#it might be the way pasta leans in

[chuckschippedchomper]

it’s giving lesbian couple

[magicdustsworld]

Would you believe if I say husband!Caleb is petty?

You've been in a pretty bad mood since this morning and all of your anger is targeted at him. However, rather than blowing up and taking the whole Linkon city down with you—you are hell bent on giving him the cold shoulder.

Caleb has tried everything in order to weasel back into your good graces; but you seem to not budge at all. Therefore, he does what any responsible, mature husband would do.

He tightens every single jar in the kitchen and places them in the highest rack.

It doesn't take long for the inevitable to occur. Sooner than he predicted, he hears the sound of your frustrated grumble floating from the kitchen. Barely hiding the conceit blooming in his chest, he strolls towards the damsel in distress—you.

"Fuck this," you curse under your breath, trying to twist the lid of pasta sauce jar with all your might.

No luck.

Caleb leans on the door, folding his arms over his chest and one of the most condescending smirks lines his lips. Watching as your expression shifts from stubborn determination to murderous rage in a matter of seconds.

"Got a problem, pipsqueak?"

You freeze for a second. The next, you whip around—death burning in your eyes. "You—" inhaling a sharp breath, voice deceptively low. "You did this on purpose."

Rather than admitting, he lifts a brow, "Did what? Store things out of your adorable little reach? That's just called good kitchen organization."

The corner of your lip curls down into a sneer—blood curdling in your veins. Stomping over to him, you thrust the jar to his chest, "Open it."

For all what Caleb is, he does take the jar from you but makes no effort to open it. Instead, he tilts his head, "No apology?"

"For what?"

"For freezing me the whole morning?" He says, tapping the lid. "You want me to do something then you gotta play nice, pipsqueak."

Again with that nickname...

Your fingers twitch, like you are considering the possibility of smacking some sense into him but choose against it. It is clear that he is enjoying this game he is playing—seeking out ways to prove just how dependent you are on him regarding everyday things. And although you don't want to ask for his help, you have little choice in the matter. Besides, with the way he is looking at you presently, the reason as to why you were mad at him is suddenly lost.

Taking a controlled deep breath, you school your expression into the most fake smile ever and say through gritted teeth, "My insufferable, dearest husband, will you please open the jar for me?"

Caleb grins, twisting the lid off with ease; an act which leaves you infuriated rather than impressed. "See? That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Instantly you snatch it back, whispering something incomprehensible under your breath although Caleb catches the wisp of a word like jar opener. However, before you can walk away, your husband reaches for your wrist, tugging you back.

"Next time you are mad at me..." He pauses, weighing his next words carefully, "...just say so, hmm?"

With that, he seals his request with a chaste kiss to your forehead.

Your heartbeat seems to have increased by a mile—thumping inside your ribcage so hard that you can hear it. A heat spread over your cheek and ears. You let out a huff to shroud the fluster in your being.

"Next time, I am poisoning your food."

To which, Caleb laughs—that stupidly annoying laughter that makes you weak in your knees—before stealing another kiss on your lips.

"Then I'll just have to eat it, pipsqueak."

I've recently played lnds and I am obsessed with it 🥹

[mrsbarnesblog]

when the time is right

masterlist

summary: Rafe found out that you were secretly from him taking tests, not even realizing how much you struggled in silence about not being able to get pregnant

word count: 3.7k

warnings: struggles with getting pregnant, insecurities, smut, oral sex, unprotected p in v, Rafe is literally the BEST

Your vision got blurry when you looked at another negative pregnancy test, feeling nauseous and extremely tired from all of it. 

You and Rafe, after getting married almost a year ago, both decided that you wanted to have children, and you tried to do everything to make it happen. You consulted the doctor, you both stayed healthy, and your sex life was so good, but no matter how hard you tried, it was all for nothing. 

It became an unhealthy obsession of yours to buy these damn tests secretly from Rafe, hoping that one time you’ll see two lines, but always ending up throwing it in the trash can or hiding it in your drawer. You felt so bad, guilty, knowing that your husband did everything for you to give you the best life you could’ve ever asked for, yet you were unable to give him one thing that he wished for so badly. 

Rafe was perfect in every aspect of your relationships, even better than when you two were just dating. He was so loving, so caring, so protective of you, not missing a single day without saying how much he loved you. Family and love were the only things that he ever wished for, wanting to have someone always by his side and someone who he could’ve shower with all of the love and affection that he desperately needed to give away, as it was not the option during his childhood. 

He told you how much he wanted to have a baby, to raise him or her with you and be the best dad ever—the one that he had never had. And you wanted to give it to him, wanted to be happy with the love of your life. But the more you tried, the more frustrated you got, constantly seeing negative results, and hating yourself and your body for not being able to do it. 

Of course Rafe didn’t know any of it—you simply hid all of the possible evidence of your doings, thinking that he might change his mind and that he’ll get colder to you once he realizes that there’s something wrong. 

When you heard the front door getting closed and Rafe’s voice calling your name, you mindlessly shoved the test into the less-used drawer under some kind of napkin that was stored there. You looked in the mirror, wiping away a few stray tears and making yourself smile, even if it felt like you were empty inside. 

Rafe embraced you in his arms before you were even able to step into the living room, pulling you flush against his chest and burying his face into your neck. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” You felt the rumble of his voice on your skin, closing your eyes to relish the moment and throwing your hands around his neck. Rafe held you in his arms for a few long moments, running his hands up and down your back and mumbling some sweet things about missing you and the way he couldn’t wait to get home, but you couldn’t seem to focus, just distantly nodding your head. 

“What’s wrong?” He pulled away, instantly seeing your sad, empty eyes. He had always been so good at reading you, so you couldn’t help but laugh at the way he got concerned, placing a hand on your cheek and studying your face with a worried look. 

“Nothing. It’s nothing, Ray. I’m okay.” You leaned into his touch, giving him your best smile. 

He looked at you for a few moments without saying anything, and it was all you needed to know that he did not believe you even for a second. He took a deep breath, then took a hold of your face with both hands before capturing your lips in a slow, gentle kiss. 

“I know that you’re not, but I won’t push you. Take your time, you know I'm here for you, baby,  yeah?" He pecked your lips once again, and you nodded your head, feeling a sudden lump in your throat. “Now… I’m starving and I can smell something from the kitchen.” 

“I made your favorite pasta.” You smiled softly, twirling his slightly grown-out hair around your finger. 

“I fucking love you, you know that, baby?” You could barely register what was happening when Rafe’s hands manhandled you and threw you over his shoulder. With a possessive hand on your ass, he went towards the kitchen, finally making you forget about your worries even for some time. “The best wife in the world.”

Freshly showered and sitting in your bed, you were mindlessly scrolling through your phone, while Rafe was doing whatever in your shared bathroom. There were some noises of him rummaging through the cabinets, cussing and mumbling something about the new razor that he had bought recently and now couldn’t find. 

It all continued for a few minutes until he suddenly went silent, and it was the moment when your stomach dropped. 

He found the tests. You knew that he did. 

He stood in the bathroom, eyes wide from shock, as he held in the palm of his hand a bunch of white and blue sticks, which surely were yours. He felt uneasy either from every single one of them being negative or from the fact that you did it secretly from him and so regularly. 

With your phone long forgotten on the bedside table, you jumped out of bed, only to bump into Rafe’s chest at the bathroom’s entrance. Your eyes instantly fell to his hand, seeing a handful of pregnancy tests, then looking up at his frowning face. The look in his eyes made you want to vanish away, just simply disappear from the face of earth, as your own eyes suddenly filled with tears. 

“How long have you been doing this, Y/N?” Your lower lip wobbled as you tried to not break down, hands shaking with tension, while you fidgeted with your wedding ring. “I asked you a question.” There was no anger or treat in Rafe’s voice, but it still sent shivers down your spine—you knew that he was disappointed or upset, and you hated that you went behind his back to do that. Not that you worried about him being actually mad, but the feeling of guilt and shame was eating you alive. 

“I-I don’t know.” You whispered.

“You don’t know?” He raised his brows, still holding all of the tests in between you two. “There’s like twenty of them. All negative, yeah? Why are you taking it so often, and why didn’t you tell me?” The frustration in his voice was like a knife to your heart, and with a sob of his name, you completely broke down. 

You cried the way Rafe had never seen before, taking him aback for a moment. You hid your face behind your hands, sobbing loudly and trembling from head to toe. He made a quick move to lay all the rest on the nearby table before protectively wrapping his hands around your form and holding you as close as possible. 

With one hand on your lower back while another stroked your hair, Rafe rocked your body from side to side. You couldn’t seem to stop crying, soaking his shirt with your tears and gripping it with your hands for dear life. All the frustration and tears you weren’t able to fully let out were now just spilling non-stop, and Rafe tried to control himself even if your full of pain cries were quite literally killing him. 

“I—I want to have a baby. I want to give it to you. I r-really do!” You almost whimpered in desperation, cutting Rafe’s heart open with the amount of pain in your voice. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, with my body. I’m sorry, Rafe. I want it so bad.” You tugged at the back of his shirt, burying your face deeper in his neck and seemingly struggling to even breathe normally. 

“Sh-h, calm down. Listen to my voice.” Holding you steady against his body, Rafe lowered his head to your ear to make sure that you would be able to focus on him. “Just breathe, it’s okay. You’re okay. C’mon just in and out.” He inhaled and exhaled, making sure that you followed his command before repeating it a few more times. “Yeah, just like that, sweetheart. Now sit down for me.” He pushed you back towards the bed, and you obediently followed him. 

You sat at the edge of the bed, with Rafe kneeling in between your legs. He caressed your face, planting a loving kiss on your forehead, before sliding his hands down and capturing your own in his hold. You looked down at your interlaced fingers, unable to look up at your husband, ashamed and embarrassed, but still feeling his burning gaze on you. Some tears still slid down your cheeks, as you were seemingly unable to fully calm down. 

“How long?” He asked in a steady, calm voice. 

“Since we decided that we want to have a child? I’ve been doing them from time to time, but… recently it kinda got worse.” You shrugged, still looking down. Rafe took a deep breath, shaking his head in disbelief, and you felt your heart sinking. 

“It messes with your head, Y/N. Do you understand that?” He squeezed your hand, rubbing circles against your knuckles. “I thought that we decided that it’s going to happen when the time is right, huh? Show me your pretty eyes, sweetheart.”

“That’s the problem—it’s never the right time!” You finally looked up at Rafe, locking your eyes with his blue ones. There was no judgement or anger whatsoever, making you feel slightly weird about the whole situation, as you were constantly convincing yourself that Rafe would be mad when he found out. “It’s been like five months since I got off the pills, since we decided that we both want it, and nothing, Ray! Nothing! My stupid body just doesn’t work the way it should.” You sobbed again. 

Rafe cupped your face, wiping away the remains of your tears. His eyes softened while looking at you. “Stop saying it. Stop worrying yourself out and stop blaming your body, Y/N. You cannot control things like this, and if it didn't happen, then it’s not the right time yet, okay? It doesn’t mean that something’s wrong with you or your body.” His voice was surprisingly steady and firm, and you looked at him almost in awe, drinking in every word coming from your husband’s mouth. Rafe’s support meant everything to you, and even if you were worried before that, now he finally managed to calm a little part of you. “You’re perfect. You’re the way you should be. You’re mine, and I don’t want you to even doubt how much you mean to me.” 

Rafe didn’t look away from you for a second, making sure that you understood everything that he was saying. “I was afraid to disappoint you. That you’ll be mad, because I know how much you want it too.”

“What I want the most is for you to be healthy, happy, and safe, sweetheart. Seeing you like this breaks my heart.” He dryly chuckled. “And what I need is for you to not be so hard on yourself.”

“I’ll try.” 

A soft smile finally touched your lips when he slightly moved up to give your forehead another lingering kiss before moving down to your temple, then cheek, and then lips. “That’s my girl.” Rafe mumbled against your mouth and slowly deepened the kiss, making your worries fade away. Feeling his hands moving down to your waist and bringing you closer to the edge of the bed while you steadied yourself by laying your hands on his shoulders. 

“Ray…”

“Let me show you how much you mean to me. How much I love you.” He murmured against your lips, hands sliding under your nightgown and knuckles brushing against your tender skin. You shivered under his touch, eyes fluttering and brain barely able to form a response. It was always like that with Rafe—it was as if his presence and touch alone could make all of your worries and insecurities go away. He had a way of making you feel on cloud nine, both physically and emotionally, and at moments like this, when he quite literally praised and worshiped you, you wondered how you could ever think any less of him. 

He tilted his head slightly, peppering the side of your neck and your clevage with open-mouthed kisses, inhaling your sweet scent, while his hands were wandering down your body and pushing your legs further from each other. Rate leaned back for a moment, his eyes drinking your blissful face expression in as if you were the most breathtaking sight he'd ever seen. "You're everything to me." He said, his voice thick with emotion. "Do you know that?"

You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of his love. "I do." You whispered. "I feel it, Rafe. Always." 

He softly pushed your body back until you were enveloped in a bunch of blankets and pillows scattered around. He looked you up and down, feeling his heart racing at the thought of making you feel good, reminding you how much you meant to him because you were quite literally the most important thing in his life. Rafe for a second thought that, maybe, it was his fault that you started to spiral into that darkness of stress and worries of not being enough or broken. With constantly being busy at work, he couldn’t pick up the cues earlier and notice your struggles. 

Kissing down your body, dragging your nightgown up, and exposing your naked body to his hungry gaze, Rafe made sure to give you everything that he had and make you feel the way he felt about you. Rafe’s lips hovered over your stomach, brushing feather-light kisses against your soft skin as his hands caressed your sides. His touch was tender as his lips paused against your stomach, and he closed his eyes, his breath warm against you.

“We’re going to have a baby, sweetheart.” He murmured, his voice filled with quiet determination and love. “When the time is right, I know it. And you’re going to be the most amazing mother.” He pressed another kiss to your stomach, lingering there for a moment and making sure that the words sank in for you. “I’ll do everything in my power to give you the best and help you out, yeah? You’re not alone in this.”

Tears streamed silently down your cheeks as you reached out to run your fingers through his hair, your chest swelling with emotion at the raw devotion in his words and actions as you nodded to him. “Rafe…” You whispered, your voice trembling. “I love you so much.”

He looked up at you, his blue eyes glistening with emotion. “I love you more.” He said simply, his lips curling into a small, reassuring smile. He kissed your stomach one last time before his gaze darkened with desire, his hands sliding further down your thighs as he lowered himself between your legs.

You gasped when he suddenly just pulled your underwear down your legs and, not letting you process his further actions, placed your thighs on his shoulders before connecting his mouth with your dripping core. 

Rafe ate you like a man starved, alternating soft licks with sucking on your clit and almost bringing you to the edge. In a few minutes, you were a trembling mess, squeezing your legs around his head and mumbling something incoherent.

“R-Rafe.” You whimpered, your voice breaking as you felt the tension in your core building rapidly. “I’m—oh my God—I’m so close.”

He smirked against you, sucking your swollen clit harder and pushing the tips of his fingers against your entrance just to tease you. His lips curling into a grin that you could feel even through the haze of your pleasure. “I know, sweetheart.” He said, his voice low and gravelly. “Let go for me. I’ve got you.”

His words tipped you over the edge, and you cried out, reaching for his hair, tugging, as your body trembled while waves of ecstasy crashed over you. Rafe didn’t let up, his mouth continuing to work you through your orgasm, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were left breathless and boneless beneath him.

Finally, he pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with your release, and his eyes locked onto yours with a mix of satisfaction and adoration.

His body was on top of yours in an instant, pushing you down into the mattress with his comforting weight. Placing a hand on the side of your neck, gently tracing your jawline with his thumb, and then pulling you closer for a kiss. 

You didn’t even notice the moment when he slipped inside of you, too lost in the aftershocks of your previous orgasm. He hissed at the way you clenched around him, instinctively wrapping your legs and arms around him and pushing his cock deeper into you. 

It was not the type of sex that you two usually had. Rafe was mumbling praises next to your ear with each thrust of his hips into you, and you were simply drowning in him, his love, and the ecstasy that it had all brought you. It was slower, deeper, and more intimate on every level. 

Rafe made sure to hit that sweet spot inside of you with every move, seeing your teary eyes rolling back in your head and your mouth slightly opening from pleasure. He never stopped, exploring your body with his hands, pinching your nipples, sliding down your stomach and causing goosebumps to raise all over your skin, and then ever-so-slightly brushing your puffy clit, until you desperately cried out his name. 

By the time Rafe was done with you, when your body was all tingly and exhausted from that sweet torture, you were laying face to face on your sides, with him still buried deep inside of you. Your leg was thrown over his hip, your shared release slowly dripping down and probably ruining the sheets, but neither of you seemed to care. 

Your eyes were barely focused, but your heart was full, and a soft smile was placed on your face. Rafe, slightly flushed and sheepish, was slowly caressing your cheek, looking at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

You smiled softly, your eyelids fluttering closed for a moment, letting the peaceful silence settle around you. The warmth of his body against yours felt like home, grounding you like nothing else ever could. There was no need to say anything else, because it felt like your bodies, your eyes, and your souls had already said everything that was needed. 

A few weeks later, as you sat in your bathroom with trembling hands, you stared at the pregnancy test on the counter. You'd been late, but you had tried to push it out of your mind, remembering your promise to Rafe to stop stressing out and overthinking.

Though this time, it felt different. Something inside of you was telling you that you were right.

And now, as the two lines were staring back at you, you were filled with a mix of shock, disbelief, and overwhelming joy.

Your heart raced in your chest as tears welled up in your eyes. Slowly, you walked out of the bathroom, holding a test in your shaking hands, finding Rafe sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to you as he scrolled through his phone.

"Rafe." You whispered, your voice shaky, and he turned to face you instantly, sensing something was different.

“What’s going on?” Instantly he was beside you, hands on your upper arms, as his eyes were searching yours for an answer. 

Silently, you held out the pregnancy test to him, your hand trembling as you did. His gaze dropped to the test, and for a moment, everything stood still, heavy silence filling your bedroom.

Rafe’s eyes widened, and his breath caught in his throat. "Is this...?" He whispered, his voice barely audible. 

You nodded, tears spilling down your cheeks now, as you stared up at him. "We're going to have a baby, Rafe."

He stood frozen for a beat, his hands tightening on your forearms as he let the moment sink in, watching tears running down your cheeks. Then, without a word, he pulled you into him, his arms enveloping you tightly as if he never wanted to let go. You melted into his embrace, feeling his heart racing against yours. 

You both erupted into laughter, the sound of pure joy filling the room, echoing off the walls as Rafe pulled back slightly to look at you, his face lit with disbelief and happiness. He wiped away the tears from your cheeks, laughing through his own, his voice thick with emotion.

“I can’t believe it.” He said, his words trembling slightly. “We’re going to be parents. Told you that it's gonna happen when the time is right, didn’t I?”

You nodded with a smile, still holding the test between your fingers as the reality of it all settled in. “You did. Now it’s really happening.”

He kissed you, slow and deep, as if he were trying to savor every second of this moment, making you throw your hands around his neck and give in to the moment. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily as you shared the same smile filled with love and excitement.

“I love you so much.” He murmured, his hands resting on your waist as he held you close. 

You brushed the tip of your nose against his, looking up at your husband through your wet eyelashes. The look of pure adoration in his eyes made you want to giggle like a damn teenager, so instead you tightened your hands around his neck to be even closer. “I love you more.” 

[itneverendshere]

can we see rafe with a pouge reader and they are dating. they go out to go grocery shopping and rafe sees that she has a calculator out and watches as she picks up an item then types it in the calculator and then puts it back and chooses a cheaper option and he has to tell her that she doesn’t need to do that

birds of a feather - rafe cameron

word count: 2.9k belongs to this universe

The grocery store is quiet for a saturday afternoon, a rarity that makes the experience almost peaceful. Fluorescent lights buzz softly overhead as Rafe pushes a cart lazily with one hand, his other hand draped comfortably around his girl, you. 

He catches your eye and smiles, relishing the way you always lean into him, your bodies fitting together perfectly. Dating you was like finding the missing piece of himself—something he always knew he needed but never thought he’d find, let alone on the other side of the island.

Rafe grabs a box of cereal, tossing it into the cart without a second thought. “You good on milk, babe?” he asks, scanning the shelves for anything else that might catch his eye.

You nodded absentmindedly, focusing elsewhere. He notices that you are holding your phone in one hand and have a small calculator app open. His brow furrows as he watches you pick up a box of pasta, glance at the price, and then quickly type something into the calculator. After a moment of calculation, you place the box back on the shelf and reach for a cheaper brand.

Rafe's heart clenches. He hadn’t really thought about the differences between you in this way before. He knows you don't have the same privileges he does—didn’t grow up in a life of luxury as he had—but it’s moments like this that make him feel like a fucking entitled douche. 

He watches you do it again, this time with a jar of tomato sauce. You compare the prices, calculate the difference, and opt for the less expensive one.

“Hey,” Rafe stops you as you reach for another item. “What’re you doing?”

You blink, as if coming out of a trance, and look up at him with almost embarrassed smile. “Just trying to make sure I stay within the budget. Groceries can add up, y’know?”

He can’t stand the idea of you worrying about something as basic as food. Sure, he understands budgeting—everyone has to do it to some extent—but this? This was different. This was a mindset.

He gently takes the phone from your hand and slips it into his back pocket, keeping your hand in his. “You don’t need to do that. I’ve got you, okay?”

“Rafe, I—”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted, “You don’t have to worry about the prices. Just get what you want. We’re fine.”

You are grateful—God, you were always grateful—but there’s something else, something that has kept you up at night.

You hate relying on him. Not because you don’t trust him or appreciate everything he does for you, but because it reminds you of the whispers you’ve been hearing ever since you started dating. 

You can almost hear the voices now, like a nagging reminder in the back of your mind. “Gold digger,” they’d hiss. “Dirty Pogue. Look at her, clinging to him for the money. She’s got him wrapped around her finger, totally pussy-whipped.”

