#maybe one day I’m gonna get to wear that dress

[wordsofwhimsy]

❀ꗥ～𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 ～ꗥ❀

❀ꗥ～ Part Two ～ꗥ❀

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x Southern Belle!Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Fluff, slice-of-life, southern charm overload

Word Count: 2,303

Synopsis: Mark is definitely not obsessed with the new girl in school—he’s just... curious. Totally casual. Until she invites him to lunch under the big tree out front and serves up a full-on southern picnic. Between the cloth napkins and sweet tea, Mark finds himself spiraling farther into the honey-soaked abyss.

a/n: we in this y'all!!!! idk how many parts i'm gonna make for this but reader really got my ass in a mf chokehold 😭 boutta write a self insert x southern belle!reader fic LMAO jk

read part one ❀ꗥ～ Here! ～ꗥ❀

Mark walked into the cafeteria like he did every day—casual. Breezy. Totally unbothered. He was just a guy. Just a regular guy getting lunch like everybody else.

So what if he’d spent the last three hours thinking about the girl who sat next to him in biology? The one who talked like sweet tea tasted and looked like she’d stepped off the set of Gone with the Wind. That was… normal. Totally.

His eyes swept across the room as he passed the lunch line, definitely not looking for anyone in particular. Nope. Not at all. He was just… checking the place out. You know. Casually. Like a guy who did not care at all.

And yet—his gaze kept drifting. The same corners. The same tables. Maybe she left early. Maybe she wasn’t a cafeteria person. Maybe—

“So…” William’s voice cut in, eyeing him like he was trying to spot a fever. “You gonna stare into space all lunch or actually eat something?”

Mark blinked, yanked out of his spiral. “Huh? Yeah. I’m good. Totally fine.” He dropped his tray onto the table and shoved a handful of fries into his mouth like that would make it true. “Just thinking.”

“About what? The pizza?” William poked at his slice like it might bite him. “Pretty sure that thing’s been here since last semester.”

Mark gave a weak laugh, but his thoughts were already sliding back to you.

“Have you met the new girl yet?” The words slipped out before he could stop them. Like his brain had just been waiting for an opening.

William furrowed his brow, then his eyes lit with recognition. “Oh, the girl from Georgia? The one in that dress? Looked like she just wandered off the battlefield at Gettysburg?”

Mark choked a little on his soda. “She’s not—okay, she’s got a style. It’s charming.”

William smirked. “She was wearing pearls dude.”

Mark didn’t even try to fight the smile spreading across his face. “I know. It was… kinda amazing. She sat next to me in biology. She called me sugar.”

William snorted, shaking his head. “Are you—actually, yeah I believe it.” He leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “She would talk like a Southern Living magazine. Bet she drinks lemonade out of mason jars too.”

Mark leaned in, too excited to care. “She said something to me—I can’t remember exactly—but it was like… ‘You look sweeter than a cricket dipped in molasses on a June afternoon.’”

William blinked. “That’s… not a sentence.”

“No, no, it was something about pie. Or syrup? Maybe biscuits?” Mark frowned, trying to dig it back up. “‘Pretty as a pie cooling on the sill?’” He paused. “...That’s not right.”

William tilted his head, clearly entertained now. “You okay, man?”

Mark snapped back, blinking. “Huh?”

“I didn’t know you had a thing for southern girls.”

Mark opened his mouth to deny it. To say it wasn’t like that. That he was totally, absolutely fine. But instead, what came out was: “She gave me a butterscotch.”

William stared. Then nodded. “Oh yeah. You’re gone.”

But before Mark could sink any deeper into the warm, sugary spiral that was his brain on you, a flicker of movement outside the cafeteria windows caught his eye.

Under the biggest tree on campus—sprawling and sun-dappled like a snapshot straight off a postcard—there you were. Flowery dress. Ruffled sleeves. Lunchbox open beside you like something out of a 1950s Coca-Cola ad.

And then, like it was choreographed by fate itself—you looked up.

Right at him.

Mark froze. You smiled, your whole face lighting up like you’d been hoping he’d be look your way. Then you gave a little wave, the kind that made his stomach do cartwheels.

His first instinct was to look behind him. Surely you weren’t—wait. You were pointing. At him. Then you lifted your lunchbox slightly, tilted your head, and gave a beckoning little gesture, like Well, come on over, sugar.

Mark didn’t even feel himself move. His body had apparently filed for independence from his brain. One second he was at the table, the next he was halfway to the door.

“Dude,” William called after him. “You haven’t even finished your—”

Too late. He was already floating out the door like a cartoon character, drawn by the siren call of sweet tea, sunshine, and maybe—just maybe—a second butterscotch.

Mark tried to play it cool as he walked across the lawn. He really did.

He slowed his steps. Smoothed his sweater. Tried to remember how arms were supposed to move when walking like a normal person and not a malfunctioning robot. Unfortunately, none of it mattered, because the moment you looked up at him with that sweet, sunshiney smile—he short-circuited all over again.

“Well, hey there, darlin’,” you said, tucking a curl behind your ear. “You looked awfully lonely in that big ol’ cafeteria. Thought maybe you’d come keep me company.”

