#i’m so sleepy from today :c

[pubbiee]

today was so long and hardddddd, can’t wait to just cuddle up with dad and papa and sleep :c

but it’s okay! and tmorrow will be better!!!!!!!!

[myownwholewildworld]

DARKEST DESIRES ― a Boston QZ!Joel oneshot

main masterlist | ao3 pairing: Boston QZ!Joel x f!reader. summary: you promised Joel something he's been thirsting after for a while ― your ass. so you decide to make good on said promise. a/n: am i sick? probably. undoubtedly, really. this is a sequel to A Dark Summon, but it can totally be read independently. this was prompted by this kind ask (love you, nonnie). also, do you remember that post about frankie morales saying "big stretch"? WELL, YEAH (sorry, meant to tag it but i lost it!). anyways, please heed the warnings! comments and reblogs appreciated to keep the thots thotting <3 take care! x warnings: 18+, mdni. sexual roleplay (cnc). mind the hefty age gap (reader is 19, joel is 56, oopsie). pet names (kiddo, daddy's girl, little girl, etc). sir/daddy kink. dom!joel, sub!reader (possibly some ddlg dynamics). slut shaming. unprotected piv. squirting. sleepy blowjob (consensual somno). breath play. sex toys (dildo, butt plug). mention of rimming. joel (the birthday boy) fucks your virginal ass, anal sex (faked painal). reader is a blank slate with no backstory, has hair. dual pov. no use of y/n. w/c: ~5.4k. divider by @\cafekitsune

You were so nervous, your hands were shaking with excitement.

Living in Boston’s QZ was not easy, and trading was even worse. Because you were young―just turned nineteen a couple of months ago―dealers tried to take advantage of you, asking for more than they would to other people. But you were smart and the moment you learnt that dropping Joel’s name in conversation would actually give you a discount, you used that tactic frequently.

Most people in Boston were too preoccupied with life to be gossiping about the age difference between Joel and you, but there were some that would scan you from head to toe several times with disdain. Some with jealousy, others with horror.

“She’s too young, could be his daughter.”

“He’s too old, bet he can’t keep up with her.”

“She’s too young, it’s indecent.”

“He’s too old, I’m sure that little girl can’t satisfy him like I would.”

“She’s too young, no wonder why she’s always cheating on him.”

“He’s too old, I don’t know what he’s seen in her.”

You had heard it all. And you couldn’t care less. Joel, on the other hand, was a bit more sensitive when people criticized you ― like a guard dog protecting its prey. The relationship between the two of you was private, except for the times that you would hook up with a random guy in an alley with Joel attentively spying on you from the shadows.

He liked to watch, and you liked being watched. In your eyes, it was a match made in heaven. It never went further than a hand job, and you never let them touch your pussy ― Joel was extremely possessive of her. He enjoyed the look on their stupid faces whenever you pulled away, leaving them dumbfounded in the brink of an orgasm, and you would run to him, all giddy and ready to finish him off right there and then.

It was lewd, obscene, but you loved it. And so did he. Joel had shown you a whole new world when he took your virginity almost a year ago. Since then, you had been insatiable, too eager to be fucked stupid by your old man. Your daddy.

Every day you would sneak out and come over to his place to be pumped full of his cum, to have him drill you until you forgot your name and your legs wouldn’t keep you upright. And then you would go back home, spent yet satisfied, with your pussy full to the brim and your panties drenched with your mixed arousal.

Today though you were planning on spending the night here. It was Joel’s birthday and you had planned a special surprise for him. One that had cost you, but the price was definitely worth it.

You knew how avid Joel was about fucking your ass ― he almost reminded you daily. He had been preparing you for when the time came, some mild anal play to get you going. Last night, as Joel ate your asshole out, you promised to yourself that you wouldn’t postpone it anymore and today would be the day. What better present for Joel than your virginal ass?

So here you were, all naked and squeaky clean for him. You had draped a red ribbon around your waist. A big, scarlet bow laid low on the small of your back, making it obvious what his gift was. You also had a smaller parcel, all wrapped up with some old newspapers.

The moment you heard the front door creak, your heart jolted with anticipation and your stomach flipped. Turning around to face away from him, you dropped to your knees and leaned forward until your forehead rested on the floor and your knees touched your chest ― your ass on full display for him.

“Kiddo?” he called.

Joel’s brows furrowed deeper when he didn’t hear a reply. He knew you were here, your recognisable scent betraying your presence. Confused, he walked the small hallway and entered the living room.

His eyes immediately fell to where you were positioned, and a rush of hot blood coursed through his veins like liquid fire, all the way down to his groin. You had knelt and bent over, your perky ass up in the air for him to admire. A red bow topped your ass cheeks, the meaning of all this becoming instantly clear.

With a sly grin, Joel rubbed his palms together, taking a step forward.

“You’ve not forgotten about my birthday, have you, sugar?” he croaked, raspy and hoarse.

“No, sir, I haven’t,” you murmured, wiggling your ass a bit for him.

Joel groaned, the tension in his pants growing tighter, while he knelt behind you. The offer was irresistible, the way your flesh jiggled commended him to smack both of your buttocks. You whimpered, your back arching some more and your crack pulling further apart.

His fingers twitched with need, grabbing a handful of your meat. Joel was mesmerised by the view ― your puckered entrance so very inviting, and your beautiful seam glistening with slick right below.

Unable to refrain himself, his index dipped in the warmth of your damp pussy, tracing it entirely until the pad caught on your beating clit. You sighed heavily, melting under his digit.

“Why are you all wet already? Have you been playing with yourself?” he questioned, voice laced with lustful anger.

“Yes, sorry, sir. I was thinking about you, about what is gonna happen tonight, and… mhmm…” you hiccupped when he flicked your clit, “I did finger myself, but I didn’t come, I promise.”

Joel’s chest rumbled, frustrated. His orders were clear ― no touching yourself, nothing at all, even if you were horny. He wanted you needy and ready to take his cock when he came home from a rough day of patrol.

“How many fingers?” he barked, pinching your hooded clit between his index and middle fingers. You wailed in mild pain, your hips bucking up and away from his touch, but Joel didn’t release your thudding button.

“Just the one. Just the pinky, I swear. I know you like my pussy tight and unstretched, sir,” your sob transformed into a moan when his thumb found your trapped clit.

“Attagirl,” Joel rasped. “I don’t want your cunt all used and loose, you’re too young to feel like an old hag around my cock.” His thumb pressed tight circles on your pebbled nub before he removed his hand from your pussy. “I will let it slide. This one time.”

The warning in his tone made you nod vehemently, as you looked over your shoulder to him. Your bottom lip was trembling, your doe eyes pleading.

“Do you forgive me, sir?”

Joel gave you a stern look before he slapped your ass cheek, and you winced in response.

“I’ll think about it, kiddo,” he already had, but wouldn’t tell you yet.

“What can I do to help you make up your mind, sir?” a single tear skidded through your cheek, bottom lip still quivering.

Joel loved how easy you would tear up, you were a natural when it came to acting.

“There’s this one thing I have in mind,” Joel muttered, his thumb ghosting your butthole. “So clean, sugar. Can’t fucking wait to dive in.”

“I washed myself really well for you, sir. I used an enema too,” you whispered, averting your eyes shyly.

“So no messy sex?” Joel almost sounded disappointed, but he was just toying with you.

“No, I couldn’t, sir,” you bit down your bottom lip, eyes shut and the apples of your face burning with shame, when the pad of his thumb gently pressed the tight ring in your crack. “Oh…”

“You like that, don’t you? All this time denying me my right to fuck your ass, and now look at ya, begging to have your butthole impaled. Did rimming your tight ass yesterday change your mind?”

You shook your head yes eagerly and pushed your hips backwards until your ass was resting on his lap, thumb still stroking you right where you needed. You rubbed your buttocks against his jeans, your weeping seam sliding on his zipper.

“I-I loved it. I’m s-so ready now, sir,” you stuttered, pouting when he stood up.

“You poor little thing. Let’s break this seal then, shall we? But I need you to work me hard first.”

Joel moved towards the couch, and you followed him, walking on all fours behind him as if you were his little doggy. Next time, he would get you a collar and a leash, he thought as he sat down, and the old cushion gave way under him.

He coaxed his legs apart to make room for you between his thighs. You didn’t need any further instructions: you were already unbuckling his belt, your tiny hand dipping in his underwear to release his flaccid cock. His dick was still soft, just started to harden a few minutes ago.

Leaning forward, you pulled back the skin on his shaft and kissed the reddened tip. Then your tongue twirled around his cockhead, slurping sloppily as you bobbed your head down his length. Joel felt his dick growing harder, bigger in your warm mouth, and he groaned with satisfaction.

You loved how Joel’s soft cock would slowly stiffen between your lips, how his weight would grow heavier on your tongue as you sucked him off. Although you played to be submissive to him, this was a reminder of the actual power you held over him. Not only a reminder to yourself, but also to him. Despite being fifty-six, you were able to work Joel hard in a couple of minutes with the brush of your tongue and the seal of your plump lips. You were proud of it.

“What’s all this?” Joel asked as he leaned over, his chest pushing your throat further down on his now throbbing cock.

Your partner grabbed the box you had wrapped from the coffee table, along with the ashtray and a cigar you almost had to sell your soul for.

“Your other present, sir,” you managed to mumble, mouth full of his hard erection.

Your saliva skidded down his veiny shaft, pooling on the thick, dark curls at the base of his cock.

“I didn’t say stop. Keep sucking, kiddo,” his reproach scolded you, and quickly resumed your job.

You heard him lighting the cigar and then tearing the newspaper apart, while you took in as many inches as you could. Now that you had felt a few cocks on the palm of your hand, Joel’s had no rival. He was so gifted, and you felt lucky you were the one getting it all for yourself.

He’d been training you to swallow him whole, and practice made perfect. So after a couple more dives, your lips reached the base as the underside of his cock dragged easily along your tongue.

Your eyes welled up due to the strain and you suppressed the gag reflex, the fluttering of your throat around his girth making Joel moan. His left hand landed on the back of your head, pushing you down.

“Your mouth was made for me, sugar,” he praised you and you revelled in his compliment, swaying your hips sideways.

He placed the box on your back and opened it. You couldn’t see him but knew his face expression would light up with a sinful smirk.

Joel cackled and smacked one of your round globes, careful of not messing up the cute bow.

“Oh, you dirty slut.”

Joel pulled you off his erection by tugging at your hair. By the way his brown eyes took you in, you had to be a pretty picture ― messy hair and makeup, swollen lips, your skin glistening from your nose down to your chin with his precum and your spit.

One of his hands was holding a small butt plug. It was made of black silicone, pointier and ridged. It had four inches of insertable length, and the diameter was one inch thick.

Joel let out a whistle.

“You traded for this?” you nodded, batting your eyelashes at him. “Good fucking girl.”

He leaned forward to kiss you, his lips demanding and fierce. Your tangled tongues fought with each other, but Joel always won, subduing you quickly.

Both his hands roamed your bare body, rough calloused palms caressing your cold skin, which bristled under his touch. Joel traced your underboob, then suddenly pinched both of your taut nipples and pulled.

You flinched, a thunder of pain radiating from your tits all the way down to your pussy. Wet, sticky heat pooled between your thighs, clit pulsing and hole clenching around nothing. How could pain turn you on so fucking much?

“Move your pretty ass to the bedroom, kiddo,” Joel commanded.

Springing to your feet, you obeyed, leading the way to his bed. The room was dark and bare, with no personal items anywhere to be seen. Joel kept to himself, sharing little snippets of his life when he felt like it. You never pushed for information, knowing that he would open up at his own pace.

Putting on your best innocent gaze, you turned around to face him once you were at the foot of the bed.

“Can we play rough… daddy, please?” the term slipped from your tongue accidentally.

You covered your mouth at the realisation ― you’d never called him daddy, not out loud. In your mind you had done so several times, but you were not able to gauge how Joel would react if you did.

You were about to find out.

Joel growled at you, one broad hand wrapping around your throat ― his fingers dug on the sides of your neck. Tilting your chin up, you gasped, your hips lurching forward until they pressed against his erect dick.

“Who’s your daddy, kiddo?” Joel groaned, grazing your chin with his teeth.

“Y-you, daddy,” you replied, slowly understanding that despite his aggressive reaction, he actually liked it. “Joel Miller is my daddy.”

“Damn right I am,” he snarled like an animal. He hovered the anal plug over your mouth, “Open.” Joel slotted it between your lips. “Suck on it, daddy’s girl needs her pacifier for what’s to come. Don’t want the neighbours coming over to check if I’ve killed someone.”

When he turned you around and pushed you towards the bed, you knew the game was on. Your shins hit the metal bedframe; with another push from Joel on your shoulders, you fell face first on the unkempt bed.

“No, daddy, please, no,” you began whimpering around the plug, squirming as he sank a knee into the mattress.

Joel grabbed both of your wrists with the span of one broad hand and pressed them onto the small of your back. He tilted forward, his weeping glans gliding on your sticky slit a few times. He tapped your clit four times with his cockhead, the last tap harsher than the others, and then he stabbed your clenching hole.

You writhed under him, audibly crying now, when the tip of his cock kissed your cervix. You forced tears to fall down your cheeks and mouthed a scream around the butt plug in your mouth.

“It hurts!” you feigned a painful wail, when in reality your pussy was fluttering around his gifted circumference with delight.

Joel groaned above you, buried down to the hilt, and placed his free hand on the back of your head. Then he pushed your skull down into the mattress, almost smothering you as you tried to gasp for air.

“Shut up, you bitch. Take it,” his hips snapped back, cock almost sliding out of your cunt, and then forced his way into your pussy again.

Your old man picked up a relentless pace, the nasty, sucking sound of your wetness reverberating in the room as Joel fucked you stupid, drilling you into the bed like a man possessed.

Joel freed your wrists for his left thumb to find your empty rimmed hole. He started stroking it slowly again, and you squeezed your sphincter at the touch. Unhurriedly, he worked your butthole until your muscles relaxed, then took the opportunity to ploddingly insert the first phalange in your ass.

Seeing stars behind your eyes, your hips involuntarily jerked up, swallowing the second phalange of his thumb. When Joel began pumping your tight ass with his digit, your pussy palpitated around his cock.

“You like that, don’tcha? Nasty, stupid little girl,” Joel groaned, his thrusts unforgiving whilst his thick finger twirled inside you.

You hummed loudly around the butt plug, feeling lightheaded and dizzy due to the lack of oxygen, but also to the intense pleasure, one you had not felt before.

“Mhm-mm-mhmmm-mhmmmmm,” the crescendo in your mumbling plea peaked, your lungs now burning.

Then Joel released his purchase on your hair, and your neck snapped back as you mouthed for air. Your heartrate spiked, even feeling it in your gums. Joel’s unabating shoves along with his devilish thumb finally sent you over the edge and you jumped off the cliff of your pleasure blindly. Your throbbing pussy clamped around his cock like a vice, the wave of your climax drowning you as Joel fucked you through it.

With toes curling, eyes glassy and drool falling off the corners of your busy mouth, all your muscles went suddenly limp. Your spent cunt still quivered around Joel’s dick, who hadn’t stopped jackhammering into you with renewed vigour.

Hastily, Joel pulled back and out of the heat of your tight pussy, digging up his thumb in the process too. One more second and he would have spilt inside. While he was sure he could have another erection, even at fifty-six, he rather not risk it.

His rough hand wrapped around his cockhead, reining in the need to come.

“Fuck, you almost got me there, sugar,” he cackled, running his hand down his face.

You didn’t reply. You were sprawled across his bedsheets like a fuck toy, your thighs still trembling with the aftershock of your orgasm. Joel was sure that even without the butt plug in your mouth, you would not have been able to string two coherent words together.

His lustful eyes lingered on the red bow crowning the swell of your buttocks. He was dying to untie it, to unwrap his most precious present and make good use of it. But first he needed you ready.

“Gimme that,” he uncurled his hand in front of your mouth, and you spat out the butt plug.

Standing firm behind you, he teased your pursed hole with the silicone tip. You stirred at the touch but were so out of tune with your own body, you didn’t fight him. He twisted the plug around, circling in your orifice. Slowly it went in, and when it bottomed out, your eyes snapped open, and you grizzled.

“Stay put,” he ordered you, stepping back.

Joel admired how the handle stuck out, peeking between your round globes. With a huff, he stroked his length as he walked towards the nightstand. Opened the drawer and pulled out your favourite pink dildo. It was slim and slightly curved ― you loved how the tip always hit the right spot inside your pussy.

He retraced his steps back to the foot of the bed and slid the toy between your clammy flaps, wetting it with your juices. You squirmed at the cold touch but relaxed when you realised what it was.

“Gonna have both holes full to the fucking brim, babydoll,” he mocked you sneeringly, wedging the dildo in your crying pussy until it snugly sat inside. “She’s so greedy.”

“Daddy, please, I can’t. I’m hurting,” you pleaded, sobbed even.

“I don’t fucking care. I’ll fuck your ass through the pain. A gift is a gift, kiddo,” he mumbled darkly.

Joel followed along and would not stop unless you said, “you piece of shit.” That was the agreement, the safe words you would use if you really started feeling insufferable pain. So far, you hadn’t spoken the words, giving him free rein to do with you as he pleased.

Looking at you with your perky ass up with the satin bow on top, a dildo in your weeping cunt and the butt plug poking out of your asshole, he knew himself a lucky bastard. How you fully trusted him, giving in to his darkest desires and coming up with your own. The last year had been a revelation for both of you ― you matched his freak so well.

To hell with what people thought, you were everything he had been looking for.

Fisting the base of his thudding cock, he slowly removed the anal plug, the pop sound enticing. Joel watched your open hole squeezing again until it puckered in your fold. He was mesmerised imagining how your walls would feel around him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, biting down his bottom lip.

Hypnotised, Joel pushed the plug back in your butt, slowly and steadily, watching eagerly how your rimmed entrance swallowed the beads.

“No, daddy, it hurts. Please, take it out,” you begged him with a small, breathless voice.

“Shut the fuck up,” he warned you.

With one hand he pumped the dildo, dragging the pointy tip along your anterior wall to hit the spongy spot of your pleasure, and the other performed similar motions with the butt plug.

You mewled like a kitten, your passion ringing in his ears like he was high on drugs. Seeing you like this, all pliable and surrendered, had him on the brink of coming ― teetering on the edge, precum sliding down his shaft.

When you started humping the bedsheets, causing friction in your unattended clit, Joel knew you were close to another climax. Feeling considerate, he let you chase your own high, both of his hands working the sex toys in your holes.

“I― Good fucking lord, I’m… com… I’m coming, daddy. C-can I…?” you asked for his permission, his chest swelling at your request.

“Yeah, kiddo. Come for daddy,” he rasped, feeling drunk on your ecstasy.

You finally let go again, your whole body quivering like a leaf falling off a tree. He saw your inner labia squeezing the dildo and for a second Joel regretted it wasn’t his cock ― how good it would feel to have your fluttering pussy hug him tight.

But he had to persevere. The gift was worth it.

As your body still adjusted to the aftermath, Joel pulled out the butt plug carefully. The toy slid out easily, and he watched again how your hole stretched back to its normal size.

Throwing the plug to one side on the bed, Joel untied the red, satin bow on your lower back with steady fingers, taking in the moment. He felt like a mayor inaugurating a new building, presenting it to the press. This building was only his to dilapidate. The ribbon fell through his fingers.

Joel slipped one hand between your thighs, caressing around the dildo to gather some of your slick and gently buttering it into your rimmed opening. You said nothing ― eyes shut and mouth agape, it was almost as if you were peacefully sleeping.

He repeated the process a few times, but felt it wasn’t enough. Bending down, he spat in your ass until his mouth was dry. Then positioned his weeping cock right in the fold of your ass and pressed your buttocks together to hump your butt crack. Again, you didn’t react, your drool pooling on the bedsheets.

“What a fucking sight,” he said under his breath, the tip of his girthy dick finally hitching in your asshole.

Slowly he pushed the glans in, then back out, then back in, testing the waters. You squirmed a little, your brows furrowing innocently and your nose scrunching.

“Biiiiig stretch, kiddo,” he managed to groan between gritted teeth, jaw painfully clenched as his cock finally burrowed in your puckered entrance.

That was when your glassy eyes snapped open, and both your hands fisted the bedsheets.

“DADDY!” you screamed at the top of your lungs.

It was hot and tight inside, very soft too, sweat gathering on his brow in concentration. Your sphincter crushed his hard cock and Joel felt like losing control over his own actions.

Another piercing shriek from you brought him back, his hips slowly working your hole with his length. He was only halfway in, you still had a few inches to take.

“You pie― Ohhhh, ah, mhmm…” his hand was quick to find the pebbled nub in your slit, petting it gently, pressing tight circles.

The distraction worked, because soon enough his dick was fully sitting in your ass. Joel pulled back, then back in, guiding your movements by pressing his free hand on your belly, holding your waist up and moving you with him. His right ring and middle fingers stroked your pearly clit relentlessly ― you were melting again.

This was heaven. Fucking heaven, he thought. How the muscles in your ass contracted around him, making him feel woozy. How you keened. How he just knew your pussy was fluttering around your pink dildo. How your clit was extremely wet, his fingers almost slipping on your velvety skin, almost unable to catch on your button.

It wasn’t painful, it was extremely overwhelming. Your mind felt like a spongy cloud, completely blissed out. Your soul had literally left your body, that was how empty your brain was. You were so full ― the dildo cozily inside you, Joel’s girthy cock blasting your entrails without a pause. Having him fully seated in your asshole was the most euphoric experience you had ever lived ― your pulse adjusted to his, two hearts beating as one.

It was too much, but it could be even more. Slithering one hand between your body and the bed, you found the dildo. Slowly you rocked it in and out of your damp pussy ― when Joel pulled out, you pushed in.

Elated, little, pathetic sobs escaped your mouth ― real, blissful tears wetting your cheeks, whimpering as your puffy lips wolfed down the pink toy. Your clit felt on fucking fire, Joel’s fingers fondling it to a point where you thought you might actually die.

You were coming again ― Joel could fucking feel it in his bones. Only this time, you squirted all over him, the warm liquid running down his thighs like a cascade whilst your whole body quaked uncontrollably.

“Oh my! Daddy! DADDY!” you wailed as he fucked you through it, hips almost stuttering now. “I can feel you in my guts! OH, FUCKING HELL!”

That was fucking it. With a guttural groan, Joel finally came, thick, sticky ropes spilling in your ass, painting your walls white. For a minute, he kept on filling you with his cum, cock maddingly twitching inside you. He closed his eyes and heavily sighed, as if the biggest weight had been taken off his shoulders.

By the time he was done, Joel was heaving, his chest rising in quick succession. That had been the best sex he’d ever had, and he was no novice like you. God, even his legs were trembling with effort.

Joel smacked both your ass cheeks as you plummeted onto the bed, a stupid grin curling the corners of your sinful mouth. You rolled to your side to look at him ― a fucked-out expression, your eyes hazy, sweaty hair sticking to your face.

The way you lazily smiled at him made his heart skip a beat.

“That was… something else,” you whispered, half asleep, totally spent.

Joel couldn’t help but chortle.

“I told you, kiddo,” he said, manoeuvring you back onto your belly so he could watch his semen gushing out your ass. “Squeeze your butthole for me, babydoll. Get it all out.”

You obeyed, all his cum slowly trickling out until your ass was empty.

“Good girl,” he praised you.

He admired the view for a hot minute ― you were a dewy mess, tangled in his bedsheets, with the pink dildo still poking out your sweet pussy. So tight, he thought, your slick cunt wouldn’t release it even when he gently tugged at it. Joel didn’t have the heart to take such comfort away from you yet, so he left the dildo in.

Joel disappeared into the bathroom after that to shower quickly. Then grabbed some wet towels and went back to the bedroom, naked as you were, to find you soundly asleep in an odd position.

He cleaned you up ― first your sweaty face, then your upper body. Joel coaxed your legs apart and couldn’t resist the urge to bow down and press a sweet kiss to your clit, slowly extracting the dildo from your pussy.

You hummed in your sleep, jaw slack and snoring lightly.

“The best daddy’s girl one could ask for,” he purred before resuming the task of rubbing your cunt and your ass clean. Joel was extremely diligent with your hygiene and care.

There was a big puddle on his bedsheets, right where your pussy had been leaking all along. He’d deal with that in the morning, didn’t want to wake you up now ― you needed the rest.

Joel sauntered towards the living room, seizing the forgotten cigar and the ashtray. Then returned to bed, and dragged your body up the bed until your head was resting on his lap. You unconsciously nuzzled his soft dick, your hot breath fanning the thick curls at the base.

Joel raked his fingers through your hair as he took a puff, the cigar crackling.

“You’re gonna be the end of me, kiddo.”

In your sleep, you stirred ― your plump, cherry lips caressing his base. Joel’s head slacked back against the headboard as he smoked.

“Fuck,” he cursed himself, feeling his dick harden again.

You were giving him no option ― there was nothing worse than going to bed with a hard-on. Joel knew you wouldn’t want that for him.

His fingers left your scalp, took one more puff and placed the cigar down on the ashtray. Joel cupped your chin, tilting your head up and back, while his other hand guided the slick tip of his cock to your lips. The moment your mouth was in contact with his dick, instinctually you suckled on his pearly glans.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Joel gritted, voice gravelly. “That’s it, be a good little girl for daddy.”

Joel gently rocked his hips under you, only the tip disappearing between your sinful lips ― he didn’t want to wake you, not when you looked like an angel right now.

This was a recurrent dream of yours. Most nights, you found yourself drifting away and thinking about your old man’s beautiful dick. It was soothing when you latched onto his glans, just like you were doing right now ― unbeknownst to you.

