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jolalibrary · 11 months ago

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it means something

joel miller x f!reader | masterlist

summary: compliments don’t fall from his tongue, but they drip from his eyes. They land on your skin, healing scars that don’t show; they make you glow, and feel like something worth choosing.

to @joelsflannel, i took aspects of all your prompts. i tried to make it fluffy, her a little romantic, i tried to give you a quote that i hope you adore, with a man i know you already love. and i sprinkled in a hard day for you, but with some stress-easing fun to unwind with. merry christmas <;3

wordcount: 3.2k warnings: softer!joel, soft sex (p in v), talks of love, jackson era joel, mentions of ellie, joel in a towel (like damn). written for @pedrostories secret santa event.

You’re tired, drained.

Somehow, you find yourself able to drag your feet from the livelier part of Jackson to the quieter, almost more peaceful part. The soles of your boots draw lines behind you, all of which will likely be covered by the newly settling snow within the hour.

It's picturesque, this place. The kind of location you expect would have once been on postcards that people would be sent to loved ones saying 'wish you were here'.

You don't have to wish.

If your eyes weren’t like pinholes, you’d take a second to admire it.

Stamp your boots in one spot, and enjoy the crunch of it under your feet. A thing you’d do on any other day, if not for the fact, that you were so ready to be in the warmth, to be with him—to curl into him and breathe in his scent.

The kind of scent which buries itself into your nose, to your soul. It wraps its fingers around you and digs its clutches into you. Not that you complain. You'd bathe in it if you could, happily letting him smear it over your skin whenever the two of you have the chance.

It’s why you continue to move. It's why you force one leg in front of the other, muscles begging for reprieve.

By the time you’re up the steps, fingers wrapping around the handle of the front door, you realise how badly you wish to shed your layers. Desiring nothing more than to slide out of your coat, unwrap your scarf, remove the hat, gloves and second pair of socks.

Twisting the handle, the door doesn't fight letting you inside. Instead, it welcomes you. Allowing you to move quickly inside, more than anyone would expect from someone so fatigued—removing the layers, hanging each in turn on the rack beside his.

A sight which tugs at something inside you. It loops its fingers around that feeling within, gently pulling—it is all warm, unexplainable; all hard to describe, but the closest word is lovely, nice—welcomed.

That feeling had been born before the end of days, but it had been nothing but an ember then. Now, it was a roaring fire, all lit by him.

You're sure he knows. Not that either of you talk about it. It added to the long list of things you never speak, not for his sake, but for yours.

Even when you first began your… thing with him, you’d found it as difficult as him to know what to call it. Especially, when it had all happened so randomly, with no explanation or sight that it would occur. It just did.

Smiling, you allow yourself a moment to think back to it. How warm it was. How the setting sun smudged an array of shades across the sky, how you'd been bitter about something, mumbling under your breath until a noise cut through your dismay. His laughter. All gruff and born from his throat. It had expelled into the space between the two of you, cut through your bad mood.

Because it had been louder than you’d ever heard it as the two of you walked back, as you did on so many other nights. But that night had felt so different—and it was.

One moment you were staring, and the next his lips found yours, all chapped, but soft. His fingers around your cheek, whispering your name so gently. Stroking your skin, all worn, a bit rough.

Now, the two of you are a habit. A routine.

Nothing has ever been discussed, nothing ever exchanged. Just some nights you ate dinner with him—knee pressed against his. Sometimes your things sat along his in his home, bobby pins and whatever book you were reading.

Some days Ellie let herself into your house, had made a bedroom out of one of your spares, and sometimes she asked if you wanted to come round to theirs.

The only constant thing is that at least once every week, your limbs found themselves tangled with his. His mouth latched itself onto your neck, hand grasping at your breast, fingers pinching the peak of your nipple as he gruffly told you how hard you’d gotten him.

You liked it. Craved it.

Enjoyed the way you took him apart as he focused on making you a mess.

You liked seeing his salt and pepper curls cling to his forehead, liked running your nails through the hair on the back of his neck—back arched into him, feeling fuller than you’d ever imagined you could. Hearing his gruff voice in your ear, saying words he'd never say if he wasn't buried to the hilt inside of you.

But then, you only call him Joel when he's between your thighs too.

"Miller?"

His name rings around the first floor of the house.

Checking the package in your pocket, you sigh as the day drips from your tight muscles. Hand moving to rub the back of your neck, staring at Ellie's half-open comic and the pencils you'd lent her over the table.

You knew she wouldn't reply, not when tonight was movie night. A Christmas one, she'd told you. She had already let it slip she was going, told you as she kept watch on the door so you could continue your surprise for him.

Her request for you to join her faded when you looked up at her, likely seeing the same look which now greets you in the dust-covered mirror.

Kicking off your boots, and removing one layer of socks, you sigh at the way your feet can all of a sudden breathe—even inside his thick socks. Wiggling your toes, you smile as you begin to curl and unfurl them, before your hand finds the bannister, dragging yourself up the stairs until you reach his room.

His empty room.

Heart falling, you consider calling out again. Using his first name this time—letting each of the four letters carry around the house.

But, his bed looks comfortable. It calling to you. Somehow finding yourself lying on it, your face pressed into his sheets, your bones and muscles sighing in relief that you're in a bed.

Eyes wishing to flutter shut, body unwinding against the mattress, the sheets. It’s on the third heavy exhale, do you realise you hear water. It falls in pitters and patters, distantly, likely from the bathroom across the hall.

That’s when a smile curls across your face because you’ve always found comfort in the sound of running water.

Whether it’s rivers or rain, and showers or leaks. It reminds you of calmness, of things fading from reach—washing away, starting anew. Memories of times trying to colour themselves in your mind, fading before they do as sleep tries to coax you away.

The only thing which displaces the grip sleep has on you, is the comforting sight that comes to a stop at the foot of the bed.

Steam swirling around him, all broad shoulders and still damp skin—the hair on his chest, arms, and stomach, clinging in half-swirled curls and straight lines, the towel clutched at his hip.

The first time you saw Joel Miller naked, you’d almost lost the function to speak. All man—all soft and muscle simultaneously. Something constructed from fantasies, made in real life, carved and moulded by hands you think never thought he’d be real. You were close to not being able to speak all over again now.

Eyes tracing, outlining and shading—squirrelling away a sketch of him you’ll think about when the other side of the bed is cold and not filled with him.

“Didn’t hear you come in.”

You hum, lifting up onto your elbows, admiring him, finding him doing the same—even if you suspect you’re not half as good-looking right now as he is.

Least of all when he takes your ankle in hand, moving you sideways with him as steps between your legs now hanging off the bed, the fabric of his towel brushing over your jeans, his palms coming down on the mattress on either side of your neck, staring at you with a look of concern.

“Y’not been sleepin’?”

“Just been busy,” you reply, arms looping around his neck. “Not lots of time to rest.”

You suppose at some point between summer and winter, things became soft—less about need and company, and something along the lines of real.

In another world, one not ridden with fungi and death, you suppose it would have been labelled, added something which tied the two of you together—something meaning more to others than it likely would do to you.

Smiling, you force your eyes to open properly. Watching that look of hunger slowly bleed out over the concern, vanishing entirely when you smirk. If the two of you were different, you suspect you'd tell him you miss him. Tell him you've thought about him.

Instead, you whisper, “Want you, Joel.”

Even more so when you trace the words over his mouth. Aware of his hands on your jeans, and how he's popped open the button, how he's dragging down the zipper. The fabric freely slides from your skin as your hands slide down, dropping to the towel at his waist—thumb digging over it, all ready to pull, unravel it. “Need you.”

His eyes narrow swallowed in darkness. “Yeah?”

Nodding, you roll your lips, dragging your fingers to the tuck, undoing it, not taking your eyes off him. Seeing something in his eyes that is more than just reciprocation of the words spoken, but the ones left unsaid.

“You want me?”

However, you’ll have me.

You’re not sure you speak it, but you're sure he hears it all the same.

For how aloof people think he is, he’s a man who listens—not just to the crunch of branches and the rustle of trees, but to the things people don’t say. He hears their secrets and pulls away their lies. Skills he told you one night he levelled up in when the world tried to keep taking more than it had already.

You suppose it’s how he knows you, your body, what you want and what you crave.

More so as he tangles his tongue with yours, all heady—gripping him firm, tightly as his fingers snake between the two of you. Desperation thrumming through your fingers as you push them into his skin, into his muscles—feeling the coil tighten as he moves his fingers with nothing short of precision. Knowing you, having mapped you out, learnt your cues—it’s why you don’t fight it, the incoming wave ready to drench your taut muscles, let him undo you, unravel you out so you’re nothing but spread out for him.

He likes it like that, you can tell. Likes how you surrender to him, how you lay out for him, letting him move you how he needs you.

It used to be rough, desperate—pure carnal. But, it’s been replaced by something else, something not soft or romantic, but you’re sure it’s a distant relative.

Once you’d gotten a bruise on your hip that pulsed, shifted in shades from being nudged against your kitchen table. Now when he leaves them, he traces them with his thumb, hoping to suck out the sting. Because now you’re treated to comfort—too recently washed bedding and his fingers inside your cunt as your body bends into him, practically curls, sings, hums.

“Always so fuckin’ tight for me.”

Compliments don’t fall from his tongue, but they drip from his eyes. They land on your skin, healing scars that don’t show. Each lick of his gaze makes you glow, and feel like something worth choosing, having been picked, plucked—and placed on some mantle you don’t even mind being perched on.

Wrapping your fingers around his wrist, breathing a struggle, practically gasping, you mumble his name—murmur it, almost a whine. “Fuck me now, Joel. Want you inside of me.”

Then, you’re overwhelmed.

Bathed in both the scent of fresh soap, dewy skin and absolute fullness. Your legs wrapping, crossing at the ankles as he slides into the hilt—pausing, just as he always does, fingers brushing over your jaw until he’s tilting your chin.

That same look—the one you first witnessed after the kiss under the dusk.

It doesn’t vanish until you show him, either in a whisper of the magic words or a movement he can read as a spell. Your hips rolling, rocking—please, please.

Your hands take in the feel of him breathing, the way his chest expands, fills with the knowledge, the realisation, nails digging, almost all in order. One he answers, delivers, fucking stamps.

Joel makes your toes curl, makes white noise appear in your ears, and makes you forget every important thing you’ve ever filed away. All hot, scorching against your skin as you grasp him closer, hoping you’ll be smothered in burns—hoping the same when you swallow his grunts, his hisses off your name. His hips pistoning, aiming to send you over the edge before him, hands—riddled with the evidence of his survival and his new hobby keep you rooted, don’t allow you to wander off into bliss without him.

“Too good f’me, sweetheart.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he grunts, right against your pulse, before he licks against what beats under your skin.

You snort amidst your whine, clutching all the strings which keep you whole as you close your eyes—banish him from looking into your soul. He’s seen all there is there, let him in before, provided flashes, evidence of your shattered soul and broken mentality. It comes to the surface easier here, when your walls suck him in, and your body calls for him in a chorus of pleading and begging.

Because you’re close—not needing too much from him tonight, the sight of him is enough. The knowledge of his existence, knowing he’s yours without confirmation.

“There, right there,” you moan, heels digging into the base of his back, feeling the jostle of him, the way he rears and fucks.

He smirks, shifting, just enough to make the head of his cock hit the spot which makes your thighs shake, tremble, fucking quake. His mouth still split open, words there on his tongue, all ready to drape over your skin—

But, you just feel it’s incoming arrival. All white-hot, blinding—too much pressure, yet needing just a little bit more. Your body is not yours, mind empty, gone, faded. You want to sink your teeth into him, bite down, cut into him and leave a mark like the ones he leaves inside you each time the two of you do this.

Because it means something. This. The two of you in this little house in fucking Jackson. Doesn’t it? Doesn’t it?

“Yea’,” he grunts, palm on your face, tilting you up roughly, forcing your eyes to open.

And you swear he smiles when they flash open. You swear it.

“Means somethin’, sweetheart. This—fuck—us.”

The words grind into you. As though he's the pestle and your mortar. Your breath is lost, unable to be grasped, your body hanging, pleasure a bigger force—swallowing the room, casting you in shadows and misting over you—until you cry out. Squeezing, fluttering.

Not able to see anything but his face, the look on his face—the twisted expression of his lips and the deepness of his eyes. More black, than brown—but they’re somehow still soft, still full of something you hope is pleasant and full of emotions.

It only vanishes briefly when he spills inside of you.

When he collapses on top of you—his heart hammering against your ribs. And, even if it isn’t the first time, you feel yourself still—pause, no rash movements, because this is nice, this is something you want without asking for it.

“Can’t believe I can hear y’brain already.”

Snorting, you roll your eyes, glancing over—finding his lips have slid into his cheek.

It gnaws at you, the reason for your lack of sleep. The thing which you've traded hours of rest for. That dormant part pushed to the edge by exhaustion, now awake and very much worrying.

“Got you something,” you whisper, biting your lip, watching his brows furrow and lines appear between them.

Standing up, you steal the dressing gown from the back of his door—the one you’d traded for months ago. The one which is far too big, even for him, making it only cosier when you borrow it. Shooting him a smile, you almost disguise it, worried it's far too soft, too normal, before you mumble about being right back.

It's a hurry to the front door, all feet hammering down on wooden steps before your hand digs in your coat pocket, retrieving the wrapped thing you’ve lost shuteye over.

When you enter, he’s under the sheets—hair at odd angles, looking both a mixture of energised and fucked out that you wish you could paint with your fingers, so you'd forever have it.

“Didn’t wanna give this to you on the 25th—just in case you popped a vein trying to figure out what it means.”

Kneeling on the bed, you take a levelling breath, before handing it to him. His eyes travelling from you to it, fingers taking it—all delicate, measured. Before he unpeels the ribbon, undressing it with more care than he often shows you, before it rolls free of the paper you managed to find. It catches the ceiling light, glinting, gleaming, the handle looking even more detailed in this light than under the candles you’d had to use to remain discreet.

In your hand, the knife had appeared large, and menacing. In his, it looked right.

Yet, his face looked as though it was anything but.

Enough for you to prod, needle. To nudge closer on your knees, to smooth out the sheets and then flick your lashes up, finding him already staring, weighing it up—whatever coated his tongue, had been written in his mind.

“Sweetheart… I don’t… I don’t deserve this—”

More words fall in silence, not quite spoken, yet somehow loud.

Enough for you to say his name, to rest your knee on the bed and deeply sigh.

“You…’m not a good man.”

You almost laugh, but you don’t. Crawling up, placing your hand on his chest, you take a shaky breath. “I’m not sure I care.”

And you don't.

Because it's easy to feel something for him, to love him. It's natural, there one day and the day after. It wasn't hard or difficult, but very fucking easy.

Your mouth even opens to say as much, but you close it again before a syllable is muttered.

Wrapping the gift, he moves it from between the two of you, to the bedside table. His fingers linger, hovering over the carved wood—the one which caused splinters and made your eyes almost cross over. “Y’should. M’not an easy man to love.”

“I disagree,” you whisper, fingers having slid up to the base of his neck, your fingers teasing his curls. “Since I’m pretty sure I already feel those things for you.”

His brows lift, and you smile—letting it speak the words you can’t say, and you’re sure he’s not willing to hear.

“Don’t sweat it, alright? You’re mine, I’m yours. Yeah?”

Nodding, he bites his cheek, placing the knife back into the packaging—moving it, replacing what he’d been holding with your wrist as he pulls you close.

“Got you somethin’ too.”

Nose bumping his, you shift closer, thighs finding themselves on either side of him—his hands finding a place on them, sliding up, callouses grazing on your skin, before squeezing.

“But y’gotta wait until the 25th. Like a good girl.”

Smirking, you cup his cheeks. "Okay, Miller. I'll wait."

an: merry christmas, i hope you love this <3

#pedrostoriesgift23 #pedrostories #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x female reader smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou joel x reader

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radiance1 · 11 months ago

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Witch au but Sam looks far too much like Martha Wayne than a lot of people are comfortable with.

I hear you ask, "but Sam is younger than her in this au" and I tell you that Martha Wayne had the genetic trait of looking younger than she actually was, a trait that was in her family for generations.

Thus, we have Sam who resembles Martha Wayne far too much, the philosopher's stone that makes her immortal, and a genetic trait that has Martha looking younger than she actually is and you get misunderstandings.

