

And that does it. The album snaps shut and you barely have time to put down your wine glass before John is all over you, taking handfuls of you, whatever he can reach. With how fast he smashes his lips on yours, he nearly gives you whiplash.

He's tugging and pulling at your clothes as well as his own, not saying a thing, just hungrily swallowing every one of your sounds and giggled objections before he decides the couch is uncomfortable and he moves you to the bedroom. You're hoisted up without a warning and you cling to his neck. Immediately, worried words start spilling from your lips, remembering how he'd complained about a sore back just today;

"John, baby, your back-"

"I don't give a flying fuck about my back, love."

He's heaving and grunting like a fucking animal, he's downright feral. Despite all of that, you're still laid down gently on the bed, John would never, ever be reckless with you. But he needs to be inside you now, he'll actually lose his mind.

Usually, he'd spent hours between your thighs first, but he just can't wait. He's pounding you into another dimension but with such gentleness in his gestures, it makes your head spin.

He's holding your hand, breathing sweet praises into your ear despite him filling you to the brim. His urge to claim you goes haywire and he fills you with his cum multiple times before he's sane enough again.

He's covered in sweat and his beard is wet from your spit from all the sloppy kisses he gave you. John will definitely make it up to you and eat you out for as long as you want after.

He'll make a copy of one of the photos and take it with him when he's on deployment, just for the nights he's feeling lonely.

His wedding gift to you are the hickeys on your thighs and tummy and new sheets because you two tore the other ones to absolute shreds.

♥︎

Johnny would probably have a boudoir album for you, too. You get at least one shirtless pic a day, so a whole album of his body on display or in suggestive poses basically screams Johnny. He's already drooling the second he spots that book because he knows what it is and that he's in for a treat.

He's buzzing with excitment.

You never really send nudes for privacy reasons, and then for you to do something like this hit him like a truck in the best way possible. You're standing opposite from him behind the kitchen counter, and you look so nervous to him.

Cue his signature shit-eating grin. You tap your fingers on the dark blue album before having enough of your nerves and just sliding it over to him with a few mumbled words of what it is.

"Awe, for me, mo leannan?" He's a teasing bastard, and he chuckles when you huff and turn your head, obviously flustered. Johnny is legit licking his lips, but when he opens the book, his grin fades so fast.

He knew it would be good, but holy shit, this was so much better than he expected. His pupils dilate as he takes in each of the pictures of you, all of you, all your curves and bumps.

Everything he loves about you. God, you're such a woman, he thinks to himself. Some with lingerie, some without. He's full on drooling at this point, and the only reason why he roughly wipes it away with the back of his hand is to not get it on these sacred images.

He smirks at the picture of you in a tub, all soapy, with pebbled nipples. An obvious dig at his nickname, but, god, does your ass look amazing when it's covered in a thin layer of bubbles. He loves lathering you up in the shower and feeling you up while you're all wet and slippery.

"Good thing I can hold my breath, aye, hen? Might even try to set a new personal record." He's grinning and chuckling meanwhile you give him a sharp glare. You can't deny that the idea intrigues you, though.

But this, oh, this one was him swallowing thickly. It's you in very sheer panties (they're barely even underwear) and his name patch is sewn onto the front. Your hair looks so nice, so do your thighs, he doesn't know whether to look at your eyes or your tits. The button on his jeans is about to pop off from his throbbing boner.

He can't take his eyes off that 'MacTavish' patch that sits right on your lower belly, with the slight curve it has to it from your soft tummy.

Johnny has to hold himself back from gripping the book too hard. He wouldn't want to ruin it.

"Steamin' bloody Jesus, bonnie..."

The album is shut and tucked under his arm, and Johnny jumps over the counter to get his hands on you. Or his mouth, more like. He has a huge oral fixation, so he loves sucking and biting on every inch of your skin. You're pushed back into the bedroom, even though you end up on the floor, and the book is thrown onto the bed.

He rips your shirt up and sucks at your tits and nipples, groaning and moaning at the taste of your skin, all while he's rubbing his clothes cock against your leg. You end up on your hands and knees with one of Johnny's hands on your lowerback while his face is buried in your cunt.

He's eating you out like he's been starved for years, and his stubble is already starting to irritate the skin of your thighs and ass.

You'll have the worst case of beard burn in the morning, but how could you care about that when his tongue is so deep inside of you?

Remember when I said he'd have a boudoir album too? Yeah, now you're in between his legs, your back pressed to his chest with Johnny's album in your shaky hands. And the way your engagement ring catches the dim light of the room has your eyes rolling back.

And Jesus christ, Johnny looks fucking phenomal. You clench around his fingers hard, and he doesn't even have to pull his head from your neck to know what photo you're looking at.

He's smirking and grinning like the ceshire cat, knowing that the image of him in a kilt with no shirt one is gracing your field of vision right about now.

"Ah knew ye'd like tha' one, bonnie..."

Johnny's cooing in your ear, telling you to keep looking at the pictures while he's knuckle deep in your pussy. His bare dick is pressed against your ass and you can feel him rocking his hips to get off.

He's mumbling all kinds of gibberish into your ear, but one of the few things you can make out is "mo bhean"* which pushes you over the edge. You won't be leaving that bed anytime soon.

*(My wife)

♥︎

Kyle is such a sweetheart. I've said it before, and I will say it again, he's such a cutie pie!!! But that doesn't mean he can't or won't get nasty.

He'd offered to make lunch, which was delicious as always, and now you're chatting casually about your day at your dining table. Your fingers are laced together, and he's wearing the biggest smile because all he can think of is how he gets to marry you in just a few days.

He's over the moon. He can't wait to see you walk down the aisle, say your vows to each other, and overall have a great time with all your friends and family.

But the thing Kyle is looking forward the most is the honeymoon. He'll have you to himself for 2 whole weeks and he's stoked. He can't wait to treat you to nice things, love on you, but he's the most excited to fuck you as your husband.

He may look sweet and 'innocent' but this man can fuck, okay. And he fucks well. He knows every little spot that has you mewling and he's so good at using them for his gain.

Kyle will fuck you into the mattress in the Hotel you booked, he's already made up his mind about that, but he wants to absolutely melt your brain by being so loving whole doing it that you can't help but cry out for him.

He has heart eyes at this point, watching you talk about all that happened today and he only snaps out of his dream world when you present the deep red album to him with a sweet smile.

He's got a hunch of what it is so there's a hint of a smirk on his lips. Still, he almost gets whiplash when he opens it.

There's no easing into it, just straight up tits, ass and tummy. And let me tell you, Kyle is loving every second of it. It's no secret that he loves your chub, and that fact that it's extenuated so beautifully in every shot makes his heart and his cock happy. He's a very balanced man after all.

He comments on every single photo because he think it's endearing how you get all flustered and giggly from his compliments.

One picture that has him taking a second, though, is one where you have a lacy band tied around your thigh, with a little golden 'Kyle' charm hanging from it. He's all smiley and giddy, but he does try to discreet adjust his trousers because, holy shit, that's hot.

"Have you still got that, dove? Would love to see it tied around your pretty neck."

All you answer is that he'll have to be patient and wait till the wedding night to find out. He's laughing and teasing now, but just what till you get to the last page, Gazy.

And the way his smile just melts off his face is priceless. His gaze is flitting between you on the page and you sitting across from him with a shot eating grin. All the blood that drained from his face went straight to his dick.

Not only are you wearing a set of lingerie in his favorite color, but you've got his iconic pair of sunglasses hooked on the center of your bra. And that's not all either, his eyes travel upwards and his base cap is sat on your head and you've got that beautiful smile of yours on your face.

He makes an audible noise, one that indicates you took his breath away, when he takes in the whole picture.

"How in hell did you manage to snatch my hat and my glasses from right under my nose?!"

"Skilled hands, babe."

He's laughing at you breathlessly because he's still enarmoured by the sight of you.

And Kyle will absolutely whisk you away and fuck you stupid in front of your bedroom mirror while you're wearing his hat.

It makes him feral, seeing you like that. He's got both of his arms wrapped around your middle and he's panting into your shoulder. He does look up from time to time to see your blissed out face all while still wearing his cap.

He lets out a strained moan everytime he looks at you in the mirror and his hips stutter ever so slightly.

Kyle is just spewing jumbled words of love because he's genuinely so happy. You make him so happy.

He honestly can't wait to give you your wedding gift. It's a little booklet filled with poems or quotes that reminded him of you, or of how you make him feel. And it will make you cry when he reads them to you.

Definitely not because he'll be ballsdeep inside of you while doing so...

♥︎

Simon, Simon, Simon.... first of all, he's completely blindsided by this. And he hasn't got a fucking clue what's in that black book you hand him one night when you're cuddling in bed.

There's just a giant question mark above his head. When you tell him it's a wedding gift, he goes silent and just looks at that album in his hands.

He never really got gifts, which obviously changed since he's been with you, but he's still not used to it. You're so thoughtful. And sweet. And kind, and perfect and-

he turns his head to you when you softly call his name and if you notice the slight sheen of tears in his big brown eyes, you don't mention it. You just encourage him to open the book. And when he does, a small huff and gentle smile leave him because how are you so perfect?

Yes, all of the pictures are all filthy, but they're all radiating of love and softness, and he can't get over it. How are you so soft? Simon can't get enough of you. You mess up his emotions in ways he never thought possible, and he can't help that his heart starts beating twice as fast.

That you did this for him means more than you could ever fathom, and he'll treasure this album until his end. He absent mindedly reaches for your hand as he flips through the pages, trying to tell you thank you when his words fail him, like they did so many times before with you.

He comes across a shot of your neck, a black leather collared fasten around it with a little silver skull charm. It makes him smile just a bit. He knows just how much meaning is behind it.

That you love him. All of him, which includes the Ghost. In cursive, 'Riley' is written right above your heart, and he gives your hand a squeeze.

Although you love the Ghost because it's a part of him, you've shown him that it's not all he is. That Simon is enough. That he should give Simon a chance and that he's not incapable anymore, like he was as a little boy. Ghost is sort of a protector of Simon, something not many people know, that's why he wears the mask outside of duty too. To shield himself.

But as much as the Ghost's service is appreciated, Simon can handle himself now. The Ghost will forever be with him, but so will you, and you'll wipe his bloody hands with a smile. You've shown him that you accept Ghost just as much as you accept Simon, and that means the world to him.

He sniffles ever so quietly, and you lean your head against his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He moves on, gently turning the pages, and as much as his heart is touched by your kind gesture of this album, that doesn't stop his cock from stirring. It's pictures of your naked form, after all.

He loves every single inch of you and he's told you and shown you so many times, kissed all your insecurities away and took your mind off any bad thoughts about yourself by fucking you so well and lovingly to the point of tears.

Never, in a million years, had he expected you to return these efforts. You kissed all his scars and held him softly when reassuring any doubts he had. That's when he truly and fully fell in love with you.

He can feel himself getting hotter with every passing image of your soft body bent in different positions and clad in delicate garments, if any.

The best for last, as always, and it's a picture of you kneeling in front of a mirror, completely nude. A picture of Simon in full military regalia is tapped to the mirror and it's surrounded by a bunch of hearts drawn on with lipstick.

His name is written under the picture in your handwriting, and he can see you holding a lipstick, in the middle of finishing another heart. His breath hitches just for a split second.

He swears he'll burn this photo into the back of his eyelids.

It shows him just how great and raw your love for him is, and it makes him all fuzzy on the inside. The text at the bottom finishes it all off, and he's actively holding back tears, overwhelmed by so many feelings for you.

Dear Husband,

We're flawed; but that's how I like us. You're you, and I'm me, and I wouldn't change it for the world. You've made me a better version of myself, and that makes me love you so much more. I'm so proud of you, Simmy.

Love,

Your wife

"Thank you, my love. Thank you for this, and for loving me and for everything you've done for me. I love you"

His words are soft and painfully honest as he gently sets the album aside. You've made him a better man. A better Simon. A happier Simon. A Simon that's slowly starting to heal.

It starts off with a soft kiss that slowly turns more desperate and needy to the point you're gently being pushed back onto the bed, your clothes are discarded, and Simon absolutely worships you. He kisses every inch he can reach and touching you in all the ways he knows you like.

And, yeah, Simon can be rough and fuck you stupid for hours, but tonight, he just wants to feel close to you, and make you feel as good as you make him feel by simply loving him. He's talking you through it, holding you while he makes sure you take every inch of his cock.

His strokes are slow and deep, just like his love for you, and he revels in the way your eyes roll back each time he slides into you to the hilt. The drag of his dick against your walls has you moaning and whining, and when he presses down on your pudgy lower belly to intensify the sensation, you're putty.

You two fuck the whole night like this, no matter how sensitive you are, you need to be close to each other.

And in the morning, he'll wake you up with his face buried in your pussy because he's out of his sappy mood and his only goal now is to absolutely ruin you.

♡

Bonus: I can totally see Simon giving his dad the biggest middle finger known to man all the way in hell when he's standing by the altar on your wedding day. It just screams: 'fuck you, stupidly bastard. Despite all you've done to me and my family, despite all that's happened, I've persevered. I've overcome it all. Look at me now.'