In your dream, your tongue pressed against the slit on his throbbing cockhead while your lips would seal around it to suck on it. Then his underside would slide along your tongue, kissing your palate gently. Sometimes you would stop, glans sitting warmly in your mouth, and the hand resting on his thigh would find the soft balls underneath to massage them delicately. Then your tongue would resume its petting.

Heat peaked inside your mouth, and that made you scowled slightly. Smacking your lips together, sleepily, you realised that there was something warm and sticky pooling in your mouth.

Your eyes fluttered open, still drowsy, and found Joel’s darkened ones. Your head was resting on his lap, the palm of his hand caressing your cheek while his thumb stroked your chin. Sluggishly, you smiled at him, rubbing one eye with the back of your hand.

“Sorry to wake you,” he apologised before he took a drag of the cigar. “Swallow daddy’s gift, sugar.”

His words made you realise that what you had in your mouth was his cum. Your grin grew wider as the tasty seed of Joel slid down your throat. You liked it when he took what was his without asking.

“Attagirl. Now back to sleep, kiddo. It’s past your bedtime,” he commended you, and you nodded absentmindedly.

Nudging his dick and tucking your hands under his thigh, you pressed a soft kiss on his cockhead, then closed your eyes.

“Thank you,” you sighed contently, to both Joel and his dick.

[loserlvrss]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 📽️─────wang yixiang, aka, spending quality time with your adoring boyfriend

王奕翔 &fem!rea. ⟡ drabble, fluff warn. skinship, kiss, language wc : 495HUN ++( 𝑒𝓈𝓉. 𝓇𝑒𝓁𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 ). 📼 ˊˎ- req?no. move yn, my turn now :c click4more

Like the washed out color of stained wine, the cheeks of the man in your lap flushed red. He didn’t shy away when you pressed another kiss to his forehead, no, he only giggled through closed eyes. 

His lips had an upward turn to them, arms crossed over his chest. You did it again, pressing your lips to the space between his brows to elicit the same reaction—he just looked so damn cute. 

Yixiang has been lying in your lap as you watched a cartoon, adamant to spend his free time with you. And, after a while of scrolling through his phone his eyes had fluttered shut, soft sighs audible through his sleepy state. 

Of course, you froze, purposefully not even moving a neuron so he could dream peacefully. Afterall, He’d been working so hard, you figured that this was best for him, even if your legs fell off from the lack of circulation causing pins and needles. 

You‘d been glancing down occasionally, distracted by the slight pout on his lips. You admired the fullness and length of his lashes, slightly envious that you had to use fake ones to get near that amount of volume. 

And then, you laughed—he just looked so…fake in your lap. 

The vibrations had made him stir, face turning towards your stomach, hiding from the overcast light. He wrapped a loose arm around your waist, the other still sat over his mid-section. Yixiang was so close to you, you could almost feel his heart beating. 

“I like feeling your heartbeat,” You remarked, only realizing that it was supposed to be in your head when he answered. 

He pulled himself closer, voice muffled by your shirt, “Are you a psycho?” 

“You’re awake?” You almost gasped out, “I mean—wait.” He laughed, turning his head to the ceiling again but not opening his eyes. “No, I’m not a psycho…” 

“You just say creepy things for fun?” 

“No,” You huffed, “I just like you…a lot.” 

He hummed, “Well, I love you today. I’ll love you tomorrow and,” You didn’t know if it was because he was half asleep that he was confessing his deep-rooted love for you but, even shocked, you let him go on. “Forever? That’s not long enough.” 

A dorky-smile spread across your face (though he couldn’t see it), practically all your teeth on display. Then, you were kissing his face. 

His eyes shot open for a moment as you pressed your feather-light lips to his skin again and again in different places, then he closed them again. 

Once he’d had enough (well, he actually hadn’t) Yixiang stopped you, a gentle hand holding you mere centimeters from his face by your cheeks. 

“Hey, psycho,” He practically whispered, “My lips are right here.” 

And, he made you find them quickly after, shushing whatever snarky remark was hanging on your tongue. You smiled into the kiss, disregarding his new nickname for you and relishing in the moment. 

He was right, forever wasn’t long enough. 

© loserlvrss 2025. 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱. networks : @blossomnet @starlit-network @k-films @kstrucknet @lune-net taglist : @slytherinshua @bbangbies @jihyokat @mystarsohee @seomisaho @atzlordz | fill out form to be added.

[lyvhie]

the other way | zhong chenle

chenle x fem!reader summary: chenle finds you really endearing. c/w: fluff, very short because i'm sleepy 😴 a/n: because @sinisxtea broke my weak heart.

You like Chenle.

You like Chenle very, very much.

Everyone knows it, even Chenle himself, and that was just so amusing to him.

It was a delight for him to watch you try to hide your feelings when you were so obviously smitten. At first, he didn’t see you as his ideal type; to him, you were just a very… peculiar person who struggled to contain their emotions. But as he spent more time by your side each day, he couldn’t help but grow fond of you, inevitably developing feelings of his own.

Yet, how could he confess his feelings when it was so entertaining to watch you grow flustered after an affectionate gesture? Or when you gathered just enough courage to let your actions reveal what your words could not? He wasn’t ready to give up those moments, not yet. He wanted to savor them a little longer.

“Oh, I’m feeling so tired, Chenle,” you said with a dramatic sigh, letting your head tilt back slightly. He looked at you with a small, knowing smile and a raised eyebrow. By now, he was familiar with that tone—today, you were feeling bold.

The two of you were sitting side by side on the floor of a dimly lit practice room, the faint glow of city lights filtering through the large windows. The soft hum of a distant song played in the background. He had invited you to join him there after you texted him, saying you were bored, fully knowing you’d accept his invitation in a heartbeat.

“Hmm, really?” he replied, a teasing edge to his voice. “Why are you feeling tired when all you’ve done is sit there watching me practice the entire time?”

“I mean,” you cleared your throat, “i’m feeling so dizzy, Chenle,” you corrected yourself with another exaggerated sigh, earning a barely restrained laugh from him. How could you be this bad at lying?

“Oh no, dizzy?” a mock tone of concern in his voice. “What should we do now? Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” he leaned back, propping himself up on his hands, palms flat against the floor, his legs casually spread.

As he didn’t question you any further about your little lie, you didn’t feel the need to come up with more reasons or details to back it up. You simply watched him for a few seconds, quietly admiring his beauty. He was dressed in casual, comfortable clothes, perfect for moving around, though today he had spent more time talking and having fun with you than actually dancing. Even so, the simple sight of him made your heart race.

It wasn’t unusual for him to catch you admiring him like that. He didn’t mind; in fact, he liked it—a lot. It warmed his heart. He often found himself doing the same to you when you weren’t paying attention or when you were too absorbed, just like now. He loved noticing the little details about you: the way your lips would purse in excitement whenever he was nearby or when he complimented you, the way your pupils dilated when your eyes locked on him, the coy smile and soft giggles that followed his words. Everything about you was utterly endearing to him.

“I think it would help a lot if you let me rest here,” you said, pointing to his chest. “It’s just that lying down on the floor would be way too uncomfortable, you know…” you shrugged casually, as if it were no big deal.

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh, is that so?” he asked, leaning in slightly as if trying to gauge your true intentions. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable, of course.”

He shifted his position, leaning his back against the wall. Then, he patted his chest lightly, his arms opening in a small gesture of invitation. Naturally, he wouldn’t deny you something like that, he never had before. Whether it was letting you rest your head on his shoulder because “it hurts”, holding his hand because “it’s too cold”, or sticking close to his arm so “he wouldn’t get lost in a crowd”—he always let you.

You happily welcomed his words but tried to mask your excitement with a small pout, as if wanting to appear like a poor, sickly person. Without hesitation, you crawled into him, settling comfortably between his legs and resting your head on his chest. A delighted sigh escaped your lips at the feeling. You couldn’t wish for anything better, being this close to him, listening to his steady heartbeat, so calm and in contrast to your own, which was hammering against your chest.

The same held true for Chenle. He looked down at you, all cuddled up on him, with adoring eyes. His hands moved instinctively: one gently caressing your hair while the other traced slow, soothing motions up and down your back. Those small, tender gestures made you melt into him even more, and this time, he couldn’t hold back a soft chuckle. It was nice, having you like this.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked, the smile never leaving his face as he tilted his head slightly to have a better look of you. “Better?”

“I don’t think so,” you replied, your eyes closed and a serene expression spreading across your face. “I need to stay like this a bit longer.”

“Are you sure that wasn’t just an excuse to hug me?”

“No, no, of course not. Why would I do that?” you replied, not even bothering to make your words sound convincing.

He chuckled softly at your response, his hand still tracing gentle patterns on your back. “Hmm, I don’t know... Maybe because you like me?” he said with a teasing lilt, his voice dripping with playful confidence.

Your eyes shot open, and you quickly lifted your head to meet his gaze. “W-What? That’s not—” you began, but the smirk on his face told you he wasn’t buying it.

“Relax,” he said, cutting you off with a grin. “I’m just joking… unless?” His playful tone made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn’t help but bury your face back into his chest, groaning in embarrassment.

“Ah, stop teasing me,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his shirt.

How could he stop when you acted so adorably?

“Then, I guess you don’t like me at all, huh?” he said with a dramatic sigh, pretending to sound disappointed. You quickly caught on and lifted your head to look up at him again.

“I mean, I like you, yes, but not like… you know, the other way. Just the normal way,” you stammered, trying to explain, as you always did whenever he confronted you like this.

“You’re always saying you like me the normal way, but what even is this normal way?” he asked, pressing further. His hand moved to cup one side of your face, his thumb brushing absently against your cheek. The sudden gesture made your heart race, and you panicked slightly as you struggled to find the words to respond.

“Oh, just, you know, like, um, for example, like this and that and… you know, when we like something…” your voice trailed off, getting quieter with each word. You didn’t want him to think you didn’t like him in a romantic way, but you also didn’t want him thinking the opposite.

As you wrestled with your thoughts, Chenle could only gaze at you with those amused, affectionate eyes, taking in every detail. He watched the way you unconsciously leaned even more into his touch. His gaze drifted down to your lips—slightly parted and as inviting as ever, perhaps even more so now.

As mentioned before, it was fun keeping this friendship status between you two, he enjoyed teasing you and drawing out those adorable reactions. But now, you had him wondering: what would it be like if he finally let things happen? Would you be even messier than this?

He wanted to find out.

In a subtle movement, taking advantage of your distracted state, he leaned in and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to your lips. The sudden warmth and softness of his lips against yours made your eyes widen in surprise. You blinked a few times, your mouth slightly open in shock as you tried to process what had just happened. It was as if you were frozen in place, your heart pounding so fast you thought you might be on the verge of a heart attack.

“Oops, did I break you or something?” he teased, though his lighthearted words were tinged with genuine concern as he took in your stunned expression.

“Now I think I’m really dizzy,” you said, your lips trembling ever so slightly. “And this time, I think the only solution is another kiss,” you had no idea where this sudden burst of courage came from; you were simply blurting out words at this point.

It was Chenle’s turn to look at you with a surprised expression before suddenly bursting into laughter, leaving you feeling as though you’d just said something ridiculous.

“Why are you laughing…?” you asked, shrugging your shoulders and looking away, your stomach twisting with embarrassment. “You’re the one who started it.”

Instead of replying, he cupped your face in his hands, pulling you toward him in a fierce, urgent kiss. Your startled gasp was swallowed by his lips as his tongue gently explored your mouth, moving in soft, teasing caresses. You found yourself gripping his shirt tightly, your body melting into his, kissing him back without thinking. One of his hands slid down to your hips, pulling you even closer, pressing your body fully against his.

He hummed softly against your lips, finally giving in to something he had wanted for quite some time. It felt nice, better than he had imagined. The wait was worth it, especially if it was going to be like this.

He only pulled away because you did first, needing to catch your breath. Your lips were swollen and glistening slightly, and your breathless state, combined with the mix of confusion, satisfaction, happiness, and desire in your eyes, made his heart pound.

“I like you,” he said, slightly out of breath. “Not in the normal way. But the other way.”

There was no way you could be more surprised than you already were, so you just went with the flow, your mind too clouded to think before speaking.

“Me too,” you nodded fiercel. “I like you. So, so much. I really like you, Chenle.” It felt so nice to finally say that out loud, directly to him.

“I know you do,” he giggled, leaning in to plant another soft kiss on your lips. you could feel the warmth of his smile against your lips, and his fingers gently brushed your hair back, his touch as tender as ever.

He preferred to have you like that after all.

↝ taglist: @ldh0000

[advisorykitty]

Haii!! Can I request a Nyon x Reader x Nyen? Where Reader is a Catwomen who is very ditzy and airheaded. Also very sleepy. And Nyen and Nyon who surprisingly were warmed up to her (in their minds they have the same love for her like they do Luther) and they’re very possessive and obsessive. Maybe she manages to get out of the house and she’s approached by a stranger who won’t leave her alone. But she didn’t realize she was followed by Nyon and Nyen who didn’t like her leaving the house at all.

Caught in the middle nyonxreaderxnyon

The late afternoon sun bathed everything in a warm, sleepy glow, the kind that made you feel like curling up in a sunspot for a nap. Your tail swayed lazily behind you as you wandered down the street, half-awake, half-daydreaming. It wasn’t often you ventured out of Luther’s house—being a cat(wo)man meant you spent most of your time napping in cozy corners, pissing Nyen off when you had the chance, and taking constant duties from your master. Your soft [F/C] outfit a constant companion.

However, today you thought you'd try something new. Something had stirred your curiosity, and before you knew it, you were out, wandering the streets.Your (H/C) haircut—Luther’s idea, of course—framed your face perfectly, giving you that carefree, sleepy look he always said suited you. You liked it, though; it felt effortless, just like your life most days.

You were so lost in your own little world that you didn’t notice the man following you until he was right beside you.

“Hey there, beautiful,” his voice interrupted your thoughts, and you blinked, trying to focus on him through the haze of your sleepy brain.

“Huh?” you mumbled, your ears twitching slightly.

“I said, you look nice today. Maybe we could grab a coffee or something.” His grin was too wide, too eager, and it made you want to take a step back, though your slow brain didn’t quite catch up to your body.

“Oh... I don’t like coffee,” you said softly, still half-dazed. “I like [F/D] better.”

His smile faltered for a second but came back, this time with a hint of irritation. “Well, we can get [F/D] too. I don’t mind. C’mon, I’ll show you a good time.”

You blinked again, trying to process what he was saying. There was something off about him, but your brain was too foggy to figure out what. “Um... no thanks. I think I’ll just... go home.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “Aw, don’t be like that. I’m just being friendly. Let’s go grab that [F/D]. You cosplaying?? I could get behind that, i know some forepl- .”

Before you could figure out how to respond, a low, angry voice cut through the air. “She said no, asshole.”

You turned, and there he was—Nyen, stepping out from behind you, like some pissed-off avenging cat. His eyes flashed with anger, and his whole body practically vibrated with tension. Nyon stood beside him, quieter but no less intimidating with his hat casting shadows over his eyes.

The man turned, looking Nyen up and down. “Who the fuck are you?”

Nyon didn’t even flinch, his Russian accent thick as he added, “You leave. No good for you here.”

The man’s confidence wavered, but he still tried to act tough. “She doesn’t need a babysitter. I’m just talking to her.”

Nyen’s lip curled in disgust. “Talking? Yeah, right. You were bothering her, dickhead.”

You blinked, your brain finally catching up to the situation. “He was?”

Nyon sighed softly, muttering something in Russian that you couldn’t understand but knew was probably an insult.

The man bristled, clearly feeling cornered. “Look, I was just being friendly.”

Nyen stepped forward, his fists clenched. “Friendly? You call that friendly? Get lost before I shove my boot so far up your ass, you’ll taste leather for a week.”

The stranger visibly paled, finally realizing he was out of his depth. With one last mumbled insult, he turned and walked off, much faster than he’d arrived.

You blinked again, looking up at Nyen. “Was he bothering me?”

Nyen groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ, are you that clueless? Yes, he was bothering you.”

You frowned, trying to piece it together. “Oh... I thought he was just being nice.”

Nyon shook his head, muttering more Russian under his breath. “Ты такая беспечная,” he said, though there was no real anger in his voice, just exasperation.

Nyen shot you a look that was equal parts annoyed and protective. “Look, you can’t just wander off like that. What if we hadn’t been here? You’d have been fucked.”

You yawned, rubbing your eyes lazily. “But I just wanted some fresh air…”

Nyon sighed, stepping closer and looking down at you with concern. “Air inside house... good too. You stay safe.”

Nyen grumbled, crossing his arms. “Next time you wanna go outside, tell us. We don’t like you being out here alone, not with creeps like that roaming around.”

You blinked, surprised by how serious they both were. “I didn’t mean to worry you... Sorry.”

Nyen sighed, his anger finally fading as he looked at you. “Just... don’t be so fucking dumb next time, alright?”

Nyon nodded in agreement, though his tone was much gentler. “You be careful. Always.”

You smiled sleepily, not really understanding the full weight of their concern but appreciating it nonetheless. “Okay... I’ll be more careful.”

Nyen rolled his eyes, though you could see a small smile tugging at his lips. “Sure you will.”

As you turned to head back home, Nyen and Nyon flanked you, sticking close like two overprotective—and ridiculously possessive—guards. You yawned again, oblivious to the fact that they were still radiating a mix of irritation and fierce protectiveness. You didn’t fully grasp just how serious they were about keeping you safe.

“Well, that was exciting,” you mumbled sleepily, blinking at Nyen. “I didn’t know people could be so... persistent.”

Nyen huffed, clearly still annoyed. “Persistent? That guy was a total creep. If we hadn’t shown up, who knows what that asshole would’ve tried next. Probably would’ve dragged you off for your damn [F/D] without even asking.”

Nyon nodded seriously. “Да. Bad man. You not see it. You too... airheaded.”

You gave a lazy grin, still half-drifting in your own little world. “I guess I’m just too friendly for my own good, huh?”

Nyen groaned, rubbing his face in frustration. “Too friendly? No, you’re just too fucking clueless. Friendly gets you into trouble when you don’t realize some dickhead’s trying to hit on you. We can’t always be around to bail your ass out, y’know.”

Nyon added in his thick accent, “Is why you stay close. Safe inside. Outside is... shit.” He seemed satisfied with his choice of words.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound soft and airy. “You two are acting like I’m some kind of... kitten or something.”

Nyen shot you a deadpan look. “Kitten? Try more like a dumbass wandering into traffic. You don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on half the time.”

Nyon nodded, ever serious. “Yes. Like kitten. But... dumb kitten.”

You blinked, your tail twitching behind you. “A dumb kitten?”

Nyen smirked. “Yeah. A dumb kitten with no idea she’s in danger until someone’s about to kick her ass. That’s you.”

You pouted, your ears drooping. “I’m not that bad…”

“Yeah? You thought that jackass back there was just being ‘friendly,’” Nyen said, making air quotes. “Meanwhile, he’s about two seconds away from getting his teeth knocked in.”

Nyon grinned, a rare flash of amusement lighting his face. “Yes. Would’ve been... bad for him. Very bad.”

You sighed dramatically, rubbing your temples. “Okay, okay, I get it. You’re both my bodyguards now. I’ll tell you next time I want to leave the house. Happy?”

Nyen shook his head, but a grin tugged at his lips. “Bodyguards? Nah. More like babysitters for a kitten who’s got no idea how much trouble she’s in half the time.”

Nyon snickered. “Yes. Babysitters. For dumb kitten.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “You two are impossible.”

Nyen smirked, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Nah, we’re just the only thing keeping you from wandering off into more shit. You’re lucky we care enough to stick around.”

Nyon nodded seriously. “Very lucky.”

As the three of you made your way home, you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not that much of a dumbass…”

Nyen chuckled darkly. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that, kitten.”

Nyon grinned, his broken English only making his point more cutting. “We watch over you... because you too... dumb for world.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”

Nyen laughed. “Not a fucking chance, kitten. Not a fucking chance.”

[catiuskaa]

EACH OTHER’S SOUNDTRACK.

summary: the need to know more and to keep listening to the music: attention, the begining of devotion —you have had each other’s from the start.

series masterlist (☆) collab with @dalamjisung !

wc: 3.7k

cw: fluff! using my (10!) years of music lessons, so technical lingo [use of italian], i’m making jisung a pianist, he’s playing lalaland’s piano theme and other piano studios, another soundtrack too (i won’t spoil it!), they are so whipped it’s hilarious, shoutout to debussy, sibelius and rimsky-korsakov, they’re a bit dead but yk contribution is always appreciated

[🔷 ☆🎼☆ 🔷]

His presence made itself noticeable in slow beats of tempo.

Da capo. From the start.

It was a quiet night. Or rather it had been, until the tranquil sound of a piano came from above you. The melody sang to you, unspoken words below it’s charming notes, D natural, F sharp, A flat, A natural, A flat, F sharp, C sharp, the rich tone of the instrument reaching your ears, cheekily waking you up from your short-lived slumber, as if you were the one who was meant to be listening.

Your sleepy brain recognized the melody, and you almost brushed it off to your new neighbour watching that soul-crashing movie, until the tempo started to speed up.

Crescendo. Accelerando.

A new octave joined in, and the melody changed, fluctuated, its sweet sweet tone almost like a stroke, tender, kind, and loving. Like a summary to the first half of the movie, the melody was cheerful, and almost cheesy when it doubled, now being accompanied by a lower version of itself. Until it started turning lower, deeper, faster, faster, and then, it exploded.

You couldn’t listen to the music anymore. It wasn’t a matter of notes or melody when all that was there was an artist screaming to be heard, and for a second, it almost felt like he was right in front of you, a scale, large and strained, yet beautiful, being tortured out of the piano as the instrument seemed to yell what the artist couldn’t.

And alas, it stopped.

Lonely nights you spent waiting for his piano, as his music, calm and tranquil, charmed you in the arms of Morpheus. And when soon after, summer weather arrived, it only worsened. Summer nights were always hot, so it was understandable that he kept his window open, and because the both of you lived in the same crappy studio-room departments, only a staircase away from each other, same thing went for you.

But today —tonight— you were sweaty and awake, yearning for that mysterious pianist to lull you back to sleep. You couldn’t help but need more. Maybe not sleep, solely a peek. A bit over a week had passed, so maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late for introductions.

Well. There was only one way to know.

Surreal. It’s how it feels when you stand up and halphazardly grab a jacket and a hair clip, to at least pretend you had the energy to do your hair propperly before heading upstairs.

Your steps don’t echo when you head outside, warm in your squirrel-themed loafers, completely different to the door, whose loud bang when it closed caught you by surprise, fully waking you up.

Making your way upstairs seems harder than you had though way back when you were half asleep, but you push through until you’re in front of his door. Your fist is barely an inch away from the wooden surface, and there’s nothing stoping you now until there is.

The piano comes back.

If it’s a popular tune, much like the one he had just played, you didn’t recognize it. Being this close was different. Closer. Closer. The music reverberated underneath you, sneaking under the wooden door, as if calling you in, an invite.

Your arm falls limp by your side, your body frozen, held hostage by the sound some unknown hands produced just a few metres in front of you as the realisation hits.

You don’t dare. What if opening the door ends the music? And running back down the stairs, a small part of you wonders if you ever will. But, worry not. In between you and me, dear reader, no one can run away from the power of a meet cute.

It’s late morning already when you get out of the shower and dry your hair. You’re early for work, you always are, so you relish the small fragment of time remaining between the moment you are ready and the moment when the rest of the world is. Turning on your record player, settling the vinyl in place, gently and ever-so-slowly placing down the needle to free the music from its plain and rounded cage, letting it flow through your whole apartment and out the windows.

Scheherazade dominates every space of your studio apartment, filling up each and every corner with its sound. The now familiar melody of the violin claims its throne and rules over the kingdom that it has conquered, as you move along the space it has claimed, far from being solely yours when the bassoon slowly creeps up.

Largo e maestoso. Fortíssimo.

What you never expected —let alone imagined—, was being interrupted by a knock on the door.

The orchestra doesn’t mind it. How could it, when its sound thoroughly overpowers that of the door. Whoever had knocked had been hesitant, at least the first time, because then its intensity heightens.

“Coming!” You claim, because what else could you say? So you quickly put on your shirt and messily tuck it under your long skirt that reaches just below you knees, wondering whether it could be your landlord or not, rushing to the record player to lower its volume until you finally rush and open the door.

A mix of vanilla and cinnamon. The scent of his cologne hits you and you can’t help but blink hesitantly.

What welcomes you behind the door isn’t the middle-aged man with hearing problems that smelled of the warmth homemade lemon pie left behind, having tasted it yourself already hundreds of times before whenever his daughter made it. No, it was far from whatever you could’ve guessed.

And a small part of you wonders if it could be him, which is almost revealed by the first thing he utters, that threatens to give him away, if the suit he’s dressed in hadn’t already.

The pianist.

“The tale of the Kalendar Prince?”

It’s almost a mumble, one that could almost end up hidden by the music that still sounds, a combination of notes that turns the melody melancholic, a slow-paced yet not quite ritardando, F sharp, G sharp, A natural, and a scale that follows, a soundtrack to your first encounter.

“Rimsky-Korsakov.” You nod with a hesitant smile, confused as to which could be the reason for him to stand before you.

He smiles, and you find it impossible for any chord or melody to describe what it does to your heart. It’s heart-shaped brightness softens you, and your hand gingerly lowers from the door, your grasp weakened by the force of the feeling that overcomes you.

“I’m much more of a Debussy kind of guy.”

He says it almost as if the sentence had unwillingly escaped from his lips, wondering if such a statement should’ve been left in the back of his mind, not wanting to upset you.

You could kiss him.

