#it would physically make him feel sick if he was just sitting at home knowing he could be out there learning stuff

[geminiwritten]

baby sister ; jake 'hangman' seresin

fandom: top gun

pairing: jake x reader

summary: hangman has a serious crush on you, it might even be love, but it's a little complicated seeing as rooster is your older brother

notes: yes, i finally watched top gun (i'm stubborn, okay), and yes, i am obsessed! i'm not too sure how i feel about this, but it's my first one so please be kind! i also tried writing it by kind of switching pov's, so sorry if its weird / confusing! but as always, i love feedback so please, please let me know what you think x

warnings: swearing, very minor physical altercation with a creepy guy, boner joke, switching pov's (kind of), protective older brother, and likely some very inaccurate us navy details

word count: 7493

- One Year Ago -

The old bar smells exactly as you remember it; wood polish, worn leather, stale beer, and a hint of ocean air. It’s a lot cleaner than it used to be – the soles of your shoes aren’t sticking to the floor – and you assume that’s thanks to the new owner. It isn’t as busy as you would expect for Friday at 4PM, which you’re somewhat thankful for as you easily find a spare barstool beside the vacant pool table.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks with a polite smile.

“Just a water, please.”

He retrieves a bottle from the fridge below the bar while you check your pockets for cash, pulling out a few dollars and handing it to him in exchange for the water. He smiles again before turning around to serve patrons on the other side of the bar, and you start drawing shapes in the condensation of the bottle while you wait.

“This seat taken?” someone asks, appearing beside you.

Startled, you turn quickly to find a pair of green eyes much closer than expected. You’d have to be stupid not to immediately notice that this guy is gorgeous, but the smirk on his lips tells you that he knows it too.

“Not yet,” you reply with a tight-lipped smile.

He sits himself on the stool and signals the bartender, ordering a schooner of pale ale draught before pulling a few notes out of his back pocket. He isn’t in uniform, but you can tell by the way he holds himself that he’s an officer.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” he says, “are you visiting?”

You nod before taking a large sip of water, your eyes constantly watching the new patrons that enter through the main door. You know better than to flirt with a lieutenant (guessing by his age), your mother always told you to stay away from military men.

“Have you been to North Island before?” he asks, seemingly unphased by your lack of enthusiasm for conversation.

“Yeah, a few times.”

“Military family?”

“Sort of,” you reply.

“Okay, let me guess,” he leans both elbows on the bar and looks at you, unleashing the full power of his pretty green eyes, “your dad was military, gone for months at a time with little to no contact, which left your mom to raise you all on her own. You would hear her crying at night and watch her struggle every day, but then when your dad got home, he was the hero; forget about all her hard work. Eventually, your mom got sick of being alone and began to resent him, so they grew apart and the next thing you know, dad moves out with his new girlfriend and mum tells you every single day never to date a man in the military.”

You can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips, because damn this man is pretty, and you simply can’t find it in yourself to ignore him.

“Close,” you say, “but it was her first husband who was military, and he died in action. My father was a banker, safe but boring, and it didn’t work out. But you are right about one thing; mom has always told me not to date a man in the military.”

“Oh,” he takes a long sip of his beer, stalling as he tries to think of something to say that isn’t totally insensitive.

“Not that I always listen to what she says,” you add with a smirk, making him choke on his mouthful of beer.

He looks back at you, shocked but still smiling, “Are you flirting with me?”

Your turn sideways on the stool to face him, opening your mouth to reply when a familiar sight walking toward you catches your attention. You stop and smile, looking straight past the man sitting beside you.

“Hey Baby,” Bradley says with a grin.

“Hey,” you jump off the stool, “how are you?”

“Woah, hey,” the green-eyed man stands too, a slight frown between his brows, "Rooster, c’mon man. You’re going to have to find yourself another girl; let’s not make this a competition too.”

Bradley’s brows shoot up toward his hairline, and you have to roll your lips to keep from giggling.

“Oh, here we go,” one of the men who walked in with Bradley chuckles, and you think you can remember meeting him the last time you visited.

“A competition?” Bradley repeats, his tone mildly threatening.

“Wait,” the man glances between you and Bradley, “are you two dating?”

Bradley scoffs, “Absolutely not.”

“Then why did you call her baby?”

“It’s her nickname, genius,” the same man as before says, and you suddenly remember Bradley introducing him to you last summer. You never did find out his real name, but they call him Payback.

The green-eyed man turns to you in shock, “Like, your call sign?”

You shake your head, “I don’t fly.”

“She wishes,” Bradley says as he slings an arm around your shoulders. “Hangman, this is Baby, as in my baby sister.”

The poor man chokes so hard on his beer, you’re surprised it doesn’t spray out his nose. He coughs and splutters, holding a hand on his chest while the rest of Bradley’s friends laugh from around the pool table. Bradley chuckles too, seemingly satisfied with the damage he’s caused, before turning to give you a proper hug.

“How was the flight?” he asks.

“Not terrible, but I swear my bag was the last to come out on the carousel.”

He releases you from his hold and orders two beers from the bartender, handing you one soon as its poured. “You remember my friends, don’t you?” he asks as he turns to face the game of pool, “Payback and Fanboy, and that’s Bob; I don’t think you met him last summer.”

You smile and give an awkward wave, not bothering to walk around and shake everyone’s hands in the middle of a game.

“Dude,” Fanboy says to Hangman, who is now standing on the opposite side of the pool table, “I can’t believe you were hitting on Rooster’s little sister.”

“Hey,” Hangman frowns, “she was hitting on me back.”

Bradley’s head whips toward you, his eyes wide, “You what?”

“Oh, calm down Braddy,” you say, “I can look after myself.”

Payback snickers, “Braddy?”

“Aw, Braddy,” Fanboy coos.

Bradley shoots you a glare as you slip out from under his arm to find a seat, grinning sheepishly at your brother as his friends continue to mock your nickname for him. After half an hour and two pool games – these guys are freakishly good – another two lieutenants join the group, introducing themselves as Coyote and Phoenix.

“So,” Phoenix says as she sits on the stool beside you, “what brings you to North Island, aside from missing your big brother?”

Even though Bradley’s back is to you as he takes a shot, you know he’s rolling his eyes.

“Well, I usually try and visit more than once a year, but he’s hardly been on the ground in the past twelve months,” you say, “then Uncle Pete called me a few weeks ago and said he was going on a trip with Penny. So, he asked if I could come babysit Braddy for a while.”

“Aw,” she giggles, “Braddy needs a babysitter?”

Bradley flicks your arm as he walks past, circling the pool table to find the best angle, “Would you stop telling people embarrassing shit about me.”

You shrug, “How was I supposed to know that you were pretending to be cool?”

The rest of the group laugh as Bradley completely botches his shot, sinking the white ball.

“I’m sorry, Rooster, but I definitely like her better,” Hangman says with a smirk.

You roll your lips as you look over at the lieutenant, appreciating how tight his t-shirt is as he bends forward over the pool table to take his shot.

Bradley points at him, “You better cut it out, she is off limits.”

- Present -

You decided to move to San Diego about two weeks after flying in last summer, and it had nothing to do with the beach day you went on with Bradley and his friends, where Jake tackled you in the surf, all shirtless and wet and muscly. Bradley was beyond excited to have his little sister closer to him, he even helped get you a desk job in the operations department. It wasn’t anything close to what he was doing, protecting the country and all that, but you’re liking it way better than your old job. Which again, has nothing to do with the fact that you get to take lunch breaks with a certain lieutenant. Your brother is there too, but you don’t fancy staring at him, you’ve seen enough of him over the years.

“Are you going to eat or stare?” Natasha asks, nudging your side with her elbow.

The mouthful of pasta that had been balancing on your fork falls off and plops back into your bowl. You turn to her, your eyebrows furrowed, “Huh?”

“My God, you’re practically drooling.”

“Is the pasta good?” Jake asks, clearly having overheard and misunderstood your conversation, “I knew I should have chosen that; the sloppy joes are too sloppy.”

He leans across the table and takes your fork, stabbing it into a few pieces of pasta before popping it in his mouth. Your heart thuds in your chest as you watch his lips wrap around the utensil that was previously in your mouth, and you want to be ashamed of yourself for allowing something so frivolous to get you so excited, but you simply can’t help it. With your brother the constant cock-block always hanging around, sharing a fork is the closest you’ve gotten to Jake in the year that you’ve been here.

“Mm,” he groans, “that is good.”

“You can have it,” you push the bowl toward him, “I’m not that hungry.”

“Yeah, and you just contaminated her fork,” Bradley says, smacking Jake’s shoulder.

“I don’t think she minds,” Natasha pipes in.

Oblivious, Jake looks up with a huge mouthful of pasta making his cheeks puff out, and somehow, he still looks adorable. You shoot a subtle glare at Natasha from the corner of your eye before picking up the apple from your tray and biting into it.

“So,” you turn your attention to your brother, “The Hard Deck after work?”

He nods, “Yep, I’ve got a year of free beers to win.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, “It’s cute that you think you have a chance of winning in a pool comp against me.”

“Or me,” Jake adds.

Bradley snorts, “Please, you’ve been so off your game lately, and Phoenix” – he turns to look at her – “is good, but not as good as me.”

“You are so full of yourself, do you know that?” Natasha says, her eyes narrowed at Bradley.

You quickly tune out as they launch into a petty argument about who is better at pool and who is going to win The Hard Deck’s billiards tournament, having heard it almost a hundred times over the past month. It’s an eight-week competition, every Thursday night, and this is only the fifth week but you’re pretty sure you’re going to kill your brother if he doesn’t stop bragging about being undefeated so far. Then again, he hasn’t yet had to play against half of the dagger squad, arguably the best pool players on North Island.

“Alright, we better go,” Bradley says, nudging Jake again.

Jake scrapes the last of the pasta from the bowl into his mouth before standing from his chair and leaning across the table toward you. “Thanks Baby,” he says with a wink, “I owe you one.” He drops the empty bowl on your tray and slides your tray across the table, stacking it on top of his.

When he straightens up, both trays in his hands, Bradley is glaring. “Watch it, Seresin.”

“What? I was just thanking her,” Jake says innocently, “don’t get your panties in a knot.”

You roll your eyes and stand up from your chair, “See you guys later, then?”

Jake can’t help himself, and he turns toward you wearing his most charming grin, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Dude!” Bradley exclaims, smacking him in the shoulder.

Natasha sighs, despite the amused smirk on her lips, “Come on you two, fight about it later.”

You roll your lips to keep from giggling, because you know that will only irritate Bradley more, but you’re pretty sure your cherry red cheeks are about to give something away. Before your brother can notice the way Jake’s words have affected you, you turn on your heel and head back toward your office, anticipation bubbling in your stomach for tonight.

- Jake -

Maverick ended today’s training half an hour early, dismissing everyone but Rooster since he still had sixty-two push ups to do after betting that he could catch Phoenix and Bob before Mav could. He was wrong, but Jake admires the cockiness.

The rest of the squad have already made their way to the locker rooms, eager to shower and change and get to The Hard Deck for a well-earned drink. There’s no current mission for the dagger squad, no impending doom, so that on top of the excitement for the billiards comp has everyone in the highest of spirits. Everyone but Jake, of course.

He’s the last to enter the locker room, dragging his feet and slowly unzipping his flight suit as he weaves through the rest of the boys toward his locker. He isn’t sad by any means, just frustrated, because it seems that the longer you live in San Diego, the more protective your brother gets. His rule about you being off limits isn’t easing any time soon, and neither is Jake’s crush.

“What’s the matter with you?” Coyote asks, shoving his flight suit into his locker right beside Jake’s.

“Hm?” Jake looks up from his feet, “Oh, nothing, just distracted.”

Payback peers around from the other side of Coyote’s locker, his lips curled into a smirk, “So, how’s that hideously inappropriate and all-consuming crush on Rooster’s little sister going?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s great,” Jake says sarcastically, “I should be ready to kill myself any day now.”

The rest of the boys dissolve into laughter, each pausing in various stages of undress to giggle about Jake’s unfortunate situation. Everyone but Rooster and Phoenix know at this point, having easily figured it out by the way Jake can’t seem to focus anytime you’re in the same room, and thankfully, none of them plan on outing his little secret anytime soon. Jake likes to think it’s because they’re afraid that Rooster might shoot the messenger, and while that might be a small part of it, he knows it’s really because they feel sorry for him. The first girl who Hangman actually wants something real with, and it’s the little sister of Bradley Bradshaw.

However, Jake is surprised that Phoenix hasn’t yet figured it out, but grateful nonetheless, since she’s way too close to you to have that kind of ammunition under her belt. There have been a few times where he thought she might be onto him, little glances at you whenever he gets too flirty and subtle comments that could have underlying meanings, but she hasn’t confronted him about it yet, so he assumes she’s just as clueless as Rooster is.

“Come on, Hangman,” Fanboy says from the opposite row of lockers, “it can’t be that bad.”

“You want to bet?” Jake asks, glancing over his shoulder. “I got half a bar at lunch today because I used the same fork as her.”

The laughter, having died down for a moment, picks up again with renewed vigour. Even Bob, who is usually quiet and refuses to comment when the boys start teasing Jake about his crush, is giggling into his open locker, shoulders shaking.

“Oh, man,” Coyote says between fits of laughter, “you’re down bad.”

“What’s so funny?” Rooster asks, standing in front of the door as it swings shut behind him.

The laughter quickly subsides and everyone turns to hide their faces in their lockers, all but Jake who is left staring at Rooster’s quizzical frown.

“Coyote was just saying that he nearly soiled himself today when Mav pulled that cobra manoeuvre in front of him,” Jake lies, at which Coyote shoots him a glare.

Rooster chuckles, “Oh, really? I didn’t catch that.”

“Too busy running your mouth, Rooster,” Fanboy chimes in.

“Yeah, how’s your stomach after those two-hundred push ups?” Payback asks as he walks toward Rooster with an evil grin, reeling his fist back to strike his friend in the abdomen.

Rooster evades the attack, eyes wide, “Don’t even think about it, my abs are on fire right now.”

Jake relaxes as casual conversation picks back up; Rooster seemingly fooled by his lie as he jokes around with the rest of the squad. They all strip out of their flight suits and shower before changing into civilian clothes, packing their gear into their lockers, and heading out the door. Those who aren’t headed to The Hard Deck bid their goodbyes, while those eager for a beer begin making their way to the bar.

“Should we wait for the girls?” Jake asks as they walk toward Rooster’s car.

“Well, at least one of us has to,” Bob replies, glancing around the group of six.

Rooster tosses his keys in the air and catches them again in the palm of his hand, “Fight it out amongst yourselves boys.”

“It’s fine, I’ll wait for them,” Jake offers quickly.

Fanboy has to stifle his laughter behind his hand, pretending to rub his nose.

“That’s unlike you to be so obliging, Hangman,” Coyote says, his narrowed eyes telling Jake that he’s still bitter about being thrown under the bus earlier.

“I actually think I left my watch in my locker, so I have to run back anyway,” Jake lies again.

“Easy done,” Rooster, oblivious as ever, says, “climb on in fellas, I’m thirsty.”

The rest of the group all move toward Rooster’s car and pile in, while Jake turns his back and pulls out his phone to text Phoenix, asking her to wait for him if the two of you exit the locker room before he’s done ‘looking for his watch’.

More and more of late, Jake has been doing things that are ‘unlike him’ in order to gain more time with you away from your brother, the ever-present cock-block. It isn’t often that he has the chance, and he knows his behaviour is becoming noticeable, but until Rooster confronts him for trying to spend time with you, he’s going to keep trying.

He runs in and out of the locker room, simply to keep up the lie, before fishing his watch out of his pocket and strapping it to his wrist as he walks back toward the car park. He could recognise you from a mile away, all perfect and effortless, leaning casually against Phoenix’s car and twirling a stray piece of hair as Phoenix talks to you. The closer he gets, the more he can see that whatever Phoenix is saying is intense, and it’s making you nervous. Your hair twirling is less idle and more anxious as Phoenix stresses her words with her hands, looking exasperated.

A part of him wants to sneak up and try to catch the conversation, but before he can think too hard about how he could become stealthier, Phoenix spots him. “Come on Bagman, hurry it up!” she calls across the lot.

You glance over your shoulder, locking eyes with him and he simply cannot stop the grin that takes over his lips. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Trace,” he says, though his eyes never leave yours.

Phoenix scoffs, “What’s your obsession with panties today?”

When he comes within a few feet of you, he frowns and turns his attention to Phoenix, “What?”

“First Rooster at lunch and now me,” she says. “Are you not getting laid or something?”

The way her eyes drift over to you as she speaks, a smirk threatening to curl her lip, has Jake’s heart racing. Does she know? How could she know?

He clears his throat and wills himself to seem unaffected by her taunt, but whatever smart-lipped quip that he would usually respond with refuses to pop into his head. He panics, sweat prickling the back of his neck. Phoenix turns her attention away from you and back to him, her playful smile slowly fading as the silence stretches and he struggles to retort. If she didn’t know before, she definitely knows now.

“Oh, leave him alone, Nat,” your voice breaks the tension, “we all know Hangman has no trouble with the ladies.”

Phoenix shakes her head, as if needing the physical queue to stop her own spiralling thoughts. “So he tells us,” she says, grabbing the handle on the driver’s side door, “but I’m yet to witness his skills in action.”

She casts Jake one last dubious glance before opening the door and taking her seat behind the wheel. You turn to him then, your gaze holding him captive as you ask, “Do you want shotgun?”

He shakes his head, swallowing on his dry throat, “You take it, I’m good in the back.”

- You -

Jake looks like he’s seen a ghost as he stares out the window of the car, watching the Naval Air Station pass by as Natasha drives toward the exit gates. You can’t help glancing at him in the rear view mirror every few seconds, only able to see a portion of his side profile with the angle of the mirror, but it’s still enough to know that he doesn’t look normal.

As a matter of fact, Natasha looks a little odd too, as if she’s trying to silently solve a math problem in her head. Her eyes are narrowed, her brows furrowed, and her hands are holding the steering wheel tightly at ten and two. She too keeps glancing in the rearview mirror, whether looking at Jake or simply checking the traffic, you can’t tell, but her shoulders stay tense and her lips pressed firmly together.

“So,” you say, swivelling in your chair to properly look at Jake, “how was flight school?”

His face breaks into a soft smile and your pulse triples its speed, your heart thundering in your chest as you stare into his pretty green eyes. “I graduated flight school a while ago, darlin’,” he says.

You love when he uses a pet name other than your nickname, because ‘baby’ just doesn’t have the same ring when its something your whole family uses.

“I know, but I heard Maverick over the comms say that he was going to send the lot of you back to flight school.”

Jake chuckles, “You were listening on the comms?”

You shrug, “Sometimes I listen in, just to be nosey.”

You really only do it so you can enjoy Jake’s voice throughout the day, because something about Jake in that cockpit doing what he does best gets you incredibly hot and bothered. What can you say? You’re a masochist.

“Well, I better start watching my language,” he says, “or I can just tell Mav that you’ve been listening in.”

Your eyes widen, “You wouldn’t do that.”

His smile turns into a smirk, “You sure about that?”

All you want to do is crawl into the back seat and crush your lips against his. He looks good enough to eat right now, fresh from a shower, his damp hair a little spikier than usual, and his green eyes sparkling with mischief and something else you can’t quite place.

“Speaking of Mav,” Natasha pipes in, “he said he was going to stop by the bar tonight.”

Great, not only a brother but a cock-blocking uncle too. Well, uncle figure.

“Oh, fun,” you say, trying not to sound so sarcastic, but Natasha isn’t stupid. She catches your displeased tone and shoots you a knowing look, her lips now curled into a smug smile. At least she seems to have figured out her math problem.

A minute later, Natasha pulls the car into the gravel parking lot of The Hard Deck bar. She finds a park right next to Rooster’s car, and the three of you climb out in silence. You can hear the jukebox playing from outside as you approach the main door, Natasha in the lead and typing a message on her phone while you and Jake follow closely behind.

“Nervous?” you ask him, referring to the pool comp.

He chuckles, “Only because you’ll be watching, darlin’.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, their wings making you sick with nerves as they flutter violently. You want to reply, but your brain is complete mush as you stare back at his gorgeous grin, so all you can do is playfully roll your eyes and bump your shoulder against his.

The three of you enter the bar and make a beeline for the familiar faces seated at the booth closest to the pool table. The cues and balls are nowhere to be found, and there’s a sign written in black marker laying on the green felt that reads ‘POOL COMP IN SESSION, DO NOT TOUCH’.

Before you can reach your brother and the rest of the squad, Natasha grabs your hand and tugs you toward the bar. “Want a drink?” she asks, moving too quickly for Jake to follow.