The rumors had messed with your head the first time you’d heard them, and even now, they still hurt, despite knowing they weren’t true. But the worst part is that a small, insecure part of you hates there might be some truth to what they said. You didn’t want Rafe to feel like he had to take care of you, or that you were using him for his money. You love him too much to ever want him to think that.

You glance at him, watching as he casually tosses another item into the cart without checking the price, without even a second thought. He’s so at ease, so unbothered by the things that you had worried about during your entire lifetime. You can’t help but feel guilty, like you’re dragging him down, making him take on responsibilities that should be yours alone. 

A you walk down another aisle, you keep your eyes on the floor, as you force the words out. “I know you’re just trying to help, and I really appreciate it, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me.”

Rafe stops in his tracks, turning to face you fully. His brows knit together in concern like he genuinely can't grasp what you just said.

“I don’t feel like that,” he says,“I want to take care of you because I love you. It’s not about feeling like I have to—it’s because I want to.”

“But I hear what people say, Rafe—”

“They don’t know shit,” he scoffs, hand wrapping tightly around the cart, “They don’t know. Anyone who says otherwise can go fuck themselves.”

You sigh, your shoulders slumping as you lean into him, “It’s not that simple, baby. But I appreciate the thought.”

His other hand tilts your chin up so you’re looking directly at him, “It is that simple. I love you. You love me. That’s it.”

You know he means it, that he’s not just saying it to please you, but it doesn’t make the worries disappear. You nod, giving him a small smile, but he knows your brain is working double shifts, imagining all kinds of scenarios.

He sighs, knowing this conversation is far from over, and presses a gentle peck against your temple, all while murmuring, “Let’s finish up here and get out of this place.”

You agree, and the two of you continue down the aisle. Your hands are itching to take your phone out of his back pocket, and your brain scrambling to do simple math. You hate it. You automatically reach for the off-brand items, skip over the more expensive snacks, and choose the smaller sizes of products to stretch your budget. Rafe is abnormally quiet and you know it’s taking every will power in his body not to pick you up and lock you in his truck while he finishes shopping for you. 

He pauses in front of the snacks aisle, his eyes catching on your favorite candy. It’s something he knows you love but rarely allow yourself to buy. Without hesitation, he grabs a couple of bags and tosses them into the cart.

“Rafe, those are expensive—” you start to protest, but he cuts you off with a playful grin.

“They’re my favorite too.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the way he looks at you, with so much affection, makes the words die on your lips. Instead, you shake your head huffing as he wraps his arm around your shoulders dragging you along, “You’re so annoying.”

“Don’t be mean, baby.”

You squeeze his waist in retaliation. 

When you finally reach the checkout line, he watches as you nervously glance at the total on the screen. It’s a small thing, for him, but it’s enough to make him realize just how much it affects you. Without saying a word, he hands over his card to the cashier, ignoring the way you try to protest.

“Rafe, you don’t have to—” you start, but he shakes his head, cutting you off.

“I know,” he says firmly, “But I want to.”

You bite your lip, nodding reluctantly as he pays for the groceries. It’s a small gesture, but it means the world to him. He wants to take care of you, to make sure you never have to worry about something as basic as food ever again. He wants to give you the life you deserve, the one you never experienced on The Cut.

He opens the trunk of his car, starting to load the groceries while you stand there, too quiet. He hates not hearing the sound of your voice. 

“Hey,” he closes the trunk and turning to face you. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

He steps closer, his hand finding a home in your neck, thumb caressing your pulsing point, “Forget about them okay?”

You sigh, forehead touching his chin, “I’m trying. I just don’t want to be a burden to you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me.”

“You’re not a burden,” he says firmly, fingers pulling your head up, his blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that, no matter how often it happens, still takes your breath away. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Now get that fine ass inside the car.”

You can’t help but laugh at the way he says it, so casually and with so much conviction that it leaves no room for you to second guess his thoughts. His confidence, his overwhelming trust in everything that he says, is one of the things you love most about him. He’s always been like that—bold, sure of himself, and unafraid to go after what he wants. And right now, what he wants is you. 

“Why?” You tease, rolling your eyes but smiling as you let him guide you toward the car “You gonna make me if I don’t?”

You wish you could photograph the grin on his face, the way his beautiful eyes seem to drink you in like he’ll die if he doesn’t look at you all the time. 

“Oh, you know I will,” he says as he steps closer, his hand slipping down to give your ass a firm but playful slap. The sound echoes through the quiet parking lot, and you gasp, more from surprise than anything else.

“Rafe!” you scold, though your laughter makes it known there’s no real annoyance. The smirk on his face only grows, clearly pleased with himself.

“Consider that a warning,” he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I’d hate to have to follow through.”

You try to hold back a grin, biting your lip as you tilt your head to look up at him. 

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” His tone is a challenge.

For a moment, you consider pushing more just to see what he’d do, but the way he’s looking at you—like he’s ready to scoop you up and take you back to his bed right then and there—makes you rethink it. Instead, you play along, giving him a coy smile as you turn and head for the door.

“That’s what I thought,” he calls after you, his deep voice filled with a smug satisfaction that makes you roll your eyes again. Before you can reach for the door handle, he gently pulls it open for you. You slide into the passenger seat, and before you touch the seatbelt, Rafe is leaning in, his hands brushing over yours as he clicks the belt into place.

“Safe and sound,” he murmurs, as he pulls back slightly. It’s something so simple, yet so endearing he has insisted on doing ever since the two of you started dating.

You smile up at him, practically oozing in your love for him as your hand reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

“Thank you."

His gaze softens as he leans down to press a tender kiss to your lips, “Anything for you,” he whispers, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek before he finally steps back and closes the door.

As he rounds the front of the car to get in on his side, you can’t help but watch him. It still blows your mind that this is real. The way he looks at you, the way he takes care of you without making you feel small—it’s everything you never knew you needed. You’re still not used to someone loving you like this, so openly. You never imagined Rafe Cameron would be that someone. 

He starts the engine, the low hum filling the silence between you. The radio automatically tunes to a soft indie station, one of your favorites, and Rafe reaches over to lace his fingers with yours. 

“I’m cooking tonight.”

You turn to him, even though you know his attention is on the road, “Really?”

Rafe’s thumb absentmindedly rubs circles on the back of your hand, “Hmmm.”

“So you can burn down the kitchen again?”

“Baby, that was one time.”

You snort, the image of Rafe with a fire extinguisher still fresh in your memory, “What’s on the menu?”

He grins, “I was thinking we could make that pasta you like, with the garlic bread.”

Your heart swells a little at the thoughtfulness behind his choice. He remembers all the little things—your favorite foods, the way you like your coffee, the songs that make you smile.

“Are you trying to get laid?”

He laughs, loud and boisterous as he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles, “So you don’t want desert?”

You hit his shoulder gently, all too aware you’re still in a moving vehicle, “Don’t be nasty.”

His touch moves to your thighs, squeezing gently, "Can't help it when I'm around you."

The smile tugging at your lips is impossible to hide. There's something so easy about being with Rafe, despite everything. Despite the whispers, the looks, the insecurities that sometimes creep in—he has a way of making you feel like none of it matters. 

The city lights begin to twinkle on the horizon, the sun dipping low in the sky. It's peaceful, the kind of quiet that lets you sink into yourself. The idea of a cozy night in, just the two of you cooking dinner together, fills you with a warmth that has nothing to do with the summer heat outside.

Rafe glances over at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Penny for your thoughts?"

You shake your head, the smile widening on your face. "Just thinking about how lucky I am."

He quirks an eyebrow, "I think I'm the lucky one."

"Yeah, but you're also really annoying," you tease, earning a chuckle from him.

"Annoying but irresistible," he counters smoothly, pulling into the driveway of his house 

He parks the car and quickly rounds the front to open your door, always the gentleman. As you step out, you look up at him, your heart swelling with a love so deep it almost overwhelms you. It's not just the grand gestures or the way he spoils you—it's the little things, the way he makes you feel cherished, the way he sees you for who you are and loves you anyway.

"Ready for our gourmet meal?" he asks as he takes your hand, leading you towards the front door.

You laugh, leaning into him as you walk. "If by gourmet you mean slightly burnt, then yes."

He chuckles, his arm slipping around your waist as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "With you, it's always perfect."

Before you can walk through the front door, he stops all too suddenly, dragging you against him. You’re confused for a second, looking up to see him ogle you.

“What?” You stutter out, “Something’s wrong?”

Rafe shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his pink lips as he looks down at you with that same adoring expression that never fails to make your heart  stop. "No, nothing’s wrong.”

You blink up at him, still confused, “Rafe...”

 “I know you worry sometimes. About what people say, about what they think. But I don’t give a fuck about any of that. I only care about you, about us.” His hand moves to cup your face, his thumb moving gently along your cheekbone. “I love you, y’know that? Right? Aways.”

Your breath hitches at the sudden emotion in his voice. It’s random moments like this that remind you why you fell in love with him in the first place—beneath the confident, cocky exterior, Rafe Cameron has a heart that beats fiercely for the people he cares about, especially for you. 

“I love you,” you whisper, feeling the words settle between you like a vow.

“I love you more,” he replies, his voice full of conviction. Then, with a small grin, he adds, “And I’m gonna marry you someday. We’re gonna have our own place, our own life. Just you and me.”

It’s not the first time you’ve talked about the future, but hearing him say it so plainly, so confidently, sends a warmth spreading through your whole body.

“Is that a proposal, Cameron?” you tease, though your voice wavers just a little, eyes burning as you pathetically attempt not to cry.

“Not yet,” he smirks, leaning down to press a peck to the corner of your lips, “But when I do, you’ll know. It’s gonna be perfect. Just like you.”

You pull back slightly, resting your forehead against his as you take a deep breath, trying to calm the stupid fluttering in your chest. “You mean it?”

“More than anything,” he replies without hesitation. “I want to build a life with you, baby. The kind of life where you never have to worry about anything, where you can just be happy.”

Tears form at the corners of your eyes, but they’re the good kind, the kind that comes from being overwhelmed with love. So different from the ones you’d experienced as a kid, growing up. You nod, not sure how to explain how you’re feeling inside, so instead, you pull him down for another kiss, letting your lips show what your voice can’t.

You kiss each other like you have all the time in the world, which you have, savoring the way your lips fit perfectly against his. There’s no rush, no urgency—just you two. 

When you pull apart, both of you slightly breathless, Rafe gives you a lopsided grin, his lips just barely grazing yours as he speaks, “So, how about we start with dinner?”

[s4kura-tr3]

Reader does "the calling my husband my boyfriend" prank to jjk husband

(I did it backwards..but it’s fine! 😓)

Gojo - Gojo freezes. Like, actually freezes. The bag of snacks he was about to toss onto the counter slips from his fingers, hitting the register with a soft thud. His infinity may as well have been activated because for a moment, it feels like time itself stops.

The cashier, oblivious to his internal crisis, keeps scanning your items. Meanwhile, Gojo slowly turns to you, his usually playful blue eyes now wide with shock—and unmistakable delight.

“H-husband?” His voice cracks, and he immediately clears his throat, trying (and failing) to play it cool. “Oh? Ohhh?” A smirk creeps onto his lips, but his ears are definitely turning red.

You pretend not to notice. “Yeah. My husband,” you repeat nonchalantly, passing him a drink to hold.

Gojo clutches the bottle like it’s a lifeline. “Say it again,” he demands, practically vibrating with excitement now. “No, wait! I should’ve recorded that—say it one more time, please.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t get used to it.

“Oh, but I will.” He drapes an arm around your shoulder, leaning in close, voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “In fact, I think we should make it official. What do you say, darling? A fancy wedding? Vows? Me sweeping you off your feet—literally?”

You laugh, shoving him off. “We’re not married, Gojo.”

“Not yet,” he corrects with a wink.

Geto - Geto pauses mid-stir, the spoon in his cup clinking softly against the porcelain. His dark eyes flick to you, a hint of amusement dancing in them, but he doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, he takes a slow sip of his tea, as if giving himself time to process what he just heard.

The barista finishes your order and moves on, leaving the two of you alone at your table. That’s when Geto finally speaks.

“My husband, huh?” His lips curve into a small, knowing smile. “That’s a bold claim.”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “You don’t like it?”

He hums thoughtfully, setting his cup down before resting his chin on his palm. “No, I love it.” His voice is smooth, deep, laced with something unreadable. “It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

You scoff. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, but it’s too late for that.” His smirk widens, and he leans in slightly, his fingers brushing against yours on the table. “I could get used to hearing that. Maybe you should start practicing it more often.”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth creeping up your neck betrays you.

Geto chuckles, satisfied. “Careful, sweetheart. Call me that too many times, and I just might make it a reality.”

Nanami - Nanami stops in his tracks. His grip on the shopping cart tightens just slightly, knuckles flexing. He doesn’t react outwardly right away—no dramatic pauses, no teasing smirks—just a slow, deep breath as he processes your words.

The employee gives you directions and walks away, leaving an unusual silence between you and Nanami. When you turn to look at him, he’s already gazing at you, brow slightly raised.

“My husband?” he repeats, his tone as even as ever, but there’s something dangerous about how smoothly the words roll off his tongue.

You blink. “What? It’s just easier than explaining.”

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “I see.” He pushes the cart forward, resuming your shopping trip like nothing happened. But you notice the way his free hand reaches up to adjust his tie—a telltale sign that you’ve flustered him more than he’s willing to admit.

After a few minutes, he finally speaks again. “If you’re going to call me that, you should at least do it properly.”

You glance up at him. “Properly?”

His gaze meets yours, calm but unwavering. “Yes. With a ring.”

You nearly drop the box of pasta in your hand. “Nanami—”

“Hm?” He continues pushing the cart, utterly unfazed. But you swear you see the corner of his lips twitch—just barely.

Sukuna - The entire room goes silent. The curses scatter like roaches, instinctively sensing the sudden shift in energy.

Sukuna, who had been lazily reclining on his own throne, stiffens ever so slightly. Then, he lets out a low, rumbling chuckle that echoes through the space, filled with something dark and unreadable. His crimson eyes lock onto you, sharp and predatory.

“My husband?” he drawls, voice dripping with amusement—and something more dangerous. “You’ve got some nerve saying that so casually.”

You stretch, feigning indifference. “What? You don’t like it?”

He’s in front of you in an instant, moving faster than you can react. One of his clawed fingers tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His smirk is wicked, teeth bared just enough to remind you exactly who you’re dealing with.

“Oh, I love it,” he purrs. “But tell me, brat—do you even understand the weight of what you just said?” His grip tightens just slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make your pulse spike. “Calling me your husband… You think you can handle what that truly means?”

You hold his gaze, refusing to back down. “Maybe I can.”

His smirk widens, eyes gleaming with something dark and possessive. He laughs again, low and dangerous. “Then prove it.”

And just like that, you know you’ve awakened something you might not be ready for.

Choso - Choso stops mid-step. You don’t notice right away, too busy paying for your snacks, but when you turn back, he’s just standing there—wide-eyed, frozen, looking like his brain short-circuited.

“My… husband?” he echoes, almost like he’s trying to make sure he heard you right.

You tilt your head. “Yeah? You don’t like it?”

Choso’s mouth opens slightly, but no words come out. He just stares at you, his grip tightening around the bag he’s holding like it’s the only thing grounding him. His face, usually calm and composed, is now deeply flushed—his ears burning red.

“I…” He swallows hard, looking away for a second before sneaking another glance at you. “I like it. A lot.” His voice is quieter now, almost shy.

You smirk. “You’re blushing.”

He immediately looks away, ears turning even redder. “No, I’m not.”

“You so are.”

Choso exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to compose himself. But his fingers tremble just slightly. “You can’t just say things like that without warning.”

“Why not?” you tease.

His dark eyes finally meet yours again, and there’s something serious in them—something sincere. “…Because if you do, I’ll start wanting it to be true.”

And just like that, your heart skips a beat.

Toji - Toji freezes mid-action, a sly smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he slowly turns his head toward you. His dark, calculating eyes never leave your face as he tilts his head, considering you.

“Husband, huh?” he repeats, voice low and dangerously amused.

You shrug nonchalantly, trying to act unaffected. “What? You seem like the type.”

Toji steps closer, his presence towering over you in that signature way of his—unrelenting, like a storm ready to break. He lowers his voice, his breath brushing against your ear as he leans in. “You think I’d make a good husband, sweetheart?” His hand drifts to the small of your back, the touch deliberate but not forceful.

You swallow, suddenly feeling the weight of his gaze on you. “You never know. You seem… capable.”

His smirk deepens, the challenge clear in his eyes. “Capable, huh?” He laughs softly, a dangerous sound. “Is that all I am to you? A capable man?”

Before you can respond, he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze directly. “You call me husband again, and I might just make it a reality. And when I do, darling, don’t think I’m going to play nice.” His eyes darken just slightly, the playful edge replaced with something more possessive.

Your heart skips, and for the briefest moment, you wonder if you’ve just opened a door you might not want to close.

Megumi - Megumi blinks at you, clearly not expecting that. He freezes mid-sentence, his eyes wide and slightly confused, as if he’s trying to process what you just said.

“H-husband?” he stammers, his voice sounding a little too soft and unsure. “Did you—did you just call me that?”

You grin, watching his face flush slightly. “What? You don’t like it?”

Megumi glances away quickly, rubbing the back of his neck, looking anything but confident now. “No… I just wasn’t expecting it,” he admits, trying to brush it off, but his ears are definitely a little pink.

You chuckle, leaning closer, sensing the slight shift in his mood. “What, you don’t think you could be a good husband?”

He tenses up, his gaze flicking to you for a split second before he looks away again. “I… I guess I could be.” His voice drops a little, and there’s a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though he tries to hide it by turning back to his books.

“You could?” You tease, knowing you’re pushing him out of his comfort zone.

Megumi nods, but then his expression turns more serious, his eyes finally locking with yours. “I wouldn’t want to be anyone else’s.” His tone is softer now, almost vulnerable, but there’s a definite sincerity behind it.

You blink in surprise, feeling your heart beat a little faster at the unexpected response.

“Maybe you should say it more often,” he adds, looking a little shy again but holding your gaze. “It’s… nice to hear.”

And just like that, you realize you’ve flustered the stoic, composed Megumi more than you thought possible.

Yuji - Yuji stops in his tracks, a wide grin on his face, but his eyes immediately widen in complete surprise. “Husband?” He repeats the word like it’s the most exciting thing he’s ever heard, almost stumbling over his feet in his shock. “Did you—did you just call me that?”

You try to keep a straight face. “Yeah, what’s wrong with it? You’re always looking out for me, so why not?”

Yuji’s face lights up, and his usual enthusiasm kicks into overdrive. He starts bouncing on his heels, his grin growing even wider. “Wait, seriously? Husband?” He grabs your shoulders and spins you around dramatically, his voice practically shaking with excitement. “That means—we’re married now, right?! I’ve got a wife! Oh man, this is amazing!”

You laugh, trying to push him off gently, but his grip is stronger than expected. “Yuji, I was joking! Calm down.”

“Joking?” He pulls back, staring at you with a mock-serious expression. “You can’t just say something like that and not mean it! That’s like—like—a huge deal! You can’t just call someone your husband and not—”

“Yuji!” you laugh, cutting him off. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

But Yuji’s eyes are sparkling with joy, and he’s barely containing his excitement. “But what if we do make it real? You know, I’m down! I’m totally ready for the husband life, wifey!” He gives you a big, goofy grin.

You roll your eyes, but the way his face lights up makes it hard to keep a straight face. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“No need to talk,” he says, pulling you into a dramatic side-hug. “You’re already stuck with me now. Husband and wife, baby!”

[munsonsmixtapes]

Slugger

Evan "Buck" Buckley x shy!probie!fem!reader

summary: you're the newest member of the 118 and Buck will stop at nothing to tease you as a form of flirting and you believe that he doesn't like you, but Eddie is going to do whatever he can to set the two of you up.

word count: 4k

cw: miscommunication, hurt/comfort, jealousy, reader gets hit on by a creep and it’s a little unsettling

part two part three part four part five

As soon as you stepped foot into the fire house, you were convinced that you were home. You couldn't explain it, but it was a lot more cozy than you would have thought. When you looked up and saw the rest of the crew eating a meal together like a family, you knew you were in the right place. You hadn't heard of departments doing that and knowing that they were like family to each other was refreshing.

You adjusted your bag on your shoulder and slowly made your way up the steps on the hunt for Captain Nash who you knew you needed to report to. And you were nervous to say the least. You always had a bit of anxiety lingering, but especially when it came to a new situation with a new place and people. This was all three and you were honestly just applauding yourself for even getting at far as you did.

As soon as you got to the top step, every single head turned to look at you. You felt your anxiety reach its peak as you realized that you were the center of attention and suddenly felt the urge to throw up. You noticed that everyone had even stopped eating in favor of getting a look at you and it took everything in you to not run down the steps and never come back.

"Hello," the man at the head of the table greeted as he waved you over. "And who might you be?" Your name suddenly floated out of your brain as the man waited for you to answer.

You told him your name once you finally remembered it and the man smiled, waving you over to the table.

"You're just in time for dinner. Take a seat." There was a seat at the end and you reluctantly set your bag in the floor before taking a seat.

"Welcome to the 118," the man next to you spoke. You turned to him and couldn't help but notice how pretty his brown eyes were.

"Thank you," you nodded as the man sitting across from you handed you a bowl that was full of spaghetti. You took it from him and couldn't help but noticed that he was eyeing you suspiciously. Maybe he was thinking that you were a fraud just like you were. He was definitely onto you.

"You're welcome. I'm Eddie," the man put his hand out for you to shake with a bright smile and you completely abandoned the bowl that was being held out to you. You shook Eddie's hand and you couldn't help but notice that it was soft but rough.

"Y/n," you replied softly even though he definitely already knew that since you had just said it. Eddie took the bowl from Buck and served you some of the pasta and the salad along with some garlic bread.

"So, it looks like we've got a new probie," the man across from you spoke. "We haven't had one of those since Ravi."

"Probie?" You had never heard that term before and by the way everyone was looking at you, you assumed that you should have known what it meant.

"Probational firefighter," Eddie replied, leaning closer to you before leaning back up before continuing to eat his meal. You just nodded and began to eat, the man across from you eyeing you for longer than you would have liked.