Right after he's smiling up at the sky, knowing that his mum and brother are watching and that they would've loved you just as much as he does <3

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I hope you enjoyed!! I love all my boys <3

(If you find any typos, it's 2.am. give me a break pls)

[kisses4reid]

convenient | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - studying while working at a convenience store is easier that thought when a regular happens to be a genius.

genre - fluff, fem!college!reader x earlyseasons!spencer

warnings - school work, that always scares me. they’re the same age!!! early 20s. mention of condoms.

edit - bc this is getting so much love, i’m opening a taglist for part 2!!! just comment or put in a req to join the ‘convenient’ taglist 🫶

the chime of the door didn’t phase you, the creaks and squeaks of the store slowly becoming one with you. flipping onto the next page of your biology textbook, something that was unnecessarily expensive, you shake your hand to get rid of the cramp you slowly became aware of.

it was only when a wave of man’s cologne and a plastic bag stood in front of you that you ripped your eyes off of your books.

he was tall, skinny, had long(ish) hair and looked amazing. there wasn’t really anything else to say, other than that the thin smile he displayed toward you made you smile back.

“just these for today?” you ask, fixing your posture and pushing some loose strands back to their place behind your ears.

“yes, thank you.” he says, voice as timid as his appearance. it was a bag of apples, a 2 minute bolognese container, and a bag of coffee. you scan them, weigh the apples, and watch him as his long fingers slip through his wallet to find a debit card. “have a good night.”

your eyes return to your textbook as you go to erase an answer you had previous written, obviously wrong.

“the heads of the phospholipid bilayer are hydrophilic, not phobic.” he says. it surprised you, making you return to his gaze slowly before realising you should probably reply instead of staring at the man.

“oh- yeah, thanks. i caught that it’s just, i guess i’ve been staring at the same words for so long i can’t differentiate them.” you give a small fake laugh as he nods, giving you a long look before coughing and leaving promptly. he leaves with his bag, and his hands fiddling with each other.

you can barely focus after that. customers come and go, and although you’ve only been doing the late shift for a week, this encounter with the unknown man couldn’t leave your mind. the way he dressed, his smell, his voice and how he corrected you (which would totally annoy you usually). you hoped he would return.

and he did. three days later, this time even later than the last.

you were stuck in a dark purple sweater, the aircon in the store blasting cold air that you were too lazy to fix. and although the air flipped pages of notes and questions, you were still stuck in a trance.

the blasting aircon blew a wind of mens cologne this time, it smelt like wood. your eyes glanced up from your books and trailed the familiar man, noticing how he was reusing the plastic bag from days before.

he returned to the checkout with apples, a 3 minute cannelloni, and a bag of coffee. he was now the one trailing you, “where did Latrice go?” you look up, chuckling a bit,

“Latrice is getting paid by her daughter-in-law to babysit the twins,” you reply, surprised you were willing to tell him so much information. he could be a stalker for all you know. or just a regular, obviously that’s way more likely. “trust me, i miss her as much as you do. $14.98.”

he nodded with a small smile and sliced his card down the side of the card reader.

you searched for him now, only after two encounters you were already craving some sort of human interaction at work. usually you avoided it since the only other ‘regulars’ were old men and mean teenagers. you had switched to writing a biology report on your computer, the sound of the keyboard almost covering the sound of the door bell.

a bag of apples, a 2 minute lasagne, a bag of coffee, and a banana muffin.

“big night?”

“uh- what?”

“you got a banana muffin. i thought you were starting to become predictable.” you bagged his things as he chuckled, looking over you and your laptop. you noticed only because you were also looking at him, “biology report. wanna read it?” you joked, but he didn’t catch that part.

now he was behind the register, sat on your wheelie stool reading and editing your report while walking you through everything he was changing. you didn’t understand most, but you were just happy to stay around him. you weren’t even scared of Old Alan, the guy who only buys cucumbers and condoms. nobodies ever asked him, don’t think anyone wants to know.

“what’s your word limit?”

“3500.”

“only 3500?” he gave you a raised eyebrow, voice getting slightly higher. he coughed, “sorry, that’s nearly impossible.”

you sigh, “i know… i’m y/n by the way. thought you should know who your helping cheat.”

“i’m not helping you cheat, i’m just… editing,” he hit backspace a few times with a lowered bottom lip, “my names spencer.”

you smiled and crossed your arms as you leaned against the counter. spencer. yeah, that sounded nerdy enough.

pt. 2

[izzyy-stuff]

AFTER CLOSING HOURS - CHOI YEONJUN

lifeguard!yeonjun x fem!reader

in which your friend and the boy she is seeing decide Choi Yeonjun needs to calm his hormones as soon as possible. And what better way is there to do it then show him a pretty girl who can satisfy all his needs?

wc 3.7k

warnings smut, public sex but no one is around, it happens in the pool, unprotected sex, Yeonjun is lowk a hoe ngl, but also a sweetheart, mention of lifeguard!Taehyun, Jay of enhypen mentioned as an ex, reader is implied to be shorter than yeonjun, oral (f. receiving), cum swallowing, brief nipple play, pet names lmk if I missed anything!

↪ izzy speaks... fun fact: lifeguard!Yeonjun was actually my first idea for a fic after I started writing on tumblr, so it has been sitting in my drafts since June. Somehow, there was just always a different fic I wanted to write at the moment, but thanks to y'all voting for it when I made the poll about what you want me to write next, it's finally seeing the day light 🙌

Yeonjun sat on his chair by the pool, just as he would any other day. With his sunglasses high on his nose and a phone in his hands, he did the same as any other lifeguard: absolutely nothing. 

Of course, some would say that he was neglecting his job, that it would be better to hire someone more responsible, someone serious. But the problem was, anyone else, no matter how accountable or not they were, would behave the same he did. Fortunately for him, the pool was sparsely occupied, leaving Yeonjun with little to do during his shifts. One could say that it was part of his job, sitting by the pool and doing nothing.

And, if, for whatever reason, there did turn out to be someone who wanted to drown in the five-foot-deep swimming pool after all, he was always ready to put his phone aside and jump into the water. 

Yeonjun liked the freedom of his job. Even though, honestly, sitting in a chair for six hours in the burning sun every day could also be tiring and boring. 

So boring he almost quit. 

Almost. 

Because as he ended his shift, switching with another lifeguard, and grabbed his resignation papers, so confident he would put them on his boss’ table, he found a reason to stop right in front of her office and turn around again. 

As his eyes landed on the girl lying on her stomach on her towel near the pool, he realized the pros of his job again. One of them being all the gorgeous girls he could sneak glances at. And sometimes, when he was bored enough, take them to his dressing room. 

 ♡⸝⸝  

“It’s basically law that you go to a pool during summer!” You scoff at your friend, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “The law actually is that I get to relax in my cozy apartment now that I finally have time for myself,” you state, and without waiting for her answer, you look down at your book again, re-reading the first sentence on the page. 

“Oh, come on! Please! We have to go!” She pleads, making you groan as you place your bookmark between the two pages and slam it shut, before glancing over at her. “Fine, fine, I’ll go if it means you’ll stop bothering me,” you finally accept defeat with a sigh, creating a grin on her face. “I promise you won’t regret it!” 

New things never excite you as much as others. You liked sticking  to your routine and visiting places you’ve already been to. You aren’t sure why, but you’ve always preferred it that way.

But your friends always thought otherwise, bringing you to new restaurants that opened in town, going on trips to places still unfamiliar to all of you, and now, taking you to the swimming pool they opened last year when you weren’t in town. 

“I just don’t understand why we have to go to this pool. You have a pool at your house! Why couldn’t we have gone there?” You ask her for the millionth time, making her groan in annoyance. “Just wait. You’ll understand once we get there,” is all she says before locking her arm with yours, smirking as she leads you towards the swimming pool. 

 ♡⸝⸝  

“There is your reason,” she says proudly, lowering her sunglasses as she watches the lifeguards switch shifts. You glance the same way she does, raising an eyebrow at the black-haired boy before looking at your friend again. “You wanted to go here because of a boy?” 

“Not just any boy! The hottest guy you’ve ever seen!” She exclaims, watching you roll your eyes. “Don’t tell me you don’t find him attractive.” You turn your attention to the male again, examining his features. “Okay, yeah. He’s handsome,” you admit. “But still, that doesn’t mean we should–” 

“His name is Yeonjun,” she interrupts you. “Choi Yeonjun. And I swear you two would look great together.” 

“So this is what it’s about,” you scoff. “You’re unbelievable. Why are you trying to set me up with someone again?” You reach into your bag, bringing out your towel , and wrapping it around yourself  as if it could prove her anything. “I’m happy with how things are now,” you proclaim, well aware of your stubbornness. 

“Oh, come on! You’ve been sex deprived since you broke up with Jay! And trust me, he knows how to fuck,” she assures you, completely serious. “All you have to do is walk confusedly around the kiosks, and he’ll be all yours.” 

You shake your head at her, glancing toward the male again. “Well, your plan couldn’t work even if I wanted to do it, anyway” you state, nodding toward him so she would look the same way. 

He is handsome, you can’t argue with that. And you couldn’t say you would mind getting to know him either, but with his handsomeness came one con. Attractive guys were always too busy. Busy with talking to all the different girls. Busy thinking god knows what of themselves. Even now, you could see him talking to some girl in the pool, a few others surrounding him.

“Oh, hell no. We are going to swim. Right now,” she states, grabbing your hand and basically forcing you out of your chair. “You need to show off.” 

You sigh, throwing your towel back on your bag before following her to the pool, giving up on trying to talk her out of it. You knew you were stubborn, but so was she. And unlike you, she wouldn’t back down until the very end. 

 ♡⸝⸝  

You felt embarrassed. It was pathetic trying to get into his pants like this, but the most embarrassing thing about the whole situation was his stares. You could feel his eyes all over your body. On your legs when you walked out of the pool, on your ass when you walked past him, and on your breast as you put sunscreen on. 

“You have him wrapped around your finger,” your friend laughs, watching the male opposite you on the other side of the swimming pool. You feel your cheeks heating up every time you make eye contact with him, averting your gaze from him immediately. “That’s to not wanting you to set me up with anyone,” you mumble. 

“You’re welcome,” she giggles, looking at the time on her phone. “Alright, my job here is done. The pool closes in twenty minutes. Stay until the end if you want our work to be worth it. Wait until everyone is gone and then go talk to him,” she gives you instructions, and it makes you wonder how many times she has done something like this. There’s especially one question that gets stuck in your head. Was he the one that taught her all of this? 

And trust me, he knows how to fuck. You remember your friend's words, swallowing the lump in your throat as you watch her pack her things. “Wait,” you stop her, hesitating as she turns to you again with a confused look. “Did you…sleep with him before?” You watch her burst into laughter, leaving you confused this time. 

She quickly pulls out her phone, looking for something. “If you are worried about breaking the girls’ code or something like that, relax. This is my lifeguard,” she smiles, proudly showing you a picture on her phone. “Yeonjun is kind of a hoe, though, not going to lie to you. I am not sure who he did sleep with,” she adds. “It was Taehyun’s idea that I could set you two up,” she admits, pointing at the picture on her phone again so you’d know who she is talking about. “He thinks you might be what Yeonjun needs to calm his hormones and finally stick with one girl. And even if you can’t exactly change him, I thought it would be good for you to have a fun night at least.” 

You nod to her, hesitating as you glance at the male again, his eyes still glued to your body. He probably thought he was inconspicuous, too. “This is one of your worst ideas,” you sigh. “But I’ll give it a go. I can’t let your effort go in vain.” 

♡⸝⸝  

“Excuse me, the pool is closing in two minutes,” you look up upon hearing the unfamiliar voice, gulping down to swallow all the stress that brushed over you, before you look around the place, as if you don’t know it is empty by now. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you apologize awkwardly. 

You feel his eyes on your back as you get up to collect your things, biting your bottom lip. Thank god he couldn’t see your face at the moment. “You know, I think the front gate is locked already. So if you wait for me for a bit, you can leave with me through the back,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck and looking around the place, doing his best to hold back and not let his eyes fall on your lower body. 

“Sure,” you nod, the sound of the pool filtration the only thing you heard for a while. “Alright, yeah. You can come with me,” he shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit all over the place today,” he apologized, leading you toward the dressing rooms. 

“More like a bit all over me,” you mumble, a chuckle leaving your lips. You freeze as you watch him stop before you, realizing he can still hear you. “I mean–” 

“If you noticed me, you must have been looking at me too, or am I wrong?” 

“You’re not wrong,” you admit when you notice the hunger in his eyes, looking up at him and trying your best to keep eye contact with him. But honestly, it was hard when his eyes looked like that. At first glance, it felt like innocent boba eyes that you could get lost in, but then you saw the lust, excitement, and arousal behind them, hesitating again. 

A chuckle slips past his lips, making your eyes widen. “You’re cute,” he comments, watching your cheeks turn pink. “What’s your name?” You answer him, doing your best to remain calm as he steps forward. He repeats your name, almost as if trying to see how it sounds on his lips. “I’m Yeonjun.” 

“I know who you are,” you assure him. “A lot of girls seem to know.” 

“I don’t know a lot of girls’ names, though.” You roll your eyes at him, scoffing at how cheesy he sounds. “Don’t you have places to be? I thought you still need to change so we can leave,” you quickly change the topic, knowing you had him where you wanted now. 