You glance over your shoulder and watch him watch you with a confused frown as he takes a seat at the booth with the rest of the group. Natasha pulls you a decent way away from the squad, finding an open space at the bar and leaning against it, but she doesn’t flag down Penny or Jimmy.

“I think Seresin likes you,” she says, her voice low and eyes wide.

Your stomach does a somersault, “What?”

“I can’t believe it took me this long to figure out, but” – she smacks her hands on the bar emphatically – “he really likes you.”

“Is that why you were so tense before?”

“Yes, because I-”

“Hey ladies,” Penny interrupts, an easy smile on her lips, “what are we drinking tonight?”

“Hey Penny,” you muster your best I’m Totally Not Freaking Out Right Now smile, “two schooners of the pale ale, please.”

She nods once and fills two schooner glasses, sliding them across the bar and taking the cash from Natasha’s outstretched hand.

“Thanks Penny,” Natasha says, before taking a big gulp from her glass.

You tip your own drink to your lips and drain half of it, plonking it back down and wiping the foam from the tip of your nose before turning back to your friend. “You were saying?”

“Before, when he came up to us in the parking lot,” she explains, “I made some stupid joke about him not getting laid and I looked at you, because duh, but so did he.”

You frown, “And?”

“And he looked totally panicked.”

“Maybe he was just embarrassed.”

She rolls her eyes, “That wasn’t embarrassment, he looked like I’d just outed his biggest secret, and he didn’t even comeback with some stupid, sarcastic comment.”

You sigh, “Nat, I love you, but I think you’ve gone insane. Jake doesn’t see me as anything more than Bradley’s baby sister, he’s probably just fried from work and couldn’t think of anything on the spot.”

“You’re never going to believe me, are you?”

You shrug, “Probably not.”

“Okay, fine,” she picks her drink up and steps back from the bar, “I’ll find a way.”

She starts walking back toward the booth where the rest of the squad are, and you quickly pick up your own half-empty schooner before following her with an amused smile on your lips. Natasha is anything if not determined.

- Jake -

Jake releases the breath he’s been holding from the moment Phoenix dragged you away from the group, toward the bar. He can’t remember the last time he felt this nervous, his sweaty palms pressed against his jean-clad thighs as he watches the two of you approach the booth. He has no idea what Phoenix just told you, and he has no idea if Phoenix really knows what he thinks she knows, but his nerves are firing on every cylinder regardless.

“This seat taken?” you ask him as Phoenix takes the spare spot beside Bob.

He shakes his head, “All yours, darlin’.”

“Careful, Hangman,” Fanboy chuckles, “don’t want Rooster hearing that.”

Jake rolls his eyes, forcing his demeanour to appear relaxed, “Rooster’s all talk.”

“That so?” Rooster asks, stepping up to the booth with a tray of beers.

Laughter rumbles through the group.

“I guess we’ll find out later tonight,” Phoenix chimes in, “you two are versing each other in the second game.” She slides the schedule for tonight’s games across the table toward Jake, pointing at the names beneath ‘Game #2’.

“I guess we will,” Jake says, plastering on his cockiest smirk.

Rooster rolls his eyes before turning to find a spare chair, since both sides of the booth are very full. On one side, Coyote, Bob, and Phoenix are sitting side by side, and on the other is Payback, Fanboy, Jake, and you pressed firmly against Jake’s side. He doesn’t mind, of course, because your leg is warm against his, and with his arm slung over the back of the booth, you fit almost perfectly against his side. In fact, he’s surprised Rooster hasn’t said anything yet.

After two rounds of beer and a lot of banter, it’s time for Jake and Rooster to compete. Penny calls them over to the table and sets it up, handing each of them a cue before rattling off the rules as she did before the first game. They flip a coin and Rooster calls heads, but tails lands face-up and Jake gets to break.

He can hear his heartbeat in his ears as he lines his cue up with the white ball, a small voice at the back of his head demanding he look cool since you were a mere three feet away, watching. He takes a deep breath, reminding himself that this is an easy game, before releasing his shot and sending the balls scattering.

The game begins smoothly, each of the lieutenants lining their shots up with precision and hitting the balls with calculated force. They each sink a few, and at about halfway through, the game is tightly tied.

“Come on, Seresin,” Rooster mutters as Jake bends over for his next shot, “what does it take to make you crack?”

Like the idiot he is, Jake lets his eyes wander away from the white ball and across the green felt until they find you, still sitting at the booth on the opposite side of the pool table. Without thinking, his back hand jabs the cue forward, but without his full focus, it knocks the white ball on a short and wobbly path toward nothing in particular.

The spectators give a sad ‘ooh’ as Jake sighs, and Rooster smirks, “Now who’s all talk?”

Jake only shakes his head and moves away from the table. Since the white ball hadn’t made it all that far, Rooster positions himself almost exactly where Jake had been, bending over the table a little further and aiming his cue at the white ball. He focuses for a moment, scanning the constellation of balls across the felt before he glances up and notices you. From where he’s positioned, he is looking directly at you, exactly as Jake had been when he fumbled his shot.

Rooster’s smirk drops and his gaze moves slowly toward Jake, his knuckles turning white as his grip on the cue tightens. Jake’s heart crawls up into his throat, his palms sweating as he stares back at Rooster. Did he just figure it out?

Rooster takes the shot and sinks two balls before repositioning himself and sinking another one. His next shot puts the white ball in an awkward spot for Jake, and he fumbles again. He’s lost all focus, unable to see anything but your gorgeous face or your brother’s murderous one.

After ten more minutes, the game is over and Penny is announcing Rooster as the winner. Jake isn’t knocked out of the competition, but he doesn’t have to play again tonight, which he is more than grateful for.

“Alright, Rooster,” Penny says, “you’ve got five minutes and then it’s you and Fitz.”

Jake finishes his beer before quickly excusing himself to the men’s room, avoiding eye contact with every member of the squad as he hurries through the bar. Once in the safe confines of a bathroom stall, he covers his face with both of his hands and sighs, loudly.

After everything – all the stolen glances and subtle flirting, every excuse to see you or talk to you – did Rooster really just figure it out in the middle of a stupid pool game?

“This is ridiculous,” Jake mutters to himself as he rubs his hands down his face.

He’s never felt this way about anyone before and he has no idea how to deal with it. The nerves are different than what he’s used to, it’s not like before a mission when he can channel his anxiousness into anticipation and put all his focus into being an expert pilot. Because he knows his jet inside out, and he knows the cockpit like the back of his hand, but this? It’s all different. He doesn’t know what this feeling is because he’s only ever felt this strongly about one thing before; flying. But right now he’s pretty sure he would spend the rest of his life on the ground if it meant the rest of his life would be spent with you.

He stays in the stall for another few minutes, making sure Rooster’s second game of pool is well and truly underway by the time he exits the bathroom. The door to the men’s room has hardly swung shut behind him when Phoenix appears in front of him, startling him.

“Far out, can’t a guy catch a break?” he gasps.

“Were you in there crying about your defeat or just hiding from Rooster?” she asks, her expression deadpan.

He frowns, feigning confusion, “What? Why would I be hiding from Rooster?”

“Because you’re in love with his baby sister.”

The panic he had managed to subdue mere minutes ago returns with a vengeance, coursing through his veins like a thousand volts of electricity. He scrambles for a defence, words, anything. “W-Wha- Phoenix, I- you don’t-”

“Save it,” she interrupts him, rolling her eyes, “I’m not going to interrogate you or try to talk you into making a move.”

His tangled mind struggles to follow along, “Why would you-”

“He is,” she says, pointing at their captain who is sitting alone at the end of the bar.

Jake’s stomach flips, “He is what?”

“Going to talk to you.”

She grabs his wrist, the strength of her grip surprising him even though he knows she’s just as strong as he is. She drags him toward the bar where Maverick is sitting, sipping his beer and watching the pool competition with keen eyes.

“Evening, Captain,” Jake says, and he knows the moment it leaves his lips that he’s being unusually formal.

Phoenix rolls her eyes again, dramatically. “All yours, Mav,” she says, before turning on her heel and returning to the booth with the rest of the squad.

“Hangman,” Maverick says, a hint of a smirk on his lips, “take a seat.”

Jake swallows hard as he sits on the barstool beside his captain.

“You know,” Mav continues, “you haven’t addressed me as captain in a very long time.”

“Well,” Jake says, “it's never too late to make a good impression.”

Maverick chuckles quietly before tipping the last of his beer to his lips. When he puts the glass back down on the bar, Penny takes it, offering Jake a small, almost sympathetic smile as she does.

Mav turns on his stool to face Jake, “I’ve noticed you’ve been acting a little different lately. Want to talk about it?”

Jake clears his throat, “I’m not quite sure what you mean, Cap- uh, Mav.”

“You sure about that?” Maverick asks as he looks away from Jake, casting his gaze across the bar toward the booth where the dagger squad are seated. “If I had to guess, I’d say you’ve been acting strangely ever since Y/N moved here.”

Hearing your name is the closest thing to a prayer in Jake’s ears, because he is so used to hearing your nickname, that hearing your real name feels reverent.

He sighs, admitting defeat, “Who told you?”

Mav chuckles again, “Technically, Phoenix did, but no one had to tell me. I might be old, but I’m not stupid, and I’ve lived long enough to recognise the way you look at her.”

Jake frowns, “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“I was kind of enjoying the way you’ve been sucking up to Rooster,” Mav replies sheepishly, “letting him be team leader in all the mission simulations, buying him beers every weekend, and letting him win at pool of course.”

Jake can feel his cheeks burning, “I didn’t let him win, Mav, I just can’t focus when she’s around.”

Maverick claps a hand on Jake’s shoulder, leaning on him slightly as stands up. “Then stop being so scared of her big brother and do something about it, before someone else does.”

He nods toward the squad again before stepping back and walking behind Jake, around the bar toward the pool table. Jake’s eyes follow his captain as he circles the bar, stopping to watch the game of pool on the opposite side of the table to where the dagger squad are seated. When Jake’s eyes pass over the intense game between Rooster and Fitz, his breath catches in his throat.

- You -

You had gotten up to go to the bathroom when this man cornered you, stopping you on your way and trapping you against a wall on the other side of the booth. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him around work, but you can’t be sure, because the only person you do recognise in the sea of naval uniforms on base is Jake. This man is not Jake, and that is one of the main reasons why you can’t be bothered to listen to a single thing he is saying.

“Do you think you’ll stay in San Diego for long?”

You look up at him, pressing your shoulder blades into the wall in an attempt to create more distance between you and him. “Um, probably,” you reply.

You glance quickly over your shoulder, for once wishing that your police dog of a brother would do what he does best and scare this man away, but he’s too focused on his pool competition.

“That’s great,” the man leans even closer, his breath wreaking of alcohol, “maybe we can get together sometime, alone.”

You press your lips into a tight smile, neither wanting to accept nor reject the man’s proposal in the current, vulnerable position in which he has you trapped. When he opens his mouth to speak again, a cheer erupts behind you and Penny announces Rooster as the overall champion of the night. You clap your hands and smile at your brother as he does a few dramatic bows.

You turn back to the man with your excuse for escape on the tip of your tongue, “I better go-”

“We should get some fresh air,” he says, grabbing one of your wrists in a vice grip.

Panic washes over you, a cold sweat breaking out across the back of your neck as he tugs on your arm. You stumble forward and glance over your shoulder, hoping that someone has noticed, but he chose the perfect time. The rest of the squad have rushed to the pool table, taking the cues from Penny to set up their own game while other pub patrons congratulate Rooster on his win.

Just as the man reaches the doors leading onto the beach, Rooster’s eyes find you. His grin vanishes and he quickly tries to step away from the crowd surrounding him, but Maverick appears at his side with a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. What the fuck?!

You watch Maverick say something to Rooster, who’s eyes then dart away from you and toward something across the bar, but before you can follow his gaze, the man tugs you out the door. The cool night air bites at your bear arms as you stumble down the wooden steps onto the sand.

“Much better,” the man says, finally releasing you.

You turn sharply to run back into the bar, but you only make it two steps before coming face to chest with someone else. You know who it is even before you look up to find a very concerned pair of pretty green eyes.

“Jake,” you breathe, your body relaxing as he wraps an arm around you.

The man steps toward you again, “Hey, what the-”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Jake exclaims. “Who the fuck do you even think you are dragging a girl out of the bar when she clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you?”

“I don’t recall hearing her saying no,” the man argues, puffing out his chest.

“Because you didn’t give her a fucking chance,” Jake spits.

He takes half a step forward, guiding you behind his body as the man grounds himself as if getting ready to throw a punch. Your stomach sinks and the lump in your throat doubles in size at the thought of Jake getting hurt for you. Just as you think the man is about to wind his arm back, his scowl shifts to something behind you and his jaw goes slack. Glancing over your shoulder, you see Javy and Reuben step out of the bar and your heart aches with fondness.

Without so much as another word, the man shoots Jake one last look before turning and walking away. Javy and Reuben chuckle to each other before stepping back inside the bar, leaving you and Jake alone on the sand.

“Hey,” he turns to face you, “are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you drop your gaze to your shoes, “sorry about that.”

He hooks a finger beneath your chin and tilts your head back up, “Don’t be silly, that was not your fault and nothing to be sorry about.”

Your heart is pounding in your ears, drowning out the music from the bar and the sound of waves crashing. All you can feel is Jake, close and comforting, and staring down at you as if he might want to kiss you too.

“Well,” you step toward him, as close as you can get without pressing your body against his, “then I’m sorry about what might happen to you after I do this.”

You curl your fingers into the material at the collar of his shirt and pull him forward, stretching up onto your toes to meet his lips with yours. He’s startled at first, but quickly responds, his hands grabbing your hips and pulling your body against his. He tastes like beer and spearmint gum, his lips soft as that move with yours, fitting together in the most perfect way. As you take a quick breath, his tongue slides past your lips and he tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

You wrap your arms around his neck to hold yourself up, and just as his hands begin sliding down your hips, you’re both startled by a loud wolf whistle. You both turn toward the bar and see Mickey with his head out the window and a stupidly wide grin plastered across his face. The rest of the squad are all pressed against the glass, almost completely fogging it up as they cheer and wave.

“Oh, God,” Jake sighs, “Rooster is going to kill me.”

You can’t help but giggle, “Don’t worry, Hangman, I’ll protect you this time.”

Inside the bar, your brother turns to Maverick, having to look away as you pull Jake into another kiss. “You’re seriously okay with this?” he asks, “You’re okay with Hangman sticking his tongue down the throat of my baby sister?”

Maverick chuckles, “She’s not just your baby sister Bradley, and that’s not Hangman. That’s Jake and Y/N, and it looks to me like they might be in love.”

Bradley rolls his eyes and pretends to gag, deciding to ignore the scene on the beach and return his attention to the pool table. He knows deep down that Maverick is right, so he silently gives his blessing while starting a list in his head of what he will and will not allow the two of you to do in front of him.

END.

[flofaiiry]

sick day ; michael robinavitch x reader

synopsis: robby coming home sick one day from work and reader who just wants to take care of him but this man is so STUBBORN and hates accepting help.

warnings: established relationship, robby is sick & stubborn, immense amounts of fluff and domestic reader & robby

wc: ~1500

note: thank u to everyone who voted in the poll! the people yearn for robby fluff so that is what they will receive 🤲 this was supposed to be just a teeny tiny blurb but i got a little carried away. anyways!!! someone needs to take care of this man pls.

you knew he wasn't well when he got home from work last night but he insists he's fine and just needs to sleep it off but from the amount of tossing and turning you felt last night you don't think he did a whole lot of that.

you take it upon yourself to call the hospital from his phone to tell them he wouldn't be coming in today. you know he probably wouldn't want you to do that but you also know that this man DESPERATELY needs a day off, especially today, but will never take it upon himself to make that happen. you turn off his alarm in hopes that he'll sleep a little more but what you didn't account for was his internal alarm clock, refined through years of waking up at 6am or earlier.

like clockwork his eyes open right when his alarm would normally be blaring. he winces and turns over to see you already staring at him. "my alarm didn't go off," he says, voice raspy from a mix of sleep and sickness. "i know, i turned it off," you reply simply, hand going to his forehead to feel if he's warm. he is. robby squints & rubs his eyes, "you turned it off? why?"

"because you're sick," you say like it's fact (because it is). "i also called the hospital and told them you wouldn't be coming today, so you should try and get some more sleep." your voice is soft, expecting pushback from this stubborn boyfriend of yours. "baby..." he sighs, rolling onto his back and rubbing his eyes. "i know, i know, i shouldn't have done that, but look at you robby. you're miserable, you're in no condition to take care of anyone else today."

robby is nothing if not headstrong.

"i have to go to work, baby," he sighs and tries to sit up. immediately overcome with muscle aches, he flops back down onto the mattress. "if you can't even get out of bed what makes you think you're going to be able to be on your feet all day, huh?" he doesn't say anything, just sighs, looking back to you, "i can get out of bed, i'm fine just... a little sore."

you raise your eyebrows, not buying any of that for a second, "ok then, stand up." he scoffs, "oh, i can stand up." he says, but doesn't make any effort to. you watch him for a second, then shrug, "then do it." you say again, blank expression on your face.

he takes a deep breath before attempting to get up again, getting a teeny bit further than last time, but eventually collapsing back into bed again. he sighs. "ok. maybe i can't get up." you lean over and kiss his forehead, "i know. go back to sleep, let me take care of you today."

"ok," he breathes, finally accepting defeat, "fine." you smile, pleased that your efforts were coming to fruition. his eyes fall shut again and before you can say anything else, you swear he's already out. you run your hands through his hair once before pressing one more kiss to his abnormally warm forehead.

it isn't until around 11:00am that robby wakes up, the sleep ridding his body of the muscle aches and actually allowing him to get up. you're sitting in the living room, watching the news on low volume when he walks in, hoodie and sweatpants on as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. "god, i needed that." he sighs, making his way over to you on the couch. you smile, having to physically resist the urge to say 'i told you so,' and opt for wordlessly leaning your head onto his shoulder.

"thank you," he says quietly into your hair, after pressing a kiss to the top of your head, "for making me stay home." you smile, "i may not be a doctor, but i know when people need rest. and you my love, need rest." he laughs quietly and drapes his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into him. the faint smell of his cologne on the sweater filling the air around you. "i love you," he says simply, like it's the easiest thing in the world, your smile grows.

"i know, now let me love you."

you place your hand on his cheek and gently pull his face towards yours, pressing your lips together in a soft kiss.

" 'm gonna make you sick," he says when you pull away, but you just shake your head.

"don't care," you kiss him again, this time for a little longer. the high pitched noise of the kettle coming to a boil snaps you both out of it.

"mmm, coffee?" robby hums, only to be met with the shake of your head, "no, i read that it's not good when you're sick, makes you dehydrated because of the caffeine or something." he groans when you stand up, walking over to the kitchen. "that can't be true, coffee makes everything better."

you shrug, "not according to web m.d. it doesn't"

"according to michael robinavitch m.d. it most certainly does." he teases, turning around to watch you move through the kitchen.

you smile. "nice try, but no medical license for you today. i'll be doing the doctoring for now." he raises his eyebrows, amused smirk coming on his face now, "oh really?"

you nod, "yup. and this doctor's prescription is peppermint tea, watching movies, and cuddling with your girlfriend all day." you take a teabag from the box and place it into his usual mug, paint chipped from years of wear and tear.

"hard to argue with that logic," you hear the tiniest bit of rasp in his voice from the germs. "oh and tylenol," you add, looking up from pouring the water, "tylenol would probably help too."

"tylenol would definitely help," he corrects, "do we even have any of that? i thought you finished it last time you were sick."

"we do now, i went out." you reply, walking back over to the couch to hand him the mug now full of steaming hot tea. he accepts the mug from you, mouthing a 'thank you,' before taking a sip. "you went somewhere? god, i must have been out because i did not hear a thing."

you nod, taking a seat on the couch again next to him. "yup. got meds and stuff to make soup."

he raises his eyebrows through a sip, "make soup? no canned stuff?" you shake your head, "only the best for my patients."

the rest of the day is slow. robby ends up napping for a majority of the time. you make him the soup you promised and watch some history documentary netflix recommended.

as the sun falls and the moon comes up, robby's got his head on your lap, your hands are in his hair, the gentlest scratch of your nails lulling him into yet another nap. it's getting late, and you know he's gonna want to go to work tomorrow. if there's anyway that's going to happen he's going to need a good night's sleep.

"i know when i'm the sick one you'd just carry me to bed but... i don't think that's gonna work out well for me if i try." you say, voice quiet as you run your hand along his arm to slowly wake him up.