I will keep you company every day. I will build you a porch swing. I will learn how to make sweet tea from scratch. I will fight a bear for you. Just say the word.

Out loud, he managed: “Uh… sure. Yeah. That’d be cool.”

But as he got closer, he noticed something that almost made him trip.

You hadn’t just plopped down on the grass with a brown bag like everyone else. No—oh no. You had laid out a whole blanket. A soft yellow one, perfectly smoothed out beneath you like you were about to host a garden party and not just eat lunch behind the gym. There were napkins—cloth. A pastel plaid lunchbox. Was that… a tiny jar of honey?

Mark’s brain short-circuited again.

“You brought… a picnic?” he asked, voice caught somewhere between awe and confusion.

You just smiled and patted the spot beside you with one perfectly manicured hand. “Of course I did, sugar. What kind of lady eats her lunch sittin’ in the dirt like a possum?”

He sat slowly, like if he moved too fast you might vanish in a puff of lavender and lemon bars.

“I, uh… I usually just grab fries and call it a day,” he admitted.

“Well, that simply won’t do,” you said, already pulling out what looked like an entire home-cooked meal from your lunchbox. “I brought extra.”

Mark tried not to stare. There was a thermos. Cornbread. A spoon wrapped in a cloth napkin embroidered with your initials. The world around him went fuzzy.

“You, uh… pack lunch every day?” he asked, dazed.

“Mmmhmm,” you hummed, unscrewing the thermos lid. “Can’t rightly trust these cafeteria folks with my grits.”

Mark blinked. “Wait, you have grits in there?”

“Cheddar bacon,” you said with a proud little grin. “Made ’em this mornin’. Threw in just a pinch of hot sauce, too—don’t worry, not enough to make your ears ring.”

“You made these? Before school??”

You shrugged like it was nothing. “Sure did. Even had time to iron my skirt while the biscuits were browning.”

Mark stared. You offered him a spoonful of grits like you were handing him a sacred gift. He accepted it like one.

“Okay, uh, full disclosure, I don’t think I’ve ever actually had grits before,” he said.

You gasped, genuinely scandalized. “Never had grits? Oh, sugar, that’s a sin in some counties. Go on now—first bite’s the best.”

He took a bite. And stopped.

He blinked. Looked down. Looked back up at you.

“…This is stupid good,” he mumbled through a mouthful. “Like—I think I saw God for a second.”

You beamed. “Aren’t you sweet? They came out alright, I s’pose. Didn’t have time to melt a pat of butter on top.”

Mark laughed. “No, seriously. You’re like… a magician. Even without the butter.”

You leaned back on your elbows, pearls catching the sunlight. “And you,” you said with a wink, “are sweeter than my meemaw’s tea.”

Mark was absolutely, positively, entirely gone.

And just when he thought he couldn’t sink deeper—

“Oh!” you chirped, reaching back into your lunchbox. “Almost forgot dessert.”

Mark blinked. “There’s dessert?”

You unwrapped a tiny square of wax paper like it was gold, revealing a perfectly round, homemade pecan pie. An actual pie. At high school.

“I made a whole batch last night,” you said like it was nothing. “Wanted to bring one in case I made a new friend today.”

Mark stared at the pie. Then you. Then the pie again.

He almost said I love you out loud. Swallowed it back down with a wheeze. Accepted the pie like the precious relic it was.

It was flaky. Warm. Sweet. Perfect.

He let out a low, involuntary noise of appreciation. “Oh my god. That’s insane. How are you real?”

You just smiled sweetly, wiping a crumb off your skirt. “It’s just a little family recipe, s’all. Nothing special.”

Mark stared at you. No. It absolutely was something special. You were something special. The picnic blanket. The pearl necklace. The handmade pie. The fact that you didn’t even notice the effect you had on people—that you didn’t seem to realize you were currently starring in a very real, very serious romantic comedy happening exclusively inside his head.

And then you looked out across the lawn, something wistful in your eyes.

“This place is real different from where I grew up,” you said softly.

Mark blinked, the last bite of pie halfway to his mouth. “Yeah?”

“Mmmhmm,” you nodded, brushing your hands together to shake off some crumbs. “Back home, you can’t go ten minutes without runnin’ into somebody you know. My whole high school was the size of y’all’s lunchroom.”

Mark smiled, resting his chin on his hand like a lovesick golden retriever. “What was it like?”

You didn’t even notice the way he was looking at you. You were already off and ramblin’, voice all soft and syrupy and full of color.

“Well, let’s see… mornings usually started with the rooster two houses over gettin’ real full of himself. Mama always made sweet tea first thing—even before coffee—and you better believe if you didn’t say ‘good mornin’’ to every person you passed, someone’s auntie was gonna hear about it before you got home.”

Mark let out a soft laugh, totally enchanted.

“Church on Sundays, of course. Even if you didn’t believe in a lick of it, you showed up dressed to the nines and brought a pie so nobody asked too many questions. Summer nights were all lightning bugs and cicadas. And the air always smelled like grass and honeysuckle and heat.”

Mark smiled. “Heat has a smell?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you said, nodding like it was a universal truth. “Smells like pavement and freedom and the inside of your daddy’s truck after he’s been workin’ all day.” You laughed softly at yourself, brushing a curl back from your face. “Sorry, I’m ramblin’.”