“That can wait, don’t you think?” You bite your bottom lip as you gaze him in the eyes again, instinctively nodding. “God and I promised Taehyun I wouldn’t hook up with another girl at work,” he muttered quietly, stepping forward again to get closer to you. You could hear your heart beating faster as you looked at him, regretting your decision immediately. You shouldn’t have listened to your friend. You should have left with her and stayed sex deprived. You should have– 

He interrupts your thoughts by pressing his lips on yours, making your eyes widen. “Was that…okay with you?” He stops, for the first time in a while, finding himself hesitating as he watches you freeze. He never had to question if a girl liked him or what she thought of him. Yet, here he was, rethinking his next moves as if it was the first time he was this close to a girl. 

“Fuck,” you mumble, your hand reaching to the back of his neck and pulling him closer to yourself to kiss him again. “It’s so wrong that your lips taste this good.” He smirks into the kiss, his hand roaming your back while his tongue explores your mouth. It feels weird having his hands all over you, but at the same time, it seems so right. 

“It’s wrong that you’re this gorgeous,” he comments back, his hand sliding under your bottom piece as he grasps your ass, picking you up in one swift movement. You yelp, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist and your hands around his shoulders. Your eyes shake, mostly from excitement, as you watch him, questioning what is going on in his mind. 

He doesn’t say anything, though. His lips land on yours immediately instead as he walks forward, doing his best not to wobble and make you both fall to the ground as his eyes stay close to enjoy the kiss fully. 

When you pull away to take a moment and breathe, you’re back next to the pool, near his assigned place. “So you don’t plan on changing anymore,” you tease him, unable to hide your smile as you watch his face, scanning his features from up close. His lips are pretty, you notice. Pretty is a suitable word to describe him. “I will gladly take you to the changing room and change with you later, but for now, this will be more fun.” 

You’re not sure how it all happened, but the next thing you know, you’re sitting on the pool’s edge, your legs thrown over Yeonjun’s shoulders while his head is buried in between your thighs. You weren’t sure what to expect when he said it “would be more fun,” but after he had jumped into the water, not caring about getting his hair wet, you knew you were in for a ride. 

You pull on his hair, moaning out as his tongue plays with your clit. “Mhm?” He looks up for a second when you do so, his boba eyes making you melt. “N-nothing,” you shake, biting your bottom lip at the sight. He is no longer just pretty. With his wet hair in front of his eyes and your slick on his lips, he is beyond just that. 

He chuckles, diving between your legs again, this time sucking harder. “You’re so pretty,” he mumbles as he licks your core, looking up at you to see your reaction before his tongue makes its way into your cunt, eating you out like a starved man. 

Yeonjun lets you pull on his hair however you want, unbothered by your actions as his hands squeeze your thighs, keeping you in place as he tongue-fucks you, enjoying himself as much as you do. 

“I’m–” your voice breaks in the middle as he goes back to sucking on your clit, sending you over the edge before you can warn him. “Going to cum,” you breathe out, but by the time, his mouth is already covered with your release. “Tastes so fucking good,” he mumbles, licking his lips. He lets go of your thighs, pulling himself up to reach your lips. “So good, princess,” he praises before kissing you. 

“Alright, come in,” Yeonjun whispers softly, letting his legs hit the bottom of the pool again. His hand reaches towards you, and you gladly accept it. He helps you into the water, his hand slowly tracing from your thigh to your back, coming up until he reaches the strings of your bikini top, pulling it off in one swift motion. 

You grant him one sheepish smile full of nervousness, keeping your eyes on him. You were too scared to look away, internally terrified that if you dared to look away, he would disappear. “Is it okay so far?” He wondered, carefully caressing your waist as if he could read your mind. You nod, biting your bottom lip as your hand reaches his chest, your fingertips just so slightly brushing over his nipples. He groans, trying to keep his moans from escaping. 

His hands repeat your motion, twisting your right nipple in his two fingers while he lowers his head to your left one, leaving wet kisses all over your breast. “Jjun,” you gasp as he sucks on your nipple, throwing your head back. You open your mouth to speak again, but all that you’re able to do at the moment is moan. He makes it impossible for you to think straight, especially after you feel his knee between your legs, pressing against your naked core. 

You wrap your leg around his hips, pulling him closer. Yeonjun looks up at you for a moment, smirking when he notices the need in your eyes, caressing your thigh before he makes you wrap your other leg around him, too, pushing you onto the wall. You can feel his bulge against your cunt, and wish he would have taken down his swim trunks a long time ago. 

“You’re so impatient, sweetheart,” he teases, pressing his lips on yours again. You don’t hesitate and kiss him back, opening your mouth to give him better access. Part of you hates how easily he can get you, but you can’t help it and want all of him as soon as possible. You need him to fill you up, fuck you dumb like you haven’t been in a while. 

“It’s your ‘ngh fault,” you breathe out, grinding on his bulge. Yeonjun bites onto his bottom lip, doing his best to keep quiet. It’s safe to say you drove him crazy. “‘M wait–” his breath shakes, and his eyes shut close. He squeezes your thighs, stopping you so he can take his shorts down. 

It’s a new experience, you must admit. You never fantasized about pool sex, but now that the lifeguard was thrusting his cock into you, somehow managing to hit your g-spot on the first try and driving you crazy, you had a completely different opinion on it. You’ll have to repeat it in the future. 

Yeonjun’s hand is firmly pressed against the cold tiles next to you, his lips all over your neck and collarbone while he fucks your orgasm back into you. You tried to keep it in, wait for him to reach his climax too, and then cum together, but it was impossible to control anything when he was this good. Even though the thought of it disgusted you, you could see he had the experience as his reputation promised. 

“So perfect,” he blabs another praise, sucking onto the skin on your neck. You aren’t sure how many praises left his lips by this point, but you know he hasn’t stopped giving you compliments since he thrust into you for the first time. “Could fuck you forever.” 

You don’t answer anything. Instead, you tug on his hair, stealing a kiss from the lifeguard immediately when he looks up, whining against his lips. You feel him slowing down as his breath gets heavier, making you realize he is about to cum, too. You don’t get the chance to tell him to pull out when he pulls you in for another kiss, but you don’t even mind much, honestly. 

You let him cum inside you, thrust his cum deep into you while listening to his groans and whines, a few more praises leaving his lips before he finally pulls out of you. You whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness, your legs giving up as you fall into his arms, making him chuckle. “You were so good, princess. So good,” he coos, rubbing circles on your back. “You’d tell anyone that,” you mumble, and before you can even realize you said it out loud, he sits you on the edge again, opening your legs and placing himself between them, looking up at you. “I don’t usually talk with the girls I fuck here,” he proclaims, his eyes as sincere as they can be. “Don’t know their names either,” he says, adding your name to prove his point. 

“What are you trying to say?” You ask, your cheeks heating up. He had just fucked you, and yet, it was somehow embarrassing having him stand between your legs while you looked down at him. “I don’t tell anyone that,” he assures you. “Just like I don’t want any girl’s number.” 

Your eyes widen, and you have to avert your gaze from him. “But I am sure you make every guy feel like this,” he rests his chin on your thigh, keeping his eyes on you. “Like what?” You ask, trying not to pay much attention to the fact your cheeks are red. 

“Totally crazy,” Yeonjun proclaims, as if it was obvious. You scoff, thinking he is just making fun of you. But when you glance down at him, he seems as serious as one could be, making you gulp. “You’re the one driving me crazy,” you admit, biting your bottom lip. 

“We can drive each other crazy then,” he suggests softly, finding your hand and taking it into his. His fingers intertwine with yours, and you think you might fall for him right then and there. “I can’t possibly fuck anyone else now that I got a taste of you.” 

You don’t say anything to him, refusing to let him sway you so easily. But when you finally leave the pool and get into his dressing room, his lips are all over your body again, begging you to at least consider calling him again, preferably as soon as possible. “Fine, fine, I’ll think about it. But I probably won’t call you,” you sigh, watching him type his number into your phone. “I am not looking for sex with no attachments.” 

His ears perk up at your statement. This is his chance, he thinks. Chance to finally prove to Taehyun that he can have a serious relationship if he wants to. “Let me take you on a date then,” he offers. 

You sigh again, but the more you think about it, you don’t see a reason why you should reject him. So you nod, sharing your number with him, too, so he can text you later. Part of you knows it might be just a waste of your time. Yeonjun is kind of a hoe, you remember your friend’s words, but it doesn’t shake you. You want to give him a chance.

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @seoulzie @adel222 @inkigayocamman @flowzel @love-be0m @virgo-and-libra @hwanghyunjinismybae ✶⋆ want to get notified? Join taglist here!

[lionneee]

Your sworn sword

English is not my first language, please be kind

Masterlist

Taglist

•Warnings: fingering, degradation (just a bit), 'just the tip', talking of sexual themes, piv, smut.•

Part 1 -> Part 2

{Request: I have a request! Aemond is send across the narrow sea to be the sworn sword/knight of a (verryy beautiful) princess from a noble house is esso’s. As punishment what he did to lucerys Thanks for reading dear 💙}

To say that Prince Aemond was grumpy was an euphemism.

He was rigid, stoic, and rude.

But your father loved him.

You couldn’t understand why, not after his most recent kill: his little nephew.

You remembered meeting Luke Velaryon once, he was a nice, gentle, kind boy.

His brother Jace was just the same.

Princess Rhaenyra had been invited as a guest at your father’s name day feast with her family, and you remembered spending a nice afternoon with her sons.

You actually kept contact with her youngest child, Jace. You two sometimes sent letters to each other, talking of your days apart.

You would have never said it outloud, but you had a weakness for the boy’s dark, beautiful hair.

But he was promised to her cousin Baela.

As soon as you heard the news, you thought he would have stopped sending you letters, but he didn't, and you almost cried of joy when the next letter came.

Then, your father sided with the greens.

He sided with rude, dangerous people, and named the worst of them as your sworn sword.

When he told you about his choice you begged him, you cried, you did everything you could to try to change his mind but it was all to no avail.

Now, all the other Ladies never sat with you, they were afraid to speak with you, all because of some dark, evil, scary person standing behind you, following every step you took.

It was so obvious how much he hated being a night, yet, he stood his role perfectly.

Aemond was always there, lurking like a shadow behind you, his presence cold and heavy, suffocating your every breath. He never spoke to you unless necessary, never showed any warmth or softness in his voice. There was nothing but formality and distance, a thick wall of indifference that made your skin crawl whenever he was near.

To be fair, the only thing you thought interesting of him was his dragon Vaghar.

Your days had become a game of silence, your once carefree nature now replaced with the constant awareness of his eyes on you. You missed the days when you could write to Jace without a worry, when his words brought you comfort and a glimpse of hope. Now, the letters felt like a secret rebellion, something dangerous, but you couldn’t give them up. They were the only link to a world that still held some warmth.

You still wrote to him, though your letters had become shorter, more cautious. You dared not mention Aemond, or your isolation. Instead, you spoke of mundane things, of books you were reading, of the changing seasons. Jace’s responses, too, had shifted, though he remained kind and attentive. There was always a note of tension, a hint of restraint. You knew he was aware of the shifting tides, of your father's allegiance to the Greens.

 You happily walked in your room, smiling as you held the newest letter on your hand from Jace.

Aemond was walking right behind you, but you couldn’t care.

Jace's letter had just come.

You chuckled to yourself as you closed the door of your room behind you, leaving Aemond outside, guarding your door. 

You jogged to your desk, sitting down on the chair and breaking the sigil, opening with trembling hands the letter.

There were only a few lines written.

You furrowed your brows, confused. He usually wrote at least one page.

Dearest friend,

I assume you have heard of my family’s recent loss, my sweet brother Luke, gone by the hand of my uncle Aemond. 

It saddens me to tell you this, but due to your father’s allegiance and your newest sworn sword, I believe it is time to end our communications.

Jace Velaryon

You felt a pain in your chest.

A deep pain.

You weren’t going to receive any more letters from him. 

I believe it is time to end our communications.

You stood up from your desk, leaving the letter to hit the floor as you ran to your bed, laying face down, your arms crossed under your face as you bursted into tears.

You didn’t eat lunch, you didn’t have dinner. You didn’t want to get up from your bed.

Your maids, even one of your closest friends tried to walk past Aemond to check on you, but he was impenetrable, he wouldn’t let anyone in, not if you didn’t want them to.

His behavior left you speechless.

You knew he was loyal, you knew he was one to do his duty, but the way he stood up for you, not letting anyone in just as you asked, left you almost flattered.

The hours dragged on as you laid in your bed, the room dark and suffocating. The weight of Jace's words still lingered, pressing down on your chest. It was as though the last thread connecting you to the warmth of your past had been severed. You felt utterly alone, the castle walls seeming colder, the silence more deafening.

But outside your door, Aemond remained, steadfast and unmoving. His presence felt different now, less like the shadow you despised and more like an unavoidable part of your life. He had become a constant, whether you liked it or not, and now, oddly, that constancy brought a shred of comfort in your moment of loss.