"just fireman carry me," he teases, "throw me over your shoulder like a bag of potatoes or something."

"if you want to be responsible for all my broken bones, then sure, i'll give it my best shot." you smile down at him before he sits up. rubbing his eyes and mentally preparing to stand up.

"come on, you know you'll be more comfortable in bed." you say, standing up now and pulling gently at his hand.

"yeah, i know," he hums, standing up. once he's fully straight, he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you into him. your head falls to rest on his chest like it's where it belongs. like it's natural.

"thank you," he whispers into your hair. if there were anyone else in the room, they wouldn't even know he said anything. he presses a kiss to the top of your head, before pulling away to look down at you, "for taking care of me."

you smile, "of course."

"seriously, i know i'm an ass about accepting help. i know i'm stubborn as hell but... thank you for not giving up."

you just smile. not sure what to say. there's no world in which you'd give up on taking care of the man you love who neglects himself all too often.

"let's go to bed," you nod towards the bedroom, "sleep is part of my treatment plan too."

he returns your smile, "lead the way, doctor."

as always send me any feedback / thoughts / ideas / requests u have!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 1

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Series Masterlist | Part 2

Chapter Summary: You encounter an unexpected visitor in your home.

Chapter Word Count: Over 2.8k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, breaking and entering, stalking, coercion, threats (not against reader), creepy and unhinged behavior, flashback, possessiveness, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: Welcome to the Turn It Up AU! Thanks to @starlightcrystalline for helping bringing this unhinged Bucky to life and @targaryenvampireslayer and @tavners for the support. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You yawned as you flipped on the light switch in your apartment and set the keys on the table. It was early, but you were ready to settle in for the night after a busy shift. Maybe you could make a cup of tea and curl up with a book to unwind after dinner. Or maybe even a nice, hot bath and a glass of wine.

If only Addison could hear your thoughts now. She’d tease you for not living it up and enjoying the single life. Nothing new.

Your mouth fell open as you walked into the living room, but no sound came out as you skidded to a stop. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest and plummeted to your stomach at the same time as your phone fell from your hand. It was like you couldn't breathe. Because a man was sitting on your sofa.

And you lived alone.

“What…” you exhaled, no louder than a whisper.

The man didn't speak as he stared at you. He didn't even blink. The staring contest gave you a moment to take in his appearance. Intimidating even though he was sitting, his dark suit looked tailored to perfection on his broad frame. Dark brown hair framed his face and matched the stubble on his face, with the exception of a few gray hairs. The dangerous glint in his hard blue eyes did little to put you at ease, but there was something soft there as well.

In any other circumstance, you would've said he was handsome.

You bent down to pick up your phone before he let out a tsk, a subtle warning for you not to try anything. “Who are you? Why are you in my home?” You asked as you straightened up, hoping your tone didn't betray how terrified you were.

Nothing looked out of place. If he was there to rob you, there wasn't much worth taking. While you weren't struggling, you were far from rich.

He smirked and leaned back further into the cushion, his eyes roving over your body. You hadn't noticed right away, but the hand draped on the back of the sofa appeared to be metal. Or was it a glove? He didn't have to stand for you to know he was larger than you. If things got physical, you wouldn't stand a chance.

“Okay…” If he wasn't going to give you any sort of answer or clue as to who he was or why he was there, you’d just leave. You could go to a neighbor’s place or Addison’s to call the cops. But he didn't seem to like it when you took a step back since he pinned you with a glare and crooked his finger, beckoning you to go to him.

Your legs wobbled with the first step, but you righted yourself as you continued to move forward. If he noticed your misstep, he didn't acknowledge it. You swallowed, worried that bile would rise to your throat from how sick you felt when you stopped in front of him. That feeling only grew when he leaned in to grip your waist and roughly pulled you toward him.

A scream escaped this time around, but his hand clamped over your mouth to smother the sound. The cold fear that trickled down your spine would stick with you for days to come as he pulled you onto his lap and shook his head with another tsk. There was no mistaking the evident lust in his gaze as his eyes bore into yours.

What was he going to do to you?

You put your hands on his shoulders to push yourself away, but the hand on your hip held you tighter. You squirmed in his lap before you brushed against the outline of his cock, your body stiffening when he let out a low groan. With wide eyes, you decided moving wasn't a wise decision.

“Keep moving your hips if you want, but don't scream again,” he warned, his deep voice rumbling from his chest as you breathed through your nose. “There’s time for that later.”

Blood rushed to your ears as your heart pounded faster. You wished you could've stopped the tears from filling your eyes, but you weren't that strong. Was he going to hurt you? Kill you? If so, why?

The brunette cooed as a tear slid down your cheek. “I’m not going to hurt you, okay? But I will gag you if I remove my hand and you scream again,” he promised, his tone lighter than a moment ago. “Blink once if you promise not to scream.”

You blinked, another tear falling from your eye.

A pleased look crossed his face when he removed his hand and you complied. “Good girl,” he whispered and you ignored the new kind of shiver that rolled down your spine. “I didn't mean to startle you, but I couldn't wait any longer to see you.”

You exhaled as he used his thumb to wipe the tears away, your body still stiff as you focused on trying to stay calm. Couldn't wait to see you? You had never seen this man before in your life. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“My name is Bucky Barnes. And don't worry. I already know your name.” He smirked as he rested his hand on your cheek. You managed not to flinch at his calloused touch. “Did you have fun at my club?”

Confusion flickered in your gaze. “What?”

“My club, The 107th. I own it. Did you have fun?” He asked again, looking at you expectantly.

The 107th was the most luxurious and expensive nightclub in the city. Chic and glamorous in design with a friendly staff who waited on people hand and foot, you felt like royalty as you hung out in the VIP section. The upscale venue wasn't one you frequented often. In fact, you had only been once.

For Addison’s bachelorette party.

“Y-Yeah,” you replied, still confused as to what he wanted. “It’s a nice club.”

He hummed, his thumb brushing across your trembling lip. “I’m glad to hear it, but you didn't seem to have as much ‘fun’ as your friends. Did you?”

You nursed your drink as you gazed out at the dancefloor from your seat. The place was packed, the strobe lights flashing over the crowd in various hues as they grinded to the beat. You adjusted the hem of your short black dress as you debated going out to dance. You decided against it since you weren't looking to hook up.

“Come on! Another shot!” Addison yelled, adjusting her tiara on her head. She was lucky the “bride to be” sash was still on straight. “Shot, shot, sh-sh-sh-shot!”

You giggled as she plopped down beside you. “I did a shot. I'm fine,” you hollered back.

Your best friend grumbled something you couldn't make out as she put her head on your shoulder. “But you aren't even driving.”

“I don't want to deal with a hangover tomorrow,” you argued, thanking the server as she brought another bottle.

“Ugh. If you won't drink, at least get laid,” Addison whined a little. “You're wearing a slutty black dress and everything.”

You looked around at the group. Addison was the only one in white since she was the bride. Everyone else wore black. They looked great, but you weren't dressed to get any sort of attention.

“Yeah! Get fucked!” Dana shouted.

“Is that encouragement or an insult?” You teased, glancing at the small blinking light in the corner of the VIP section. You didn't notice it before.

“Raise your hand if you think our girl should get laid!” Addison announced, raising her hand high and spilling some of her drink on the seat. “Whoops.”

The group raised their hands as you attempted to clean up the small mess. “I’m not hooking up with anyone tonight,” you said to their disappointment. “This night isn't about me and my love life.”

“Your love life? Babe, it doesn't exist!” Addison grabbed your left hand and held it up to stare at your bare ring finger. “I don't get it. You're the only one not engaged or married yet. And you're, like, the sweetest one in our group. And you're so pretty! It’s not fair that you don't have a man. You deserve one.”

“And sex!” Dana chimed in. “You deserve lots of sex!”

You gently pulled your hand away and pushed down the sadness that surfaced at the reminder that you were the only single one left of your friends. You didn't know why you hadn't met the right one yet. It wasn't like your standards were too high and you were a good, loyal partner. You wouldn't say you were supermodel gorgeous, but you were pretty. You knew how to have a good time.

Right?

Addison's lip wobbled when she saw the look on your face. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m sorry. I didn't mean anything by it,” she rambled, hugging you from the side. “I just want you to have what Brady and I have. I want someone to love you.”

Guilt crept in before you shook your head and flashed your best smile. You know she wasn't trying to make you feel bad and you didn't want to ruin her night. “And one day, I will. Someone will love me the way Brady loves you and I’ll love him, too,” you assured her, giving the other girls a shrug and wishing they'd stop with the pitying stares. “Shots?”

“Shots!”

Your eyes briefly went back to the blinking light before you put a small smile back on your face. Addison was having fun and that was what mattered. You could worry about yourself and your feelings tomorrow.

“I’m sorry, but did my friends and I do something wrong?” You asked, dodging his question. You booked and paid for the section well in advance. Your group danced around in the area, and behaved overall and kept to yourselves. The server got a nice tip at the end of the night.

So what was the matter?

“Not at all,” he said, tilting his head. “I’m just sorry I couldn't introduce myself to you that night.”

“I don't understand. You broke into my home just so you could introduce yourself to me?” You asked as he traced small circles on your hips, the motion making your head spin a little. “How do you even know where I live?”

He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, before he got serious again. “I have my ways. And I can be a little intense and forward at times, but you’ll get used to it,” he said, your eyes wide again. What was wrong with this man?

“Okay, Bucky,” you said slowly, seeing something wicked flash in his eyes when you said his name. “Being intense and forward doesn't excuse breaking into my home. And since my friends and I didn't do anything wrong at your club and you formally introduced yourself, I think it's time for you to leave.”

A second passed before he shook his head. “No, doll. It’s time for you to get the love life and man you deserve.”

Fingers brushed your throat as you struggled to take your next breath. “What did you say?”

“I'm going to take you out to dinner tomorrow so you can get to know me and you’re going to wear the dress I bought for you,” he explained as if he didn't hear you, nodding toward the hall. “It’s waiting for you in your bedroom and, yes, it’s your size.”

How did this man have the nerve and how long had he been in your place? “You went into my room? You-”

“And I bought you that perfume you recently ran out of. I know how much you love it. I know everything about you,” he continued, running his nose along your neck as your blood ran cold. “Oh, we’re going to have so much fun together.”

You moved back, desperate to get away as your stomach twisted. He didn't let you get far, easily yanking you close again. How did he know anything about you? How did you catch his eye?

The blinking light in the corner of the VIP section …

“And if I say no?”

Bucky pulled back, his eyes calculating as he studied you. “I’m not going to force you into going out with me. It’s your choice to say yes or no, but I want you to think carefully about that choice.”

Dread pooled in your gut. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I obviously know where you live and I can get in and out undetected,” he pointed out. You wondered now if this was the first time he had been in your place. “I also know where your friend Addison and her fiancé, Brady, live.”

A wounded sound escaped at the thought of anything happening to your friends. “Please, leave them alone.”

“And the shop you work at, I know where it’s located. Those floral arrangements you make are stunning. Your boss even gave you a raise recently. You should be proud,” he smiled.

Your eyes watered again. The man was certifiably insane. Maybe this was a sick joke or a bad dream. Soon you'd wake up in your bed.

But the iron grip on your body reminded you that this was very real.

He waved a hand dismissively. “But we both know you’ll make the right choice because you're a good girl… a smart girl,” he said like he hadn't just threatened your friends or livelihood. “Just take the night to think it over. Have a glass of wine and draw yourself a nice bath while you do.”

He surprised you by moving you from his lap to the sofa. His hands and eyes lingered on you momentarily before he released you and stood up. Towering over you, he gave you a tender smile as he buttoned his jacket.

“I’m going to lock the door behind me when I leave and I’ll be back tomorrow at 7pm so you can give me your answer. And if you try and tell anyone I was here tonight, I’ll know about it,” he said, grasping your chin when you tried to look away. “It’s taking all of my control not to drag you to bed, but I can wait a little longer.”

Fear prickled the back of your neck as you tensed up. “You couldn't just ask me out like a normal person?”

You almost regretted asking when he narrowed his eyes, but he huffed out a laugh. “Where's the fun in that?” He winked as you shrank back in your seat. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I won't hurt you. And you know what? I just thought of something. You still need a plus one for the wedding. I’m free. I’ll get a suit to match your bridesmaids’ dress. We’ll look perfect together. And Addison will be so happy that you aren't going alone.”

His tone was light and happy like it was a suggestion and not an order, but the ferocity in his gaze had you trembling. “Why are you doing this?” You asked above a whisper.

“Because I want you and I get what I want,” he said as a matter of fact, releasing your chin. “Like I said, it's time for you to get the love you deserve. And I know you'll give it to me in return.”

It was like your spirit floated out of your body as he bent down to kiss your forehead. You couldn't move or speak. Was this what shock felt like? Or was it complete and utter fear?

You stared ahead as he picked up your phone and unlocked it with your passcode. He knew that, too? “Can’t leave without giving you my phone number,” he smiled, putting his information in before he set the device down. You didn't respond. Once he was gone you could scream and cry. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of breaking down in front of him. “I’ll be back tomorrow night, 7pm. Get some rest. You'll need it.”

Even as he left you alone and locked the door behind him as promised, you didn't move from your spot as tears streamed down your cheeks. You didn't dare go to your bedroom to see the gifts he left for you, your hand shaking as you wiped at your face. The scent of his cologne lingered, as did his touch. It was like his shadow covered you, leaving you cold and afraid. Your home was no longer safe.

You weren't safe.

With his subtle threat looming over your head, you’d have no choice but to go out with him. Maybe he’d get bored of you quickly and move on. Or maybe not. You had no way of knowing. All you knew was that your average life was upheaved by the owner of The 107th.

And you were going to be his girl whether you liked it or not.

Bucky isn't wasting time. Where is he taking you on your first date? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[dollfacefantasy]

LITTLE BAMBI EYES ♡

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: how leon loves you so. his beautiful bride. he loves your sweet face and pretty eyes. he just can't understand why he loves to see both overcome with tears.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, blowjob, dacryphilia, daddy kink, age gap (20s, late 30s)

a/n: thank you to whoever requested this. i've been kinda missing daddy leon </3

kinktober slot: day 19 - dacryphilia

Sometimes you make Leon feel like a horrible person.

It's not anything you do or say. Nothing intentional on your part at all. Honestly, it's kind of just his default setting around you simply for the fact that you're wearing a ring on your finger that ties you to him for the rest of your life while also being over ten years younger than him.

You've told him over and over that it's not a big deal. This is the modern world, baby. He just has to get with the times. No one cares about the two of you, and even if they do, who gives a shit? You're a responsible adult, and the two of you love each other. That's all there is to it.

And while he tends to agree with your speeches in the moment, they don't completely erase the guilt from his subconscious. Though his feelings of unease would probably remain at that deeper level if not for days like today.

Today, Leon had arrived home from a mission. It had been a particularly long one, spanning almost a whole month. Nearly thirty days of waiting around and doing recon work, tasks that could've been done by those on a lower level of the government's hierarchy than him, before completing the objective. He was more than ready to come home to you. The longing to see your face again, to hear your voice, it was practically a physical ailment at this point.

The moment he came through the door you were there. You latched onto him and wouldn't let go. He had to drop his stuff by the entryway so he could scoop you up and carry you to the nearest chair in the living room.

He sits down with you in his lap, allowing you to smother him in kisses and fuss over how he looks so tired. But what makes him feel so awful, what causes the gnawing ache that festers in his chest in regards to your relationship is when he sees your eyes begin to grow misty.

It starts with watery eyes and then your voice cracks and you can barely get a word out before you're whimpering and tucking your face into the crook of his neck. You cry and cry about how you were so worried and you missed him so much and you never want him to leave you again.

The whole thing makes him feel guilty on a surface level. He never wants to make his pretty little wife cry. He doesn't want her going sick with worry because of him. But the other layer of this thing that truly makes him feel like something is wrong with him comes from the fact that your display of emotion gets him hard.

He tries with everything he has to stop it. He's not even sure what it really is about it that gets him going like this. In his mind, he tries to rationalize that he just finds it sweet that you miss him. It's just cute, it's not something he needs to agonize over. He doesn't really know, but also when the blood starts rushing South, he doesn't really care.

You sniffle and tighten your arms around his torso while he coos at you and rubs your back. He hushes you gently while adjusting in his seat to make sure you don't feel the swell of his bulge just yet. Sure, he's turned on by your tears, but that doesn't make him inconsiderate. He lets you get most of it out first before trying anything else.

"Shh, shh, shh. It's ok. I'm right here, baby. I made it home safe and sound like always," he murmurs against your hairline, "There's no reason to cry, I don't want you wasting any tears on me."

He swipes away those small droplets of water with his thumb before directing you to look up at him. Your expression makes him smile. Despite their sadness, your eyes gleam with so much love. Your lip wobbles with all the care that pumps through your beating heart.

"So emotional," he teases softly, "C'mon, sweetheart, gimme a kiss. Let me make it better."

Without hesitation, you lean in. He smirks against your lips, cupping your cheek and guiding you in the exchange. It's the opening he needs to make things seem natural. He can act like he's just so pent up from being away that a few kisses got him hot under the collar. Not that he popped a boner as soon as he saw tears pooling against your lash line.

It works. You scoot closer and feel the stiff length graze your thigh. It'd been a long time since you'd had him too. Feeling that familiar hardness against your soft flesh is all it takes for explicit ideas to begin blooming in your mind.

Before he knows it, you're on your knees between his legs. Your lips slide up and down his cock, gliding the shaft into your warm, wet mouth down to your throat. His head tilts back against the sagging cushion of his chair. He pets the crown of your head while you work, wordless appreciation for your efforts.

A deep sigh leaves him as your tongue traces along the veins. You get a groan out of him for flicking your tongue at the ridge. After a few more sucks, you pull off and stroke him instead. 

He hears a soft sniffle. His eyes snap down to you on the floor, and he realizes that you're still crying. A moan bubbles up in his throat. He tries to stifle it, but parts of it still break free.

"Hey, hey. What- what's wrong? You ok?" he chokes out, trying to sound normal and not like he's about to lose it.

You nod while looking up at him with those glossy eyes. Your hand doesn't stop pumping him as tears roll down your cheeks.

"I just missed you so much," you whimper.

Your knuckles graze your cheek. The duality of your cute, tear-streaked face next to your skilled hand jerking him off is nearly too much to take in.

"I'm right here," he says, trying to offer comfort, "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

"Yeah, but you don't get it. I just missed you," you cry again. Another few drops fall as you blink and your lip quivers.

In a way, Leon does understand. It's not that you're currently upset, it's just lingering feelings causing your emotions to act up a bit. He doesn't have a problem with it regardless of the cause though. Not if this is the result.

You go back in to suckle the tip. Your lips wrap around him in a little, perfect 'o.' It feels like you've come straight from heaven to do this for him. He doesn't think it can get any better until you look up at him. Seeing your eyes full of tears while you pleasure him is a whole other kind of sensation.

Hissing in ecstasy, he knows for certain now that he can't last that. He gently guides your mouth off before yanking you up into his lap.

"Can't have you crying like that, honey. Let daddy make it better," he mutters while tugging your shorts down and haphazardly working them off of you.

You help him out and shimmy your panties down too before lining his cock up at your entrance and sinking down. The whole month since you'd last taken it was worth it now. You bounce up and down, letting the familiar filling sensation seep in.

Cries pour from your lips openly, and his eyes roll back. His hands rest on your hips with a loose grip. The touch is present enough to offer the illusion that he's helping.

"Feels so good," you whimper.

"Does it, baby? Just what you were missing, huh?" he rasps.

You nod quickly as your body rises and falls. He feels you squeezing around him, your walls fluttering each time he splits you open.

Once he's calmed down a bit, he starts to rock his hips upwards against yours. He drives himself a little deeper inside you, nudging all the spots you weren't hitting before. You tilt forward and put your head back against his throat like you'd had it earlier.

"That's right. Keep crying for me," he grunts as he picks up his own pace a bit, "Let daddy hear how much you missed him."

Another sob tumbles from you as if prompted by the command. He holds you close and rubs your back like this is a normal method of soothing you. Tears leak out against his throat, trickling down to his collarbone. He can feel the warm liquid and the brush of your eyelashes on his sensitive skin.

"My good girl. Daddy's got you," he sighs.

He pounds up into you with a few more thrusts. The rock of his hips slides his pelvis against your clit, working you towards the end. You whimper and cling to him, arms wrap around his shoulders with the strength of a vise.

"So pretty when you're all weepy for me," he murmurs.

His hands tighten around your waist, actually keeping you in place now for him to thrust into. He grits his teeth. The sensation in the pit of his stomach lets him know he's close to the edge too.