So, Sam was just minding her business trying to figure out what exactly for her castle to be anywhere that wasn't Amity Park when someone stepped onto her property and, getting a feel for them she realized that they don't seem to be magical in nature.

Also, scratch that, it was more than one person.

So, she decided to give them a... 'warm' welcome.

A group of people who believed in the supernatural decided to get together one day to explore the castle that spawned randomly one day in Gotham for shits and giggles. So there they were, stepping through the fog, barely able to see the ground let alone each other.

They had to solve a puzzle for the door to the castle to open in those conditions, which was weird but it was also the fun kind of weird so they weren't complaining about it. When they opened the door it was very dark, which made them second guess themselves for a second and then they decided to step in anyway.

They live in Gotham what's the chances of this castle being worse than what they go through weekly?

The door slammed shut behind them as soon as the last person stepped inside, leaving them in total darkness for a moment before candles lit themselves up and they saw the inside of the castle in its full glory.

It looked, very, very beautiful.

So beautiful in fact, that they almost missed the woman stood at the top of the stairs. She looked very, very beautiful and was wearing a dress that looked very expensive (think Blue Diamond from Steven Universe but black) with a red gem right in the middle of her chest.

The lady welcomed them into her castle, and suddenly they found their vision going back as the woman's sinister chuckle echoed all around them and they found themselves in separate rooms of the house.

Fun fact, this group of people were also streamers and streaming everything up to the point of Sam's entrance and then her magicking them all in different rooms. They also had a pretty good following, so safe to say the chats were going crazy over what just happened.

So, the various live streamers investigate the castle to find a way to escape before their assumed death, they solve various puzzles both with their own wit and the help of their chat that were magical in nature. The various puzzles and traps were, genuinely, very fun to solve, both for the chat and the streamers doing them.

All the streamers manage to meet up again, and boy are they genuinely thankful for the fact that-so far at least, this doesn't seem to actually be anything life threatening and just seemed to be a grand time all around.

Then they all headed down a hall together, and the chat just went absolutely ballistic when they saw a large portrait of the witch and another man standing together and smiling.

The chat never got a good look at her before the streamers got teleported to different rooms, but that painting?

It changed everything.

Because the woman standing in that picture-as pointed out by a chat member, looked an awful lot like Martha Wayne, and the man standing next to her? Thoms Wayne.

The streamers, obviously, think they've hit the jack pot because their viewer count is just going up and up because of this new information and also think they've hit some sort of scandal because, wasn't Martha Wayne dead?

Eventually, the find themselves sitting at the dining table with said woman who was silently drinking tea with a bunch of food sitting on the table in front of them. The woman smirked as she placed down her cup, asking if they enjoyed the various puzzles she laid out for them.

Everyone agrees, and the chat is exploding for them to ask if she's actually Martha Wayne.

She doesn't answer save for a cheeky smile and then suddenly they were standing outside of her castle and couldn't get back in.

Safe to say, reporters were flocking to ask various questions.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover

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crazyforhwa · 1 year ago

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Between hard and soft hours tbh but I really can’t stop thinking about a lazy make out session with Seonghwa… with lots of tongue obviously because come on, it’s Seonghwa.

It’d feel so amazing to just have a whole make out session with him, hands on each other’s face or neck.. and maybe an other member (*cough* Choi San) witnessing it and ending up joining the fun……

✩LAZY MAKE OUT SESSIONS WITH SEONGHWA✩

anon, that's so fucking hot.. (seonghwa is just hot yk)

I feel like lazy make out sessions with him usually happen during gloomy or winter days, as he thinks it feels the most romantic that way. He would be the one to initiate them by doing seemingly innocent things that end with him pushing his tongue past your lips in no time.

It would be such a mess, the perfect contrast between lust and love. Just two bodies laying on the bed, some rnb music playing quietly in the background to spice up the mood.

I feel like he's the 'breathy moans' type of guy. Whining into your mouth, describing how much he desires you.. that's what he's into. He isn't afraid of letting out sounds, and he expects you to let out some too, especially when other members are around. It definitely makes him hard as a rock, knowing that his colleagues are listening.

And oh boy.. talking about exhibitionism, I feel like he would purposely leave his door not fully closed, BEGGING in his mind that somebody(ehem, San) would catch you guys in the act. And don't even start on joining. I don't think he would be 100% comfortable with every member, but he would definitely share you with San, Hongjoong or Wooyoung (boy would be already close just by seeing them play with you).

We all have seen that fucking tongue of his. it's long, pointy, and he knows how to use it. he constantly sticks it out during performances, so I imagine him to be an absolute freak. He wins every battle for dominance, even at such slow paced moments.

Spit. SPIT. He loves when your make out sessions are messy, long strings of saliva forming whenever he detaches his plump lips from yours. He would randomly pull away just to stick his tongue out and let his spit slowly drip into your mouth, quickly getting back to business after.

Let's also mention that not every make out session with him is just lips. Oh no no, he is paying attention to everything. Sometimes he lowers himself and plants soft pecks against your neck. Sometimes he gently bites your earlobe, his warm breath tickling your skin. And sometimes he just smothers your whole face with smooches, grinning while he does so. He is a man of passion, but in these moments he just loves to chill out and show you love in a slightly different way.

Oh, and that smirk of his. He would grab different parts of your body unexpectedly, making you let out soft gasps that would trigger his cocky smile. Sometimes it'd be an innocent booty grab, but one second later his hand is slowly sliding under your shirt, his warm fingers exploring your body, getting closer to the sensitive areas on your chest.

After about half an hour, he will lose the ability to think straight. His hand would slide into your pants and quickly find your opening, slowly forcing two fingers into your tight hole. He would hit every sweet spot while still kissing you, getting "annoyed" and spanking you every time you get distracted by the pleasure.

Oh, yes.

I love him, man😭😭😭😭

should I make it a fic? 👀 (I feel like this is way too short, I'm sorry)

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i-yap · 6 months ago

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Can I get your thoughts on a gn reader who’s dating Grayson and is like a parent figure or older sibling to Damien, so they have a soft spot for him ( so does Damien ) ?

Dick grayson x gn!y/n x platonic!Damian

this is my first time writing a gn reader so like I'm sorry if I write something stupid or offensive, just comment it and ill fix it.

if you are dating dick then damian will stalk you extensively at first. Dick is his favorite sibling ( in most comics) and if dick is serious about you, stalking is just how the batfam shows love.

He will be rude , he will be mean and sarcastic but dick warned you and you understand where dami's coming from. So you kindly and patiently deal with him and dick obviously doesn't let Dami cross the line when it comes to you.

One night dick had to rush out for a really scary mission and told you to stay at the manor because its the safest place to be.

Damian was the only other person that was left behind since the mission required everyone else on the team and bruce did not think damian was ready for such a high risk mission just yet.

so damian was really frustrated and also worried for the rest of the family. you walk past Dami's room to see him staring off in the distance while fidgeting or biting his nails. You ask alfred for a chess set ( or any other board/card game) and bring it to dami's room. While playing , he opens up about his frustrations and you patiently listen . Not a lot of people in his family are as warm and caring as you are ( maybe dick but even he is really busy)

After that night the roles are reversed. Now damian thinks dick is undeserving of you and his snarky comments are directed to him. You just find it funny while dick is left confused. "I thought he liked me more man, why the sudden switch?" " he got enlightened dickie boy muhahah" " you are mind controlling him arent you"

One-on-one time in the manor- haha dick wishes. So he tries only calling you when dami is at school or training or patrol. ofc you and dami catch on soon which means you and dami chasing him with katanas.

talking about katanas, dami loves showing you his art and his pets and if you share an interest in either of them he gets even more excited.

you and dick become dami's honorary parents. might as well adopt him since bruce and talia are obviously not doing a very good job ( in most comics) .

whenever dami is mad at bruce or simply upset or bored he comes to you and dick's apartment. You and dick are the fun warm loving couple that spend the night playing board games and watching stupid movies . you introduce him to all the major pop culture shows and movies and dick teaches him how to just dance randomly. your apartment is so different from the gloomy , filled with blood stains, fights and training manor. its filled with music and love and warm lights cooking together in funny pjs and dancing badly to pop songs.

it is watching you and dick that dami realizes what love is supposed to look like. and what a normal household looks like( sort of normal) and it affects the way he grows up. I wont be surprised if he comes to you for parents teacher meeting days or to sign his field trips or for advice on normal things

and the canon where dami is being bullied in school, while you go full on protective mode ,dick tries teaching him how to be better in social situations.

overall dami is just counting down days dick marries you and you'all unofficially adopt him.

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nadvs · 1 month ago

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out of bounds (part six)

pairing zach maclaren and soccerplayer! female reader

rating mature 18+ for smut

summary zach has never been the type to rebel, but when he meets you at a soccer camp where you’re both working as counselors, which has a strict policy against dating between staff, he’s tempted to break the rules for the first time.

» part one | two | three | four | five

» masterlist

Every made-up explanation you can think of won’t cut it. Nothing you say will be believable. You’ve been found out.

“They’re bug bites?” you say weakly, pulling up your shirt so the hickeys aren’t in clear view anymore. Ami laughs, shaking her head.

“I knew you and Zach were a thing,” she says. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I wouldn’t judge. You know that I’m breaking the rules, too.”

You sigh, dropping back into your bed.

“We really don’t want it getting around,” you say.

“Then you should be more careful about where you let bugs bite you,” she laughs.

“Ami,” you groan, half-chuckling. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t. You can trust me,” she says. “When did this start?”

You sit back up and give her surface details, recapping when you two kissed by the lake, then tried and failed to wait until after the season to pursue anything.

“Have you guys…” she asks with raised brows. Your cheeks burn.

“Last night,” you admit. Your stomach goes numb at the memory. “But seriously, you can’t mention it to anyone. If people find out and he gets fired, it’d crush him.”

The amusement in Ami’s eyes fades, replaced with compassion.

“Wow. You’re really worried, huh?” she says.

“He’s the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. I don’t want him to get in trouble,” you reply. “We decided today that we’ll keep things on hold. For real this time.”

“Can you keep it on hold?” she asks. “I don’t know about you, but it being forbidden makes it ten times hotter.”

You shrug. You’re unsure if you’d be doing this much this fast with Zach if you met outside of work, and he did tell you last night that he never moves this quickly with a girl.

“I’m going to have to try,” you say. Zach’s hard to resist, but for his sake, you don’t want to give in.

“Fair,” Ami sighs. “I knew it, though. Malcolm called me crazy.”

“You talked about it with him?”

“Yeah, the night you went shopping,” she says. “I said that I think there’s something there and Malcolm was like, I can tell he likes her, but there’s no way he’d break the rules. I wish I could rub it in his face.”

You shoot her a look.

“But I won’t,” she promises. You nod gratefully.

“He can tell he likes me?” you ask.

“He said when you’re around, Zach smiles way more than usual,” she recalls, “which is already a lot to begin with, apparently.”

Your heart flutters. Zach is already such a cheerful person, so to think you make him even happier, and very obviously at that, is flattering.

“I guess Malcolm would know since they’ve been best friends for so long,” you say.

“Yeah,” Ami agrees. “He actually…”

She chuckles.

“What?”

“He was randomly talking about Zach the other day,” Ami continues, “and he said that he treats every girlfriend like he’s gonna marry her. I guess he’s a hopeless romantic, so I hope you’re prepared for that.”

You chuckle, wholeheartedly believing it. Zach is sweet and sensitive and while you didn’t doubt his sincerity for a second, hearing that he’s not one for flings is a relief. Because you want so much more with him.

“Good to know,” you reply. “And you and Malcolm are still keeping things casual or…?”

“I don’t know,” she says with a hopeful smile. “But if it gets more serious, I wouldn’t be mad about it or anything.”

You laugh together and finally, you allow yourself to gush about the man who’s thrown you for such an unexpected loop. It feels nice to not have to keep it in anymore.

You’re relieved when Saturday rolls around. Even though fun days at camp are just as busy, you welcome a break from running training drills.

After breakfast in the dining hall, Ruby announces to the campers to prepare for a morning of hiking, an afternoon of swimming, and a camp-wide relay race before dinner.

The sky is cloudy, but the chance of rain is low, so you stay optimistic that you won��t be forced to spend the day inside.

You quickly realize it’s not going to be as easy to keep your distance from Zach today, because you’re put in a hiking group with him.

As you set out on the trail with your cohorts of campers, their chatter loud over the sounds of shoes crunching over the dirt and birds chirping in the sky, Zach leads the crowd under towering trees that line the perimeter of the campground.

It’s only been a couple of days since you spoke with him about cooling things down, but not talking how you used to has been disheartening. Neither of you have been scheming to find ways to be alone like you used to, settling for friendly conversations whenever your paths cross.

“We’ll get a pretty cool view at the midpoint,” Zach says loudly to the campers, turning back. He meets your eyes for a second, a small smile flashing on his face, before he looks ahead again.

You wonder if he took your words as you suggesting you two shouldn’t talk at all, when that’s far from the truth.

You make conversation with your campers while you hike, and when you reach the height of a steep trail, you approach Zach as he looks out at the view of lush forestland.

“Hi,” you say quietly. His eyebrows raise when he sees you, like he’s surprised you’re speaking to him. It’s your first moment out of earshot from others in too long.

“Hey,” he says.

“You know, I didn’t mean we can’t talk at all,” you say with a soft laugh.

The pang of rejection has been burrowed in Zach’s chest since your last private conversation. He’s hardly ever one for overthinking, but since you came into his life, all he does is mull over everything you do and say to him, anxious that you don’t like him as much as he likes you.

But now, as he gets lost in the softness in your gaze, he realizes what an idiot he is for worrying that you don’t also think that what you have is special.

And although he wants you to say he wants to hear that you’ll keep trying to hide your relationship, he needs to remind himself that you’re just being careful. He shoves down the prickly feeling and smiles at you.

“I thought I wasn’t even allowed to look at you,” he jokes to dismiss his uneasiness.

“Stop,” you chuckle. “How’ve you been?”

Zach’s blue eyes dart over his shoulder, his lips flattening.

“I miss you,” he half-whispers.

You tilt your head as you gaze up at him, your lips in an endeared frown. You’ve gotten used to there always being a sense of a playful smirk on his face, a look of mischief in his eyes, but right now, he’s completely doleful.

“I miss you, too,” you say. “Forcing each other into the friend-zone sucks.”

Zach laughs, his heart warming.

“No kidding,” he says. At this point, he just needs to get through a few more weeks as just your friend. It feels like forever, but he’ll get through it.

After lunch, counselors work together to set up for an afternoon by the lake, handing campers life jackets and inflating water toys.

After set-up, you stand on the dock, shades shielding your eyes now that the sun has peeked out from behind fluffy clouds.

You look out at the beautiful water, surrounded by campers talking and laughing, feeling that calming sense of being where you’re meant to be. Even though the days are tiring and the kids can be difficult, you’re so glad you came here.

You hear Zach’s familiar voice as he chats and walks past you, followed by two boys. He leans down to grip the edge of the empty canoe bobbing in the water on the dockside, gently reminding them to enter the boat slowly.

You can tell he’s been running around tirelessly, his lips parted as he pants, sweat sheening his skin.

When he stands to collect the ore, he quickly lifts the bottom of his shirt up to wipe his forehead, giving you a glimpse of his chiseled body. You’re glad you’re wearing shades because you can’t take your eyes off of him.

You clasp your hands together, your body rushing with heat as you remember what happened a few nights ago. How taut his body looked when you were on top of him. The way he breathed and moaned when you slowly sank onto him.

You force yourself to look away. Seeing him like that and knowing you can’t have him is only making things harder.

A couple of hours later, the relay race is underway on the north soccer field. You’re standing at the touchline on your own, stationed to hand out water and snacks to any campers or staff who need it.

Your stomach goes wild with butterflies when Zach makes his way towards you, offering you a charming grin as he pushes his sunglasses up to rest on his head.

“No way,” he says when he approaches, squinting, his voice low. “You got the easy job.“

“Rude. It’s actually way harder than it looks,” you reply.

“Standing there looking pretty is hard?”

“Very,” you say, his compliment making you a little lightheaded. You mirror him, perching your sunglasses up.

“I don’t believe it.”

Zach opens the cooler, not giving you a chance to get a drink for him. He collects a water bottle and unscrews the cap.