By the time the moon rose high in the sky, you hadn’t moved from your bed, save to cry quietly into your pillow. The pain of Jace's rejection, not just of you but of the friendship you had cherished, was overwhelming. You couldn’t bring yourself to think of anything else, let alone leave your room.

A soft knock echoed through the thick wooden door. At first, you ignored it, thinking it was another maid or friend trying to check on you, Aemond would have taken care of it in a moment. But after a moment, there was another knock, firm yet measured, followed by a voice, calm, collected, and unmistakably Aemond’s.

 "You haven't eaten." He said, his tone devoid of his usual coldness, though it was still restrained. You laid still, wondering if you could pretend you hadn’t heard him. But the silence lingered too long, and it was clear he wasn’t going to leave. He was your sworn sword, after all, bound to you, whether you liked it or not.

"I’m not hungry." You muttered into your pillow, your voice muffled and thick with the remnants of tears.

There was a pause, a moment of hesitation, which was unlike him. Then, Aemond spoke again, quieter this time. "It has been hours. You should take something, if only to keep your strength."

His words were filled with disinterest despite the meaning of them. He made impossible things possible.

"I don’t want anything." You repeated, more firmly this time. 

The door opened with a loud creek, and Aemond just walked inside. You scoffed, annoyed, but you felt too sad to think about him pissing you off.

“Leave me alone!” You groaned on the mattress, clenching your hands into fists. You could hear him moving in the room.

“That puppy of my nephew is what has reduced you in this state?” He asked, scoffing. You turned your head to look at him, and you saw him looking down at a letter in his hands.

Jace’s letter.

You bolted upright on the bed, fury boiling inside you at the sight of Aemond holding Jace’s letter. His tall, imposing figure seemed even more oppressive in the dim light of your room. His one good eye flicked over the page with a mixture of disdain and cold amusement, while the sapphire in his other socket glinted in the low light.

"Give that back!" you demanded, your voice cracking from the tears and frustration, but Aemond made no move to return the letter. He dropped the letter, letting out another scoff.

“You’re a fool.” He said, his rudeness making you red to your ear.

“How dare you talk to me like that?” You exclaimed, indignited.

“He’s a bastard. You’re sweet on a bastard, the son of my whore sister. That’s foolish.”

You felt your blood boil at his words, each syllable a sharp jab to your heart. “You don’t know anything about me! You think you can judge me just because you think you're so much better than everyone else!?”

He stepped closer, towering over you, his expression a mixture of contempt and something unreadable. “I am better than everyone else. I’m surely better than that boy who has no right on the throne he wants to claim so much.”

Your anger flared, but underneath it was a deep sorrow. “He’s more than just a name or a title! Jace has been kind to me, and you—” you pointed an accusing finger at him, “you are the one who brings darkness wherever you go.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, the air crackling with tension. “Kindness won’t save you, and neither will that bastard. This world isn’t built on sentiment. It’s built on strength and blood.”

“Strength?” you spat, incredulous. “Strength that comes from killing boys? That’s your idea of strength?”

He looked unfazed, his expression hardening. “Luke was weak. That’s why he’s dead.”

“You’re twisted.” You hissed. “It brings you pleasure, doesn’t it? Being feared, see people looking away from you –” He pushed you back before you could continue, as he started pulling off the upper structure of his armor.

You stumbled back as you looked up at him, confused and stunned, but he pushed you back again as he took off the lower part of his armor, making you fall back on your bed.

“You want to know what brings me pleasure?” He grabbed your ankle, dragging you down the bed until your butt was almost over it. He pushed the skirts of your dress up, exposing your legs.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You tried to close your legs, or pull down the skirts, but he raised your legs up, then he leaned down to grab both your thighs, spreading them apart, pressing his face against your underwear.

“This.” He mumbled against the thin clothing, his nose pressing against a funny spot against you, that made a strange sound come out of your mouth. “This brings me pleasure.” He growled as he pulled down your underwear along with the stockings. “Teaching stupid ladies their places.” He said as he dived his face back between your thighs, now his mouth pressing on that same spot, sucking and rubbing with his tongue, leaving you breathless for a moment, the pleasure was so high and so good you couldn’t speak.

You couldn’t see him, your skirts were covering the view, but you didn’t really care. Not when it felt this good. 

You didn’t think you'd ever felt this good. 

The one who was making you feel good, was a Targaryen Prince, a child murdered, the rider of the largest dragon in the world.

You could only squirm, your mind numbed by the pleasure, slowly overcoming all the alarms your brain was sending you, telling you to push the prince away, to not let him touch you in such an appropriate manner.

But then, all so suddenly it stopped, leaving you panting heavily. You saw Aemond raising his head from between your legs, coming into your field of vision.

His chin was wet, his only eye almost completely black as he looked down at you.

His hands moved on your skin, almost gently, caressing your skin as they moved up, your knees, your ankles. He wrapped his fingers around your ankles, securing your legs raised, your feet by each side of his head.

You should have stopped him.

This was improper, it was a sin. A sin you were committing with the worst man in the Seven Kingdoms.

You wanted to move, kick him back, telling him to stop touching you with his filthy, blood-stained hands, but under the dark gaze of his single eye you couldn’t move.

Aemond tightened the grip on your ankles, suddenly pulling you up so your hips lifted from the mattress. Startled, you let out a weak squeak, gripping the sheets tightly as your body moved forward, the back of your thighs landing harshly against him, your core rubbing against a protuberance on his pants, the impact sending another jolt of pleasure through your body.

“Yeah, you like it.” He hummed to himself as he dropped you back on the mattress. He leaned down, his body making space for himself between your legs as his face came to hover yours. “And you want to feel it more, don't you?” He smirked, looking down at you.

You could feel your face burning because of his words, more likely because of the truthfulness of them, because yes, you wanted to feel it again.

“No-” You mumbled as you looked up at him, directly in his eye, trying to sound firm, but he simply chuckled, grabbing your face with his hand, his fingers digging in the soft skin of your cheeks. “Such a liar. No wonder why my sweet bastard-nephew doesn’t want you.” 

That stang.

Your eyes immediately filled with tears and anger.

“How dare you?” You hissed as you tried to push him off of you, slapping his chest repeatedly, but he only smiled even more.

“There, there…” He hummed as his hand went back underneath your dress, finding you private again. No matter how much you fought, his body was keeping your legs apart, and he seemed impossible to move.

You only stopped when you felt a strange feeling, something filling you in a way you’ve never felt, that made you gasp out loud. You unconsciously let out a moan, your back arched instinctively, as your body almost contorted as he started moving his finger inside you.

“So easy to shut you up, mh?” He asked as he followed your face to be able to see every expression you made. “So easy to put into place.” He added then in a low voice.

You gritted your teeth together, trying to find in you the force to push him off, to not give him the satisfaction he was showing with that damn smile of his, but you couldn’t. The only sounds that came out of your mouth were whines or soft moans as his finger moved faster inside you, caressing everywhere inside you, and eliciting a pure bliss of pleasure.

“Jace is a fool for leaving you.” He said as he looked at you, your eyes half closed, your head leaned back, your lips apart. He didn’t even look like he realized he said that, it was like he was talking to himself and accidentally said it outloud. You turned your head to look at him, finding his eyes fixed on you, staring in appreciation. “You’re a rare beauty.” He said, his voice low and rough.

You blinked slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. A warmth spread across your chest, but you weren’t sure if it was the pleasure or the way his gaze lingered on you. 

No.

You thought to yourself.

Not him.

Please.

But the way he looked at you, like he was looking at the most beautiful thing in the world was doing something to you. It made your stomach clench, your head dizzier.

You’ve been told countless times by suitors that you were a sight to see, a beauty, but it did nothing if not make you blush or feel appreciated.

With Jace you felt your heart beat so loud you feared it could jump out of your chest.

You too were aware of your beauty, but you never thought of it as a rareness.

But now with Aemond Targaryen, the cold, mean, cruel man, who was doing unspeakable things to you, who looked at you like a Goddess, you truly felt like one.

Aemond’s gaze pierced through you, a silent intensity in his expression that made your breath catch in your throat. You wished you could deny the way his presence and actions were affecting you, wished you could ignore the way his words stirred something deep inside. But the truth was undeniable. 

As he slipped his second finger inside your thigh core, you felt it crushing on you. You didn’t know what, but for a moment, you forgot about everything, Jace, the war, Aemond’s sins, your worries, your anger and your sadness, it all vanished by the newfound feeling of ecstasy. You whined louder, making aemond clamp his other hand immediately over your mouth to muffle your sounds as he kept moving your fingers. You looked at him with wide eyes, you didn’t know what had just happened to you, but you wanted to keep feeling it, no matter what cost, you wanted to feel that good again.

He kept pumping his fingers inside you as you saw him starting to move, rub, against your thigh, some hardness pressing and caressing your skin. His brows arched slightly, his eye narrowing slightly as he pressed his hips harder against you, seeking more friction and pressure. 

You’ve never seen a man do a face close to that one.

You’ve never seen Aemond make a face like that, and it was beautiful, it was breathtaking, hypnotizing, you felt like watching him all day as he experienced his pleasure.

He didn’t miss the way you seemed affected, obviously. He looked down at you and found you staring at him, his eye darkened even more, his pupil dilating even more if possible as he clenched his jaw.

“You like this?” He looked down at you, moving his hand from your mouth to your neck, gripping it tightly, but not enough to actually cut your air off. You tilted your head back, wrapping your hands on his wrist and arm, gasping as he slipped his fingers out, passing them over your pearl just to see you squirm, his lips moving into a smirk. “No.” He said as he sat up in his haunches between your legs, forcing you to spread them to make room for his body as he started to undo his pants. “You love it.”

You tried to look down, trying to understand what he was doing but he squeezed your throat into a warning, keeping your head in place. “What are you trying to see, uh?” He growled as he pushed his pants down enough to let his cock spring free. “Such a curious menace, always getting into trouble.” He hissed as he leaned over her to look at you from above. “Always sneaking around, making my life harder.” He gritted his teeth. “Making me chase you.” He raised her skirts to your waist as he aligned his cock to your core, wet and warm, hot.

“No – “ You mumbled as you felt the tip pressing on your skin. “Y-you can’t- We’re not married-” You mumbled as you panted, shaking your head. Aemond smiled down at you, his thumb caressing the skin of her neck. 

“No one will notice.” He said firmly, pushing slightly, making his tip grace the inside your core, just slightly, enough to hear another moan from you. “Just…” He groaned as he repeated the movement, moving his hips forward as his face contorted in pleasure. “... the tip – Fuck –” He groaned as he started moving his hips, the tip of his cock was being sucked in every time by your cunt, as if it was trying to keep him inside. 

It didn’t feel bad.

She did feel like her cunt was being torn apart, but she found the pain mixed to the pleasure extremely pleasing.

It was good.

It was so good.

The pleasure was so overwhelming, so strong, so blissful.

“A-Aemond – “ You bit your lower lip as you arched your back, jerking your hips to find more pleasure as his tip kept slipping out and back in.

Aemond couldn’t tear his eyes off the sight, your core making a wet sound every time he slipped in, your walls forced open to make space for his thick cock, his red tip being welcomed in the warmness of your body, and then the sound of your weak wail every time he pulled back, only enough to be able to push back in.

“Yeah like that –” He growled as he tightened his hand around your neck, his eye still fixed on how your bodies connected, his thrusts regular, calculated and hard.

He was hanging by a thread, and he was showing a great amount of control, just by not slamming his whole long cock inside you, and making you scream in pain and pleasure.

“Grind yourself like a whore –” He snarled as he started rolling his hips faster, the wet sound growing louder along with his pace. “Fuck youre so tight – You’re squeezing me inside - ”

It didn’t bother you the way he called you, the way he spoke. If not, it only aroused you more.

You bit your lower lip harder, and no matter how low you tried to keep your noises, it became impossible as Aemond moved his free hand, using his fingers to circle your pearl, putting just the right amount of pressure. Your back arched violently as you threw your head back, your mouth open in an oval shape, grunts and moans coming out one after another as Aemond tightened his hand around your throat, starting to cut some of your air supplies, your eyes rolled in the back of your head.

It was all so much.

It was all so good.

“Come.” He growled as he finally looked up at you. “Come, before I lose it.” His eye fixed on yours. He looked feral. He looked like a chained animal, that once set free, would have hunted and killed everything in its path. “Come, before absolutely ruin you.” 

It wasn’t like you had any control over it, because when the pleasure reached you in such a hard, strong frisson, you could only surrender to it. Your eyes widened, your mouth opened, but Aemond tightened his hand on your throat even more, killing every sound you could have let out. Your eyes watered as your hips jerked, the pleasure washing over you in devastating waves.

He snarled, letting go of your throat, but you barely had the time to take a deep breathe because you felt a stinging pain, barely muffled by the aftershocks of you climax, as Aemond grabbed tightly your hips and harshly pulled to him, making you slip down on the bed and making his cock thrust completely inside you, as he moaned on top of you.

“So fucking tight.” His voice was strained, his breathing heavy, then, you felt a strange sensation of wetness inside you.

You whined as the bliss of pleasure slowly faded away, leaving you in an uncomfortable pain, so you pushed Aemond away, who retrieved with a groan, slipping out of you.

You slowly sat up, looking at him as your mind slowly registered the last moments. 