"Fuck... you close, angel?" he asks.

You nod, still not lifting your head from the safety of his shoulder.

The response is good enough for him though. He can feel you clamping around him. Every stroke elicits a wet squelch from between your bodies. You're gushing for him, ready to explode. Tears pour from your eyes in a seemingly endless supply.

"Let me have it. Don't hold back," he directs in a strained tone while creeping to the high himself.

He thrusts in deep and slams you down on him before spilling his load inside you. The sensation brings you to your peak and rips another cry from you. You hiccup out a moan between the sobs. Your nails dig into his shoulders while your body shudders. Even though you'd only cum once, it feels like everything is overloaded.

His hips continue to move, fucking his release into you and working you through the waves of euphoria. 

"Fuck-" he hisses, "That's my girl. Fuck, you're my girl. My baby. So good for me."

His fucked out words hit your ears and get you feeling all loopy. Your head stays against his shoulder, content to rest there while he takes what he needs. A few more tears slide out against your silken skin.

Your body feels limp on top of his by the time you're both through it. He feels boneless too, sunken into his seat while catching his breath.

You're still crying a little bit. He can hear it right by his ear. To get more comfortable, he reaches down and pulls the lever that causes the chair to recline. It pushes you fully against his body and lets him hold you better. His fingers trace little circles on the small of your back while his other arm drapes across your shoulder blades.

"I missed you too, baby," he whispers with a small kiss to your head.

[hatethysinner]

papa remmick headcanons pleaseee 🥸🥺

ᴘᴀᴘᴀ!ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ ʜᴀɴᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

ᴀ/ɴ: these have been floating around in my head since i saw the movie so it'd be an understatement to say just how excited i am to share them! for simplicity's sake i only wrote about one daughter but let's be real remmick would have like 4. i genuinely have so many more ideas than this so if i get a lot of traction i'm def doing like 5 parts. tried to go in a chronological-ish order! if imagining hot fictional characters as fathers is my favorite pasttime does that make me crazy? i don't do taglists personally, so just follow me if you want to be updated when i post c:

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: none, enjoy the cutest vampire mass murderer as the most devoted father in the world! i even made the setting and time period very vague because i absolutely refuse to terrorize this adorable family.

part 2!

first and foremost, ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ could only be a girl dad. it is physically, spiritually, and cosmically impossible for this man to have sons. don't argue with me, argue with the universe.

from the start, ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ was incredibly attentive. if his baby girl so much as shifted lightly in her crib, he was already standing over her before you could even stir.

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ insisted on skin-to-skin contact at every opportunity. didn't care if he had to stay still for HOURS. and he would too.

“she’s settlin’ her heart,” he'd whisper, “and mine’s the drum she’s gonna know first.”

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ took her babbling dead seriously. would fold his arms, listen with furrowed brows, and nod as if absorbing the meaning of life.

talked to her constantly. about everything. you'd catch ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ engaging in full-on conversations with an infant.

“this right here’s nutmeg. we don’t touch that, ‘cause it’s strong. like your mama. now this is thyme. it teaches ya patience.” (he was very proud of that joke)

best believe ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ is singing to her if she won't go to sleep. real songs, not lullabies. low and soft. a little off key. a little too slow. and always with her name in the chorus.

if she trips over air, ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ's already crouched beside her like a medic on a battlefield.

“where’s it hurt, baby? show me. papa’s got you.”

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ let her paint his nails. once. now it’s every saturday. sits there dead serious with one hand outstretched and the other holding a towel so she doesn’t drip.

says “gentle, baby” every time she pets a flower, every time she touches your face, every time she hugs his neck. because that’s how ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ taught her. love is gentle.

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ never hid his vampiric features at home. she adores them. pokes at his fangs, tugs at his claws, stares into his eyes with not even a hint of fear. because there's no need to.

if she calls for ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ in the night, even once, he’s at her side with a glass of water, a fresh blanket, and at least four “ya okay, sugar?” before he even sits down.

when she gets sick, ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ holds her all night with one hand pressed to her forehead and the other on her back like he can make her feel better just by staying still enough.

do not ever ask ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ to discipline his daughter. ten minutes later, you'll find the two of them on the porch swing sharing a pint of ice cream and laughing like nothing happened.

“i talked to her,” he’d say, mouth full of rocky road (🤭). “we came to an understandin’.” they did not.

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ is a constant bragger. constant. mentions her name in every single conversation, so avoid casually talking to him at all costs.

“my baby just got straight a’s. first grade, top of her class. can ya believe that?”

does not play when it comes to styling her hair. to learn, ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ sat on a little wooden stool for an entire afternoon under the careful eye of mama, focused like it was life of death. now he does them every sunday morning, and always ends with three sweet kisses.

“prettiest girl in the world. prettiest head of curls, too.”

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ felt left out of not having a bonnet (literally made this :( face) so he wears one too. unironically loves it.

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ always needs a picture of his family. first day of school, new dress, vacation, playing in the yard, doesn't matter. wallet’s full of folded photos and his side of the bedroom’s a shrine. framed memories everywhere. his girls, always.

y'all ain't never met a man who throws down in the kitchen more than ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ does. bakes, grills, fries, sautés, and seasons like nobody's business. he's been alive for over a millennium, so half the meals he makes have long been forgotten by the world. and of course he's teaching his baby girl all his skills.

girl ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ runs the pta like it's the navy. absolutely zero tolerance for slackers. despite his authoritarian, almost hivemindlike (🤭) style, every event and fundraiser ends up being a major success

he's never and will never miss a single recital, play, spelling bee, science fair, honor roll ceremony, or any other event involving his baby. ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ will fight his way to the front row if he has to, and records the whole thing with his favorite video camera. every tape is labeled, dated, and stored with care. if the house is too quiet, he'll be watching reruns.

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ ends every night the same. “ya know who loves ya?” he asks, real low.

and she says, every time, “you do, papa.”

and he answers, “damn right i do.” with his hand over his heart.

[htaesan]

　ᅠ ✿　ᅠ MEDICINE　　────　ᅠ ( han taesan )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀your boyfriend, han dongmin, isn’t the biggest fan of public displays of affection, preferring to maintain his nonchalant image. however, when you come home with a sore throat, his inner romantic pops out instantly.

　　　ᅠ 한태산 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 1.2k ⠀ genre fluff established relationship ⠀ contains mentions of food skinship pet names sickness (sore throat) ⠀ note i’m sorry LOLZ this is suuuuper self-indulgent coz. i am unfortunately Sick ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net , @onedoornet

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

Dongmin knew, from the moment you stepped into the house, that there was something wrong with you. 

“Welcome home, baby,” he says the second he hears the door open. He’s sitting in the living room, brainstorming some ideas for his upcoming song. He looks up to you, eyebrows furrowing immediately after seeing a blank look on your face. 

The only response he gets from you is a hum. You huffily open your shoes, setting your coat aside, and walk into the bedroom you share with Dongmin. 

Dongmin watches in pure silence as you do all this, concern clouding his thoughts. He knows, immediately, that you’re feeling off—you didn’t run straight into his arms after coming home from your work shift. 

“Y/N? Darling?” he calls, pausing to hear for any replies. 

And after a few minutes of getting silence as your response, Dongmin grunts and jumps off the couch. He tosses his notebook aside, bolting towards your shared bedroom. He stops his momentum as he bumps against the doorframe, a little perplexed seeing you plopped on the bed, face flat down, still in your work clothes. 

The unusual change in your usual behaviour irks him. 

“Baby,” he says softly, “are you mad at me?”

Dongmin asks cautiously, remembering that he didn’t pick you up from work today due to a meeting with the band he’s producing songs for. It’s part of the way Dongmin shows his love for you—he’ll spend extra money on bus tickets just to accompany you on the way to work, even though your workplace is the opposite of his own. 

“No…” he catches a muffled reply from you, weak and tired. Dongmin takes this as a chance—he steps closer to you. His steps are swift yet quiet, and once he’s by the edge of the bed, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants. He isn’t used to being the one offering physical affection, so he’s a little unsure of the next move he should be making. 

“Then… What’s the matter, baby?”

Dongmin has his eyes trained on you, quick to catch any kind of response from you. He’s immensely worried—you’re not usually like this. On normal days, you’d spend your evenings talking about your day, telling him about the little things that made you smile today as the two of you take the bus to go home. Usually, Dongmin would enjoy the view of the sun setting into the horizon with you on his lap, taking a nap to recharge after a long day. 

You sluggishly turn, whining. “I don’t know…”

“You don’t feel good?” Dongmin asks, sitting next to you. Still laying down, you nod.

“Yeah,” you say, clearing your throat immediately after. You pout, inching closer to Dongmin. Noticing your actions, Dongmin adjusts his sitting position to let you lay your head on his lap. You settle yourself comfortably, melting into his warmth.

“This feels so much better,” you murmur. 

“Yeah?” he breathes, smiling softly. 

The two of you spend quite some time together—Dongmin stroking your head gently as you close your eyes for a few moments. He’s not a big fan of grandly expressing his love for you—he prefers loving you in the little, simple things in life. But today, he just feels like it—it’s quite tiring pretending to be so nonchalant when all he and the biggest romantic side of him wants is to pepper you in his affection. 

Dongmin is lost in thought as he’s gazing upon you—how gentle and beautiful you look even when your eyes are closed, and how lucky he truly is to have you as the love of his life. He leans down, kissing your forehead, and is surprised at how abnormally warm your skin feels. 

Dongmin places a hand on your forehead. Warm. He frowns, placing his hand on your neck and face. Still warm. 

“Darling,” he calls, his voice gentle as his kiss on your nose. Your eyes flutter open, and he holds your gaze. “Are you sick?”

You clear your throat, clearly uncomfortable as you do so. “Am I?”

Dongmin opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by a fit of coughs from you. Both of you widen your eyes, and you immediately sit up. 

“I’m sorry for that–”

“You’re sick.”

You blink profusely, confused. “What?”

“You’re sick,” Dongmin says, matter-of-factly. Without missing a beat, he rushes to the closet and comes back a quick second later with his hoodie—your favourite one to steal from his wardrobe. He hands it to you, his brows crossed in a serious expression. 

“Here,” he says. 

You take it from his hand. “What are you–”

“Go change—” he says, quickly kissing your cheek before darting out of the room. “—I’ll be back!”

You oblige to his words, changing into the Dongmin’s hoodie and some comfortable pants. You walk out of the bedroom, hating how you’re coughing every two minutes. A sweet, tangy smell attacks your nose, and you dash to the kitchen, seeing Dongmin cutting up a pineapple. You can’t fight the smile that immediately erupts on your face, finding his focused expression adorable. 

You cough again, breaking the comfortable silence in the apartment. Dongmin looks up at you, and his eyes instantly light up at the sight of you. He smiles, a kind of fuzzy feeling filling up his chest seeing you comfortable in his clothes.

“What are you doing there? Go rest,” he says, using his head to signal to the direction of the bedroom. 

You purse your lips. He’s right, but you just wanna stand there and watch him do his thing—remembering the tiny details about you, effortlessly doing them for you. Dongmin is cutting pineapples, meticulously picking out the spiky leaves out of the sweet fruit’s flesh—all because he knows that you love eating pineapples whenever you have a sore throat.  

“Where did you get the pineapple?” you ask, approaching him. 

Dongmin scoops the cut-up fruit from the cutting board and into a bowl. “I happened to have one,” he answers, flashing you an ‘innocent’ smile that you know is hiding mischief behind it. 

“You ordered it, didn’t you?” you question, narrowing your eyes at him. Dongmin snickers, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Now, my dearest darling,” Dongmin says, the bowl of pineapple in one hand and another on your back. He guides you to the bedroom, grinning widely. “Let’s cosy up, shoo the sore throat away with some pineapples and a good kdrama?”

Your face lights up with the mention of Dongmin’s brilliant idea. “But you don’t like watching dramas,” you point out as you climb onto bed. 

Dongmin, the stupidly handsome grin still on his face, replies cheekily. “Well, I’ll watch them for you.”

“Why?” you ask, suspiciously glancing at him. 

“Because I love you,” Dongmin says in a sing-song tone, leaning in to give you a swift kiss. 

You giggle into the kiss, already a pink mess. You bury yourself into Dongmin’s hoodie, letting his familiar and comforting scent engulf you as you wait for him to settle next to you. 

You then wrap your arms around Dongmin’s waist, head snugly against his chest. You spend the rest of the night binge-watching a comfort show that you’ve seen multiple times—letting yourself rest, already feeling better with Dongmin feeding you pineapples, knowing that he’s secretly enjoying being the openly affectionate one. Your heartbeats align with one another, and you slowly drift to sleep in peace, forgetting about the annoying feeling of a sore throat. 

Honestly, any pain is tolerable when you’re with Dongmin—his presence is already enough of a medicine for you. 

― © htaesan, 2025.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀want more like this? check out the 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

[amirawrah]

⭐︎ a look into jude's relationship side

♥︎ word count: 8,622

♥︎ amirah: at last innit, my wilo's relationship side would always be on top but i really like this tho so i hope you all like thia too. i think i tried my best with it even tho i think im losing my jude juice but enjoy loves.🫶

───────────⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎───────────

Jude is insanely proud to call you his girlfriend. He will find ways to bring you up in interviews, subtly (or not so subtly) mentioning “my girl” with the biggest smile.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ The interviewer asked a question about Real Madrid’s recent win, but Jude's answer drifted somewhere else entirely.

“Well, the team’s been working hard, training’s been intense,” he started, nodding seriously, but then his gaze flicked toward someone just off-camera—you. The smile that spread across his face could’ve lit up Santiago Bernabéu. “But I’ve also got my girl keeping me grounded, you know? She’s been my peace through all the chaos.”

You could hear the PR manager let out a small sigh behind you—this was the third time he’d found a way to mention you during the post-match media rounds.

The interviewer chuckled, clearly charmed. “You always bring her up, man. Must be serious.”

“Yea of course,” Jude said without missing a beat. “She’s special. Keeps me focused, reminds me who I am when everything else gets loud. I’d be lost without her, honestly.”

Your cheeks burned, heat rushing to them despite the cool breeze drifting through the stadium tunnel. You tried to hide behind your phone, but you knew he’d seen the way your smile widened, how your eyes softened.

Later that night, curled up on the couch in his hoodie and your fluffy socks, he pressed a kiss to your temple and whispered, “I hope you know how proud I am to be yours. I’ll never stop talking about you. Ever.”

You rolled your eyes with a grin. “You’re gonna make people sick with how obsessed you are.”

“Let them be sick,” he laughed, pulling you closer. “I’ve got the best girl in the world—why would I keep that quiet?” ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

He’s a big hand on your thigh guy when you’re sitting next to each other—whether you’re chilling at home or courtside at a game or something.

Late-night FaceTimes if he’s away for matches, even if he’s exhausted. If he falls asleep while talking to you, he wakes up the next morning with the goofiest grin.

Protective, but not possessive. If he ever hears someone talking about you sideways, he gives them a look, and they immediately rethink their choices.

Loves to post you subtly—like an artsy pic of you tying your shoes, or a blurry shot of you laughing, captioned with something dumb like “Don’t let her fool you, she’s actually evil.”

Physical touch is a must—forehead kisses, back hugs, and pulling you into him when you're walking together. He loves resting his chin on your shoulder.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ You didn’t need to look behind you to know it was Jude. His arms wrapped around your waist from behind, strong and familiar, pulling you into the warmth of his chest as he buried his face into the curve of your neck.

“Mmm, missed you,” he mumbled, voice thick from sleep. He’d only been in the other room, but Jude acted like every second apart was a mini heartbreak.

“You were gone for five minutes,” you teased, leaning back into him.

“Too long,” he said, smiling into your skin before pressing a slow kiss to your shoulder. “You smell good. What is that?”

“Peace,” you whispered, grinning.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your back, and you could feel the way his fingers traced lazy patterns along your waist. You started moving toward the kitchen, and just like that, he followed—fingers still linked with yours—before looping an arm around your shoulders and tugging you closer as you walked.

Every few steps, he’d give your hand a squeeze or nudge your temple with his chin. And when you finally stopped to pour yourself some tea, he rested his chin on your shoulder, watching quietly.

“This is my favorite view,” he said softly, his arms sliding around your waist again. “You. Right here. Just like this.”

You turned to face him, and before you could even speak, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment like he was grounding himself in you.

“You’re clingy today,” you whispered, smiling up at him.

“Always am,” he shrugged, unapologetic. “Can’t help it. I love you so much.”

And with another forehead kiss and his arms around you like you were his entire universe, you believed every word. ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

You two have a secret handshake—Jude made it up one day, and now he refuses to dap you up any other way.

Keeps your relationship somewhat private, but everyone knows how much he adores you.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ You weren’t in his Instagram photos, not really. A blurry hand reaching for coffee in the corner of the frame, your silhouette reflected in his sunglasses, your shoes next to his on a balcony in Ibiza. Jude had mastered the art of the “soft launch”—private, but not secret.

And yet… everyone knew.

The way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching? Yeah, people noticed. The way his whole face softened when your name came up in conversation? His teammates teased him about it relentlessly.

You were at a Real Madrid training session, tucked quietly off to the side, chatting with a staff member. Jude was supposed to be cooling down—but instead, he was walking straight toward you with that lazy, half-smile he only gave you.

“Bro’s whipped,” you heard Cama mutter under his breath, and someone else laugh.

Jude didn’t care. He came up behind you and rested his hand low on your back, fingers brushing the hem of your hoodie. Not a word, just a quiet, grounding touch that said mine without saying anything at all.

“You good, love?” he asked, low enough for only you to hear.

You nodded, biting your lip to hide your smile. “Go stretch.”

He leaned in, lips brushing your cheek, then whispered with a grin, “I’d rather stretch with you later.”

You swatted his arm and shook your head, cheeks warm.

Later that day, he posted a carousel on Instagram: one moody photo of the pitch, a candid of his boots, a video of a sunset—and the last slide, a blurry photo of you laughing, head thrown back, sunglasses on, your face barely visible.

No tag. No caption. Just a heart emoji.

The comments were a mix of detective work and soft chaos:

“We know that laugh anywhere.”

“Jude pls just hard launch her already.”

“His whole aura changes when he talks about her I can’t.”

“Idc who she is, just know he’s in LOVE love.”

And he was.

Even if the world never got a clear picture of you, everyone could see it in the way he smiled when he said “my girl.” ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

When he posts you on his story, it’s either a fire pic of you looking stunning or the most unhinged, blurry pic with “look at this menace” as the caption.

If you're at his games, he always looks for you in the stands. If he scores? He’s pointing at you immediately.

Whispers in your ear in public just to see you laugh, then acts like he said nothing.

You make fun of his accent sometimes, and he’ll mock yours right back.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ You were both curled up on the couch, sharing popcorn and watching a movie you weren’t even paying attention to anymore. Jude had just said something—something completely ordinary—but the way he said it made you snort.

“Lemme just grab me coat,” you repeated, mimicking his Birmingham accent with exaggerated vowels and wide eyes.

Jude turned slowly toward you, brows raised. “That’s how you think I sound?”

You nodded seriously. “Exactly like that. ‘Me coat,’ ‘me boots,’ like we’re in a medieval tavern or somethin.”

“Oh, you wanna talk accents now?” he grinned, shifting to face you fully. “Go on then, say ‘water.”

You narrowed your eyes, refusing.

“Go on, babe. Just say it. Say water.”

You sighed dramatically. “Water.”

Jude clutched his chest like you’d personally offended the Queen. “Wah-tuh? Nah, that’s criminal. Where’s the ‘t’? It just disappeared! It’s in witness protection!”

You burst out laughing. “It’s not witness protection, you muppet—it’s a regional dialect!”

“Yeah? Well your regional dialect makes it sound like you’re choking on a vowel,” he teased, eyes sparkling.

You stuck your tongue out at him and he leaned forward, catching your face in his hands like he was studying you.

“I love your accent,” he said suddenly, softer now. “Even when you butcher mine.”

You raised a brow. “You love when I butcher your accent?”

“Yeah,” he smirked. “’Cause then I get to do this—” He cleared his throat, then said in your voice, “‘Jude, can you rub my feet? Jude, can you bring me snacks?’”

“Wow.” You threw a pillow at him, but he caught it midair. “That’s exactly what I sound like.”

“You’re welcome,” he said proudly.

Later, as you lay together in the quiet, his hand tracing shapes on your arm, he whispered, “Say it again.”

You blinked sleepily. “Say what?”

“Water. Just once more. For me.”