“No—no, don’t stop,” Mark said quickly, leaning in without realizing it. “Seriously, I could listen to you talk forever.”

You smiled, a little bashful. “Aren’t you just the sweetest…”

But before you could say anything else—

BRRRRRRRRRRRRING.

The lunch bell screamed through the courtyard like it was personally out to ruin Mark’s life.

Mark flinched like he’d just been shot. “No. Noooooo,” he whispered under his breath, staring at the speaker mounted on the side of the building like it had committed a heinous crime against him personally.

You barely looked up, already starting to close your lunchbox with a frown. “Oh, I know, right?” you said, like he’d just commented on the weather. “Lunch period is way longer back home—forty-five minutes, sometimes an hour if the buses were runnin’ late. I mean, honestly, how’s a person supposed to eat a proper meal in thirty minutes? It’s barbaric.”

Mark blinked at you, utterly speechless. You were out here making actual points while he was two seconds away from flying up and ripping the school’s PA system out of the wall with his bare hands.

You just shook your head and sighed dramatically. “No time to digest, no time to gossip… and Lord knows I don’t rush when there’s pie involved.”

He stared. Absolutely down horrendous.

You crouched to fold up your picnic blanket with practiced grace, not a single crumb or wrinkle out of place. It was like witnessing the southern belle version of a superhero packing up her gear.

Mark watched you, stunned. You weren’t just charming—you were a menace. A dainty, smiling, cornbread-wielding menace.

You stood, tucking the blanket into your tote with care, and gave him that signature, sunshiney smile like you hadn’t just turned his entire world upside down.

“S’pose I’ll see you tomorrow, darlin’,” you said sweetly, adjusting the strap of your lunchbox like you were heading off to a garden party instead of sixth period. “Thanks for keepin’ me company.”

Mark just nodded, completely useless, mouth opening like he had something to say—anything—but nope. Nothing. Brain? Offline. Vocabulary? Deleted. All that came out was a vague, helpless little “Yeah.”

And with that, you turned and strolled across the grass, curls bouncing, the scent of peach preserves still lingering in the air behind you like a spell.

Mark stood there for a solid five seconds, staring at the spot where you’d been like he’d just watched the sun walk away from him.

Then he looked down at the almost empty pie tin in his hands. Looked up at the bell speaker. Back at the grass.

“…I’m gonna marry that girl,” he whispered, stunned.

He was so far gone, he didn’t even hear William walk up behind him.

“You gonna finish that, or just keep whispering to it like a weirdo?”

Mark jolted, clutching the tin protectively. “Get your own.”

[bitchinbarzal]

One photo | Just fine AU

Kaia didn’t ask for much.

She didn’t need a big party or a fancy dinner. She didn’t even want a spa day. All she asked — begged, really — was for one decent family photo.

Just one.

All of them. Together. Looking like they maybe, possibly had their lives somewhat together.

So she picked a Sunday. Chose neutral tones. Hired a sweet local photographer named Lily who promised to bring bubbles and snacks for the kids.

She laid out outfits the night before. Brushed curls. Charged the camera. Even bribed Elodie with jellybeans.

It was supposed to be easy.

It was never going to be easy.

First, Elodie hated her dress.

“I look like a boring buttercup!” she shouted. “Who wears beige?! I need SPARKLE!”

Before Kaia could intervene, Elodie sprinted upstairs and came back down in the same dress — now dusted in pink glitter.

“Now I’m a shimmering buttercup,” she said proudly.

Kaia nearly cried.

Clayton was already annoyed.

“I was gonna hit the driving range this morning,” he muttered, adjusting his collar for the third time.

Kaia gave him a look.

He backtracked. “Not more important than family, obviously.”

Weston had ripped off his shirt by the time they got to the photo spot and was rolling a toy truck through the mud.

“MOMMY I A MONSTER TRUCK,” he roared, face streaked with dirt, hair sticking up like a scarecrow.

Miles was fussy. Refused his bottle. Didn’t want to be held. Did want to scream.

Elodie pouted in the corner because her glitter was “not being captured properly on film.”

Kaia stood in the middle of it all, staring at her vision unraveling.

And something inside her broke.

“Forget it,” she said, throwing her hands up. “It doesn’t matter.”

The photographer blinked. “Kaia—”

“No,” she snapped, laughing bitterly. “I should’ve known. This is stupid. It was one thing. Just one thing I wanted for myself.”

She turned, shoulders tight, walking back toward the car.

Clayton watched her go. Watched the kids melt down one by one. Watched Elodie spill more glitter. Watched Weston throw his truck into a bush.

And he got it.

She never asked for anything.

So he took a deep breath, picked up a screaming Miles, and rallied.

“El,” he said. “You know what would really show off your glitter?”

Her eyes lit up. “What?”

“A real photo. Where you pose like the sparkle queen you are.”

She considered. “Fine. But I need my flower crown.”

“Done.”

He scooped Weston into his arms. “Truck boy, we wear shirts for photos. That’s the law.”

“NOOOO—”

“I’ll give you five M&Ms.”

“…Okay.”