Instead, you sheepishly chuckle. “Is there something I could do for you?” It’s a faint attempt to ground yourself. He’s a stranger, the closest stranger you’ve ever met. Like a language you’re no longer fluent in but still remember how to read. The language, a combination of sounds.

The sounds of music.

“Right.” His snicker comes out bashfully, and you wonder how could he had escaped from your pocket. “I, uh, my name is Han Jisung. I moved upstairs a week ago.” He propells his hand forward, his eyes gente and kind, a shy dust on the colour of his irises.

You smile, and the shy dust weakens when you grab his hand, overpowered by a glow you don’t dare to try and decipher.

“Pleasure to meet you.” It so was. You followed suit, introducing yourself.

His grin doesn’t falter for a second, and you wonder how fast one could be charmed by someone else. Pretty fast, judging by how reluctantly you let go of his soft grasp, his hands in pristine condition, and funnily enough, his nails painted black with pink stars, a shade of pink similar to your own.

It’s almost as if, for a second, he forgets why he’s there, until he lets out a low chuckle.

“I hadn’t presented myself, but meeting you, I’m not sure if you could help…”

You blushed, a shy bit confused. “Try me.” Your tone is playful, and surely enough, —maybe it wasn’t just for your tone, but that, you didn’t know— he matches, his cheeks dusted with pink.

“Okay, then.” He giggles, killing you slowly. “This is the only white shirt I have, and I need one today, but I didn’t know it needed cufflinks.” Jisung shows you, the cuff of his sleeves open, no buttons on sight. “I doubt you have men cufflinks.”

You nibble with your lower lip, and while pondering, staring at the wooden floor of the hallway, staring to something that Han couldn’t see, you miss the way his eyes soften and his pupils dilate, as if wanting to observe you, much like the way a musician hears a piece for the first time, the familiar notes mixing to create something new.

“Maybe I don’t, but…” you mumble with a cheeky smile, and it disarms him.

Confidently, you too miss the way his eyes never leave your silhouette as you walk to the door on the other way of the hallway.

You knock, and with a flick of your hand, usher him to your side.

“Hey, Artie?”

There’s a shy beat of silence, your music not travelling far away from your apartment.

“If it’s the IRS, Artie isn’t here!”

You can’t help but laugh at the way Jisung shows his surprise at the low and chirping tone that replies to your sweet call.

“A kind neighbour?” He questions teasingly, looking down at you slightly, barely noticing the sudden closeness in between you.

“The landlord’s wife.”

He doesn’t have time to react before the door opens, and a short, old woman appears, the strength on her unexpected, but her grin softens at the sight of you.

“Remember me? Gina’s friend?” You smile sheepishly, proving yourself by mentioning her granddaughter’s name.

“Of course I remember you, silly,” she grins, chuckling. “These bones of mine may be old, but I couldn’t forget such a pretty face like yours. And your flower shop is still my favourite.”

Jisung’s eyes soften when he looks at you. Her wrickled yet soft hands craddle your face, and you giggle. But then, she squints her eyes at Han, pursing her lips.

“Who is this young man? Your boyfriend?”

You know you’re a cheeky bastard when you speak before him, stopping him from correcting her.

“He needs cufflinks. You think Richie will mind if we borrow a pair?”

Artie doesn’t miss the blush that settles on both Jisung and you.

“Kids flirt so weirdly nowadays.” She mumbles, a little confused, but she enjoys the way it flusters you two.

“Wait here. I’ll see if I can find ones that aren’t covered in batter or flour.” Her grin feels teasing when she heads back inside.

You looked at Han and answered the question he had written on his expression. “They own the bakery that’s under this building.”

It was almost as if you couldn’t stop looking at him. The way his cheeks rounded when he smiled at Artie. How his laugh reverberated between the walls of your apartment when you told him the woman’s name was Artemisa and he hadn’t expected it. How his pianist fingers trail on the edges of your vinyls, swiftly looking at your collection, making appreciating comments and initiating banter.

He already had his cufflinks, but Jisung just couldn’t seem to leave.

“Oh, shit.” Sadly, even if he hadn’t left, you had to go. “This was fun.” You chuckle, and he smiles too, nodding. “I uh, I’m kinda late for work.”

“Did I keep you from leaving?”

His eyes are tender, and the softness of his voice weakens you. For the first time in what feels like forever, you hesitate, wondering if you should really go to work.

“No! No, gosh, you’re fine.” Yes, he was. That was part of the issue, honestly. “I lost track of time. But… it was very nice meeting you.”

“You too,” he grins, taking your hand in his again. “It’s refreshing to talk to someone who likes music almost as much as me.”

And reluctantly letting go of his hand again, you rush downstairs, heading to work.

[🔷 ☆🎼☆ 🔷]

You can still smell the mix of flowers and different types of green on you. Its scent lingers on you and you cherish it, walking back home slowly on a warm summer night.

Lost deep in thought, as always. Gingerly skipping as you make your way through the street, relishing the way the moon beams, stepping on the little traces of water that the summer showers had left while you were still in the flowershop. It’s by no means cold, but your hands never leave your pockets.

That’s how you notice that you hadn’t picked your keys before you left home.

You curse, your mood a bit pissed off, but you shrug and accept it, still a bit lost in the depths of your mind when you get close to your apartment complex.

It may seem like leaving without your keys happens a lot —and sometimes it did, to be honest— by how organic it feels when you jump and lower down the fire escape stairs and grunting lightly you climb them, not allowing them to fall to the floor completely so its easier for you to put them back in place. It’s dull and boring. It’s the end of the day and the start of the night.

But then, as you go up the stairs, you start hearing the piano.

It’s different from what you have heard from him before. You recognize the piece, the trickiness of Sibelius, the speed of the music, the pacing and how it gets faster and faster, in an accelerando that almost makes you walk faster up the stairs, and you can’t help but smile, basking in the glowth of the moon and what now seems to be your soundtrack as you go up the fire escape stairs and plan to head through your open window.

But when you turn to face the window and groan slightly when trying to open it, the music stops.

You must have focused on the music too much, because you got into the wrong fucking house.

“Shit, Jisung.” You mumble, even if your leg is stepping into his living room already.

“Oh. You are here.” He giggles. “Thought I had fallen asleep on the piano again for a minute.”

“I was just… and then I heard you play, and I, uh…”

Staring at the floor, looking for something that could justify the sudden break in, you miss how Jisung gets close to you and helps you lift the old window higher, smiling.

“It’s okay. I could use the company.”

The sincerity on his voice stops your scheming, leaving you with no excuse, and you take your shoes off and leave them by the window, feeling like some cartoon character who had followed the scent trail of a homemade pie, floating behind it.

It’s silly. And if you were in the right state of mind, and not sleep deprived like usually, you’d probably feel a bit self-concious. Yet when you retell it to Jisung, the whole story just seems funny. Stupidly funny. So funny that he almost spills the cups of decaf coffee he makes for the both of you.

Taking your jacket off, you sip from the coffee mug he hands you, your heart cheekily spinning inside you when your fingers brush against each other.

He scratches his eyes, thoroughly amused, as he sits back on the piano stool. Even to you, the motion seems organic from the outside, and you wonder how many times could he have done the same action, how many scratches had the wood below it taken from settling the stool just right, in the space enough to be in front of the correct note and scale, close enough for his arms to rest on the black and white keys comfortably, and far enough so that it forces his back to stand in a position that won’t make him end up with crippling backpain.

“What were you playing before?” You smile as he too sips, warming his hands by holding the coffee with both.

“Before you entered a private property?” He snickers, and you snort, rolling your eyes.

“I haven’t heard you play like that before.” You are avoiding his eyes, because the moonlight does nothing but make him even more handsome, and you’re flustered enough already.

“I knew that the piano could be heard.” He mumbles. “The couple upstairs already told me off the first day, but when I told them I was a musician, they turned full-on proud parents mode.” He chuckles, and you snicker too, crossing your legs and sitting comfortably on the armrest of his sofa, so to face him. “I was wondering if you’d come tell me off too.”

You just blink at him, blushing. “I liked it.”

He blushes, and changes the topic, sheepish.

“It was Sibelius. What I was playing before you dared tresspass my property.”

“Very funny, pianist.” He snickers, and your heart screams at you to hurry up and start looking for an engagement ring. “Weren’t you a Debussy guy?”

“Absolutely. Nothing beats Debussy.” He nods proudly, as if the dead musician had been a close friend. “Like this one.”

You can’t distinguish the melody, but the light melancholy of it gives away Debussy in a second.

“Debussy is a trickster,” he says lowly, still playing. B flat, C natural, D natural, G natural, and then back down. “He always makes one think he’ll be going easy. Until he keeps going.” You enjoy the way he lets the music flow, the feeling that gives you uncomparable to that of your vinyls, because nothing could beat a real-life interpretation. You smile at the difference in tones, in the way the cadences complete each other.

The music continues, and his hand follows the other. Easily, the long piano fills his apartment with its music. It’s efervescent, how it turns dramatic, how he plays with the intensity, talent flowing over how his fingers move along and over the keys, the skill of a musician showing, playing by memory.

Jisung’s enthralled on his play, and you know it by how he takes a second to look up at you after you move closer. The mug he gave you is settled next to his, on the piano, and you both giggle shyly when he moves and gives you a bit of space to sit on the piano stool next to him.

He keeps playing, and for a second, it takes you back to your own apartment, threatening to lull you to sleep.

You don’t, though. Gently, you clap when he finishes playing, and you chuckle when he bows, overly exaggerated.

“Teach me,” you say, smiling, in your eyes a glow that matched that one he had hours ago, below your doorframe. “Something easy.”

He ponders for a second, and gingerly takes his mug and finishes his coffee, brushing your shoulders together when he takes the mug and when he settles it back next to yours.

His hand comes and he lays it over yours. Han doesn’t speak, and you don’t either, not daring to interrupt. You hold back a shiver when you notice his breathing hitting your neck, instead focusing on how his hand moves yours.

“D natural, G natural… B… no, B flat, D natural.” He announces in a low mumble, pressing each key with your fingers, smiling when he sees you nod, so concentrated. “Try that a bit faster, apprentice.”

You snicker, and even if he tells you to try it on your own, his hand barely leaves yours when you try it yourself.

“Good.” He grins. “Now,” he starts, his tone still low, speaking gently a bit over your shoulder, and his hand back to where it belongs. Back on yours as he keeps playing. “D natural, C natural, B flat, A natural, B flat.”

“Wait,” you giggle, finally recognizing the piece. “That’s Howl’s Moving Castle!”

He smiles, unable to do anything else as he stares at you giddy self while you play the simple melody back again and again. You giggle, and smile at him a wide, toothy grin that kills him.

But as your eyes meet each other’s, your smile gently fades away.

His skin seems to glow under the moonlight that enters through the open window, it’s almost impossible to look away. You lean backwards slightly, impressed, and he moves to you, your arm hugging your waist, not letting you fall from the piano stool.

Han swallows dry, the force he uses to save you pushing you further against him.

You’re a mess when he looks away, and both of you miss each other when his arm falls back to his side. Standing up, you head back to the window, sitting on the windowsill to put your shoes back on.

He’s going to kill himself if his hopeless romantic heart doesn’t do him the favour, drowning him for ruining the moment. The mugs you two used, the rim on yours slightly stained by a faint pinkish shimmer, tug at his heart strings.

“I uh, thanks for letting me in. Sorry to have barged in, too…” you cringe at your tone, staring at the floor again, your hand on the window, still sat on the windowsill, a moment from stepping outside.

And once more, he approaches you. But this time, his hands don’t reach to the window to help you open it further.

With the shy music you two just played still lingering in the air, Jisung bends down and reaches to your cheek, and presses a bashfull kiss on your lips.

“My window will be open for you.” He grins, blushing like crazy.

He doesn’t tell you the title of the Debussy piece he played a moment ago. He knows, though, as much as he knows what inspired him to play it.

You.

Reverie. A dream.

A dream come true, on a warm summer night.

[🔷 ☆🎼☆ 🔷]

kats, a flutist —very much piano enthusiast, as little as I can play it—, who can figure out notes as they sound (it’s called perfect pitch!)

catiuskaa, august 2024 ©

SERIES TAGLIST! @cosmic-recs @dirtyweenerking @ughyeka @mysticpenguinwinner @meloncremesoda @idcxxsstuff @lovejohnnvsuh @lilacsecret23 @vidkqb @aquarideas @madiblox8989 @orbeez-nuts @authentic-65 @stascence-original @starlixs @confuchan @ljinhk @mynsung @madiilolz @p3acel1lly @quokkalighthanji @jupire @herefortheff @dreamerwasfound @dae-bakk-pop @skz-supernovaa @mimikyuu0305 @yerrrmomgoestocollege

bold and blue means i couldn’t tag you! </3

PERMANENT TAGLIST! @lyramundana @stayconnecteed

[jrswritings]

Tingles and Giggles - Chapter Three - Tyler Owens x Reader

Get caught up with Chapter One and Chapter Two! Masterlist :)

Chapter Three - Wildflowers

It was the next morning in your small motel room, the sun starting to peek through the curtains that were half-assed pulled over the window. Today was the day and you weren’t sure how you felt about it, since some of the stirred emotions last night were from the whiskey. Were you still excited to go out and do something different but with Tyler Owens? He was quite the eye candy, but what if Finn was right and Tyler would just hurt you in the end? 

You laid out like a starfish in the cozy bed, not wanting to leave the warmth of the covers. Sighing to yourself and glancing at your watch that proudly showed 6:56 am, even on days off you couldn’t sleep in. You pushed up on your elbows to sit up and lean against the headboard which was colder than expected and sent shivers down your spine. You rubbed the sleepiness out of your eyes and flung the covers off your legs to immediately regret the decision as the room was chilly for the middle of summer in Oklahoma, and you decided to sleep with shorts on. 

There was no turning back now, the heat was lost from the bed and wouldn’t be recovered until tonight when you crawled back in. You slid to the edge of the mattress then pushed yourself up and headed to the bathroom to start your usual morning routine. 

Once you finished, you walked back to the loveseat in the corner of the room where your suitcase sprawled out with a pile of your dirty clothes next to it. You only packed one or two nicer outfits when you were chasing since you would usually get soaked and dirty. You pulled out your nicer light blue jeans with a few stylish cuts on the knee and thighs, a coral pink dress top, and a pair of black cowboy boots. 

After changing into your attire for the day, you went back to the bathroom and looked at yourself in the mirror. You sighed and rubbed your face, it looked like you hadn’t slept in weeks. 

“If he didn’t like what he saw, he wouldn’t have asked,” you mumbled to yourself, trying to boost your confidence. On storm chasing trips you never brought any makeup, why would you when the weather would just smear everything? You turned the sink on getting your fingers damp and fluffing your (y/h/c) and then put it into a French braid which was a workout you weren’t expecting to do this early in the morning. 

By the time you were done, it was about 7:45. You sat on the edge of the bed and unplugged your phone from its charger, half expecting to see a message from Tyler, but it was just Facebook and Snapchat notifications. Shoving your phone in your back pocket and grabbing the small gray over-the-shoulder clutch you used for a purse when going somewhere instead of lugging around your usual one which has a lot of storm-chasing stuff in it, you grabbed your room key and headed out the front door. 

As you locked it behind you, the door opened in the room to the left of you. Not knowing who was on the left, as Asher and Finn shared the room to the right, you glanced over to give a nonchalant ‘good morning’ to whoever it was. 

Before you could even say a word, you saw it was Tyler who was dressed in a white shirt, red flannel over top, his normal blue jeans, cowboy boots, belt and belt buckle which was larger than Texas, and his signature cowboy hat. 

“Well, good morning, gorgeous,” he said, leaning against the frame of his door and looking over at you. 

“Good morning, Ty,” you said softly, “What caused you to stir up so early?” 

“Couldn’t sleep any longer, t’was too excited for today,” he said with a big smile, “What about you?” 

“Oh, I’m usually always up around 7 and out the door by 7:45, no matter what day it is or the circumstances,” you said, turning and heading towards the stairs. You didn’t want it to seem like you were losing sleep over him, heaven knows what he would do if he found out you couldn’t fall asleep until after midnight thinking about him and how the day would go. 

Without paying much attention to the stairs, you somehow forgot that morning dew was a thing and metal was usually covered in it. You slipped on your first step and as soon as you started to go backward, you felt two arms catch you and the addicting smell of Tyler flooding your nose; this time without as much rain and sweat smell. This was not how you wanted the day to start, but at least he caught you so your butt didn’t get wet. 

“Careful there, little lady,” he said, helping you steady yourself, “I don’t think the Storm Riders would take too kind to me if they found out you broke your rear goin’ out to breakfast with me.” 

“I don’t think I would either,” you said, grabbing onto the railing and making your way down the rest of the stairs with Tyler right behind you. 

“Do you want to walk over to JoAnn’s or take Ol Red?” He asked, holding the keys up with the various key chains he had collected. 

“I’m going to walk, I don’t care how you get there,” you said, starting to walk down the street to JoAnn’s Whirlwind diner. In reality, as much as you wanted to just drive there, you needed a few minutes to gather your thoughts and pull yourself together; secretly wishing he would drive there and leave you alone for a minute. 

“You go on in and grab us a booth, I’ll be there in a few, I’m going to fill up Ol Red over at Cyclone Gas and Go,” he said, motioning over to the opposite way you were heading. 

“Will do, cowboy!” You called behind you, continuing to walk down the sidewalk. The warm morning sun felt wonderful on your face and body after still being chilled from escaping the covers. You pulled your sunglasses down to the bridge of your nose and pushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear before crossing the street at the only stop light in town. 

Behind you, his truck roared to life, the radio blaring ‘Fishing in the Dark’ by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band from the day before. 

“Jesus Christ!” Tyler shouted, immediately turning the radio down. You turned your head and saw Tyler rubbing his ears slightly, then glancing around to see if anyone saw. You giggled and turned before he saw you, at least you both had embarrassing moments this morning. 

Opening the diner door, you were greeted with a warm ‘Good morning, Honey!’ from one of the main waitresses, Cindy. She was always so welcoming and energetic. 

“Good morning, Cindy!” You called, heading over to the corner booth where you usually hid yourself in the mornings to watch people. 

“Coffee and water with a lemon, (Y/n)?” The other waitress, Jenny, asked, walking by your table. 

“Yes please,” you said, “There will be someone joining me today, so if you could bring menus over I’d appreciate it.” 

“Absolutely!” Jenny said, walking behind the counter and filling up one of their signature blue mugs with a tornado and their branding on it with coffee. 

She came over and sat your drinks down in front of you, along with menus and silverware. You grabbed a couple of the little cup creamers and a sugar packet, dumping them into your coffee and stirring it gently. 

“Thank you, Jenny,” you said, smiling at her. 

“Just flag us down when your friend gets here,” she said, walking off to another table. 

You pulled your phone out and opened Snapchat, opening the few snaps from your team and surprisingly Dani from the Wranglers. You tap on the chat and see it’s a photo of you and Tyler dancing from last night. Remembering the night's events and how calm you felt while slowly dancing with him made you smile. You saved the picture in the chat and messaged her back, ‘Thanks for sending this! I’m not sure who taught him how to dance, but they did well, haha!’ 

You sat your phone down next to your purse beside your thigh, grabbed your coffee cup, and held it to your mouth taking in its heat. While taking a sip of the warm liquid, the bells above the door rang throughout the diner. You glanced up to see Tyler strolling in with one hand behind his back and the other taking his hat off. You watched him scan the tables looking for you, giving a courteous slight wave to signal where you were. As soon as he saw you, it was like his whole face lit up with excitement like a kid in a candy store. 

He walked over, setting his hat down on the seat, and slid in across from you, one hand still behind him. 

“What are you hiding there, Owens?” You asked, taking a sip of your coffee. As if on cue, he pulled out a bouquet of wildflowers tied together with a white bow. 

“Just some beautiful flowers for an even more beautiful woman,” he said smiling, “I’d lie and say I picked them myself but there were a couple of little kids selling them outside the gas station and I couldn’t help myself.”

Want More? Here's Chapter Four!

[eelnoise]

'kiss me forever till my lips part together, hold me so close till you devour my sweater, touch me so softly and caress me so gentle, love city baby, let me be your adventure' and Ace possibly? Prefer smut. but sfw is fine, too!

aww i love him sm, i'm so glad you asked for this combo!! i had a great time writing this, ace is just so cute and i picture him as kinda obsessed w/ u here but its all out of adoration. hope you enjoy! also two fluffy bedroom fics in one day? please forgive ya girl loves a trope! ace x gn!reader (!) c/w: smut, morning sex, loving sex, piv, spooning, creampie, flufffff, ace loves you sm.

“Hold up, firefly,” a raspy, tired voice murmurs out before a, rather warm, grip tightens around your forearm, foiling your attempt at retreat. You’re not upset that he caught you, though you huff in faux annoyance regardless just to tease him. “Who said you could get outta bed yet?”

“Ace, I’m hungry!” you whine, shrugging your shoulders and tilting your head around toward him with big, pleading eyes, your expression crossing into a frown when you see that his eyes aren’t even open as he’s talking to you.

Your attempt at charm fails anyway when you’re pulled back into his chest, one arm lazily draping over your side. “That’s too bad, sweetheart. I’m still tired,” Ace yawns, leaning his head forward and nuzzling his face into your hair like a kitten. “Besides, nothin’ to do today anyway. Jus’ stay with me for a little while.” 

You curl in close at his side, letting your head rest on his bicep and resting your hands on along his torso, letting the heat of his body warm your skin. His eyes are still closed, but there’s a sweet little sleepy half-smile drawn across his lips that you can’t resist. 

“Ace?”

He hums in reply, the arm on your waist trailing up your back as he traces circles into your bare flesh. Ace’s touch is so gentle, even if a little slow and sluggish in his motions. You feel his palm flat against you, his fingertips slightly heated on your tummy in just the way he knows you like. It’s a soothing embrace, and you find yourself exhaling in delightful bliss. 

And how easy it is for you to lull back into his welcoming arms, to feel your eyes grow heavy and your breathing still as the rise and fall of his chest lures you into a sweet respite.

–

You're stirred awake by something wet treading up your neck. It takes a moment for you to comprehend just what's happening, but soon enough you're conscious enough to realize that not only have you rolled over, but Ace's lips are seemingly attached to your neck.

It tickles, and you can't help but to giggle softly. “Aceee!” you coo sweetly, fingers entwining with the ones tight around your waist. Ace replies with a low chuckle, slurping open-mouthed sucks to your flesh and grinding his pelvis into you, his hard cock pressing into the curve of your ass. 

You lean into him, rolling your hips backwards and along his length. The gesture earns you a quiet groan close enough to your ear that it makes you shiver in excitement. 

“G'mornin’,” Ace murmurs, the hand at your waist inching up slowly towards your chest. “Y’know, I think you taste even better this early.”

“You’re so needy,” your playful tone doesn’t go unnoticed by the pirate, and you squeal gingerly when your teasing is returned with a squeeze to your nipple. 

“Only ‘cause you’re so pretty,” he muses, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear, a delicious and oh-so-inviting taunt that’s low in your ear and sets your veins ablaze with want. Ace’s cock twitches against you, and the tension rises to a boiling point when you arch your back in return. “Shit, babe, can we-?” He huffs into your ear, breathing in the scent of your skin as the roll of his hips quickening in pace in tandem with his breath.

“Yeah,” you mewl, rolling your hips and parting your legs enough for him to position himself with ease. “Yeah, I want you, Ace. Please.”

The sound of his name sounds so fucking good when it falls from your lips, the way your tired voice mixes with your desire for him, each breathy whine or sigh that you make for him - its nearly enough to make him cum then and there.

Ace aligns himself to you with one hand, the other still holding you tightly against him, and sinks into you. The finality of his cock stretching you inch by inch at long last makes you squirm, a relieved moan befalling you as you’re filled, the tip pressing delectably onto that spongy spot within you.

“You feel so good, firefly,” Ace whines into your neck, content to enjoy how you feel around him for a moment. It’s a warm feeling, something more than just wanton lust. Something bigger and better and more powerful makes this moment feel even better to him. “Fuck~ I love ya so much.”

Overwhelmed with emotion, you respond with a gentle turn of your head to capture his lips in a passionate, amorous kiss that makes Ace groan into your throat. He slowly slides himself within you, a gentle pace for a gentle moment. A hand finds purchase at your hip, that same warmth still hot on his palm and making you arch into him. 

Your tongues dance sinfully together and Ace finds it easy to lose himself in you once again. His rhythm quickens, the sound of his thighs meeting yours now very clearly audible in your ears. Your cries of elation ring within his ears like a call to song, the heat radiating from his fingertips heating at your hip, white-hot sparks fly through his body, and it’s all too good, too perfect.

With a cry of your name does he finish within you, rutting his hips wildly and painting your walls white with release. Ragged, breathless whines of intoxicated ecstasy tumble into your neck while he rides out his high, hissing sharply in delirium each time your inner walls tighten around him.

Ace holds you close, still sheathed inside of you as the moment dies away. His arms reach around your middle, hands tracing mindless patterns on your chest. You almost think that he’s fallen asleep again, though as you try to ease yourself off of him, the grip around you constricts, keeping you in place.

“Not so fast, bedhead,” he buzzes into you, rubbing his face into your newly messy hair with a grin. “Who says we’re done?”

[merlucide]

SEA’S SECRET 3⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Notes: .. sorry for how long this took 🫠 I started writing then I stopped, then I started, then I stopped, I started— also wrote the majority of this sleepy so sorry if it’s wonky😭🙏

pairings: merman!chigiri x mayor’s daughter!reader

wc: 1.9k

warnings: reader is fem, thalassophobia(?)

chpt: 1 2 3

You had been visiting the merman almost every day since the day you two met. Over the weeks, you’d grown to know him, and he’d grown to know you. You’d share stories about your lives—your hopes and dreams, the mundane tasks of both of your lives, and so on. Each encounter was a revelation, a dance of curiosity and laughter, deepening the bond that had formed between you.