You groaned. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Never,” he laughed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Say it again, then.” ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

You two have that best friends and lovers dynamic. One second, you’re being all soft with each other; the next, you’re arguing over who would survive longer in a zombie apocalypse.

Your best conversations happen when it’s just the two of you, late at night, half-asleep, tangled up in the sheets, talking about everything and nothing.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ The world outside had finally gone still. No press, no training, no obligations—just the two of you, wrapped up in the quiet.

The sheets were twisted around your legs, one of Jude’s arms draped lazily across your waist, his fingers tracing slow circles on your skin. The only light in the room came from the soft amber glow of the bedside lamp he insisted on keeping on, “just in case you want water or somethin’.”

You were facing each other, noses nearly touching, his curls slightly flattened from your pillow. His voice was low, scratchy from sleep, and he was talking about something completely random.

“…and then I said, ‘Bro, why would you wear that in public?’ Like he looked like a traffic cone.”

You laughed, soft and muffled, trying not to wake the world outside your little bubble. “You’re mean.”

“I’m honest,” he grinned, eyes fluttering half shut.

There was a long beat of silence. Not uncomfortable. Just peaceful.

Then he asked, “Do you think this—us—is gonna last forever?”

You blinked, heart skipping a little. Not from nerves, but from the softness in his voice. Like he was handing you something fragile and precious.

You nodded slowly, brushing your fingers against his jaw. “I think it already feels like forever. Like I’ve known you in every version of my life.”

He smiled, eyes gleaming even in the dim light. “Yeah. You feel like home, y’know?”

A yawn slipped from his mouth mid-sentence and he buried his face in your neck, mumbling something about how good your skin felt.

You giggled, threading your fingers through his hair. “What if we wake up tomorrow and forget this whole conversation?”

“Then I’ll just tell you again,” he whispered, voice now a sleepy hum. “Every night and Forever.”

And with that, his breathing slowed, syncing with yours. The night held the two of you like a secret, tangled in sheets and sleepy truths, talking about everything and nothing—right where love lives. ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

He has this way of looking at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention—like you hung the stars just for him.

Sometimes, you’ll catch him staring, and he’ll just smirk. “What? I can’t admire my girl?”

Loves it when you play with his fingers absentmindedly while you’re watching TV.

Loves when you sit on the bathroom counter and talk to him while he gets ready for training.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ You were still in his t-shirt—massive on you, hanging just above your thighs—as you hopped up onto the bathroom counter, legs swinging gently. The early morning light spilled through the window, painting the tiles golden, and Jude was standing at the sink, toothbrush in hand, shirtless, curls still damp from his quick shower.

This had become a ritual: you, on the counter, rambling about everything from your dream last night to what you wanted for breakfast, while he got ready for training.

“…and then for some reason, I was chasing a llama through Westfield with a shopping trolley. I don’t know what that means, but I woke up so stressed.”

Jude spat out his toothpaste, laughing. “A llama? In Westfield?”

“Don’t judge me, dream logic doesn’t have to make sense.”

He reached for his moisturizer and glanced over at you, his eyes lingering just a second longer than necessary. “You’re so cute in the mornings. Still half-asleep, talkin’ nonsense, legs swingin’ like a little kid.”

“I’ll kick you,” you warned, grinning.

He leaned in and kissed your knee. “Yeah, go on then. Do it.”

You watched as he rubbed product into his face, muscles moving under smooth skin, his reflection calm and focused. You loved this version of him—off the pitch, still soft around the edges, yours.

“I like this,” you said quietly.

He looked up, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “What?”

“This. You. Getting ready. Me sitting here. Talking about llamas.”

He smiled, the kind of smile that made your chest ache a little. “Yeah? You know I only ever take this long 'cause I like when you sit there and talk to me.”

You blinked. “Wait, so you drag out your skincare routine just to keep me here longer?”

“Every morning,” he shrugged with a wink, grabbing his cologne. “Gotta soak you in before I go.”

You rolled your eyes, heart full. “You’re such a simp.”

He stepped between your knees and leaned in, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. “For you? Always.” ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

If you’re cooking, he’ll come up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, and press a kiss to your neck like it’s second nature.

If you’re on a plane together, he lets you sleep on his shoulder and makes sure you have a blanket.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ The plane was somewhere over the Atlantic, cruising through a sea of stars and clouds, dimmed cabin lights casting a sleepy glow over everything. Most of the team had passed out hours ago, scattered through first class in hoodies and eye masks, legs stretched and headphones in.

But you?

You were curled up next to Jude, your head nestled perfectly into the curve of his shoulder, his Real Madrid zip-up jacket draped over your lap like a makeshift blanket.

He hadn’t moved since you dozed off—partly because he didn’t want to wake you, partly because he was savoring it. Your breath was warm against his neck, your hand resting lightly on his chest. Every now and then, you’d shift slightly, and he’d adjust without a word—tugging the blanket higher, brushing your hair away from your face, pressing the softest kiss to the top of your head.

He looked down at you, eyes soft, heart doing that quiet ache thing it always did when you were like this—peaceful, trusting, his.

You stirred a little, mumbling something incoherent, and he leaned in.

“Shhh,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “Sleep, baby. I got you.”

A flight attendant walked by, smiled when she saw you both. Jude just nodded politely, then turned back to you—his girl, fast asleep on his shoulder, wrapped in his jacket, flying somewhere between dreams and reality.

And in that moment, at 30,000 feet, he’d never felt more grounded.⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

Jude will never let you live down any embarrassing moment. Trips over nothing? “Damn, babe, you okay? Want me to carry you everywhere now?”

If you’re ever apart for too long, best believe he’s making up for it the second he sees you again. Long, tight hugs where he just breathes you in before whispering, “Missed you, baby.”

Texts You Mid-Training: Even when he’s busy, he sneaks a text like "Thinking about you. Hope you're having a good day ❤️”

Texts You From Across the Room: If you’re in a group setting, he’ll send you a stupid message like “You look mad cute over there” or “Let’s leave and get McDonald’s.”

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ The room was buzzing—laughter, glasses clinking, music low in the background. You were seated across from Jude at a long dinner table, surrounded by mutual friends, some of his teammates, their partners, and way too many inside jokes flying around.

You were mid-conversation with someone when your phone lit up in your lap.

Jude 🤍 you look mad cute over there let’s dip and get maccies. just you + me + fries.

You bit your lip to hide your smile.

You looked up across the table. Jude was pretending to listen to whatever Vini was saying, chin resting in his palm, but the corner of his mouth twitched when your eyes met. He winked, quick and subtle, like he hadn’t just offered to abandon this semi-fancy dinner for fast food and alone time with you.

You texted back:

you’re insufferable. and yes, obviously.

His reply came instantly:

Jude 🤍 knew it. meet me by the coat rack in 10. we’ll ghost like legends.

You glanced at him again, and this time he was fully smiling. Not big and showy. Just that smug, quiet little smirk he got when he knew he had you wrapped around his finger—though, truthfully, you had him just as bad.

Ten minutes later, you were slipping on your coat as Jude “went to the bathroom,” and the next thing you knew, you were in his car, windows slightly fogged, shoes kicked off, sharing a large fries and singing terribly to the radio.

No cameras. No pressure. Just the two of you and a bag of McNuggets, laughing like you hadn’t just ditched a room full of people for something a little more you. ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

Steals Your Skincare Products: “Babe, what does this serum do?” Next thing you know, he’s fully committed to your skincare routine.

Puppy Dog Eyes When He Wants Something: “Baaaabe,” he drags out, giving you that look when he wants you to get up and grab something for him—even though he’s closer to it.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ You were curled up on the couch, wrapped in your favorite blanket, halfway through an episode of Love Island, snacks perfectly balanced on your lap. Comfort mode: fully activated.

Jude was on the other end of the sofa, literally closer to the remote, phone charger, and the half-empty bottle of water on the table. But of course… that didn’t stop him.

“Baaaaabe,” he whined, voice stretching the word like he was auditioning for a soap opera. You didn’t even look up.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna ask,” he pouted.

“I do. You want me to get something that’s exactly three inches from your hand.”

“Okay but I’m comfortable,” he argued, which made you turn your head slowly and give him the look.

“I’m literally cocooned in this blanket. If I move, it’s over.”

He blinked. Then—there it was. The look. Puppy dog eyes, bottom lip slightly out, that soft little head tilt like he was the most pitiful boy in the world.

“Pleaseeee,” he said in the smallest voice. “My girl. My angel. My sweet love.”

You squinted at him. “Don’t try to butter me up.”

“I’d never,” he gasped dramatically. “But also… the charger’s just there. And my phone’s on 2%.”

You groaned but shoved the blanket off anyway, grabbing the charger and tossing it at him with the flair of a dramatic lead in a West End play.

“Happy now?”

He grinned, plugging it in and leaning over to kiss your cheek. “Ecstatic. Thank you, my love.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks were warm. Because yeah—he was a menace. A spoiled, dramatic, clingy menace.

But he was your menace. ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

One time you two went to a photobooth and he kept the picture in his locker

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ It had been one of those rare afternoons—just the two of you, no media, no training, no schedule. You were wandering through some tucked-away street in Madrid, iced coffees in hand, when you passed a tiny old-school photo booth tucked between a bakery and a record shop.

Jude stopped, took one look at it, and grinned. “Get in.”

You blinked. “Now?”

“Yeah,” he said, already pulling the curtain back. “We’re making core memories.”

The machine barely fit you both, knees bumping, laughter echoing off the tiny walls.

The first photo was mid-laugh—you hadn’t even been ready.

The second, you both tried to be serious but cracked up halfway through.

The third, he kissed your cheek, completely catching you off guard.

And the fourth?

He looked right at the camera, grinning.

You looked right at him.

When the strip slid out a few seconds later, you both stood there, staring at it, giggling like kids.

But Jude pocketed it.

“What—don’t I get a copy?”

“Nah,” he smirked, tucking it into his wallet. “This one’s for me.”

You thought nothing of it at the time.

Months later, one of the Real Madrid staff posted a behind-the-scenes locker room pic on Instagram—nothing wild, just a celebration moment after a big win.

But in the corner, barely visible, taped inside Jude’s open locker…

There it was.

The photo strip.

Slightly crumpled, edges worn, but still stuck right there next to his wrist tape and boots.

You zoomed in instantly, heart doing that stupid flutter.

The next time you saw him, you leaned against the doorframe of his room and said, “So… locker decorations, huh?”

He didn’t even try to act cool. Just grinned and shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“It’s my favorite photo. Why wouldn’t I keep it close?” ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

The type to pull you in by your jaw for a deep, slow kiss before a match—just to get you flustered.

Will randomly kiss your shoulder if you’re sitting next to him, no reason needed.

If you ever feel insecure, he’s on it immediately. He won’t let you say anything negative about yourself. “Nah, I don’t want to hear that. You’re perfect to me.”

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ It was late—too late to be overthinking, but there you were, lying in bed, scrolling through photos on your phone. You’d been doing it for a while now, swiping through your feed, comparing, wondering, self-doubting.

Jude had been on his phone too, but his attention was split. He glanced over at you, saw the way your brow furrowed, the way you tucked your lip between your teeth.

“Babe?” he asked, his voice low and soft, pulling you from your thoughts. “You okay?”

You shrugged, offering a half-smile. “Yeah, just… nothing really.”

He wasn’t buying it. Not for a second.

He turned over, propping himself up on one elbow, studying you with that warm, concerned look of his. “Don’t lie to me. What’s going on?”

You hesitated, then sighed. “I just… I don’t know. I feel a bit off. Like, maybe I’m not doing enough, or—”

“Stop,” he cut you off immediately, his hand gently cupping your face. His thumb brushed the skin of your cheek like he was trying to erase the uncertainty there. “No. I don’t want to hear any of that.”

You blinked, confused. “What?”

“You’re perfect. To me. Always have been. Always will be.” His voice was firm, no hesitation. “And I don’t want you thinking otherwise. Not for one second. So if you’re gonna talk like that about yourself again, I’m walking out of this room.”

Your eyes softened, the words from earlier fading away in the warmth of his gaze. “But I—”

“No buts.” He kissed your forehead lightly, his lips lingering a moment longer than necessary. “You’re everything I need, okay? And if you ever feel like you’re less than that, I’m right here. You’ve got no reason to feel anything less than amazing.”

A breath you didn’t know you were holding released. “I love you,” you whispered, your heart swelling.

He smiled, that soft, content smile you loved. “I love you more. But I’ll always remind you how perfect you are, even if you forget.”

You cuddled into his side, feeling like the weight of all your insecurities had been lifted, replaced with the quiet certainty of his love.

And as he pulled you closer, gently pressing a kiss to your temple, you knew you had everything you needed—because with him, you felt more than enough. ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

If someone flirts with you in front of him? He leans in and whispers in your ear, “You love making me mad, don’t you?” with that smug smirk of his.

If you’re ever in public and he catches you staring at him, he’ll lean in close, voice all deep, and say, “If you keep looking at me like that, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Will casually whisper something highly inappropriate in your ear during a party just to see your reaction. When you hit him, he just laughs. “What? I was just saying the truth.”

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ The party was in full swing—loud music, chatter filling the air, and everyone mingling around. You were standing near the bar with a few of Jude’s teammates, a glass of wine in your hand as you chatted about nothing in particular, enjoying the warmth of the evening.

And then, from behind, you felt his presence—Jude sliding in beside you, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned in close.

“Hey babe,” he murmured, his voice low, almost teasing. You barely had time to turn toward him before his lips were right next to your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.

"You're looking incredibly hot tonight... Honestly, I’m not sure how I haven’t dragged you to the nearest bathroom yet.”

Your eyes widened, heart skipping a beat as you spun around to face him. “Jude!” you hissed, wide-eyed, but there was no stopping the smirk tugging at his lips.

He looked so damn innocent, but you could see the glint of mischief in his eyes. “What? I was just saying the truth,” he shrugged, laughing as your face flushed in embarrassment.

You swatted his chest playfully, but that only made him laugh harder. “I can’t believe you sometimes,” you muttered, trying to shake off the heat rising to your cheeks. “You’re lucky I’m not making this whole party uncomfortable.”

He chuckled, wrapping his arm around your waist. “I didn’t think you’d mind that much. But I’ll admit… I love how you react.”

You shot him an exasperated look, but inside, you couldn't help but smile. He always had a way of making you blush, even in the most inappropriate moments.

“Jude,” you warned, “don’t test me, okay?”

He leaned in for a quick kiss on your cheek, laughing again as he pulled back. “You love me, though. And you know it.”

You rolled your eyes but let him pull you closer, the teasing smile never leaving his face.

“Just wait,” you muttered under your breath, “I’ll get you back.”

He raised an eyebrow, that teasing gleam still in his eye. “I’m looking forward to it.” ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

When he’s feeling especially cocky, he runs his fingers over your lips while grinning. “So pretty… what else can that mouth do?”

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ The atmosphere was a little different tonight—a bit more playful, a little charged with energy. You two were lounging on the couch at home after a night out with friends. The lights were dimmed, music softly playing in the background, and Jude was as relaxed as ever, his arm draped lazily over the back of the couch, his leg resting across yours.

You were mid-conversation, talking about something completely innocent—maybe a funny story about your day—but Jude wasn’t really listening.

He was watching you, eyes lingering on your lips as you spoke, a smug little grin slowly spreading across his face. You didn’t notice at first, too caught up in your own words, but then his hand slid closer, his fingers brushing lightly against your lower lip.

His grin grew wider. “So pretty…” he murmured, voice lower than usual, his thumb tracing over your lips gently. “What else can that mouth do?”

Your breath hitched, eyes darting up to his, catching the glint of mischief in his eyes. You opened your mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in your throat, your pulse quickening at the way he was watching you.

Jude was loving this—this was exactly the kind of cocky energy he thrived on. His fingers lingered just a little longer, pressing against your lips with a teasing, slow swipe, waiting for a reaction.

You finally managed to clear your throat, trying to stay composed, but you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. “You’re such a menace,” you laughed, trying to brush off the sudden rush of nerves.

“Am I?” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice even more. “Or am I just being honest?”

You shot him a playful look, your hand reaching up to push his teasing hand away, but he caught your wrist, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I’d love to see tho…” His lips hovered just inches from yours, and you could practically feel the tension crackling between you.

You leaned in, closing the space between you, but just before your lips touched his, you pulled back with a teasing grin of your own.

“I think you already know,” you whispered, watching his smirk falter slightly as his breath caught.

He leaned back, looking both impressed and a little defeated. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

You winked, giving him a playful shove. “You started it.”⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

If you’re teasing him, he shuts you up with a kiss—gripping your face and kissing you so good that you completely forget what you were saying. Pulls you into his lap and runs his hands slowly down your back, deepening the kiss just when you think he’s done.

His voice drops when he’s in control. That deep, slow, teasing tone that makes your legs weak. “Oh, you’re quiet now? That’s cute.”

If he’s frustrated after a game, best believe he’s taking it out somewhere else. “Long day, love. Think you can help me relax?”

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ The locker room was still buzzing with post-game chatter, but Jude was already a little distant—his mind too wrapped up in the frustration from the match. He had played well, sure, but something about the game hadn’t sat right with him. Maybe it was a missed opportunity or a mistake he couldn’t shake. Either way, he was feeling the pressure.

You could tell the moment he stepped through the door, his jaw clenched, his brow furrowed as he made his way to you. His teammates were still laughing, but he didn’t seem to hear any of it. His eyes were on you.

“Hey,” you said softly, trying to get his attention as he walked over to you, his heavy boots thudding against the floor. You didn’t need to ask what was wrong—he was clearly frustrated.

He leaned down, brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear, his voice dropping low. “Long day, love.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Tough game?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, pulling you closer by the waist. His lips hovered near your ear, a quiet, almost possessive tone in his voice. “Think you can help me relax?”

The words made your heart skip a beat, the tension between you two shifting from casual concern to something far more intense. You could tell he needed to unwind, and you were more than happy to help, but you couldn’t ignore the way his fingers grazed your skin, or the heat in his eyes that made your pulse race.

“Relax, huh?” You teased, arching an eyebrow as you slid your hands up his chest, your fingertips lightly brushing against his collarbone. “And what exactly do you have in mind, Mr. Bellingham?”

He gave you that grin—the one that made your insides twist with anticipation. “I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Before you could respond, he gently tugged you into him, his lips pressing against yours in a deep, needy kiss. The kind that left no room for words, only the need to be closer, to forget the world outside of this moment.

He pulled back just enough to speak, his breath warm against your lips. “I need you, babe. You’re the only thing that’s gonna take my mind off this game.”

You nodded, your hands slipping around his neck as you melted into him. “Then let me take care of you.”

And with that, everything else faded away—the game, the frustration, the world outside. It was just the two of you, tangled in the quiet after the storm. ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

If you so much as whimper in his ear? He smirks immediately. “Oh? You like that, huh?”

Hotel room energy? Dangerous. He’s got nowhere to be, no training, just you and all the time in the world.

He loves running errands with you—even something as boring as grocery shopping. He’s pushing the cart, being silly, putting random snacks in, and pretending not to hear you when you tell him to put them back.

Denise absolutely adores you. From the moment she met you, she could tell you made Jude happy. “You bring out the best in him.”

Loves doing girls' days with you—shopping, brunch, spa days. Sometimes it’s just the two of you because Jude “complains too much when we take too long.”

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ It was a Saturday morning when Denise called, as usual. She’d been hinting for days about a girls' day, and you had a feeling she was more than ready for it. Jude was off with his teammates, so it was just the two of you, and the thought of a relaxing day away from the boys had you looking forward to it.

“Brunch first, then spa?” she asked, voice full of energy. “I know a place with the best mimosas.”

You grinned. “Sounds perfect.”

It was one of those rare days when you could let go of everything—no interviews, no cameras, just you, Denise, and a bit of fun. You met up at a cozy café, enjoying the morning sunlight pouring through the windows as you chatted over eggs benedict and fresh fruit.

Denise, as always, was full of stories. She told you about Jude’s childhood mischief, how he used to steal cookies when he was little, and how she could never stay mad at him for long. “He’s always been a good boy, even when he’s up to no good,” she laughed, sipping her coffee.

You laughed along, feeling the warmth of her words. “You really raised him right.”

Denise’s smile softened, a proud glint in her eyes. “He’s always been special, but you… you bring out the best in him.”

You blinked, touched by her words. “D…”

She waved her hand dismissively, her tone light but sincere. “It’s true. From the moment I met you, I could see how happy he was. You’re one of the best things that ever happened to him, and I’m so glad he found you.”

You felt a flutter in your chest, her words making you smile. “I’m just happy to be in his life. And yours, too.”