Buck gave you small smile then went back to his spaghetti and everyone engaged in conversation while you sat there silently, just content to be there.

Just as you were getting comfortable, the siren went off and everyone but you got up from their chairs, making a dash for the engine.

“You coming, probie?” Buck asked as he stopped at the top of the stairs. You got up and followed him, rushing to the engine where the only available spot was in between him and Eddie.

Eddie handed you a headset and you put it on, turning to him just in time to see his warm smile and you mimicked it, feeling grateful to have someone who was nice to you. You could feel Buck nudge you and you turned to your left to see what he wanted.

“I’m Buck, by the way,” he smiled and you thought he was cute, especially his little birth mark right by his eye. “And that’s Hen,” he pointed to the Black woman across from him. “And Chimney.” The Asian man next to Hen gave you a wave and Buck didn’t miss the confused look on your face. “Don’t ask,” he laughed. “And then that’s Ravi,” he pointed to the Indian next to the left of Chimney.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” Hen smiled. “I’m looking forward to having another woman in the department if it works out.” You wouldn’t have expected everyone to be so nice on a job like fire fighting and it warmed your heart that they were so welcoming.

“Same to you,” you replied and you began to pick at the skin around your finger nails, trying your hardest to not hum to yourself, something you often did when you were nervous or anxious.

The ride to the call seemed much shorter than it was as you listened to everyone exchange conversation. People usually called you out for being quiet, but you didn’t ever feel the need to speak unless you were spoken to or had something of value to say.

And the 118 seemed to respect that. No one commented on it and you found that odd. At least one person usually had something to say, but they all just talked amongst themselves and would occasionally involve you so you wouldn’t feel left out.

They were a family and that much was obvious, but even on your first day, they were so inclusive, trying their hardest to make you feel like one of them.

Once the engine pulled up to the scene, all of you got out and hurried to the fire that was taking over the house in front of you. You watched Buck, Eddie, and Ravi race inside while Hen and Chimney checked on everyone who was already out of the house. The fire was huge, consuming the house with it's bright orange hue and you desperately wished you could have followed the others into the house.

Your job was to get the others supplies when requested and to assist where help was needed. You really wished that you could have been in the action like everyone else, but you knew that it was just the way it was when you first started out on the job. You were still new and needed to prove yourself before you could really showcase how good you really were.

Ravi came running out with a cat in his arms that somehow seemed unharmed and passed it off to the little girl who had been crying for it. You hoped to be able to do that soon. That was the whole reason why you had even wanted to become a firefighter; to help people. But for the time being, you were going to go above and beyond by doing anything that was asked of you. That was all you really could do until your probation was up.

"Probie, hose!" Buck called out as he rushed out of the house and you quickly hurried to the engine and grabbed the hose before racing over to him. He had everyone clear back then turned on the hose, moving it back and forth to diffuse the fire.

The fire slowly died down and Buck handed the hose back to you which you put away and once everyone was taken care of, you all piled into the engine, you finding yourself between Buck and Eddie again.

Eddie clapped you on the shoulder with a smile that matched everyone else's. They applauded you for you first call and you were beginning to think that maybe you were going to really like it there.

"You actually did a good job, probie," Buck told you and you weren’t sure if that was an insult or an compliment. The word "actually" led you to believe to that he didn't think you were up to the job and that offended you a little. That because you were on probation didn't mean you were cut out to work with him. You had gone through all the training and schooling that he had, so why was he giving you such a hard time?

"Don't mind Buck," Eddie was the one to nudge you this time. "He just likes to tease. Ease up, alright?" He leaned over to look at his friend. "It's her first day." Eddie didn't know why, but he felt the need to protect you.

“I’m just teasing,” Buck replied. “She can take it,” he nudged you. Could you, though?

The rest of the shift was nothing but tiring as you responded to multiple calls and by the end of it, you were beginning to feel super sore even though you hadn’t done nearly as much as the others. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but that was what you liked about it. You felt like you always needed to be challenged and maybe this was finally going to be the job for you.

It had been a week since you started working with the 118 crew and you really did feel like you were fitting in with everyone. Well, everyone except Buck. He was especially hard on you and you weren’t sure why since all the others seemed to think you were doing a pretty good job. He’d tell you that the dishes weren’t washed the right way or that you missed a spot when wiping down the engine. The rest of the crew told him to knock it off, but he wouldn’t let up.

Buck wasn’t doing it because he didn’t think you were good enough, he just felt like you needed a little push. You were working hard, but he felt like you needed to work harder. He was just trying to make you into the best firefighter that you could be, and yeah, maybe sometimes he was being a bit too harsh, but really, all he was trying to do was help.

But that wasn’t the way you saw it. At that point, you were just convinced that he didn’t like you. He just wasn’t as nice as the other’s in the crew and he certainly wasn’t going to tell you what his intentions were. You’d never admit it, but he was starting to frustrate you. Bobby was the one in charge and here Buck was trying to tell you what to do. It was infuriating.

You weren’t going to tell him that, though. When you were angry with people, you tended to just ignore them and pretend that they weren’t there. You weren’t a fan of confrontation so that was the only way to let people know that you were upset. And you felt like it really sent the message in a more subtle way.

Buck didn’t seem to take your silence as anger, though. He just continued on with his teasing and pointing out your wrongs like nothing had changed. Maybe you should have taken a different approach, but what was done was done.

The only thing that seemed to make it worse was the fact that you and Buck turned out to live in the same apartment building. You saw him one night when you were getting off He awkwardly made small talk with you but you just acted as if he wasn’t there, completely ignoring him until the elevator got to your floor. Maybe it was more rude that you were willing to admit, but you had a point to prove.

Every time Buck saw you in the elevator, though, he still tried to act as if the two of you were actually friends. He would try and make jokes with you and when he was feeling a bit more confident, he would even get a little flirty, loving the way you would get all flustered and lower your head so he couldn’t see the adorable look on your face.

Then came the night at the bar. The 118 insisted on taking you out to celebrate your first week and everyone discovered that you were a completely different person when you drank. You were significantly more outgoing to the point where they were convinced that you were someone else. The normal you definitely wouldn’t have danced on the bar.

Buck watched you and Eddie from the other end of the table. He had his arm draped over the back of your chair and he was leaning into you as the two of you whispered and giggled with each other. It made Buck sick, but there was no way in hell that he’d admit that.

“Hey probie,” Buck called from across the table and both you and Eddie’s giggles were cut short, the two of you turning to the man who was trying to get your attention. “You wanna play some pool?”

You nodded enthusiastically and pulled Eddie along even though the invitation wasn’t extended to him. There was no way you were going to be alone with Buck for that long. The three of you headed to the table that was across from the one where you were sitting and Eddie handed you a cue which you gratefully took.

“I don’t know how to play,” you told him. “Can you teach me?”

“Yeah, no problem.” Eddie talked you through the game and you listened and nodded despite knowing exactly how to play. You were just trying to get him to actually help you. You wanted him to stand behind you and help you guide the cue where it was supposed to go.

Buck was the one to break and then the balls were assigned to the three of you. You were pretty good at the game, but you were just trying to get Eddie’s attention, wanting him to help you in any way that he could.

“Can you show me?” You bat your lashes and Buck could see what you were up to, able to see right through all your tricks and he had to admit that you were good.

“Of course,” Eddie nodded and moved to stand behind you. He placed his hands on top of yours and guided you, causing the ball you wanted to hit to be launched into one of the pockets. Buck could feel his blood boiling when you stood on your toes to press a kiss to Eddie’s cheek and was very tempted to throw in the towel right there.

Eddie helped you throughout the entire game and Buck was suspiciously quiet as he watched the two of you. He didn’t like the way Eddie would drape his arm over your shoulder and tuck you into his side. He also didn’t like the way he’d lean down to listen to what you had to say because you were so soft spoken.

What was so great about Eddie? Sure, the guy was his best friend, so he could see it, but what did you see in him? What was the thing that set him apart from Buck? Maybe it was because Buck had a history of sleeping around and that none of his relationships lasted very long, but that wasn’t necessarily his fault.

It was down to Buck and Eddie and they were both competing to hit the black eight ball. Buck seemed to be hitting it a bit too hard and Eddie wondered what was causing him to be so competitive. Anytime they played, it was always a friendly game and now he was acting like he wanted Eddie dead. He was going to have to ask him about it later.

It was Buck’s turn to hit the ball and he turned to you to see if you were watching only to see you applying some lip gloss. You dropped it and bent down to pick it up, giving him a great view of your ass. He was so occupied with his staring that he wasn’t paying attention and hit the ball without even looking.

“Ha!” Eddie pointed at him. “You scratched so I win.”

“That’s not fair!” Buck retorted, putting the cue stick away. He really didn’t believe that it was. He was only human and didn’t think it was fair that he only lost because you had distracted him.

“Life’s not fair, Buckley,” Eddie laughed. “Well, I’m gonna head out and get Chris to bed. Y/n, you need a ride home?”

“No thanks. I think I’m gonna hang here a while.”

“You’ll stay with her?” Eddie asked and who was Buck to say no?

“Yeah, sure, probie, I’ll keep you company,” he patted your shoulder and Eddie gave you and Buck hugs before heading out to his truck, leaving the two of you alone. Both Hen and Ravi left a while ago so it was just the two of you and a few others still there.

Maybe you really were drunk since you were willing to spend time with him. You pulled him over to the bar to get another drink and he was hoping that he could get you to see that he really wasn’t all bad. That he was a nice guy and that he was completely willing to show that to you if you would have let him.

There was a man to the far left, nursing a beer and you briefly made eye contact with him, giving him a smile before turning back to Buck. He, for whatever reason, took that as an invitation to come over to you and got a little close for your liking. You moved closer to Buck to show the man that you were with someone, but that didn’t seem to deter him.

“Hey, pretty lady,” he greeted and you could feel bile rising in your throat. You ignored him and felt a little guilty for doing so, but you knew that you weren’t required to be nice to him.

“Hi,” Buck replied, sensing that you were uncomfortable. As a man, he didn’t see why other men preyed on people when they were clearly uncomfortable. Why they never took no for an answer and would try their hardest to take what they wanted, not caring who they hurt in the process.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the man shot back with a glare. “C’mon, don’t be shy. I won’t bite. Unless you ask,” he winked and you could feel the anger building up inside you. You had been told those words so many times in your life and you were sick and tired of that being a problem for people. Especially men that were trying to hit on you.

“I’m not interested, thank you,” you turned to him and he put on a smile. You also hated that you felt obligated to be polite and felt like someone bad would have happened if you didn’t. What was so wrong with saying no? Why did you feel like you had to spare their feelings when you were the one who was uncomfortable?

“Ah, so she speaks.” You could smell the alcohol on his breath as he got closer and your stomach lurched as you felt like there was no return.

“Can you please leave me alone? You’re making me very uncomfortable.” That only made him step closer and you stepped away, your back colliding with Buck’s chest and he rested his hands on your arms, pulling you into him.

“Oh, is this your boyfriend? I’m into threesomes,” he tried to reach out and grab your hand, but you pulled it away before he could, the bile coming up more quickly now.

“She said to leave her alone,” Buck said. He could see your shaking hands and wondered why your fear wasn’t making the guy let up. He was about to do something drastic until the man spoke up again.

“Why don’t you make me?” Without another word and only having thought about it for a split second, your fist collided with his face, the force causing him to stumble back.

You could see the anger in his eyes as he lifted his head and blood poured from his nose as you shook your hand, hoping that would get rid of the pain, but it didn’t. He clutched his nose then made a beeline for the bathroom to clean himself up, giving you and Buck the perfect chance to call it a night.

Both you and Buck gasped at your actions and you both hurried to pay your tabs before Buck took your hand and pulled you out of the bar to his jeep. All you could think about was how guilty you felt for punching the guy, but you knew that Buck would have just told you that he deserved it.

And maybe he did. He was crossing a boundary and definitely needed to be put in his place. And yeah, maybe a punch wasn’t the best move, but it was the first thing you thought of to do and clearly it had worked.

“Damn, I didn’t peg you for a slugger, probie,” Buck laughed as he opened the passenger door of his jeep for you.

“I’m not. I mean, I know how to, but I never thought I’d have to throw a punch.”

“Well, he deserved it. Are you okay? Can I get you anything? I know that can be scary and I want to make sure you’re good before I take you home.”

“I’m good, Buck. Thank you. For everything.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “Your chariot awaits, ma’am,” he opened the door wider and you got into the seat before he closed it and got in on his side.

You thought he was going to start the vehicle up, but instead, he reached over and opened the glove compartment and pulled out a small first aid kit. He set it on top of the console and pulled out an alcohol pad, some antibacterial gel and some gauze.

“Can I see your hand?” You held it out to him and he opened the alcohol pad before rubbing the stranger’s blood off of your knuckles before putting on some of the gel and wrapping it up in the gauze. “Be sure to put some ice on it when you get home,” he said before letting go of your hand and you almost didn’t want him to. It was soft but rough and you immediately wanted to grab it and intertwine your fingers, letting them rest together on the center console.

The car ride on the way to your building was silent and you were on the fence about how you felt about it. A part of you liked it since the bar had been so overstimulating, but the other wanted to fill it so you wouldn’t have any opportunity to think about all of the things that made you anxious.

You wondered if Buck was going to behave that way with you from now on or if it was a one off because of the alcohol. Granted, he hadn’t had a drink in hours, but still. He was being so caring and thoughtful and you couldn’t help but wonder what had changed.

Buck, on the other hand, still wasn’t able to realize that he was crushing on you. The jealousy that coursed through him when you were with Eddie should have been a tip off, but it wasn’t. He was still convinced that he was just protective, but really, that was the role that Eddie had taken on.

Or maybe he knew how he felt, but was suppressing it because of his dating history. People didn’t seem to want to be with him for very long and he was beginning to think that he was the problem. Everyone was always leaving him behind and he couldn’t stand to add you to that list.

He didn’t think he was good enough anyway. Eddie was the one that you deserved. He was sweet and kind and obviously cared for you. And he seemed to be more of an adult than Buck was. He didn’t sleep around and had actual adult relationships, something that Buck still wasn’t super accustomed to. He knew he could be that for you if that was what you wanted, but he felt like you deserved much better that what he was able to offer at the moment.

He pulled into his spot in the parking garage and the two of you headed for the elevators before Buck pressed the button with the arrow facing upwards before leaning his back against the wall.

You awkwardly stood in front of him, going back to your old self since the effects of the alcohol had worn off. You crossed your arms over your chest then stepped into the elevator as soon as it opened, Buck following you.

You pressed the buttons for both of your floors and actually found yourself hating to cut your time with him short. You glanced at him and were surprised to find that he was already looking at you. He was sporting a cute smirk and all of a sudden, you found yourself wanting to know what his lips felt like. Maybe there was a little alcohol in your system after all.

The doors opened on your floor and you shook off some of your nerves and pressed a featherlight kiss to his cheek before pulling away.

“Goodnight, Buckley.”

“Goodnight, slugger,” he replied, giving you a new nickname that you definitely preferred to “probie.”

You stepped out of the elevator and stood there until it closed, watching it go up, taking your cute coworker with it. As soon as he was alone, Buck chuckled to himself, wondering what had prompted you to kiss him, but knowing that he shouldn’t have questioned it. At that rate, he was going to take what he could get. And if he was going to get more kisses from you, he was really going to have to play his cards right.

[fastandcarlos]

The Perfect Husband : ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton

summary: 1.2k words of domestic lewis preparing himself for his future at home with you

A groan escaped as you walked out from your workplace watching as droplets of rain hammered down on the ground. The umbrella you held was taking a battering as you looked down the street, building yourself up for walking through it. 

That was until a car horn disturbed you, glancing across the street you recognised the fancy, blue car that was sat with its lights on, a familiar figure staring out of the window. 

“Come on, it’s horrible out here!” Lewis yelled, waving you across to the car. As you ran across the street, he opened up the passenger door for you so that you could slide straight in. 

Your head shook as you met Lewis’ eyes. “What are you doing here?” You chuckled, placing your bag between your feet. 

“You didn’t really think I was going to stay at home and let you walk in the rain, did you?” Lewis smiled, leaning across and drying off your face using the sleeves of the jumper that he wore. 

“You’re amazing,” you smiled, leaning back in your seat. 

“I was thinking about driving down to the store, grabbing some bits so we can cook dinner,” Lewis suggested as he turned the ignition on. 

“That would be lovely, it’s been ages since we got to cook together,” you agreed, glancing out of the window, relieved to be under the shelter of Lewis’ car. 

“You know the best thing about cooking, it’s off season, so I can eat whatever I want,” Lewis chuckled, placing one hand on the wheel, the other against your thigh. 

After buying everything that you needed, the two of you headed straight for the kitchen once you were home. Lewis let you take control as you laid everything out, instructing him on what equipment you needed him to collect in order to make your famous pasta dish that Lewis had craved so much whilst he’d been following his strict regime. 

You were ready to get started, only to feel a piece of fabric brush over your face. Glancing back you watched as Lewis placed an apron around your head, tying up for you at the back, untangling your hair from around it. 

“That dress you’re wearing is lovely, I don’t want to risk you spilling anything down it,” Lewis grinned, pressing a kiss against your cheek before getting an apron of his own. 

You smiled appreciatively back across at Lewis, “what would I do without you looking after me?” You quizzed, your eyes following him as Lewis placed his apron over his head. Once he was done, he walked over to the sink and washed his hands before standing to attention, ready for his first job. 

“Where do you want me?” He proudly asked, “I can do whatever you need me to.” 

“I’ll get started on the vegetables, can you-” 

“I’ll do that,” Lewis quickly interrupted, “that knife is sharp so I’d rather that I used it.” 

You looked questionably at Lewis but he hurried you out of the way, taking the knife out from the drawer, lining the vegetables up across the chopping block. 

As much as you trusted Lewis, you couldn’t help but linger beside him, keeping a watchful eye as he began to chop some of the tomatoes that you’d bought. “How am I doing?” Lewis quizzed, unable to ignore the feeling of your eyes watching him. 

“You’re doing good,” you encouraged, offering him a sincere smile. “In all our years together, I think this might be the most domestic thing that I’ve ever seen you do,” you added, straightening out his apron to make sure that he didn’t spill on his clothes either. 

“If I plan on spending more time at home, I need to learn how to be a better husband,” Lewis admitted, pushing the tomatoes to one side. 

Your brows furrowed as he spoke, confused by what he meant. Lewis had made no secret of the fact that he wanted to keep going in the car, not slow down. 

“I’m not going to be a driver forever and one day when I retire I want to make sure that I truly make the most of life with you,” Lewis added, knowing the question that you had for him without even having to ask it. “These are all the moments I feel like I’ve missed out on so far.” 

You weren’t quite sure how your face looked, but you were sure that it was one of surprise. Lewis had never really opened up to you about his plans for after racing before, the only thing he knew that it definitely involved was you. 

You’d almost forgotten what you were doing for a moment as Lewis called out your name, keen to know what he needed to do next in order to be helpful to you. 

“Do you need a moment?” Lewis asked you once your eyes found his again, unable to hide his smile as he could tell that you had been daydreaming. 

“No, I’m all good,” you assured him. “There’s an onion to chop, but I’ll do that because I know what you’re like. Do you want to chop up the mushrooms instead?” 

“Sounds good,” Lewis chimed, impressed that you had remembered his fear of onions. “How do you want me to do it?” 

“Just thin slices,” you noted, standing back once again to watch Lewis concentrate and make sure that he did the best possible job. Beside you, Lewis could feel you staring once again, stopping after chopping a couple of mushrooms. 

“Do you plan on doing any cooking tonight or are you just planning on watching me?” Lewis teased, placing the knife down before moving his hands to your hips, pulling you across so you were stood in front of him. 

“I’ll get started on the cooking in a moment, promise,” you chuckled, feeling a kiss be pressed to the tip of your nose. “For the moment though I’d just like to stay here and admire my perfect husband hard at work,” you smiled, watching as Lewis’ eyebrows raised, surprised by what he heard. 

“Perfect husband, yeah?” 

Your head nodded as Lewis pulled you even closer to him, almost forgetting about what he was doing for a moment. He knew just how strongly you felt about him, but he never tired of hearing it anyway. 

And although he doubted himself at times, being away from home a lot and unable to talk to you, you couldn’t be surer that he really was the definition of perfect. 

After a few moments, your finger poked against Lewis’ chest. “Now look who the one daydreaming is, come on, there’s things to do.” 

Lewis’ eyes rolled as he reluctantly let you go. “Sometimes I wonder whether it's worth just retiring now and staying in this place forever with you.” 

Your head shook as Lewis picked the knife back up, “you’ve still got far too many things to achieve before you retire. Plus, I don’t think Ferrari would be particularly impressed if you said goodbye before you even say hello.” 

Lewis shrugged as you spoke, “perhaps it would be worth it. Why go and be with Ferrari rather than spend all of my days with you instead?” 

You knew that he was only joking, but still, you couldn’t help but feel excited at the prospect of soon being able to spend all your days with Lewis, living in your own domestic bubble. 

“Shall we get this done?” Lewis laughed, capturing your attention. 

“Yeah, let’s get going.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[incognit0slut]

Hi author, can you write one where soft Dom Spencer (our beloved) is needy after work and tries to distract reader while she's cooking?

Heat of the Moment

warnings/notes: I’m gonna be honest with you, I don’t have the energy to write smut but I will write the build-up scene to it. So suggestive content (MDNI) with a sprinkle of fluff and a whole lot of Spencer being horny. (This is also very self-indulgent because I fucking love mac and cheese, and if any of you hate cheese in general, I’m afraid we can’t be friends)

Cooking isn’t exactly your best skill. Just follow the recipe, they say, and you do, although following step-by-step instructions isn’t the same as having a natural knack for it. No matter how closely you measure the spices or time in the oven, something always seems a bit off. A little bit overcooked. A little bit burnt. But Spencer, bless your boyfriend’s heart, never complains.

“What smells so good?”

You look over your shoulder to see him strolling into the kitchen, still in his work clothes. Loose dress pants, rolled-up sleeves, top buttons undone. The tie you help him put on this morning is missing.