He gently laid Miles in the stroller and bounced it just enough to calm him.

Then he walked over to Kaia.

Wrapped his arm around her.

Whispered, “You wanted one thing. Let’s get you your one thing.”

She blinked at him, surprised. “It’s all falling apart.”

“We’re a mess,” he said. “But we’re your mess. Let’s take the damn photo.”

The photo? It wasn’t perfect.

Elodie had glitter in her hair and one shoe on.

Weston’s shirt was on backwards.

Clayton had spit-up on his collar.

Kaia had tears in her eyes and a crooked smile.

But they were all in it.

Together.

And it turned out to be her favorite photo in the world.

Because it was messy.

But it was theirs.

[evanescentnightmares]

I was meant to be walking down the aisle in six months and today the wedding is being cancelled. Things never work out how you think they will.

[artemisiasmuse]

rafe cameron x sweet virgin!reader

she told you she celibate but she told me I can nail her shit

cw: mdni 18+, virgin!reader but has some other experience, lowkey a freak tho, toxic rafe, corruption kink : >, size kink, first times, rafe goes a lil crazy, sweetie pie reader x insane yandere bf rafe is lowkey my favorite trope

~ 6k words

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves <3 i didn’t read this over and i’m so sorry if there’s hella mistakes i will fix it later! this may or not be self-insert yes even that part

the trouble all began with sarah cameron and her big mouth. well really both of you were to blame, but you’d think she would be quieter when her older brother was lurking around. you were older than her by a few years, closer to his age than hers, not that it mattered though, rafe treated you like you were practically wheezie’s age. you didn’t let it sting you any more you had long gotten over trying to be seen as a woman in rafe cameron’s eyes. or maybe you just stopped watching him, he’s always noticed you but you felt out reach, until now. when he overhears his sister’s words he almost breaks the glass of water he’s holding.

“a virgin at 19 looking like you do is insane” sarah looked you up and down as you tried on the dress you’d bought together at the mall. you got shy at her words, you knew she wasn’t judging you but instead genuinely in disbelief that men weren’t throwing themselves at you. you had long mastered the art of looking unapproachable and uninterested after too many bad experiences.

“stoppp is it so hard to believe, you know how bad it’s been for me?” he really hopes no one sees him leaning against the wall next to his sister’s door, he’d look like such a weirdo. wheezie would never let him live this down, she’d barely held back on letting his little crush slip before. if sarah ever found out he’d be in another hell.

“fuck you’re right, if they can’t make you come what’s the point?” rafe winced at his sister’s words, willing away the temptation to gag. he was trying to focus on the fact that no guy had made you come before instead.

“you’re awful, but i’m done with men for a long time. im gonna focus on college and not waste time on them.” he relished in the twisted feeling that no one could touch you, even if the losers before had a chance they clearly couldn’t cut it.

“righttt being in a dorm filled with horny guys is gonna make that easier.” sarah deadpanned and you shoved her, seeing her point. you hadn’t thought about it like that.

“okay leave me alone i’ve been successful so far”

“oh my god speak of the devil, john b’s calling me over, can you cover for me? i’ll be back in like two hours max, promise.” you were a little disappointed she was leaving you but you knew how difficult it was for her to see him without someone covering for her. you nodded and pulled out your phone.

“fine but i’m ordering pizza,” rafe didn’t know if he should be terrified or elated that you two would be home alone for two hours. why did it have to be today that the rest of his family fucked off? was this divine intervention?

“save me a slice!” rafe could hear his sister rustling around, getting ready to go, so he did the same.

“you’re gonna be too busy eating di-“ rafe promptly ran off at that. he’d heard enough, his imagination would run wild with this new information.

it was half an hour later when, like clockwork, rafe made sure to be near the front door for the pizza delivery. he paid and tipped the guy, while you were making your way down at the sound of the doorbell. he hurries back upstairs, nearly running into you on the stairs. your eyes trace his pretty features and then land on the box in his hands, shock and horror cascading your face. rafe can’t believe that you look so good even now, you’re wearing a crop top with seemingly no bra underneath and high waisted sweatpants. to him you look like a model.

“hey! that’s my pizza” rafe laughs and continues up the stairs, you turn on your heel and follow him up. you’re kinda hangry and your pizza being held hostage is not helping your mood.

“i just paid for it so i don’t think so.” you both reach the top of the stairs but rafe isn’t stopping, he’s going to his room instead. this won’t do, he’ll lock the door and slam it in your face, you quickly move to stand in front of him blocking the path to his doorway. rafe thinks it’s cute that you think that would stop him, he feels a bit stir crazy over how small you look gazing up at him

“i’ll pay you back!” your hands shoot up against the doorframe, blocking entry even further. he wants to tease you a bit more but the idea of sharing a pizza in his room is way more tempting.

“nah it’s fine just let me have some.” you release your blockade and let him move past you, still with his-your pizza in his hold, following him mindlessly. if you were less hungry you would’ve realized eating pizza with your longtime crush and best friend’s brother in his room sitting on his bed was in fact not a great idea. but that fleeting concern is out the window when he opens the box and you climb onto his bed like it’s second nature. rafe does his best to stay concentrated on the present, it’s difficult when your shirt rides up and a sliver of your stomach is displayed, it looks so soft and untouched and he really isn’t hungry for pizza, he never was.