After brunch, you two hit up the shopping mall, roaming from store to store, trying on clothes, laughing at each other’s outfit choices. Jude’s complaints about you both taking too long were often brought up, especially when you made Denise laugh until she nearly spilled her iced coffee.

“Jude always says we take forever,” you said, pulling out a pair of shoes you thought would be perfect for a date night. “Honestly, he’s just grumpy because he doesn’t have the patience for this.”

Denise grinned. “That’s because he doesn’t get it. You and I—” she gestured between the two of you, “—we know how to shop properly.”

By the time you both made it to the spa, you were relaxed and feeling like you’d just experienced a little slice of heaven. Denise was the best kind of company: no stress, no pressure, just fun.

As you sank into the massage chair, Denise gave you a wink. “Next time, I say we turn off our phones, Jude complains too much.”

You burst out laughing. “I’m down for that.” ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

The first time you met Mark, he was lowkey intimidating, but within five minutes, he was cracking jokes and making you feel at home.

He’s a big storyteller, especially about Jude and Jobe as kids. If you’re ever at the Bellingham house, expect to hear childhood embarrassments on repeat.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ It was your second time at the Bellingham house, and you were still getting used to the chaotic energy that always filled the place. You had already spent time with Jude and Jobe, but this time, Mark was home, and you were more than a little curious to see what the dad of the Bellingham family was like in person.

When you first met him, you were a little intimidated—he had that aura of authority, the kind of man whose gaze could make anyone stand a little straighter. But the moment he greeted you with a warm handshake and a half-grin, any nervousness melted away. His voice was deep and full of humor as he immediately began cracking jokes about Jude and Jobe, easing you into the conversation without even trying.

“So, when these two were younger…” Mark started, leaning back in his chair as he sipped his coffee. “I had to spend hours in the backyard trying to teach Jude how to ride a bike. But the kid? He refused to listen to me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Oh yeah.” Mark chuckled, shaking his head. “He was convinced that if he just went fast enough, he’d be able to float. Like a superhero or something. So, one day, I look up, and there he is, barreling down the driveway, pedaling like mad. Guess what? The kid didn’t float, but he sure ended up in the bushes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, picturing a young Jude with all his determination, even if it meant a few bumps and bruises.

“Jobe, on the other hand…” Mark’s grin widened. “He was always the sneaky one. We had to hide all the cookies because he had a serious sweet tooth. One night, we caught him trying to sneak an entire box of biscuits under his bed. He didn’t think we’d notice, but the crumbs? The crumbs told a different story.”

You leaned back in your chair, grinning at the mental image of the younger Bellingham brothers getting into all kinds of mischief.

Mark’s storytelling was infectious. His laughter filled the room as he kept dishing out embarrassing memories, not just about Jude but also about himself. You could see where Jude got his charm and sense of humor from—Mark clearly loved to laugh, and he didn’t mind making fun of himself to keep the mood light.

As the stories continued, you felt completely at ease, as if you’d been a part of their family for years. It was hard to imagine that you’d ever been intimidated by Mark, because now, he felt like the kind of guy who could make anyone feel welcome.

“Anyway,” Mark said, finishing his story and giving you a mischievous grin. “You’ll be hearing a lot more of these embarrassing stories if you keep hanging around.”

You smiled, feeling completely at home. “I’m starting to think I might have to start collecting my own stories to tell about Jude.”

“Please,” Mark laughed. “I’m sure he’s got a few things to hide. But just remember, I have decades of ammunition on him.” ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

If you and Jude ever argue, Jobe is nosy as hell. He’ll pop up like, “Damn, what he do now?”

Lowkey wingman—if Jude is being dumb, Jobe will tell him. “Bro, just buy her flowers or something. You’re moving mad.”

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ You and Jude were in the middle of one of those perfectly normal, but totally unnecessary arguments. It had started over something silly, like whether or not he remembered to grab your favorite snacks during his grocery run. You were both talking over each other, trying to get your points across, but neither of you was really listening anymore.

"Jude, it’s not about the snacks!" you huffed, crossing your arms.

"It’s the principle!" he shot back, his voice rising slightly.

You rolled your eyes. "The principle? Really?"

The room was tense, both of you clearly frustrated, but neither willing to be the first to back down.

Just as things were starting to get heated, the door creaked open, and in walked Jobe, casually leaning against the doorframe with a curious look on his face.

"Damn," he said, eyes widening in exaggerated shock. "What’d he do now?"

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh, the tension breaking just a bit. Jude groaned, throwing his head back and muttering under his breath. "Not now, Jobe."

Jobe raised an eyebrow and took a few steps further into the room, giving you both a once-over before nodding to himself. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know that you two always look mad cute together. So what’s this about?”

You exchanged a look with Jude, both of you still a little riled up, but now there was an undeniable sense of awkwardness thanks to Jobe's nosy intervention.

“You really gonna let her get away with that?” Jobe said, pointing at Jude with a sly grin. “Bruh, just buy her flowers or something. You’re moving mad.”

Jude blinked. "Flowers? Really?"

Jobe gave him a knowing look. "Trust me, man. They fix everything. Women like flowers. You know, the nice kind, not those half-dead daisies you tried to give her last month."

You couldn’t help but laugh at Jobe’s honesty. Jude sighed dramatically, looking like he wanted to protest but knew deep down that Jobe had a point. "Fine," Jude muttered, rubbing his face. "Flowers. Can you leave now, Jobe?"

Jobe grinned, clearly having accomplished his mission. “I’ll leave you two to work this out, but don’t say I didn’t try to help.” He gave you a wink and casually strolled out of the room, leaving you and Jude in the quiet aftermath.

Jude turned to you with a sheepish smile, running a hand through his hair. "You know, he’s not wrong. I should’ve just gotten the flowers."

"Yeah, you should have," you said, crossing your arms and softening, your earlier frustration melting away. “But I’m glad Jobe stepped in. I think he saved you.”

Jude let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "I swear, he’s like my personal therapist sometimes."

"Maybe you should start listening to him more often," you teased, giving him a playful nudge.

"Don’t worry," Jude said, pulling you in for a hug. "Next time, flowers. I promise." ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

Football debates at the dinner table—Mark and Jude get so into it, and you just sit back, sipping your drink, waiting for it to end.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ Dinner at the Bellingham house always started off normal enough—Mark telling stories, Jobe sneaking bites before everyone sat down, and Jude’s hand resting on your thigh under the table like clockwork.

But somehow… somehow it always ended the same way.

“Listen, I’m just saying,” Mark began, fork pointing dramatically in Jude’s direction, “midfielders today don’t dictate the game the way they used to. Y’all are all about flair now. Where’s the control?”

Jude leaned back in his chair, mouth full of rice, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Control? Dad, you watched my last match, right? I was the control.”

“Oh, please,” Mark scoffed. “You had, what, 89% pass accuracy? You’re good, Jude, but you ain’t Zidane.”

That was the spark. And just like that, the match was underway.

You slowly leaned back in your chair, picking up your glass of wine—tonight, it was rosé, your favorite—and took a long sip. Jobe looked over at you, already smirking. “Round three,” he whispered.

You nodded. “Let them cook.”

“Dad, you always bring up Zidane. Times have changed! No one plays like it’s 2004 anymore.”

“And that’s the problem,” Mark shot back. “You all play like you’re trying to be TikTok highlights. Where’s the patience? The build-up play?”

You glanced at Jobe again, both of you silently enjoying the show. This was better than reality TV. Jude’s plate was half-forgotten, Mark was gesturing with a spoon like it was a mic, and honestly, if someone said "4-4-2" one more time, you were going to throw a dinner roll.

Eventually, when Jude started pulling up stats on his phone like it was a courtroom trial, you calmly reached for the last piece of garlic bread and leaned over to Jobe.

“Think they’ll still be arguing when we’re doing the dishes?”

Jobe snorted. “They’ll still be arguing when we’re in bed.”

You raised your glass. “To generational football beef.”

“Cheers to that.” ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

The type to carry your bag for you but tease you about how much stuff you packed. “Babe, are you moving there permanently or what?”

Matching airport fits because he swears y’all gotta travel in style. You take a mirror selfie before every flight.

Wants to do everything—from luxury experiences to acting like tourists with a paper map, he’s down for it all.

Takes the most ridiculous tourist pictures—poses dramatically in front of monuments, acts like a travel vlogger, and films you for memories.

If you go out for drinks by the beach, he’ll pull you onto his lap, arm around your waist, being extra touchy because vacation Jude has no self-control.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ The sun was dipping low over the ocean, casting everything in that hazy gold glow that made your skin look extra dreamy and Jude absolutely feral. A salty breeze kissed your shoulders as the two of you sat out on the deck of a little beach bar—barefoot, slightly tipsy, with music playing low in the background and a half-melted daiquiri in your hand.

Jude was already watching you like you were the sunset, his fingers lazily tracing your thigh under the table.

You raised a brow. “You good, Bellingham?”

Without answering, he reached out, effortlessly pulling you onto his lap like it was second nature. His arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand flattening on your bare thigh.

“Mmm, better now,” he murmured, nose brushing your jaw as he pressed a soft kiss to the curve of your neck.

You laughed, sipping your drink with one hand, the other resting on the back of his head. “You’re so clingy on vacation.”

“Can’t help it,” he said, grinning against your skin. “You wear sundresses and lip gloss and expect me to behave?”

“You never behave.”

He shrugged, pressing another kiss to your shoulder this time, slower, more deliberate. “Not when you’re this close. Not when it’s just us. Not when you’re mine.”

You felt him smile against your skin as he added, “Also, I’m a few sips away from carrying you back to our room and forgetting this bar exists.”

You rolled your eyes, pretending to be unimpressed—but you stayed right there in his lap, happily tangled in him, letting vacation Jude be as extra and touchy as he wanted.

Because honestly? You liked him just like this. ⭐︎

extra...

⭐︎ You’d just gone to the bar to grab another drink for Jude—mostly because he gave you that look and said, “Baaaabe, I can’t feel my legs,” which was code for I don’t want to move, please and thank you.

So you went. Alone. For two minutes.

And that’s apparently all it took.

“Didn’t expect to see someone like you out here,” said a guy in a too-tight shirt and mirrored sunglasses, leaning a little too close as you waited on the bartender. “You local?”

You offered the most polite fake smile known to humankind. “Nope. Just here with my boyfriend.”

“That so?” he smirked, like that was an invitation instead of a boundary. “Bet he doesn’t appreciate you the way—”

“Yeah, she’s definitely here with her boyfriend,” came Jude’s voice—calm, cool, but edged with that warning tone you’d learned to recognize instantly.

You turned, relief flooding through you at the sight of him—shirt slightly open, curls messy from the wind, and sunglasses pushed up onto his head. Beach Jude was already fine, but possessive beach Jude? Whole other level.

He slipped his arm around your waist without missing a beat and tugged you back into his chest like he was reclaiming what was his. “You alright, love?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple, then shooting the guy a tight smile. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

The other guy mumbled something and slunk off. You didn’t even clock where—too busy looking up at Jude’s smug, satisfied smirk.

“You’re so dramatic,” you whispered, unable to hide your grin.

He shrugged, rubbing slow circles into your hip with his thumb. “You like it.”

You leaned in close, brushing your lips just beside his. “I really do.”

And when the bartender handed you the drinks, Jude took yours, nodded in thanks, then leaned down and whispered in your ear, “Let’s go back. I’ve got… ideas.”

Vacation Jude had no self-control.

And you were absolutely fine with that. ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

Snowball fights—he doesn’t hold back. But if he accidentally hits you too hard? Immediate guilt mode. “Babe, I’m sorry, come here—wait, don’t hit me back!”

Cuddles in front of the fireplace—warm blankets, his arms wrapped around you, pressing lazy kisses to your forehead.

Hot cocoa dates where he lets you steal sips of his, even though you definitely have your own.

Probably the type to Immediately jumps on the bed when you enter the hotel room.

──────────────────────────────────────────

⭐︎ The moment the hotel room door clicked shut behind you, you barely had time to toe off your sandals before—

Thud.

Jude was already starfished in the middle of the bed, arms and legs spread out like he’d claimed a whole kingdom.

“Bags down, shoes off, I am one with the mattress,” he mumbled dramatically into the plush hotel duvet. “Don’t even think about moving me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You had one job. One. Put the key card in the light slot. Where’s the light—Jude!”

He peeked up, grinning like the menace he was. “I got distracted by how soft this bed is.”

“Mmhm. And the fact that you sprinted like a child?”

“Listen,” he said, rolling over and propping his head up with one arm. “It’s not a vacation till I belly flop onto a hotel bed. It’s tradition.”

You just shook your head, flicked the light on, and padded over to the edge of the bed.

“I’m not moving,” he warned. “This is now my spot.”

“You’re literally in the middle.”

“My spot.”

“You’re impossible,” you said, climbing onto the bed anyway, knees pressing into the comforter as you tried to navigate around his limbs.

He instantly grabbed you, pulling you down into his chest with zero effort.

“See?” he said smugly, voice muffled against your neck. “Comfy, right?”

You groaned into his curls. “You’re annoying.”

“You love me though.”

You rolled your eyes, but your hand was already in his hair. “Unfortunately.”

He chuckled, all warm and smug, and nuzzled into you. “We should order room service.”

“It’s 2 a.m.”

“I know,” he yawned. “You want fries or waffles?”

You smiled into his shoulder, sleep already tugging at your eyes. “Both.” ⭐︎

───────────────────────────────

Takes mirror selfies with you in the big bathroom, flexing like an influencer.

When it’s time to leave, Jude always gets a little sad, holding you close before the flight back. “Can we just stay here forever?” and then you remind him that he has training

Posts an Instagram dump of your trip, and his caption is always something cute like “My favorite person.”

[jnginlov]

ateez with a clingy and affectionate drunk partner

⇀ genre fluff

⇀ style reactions/headcanons

⇀ warnings reader is drunk, lots of physical affection (kisses, hugs, lap sitting, cuddling, etc)

note requested by @nnnarchives

seonghwa

no matter how many times you’ll get like this around him, he always seems surprised and will ask if you’re okay

cooing over you and babying you so much it makes everyone around you both sick

makes sure you’re drinking water or eating by bribing you with kisses and just smiles so adoringly when you announce that you finished the whole glass of water and are ready for your reward

eventually he catches you starting to doze off on his shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around his bicep as he chats softly with the person across from you both

he excuses himself quickly to usher you both home, where he’ll give you all the cuddles you could ever want

hongjoong

his reaction would be very situational

if you’re around other people, he will be so shy and probably ask if you want to leave because its just hard for him to handle you and control his darkening blush at the same time

if you’re alone he is soaking up all of the attention, absolutely ready to do anything you want and continually reminding you how pretty/beautiful/cute/sexy you are

if he’s also drunk then he just melts into the attention, encouraging you by asking for head scratches, laying in your lap, or falling asleep on your shoulder

any which way, he’s a blushing mess by the time you start dozing off, ready to call it a night

yeosang

he’s so blushy and giggly which of course only makes you cling tighter

giving you so many head pats while you hang off his arm but sort of doesn’t know what to do with himself

probably asks if you want to leave the function early because he wants to just pull you into his arms and cuddle you back but doesn’t feel like he can when you’re outside the bubble of your apartment

he’s going to be a little stiff but i promise he loves it, he just doesn’t know if you want him to be affectionate back unless you clearly tell him

yunho

literally so in love with you

he would find your drunk behavior so adorable and actively encourage you to sit in his lap or wrap your arms around his waist

you don’t even have to ask for kisses, he’s already peppering them all over your face

will just hold your face in his hands and stare at you so lovestruck as you pout, wanting more kisses

san

he’s the type to be oblivious to any increase in physical affection without verbal confirmation or acknowledgment from you, it’s not that he doesn’t appreciate it he just feels it to be so natural to who he is as a partner

when he does notice your drunken behavior, he’s immediately melting and pulling you into his arms, basically smothering you

this is when you get giggly san to make an appearance

if you’re in public, it immediately feels like you’re in your own bubble, just the two of you, as he matches all your affection with some of his own, the world around you melting away

if you’re at home, it might turn into something very domestic like sharing a dance in the middle of the kitchen or rambling about what the future has in store for you while wrapped in each others arms

mingi

he is literally so happy, his cheeks will hurt from smiling by the end of the night

he’s always worried about making you uncomfortable with initiating physical contact so for you to be the one initiating and doing so often, he is just ecstatic

if you get distracted or wonder away for a moment, he will subtly try to get your attention back and pretend that he’s surprised when you go back to clinging onto him

if you catch on to how much he’s liking the affection his ears will be red immediately as he drops his head into the crook of your neck to hide from your gaze, only giving you better access to pepper kisses against his cheek

wooyoung

he always matches your energy

so sorry to anyone in the general vicinity but you’ve just become the couple that will not separate from each other

will lean into you and tap his cheek as an invitation to give him a kiss

if you aren’t sitting on his lap, he’s sitting on yours

he enjoys enabling your behavior when you get like this but will also lightly tease, because the only thing he loves more than you clingy is you pouting at him, demanding more kisses as repayment

jongho

he’s definitely going to take the opportunity to tease you

he knows what you want but he’s going to pretend he has no clue and make you clearly say that you want to kiss him or even just hold his hand

don’t let his fake obliviousness fool you of course, he’s absolutely enamored by you and your affection, he just has a reputation to uphold, especially around his members

so he’s going to pretend like your kisses and hugs are annoyances, distractions from the conversation he’s trying to have with someone, but really he’s melting on the inside

but don’t worry, he’ll be sure to return your love once you’re out of the public eye

↼ ateez masterlist

note i had fun writing this, thank you for the request!

[miley1442111]

videos and violence- a.hotchner

summary: an unsub capturing you makes for a pretty interesting love confession

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!fem! reader

warnings: mention of reader being hurt, violence, mental, physical, emotional abuse, regular criminal minds topics (i think that's it? PLEASE TELL ME IF I MISSED SOMETHING)

not entirely proofread

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You knew you had to take in your surroundings, try to remember what had happened before, think. 

All you knew was that one moment, you were on your way home from work, and the next you had a bruising grip on the back of your head, leading you through the hallways of this dusty, dark, shithole. 

Suddenly, he stopped. He was a man, obviously, 5’7ish, buff build, dark clothing that doesn’t fit him correctly, strong, shoes a size too big, and a balaclava. “Get in there, bitch.” American accent, deep voice, but definitely grew up in Washington. There was a chance you were still in Washington.

He shoved you down the stairs, into a basement. When you came to, your head was bleeding and you’d definitely broken a few ribs. You just hoped that Aaron would find you. You tended to your wound as best you could and allowed yourself to rest, knowing more would be to come. You had to figure out why he wanted you. Was it because he knew you worked for the FBI, or were you just the closest woman to him? 

The ground was cold and hard, but it would do for one night. You hoped this would be one night. You hoped the team could solve it. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“Where’s Agent Y/l/n?” Morgan asked, sitting beside Spencer in the briefing room. 

“Late,” Rossi grunted. 

“She’s never late,” Penelope argued. “She’s never been late a day in her life and she didn’t answer any of my phone calls this morning.”

Aaron Hotchner, your secure, steady, collected, and calm boss, began to sweat a little. The same thing had happened to him, you weren’t answering his calls, there was no ‘I got home safe’ text, and you didn’t answer your door when he knocked on it that morning. 

“I’m sure she’s just sick,” Rossi shot back, trying to put Penelope at ease. “She’s a big girl, you don’t need to baby her.” 

Aaron didn’t miss the way Rossi looked at him during that last part. He wasn’t babying you, he’d never do that. He wanted to protect you, keep you safe, make sure he got to see that beautiful smile everyday. 

“We have a case,” Aaron announced. “Right here in Washington.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

No matter how loud you screamed, he didn’t stop. He kept hitting, and punching, and hurting. By the time you walked back down to your basement, you were exhausted, bruised, and scared. You were slightly losing hope that Aaron and the team were going to find you, because he was ramping up his activity. He was more violent, more attentive to you, watched you more, got closer, stayed closer. And he wasn’t feeding you. He had no intention of keeping you alive. But he was filming you. You’d noticed the hundreds of cameras all over the room, all pointing to you. 

“What do you do for work?” he asked from the darkness of the top of the stairs. 

“Paperwork,” you lied. “FBI paperwork.”

“You work for the Federal Bureau of Investigations?” he asked.

You nodded. “It’s boring.”

“How much do you make?” 

“About 90 grand a year,” you offered. “What about you? What do you do?”

“I’m a baker,” he answered. “I work in the cafe on 14th street.”

“I like that place,” you chuckled painfully. “Makes good bread. My boyfriend loves it.”

“You have a boyfriend?” he asked. 