“You remember when you told me I can’t look at you a certain way when we’re at work?” you say, pushing the lid of the cooler shut.

He smirks, tipping his head back as he gulps down water. You’re gazing at him like that now, your stare hard on him. It’s addictive being on the receiving end of that look. It makes him feel like he’s floating.

“Yeah, and it still stands,” he nods. “So, stop it.”

“I’m not even…” you scoff, crossing your arms. “I have a rule for you, too. You can’t lift up your shirt when I’m around.”

“What? When did I do that?”

“By the lake. And I don’t appreciate it.”

“Why not?” he chuckles.

“Just stop,” you flirt with a roll of your eyes.

“I need a reason.” By the smug smirk on his face, you can tell he already knows. Because he’s so cute, you give in.

“It’s hard not to stare,” you say. “And we’re not supposed to stare at each other.”

The flattered look you’ve quickly grown to love flashes on his face.

“Oh, you mean when I get hot?” he teases. “I can’t control the sun.”

“Zach,” you warn. He says your name with the same teasing tone.

“I’m serious,” you say.

“So am I,” he laughs.

You shake your head at him when he lifts up the bottom of his shirt to wipe the water off his lips. His eyes stay locked on your expression as yours drift down the cut of his abs.

Zach’s entire body buzzes when you look at him like that. He so deeply loves feeling wanted by you.

“You just don’t listen,” you mumble, taking your eyes off of him. He chuckles, letting his shirt fall back down.

“Come on, baby, it’s my fault it’s hot out?” he murmurs.

You can’t stifle your grin. Maybe he technically shouldn’t call you that if you’re pretending to be friends, but nobody can hear, and you love when he’s sweet like that.

“Everything’s your fault,” you say.

Zach winks at you before he turns to rush back to the game. It’s the type of silly banter that made you develop a crush on him so fast, and you’re glad you can at least flirt if you’re not going to sneak around anymore.

After the relay race, Tom reminds the campers that in a week and a half, you’ll be hitting the midpoint of the camp season, and as tradition goes, a staff soccer game will be held.

Even though it’s just a no-stakes match at camp to give the kids a fun chance to cheer on their counselors, you feel nerves twist in your stomach at the reminder.

Despite the fact that your love for soccer has slowly been finding its way back to you, your confidence still isn’t quite where you want it. And your instinct is to talk to Zach about it, to be comforted by the one person you’re trying to stay away from.

As you settle at your table for dinner that evening, you look for him in the crowd. He’s sitting at the head of his usual table, laughing in conversation. When he meets your eyes, you give him a smile. He returns it.

That evening after lights out, you’re lying in bed scrolling on your phone while Ami watches something on her laptop when you realize the nagging desire to see Zach is only getting harder to ignore.

You’ve also been considering telling him that your cabin-mate knows about him. It may just serve to worry him, but it feels wrong keeping something from him.

The way he looked on the hike when he said he missed you is stuck in your head. You miss him, too. As if you haven’t seen him in weeks.

It feels silly to keep your distance. You’re being too careful. You’re sure you can manage to hang out and keep your hands off of each other.

You hung out platonically before. Why can’t you do it again? There’s no rules against that. In fact, being friends is encouraged. You open your text conversation with Zach.

When Zach steps out of his cabin into the brisk air that night, he looks up at the sky to see he can hardly spot any stars. The air is thick with the threat of rain, but it’s stubborn, refusing to fall.

He heads out to the dock, sitting on the cool surface, his phone in his hand. Malcolm already fell asleep, so he decided to take his call outside to not wake him.

It’s never easy for him to be away from his family for very long. He appreciates checking in every so often, making sure his parents are doing okay, hearing how his sister’s summer is going.

As he catches up with them during the video call, at one point, his dad asks his mom where his glasses are and when she points off screen and his dad thanks her with a kiss to her temple, the simple, passing moment is a reminder to Zach of how loving his parents’ marriage is.

He grew up knowing that his mom and dad adore each other, that they believe they’re meant to be together. It’s fun to act grossed out by their affection, but in reality, he admires them. He’s never wanted to settle for less in a relationship.

Zach has always desired to be surrounded by love and approval. He’s sure his heart will never fully heal after his childhood, but when he knows he’s around people who like him, that wound feels much smaller.

And the way you accept him for everything that he is, never once looking at him with judgement, unconditionally offering compassion, gives him a sense of being complete, of that wound actually being gone. He hasn’t ever felt that before.

He looks out at the dark water, breathing slowly. He’s always thought of himself as an optimistic person, so it’s uncomfortable to be wallowing over his circumstances with you this much.

He forces himself to see the bright side. He may be facing weeks of not being able to be with you the way he wants to, but when the camp season wraps up and he goes back to his normal life, you won’t be living under any of these rules.

He’ll take you out on dates. He’ll hold your hand in public. And hopefully, you’ll still like him enough that he can introduce you to his family and officially be your boyfriend.

At that moment, his phone buzzes with a text. It’s you. havent worked on my defense in a while... do you have time to help a friend practice?

He grins, feeling the tension in his body dissipate.

You agree to meet on the field farthest from the staff cabins, positioned at the far edge of the campground. When you approach the pitch, Zach’s practicing kick-ups by the net under the bright moon.

“Show-off,” you say once you’re close enough. He looks up to see you, letting the ball roll away. His smile fades once he sees your bare arms under your t-shirt.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asks.

“No.” His concern remains etched on his face, quickly unzipping his hoodie and stepping closer.

“I’m fine,” you laugh, unsuccessfully protesting as he drapes his hoodie over your shoulders.

“Now you are,” he says, looking down at you with a relieved smile. He leans down to leave a chaste kiss on your cheek, then quickly pulls back.

“Sorry,” he says. “Not allowed.”

You chuckle, looking around into the silent darkness surrounding you.

“I think we can get away with it here,” you tell him. “But I figured if anyone sees us, we’re just two coworkers innocently practicing for the game.”

“I ever tell you you’re a genius?” he asks, cocking his head, his eyes trailing down your face.

“Don’t think so,” you reply.

“Well, you are,” he says.

“Thanks, baby.”

“Okay, you can’t call me that and not expect to be kissed,” he murmurs, cupping your jaw with his cool palm. He leans down to kiss you, slow, his lips just barely parting.

“We still have to be careful,” you sigh amusedly when he pulls away. “Let’s practice.“

“Right,” he says. “As friends.”

“As friends.”

Zach smirks, rushing to get the ball as you stand in front of the net, stretching to warm up your legs.

“How was your day?” he asks once he stands a few feet across from you, gently kicking the ball to you. “Barely broke a sweat, huh?”

You trap the ball below your foot with a gasp.

“What’s that mean?”

“You’re still gonna pretend standing next to a cooler is hard?” he asks.

You laugh and kick the ball with unexpected force, watching him dramatically dodge it as it whirls past him.

“Whoa, you mad or something?” he laughs.

“I don’t need your attitude or your hoodie,” you tease, pulling the sleeves off.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he relents, laughing harder. “Please put it back on.”

You roll your eyes and comply, loving how soft his sweater feels on your skin, loving how much it smells like him.

“Just go get the ball,” you say in resignation, a smile pulling at your lips.

“Yes, ma’am,” Zach replies.

You watch him jog towards the center line, expertly dribbling the ball when he reaches it. He comes forward and stops a few feet away from you.

“Hey, I have something to tell you,” you say. The guilt weighs even heavier on you when you see the worry in his gaze.

“What?”

“Ami knows about us,” you confess. “She saw my hickeys the other day and I couldn’t think of a lie fast enough. She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone. I’m sorry.”

His heart aches when he hears the distress in your voice.

“You’re sorry?” he says. “I’m the one who left them.”

You breathe out a chuckle, tugging at the sleeves of his sweater over your knuckles.

“You can be upset with me,” you mumble. “I know you didn’t want anyone knowing.”

“I’m not upset,” he replies. “It’s okay.”

“Really?” you ask.

Truthfully, hearing that someone else knows about you two makes him tense. It increases the risk of being found out, of disappointing his family, of ruining his reputation. But he can’t bear to make you feel any worse.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it,” Zach says, keen to push past the topic. He kicks the ball to you. “So, your day?”

“It was good,” you say. “The hike was nice. But thinking about the staff game made me nervous. I guess I’m still not all that confident yet.”

“And you came to the best for help,” he says. You kick the ball back, laughing softly.

“I did.”

“You’ll get into your stride again,” Zach tells you. “I wasn’t just trying to flatter you the first night. You’re a really good defender. Honest.”

“Thank you,” you say, stopping the ball when he kicks it to you again. This is exactly why you wanted to come to him. He consoles you so effortlessly, already making the nerves unravel. “How was your day?”

“Good,” he says. “I actually just got off the phone with my family when you texted.”

“How are they?”

“Falling apart without me,” he answers sarcastically. “My sister was saying my dad doesn’t do monster checks right.”

“I’m sorry, what’s a monster check?” you laugh.

“A check for monsters, obviously,” he replies. “I’m usually the one that scouts out Avery’s room before bed, but since I’m not home, my dad’s in charge. And his heart’s just not in it.”

“That is not something to slack on,” you play along.

“Right?” he says. “I couldn’t live with myself knowing a monster might’ve flown under the radar.”

You laugh again, touched by how sweet of a big brother he is. You kick the ball to him and start training together.

It’s been just under ten minutes of practice when you feel a cool raindrop on your cheek. Zach’s towering over you, your legs brushing as he tries to gain possession of the ball, when you freeze and look up.

“I just felt rain,” you say, gently panting. He takes the opportunity to gaze at you as you stare up at the night sky, the moonlight washing your pretty face in its glow.

You lower your gaze to meet his eyes, revelling in the feeling of him looking at you like that, like you’re the only girl that exists. It reminds you of the way he stared at you when you met, needing you to repeat yourself because he was too out of it to pay attention to your words.

“Zach,” you giggle. “It’s raining. We should go.”

In that moment, he feels a raindrop on his head.

“Oh. Yeah,” he says. He bends to pick up the soccer ball, dreading how long the walk back to the staff cabins is.

You rush off the field, letting him grab your hand, enveloped in the darkness of the night. Drops of rain start to hammer down within seconds, cold moisture covering your clothes.

“Shit,” Zach chuckles, running faster, pulling you forward. “We won’t make it.”

You’re both laughing breathlessly when you run into the closest storage shed, shutting the door behind you, clothes sticking to you.

When Zach stumbles over something in the dark with a grunt, you laugh even harder, asking him if he’s okay between your cackles.

“I could have broken something,” he says, pretending he’s insulted, “and you’re laughing.”

You feel for him in the dark, cupping his bare forearms as he stumbles over the disorganized supplies scattered on the floor.

“Are you okay?” you repeat, facing him, trying to make out his features in the dark.

“Why don’t people ever clean up?” Zach complains. “It’s a safety hazard.”

“For the third time, are you okay?” you say amusedly. Your hands feel up his arms, cupping his face as the rain loudly drums on the roof.

“Yes,” he finally murmurs. He wishes it wasn’t so dark so that he could see you, but if he turned on the light, it’d be too easy for someone to notice.

“Good,” you whisper. You gently stroke his cheeks with your thumbs, feeling a bit of stubble over his jaw, his skin cool from the night air as he leans into your touch.

“That feels nice.” His voice is low and rough beneath the sound of pouring rain. You smile to yourself, adjusting to the dark, seeing that he shut his eyes.

“Then I’ll keep doing it,” you respond.

“You looked good out there,” he murmurs. “I mean, you’re skilled. You don’t have anything to worry about. You’re a solid soccer player.”

“So, to clarify, my playing looked good, but I didn’t?”

Zach lets out a tsk, finding your waist.

“Cut it out,” he scoffs. “You know how pretty you are.”

“I do?”

“Come on,” he mumbles. “Don’t even pretend to say bad things about yourself.”

“Or what?” you ask.

“I’ll cry. Is that what you want?”

You giggle, loving how easily he makes you laugh, feeling like you’ll be falling victim to your own impulses. And fast.

Cool down. You said you’d cool down. But there’s nothing cool about his lips pressing against yours when you pull him closer.

It’s only been a few days since you had a moment totally alone together, but when he kisses you with abandon, it’s like your body is getting its first drop of water after being parched.

As your kisses grow hungrier, Zach’s body melts into pure contentment. It’s perfect how you fit into each other, how his mind goes completely blank when he holds you, letting him ease into the bliss of your touch.

Your lips brush and your tongues graze and your breaths catch as you kiss, his grip on your waist tightening as your palms press on his cheeks.

“We’re bad at this,” you whisper when your lips part. “We’re bad at staying away from each other.”

“I’m okay with that,” Zach rasps, pulling you in tight, his body curving into yours.

You’re in a fog as you continue to make out, surrounded by him, listening to your shallow breaths and the heavy rain.

Your knees are weak by the time you pull away from each other, the roar of rain now reduced to calm droplets.

“What now?” Zach breathes. He needs to know if he’s going to go through the agony of not sneaking around with you anymore.

Every inch of his skin tingles with warmth. He wishes he could just lie down with you, not because he needs anything sexual, but because he hates the thought of saying goodnight and parting ways.

“I don’t know,” you reply. “I don’t like not kissing you. But I don’t like getting fired, either.”

Despite himself, he smirks, dipping his head to pull you into a hug and bury his face in the crook of your neck. You drape your arms around his broad shoulders, shutting your eyes as he squeezes you.

Zach breathes you in, feeling safer than he ever has in his life.

“I’m really glad you texted me,” he mumbles.

“Me, too,” you say.

When you sneak back into your cabin, still wearing his sweater, the fear you felt of getting caught the whole walk over reminds you of why you suggested you cool things down in the first place.

If you’re found out, it’s over. You’re still not sure what to do, if you should keep trying to stay away from him or just continue meeting in secret. But you do know that whatever you decide, Zach will respect it.

The next morning, you wake up with a sore throat. You realize you caught a mild cold from last night. And being sick in the middle of the summer while working an exhausting job is not ideal.

You barely make it through the day, then have an overnight shift in one of the campers’ cabins. By the next day, you’re a bit better, mainly dealing with muscle soreness.

After dinner, Zach notices the faraway look in your eyes as you sit across the fire and talk with campers. You were together just two nights ago, kissing and laughing, but you haven’t had a chance to speak privately since. And something seems wrong.

He discreetly pulls out his phone to text you: Are you ok?

You feel the buzz in your pocket and when you read his text, you meet his eyes, melting at the concern in his gaze. In an effort to ease his worry, you speak a little louder to the kids around you.

“Nobody caught my cold, right?” you ask. They shake their heads no.

“You’re sick?” Zach asks from the other side of the pit, over the chatter.

“A little,” you reply, your nose scrunching. “But the worst of it is over.”

Zach’s heart aches, upset that you’re in pain and that he didn’t notice sooner. It’s from the night you got caught in the rain together. He’s sure of it.

When he knocks on your door after lights out, even though he’s still uneasy about your cabin-mate knowing about you two, at least he doesn’t have to worry about how to look like a concerned friend and nothing more.

You’re sitting in bed when Ami swings open the door. Zach is standing on your front step, cupping something in his hands, his eyes darting between her and you.

“Hey,” he says, looking at you. “Thought I’d drop off some tea.”

Ami looks back at you, a grin on her face.

“You brought her tea?” she says. “That’s so sweet.”

“It is sweet,” you say with a shy smile. “Thank you.”

“Come in,” Ami says, stepping back. “You can hang out. I was about to go see what Malcolm’s up to anyway.”

“Really?” you ask, not buying it.

“He’s on an overnight,” Zach says.

“Is he? That’s crazy,” she says with a coy smile. She looks at you. “Text me.”

You know what she means; you need to let her know when she can come back since you and Zach might be in doing more than just hanging out.

Ami pulls a sweater over her pajama top and rushes out, leaving you and Zach alone in the cabin.

“Where’d you get tea?” you ask once the door shuts.

“From the office,” he says, crossing the room and setting the mug on your nightstand. He settles on the edge of your bed, inches away from you, gazing at you worryingly.

“I can get more if you need it,” he says. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re sick?”

“It’s really not that bad,” you tell him. “It’s just a headache now.“

He purses his lips, reaching forward to put the back of his hand on your forehead.

“I don’t think I have a fever,” you laugh.

“No other symptoms?”

“Just a sore throat yesterday, but it passed.”

“From being in the rain the other night?”