Aemond stood up from the bed, tucking himself inside his pants and starting to put his armor back on.

You didn’t say anything in the meanwhile, you just stared down at the bed covers, where you and Aemond were laying till a few seconds before, committing one of the worst sins ever.

A sin that felt so good.

You snapped out of your moment of trance only when you heard the door slam shut, and a strange smell of burned paper in the air. You moved to the end of the bed, on the floor, there was a piece of paper on fire.

Jace’s letter.

Part 2

Taglist: @ka1afbr @cynic-spirit @ladythornofrivia @zenka69 @queenofthekeep @adorewhatever @diannnnsss @kotadislikesthissite @iloveallmyboys @valyrianflower @dixie-elocin @gelacat0413 @quinquinquincy @mamawiggers1980 @darylandbethfanforever9 @rhaethoughts @believeinthefireflies95 @urfavnoirette @summerposie @sk1mah1 @queenofshinigamis @anukulee @chlmtfilms @m-riaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @malfoycassimalfoy

[phantomsies]

my dress up darling • ony

convincing your friend to go to a convention with you turned out to be the best idea ever!…but it’s what happens before the event even arrives that makes it all the more fun..

📝: blerd!ony, black fem!reader (plus size coded), PWP, finger sucking, thigh riding, fingering, handjob, pet names used (mama, baby, she slips up and calls him daddy), lots of praise, tit/nipple play, nasty hotel sex, tiny mentions of blood + injury, reader is a seamstress/cosplayer, missionary, squirting, friends to lovers, lots of humor and banter, creampie, aftercare

word count: 6.3K

this was a lil something I’ve been wanting to write for the longest bc blerd!ony altered my brain chemistry and I miss him tremendously (and the next time I go to a con, I’m totally not hoping to manifest a tall, darkskin, nerdy cosplayer bf🌚 just joking y’all! That would literally never happen. But I hope y’all enjoy this

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───

“Ow..damn, this hurts already..”

“You good over there, mama? What’s wrong?”

the deep voice belted out in a rather low and calm tone..cool and collected, that’s how he always was. Nonchalant to a fault and that was just one of the many things you loved about him. Hence why you had invited him along to this little venture in the first place. However, at the moment…you quite frankly could not stand his ass! Through gray colored contacts, (y/n) shot the tall male next to you an icy glare..one signifying just how ‘good’ you were!

“Oh, I’m just fine, Ony. Despite the fact that my legs are still shaking and I’m sore as hell.”

a statement that should not have garnered a single chuckle out of anyone had your very handsome homeboy doubling over in laughter. He could tell by the look on your face that you were still a little peeved at him for the previous night and this morning. Honestly, you’d never want to fight a single person in your life but if you thought you could beat him, you’d ask him to spar just one time. “What the hell is so funny?” “Nothing at all, you just seem a lil’ stressed.” Feigning his humor as he pressed the key fob to lock the doors of his 2022 Camaro..a beautiful specimen, much like the man driving it. Honestly, it should’ve been illegal to be this fine but you knew exactly what you were signing up for when you decided to come to this convention with him! Three days full of dressing up, video games and all of the collectible items and rare figurines that one’s nerdy little heart could desire. It was an event that you had been looking forward to for months and it was only the icing on the cake when your favorite cashier turned cosplay buddy decided to tag along! You’d discovered Onyakopon’s, or just Ony as everyone called him; his love for nerdy things after you came into his store on a late night with a random anime shirt on and he was all hyped to see someone else that looked like him, especially a girl..that was into this same stuff. Since that day, the two of you spoke every chance you got to gush over your favorite shows and game series, all but holding up the lines to do so. Soon, that bond carried over outside of his workplace and the two of you began hanging out. Even going to a manga and anime cafe for your first outing. You were so excited to have a friend who shared your similar interests. Eventually, you divulged to Ony that you were a cosplayer and that’s when he stumbled upon your Instagram page. Which was littered with photos of you in beautiful costumes…some very detailed and intricate and others..very revealing and sexy! Make no mistake, he drew an issue with neither one but to see your duality from a girl who walked around in long graphic tees with characters on them and sweatpants to seeing you with your ass out, dressed as one of his fictional crushes, had him very conflicted! But what impressed him even more was the fact that each one of those beautiful outfits you were wearing?

You had hand sewn each one yourself! Spending weeks at a time crafting each one. Hence why your page was so much more bare than other girls he’d seen doing the same craft. It wasn’t that you loved it any less, you just didn’t have the luxury of tossing on any old, run of the mill Amazon ensemble from some third party buyer whose plus sizes looked like they’d fit a middle schooler at best. So instead of giving it up altogether, you took the liberty of learning how to stitch them together yourself to ensure the perfect fit. So naturally, it came as no surprise that when you revealed this secret to him, he wanted you to curate his very first cosplay as well! Ony had long since dreamed of dressing up as characters such as Kratos, Jin Kazuma and all the other badass video game giants he adored. Not only did go out and purchase hundreds of dollars worth of materials for you to make his dream costume come to life, but he offered to cover the costs of everything for the weekend. Just because he was so gracious to you and excited to be going. You made it your mission to ensure that he’d be left in awe when he put it on! The character in question? None other than Shao Kahn from Mortal Kombat and you decided to accompany him as the antagonist’s wife, Sindel. You both looked incredible. But leading up this moment, things had gotten a little out of control, thanks to your companion over there!..who didn’t seem to be phased at all.

“Aye listen, to be fair, you started it. I just finished it.” Prompting you to smack your lips and cut your eyes at the shirtless male. Who was glistening in the sunlight and not making matters any better. “Whatever, I think you were betting on sum’ shit like that to happen.” “Shit, I ain’t mad that it did and I know you not either.”

but just what was Ony referring to? Well…it all began last night in the hotel room…

flashback

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───

“Ony! Can you stay still, please? I’m tryna finish this last piece.”

“C’mon, ma. Can’t you do it later on?”

“If it gets any later, imma be sleep so no. You can pause that damn game and wait for me to finish sewing this on.”

it was around eight thirty at night..dark had fallen cast over the skies and faint crackles of thunder resounded throughout the air. Luckily, the two of you were safe from any potential storms in the confines of your spacious hotel room. A luxury, double bed suite at the Best Western; only two blocks away from the convention venue. The last thing either of you wanted to be worried about was having to drive forever to get there and then have no parking or having to wait in a long line. It was a mistake you’d made several times when attending these events alone but Ony wanted his very first time to be absolutely perfect. Not to mention, he didn’t want you having to walk far in your heels. DragonCon was by far one of the largest conventions in the country and people of all kinds came to the illustrious event to have fun, make friends and of course, show off their cosplays. You and Ony had decided on the video game greats, Sindel and Shao Kahn from Mortal Kombat. You had loved Sindel since you first began playing the series and she became your favorite. So a year ago, you decided to craft her iconic purple suit and the staff to go along with it. So you were all set aside. But he wasn’t going to be as easy…because at the moment, while you were trying to put together the final touches on his outfit, he was clicking away at a controller, which made it difficult to get the stitching right. But you knew how it went…when you found yourself gridlocked in an important match or battle and couldn’t stop at the moment.

“Awww, c’mon! You keep blocking, bro. I hate this damn combo—“

it was at that moment when you were bringing the curved needle up through the loin cloth piece and securing the stitch, did he jump and not only cause you to lose balance, but send that needle right through your finger! Poking the index pad and breaking the skin. “OW!” On instinct, you’d jump back and immediately, Ony dropped his controller, finally breaking focus on what he was doing. You were bleeding but nothing too major. Alas though, he felt instantaneously guilty and reached for you. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” Making an attempt to check on you. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel bad so you’d downplay your pain and try to brush it off. But he was quick to run to the bathroom to grab some paper and bandages to help clean it up. “Here, you sit down..I got you.” You could tell he was remorseful by the way he flew into action but it was just a part of the craft. You’d lost count of how many times you’d singed yourself with a hot glue gun or poked yourself with a needle. Hell, you still had a giant scar on your arm from the time you sliced it, trying to cut material for a prop. It was certainly on the tamer side of the injuries you’d sustained. But just knowing that he was even remotely responsible for your pain, he couldn’t handle that.

“Ony, I’m fine. Really..I’ll just wrap it up later..”

“Nah, I should’ve stopped like you said. That’s my fault.” There was a sudden shift in his tone and you didn’t like it! There was no need for him to feel guilty. But here he was, sitting next to you on the bed as he gently cusped your hand and began first aid. He was a true sweetheart if you’d ever met one. He’d start by wiping it away and cleaning it thoroughly. You told him that a bandaid would only get in the way and keep snagging so you’d just leave it uncovered.

“You good? How you feel?” A question that elicited a laugh from you. You didn’t understand why he was so worked up over something so trivial. “I told you I’m okay. You ain’t got to worry, I’m a big girl. It’s gon’ take more than a lil’ ass needle to break me.” It was then that the two of you found yourselves face to face on the edge of the bed. Everything else had seemed to fall silent or as menial background noise. You noticed that he couldn’t stop staring at you and that he was still clutching your hand. Those deep set eyes of his remained focused on you as he casually slid his thumb across your own. “Yeah..I know. But I just wanna make you straight, that’s all..you know I care about you.” The sentiment sends flutters throughout your stomach. He was so sweet and attentive..it really shocked you that no woman had snatched him up already. He was incredibly handsome, respectful and always kind. You were happy to have someone like him in your life.

“I appreciate that..I’m just happy you decided to come with me. It means a lot. I usually do this by myself so I feel a lot better with you around.”

by now, the mood had shifted from slightly intense to..something far more sensual. Serene and quiet, as if the two of you were lovers confessing your feelings under moonlight. Truth be told, you’d never pictured yourselves as anything other than friends up until that moment. But you were always each other’s ‘person’. Attached and glued at the hip and loving the sense of happiness you brought one another. This peace and safety that came with knowing you could be your authentic selves. Inching closer, Ony would bridge the gap of space between your bodies and place a hand on your thigh. “Well you know I wouldn’t have missed this for anything..getting to be alone with you? It’s the highlight of my year..dressing up and getting to experience my first con with my fine ass girl? I couldn’t ask for better.” You’d feel your skin run hot and pangs shooting off in your stomach as he uttered the words in that deep drawl. You couldn’t believe he was so infatuated with you. Granted, you were beautiful and there wasn’t a time that you doubted yourself but he was unreal. Those pearly white teeth, that gorgeous dark skin, chiseled physique and that height..he nearly drove you insane when you were measuring him for all the pieces and you caught a glimpse of that v-line! Right now, your minds were on a one track path and there was no chance of it derailing.

“..Ony..”

because of this, neither of you could fight your urges a second longer and he’d pose a question you’d been dying to hear. “..Can I kiss you? Lemme thank you for helping me..” and without hesitation.. “I think you know the answer.” ..you gave him the green light. In a matter of moments, he’d curl a finger underneath your chin before pulling your face closer and pressing your mouths together. His soft lips collided with your own and eventually, you’d begin to make out. Shoving your tongues around inside of each other’s jaws. Your palm would creep up to cup his face and you’d find yourselves locked in a heated moment of passion. You found yourselves tangled up; hands colliding and caressing the opposite frame and by the time you came up for air, yours were roaming underneath his tank top and his were all up your slightly parted thighs.

“Here..sit on my lap.” Commanding with such suaveness, you couldn’t move fast enough as those perfectly manicured fingers waved you towards him. Ony would chew at his lower lip after licking; his signature mannerism when he was feeling a bit aroused by you. He’d done it so many times, that he had to quell it and be on his best behavior. But now, he couldn’t be too vexed to do so. He wanted you and you’d realize just how much before the night was over. You’d follow his command, propping yourself on his muscular thigh. It was decorated by a single tattoo of Shenron from Dragon Ball Z, surrounded by the eight balls. It was such beautiful work but if Ony could be rather frank…he wanted nothing more than to have you grinding yourself on it or watch that ass clap against it! A depraved thought but a real one nonetheless.

“I think you deserve a break, baby..been working so hard tryna’ get me right…lemme take care of you for a lil’ bit.” It was once you were stationed on his lap with those legs slightly parted, did he resume those sloppy yet gentle pecks. Intermittently shoving his tongue into your mouth. He’d slowly trail those fingertips across your covered skin; still sheathed by those tights underneath your skirt that you’d worn at dinner. Rips had plagued the inner corners as they’d always done…it was nearly impossible for you to keep those or a pair of fishnets with how thick your flesh was. That didn’t seem to bother him at all though. To Ony, it was the most attractive shit a woman could have. He loved how soft and supple your skin was..always scented with cocoa butter and that sweet perfume he loved so much. He loved how your features just made everything you wore, cosplay or otherwise..look so accentuated. He couldn’t get enough. Meanwhile, those nimble digits worked their way up your skirt and stopped just a centimeter short of your aching center. Unbeknownst to him, this was the first time you’d been so close to a man and in such an intimate setting. But make no mistake, you weren’t scared. In fact, you invited the idea of having him be the first one to ‘deflower’ you.