“You don’t always have to do that, you know?” You say as you turn back toward the stove. You stir the creamy, slightly lumpy mac and cheese, the thick sauce clinging to the pasta in a way that looks almost perfect, if not for the slightly scorched edges.

“Do what?”

“Pretend it’s amazing,” you reply with a sigh. “I know it’s not.”

You feel his presence behind you. “I’m not pretending.”

“You haven’t even tasted it yet.”

He peers over your shoulder. “I don’t need to. I trust you.”

“You trust me too much.”

“Just as much as you do,” he explains, placing his hands on your waist. “You trust me too, don’t you?”

“Trusting you to carry a gun isn’t the same as trusting your taste buds,” you reply, slightly leaning into him. Your back lands perfectly against his chest. “One requires skill, the other… a strong stomach.”

He gives your waist a gentle squeeze as his laughter fills the small space between you. You like his laugh, it’s warm and infectious. It makes you smile even though you’re feeling a bit self-conscious about your cooking.

“Well, I’ve survived both so far. So I think I’m doing pretty well.”

You stare at the pot, watching the mac and cheese bubble slightly. “What do you think the chances are of us getting food poisoning from this?”

Spencer gently pulls your hair out of the way, his fingers lightly brushing against your neck. He leans in and presses a soft kiss. “I’d say the chances are low,” he murmurs. “You're always too hard on yourself.”

You laugh softly, leaning back into him. “Maybe, but I just don’t want to mess this up.”

His hands start to wander, tracing gentle patterns on your waist before sliding around to your stomach. “You won’t mess it up,” he assures you. He lets his lips trail down your neck. “And even if you did, I wouldn’t mind.”

You feel a rush of warmth that has nothing to do with the stove. “Really?”

“It’s already good because you made it.”

You can feel his body pressing closer, his warmth enveloping as he lingers on the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Spencer, are you trying to distract me?”

You can practically feel the smile on your skin. He shakes his head, the slight roughness of his stubble brushing against your neck as he murmurs, “Not distracting, just appreciating.”

His denial is playful, his tone light, but his actions tell a different story. His hands continue their exploration, now slipping underneath your shirt. His palm is warm and slightly rough as it makes contact with your skin. He traces gentle patterns along your stomach, moving so slowly and as if he’s savoring every inch.

You feel your pulse quicken, each beat echoing in your ears. “Baby…”

“Hm?” he hums, and your breath catches when his thumb brushes just below your breasts.

“If you keep this up, there might not be any food for dinner.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

You try to focus on the pot, where the sauce has begun to form a thicker layer at the bottom, slightly burned and sticking. But his touch makes it difficult to concentrate. "Unless you plan to feed us on kisses alone, I think we might need something more substantial too."

Spencer laughs softly, a low rumble of amusement that you can feel as much as hear. "I don’t know, kisses for dinner sounds pretty tempting."

"I’m afraid it won’t satisfy our hunger."

"I think it’ll satisfy mine just fine."

“Oh my god,” you gasp, catching on to the deeper meaning in his words. You tighten your grip on the wooden spoon as you resume your stirring. “Stop distracting me.”

If anything, he clings to you even more. He rests his chin on your shoulder as his hands travel down your stomach again, only this time, they linger at the hem of your shorts. His fingers play with the fabric, teasingly tugging at it.

“Spencer.”

“What?”

And then you feel it, the unmistakable pressure of his arousal pressing against your back. It’s a firm, urgent presence, a hard line that aligns tightly against your own curves. The hardness of it distracts you even further.

“You’re making it really hard to cook,” you murmur, trying to sound stern but the breathiness in your voice betrays your growing distraction.

He slips a hand inside the waistband of your shorts while the other trace along your stomach. “I think we should forget about cooking for a while.”

“You know we can’t do that,” you try to argue, even as your hips instinctively follow his touch. “We need to eat.”

“But we could be doing other things,” Spencer whispers, nipping gently at your earlobe. His teeth graze your skin lightly before his lips close around it, tugging softly. The sigh you let out is shaky and breathless. The idea is tempting, dangerously so. The persistent heat from his hand, now tracing idle circles on your underwear, isn’t helping your focus.

“Aren’t you—” your grip on the wooden spoon loosens when he slips a finger over the waistband. “Aren’t you the one who… always says how our bodies need… what was it again?”

Spencer nods. “The human body need about 2,000 calories a day to function properly. But,” he continues, slipping another finger in. “We also need affection and touch for our emotional well-being.”

You swallow hard. “What else do we need?”

“Pleasure. Lots of it.”

You don’t know whether you should be laughing or not. His boldness is both shocking and strangely amusing. Spencer isn't the type to be straightforward when it comes to sex, but when he is, it's always intense. He's clingy, he craves attention, and even when his cheeks flush with embarrassment, it doesn't stop him. It hasn't stopped him in the past, and it's not stopping him now.

Your mind scatters as he starts pressing himself harder, slightly grinding behind you. And when he adds another finger in, then followed by another until all of his five fingers dive into your underwear, you know you’re already too far gone. You let go of your grip on the wooden spoon before it clatters inside the pot, reaching down to hold his arm to stop him.

“Fine. Fine. You win.” You breathe out heavily as you gently pull his hand out. “We should at least turn off the stove first.”

He grins, pulling away to turn off the burner. “There. Now, where were we?”

You finally turn to face him, your hands finding their way to his shirt. You grip onto the material. “I think you were about to prove a point about pleasure.”

His response is a soft laugh before his lips meet yours. He’s gentle when he touches you. He always is. His hands slides around your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies. You let your hand trail over his chest, up, up, up, until your fingers find the soft curls of his hair.

When he finally pulls away, he's smiling from ear to ear. "I think that's proof enough, don't you?"

You smile back, breathless and flushed. "Maybe," you reply, your fingers gently tugging at his hair. "But I might need a bit more convincing."

His grin widens, and he leans in again, his lips brushing against yours as he whispers, "I can do that."

You can feel his hands tightening around your waist as he begins to kiss you again, deeper this time. It's all teeth and tongue, raw and hungry. The forgotten dinner on the stove barely registers in your mind. But with his hands and lips distracting you, you find it hard to worry about anything else.

[clockwayswrites]

Birds birbs birbritch - Part 29

masterpost this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3

“Well, there’s the my horde of children,” Bruce said, glanced to Steph, and added, “and otherwise.”

“Hi B,” Steph said with a large smile that was just a little too much tooth, “and hi Danny!”

“Hello Stephanie,” Danny said. His wings were pulled tight against his back, as if he could hide them from view.

He couldn’t.

“Sorry B,” Dick chirped with his most innocent smile, “we were in the middle of a Mario Kart battle and you know how those can get!”

“At least tell me nothing is broken,” Bruce said, sounding entirely resigned about it all.

“Nothing is broken. Yet.”

“Well… good enough, I suppose.” Bruce said. “Though everyone had better sit though before Alfred comes in and fusses.”

“Too late, Master Bruce,” Alfred drawled as he came into the room with serving tray in hand.

They all appropriately scrambled for seats.

What with Danny being there, the normal seating (not that it always stayed exactly the same) was thrown into complete disarray. Mostly this was because Damian insisted on sitting next to Danny while Cass took the seat across from him and Tim next to her. Dick tried to stuff back him smile, but Jason caught it and rolled his eyes at his brother.

Still, it was sort of nice, in a weird way like when big cats have a service dog, to see Damian having someone out of the family that he felt the need to look over and protect. The suddenness of it all was what bothered Jason. Cass meets the guy and he’s invited to the ballet. Tim sleeps in his office. Damian wants to protect him. Even Bruce was at ease earlier with Danny sleeping on his lap. It was just like Danny belong there in with the rest of their family.

Jason didn’t trust it.

He especially didn’t trust it because it seemed to be having an effect on him too. He hadn’t snooped nearly as much as he could have in Danny’s apartment. Hell, the revelations down in the Cave that they had just had didn’t bother him as much as they should have.

Jason looked across the table to Duke, who was squinting a little at Danny. Jason kicked Duke lightly under the table and tilted his head in question.

Duke rolled his eyes, but pulled out his phone and sent: He’s got, like, an aura about him.

Jason frowned, typing back quickly: Did he at the ballet?

Duke gave a little shrug, but shook his head.

Well, that was very interesting. Jason wished that Duke had seen Danny when he was in full bird form so that they could have had a full comparison, but this was something at least. Danny had admitted that he was a Meta, but was he a meta like Wally was or more like Duke or even Kori? The odd language certainly pointed more towards Duke or Kori.

Dick nudged Jason with his pointy elbow. When Jason glared at him, Dick just looked pointedly down at Jason’s plate and back up.

‘Eat,’ he mouthed.

Jason rolled his eyes, but dug into the meal. It was a vegetarian pasta of some sort. Salad and garlic bread were also on the table. Basically a nice, carb heavy meal to have after a long, hard day. Jason had to wonder if Alfred would even let any of them out tonight. None of the ‘kids’ for sure. Tim, Damian, and Steph were all certain to be grounded. Dick, Jason, and Cass could probably make a good argument to go out and get started on this Mad Hater thing, but Cass might prefer to stay close. Jason couldn’t really blame her for that if she did. She deserved to get to be close to her family.

Jason caught Dick’s gaze again, raising a curious brow with a little head motion down towards the Cave. Approximately.

Dick nodded, a seriousness in his eyes.

Okay, guess they had a plan.

-

Bruce found them as they were suiting up. He leaned against the Batcomputer and watched as Dick and Jason bickered and hindered each other actually being able to get dressed for patrol. It was good to see them able to be brothers like that again. Therapy with Harley had really been helping Jason and Bruce knew that Dick was seeing someone, even if he hadn’t pried into who. Bruce didn’t think it was fair too when it had taken him as long to start seeing help.

It was something he wish he had done far earlier.

Had pushed for all of them to do earlier.

“What are you brooding about over there, old man?” Jason called out. He’d finally wrestled his gloves back from Dick and was pulling them on.

“I can just be somewhere without brooding,” Bruce said.

Bruce sighed. “I was thinking how proud I am of both of you for making good of the therapy that you’ve been doing.”

There was a long silence before Jason mumbled ‘sap’ and ducked his head. Dick just grinned back, a faint blush on his cheeks. As old as they two were, they were still his kids.

“If I stay in tonight, will you two be fine out there?”

“Doubting us?” Jason asked. His voice changed part way through as he put on his mask and the modulation kicked in.

“Never,” Bruce said, which seemed to make Jason freeze again. “Just asking you want me out there as back up.”

“Stay in with the others,” Dick said with a little shake of his head. “I know they’ve brushed it off, but Dami and Tim have still been through a rough day. And Danny too. You should be around if anyone has issues in the night.”

“Let us go out and start investigating,” Hood added. Even with the mask, here was a softness to his voice. “We’ve got this.”

Bruce nodded. He knew they did. “I’ll keep a comm if you need me.”

“Sure. Just make sure to get some rest, old man,” Jason said and headed towards the bikes. Nightwing followed with a little wave.

Bruce stayed in the Cave until they were gone and then grabbed a communicator to slide into his ear, just in case.

[luveline]

Hi, if you have time and any interest, would you write bombshell!reader comforting Spencer after the Maeve arc? Like maybe she’s the only one he lets in, and she just holds him and lets him cry and puts him first.

Will totally understand if you’d rather not/don’t reply!

ty for requesting!! <3 —You come home from months away to find Spencer in love and grieving, so you do what you can. fem, 2k

You didn’t expect Spencer to fall in love while you were gone, but you can’t begrudge him. Not for having feelings for someone who isn’t you, and certainly not for losing her. 

You love him, and you’re his friend first. 

Your shoes make sharp but steady sounds on the stairs up to his apartment. His building is old but not rundown, lacquered wooden bannister smooth under your hand, his front door immaculate, though the hallway is busy with baskets. There’s ribbon and cellophane everywhere. It’s a sorry sight. 

You haven’t brought Spencer anything besides dinner. Unlike yourself, you take in the offerings of his friends and worry you aren’t as caring as you think you are. 

Not that he seems in the mood to accept it. 

You look down at your mary jane’s and wonder if you’re doing any of this stuff right. Spencer doesn’t even know you’re back in the country, let alone the state. Perhaps he has no interest in seeing you after this long apart, and after such a tragedy. Who wants to see their too flirty friend when they’ve just lost a real love? 

You hike the tote up your shoulder. In a chequered skirt and a simple white t-shirt, you’re underdressed. The pasta you’d made and hurriedly wrapped up burns your hip where the bag rests against you, and you have to make a choice now. Let it burn you, standing and staring morosely at Spencer’s door, or face rejection. 

You only need to hear his voice. He can leave your pasta out here on the floor if he likes. What’s important is that he’s still alive in there. 

You knock on the door. 

Nothing. Complete silence. 

Nudging aside a basket of dried fruits, you try again. A simple rat-tat-tat. 

“Hey, Spencer?” you ask too quietly. 

He won’t hear you through the door. Your voice might as well be a whisper if he’s in his bedroom with the door closed. 

“Spencer, are you okay, my love?” you ask, louder.

You wince at yourself. My love couldn’t be more raw. 

“Sweetheart, I’m just here to see if you’re okay,” you say, knocking again, before leaving your hand to rest on the door. You lean forward, forehead kissing dark wood. 

You can’t hear anything on the other side. 

“Spencer,” you say with a reluctant swallow, “if you’re home, can you tell me? You don’t have to let me in. Just come to the door.” 

Penelope said he hasn’t texted her back for days. Derek said he’d answered the phone once or twice, but beyond that he’s silent. You had a nightmare on the plane home that you’d come back to find him as he’s found his poor girl, or that he’d turn to old vices, or that he’d finally give up. He’s been strong through every horrible thing thrown his way, and now he’s all alone again—

The door opens slowly. You stand up straighter, your surprise a whack to the chest as your heartbeat picks up. 

Spencer stands at the door. He looks more tired than you’ve ever seen him, his dark circles bruised like wine stains under his eyes, even his eyelids red and sore looking. His lips are almost colourless, they're so chapped, and his pyjama pants have deep, deep wrinkles at the knees. 

“Hi,” you say. “Spencer, how are you?” 

His voice rings with disuse. “You’re here.” 

“Came straight home when they told me,” you say softly, honestly. “I knew I had to see you. To make sure you’re okay.” 

“I’m not okay.” 

“I know.” You don’t know if it’s okay to ask to come in, if he’ll close the door at the suggestion, so you don’t. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” You put weight in the wrong places, too much on I’m, not enough on so. “I can’t imagine it. I would never wish this for you, never.” 

“You were in Brazil.” 

“I was.” 

He must be tired of people asking if he’s okay, yet it wants to be asked. You bite it down, and instead offer what may be the key to getting in, or a quick dismissal. 

“I made dinner for you, angel,” you say. You choose the pet name more carefully. He used to call you angel to make you feel better. “It’s just pasta, I tried not to make it too heavy in case you're nauseous.” 

“I feel so sick,” he says. 

Spencer’s curse is that he probably knows why he feels sick, and he probably knows a hundred different remedies or medications or prayers to get rid of it, but nothing can get rid of this feeling. You can be the smartest man alive and you’ll never outfox grief. 

“Will you come in?” he asks.

You breathe a short, unbidden sigh of relief. He steps aside to let you in, and you gaze around at his shock of mess, books and blankets and furniture all in the wrong places, but it’s to be expected, and it doesn’t bother you beyond that empathetic hum of hurt tucked under your ribs. You approach his couch covered in books and put your tote bag atop them, turning to tell Spencer you’ll just quickly move these aside, and stopping dead when you see him. The door closed, his face pale, Spencer looks like everything is crumbling down around him. He looks horrified to have to watch, and he looks as sick as he’d confessed. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” you say, meaning it at its surface value. You’re sorry you were in a different country while he faced this alone. Beyond everything you’ve shared, you’re supposed to be his friend, and in a way you’ve let him down. “Please forgive me if you can, Spencer.” 

He nods tightly. 

“Let me move some of this stuff and we can sit down together, is that okay? Or do you need to go back to bed?” 

“It’s okay.” 

You do it without the grace his precious books deserve, lugging armfuls of them onto the floor, no time for tidying. You make spacious room for him and you, and your gesture gently for him to come and sit, fingers moving through the air slowly with the suggestion; he doesn’t have to listen if he doesn’t want to. 

What is it about you that Spencer would let you in before anyone else? That he’d sit and watch you until you sat down, that his shoulders relax ever so slightly when you settle, your thighs aligned? 

Maybe he needs someone who wasn’t there to watch it happen, and maybe you’re like family. You and Spencer may not be in love, but you love one another. Seeing him like this has you wishing you could fix it for him so keenly it’s like your hands are bruised. Pins and needles eat your fingers as you hold a hand to his elbow. 

“What can I do?” you ask, murmuring so as not to disturb the quiet room. 

“Nothing, I’m sorry. I don’t have anything for you to do, I just…” He squeezes his eyes closed. “I just wanted to see you. You’re the only person who– who–”

His voice lifts to a strangled high pitch as he covers his eyes with one hand. 

“Can I give you a hug?” you ask. 

He nods into his hand but doesn’t move. You have no qualms with making yourself big, wrapping him up, and guiding his hand away from his scrunched up face to hold you back. 

You’re pretty pristine with hugs, as they go. You’re a soft touch. So Spencer holds you tightly and you cradle the back of his head, aware that you’re not who he really wants to be hugging, but okay with it nonetheless. “I’m so sorry,” you say, mouth to the top of his head, your hand stroking with light touches against the nape of his neck. “Spencer, it’s not fair.” 

He starts shaking in your arms. 

“The only time I got to talk to her face to face was with a gun to her head,” he says, his eye hot where it’s squished to the bottom of your cheek. 

“Honey, you had something special,” you say, sort of guessing, because you had no idea Spencer was even talking to someone. Everything you know about the situation you learned from Hotch, but you can read from his level of distress how much she meant to him. “You don’t need to have been face to face to have shared something like that. Love is about connection, and I’m so sorry you don’t get to see her, but you– I’m sorry. You didn’t get all the time you deserved.” 

You’d been trying to say that it doesn’t matter if he saw her or not, that their relationship was just as real no matter what, but you know he’s not just mourning her, but the possibility of a life with her he won’t get now. 

“I tried everything I had to save her,” he says. 

“I know you did. Sometimes we can’t do anything. It’s not your fault.” 

He makes a low sound. He’s a quiet crier, sniffling and shaking against your neck. 

You love him. Finding out he had a girlfriend was like being stabbed in the chest, an instant sickness, but finding out that she died? To see him in this much pain cuts deeper than a split second of thinking he’d moved on. 

“You did everything you could. You did the best that you could. Spencer, you could’ve done everything right and she still wouldn’t have made it, because the world is cruel. This isn’t your fault.” 

“It’s always gonna be my fault,” he says. 

“No, it won’t be.” 

“It will! I’m like a curse, we all are.” 

You don’t know what to say. You consider offering placatives, but they’d be empty, and Spencer would know. Instead, you scratch a hand through his curls and try your best to be gentle. 

“Well, I’m here for you. I know you know you have a whole team of people who want to be there for you, but I mean it, Spence. You can tell me everything. I’m here for you and I’m not leaving again.” 

“You don’t have to go back?” 

“I’m staying here.” For as long as you need me goes unsaid. 

Spencer should rely on the kindness of all of his friends, and not just you. He needs love. Grief is going to eat him alive, just like it did with Emily; he’ll need everything from everyone, and, no offence to your friends and coworkers, you’re the most committed to giving it to him. 

“I never should’ve left,” you say quietly, “but things are different now. You’re my best friend, Dr. Reid.” Your tone turns more playful. “I don’t cook for just anybody, you know?” 

Maybe it’s a bit cringeworthy, but you really want him to stop crying. 

He laughs weakly and wetly into your collar. “I don’t think I can eat it. I just throw everything back up.” 

Aw, honey, you think. “How about a thin soup? I can make you something without any heavy creams. I make the best chicken soup around.” 

“Do you?” he asks. 

You want to kiss his cheek as you would’ve before you left, but things really are different now. You settle for patting his shoulder. “I do. We’ll have chicken soup, and some fresh bread, and– and you won’t have to pretend you aren’t miserable. Promise. You can be as sad as you want, honey, I just wanna sit with you and make sure it doesn’t get too much.” 

“Thank you,” he mumbles. 

“It’s okay.” You don’t want a thank you. “I’m glad to be home. Do you think you can get dressed? Let’s go get some stuff for dinner.” 

Spencer, to your relief, gets up to get changed without complaint. He checks you’re still on the couch a few times from the doorway of his room. You have no plans on straying far. 

[lechrts]

Dinner’s Ready. ✷ Lando Norris

Pairing: Lando Norris x Bestfriend!reader

Summary: Helping your bestfriend learn how to cook because his out of date freezer meals were a bit concerning.

Word Count: 2.1k

Disclaimer/s: Fluff fluff fluffff!! :3

Vera’s Voice! i liked this one tbh :3 wrote it during my lunch break today!!! hope u enjoy!!!

“Lando, you cannot be serious.”

“I am serious,” He replied, leaning casually against the counter as you stared at the horror show that was his freezer. “What’s the big deal?”

You turned slowly, holding up a frostbitten container of… something? You squinted at the label. Lasagna? Or… meatloaf? The date scribbled on top was from months ago. Possibly before summer.

“The big deal, you idiot, is that I’m pretty sure this thing is one microwave cycle away from mutating.” You held the container of mystery meat in your hand as you felt a gag creeping forward but you choked it down.

Lando scoffed with a grin, the dimpled, infuriating kind, like this was all a joke to him. “Survival of the fittest.” He shrugged.

“This is not funny!” You groaned, dramatically shoving the container into his arms like you’d caught him red-handed.

“You’re going to give yourself food poisoning one day. Like I’m honestly surprised you haven’t died already.”

“I’m built different.” He argued.

“You’re built stupid.”

He laughed loudly, unbothered by your scolding. “Okay, Mum, what do you want me to do?”

“You’re lucky I'm even here,” You shot back, spinning around to grab your grocery bag like some kind of control freak. “You’re about to learn how to cook a proper meal for once in your life!” A pause.

“God, this is what the rich does to people.” You muttered to yourself.