“That, and the stress of being scared we’ll get caught,” you laugh. He knows you’re joking, but his chest twists in pain. “Should I have told you?“

The question sets him aback for a moment, uncertainty rushing through him. You’ve been acting like you want a relationship, too, but maybe he’s being unrealistically hopeful.

Even though he’s been afraid to come on too strong, he needs to know, so he speaks before he can talk himself out of it.

“If I’m going to be your boyfriend, I need to know when you’re not feeling well,” Zach says.

You gaze at him for a silent few seconds. He’s unbelievably grateful when you lean forward and press your forehead into his chest, hugging him as best you can while you sit across from each other.

“It was just a little cold,” you mumble. “But I bet it would’ve been worse if my boyfriend didn’t make me wear his sweater.”

He cracks a smile, relieved, loving the way it sounds coming from you.

“Which you stole, by the way,” he says, making you laugh. He kisses the top of your head, then leans over to hand you the mug, steam curling from the top.

“Thank you,” you say. “How are you?”

You talk to each other about your days, swapping stories as you lean against the wall, taking slow sips.

“I’m cured,” you say once you’re done, setting the empty mug on the nightstand.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asks.

“Hugs,” you say, feeling desperate for his touch.

Zach grins, standing to let you comfortably lie down before he settles next to you. Your cheek is on his shoulder as he holds you in his arms, and when he lifts your chin to guide you into a kiss, you shake your head.

“You’ll get sick,” you warn.

“What? You said I cured you.” He pecks your lips gently, then shifts to kiss your forehead. “Where’s it hurt? Here?”

“Mhm,” you mumble.

“I don’t think it’s the cold,” he says. “Your head hurts because you think about me too much.”

You giggle, your hand trailing up and down his firm stomach.

“Oh, that must be it,” you say.

“I think about you too much, too.”

“You do?” You close your eyes as he continues to plant gentle kisses on your forehead. “What do you think about?”

“I mostly wonder when the next time I can be with you is,” he murmurs, “and how it can’t come fast enough.”

You stroke his chest, stopping to feel his heartbeat over the fabric of his shirt.

“Me, too,” you say. You trail back down his stomach and up again, arousal twisting in your core the more you feel him.

He sighs quietly. It’s unreal how just a minute of your touch does this to him. He’s already hard.

When you gently tug at his hip so he’ll turn on his side to face you, you feel him stiffen once his erection presses against your stomach, letting out a heavy exhale.

“I swear I didn’t come over to do this,” Zach murmurs, worried you’ll think he’d try to come by under false pretences just to hook up.

“I believe you,” you whisper against his neck, kissing softly, breathing in his scent.

Zach kisses the top of your head, cradling your jaw, revelling in the feeling of your affection, sure you can feel him growing even harder against you.

“I don’t know if – I mean, are we back to seeing each other?”

You shuffle back to meet his eyes, sympathy in your gaze.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been confusing,” you say. “I know I told you we should cool down just to make out with you like, two days later.”

“I’m not complaining,” Zach says with a soft chuckle. Maybe someone else would be frustrated, but everything about this summer has been unpredictable and he’s always been quick to adapt.

“I can’t decide what to do. I feel like you,” you tease.

“Hurtful,” he jokes, squinting.

“Remind me of how much time we have left before the season ends,” you say sadly.

“A month and three days.”

“It’s cute that you know the exact number.” The compliment makes his cheeks flush pink.

“Yeah, I’m pretty cute,” he replies. You laugh, your fingers dipping beneath the hem of his t-shirt. He bites his lip when he feels your skin against his, eyelids low.

“You’re very cute,” you say. “And very kind for coming to check on me.”

His heart is racing. You’re looking at him in that way he said you can’t look at him at work. It gets him all flustered, making him feel like you want him as bad as he wants you.

“And so sweet and so handsome,” you continue, your hand sliding up his back under his shirt. “And so good for me.”

“Baby,” he sighs happily, the praise making his head swim. “You know what that does to me.”

“That’s why I’m doing it,” you breathe. “One more night? Then, we cool down, for real?”

“But your head hurts.”

You shrug, admittedly still feeling tension in your temples.

“You made it better,” you say. He shifts lower to kiss you, gently sucking on your bottom lip, breathing heavily.

His thoughts are rushing like a current, the desire to make you feel good, to relax you in the best possible way burning deep inside him.

When he pulls back a bit, his lips brush against yours when he asks, “Can I kiss lower? Make you feel even better?”

You catch the weight of his words, the coil in you tightening even more.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”

“You never have to say please to me,” Zach says. “Not for that.”

You groan when he lowers to kiss your neck, down to your collarbones, over the swells of your breasts. He’s on his knees as he pulls up your shirt, trailing kisses up your stomach as he hungrily pulls down your pants.

You lift your hips to help him push them off, left in your panties in seconds.

Zach settles on his elbows, his eyes meeting yours as he rests with his head between your bent legs. He doesn’t take your eyes off of you as he puckers his lips against your inner thigh.

“You want this?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” you sigh happily.

“Me, too,” he says. “So bad.”

He kisses harder, surely going to leave a mark. His big hand drags over your knee, down your other thigh, resting at your pelvis.

His gaze refuses to leave yours, his lips still on your skin, when he lowers his hand to stroke his thumb over your middle. You moan softly, blinking slowly.

Like every other time he touches you, it feels like a dream. He can’t believe he gets to do this. The anticipation of knowing he’ll be tasting you soon makes his skin tingle.

Zach is agonizingly slow with his kisses, planting them all up one thigh, then moving to the other, then dipping to kiss right above where you need him most, over your underwear.

You lace your fingers in his messy hair, not pushing or pulling, just feeling his head move with every kiss, trying to be patient.

Finally, he puts his mouth over your core, kissing over the fabric, pulling a shudder out of you.

He can feel how wet you are, earning a taste of you, and it makes him ache with need. He looks up at you again as he gently pulls at the band of your panties.

Once you kick them off, his lips part in awe when you readjust to slightly spread your legs.

“Fuck,” he breathes. It’s almost nerve-racking, the way he’s staring at you. You’ve never been looked at like this. He gently pushes your knee down so he can see more of you.

“Fuck,” he says again, groaning through the word this time. He can’t wait any longer, lowering to press his lips against you. Your body rolls with pleasure when he makes contact, his lips warm and wet and soft, puckering against you.

Zach leaves countless kisses on you, angling his head so that he can give every part of you equal attention, licking his lips in between so that he can savor you.

You arch your back as he starts to languidly tongue you, letting out low moans and warm breaths. His nose presses against your groin, the sound of his wet kisses filling the room.

You run the heel of your palm over his head, caressing him, and he starts to suck your clit, his lips locked tightly.

“That feels so good,” you whisper. The way his mouth is working you sends waves of easy, soft satisfaction through you.

He threshes his tongue, gazing up at you as your face pinches in pleasure. You meet his eyes again, seeing how utterly intoxicated he looks to be doing something so intimate with you.

Zach pulls back, lips smacking off of you, panting now. He runs his hand up to your hip to find your hand and lace his fingers in yours.

“You taste so sweet,” he says, his tone thick with ecstasy, before leaning down again. It’s even better than he even imagined. You’re so slick and hot against his tongue. He could do this for hours.

You continue to run your fingers through his hair with one hand as you squeeze his fingers with the other, soft sighs spilling from your mouth. When you feel his tongue dip into you, you have to bite your bottom lip to quiet your moan.

His groans vibrate against you, guiding you into a state of pure solace. He pulls his hand away from yours to stroke his thumb in gentle circles over your clit as he tongues you. Every inch of your body tingles.

“Don’t stop,” you breathe. “That’s perfect.”

The praise spurs him on. His jaw is sore from how much his tongue is writhing inside you, but your pleasure is worth it.

The orgasm reaches you quickly, a million fireworks of ecstasy bursting through you, pushing you to quiver beneath him.

Zach kisses you as you come down from your high, shifting up to kiss your thigh, then your sternum, then finally your lips.

You meet his lips lazily and tenderly, tasting yourself on him. When you slowly trail your hand down his stomach to palm him over his sweats, he pulls back.

“No, baby,” he murmurs. “I don’t want you doing any work. Just rest tonight.”

He’s rock hard. You can tell how bad he needs the release. You want to do this for him, no matter how dazed you are. But you know he’ll feel guilty if he feels like you’re straining yourself.

“Then you do the work,” you whisper. “The condoms are in the bottom drawer.”

Zach sighs, kissing between your eyebrows, breaths shallow.

“I made you sore last time.”

“A good sore,” you breathily laugh.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

“I want you,” you say.

Your lids are low as Zach shifts to find a condom, pulling down his sweats and boxers, rolling it on carefully. His large frame leans over you, a flush coloring his cheeks as he looks down at you.

“I’m going slow,” he tells you.

“Whatever you want,” you say, and you mean it.

He holds himself at his base, slowly dipping himself into where his tongue was just minutes ago. His breath is strained as he sinks into you, wrapped in your soft heat.

He’s close to bottoming out, and stops, stroking your cheek.

“Still good?” he rasps.

“Yes,” you say. “Keep going.”

Zach sinks into you completely, taking a moment to savor how nice it is to be deep inside you again. His mouth is at the crook of your neck as he slowly starts to thrust back and forth, your bodies meeting with soft smacks.

The pressure of him is hard and perfect as your body rocks with his movements. You shut your eyes, swimming in bliss, breathing out short sighs into his ear as he rocks in and out.

He can’t believe how nicely you’re squeezing him, how perfect you feel, how lucky he is to be here right now. Your bed squeaks when he starts to move faster, his muscles tensing as you wrap your arms around him.

“Still okay?” Zach whispers.

“Yes,” you say. “Come for me.”

Your words are everything to him, the tender dominance he so deeply loves spinning him into a euphoric high. The way you make him feel makes the world stand still, makes him feel like perfection can exist.

He kisses you deeply, his stomach tautening as he comes. He continues to thrust slowly as he rides out the pleasure.

When he collapses, you kiss his cheek over and over, running your hand over the back of his head.

“Thank you,” he whispers. You smile weakly.

“Thank you,” you say.

Zach doesn’t let you stand up. After he gets dressed, he grabs a towel to help clean you up, gentle and slow. You’re still lying on your back when he sits at the end of your bed to pull your panties up over your ankles.

“You always gonna do that?” you tease quietly. “Put my clothes back on after?”

“Yes,” he says. He pulls them all the way up, then drags your pants up, too, before lying down next to you. You shuffle into the position you were in before, your cheek on his shoulder, his arms around you.

“My headache’s gone,” you tell him, “and I’m not just saying that.”

Zach’s chest gently bounces as he laughs.

“Good,” he says. He rubs up and down your arm. “Just tell me when I should go.”

“How’s never?” you ask. He smiles. His heart has never felt warmer.

“Doable,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead. “And… I’m with you. We’ll wait until the end of the season. I don’t want you stressed out, baby.”

“Okay,” you agree. It’s bittersweet and a month and three days have never felt so long, but you agree.

Eventually, you pull yourselves apart. You kiss Zach goodbye and text Ami that the coast is clear.

The next few days are a busy haze, full of stolen glances between you and Zach, and before you know it, it’s the midpoint of the season, the day of staff game.

It’s a scorching afternoon as you warm up on the pitch, eyes flitting to Zach as he jogs on the other side of the field.

Both teams were randomly assigned, and when you noticed that Zach was wearing a red vest over his t-shirt, not matching your blue one, you internally sighed.

You miss him. And if you were on the same team, at least you’d have a perfectly valid reason to talk with him right now.

The campers are seated under canopies on the touchline, already in a spirited cheer-off, rooting for the team their counselors are on.

Ruby blows the whistle to signal the start of the game. Your team keeps the ball on the other side of the field for the first little while, but remain goalless, until eventually, the red team starts to move in.

You’re focused, feeling more confident about your playing than you have in a while. You know you have Zach to thank. You hope you have the opportunity to tell him soon.

You’re quick on your feet as you watch the red team retain possession, the ball quickly spinning back and forth over the grass.

Finally, they make their move, with Zach leading. With slightly bent knees, you watch as he approaches the goal. You’re the only person left between him and your goalie.

He fakes left, but you call his bluff, stepping right to successfully kick it away. A chorus of groans sounds from the campers and some of his teammates.

“Oh, come on, Zach!” Malcolm shouts from the halfway line. “Obviously you want to go easy on your girl, but have some pride.”

“Chill, Malcolm,” Ami shouts back, laughing uneasily. You look back at your teammate, wondering if she broke her promise and told him about you. Or maybe Zach let him know at some point.

Or maybe Malcolm doesn’t know anything and you’re just reading into it. Your eyes dart to Zach as he jogs away. He looks back, his expression tense.

The game ends in a 0-0 draw, and Ruby decides it should come down to a penalty shootout just to end it with a bang. To your surprise, Zach misses, hitting the post. He looks rattled. Your team wins.

After lights out, you replay the moment on the field in your head, wondering how many people heard Malcolm. You want to question Ami about it, but you don’t get a chance to before she leaves for her overnight shift.

You step out into the humid night, figuring a walk will be a good way to clear your head. The anxiety eventually is too big to avoid, so you text Zach: everything alright? does Malcolm know?

As you pace past the camper cabins on your loop around the campground, you see that he replied. I asked him after the game. He knows. Ami told him.

You send a sigh up to the starry sky. She promised. Now not only is the secret out to two people, but considering that Malcolm is Zach’s best friend, maybe he was offended that Zach didn’t tell him, causing even more issues.

You text him: crap. sorry. do you want to talk about it?

You’re surprised and a little slighted to see him text back: It’s all good.

When you reach the staff area, you see Zach’s tall figure heading down the steps of his cabin.

Zach never thought he wouldn’t be glad to see you. But after the tense conversation he just had with Malcolm, he knows that the worry he’s harboring over the very real possibility that his aunt heard Malcolm’s words on the field today won’t make him good company.

He knows it’s not your fault. He willingly went into this with you. He pursued it. He left the marks on your body that exposed you. He should be mad at Malcolm for what he shouted today, and Malcolm only.

But he has a voice in the back of his mind pestering him, frustrated that you didn’t just hide it better and not tell Ami. And he feels like shit for being a little mad at you.

You already saw him. He’s not going to be a dick and ignore you. He’s going to pretend he’s fine.

“Hi,” you say softly, stopping in front of your cabin.

“Hey,” he says. “Out for a walk?”

“Are you mad at me?” you ask.

“What? No,” he says. “Why do you think that?”

“It feels like…” You hold up your phone. “I don’t know, this is the type of thing you’d want to talk about. But you just brushed me off.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “We’re keeping our distance, right?”

You cross your arms, unable to shake the feeling that he’s not being totally honest. You know him well enough by now. Maybe he’s good at putting on a show for other people. But it’s not working on you.

“Zach, is this… is this what you talked about before?” you ask over the crickets chirping loudly around you. “When you said you don’t like to admit it when something’s bothering you?“

He looks down, his tongue jutting from under his cheek.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask again.

He’s silent. His mind is totally blank. He’s never been good at this. He hates that he can’t control how he feels. He feels like a bad person for being upset with someone so sweet who didn’t mean any harm.

“This just… it sucks,” Zach mumbles.

You nod slowly. It’s not a clear answer, but it’s enough. Your heart feels too heavy to force a conversation.

“Yeah,” you say. “It does.”

You turn to go up to your cabin. It hurts when he doesn’t stop you.

(part seven)

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#zach maclaren and you #zach maclaren and y/n #zach maclaren and reader #zach maclaren x y/n #zach maclaren x you #zach maclaren x reader

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sam24 · 10 months ago

Text

Man on a Mission

Summary: Apparently, someone called Bucky's girl a whore. He has now made it his life's mission to find out who.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

*****

Bucky sat at the kitchen island, eyes narrowed, leg bouncing, and the same scene from last night replaying in his head.

Bucky drew random patterns on your bare shoulder, his nose buried into your hair. You were being quieter than usual, but he knew you were awake as he could feel your hands fidgeting.

He didn’t want to press you to tell him about it, so he settled on making you feel as loved as possible, pressing kisses into your hair.

Suddenly, you broke the silence, taking Bucky by surprise.

“Buck . . . do you think I’m a whore?”

“Wha-” Bucky lifted his head immediately, trying to look at you. But you hid your face in your hands, turning away from him.