“You gon’ let me do that, baby?..Can I play with this pretty pussy?..”

the lewd question sending pangs throughout the pit of your belly. You didn’t even hesitate to provide him an answer and before you knew it, he was ripping out the seat of those tights and peeling your panties back. As he suspected, you were dripping. He just knew you’d be some pressure but this was his first bit of confirmation. As you sat idly on his lap, Ony began to toy around with your cunt. Brushing ever so slightly over that clit and running his finger pads along your folds and lips..it was so sticky and he was certain that it tasted even better. A theory he’d put to the test soon enough. However, at the moment, he just wanted to get you stimulated. He wanted to see those cute little reactions when he rubbed on your aching bud and teased it over your hole. Your arm clenched around the back of his neck as you held on for leverage. You’d watch his every move. Following his pace step for step and it was agonizing to see him going so slowly. You needed him to do his worst already!

“Mmm…I knew this shit was gon’ be wet but damn..look at my fingers already and I ain’t even stuck ‘em in..”

referring to the copious amounts of slick coating the tips as he swiped up and down. Over the sound of the crisp air blowing from the vents, he could hear your stirred up secretions, only growing by the minute. And of course, those cute little moans escaping your throat. “Ony…fuck.” “Oh you like that, huh? Like when I play in this pretty hole, don’t you, mama?” All but rhetorically questioning when he finally decided to plunge his middle and index inside simultaneously; nearly making you come undone right there. You couldn’t even elicit a response until he gained a rhythm and slowly worked you over. A single strand of drool seeped from your lips as he gently thrusted those digits back and forth. He could sense just how tight you were from his digits alone. The anticipation to be inside of you was growing stronger. But for now, he’d hide his time and focus solely on your pleasure. Those gentle brown eyes were fluttering and had even rolled back whilst you rolled your hips in a circular motion to meet his movements while incoherent babble left your mouth. But that wouldn’t suffice..he needed to hear you say it.

“Unt uh..use your words, baby. I need to know I’m making you feel good..” and alas, he’d get his answer when he sped up his pace and clutched a hand around your throat. Squeezing ever so slightly to garner his desired reaction. Ony wouldn’t consider himself to be super dominant by any means but he loved taking control to show his girl she had nothing to worry about.

“Y-yeah, daddy. It feels so fucking good.” The name slipping out casually as you pounced up and down on those two fingers. You’d felt a slight tinge of embarrassment but Ony on the other hand? Felt empowered. He never really cared for the term but hearing you utter it with those mellifluous moans, he was reconsidering! In fact, he needed to hear it again. “That’s my good girl…here, lemme take this off too.” Referencing your tube top that had been housing those ample breasts and concealed under your sweater at the restaurant. For now though, he wanted to see his gifts unwrapped. “Fuck..these big ass titties so pretty, baby. I love the way they sit up..”

it was then that he’d bury his face between them and alternate between each one’s nipple while his fingers remained nestled inside of that warmth. They’d slowly work around, twisting until they prodded your g-spot and his tongue swirled those brown buds, lapping and licking. A combination of the stimulating movements had caused you to make quite the mess of his leg with creamy juices spilling forth. You were squirming, becoming restless and in need of an orgasm already. But Ony was enjoying this far more than he should and couldn’t be vexed to stop right now.

“You so fucking pretty, baby. I swear I be so happy when you’re around..”

doting on you constantly whilst working over your sweet spot. He could tell just how excited you had become, just by the way you writhed and squealed as well. In truth, you’d never been in a situation quite like this one. You look so salacious yet so innocent and it wasn’t something that was lost on Ony. In fact, he wanted to further exploit it..

“Open that mouth..” the command followed by you promptly obeying and him gliding those same digits that were just inside of you onto your tongue. It was such a cute sight..watching you suckle on his fingers with those brown doe eyes fixated on him. This was something that he could never grow tired of..reducing his pretty little best friend to his adorable slut! You’d whimper heavily around those digits, moaning and still rutting yourself against his exposed upper thigh. Meanwhile, he was pushing those digits in and out, even getting you to gag and drool a bit from the movements. “Fuck…there you go. Suck them fingers, baby. Taste that pretty pussy f’r me. Yeah, you know your shit good. Fine ass..” which prompted you to giggle. It wasn’t a compliment you received often and honestly, you never doubted that you were beautiful but it was something about him affirming you that made your heart flutter. Suddenly, his low drawl ascended a half a pitch higher when you’d snake your smaller hand into his shorts. You’d continue to be pacified on his fingers whilst jerking him off. You were inconsolable and when you noticed that very visible tent in his bottoms, you had to move.

“Oh my gosh—shit…keep playing wit’ it, just like that…stroke that fucking dick..” growling as he forced his digits a little more down your throat; depressing your tongue along the way and causing you to keep emitting drool. Which served as the perfect lubricant to his already leaking cock. “Mmmm…Ony. Need you to fuck me..” “..you want this dick, baby?” Neither of you could take much more of this teasing and when he’d utter the fateful question, asking if you wanted to go further, you didn’t even hesitate. Despite never being intimate with a man prior. Your only partners were women or your lovely assortment of toys that you’d stashed away in your dresser. Honestly, with your arsenal..you saw little to no need to even entertain these dudes. Any feeling or sensation they could bring forth, your Rose Toy and Bad Dragon could replicate times ten! However, it was something about Ony and the way he made you feel. Not just in an erotic sense, but an emotional one as well. You felt so safe and comfortable in his presence, that it only felt natural to submit. He brought forth your feminine energy and allowed you to thrive in it.

“Here, lay down f’r me, mama. Just like that..and keep them legs spread.”

upon giving you instructions, he’d long since removed you from his lap and allowed you lie flat against the mattress; just awaiting his next move. Your tits were still sitting up, spilled out of the tube top, shuffled around your belly..and those sheer fishnets were as good as torn. It was such a sexy view, that Ony didn’t even want to undress you. However, he stripped all of his clothing down and immediately joined you back on the bed. He’d hover above you with his shaft in hand, stroking slowly. The expression on your face told it all…and he couldn’t help but to laugh. “What’s wrong, baby? You look nervous.” To which all you could do was swallow the lump in your throat. Granted, you didn’t know what an actual human’s length was supposed to look like but from the girth of his and how nearly reached the end of his thigh, nervous was an understatement. What if you couldn’t handle it? What if you embarrassed yourself?!..

“Well don’t be..you know imma take my time witchu’..I been waiting on this a long time.” Whispering to you as he leaned down and met your gaze with warm eyes and gentle smile. Brushing your cheek with that cock still in his opposite palm, he’d place small kisses atop your forehead and eventually your lips. “You just tell me what I need to do..this is yours now. I wanna make you feel good..” but it was a given, blatantly obvious even at this point. You needed every last part and inch of him..with your reassurance, he asked once more if it were okay to keep going and you’d grant him permission with a palm of your own to the side of his face..whispering to him to put it inside of you. Cooing with sweet nothings and whiny breaths, (y/n) begged Ony to fulfill your wish and it wasn’t long before your eyes went wide and your face went flush..

“Oh God—“ “Fuck…”

in that moment, the sounds of squelching flesh, along with breathy gasps emitted into the room. The two of you clashed and joined as one, right there on the crisp sheets of that king bed. The first few inches of his cock embedded deep between your warm, massaging walls and it was a sensation that could only be described as euphoric. Your legs instinctively coiled his waist, your hands to the sides of his head and his arms on either side of your body. Lying there, awaiting his next move. But alas, he had to regain his composure. Out of fear of sounding a bit too egregious, he’d keep his thoughts to himself but you were most certainly the best pussy he’d ever felt and he hadn’t even made his first thrust! Even so, Ony released a deep grunt and focused his attention back to your pretty face. “You good, baby?..Can I start moving?” This question required a bit more consideration, as you need time to adjust. That initial feeling brought forth a pleasurable yet slightly painful feeling..you didn’t make it a point to disclose to him that you were technically a ‘virgin’..but seeing as how it wasn’t the very first time you’d felt penetration, you didn’t feel it important. Besides, at that very moment. None of the proverbial details really made a difference. All that mattered was that the two of you were comfortably, willing and all ready to take this next step. And after a moment of quick breaths and whimpers, you’d instruct him to keep moving. In which he’d make one full thrust in and out..

“Agghhh…fuck..there we go, baby. In and out..” eventually, you’d fall into a rhythm of kisses that mimicked his thrusts..each one slower than the last but full nonetheless. This was so you could get acclimated with the shape and size of his member. It was a bit much and by the expression on your face, Ony knew he couldn’t start out drilling your shit!..as badly as he wanted to..

“Yeah..you takin’ my dick so good, baby..you feel so warm..” doting on you whilst your tongues swished around one another’s mouths. Sloppy, wet and steamy; an ideal combination. Coupled with that of the slow, deep thrusts in and out of your tight cunt. One thing that you loved about him was that he wasn’t afraid to be vocal. He didn’t shy from the fact that he was feeling good and wanted everyone to know. “Mmmm…Onyyyy…” “I know, mama. I know..” it went without saying, you were certainly enjoying this and he’d do everything he could to make the situation the best he could. Keeping you reigned in close to his chest, Ony persisted with his thrusts, trying to slowly get you to conform to his shape and so far, it was working.

“There you go, baby. Open that shit up..lemme have it.” Soon, the sounds of thumping and smacking began to fill the atmosphere and you’d feel those strokes become a little faster. It was then that you’d feel the swollen tip of that girthy cock not only stretching you out but precisely hitting your spot as well. Once he knew this was your sought after core, he’d hone in on it and pound away with precise thrusts; even rolling his hips and reaching a hand down to massage your clit. You’d have a moment where you’d falter and that, along with those beautiful eyes rolled back. “Fuck!..f-fuck..yes!” However, he thrived off the satisfaction of seeing your expressions and how they shifted, the deeper he got.

“Unt uh..eyes up here. Lemme see that pretty face while I fuck you..gimme that pussy, baby. Yes..”

You found his commands so sexy and soothing. His voice was soft yet stern and you felt comforted by his tone. It was no wonder that you’d become nearly entranced by him. The smacking sounds only grew louder and that was thanks to the fact that you were a dripping puddle between your thighs. Pearly white secretions leaking everywhere, even coating his shaft entirely and making quite the mess. In one fell swoop, Ony shifted from cradling you to his own body, to pinning your legs to the mattress and spreading you wide open. From this angle, he’d have an ideal view of those voluptuous tits bouncing each time he thrusted. Or just how that plump cunt looked swallowing his cock.

“Oooh..you creaming all over my dick, baby…shit’s so fucking sexy. You like the way this shit feels?” “Y-yes, daddy. Thank you, thank you!—“ declaring so with his thumb pad rolling on your clit and a long trail of saliva coating your lips. He didn’t relent, even when you’d squeeze down on him. It was every bit of eight inches and you’d nearly taken all of it at this point..you couldn’t believe it. “I just knew your shit was good..knew this pussy was the best just by looking at you.”

which made the both of you break into a slight giggle. But you certainly had help getting to this point. This was a newfound sensation and your body was reacting accordingly.

“You bring it out of me..fucking me like this—“ the incoherent babble was followed by something that would only further prove his point. When he’d keep gliding back and forth, speeding up his movements..that’s when it happened…

“Oh shit!—“ “AHH!! FUCK!…” as you’d whimper and cry out, even pawing at his abs as those streams of juices began to spill out and hit not only the linen underneath but his torso as well. Marking his decadent skin with splashes of your liquid. He’d never seen and you’d never experienced anything like it!

“..look at you squirting on that dick, baby...” although you were beginning to feel depleted, your body craved more of him. You wanted to keep going until either of you could move another inch. A wish that would soon come to fruition when you felt Ony’s thrusts become a bit more sporadic and off rhythm. He’d begin to falter, falling prey to your sex. Admittedly, it’d been ages since he’d had sex or a proper orgasm to boot but you were on a whole other playing field! The plush of those thighs, the ripple of that pudgy tummy and big tits, not to mention, the warmth of your wet hole…it was simply too much for him to fathom!

“Onyyyy!..” the louder you cried out, clawing into his skin; albeit his back or his abdomen, the more motivated he became to give you the most pleasure he could possibly help you attain. Even so, he’d make certain of your well-being all throughout. Asking if you were okay to keep moving..not doing so without explicit instructions and checking constantly to see if your expressions matched your sounds. He only wanted tears brought forth from joy and ecstasy, not pain. But the smile plastered on your face was pretty indicative of how good you felt! “Haaa..yeah, baby. I’m right here—tell me what you need…”

clinging to the last semblance of dominance he could muster, Ony slowed his pace down back to the original and held you close once more. He needed it..not just your body, but you in your entirety. He needed to hear you say that he was the one that you desired…that he could officially be your special person and never let you go for as long as he lived. It was all he had wanted, since the day he first cast eyes on you. When he first saw you in those shirts and sweats with his favorite series on it and when he first saw you in those cosplays. It was a moment that he not only wanted to remember but keep reliving. He wanted what the two of you had to last for an eternity…“..I love you....” the words sending your heart fluttering like butterflies in a garden. It was all you had been waiting to hear come from his mouth. Ony thought he’d never truly be able to utter the phrase and it has substantial weight behind it but now, he’d found his one and only who made the words come to life.