Lando groaned like you’d told him he had to run ten miles uphill. “Why do I feel like this is going to end badly?”

“Because you’re terrible at following instructions,” You teased, already digging out the flour, eggs, and the rest of your supplies.

He leaned over the counter to peek. “Wait. Are we making pasta?”

“Of course.”

“Why would we do that when the box version is right there? In the cupboard, I might add.”

You turned to him, jaw practically on the floor because he even suggested such a thing. “I’m gonna pretend you didn't just say that.”

“What's wrong with it?!” He scoffed.

“Because it won’t be made with love! And you, Lando Norris, need more love in your diet.”

Lando blinked, then snorted. “That’s the corniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Very appropriate since you’re the corniest person I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.” You quickly shot back.

His jaw fell. A hand to his chest. “You wound me.”

“Good.”

And soon enough, the two of you got to work and, somewhere along the way, the line between “teaching” and “flirting” blurred, though neither of you dared to point it out.

Standing shoulder to shoulder at the counter, the space between you shrank with every quiet moment. You guided his hands as he clumsily kneaded the dough, your fingers brushing his more often than necessary.

The air grew heavy with something unspoken, the sound of flour dusting the counter and soft laughter filling the silence. When you looked up to correct him, his gaze lingered longer than it should have, and suddenly the lesson felt like an excuse to stay close, to touch without reason, and to hide the butterflies neither of you could ignore.

“Like this,” You said softly, placing your fingers over his to press into the floury mixture.

“I am doing it like that,” He complained.

“No, you’re manhandling it.”

“It’s dough!” He laughed, twisting to look at you, his face unfairly close.

“Yeah, and it’s not going to trust you if you’re aggressive.”

Lando tilted his head, the grin creeping back. “Not going to trust me?”

You bit your lip, fighting back a smile. “I don’t make the rules.”

“Clearly you do,” He teased, though he didn’t pull his hands away from yours. You suddenly became very aware of the warmth of his skin beneath your palms, the way his shoulder brushed against yours as you leaned closer.

Your gaze flickered up, and that’s when you realized he was already watching you.

“What?” You asked softly.

“Nothing.” Lando’s voice dipped, quieter than before. His eyes were still on yours, unreadable but warm—too warm.

You swallowed hard, pulling back just a little too quickly. “You’re hopeless,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady as you turned back to the dough.

Lando didn’t argue. He just smiled, like he knew something you didn’t.

Moving onto the sauce now at the stove, the pasta dough had been cut sloppily into fettuccine, now boiling on another burner. The kitchen looked like the scene of a food fight. Flour dusted the counters, your shirt, his hair—though Lando swore you’d put it there on purpose.

You were focused on stirring the sauce when he came up beside you, far too close for comfort. You could feel him there before you saw him: the shift of the air, the way the space seemed to shrink around him.

“Need something?” You asked suspiciously, refusing to look at him.

“I’m just watching,” He said, voice light but laced with something unreadable.

“You’re hovering.”

“I’m learning.”

“You’re distracting,” You muttered, stirring the sauce a little harder than necessary.

You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Distracting, hm?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” You shot back, rolling your eyes.

When you finally glanced up at him, Lando was leaning against the counter with that insufferably lazy grin of his, arms folded, hair still tousled from where you’d flicked flour at him earlier. He looked at ease—too at ease.

“What?” you asked again, narrowing your eyes.

“You’ve got…” He gestured vaguely toward your face. “Something there.”

“Where?”

“Your cheek.”

You frowned, swiping at your face with the back of your hand.

Lando didn’t move, but the smile tugging at his lips grew. “Missed it.”

“Are you messing with me?”

“Would I ever?”

“Always.” You said flatly, but before you could react, he leaned in—just enough to make your heart catch. His thumb brushed across your cheek, slow and deliberate, the contact feather-light but enough to make your skin tingle where he touched.

It wasn’t fair how something so small could make your breath falter. Your brain felt like it short-circuited, stuck on the warmth of his hand and how close his face was to yours now.

“There,” he murmured softly.

You swallowed hard, eyes locked on his as his hand lingered—his thumb now gently tracing the line of your jaw.

Your heart pounded so loudly it drowned out everything else.

“Stop looking at me like that,” You said, barely above a whisper. “You've been doing it all evening.”

“Like what?” Lando’s voice dropped to match yours, quiet but steady. His eyes never left you, his gaze softer now, something unspoken lingering in the space between you.

“Like you’re about to kiss me.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, but you saw the shift in his expression. His smile faded—just slightly—as his thumb paused at the curve of your jaw.

“…Would that be such a bad thing?”

Your stomach flipped violently, and you felt rooted to the spot.

Every thought in your head went quiet except for the sound of your pulse thudding in your ears. Lando’s eyes searched yours, still giving you time to say no—to pull away—but you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Slowly, achingly slowly, he leaned in.

Your breath hitched as the space between you shrank to nothing. He hesitated for just a second, close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. Close enough to memorize the exact color of his eyes and count the faint freckles across his nose.

And then his lips met yours.

Softly. Gently.

The kiss was tentative, like he was testing the waters, waiting for you to pull back—but you didn’t. The butterflies swarmed in your stomach, your heart a mess of frantic flutters as you leaned into him, your hands lifting to clutch the fabric of his t-shirt like you needed to hold on to something solid.

Lando’s other hand found your waist, warm and steady, anchoring you as he kissed you again—deeper this time, but still careful. His lips moved against yours with the kind of softness that made your chest ache, like he was memorizing the moment, like he didn’t want to rush it.

You could’ve stayed there forever, standing in his flour-dusted kitchen with the sauce bubbling behind you and the rest of the world falling away.

The kitchen was still for a moment—too still. Your lips tingled from the kiss, the air between you and Lando thick with something unspoken but undeniable.

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe properly. Your heart was still racing in a way that had nothing to do with the pasta you were supposed to be making.

Lando’s forehead rested gently against yours, but his presence, his warmth, was too close, making everything feel so very real in a way you weren’t sure how to process.

Then, slowly, with the faintest chuckle in his voice, he pulled away—just enough to look at you, but not enough to break the contact completely.

He was standing behind you now, just a hair’s breath away, his hands slowly finding their way around your waist again, pulling you against him in a soft but secure hug. You froze as his arms wrapped around your body, his chest pressed lightly against your back.

You could feel the steady beat of his heart, feel the warmth radiating from his body into yours. His chin nestled just above your shoulder, his breath warm against the side of your neck.

“Lando…” You mumbled, the words almost slipping from you without thought, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Mmm?” He didn’t move. His voice was low, soft—a stark contrast to the playful teasing from earlier. “You okay?”

You swallowed hard, your face growing warm from the closeness. “Think I’m having trouble breathing, if I’m honest.”

His lips brushed the back of your neck, a soft, teasing kiss that sent an electric shiver down your spine. “Not surprising,” He murmured, his tone now laced with a playful cocky edge. “I do have that effect on people.”

“Oh, do you now?” You replied, trying to sound sarcastic, but your voice betrayed you—weak and breathless.

“Definitely,” He said with a chuckle, squeezing you tighter, and you could practically hear the smug smile in his voice. “I mean, I’m not just a great driver, you know. I’m also pretty good at making hearts race.”

You let out a soft groan, hands gripping the counter for balance as you felt your heart actually race. “You are so cringe, it hurts.”

He grinned against your shoulder, his voice lowering. “Am I? I was starting to think you liked me.”

You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “I don’t,” you muttered, though you weren’t entirely sure if you believed it.

Lando leaned in a little closer, his lips brushing lightly against the side of your neck. “Really?”

You couldn't help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Think you and I already know the answer.”

The air between you both hung heavy with the playful tension, but just as you thought it was about to become too much, Lando pulled back slightly, his arms still around you as the sauce seemed to be finished.

“Come on, dinner’s ready.”

like, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated ^_^ !!

tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox

[mommyslittlebird]

Prologue

Stepmama!Wanda x Reader

Summary: Things with your mother had never been good, but when you truly couldn’t take it anymore, you turned to the only place you had left.

Word Count: ~2k ish

CW: MOMMY ISSUES, leaving home, references to past/current abuse.

A/N: Please leave your comments and thoughts on this! I’m not really sure where I want to take this series yet, and I would love to hear what you all want to see!

Prologue to Mama

———————————————————

You weren’t exactly sure what would be the final straw in the relationship between you and your mother, but you had always imagined it’d be something big. You always thought there would be one final moment, when she did something crazy, like maybe she would make some threat on your life or chase you out of the house with a knife or set all of your things on fire.

But it wasn’t like that at all.

There were no threats, no shouting, no one even raised their voice. It was just like any other Thursday afternoon, really. You were going through the cupboard, looking for something to eat for dinner. As usual, they were largely empty aside from some dry pasta, some stale potato chips, some cereal that would require milk you didn’t have, and some various unlabelled cans. You grabbed the cereal. You could make something work. You always did.

Your mother came into the kitchen snacking on a bag of Blue Diamond almonds. She shook the bag and held it out to you. “Do you want some almonds?”

You froze briefly. You were allergic to nuts. “No thanks. I'm allergic, remember?”

She tilted her head and furrowed her brow. “No you’re not. Since when are you allergic to almonds?”

Since second grade. You had eaten some at a birthday party and went into anaphylactic shock in a bouncy castle. You had to be taken to the hospital. You ruined the whole party. You cried everyday for the rest of the school year because no one wanted to talk to the weird kid who had to get a shot in her butt cheek at a birthday party. You never got invited to another one. How could she not remember?

You looked at her silently for a long while. This wasn’t worth fighting over. You couldn’t expect her to remember everything about you. But the longer you looked at her, the more it seemed like she might not know anything about you at all. She knew you as her daughter, of course. She knew you as a good student: quiet, reserved, always well-behaved. She knew you as someone smart enough to do taxes, handy enough to fix the broken things around the house, resourceful enough to make dinner even with an empty cupboard. But none of those things were really you, they were all things you did for her.

Did she even know that there was you outside of her?

You had given her the opportunity to. You’d given her many opportunities to. In a lot of ways, that made it worse. You had opened your heart to her only to be told she didn’t want to see it. And here she was, looking at you like she didn’t even know you had a heart to open.

You started to feel dizzy, nauseated by the woman standing in front of you. At first, you couldn’t possibly comprehend that you had come out of her. You seemed so separated that it was impossible that the two of you had ever been connected in any way. Then, it seemed the opposite, that you were never really separated at all. It was now as it had been before you even came into the world: you were a part of her on every level.

And the worst part was, you couldn’t even bring yourself to be angry with her.

Just as you were an extension of her, she was an extension of everything that had happened to her. You could see it swirling inside of her: a maelstrom of trauma, pain, and mental illness. She was just as much a victim as she was a perpetrator. She wasn’t a monster, she was just a sick woman who never got the help she needed.

“It doesn’t matter,” you finally answered.

She shrugged and walked away. You calmly set the cereal back in the cabinet, swallowing your hurt and trying to make it dinner. You leaned forward to rest your head on the cupboard. What were you doing here?

Clearly she didn’t care that you were here. So what was holding you in this house? Why were you choosing this life where nothing was ever clean, there was never any food, and only other person around was a woman who couldn’t even remember your nut allergy.

The room felt like it was shrinking in on you making it hard to breathe. You felt incredibly tiny, yet like you were still taking up too much space. You had to get out of here.

You didn’t even put shoes on before running out of the house, grabbing your keys and throwing yourself into the driver’s seat. You could hardly see the road through your tears. You were in no state to be driving at all, really, but, miraculously, you made it safely across town to the home your dad lived in with your stepmother, Wanda.

Your father, as usual, was away on a business trip. You didn’t know your stepmother that well, but she was a kind woman that you figured would be welcoming. It was your house as much as it was hers, after all. Anything was better than what you were running from.

Going to your father’s house on a week he wasn’t home wouldn’t have been your first choice. Then again, you weren’t exactly in a place to be picky. It was nearly midnight by this point and it was pouring rain. Your father’s guest room would at least have a warm, dry bed for you to sleep in, which was more than you would get anywhere else. You doubted you could even find a vacant hotel room at this hour, not that you had the money for that anyway.

Wanda opened the thin curtain in the dining room when she saw the bright headlights. The driveway was long and far from the road, so headlights were rare, especially this late at night. Her heart jumped to her throat when she saw it was your car. The front door was open before you were even on the porch. You stumbled inside, soaked in cold rain and tears.

“Honey, what happened?” she gasped, running to grab a towel to dry you off. She grabbed a nice fluffy towel, scrubbing your hair dry. She wrapped it around your shoulders, trying to get your frail body to stop shaking. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing but a small squeak came out. You were crying so hard you had to hold onto the banister to stay upright. She wrapped an arm around your waist, bracing you against her own body.

She slung your arm around her shoulder, trying to help you up the stairs. “Shshsh, baby,” she cooed, cradling your head and kissing your temple. “Let’s get you wrapped up and warm. You're gonna be okay. I’ve got you.” She eventually got you up to the guest room, the room she had long considered to be yours anyway. She sat you down on the edge of the bed before turning to grab some spare clothes from the wardrobe. She placed them in a folded pile next to you and knelt down in front of you, placing herself on your level.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re safe here. I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you,” she soothed, rubbing your knee gently. “Just take a few deep breaths for me. Do you think you can tell me what happened?”

“M-mom…” was the only word you could choke out.

She nodded in understanding. “Something happened with your mom?”

You nodded and blabbered, but she could see you were just getting frustrated with your inability to speak.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Take your time, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” Wanda reassured, trying to quell your rising frustration. “Did she hurt you?”

You shook your head. “N-no. It was… well it was stupid, really. She… well, I was hungry… and she gave me… al-almonds.”

“Almonds?” Wanda’s eyes went wide as dinner plates. She rolled up your sleeve and pushed two fingers into the skin of your wrist, as if she was checking whether or not you were alive in front of her. Her other hand went up to cradle the side of your head, pressing her thumb to your cheekbone. “You didn’t eat any, did you? Do you have your EpiPen with you? I have an extra in the closet. I can…”

“No,” you interrupted. “I didn’t eat any. I’m okay. I just… I can’t believe she forgot. I mean I guess I can’t expect her to remember everything about me, but… I don’t know… this felt important.”

“Honey,” she started, tone growing a bit harsher. She wasn’t upset with you, but you could feel the anger radiating off of her. “She could’ve killed you. That isn’t just something that slips your mind. That’s carelessness. A carelessness that could have cost you dearly. God she shouldn’t even be eating almonds in the same room as you! Agh!”

You jumped a little bit. She felt a twinge of guilt. The last thing you needed right now was someone to scare you even more. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you.”

“I know,” you sniffled. “I just… I know she didn’t mean to hurt me. She just forgot…”

“My love,” she started, cradling your face again, “do you know what these sheets are made of?”

You shook your head.

“Cotton. And it’s washed with hypoallergenic laundry detergent. Because I know my baby has sensitive skin, and polyester and scented detergents make you itchy. And you don’t stay here very often, but when you do, you deserve a nice soft bed that doesn’t break you out,” she explained. “I know you may not think of me as your mama, and that’s okay. You don’t have to. But know that I’d sooner forget my own name than forget you take your coffee with two creams and a sugar. It comes to me as natural as breathing. Because that’s what mama’s do. They love. They care. And they never forget.”

“But… she’s… she’s sick,” you stammered. “Her head… she’s… she’s in so much pain Wanda.”

She squeezed your hand. “Her pain is not a crucifix, sweetheart. You don’t not need to martyr yourself on it. She’s hurting you.” She lifted your head, forcing you to look at her. Her voice was quiet, regretful, even. As if it pained her to admit she’d let you live with her for so long. The more you spoke the clearer it became that this problem ran much deeper than almonds. Bile rose in her throat as she imagined what you had been through, even just in the year she’d known you. She should’ve seen it sooner, but she would not let you suffer any longer. “Baby. Please.”

You wanted to argue back: tell her that it wasn’t that your mother was bad, she just had a harder time being gentle and loving. Her head didn’t always work right. That’s why she treated you the way she did: not because she didn’t love or care about you, but because she was sick and broken.

You wanted to tell her that you weren’t weary or afraid of your mother, just that sick part of her. It wasn’t her; it was different. But then you took a long look into Wanda’s eyes. You felt her hand, soft and warm against your face. And you weren’t weary. And you weren’t afraid. There was no monster rippling under the surface, no eggshells under your feet. There was just Wanda. Your mama.

You fell forward, off the bed and into her arms. She caught you, pulling you against her chest and cradling your head into her shoulder while you cried. She gently pet your wet hair, soothing you and rocking you in her arms. “I know, baby. I know,” she whispered, kissing right next to your ear. “You deserve so much better, my love. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything she ever did and didn’t do. I’m so sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I would’ve come, if I had known. I will always come for you, I swear. But you don’t have to live like that anymore. I’m gonna take care of you, angel. Mama’s got you.”

You grabbed her shirt, balling it up in your fists like you were afraid she’d fly away. She rocked you, adjusting to sit on the floor with you in her lap. She cried too, remorseful and guilty for every second she let you rot in that house. She cried for the evenings you had gone hungry, the nights she hadn’t cradled you in her arms, and every biting action that had made you believe you were anything less than a miracle. It would never happen again. She would never let it happen.

You felt so small and frail in her arms. What kind of person could hurt a little angel like you? She wanted to burn down the other half of the city just thinking about it. She would drain every ounce of blood from your mother’s miserable veins if I could replace even a drop she took from you.

She rubbed your back and kissed your head, cooing words of reassurance and praise until your sobs turned to sniffles.

“Mama…” you cried softly into her neck. Her heart nearly lept from her chest. That was her. She was your mama.

She smiled, looking down at you. She lifted your head to rub your nose against her’s. “That’s right, baby. I’m your mama, and I’m never gonna let you go.”

[lvrgurlblobbu]

beneath the moonlight

"are you cold? come here."

zayne x fem!reader

⤿ part of snow angel series : )

⤿ cw: MDNI, pre-marriage timeline, fluff, smut, p in v, fingering, cunnilingus, reader in on birth control, reader & zayne's first time having sex

⤿ word count: 4.6k

⤿ synopsis: you and zayne have been dating for a while now, as you spent most of your day at the amusement park, you sure will be spending the rest of the night tangled in his sheets.

ao3.

The sound of your footsteps echoed as you made your way inside Zayne’s house. His house was warm and inviting, a contrast to the cool evening air outside. The faint scent of vanilla lingered in the air, likely from the candles he always kept around. You glanced back at him as he set the bag of plushies down on the couch, his smile soft yet triumphant as if reliving every mini-game he dominated to win them for you.

“Go ahead and take a seat,” Zayne said, his voice low but filled with affection. “I’ll grab us something to drink.”

You nodded and made your way to the couch, your fingers grazing over the bag of plushies. Each one brought back a specific memory from earlier: the laughing fits on the bumper cars, the way you insisted him on riding the carousel with you because you’d never be too old for it, and his focused determination when trying to win the biggest plush at the ring toss.

As he returned, his sleeves are already rolled up and he’s holding two glasses of your favorite drink, he handed one to you before sitting down beside you. The space between you felt insignificant as his shoulder brushed against yours.

“Think they’ll fit on your shelf?” he teased, nodding toward the bag. You chuckled, taking a sip. “I might need to start a second shelf at this rate. You’re spoiling me.”

“And I’ll keep spoiling you,” he replied, leaning back, his gaze locking onto yours. “Seeing you happy makes it all worth it.”

“See? You’re the reason why my whole apartment is going to turn into a plushie stockroom.” You joked and he chuckled, you placed the glass on the coffee table before leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Can I cook?” You asked him and you felt him press a soft kiss on your head, “Of course love, why not?” He responded, “What do you want to cook? I will help you prepare the ingredients and of course with the cooking.” 

“Hmm, I’ve been craving for pasta.” You said before lifting your head to face him, “Do you have any ingredients?” 

“I have some marinara sauce at the pantry, as well as the pastas, you can choose whether you would like spaghetti ones or penne.” He said as he gently brushed your hair before tucking the strand of hair behind your ear.

“If that’s so, I’ll get started then?” You said as you smiled at him, “Alright love, let’s go?” He said as he stood up and offered his hand, you smiled at him before placing your hand above his. Your fingers interlocked as you both made your way to the kitchen to prepare your dinner.

***

The penne pasta is already cooked and you set them aside, you’re currently stirring the pot of marinara sauce you made. Zayne left for a while a few minutes ago, since there was a sudden call from work. 

As you stirred the sauce, you gracefully hum a song to yourself and didn’t even notice Zayne leaning at the door frame as he watched you cooking while wearing an apron, hair tied up, and the sleeves of your shirt rolled up. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling upon seeing you, then he couldn’t take it anymore and he decided to close the distance between you two.

You froze momentarily, the spoon in your hand pausing mid-stir as Zayne’s familiar warmth pressed against your back. His arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Did I scare you?” he murmured, his deep voice laced with amusement, his breath tickling your ear. You let out a small laugh, your heartbeat slowly settling. “A little. You could’ve warned me, you know.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” he teased, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder. His eyes drifted to the pot of sauce you’d been stirring. “Smells amazing. What’s the secret ingredient?”

“You mean besides my amazing culinary skills?” you quipped, turning your head slightly to glance at him. He chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest. “Of course. That’s a given.”

You rolled your eyes playfully before responding, “It’s a touch of honey. Balances the acidity.” Zayne hummed in approval, his hold on you not loosening in the slightest. “How’d I get so lucky? My girlfriend who cooks, hums, and looks this cute doing it?”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you tried to focus on the task at hand, but with him so close, his warmth and words made it almost impossible.

“You’re distracting me,” you muttered, though there was no real annoyance in your tone. 

“And you’re making it really hard not to kiss you right now,” he whispered, his lips brushing lightly against your temple.

For a moment, time seemed to pause, the sauce forgotten as you melted into the quiet intimacy of the moment, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding you in his presence. You tried to ignore how his lips are pressed on your neck, the rise and fall of his chest, his heavy breathing and how his grip on your waist tightened. 

You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself as the atmosphere shifted. His closeness was intoxicating, his every movement sending a shiver down your spine. The soft press of his lips against your neck wasn’t helping, and you could feel your resolve slipping.