“God don’t look at me. Fuck, this is so embarrassing,” You groaned into your hands. “Forget I said that.”

“No, honey, look at me please,” Bucky gently pulled your hands down, cradling your face. “Who called you that?”

“No, no, no one,” You shook your head frantically. “I’m sorry, just forget I said anything. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“No, sweetheart, who- okay we’ll get back to that later. But you are not a whore, okay? No woman deserves to be called that in the first place. Who-”

“No, no one. I was just . . . I just randomly thought of it.”

Bucky wasn’t convinced, but he let it slide.

For now.

“Well, I don’t want you thinking these things about yourself.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Okay?”

You nodded, seeming relieved and a little surprised that he dropped it that easily.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

It was now the next morning, and you were at the gym with Natasha, which gave Bucky the perfect opportunity to figure out who to murder.

Steve walked into the kitchen with Sam trailing behind.

“Morning Buck.” Steve greeted. His head stuck into the fridge, trying to look past the shit ton amount of edible cookie dough you had made a couple days earlier.

“How come you didn’t come run with us, you lazy fat ass.” Sam teased, leaning on the island.

“Didn’t feel like it.” Bucky narrowed his eyes.

Suspect 1: Sam Wilson, The Most Annoying Bird Alive

Sam had a tendency to poke fun at people, but some might not take it as well as others. For example, when a barista burst out in tears last week when Sam joked about her being “all over the place” with all the orders coming in. (He came in with flowers the next day)

Bucky wondered if Sam had said something that was supposed to be funny, but you didn’t think it was and got upset.

A part of Bucky wanted to settle on Sam so he had an excuse to beat him up, but the more rational side of him realized that you had gone on one too many missions with him to think he was being serious about anything he said.

Tony then came in, holding a bunch of empty coffee mugs in his hand, practically throwing them into the sink.

“Bruce said my mugs were ‘taking up too much room’ in the lab,” Tony rolled his eyes. “Well why doesn’t he try being the goddamn genius backbone of this team.”

Bucky stared at him intently.

Suspect 2: Tony Stark, The Dick Who Can’t Set His Metal Rock Music Lower Than 98

Tony had a tendency to snap easily, especially when he was low on sleep (which was basically all the time). Everyone usually steered clear of Tony when he was moody, because he would most definitely say the meanest things, but not really mean any of it.

Bucky tried to think if it was logical that Tony would snap at you and say something. However, he came to the conclusion that even if Tony had said something, you had known him for too long to take his sleep-deprived words to heart.

“What are you looking at, Winter Schnitzel?” Tony challenged, noticing Bucky staring at him.

“Nothing.” Bucky replied, his stare shifting over to his best friend, who was grinning in amusement, but still trying to find something to eat that wouldn’t give him diabetes.

Suspect 3: Steve Rog-

Bucky stopped himself, almost laughing at himself for thinking Steve would ever call a woman a whore.

Even though you always kept the fridge full of random items you would make, Steve would never say a single bad thing about you.

For now, Bucky was stuck.

⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃

6 hours later, and Bucky was still stuck.

You and Peter were out (God knows where), which was another perfect chance for Bucky to think.

But the problem was he couldn’t think of anyone.

Everyone in the compound adored you, so Bucky couldn’t figure out who the hell would deliberately say something to make you upset.

He dragged his shoes across the floor, cursing Steve in his head for making him go on a “stroll” because he apparently looked “pent-up”.

There was no way in hell Bucky would walk around outside, so he opted to take a walk inside, using Mother Steve’s demand to his advantage to scout out potential targets.

He halfheartedly glanced around the floor, stopping when his gaze landed on you.

He immediately grinned, not caring about the fact he probably looked crazy, and started his way over to where you were.

You were talking to someone with a bag in your hand. Bucky remembered you saying something about picking up a dress from the store for your friend. Peter was next to you, and for some reason, puffing his chest out?

But, as Bucky got closer, he realized you were talking to Jacob, the little dickwad who couldn’t take no for an answer,

“How many times do I have to tell you? Get out of my way. I’m trying to get this to someone.” Bucky heard you snap, tuning in with his enhanced hearing.

Bucky stopped, trying to assess the situation and figure out if you would appreciate him stepping in or not.

He knew you didn’t need anyone to stand up for you, but his overprotective side rippled through his body, his jaw clenching and fists balling.

“Baby, stop acting- “Jacob was cut off with a sharp slap.

The little bastard was taken by complete shock.

Meanwhile, Peter was still trying to look as intimidating as possible.

“Jacob, what the hell is your problem? I’ve told you to leave me alone more times than I can count. How fucking thick is your skull?”

Jacob was about to reply, with probably something bitchy, but he caught sight of Bucky in the corner with the most murderous glare and stopped himself.

He instead looked down and stepped to the side, giving you and Peter room to go.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Beat it.” Peter growled in the most non-threatening way possible as you two left, giving Bucky the perfect chance to slide in before Jacob could hightail out of there.

“Barnes.” Jacob greeted, clearing his throat.

“Callaway.” Bucky’s blood boiled at how differently he treated other men than how he treated women. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to respect a lady?”

Before Jacob could reply, his equally dumb friend, Brody, walked past the two men.

“Damn, Jake. Barnes finally here to beat you up for calling his girl a whore?”

Bucky and Jacob both stared at Brody.

Jacob looked sickly pale, and Bucky looked calmly terrifying. Clear sign he was fucking enraged.

“Oh shit-” Brody finally put the pieces together, practically sprinting away.

Bucky turned back to face a petrified looking Jacob.

“So,” Bucky reached out, fixing Jacob’s tie and smoothing down his collar. “It was you, huh?”

Jacob tensed under Bucky’s touch.

“Chill pal, I just wanna talk.”

⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃⭃

A bruised cheek, wet underwear, and hurt ego later, Jacob’s talk with Bucky was over.

Bucky threw his feet up on the ottoman, but not before telling Friday to make sure Jacob was apologizing to you, as instructed by Bucky himself.

He patiently waited for you on the couch, a wide grin appearing on his face as you walked in and cuddled up next to Bucky, but not without pressing a kiss to his lips first.

Halfway through the movie, you turned to look at Bucky.

“Thank you,” You smiled.

“For what, doll?”

You turned back to face the movie, a smile playing at your lips. “C’mon. I know that was you. He would never apologize on his own will.”

Bucky laughed, turning you around once again to pepper kisses all over your face.

“I love you, my little smartass.”

“I love you too, pops.”

Mission accomplished.

#marvel fanfiction #bucky x reader #protective bucky barnes

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itsthatmff · 3 months ago

Note

helllooo, can you write boyfriends headcanons with other men like flashy flash and amai mask please? ~

IM FINALLY BACK WITH MORE HEADCANONS! writing for these was so hard- it was my first time doing amai mask too- I hope they turned out well 😩

Please keep the requests incoming I’ll try to work through them! I’m sorry for taking so long and Thank you so much for the patience.

Boyfriend Headcanons on OPM men Pt. 2

Fem!reader

Included: Flashy flash, Amai mask, Saitama, Zombie man

Flashy Flash

Having him as a boyfriend sure isn’t for the weak

He’s definetly the leader of the sassy man apocalypse

He takes his night routine SERIOUSLY like you will have a 20 step hair routine and a spa session

He gives great hair care tips though

Lets you braid his hair when you’re bored or does your hair when you’re tired

Gossiping with him is super fun

When he’s annoyed or jealous he scoffs a lot

Tiny bit reluctant over physical affection but his hugs and kisses feel so gentle, you could melt into them.

He goes all out when you’re on your period, like he knows exactly what you need and what to do.

Gifts you hairclips on random occasions !

Doesn’t like you touching his katana cuz he’s worried you’ll hurt yourself.

You get the best dates with him because he knows the best spots, prefers staying at home with you though in case one of his opps are after him.

He does bicker with you from time to time because he knows you too well and can’t be bothered to deal with your overdramatic ass

"Yeah fine we get it you’re just angry because you’re craving some desserts. Stop whining and lets go get it.“

Amai Mask

Might seem like a narcissistic and selfish bastard at first but he really just has issues

As a boyfriend he might not be able to spend much time with you since he is a hero AND a celebrity with a filled schedule

Makes sure to spoil you rotten tho

You get expensive gifts from him on a weekly basis and he takes you out to the best restaurants

He has to be very discreet with your relationship since it could cause him a bad reputation and backlash from the media

Whenever he’s overwhelmed or had a bad day he seeks comfort in your embraces

Feels like you’re the only one who understands him

Genuinely opens up to you and shows you his vulnerable side from time to time

He gets VERY jealous like he better not catch you admiring some other hero

At first he’d laugh it off not wanting to believe such a thing but slowly the jealousy would start creeping up

“You’re mine understood?”

Is just scared of u leaving him

He calls to tell you there’s a new magazine out that features him and wants you to buy it.

Thinks you’re his biggest supporter and likes to brag about you.

Saitama

Dates consist of gaming or getting deals at different supermarkets

I can totally imagine that he’s willing to try some new things at the convenience store with you and do taste tests.

Never rates the food a 10/10 cuz he thinks Genos could do it better.

YES sometimes Genos DOES make dinner dates for you two, he goes all out making a 5 star dinner for his sensei and his girlfriend.

Saitama secretly loves it when you come and sit on his lap as he watches tv.

He may not look like it but he really notices the small details, like he’ll ask if you put on different perfume or shampoo. Does it so sleek too.

He’d lean in to your neck and WHISPER INTO YOUR EAR

"Hm..you smell so good, got a new perfume?“

This guy just knows how to get you flustered

Is very nonchalant about most things, doesn’t really get jealous. (Unless you’re being overly nice to someone that has like really good hair)

“Yo genos. How much do you think a hair transplant costs?”

“Why are you asking sensei?”

“No reason really..” as he GLARES at the guy you’re talking to.

Doesn’t call you often, more like he randomly texts you what he’s doing and if your schedule matches his you both hangout.

Wants to climb up the ranks in order to impress you and loves to tell you about his day when he gets home.

Gets the most expressive around you.

He kicks out Genos when you two need your private time.

Gives the best piggy back rides.

Zombieman

Hands down the best boyfriend out there

He’s so chill about everything

Likes to take you everywhere with him, especially on shooting ranges, coffee shops or jazz bars

Respects your boundaries a lot, if you don’t like the smoke from his cigarettes he’ll try not to smoke around you, if you’re a smoker yourself he always looks forward to smoke some with you.

You both have a very casual relationship, there’s no awkwardness at all nor the cheesiness and pampering

That also includes physical affection. Cuddling on the couch or holding hands seems natural to you.

As nihilistic as he is, he can’t hide whenever he’s jealous.

“Was it fun chatting to that human?” He’d ask whilst pressing down the last remaining of his cigarette onto the whiskey glass. He wasn’t upset, more like curious of what you saw in another man.

Only calls you in the evenings after he walks you home. Likes to hear your voice before he goes to sleep.

He loves to get you roses

Asks childish emperor for advice on what to get you. Doesn’t even realise himself that he slips in your name in every conversation.

Is the kind of boyfriend that is happy enough to just watch you from afar.

Never ever gets aggressive with you. In fact you’ve never seen him angry.

Likes to polish his guns while you sit on his lap.

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 2 years ago

Text

My Heart is Yours

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Words: 6.3k

Warnings: extreme fluff, maybe a tiny bit of angst? tension? this is just very fluffy because he needs it

Synopsis: It's Simon's birthday and somethings changed between you two...

Link to The Roommate Series Masterlist

You are currently reading part 2 of “The Roommate Series”

You were up earlier than normal two days in a row but this time you had woken up on your own. Usually on the weekends you slept in, enjoying the fact that you didn't have to go to class or do work, dozing in and out of sleep as you listened to your roommate go through his morning before you joined him. However, this weekend was different than most and it was hard for you to want to stay in bed.

For one, Simon was home. You have gone through many weekends without him, so when he was here it was hard for you to justify staying in bed when you wanted to spend time with him. You learned very quickly that you could never take the time spent with him for granted, not when he might be called back into work randomly and then you’d be left alone again.

Truthfully it was a double edge sword. The more time you spent with him the harder it was to watch him leave but that was the price to pay when you let yourself get attached to a man who disappeared for months.

Another reason was because it was Simon’s birthday.

You were honestly more excited about it than he was. To him, his birthday was just another day but to you it was a day to make things right, to make things better from the vague stories he gave you about the way he grew up.

It was also a chance to have fun with him and to just relax. You didn’t pass up on those opportunities.

You had plans for dinner before you both got drunk off whiskey and any other alcohol you had in your fridge to watch movies. You also still had to make him a cake but more importantly you still had to wrap the gift you had gotten him.

The door to your room was closed but you still glanced at it as if Simon would appear out of thin air before you pulled his gift out from underneath your bed.

In your hand was a travel sized joke book, one that had the really bad puns and dad jokes in it but it was the only thing that you could think of to get him that he would actually use. Even if you knew a lot about your roommate, he was difficult to shop for because he had everything he already needed and never thought about what he wanted.

“Just tell me something to get you!” You begged as you both walked through the aisles of the grocery store yesterday.

“I don’t want anything.” He shrugged and you huffed.

“If you don’t tell me I’m going to get you something you won’t like.”

“I’m sure I’ll live.”

Simon would never tell you but it really didn't matter what you got him for his birthday. He would like whatever you got him because if it was something from you he’d cherish it until he died.

You opened the front of the book to make sure the birthday card you got him was still in there before you heard Simon walk past your room. You somehow had woken up before him and you listened to him shut the door to the bathroom before you let out a short breath.

You put the book back underneath your bed and got dressed. You tried to curb your excitement and instead worked through your head to come up with a plan to get him out of the apartment.

Even though he knew what you had planned you still wanted to act as if it was a surprise.

You left your room once you were dressed and made your way to the bathroom, noting that the door was cracked open for you. It was part of the routine you both had set up when he was home and happened to be in the bathroom when you had to get ready for class.

“Happy birthday!” You swung the door open and stood in the doorway with a grin.

Simon was brushing his teeth but gave you a grunt that sounded like a ‘thank you’. He seemed to have just woken up; his blond hair was tousled from sleep and he stared at you with bleary eyes. He was also still in his pajamas which consisted of just sweatpants since the man was practically a space heater and couldn’t wear a shirt to sleep.

His entire upper body was covered in scars that you were sure had stories to them. It was uncommon for you to see them but sometimes you got a glimpse which struck something deep within your chest. However, right now you were just happy that he truly didn’t have any new scars.

There was something strangely domestic about the sight of him brushing his teeth while you stood watching him. It felt like something that was meant to be, something that was natural to the apartment and to you both. It warmed your chest, softening the grin as it settled into you again that he was truly back home.

“I see you slept well.” You said and he didn’t have the heart to disagree. “Feel any older?”

“Pass.” He grumbled after he spit into the sink and washed out the fluoride with water.

You giggled and watched him begin to wash his face, unbothered by your presence. You were still running through ideas in your head about how to get rid of him for a few hours before you decided to play the safe route.

“What’re your plans today?” You wondered, trying to not sound suspicious.

“Get drunk and watch movies.” He reminded you and you hummed in response.

“You mean you don’t have anything else planned?”

He turned the water off and patted his face dry with a towel, turning to you with a suspicious look in his eyes when he was finished. It only worsened when you gave him a smile and he let out a long sigh from his chest.

“You want me out of the flat.” He stated and you decided that it was time to be truthful.

“Just for a few hours.” You gave him a sheepish smile when he sent you an annoyed look. “It’d do you good to go out.”

“I went out yesterday.”

A soft huff left your mouth as you watched him hang the towel back up and he raised his eyebrows expectantly. You knew that it would’ve been hard to get him out the apartment, he was a homebody who practically confined himself to four walls when he was home. It never bothered you but right now you wished he at least had the motivation to go outside.

“You could go visit your friends?” You suggested even though in your entire time living with him you’d never seen or heard about him having any.

“No.” He didn’t hesitate and you sent him a look.

“At least think about it, geez.”

Simon smiled, it was small but it brightened your mood immensely, as he ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame it. It had gotten longer since he was gone, the longest you had seen it, and he pulled on a few of the strands to test the length. He didn’t look bad with it that long in your opinion but you assumed by the way he was staring at it through the mirror with intense concentration that he wanted it to be a shorter length.

“I can pay for your haircut.”

“I prefer cutting my own hair.”