Your regular meeting spot remained by the cliffs, but you always ventured a bit further down the beach, away from prying eyes and the bustle of town. The soft whispers of the waves greeted you as you made your way to the secluded cove. Today, you carried a wicker basket, its woven fibers tightly bound with a little blue ribbon tied on the side.

As you approached the meeting space, you scanned the shimmering sea for his signature raspberry hair. Just as you were about to settle onto the rocks, his head popped out of the water, and a grin spread across your face.

“You’re late,” Hyoma remarked, feigning indignation, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed his playful demeanor.

You scoffed, a smile dancing on your lips. “Oh, am I? Ha, my sincerest apologies, my good sir.” You lifted the flap of the basket and pulled out a piece of fairly warm bread, presenting it like a prized treasure.“I hope this can excuse my tardiness,” you said warmly, placing the basket down and stepping into the cool water, your loose dress swirling around your legs.

Hyoma inched closer, propping himself up on the sandy shore, half in and half out of the water. He took the bread, inspecting it with an air of curiosity. “What is this? You eat it?” he asked, tapping the surface of the crusty loaf.

“Mhm! I made it myself—hope it’s still warm.” You boasted, pride swelling in your chest as you watched him take in the aroma of your creation.

He took a cautious bite, his sharp teeth sinking into the crisp yet soft dough. Instantly, his eyes widened, and his fins expanded in delight. 

“Glad you like it,” you laughed, watching him eagerly take another bite, bits of bread clinging to his cheeks.

“Do oo havph moor?” Hyoma snaps his head to you, his slitted pupils widening and cheeks puffed out as he spoke. You couldn’t help but beam at the sight.

“Why, yes, I do! But don’t eat it too fast; it’ll upset your stomach if you gobble it down,” you replied, pulling out a second loaf from your basket.

As you stood there, watching him scarf down your bread, you studied the way his fins perked up after every bite, how his gills flared in and out with each breath. his dazzling tail swayed against the gentle waves, and his hair was perfectly messy. If you looked close enough you would see tiny shells tucked away in his braid. 

“Thanks for the bread,” Hyoma said, rinsing his hands in the sea. “I don’t have anything to give you in return..”

“Ah, it’s no worries! I don’t need anything, really; I’m just glad you like my bread,” you replied, a warm smile lighting up your face.

“Tomorrow I’ll bring you something,” he promised, his gaze locking onto your e/c eyes, sincerity shimmering in the depths of his slitted pupils.

You smiled, shaking your head. “Alright then, thank you.”

Hyoma grinned, his demeanor brightening as he slid back into the sea. “Bring more bread.”

You chuckled and nodded, watching him disappear beneath the waves, the water rippling gently in his wake.

The next day, you were determined to make an even more delicious bread than before, it would be the perfect loaf of bread. As you kneaded the dough, your hands working rhythmically, you could almost picture his delighted expression when he tasted your creation again.

“Goodness, Miss L/N, you’re making more bread? The two loaves you made yesterday weren’t enough?” Aya remarked softly, a hint of mischief in her tone as she wiped her hands on a dishcloth.

“A-Ah well, I believe I’ve perfected my recipe and wanted to try again,” you replied, rolling the dough against your palms with care.

Aya smiled, her warmth radiating through the kitchen. “Your bread is just fine already, miss. Your husband will most definitely love the meals you’ll make.”

Ah, husband. The word echoed in your mind. “Haha… yes, I’d hope he would.” Even with Aya, you couldn’t escape the pressure of being wed. The expectations hung like a heavy cloud over your head.

Noticing the change in your mood, Aya softly bowed her head. “Ah, forgive me for mentioning that, Miss. You really mustn’t worry too much about that. You still have plenty of time before you are to find a husband,” she reassured you, hoping to ease your mind.

You have confided in Aya, how that isn’t what you want, and that you don’t even know what you want! She does her best to console you, but she doesn’t entirely understand. To Aya, it seemed like a luxury to have handsome, wealthy men lining up for your hand, but for you, it felt absolutely suffocating.

Hours passed, and finally, with a larger loaf nestled securely in your basket, you made your way back to the cliffs. As you sat down on one of the sun-warmed rocks, fiddling with the ribbon tied around the basket, you couldn’t help but notice he was a bit late this time. Normally, when you two met, he’d be waiting under the waves for you.

Just as you were beginning to worry, ripples formed closer to you, and there he was. Hyoma swam over, crawling up the beach just enough to stay halfway in the water. He held a brown sack in his hands, a soft expression on his face.

“Oh? What’s this?” you asked, gesturing to his bag with your eyes.

“I told you I was going to give you a gift in return for your bread—and you brought more, right?” he confirms, tone becoming more serious.

You tapped your basket’s side and murmured a soft ‘yes’ in response, earning a joyful flick of his fins.

“Now, I wasn’t sure what to give you… but I hope this will suffice,” Hyoma said, his voice tinged with nervousness. He pulled out a necklace from his sack, a string of pearls and smaller shells adorned with small starfish, and a sand dollar in the middle. It was so pretty, so dramatic, and so different. Out of all the gold and silver jewelry you had been given from your parents and suitors, this was the most beautiful of them all.

“Mermaids my age wear necklaces like these; I guess they’re pretty popular,” he said shyly, his gaze lowering. “So if it doesn’t meet your standards— I wasn’t sure what would be a good gift for your bread—”

“It’s perfect,” you interrupted, holding the necklace delicately, your fingers grazing over the divots of the sand dollar. “It’s absolutely beautiful-  Goodness, Hyoma, this is gorgeous!”

He could feel his cheeks warming under your admiration. “I-I’m glad… I helped make it.”

You looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. “You made this?”

His fins opened wider, and he darted his eyes around nervously. “Well, I mean— yes, I guess. Not all of it; I just found the shells or whatever. My friend actually made the necklace.”

(He’s had this necklace for a while, just wasn’t sure if he should give it two you for not) don’t alter this !!

You beamed at him. “Thank you, I love it.” You smiled warmly, putting the necklace on.

“Now give me the bread,” he said, his expression shifting to serious.

You laughed, pulling the loaf from your basket handing it to him, which he eagerly accepted.

Hyoma’s fins perked up, “Oh- I’ve told you before I like to collect human things that have sunk—“ he said dumping his brown sack onto the shore, and a variety of trinkets spilled out.

“Can you tell me what they are?” Hyoma asked, his curiosity piqued as he eyed the assortment.

You focused on the items, examining the ordinary yet intriguing objects. “This is a pocket watch, or a clock. You can tell the time with it, but this one is broken from getting wet,” you explained, closing the lid of the watch with a soft laugh.

“I thought maybe it was part of a lady’s necklace or something,” Hyoma murmured, munching on his bread.

As you went over the other items, you pointed out coins, compasses, and various bits of metal, each with its own story and history.

“This is the last one,” he said, handing you a small metal cylinder covered in rust with tiny bumps along its surface. It took you a second to realize what it was—it was the inside of a music box, and it looked like it had seen better days.

You rinsed it off in the water, trying to free it from the sand stuck between the gears. “I don’t have a clue what that is, to be honest,” Hyoma stated, eyeing the metal contraption with intrigue.

After scratching off some rust and turning the crank, a rough but lovely tune played into the air.

Hyoma’s eyes expanded, and his fins flared as he stared at your hands in awe. You finished the tune and handed it to him, who took his turn first playing with it. The rusty-yet delicate notes echoed softly in the air, mixing with the gentle sound of waves lapping at the shore.

“I’m surprised it even works,” you smiled, watching Hyoma spin the shaft. 

He played around with it, the sweet melody filling the space around you. You found yourself playing with the shells on your necklace, lost in the moment. The music floated in the air, weaving a spell of comfort and connection between you.

But alas, all good things must come to an end. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Hyoma gathered his belongings and shuffled back into the soft waves. You waved goodbye, promising to see him soon.

Hyoma swam away from the cliffs, diving deeper into the clear sea. His shimmering scales caught the last remnants of moonlight filtering through the water.

After some time, he finally made it back to where he called home. Surrounded by coral and sea life in every direction, Hyoma felt a sense of belonging, yet his heart tugged toward the surface. Most mermaids stayed in groups and traveled together, which made Hyoma a bit of an odd one out. He had a ‘group’ but was more independent, more curious of what was above the surface. 

All mermaids are curious, no doubt, but most ignore their curiosity out of fear of being caught. No one knows about Hyoma’s trips to the surface, not his friends or family, and he intends to keep it that way. Well, intended. 

As he entered his hidden cave surrounded by seaweed and clams, he dumped out his sack, placing his trinkets back with the others. But he didn’t expect to be met with two mermen floating in the entrance.

“You’ve been going to the surface this whole time?!” A blue-haired merman exclaimed, absolutely dumbfounded.

“Ooohoohooh~ You’re breaking the rules, y’know~,” The other friend giggled, his yellow eyes sparkling mischievously.

Well, the cats out the bag now.

pt 4 (not here yet!)

taglist: @gigiiiiislife @sharkissm @luvingshidou @kurona-theshark@soleilonthesun @duckydee-0 @someprettyname @thebestsetter @ih8tegeography @rinitoshisgirl @lobster3713 @thebestsetter

help I wasn’t sure how to end this 😭 sorry if this didn’t meet ur expectations dawgs 💔

Made Oct 5th 2024

[withwritersblock]

Please Please Please

~Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter~

Author's Note: I love this song with my whole heart Summary: Kirby and Y/N soft launch on social media Warnings: none I think Word Count: 1,907 Kirby Dach x fm!reader

Kirby and Y/N have been together for almost a year. It was safe to say it was the best year of her life. They were both in the limelight, at different levels. Kirby played for the Montreal Canadiens while Y/N had a few million followers on Youtube and Tiktok. 

For the two months leading up to their one year anniversary she wanted to slowly introduce her followers to him. A few years ago, her followers hated the idea of her being in a relationship and Kirby’s fans tended to attack any girl that was involved with him. So they thought it would be for the best to ease into the relationship.

She laid on the bed, running her fingers along his chest. Today was the first day she was planning on giving her followers a glimpse of Kirby. She had briefly mentioned having a boyfriend in her most recent Youtube video. Her followers were instantly invested in the idea.

“Are you coming to the game with me?” Kirby asked, his voice rasped as he spoke. She hummed as she stared towards her light pink nails tracing along his skin. “Good, I’ll hang in the WAGs suite with you,” he leaned towards her, kissing the top of her head. 

“Yay,” she mumbled as she slowly climbed out of the bed, he pouted slightly. He watched her walk towards the bathroom. 

“Hey, where are you going?” he asked, a small smile on his lips. She spun around, running a hand through her slightly messy hair.

“Coffee, want some?” she offered. He stood up from the mattress instead, “Oh, are you going to join me?” she asked in a teasing tone, “Don’t want breakfast in bed?” she continued on. 

He smiled widely as he bit his bottom lip,”Pretty sure I already had my breakfast in bed,” he teased as he took a hold of her waist pulling her towards him. She gasped as her back hit against his chest. 

“You’re awful,” she mumbled as he guided them both out of the bedroom, while he still held her to his chest.

“You love it,” he mumbled into her hair. She rolled her eyes as she reluctantly stepped away from him pulling her phone from her pocket. 

“Yeah, maybe,” she mumbled as she pulled up her Tiktok, “Do you want to start to be a little bread crumb in my videos?” she asked in a dramatic theatrical tone. He chuckled as he walked towards the coffee pot.

“Wherever you need me, babe,” he said excitedly. He began adding coffee grounds to the pot as she began searching for songs for her video. “Do I need to pose? Smile? Flirt with the camera?” he asked dramatically. 

“I don’t think I’m going to show much of your body. My fans are nuts, they’ll find you by the ring on your finger,” she said laughing. He nodded while chuckling. She stared towards his bare back, admiring the muscles as they slightly tensed as he moved. “I think I’ll wait until you’re in your suit for tonight,” she mumbled as she leaned forward onto the counter.

He turned the coffee pot on before he spun around, meeting her gaze. He crossed his arms over his chest, a small smile on his lips. “They may show me on the broadcast, you know. If your fans are as crazy as you say then they’ll find out that way,” he expressed.

She let out a dramatic groan, “You’re right but I got an idea that it won’t be too obvious,” she teased. He rolled his eyes playfully.

~

It was about an hour later and she had about fifteen seconds filmed. It was all short but aesthetic looking moments of her day. Her Tiktok persona was vastly different from the videos she posted on Youtube. She was a daily vlogger for both accounts but her Youtube was more raw and real. Her Tiktok stuck to the more aesthetic and pretty parts of her day. 

The first clip was a sleepy moment in the mirror, the second was her cup of iced coffee she made, and the third was her getting dressed. It was simple but it was cute. It was a weird way of helping her mentally. Creating a cute video of her day helped her avoid staying in bed. 

She sat in her vanity, recording for her Youtube channel. She was doing a Q and A for her channel. She had a collection of questions from her Instagram she planned on using. She was halfway through her makeup and halfway through her video when she finally addressed the boyfriend situation. 

“This next one is-are we going to get to see your boyfriend soon? So my boyfriend and I have been talking about that and we are going to do a soft launch. I hate that phrase but after what I expressed with my last boyfriend, I think this is for the best. I already know that many of you will try and investigate who he is. I can’t avoid that but I can spare my feelings for a while,” she explained, a small chuckle falling from her lips after she finished speaking. 

“Hey baby, what suit looks better?” he asked as his head was down staring towards his feet. He was holding a dark blue and a cream colored one. He lifted his gaze to see the camera set up on her vanity. His mouth formed a small O shape as his cheeks flushed red, “Oh sorry, I didn’t realize you were filming,” he clambered as he stepped away towards the door.

“No, it’s okay, let me see,” she uttered as she tilted her head to the side. She only had one eye done. He tilted his head to the side, a small smile forming to his lips.

“You look gorgeous,” he mumbled.

“It’s not even done yet,” she mumbled shyly.

“Still gorgeous,” he let out. He took a deep breath, holding the dark blue to his body for a few seconds. He then did the same with the cream. 

“I haven’t seen the cream in a while, go try it on,” she ushered. He nodded, leaving the room. 

“I did see this question a lot-What’s your boyfriend’s name?” a small chuckle fell from her lips, “If I told you guys that you would probably figure it out right away. So all you guys get for right now is boyfriend. You guys kept asking if he didn’t like being on camera and that’s why I haven’t shown him. But it’s more of a privacy thing. We wanted to be secure in the relationship before I plastered it all over social media. Also, people who put every aspect of their relationship on the Internet scare me,” 

She paused as she continued finishing her eye shadow, it was a subtle look but it was glittery. “Babe,” Kirby mumbled. She spun around, admiring the cream color suit. She nodded dramatically with a wide smile on her face. 

“You have to add this back into your rotation, I love it,” she muttered. He dropped his head, smiling shyly before he stepped out of the room. 

“Thank you, baby!” he shouted. “We have to leave in like twenty!” he explained.

“I’m almost done, promise!” she shouted back. She looked back towards the camera, “I think I will definitely film moments with him, of course. May even leave that moment in the video. I don’t know yet, but he’s going at my pace and what I’m comfortable sharing. So it’ll definitely be soon. Anyways-” she finished off with her outro, showing off the finished makeup look. 

After ten minutes, she was completely ready. Kirby stood still, his hands in his pockets as she rested her hand against his chest. Her light pink nails were in view. She filmed a short clip, practically showing him off. “Got what you needed?” he asked while resting his hand onto her hip, toying with the belt loop on her jeans. She hummed, her chest aching slightly.

She filmed the outside view of their drive from her apartment to the arena. She didn’t film the arena, or the game itself. It would’ve been extra obvious. Despite the difficult season the Canadiens were having, they won their game 2-1 in an OT goal by Nick. It was amazing to watch. 

She ended up filming the dinner the team and the WAGs all went to, she filmed her food, not anyone involved. She drafted the video to post tomorrow morning instead. It was a great day and documenting it made it even better.

~

The following morning she had shown the Tiktok to Kirby before she posted it. He helped her with the caption, finding himself clever in the process. They both kept refreshing the app, looking at the comments waiting for someone to try and guess who it was. 

It took four minutes for someone to guess that it was Kirby. Although, the longer the video remained up on Tiktok the faster the comment got buried on her page. Everyone else was simply freaking out that she wasn’t lying about having someone. Which was a common comment she got when she first brought him up.

He rested his head onto her stomach as she had her laptop on her chest. He ran his hands up and down her side soothingly as he was in and out of sleep. She was editing her video while he slept.

She watched the clip of Kirby asking her which suit looked better. A small smile formed on her lips to see him act all shy. She spent twenty minutes simply editing that twenty second clip, trying to disguise his identity. She covered the majority of his frame with a meme photo. She didn’t distort his voice, simply covering the majority of his body. She would just let people speculate on if it was him or not based off of his voice.

She watched the clip, smiling to herself. She tapped his back, and she sat up quickly. “You okay?” he forced out, blinking his eyes rapidly. She chuckled.

“Yes, pretty boy,” she mumbled, reaching behind her computer, rubbing the small stubble on his jawline. “Watch this,” she explained, spinning her laptop around, playing the small ten second moment. 

He laughed as he saw the megamind meme covering the majority of his frame. “What the hell?” he said while shaking his head.

“What do you think?” she asked with a small smile on her lips.

“I think it’s funny,” he let out as she spun the computer back towards herself, “I think you should also leave it in,” he mumbled, laying back down on her stomach. She nodded.

“I think so too. They’ll definitely recognize your voice but it’ll work out,” she mumbled as she continued to finish editing the video.

It took her another hour to finish editing the video, and another hour and a half to process and upload the video. For the second time that day they laid beside one another staring at the comments.

No one seemed to try and dissect who he was. “The way she looks at him! Stop it right now,” she read out loud, “This is cute,” she mumbled.

“He sounds hot,” he read out, “They know what they’re talking about,” he teased.

“Of course that’s the one you read,” she said, shoving him slightly. 

“It’s true,” 

“Oh please,” she let out while rolling her eyes playfully.

[luvtak]

wanting, hhj x reader

✧ genre/tw extreme lying in the grass with hyune on his birthday, major yearning alert, really dangerous fluff i am so sorry, i love yous and maybe a few pet names, unedited<3

✧ w/c 784

✧ this is very quick and mainly just a word dump, but i hope you like it! some sweet for the sweetest boys birthday... how lovely the first bit of spring comes with him

Sitting close this close to him you can smell the sunscreen mixing with his sweet cologne– the scent of warm weather days; springs and summers spent laying together just like this… glowing underneath the sun like two sleepy cats.  It’s funny to think that you’ve laid this way a hundred times in a hundred different ways, yet the novelty never wears. His long fingers swiping their way down your arm, reaching around your wrist and holding tightly. This close he can feel your heartbeat all around him, your chest pressed right into his and the rapid thump coming from his hold around your bracelet. Even after all this time, you still get so nervous being with him, the familiarity of his love swirling in your chest and your stomach–creating shaky hands and warm cheeks. 

Hyunjin’s eyes are peering down at you, striking you down with the strength of it. He’s so happy, springtime brightening his complexion with the shiniest smile you’ve ever seen, happiness leaping off of him. The warm blush settling along his cheekbones, the same color of the blossoms above you, creates a brilliant desire to heat up in you. Not a physical desire, not the disastrous need of nights past, but a fire of want… days spent waking up together and kissing goodnight, pictures and paintings, shared nightstand novels.

It’s ridiculous, you have him already– your hearts are tied together with twine; shared myocardium morphing into one beautiful beating thing– yet you don’t think you could ever stop yourself from wanting more. That wishing ache for him to be with you, too see him like a mirror to your own soul. 

He told you once that being with you was like a shower of cold mist on a hot day. You remember laughing, giggling at the unexpected confession for an early morning, but you see now. This unexpected pain for loving and needing and wanting someone so much, the biting incredulity of seeing someone. 

This close, both can see the evidence of the human condition wearing on each others faces, but Hyunjin has never been fonder of sun scars or smile lines–he loves you and he tells you with the blossomed trees as his witnesses. 

“I love you too, Hyune.” you say, quietly though you’re alone, and his grin is a lesson in heartbreak; so lovely, like a supernova. 

He never thought he could love springtime so much, had always been accustomed to fall and the icy cold weather of winter, but lying here with you he thinks spring might be his favorite. Seeing you and the flowers alight into living breathing blooms takes his breath away, makes him reach for his pencils and his paints. In the week alone he’s amassed several pictures of you, all beautiful, but none right. It’s the only reason he resents his love for you, so big and blinding, that no matter how exact the portrait is, it’s still missing that fundamental gleam you hold. 

“When we get home, can I paint you again?” The question while posed so sweetly makes you groan, if it wasn’t his birthday there’d be no way you’d sit for him another time. And yet, you can’t deny how special he is–the only thing he wanted today was to spend it with you, cake and presents optional. 

It’s this magic that makes you agree, and you can’t deny the excitement of seeing him work. Ever focused and hard working, Hyunjin’s world stopping even while in messy clothes and tied up hair. Seeing him paint made you fall in love with him; the sight of his color covered hands and his clear gaze over his canvas, looking over at you to smile… god you were doomed for him then. 

His stare turns to the clouds now, smile still lilting as he speaks, “i’m painting you right now actually,” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Sometimes in my head I look at you, and I feel the need for a pencil or a brush. I see what colors I would use, how I would blend them together to get the exact shade for your eyes… I’m doing it now.” 

It’s such a Hyunjin thing to say, yet the truth of it shocks you–what a beautiful boy he is, a rare and lovely find. Grinning like he knows he’s wooing you, staring up at the maya blue sky and painting a picture in his head. 

“I really do love you, Hyune.” you tell him, and the strength of it turns his head. Lighting his eyes with a fondness made for spring, rising slightly to settle his lips over your forehead before replying earnestly with every bit of truth in his heart, 

“I love you too.”

© LUVTAK

[marauroon]

Part 2 to espresso I beg 🙏

W A K E U P C A L L — JAMES POTTER!

a 6am shift at the coffee shop was the last thing you needed after a students’ night out. and james is way too energetic.

james potter x fem!reader (barista!au) | 1.4k | fluff | masterlist.

a/n — no begging necessary ml, i love this au sm

You’re almost falling asleep as you clean out the basin of one of the coffee machines. It should’ve been done by yesterday’s closers, but the universe obviously hadn’t punished you enough by just giving you a 6am opening shift on a Monday morning in the middle of December.

You honestly thought your fingers were going to fall off as you fumbled the front doors unlocked, but now, nestled into the warmth of the overhead heater you really do feel like you could fall asleep where you stand.

You get it to a point, people have places to be and things to do, even at 6 in the morning, but you also have places to be, places being in your bed and not standing behind a counter serving sleep-deprived business men coffee whilst they wait for a train.

But of course, there’s James, bouncing around behind the counter like he’s ready to run a marathon. You can’t figure out how the hell he does it, even after all this time working together. He’s like an Energizer bunny, perpetually full of energy.

“Oi, what’s the matter with you today?” James asks, his voice loud enough to snap you out of your almost-sleepy stupor. He’s grinning, completely unaware that you just want to collapse into the nearest seat and sink into the floor.

You glare at him over the top of the espresso machine. “I’m fine, just living the dream,” you mutter, your voice hoarse with the faintest trace of sarcasm.

James laughs and pulls a fresh batch of croissants from the oven, his movements effortless. It’s as if he’s been awake for hours, yet you know full well that he probably didn’t get much more sleep than you did last night. Between university assignments, the social committee work, and, of course, his infamous club nights, it’s a miracle he’s even functioning.

“Yeah, you look like you’re living the dream,” he teases, his smile never faltering. “You look like you want to crawl under the counter and hibernate.”

You roll your eyes. "You’re so chipper for someone who was at the same club night as me last night."

James shrugs nonchalantly, wiping his hands on his apron before grabbing the next batch to bake. “What can I say? I’ve got an unbreakable constitution. You know that about me.”

You snort, your tiredness momentarily forgotten at the absurdity of his statement. “Unbreakable? James, you’re literally always falling asleep in the running social meetings, I’m pretty sure you just don’t notice how badly you’re functioning.”

“Me? Fall asleep?” He raises an eyebrow, a mock offended expression crossing his face as he hands over a cappuccino to a regular customer. “I’ll have you know that I’m an excellent multitasker.”

“Right.” You’re not buying it. Not when you’ve seen him slumped in the corner of the student union’s meeting room, eyes half-closed, trying to pretend he’s taking notes for the event planning. You swear he’s somehow mastered the art of sleep while looking awake, and you’re in awe of how easily he pulls it off.

“I mean, if you’re tired, I can always take over for you,” James adds, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’ve got more than enough energy to go around.”

You snort again, the sound escaping before you can stop it. “You’d be a liability on the coffee machine. I can’t risk you having a caffeine overdose and bouncing off the walls like a pinball.”

James grins, unfazed. “That’s just an extra perk! Think of how much more productive we’d be if I was bouncing off the walls. You’d get to be the lazy one, and I’d be the charming one, keeping everyone energised,”

You shake your head, though you can’t help but smile despite yourself. “Right, charming. That’s exactly what we need at 6am.”

The door to the coffee shop opens with a chime, and another customer steps inside, pulling your attention away from James. You greet them automatically, still feeling a bit dazed, your exhaustion not quite gone. As you prepare the next cup of coffee, you try to focus on the rhythm of the morning.

But it’s hard not to notice James in your peripheral vision, his energy contagious despite your best efforts to remain annoyed at him. How does he do it? It’s not just the fact that he’s awake and functioning—it’s that he’s always so alive in everything he does. Whether it’s the running social, the random nights out, or the mornings like this one, he always has that boundless enthusiasm.