“i was gonna offer anyways for the record.” you say it while picking up a slice and rafe mirrors your action, laughing at your tone.

“yeah sure you were princess,” you ignore the way his voice sounds, the way he says your name, the way his room smells like him and it’s making your head spin.

rafe watches you eat transfixed when you lick the tips of your fingers, he can’t believe that he’s struggling to control himself over pizza but your words are ringing in his head.

“rafe do you have any napkins?” you hold up your greasy fingers and he nods his head dazedly, getting up to grab some for you and taking the pizza box off his bed with him. you move to get off then, looking around his room, you knew he wouldn’t appreciate if you snooped through his things so you just look at the pictures on the wall, the books he has. rafe finds you standing near his desk when he comes back, wordlessly handing you the napkins.

“i always forget you have a motorcycle.” your head motions towards the helmet resting on the surface of his desk.

“i don’t use it as much now.” he leaned back against the footboard of his bed, arms crossed against his chest as he watched you look at his stuff. he couldn’t figure out why you were still in his room, were you that curious?

“can i ride it? i’ve always wanted to try.” yeah rafe might just pass out now. you don’t even know what you’re doing to him, head cocked to the side looking at him so innocently he can barely hold back much longer.

“sure but i gotta teach you the basics so you don’t crash.” rafe is proud of himself for even stringing a sentence together in response. you notice a slight flush to his cheeks and ears.

“okay that’s fair.” you turn towards him, mirroring his form and leaning back against his desk. there’s a few feet between you but rafe thinks it would be so easy to lift you onto the mahogany and kiss you until you can’t breathe. his shorts feel so restrictive and he’s grateful he’s wearing black. he can’t hold back any longer, he has to know.

"is it true?" the words come out rushed, unsure of if they should even be said in the first place. but rafe’s not a quitter and he doesn’t shy away from anything really, even if the past few hours feel like a dream he would have in middle school.

"is what true?" your head does that thing again like a puppy and he nearly keels over, you’re too adorable for your own good. his gaze flits away for a second, he has to commit. your trusting expression and your airy tone make it all the more hard.

"no guy's made you come before?" you blink in shock twice before covering your face with your hands. this must be the most embarrassing moment of your life.

"ugh you heard that?"

"yeah you guys aren't exactly quiet" you might have to kill sarah cameron in her sleep, if she even comes back that is. you don’t know why you answer him, you could have just ran away but the magnetic pull of rafe cameron coaxes you to answer.

"yeah it's true" you sound defeated and rafe has to hold back a snicker, he watches you peer through your fingers at him, watching his expression.

"well i can rectify that..you know for the sake of mankind and all" there’s a smirk on his lips as he says the words that will haunt you forever. you’re sure he’s just messing with you and you huff a breath of disbelief. did he know about your little crush? you’d been hiding it so well for the past few years!

"don't tease me, rafe" you step away from his desk, moving to leave his room. even if it was just the two of you in the house you’d much rather sit in sarah’s room or watch the tv than be ridiculed.

"i'm not, it'd be a shame if a pretty girl like you gave up on men, especially for me." it’s almost as if someone dumped a bucket of cold water on your head when rafe cameron speaks. pretty girl the first time he’s called you anything that might suggest you’re not just his sister’s friend. the world spins on its axis and you try to grasp onto his words, try to understand that he might be genuine but you can’t. there’s still that voice of doubt telling you he’s just messing with you. rafe watches your expression go from shock to disappointment, you don’t believe him. he supposes it’s not that believable when he’s been purposefully avoiding you for a while. you must think he’s just messing with you, but he’s dead serious. he’ll just have to prove it.

“whatever rafe i don’t have time for your games.” you mumble it and leave his room, slamming the door a bit harder than you intended. the next few hours are torture. rafe cameron planted an insidious weed in your mind and it’s growing exponentially.

of course it’s not the first time you’ve imagined it, you’d often thought about what his long thick fingers would feel like. or how his biceps would feel under your hands if you held onto them for support. you’d fantasized about every part of him, even the tip of his nose. so the idea that it might just be within your reach had you spiraling. you took a cold shower, not that it helped, your underwear was still soaked after. no guy you’d been with had made you so wet, let alone before even touching you. it was as if the universe was testing you. a sick thrum in your body had found its way into your bones, vibrating with need and you paced in your best friend’s room thinking over all the consequences.

when you’d reached the conclusion that even if he was sincere it was still a bad idea, your phone pinged. a text from sarah that read: “i’m gonna be staying the night here, if you’re already asleep i’ll see you in the morning 🤍” with all your internal turmoil you hadn’t realized it was past the two hours she’d said. she would be out all night. you and rafe were home alone, all night. you swallowed down the lump in your throat, your heart pounding your chest. your feet were moving faster than your head, the pitter patter of your footsteps almost as fast as your heartbeat, and before you knew it you were in front of his door. you hesitated for a second breathing in deep once before knocking, the light was still on so you knew he was awake.