“Zayne,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Hmm?” he hummed, his warm breath fanning against your skin. His hold on your waist tightened ever so slightly, and you felt him smile against your neck.“The sauce,” you managed, though your voice wavered. “It’s going to burn.”

He chuckled lowly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “The sauce can wait,” he murmured, his tone teasing yet laced with something deeper. “You’re far more important.” Then the next thing you heard is the sound of the stove being turned off and when you faced him, his lips immediately crashed to yours. 

His lips were warm, urgent, and impossibly soft as they claimed yours, and for a moment, the world around you disappeared, leaving only the heat of his kiss and the way his hands slid up to cradle your face, holding you as though you were the most fragile and precious thing in the world.

Your fingers instinctively clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer, his familiar scent wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. His kiss was filled with passion yet somehow gentle, as if he’d been holding back for far too long and couldn’t stand it any longer.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and both of you were breathing heavily. His dark eyes searched yours, his gaze intense yet tender. You smiled at him before encircling your arms around his neck and you kissed him once more. 

Then suddenly he lifted you up as if you weigh nothing and placed you on top of the kitchen counter, his arm propped onto the kitchen counter for support while the other hooked at your waist. You rested your palms on both sides of his cheeks as you responded to his kisses.

His kisses suddenly went to your jaw and down to your neck. You tilted your head to give him further access, the feeling of his lips feels hot against your skin which is why you couldn’t help yourself. “Z-Zayne..” You whimpered as you felt him nipped at your neck and your hand found his hair and gave it a gentle tug.

However, that tug somehow signaled Zayne. He immediately stopped and he felt like he was doused with cold water as he stared at your half-lidded eyes. “Zayne? What’s wrong?” You asked as he gently shook his head before resting it on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I got caught up with the moment and I–“ He inhaled deeply as he wrapped his arms around you. Zayne’s voice was soft, almost pained, as he whispered against your shoulder, “I didn’t mean to rush things. I just..”

You felt his arms tighten around you, his embrace grounding yet filled with a vulnerability he rarely showed. His heart beat against yours, its steady rhythm betraying the storm of emotions he was trying to rein in.

“Zayne,” you said gently, reaching up to rest your hand on his arm. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m not upset.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes searching yours for reassurance. “I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice firm but laced with tenderness. “You’re too important to me for that.”

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing against his cheek in a soothing gesture. “You didn’t. I promise. I trust you, Zayne.” You said as you leaned your forehead against his, before leaning down to kiss him once again. It was slow and passionate, as if you’re letting him know about what you want to happen. 

When you pulled away, he looked straight into your eyes. “Are you sure about this?” He asked softly, “Yes, I am.” you responded as you nodded at him. He hesitated for a moment but when he looked into your eyes, it’s as if gravity is pulling him back to you.

His lips met yours once again, this time it was intense and full of lust. You felt his tongue at your lips, clearly asking for permission in which you quickly allowed. His tongue entered your mouth and you couldn’t help but moan and you felt his lips curled up into a smile. 

“Lets kiss move kiss to kiss my kiss room kiss” You hummed in between his kisses as you encircled your arms around his neck as he lifted you up the counter, and then you instantly wrapped your legs around his waist as he made his way to his bedroom.

When the two of you stepped inside, his strides toward the bed were long and purposeful. He gently placed you down, breaking the kiss as both of your chests heaved from the breathless passion of the moment. His eyes roamed over your face, illuminated by the faint glow of the dim lights—your hair splayed across his bed, your half-lidded eyes, and your swollen lips.

Your cheeks flush under his intense gaze, his eyes roaming over you as if trying to memorize every detail. The air between you feels thick with unspoken words and palpable tension. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice low and sincere. His admission sends a shiver down your spine as his hand trails down to rest against your cheek. His thumb gently grazes your lips, his touch soft yet electrifying. Your breath hitches, and your heart pounds in your chest as his eyes lock onto yours, filled with something deeper than desire.

“Are you sure you want to do this? We can stop anytime if you ever feel uncomfortable.” He asked you once again with such gentleness at his voice as he caressed your cheek. “Yes, I want to do this with you, Zayne.” 

He nodded and smiled softly, “Okay, just let me know if you ever feel uncomfortable okay?” You nodded at him before his lips met yours once again, this time it was slow and tender. As if he’s savoring this intimate moment with you. Then his hands began to trace at your curves, and is now resting at your waist. 

“Z-Zayne..” His lips traveled down your neck and he sucked on it, and you’re definitely sure that it will leave a mark but you’d probably worry about that tomorrow. Right now, all of you want is to cherish this moment with your boyfriend. 

He placed hot wet kisses onto your collarbone before he gently unbuttoned your shirt. You suddenly felt a wave of nervousness and tension wash over you as he finished unbuttoning, leaving you on your bra. Your breathing hitched, and your hands instinctively gripped the fabric beneath you, unsure of what to do next. 

Zayne immediately noticed and he looked at you, “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked as he noticed how you breathing got erratic and how you clutched on his sheets. “I-I’m just nervous.” 

He gently took your hands in his, bringing them to rest on his chest. “Feel that?” he murmured, his heartbeat steady beneath your palms. “I’m right here with you. You don’t have to be scared.”

His reassurance was tender, and the warmth of his touch began to melt away some of your anxiety. You nodded at him and he gave you a soft smile, “Undress me as well.” he said as he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. 

With shaky hands, you began to unbutton his shirt. He noticed your trembling fingers and he immediately place his hands above yours as he mumbled I’m right here. You continued to unbutton his shirt while his gaze remained on your face. Once you’re finished, it revealed his toned chest and there were a few scars on his stomach.

He brought your hand on his bare chest where you can feel his heartbeat. The rhythmic thump beneath your palm grounded you, his warmth and presence slowly easing out your nerves. You couldn’t help but smile at the warm and comforting feeling of his heartbeat against your palm.

“There, that’s my girl.” He whispered as he brought your hands to his lips and he gave it a gentle kiss. “Just relax and allow me to make love to you.” 

Then he quickly discarded his shirt and tossed it somewhere in the room. You also did the same, then you took his hand and guided it at the hook of your bra. He unclasped it and he pulled down the straps and tossed it as well.

His breath hitched at the sight of you, “You’re so perfect.” He lowered his head before he took one nipple to his mouth while his other hand is fondling with your left breast. You arched your back at the sensation. 

“Z-Zayne..Mhm..” You moaned as you felt him lightly bit your nipple, you tugged on his hair which elicited a groan from him which sent vibrations to your breast. He let go of your right nipple with a pop sound and he latched onto the other. 

As he busied his mouth on your breast, his hand wandered down your body, he reached your skirt and with his skillful hands, he unbuttoned it and pulled the zipper. Then, he grabbed it and pulled it down your legs, the sudden action caused you to yelp. 

He met your gaze as he let go of your nipple, he placed a gentle kiss on your lips before he looked at your breast wherein both nipples are swollen, thanks to him. You giggled at him, “What?” he chuckled. “Nothing.” you answered before kissing him in the lips once again. 

He trailed kisses from your neck down your stomach, his fingers are now hooked at the waistband of your panties. He looked at you once again, asking for your consent and you nodded at him. He used his thumb to lightly press it against your clothed pussy. The sudden pressure caused you to moan.

“Damn you’re soaked.” He cursed as he slid your underwear aside to reveal your glistening pussy due to your arousal. “Fuck.” he mumbled before placing a gentle kiss on it. Then a ripping sound was heard and you immediately used your elbow to prop yourself up, “Zayne!” 

“I’ll buy you a new one.” He chuckled before pressing a kiss onto your clit. The sudden sensation made you fall back to the bed once again. 

“Mhmm..Zayne…” you moaned as you felt his tongue licked up your slit. He continued to lap on your pussy, followed by his fingers who’s gently rubbing your clit. “Z-Zayne..” 

You gasped as you felt his fingers at your entrance. You arched your back as you felt him insert two of his fingers and pumped it in and out of your pussy as he continued to eat you out. “Gonna prep you so it wouldn’t hurt that much.” he mumbled and you really couldn’t take much of what he’s saying since you’re already lost in the pleasure that’s building up your core. 

He curled his fingers inside which made you moan a bit louder. “Do you feel good?” he asked you, “Y-yes.. Gods, yes.” you panted as you felt him fasten his pace. “Good, because that’s my plan for tonight. To make you feel good.” 

As he continued the relentless pace of his fingers inside you and the continuous lapping of his mouth against your pussy. You felt your orgasm approaching and you began to tremble.

“Z-Zayne…’m gonna come..” you mumbled as you continued to shake. “Let go for me my love..” he answered and after a few more pumps, you released your orgasm. 

You’re breathing heavily as he removed his fingers inside, you looked down at him and saw how he placed his fingers soaked with your juices inside his mouth. 

Then, he began to unbuckle his pants. You gulped when his hard length sprung free, you’re kinda nervous whether it will fit or not. He then positioned himself between your legs and he leaned down to rest your forehead against his, “Ready?” he asked and you gave him a nod a silent yes. 

With your answer, he slowly inserted himself inside. Due to his size, you couldn’t help but to wince at the pain and stinging sensation. “Love, hey, look at me.” He cupped both sides of your cheeks so that you could meet his gaze, “It’s alright, I’ll let you adjust for a bit okay. We’ll stay like this for a while, hm?” he whispered as he caressed your cheeks.

After a few moments, he felt the tension of your body disappeared and it’s now fully relaxed. “I’m okay now.” you said as you looked at him, “Okay, I love you.” he whispered as he placed a kiss onto your forehead before fully inserting himself inside of you.

“Mhmm…Zayne.” You moaned when you felt his cock fully inserted in your pussy. “Oh fuck.” He cursed as he nuzzled his face at the crook of your neck, you wrapped your arms around him when he began to move, slowly at first. 

“Zayne...” You moaned when you felt his cock fully inserted in your pussy. “Oh fuck.” He cursed as he nuzzled his face at the crook of your neck, you wrapped your arms around him when he began to move, slowly at first.

Zayne groaned softly as he felt your tight, wet heat enveloping his hard cock. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply as his hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh. "Love... you feel incredible," he rasped, voice low and husky with desire.

He began to move, slowly at first, savoring the exquisite sensation of your walls clenching around him. His hips rocked in a steady rhythm, each thrust pushing him deeper, stretching you wider. One hand slid up your side, cupping the soft swell of your breast, thumb and forefinger pinching and rolling your nipple between them.

“Ohh..Zayne mhmm..” you moaned, "Tell me how it feels, Love," Zayne murmured against your ear, hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "Describe it to me. I want to hear you say it." His hips picked up pace, thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding. The room filled with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans and his grunts intertwining in a erotic symphony.

“Zayne.. ohhh mhmm..” you moaned as you clawed at his back due to the building pleasure. He hooked your left leg at his waist which made his cock go deeper inside your pussy. “That’s right love, I want to hear you say my name.” He whispered against your ear as you felt him licked your earlobe and he sucked the sensitive spot on your neck. 

Zayne could feel the heat building between your bodies, sweat beginning to bead on his brow. But he didn't let up, driven by a primal need to bring you both to the peak of ecstasy. “Z-Zayne..” You called out to him breathlessly, he immediately lifted his head to meet your gaze.

“What is it my love? Hmm, tell me what you need.” He whispered to you as he continued his thrusts inside your pussy. “K-Kiss me..” 

His lips curled into a smile as he stared at your lips, “Your wish is my command..” His lips found yours in a searing kiss, tongue delving deep, claiming your mouth as thoroughly as his cock was claiming your pussy. He swallowed your cries of pleasure, feeding off them, spurring him on. 

Zayne drank in every moan and whimper that spilled from your lips, each sound spurring him to take you with greater fervor. His hand tangled in your hair, gripping it gently as his tongue dominated your mouth, claiming you, consuming you, leaving no part of you untouched.

He could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering around his hard length as he drove into you again and again. You were close, so close to the edge. He wanted to feel you fall, to have you shatter in his arms.

Zayne broke the kiss, his lips trailing down to your neck where he bit and sucked at the sensitive skin, determined to leave his mark on you. "That's it, my love," he panted against your throat, hips never ceasing their relentless motion. "Let it go. Give yourself to me. I want to feel you."

His hand, still intertwined with yours, squeezed your fingers tightly as he felt your body begin to quake beneath him. He knew you were teetering on the brink, ready to tumble into oblivion. And he wanted to be right there with you, to catch you as you fell.

"Come on, my love," Zayne urged, voice low and intense.  You were a moaning mess as you felt your orgasm nearing, you arched your back causing your breasts to make contact with his chest. The sudden friction intensified your pleasure, you scraped your fingers on his hair and slid down to hold on his arms. 

After a few more thrusts, you came but he didn’t stop. His thrusts are now becoming sloppy and faster than his previous ones. Due to the overstimulation you could feel another orgasm building on your core. 

“I’m near my love..” He whispered against your neck, “Where do you want me?” he asked softly, his breath is hot against your skin. 

“Inside..I want to feel you, Zayne.” You whimpered. 

Zayne's heart raced at your needy whimper, desire coursing through his veins like wildfire. He rolled his hips, grinding against you, feeling your walls clench desperately around his throbbing length. "Inside, are you sure?" he asked again huskily, voice dripping with lust. "Yes, I’m on birth control." 

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, pouring all his passion, all his longing into the heated meeting of mouths. At the same time, his hands gripped your thighs, lifting your leg to place in on his shoulder while the other remained hooked on his waist, his hard length nestled between your slick folds.

He began to move, hips rocking in a steady, deep rhythm. Each thrust pushed him impossibly deeper, stretching you exquisitely around his thick girth. The new angle allowed him to hit that secret spot inside you with every drive of his hips, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting up your spine.

"Fuck," Zayne groaned, forehead pressed against yours, breaths mingling in the scant space between your lips. "You feel incredible. So tight, so perfect. You were made for me." He whispered, then his breath became heavy as he feels his orgasm approaching him.

After a few more thrusts you felt his hot seed filling you up, alongside with your third orgasm. Your chests heaving as you chased your breaths, “You okay?” he asked as he cupped your face and rested his forehead against yours.

“Yeah, I’m okay..” you chuckled at him, Zayne smiled softly at your chuckle, forehead still resting gently against yours. He brushed a few damp tendrils of hair away from your face, tucking them behind your ear. "I'm glad," he murmured, hazel eyes warm and tender as they gazed into yours. "I would never forgive myself if I hurt you."

He rolled onto his side, taking you with him, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you close. The movement caused his softening length to slip out of you, but he made no move to leave. Instead, he simply held you, one hand stroking up and down your back in a soothing, comforting gesture.

Zayne pressed a tender kiss to your temple before nuzzling into your hair, inhaling your scent. "That was... incredible," he whispered, voice low and sated. “God, I love you.” 

“I love you too..” you whispered softly. He could feel the sticky evidence of your joining cooling between your thighs, but he knew from experience that it would soon dry. For now, he just wanted to hold you, to bask in the afterglow of your lovemaking.

“Zayne?” you called out to him because you were suddenly reminded of something, “What about our pasta?” 

Zayne chuckled softly at your question, amused by your sudden concern for the abandoned dinner. "Don't worry about that," he reassured you, hand stroking your arm soothingly. "After we get cleaned up, just relax here alright? I’ll heat up the sauce and grab some servings for the two of us."

“Mhm, okay..” you smiled at him, he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder.

“But for now, let me just hold you for a while.” You leaned into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. The warmth of his embrace wrapped around you like a blanket, soothing and grounding. For a moment, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in this quiet bubble of comfort.

His fingers traced slow, lazy circles along your arm, lulling you further into a state of contentment.

“I could stay like this forever,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Zayne chuckled again, his breath warm against your neck. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Minutes passed in comfortable silence, neither of you in any hurry to move. Eventually, he shifted slightly, pressing another kiss to your temple before murmuring, “Alright, let’s get cleaned up.”

You giggled when he gently scooped you up in his arms as he made his way to the bathroom for the both of you to have a nice warm bath. Afterwards, he helped you get dressed in his shirt and he changed the sheets of his bed.

Then, when you’re nice and settled on his bed, he pressed a kiss on your lips, soft and lingering, as if he didn’t want to pull away. “I won’t be long,” he promised, his voice low and gentle, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek before he stood.

You watched as he walked to the door, his figure outlined by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Just before stepping out, he glanced back at you, his lips curling into that familiar, comforting smile that made your heart flutter.

“Stay cozy, alright?” he said, his voice carrying the warmth of someone who cared deeply.

You nodded, the comfort of the blankets and the faint scent of him enveloping you. As he disappeared down the hall toward the kitchen, the sound of his footsteps faded, leaving you in the quiet, peaceful haven of his room.

You smiled softly to yourself, feeling grateful for the little moments like this—the ones that made everything else fade away.

dividers by: @cafekitsune

[hischierhoney]

I KNOW

Nico Hischier x Hughes sister!reader

• Off Limits Pt 2 • 6.2k words

Summary: Things between you and Nico are going well, but the two of you might not be as sneaky as you think.

Warnings: mild sexually suggestive content, 18+ MDNI

You don’t think he’s noticed yet. In all fairness, he’s pretty used to seeing you in a Devils jersey. It’s what you’d been wearing when the two of your first met, and most times you saw each other after that. Especially now that two of your brothers are on the team, you’re almost always wearing some form of NJD gear. This jersey is different, though.

Nico’s been at practice for most of the day. When you met him at his apartment, you'd taken the liberty of grabbing one of his jerseys from his closet and slid it over your head, and for good measure, ditched your pants, too. You’re waiting on the couch in nothing but the jersey, which he probably would’ve realized if he wasn’t so busy organizing all his gear, and telling you about the practice, and trying to eat a bit of the pasta you’d brought him all in the middle of it.

You see it when he notices, and you hear it, too. His talking stops, and his gaze freezes on you, on where you sit on the couch, bare legs crossed over each other. He blinks a couple times, and then his eyes grow even wider.

“Nice jersey,” he says, voice suddenly an octave lower.

You crane your neck to look down at the number 13 emblazoned across the shoulder and the captain’s C on the chest. “Oh. Had to rep my favorite player, you know.”

He nods, makes a sort of low humming noise. You just smile up at him, watching the way his cheeks flush. If you’d known it would have this effect on him, you’d have gotten yourself one of his jerseys a long time ago. Maybe before he even rescued you from that bar.

His gaze drags up and down your body. “Schatz.”

You cock your head and blink softly. “Yeah, Nico?”

He sets his plate down on the coffee table. It’s still half full of pasta. You watch him with soft eyes as he takes a few steps towards you, lips barely parted. He beckons you towards him with two bent fingers. You go without even thinking twice, up off the couch in seconds, the jersey falling to your mid thigh.

When you’re within arm’s reach, his hands come up to hold your shoulders, rubbing up and down gently. His eyes are all over you.

“Did you steal this from my closet?” He asks.

You nod, chewing on your lower lip. “Hope that’s okay.”

Nico rumbles out a laugh. He shakes his head, and then he brushes his lips against your temple, down the crest of your cheek, and against your jaw. He takes a couple steps, turns slightly, and then spins you around in his grip, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your back tight against his front. You gasp at the maneuver, and your eyes flicker up to his reflection in the floor length mirror in front of you.

He’s not looking at you. Instead, his eyes are on your upper back- his last name, across your shoulders, you realize.

His eyes flicker up to meet yours. Your face is hot, the rest of your skin getting there, too. There’s a look on his face- a mix of awe and affection and attraction. He presses a soft kiss behind your ear and takes a deep breath.

“It’s more than okay,” he says. One of his hands slips down to your bare thigh, toying with the hem of the jersey. “You should keep it on.”

You lean back against him, resting your head against his shoulder, never breaking eye contact in the mirror. “Yeah?”

He nods, and his hand slips up your thigh so he can squeeze your bare hip. He raises his eyebrows when he finds nothing there- no fabric, no underwear. You raise your eyebrows right back.

“But you’d better find some pants,” he says, nipping lightly at your jaw, “‘cause we’re going on a date.”

He’s gone within seconds, leaving you reeling. Your heart is racing, chest heaving, and he’s just- gone. You look at your reflection in bewilderment.

“What?” You call after him, turning around. “Nico, where are you going? What are-“

He pops his head out from around the hallway corner, and his cheeks are red and rosy. You almost stumble towards him, but something makes you stay planted there. Maybe this was too much. Maybe you’re coming on too strong.

“We’re going on a date,” he repeats. “Keep the jersey, find some pants. I’m taking a quick shower.”

You blink at him. “You just showered. Your hair is wet. You’re being weird.”

He raises his eyebrows at you. “Yes. I’m taking a cold shower. The jersey worked, schatz, but I have a date planned for us.”

Then he disappears. You hear the shower kick on a few seconds later, and the shocked yelp that follows. You turn back to the mirror and laugh at your reflection.

20 minutes later, you’re in his car. He’s freshly showered, and you’re wearing his jersey and a pair of leggings. He has his hand on your thigh, like he always does any chance he gets, away from prying eyes. You rest your hand on top of his and run your fingers over the veins. Five minutes out from your very secretive date- he hasn’t given you any details- he tells you to close your eyes.

“C’mon, it’s a surprise,” he says, squeezing your leg.

“But Nico-“

He laughs and lifts his hand, placing it over your eyes. You squeal and try to pull it away, but it’s no use. He’s stronger than you, keeps your vision covered. You whine about it the whole way, but he just teases you the entire time.

When the car rolls to a stop, he leans close and whispers in your ear, “keep your eyes closed for me?”

You squeeze them shut tighter than you ever have before. He opens his door and shuts it, then opens your door and pulls you out of the car. You laugh the entire walk, as he keeps his hands on your hips and leads you in. There’s a squeaky, heavy sounding door, echoing footsteps on tile floors, and nothing but the darkness of your eyelids. And then- cold.

“Are we at the rink?” You ask, stopping in your tracks.

He groans, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. “How the fuck did you figure that out?”

You laugh and reach blindly for his face, pinching his cheek lightly. “Nico, all of my brothers play hockey. I know ice rinks.”

He sighs heavily. You turn around in his arms and open your eyes, face to face with him. His gaze is soft and warm even though he’s pouting.