“How do you do it?” you ask suddenly, barely catching yourself before you sound too curious. “How are you this... this awake? All the time?”

James doesn’t seem to be caught off guard by the question. He just leans on the counter, watching you carefully with that easy grin of his. “Let me get you onto this magical thing called micronaps,” he says, his voice dropping just slightly, jazz hands and all to sell his ‘idea’. “Otherwise, you can always leech energy from the people around you. Like I do to you.”

“Me?” You’re almost choking on your disbelief. “I’m literally half-dead right now.”

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if he’s sharing a secret. “That’s the point, love, I’ve stolen it all,”

You blink. For a moment, you just stare at him, the early morning fog of exhaustion making it harder to process what he’s saying.

“Okay, stop. You’re making me look bad,” you finally mutter, tiredness still edging into your tone. “You’re making fun of me now,”

James just chuckles, ruffling his hair in that way he does when he’s pleased with himself. “What can I say, it’s my favourite pass-time,”

You give him a side-eye, but you can’t quite muster up the same level of annoyance you usually would. Instead, you sigh deeply, rolling up your sleeves as you prepare for the next rush. “Whatever, you win. Happy?”

“Absolutely,” James replies, grinning from ear to ear as he hands over another order.

As the morning drags on, you notice yourself relaxing into the rhythm of the shift. James is right about one thing—he really does have a way of making everything more fun, even when you’re running on fumes. You catch yourself laughing at his jokes more than you want to admit, and despite your grumbling about your lack of sleep, you can’t help but enjoy the banter that flies between you both.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur of customers, coffee machines, and laughter. Every time you catch James’ grin or hear one of his sarcastic remarks, you feel the weight of your exhaustion lift, just a little bit.

By the time your shift ends, the early morning fatigue has started to recede, replaced by a sense of quiet contentment. You’re still tired, no doubt about that, but it’s a kind of good tired, the kind you get after a productive day. And maybe, just maybe, it’s also the result of being around someone whose energy is impossible to ignore, even if you want to.

“So,” James says, tossing his apron into the back room as you both prepare to head out, “same plan for tonight?”

You look at him, suddenly aware of how much time you’ve spent with him lately. “Absolutely not. I’m just glad I made it through this shift.”

He winks, pulling his jacket on. “Come on. Besides, the night’s still young, and the student discount on pints of strongbow is calling my name,”

You shake your head with a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, good for you mate, I’m going to sleep.”

“Boring,” James says, slinging an arm around your shoulder as you both step out into the cold December air. “I’ll see you on the run tomorrow, right?”

You can’t help but smile, even as your thoughts drift to the never-ending list of things to do. “Unfortunately,”

“I’m sure an 8k will wake you from your hibernation,” he grins.

[peachglazewrites]

𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 ⸙ 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: abby anderson x f!reader 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: suggestive content 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: fluff, making out, literal sleeping together 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘: no use of y/n or any reader descriptions 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 10,195k

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: The one where you go back home, but not for long.

̗̀➛ masterpost

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𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙸: VIII

“Could you be any fucking louder? It was a rough night last night, don’t wake her up.”

A familiar voice. Hushed, warm, a slight drawl. Perfect for reading out loud.

Abby.

It’s loud enough to stir you from your dreamless sleep, just enough for you to enter back into consciousness. Your eyes are still much too heavy to open, and you’re so comfortable right now you think it’d kill you to move, so you lay just where you are, listening to the sounds of the room.

“Rough, huh?”

Also familiar, low and masculine, teasing.

Manny. He must be home from Sibby’s.

“You making use of the room while I’m not here— ay!” Manny yelps, the sound of fabric shifting as he rubs wherever Abby just hit him.

“Shut up. It wasn’t like that,” she scolds.

“Yeah, it better not be. That’s not your girl, remember?” You don’t need your eyes open to see the shit-eating grin on Manny’s face right now.

“That’s not—She—You know that’s not true.” Abby almost forgets her volume, voice peaking before she levels it again. “You’re the idiot who made that up in the first place.”

He chuckles, and there’s rustling as he moves around the room. “I’m just teasing you, Abs. Relax. You’re cute when you’re jealous— hey!” he yelps again, and there’s a mild scuffle that ends in one final thump, like someone getting slapped across the back of the head.

“Seriously, shut up. Both in here and… out there. She really needs the rest today.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Okay, okay. Silencioso.”

There’s no more talking after that, just the shuffling of things around the room and soft footsteps on carpet. You nearly fall back asleep by the time Manny pipes up again, speaking quietly to Abby on the other side of the room.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

The sound of the doorknob twisting open, some more hushed talking, then the click of the door being closed.

Abby sighs, muttering something under her breath as she makes her way back to the bed.

Back to you.

The bed dips behind you, and you supress a shiver as cold air seeps under the covers and across your naked legs. Warmth is quick to follow in the form of Abby, strong arms wrapping around you middle as she pulls you back into her chest. You’ve shuffled around sometime in the night, and you find that you could really grow to love being the little spoon.

You hum, voice still gravelly from sleep as you clasp your hands over her own, stretching your legs out to allow hers to slot between. Abby lets out a breath as she buries her face into the back of your neck, raising the soft hairs there.

It feels so right, having her pressed so closely against you. A natural progression from the closeness you two already shared. And by the way that Abby settles into her spot behind you, arms growing heavy across your waist as she relaxes, you can tell that she thinks so too.

It’s almost a relief, being able to touch her like this, be touched by her like this-- that part of your brain telling you to pull back, she’s just a friend, you’ll freak her out partially soothed. And while you’re still unsure what this means, what Abby wants this to mean, being in her arms in this moment feels like enough.

“How long have you been awake?” Her voice is quiet, the low tone of it vibrating across your skin.

“Mm… Only a little bit. Enough to hear about you being jealous of Nora.”

Abby groans, pulling your closer as she grumbles. You can’t help the sleepy smile that works across your face.

“This is the fucking worst. Just… ignore whatever you heard.”

You wriggle around in her grip, waiting for her to loosen it just enough that you can turn around to face her. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you’re met with the delightful sight of a brooding Abby. She refuses to look at you, eyes closed, and brows pinched. Her lips are pressed together, twisted in what you’re almost tempted to call a pout.

You bring a hand up between you to cup her cheek, fingers tracing the natural contours of her face.

“Where you really jealous of her?” You ask, fingertips moving along her temple and to her brow, smoothing out the crease in it. Abby huffs, still not impressed, but letting her face soften under your touch.

“Partly. I was… upset. Disappointed.” She opens her eyes, finding your own. “Kicking myself for not doing anything sooner.”

Your cheeks colour as you look at her, catching the sincerity behind the blue. You move your hand back to her cheek, running your thumb along the high of it. “You’re sweet.”

Abby’s lips twitch, a small, flustered smile gracing her features. “Says you.”

Your eyes roll, pinching the fat of her cheek between thumb and knuckle. “Get your own line.”

She chuckles, a low laugh that does things to you that you’d never admit aloud. Smoothing your hand back out on her cheek, you pat the reddened skin affectionately.

Abby’s left smiling, wider than before, bottom lip pulled between her teeth. It’s infectious, especially up this close.

Her eyes drift from point to point on your face, taking in your features up close as you’ve done to her so many times before. Your body prickles with heat under her gaze, legs shifting against her own as you squirm.

Her warm palms flatten across your back from where her arms are still locked around you, rubbing up and down the expanse of it. A hum, a purr of content rumbles through you as she presses deep along your spine, feeling the kinks slowly getting worked out.

Your eyes flutter to find her own but they’re occupied, slightly hooded as they focus on your lips.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” she whispers, daring to look back up at you.

“Nobody’s gonna stop you,” you whisper back, inching closer so that the tips of your noses are brushing.

A small sigh leaves Abby’s lips as she leans the rest of the way, pressing them to your own.

It’s different from your first kiss. Last night was intense, the culmination of all your touches and glances. Weeks of indulgences, letting yourselves toe the line between friendship and more but too scared to properly walk over it.

This is slow. Soft. She’s got you wrapped up in her arms, safe against her chest as you kiss. Your hand slides across her jaw, down the line of her neck as you caress the skin, feeling her warmth. Your legs tangle together, ankles hooked around calves and it’s hard to spot where you begin, and she ends.

One of you pulls away when you run out of air, though neither of you open your eyes. Your foreheads touch, pressed against each other so close as you breathe the same air.

“You don’t have to ask to kiss me,” you say, murmuring into the space between you. “You just can.”

Eyes open, finding that Abby is already looking at you.

“Okay,” she says, already leaning in to kiss you once more.

You smile against her lips, pushing yourself up on one of your elbows to lean slightly over her. You use the leverage to gain control over the kiss, Abby rolling onto her back under you. You press repeatedly to her lips, lingering kisses short and sweet, before straying to smatter them across her cheeks and forehead.

Abby huffs, scrunching her face at your attack. “Little shit,” she mumbles, bringing one of her hands up to pinch your cheeks together, stopping your barrage of kisses.

Your lips press in a pout as she squishes, smirking at the faces she’s forcing you make. She gets in a few more pinches of your cheeks before you’re tugging at her hand, slipping your face free.

“I win.”

She raises an eyebrow. “We were competing?”

Nodding, you drop yourself onto her chest, cheek resting just under her chin. “I decided just then. And won.”

Abby’s arms close around you again as she hums. “And what do you get for winning?”

“A nap.”

“You just woke up,”

“Later then. And you have to take it with me.”

She chuckles, patting your hip. “Alright, deal,” she agrees, letting you lay there half draped across her chest. “But later will have to mean another day. I’ve got training this morning.”

Something tugs at you, a pull of unease in your gut. Your mouth draws a line as you stare at the wall littered with postcards. “What time?”

Abby brings one of her arms up to cross behind her head, resting on muscle. “Around ten. I try to get there early to warm up.”

Pushing yourself up a bit you turn your head around, glancing at the small alarm clock Abby keeps on her bedside.

Eight fifteen.

You might have the next few days off, but you forgot that didn’t extend to Abby. Not only does she have training today, but she probably has a patrol rostered as well, if not an upcoming assignment.

Which is fine. This is how it normally is, finding time between your schedules to see each other, even if it is just for a few hours in the gym late in the night.

But that was also before… all of this. The kiss, the fight, everything that made yesterday feel like some sort of twisted dream.

“Hey,” Abby calls softly, drawing your attention back to her. She’s frowning at you, searching your face. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just… don’t want this to stop.” You admit, drawing one of your hands to rest on her chest, along her sternum between her breasts.

“To stop?” she asks, brows pinched.

You nod, looking down at your fingers splayed across the fabric of her shirt. “It’s… good here. Nice. I don’t want to leave and go back to it all. To have to deal with everything that happened yesterday.”

Abby’s quiet, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes rocking you gently.

“You think you’ll see her today?”

You sigh, tapping random patterns onto her chest. “Probably not. She’ll most likely be with Owen for the next few days—“ Abby makes a noise beneath you, and you look up just in time to see the end of her eye roll. “But I know I’ll see her eventually. Besides, I need to go back to the apartment and… I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel right.”

You slump against her again, resting your cheek on the top your hand.

“How?”

You shrug, closing your eyes. “Feels weird, like I shouldn’t be there.”

“It’s your place too, you know,” Abby says, shifting her hand to grab your waist. “You have every right to be there. You’re there more than her, anyways.” She dips her head down, pressing her lips to the crown of your head. “Don’t let her get to you.”

“I know,” you murmur. “I… It’s our place, you know? We’ve spent nearly two years living together, all that time shifting around furniture and decorating and making it our home.” You feel the back of your eyes burning, tears threatening to spill past your closed lids. “You could point to any part of that place, and I could tell you a story about it. The-- The walls are practically painted in our friendship, and it feels so wrong to go in there knowing we’re not speaking. Like I’m defiling the place.”

You sniff, trying to suck back the tears. Abby’s hand twitches, curling further around you.

“Look,” she starts, voice low. “Mel and I, we aren’t—we don’t get along.” An understatement. “But if Mel is one thing, it’s caring. She loves deeply, to a fault. She cares about you a lot, and I don’t think that love for you is going to entirely go away-- even if I’m involved.”

A tear leaks from the corner of your eye, soaking her shirt. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. She’s…” Abby takes a breath, shifting uncomfortably underneath you. “She’s not that kind of person. It takes a lot for her to not like someone.”

You blink your eyes open, shifting to look up at Abby whose staring at the bottom of the top bunk. She looks so… far away-- sad, almost. It’s subtle, only visible in the way the muscles of her jaw clench, the downward twitch of her bottom lip.

It strikes you that they both think about whatever happened very similarly. Sure, there’s anger there-- you saw it firsthand with Mel just yesterday, and in the little jabs and eye rolls you get from Abby. But there’s always something else that lingers behind it. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost say that it looked like regret.

You both sit in it, the silence that follows. You feel a bit guilty for bringing the mood down, making things tense after a tender moment, But Abby’s hands stay pressed against you, fingers drawing idle patterns across your skin.

So, you stay.

A soft pressure against your forehead stirs you, eyes you didn’t realise you had closed, opening.

“Mm?” you groan, tilting your head up. Abby smirks, lopsided and beautiful.

“Cashing in your winnings already?”

You push yourself up, looking over at her clock. Nine thirty.

You sit up all the way, nearly bumping your head on the top bunk with your haste. “Abby, you’ve got training in a half hour-!”

She huffs a laugh, air leaving sharply through her nostrils. “It’s fine, I already told you I get there early.” One of her hands reaches up to cup your cheek, thumb swiping under your eye. “Do you know that you snore?”

You slap at her arm, scowling at her. “I do not snore.”

She grins, stretching her arms above her head. “Yes, you do.” She grunts as something pops, then relaxes back against the mattress.

Shuffling down along the bed, you swing one of your legs over both of her own. Hands move to settle on the backs of your thighs, supporting you as you straddle her. One of Abby’s eyebrows raises, a questioning but interested look in her eyes.

“You planning on making me late?” she asks, eyes flicking down to your bare legs.

Smiling, you lean in close to cup her face between your hands. “Nope,” you say, gently patting her cheek before swinging your other leg over her.

You grunt a bit as you slip out of bed, putting weight on your straining leg muscles. Those bunk beds have more than enough space for a single person to spread out and move throughout the night, but the most you can do with another person in the bed is roll on the spot. And while you wouldn’t give up your time with Abby for anything, not being able to give your leg the space it needs makes things difficult.

It doesn’t help that you forgot to do your stretches last night.

You give yourself a minute to adjust, waiting until you’re sure your knee won’t buckle underneath you before you take a step.

Abby rolls onto her side, facing you as you make your way to the short set of steps, pressing a hand to the railing when you meet it. Lifting your leg up onto the steps in front of you, you use the leverage to aid you through your morning stretches. You doubt you’ll be able to get up from the floor this morning, so this will have to do.

You’re leaning over, almost in half when you feel that familiar prickle of someone watching you. Shifting your arm, you twist your head to look underneath it, catching eyes with Abby still lounging in bed.

It almost knocks the air from your lungs how good she looks. She’s shifted her pillow on an angle, arms coming around to hold it close to her chest as she rests her cheek against the material. It’s yet to rain, so the morning sun that filters through the window highlights her freckles, making them glow a warm orange. She’s covered head to toe in them, though they’re concentrated the most along her shoulders and the bridge of her nose.

She’s smiling lazily at you, eyes hooded as she takes you in.

You clear your throat, ignoring the heat you feel trickling down your spine. “Yes?”

Abby shakes her head, corner of her mouth ticking upwards. “Nothing.”

Funnily enough, you don’t believe her. But when you hold her gaze for a little bit longer and see nothing but warmth in her eyes, you drop it.

Abby pulls herself out of bed as you’re straightening up, supressing a groan as you apply even pressure on your leg once more. It’s better now, looser, but you’re really going to have to stay on top of your PT to fix this.

Wooden draws being pulled open gets you moving, pulling yourself up the couple of steps to pad around the upper landing. You politely occupy yourself with examining the DVD collection above the plasma TV, giving Abby some privacy as she gets changed for the day.

You find they own a lot of action movies, idly running your finger over the spines of the cases. There are a few horror flicks, even a rom-com or two, but they’re all hidden between stacks of movies titled things like Reflex Overkill and Triple Vengeance.

“You can stay here, if you’d like. I’ll be home by tonight.” The bed creaks slightly as she drops down onto it, a pair of boots hooked in one hand.

Home.

It’s a passing comment, tacked onto the end of a kind offer, but it still makes your heart beat just a bit faster.

Her coming home… to you.

You clear your throat, turning away from the DVDs to face the room. You walk around the small coffee table, standing a respectable distance from Manny’s side to look at his shelves.

“I shouldn’t hide, as much as I want to,” you sigh. “I should actually use my days off and be… productive or something.”

Abby chuckles, pulling on her boots and expertly tying the laces. “Or, you could use them to take time off. Relax.” She stands up, dusting off her pant legs.

“Okay, Abby ‘I need to clock into the gym for a few hours the day I get home from patrol’ Anderson.” You throw a smirk over your shoulder, watching as she struggles to form her mouth around a retort.

“Look,” she starts, making you laugh. “Just because I don’t take my advice doesn’t mean I’m not onto something.”

Abby grabs her pack-- a much smaller one than the one she takes outside-- and slings it over her shoulder, moving to climb the steps. You turn to meet her, socked feet much quieter against the carpet than her stomping boots.

She’s wearing a faded blue tee today, the short sleeves snug around her biceps. Her cargo pants, the ones you swear she have five pairs of the exact same ones, are belted at her hips, the bottoms of the legs tucked into her boots.

“You’re good to lock up behind you? When you go?” she asks, fingers occupied with braiding the last of her hair, hair tie slipped securely over her wrist.

She must have undone it when you weren’t looking. Dammit.

Nodding, you walk with her, lingering behind her just a step as she ties the tail of her braid. “I can do that.”

Abby reaches the door, hand hovering over the handle as she hesitates. You need to take a step back when she turns back around, trying not to crowd her into the doorway.

You both stand there, Abby looking down at her shuffling feet and you chewing on your bottom lip as you scratch at your arm, and you realise-- it’s awkward.

Should you say something? Do something? You don’t exactly know what’s expected of you now that things have changed. The two of you haven’t had a chance to talk about it yet, and for some reason you think that springing the ‘what are we?’ question right as she’s about to leave for training isn’t the smoothest move you could make right now.

“Have—“

“I’ll see—“

You both look at each other, voices dying in your throats as you talk over yourselves. Abby’s lips curl into an awkward smile, and you can’t help the chuckle that escapes your own.

Deciding on a different approach, you reach for one of Abby’s hands, hooking your index fingers together, curling yours around her thicker one. “Have a good day.”

There’s something in the way that Abby looks at you, lips parted slightly as she takes you in. Her eyes bounce from your face to your hands, to her shirt that falls just above your knees. Her tongue peeks out from between her lips to wet them before stepping the short distance and pulling you close, dipping her head to kiss you.

“You sure you don’t want to stay? Coming home from a long day of training to a pretty girl sounds really nice right now,” she murmurs, pulling you in for another kiss.

You can’t help the smile that presses against her lips, bringing a hand up to pat against her chest. “You’ll be late.”

Abby grunts, kissing you once more before pulling back. “I’ll see you later?”

“You will,” you nod, squeezing her hand in yours before letting it go.

The way she smiles at that makes your heart skip a beat, and it takes everything in you to not drag her back into the room and kiss her senseless.

“Okay, I really need to go. I— Bye,” she says, leaning in to press one last kiss to the top of your head before finally opening the door, shuffling out into the hallway.

“Bye,” you call out after her, watching and laughing as she turns in the hallway to give you a small salute.

Closing the door behind her, you turn to rest your back against the cool wood. Your head makes a soft thunk as you tilt it back, looking up at the tiled ceiling. You have to bite your lip to stop the grin tugging at your cheeks.

You just kissed Abby goodbye, after spending all morning kissing and laying in bed together.

You’ve been kissing Abby.

Abby likes it when you kiss her.

Shit. You’re totally in love with her.

⸙

The door swings open with a soft push, your key still in the lock. The stale air of the dark apartment hits you, and you can’t help but shudder a little bit.

It feels… colder somehow. It’s rare that the room is left without anyone in it for an extended period of time. You’re always back at the end of your shifts, with or without Mel. Thinking about it, the last time you were away from home any longer than a day was when you were staying in the long stay ward for your leg.

You step in, taking your key from the door and pushing it shut behind you. The curtains are closed, plunging you into darkness. Pre-emptively covering your eyes, you feel around for the switch and turn it on.

Giving your eyes a moment to adjust, you turn to look over at your side of the room. It’s neater than when you left it, stumbling over Abby out of bed and getting dressed blindly in the dark. The sheets have been smoothed out; blanket tucked in and folded under your pillows. Your pyjamas that you know you left pooled in front of your wardrobe aren’t there anymore, though you think you see the collar of your shirt peeking out from your laundry hamper.

Abby.

It’s such a simple gesture, one she probably didn’t spend too much time thinking about, but that just makes it mean a hell of a lot more.

Mel’s side is more untidy than usual, you note when you look over. One of her drawers is hanging open, a pant leg draping out of it. There’s some dirty laundry left crumpled on her bed, and the duffel bag that usually peeks out from under her bed is gone.

Your heart clenches as you take it all in. Mel’s usually the neat one out of the two of you, making sure everything’s tucked away before she leaves.

She must have packed and immediately left.

Did she wait around? Did she stay behind to see if you’d come home?

You take a deep breath, scrubbing at your eyes. You’re not going to torture yourself with stupid questions.

Dropping your pack at the door, you make your way into the room, already pulling your shirt over your head.

You’d gotten changed back into your clothes from yesterday to make the short trek home, leaving Abby’s shirt folded at the end of her bed. You’d also left a note, scribbled on the back of a scrap piece of paper thanking her for letting you stay. You nearly threw it out and restarted when you signed your name with a heart, feeling like a stupid teen writing locker notes to her crush. You ended up leaving it, placing it on top of her shirt before slipping out the door.

It feels good getting changed out of your musty clothes, fresh shirt and pants cool against your skin. It’s nowhere as comfortable as wearing Abby’s shirt, but it’ll have to do.

Gathering the discarded articles from the floor, you go to throw them in your hamper but find it… embarrassingly full. When was the last time you did the washing? A couple of days ago? A week?

Sighing, you throw your clothes on the top, shooting out a hand to catch your pants as they tumble off the pile.

Looks like you’re doing laundry today.

Your eyes trail over to your delicately made bed, the sheets of which you know are overdue for a change.

Well, might as well just do the whole thing.

You distract yourself for most of the day with the washing alone, stripping your bed and hauling everything in one go down to the laundry. You hate being down here, the walls reeking of mildew and the lack of windows making it horribly stuffy whenever there’s more than one machine going.

But you have access to working washing machines and dryers, so do you really have any room to complain?

There’s not much to do while you wait for your laundry that doesn’t require you to shuffle up and down a flight of stairs, so you spend a lot of it sat on the floor outside of the laundry room, flicking through a twenty-plus year-old magazine from the rack inside. Its pages are loud as you turn them, time and humidity making them crinkly and warped. All the crosswords at the back have been completed already, and some of the pages that no doubt had pictures of models across them have long been ripped out.

All that’s left is borderline defamatory articles about celebrities that probably died years ago, and advice columns on what to do about your boyfriend whose fifteen years older than you who might be cheating.

When you can finally switch everything over to tumble dry, the noises your stomach has started to make can’t be ignored any longer. A quick trip to the mess hall right before the morning shift change-over gets you a heaping bowl of stir-fry, fresh off the wok. It’s packed with fresh vegetables coated in a thick glossy sauce and is exactly what you need after not eating in over twelve hours.

The dryer is done by the time you wander back down. Luckily no one has touched your washing while you’ve been gone, having come back multiple times to your stuff half done and thrown back into your hamper, the machine occupied by somebody else.

Lugging it all back up to your room takes some time by yourself, and you need to take a break after all the stairs, but soon you’re back in your room. Dumping the hamper at the foot of your bed, you collapse face first into your unmade mattress.

You’re full from lunch and still so exhausted from yesterday. Maybe you’ll just close your eyes for a second, take some breaths. Relax before you need to get back to cleaning up.

It’s never just ‘closing your eyes’.

You wake up with a start, a loud bang of a door slamming from outside the hall jolting you from your impromptu nap. A sliver of drool chills your cheek as you sit up, hand twitching to reach for your thigh for your knife that’s sat on top of your wardrobe for months now, collecting dust.

You sigh, blinking away sleep as you wipe your cheek with the back of your hand, grimacing at the slimy feeling.

The curtains are still drawn, but from the tiny gap up near the ceiling you can see that its still daytime. The clock by your bedside that’s always off by ten minutes tells you its just after three.

You huff, pulling yourself off of your bare mattress and scratching the back of your head, looking around the room to figure out where to start.

You should probably put all that washing away.

⸙

You get as far as folding the washing, sorting it into piles on the dining table before you get distracted.

You’re rummaging through your wardrobe, picking out all the empty hangers from between your clothes when you knock one of the precariously balanced shoe boxes you keep on the shelf above the railing. You try to catch it, reaching out your free hand to stop its descent, but the corner of the box hits you between your knuckles and you swear, letting it drop to the floor.

The entire contents spill on the carpet at your feet, the lid popping off and skidding under your wardrobe.

Nursing your hand, a welt already forming on the thin skin between your knuckles, you bend down to scoop everything back into the box, clearing it away.

You pick up a folded piece of paper laying next to your foot, flipping it over in your hand. Bold text reading Seattle Waterfront Aquarium is placed in front of a collage of various sea creatures.

This is the pamphlet Mel gave you after her first visit to the aquarium with Owen. She had tried to be casual about it, acting like it was just a platonic trip between close friends, but you could tell from the way she fiddled with the stuffed dolphin Owen had cleaned up for her that she was a goner.