“yeah?” rafe did his best to hide the satisfaction he felt seeing you twitchy and shy in front of his door. you swallowed down again, looking up at him with as much confidence as you could. there was a few seconds of silence, he gave you the time you needed, looking down at you with bright inviting eyes.

“is your offer still on the table?” his face split into a grin, moving aside to let you in like you’d done before and with no hesitation you pushed past him. even the small graze of your shoulder against him set his skin ablaze. he was going to lose his mind.

“‘doesn’t really have an expiration date.” your mind was blanking at his every advance, you tried not to think about his words, you couldn’t afford to fall deeper for him.

“just don’t like tell anyone about this?” you murmured, watching him close the door behind you two and getting a bit nervous. if sarah found out you’d be in for hell. losing your virginity to your best friend’s brother wasn’t exactly a great conversation to have.

“i’m not topper don’t worry.” you believed him, rafe despite his other faults, was always respectful.

“can i kiss you?” you nodded fervently, rafe held back a laugh at your enthusiasm. he walked up to you slowly as if giving you the chance to run and slid his hands from his hips to the curve of your waist. you stood on your tiptoes, your arms going around his neck and rafe couldn’t believe this was real. maybe if he pretended it was a dream he wouldn’t be so nervous. he’d have to do just that. one of his hands cupped your face, thumb stroking along your cheekbone and your eyelashes fluttered closed at the touch. he pressed a tentative kiss to your lips.

his lips felt soft and you breathed out in relief after, as if some sort of spell was lifted. rafe kissed you again, this time letting himself breathe you in. you felt so small and delicate in his hold, he wanted to take his time with you. you had other ideas. kissing rafe cameron felt even better than you’d imagined, when he pulled back you surged forward this time, biting his lower lip making him groan into your mouth. another chill of desire wracked your body at the sound and you tested the waters by licking the seem of his lips. rafe pulled you even closer and bent down to kiss you deeper. his mouth opened and his tongue met yours. you tasted so good to him he couldn’t stop himself from sucking on your tongue slightly, making you whine in his hold. the sound flipped a switch in his mind, he wanted more of the sound, he needed to hear you say his name in that airy desperate sound again. a string of saliva connected your lips and snapped off in the middle, your breathing was heavy and his was too. you caught your breath all the while looking up at him, he held your gaze. the furrow of your brows grew deeper the longer you looked.

“we don’t have to do anything else.” him asking for consent again drew in another crushing wave of arousal, you were a lost cause. okay maybe your standards were in hell. even his cologne was better than any other guy, something woodsy and heavy, mature, not like the shitty ones you’d had to smell before.

“no-no i want to,” he’d have to ask you later why you looked so mad after kissing him, right now he had too much else to do. you could only watch as he lifted you by the grip on your waist, your legs going around his hips in fear of falling. he’d done it so casually you couldn’t process it in time. rafe set you down gently on his mattress, his weight pressed into you and your legs tightened around him. he kissed you again, already missing the taste of your lips, and leaned back. you realized what he was about to do as he sat back on his knees.

“no i-can you just come up here?” you felt far too shy for him to eat you out and although rafe respected your wishes he was a bit disappointed. he’d just have to make sure there was a next time. there were other ways to taste you anyways. he followed your lead, leaning back over you and kissing you again, tongue and teeth clashing together in need. one of his hands moved from your waist up and under the hem of your shirt, traveling up slowly until he reached the fat of your breast. the feeling of his fingers on your nipple jolted your body. usually you didn’t get anything out of a guy touching your boobs but him you were arching into his touch, huffing into his mouth. rafe loved how sensitive you were, reacting to every touch of his. he massaged the tit in his hand, reveling in how you squirmed underneath him. if you kept moving you’d feel how painfully hard he was in his shorts.

after giving up on kissing you he peeled off your crop top, trailing kisses down your neck. he bit at the skin and sucked, surely littering your neck with hickies. you smelled so sweet to him and he couldn’t get enough, biting hard in the juncture between your neck and shoulder. you squeaked at the feeling, shocked at how pleasure blurred the lines of the pain you should be feeling. being marked by rafe was transcendental.

“look at you, so fucking pretty.” you met his gaze, his eyes raking down your chest and back to your face. the compliment made your head even cloudier, you’d let him do anything he wanted already, and it didn’t even scare you. his mouth trailed lower, biting at the tops of your breasts before latching onto your nipple and sucking, biting and laving over the sensitive nub with his tongue. you writhed under him, desperate for some friction between your legs. you huffed out a breath in frustration. he took his time bruising your chest with his marks. everyone should know who you belonged to. he leaned back to admire his work, his eyes finally meeting yours and seeing your waterline filled with unshed tears. god he was being so cruel, you just wanted to come and here he was doing as he pleased.

“rafe can i have your fingers please?” he was about to take pity on you anyway but the desperate sound of you begging was too delicious to give up. he looped his fingers through yours, hands intertwined against the silk sheets next to your shoulder.

“fuuckkk when you ask like that how can i say no?” his eyes nearly rolled back in his head from your voice, he might just come from it alone. “how d’ya want them?” he knew, of course he knew, he just wanted to hear you say it. your lips were swollen from his kisses and you still managed to look so innocent under him, he wanted to mark every inch of your body so no one could touch you again.