“Yeah, but he’s out of state at the minute. Work stuff,” you lied. “What about you?”

“A girlfriend? No, no,” he chuckled, rubbing his hands together. It’s like he watched a movie to find out how to be a villain, I mean, come on. “No one for me.”

“What’s your boyfriend's name?” he asked. 

Well, now or never. “Aaron Hotch,” you answered calmly. 

“And what is it that you love about Aaron?”

You could feel yourself tearing up, you knew he was about to take you for another torture session, and you didn’t know if it would be your last. There was a slim chance Aaron would see this, if he ever caught the guy. Now or never. “I love Aaron because he makes me feel safe. He smiles at me all the time which is nice because he doesn’t smile often. He knows everything about me, and he’s still here. He’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met, even though he puts on a brave face everyday. He cares deeply about the people around him, and he tries to hide the way he worries about people, but he can’t. He just cares too much. He’s wonderful, if I’m being honest. He always brings me home stuff from your bakery, the one on 14 the street, it’s our favourite date night tradition.” 

“Good, very good. I know exactly who you’re talking about,” he smirked. “I’ll make sure he gets this, and the videos of the torture.”

You grimaced. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“He takes women of all races, hair colours, eye colour, etc. He doesn’t keep them for more than three days, he videos the torture and sends it to us. He’s had three women so far-” Morgan thought out loud. 

“A new video just came in Hotch,” Penelope burst into the room, tears in her eyes. “I-It’s-”

“No!” Morgan and Spencer both jumped up, disbelief coating their features. Aaron stayed still, a wash of rage and terror rolling over him. You’d been gone for two days, they had one more to find you. 

“Give me the laptop, the rest of you don’t need to see this,” he ordered, taking the laptop out of her hands as she ran straight to Morgan for comfort. Rossi stopped him before he left. 

“You sure you want to see this? We all know how you feel about her,” Rossi whispered, silently offering himself to watch the videos. 

“I have to find her,” Aaron whispered, his voice breaking. “I need every angle I can get.”

Rossi nodded, allowing him on his way.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You’d survived another day, but the broken bones and bruises were starting to ache more and more. He’d gone to work, and you had 8 hours to try and get out, but the cameras. You just hoped he’d gotten cocky and sent it to the FBI before you were dead. It was your only chance. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“We have a lead,” Aaron announced, rushing to put his coat on. “The bakery, on 14th, that’s where he works.”

“Let’s move out people!” Morgan shouting, rallying the cops to follow the team. 

The video of you, broken, bruised, and battered made him feel physically sick. The way you spoke about him made his heart burst, the way you gave him the message gave him hope. He could still find you. 

The car ride felt long, too long; and getting the dick to confess felt too long too. Searching the building felt too long, and getting you into his arms felt too long. 

But when he rounded a corner and went down a set of stairs, there you were. Right in front of him. Lying in a heap on the floor. He rushed to your side. “Please, please,” he begged. “Open your eyes for me baby,” he pleaded as he looked for a pulse, it was faint but there. “Ambulance, now!” he shouted up at the officers who were following him. “Come on, open your eyes for me,” he whispered. 

Somehow his shaking and his words woke you up. You stared at him for a moment, confused and scared, and then it registered. He’d found you. The video had worked. 

“Aaron,” you whispered, reaching out to touch his face. “You found me.” 

He nodded, a relieved smile on his face. “I’ll always find you,” he promised. “And I’ll never let this happen again.”

“You saw the video?” you asked, pulling yourself into his arms. 

“I saw the video sweetheart,” he nodded. “I know.”

“I love you,” you whispered as he hooked a hand under your legs and another under your back. 

“I love you too, more than anything,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[geeky-politics-46]

Surgery Headcanon

How would my favorite Marvel men react to you having surgery. 

I'm getting my gallbladder taken out in a couple of weeks, it will be my first surgery ever, so this is 100% self-indulgent. That's part of why I've been so absent this year, I've had an organ rebelling.

Doctor Stephen Strange 

Will ask who your doctor is to see if he knows them. If not, he may send a referral to a trusted former colleague on your behalf. He's not letting you under the knife unless he knows you have a good surgeon.

Will tell you how routine the surgery is if you are starting to worry. Almost a bit blasé about your concerns, after all, bedside manner was never his strong suit as a surgeon. Plus, it really is a routine, laparoscopic procedure. Way less intricate & dangerous than neurosurgery.

1000% will try to micromanage everything once you're at the hospital prepping for or immediately out of surgery. He wants to see your chart. He wants to know what your most recent vitals are. Hell, he may have even asked if he can observe the surgery. Partly, it's him being overprotective, partly it's because he misses being a doctor.

Definitely breaking into the doctor's lounge for the good coffee, not the instant crap in the cafeteria.

After you are home, he will be vigilant about making sure you take your pain meds & will check your incisions to make sure everything is healing well. You are in very safe, if slightly neurotic hands.

Secretly, or not so secretly, enjoying getting to play doctor again to take care of you. Looking forward to when you are well enough that you can play doctor and patient the really fun way.

Bucky Barnes 

May actually be a bigger mess than you are. Thanks to Hydra, medical anything makes his anxiety shoot through the roof. Now piled on top of that, he feels out of control & helpless to make you feel better.

Would have to be physically dragged out of your hospital room, so the hospital staff just lets the whole “visitors hours” thing slide.

The second you wake up, he is by your side asking if you need anything. Probably didn't sleep or even sit down the entire time you were in surgery.

If you even make an odd face, he's asking if you are in pain, and he has become a huge pain in the ass for your nurses. 

May have thought about threatening your surgeon about if something went wrong.

Either guard dog mode, or he completely shuts down. There is no in between. 

Afraid he's going to break you while you are recovering. Offers to sleep on the floor or on the couch just in case. Doesn't want to let you out of his sight until you are healed. 

Steve Rogers

Tells you over and over how everything will be okay and that you are in good hands.

May tell you stories about how much hospitals and medical stuff has improved since he was so sick before the serum.

Reads up on your surgery and your doctors. He wants to understand as much as he can about what is going on. He probably has more questions for the doctor than you do.

Puts on a brave face for you but secretly will be a little nervous. He hates seeing you sick or in pain, and he can't help but worry a little bit.

Will respect hospital rules but will stay up until the very last minute of visiting hours are over. Knows the names of every nurse and doctor treating you. 

Definitely has flowers or a stuffed bear for you as soon as you wake up from surgery. 

Dotes on your every need once you are home and watches you like a hawk. The first few days, he doesn't even let you go to the bathroom by yourself. You can't get away with shortcutting your recovery under his eye. 

Sam Wilson

Buys you a cute, silly stuffed version of whatever you are having surgery on to make you laugh. See my new stuffed sad gallbladder plush as reference here.

All the nurses love him, and he likes to crack jokes with all the staff. Offers to help with anything he can but mostly tries to stay out of their way.

Trying to make you smile all the way until they wheel you to the OR. He doesn't want you to be scared or nervous. 

Like Steve, he will put on a brave face but will be nervous once you are in surgery. Lots of pacing back & forth. Lots of trips to the coffee machine.

Takes care of you once you are home but not quite as mother hen as Steve. Will let you judge what is best for you, but will 100% call you out if he sees you doing something the doctor told you not to.

Will also rat you out to your doctor if you don’t follow their instructions. He doesn't want to snitch, but he'd also rather not be the one to scold you.

Loki

Doesn't like the idea of someone operating on you. Trained surgeon or not, they are still just a simple Midgardian.

Doesn't like the hospital one bit. Comments on the color and decor, even the hideous hospital gown you have to wear. Partly to make you laugh, partly because it was all truly hideous.

If your surgeon even hesitates on a question you ask, Loki will assume they aren't the best and demand another doctor. You may have to talk him down a bit. He's a prince, after all, and he wants to make sure you are in the best hands possible.

The whole thing seems a bit barbaric to him. He would much have preferred using magic or Asgardian ways to heal you, but alas when on Midgard. 

Secretly terrified something will happen to you, but would never tell you he's worried. Doesn't like that he can't do anything to help you.

Is not very used to taking care of people, and as royalty, he's the one used to being waited on, but he will try his best to do whatever you need him to do.

Will probably mostly ignore instructions from the doctor so you are in charge of that part of your care, but he will beg to accelerate your healing with his magic if he can.

Eddie Brock & Venom

Venom brings you chocolates, which he then eats after you tell him he can, and says not to worry because if the doctors don't take proper care of you he will bite off their heads and eat their brains.

Eddie is nervous but trying to be brave, so you won't be scared. It doesn't help that Venom keeps telling Eddie not to make you nervous, which then, in turn, makes him nervous. He will try to make jokes and keep you entertained however he can.  

Eddie and Venom try not to argue while they wait for you to get done with surgery. The last thing you need is to wake up and find out that they ended up in the psych ward for talking to/arguing with themselves in the waiting room. They are on their best behavior.

Both of them try to wait on you hand and foot after you get home. You've had to eat several well-meaning but truly gross breakfasts in bed so as not to disappoint either of them. They mean so well, but neither of them can cook beyond tater tots.

You have woken up to Venom staring at you because “one of us has to watch you at all times until you are recovered”. He took that 100% seriously. He has also stuck tendrils under the bathroom door like cat paws.

One great thing about Venom is the fact that thanks to his tendrils, he can literally get anything you need from around the apartment in seconds without you or Eddie having to get up. This makes him one of the best nurses ever. All you have to do is hint that you want something and boom, it's there.

[no-144444]

prison, not a promise- l.norris

summary: lando proposes and it doesn't go as planned...

pairing: lando norris x fem! reader

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He genuinely thought you would’ve been the woman he married. He believed that the moment he got down on one knee, you would’ve burst into tears in front of him and said yes. 

He’d never expected that. 

People (understandably) thought you were fucking crazy. Who would say no to Lando Norris? Who would give up the chance to be rich and famous forever, to have one of the most sought-after men on the planet forever? 

Well, those people didn’t know what it meant to be ‘loved’ by Lando Norris. They didn’t see the constant fights and beratings. They wouldn’t know about the fact that you hadn’t felt like yourself for an entire year. They didn’t know about the sleepless nights, sitting there and wondering, hoping that you were enough. They didn’t know that an engagement ring would've been a prison, not a promise. 

You both walked into his apartment, silent. You hadn’t said ‘no’, saying ‘yes’ while in public just to keep up appearances,  but Lando knew, the second you two got in the car, you weren't happy. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, wrapping his arms around your waist. You allowed yourself to lean into him one last time, be his one last time. That was the Lando you fell for. The one that hugged and kissed you like no one else would ever matter to him, the one that looked at you like you held up the stars just for him. You never expected the honeymoon stage to last forever, but these fights weren’t normal. He ripped apart your character, your appearance, anything, just to make you feel as upset as him. You\’d been together for 4 years, and the problems started when he became Max’s rival.

“Lando, we’re not happy,” you started, feeling his hands drop from your waist. You turned around to face him. “At least, I’m not. I do everything you ask of me. I cook and clean, I dress up nice, I follow you around the fucking world and I gave up my dreams so that you could always have me at races. Now, all we do is fight. I’m fucking sick of it, alright? I’m tired of the fact that you either don’t love me anymore, or you don’t respect me, and I’d like to thank you for the 3 wonderful years we had before this year, and give you back your ring. You deserve someone less ambitious. You deserve someone paper-cut to be a WAG, Lando. I’m not that girl,” you sighed tearily. “When you find her, I suggest you tell her that you can be mean, you can be selfish, and you can be forgetful, but the trade for that is the sweetest man on the planet once the anger wears off. I’ve been around angry men my entire life, and I will not marry one. I’ll grab my things tomorrow. Goodbye Lando,” you brushed back at him, placing the golden engagement ring in his hand as you passed him by. 

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You left Monaco with all of your belongings, and went back home. You bought an apartment, and started your new job as a college professor. Before Lando you had been the best mathematician in the world. You had offers from every college from every college, but you chose the one closest to home. You didn’t think about Lando for months. You focused all of you attention on your students, all of your life was spent around numbers. You were finally happy. For the first time in a long time, you felt appreciated, you felt beautiful, and you felt happy. 

“Y/n,” the British accent you knew so well made you physically cringe. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Is it a mathematical problem?” you asked, not turning around as you sorted through papers. 

“Not really?” he chuckled. “Please just look at me.”

You slowly turned around and looked at him. He looked like shit. 

“I won,” he smiled, but it wasn’t a real smile. “I’m the Champion of the World.”

You held out your hand to shake his. “Congratulations.”

He took it with a frown. “I’m quitting F1.”

You stopped in your tracks when you heard that. “Why?”

“I did something really fucking stupid two years ago, and i need to make it right,” he admitted. “Y/n, I’m sorry. There’s no one else for me. You’re it. You’re my person, you make me feel so alive, so happy, so free, and I couldn’t even imagine what life would be like without you. Then I lived it. And it sucked. I know I’m an asshole, and I know you’re probably much better off without me, but I’m begging you, just let me back in your life, please? I’m falling apart without you baby.”

You stared at him. “Lando, I’m not asking you to stop racing because of me-”

“I did,” he smiled. 

“I’m not taking you back,” you insisted. “You made me feel like a shell of my actual self for a year, and I held on because I knew you needed a punching bag so that you wouldn’t take it out on the people around you. I don’t miss you. I don’t love you. I don’t want to see you.”

His face fell and he was quiet for a moment. “So I’ve really fucked it up?”

“Yeah, now get the fuck out of my lab.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅ A few months went by and the 2026 season started, and Landow as still on the grid, shocker. You didn’t care, he was a fucking asshole who didn’t deserve your time or companionship. You hoped he would choke every race start (which he did), get outperformed by Oscar (which he did), and loose to the WDC to Oscar (which he did). Karma.

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navigation for my blog :)

mclaren masterlist

[cosmicalily]

"santa baby" - a jisung oneshot by @cosmicalily

author's note: san-ta, ba-by !! (i'm such a lauver and have such bad baby fever rn, that's all the context you get!)

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of sickness

“I can’t believe you’re still sick on Christmas Eve,” Jisung pouted, gently running a hand through your hair. He stroked your warm cheek, eyes sad, and you offered him a weak smile.

“I’m sorry Ji, I know we had so many plans,” you sighed, snuggling into him. “Don’t let me stop you. You should still go ice skating with the boys; I’m happy to stay at home, I promise.”

“I don’t wanna,” he whined, sliding down the headboard and further under the covers. Anyone else would keep their distance from someone who’d been nauseous for the past week, but you being under the weather only made Jisung clingier. He wanted to take care of you and stay by your side, making sure you were okay every single second of the day, even when you assured him you just needed a glass of water and a good nap.

Despite your slightly more fragile state, the past few weeks in preparation for Christmas had been oh so cosy and domestic, filled with shopping for gifts (although the two of you ended up with more for each other than your friends and family), comfort food at home in front of the tv, watching Elf approximately 12 times (it was Jisung’s ride-or-die Christmas movie, there was no talking him out of it). Something about the colder season meant the two of you were even more inseparable than usual, always needing an arm or a leg thrust over the other to share a little body heat. Although, right now, with Jisung’s face nestled into your neck and his arms around your waist, you were scorching.

“Baby, I’m really hot right now,” you groaned, trying to push him away. Being the clingy menace he was, he simply held you closer, and you sighed.

“Ji, if you don’t let go, I’m probably gonna throw up,” you said, opting for a more direct approach. That got his brain working, knocking him out of his loved-up mind fog. He snapped up, sitting up straight and looking at you intently, brows furrowed with concern.

“Actually?” he asked worriedly.

“Maybe,” you replied, feeling a little bad for scaring him. But you were feeling nauseous, and it had only been getting worse the past few days. You hoped that by tomorrow you’d feel a little better.

Even if it wasn’t physically, you hoped that Jisung’s excitement, something you anticipated in response to the surprise you had for him, would perk you up. 

“I’m gonna get you some chamomile,” he declared, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead and scrambling out of the bedroom, leaving you feeling a little dazed. You felt warm, probably from the slight fever, but also because of him. 

He was gonna be the best dad.

“I have something for you,” you said suddenly, grabbing the remote and pressing pause on the movie you hadn’t really been paying attention to. The two of you were sprawled on the sofa, Jisung’s head in your lap as you played with his hair. The room was dim and warm, fairy lights sparkling, and it felt magical, yet familiar.

He raised his head curiously. “But it’s not Christmas morning yet,” he replied, looking confused, and you laughed at him. 

“I know. It’s not a proper present; it’s more the promise of one,” you explained vaguely, leaning over the armrest of the sofa and handing him a small box.

Jisung raised an eyebrow, then undid the plaid ribbon, opening the box and retrieving a note. “Unfortunately, these things tend to take a while to arrive, but I promise you’ll have it by August! Love you, sweet boy.” Jisung read aloud, then gave you a strange look, thinking it was some weird prank and expecting you to giggle. However, to his surprise, your eyes were a little glassy, and you reached to hold his hand.

Giving it a gentle squeeze as he unfolded the tissue paper one handed, he found a small stick buried at the bottom. A white plastic one.

With two lines on it.

“Oh my god,” Jisung breathed, holding it closer and then dropping it in shock. “Oh my god, is this real?”

“Why do you think I’ve been feeling so crap the past few days?” you giggled in response, but tears were now rolling down your cheeks. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but I thought it would make the perfect surprise.”

“Oh my god,” Jisung repeated, for once lost for words. He suddenly reached forward, cupping your cheeks with his hands and pressing your foreheads together. “I can’t believe it. I’m so happy, baby, you don’t even know. I’ve been wanting this for so long for us.” Then he paused, scrunching up his nose and dropping the test. "Ew. I can't believe I just touched a stick that you peed on."

“Shut up, that's the only way to find out, dumbass. And I know you have, you’re not subtle,” you chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m so glad I get to do this with you, Ji. You’re going to be the best dad.”

He beamed, eyes shiny, then yanked up your tank top. You squealed in shock, but was placated when he pressed a soft kiss to your belly, looking up at you wistfully.

“Are you gonna call the boys and tell them your news?” you asked, running a hand through his hair as he rested his cheek against your stomach.

“Later,” he said, closing his eyes. “Just wanna be with you right now. And our baby.”

[gasp-hehe]

After work with Gojo Satoru

cw: satoru gojo x female!reader, consensual-somnophilia, edging, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), p in v, doggy style/face down ass up, just some rough love makin' honestly

W.C: 1.9k

MDNI

Satoru gets home late, as usual. He's got little to no will to do anything regardless of his infinite energy, sometimes he wonders what his limit would be without RCT. He doesn't dwell on it too much, a glass of water, a shower, and a new pair of clothes later he's in front of you.

Satoru can't help himself from stopping to just admire you, you're glowing with a thin sheen of sweat on you and he's positive you're fucking perfect. There's nothing he needs more when he comes home from a long day of dealing with sick old fucks than to see you all sweetly splayed out for him laying in bed soundly asleep, wearing his shirt. He thought he was burnt-out, guess you always surprise him huh? Fuck if he can't help himself from stuffing you full right there. Buuttt, he's a gentleman, which is why he's gonna prep you first.

"Need ya t'a be all nice and wet f'me first." He mumbles before kneeling in front of you, lightly tracing the outer edges of his shirt before he slips his hands under your thighs to pull you right where he wants you.

He notices you stirring, debating about waking you up. But when he spreads your thighs, he sees it. You're wearing no panties, your heat seeping past and staining your inner thighs.

"Oh. Ohhh baby, miss me that much huh? I'mma make up for all that lost time love, promise." He whispers, more to himself or your pussy than you.

Satoru wastes no time diving right in. He starts borderline making out with your cunt. It has you whining and bucking in your sleep, not that he cared, because your hole was rewarding him with globs of sickly sweet nectar, just coating his lips. He might just cum from this, he starts humping the bed as he eats you out, flicking his nose on your clit and thrusting his tongue into your pulsing pussy. He's just about gone when he feels your hand reach for his hair and pulll.

Satoru glances up at you with dilated eyes and heaving breaths, almost like he's the one getting eaten out. In your half-delirious and definitely sleepy stupor you don't even understand what you did, but you see little drops of you dripping down his chin to his shirt like condensation and you can't help but moan.

You all but leap into him for a kiss, but he holds you back, "Sorry babe, I uh, I've got some prior commitments."

Satoru pins his weight on you, physically restraining you, then he goes back in, this time straight to your clit. He wraps his lips around your nub, looking straight at you before he sucks. You almost scream, locking your legs around his head and tugging at his hair. Eyes instantly screwed shut in pleasure.

"Look at me." Satoru says, but you know him well enough to know it was more of an order. You glance down at him, his eyes almost glowing in the dark. He maintains eye contact as he spits straight into your core, watching it wink around his saliva.