“Why are we here?” You ask.

He shrugs. “You said… after the family skate you mentioned how you wished we could’ve skated together. And then I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So. I thought we could have our own skate.”

You swear you melt into a puddle, right there at his feet. “Oh. Wow. That’s-“

You lose the ability to say anything other than the words that have been stuck on your tongue for weeks now- I love you. He just kisses your cheek and drags you away to the locker room. Within a few minutes, you’re stepping out into the arena as he turns the lights on. They shine down on the empty rink. You’ve almost never been in here when it’s empty like this. It feels strange. You’re used to being a part of the roaring crowd, used to cheering on the team from the sidelines.

Nico helps you lace up your skates, and then he walks you out to the ice, so carefully it makes your chest feel tight.

“I know how to skate,” you tell him.

“I know,” he says, kissing your temple.

Despite that, he keeps his hands on you when you get out on the ice. You know it’s not about making sure you don’t fall, and you think back to dates when you were a teenager, boys suggesting ice skating because they thought it’d be an easy excuse to hold your hand. You’d skated circles around all of them. But Nico’s a professional hockey player, and you want to hold his hand, so you let him take both of yours in his, facing each other, and you smile when he starts to skate backwards and pulls you along.

He’s so at home here. You’ve seen it when you watch the games, but it’s more obvious now, watching the way his face lights up as he skates. It’s so endearing, and it makes you feel warm from the inside out. This is his thing, and you get to share it with him, at least for a little while.

He spins the both of you in a circle and glides to a stop. You bump into his chest and laugh, pulling your hands from his to wrap your arms around his middle. He laughs, too, and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“This is nice,” you say. “You know, when I was a kid, the boys made me be the goalie.”

Nico snorts out a laugh. “Were you any good?”

You shake your head and sigh. “They’d put me in a fucking dirtbike helmet, and I was too small for any of the pads and they smelled bad, so they’d tie pillows around me, and… yeah. I was a bad goalie.”

“Why’d you let them?” He asks, sounding mildly concerned.

You shrug. “I was being a supportive sister.”

He laughs and pulls away just slightly, holding you at arms length. His hands slip from your sides and come up to cup your face, and then he kisses you, warm and sweet and gentle, like he always is at first with you. He tucks your hair behind your ear as he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips and pressing against yours. Suddenly, despite the ice and the cold, you’re burning up. He tends to have that effect.

He pulls away sooner than you’d really want him to, but you let him go. There’s plenty of time for more of that. He pulls away fully and stands next to you on the ice, looking down the rink.

“Race me?” He asks.

“That’s so not fair,” you grumble.

“I’ll give you a head start,” he suggests.

You narrow your eyes at him, and then without even thinking, you take off across the ice. He’s hot on your heels within seconds, but the quick takeoff is enough to buy you a few precious seconds. You only lose by a couple feet when both of you slide to a stop at the other end of the rink, laughing so hard neither of you can stand up straight. He skates towards you and sweeps you up off the ice, wrapping his arms around your middle and spinning as you cling onto him and laugh even harder.

The happiness is bubbling up in your chest, and it feels nearly overwhelming. It’s been a long time since you’ve been with someone who makes you feel like this- happy and carefree and fun, and like you can be all those things without worrying about what he’s going to think. He sets you down carefully on the ice and pulls your back to his front, resting his chin on your shoulder.

He points up into the stands, at a row of seats that looks familiar. “There’s your seat,” he says, the words washing over the skin of your neck.

Your breath catches in your chest. Your seat isn’t a front row one- it’s pretty far up in the arena. From the ice, it looks far away and tiny. You’re not sure you’d be able to spot yourself all the way up there, let alone when it’s crowded with people and the ice is busy, when there are so many people clamoring for attention.

“You know my seat?” You mumble, pressing one of your hands over his.

“Mhm,” he says. He takes your hand in his, raises it and points towards the seat. “Right there, right? Under the screen. I always wave.”

He does. And not just since you started dating- you can remember your second ever Devil’s game, watching him glide around on the ice, and the way he paused in your corner and waved. The same spot, every game you’re at.

You nod. “Yeah. I just. I thought that was just you saying hi to the crowd.”

He laughs and kisses the side of your neck softly. “Next time, I’ll blow you a kiss or something so you know it’s for you. Maybe flip you off. Stick my tongue out. You’ll know it when you see it.”

You nod in agreement and turn around to face him. You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, and that’s when you hear it.

“Hello?” A voice calls out.

Nico swears in German under his breath and then pulls you close, until you’re right against him, your face hidden against his shoulder. For a moment, you panic- you’re wearing your jersey, whoever it is will see your last name- except it’s not your jersey, it’s Nico’s.

Nico swears again, then calls out, “Just me, Jesper!”

“Nico?” Jesper calls back, sounding confused.

You hear footsteps, and Nico sighs. He keeps your face pressed into his chest, one hand on the back of your head. You’re fighting hard not to laugh. The footsteps slow, then stop, and Nico lifts one hand from your shoulder to wave.

“Oh, Hischier, you’re in trouble,” his teammate teases, whistling lowly.

“What, you gonna tattle on me for sneaking into the rink when you’re doing the same exact thing?” He asks.

“I’m not sneaking in, I saw your car outside and came to check on you,” his teammate says. “And I know a Hughes when I see one.”

You feel the rumble of Nico’s groan in his chest, and a giggle slips past your lips. You try to pull away, but he holds you tightly to his chest. You’re the one grumbling now.

“Lemme go, he already knows,” you huff.

“He has no proof, baby,” he says.

“Don’t need proof,” Jesper calls out.

“Shut up!” Nico calls back.

“Tell me to shut up again and I’ll call Jack!” He says back. You groan. “Or! You know what, I think I’ve got Quinn’s number-“

“No!” Both you and Nico yell, as he finally lets you go and you both spin to face Jesper.

Jesper laughs, doubling over on the edge of the rink, shaking his head. You falter a bit on your skates, and quick as a whip, Nico slips his arms under yours to hold you up. You grumble, but you’d rather not faceplant on the ice, so you let it go.

“Oh, he’s gonna kill you,” Jesper says, still laughing.

“Which one?” Nico asks.

“All three,” he responds, finally standing up to look at the two of you. “Team effort, probably.”

You sigh, though you know it’s probably true. Nico squeezes your side affectionately. You wonder what the look on his face is right now. You turn over your shoulder and you’re met with nothing but affection, even in the face of his teammate’s threats.

“Don’t worry,” Jesper says. “I’m not gonna tell ‘em.”

You hold your breath. Behind you, Nico’s doing the same.

“He’s had a crush on you for ages,” Jesper says, and Nico groans, loudly, and buries his face against your shoulder blade. “I’m proud, honestly. Never thought he’d get the balls. And maybe this means you’ll finally stop third wheeling my dates, huh?”

“Okay, goodbye,” Nico says, as he starts to skate backwards and pulls you with him. “We’re having a date, you know.”

Jesper makes a face at him. You know Nico’s making one back. He waves, though, and walks away, headed for the exit. Nico sighs happily and pulls you closer to himself. In the empty arena, your heart feels full.

…..

Nico leaves for a road game the next week, and you whine about it the whole time he’s packing. He whines right back, about how your whining makes it harder to leave, which you remind him is sort of the point.

“You’re supposed to be a supportive girlfriend,” he says, teasingly.

You pout. “I’m very supportive. I go to all your games. So really, it’s about time you missed one to support me.”

It’s not the first away game he’s had, nor will it be the last. It’s just hitting you hard this time. You think it has something to do with the way you look at him and think, oh, I love you, every time. It’s making your chest ache.

He rolls his eyes playfully and juts his lower lip out. “Oh yeah? Should I put in a text to the team group chat? Sorry boys, can’t go, my girlfriend is pouting. And then they’ll say, ‘you have a girlfriend?’ and-“

“Obviously I don’t mean it,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. “But I’m gonna miss you.”

He leans over the edge of the bed where you’re sitting, hands braced on either side of your hips. He’s suddenly so close, and your breath catches in your chest. He smirks.

“I know,” he says. “I’m gonna miss you too.”

He lifts a hand to your side and pushes- you fall back against the bed easily. You’d had your legs crossed, but they unravel and fall to either side of his hips as if on reflex as he looms over you. He rubs his large hands smoothly up your thighs, over your sides, and then he rests them on the bed, on either side of your head, caging you in. You’re warm all over, suddenly.

“You’re not done packing,” you whisper, tugging a stray t-shirt from under your head.

He leans close, runs his nose along your jaw, and sighs. “Mm. Packing can wait.”

You frown. “You said-“ you’re interrupted when he presses a soft kiss to your jaw, then nips at the same spot with his teeth. You reach up and tangle your hand in his messy hair. “-said you wanted to pack early-“

“Yeah, that was stupid,” he grumbled. “How the fuck am I expected to pack when you’re sitting so pretty right here?”

You scoff. “Nico-“

He lets out a noise of dissent, reaches down, and takes both of your hands in one of his. Then he pins them above your head, squeezing softly. You choke on your breath. He pulls away, warm brown eyes on yours, and you swear you’re melting.

“Is that okay?” He asks, quietly.

“Please?” You answer, voice cracking on the word.

He laughs and ducks his head back to your neck. “That’s my girl.”

An hour later, he’s less packed than he was when he started, because he’s gone digging through his suitcase to find you a hoodie to wear after he took your clothes off of you. You tell him he’s being ridiculous. He just smiles, kisses your forehead, and pulls you into his arms. You fall asleep with the suitcase still on the bed.

…..

He calls you from the hotel the first night he’s there, after he gets off the plane and has dinner with the team and gets settled. You’re definitely not sitting in bed, staring at your phone, waiting eagerly. Well. Not as far as he knows. When it buzzes on the comforter, screen lit up with his face, you let it ring three times before swiping to answer so you don’t seem crazy. You’re so casual about this.

“Hi,” you breathe, and you know you’ve failed miserably at casual with just one syllable.

“Hi, baby,” he laughs down the line. You can almost hear the smile in his voice.

Warmth curls through you, and you snuggle farther into the blankets. “How was the trip?”

He launches into a story about TSA and the plane ride. You’re happy just to listen to him talk. His voice is warm and affectionate, even as he describes all the frustrating parts of travel. You can’t help but think that he has such a nice voice. He’s so nice to listen to- you’d let him just talk for hours, if you could. You love to hear him tell you stories, mumble things in your ear while you’re watching movies on the couch, love listening to the inflection of his words when he reads you a recipe for whatever the two of you are making for dinner. You love him. As he starts talking about the stupid decision his coach has made, your mind drifts further, to thoughts of his lips against your ear, telling you how good you’re being for him, how good you feel, how-

“Schatz,” he says, almost teasingly. “You okay?”

“Hm?” You ask.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he says. The tone he takes makes your spine tingle. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” You try to take a silent, deep breath. “Yeah, just… you know. I’m fine. Just miss you.”

You almost hope he’ll drop it, because you’re slightly embarrassed, really. He’ll probably think you’re crazy.

“I miss you too,” he says, and you nearly breathe a sigh of relief. Then he adds, “now tell me what’s got you so distracted.”

“Nico,” you hum, trying desperately to come up with an excuse.

He clears his throat. “Did I ever tell you I love it when you say my name like that?”

You press your hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the sharp intake of air. He lets out a rumble of a laugh, one that carries over the phone and washes down your spine, leaving you buzzing. Oh, he knows. He knows exactly what he’s doing. You’re caught now.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he repeats. “And I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking about all day.”

You melt further back into the bed and close your eyes. “You just. You have a nice voice. I like your voice.”

“Not as nice as yours,” he says. Your skin grows hotter. “You sound so pretty. So sweet.”

With nothing but the backs of your eyelids in your vision, surrounded by soft blankets and sheets and the sound of his voice, you start to feel like you’re floating. “Nico,” you repeat. He laughs.

“You nice and cozy, baby?” He asks, voice dropping an octave and lighting up your every nerve. “Bet you’re all curled up in bed in your shorts and a hoodie, huh?”

You nod before you remember he can’t see you. “Mhm.”

“Fuck, I miss you,” he says. “It’s only been a day and I miss it. If I was there, I’d-“

He pauses, or cuts himself off, you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter. You’re waiting with bated breath, chest tight, burning up with your eyes squeezed shut. You turn your head and breathe in, deep. The smell of him is still stuck to your sheets. You could cry.

“You gonna be good for me?” He asks. “I’ll help you, alright, honey? You just be good for me.”

You nod frantically, even though he can’t see it. “Yeah, Nico. I’ll be good.”

“I know,” he says. His voice drops another octave when he says, “what hoodie are you wearing?”

“Yours,” you whine.

He rumbles out a laugh. “That’s my girl. Leave it on, but take the shorts off. Underwear, too. Gonna make yourself feel good for me.”

You shove the aforementioned pieces of clothing off, almost frantically. When you’re done following his instructions, you catch the hint of a familiar sound. His hand, slick and wet, moving over himself. Stars are already dancing behind your eyelids at the thought of it. You’re not sure you’ll be able to take much more.

“I’ve got you,” he promises.

I love you, you think. You wonder if he’s thinking it too.

You fall asleep afterwards with the phone call still going, and his soft snores soundtrack your dreams.

…..

When he calls the next night, the conversation is starkly different.

“Jack’s mad at me,” he says.

You frown, pausing your kitchen counter scrubbing. “Why d’you think that?”

Nico sighs. “Because he’s hasn’t talked to me for a whole day. And during practice he checked me into the wall.”

“I mean, maybe he’s not mad at you, maybe he’s just mad in general,” you suggest.

You can almost see the look on his face when he groans. It’s a bit scary that you know him so well, that you can picture the furrow in his brows and the soft pout of his lips.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” You ask. “I can see what’s going on.”

“If you ask why he’s mad at me he’ll know I told you,” Nico points out. “Which would be suspicious.”

You hum. “Yeah, I guess. It’s Jack, I’m sure it’s fine. He’s just a brat sometimes.”

Nico snorts out a laugh. “Must run in the family.”

You try to act mad, grumbling into the phone, but you can’t help but laugh. He follows suit. You love the sound of his laugh more than nearly anything in the world, you’ve found. It’s a terrifying, exciting feeling.

…..

A few nights later, you’re in your car, parked down the street from the rink. You have the lights off, and you’re ducked low behind the dash, praying nobody looks your way. You’d picked your parking spot specifically based on avoiding the route Jack and Luke always take to get home, and you’re praying they don’t notice your car.

Other cars start to roll out of the parking lot. You watch carefully, peeking over the hood and looking in your mirrors. You have an excuse, if they catch you, but it’s not foolproof, and there’s the added worry that one of their teammates will spot you and ask them about it. It’s risky. But…

Nico’s been gone for what feels like forever, even if it was only a few days. You’ve missed him terribly. So you offered to pick him up, and when he agreed without question and told you how much he’d missed you, too, you’d set the plan into motion. Now you’re here, so focused on the exit from the rink parking lot that you don’t notice the guy next to your car until he knocks on your window.

You scream, then immediately slap your hand over your mouth. It’s Jesper, again, of course it is- he’s leaning on the window and grinning like he’s entertained by it all, and you groan.

You roll the window down and hiss, “Jesus, man, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry!” He says, still smiling.

“S’fine,” you grumble. “If you saw me then my brothers will too, I should probably move.”

“No, that’s why I came to get you. I knew you’d be here, Nico mentioned it,” He explains. “He is arguing with your brothers in the locker room. Mostly Jack.”

You groan and rest your head against the steering wheel. “Of course he is.”

Jesper lets you into the building, and you wander the halls until you make it to the locker room. You can hear them arguing before you get to the door- clipped words and snappy tones. Whatever Jack’s been mad at Nico about must’ve boiled over. You decide to break in before you overhear too much, worried about hearing something you shouldn’t.

“Hello?” You call out from the doorway.

Nico turns to look at you, and your brothers follow suit. They’re scattered through the locker room- Nico’s standing in the middle, Jack’s in front of his cubby on the bench, Luke is standing in a corner. You make eye contact with all of them separately- Luke looks like a deer caught in the headlights, Jack is so angry his cheeks are flaming up, and Nico…

Nico meets your eyes and smiles, soft and warm, and if either of your brothers even spared a glance at him, you think they’d know. Or maybe, this is just how he’s always looked at you. Your heart squeezes in your chest, and you want nothing more than to run over and throw yourself into his arms. You stay put, even as he looks you up and down. Suddenly, you wish you were wearing his jersey instead of your normal Hughes one, just to see his eyes light up.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asks, gently.

He’s being nice. Almost too nice. Jack is almost never unkind to you, but he’s your brother- annoying most times, a pest all the time. The tone he’s taking with you is abnormal- he shouldn’t be so nice about you showing up here.

“Oh. I, uh, was gonna surprise you guys and see if you wanted to grab dinner or something,” you say, shrugging. “And then Jesper found me in my car and said you guys were arguing, and that maybe I should break it up.”

Jack huffs and whirls back around to glare at Nico. “You’ve got Bratter covering for you?”

You look at your brother with wide eyed confusion. Luke groans and drags a hand down his face. Nico, for his part, also looks confused.

“Jack, I-“ he tries.

“No,” Jack interrupts. He turns back to you and points. “You, me and Luke will go out for dinner. Okay? I’ll meet you outside.”

“Jack-“ Nico tries again.

“Shut up,” Jack snaps.

You need information. You need the full story. And when that’s what you’re looking for, you look to Luke. He’s the youngest, and he’s a tattletale.

“Lukey,” you start, crossing your arms over your chest. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Jack opens his mouth. You hold your hand up to him. He groans, but he stays quiet. Nico’s staring at you, entranced. Jack has always been so overprotective, and Luke, too, that you’re sure sometimes it’s easy to forget that you’re actually their older sister. That is, until now.

Luke sighs, heavily. “You and Nico are dating.” You raise your brows and gesture for him to continue. “And. Um. He had a girl in his room Tuesday night.”

Part of this makes sense. Of course they’re upset with Nico. They’ve figured out that the two of you are together, which Jack had explicitly said was not allowed. However, you’d always sort of figured that when they found out, they’d drop the overprotective act. They both love Nico, and they both want to see you happy, right?

Then you realize what the second half of what Luke said means- they think Nico cheated on you. You turn to look at your boyfriend, already knowing it’s not true for a variety of reasons, most important of all the fact that you were on the phone with him on Tuesday night. He’s giving you a pleading look, like he’s trying to convince you it’s not true, even though you didn’t believe it for a second.

You blink, then frown, then tilt your head. “No, he didn’t.”

“He did,” Jack pipes up, shoulders drooping. “Someone said they heard… noises. Of a sexual variety.”

Nico groans and buries his face in his hands. Meanwhile, you start to laugh, unable to help it now. Jack makes a noise of confusion.

“Jack,” you say, between giggles. “There are other things people can do, rather than just straight up sex, like maybe talking over the phone…”

Your brothers are silent for a moment. Then Luke groans, loudly, and covers his ears. He swings around and looks at Nico with wide eyes, then closes his eyes tightly. Jack, meanwhile, flops backwards against the wall and covers his face in his hands. Nico’s face is red. It’s not exactly how you would’ve chosen to tell them, but… it gets the point across.

“Please never say that to me again,” Jack says. “Actually, if you never say the word sex in my presence I’ll be happy.”

You roll your eyes and turn to Nico, shrugging lightly. Despite all of it, he’s still smiling at you. He looks so soft, in a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, hair an unbelievable mess. You have a strong urge to run your fingers through it. Jack lets out another noise of distress, and you turn back to him.

“You asked,” you tell your brother.

“No, I did not!” He snaps. “Excuse me for being worried, I thought you were being cheated on.”

“You really think that little of me?” Nico finally pipes in, looking at his friend.

Jack pulls his hands from his face and turns to look at Nico. He sighs heavily, frowning. Nico keeps staring at him, waiting for an answer.

“No. I don’t know. I…” he sighs again. “At worst, I really thought maybe you guys just weren’t exclusive, and that was…” he turns to look at you, and jerks his head in a little nod. “Jesus, you’ve had a crush on him for forever, we all knew it, and I told him you were off limits, so then I was worried that I was the reason he was maybe seeing someone else, too, and…”

You see Nico relax at that, shoulders loosening. You’re sure it must’ve been a tough feeling, to have one of his good friends assume something like that. You’re a bit relieved, too.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Yeah. I heard. How about we agree no more of you deciding things like my dating life for me?”

Jack nods solemnly. Nico raises his hand.

“But you are officially off limits,” he says. You smirk and roll your eyes, and he smiles brightly at you. “Right?”

“Right,” you agree. “But by my own choice.”

He grins at you, and your heart skips a beat again.

“Can we buy you guys dinner to apologize?” Jack asks.

You shrug. “Maybe another day. We have plans.”

Nico nods and stands up, headed for you. He turns to his teammates. “We good?”

“Yeah, man,” Jack says. He narrows his eyes, and you fight not to roll yours, because you know what’s coming next. “But if you hurt her-“

“I know,” Nico says, warmly.

Jack nods. Behind him, Luke raises his hand, a look of concern on his face.

“So. When do we tell Quinn?” He asks.

You, Nico, and Jack exchange a look.

“Maybe never,” Jack says.

“I’m fine with that,” Nico winces.

“Yeah,” you agree. “Need to know basis.”

Nico follows you out of the room and down the hall. He slips his hand into yours as soon as you’re out of sight of your brothers. You could remind him he doesn’t have to wait now, that he doesn’t have to hide it, but you think maybe it’s for the best until things settle down. The two of you are quiet as you walk out to the car, and you huddle close to him at the chill of the night air. The car isn’t far, and the parking lot is empty. He reaches into your jacket pocket and snags your keys- you’ve learned that he hates to let you drive, not because he thinks you’re bad at it, but because he likes driving you around. It’s quite sweet, really, so you let him get in the driver’s seat as you climb into the car.

He pauses once he’s turned it on, and he looks over at you. “You said we have plans? Are we going somewhere?”

You laugh and reach up to cup the side of his face in your hand. He leans into your touch.

“Wherever you want,” you say, quietly. “Just wanted it to be me and you.”