“you know!” you huffed out, a pout on your lips that he kissed away, you still looked at him with frustration. your underwear was practically sticking to you now, you felt so warm and uncomfortable between your legs, desperate for friction. you’d never felt like this before, completely wrecked with need, unable to think about anything besides addressing your desire.

“spell it out for me, i can’t think clearly right now.” he kissed under your ear coaxing you into submission, a purr curled through you at the feeling. his lips were featherlight against you, soft and adoring and you couldn’t remember why you were holding back.

“‘wan you to fuck me with them.” it was a small mumble, slipping past your lips but rafe caught it nevertheless. his free hand hooked into your pants and pulled them down, you kicked them off and let him settle back between your legs. at least being out of your pants gave your legs some reprieve but the cool air only illuminated how drenched your underwear was. rafe’s large hand skimmed past your breasts to your stomach and rested against your waistband. he looked to you for admission and you nodded your head. instead of dipping underneath the band he trailed downwards, over the flimsy material. the ghost of his touch near your clit had you jerking under him, your hands flying to his shoulders. two large fingers pressed against the fabric, right above your opening, his fingers felt moist and he clicked his tongue at the feeling.

“baby you soaked through your panties, whose got you so worked up?” you whined, a pretty throaty sound that you’d been holding in and he vowed to pull more from you. his fingers were skimming along your opening, teasing the fabric and not quite touching you. your legs wanted to close on his hand but your hips moved closer, trying to make him touch you.

“you!” you screamed out, eyes squeezed shut as he removed his hand completely. you’d start leaking through them if he didn’t do something soon.

“that’s right me, not those fucking losers, just me.” his free hand, closed around your chin making you open your eyes and meet his. he looked crazed, pupils blown and overshadowing the blue with hooded eyes and a satisfied grin curling his lips. when you met his gaze he finally dipped his fingers beneath the band and pressed his thumb against your clit. he found it with such ease your eyes rolled back into your skull, gasping at the feeling of finally being touched. “i got you baby,” your legs spread wider for him, pulling him into you as his fingers slid through your drooling folds all the while his thumb ground against you. his fingers were so much larger than yours you could feel him everywhere. he prodded your hole with his index finger, grunting at how tight you were. streams of arousal kept pouring out of you, you needed him to do something. you squirmed under him again and rafe acquiesced, shoving his finger in. you were so tight and warm around him, slippery and soft walls hugged him as he stretched you out with one finger alone. “f-fucking tight,” he was gonna start soiling his shorts from the way you felt around his finger alone. he fucked you slow and deep, feeling along your insides for your sensitivity. he knew as soon as he found it because you screamed his name, hands clutching his arms tightly.

“feels weird,” he let you get used to the feeling, his thumb grinding against your clit. you were already feeling close and he’d barely started.

“poor pussy probably never felt this good huh?” you whimpered at his words, he was being so filthy and usually it turned you off. nothing about rafe could do that at this point. you shook your head, affirming his suspicions and his middle finger circled your opening. he was gentler this time, moving his fingers in inch by inch until you stopped clamping down. the pressure of him stretching you wasn’t unbearable but you didn’t know how you’d ever take more than his fingers at this rate. he accurately hammered against that spot, out for blood, while his thumb circled your clit. you were dripping onto his hand, coating him with your juices and the squelch of his fingers fucking into you filled the room. the sounds were so obscene you tried blocking them out with your pathetic little whines but rafe was determined to hear your soppy cunt crying for him. it wasn’t long before you felt the encroaching of your release and he knew it he could feel it in the way you clenched around him and whined when his fingers pulled out completely. one more carress of the sensitive gummy spot inside you had you seeing white. your vision blurred as you shook in your release, holding his wrist so he’d stop his motions, shivers wracked your body as you came the hardest you ever had. your walls fluttered around him, more of your release dripping down your cunt and soaking the sheets below. he was sick enough to leave them like that for the night, you smelled so sweet and he bet you tasted even better.

his fingers dipped out of your underwear and your eyes opened to watch him, probably a mistake on your part because just the vision of rafe cameron licking his fingers clean and groaning at the taste made you ready to go again. his eyes rolled back in his head at the taste, his eyes ground shut at the sugary flavor coating his tongue and teeth. he really hoped you’d let him have more later because now that he’d had a taste he wanted the full meal. you shivered at the way he reacted, your whole body on high alert from your orgasm, but even as sensitive as you were you couldn’t help but be greedy.

“rafe, can we go further?” his heart might just give out, you look nervous even now after he’s already addicted. he moves back slightly, pulling his shirt over his head and your eyes are drawn to his chest.

“thought you’d never ask.” you’re not even trying to hide how you ogle him, seeing him at the beach is one thing but in front of you, when you can touch him is another. rafe watches you reach a hand out, slightly out of range and moves closer to you, letting you touch him. your smalls hands traverse the expanse of his shoulders, his pecs, and trace the outline of his abs. when they reach the tuft of hair above his waistband, rafe has to stop you. the tiny fleeting touches make him twitch in his pants. he moves your hand to rest against his shoulder, pulling your underwear all the way off and looking down at how he completely drowns your body out.