Looking around you, you realise that the box was full of keepsakes, things you’ve held onto from before and during your life here with the WLF.

The bullet casings from your first fired shots during training, the master keys to one of the cafes downtown that you and Casey used to sneak off to to shoot the shit, the last birthday card you got from your parents before they passed.

Years worth of memories spread out on the carpet, a collage of everything you couldn’t convince yourself to throw away.

It doesn’t take long for the carpet to be covered, the grey pill hidden underneath even more keepsakes tucked away in drawers and boxes that you drag down with you, sitting cross legged in the middle of it all.

There’s an order to how it’s laid out, having tried your best to sort them into neat piles as you tumble down memory lane, laughing and tearing up the whole way.

A neat stack of notes that you and Mel have left each other around the apartment gets flattened between various photos and postcards from friends. Random rocks, shells, and bits of shiny glass and metal you’d pocketed over time get layered in an old jam jar you liked the label of enough to keep. The scrap of your childhood blanket, the birthday card, and a faded wedding photo from your father’s wallet get wrapped in the shirt you wore when you stumbled up to the gates of the FOB, dehydrated and begging to be let in or shot on the spot. Whatever would be the least painful.

Everything gets gently placed back into their boxes and drawers when you’re done, this time in a more organised manner. Some things get put aside to be thrown away, mostly scrap you picked up while on patrol that, now after looking at it with fresh eyes, you really didn’t need to keep.

You’re holding yourself up on your forearms, shoving one of the shoeboxes back under the bed when there’s a knock at the door. You freeze, holding yourself in place as you listen.

You’re scared for a second that it’s Mel, having come home early from wherever she is and wanting to be let in… But she lives here, has her own set of keys. If she wanted to come in, she wouldn’t knock.

Pushing yourself up from the floor, you slowly make your way to the door, pressing your ear to the wood for a moment to listen before you answer it.

Abby smiles when you pull the door open, a hint of teeth peeking behind the curl of her lips. She’s wearing something different from what you saw her in this morning, pants that look closer to a pair of sweats than military cargos hang low on her hips. Short sleeves have been exchanged for longer ones, pushed up her forearms to bunch in the crook of her elbows. A small towel is slung over her shoulders to catch the water from her hair that’s still slightly damp, already in its signature braid.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” You smile back at her, relief flooding your system. You lean your hip against the doorway, crossing your arms over your chest. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“I was thinking you might want some company, have some dinner if you haven’t already eaten?” She raises her right arm, a reusable bag you hadn’t noticed dangling from two of her fingers. You can’t see the contents inside, but the familiar and mouth-watering smell of beef stew from Isabella’s gives you a few hints.

Abby peeks past you into the room, spotting the dining table still stacked with your washing. “Or maybe a change of scenery? I think Manny’s gone tonight.” She peers down at you, eyebrow arched in question.

She looks… handsome, you think fits the most. There’s just something about her in this moment, the way her clothes sit on her, the way she’s subtly leaning towards you, over you. The way the lighting in the hallway throws shadows across her face, highlighting her strong nose and brow.

You want to kiss her. Real bad.

“Or I can just drop this off…? Sorry, I should have checked to see if you were busy.” She lowers the bag, bringing her other hand up to scratch at her jaw.

That gets you moving again, realising that you were too busy staring at the woman to actually reply. Idiot.

“I can come over, I’ve just been trying to keep busy, it’s nothing important.” You wave your hand dismissively behind you. “Food and company sound way better than putting away laundry.”

Abby perks up, the anxious slump in her shoulders straightening back out. “Cool, great.” She smiles, leaning in to press a quick, shy kiss to your cheek, her warm breath puffing against the skin. “I’ll let you lock up.”

The walk to Abby’s room from your own is short, only a couple of minutes back through a set of large double doors. You and Abby walk side by side, close enough for your hands to brush as you walk.

Feeling brave, you extend your pinkie out to bump against her own, hooking them together as they swing to and fro.

“How was training?” You ask, looking up at her.

Abby rolls her shoulders, a low pop sounding from her shoulder. She grunts and shrugs it off. “Fine. Focused on close quarters for the first half, mainly our throws and strikes. Manny and I got put on patrol last minute for tomorrow, so we ended up running through drills.”

You grimace. “I hated training for throws. Shoulder throws especially,” you say. “I’d be so sore by the end of the day.”

“You miss it at all?”

You look to her, eyes trailing her side profile. She frowns, brows pinching. “Sorry, that was probably—“

“Sometimes,” you interrupt, looking back down the hallway as you walk. “I don’t miss all of it, and I’m really enjoying what I’m doing now, but sometimes I wish I could go back, even for a day. Ride in the truck, walk the perimeters, feel the weight of my gun… Is that weird?”

She thinks, chewing on her lip as she turns the question over in her mind. “No,” she eventually answers, giving your pinkie a squeeze with her own. “I think I’d miss it, too.”

Your hands swing between the two of you, fingers locked together. They stay connected, even as Abby pushes the door open that connects your hallway block to her own. You go to pull away when you cut diagonally to her door, wanting to give her a free hand to dig around for her keys, but she holds strong and passes you the takeout bag to hold instead.

Reaching into her sweatpants pocket Abby pulls out her room key, fumbling with it one handed as she tries to unlock her door. It takes her a minute, and you have to bite your lip to try not to laugh at her efforts, but she eventually gets the thing unlocked and open.

The room is pretty much the same as you left it this morning, though things like the dishes that were piled up in the sink have been scrubbed clean and left to dry, and a bunch of Manny’s things have been kicked under his bed. It looks like someone’s tidied up a bit while you were gone.

“We, uh, don’t have a proper dining table like you do,” Abby says, kicking the door closed behind you as she pulls you into the room. She turns to face you, pulling you in gently to take the bag from your hand. “But give me a second and I can sort something out.”

“You want a hand?” You offer, squeezing her hand gently.

Abby hums, finally letting go of you to cup the side of your jaw. “You could give me a kiss, instead?”

You roll your eyes, laughing as you step closer. “Smooth, Anderson.”

Abby shrugs, a lopsided smirk lifting her lips. “It’s working, isn’t it?” she asks as she leans down, pressing in for a kiss.

You can’t help but let out a sigh at the contact, stepping in even closer to her chest. Her thumb swipes idly at your jaw while you kiss, the friction making you feel nice and fuzzy.

It’s over far too quickly, Abby pulling back to smile down at you. “Dinner?”

⸙

Abby’s solution to there being no table to eat at is to drag Manny’s beanbag down the steps, fluffing it up in front of the large stadium windows. She offers it to you with a sweep of her arm, lending it to you as you lower yourself down into the slightly lumpy material.

Dinner is served in actual bowls, the styrofoam containers already buried in the trash. The ceramic warms your hands as Abby passes one down to you, spoon clinking along the side. She’s set herself up on a throw pillow next to you, sitting cross legged atop of it, bowl of stew in her lap.

It’s nice, sitting here with her, overlooking the field through the glass of the windows. It’s raining tonight, a steady drizzle that looks like it’s been going for the past couple of hours. The floodlights reflect off the thousands of tiny droplets on the glass, looking like tiny stars that fill the otherwise barren sky.

The two of you talk as you eat, Abby running you through the changes she plans to make to her workout routine when she gets back from patrol, and you filling her in on your trip down memory lane.

“I finally put all my keychains in one place. They nearly fill a whole shoe box,” you say, dipping your head to meet your spoon.

“Keychains?” Abby asks, muffled through a mouth full of potato and bread.

You laugh, dropping your spoon to hold your hand over her mouth. “At least cover your mouth, first.”

She flushes, an embarrassed heat crawling over her cheeks as she swallows, an apology muffled behind your hand. She presses a kiss to your palm, the casualness of it making your fingers tingle.

“And yeah, keychains.” You pull your hand back, swiping a crumb off her cheek along the way. “Whenever we used to go past those old touristy places while on patrol, I’d try to find my name on those keychains they have sometimes. Half the time they didn’t have my name, so I started collecting other names instead.” You shrug, picking up your spoon to push a piece of carrot around your bowl. “I think it’s funny, having a bunch of keychains with names that aren’t yours. I have nothing to put them all on though, so I just kinda put them in random places where I had space. I found them all today though, put them all together in one box.” You smile, sheepish. “Kind of embarrassing how many I have.”

“It’s cute,” Abby chuckles, chin propped on her hand, elbow resting on her knee.

You roll your eyes, collecting some of the broth on your soup spoon. “You have to say that.”

“I’m being serious. Everyone collects something nowadays.” She tilts her head to the side, nodding up the steps to Manny’s side of the room. “Manny collects license plates from places that mean something to him. I think Jordan is trying to collect all those gaming consoles, fix them up so they’re working again. Nora’s into antique scissors. Everyone’s got something.” She shrugs, sitting up a bit straighter as she grabs the bowl from her lap. Holding the spoon to the side she tilts the bowl to her lips, drinking the last of the broth straight from the vessel.

You hum, making sure to swallow your spoonful before asking, “What do you collect?”

She lowers the bowl, swiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. “What?”

“You said everyone’s got something. What’s yours?”

Abby almost looks shy as she sets her bowl down, tucked to the side on one of the steps behind her. “It’s…” She gazes up at you, chewing her cheek as she thinks. “I’ll show you.”

Standing up from her cushion on the floor, Abby wanders over to her bunk, squatting next to her pack. Flipping open the top she rummages around, shoving things to the side to reach the bottom, grabbing and pulling out a small, leatherbound book.

She silently makes her way back over, tentatively running her thumb over the cover before offering it to you.

The first thing you notice is the weight, your hands dropping a bit when you take it. The leather is worn in places, along the spine and where the clasp to close it sits, but otherwise it’s soft to the touch— like it’s been conditioned and taken care of.

The side of the book bulges, but not with pages. A couple dozen plastic sleeves, some thicker than others, poke through at odd angles.

You gaze up at her, waiting for her to give you the go ahead before you pop the clasp, flipping open the book.

Each sleeve has six spots-- pockets that are the perfect size for the coins that nestle inside them. None of the sleeves in the book are full, the majority of them are entirely blank, but there’s more than a dozen across the entire book.

“My dad used to collect them.” Abby starts, nudging the throw pillow to butt up against your beanbag. She lowers herself down, bringing her knees up to her chest. “Back when he was a kid, he tried to collect a quarter from every single year. I don’t know how far he got, but when the state coins were released, he decided to do those too. We’ve only found seventeen of those ones so far.”

She nods to the book. “I try to keep an eye out, but coins are a lot harder to find than license plates.”

You trace your fingers lightly over the faces of the coins through the pockets, holding the book up closer to look at the intricate designs. A lot of them are detailed pressings of state birds and flowers, sometimes a notable landmark. You can see why her dad would want to collect them.

“They’re beautiful. A lot cooler than tourist bait.” You chuckle, flipping through the book again. You go slowly page by page, reading all the state names at the top of each coin. “You don’t have Colorado.”

Abby shifts closer, pressing her cheek against your bicep to look at the book with you. “Not yet. Why?”

You shrug, flipping the pages carefully back to the front. “I was born there, in the QZ in Denver.”

Inside the front cover in surprisingly neat handwriting, ‘Property of Jerry Anderson’ is written in the little box provided. Scrawled underneath it in messier handwriting, breaking out of the confines of the box is ‘and Abby’.

“I didn’t know that,” Abby says, tilting her head up to look at you.

“Not really something I talk about. Not really all that interesting, either.” You smile down at her, shutting the book and doing the clasp back up. “Don’t miss it enough to think about it.”

You pass the book back to her, fingers brushing when she gently takes it. She’s quiet as she stares down at the album, balancing it on the tops of her bent knees.

“I used to live in Colorado, too.”

“Yeah?”

Abby nods, keeping her eyes on the deep brown leather. “Yeah. My dad was stationed there, so I went with him. Spent… too many years there.” There’s an airy chuckle behind her voice, vaguely humorous.

“With the Fireflies, right?”

She finally looks up at you then, eyes flicking across your face, searching. Waiting for some kind of reaction, even a hint of one.

You can’t blame her. The Denver QZ got a lot of shit from the Fireflies for a good couple of years, multiple bombings and some FEDRA disappearances. Your parents tried to keep you away from it as much as they could, but them dying kind of put a damper in their plans. The aftermath of what the Fireflies had done was a lot of the reason why you left, the crackdowns on FEDRA law making things even more unstable. A couple thousand hungry people, high walls you can’t come and go from, and lack of community support after multiple acts of domestic terrorism isn’t a good combination, funnily enough.

You didn’t have much tying you there in the end, anyways.

Not seeing anything shifting your expression, she answers.

“He was a doctor. Real good at it, too. Had a fancy degree and everything from, y’know… before.”

“Man, a degree,” you laugh, looking down at your hands. “The most you need anymore is a steady hand.”

Abby huffs a laugh, a sharp exhale out her nose. “Yeah, well, he was pretty good at what he did. He, uh— He mentored Mel and Nora, taught them a lot of what they know.” She looks up at you, still pressed against your arm. “In a way, he’s kind of mentoring you, too.”

For someone so tough, someone widely known for being one of Isaac’s favourite soldiers, she really has a way with words. You don’t even think it’s something she tries to do, coming out and saying such thoughtful and beautiful things. It’s just how she is, how she genuinely thinks and feels.

It’s one of the things you love about her.

You can’t help but reach down, tucking a stray piece of hair behind Abby’s ear. “He sounds pretty cool,” you say, smiling softly at her.

Abby scoffs, playfully rolling her eyes. “Nah, he was a pain in the ass. He would run off all the time and I’d be the one getting in trouble for it. ‘Where’s your dad, Abigail? He’s late for a meeting’,” she mocks, lowering her voice to mimic someone. “How is that my problem? Ass,” she grunts, making you laugh. She can’t help but laugh along with you, eyes returning to the book on her knees. “But he had his moments, I guess.”

She quiets after that, sitting tucked up against you looking at the album.

You’re not dumb, having put the pieces together a while ago. Abby’s father, Jerry, isn’t around anymore, and it clearly still affects her.

Tilting your head down, you press a gentle kiss to the top of her head, hair finally dry from her shower earlier.

“Anyway,” Abby clears her throat, blinking hard as she peels herself away from your side. Grabbing her book, she stands, padding back over to her pack. “It’s getting late, you done eating?”

You nod, nudging your discarded bowl with your foot. “Yeah, thank you again for dinner, Abs. It was really nice.”

Placing a hand against the material under you, you try to lever yourself up from the beanbag. It doesn’t go exactly to plan, the lumps of stuffing under your palm shifting and giving way, making you fall back against the seat. Taking a breath, you try again, not getting any father the second time.

A snort from across the room makes you look over, catching Abby watching you from where she leans against her bunk. You huff, looking away with flushed cheeks. “You think this is funny?”

She shrugs, chuckling to herself as she makes her way back over to you. “Kinda.”

Sighing, you raise an arm up, opening and closing your hand at her as she stops in front of you. “Help me up? Or are you just going to leave me here all night.”

“Tempting,” Abby chuckles, her warm palm pressing against your own. She wraps her hand around you, forearm muscles flexing as she pulls you up with ease. You stumble a bit, not prepared for the strength behind her grip, taking a staggering step into her chest.

Abby’s lips curl into a smile as she looks down at you, eyes roaming your face. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you sigh, an embarrassed giggle escaping you. You gently squeeze her hand, the other coming to rest just above her heart.

“You’re real pretty, you know that?”

Heat prickles the back of your neck, mimicking the warmth that floods your chest. “Shut up,” you murmur, gaze flicking between her eyes and her curled lips.

Abby hums, pressing closer to you. “Maybe I will.”

She meets you in the middle, lightly brushing your lips together before pressing in fully to kiss you. Your eyes flutter shut, letting the feeling of Abby and home pull you in. The hand on her chest slides up to her neck, fingers dancing over the sensitive skin before settling at the base of her neck, holding her close. She shudders slightly, hand still clasping your own squeezing.

“Okay,” you sigh, pressing one last lingering kiss to her lips when you eventually pull away from each other. “I should get going.”

“Why?” Abby asks, tilting her head slightly in confusion.

“So you can sleep…? You have patrol in the morning.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t sleep here, tonight.”

“Abby, I don’t have any clothes—“ You try to argue.

“Borrow some of mine again.” She pecks you on the lips, drawing back only the tiniest bit. Her lips drag across yours as she speaks, voice low. “Stay. I won’t see you for the next few days.”

Your breath stutters, something warm growing in your gut. “Okay. Okay, fine. You’ve convinced me.”

Abby grins, top teeth biting into her bottom lip as she steps back, pulling you towards her bed. You nearly trip over your bowl on the floor, stumbling over it as she leads you.

“Aren’t we gonna clean up dinner, first?”

“I’ll do it in the morning,” she says, already moving the privacy screen aside to access her chest of drawers.

“Uh huh,” you sass, crossing your arms over your chest when she lets you go. You lean against the bunk to watch her dig around for clothes, smiling at how serious she looks, like she’s concentrating super hard on the task.

“Here,” she offers, handing you one of her henleys and a pair of loose-fitting sweats. “These should work.”

“Thanks.” You smile, holding the clothing to your chest. “Should I just…?”

It takes a moment for Abby to get what you’re asking.

“Oh— Uh, I mean, yeah. Go ahead. I can turn around? Or leave? Go out in the hall for a second?”

She’s cute.

You laugh just a little bit, tilting your head to the side as you look at her. “I don’t mind, it’s just like the showers. What would make you most comfortable?”

You both know this is nothing like the showers. Sure, people sometimes use the stalls for things that aren’t showering, but most people are there to get clean and go home. Nobody cares about seeing each other naked.

Getting changed in front of the girl you’ve been kissing for two days isn’t exactly the same situation.

“I’ll uh— I’ll turn around.” Abby decides, nodding to herself before turning to face the room.

Chuckling to yourself, you use the time to get changed into the borrowed clothes. Nothing will beat the shirt you wore last night, but these are pretty damn near perfect, too. Picking up your clothes from the floor, you throw them over the top of the privacy screen, hanging them for when you wake up tomorrow.

Abby’s still turned around, facing away from you when you’re done. Your socked feet make barely any noise on the rug as you walk towards her, reaching out to place your hands along her waist.

The muscles under your hands tense for a moment with the contact, but as you slide them across her front, feeling the bumps and ridges of her stomach through the fabric of her shirt, she relaxes against you. Stepping closer, you bury your face between her shoulder blades, breathing her in.

Abby hums, hands coming to cover your own where they’re locked around her. The two of you sway slightly as you stand together, rocking side to side to the sound of the rain that’s been steadily getting heavier.

You press a kiss to her clothed back, right where you’re resting. Dragging your lips up just a bit across the fabric, you press another kiss slightly higher than the last. Again, just a bit higher, across her shoulder blade.

Abby’s hands tighten over your own as you trail kisses along the broad expanse of her back and up across her shoulder, before feeling brave and pressing a soft kiss to the bare skin of the back of her neck.

She sighs, subtly tilting her head to the side as the hairs on her arms raise with goosebumps.

You press another to the side of her neck near her collar bone, slowly trailing them up to just under her ear. She shifts in place and tilts her head back, resting it against your shoulder as you pay attention to her neck, kisses lingering for longer and longer each time.

A peek of tongue swiping across her pulse point has her swearing under her breath, and you feel as she slumps some of her weight against you, trusting you to hold her up.

You smile into her neck, your own breaths picking up as you start paying closer attention to her neck with open mouthed kisses, wet paths traced by your tongue, a hint of teeth brushing against that sensitive spot under her ear. One of Abby’s hands breaks from yours, coming up to press against the back of your head, encouraging you with a choked gasp.

When she’s had enough, growing impatient with the teasing, she twists her head to the side and pulls you in for a kiss, licking at the seam of your lips to be let in. The position is slightly awkward, heads tilted at strange angles, but the feeling of Abby in front of you, arching to chase your mouth with her own is too good to complain.

You break away, lips swollen and tingling as you look down at her. Her blue eyes are blown wide, the black of her pupils hiding some of that hazy blue. Her lips are wet, shiny with spit, and the blush working up from her neck highlights the smattering of freckles and scars along her cheeks and jaw.

“You’re pretty too, you know.”

Abby’s flush deepens, and she turns her head away as she huffs.

“Flatterer.”

You smile, leaning in to nose at her cheek. “I mean it. Always thought so.”

Abby rolls her eyes, looking back at you. “You’re being sappy.”

“Too much?” You check in, searching her eyes.

She presses her lips together, hand behind your head coming down to cup the back of your neck.

“No. Just not used to it.”

You grin, leaning back in to press your lips against her cheek. “We’ll change that.”

Abby’s lips twitch up in an embarrassed smile, leaning back in to brush her lips against yours. You kiss, sweetly as you hold her close. She hums against your lips, twisting her body around in your grip to kiss you properly, chests pressed together, hands still linked.

You eventually break apart, squeezing her hand gently. “Come on, you have to be up early tomorrow, and I still need to do my stretches.”

She sighs, pressing her forehead against your own. “I hate when you’re right.”

The rug underneath you isn’t the softest, but it’s better than being directly on the floor as you stretch, running through the basics. You try your hardest to count evenly as you hold your positions, not wanting to accidently speed up because you’re desperate to climb into bed.

Abby paces around the room while you work, actually picking up the bowls she said she’d leave and placing them in the sink, filling them with warm water to soak overnight. She also lugs the beanbag back over to Manny’s side, kicking it back into its corner before standing idly at the light switch.

After brushing yourself off from the floor, you crawl into bed, shuffling to the far side against the wall. You begin to pull back the sheets and adjust your pillow, getting ready to settle in when something familiar on the wall catches your eye.

Tacked up amongst the postcards, up near the top bunk, is a scrap piece of paper.

Abby,

Thank you for letting me stay last night.

Yesterday sucked was a lot, and I didn’t know who else to turn to. I’m glad you answered the door.

I meant what I said.

A heart punctuates your name scribbled at the bottom.

The overhead light switches off, the blue glow from the stadium floodlights being just enough to guide Abby back to the bed. The rain casts little shadows across the floor as it hits the windows, making a low drumming sound that fills the silence of the room.

You slip under the covers as she shuffles over, pulling back the blankets for her and opening up your arms. Abby smiles and she lowers herself down, grunting when her sore muscles sink into the mattress. She pushes herself up the bed, curling up in your arms.

She buries her face in the crook of your neck, arm slinging across your waist to curl into the fabric of your shirt. Your arms come around her, holding her close as you smooth your hands up and down the expanse of her back.

Cool fingertips brush along smooth skin near her hip, the bottom of her shirt rucked up from shuffling over to you. You tentatively slip your fingers under the hem, resting just above her tailbone. When you don’t hear or feel any signs of discomfort you inch up, beginning to massage the stiff muscles of her back.

Your hands-- once the calloused ones of a solider, now the nimble ones of a medic—slowly work higher and higher, until you’re smoothing at the muscles of her impressive shoulders.

Abby sighs against your neck, deep and relieved, pressing a soft kiss to the skin as she sinks into the mattress, melting under your hands.

“Night, Abs,” you whisper, returning the kiss to the top of her head.

Her reply is slurred, barely intelligible as she presses closer, her breaths already deeper as she tumbles into sleep.

«« previous ꩜ next »»

[wandsandwheezes]

NASCAR IV | G.W //F.W

WARNINGS // 8.6k // SMUT 18+, George x Reader // Fred x unnamed OC, Angry Fred, Racer!George, light angst, fighting, rough sex, soft sex, breeding kink af, mentions of alcohol, cars, sex, possession, praise kink, a (tiny) amount of degradation, oral, unprotected sex.

A/N // Ladies n gents we are back n better than everrr!! This has legit been sat in the WIPs for a year and I have not had the energy or motivation to get back to it until now. ps.. thank you to @darthwheezely for helping me out on this one as my co-writer, idk what i'd do without you!! pps.. stay tuned for more works in the future!

It was always good to be home. As much as George adored being on the road, there was something so blissful about waking up in his own bed, with the woman of his dreams curled tightly into his chest. This was what made it worth it. 

“Good morning, muffin,” you muttered peacefully, hand reaching up to push the messy tufts of hair from his sleepy eyes. He threw his head back and groaned at your use of the corny nickname so early in the morning.

“That divorce and sweet sweet alimony cannot come soon enough,” he grinned, soon getting whacked in the face by the pillow next to you, his own hand reaching to pull you by the scruff of your neck into a sloppy kiss. 

Like most mornings, George was already out of bed, walking around aimlessly in his low-slung plaid pj bottoms as he searched sleepily for either his shop uniform or at the very least something that would easily pass without Fred throwing a fit.

“Are you sure you want to leave me?” You teased, pushing yourself out of bed, letting his t-shirt fall past your hips as your feet patted along the wood floors, taking you to him. You wrap your arms around his waist groggily, forehead resting against his back as you take in his warmth.

“I’m never sure about leaving you, angel, I doubt you’ll take much convincing if I suggest lunch?”

“I’ll make your favourite sandwich and swing by later, yeah?” You smiled, giggling as he spun you around, strong hands holding your arms as he leaned down to kiss you.

“They say you’re the lucky one, but lord, woman you make me the luckiest.” 

The sun was not Fred’s friend today. But honestly: no one was Fred’s friend today, not when the sun was over a hundred and two degrees in a shop with shitty A/C with his wife away playing hostess for god knows how many interviewees in that pretty black dress.

He probably wouldn’t even be this angry if she hadn’t been an insufferable prime American tease, waking up to her lips wrapped around the base of his cock and sending delicious vibrations throughout his body before pulling off right as he was about to release:

“You’ve got work today, ace, I need you to be a good boy.”