You groaned from his difficultness, not annoyed but you had hoped this would go easier. You weren’t sure if he was doing it on purpose to toy with you or if he genuinely didn’t want to leave the apartment. In hindsight, you couldn’t really blame him since he had gotten back yesterday and most likely just wanted to sit around and enjoy not having to be at his job.

Simon made his way over to you and leaned against the doorframe, his tired eyes staring down at you with confusion as he crossed his arms. Up this close, it was really hard to deny just how big he was and it took everything in you to not stare super long at him.

He seemed to have gained more muscle since you had last seen him and yet he hadn’t thinned down much either. Whatever he did for his job made him physically fit and you wondered if that was the reason why he always ate so much.

Not that you were complaining.

His eyes softened as you made eye contact and they bounced around your face as he leaned forward ever so slightly, making it so there was only a few inches between the two of you.

You were prepared for him to stare at you for a long time before he spoke.

“Why do you want to surprise me if I know what you’re doing?” He wondered and continued to stare at you as if he could read your mind.

“You don’t know everything.” You teased and his eyebrows knitted together. “Like the gift I got you.”

Simon’s eyes widened slightly and he stood up, causing you to bite back a few giggles. He tried to hide his excitement but you could see it in the way his eyes had brightened and his usual serious face had gotten happier just at the mention of a gift.

It was cute, you couldn’t help but look at him with a warm chest as it was almost like looking at a kid who was just told they’d get ice cream.

“You got me something?” He sounded surprised it made you smile more.

“Mhm.” You nodded and he seemingly held his breath in anticipation. “But you’re not allowed to have it until after we have cake.”

You watched him deflate with slight disappointment before his eyes shot over to your room. You immediately knew what he was thinking about and you sent him a warning look that you hoped would deter him from even daring to search through your room for his gift.

Even if the dinner and the cake wasn’t a surprise, you wanted to keep his present a secret because you were honestly a little worried it wasn’t good enough and you still wanted to have the time to be able to potentially get something different for him.

“Okay, let’s compromise.” You said, trying to get him to forget about the gift, and continued when he looked back at you. “After lunch you leave while I make the cake and then you can come back once I start making dinner.”

Simon thought it over for a moment before he nodded.

“I’ll help you make dinner.” He added but you shook your head.

“You’re not supposed to help, it’s your birthday.”

“It’s my birthday so I get to do what I want.”

You gasped and stared at him with shock, watching as a triumphant smile stretched across his face. Of course he would figure out a way to use your own arbitrary rules against you for his benefit. You were honestly surprised he hadn’t thought to do it earlier but maybe he was waiting for the right opportunity to catch you off guard.

He was smart, too smart to fall for you silly rules and play along with you.

You pursed your lips together as he looked down at you. You pretended to be offended, giving him a fake glare that couldn’t even be mistaken for anger as you fought back a smile.

“Oh, you think you’re so clever.” You poked him on the chest and watched him tense up slightly before he leaned more into your space.

“I do.”

You scoffed, shaking your head slightly as you placed your hands on your hips. You narrowed your eyes at him, watching as amusement twinkled in his eyes. You focused hard on them, knowing that if you didn’t you would be too enticed by the fact that you could smell the fresh mint on his breath that made you dare to think about what it would be like to press a kiss to his lips in this moment. How you could easily take his face into your hands and run your fingers across the blond stubble on his cheeks, tracing every scar that peppered his otherwise clear skin.

Instead you looked into his dark brown eyes, finding that you were practically swallowed up in the color of bitter coffee and earth. A void of hidden emotions and an exhaustion that seemed to always plague him yet there was comfort within them expanse of darkness. There was warmth that blanketed you as you stared into his eyes, a sense of safety and stability that you couldn’t find anywhere else, only within the confines of the man who stood in front of you.

It was almost too much, too intense to be looking into his eyes like this. Normally you couldn’t do it for longer than a few seconds but doing so now made you feel almost dizzy, like he was taking the air from your lungs for himself.

And yet couldn’t get enough of him. He could be melded inside of you, his entire soul could be mixed with yours and it still wouldn’t be enough.

“Fine.” You cleared your throat when you noticed that your voice was shaking slightly. “You can help but just remind yourself that it’s your birthday.”

“Fine.” He playfully rolled his eyes before he gently pushed you back. “Go. I need to take a shower.”

“You brush your teeth before a shower? Weirdo.”

Simon sent you a look, still with the hint of playfulness, before he shut the door and it was as if you could breathe again. You stared at the door, taking in the moment you just had with him before the shower turning on shook you out of your thoughts.

You glanced at the door one more time before you moved towards the kitchen to make some breakfast.

Shooting whiskey has never been easy for you. The brown liquid burned your throat and settled in your chest long enough to give you an unpleasant shiver throughout your entire body. It was hard to keep back the water in your eyes and the cough as you downed a shot, chasing that funny feeling that made the world spin and everything a lot less stressful.

You had your own drink but you couldn’t deny Simon when he offered the last three shots of whiskey to you, finding that he could be persuasive when he wanted to be.

Both of you sat on the couch in front of the tv, some kind of movie that Simon hadn’t seen was playing in the background but it had been quickly abandoned after the last few shots. Instead of watching, both of you were preoccupied with each other, talking about everything that you could.

Well, you were doing most of the talking in between shots and sips of a mixed drink while Simon listened. He sipped on his second glass of whiskey but would occasionally join you for a shot when he felt like he was behind you with how drunk you already were.

He wasn’t sure if it was because he was taking it slow and you weren’t or because he was a heavy drinker, but he definitely knew you were having more fun during his birthday than he was. He was too focused on you to really care anyway. You took up the room, demanding his attention and he happily gave it to you without hesitation or protest.

You took another shot, your vision of the world already spinning but you were having too much fun to really notice, and shivered once more. The effects of the alcohol weren't enough to take the bitter taste away just yet.

A smile pulled at the corner of Simon’s lips and he scoffed, getting your attention as you sent him a look through watery eyes.

“Lightweight.” He teased as he took another sip, completely unbothered.

“Shut up, you’re not even drunk.” You slurred and set the shot glass down on the coffee table. “You’re like a mountain.”

“I’m drunk.”

You gave him a suspicious look, one that was over exaggerated due to how drunk you were but it made him smile more nonetheless.

That should’ve been enough for you to know that he was drunk, since he didn’t give out big cheesy smiles like you did. His cheeks were dusted pink and his tired eyes hungry just a little bit heavier, a haze over them as he stared at you with a dopey look as if he couldn’t quite understand what you were saying but he hung onto every word. He looked content, there wasn’t an ounce of stress left even in his usual tense shoulders as his body subconsciously leaned towards yours, almost as if he was hovering over you.

You were sure you looked just as drunk as he did, if not more, and yet he looked at you with bright eyes that bounced around your face often.

“You are!” You laughed and he attempted to hide the smile behind his hand. “Can’t hold your liquor that good.”

“Better than you.” He took another sip and you playfully cussed him out.

You ran a hand over your face and glanced around the room, noting that it had gotten dark outside. Your eyebrows knitted together and you wondered how long it had been since you both sat down after dinner to watch movies, thinking that only an hour or two had passed until you checked the time on your phone.

“Shit! We haven’t done cake yet.” You exclaimed when you saw that it was close to midnight.

“So?” Simon raised an eyebrow as you shot up from your spot on the couch.

“You have to have cake on your birthday.”

You tried your best to not stumble into the kitchen, failing at doing so but thankfully you didn’t fall flat on your face. You were extra careful when getting the cake out of the fridge despite the fact that you were in a rush, making sure that when you placed it on the counter to put the candles on, nothing was in the way.

It was a small cake since you knew that Simon probably would only eat a few slices from it over the week before he was over the sweetness. On top of the icing, almost perfectly written since you were adamant to make it look pretty even though you knew he wouldn’t care, were the words “Happy Birthday Simon”. You placed a few candles around the words, making sure they wouldn’t touch the letters before you carried it into the living room.

You were focused on keeping the cake balanced, not noticing the way Simon’s eyes had softened greatly when you walked into the room and set it in front of him.

“I need your lighter.” You opened your palm urgently.

“You’re gonna burn yourself.” Simon protested with a serious look on his face but you waved him off.

“I won’t! Hurry before it turns midnight.”

Simon hesitantly dug his lighter out of his pocket and handed it to you, watching you intently as you lit the candles, making sure that if you burned yourself he would quickly get you to a sink. However you handed him back the lighter without harming yourself and positioned the cake in front of him properly.

You sat down beside him, your knees touching as you looked between him and the cake. A giddy feeling sprung up in your stomach and you wiggled in your spot excitedly watching Simon’s reaction carefully with clasped hands.

He stared down at the cake with soft eyes, the light from the small flames reflecting in them. They weren’t sad, but you noticed that there was a hint of something more melancholic hidden within his eyes that wasn’t there before until he read the writing. He pulled his hands into his lap almost as if he wasn’t sure what he should do before he hesitantly glanced your way.

You gave him a warm smile, one that signified that whatever he was thinking or feeling was okay, hoping that you didn’t go too far.

“Happy birthday, Simon.” You said softly and scooted close enough that now your thighs were touching.

Simon didn’t say anything but he continued to stare at you, eyes a range of emotion as they bounced around your face, stopping for a moment to look at your lips, until you gestured towards the cake.

“Make a wish.”

He rolled his eyes, a soft huff of amusement leaving his nose before he turned towards the cake and blew out the candles. A small smile pulled at his lips when you cheered and he watched as you stood up from the couch a lot more gracefully this time.

“Want a piece or do I have to eat this all on my own?” You teased and he nodded.

“Not a big one.”

You got plates and quickly cut a small piece out for him and for you. You waited for him to take a bite of it first, almost holding your breath as if this was the very moment that would break your entire ego about your baking skills.

Simon took a small bite of the cake and his eyes shut immediately.

“Fucking hell…” He muttered and your stomach sunk.

“What? Is it bad?” You asked him urgently as you gripped your plate so tight your fingers went sore.

“It’s good, really fucking good what did you put in this?”

Your eyes widened slightly and you felt your chest warm as you watched him eat the piece on his plate faster. You were sure if it was the alcohol making him like the sweetness but as soon as he finished the piece he had he went for another one.

You smiled to yourself, taking a bit out of the cake on your plate. You hummed at the amazing flavors and felt proud of yourself as you eyed Simon.

“My undying desire to celebrate your birthday.”

“Piss off.”

You laughed, leaning into him enough to where you could hear him chuckle under his breath. The giddy feeling inside of you grew and you didn’t dare ignore it as you found yourself enjoying the closeness that you so rarely got with Simon, pushing yourself into his arm just a little more as you finished your piece of the cake.

Your chest warmed more when he leaned against you as if he liked the contact as well and your head fell to his shoulder, a content sigh leaving your chest as you reveled in his warmth. You noticed that he seemed to have gotten hot due to the alcohol and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, causing your eyes to jump down to the tattoo on his arm.

It was rare that you saw it since he often wore long sleeves and when he didn’t you never got a good look at it. You assumed that he didn’t want you to see it since every time you asked or he noticed you were staring at it, he would cover it up. Now, with the way you were sitting against him, he couldn’t see that you were staring at the ink unless he turned to look at you.

His tattoo was a lot more intricate than you had first thought, especially now as your eyes traced over the details in the ink designs. You knew he had a thing for skulls, since the mask he wore around you was the lower jaw of one, so it didn’t surprise you when you saw the skulls littered within the other designs. What did come as a surprise to you was that most of the tattoo was war imagery.

Guns, dog tags, a tank, and a literal military soldier etched into his skin made it less a coincidence and more a deliberate design. It made your eyebrows knit together and you fought the urge to grab his arm to look closer.

Was he military? The more you thought about it, the more it started to make sense with the evidence that you had. Going away for months, the guns, the paranoia and depressive episodes, the wounds, all of it paired with his tattoo made it seem obvious and yet there was one issue.

If he was military, then why didn’t he tell you?

It made you curious and yet wary of the answer. Truly, you didn’t want to know, not when he was so adamant to keep it from you, as if knowing would be something that you would regret.

Besides, someone in his family could be military and despite your reservations about them from your limited knowledge, you weren’t going to be upset if he got a tattoo for them in their memory.

Simon seemed to have noticed that you were staring at it and he placed his large hand over it, covering it from your view and snapping you out of your daze. He looked down at you, his eyes the same as always except you could see that serious look in them, the one demanded you to not ask questions.

“You still have that gift for me or do I need to do somethin’ else for it?” He wondered and you smiled.

“Wait here.” You handed him your plate before you got up and rushed to your room.

You grabbed the joke book from under your bed and made sure that the wrapping was intact. You went to walk out of your room but hesitated a pit growing in your stomach as you stared down at the silly birthday wrapping paper.

Were you really about to give a guy who might be military a joke book? Suddenly you felt foolish, as if you had been caught doing something that you shouldn’t have and you debated on whether you should pretend it got damaged to get something different. It would save you the embarrassment of giving him a stupid book but it would probably disappoint him in the process.

You could unwrap it and give him the card instead, but that would nearly be almost more of a let down than the actual gift.

A huff left you and tapped your fingers against the wrapping paper.

You should’ve just gotten him a generic gift that most men get, like a bottle opener or a pocket knife. At least that way he wouldn’t have been too disappointed.

“Still there?” Simon called out and your heart jumped to your throat.

“Yeah, couldn't find it for a sec.” You lied and took a deep breath before you stepped out of your room.

If you got this over with then at least you could get him a different one later. You could always tell him it was a gag gift in an attempt to save yourself too much embarrassment but you felt that somehow Simon would see right through your lie.

You walked into the living room, holding the book close to you as if it were something precious and sat down further away from him this time, noticing that he always had pulled his sleeves down. You glanced up at him to see that he had the excited look in his eyes like he had earlier in the morning which made you even more nervous.

“You didn’t tell me what you wanted so if it’s bad, I’m sorry.” You prefaced and watched as he raised an eyebrow.

“You’re overthinking this.” He tried to assure you with his usual deadpan tone.

“Maybe…just don’t laugh if it’s that bad.”

“I won’t.”

You hesitantly outstretched the gift for him and watched as he gently took it from your hands. You chewed on your lip as you watched him inspect the wrapping on it before he began to tear it off, causing you to grip the couch underneath you. You were practically burning holes into his face when he finally took all of the wrapping off and looked at the cover of the book.

Simon's eyes lit up and it helped calm some of your nerves.

“I wasn’t sure what you were allowed to have when you’re gone but I got it travel sized.” You explained and he glanced at you with a twinkle in his eyes.

“You like my jokes that much?” He seemed amused by the idea and when you nodded, he huffed a laugh.

“There’s a card in the front.”

Simon pulled the card out, a simple card with a dinosaur on the front that had “ur old” written on the front, and sent you a quick glare that made you snicker. He opened the card and raised an eyebrow at the twenty pounds that fell onto his lap.

“Nobody likes cards without money.” You shrugged and he picked up the note to inspect it. “Use it to get cigarettes or something pretty.”

“Something pretty.” He repeated with amusement. “Think a I need a pop of color?”

“It’d do you good I think.”

He grunted and looked at the card, his face falling when his eyes landed on the polaroid that was taped on the inside and the writing that was scrawled onto the blank space of the card. His sudden change in his expression made you fidget with your fingers as you remembered the photo.

It was a rare photo of you and Simon together, one that you pretty much had to force him to take with you since he seemed to be allergic to any kind of camera. You promised him that it was just for you since you wanted to at least document that you were friends with him somehow. You ended up making two copies and thought it was fitting for him to have one since he was your friend after all.

“I forgot I put that in there…” You mumbled but trailed off as you realized he most likely wasn’t listening.

Simon read the words on the card over and over again, his eyes jumping from them to the polaroid as if he couldn’t understand what he was seeing. His shoulders had tensed up and his free hand clutched the banknote so tight that it crumpled in his grasp.

By now you were worried that you had either overstepped or completely failed with the gift giving. You were disheartened, your throat tightening up just a bit as you tried to come up with something to say to alleviate the situation.

“You can ignore what’s on the card, I wrote it when you were gone.” Your eyes were glued to his face to see his reaction.

Simon’s eyes darted to you and you shrunk underneath his intense gaze. He was breathing ever so slightly harder, enough for you to notice, and his eyes hazy yet there was something deep hidden within them, something that made a shiver go down your spine. His gaze was too much but you still couldn’t look away as much as you wanted to, as if looking away from him would cause more trouble.