“I love you too, Ony…” so with a gentle stroke of your fingers to the side of his face, right there in that hotel room…the two of you consummated what had long since been established. The feelings of adoration for one another that could not be contained. It wasn’t long before either of you would reach your peak and before long, he was heaving and holding onto you with the last remnants of his strength.

“..come. Come for me, Ony…come in me..”

With that, you’d answer his earlier question and he’d have no problem fulfilling your request! He’d spotted you taking your birth control pills once you returned from dinner so any qualms he had dissipated. “I’m coming!…imma nut—“ veins bulge from his forehead and hands as he continues rutting into you. Ony’s fingertips grasped the headboard behind you and would serve as his balance as every ounce of his warm seed began to trickle into your inviting womb..you’d both reach that climatic peak together and following your stream of sexual secretions, was a trail of joyous tears shrouding your faces. Heavy gasps and breathless whimpers escaped your throats before you collapsed into one another’s arms. Once you were both back in the realm of reality, lying underneath him, (y/n) didn’t waste another moment before pulling him into a searing, passionate kiss. One that neither of you wanted to break.

but alas, your gazes would meet and you’d break into a fit of light chuckles.

“How you feel? You good?”

“Oh I’m just fine…are you good?”

poking fun at one another’s reactions in that final moment of ecstasy. But you were both feeling quite well after that. And you wanted nothing more than to keep reveling in it but tomorrow the big day awaited and you both needed rest…

“I’m straight…I mean, shit…you put it on me for real..where you learn to do them lil’ tricks at?” Referring to your earlier display of waterworks but you’d have to tease him once. “A lady never reveals her secrets..” you’d tease back, pursing a finger to his lips before he’d slowly began to pull out, dragging a string of pearlescent cum along with him and splattering a bit on your tummy on the way out. “Besides, I gotta finish your outfit before I fall asleep—“ “Unt uh…you ain’t getting up until you drink sum’ and wipe off. I can get you some snacks from downstairs too.” That’s when he’d roll over and crawl out of the bed, going over to the bathroom to retrieve a warm washcloth and some water from the mini fridge adjacent to the foot of the mattress. He wasn’t going to let you up until he made certain you could handle it. That was Ony’s overprotective nature for you. But it came from nothing but the purest intentions.

“That is not necessary. I’ll be fine.” “Yeah, but you my girl…and imma always take care of you. So hush.” Kissing your forehead ever so gently before sitting at your side and running that rag over your skin. It felt quite nice and you were glad he made you rest for a moment because your body had been through a foreign experience and he made every single second of it magical…you knew that you wanted to create more memories like this with him for as long as possible. Albeit a convention, a date or even kicking it at his place as you watched him play video games. You just wanted to remain in his presence and remain his girl forever.

“Aye, you gone let me sleep in the wet spot?..I wanna stay cool tonight.”

“..Ony, get away from me, please.”

even if he did work the last good nerve you had sometimes!

[julietsf1]

Focus with Franco - Franco Colapinto x Reader

summary: Studying for exams is tough, but trying to focus while your yapper boyfriend, Franco, is around? Impossible. (2k words)

content: cute yapper franco, wholesome vibes only

AN: work starts again next week so I'm writing so much in advance rn!! I have this super cute halloween fic I can't wait to post ^_^

_____________________________________

I'm seated at my usual table in the cozy corner of my favorite café, surrounded by textbooks, notes, and a half-empty cup of coffee. It’s test week, and the weight of impending deadlines presses heavily on my shoulders. Normally, this is my sanctuary, a place where I can zone in and get things done, but today is different. Today, I have a very lively distraction sitting across from me—my boyfriend, Franco.

He insisted on joining me today, claiming he wanted to spend time with me, even if it meant sitting quietly while I studied. But quiet and Franco? Those two things don’t exactly go hand in hand. From the moment he sat down, his restless energy has been evident—he’s bouncing his leg under the table, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the surface, and stealing glances at the pastry display every chance he gets.

I hadn’t seen Franco in what felt like forever. Between my busy university schedule and his constant travels, the time we spent together had been scarce. I missed the ease of hanging out, the silly conversations, and his infectious laugh. So, when he suggested coming along to “keep me company” during my study session, I couldn’t really say no. I was excited to see him, even if I knew his presence would make focusing a challenge.

"Do you think I should get another cappuccino? Maybe a hot chocolate? Ooh, or one of those caramel lattes!" Franco muses out loud, glancing over at the counter. His eyes flicker to the pastries in the display case, and he grins mischievously. "Or maybe something sweet? You need brain fuel, right?"

"Franco, I’m trying to focus," I reply, smiling despite myself. He’s so effortlessly charming that even when he’s distracting me, I can’t be annoyed.

“I know, I know. You’re in full-on study mode,” he says, putting his hands up in mock surrender. "Silent as a shadow, I promise. Just here for moral support. Quiet, calm moral support. You wouldn’t even notice I’m here." He mimics zipping his lips and leans back, a mischievous glint still dancing in his green eyes.

“Right,” I say, fighting back a laugh. “Completely invisible.”

In truth, he’s anything but invisible. His presence is like a ray of sunshine on an otherwise cloudy day—warm, bright, and impossible to ignore. Even now, as I glance over my notes, I can hear him humming softly to himself, tapping his foot to some imaginary beat. His energy is contagious, but not exactly the kind that helps me get through chapters of academic content.

“You’re staring at your notes, but I don’t think you’re reading them,” he teases after a few minutes of quiet.

I let out a sigh, finally looking up from the page I’ve been pretending to focus on. “I’m trying. You’re just... a little distracting.”

His expression shifts to one of mock innocence. “Me? Distracting? You are offending me, cariño.”

I shake my head, amused by his puppy-like energy. Franco, with his boundless enthusiasm and natural charm, is impossible to resist. He’s always buzzing with ideas, questions, and random thoughts, much like a Labrador puppy who can’t sit still but is too cute to be annoyed at.

“I could help,” he continues, nodding at my books. “You explain it to me, and I’ll quiz you. I’m a great study partner, you know.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I chuckle. “I’m pretty sure you’d turn every question into something about racing or capybaras.”

Franco leans back and says with a playful sigh, “Ay, qué optimista eres,” (Oh, you’re so optimistic), giving me a grin that says he knows exactly how distracting he’s being.

I laugh, rolling my eyes at him, while he beams, leaning back in his chair, clearly proud of himself.

“Okay, maybe not racing. But capybaras? I could totally work with that. Did you know capybaras are basically the chillest animals ever?”

“See? Exactly my point,” I laugh. “I need to focus, Franco.”

He gives me a mock serious look, leaning forward again. “Okay, okay. I’ll be quiet. Silent. Like a... capybara.”

I try to hold back my smile, but it’s no use. He’s too endearing. As much as I need to study, it’s hard to be upset with Franco. He’s always so full of life, always so positive and uplifting. Being around him makes everything feel lighter, even during stressful times like test week.

After a few more failed attempts at reading the same paragraph, I finally sigh in defeat, setting my pen down. “Maybe I should’ve just stayed at the library…”

Franco’s face lights up, his grin spreading wide. “Nooo, come on! I’m helping, I promise! You need breaks, right? How about we take a little walk? Ice cream maybe? You’ll study better after some fresh air.”

“Franco…”

“Ice cream solves everything,” he says, not missing a beat. “You’ve been working hard! A quick break won’t hurt.”

I look at him, seeing that spark of excitement in his eyes. He’s like a puppy, always ready for fun, always eager to make me smile. And, as much as I want to get through my study session, part of me knows he’s right. A break might actually help.

“Fine,” I agree, starting to gather up my things. “But we’re getting back to work after, okay?”

“Of course,” he nods enthusiastically. “Ice cream first, study later.”

As soon as I stand, Franco’s on his feet, taking my bag from me before I even reach for it. “I’ve got it,” he says with a playful wink, throwing it over his shoulder like it’s no big deal. “This is what I’m here for—moral support and bag-carrying services.”

I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs at my lips as I follow him out of the café. The afternoon sun greets me as I step outside, its warmth a welcome contrast to the cool café air. Franco grabs my hand, swinging it lightly as we walk down the street toward the ice cream shop.

“So, what flavor are you getting?” he asks, already deep in thought about his own choice. “I’m thinking something with chocolate. Or maybe caramel? Or both! You can never go wrong with both.”

I chuckle at his enthusiasm. “You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?”

“I mean, it’s ice cream. You can’t just make these decisions lightly,” he says, completely serious.

After we both get our ice creams—Franco, as predicted, goes for a mix of chocolate and caramel—we stroll toward the nearby park. The sound of children playing and dogs barking fills the air, and for a moment, the world feels simple and carefree.

Franco, of course, is still talking. He’s switched from ice cream to racing, then to a random story about a funny moment at a team meeting. His thoughts flow effortlessly from one topic to another, like a stream that never runs dry.

“Did you know,” he says between bites of his ice cream, “that capybaras are basically friends with everyone? They even let other animals hang out with them, like birds and monkeys. They’re so cool.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Why are you so obsessed with capybaras today?”

He shrugs, a playful grin on his face. “They’re fascinating creatures. Plus, I feel like they’re the perfect animal to study when you’re stressed. All chill and unbothered by anything.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I say, nudging him gently with my elbow.

“But you love me,” he replies, his voice softening.

“I do,” I admit, leaning into him as we walk. “Even if you’re the biggest distraction ever.”

The two of us finish our ice creams as the sun begins to set, casting a warm glow over the park. Franco slips his arm around me, pulling me closer as we walk in comfortable silence for a while. Despite the fact that I didn’t get much studying done, I feel lighter, more relaxed. The stress of test week seems distant now, overshadowed by the simple joy of spending time with him.

“We’ll really hit the books tomorrow,” Franco says after a few moments, his voice quieter now. “I’ll help you, and we’ll crush it.”

I smile, knowing full well that tomorrow will likely involve just as many distractions. But with Franco, everything feels a little easier, a little more fun.

“Deal,” I say, squeezing his hand. “But I’ll need complete focus tomorrow, no distractions.”

Franco grins mischievously. “I can’t promise that, but I can promise ice cream breaks whenever you need them.” He winks, and with that, I know tomorrow will be just as productive—and just as perfect.

[azulhood]

It all started because of a school project, technically two projects, while it wasn't a world ending threat they set of a change reaction that lead to startling discoveries.

Mr Lancer had given the class the task of looking through their pasts and finding an life changing event that helped shape them into the person that were today and writing about that event.

It was a ten page essay (they were allowed to go over that limit) the more details the better and if you had something from that event to show (such as photos or keepsakes or really anything) you were awarded extra credit.

Danny's choice of event was the school field trip to a nearby museum he went on when he was seven, the space exhibit they had was what sparked his love for the stars and kick-started his dreams of being an astronaut.

It wasn't like he had any other choice (he doubted mister Lancer would accept 'my death' as a good life changing event)

He knew that he had photos of the field trip somewhere with all the other photos taken throughout his life, he just had to find them.

And after digging through thousands of boxes and piles of discarded inventions he handled with care (in case they blew up) he found them tucked inside an old photo album covered in green stains that sat on top of a bookshelf.

Opening the book caused all the pictures to fall into his lap, it seems like his parents didn't get around to actually adding them to the book, Danny resigned himself to spending the rest of his day shifting through old photos.

It wasn't all bad though, he found pictures of when Sam still had blonde hair and wore pink and of that time Tucker wrote an 'I love you' on his parents cars with their keys and many other embarrassing photos.

A treasure trove of blackmail material.

He finally found the picture he was looking for.

All of the kids who are now students of Casper high stood in front of an old building each proudly holding up something they bought in the gift shop (Danny had bought a book on planets that had long ago fallen apart)

It was a normal photo.

And yet, something seemed off.

Sam and Tucker were there with him in between them, Dash was there too.

Along with Kwan, Mikey, Paulina, Valerie, and all the others.

And yet, something was missing.

Then it hit him.

Wes wasn't there.

Danny could've sworn that he had been on that trip, but the more he thought about it the less he was sure.

He couldn't actually remember Wes being there and Danny remembered nearly everything about that trip.

'Maybe he was sick or something?' It was the most logical thing he could think of to explain the other absence, that and his parents not wanting him to go for some reason.

Mystery solved he pushed it to the back of his mind , he had an essay to finish.

Still, it stuck with him.

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

The next school project Lencer gave them was one with assigned partners.

Danny got Wes who, despite not being Sam or Tucker, was leagues better then Dash and he'd take that as a win.

Wes had insisted on studying at his house so he could, and Danny quotes "Keep an eye on you Fenton"

Danny could practically feel the hidden cameras burning a hole into him while he stood in front of the Weston's door, waiting for him to go ghost for whatever reason.

Jokes on him though, Danny asked all the ghosts to leave him along for this month with the promise of giving them a head start the next time they caused trouble, so really Wes was just wasting his time.

"This way." Wes said already heading inside without caring if Danny followed.

Being the first time he had ever been in Wes's home Danny looked at everything and anything.

It was a fairly normal home, not like Danny's which had an anti-ghost defense system or Sam's super rich house.

But more like Tuckers

One of the things that drew his attention was the pictures that lined the walls.

There were so many.

Some with Wes and his mom, some with just him, some with just his mom, and some with people Danny didn't recognise.

But there were no baby photos.