So there was Fred, as horny as a fourteen year old, deprived as a fourteen year old, and about as pouty as a toddler. Even George knew how pissy his brother had been, eyeing him rather sharply. 

“You know, Freddie, It would be nice to come into work one day with you having not woken up on the wrong side of bed.” George chuckled, pulling up the bottom of his already oil-stained shirt to wipe at his jaw. The older twin stalked around him and hit him in the chest with his rag.

“Actually, I was sleeping quite well on my lovely and rosy smelling side of the bed until I got fucking booted like a small boy and-” he was briefly aware of George laughing at him and made to punch his younger brother over the hood. “- it’s not funny, you know...it’s…” he swallowed, the familiar feeling of his strawberry tint rising to the surface, “...ithasn’tbeenasrecentasyou and before you ask me how I know that, remember you’re the other half of my DNA in mum’s womb,” he childishly spat. He slid into the driver’s seat of the Mustang they were working on and began drumming the dash, his knee bouncing against the side door - a tell tale sign of his frustration.

“I thought we established that you are in fact half of my DNA, just because you were born first doesn’t mean shit.” George rolled his eyes, throwing the rag on top of the car before joining his brother in the passenger seat.

“No, because I, in fact, am the prettier twin, which means I not only had sex first, but also get more privileges such as Denny’s coupons, discounted smoothies, and more phone calls with my mother than you.” Spotting you walk into the workshop area he honked the horn a couple times and giggled, whistling when you walked in.

“Ahoy my lovely sister-in-law!” He grinned and honked once more, a loud and obnoxious greeting - so uniquely Fred.

Rolling up to the side of the car, you laughed, seeing George rub at his temples, sighing to himself over the continuous blaring horn. You leaned in against the window, poking your head into the car with a smile, pressing a kiss to George’s cheek while Fred’s smile dropped, his face forming into a stare of jealousy, quickly forcing a smile again to hide his obvious frustrations. 

“Oi! Get a bloody room you two!” He huffed, honking loudly when George leaned in to kiss you again.

“Do you mind?” George gritted out.

“Yes, a bit, actually, you may have the back office for now to do somewhat lovey and sinful things but please try to be discreet, kids!” He winked salaciously and leaned forward against the wheel, his elbow cocked on the dash as he fought to not think about destroying his wife to be the second she got home. Usually racing helped, kept his mind (and libido) wandering if he felt a bit pent up - but at least for a few months or so, there wouldn’t be any release. The thought alone had him throw his head back and groan in displeasure.

“I brought lunch, wanna eat with me?” You grinned, batting your eyelashes, a move that practically had George falling out of the car, grabbing your hand as he followed you out to the back office. It was definitely hotter in the back, if you were being honest, yet that had nothing to do with the blazing sunshine but the way your fiance could have practically drank you in whole by the way he was staring. 

“Stop staring, George, your eyes will go square.” You laughed, setting your bag on the table, pulling out the sandwich you had made for him, pushing it into his chest as you pulled out your own lunch. 

“You know that doesn’t work with staring at humans right? Just TVs.” George retorted, walking backwards before plopping himself down on the sofa. “You didn’t happen to bring my-” You had already reached into your bag, pulling out his water bottle, something he not only had a habit of leaving at home but something he nearly always drank with lunch. Props to him for staying hydrated but after so long together you had managed to pick up on nearly all of the smaller things about him. 

“What would I do without you, huh?” He smiled, taking the bottle from your hand as you slipped onto the sofa next to him, legs swinging over his thighs as you unwrapped your sandwich. This was normal for you, reminding you of the days before racing and before America, a part of you growing fond of those memories. 

“You seem lost, Angel.” He muttered, hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, a worried look painting his expression. Shaking your head at him, you pulled yourself up to be straddling his hips, your nose bumping against his softly before capturing his lips into a kiss. 

A part of both of you needed this, the locked lips while his hands held your hips in their place, effortlessly controlling the way they would rut against his growing bulge, both desperate for the friction. He was moaning into your mouth, his hips bucking up to meet yours as the innocence in the kiss quickly slipped away, his own desperation to have you ruling how his hands had practically ripped your shirt off of you, his lips messily pressed against the newly exposed skin of your chest. 

“Shit, baby, I just wanna get those tight little fucking shorts off of you.” He groaned, hand snaking up to tangle in the hair at the back of your head as your hips continued grinding relentlessly. You were ultimately putty in his hands, moldable and pliant only for his skilled grip and teasing touch. 

“No time for that though.” He chuckled, his quick fingers effortlessly slipping the material to the side before the pad of his thumb found your clit, rubbing in teasing circular motion, a loud and lewd groan falling from his lips at the feel of just how wet you were already. Your hand flew to his mouth, finger pressed against his plump lips to keep him silent.

“Not so much noise, Georgie.” You giggled, a faint moan falling from your lips as his fingers began to tease your entrance. Your own warnings of silence had fallen short the second you found yourself wrapped around his fingers, his long digits pulling desperate moans from you by the second.

“Not so much noise, angel.” 

—

The elder twin had watched his brother follow you out, had seen the way his twin’s eyes had smoothed over the curve of your ass, how he’d admired your shorts and in utter and complete disdain Fred kicked the inside of the car. It was dumb, the way he was wishing he could have his girl thrown in front of a bathroom counter and force her to watch him fuck that pretty pretty cunt of his, and unknowingly slid his hand down to his jeans and started to palm.

His jaw was clenched at the thought of her slutty little stunt she pulled this morning when they both knew how wet she would get when she had her mouth around him, and gritted in a groan as he squeezed his clothed erection.

“God, fuck, love,” he panted, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans half way to slide his boxers down, his cock springing free instantly. He thought about how her cunt fit perfectly to his cock, how no matter how many times he’d slipped deliciously into her, she always seemed just as tight as the first time, meanwhile his hand loosely pumped back and forth on his shaft. This was pathetic, he knew it was pathetic, but still the idea of her underneath him while her breasts heaved and her smokey chocolate hair was strewn about the pillow had him grunting.

“God, I’m so surprised you’re not pregnant yet, with the amount of cum I stuff you with and the rounds we do in a day,” he growled, all eleven inches sunk deep into her.

“Oh, shit, baby, god, you feel so good,” he panted, his thumb tightly rolling small circles on his tip. 

“Want it so bad, baby, wanna be so full and round soon as we can,” she had moaned, arching so far into his hold that he had thrusted at the same time a nipple brushed his lips and into his mouth, biting the sensitive flesh and causing her to whine.

“Such a fucking whore,” he snarled, his hips bucking up to meet each stroke of his fist, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he imagined his palm to be nothing but her - no, his - soft and soaked pussy. 

His hips were jerking at the speed of sound, he didn’t really care if anyone else could hear, if anything it made him more turned on, let ‘em hear, he could give less of a shit and especially if she were here, he’d make damn sure everyone from Houston to L.A. knew exactly which racer she was getting boned by each and every night.

“Freddie, honey, please, I need you to so bad,”

“I’m right behind you, baby, goddamnit so fucking good,” and with a faint shout of her name he released, his dick twitching under his own rough touch, his eyes screwed shut at his own frustration, none of it was real, the memory of it and the smell of sweaty sex in not only hotel rooms but in cars across the country dimming his mind back to square one. He laughed harshly at his own predicament, assessing his own situation before whistling lowly.

“Fuck, I need a drive.”

—

“George, for the love of God, stop fuckin’ with the carburetor, we already checked it an hour ago,” Fred whined, leaning against the back of the car. The day had been relatively slow beyond that one car, the hour approaching about 4:30, Fred eagerly awaiting until those hands hit 6.

“We did? I could have sworn we didn’t but I wouldn’t know, would I?” George rolled his eyes, pushing himself away from under the hood, heading over to you to take the tool you aimlessly held from your hands, not before his hands pressed against your neck, pulling you into a quick kiss.

Fred went to retort, interrupted only by the grizzly rotary of the engine rev close by. He knew exactly what the sound was, the same kind of rev that ecologists blamed on the hole in the ozone, the smell lewd and hungry for attention. 

It wasn’t just any old car, it had to be for racing. And sure enough it was, two in fact, fully souped up in high gear and brand new paint blinding in the Arizona sun. Fred held a hand above his eyebrows to see who it was, and George leaned back around Fred trying to do the same thing. When the cars pulled up and swerved albeit messily into the lot the twins broke into grins.

“Is that-?”

“-yeah, it’s-”

And then the car doors opened, one man rather lanky and lean and the other shorter and stocky, the rather lean one putting both his hands on his hips and clucking: “Well, I’ll be damned, freshen up then lads,” and grinned mischievously.

“DEAN!”

“SEAMUS!” They both yelled and jumped at their friends, a chorus of rowdy hugs and how are yous being traded from each of the boys.

“Alright then, boys?” Seamus quipped.

“Well, Jesus, we sure hope so, haven’t seen you since, shit what March?” George ran a hand through his hair, looking at Fred to confirm that and he nodded in response.

“Sounds about right, we’ve had to keep to ourselves - don’t want a bust like what happened to Diggory, y’know,” Seamus smirked.

“That arsehole from - shit what was his sponsor, Georgie?”

“Wonderbread,”

“Yeah, I never liked him, hits on everything that moves he does, my girl included,” Fred made his way to their mini-fridge swinging out a couple of bottled cane-sugar Coke (the only kind he and his wife ever drank, unfortunately for their bank account), and distributing them to each of the boys, passing around the bottle opener.

Dean scoffed. “Fred, you think everyone flirts with your girl and Y/N.”

“I’m a protective man, Thomas, not my fault I see a douche bag and-”

“Anyway,” George cut him off, leaving a rather pouty Fred in his place, and leaning back to sit on the hood of the car. “What brings you two ‘round then?”

Seamus and Dean visibly held their bottles a little tighter, then looked at each other.

“Well, we um...we have this thing we do on Thursdays down behind Tucson-” Seamus started.

“-not the raceway...it’s a bit more shifty, if you get it.” Dean finished, taking a swig of Coke. George studied the two for a second and finally leaned back on the car hood.

“Boys, what is this?” He asked softly, Fred shifting uncomfortably on the minifridge.

Seamus opened his mouth again, his face a great shade of crimson when Dean leapt in again.

“We do it in secret because if Indy or Nascar found out we’d all be dead but...we never really stopped racing you know. We just...we do it in the backwoods area of town-”

“Where it’s basically just sand and flat land for miles,” Seamus added, nodding vehemently. 

“Count me in.” Fred spoke quickly, pushing himself up off the mini fridge and over to the two boys, a smirk hanging off his lips in anticipation of being able to put his foot to the floor again on a track, albeit a dirt-road track, it was a course nevertheless.

“Yeah, no, Fred you can’t, if the Wood Brothers find out you are never racing again.” George cut in, fingers pressed to his temple in fear of his brother’s own recklessness.

“Come on, baby brother, I think you need to loosen up a little, what do you think, y/n?” Fred’s smirk only grew as he raised his eyebrow, hoping to entice the younger twin into his lure.

“You know, Georgie, I think it would be good for you and Fred to race together, you know, just for fun...” You shrugged, staking over to George, arms wrapping around his waist, as you looked up at him with a pout.

“I suppose if those two big brains can still have jobs, we’ll be fine, right?” George sighed, feeling himself giving in, purely from a look from his girlfriend.

“That’s the spirit!” Dean smirked, a smile cracking up on Seamus’ lips as the four boys looked among each other, almost silently communicating a plan until they had erupted with laughter.

—

The clock had said 9:34, roughly 26 minutes before Fred would be ecstatically waiting for George outside his studio apartment. His neck was tilted upwards, covered in shaving cream with a bath towel wrapped loosely around his waist. The sink was littered with expensive cologne and aftershave, the first purchase he ever made after his first check at the shop, his scalpel grifting smoothly up his jawline. 

Fred had learned very early on that preparation was absolutely everything, and after his little twelfth place charade - he felt his mates needed to remember that he was, for all intents and purposes, that bitch. 

“Fred, baby, you home?” He heard her call out, the clanging of keys falling into the empty fishbowl on the coffee table.

“Yeah, cupcake, I’m in here,” he called out stiffly, listening to her start to rant on about the interviews at hand - none of them were ever any fun, he’d been to enough to learn that all they cared about were raunchy questions geared at his wife and female reporters flirting with him in front of studio audiences. 

“...and god my feet were killing me, she wanted to walk with me all the way down the block and-“ she stopped analyzing his posture, his broad and freckled back still slightly covered in drops from the shower, his V-line angled to the side to a point where if she tugged on his hips juuuust right it would be sure to drop in one fell swoop, combined with the fact that he was shaving. 

“Honey?” 

“Yes, dear?” He side eyed her and smirked before turning his eyes back to the mirror, finishing the last of the area around his upper jaw and by his cheekbones.

“Are you going somewhere tonight?” She questioned, standing next to him now, looking at him directly through the mirror. He licked his lips at the sight of her minorly aggressive position and broke contact.

“Just for a bit, love, I’ll be back probably when you’re asleep.”

“And were you planning on telling me?”

“And were you planning on being a tease this morning after I gave you such a lovely time last night?”

He watched her mouth open and close as if she were about to say something and faltered, and snorted. “Yes, exactly, I thought so,” he said, turning around to grab a hand towel, splashing water on his face to rinse off the cream.

“Oh...I see what this is,” she purred. He stopped and slowly pulled his face up to the sink, setting a hand down on the sink to ground him from the massive hard on that was occurring under his towel, and turning towards her.

“What was that?” 

“I think you’re a pent up, horny teenager that doesn’t like being told no,” she smiled cruelly at him and watched as Fred’s jaw tensed ever so slightly. 

He rolled it gently and went to move past her but she was quicker, and pushed him backward with five painted red nails to his chest. She looked up at him and roughly scratched down his torso, causing Fred to hiss at the fresh red stripes. She slid a hand up his chest and stopped at the column of his throat, gripping ever so slightly, before leaning up to kiss him and pulling away just so he could feel her exhale.

“Have a nice night, Freddie,” she whispered before quirking a brow and grinning, prancing off to their bedroom alone.

When she was out of earshot he shakily breathed out, trying to steady his breathing and his yearning cock - he’d deal with her later for sure, regardless of his behavior or not.

It was 9:32, approximately 28 minutes before George would pick him up outside his studio apartment…

—

The twins arrived at around 10:15, the drive there filled with only uncomfortable silence at what was to come. George was a bit pissed to say the least, once again Fred was getting his way for an adrenaline run, and this time Y/N had backed him up.

George’s last place he would be right now is behind the wheel of his own fucking car.

He parked it next to Dean’s sleek, jet black chevy, his hands gripping the steering wheel ever so slightly as he leaned back against the headrest.

“You realize if we get caught we could never race again, right?” George prompted quietly.

“Here’s an idea; don’t.” Fred rolled his eyes, reaching over to flick his brother in the ear, eyebrows raised playfully.

“Yeah, no shit, sherlock.” George grumbled, turning off the ignition, listening to the signature growl of his engine grind to a stop. 

“Why is it always such a bad idea to do anything fun once in a while, Georgie,” Fred grumbled, his knee bouncing against the floor of the car. “It’s not like we’ve had anything to do as of late, you know.”

“Of course, besides, hmm, I dunno, not making our sponsors upset? By like possibly following the very slight and basic set of rules we’ve been given?” George snipped, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. He sighed to himself and went to get out of the car when Fred grabbed his arm.

“Hey, you agreed to this too, you know-”

“Yes, at the behest of my lovely fiance and my snot nosed, ant thorax of a barely older brother and as such, I’m driving this thing when this shit factory of a drag race starts.” He whacked Fred’s arm away and exited the car, immediately all but smiles on his face as he went to greet his friends, a sporadic and adrenaline heated Fred on his tail.

“Well if it isn’t the two most obnoxious bastards in NASCAR,” Fred turned to see his best friend and ex-pit crew member, Roger Davies, and excitedly gripped him in a hug, hands clapping backs and tears falling down cheeks at the renewal of friendship.

“Georgie! Look, it's Rog!”

“Holy shit, not my first husband-!”

“Your only husband, Weasley number 5, and Fred can disagree all he wants,” Roger grinned and pulled both boys into a hug before whispering in their ear, “watch out for Finnegan and Thomas, boys, the cheating hasn’t stopped since last season,” leaving the twins utterly confused.

“Oi! Not another sleepover without me?” Boomed Dean from behind them. Roger immediately pushed past the two entirely confused twins and went to clap Dean on the back.

“Just getting them acquainted with the rules before a race...you know how hard it is to follow all the rules, don’t you, mate?” Roger winked and headed back to the twins, moving them back to the car as all the other drivers retreated to theirs.

“Rog, what was all that?” Fred whispered.

“Dean has been known to be a bit...well, shifty as of late with these. Always been a bit of a windy bloke, you get it, but ever since Target dropped him from the sponsorship he hasn’t really been...getting off as much in racing as he used to.” Roger nervously laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, leaning against the back of George’s car.

“By ‘cheating’ what does that entail?” George crossed his arms in repose.

“He’s always been a thrill chaser, you know this, Georgie.”

That was true, Dean had always been after a nice high. An adrenaline junkie back at primary school, Dean and Fred (as George unfortunately remembered) would feed off each other like invasive flowers, the group think of two singularly aggressive and needy young boys clouding the canopy of their friends (and brothers) with misfortune. Anything from groundings to almost arrests to nights spent aimlessly wandering the London streets in the wee hours of the morning - to Dean’s favorite: bets.

Dean would bet and bet and bet if his life depended on it and when it came to racing, if there was a bet out in his name to win, he was sure as shit going to make sure that he was the winner, this led to more and more alterations to his cars, some that even street racing frowned upon. The media never got their hands on the true reason Dean had lost his Target sponsorship; just one simple, illegal, engine part. One that gave him the lead in a race that caught him out. 

“How hasn’t someone banned him then?” George laughed, looking over at his friends, only for Roger to clear his throat with a chuckle himself.

“You can’t ban someone from street racing, Georgie, not without the authority that NASCAR has.” Roger explained, pushing away from George’s car to head towards his own. “See you on the track, boys.” 

“Track?” Fred choked over the words, confused thoroughly at this point.

“I don’t think we’re in for just a drag race, Freddie.” George gulped, watching Roger slip inside his car, the lights flashing on and the sounds of rumbling engines echoing through the air. 

—

“What do you mean I can’t drive your car.” Fred practically whined, if his eyes rolled any harder they would be in the back of his head.

“I mean what I said, dumbass, you’re not driving my car.” George protested, his arms crossing over his chest as he stood protectively in front of the driver’s side door.

“But you’d let me drive it in a drag race, that doesn’t make any sense, like at all.” 

“That was when you had to drive in a straight line, you are not putting my baby in danger just to race her round a track.”

“Your baby? George, you do realise I race too right?” 

“Fuck off. You’re not driving, that’s final.”

“Yes the fuck I am, now move.” Fred was practically pushing his brother out of the way as he tried to get himself in the driver’s seat. “Twenty minutes ago you didn’t even want to be here, now you want to drive?”

“Fine.” George sighed, finally stepping aside, only to grab the back of Fred’s shirt. “One scratch and you’ll be fixing it, either that or I’ll break you.” 

“I’m not gonna crash the car, George, now get in.” Fred slid inside the car, George following suit on the passenger side. Fred went to pull out of the space that George had parked the car in, only to stall, dropping the clutch out of excitement, causing his younger brother to yell, out loud and quickly. 

“Nope! I’m not doing this.”

“Fucking hell, George, shut up I can drive.” 

—

There was something about the way tires kicked dust up as they sped around the dirt track that had Fred on edge. This race was unlike anything he’d ever seen or been a part of before, if he was being brutally honest it was exhilarating to be doing something like this, much more so when his brother was sat in the passenger seat. He didn’t need to look over or even take his eyes off the road to know that George was already being hypercritical of Fred’s driving skills, especially when the livelihood of his pride and joy of a car lay in another’s hands.

If George were gripping the steering wheel in that moment, his knuckles would have been well and truly white, watching clouds upon clouds of dust spray over the freshly washed exterior of his car. Instead, George’s hand was dripped tightly on the door, bracing himself for the sharp corners and bumpy jolts, thinking about how all the up and down was surely going to fuck his suspension. 

Fred laughed to himself, but mostly at the way his twin was acting, almost as if George hadn’t spent most of his adult life behind the wheel of a car driving faster than any other man would dream of. Fred shouted over the roar of the engine “Jesus, Georgie, let loose a little will you?”

“I’d be way less uptight if you would have just let me drive.” George replied, sighing to himself, a small ‘woah’ falling from his mouth at the feeling of the back wheels spinning.

“It’s a bit fucking late for that decision.” Fred laughed back, passing a car that had the unfortunate and untimely end of spinning themselves off the joke of a track. Once the dust parted and George saw the mess in front of him, his eyes widened, heart racing if it could have beaten any faster.

“I will kill you if you do that.” the younger man grumbled, watching Fred speed past car after car, pushing them up the ranks. 

“I told you I won’t crash your precious car… I’m starting to think you love her more than your lovely lady.” Fred bit his lower lip to stop himself laughing at his own comment. Looking up in the rear view mirror, he spotted the glistening black and bright blue of Roger and Dean gaining on the lead the twins had.

It was nearing what Fred hoped to be the end of the track, watching as the finish line grew nearer with every second. In what seemed to be all at once, a loud revving came in from Fred’s Left, The lightning bolt blue car overtaking George’ in a matter of seconds, pushing right past the finish line without a care in the world. Following closely in second was Dean’s beauty of a car, Fred managing to keep right behind his two friends, pulling third rank in the race. 

—

Fred was the first out of the car, slamming the door behind him as his rage was starting to bubble out from his lungs. George hurried to catch up with his older brother, the look in his eyes and his body language evident that nothing short of violent impulsivity would amount from the situation. Fred pushed past Roger, ignoring the pleas for peace, he was never mad at Rog, Rog deserved a top rank, but his anger was centered towards Dean.

Dean needed a nice loss.

“Oi, Thomas.” He got closer to the man, Dean turning around slowly, a haughty sense of pride glazed on his face. “What’s wrong, Freddie, I’d figured after your little twelfth place at the table third should be a nice welcome to you,” he drawled, before Fred lunged at him, getting held back only by Davies.

“Aw, does poor little Freddie still need a babysitter?”

“Open that mouth one more fucking time-”

“Fred-” Roger stuttered.

“No,” he pushed from his grasp and proceeded to get inches from Dean’s face

Dean smirked and leaned back to grab a beer from the cooler beside him. “Fred. Your little tough guy act doesn’t scare me anymore, you know that.”

George stepped up next to Fred, “It’s not an act, mate, I think you know us well enough by now to get that we don’t take kindly to cheaters,” he said softly, rising to his full height.

Dean immediately leaned back at the sight of the two gingers, and even going as far as shrinking at the pure sight of Roger Davies, not as tall but definitely as intimidating, standing between them.

“The track never did cater to a liar, Thomas, we figured you’d know that by now,” Roger added quietly. 

Dean scoffed, the adrenaline clearly rising in his chest, as the men behind him started to eye each other, the violence of the situation reaching a silent all time high. “I’m not gonna take shit from a losing tosser, his stooge of a younger brother, and a dumb blonde-“ 

Fred had launched himself all the way forward, his index and thumb forming a U shape as he grabbed Dean’s face, slamming it directly into the window. Dean struggled in Fred’s grasp, lifeless and sloppy fists flying in every direction possible. When Fred finally pulled off the boy and began to walk off, a smug and bloody smirk gracing his haughty face, Seamus lunged forward, a punch matching the back of Fred’s head. 

A full on fight occurred, George rushing forward to slam Seamus to the ground, dust flying in every which way under the artificial lights. Fred had taken to pummeling Dean as if he was losing himself entirely in aggression.

The twins had always had an aggressive streak - but it had rarely been released in their current younger years of “adulthood.” 

Amongst the mess of brawling fists and kicked up dirt, Roger had managed to summon the presence of one of the two Weasley girls - you, the understanding quick thinker with a tendency to be for whatever your boyfriend did and Fred’s Wife, the american firecracker who rarely took no for an answer.. When you had arrived, Rog and George were stopping Fred from lurching at Dean once more, Instead you were focused on the graze that lay above George’s brow, taking a deep breath and shaking your head at just how reckless he had become. 

“George Weasley, I swear to fucking god you bastard.” You shouted, pulling him up by his bicep and pushing him back against his dust-covered car. “One night I leave you, One night and you end up in a back street race nearly getting your ass handed to you by Dean fucking Thomas-”

“It was Seamus, actually-”

“Not the fucking point, George.” you slapped his chest, only for him to wrap his arms around your waist, keeping you pulled close, a small smirk hanging off his lips.

“Fred said I needed to let loose, and I did and it was the best fun I’ve had since the end of season… but that obviously isn’t what I should be saying… I’m sorry, really am.”

You rolled your eyes, a sigh falling from your lips as you rested your head on his chest, with all the stress that NASCAR had given him, it really was the best thing that he was getting some actual joy in his free time. “At least you had fun.”

-

You knew you couldn’t be mad at him for long, not with the puppy dog eyes he was giving you as he knelt down on the floor, elbows resting on the mattress to look at you. Part of him realised that he needed to not piss you off any more than he already had, after all it was a little more than what you were expecting from him and with so much on the line after all of his hard work you were more mad at the fact he would so easily chance it.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He quipped, a small smile on his lips as he stretched his back out, leaning forward across the mattress, fingertips grazing over your knee.

“You know what you’re doing.” You sighed, trying to look away from him, only to feel his full firm grip squeeze at your thigh.

“I’m just trying to apologize to you.”

“Yeah right.”

“I know how much you gave up to be here with me, for us, for me to achieve my dreams and I only went and nearly threw it away for a cheap race and I’m sorry.” 

His eyes were glassy, filled with a sadness that you only recognised from the day he left for America, he truly was sorry for what had happened. 