He haphazardly put the card down and before you could react, took your face into his hands and kissed you on the corner of the mouth.

You froze. Your eyes were wide and your heart was in your ears as your mind raced a million times a minute, trying to figure out if what just happened was real and if he truly meant to kiss you there. All the while Simon stared at you with similar shock, almost as if he didn’t mean for it to happen at all.

Was he going for your cheek and missed? Was he going for your lips and missed? Did he actually just kiss you or was it a really drunk hug?

You were panicking, your already shot nerves mixing with the alcohol created a strange feeling in your stomach that urged you to attempt to kiss him back.

However, much to your dismay, he quickly pulled away from you before you could even have your lips connected. Heat immediately washed over you and you nearly ran out of the room as you scooted away from him, completely unable to look him in the eyes now as you felt the need to sink into the couch and never appear again.

You misread the situation, the alcohol had gotten you, the horrible, stupid liquid turned your brain to mush and made you too impulsive. You wanted to die, you wanted to do anything to get rid of the embarrassment you felt that you went to leave before Simon grabbed onto your wrist.

“Don’t.” He pulled you back down and kept hold of your wrist. “Look at me.”

You couldn’t make yourself look at him even if you wanted to. The thought of having to stare at his intense eye right now made you feel sick to your stomach. You just wanted to hide in your room until both of you decided that this never happened and that your friendship wasn’t ruined by a misunderstanding.

“Please.”

One word, soft and desperate, had you turning your entire body towards him immediately. You hesitated for a moment before you looked into his eyes, the comforting brown dowsing some of your nerves as he drank up your face, the intensity still there but held back by the fact that his face was red and he eyes broke from yours multiple times.

He looked just as embarrassed as you felt.

You were about to apologize when he cut you off.

“Not like this.” He swallowed hard and stared deep into your eyes hoping that you would understand what he meant without him having to say it out loud.

It took you a moment to realize and most of the embarrassment fading as his eyes darted away from yours. You stared down at his hand around your wrist, his hot skin against yours prickle with goosebumps before you eyes widened. If he doesn’t want to kiss you now that means he wants to kiss you later which means he’s thought about kissing you.

You felt dizzy at the thought and you could hardly think straight as it was. You couldn’t think about the implications of the words he said right now, not when you were stumbling drunk and close to a heart attack due to this very awkward situation that he admittedly put you both in.

“Oh.”

That’s all you could think to say. A meek ‘oh’ as if that was enough to convey the feelings and thoughts raging inside of you that would surely clear the air if you said them yet you couldn’t find the words to do so. But right now maybe that wasn’t what you both needed.

No, right now you needed to ease the situation so you could think about this later with a clear mind and without screwing it up more.

“Tell me a joke.” You said, your voice still small, and he looked at you with confusion. “Tell me a joke, Simon.”

Simon let go of your wrist and turned away from you. He gave you one last glance before he picked up the joke book and flipped through the pages, taking his time to read through the lines which filled the room with awkward silence that mixed with the random movie on the TV.

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

“What do you call a prisoner going down the stairs?” He asked and you knitted your eyebrow with confusion. He didn’t look up from the book when you didn’t answer but he nodded. “Condescending.”

“Oh man.” You scoffed, cringing at the horrible joke but finding it hard to not laugh all the same.

You fought against a smile that threatened to appear on your face and you made eye contact with Simon as he glanced at you. You watched as his shoulder relaxed slightly and he looked back down at the book in his hands, eyes skimming the words like mad.

“A book fell on my head today. I’ve only got my shelf to blame.”

“Ugh! Horrible.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter now or the smile as the alcohol made it so much easier for the jokes to make you happy. You scooted closer to him and he turned his body towards you, his eyes still looking at you hesitantly, almost as if he was asking you permission to keep going or to even look at you, but he couldn’t help but smile as well.

“What kind of murderer has fiber?” He asked and you shook your head.

“I’m going to regret this aren’t I?” You waited for him to continue as you prematurely cringed from the bad joke that was about to grace your ears.

“A cereal killer.”

You made a disgusted sound but laughed and rested your forehead against his shoulder. You expected him to nudge you off but he didn’t and instead you heard him let out a quick sigh of relief before he flipped through the book again.

Simon rattled off a few more jokes, each of them making you laugh and taking the tension out of the air until both of you were settled against each other on the couch as if nothing had happened. He pressed his shoulder against yours as he closed the book and stared up at the ceiling.

The movie took up the silence as you both sat there for a moment.

You looked up at him and he looked down at you when he saw you move from the corner of his eye. You took in his scars again and the way that they seemed more prominent from his red cheeks, looking into his eyes to see that they still had the tired look in them before you spoke.

“How drunk are you?” You wondered and he blinked.

“Not drunk enough to forget this.” He admitted, knowing exactly the reason why you asked him.

You nodded, knowing that you were the same. Even if you were more drunk than you were right now sure that you would remember something like this and yet the thought didn’t scare you. As embarrassing as it was, you didn’t want to forget it.

“Good.”

Link to Part 3

A/N: This feels messy but honestly I can't go back and restart so I hope it's okay. Also Idk how the UK money system works so just imagine what I put is correct and not wrong lol

EDIT: I forgot to put the tags sorry!! @msecho19

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #mw2 ghost #ghost mw2 #cod ghost

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violettwrites · 21 days ago

Text

quiet birthdays — trailerpark!daryl

a/n: hi my lovelies ! i actually had a lot of fun writing this, and i really hope you enjoy ! i love writing the trailer park trio so much !!! i also listened to the birthday party by the 1975 while listening to this, but you don't have to ! it just fit the quiet vibes of the story when i wrote it.

as always, if you enjoyed reading this, please don't forget to like, reblog, and/or comment !! you know i always appreciate your support !

summary: anon requested ! reader keeps quiet about her birthday, but the dixon brothers find a way to make it special

warnings: none !

word count: 1,308

resources: divider by @/adornedwithlight

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the sun had already begun to dip below the horizon when you pulled into the trailer park, the air thick with the lingering heat of the day. your limbs ached with hours spent on your feet at work, and all you could think about was getting home, throwing yourself into bed, and forgetting that today was supposed to be special. it was your birthday— though you hadn’t bothered to mention it to anyone. not because you didn’t care, but because you didn;t see the point. it was just another day, another year passing by without fanfare. you honestly couldn’t remember the last time you celebrated, anyway. no birthday parties when you were younger, no birthday cards from family. nothing. so you never bothered anymore.

but as you approached your trailer, something caught your eye. there was a faint glow coming from the corner of the lot where the dixon brothers lived, and you could hear the low murmur of voices. curiosity piqued your interest and you made your way over, wondering what they were up to. as you rounded the corner, the sight stopped you in your tracks.

a bonfire was crackling, the flames licking up into the darkening sky. around it, there were a few mismatched chairs, a cooler, and some string lights that were lazily hung from daryl’s trailer, casting as soft glow over the area. daryl stood by the fire, poking at it with a stick, while merle sat on a lawn chair, leaning back with a stupid grin plastered on his face.

“well, look who decided to finally show up!” merle called out as soon as he spotted you, his voice loud and teasing. daryl glanced up from the fire, his expression more subtle but no less aware of your presence.

“what are you two doing?” you asked, stepping closer, your brow furrowed in confusion. it wasn’t unusual for merle to light up a bonfire randomly through the week and have a few beers, but the slight effort that was present in their set up threw you off. you had just left for work this morning like any other day, and now this?

daryl wiped his hands on his jeans and looked at you, his eyes darting away quickly like he was embarrassed. “heard it’s ya birthday,” he muttered, shuffling his feet a little. “figured we’d do somethin’.”

merle chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a beer in hand. “took ya long enough to get home. baby brother said ya’d be back by five. we been waitin’ all damn afternoon!”

you stared at them, completely taken aback. you hadn’t told anyone it was your birthday, and yet here they were, the two roughest boys you had ever met, putting together a surprise for you. your heart swelled at the thought, and for a moment, you weren’t sure what to say.

“you did this for me?” you asked, still trying to wrap your head around what was happening.

daryl shrugged, his eyes flickering to merle as if he was uncomfortable with the attention and wanted merle to take over. “ain’t much.”

merle let out a bark of laughter. “yeah, well, he didn’t do it alone. i helped.” he gestured towards the cooler. “we got drinks, and daryl here even made ya a cake.”

“a cake?” you couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it. daryl dixon, the gruff and silent man you had come to know, had baked you a cake?

daryl looked even more uncomfortable now, and you could see his cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink. oh, now he was blushing. you watched as he rubbed the back of his neck, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment. “well, tried to. merle here ain’t much help.”

merle stood up with a mischievous grin, and waved you over to the small folding table they had set up near the fire. “c’mon, darlin’! take a look at this masterpiece.”

you followed, your curiosity getting the better of you— daryl had baked you a cake, so of course you wanted to see. and there it sat, in the middle of the table. the most chaotic looking cake you’d ever seen. the edges were burnt to a crisp, the middle sagged like it hadn’t fully risen, and the frosting was a mess– half melted, uneven, and smeared across the plate like it had been slapped on with no real plan.

daryl dixon had baked you a cake.

you covered your mouth to stifle the laugh that was threatening to escape. it was a disaster, but the fact that he even tried melted your heart.

“it’s… something,” you said, finally letting out a chuckle.

merle grinned and clapped daryl on the shoulder. “told ya she’d appreciate it.”

daryl shot him a glare before turning his attention back to you. his expression was softer now, his usual guarded demeanor cracked enough for you to see the effort he’d put into this. even if he was definitely no baker. “it ain’t that bad,” he muttered, but there was a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

you stepped closer to the cake, your chest warm with emotion. it wasn’t even about the cake at this point– it was the thought behind it. the fact that they had gone out of their way to make today feel special when you hadn’t expected anyone to notice.

“i love it,” you spoke sincerely, moving towards daryl so you could wrap your arms around him. you felt how stiff he was underneath your embrace, but he eventually softened, arms wrapping around your frame now. “thank you.”

he nodded his head once you both pulled from the embrace, his face relaxing a little. “glad you ain’t mad we made a mess,” he chuckled softly, his voice low.

“it’s not my kitchen i have to clean,” you teased, shaking your head, looking back at the cake.

merle, ever the one to break the mood, cracked open another beer and shoved one into your hand. “enough with the mushy, lovey dovey crap. let’s celebrate! yer gettin older, and that’s worth drinkin’ too!”

“everything’s worth drinking to with you, merle,” you retorted, rolling your eyes. but you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you accepted the beer. the three of you settled around the fire, the crackling of the flames filling the comfortable silence between conversations. merle kept the jokes coming, loud and brash as always, while daryl stayed quieter, content to sit besides you, occasionally chiming in with a dry comment directed towards his older brother that made you laugh.

as the night wore on and the fire burned low, you found yourself watching the flicker of the flames, feeling something you hadn’t in a long time— contentment. this wasn’t the kind of birthday you’d ever imagined, but it was exactly what you needed. simple, messy, but full of heart.

you glanced over at daryl, who was staring into the fire, his profile softened by the glow of the flames. there was something about him that always put you at ease, even when he wasn’t saying much. you had grown fond of his quiet presence, the way he showed care through actions rather than words, and tonight was no different.

“hey,” you said softly, catching his attention. he looked over at you, his eyes meeting yours. “thanks again. really.”

daryl shrugged, but there was a warmth in his gaze that wasn’t there before. “ain’t nothin’.”

but it was. to you, it was everything.

you didn’t need a big celebration or an extravagant party. you just needed this— two people who cared enough to sit with you by a fire, drink a few beers, and share a burnt cake. and for the first time in a long time, you felt like your birthday truly mattered.

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 8 months ago

Text

#393

“Well, lookie who showed up! I thought you were going to flake out. Did you do it?... You told them?... I don’t need to know the details. You look bummed. Don’t be. You needed to do this. It’s time you moved out. You’re, what, 19? They kicked you out for doing what you should be devoting your life to—servicing dick. And that’s why I want you. I’m your new Dad now.

“The days of him beating your ass and leave you crying in your bed are over. I’m going to beat your ass and make you cry in bed only to get turned on and fuck you hard as a result. Ha. Ha.

“Come over here and give your dad a kiss…. No, you can do better than that…. Atta boy. No, no. Stay right there. I told you to spend the night here having fun. Did you get loaded up?... How many in your gut?... How many in your butt? Five loads? That’s good. I would have preferred all five in your butt, but three is good.

“Now remember all that happened here. Because, as my son, I’m in control of that cunt between your legs. No other men will be in there, not unless I say.

“Did you cum?... What’s with that puzzled look? I told you to enjoy yourself so that you can get one last nut before I cut your access off.

“Tell you what, strip naked right there and jack off for me. Yeah, I told you on that first night I fucked you, that you are never to touch yourself while I’m using you. But right now, I want you to cum for me. Strip.

“Son, I told you when I offered you to come live with me and be my son, that obedience is the center of what I am looking for. Being naked in front of me will become very natural for you. The thought of driving around with my naked boy next to me, gets me hard. Now strip son. Atta boy.

“This cruise spot is dead in the daylight, so no one will be pulling in any time soon. It’s funny that the number of times we connected at night, you have been naked without any problem over by those trees.

“Put all your clothes in back. Get on your knees, right there on the asphalt. No, move back a little. I want a better view. You are rock hard.

“Begin. Go on. That’s it. No, no. Look up at me. Stare at your new Dad. Stare at the man who will own you, who will protect you, who will discipline you, and who will fuck the hell out of you every day. I may be close to sixty, but I still have the stamina of a thirty-year-old.

“With your free hand, shove two fingers into your cunt…. Yeah. Feel those loads? Imagine those being mine. I know you want to taste it, don’t ya boy? Pull your fingers out and shove it into your mouth. There you go. Tastes nasty, doesn’t it? I can see the ecstasy in your eyes. I know you are remembering the first time I fucked you. You were being spit roasted by those two truck drivers over there. The three of us were going back and forth between your holes. You didn’t care what we were doing. It was all about servicing us.

“The number of times I used you, it was all about my pleasure. That’s what I like to see in a boy.

“Do it again. Go in deep to get your fingers extra coated up. Keep looking at me while you do it. Keep pounding that tiny pud.

“That thing is so small. I don’t think I ever paid attention to it before, other than smacking you the few times I thought you were trying to reach for it. I initially thought you reached for your thing just to get face slapped. But you learned that your pecker is useless and should be ignored.

“You liked me smacking you across your face when my fat dick was slamming into your cunt. But I saw that hesitation on your face; you didn’t want to encourage more slaps, but deep down you craved it. I got so turned on to your confusion. Don’t worry, I have no intention of changing. You need to be continually reminded of your place. Nothing does that better than a good ol’ fashioned smack especially randomly during the day.

“You are really going to town on your pecker. Don’t ask me for permission, just shoot. It will be the last selfish decision you will make. Afterwards I will be deciding everything for the two of us. My needs, my wants, my pleasures are your focus, always.

“My cock will be the center of your world. You know all eight inches of it. So, I don’t have to do any stretch training. Being a whore here to every man with a hard on gave you that.

“Son, put your hand back there and push. Shit out the rest of the loads onto your hand…. There you go. I heard that wet fart. That’s bound to be messy…. You know what to do with it.

“That’s a good boy. Lick your fingers clean. Damn, you like it nasty don’t you? Of course you do.

“You like piss, Son?... Moan if you do…. Good. I love pissing in holes. You drank mine with some difficulty. As my son you will be expected to drink mine. You eat ass?... Well Son, you are going to be spending a lot of time with your tongue buried deep inside my hairy ass. A lot of time.

“Damn boy! Shoot that fucker…. Fuck yeah!... That’s a huge load there. Finish licking your fingers clean. Figured it would be the thought of eating my ass would make you cum. Son, there’s no way I would have you as my son if you didn’t enjoy tongue fucking my shithole.

“Go on lick your own cum off your hand. Enjoy your reward. That’s the last time your tiny balls will be emptied. You’ll have all of my cum, more you could ever want; you know I produce huge loads, and I can go several rounds.

“Did you lick all the cum off your hands?... Good. Now lick the cum that is on the asphalt. Yeah, you heard me. That’s it. Yeah, you follow orders without second guessing.