You can't help but whimper as he starts pushing his spit in with his middle finger, playing you like an instrument. Your brain's riddled with pleasure, making your body comply exactly how he wants, making all your thoughts scream Satoru, making you drool as you look at him.

"Aww love, don't worry I'll take care of ya." He snickers, you barely register it because in the next second, his finger is buried to the hilt inside of you. And instead of moving, he just stays there, inside your cunt.

"S'toru please, baby please."

"Wat'cha want darling? Y'know 'm a kind man, you just gotta ask."

"Wan', want more, no need y'to"

"Need me to what? Hit this spot?" Satoru curves his finger, accurately ramming your g-spot. And once he starts? Oh he doesn't relent. Mercilessly ramming it until you just about cum. Which he takes as his cue to stop all movement and sheath his finger into you.

You sit up, "Huh, no Satoru I was gonna cum why'd you stop?" you can't help your body from the wreaking sob. Mind so foggy that there's only one thing on it, and this fucker right here took it from you.

"Now now, if it was g'nna be this easy it's not fair darling. I just worked my ass off, how 'bout you work a 'lil for this orgasm huh? Satoru tsks, smirking like a little bitch.

You're grumbling, hands balled in anger while your tears of frustration hang right on your lashes.

"You're crying so pretty f'me huh?" Satoru glances down at you as he says this, taking in the sight of your glistening pussy lips, practically speaking to him.

You roll your eyes at him, shifting on wobbly knees 'til you're in front of him and his arrogant face.

"What do you want?"

He strokes his chin, feigning thought. "Hmm, while I would appreciate food, I think I had my fill right there." And he even has the audacity to wink down at you while licking the remnants of your juices of his lips.

Then he glances down at yours, and it's like a lightbulb went off in his head with how bright he's grinning. "Yours look a little chapped there though darling, think they could use some gloss?"

You'd laugh at this in any other situation, but with the ache between your legs growing and the wet spot in his sweats, all you care about is giving Satoru what he needs.

With slightly shaky hands you pull down both his sweats and boxers in one go, having no patience for teasing. His cock springs up and practically bounces against his chest, leaving a small dribble of pre along the way.

There's quite a few titles Satoru holds, 'The Strongest', 'The Hottest' (self-proclaimed), 'Yours', but his cock? They share those titles. The light blush dusting his cheek, which in due time will go to his ears and neck adorning the tip of his cock in the very same colour. The little jerks it does, mimicking his breathing pattern. You could see his pulse quicken with how he begins to flush more, all the way down to the very tip. Your memory could rival a photograph's accuracy on this, because one thing you do not play about? How pretty Satoru and his cock are.

You're broken out of your fantasy with Satoru's giggle, "If I didn't know any better I'd guess you have a crush on me~" he manages to squeak out through another fit of giggles.

You can't help the quirk of your lips, amusement in your eyes when you decide to use this to catch him off-guard. While Satoru is still going on like some child, you envelope his head into your mouth.

His eyes scrunch up as he grabs your hair, holding you at bay before making you sink deeper. Your head bobs along as you suck him further, tonguing at the vein on the underside of his dick that has him groaning like such a slut.

"Yeahh thaaaat's it. Missed this, missed you, shit I love-fuck!" You don't let him finish as he hits the back of your throat, cheeks hollowed out to put more pressure. You gently caress his balls as he starts slowly thrusting into you. Trying to gauge your limits.

He's outright moaning now, not bashfully, but proudly. Using your mouth like a toy. And when you tongue the underside of his head? He's gone, he tenses up and whimpers.

"Shit, I- fuck." He keeps babbling nonsense as he slowly eases out of you. You don't make it any easier, prodding at his slit, kissing up and down his shaft, you both were a match made in hell.

Once he's finally all out, he draaags his cock slowly across your cheeks. Painting your face in his rich and buttery pre, giving your lips the gloss and shine just like he promised. And you? You take it, sat there like a doll for him as you're both catching your breaths.

"Turn around, all 4's."

"What?"

"All 4's, now."

You scramble to get into position, your focus on one thing and one thing only. Satoru peels back the fabric sticking to you, then holding you still as he almost inspects you. He drags his eyes over your dripping slit, guaranteed to make a mess of the sheets. He spreads your folds apart and has a looong sniff.

"Satoru."

He just chuckles, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't as desperate as you, but he just can't help himself from playing with you a bit more.He sinks two fingers into you, watching the way you're hips jerk, as if asking him to hurry up. The second he's buried to the hilt you're finished.

"Please-" He twists his fingers to interrupt you, successfully shutting down your train of thought as it's occupied by his long fingers burning into your soft spots.

"Fuuck, please jus' shit please keep going" You beg him, repeating the same scene over again while looking at him with a dazed look in your glossy eyes.

Satoru coos at you with honeyed words, luring you further in. He makes such a slick mess out of you, the squelching wetness echoing in the silent room. And then suddenly, he sinks another finger, while using his thumb to draw messy circles on your clit. He's going so fast your hands collapse under you, leaving you writhing into the pillow.

"S'too much please wait jus'-"

"Nah. First it wasn't enough, now 's 'too much'? Make up your mind baby."

He has you seeing stars in no time, leaving your legs quivering because he just doesn't stop. Your poor pussy leaking and making a mess as you're forced to just lay there and take it. By the time you come down from your high, your thighs, Satoru's hand, and the sheets are soaked. While you're still reeling in oversensitivity, you feel Satoru line himself up with you, his tip leaving small pecks along your pussy lips.

"Nghh- S'sensitive, 'toru wait-"

"Come on baby, you can take it yeah? I know you're a good girl f'me ain'tcha?"

You wanna say no, you wanna cry and insist you can't take it, but instead you obediently arch your back and your pussy opens up invitingly for him. There's only one brain cell at use currently in your body, and it's located in your pussy.

Satoru hammers into you like a man possessed, you wouldn't be surprised if he was. He's hitting you everywhere, and he doesn't plan on stopping anytime soon.

"This is what I want. None of that curses bullshit, none of those clanhead bitches. Jus' my favourite girl and her cunt."

He can't stop himself, Satoru is notoriously bad with his words, and often his actions can't convey the depth of his feelings. But when he's fucking you? He's taking all that he has, feels, has ever been and will ever be and stuffing it so deep in you that your body understands. It understands his love, it understands his pain, and it understands him.

So no you won't blame Satoru when he wrings another orgasm out of you, leaving you shaking. You won't blame him when he stuffs you so full, reaching places you didn't even know existed and makes you walk with a limp. You won't blame him when he's rendered you useless and turned you into mush, because that's who Satoru is and how he loves.

And he knows you love him because you're ready to do it all over again in a heartbeat.

A.N: this man has possessed me like a vice and made me pump this out in two hours. I'm posting this on my fucking phone because my laptop is glitching, I'm hella mad. The things I do for you Satoru. Regardless, opinions, discussion, even criticism is appreciated, thank you.

[stlllle]

Headcanons: What It’s Like Dating Choi Su-bong (Thanos)

Content: angst, possessiveness, protective façade, soft moments and a very peculiar sense of humor.

Author's notes:

"I like to think that being in a relationship with Thanos would feel like this. Am I wrong? Maybe. Do I care? Not at all! (Honestly, everything I post is just silly little daydreams from my head 😛)

Anyway, if this made you smile, feel free to check out my masterlist! And if you ever feel like it, my requests are open too 🙂 (just don’t forget to read the rules before sending something!)

Masterlist –[link]

---

In the beginning:

He’s not easy to get close to. The kind of guy who’s always watching his back, guarded, intimidating without even trying.

You’d have to push a few times, tease him, start random conversations. He’ll pretend not to care… but he does.

Once he realizes you’re genuinely into him — not out of pity, not for gain — he starts to lower his walls.

Your first kiss happens after a stupid argument, where he grabs your wrist, mutters “Fuck, you drive me insane” and crashes his lips to yours without a warning.

---

His personality in the relationship:

Jealous. Very. The kind of jealousy that doesn’t show in tantrums but simmers under the surface, and if some other guy dares to look at you, his brain is already listing 50 ways to end him.

He’s not the type to say “I love you” all the time, but he shows it: fixing your coat, buying your favorite snack without a word, or pulling you close while walking through the streets.

His humor is dark, sarcastic. He’ll call you names affectionately just to get a reaction.

He hates showing weakness — but when you’re alone, he melts.

---

Private moments:

Loves spooning when you sleep together, but you better never mention it to anyone.

When you’re anxious or upset, he doesn’t know how to comfort with words. So he just sits next to you, holds your hand, runs his fingers through your hair in silence.

Low-key affectionate gestures — like stroking your palm with his thumb when no one’s watching.

His kisses are possessive, always like he’s trying to brand you, needing to prove you’re his.

---

Things he does but won’t admit:

Keeps your pictures saved on his phone.

Watches you sleep and sometimes smiles, but if you catch him, he’ll turn away and grumble “Stop staring, fuck.”

Gets irrationally angry when you’re hurt or sick, like he could protect you from the entire world.

Secretly imagines a future — a small house, just the two of you away from everyone.

---

If someone messes with you:

This man turns into a storm.

It doesn’t matter if it’s verbal or physical, he’ll deal with it immediately.

His glare alone is enough to make people shut up, but if needed, he’ll get physical.

And afterward, he’ll scold you too, like: “Are you insane? Don’t get involved with assholes like that!” — while checking if you’re okay.

---

If you fight:

He’s stubborn and hot-headed.

Will say harsh things in the heat of the moment and regret it hours later.

The type to apologize without words, showing up with your favorite snack or putting on your favorite movie, sitting next to you until you give in.

If you cry, he breaks immediately and feels like shit.

---

In the end:

Loving Choi Su-bong isn’t easy. He’s rough, aggressive, proud. But he’s the kind of man who’d protect what’s his until the very end.

Deep down, all he wants is a safe place to exist — and you become that place.

He’s chaos and home at the same time.

📖🔥 NSFW Headcanons: What It’s Like to Fuck Choi Su-bong (Thanos)

Content: explicit language, rough sex, possessiveness, jealousy, marking, light choking, dirty talk, unprotected sex, primal vibes, rough aftercare.

⚠️ Warning: This is explicit smut content. If you're underage or uncomfortable with possessive and rough themes, skip this one.

---

The Build-Up:

He’s not the type for romantic candlelight setups. Most of the time, it starts with tension — heavy looks, sharp words, a fight, or jealousy.

--

He loves when you snap back at him, it gets him hard instantly.

That “don’t fucking talk to me like that” turns into “come here and say that again” real fast.

--

He’ll corner you against a wall, one hand on your jaw, voice low and dangerous:

“Say it again. I fucking dare you.”

--

And you both know where it’s headed.

---

The Sex:

Rough. Desperate. Unapologetic.

He fucks like it’s a war — like he needs to leave you shaking, marked up and ruined so you’ll remember who owns you.

Loves hair pulling. Neck biting. Pushing you down onto the mattress and taking what he wants.

His favorite thing? Making you beg. Doesn’t care how tough you act, he’ll break you down, whispering in your ear:

“Look at you, begging for my cock. Knew you’d fold for me.”

Low, growled moans and filthy words in your ear.

---

Favorite Positions:

Doggystyle, no question.

Loves gripping your hips so hard it leaves bruises, pulling you back against him, watching the way your ass bounces with every thrust.

Also loves you riding him — watching you take him, controlling the pace, hands on your waist, murmuring “That’s it, baby. Take it like a good girl.”

On rare nights when he’s softer (but still possessive), missionary. Holding your face, staring into your eyes while he fucks you deep.

---

Jealousy and Marking:

If someone flirts with you? You’re not walking straight the next day.

Will bite, suck, and scratch you until you’re covered in marks — shoulders, thighs, neck, inner thighs.

And he makes you show them off.

“Pull your shirt down. Let them see who you belong to.”

Possessive growls when you moan his name. Nothing makes him come harder than hearing you scream “Su-bong” while falling apart for him.

---

Aftercare (His Way):

He’s not good with words but takes care of you.

Gets you water, cleans you up, holds you close afterward, even if he pretends it’s nothing.

Runs his rough hand through your hair, brushes kisses on your temple.

Grumbles if you say you’re sore, but secretly loves it.

“Told you to be careful, brat.” — while pulling you tighter against him.

---

Extra:

Obsessed with cumming inside you.

“You’re mine. All of you. Inside and out.”

Gets harder when you talk dirty back — it triggers something primal in him.

Will absolutely fuck you against a wall, in a car, wherever. He doesn’t care.

If you ever tease him in public, expect to be wrecked the moment you’re alone.

---

[aubvrns]

"Longer Than A Fortnight"

| SVU & Headcanons

Synopsis — Their love languages towards you, and the kind they want to receive.

Note — Olivia Benson, Elliot Stabler, Alexandra Cabot, Casey Novak

(Female centered, but no pronouns used.)

———————————————————————

!!

Olivia Benson

• — Olivia Benson is 100% acts of service.

• — She is the kind of lover that will tie your shoelaces, even if she’s running late.

• — WILL AND I MEAN WILL, do the simplest tasks for you just because she can!

• — "What you do mean you went out to get groceries? Without me?"

• — Her way of saying "I love you." is to comb your hair after you finished showering, and she asks you to sit on her lap as she does. (biting my fists rn)

• — Though, she craves for words of affirmation.

• — She didn’t grow up in a home where she felt appreciated, nor did she ever felt the comfort of her parents.

• — But she knew she loved you when you told her the sweetest sentence ever.

• — "I love you so much that you make me get out of bed to get groceries."

• — Seconds later, you felt arms behind you. Not long enough before your shoulder dampens.

Elliot Stabler

• — This man is so quality time.

• — He knows he has a dangerous job that occupies his time, hours and hours in the precinct.

• — But any chance he gets, he will come home to you.

• — "Pack your bags, we’re going to Italy!"

• — He’s afraid of losing you, or letting you go to the plane’s bathroom because you’re comfortable in his arms.

• — Amidst the turbulence, he enjoys your physical touch.

• — From all the abuse and torment he witnessed, it’s rare for him to feel safe nowadays.

• — That’s why he isn’t afraid to admit that he loves the way you kiss his forehead, trace patterns on his gentle calloused hands, or spooning him when he gets nightmares.

• — "Italy won’t run away, let’s just stay 5 more minutes in bed."

• — More so, your vanilla scented hair was his view of a vacation.

Alexandra Cabot

• — Shoot me when I say this blonde’s love language isn’t giving gifts.

• — Being a lawyer with an amazing conviction rate also means having money, money, money!

• — She enjoys spoiling you, giving you everything you need and want just because she can. She refuses to let you reach for your wallet, at all.

• — "I bought the necklace you stared at earlier!"

• — Besides your lips, Ms. Cabot also tracks your eyes. (i would like to have you for christmas)

• — Staring at you, she never noticed how much she longed for acts of service.

• — Her parents were always away, and she was left alone. Her parents’ money were their way of saying they’re sorry they couldn’t come to her graduation.

• — She was surprised when you called in sick, even though she was the one coughing like there’s no tomorrow.

• — "What do you mean I could’ve bought myself medicine instead of your necklace?"

• — You can’t help but smile as you sat beside her laying body, wiping her warm face with a wet cloth as she explains how much your necklace reminds her of your eyes.

Casey Novak

• — This redheaded loser in a hot body cannot go on a day without physical touch.

• — She was raised as an affectionate child, expressing her love greatly as her parents did.

• — Her auburn hair is as warm as her as you lay between her arms, her face on the crook of your neck as she sleeps soundly.

• — "If only court saw how soft and adorable you are when you sleep, you wouldn’t seem so intimidating." You say, playing with her hair.

• — Smiling lovingly, she unconsciously pulls you closer.

• — Aside from her comfort, she adores your words of affirmation.

• — She was the kid who would wait in her teachers’ approval, hoping that she did good enough for their expectations.

• — Luckily for her, she didn’t have to wait anymore.

• — "You think I look soft and adorable when I sleep? I think I want to kiss you right now."

• — And she did, like the soft and adorable loser she is.

!!

[rinnstars]

all sides of you!

the five love languages rin shows to you

itoshi rin x reader: fluff, hcs/drabble, not proofread, likes n reblogs are appreciated <3

words of affirmation

- at the beginning, i think hes a lot more averse to saying romantic stuff so its more of in a long term/after months of dating

- mainly leaves sticky notes/passes notes during class/at home with what he wants to say ar rhe beginning

- after a while tho, he’ll try to at least praise you/compliment you irl then slowly tell you he loves you (altho rarely at the beginning)

- has a bunch of scribbled notes he never passed to you all filled with confessions/ things he wants to say that he eventually says at the back of his closet in a box (because he thinks its sentimental)

- a lot better at expressing his feelings and can say them without freaking out internally or stuttering before giving up and calling you a mean nickname to neutralise the compliment

- believes in a speak not tell but he knows communication is key so he’ll try his best so bear with him

- slowburn moment for this but its 100% worth it when he comes home from competition and all he can say is repeatedly whisper i love u into your ear as he pulls you closer into his embrace

physical touch

- again, at first hes a bit touch averse / awkward with hugs/kisses but after a while of dating..

- 100% super clingy esp after coming back from competition/bllk : his hands have to be somewhere on your skin, doesnt matter where hes not picky

- has to sleep with you, hugging you like youre his plushie (drools a little too btw)

- links pinky when you guys walk together doeznt matter where “you’ll get lost” excuse except his entire face goes pink at the touch of your hands

- really likes kissing your neck, he thinks its rlly cute when he can hear you & esp if it leaves a mark :p

- has piggy-backed you before even when youre not lying about your shoes hurting or being tired to be carried by him

- enjoys being babied ngl like he loves it sm when you pepper his face with kisses while he just lies there or when you comb his hair with your fingers: he feels like hes in heaven esp after stressful days

quality time

- tries to see you everyday : either through school/going to yours/his house, dates, or even facetime call

- calls you every night when hes overseas btw and during breaks he’ll try to text you back n reply to your messages

- the type to make up excuses just to hang out with you like “oh i need to get new shoes, come with me” even though he has 2038839 different pairs and then have to huy another one because he cant be caught (you can tell)

- wld go on “study” dates where he just stares at you 3/4 of rhe time and actually doesnt finish any of his “assignments”

- has gone on hangouts where both of you just chill in silence n rlly likes it because theres no pressure to do anything and its kind of calming/relaxing esp after having to deal with teammates n whatnot during work

- wld watch you play games/do anything while he sits beside you, just enjoying your company even if he craves a little more but thats alright by him

acts of service

- lowkey such an act of service guy like even pre-relationship even if he makes excuses for him bc hes trying to be #idgaf

- the type to rush to your home with meds/food/everything if you text him youre sick after missing school

- i feel like. he just kind of enjoys the peacefulness of like cleaning and would do it whenever hes stressed (ignoring the loud music he listens to)

- would bring your necessities sometimes, and ends up at some point lending a hairtie to reo (he has a pack of hair ties bought for you at all times)

- anytime he goes out to get food/on the way home, he’ll always get a portion of what youd like just in case, and doeznt mind just eating it as leftover if you dont want it

- has a notepad on his phone on your favourite orders (drinks, meals, desserts etc)

- if youre forgetful, he’ll text you to remind you : whether that be to attend events/eat lunch at proper times/buy something

- would go back to the store if he didn’t buy what you wanted/if you wanted something else without any hesitation as long as it makes you smile even if he doesn’t admit it

- would learn how to take pictures for you on his own accord : you didn’t even realise until one day you pass him your digicam and suddenly he was an expert photographer compared to just months ago when. you started dating where his hand was blocking the camera

giving gifts

- has a matching necklace with you at all times and its his lucky charm and he’ll 100% kiss it before a game / when he wins the game

- shared wishlist on online stores except he stalks through yours and buys them for you randomly to surprise you

- if you have something spoiled/doesnt work as well, doesnt matter if its a home appliance/jeans that don’t fit etc, he’ll buy one for you without any hesitation when he goes out/on his phone

- gets you trinkets/keychains/stuff that reminds him of you including any sanrio/anime/designs you like / even your favourite food ie. chocolates/candies/chips from different countries he goes to for matches

- would notice if you wore his gifts or not and try to buy more things that you like more ie. if you like silver accessories more, he’ll buy more of those

- even during school days, he would 100% blow his money on arcades if you like to play claw machine/those rhythms games and watch you play and sometimes if you don’t get it, he’ll try to get them after his football training for you and pass it to you as nonchalantly as you can the next day

- always buys matching things: that bracelet he bought you? yup he has an exact pair in his drawers, feels its more meaningful and intimate

- if you ever ask for anything, just know he’s willing to give you that and the whole world and even the whole galaxy

-