The only pictures Danny could find of a young Wes seemed to be from when he was eight? Nine?

And nothing before.

'Maybe they were put away in storage' Danny guessed, but it still made his brain itch.

He remembered looking at old school photos and not finding any sign of a young Wes at all, he didn't even remember Wes coming to school any time before the year Danny turned eight.

And in a small town where everyone knew everyone that really wasn't possible.

'Maybe they moved here and lost a lot of stuff' Which would explain a lot, well no harm in asking. "Did you loss a lot when you moved here?"

Wes stopped walking and turned around to give him a look that asked if he was insane. "I've lived here my whole life, Fenton."

Danny froze, that couldn't be right, he'd remember that.

Something was wrong.

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

Tim Drake sat in front of the bat computer as the rest of his family patrolled.

He had one monitor displaying the other bats locations while all the other monitors were used to show him files, or rather the lack there of.

Wayne Enterprises had tournaments held for schools and the prize was an all express paid trip to Gotham and tour of WE and surrounding areas, Tim could think of way better prizes that weren't visiting the crime capital of the world but that wasn't the point.

What was the point was that every time there was a winner Tim preformed a routine background check on students and staff (and by routine he means learn their whole live story) just in case anyone happened to be trained assassins set to kill one of them, stranger things have happened.

Wes Weston was one such student whose background Tim had to check.

And he found nothing.

Sure, there were hospital and school documents from age eight and upwards, but other then that nothing.

There was no birth certificate, no evidence of him attending daycare, nothing.

It was as if Wes did not exist before he was eight years old.

And perhaps the most interesting thing.

Amy Weston was listed as Wes's biological mother, DNA even said as much, and yet Amy's medical file said that she had never been pregnant and also had no siblings that could've been Wes's parent.

And yet Wes existed, appearing one day as if he had always been there.

Was it cloning? Aliens? Magic? A changeling? Someone creating false information to hide the truth?

It was a mystery, and mysteries had always been Tim's Kryptonite.

[prollywolly]

hiii I was wondering if you could write how the jjk men would be in the shower with you?👀

Showers with the JJK Men

summary: what taking a shower with the jjk men would be like [includes: gojo satoru, kento nanami, choso, suguru geto, ryomen sukuna]

warnings: mdni! mentions of shower sex, obviously being in the nude, language, fluff, 18+, smut (lots of dirty words lolol), and fluff!

word count: 2k

a/n: hooray for my first request!! i absolutely loved writing this and i hope everyone can see this in their heads the way i did when i was thinking of what they would all be like! Remember that my requests are open and you’re more than welcome to ask anything that’s within the guidelines posted on my page! i hope you all enjoy, thank you for reading!! <3

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

gojo:

showers with gojo are 50/50

they’re either very sensual and domestic, filled with nothing more than whispering sweet nothings into each others ears while you let the warm water wash the suds off your bodies

or they’re absolutely filthy and make you feel like you need another shower by the time he’s done with you.

gojo can be easy to read when he comes home only because of how clingy he is with you

it’s always been pretty easy to read him in your relationship because he makes it known how much he loves being babied by you and/or taking care of you

on a night where he’s exhausted and really just needs you to wash his hair for him and kiss the boo boos away, he’ll be more than happy to tell you.

“such a long day baby… i’m too lazyyyyyy to shower.”

you’re already getting the warm water going.

he’s like putty in your hands the second that your nails start to lather up that shampoo onto his scalp. 

he’s fallen asleep a couple times sitting on the floor of the shower while you just finish rinsing his hair and body off.

he loves when you use your body wash on his skin because he loves curling up in bed knowing that he smells like you.

“thank you baby, what would i do without you?”

he really doesn’t wanna think about the answer to that question.

then, there’s the days where satoru can’t keep his hands off you from the moment he steps through the door.

“c’mere baby, missed you s’much,” 

he then proceeds to fuck you against the glass door of your shower and it’s so obscene it looks like it’s straight out of a porno

the warm water splashes onto the glass and cascades down with each flick of his hips

you always have to brace yourself on the glass and end up unconsciously creating that all-too-familiar steamy handprint that ends up staying on the glass even after the steam from the water clears

shower sex with gojo is always so rough only because he’s pent up from everything that happened during the day and it’s the first time he gets to release everything

“y’feel good pretty girl? tell me how it feels, yeah?”

y’all waste so much water, the water bill looks CRAZY every month 

nanami: 

HUSBANDDDDD UGHHHHHH

we all know how hard working and dedicated kento is

although he does love showering with you when you guys need to get ready quickly for your day…

he much prefers to take long soaks with you in your bathtub to wind down after a long day much more.

you guys have so many scented bubble bath solutions, vanilla and coconut scented body washes that you like to caress into each others skin, it’s truly so raw and vulnerable

kento will never turn down bath time.

there’s been days where he works himself to the bone and is so exhausted, but knowing that you’ll have the bath ready for him when he comes home is the only thing that seems to make him push even further

as a gag gift one christmas, you got kento a small removable table to hook onto each side of the porcelain that had small sections for your laptop, some snacks, and his occasional glass of wine

he genuinely uses it every time and will never let you live down the “best gift he’s ever received”

on the most trying of days, he loves having you on top of him, letting yourself slowly sink onto his cock and just bury your face into his neck

your insides feel just as warm as the bubbly water you two are surrounded in and he finds solace in the jolts of pleasure he gets whenever he slightly adjusts himself in the tub

riding him softly in the tub is his guilty pleasure 

he loves the domesticity and vulnerability of fucking his lover while you share a bath

he’s a family man through and through

the sorcerer job and corporate job are endured, to be able to provide for a family in the future, but for now?

everything is for you. He loves coming home to you every single day and being able to see you waiting for him so eagerly <3 

choso: 

choso works so hard to be the best brother and family member that he can be

family-oriented was invented after examining his dynamic and his role in his family

but even the strongest need their time to wind down.

which is exactly what showers are for.

being a curse, choso finds domesticity and humanity in the intimate things he shares with you

showers are his times to just turn off his brain and let you work your magic

you take such good care of him, he doesn’t know what he would do without you

the way you tenderly lather his scalp with the shampoo and conditioner, the way you take your time to wash his body and massage his aches from the day

sometimes he thinks about the family he wants to create with you in those moments, and those are the moments where he wakes up from his trance and pounces on you.

one second you’re washing the suds off his body, the next you’re pressed up against the shower wall as he viciously pounds you from behind.

he’ll turn you around to face him while he fucks you only because he can see the future of his bloodline in your eyes 

you take him so well, never ever complain about how full he stuffs you of himself

“takin’ me so well, love… gonna fuck a pretty baby into you, hm?”

he’ll grit his teeth and hiss as he pumps his cum inside of you, watching some of it trickle down your inner thighs as they quiver and buckle from the loss of his cock 

and then he’ll go right back to wanting to be babied

as you get out of the shower, the two of you will get dressed and he’ll throw himself on top of you

you’ll caress his freshly washed hair and he relishes in the scent of the body wash you use, fully aware that not even two minutes ago you were taking his dick like a slut

he’s so ready to start a family with you, and to still share moments like these even when you’re old and gray.

suguru:

showers with suguru are a taste of the finer things in life

he’s so gentle with you once you’re both under the water

his long locks will cascade down his shoulders, dripping as he caresses your arms and shoulders

“‘ts okay darling, i’m here.” 

he loves to run his fingers through your hair after he applies the conditioner

his fingers just slide through so effortlessly and he obsesses over the soft sighs that fall from those pretty candied lips of yours

nonetheless, the appreciation for running fingers through hair goes both ways 

washing suguru’s hair for the first time made you fall in love with him all over again

he’ll shut his eyes and throw his head back as you gently lather the products into his hair

he has a pine scented shampoo and conditioner scent that give him such a manly, musky scent

it’s intoxicating

suguru is always so tense, always overthinking about everything from the day

showers used to be a privilege with you two

now?

they’re daily requirements.

he’s always visibly more relaxed after a nice shower, throwing his long hair into an easy bun as he cuddles up with you in bed

it always leads to soft sex

he affirms his love with each calculated stroke, making sure to dig his hips into you just so you can feel how much he yearns to be inside you; to love you.

you’ll brush the stray hairs that fall from his bun and he’ll press his lips to yours and swallow your gorgeous moans, drinking them like the finest wine money can buy

suguru will never be able to shower without you

and you’re both more than okay with that. 

sukuna: 

showers with sukuna used to be unheard of

keyword: used.

the first time you showered with sukuna was very much like walking on eggshells

you weren’t afraid of him, per say, but more afraid to do something that he wouldn’t like.

his stoic personality was still mighty as ever, a permanent smirk resting on his face as he watched you begin to wash yourself

it started with you gently tracing the black markings on his back with your index finger

he was turned to face the water, washing the shampoo out of his hair when he felt the small tickle of your fingernails tracing his skin

goosebumps rose on his skin despite the piping hot water that fell over the both of you

he stood up taller and you were sure that you had fucked up

you remained silent and went back to washing yourself, but sukuna was never going to let himself admit that he missed your touch

he prayed and prayed to himself that you’d test your luck again, pretending to wash some soap out of his eye nearly six times before he’d finally gotten fed up

“can you just hurry up and do it again?!”

you’ve never been more confused in your life.

“d-do what ‘kuna?”

sukuna grumbled to himself before grabbing your hand and placing it firmly on the black ink sprawled across his chest

you looked up at him and couldn’t quite make out the look he was giving you, but you knew exactly what he wanted from you

once more, your finger danced over the ink softly and left sukuna sighing with relief

“...feels good.”

little by little, you made your way up to being able to wash his hair and body, through trial and error of course

but sukuna will never ever get over the way you touch him so benign. he’s the king of curses, a mass murderer, yet here he was crumbling beneath your touch like a weakling

“if you’re gonna do it, do it right,”

he’s just a spoiled brat underneath that harsh exterior, but you knew how to crack him

[mattsdolll]

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 - 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 . . ୨୧

softbf!matt x childish!reader

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 . . this req ! fluff, age gap (2-3 years) matt taking care of his girls inner child. i thoroughly enjoyed writing this!! lets pretend this isnt like 300 words long

matt had been out working the entire day, filming. you had absolutely no problem with his busy life, constantly working on content, but sometimes it made it difficult when you had nobody to talk to all day, both his brothers being out with him didn't help either. he had to travel a lot between boston and la, sometimes other places – depending on his schedule.

as you were sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, wondering what color markers you'd use next to color in the drawing laid before you, your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door unlocking. you perked up, greeted by your boyfriends smile.

"hi baby"

he beamed, walking over to you, you smiled wide, sitting up to give him a hug. he swiftly gave you a quick squeeze around the waist before dipping his head down to kiss you gently.

"missed you so much today, what'd you do all day, huh?"

he muttered against your lips, repeatedly kissing them. you let out a soft hum of contentment, leaning into his lips. he caressed your hip bones with his fingers slowly, almost massaging them.

"i missed you too handsome, i took a nap, i ate some food, oh – and i also colored a little, see?"

you beamed, proudly showing off the messy work to him. you handed him the page to give him a better look. he took it out your hands and let out a soft chuckle, admiring the so called art. it was a little out of the lines, pretty messy, but he found it all the more adorable.

"yeah? a flower? so pretty"

he mused, kissing your forehead. you let out a soft laugh, rearranging your markers. the sound of the tv wafted through the air, reaching matts ears. the familiar sound of cartoons often filled the house, nor matt or chris and nick cared, it didn't bother them.

"how about we get you in the bath, and after, we can have a little date night? just you and me sweetheart, we can watch some of that show you were watching and i'll help you color, yeah?"

he brought you to your feet with a smile, you beamed at the idea. once he saw your eager demeanor, he gently swooped you up and carried you to the bath. he let you soak in the warm water before washing your back for you and getting you dry.

you loved how much he cared for you, you could shut your brain off around him. he helped you into your pajamas – his pajamas.

you pressed a small kiss to his lips, leading to a longer, deeper session. you stood for a while, against his front as his lips moved slowly and sensually against yours. he pulled away with a grin.

"soo..date night?"

you soon found yourself on his lap, coloring away in the book he got you. matt propped himself up against the couch, watching you do your thing. he let a small smirk spread across his lips at the adorable sight before him. your matching pajama pants, your concentration, the way you were so comfortable. he absolutely adored you.

his eyes drifted to the tv, listening to the squeaky high pitched voice of the cartoons you loved watching. he claimed he didn't care, until you'd turn gravity falls on – then he was hooked. your age regressive tendencies were alluring, he found them strange but it was a part of you, and he loved every inch.

after what felt like ages of matt letting you talk about your day and whatever was on your mind, mindless coloring and losing track of what episode of gravity falls you were on, the both of you grew tired.

you colored until your hands gave out, crayons and markers splayed across the messy table. matts arms were around your waist, your face tucked into his shoulder. somehow in your sleepy state he had turned you around to face him without you realizing and soothed you to sleep. you snored softly, in complete bliss to his touch.

tags !

@mattscoquette @blahbel668 @emely9274 @pearlzier @wompwomp-1

@bernardsgfs @sturnsxplr-25 @aesthetixhoe @jetaimevous @alyrasturnz

@adorsturns @cvntytiger @d0e-b4by @lysielaced