He smiles slowly. It spreads across his face like molasses. Your heart skips a beat in your chest.

“You know I love you?” He says, like it’s so, so obvious. Like he’s just checking, just to make sure.

You nod, because you think you did know, that maybe you’ve known it since you started feeling it too. “Yeah. I know. I love you, too.”

…

You're on the phone with Quinn, nearly a week later, when you slip up. He asks what you’ve been up to, what you did the past week, if your brothers are giving you trouble.

“I’ve just been busy with work,” you tell him. “But Nico and I went to a really cute restaurant last night. I had the best seafood pasta.”

You don’t even realize what you’ve just said. You just wait for Quinn to answer, and you’re met with silence. He coughs, like he’s holding back a laugh.

“Did you mean to tell me that?” He asks, and your stomach drops.

“Fuck!”

Quinn laughs down the line, and your face grows warm. You’d forgotten- Luke and Jack know now, so it feels less like something you need to hide. But Quinn didn’t know, and Quinn is overprotective, and shit, fuck-

“I already knew. I’ve known since your first date,” he admits, and you feel your own face morph into confusion.

“How?”

“I never reveal my sources,” he answers. “But I knew something was up when he took you home from the bar and had you stay the night.”

“You’re all such gossips,” you grumble. “Why didn’t you just tell me you knew?”

He makes a noncommittal noise. “Honestly, it’s been fun to watch all of you dance around it. Once I figured out that Jack also knew, I figured he was keeping an eye on it close enough. Also… he seems like a good enough guy. Of all the hockey guys you could’ve picked, he’s up there, you know?”

You smile softly. “I really love him, Quinn.”

“Gross,” Quinn says. “But I’m happy for you.”

You look over to the front door, where Nico’s just walked in. “Yeah. I know. Hey, I gotta go.”

Your older brother sighs heavily. “Tell Hischier I said hi,” he grumbles. “And that if he hurts you-“

“He knows,” you say.

Across the kitchen, Nico smiles softly. You hang up the phone and melt into his arms.

“Bad day,” you say. “Missed you.”

“I know,” he says. “Missed you too.”

a:/n: thanks for reading! also happy b-day cece!!

[letorip]

tiny moves

"the tiniest moves you make, the whole damn world shakes"

===+++===

pairing: jenna ortega x reader

summary: after a date night and declarations of love, you and jenna get discovered by the public and feel a bit like kids again

warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol, running from fans, cursing, still mostly fluff

word count: 1.7k

A/N: this was originally called starfucker but i didn’t like the connotation it was giving the story, so i decided to change it to this title instead, which more clearly illustrates the vibe i was trying to give it. it has smut, which is why that was the original name, but i didn't like that it sounded that way

===+++===

===+++===

"Jenna, no," you say with a groan, pushing gently at her wrist. It's holding up the elastic band of your underwear just below your navel, and she looks up at you from where she straddles your waist, with dark, hungry brown eyes, coupled with a cheeky smirk.

She's asking you a question in the gaze, and though you earnestly consider it for a moment, you shake your head. She frowns but gives up, shrugging and letting go of the band as it snaps back against the sensitive, soft skin there, before flopping down on top of you. "Later, then."

From where you lay down in the car, the streetlight overhead narrowly slips in and casts itself right over your eyes in a single band. You're too exhausted to shift with Jenna's head lying against your shoulder, so instead you raise an arm to cover your eyes, still trying to catch your breath.

"We took off everything but your underwear, you know," Jenna says, gently poking you in the ribs with her finger. At the small jolt the movement sends through your body, you feel her smile against your neck.

"Are you really complaining?" you say, laughing softly with your eyes still covered. At the noise, she lifts her head up from off of you, watching your chest rise and fall and propping her chin up on her palm. When you realise she's gone silent, you pull your arm away, only to find her watching you.

The hunger from earlier has faded- or maybe it still lingers. But now her eyes are soft and warm, flooded by the dim streetlight outside, and you're positive that they might be twinkling. You swallow the lump in your throat. "What're you looking at?"

Jenna shrugs. "Just you...," she admits, looking up at the foggy window and then back down. "Did you like your dinner?"

The question is disarming and far from what you had expected, and you must've let it show on your face, because she rolls her eyes with a fond smile. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just you're asking me about pasta, now."

She shrugs. "I was just thinking we could probably go there again, next week. Maybe I'll take Emma and Joy."

"You're a dork," you laugh, shaking your head at her ability to so suddenly shift moods. Five minutes ago she had been moaning out your name and coming for the third time; now she was planning dinner with your cast mates. "Do you think they know by now?" you ask, raising a hand to gently scratch at an itchy spot on your collarbone that was already starting to bruise with an imprint of her teeth.

Jenna shakes her head. "I don't think so. I mean, we're pretty good at hiding it." She pauses, smirking at you. "Or, at least I am."

"Hey, friends can tell each other they look pretty."

"Every day?" she raises her eyebrows at you.

"Well, if they look pretty every day...,” you imply. Jenna’s eyebrows raise even higher. “But fine, I'll start telling Georgie he looks pretty too, if it makes less obvious."

"(Y/n), baby, I think that would make it more obvious."

"Hm," you hum, putting your arms back and pushing up from the leather seats. You move back to lean up against the interior car door and Jenna follows you, leaning her head against your chest once you settle. "You have that big scene tomorrow, right? With Hunter?"

She nods against you. "That's what Tim said. I think he wanted to move it up the schedule. He wants to get it out of the way before we film the one with you because of CGI stuff. More time to work on it and make it look good, or something. I don't really know why, but he said the stages were super expensive and—"

"—I love you."

It leaves your lips before you can think twice, not that you would anyhow. There's just something about the fire in her eyes when she speaks. The small crinkle in her nose when she's talking about some sort of problem.

It catches her off guard, interrupting her train of thought to leave her with her mouth hanging open in surprise, and you immediately scramble to cover for the silence. "Sorry, you don't have to say it back if you don't want to. I know it's only been a couple months so—”

But she cuts you off with a kiss, reaching up and turning herself around in your lap. Her arms wrap around your neck, pulling herself flush against you, skin to skin, in a messy kiss, and you're left gripping tightly to her thighs, which bracket your waist. Jenna's hand weaves itself into your hair, tangling itself there as she makes no move to pull away or stop for air.

You can feel her lipstick smearing itself against your lips even more than before, and she pulls away for only a moment, before she reconnects with you, the very tip of her tongue meeting yours. You stay like that for a while but it still is not long enough, and she pulls away, leaving you both heaving, and attempting to catch your breath.

"I love you too," she nods against you, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose and then up on your forehead. "You stole my line."

"We can share," you hum against her, feeling your heart flutter in your chest. It's a miracle and a half, and you can remember in your mind just how much you almost refused to be on the show, and just how catastrophic that would have been.

===+++===

Neither of you are entirely sure just how long you sit in the car, but after what you later realise was twenty minutes of just sitting in silence, you both figure it's probably time enough to get home. Jenna clambers off of you, reaching forward to the passenger seat to where you had thrown her underwear and sweatpants.

You hear her groan as you're tugging your own socks on. "What's wrong?" you ask, raising your eyebrows at her in concern. It immediately goes away, when she turns back to you, holding her jumper up.

"Enrique is going to kill me. This is his, I asked to borrow it and you got it all wrinkly when you took it off."

"Sorry," you wince. "You just looked so pretty?" you offer, as a bad attempt at an explanation, and Jenna rolls her eyes at you, shaking her head with a smile.

"Come on, we need to get home," she sighs, looking a bit tired. By 'home' she really means her place. You have a flat of your own too, in the town you're filming in, but you've spent fewer and fewer nights there the more that you and Jenna began to talk. Even though you haven’t officially moved in together, she’s just started calling her place home, and intentional or not, you won’t correct her because that wouldn’t actually be correct.

Once you’re both dressed, you pull open the door of your car, helping her out and closing it behind her. You click the fob on your keys, looking around the car park for other people. It’s quite late, and you’re rather pleased that both the park and the street outside look empty.

Jenna’s walking a few feet in front of you, but with the empty street, you take complete advantage, catching up to her and grabbing her hand. She looks over at you with a worried expression, but it melts away to excitement when she realises no one else is nearby to ruin the moment. She laces her fingers in yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

Neither of you are too sure how long you can keep the charade going, or when you'll open up the internet and see you and Jenna on the very cover of some shitty tabloid, but it's nice to have your peace. Most people could just be peacefully in love in public, but for you and Jenna, it would always be a minefield.

You turn the corner with her hand in yours, both of you wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night to hide your faces. But it does nothing to stop the group a few feet away from stopping and staring at you. They're a bunch of teen girls, staring at you and Jenna with their mouths dropped open in immediate recognition, and immediately you see one take out her phone.

"Shit?"

"Shit," Jenna replies with a nod. Before you know what's happened, she's tugging you by the hand, dragging you behind her and breaking out into a gentle run. You follow after her, hearing the girls behind you begin to call out both of your names, but neither of you turn around.

It's a bit funny, and you're laughing as it happens, both out of the insanity of the situation and how fun it feels to run with her and the wind rushing past, and she pulls you into the doorway of her building, punching in the numbers and then grabbing you by the hand again.

You both race up the stairs and through the door, shutting it behind you, laughing like children at the insanity. You know your cover is blown. Someone would probably say something, and by morning those dreaded articles would be run. But you also know that if you were going to announce to the world that you loved anyone, you'd want it to be her.

Jenna giggles against you, leaning against the hallway of her flat to catch her breath. In between a couple of heavy breaths of your own, you whisper, "Do you think they saw us?"

She snorts. "I think it's safe to say so."

"Sorry," you frown. "It was kind of my fault... are you mad?"

But she shakes her head. "Not really. We both knew it would happen eventually. And, well... I love you. So really, what better time is here?"

You pull her gently into a kiss by your hand cupping cheek, holding her until you feel a hand inch towards your waistband again. "Really?" you laugh against her. "Now?"

"I did say later, didn't I?" she smirks.

===+++===

hope you liked it! had a whole bunch of fun and have been sitting on it for a while now, so it was good to finally get it out there!

[innocent-artery]

Two Doors Down

2.5k words

Summary: Your vibrator dies mid-session, so your roommate offers to help you out.

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x reader

For the sake of avoiding spoilers, extensive warnings will not be given. This story includes sexually explicit material, reader discretion advised.

While listening, I recommend listening to enemies to lovers, a spotify playlist by me!

~

"God fucking damn it!"

Your frustrated curse echoed off the walls of your bedroom, followed by a dull thump of your vibrator falling on the mattress. You sat up begrudgingly and flopped over the bed, reaching for the charger and plugging in the toy.

You huffed, sitting on the bed for a few moments before tugging your shorts back on and standing, leaving your bedroom to go explore the great unknown: your apartment.

The sound of the television was more audible when your door opened, the white and blue lights from the TV tinting the entire living room and kitchen area in a cold glow. While your eyes needed a second to adjust to the change from the dim, warm light of your room, Bucky, your roommate, was staring blankly at the television, listening to the newscaster droning on while sifting through a bowl of cereal with a spoon.

You didn't greet him, despite the tiny alarm in your head telling you it was bad manners. You stomped past him, headed for the fridge to find leftover pasta. Once a bowl was heated up, you stomped around over to the couch, flopping down beside him.

Bucky raised a brow. "You doin' alright?" He asked through a mouthful of cereal.

"Yeah."

"Then stop stabbing your pasta."

You looked down to see your fork digging into the bottom of the bowl, spearing through the noodles with more aggression than was necessary.

"I'm fine."

"Wanna tell me?"

Your mind raced just at the thought of his suggestion. "No. Nothing's wrong."

"Ah." He turned back to the television, one leg crossing over the other. "Thought it might have somethin' to do with your vibrator dying on you."

You nearly choked, head whipping around to watch him incredulously. "How-"

"TV ain't on that loud." He snorted.

You buried your face in your palms, cheeks warm. Bucky only laughed at your mortification.

"Hey, it's all good." Bucky waved a hand in dismissal, you caught it as you lifted your head. Your gaze somehow got stuck on it, specifically, his fingers. The thought of them on you made the heat in between your legs flare up again. You could practically feel them tilting your chin up, tugging your hips closer, prodding into your cunt...

Bucky seemed to notice your sudden interest, looking between your eyes to his hand and back with curiosity. He let out a soft 'ah', a grin of delight splitting his face. When you finally clocked in on his understanding, silent but knowing, you looked down in what was definitely the least subtle way possible.

"Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I can't remember a time when hands didn't get the job done."

That didn't help your embarrassment, and for some reason you continued the conversation. "Well, I can't get the right angle..."

Bucky exhaled, passing his tongue over his teeth. "Tell me to shut up if I've got the wrong idea. But I have hands." You peeked out from your hands. He wiggled his metal fingers slowly as if to prove the obvious. "I think you've noticed."

All of the thoughts you'd wrestled with moments ago came flooding in again. Sparks of excitement shot down your belly, and you swore your heartrate doubled.

You attempted to keep an even voice, but nonchalance definitely escaped you for the timebeing. "So... what's your point?"

You were terrified you might have misread the situation. That this excitement would die down and you'd be left wanting him. You needed him to tell you.

"My point is," Bucky uncrossed his legs, turning to face you and leaning forward. "That I'm offering to do what your vibrator can't."

You were shivering with excitement, voice shaking as you sighed,

"Please."

Bucky stood slowly, pushing off of the couch with his hands. His gaze was fixated on you, bordering on ravenous as he eyed you up and down. He relished the way your eyes followed his, and as a result, when he finally towered over you, he was met with a sight that made his cock throb.

You could feel your head turning cloudy, anticipation bubbling in your stomach as you peered up at Bucky. A single, metal hand came up to your chin, stroking slowly over the bone. Your eyes fluttered, leaning into his touch.

"Poor thing." Bucky tutted, shaking your head side to side a bit. "So pitiful. Can't even get off right, needs a toy to get the job done."

You whimpered when he used his grip on your jaw to make you nod yes.

"Shh, you're okay. 'M right here, gonna take good care of you. Yeah?"

"Yeah," you replied weakly.

"Good." Bucky let go of your face, opting to sit on the couch instead, legs spread wide. He patted one of his thighs, gesturing with the other. "C'mon, take a seat."

You crawled over him, hands resting on his shoulders tentatively. Bucky traced a finger up the column of your throat, sending a shiver down your spine. The pressure on the underside of your jaw brought your gaze upwards.

"Gonna need you to keep your eyes on me, dove, think y'can do that?"

You nodded slowly, itching to move but frozen in place by his attention.

"Good." Bucky's hand was a whisper around your throat, quickly finding its home again on your jaw. His thumb swiped over your bottom lip, to which your mouth fell open oh so slightly.

His lips quirked in amusement. His thumb pressed down, earning your jaw lowering further. Two fingers slipped past your lips to settle on your tongue and you happily took them, one hand coming to hold his wrist in place while you suckled.

His free hand began rising up your hips, and you straightened your posture at the feeling, almost tickling. They descended just after his thumb grazed your lower chest. You gasped around his fingers, and his subtle raise of brow made your cheeks heat.

You squeezed his wrist, and it moved from your mouth to your waist. Hands reaching for the back of his neck, you tugged him forward into a sloppy kiss.

Bucky wasn't sure where the line was before. He understood that he had struck a purely sexual deal offer, so kissing for some might be too intimate an exchange under those circumstances, but Christ did he love the feel of your mouth on his. The clash of teeth and spit, your soft moans swallowed up into his own mouth sounding like heaven. Even more so when he sucked on your tongue, pride coursing through his veins when you squeaked.

And oh, you just couldn't help it, when you started rocking your hips back and forth. It was his fault really, teasing you so much.

"So fuckin' needy, angel, just can't wait, huh?" Bucky groaned, head falling back for a minute before jerking back up. "Need to get you taken care of, isn't that right?"

You nodded pathetically, brain long turned to mush. Your senses, every atom in your body was on fire and so, so sensitive, but your head was empty.

And Bucky knew it.

Which is why he lifted you up, strong hands supporting you under the thighs, which wrapped around his torso to keep you up. Bucky groaned, the feel of your legs around his waist sending blood rushing to his cock.

It was a messy trip to your room, to say the least. Bucky had to stop multiple times in the hallway to press you up against the wall and stick his tongue in your throat, rutting into you and breathing heavy into your mouth. His groans were pure sin and you wanted to pull as many of them from him as you could.

Bucky set you down gently, but as you laid, he remained, towering over you with hungry eyes and bated breath.

"Look at you," Bucky grazed his metal fingers over your cheek. "So fuckin' needy, hm? So desperate, you just hop on the first dick you see."

His words didn't even register, not when his leg was pressed right between your legs, so you nodded along dumbly.

He chuckled, almost a bark of a laugh. "Lucky I'm here to take care of you, hm?"

"Yeah," you sighed, your feeble grip on his shirt attempting to tug him closer. "Please, Bucky, need you to take care of me, please..."

"Alright, alright, I've gotcha." Bucky leaned in, pressing wet kisses to your neck whilst his fingers slipped under your shirt, grazing feather-light over your nipples. You could feel him smirk when you arched into his touch.

"Can we take this off, baby?" His voice was soft, and you nodded, pulling your hands up so he could bare your chest.

Bucky gave a groan at the sight, his mouth traveling downward to press licks and kisses over your chest. He pressed his palm over your ribs, indicating you to lie back. Bucky followed, propped up on his arm. His other hand walked up the inside of your thigh, making you shudder into him.

"Buck, please," you breathed, eyes rolling back.

"Nuh uh, none of that." Bucky's hand was quick to reach up and grasp your jaw, this time with more force. "Eyes on me."

He nodded your head for you. He maintained a more intense stare as he moved, slowly and deliberately, down between your thighs. He watched you as he kissed up and down your thighs, pressed his thumb into the junction between your cunt and your leg, pressed a firm kiss to the area just above your clit. Your hips jerked up, following his touch.

"I know, I know. Bein' so patient, so proud of you." Bucky purred, tugging your bottoms down in one go. "And would you look at that, no underwear. God, you're soaked."

Bucky actually moaned at the sight, like the idea of going down on you was pleasurable for him. And Lord, was it.

He started with, for lack of better word, toying with you, thumbs pulling your lips apart to watch your slick web from them. Even though he wasn't watching your face anymore, your eyes were glued to him. His fascinated expression, his strong arms holding your legs apart, his toned back rippling under every movement- somewhere along the line he had lost the shirt; you couldn't remember when but Christ was it better he did.

You nearly levitated off the bed when a finger came to collect your slick onto your clit, followed by lips attaching to the nerves and tonguing over it lasciviously.

Your hesitancy to make noise had gone out the window the minute his mouth was on you, jaw falling open to let out your sounds of bliss. The only thing keeping your head from falling back was the sight in front of you; Bucky was pure sex incarnate. His head swayed back and forth, groans and muffled praises vibrating against your skin, hair tickling your thighs.

"Taste so damn good angel, so fuckin' wet." Bucky tugged you impossibly closer- you swore you saw his hips moving into the sheets. "Should let your vibrator die more often."

Your breath had all but escaped you, coming out ragged and whiny. Your hands reached for his hair, tugging at the roots softly- harder when he groaned louder, sending both of you into a frenzy.

"Fuck, Bucky, right there, fuckfuckfuck-" your noises, if even possible, got louder when the man under you found just the right spot to prod his finger. It slipped in so easily, the wetness helping you welcome him in.

It didn't take Bucky long to figure out where that spot was inside of you, pulling moan after gasp after cry of his name once he bullied his fingers into it just right. He repeated the motion until there was a sheen of sweat on your forehead, grasping onto his hair, his arm, whatever of him you could find as if he was your lifeline.

"Oh, just like that, so close Buck..." You kicked your hips up into his face, rolling them for any kind of friction you could get- friction he was elated to give you.

You nearly sobbed when he pulled his face away from you, fingers leaving your pussy feeling unbearably empty.

"I know, honey, I know. Gonna give you something even better, hm? Gonna give you my cock, fill y'up real nice."

You almost drooled at the sight of Bucky sat up, nothing but sweats being hastily pulled down until the bulge fell heavily over the band. He kicked his bottoms away to some forgotten corner, stroking himself languidly a few times, kicking his head back.

You whined a bit at the lack of attention, thighs pressing together. That seemed to have alerted Bucky, as he tilted his head back down to face you. "Sorry, sunshine. Won't keep you waitin' any longer, yeah?"

Bucky lined himself up with you, teasing your sopping entrance with the tip. However, when your legs hooked around his waist, just like before, all notions of control were lost on him as he sheathed himself inside of you. A guttural groan, more sensual and more animalistic than before, ripped through him and sent sparks shooting into you. He stretched you deliciously, the friction electrifying.

"Don't fuckin' clench, holy shit- not gonna last long," Bucky huffed, rocking slowly into you. He was leaned over your body, almost folding you in half so that he could mutter filthy praises into your ear, tonguing at the shell of it lightly.

If he wasn't gonna last, what could be said of you? Your orgasm was approaching fast, if your throbbing cunt and frantic moans were any indication.

"There we go, y'gonna cum? Fuckin' cum for me, honey, make a mess on my cock, go on."

White-hot pleasure drowned you as you scratched faint pink lines down Bucky's chest. This time your eyes screwed shut, but Bucky chose instead to help you ride out your high, pistoning into you until he let himself go, filling you up in a way that left you feeling warm and full and very, very satisfied.

Only the sound of yours and Bucky's panting could be heard in the room, the air suddenly thick and musky with the smell of sex.

After a moment, he pulls out, murmuring 'shit' to himself a few times. "Gonna get you cleaned up, 'kay?" Bucky pressed a kiss to your temple, picking his boxers up on the way to his ensuite bathroom and coming back with a rag a minute later.

"Feeling alright?" Bucky asks. "Didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, you were great." You huffed, a stupid hazy grin tugging your lips. "Bit thirsty, that's about it."

"Noted," he mused. "I meant it, by the way."

You cocked your head. "Meant what?"

"You should let your vibrator die more often. I'm just two doors down, and I reckon I know a few more tricks than that piece of junk you've got." He gestures to the vibrator, which had fallen onto the floor at some point.

You definitely made sure to keep that in mind.

~