“That’s going to be expected being my son living with me. I will take care of you, but I won’t take shit from you. You do need structure. You need discipline. I will deliver it as I see fit. And I don’t want any back talk from you.

“Ok. Get up and get in the truck. Bring your shirt….

“…Put your shirt on the seat. I don’t want that ass spooge fucking up my leather seats. Close the door.

“Ok. The is the moment. This is your last out. I’m offering you a life where you will be my son and I will be your dad. I’m in control at all times. You will be disciplined, and you will be used to satisfy my urges. You will also take care of the cooking and cleaning.

“Don’t worry, you will be fucked. My cock gets hard two or three times a day.

“Speaking of which. My dick likes to fuck. And sometimes it’s going to fuck other boys. You are never to show jealousy. In fact, I want you to get excited to know my dick is getting taken care of. Your first words to me after me using some other cunt should be begging me to clean my cock. Monogamy is not for me, and it never will be. But it will be for you. Your focus is always on me. You will not think of being with another man. Even when I have other men fuck you, your thoughts are on how it will please me to follow my orders.

“My cock is the only cock that matter to you. That includes your own. I had you jack off looking at me. I wanted to be the subject of your last orgasm. I have owned slaves, boys, puppies, subs, you name it. None of them were allowed to touch themselves, let alone play with it. You aren’t going to be any different in this regard.

“Here, put this on. This is a chastity cage. Take it. Put it on. When you lock it in place, you are agreeing to be my son. You will be accepting this role unconditionally.

“Pull your balls through first. Yeah… now your shaft. It should be easy since you are soft. Here’s the lock. When we get home, I will be removing your pubes—in fact all your hair below your nose. I have a cream that will do that. Several applications will start to destroy your hair follicles. I will continue doing it until you are completely and permanently hairless.

“You haven’t seen me naked here, but I am one hairy fucker. I love contrast. Me a hairy ape and you a smooth bitch boy. I’m 6’3” 285 pounds, and you are what, 5’5” and 140? I’m 59 and you are 19. And the biggest difference? I have eight very very fat inches, and yours is nothing.

“You ready to lock that? This is your last opportunity to back out. You lock that, and you are mine….

“Fuck yeah son! You ARE mine now…. And now you’ve been face slapped for the first time as my son. Ha!

“Now here’s your first test. This is a pill for you to take. Stick it in your mouth and swallow. Here’s some water for you. If I had thought about it ahead of time, I would have a water jug of my piss for you to drink. Swallow it.

“Good boy. Lean over and give your dad a kiss…. Oh yeah son. You made the right decision. Mmmm. Mmmm. You can use your tongue with me. Mmmmm. Mmmmm.

“Scream son! Wasn’t expecting that hunh? Remember, your titties are a source of instant pain. And they are right here in arms reach. I can be driving down the road and reach over and twist the fuck out of one, digging in my nail.

“Or I can reach down and play with your balls…. Fuck, that’s what I hate about these cages! They interfere with me grabbing a hold of your balls.

“It’s a good thing that cage will come off in a month’s time. That pill I gave you is part of set of pills where the biggest side effect being not being able to get erect. For most men, it is the worst part of taking it. But that’s the feature I want. After a month of daily dosing, you will be completely soft.

“Oh fuck, the thought of looking down at you in my sling to see your limp pecker with your sole focus on your hole pleasing me… Damn. I’m starting to get a chubby.

“Finally, I got your balls in my hand, and with a squeeze... Awwww. They are just balls!... Quit flailing around. Sit up…. SIT UP! This is not how…

“…What the…? Oh my.

“Get out of the truck. Now! Come with me to the tailgate.

“Bend over it. I want to see your back and ass. Go on lean over.

“Damn! Those are some serious welts. Your former dad did all this last night? Looks like a 2-inch belt. There’re about ten to twenty strokes on your back, same amount on your ass. He even went on your thighs.

“I just don’t get it. Why would a man do this… and not fuck you afterwards?

“I need a piece of this right now. Hold still; Dad is coming in.

“Oh fuck do you feel good. There’s still some of the loads in your pussy. Its silky walls is making my dick slide in naturally. Oh man. I know I have fucked you like a dozen times. But this time it’s a thousand times better. Your cunt is now my cunt. Everything is so right.

“I get to fuck this whenever I want. It’s mine. All mine. These welts are beautiful. I love—after I belt a boy’s back and ass—to fuck him and hold him tight. My sweaty wiry chest hair act like razors slicing across every welt, every thrust of my cock is agony.

“I’m gonna cum! Ahhh! Fuck! Ahhh! Shit son! That was fucking amazing.

“Let’s go home. I need to fuck you again. I was going to wait to fuck your first in my bed… no, our bed. But I couldn’t help myself after seeing those welts.

“This time I want to be naked on top of you. It’s going to be a longer fuck. And I will tell you this son, ever since I asked you if you wanted to be mine, all I have been thinking of is bringing you home, fucking you, holding you tight with my dick buried deep, and falling asleep in my arms. “Get on your knees. Clean me up, and let’s go home.”

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catboyieejeno · 1 year ago

Text

nct dream reaction ₊˚ପ⊹

➸ the dreamies as boyfriends.

alt title: the dreamies are boyfriend coded—that's all.

content: gn! reader, fluff, slightly suggestive, mentions of food

masterlist

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ mark lee

mark is very easily flustered in general, so what is he supposed to do when the prettiest person ever is just simply existing in his presence? just remembering you're in the room and stealing a glance your way awakens the most teenage-boyish feelings within him, tips of his ears red and nerves bubbling as if he isn't already in a relationship with you

he's endeared by the most minute gestures and quirks of yours, the ones that go unnoticed by others. like your little huff when you're frustrated or the way you scrunch your nose when you're not satisfied or contemplating something

they way you randomly squeeze his hand when you guys are walking will drive him up the wall. this man will audibly gasp or squeak, clutch his chest, and squeeze his eyes shut to recover from the way his heart is suddenly and fiercely pounding in his chest

he's constantly geeking out over you, though he doesn't gush to the dreamies too often. they'd just make fun of him and tbh he doesn't wanna hear it, but on occasion he'll talk to jaehyun or johnny since they're close and more than willing to lend an ear

can only go so long without a kiss from you. i give him maximum two hours (sometimes sooner) before he's looking into your eyes in that way that tells you he's going to kiss you

his hands would come up to hold your face and his lips would mold into a soft, doughy smile before pressing into yours. it's delicate and lingering, and he breathes you in every time, hands only leaving your face to wrap tightly around you and hold you close to his chest

would do the typical 'wipe the corner of your mouth with his thumb' when you're eating together or pick an eyelash from your cheek, holding it up and insisting you make a wish and blow it away so it comes true

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ huang renjun

we know renjun has no filter, but i don't see him being too frequently outspoken about his feelings with/towards you; he's slightly reserved in this regard because giving cheesy compliments feels slightly foreign and awkward and he doesn't thinks it's something he's good at

initially, that is.

that reservation lasts up until the moment the most unplanned, instinctual, and heartfelt "gosh, i could look at you forever," leaves his lips.

he didn't plan to make you flustered; in fact, he didn't even plan on saying it out loud. he was just obliviously voicing his thoughts, but once he saw the flush of red that spread across your cheeks, eyes dreamy and wide with surprise, renjun questions how he ever went a day without being the reason for this look on your face.

huang renjun pays so much attention to detail when it comes to you, whether it's about your favorite food/restaurant or your coffee order or the different scents/products you like. you'll literally never have to repeat yourself with him, he's always listening very closely and noticing all the small things about you that no one has ever picked up on

he's so gentle and considerate, an 'actions speak louder than words' kind of guy. constant acts of service, making sure you keep up with meals, helping with chores, naming and watering your plants, etc.

and, undoubtedly, he's definitely the best out of the dreamies at taking care of you when you're sick.

now... he will wear a mask and wont kiss you until you're 100% better

or at least until he's sure you're not contagious

but you can bet this boy is making you fresh tea and soup daily, checking your temperature every thirty minutes, rubbing menthol on your chest and running you a bath + sticking a towel in the dryer so it's warm when he wraps it around you and gets you ready for bed

will not leave your side until you make a complete recovery

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lee jeno

his natural resting state is his face tucked into your neck or shoulder

before he's even opened his eyes on an early morning, his face is nuzzling into yours, lips nibbling at your neck, plush and wet and leaving the lightest of kisses on your warm skin. he's completely enveloped by your scent, lulled to sleep for a bit longer by the sounds of your even breaths

if you're standing in a queue or at a party, he'll rest his cheekbone onto your shoulder, both arms wrapping around your waist. occasionally he'll leave a kiss on the nearest accessible spot of exposed skin, but since he's the shyest member (according to the dreamies), he might not do much more in regards to PDA

hand holding is a must though, especially when it's cold and your linked hands are tucked into his jacket pocket. so cheesy but you gotta let it slide bc it's lee jeno

loves to help you pick your outfits/shop with you... loves it.

has absolutely all the patience in the world, and will watch you with stars in his eyes as you style yourself, nervously offering his opinion every so often

will ask you to get up from your seat so that he can take it and pull you onto his lap instead. 7/10 times he'll get hard but can you blame him...

speaking of laps, please let him nap on yours :( jeno will pout and beg for a chance to sleep on your thighs or tummy, insisting that the quality of his sleep is drastically improved when he's on you. also, it's implied that he wants you to massage his scalp and play with his hair... will be out within five minutes if you do

and if he were to stir awake and the lights in the room were too bright, he'd tiredly drag your hand over to rest on his cheek and shade his eyes so he can keep sleeping

would absolutely love if you showed an interest in any of his hobbies

for example, he'd be so giddy if you let him teach you how to play a video game, holding your hand over the mouse and keyboard and pressing your fingers down on the buttons as he mutters instructions into your shoulder

or if you wanted to ride bikes with him or go to the gym with him, he'd be so attentive and watchful over you, making sure you have a good time doing the things that he likes

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lee donghyuck

the partner privilege is real with this one

like, he'll be actively feeding you a bite of his food and another member would ask to try it, and he would immediately complain (even though he eventually gives in anyway) just because ugh! it's not the same as letting you have some, you know?

and on the topic of food, when you try his, he will be feeding it to you. no, he will not let you do it yourself so don't even try it—lee donghyuck lives and breathes for the way you roll your eyes in feigned annoyance before accepting the spoonful he so meticulously prepared for you, cheeks stuffed because it was probably too much. he'd even coo at you, going on about how cute you look and asking how you like the taste

will feel betrayed if you watch an episode of a show you're meant to be watching together without him. and while he's on tour or stuck at the dorms, he will facetime you so you can watch it together

he's genuinely so enamored and obsessed with you, in a way that might not even be entirely normal or sane. loves laying on your chest so that he can hear your heart and yes, he will shamelessly ask you to scratch his back, humming contently after each drag of your nails on his skin

cannot seem to get enough affection, ever

also cannot seem to get close enough to you. if it was possible, he'd merge into you to be closer but since it isn't, he'll just have to settle for cuddle sessions where he's wrapped around you like a koala, leg swung across you and pinning you in place.

he's a little dependent when he's with you, so he has a bit of a hard time when he's on tour. hyuck needs to talk to you and hear your voice and he will do anything and everything necessary to make that happen, whether it's staying up ridiculously late, or getting up before the sun to match your schedule. when he's away, he misses you so, so bad that it literally and physically hurts

and he's so soft on these phone calls, constantly reminding you that he misses you and your voice and your touch

he'll endlessly tell you that he loves you, all teasing and jokes aside—he can go back to doing all that when he gets home. for now, he's rambling about all the things he did that day that you would have liked and promising that he will bring you there one day

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ na jaemin

the honeymoon phase never truly ends when you're dating na jaemin. he is the biggest flirt, and i do not say that lightly

compliments and teases you like it's second nature because it is. he's constantly trying to swoon you and is not at all shy about skin-ship, clinging to you when he feels like he needs a bit of extra loving.

i think people underestimate how romantic jaemin is because he tends to be a bit subtle about it, and contrary to popular belief, i think he'd only really pull that side of him out in private, only for you to see. he's not particularly against PDA, just prefers to soak you in when the two of you are alone and together

slow kisses that hide how eager and enamored he really is, fingertips softly grazing all the way up your arms until they disappear into the back of your hair. it's insane how every kiss feels like the first with him, just as exciting, giddy, and warm.

if he has to get up before you for practice or schedules, he'll leave a kiss on your forehead before literally tucking you in, promising to be "back home and in your arms before you know it!"

when i say na jaemin would do anything to make you happy... that is not at all an exaggeration

movie night? you can pick the film and snacks. a couple's trip or vacation? he'll have you make a list of everything you wanna do and follow it through to the very last detail. an argument or disagreement? you're always in the right. if he so much as senses it's escalating, he'll quickly apologize. whatever it is you're fighting about, it's not worth upsetting you over. genuinely has so much love for you, he doesn't ever want to see you unhappy.

learns the recipes to your favorite foods so that he can make them for you whenever you want/crave them

if you were comfortable with it, he'd shower with you every single day, it's literally his favorite thing

and it's not even sexual half the time bro :( i mean... unless you wanted it to be

it's his fingers slowly scrubbing the shampoo into your scalp, hands massaging your upper back and shoulders, applying your facial cleanser and drawing shapes into the foam on your cheeks and forehead...

will 100% hog the hot water, though

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ zhong chenle

uses humor to flirt with you

even when he's mad at you he's still cracking jokes lmfao

kind of mean when he's playing around, but he knows to never take it too far. he doesn't actually want to hurt your feelings, he only wants to convince you that he's not as infatuated with you as he actually is.... although sometimes he slips up lol

like, he'll be gawking at you with so much love in his eyes, then suddenly crack a joke or poke fun at you. it might be quite confusing for an outsider, especially since after he's done laughing at you, he'd lean in and peck your cheek as a wordless truce. you're used to it by now though, and it's honestly kinda sweet because you know by now that pestering is his own way of showing you that he loves you

will pretend to ignore you so that you're forced to ask him for attention because he likes feeling needed/wanted by you

chenle is the personification of the phrase 'dating your best friend'. there's no one who makes you laugh quite as hard as him, or who knows you as well as he does. and, even at times where he isn't the most directly affectionate, he's still following you from room to room as you go about your day, dramatically dragging his feet bc where are you going without him :(

if you praise him for any reason at all, you've immediately turned him into putty and rendered him incapacitated—his cold front has been breached, and no amount of shrugging or 'tsk'-ing from him can hide the grin on his face or the way his eyes have softened and molded into hearts

your approval means everything to him, and he'd never tell you, but he'd constantly worry if he was enough for you or if you deserved better

when he is in an affectionate mood, you can expect lazy kisses just about anywhere. he gets in these moods when he's sleepy, far too tired to keep up his cold act, choosing instead to nestle himself in your warmth and soak in everything that is you.

instead of playing with his ring to go to sleep, you find that he frequently falls asleep, quietly snoring, with the material of your shirt clutched in his hand

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ park jisung

is touch-starved and it shows!

but the idea of outwardly asking you for affection terrifies him, so every time you perform any kind of skin ship, he desperately tries to express how much he likes it by smiling at you or leaning into your touch in hopes that you catch on to the fact that he loves it and he loves you and he wants more

eventually, as he grows more comfortable in the relationship, daring to initiate some touching of his own... as soon as he reaches this point, you realize there's no stopping him

he'd pick up the cutest little habits like spontaneously kissing you mid sentence because he just can't help himself or wait until you're done speaking bc he just needs to kiss you now or he'll die

that, or he'd catch himself playing with your fingers as he listens to the sound of your voice or while the two are laying down and you're telling him about literally anything

his thumb will be brushing ever so gently over your wrist, knuckles, and fingers as he hums to ensure you that he's still listening, his deep voice making his chest rumble under your cheek

but his favorite habit he's developed by far would be having you curled up on his lap, and it's not even in a sexual way or whatever

genuinely, he's never felt more at home

jisung busies himself caressing your soft skin or playing with your hair as you both mindlessly talk about random topics

and all of a sudden he's hyperaware of the situation and his heart swells up with love + a brush creeps up on his cheeks because hahaha wdym you're sitting on his lap rn??!?!?!

and if you glance up at him, fully expect him to get more flushed and hide in your shoulder

constantly buys you your favorite snack but eats most of them before you get around to trying them :( but like you can't even be mad

overall very soft and baby and just about anything you do makes him fall in love with you again

⋆ ★

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