“I want to make it up to you, princess.” He pushed himself up onto the bed, his head resting on the pillow, your eyes never leaving him as you watch him shift to get comfortable. 

Your hand reached out to brush the hair out of his eyes, watching his eyes flutter closed as a small sigh fell from his lips. You were quick to shift so that you lay next to him. 

“There’s nothing to make up for, Georgie.” You smiled softly, shifting slightly closer to him, feeling his hand drape lazily over your side. Something about seeing him so vulnerable made you want to protect him with your whole heart and yet he was always the one to protect you.

“There’s everything to make up for, my love.” He smirked, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours softly before pressing a small kiss to your lips. “Just let me make you feel good.”

“George you don’t–” You went to protest, but he was quick to cut you off with another kiss, this time his hand gently pulling your hips closer towards him.

“I know just the way to make things up to you.” He pushed himself up slowly, arm wrapping around you to lay you down on your back, finding his place between your thighs, your legs either side of his hips.

His hands slowly raked up your thighs, finding his way up to your hips, fingers hooking underneath the waistband to pull the material down your legs, leaving you bare from the waist down. You had almost forgotten how much of a tease George could be, the way his fingers had quickly found your clit, the long digits finding your entrance soon after, only to warm you up.

Positioning himself with your legs hooked over his shoulders, he drew in a breath, releasing the cool exhale over you as you sighed frustratedly, hips bucking to try and get some friction if any, only for his hand to push your hips back down, a chuckle falling from his lips.

The second his tongue was licking a prominent stripe along your aching pussy, you were well and truly putty in his hands. Each flick of his tongue had you squirming, unrestrained moans falling from your lips as the pleasure built.

It didn’t take him long to attach his lips to your clit, sucking relentlessly at the bundle of nerves, his fingers pushing knuckle deep into you, curling up to hit your favourite spot, having you a wordless mess of nothing but moans of his name.

“Such a pretty thing you are, baby.” He hummed, thumb coming up to circle over your clit as he watched the way you had thrown your head back, your hands finding his hair to pull him back down needily, earning a chuckle from him.

His tongue continued its work, pulling you closer and closer to release with every flick. He didn’t let up until your thighs were shaking and your chest heaving, mind clouded only with thoughts of him and how lucky you were.

—--

Fred Weasley got home all too late, the door closing a bit louder than the man had wanted behind him. The slightly elder Weasley crept from the doorway to the bedroom, careful to mind the light creaks in the hardwood floor, taking every ounce of stress on his feet to avoid any miscalculations. 

When he got to the bedroom, he saw the woman he loved, asleep no doubt by the sight of her mussed hair and lightly agape expression on her lips. Fred exhaled slowly, what he thought was quietly, until he heard her voice clearly say:

“So where were you?”

The man before her felt his heart thump harder than he felt when his own mother would corner him in the kitchen, the memories of sneaking out and sneaking back only to return with a-

“So are you going to tell me where you were?”

“Out.”

“No, really?” She spat, sitting back up and clicking the lamp on, her face etched with rage.

“I waited up for you the entire night, the least I probably deserve is an explanation.”

“Well, love, you didn’t seem to want to talk to me earlier, so I guess the lack of communication goes both ways, now move over.” he said briskly, beginning to take off his shirt. When she didn’t move, her face unwavering in anger, he rolled his jaw, swallowing back and refusing to feel the light effervescence of guilt in his throat.

“I said m-”

“I’m aware. See, Fred,” his wife exited the bed, and unfortunately for him, she was clad in only the black satin nightie he had gotten for her after his first big win. The guilt was rising now, as was something else low on his hips.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, okay? I am, I-”

“Interrupt me again, and you get the couch, got it?” He nodded, his eyes drawn to the tears welling up in hers. “Fred, I’m your wife now and-and knowing my husband, my husband was out doing god knows what or who for that matter and has the audacity to come back in at three in the morning and be pissed at me? Who the hell are you?” 

“I was racing! I was racing alright, and I’m sorry, I’m sorry I-I came in late and made you pissed because I love you and I am never going to do this again but God can you please put something else on so I can focus correctly-” and then he was kissing her, and somewhere deep in his cerebral cortex, this was probably unbearably toxic, for him to start apologizing angrily for the shit that he put her through but-

“God, you are a piece of fucking work aren’t you?” She snarled, already beginning to unbuckle and unzip his pants. 

“But ‘m your piece of work, and currently,” he spat back, mouth melding in a messy and unkempt addition to hers, the entire situation wholly and completely Fred in every way possible, as he shed himself of his shirt and picked her up, “-I’d like to be fucking you.”

It didn’t take him long to pitch her body on the bed, his wife scrunching delectably at his fiery hair and his own ropy and iron hands squeezing at the bottom of her bare thighs. It had been long, too long, and with the already latent tension from their little bathroom incident earlier in the day - there wouldn’t be any denying Fred nor his girl of a quick, ravenous fuck tonight.

“Missed you so much, baby,” she whined, yanking his head up to mold herself to him in a heated kiss, the man atop her not needing to be shown twice at her action. “Missed you more, had me fuckin’ twitching and creaming in a car earlier, you did,” he chuckled, arousal thick and evident in his tone.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” He rasped, his eyes scrunching close as one of her delightfully un-dainty and gently calloused hands palmed him over his boxers. “God, wanted you so bad, baby, wanted to just drop the towel and have you on the sink, then ‘n there.”

“You mean that?” She said shakily, as he kissed her one last time before sliding down her body, his lengthy digits trailing down above him.

“God, absolutely, and if I look under here I wonder if - oh look at that, ‘was right, wasn’t I?” Much to her disagreeing whine, he sat up on his heels, his damn near naked body covered in sweat, his myriad of constellations adorning his chest like only the finest stars in the night sky. He looked up at her, the face only him or his twin could make, rum eyes bright and full of mischief, but also something else more sinister as his fingers trailed up her thighs.

“Fred, please-”

“‘Got you, baby, don’t you worry about me,” he mused, lazily almost, while his fingers drifted higher up the apex of her thigh before-

“No.” She said simply.

“Shit, I’m sorry do you want me to stop-?”

“No.” Fred’s wife, almost too fast for him to register, threw her left thigh around his waist, gathering momentum from her other leg fast enough to get him on his back, effectively pressing her hand to the center of his chest before all he could say was:

“Didn’t know you could do that, love,” he drawled, a quirk of a brow and a little smile on his face.

“You didn’t know I could do a lot of things, Freddie.” She shot back, bringing her nails up and in to scratch at his bare chest, her hips rolling to his and rubbing his tip under his boxers so well he thought he was going to explode.

“You have any plans beyond making me cum in m’pants, dear?” He hummed, his hands reaching up and under her satin to cup and squeeze at her bare ass.

“I was planning on making you cum so hard your ears pop, actually.”

“Merlin, woman, get on with it then,” he groaned, her laugh bubbling in his ears like champagne as her nails abandoned their spot on his broad chest to the hills and valleys of his v-line, the light grazing and nimble touch causing a wanton moan to erupt from the back of his throat along with a small, “fuckin’ hell, petal.” He watched with rapt but seemingly pained eyes as she slowly - too slowly, for his personal taste - began to lift her hips and grind the tip of his erection, his palms getting more clammy as he waited with need for her to sink onto him - if she’d even give him that.

But all too soon, she stopped her rolling onto his cock, making him swear at the loss of contact. “Goddamnit, fuck me already.”

“Oh, Freddie,” she preened, moving a hand back to cover one of his own sliding it to her soaking cunt, “after how bad you’ve been today? And you think I’m gonna reward you? Baby…” she drawled, reaching down to squeeze his thick cock, the action alone making him grunt and his neck veins pulsate with life.

“‘Do anything y’want, anything,” he whined, desperately trying to fuck his hips up to meet her friction. He knew his wife would push him, push him to the absolute limit until his dick exploded and his throat gave out from how hard he’d be screaming, she’d done it before, but it was so late, and God, he needed to bury himself deep in the milk and honey of her sex before it was too late.

“Then you have to be a good boy, Freddie, remember?”

“I know, I know, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry, ma’am,” he babbled, the pleasure and lack of stimulation running through his veins. “Please,” he whimpered, his voice small and pliant like rubber.

She cocked a brow at him, curling her shiny red nails around his chin and gently tilting him toward hers. 

“Been so bad, baby boy, but I guess ‘m gonna have to give you a treat some time…you just look so delicious like this,'' she purred, moving her hands to the swell of his bulge, delighting in the whine that escaped his throat like the rush of water in a stream (or something a bit more sinful in its entirety.) Fred’s wife swiftly lifted his cock free from it’s confines, his hands coming immediately to steady at her hip bones and kneading greedy circles into the tough skeleton. 

“Ready f’me, precious?”

“Fred, don’t be pretending you’re the one on top at present,” 

“Good Lord, woman, stop the banter and rock already.” The two chuckled breathlessly at Fred’s words, his wife pressing an airy kiss to his red and puckered mouth before bringing her cunt to just barely graze his tip, a movement that had the ginger subjected to her ministrations roll his eyes back and murmur a throaty “fuck” against her lips. 

“Baby, please-“

“I know, Freddie, my love ‘ve got you,” she whispered before finally sinking down onto him, both partners releasing hisses and throaty moans at the feeling of being one.

It took no time at all for the ginger beneath to bring his hands to her now bouncing ass, guiding her roughly to every ridge of his cock. She was sloppy, the ride of pushing Fred’s high further and further to the forefront of his system. Fred oh the other hand had started to spastically fuck up into her now, moaning out her name the more he listened to the sound of her wet cunt being slid up and down on his thick cock. 

She was close, dangerously close, the feeling of his balls clapping against the bottom of her ass in time with her pants. Fred was in nirvana, the way the light graced the sides of her face making her look like the most fallen of angels when-

“Fred, I can’t, I, please”

“I know, bub, ‘m right there with you,” he coaxed, all too soft in contrast with the rampant fucking he was giving her, waiting until he could feel her about to soak his cock before flipping her over, almost too quickly throwing her legs around his waist and thrusting further than what he thought was possible. His hands gripped hers and somewhere in his mind he blacked out against the feeling of the black satin rubbing against his torso. 

“Baby-“

“Fred-“

Fred relished the feeling of her collapsing around him, his back fully extended as he rolled softly and slowly into her to push them through their conjoined high. He loved this, he always had, how her body heaved gently under his and his hands and mouth could whisper sweet nothings into her skin, soothing her form and giving her all the love he could possibly muster. 

“I am sorry you know, bub.” He finally said after a while, his hands rubbing back and forth on her thighs. 

She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his nose and then his lips, smiling lightly against his mouth as her eyes fluttered shut, “yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Just…don’t do it again okay-?” She whispered.

“Baby, you know I won’t. Scout’s honor ‘n all-“

“You didn’t let me finish, Weasley!”

“Well, then what’s the rest of it?” 

She smiled at him before craning her lips to his ear: “next time you drag race, I better watch.”

She giggled when he threw the covers above their heads.

—

It was two days later, the sun blaring just as brightly as it had when Dean Thomas proposed a drag race, and now, as the front door bells jingled an entrance, the twins had done something they didn’t last time.

“We’re closed,” they both said flatly, not looking up from the respective cars.

“Even for me?” A familiar voice asked the boys, causing them both to raise their heads.

“Sirius!” They both squawked, the lanky men scrambling to their feet to hug their favorite agent, the older man hugging them back immediately.

“Why’ve you come from LA?”

“Yeah, is something wrong? I can guarantee you whatever it was it was 100% George’s fault-”

“Fred.”

“Sorry.”

Sirius released a small smile that had been tugging at his face the whole interaction. “Boys, I’ve got a bit of an announcement for you.”

“And what would that be?” George asked suspiciously. Fred looked out the corner of his eye at his twin, and all Sirius did was throw his hands out and up.

“Boys: we’re going to Monaco.”

[h-33-s-3-ung]

Adventure in the fitting rooms

Jay smut MDNI

Synopsis: it’s your birthday so your boyfriend takes you to your favorite boutique and is willing to buy you everything but he has something else planned.

Warnings: public sex, exhibitionism, dirty talk. (Lmk if something is missing)

Word count: ≈2200

"Good morning princess"

That was the first thing you heard the second you woke up. Jay, your boyfriend of now 2 years was sitting next to you in bed patiently waiting for your slumber to be over.

"Guess what day it is today" Jay asked with a slight smirk on his face.

You were still half asleep so the only thing you could respond was:

"It’s Saturday?"

"Awn are you still sleepy? It’s your birthday today! Did you forget?"

Your eyes grew wide as you realized you had forgotten your own birthday. Yet, you were happy that your sweet boyfriend remembered it.

"I have a surprise for you, come with me." Jay said making a follow me gesture with his hand.

You rubbed your eyes as you walked out of your room.

"TA-DA" Jay exclaimed making you jump slightly.

Jay has prepared a giant breakfast just for you with everything you loved. There were pancakes covered in maple syrup and whipped cream, strawberries, raspberries, bacon, sausage and of course an iced coffee.

You were now fully awake and jumping from joy.

"OMG Jay you did all this by yourself? It looks so good!" You said, your mouth watering intensely as you sat down in front of the giant plate.

"Dig in!" He responded sitting to your left.

Without waisting a single second, you took your knife and fork and quickly cut out a piece of pancake. Making sure you got all the toppings and fruits in your bite and your shoved it in your mouth. Your eyes closed and your body went limp for a few seconds as you were tasting all your favorite things all at once.

"It’s good?" Jay asked curiously.

"Words can’t even describe the taste, it’s just magical" you responded mouth still full.

Jay found you funny and adorable eating like a little kid, mouth covered and dancing at the good flavour.

"Can I get a bite?" Your boyfriend asked in a cute tone.

You prepared a piece with once again all the toppings and brought it close to his mouth before stopping suddenly.

"What…" your boyfriend asked confused at your sudden action.

"Airplane!" You simply responded. "Whrrrrriiiiii!" You imitated the sound of an airplane while moving the fork closer to your boyfriends mouth. He sight but opened his mouth cutely. You were dying of laughter at your boyfriend’s reaction and gave him a soft kiss on his cheek.

You were done with your plate shortly after and thanked your boyfriend for making such an amazing breakfast.

"Wait, I have one more surprise for you…" He responded mysteriously.

He gave you a small envelope with your name written on it and a heart in the top right corner. You thought it would just be an ordinary card like the previous ones, describing his endless love for you. But there was more than just a cute message inside.

"You’re not serious, are you?" You asked your mouth hanging open.

He shrugged his shoulders and gave you a sweet look. Inside the card was a 1500$ gift card to your favorite luxury boutique. You couldn’t hide your excitement anymore and jumped in his arms kissing him all over his face thanking him over and over again.

"Can we go now Jay, pretty please?" You asked in a cute tone.

"Of course darling. Go get ready and we can go." He replied still smiling.

You gave him one last kiss before going to the bathroom to do your makeup and put on a cute dress.

20 minutes later

"Okay I’m ready!" You exclaimed from behind the couch where your beautiful boyfriend was sitting. He got up, turned around, and froze.

"Wow! How do you look so pretty?" He said in admiration.

You were wearing a black dress and a red corset that accentuated your beautiful curves.

"Thank you baby." You shyly responded.

"Okay let’s go before I change my mind for some dirty stuff." Jay said grabbing your hand and walking out the door.

The car ride there was about 15 minutes and you were blasting his group’s last album, dark blood, the whole time. Jay glanced at you laughing at your cuteness a few times. He could watch you dance to their songs for hours and never get tired, but he was driving so he sadly has to pay attention.

"Alright we’re here. You can get anything you want but one condition." He said.

"What is it?" You asked confused.

"You let me pick a lingerie set for you and you must try it on in front of me, got it?" He said seriously, holding your chin.

You were practically drooling at the idea and all you could respond was "okay"

“Let’s go!" He said, his expression immediately changing to his usual soft and cute expression whenever he’s out with you.

You opened the door and was immediately greeted by the employee there, she knew you and your boyfriend very well. Not only because she was a big fan of Enhypen but also because over the time. She had become your friend since you were so kind to everyone. You hugged her immediately as a greeting.

"Are you guys looking for anything?" She kindly asked

Jay got down to your level and whispered in your ear "go check out the clothes and shoes, I will check the lingerie okay?" You nodded and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before making your way to the shoe section first.

"I’m looking for some lingerie for my girlfriend. It’ her birthday today." He told her proudly.

"Oh I see. Follow me I’ll show you what I think will suit her best." She responded kindly.

•

You arrived in the shoe section and immediately spotted a pair you had been wanting for years. Some black heels with a small platform at the front and some pearls around the opening where your foot goes. You immediately checked if there was your size in stock and lucky for you, there was a pair. You tried them on and they were absolutely perfect. No second thought. You had to get them. Plus they were on sale at 350$ instead of 600$. "What a steal" you thought to yourself.

Happy, you made your way to the dress section. Wandering around trying to spot something you liked. Bingo! There it was. The dress you showed jay a few weeks ago. It was exactly your style. Black and white with lace on the top and on the border of the skirt. You looked for your size and, it was definitely your lucky day today, because there was one last dress in your size. It was 250$. Luckily your boyfriend had given you this gift card otherwise you could never afford these on your own.

"Y/N, Baby! I found something!" You heard your boyfriend say from a far.

You quickly made your way towards the direction of his voice and found him next to a fitting room with a lingerie set in his hands.

"Milady." He said bowing down like a prince.

Thank you good sir. Would you like to join me perhaps?" You said elegantly.

"Hell yeah." He said, breaking character suddenly.

"Look at what I found!" You said happily as you showed him your dress and shoes.

"Wow they are so beautiful. How much were they?" He asked.

"600$ together, 350 for the shoes and 250 for the dress." You responded.

"Can I see the shoes on?" He asked

You put them on and posed like a mannequin happily.

"They were made for you. It makes you taller!" He said laughing.

"Oh shut up." You replied also laughing.

"Okay the dress now and keep the shoes." He said.

You did as he said, asking him to turn around so that it would be a surprise.

"Okay, look!" You said. Tapping your feet in excitement as he did.

"OH MY- Damn baby." He said admiring your curves accentuated by the expensive dress.

"What do you think?" You asked seductively yet cutely.

"I think it’s making me hard. Look." He pointed down to his pants where you could see a tent forming.

"Do I look this good?" You asked him bending down to show your cleavage a little more.

"If only you could see what I’m seeing." He said almost drooling.

You blushed and started kissing him.

"Wait, I have an idea. Take the dress off, keep the shoes, and put on this lingerie set I chose for you." He got closer to your ear and continued "Then, if you agree, we can have a little session here."

"What if she catches us?" You said, talking about the employee that is also your friend.

"That’s what’s so exciting about it. Last time, when we fucked at the dorm and you heard Heeseung approaching the room and calling my name, I felt you tighten around me. I know you like the idea of doing it when other’s are around. Plus, you can muffle your moans in your dress." He explained.

He wasn’t wrong. So, you quickly took the dress off and changed into the lingerie Jay had chosen for you. He was touching his erection over his pants as he watched you change, making you wet.

"How do I look?" You asked giving him a twirl.

"Delicious." He simply replied pulling his dick out of his pants.

"That looks delicious too." You replied. "Can I suck it?" You asked.

"No. It’s your birthday. I just want to make you feel good and not slow things down." He said looking at you with siren eyes.

He pulled you in closer by the waist and kissed your lips and your neck before turning you around so you were facing the mirror.

"I want you to look at yourself while I fuck you. Okay?" He said.

You simply nodded in response. He then pushed the underwear part of your matching lace set to the side before inserting his long and thick cock inside. His hand was on your mouth as he knew you wouldn’t be able to contain your moans. You saw as your face contorted in pleasure, your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes rolling at the back of your head. What a sight for your boyfriend who’s eyebrows did the same as yours and his mouth hung opened from the sensation.

"You feel so good baby" you whimpered softly.

"Oh yeah? You like it? You like it when I fuck your tiny pussy in public? Huh?"

You only moaned in response. Luckily the music in this store was a little bit loud so your sinful noises were hidden by it.

Jay picked up the pace as he felt you tighten around his length in response to his dirty talk.

"You’re gonna cum already? You’re gonna make a mess on the floor for me princess?" He said in a deep voice next to your ear.

"Yes." You managed to moan softly in response. As you came all over his dick and leaked a little on the floor and your brand new expensive set.

"I’m gonna cum. Wanna suck me off now?" He asked out of breath.

You got on your knees and wrapped your mouth around him just in time as he came almost instantly. You hummed at his taste as he moaned softly, from the intense orgasm.

"Let’s clean you and the floor up so we won’t be suspicious." He proposed.

You took a few tissues out of your purse and wiped the floor first then your folds.

"Wait, the lingerie is all wet. I can’t take it off and show her." You said concerned.

"No problem, here" He said removing the tag. "I’ll give her the tag and explain you wanted to keep it on, okay?"

"You’re so smart MR Park." You said giving him a hug.

Jay got out of the fitting room with all your new purchases, you, on the other hand, stayed inside to get dressed.

•

"Here, I’ll pay for it while she get’s dressed." He explained to the employee.

"No problem. Everything fitted?" She asked.

"Perfectly. Oh and she kept the lingerie set on since she loved it so much but here’s the tag." He explained

"Oh no problem at all." She said innocently, not knowing the real reason behind it.

You came out of the fitting room soon after as if nothing happened.

"There you go. I wish you both an amazing day and a happy birthday to you y/n." She said smiling brightly.

"Thank you so much. See you next time!" Your boyfriend responded.

"Bye! Have an amazing day!" You responded giving her a warm hug and waving goodbye.

"We’ll that was hot." You told your boyfriend as you walked back to your car.

"Happy birthday princess. We should do this every year." He responded.

"Sure." You replied hugging his arm as you continued your short walk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is the story for jay! Hope you like it. I’m quite proud of this one to be honest. I’ll try my best to keep writing stories. If you have any suggestions for the other members, let me know! Love you.❤️

[wnobin]

NO BUNNY BUT YOU! 🐰

petsitter! wonbin x fem! reader

series synopsis: your friends refuse to look after your bunnies, tokki and dokki, while you’re on an overseas programme for a week. luckily, winter knows the right person for the job.

series masterlist

part four: maybe bunnies aren’t that bad

you had finally reached your accommodation after a long and tiring flight and endless security checks that never seemed to end. you checked the time on your phone, it was around evening time which meant wonbin was most likely over and taking care of tokki and dokki. you’re not sure why you were nervous but you kept retyping and deleting your text to him. it was just a simple “how are the bunnies?” text but for some reason, your heart was doing backflips at the thought of sending wonbin a text. letting out a sharp exhale, you hit send on the message, placing your phone face down. almost immediately, your phone started ringing with a call from wonbin.

fuck shit fuck why is he facetiming me now, i’m not ready!!!!

before you could even process what was happening, you accidentally pressed the accept call button and was now connected to wonbin. “h-hey?” your voice cracked as you internally cursed at yourself, already embarrassing yourself with one word.

“hiiii, y/n!! how was your flight? i hope it was good! tokki misses you especially.”

wonbin waved to you before directing the camera to tokki who seemed to recognise you through the screen. even thiugh you were exhausted from the travelling, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of tokki’s nose twitching as wonbin gently scratched the side of her face. soon the awkwardness faded and you were both telling each other about your days. you listened to wonbin telling you about how the bunnies missed your scent and would cuddle up near your pillows, responding with soft mhm’s, his voice almost lulling you to sleep. the call continued until the bunnies eventually tired themselves out and fell asleep, meaning wonbin would have to go back to his dorm. you were slightly sad that the call ended so soon but wonbin assured you that he would call you again the next day and keep you updated on your fur babies.

laying in your bed and staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t wait for the next day to come. not because you were eager to see tokki and dokki, but instead looking forward to seeing their cute petsitter.

the next few days went the same, you would spend the day taking part in events and programmes and wonbin would send you updates of the bunnies in the morning before he went off to his class. in the evening when you were finally free to relax, you would be on facetime with wonbin, telling him about the fun stuff you did today while he and the bunnies listened intently. your calls would last for hours until tokki and dokki fell asleep. wonbin would stay on call with you as he locked up your dorm and walked back to his own, telling you about his day and how his roommate, sungchan, was still torturing him and making his life living hell over the flowerpot incident.

you enjoyed these late night calls with wonbin, it felt very domestic and nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. you thought the highlight about your overseas trip would be the new experiences but no, the highlight was seeing wonbin being all cuddly with your bunnies and hearing his sleepy voice as it got later in the night.

tonight was the last night before you flew back and as usual, you were on call with wonbin. he seemed sleepier than normal today, his words slurring and voice softer. he told you that he was just tired from sungchan waking him up early in the morning because of an insect in the bathroom. “he’s sucha wimp, i swear… but i’m not!” you giggled as wonbin tried to prove his courage and braveness in attempt to win you over. “then i’ll make sure to call you the next time tokki brings a grasshopper to me.”

“mhm, that’s good. don’t call anyone else, okay?”

you could tell wonbin was getting even sleepier, tokki already curled up by his side. wonbin was dozing off slightly, eyes staying shut longer during his blinks. as much as you liked hearing his sleepy voice, you knew he had to get some rest. “you should head back to your dorm soon, yknow? you’re already so tired.”

“mm, so lazy though…”

“then you can sleep at mine. i don’t mind and ‘s not like i’m there anyways.”

“reaaaally? you’re the best, y/n. your couch’s so comfy.”

wonbin eventually dozed off, too tired to even end the call, soft snores escaping his parted lips. you couldn’t help but to take a screenshot, he looked so pretty. his lips were so kissable. you couldn’t wait to be back tomorrow.

taglist: @istphanie @snowyseungs @nyuoqi @myizhous @jhskluv @babigriin @revehosh