“fuckkk can’t believe im the lucky one who gets to break this little pussy in,” he kisses along your neck, hands squeezing your waist and marveling at how diminutive you feel. he can’t wait to be inside you, he wonders if you’ll even be able to take him.

“s-so dirty” his words are heating up your entire body and you’d feel embarrassed if you weren’t arching into him. rafe moves to pull down his shorts, waiting a beat before he does.

“you sure you want this?” while taking your virginity was something he could only dream about before he needed to be sure.

“yes i want it to be you, i trust you.” you say it as normally as you can.

“we can stop whenever you want, like i said ‘offer’s not gonna expire.” you hope you can take it up even after this, maybe not even once or twice. if he could make you feel like this why would you need anyone else? then he pulls his shorts off and you start to regret your decision.

“oh-is th-that gonna fit?” his cock sprung out and slapped against his stomach, long and thick and way too big for you. you could barely take his fingers this would never fit. it looked so angry white precum dribbling down stark against the flushed pink curling along the veins and curving with him to the right. you wouldn’t survive this.

“you’ll do your best right?” you nod enthusiastically, you wanted to take as much as you could. “good girl.” oh, you’d have to explore that later. you nearly moaned at him calling you that. rafe caught it though, he knew your reactions well by now. he lined it up over your stomach, seeing how far it would go and your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. your belly button was completely covered, not that it mattered he was halfway up your torso. rafe’s grip on your waist tightened, he’d ruin you for anyone else, stretch you out and mold you just for him. no one would feel as good as him and he nearly drooled at the sight.

despite how feral he felt, he made sure you were still wet enough for him to slip in, you were. his tip pressed against you, he let you drool onto him, juices swirling with his and making a sick plap plap plap sound as he tapped against you. he’s far wider than his fingers and you tried to relax. you motioned for him to come closer, his lips out of reach and you kissed him sweetly. when he could feel you relax he pushed in, instantly being shoved out. so tight he couldn’t even get the tip in. “fuuckkkk gonna have to marry you.” you don’t even process his words and he doesn’t really know he’s saying them out loud either. he tries again, pulling you slightly onto his length and you gasp at the stretch. you’re gripping him like a vice and it’s nearly uncomfortable but being inside you breaks something inside of him and he’s drooling into your mouth. you don’t even care you want more. “doin well angel-hah-taking me so well.”

the pain is an afterthought now, you want him to stretch you and fill you until you can’t breathe. you don’t know if you’ve wanted anything more in your life. so you do the unthinkable, you try moving down his length. rafe can’t be held responsible for his actions after that.

he gives into your silent plea, skewering you on his cock and pushing past your gooey rings of resistance until he’s halfway in. you held your breath the entire time as he curved into you, tip smearing precum along your walls as he molded you to him, his veins catching on your entrance and making you jolt at the feeling. you push at his chest, the pain making you scream his name as he lets you adjust. there’s tears trailing down your cheek that he licks away. he kisses you until the ache between your legs becomes distant, it’s salty and sloppy but it distracts you enough. rafe makes the mistake of looking down, sees the way you’re gaping for him and how it looks like he’s splitting you in half and he bottoms out. the snap of his hips against yours makes you moan, he’s filled you up now and you can feel him in your throat. you swear you feel him get bigger when you whine his name pathetically, his dick twitching inside you.

it’s too much and you try running from it, shoving up the length of the bed but rafe just pulls you back down. “t-too big hng can’t-“

“come on i thought you were-fuck-a big girl,” he groans into your ear, you shove against him once more and he slips out a few inches, just enough for you to relax. you can still feel him nestled against your cervix, he’s leaking into you and your thighs are coated in both of your arousal. you tap his shoulder for him to move again, pulling out until his tip is the only thing inside and then spearing all the way back in. the feeling makes you cross-eyed, his throbbing tip bumps along your sensitive spot until it nestles against you, as far high up as it can and you think you might be coming on every thrust because you’re so obscenely wet more slick just pours out of you every time. rafe knows it’s because there’s no space for anything but his cock and he can’t help but grin, watching your pussy engulf his length despite how small you are under him. every thrust sends your whole body upwards but his grip on you keeps you close, he’s almost fucking you back onto him.

“feels good hah,” you finally murmur into his neck, wrapping your legs around his hips so he can drill into you better. his thrusts are deep and slow, letting you get used to the feeling but you don’t think you like it like this. if he’s going to ruin you he might as well do it properly. “h-harder.” rafe moans your name at your request, his voice sounds so wrecked you clench down at the sound alone.

“turned this pussy into a slut, ‘couldn’t even take-hah-two fingers now look at you.” really he’s proud of you, proud that he made you like this. although he wants to tease you he can’t hold back much longer either and it’s your first time so he’s gonna be nice to you. rafe pulls out and slams back into you setting a faster rougher pace, your skin is slapping against each other and you think he might bruise your hips. your head is shoved up the length of his bed until it threatens to bump against the headboard, he puts his hand between you and the wood, his other hand holding onto the frame for support. your legs are being bent and pressed to the sides and the new angle makes him hit that spot with blaring accuracy. a sick ring of white forms at the base of his dick and his balls are slippery from your arousal. you still have a vice grip around him, something he won’t get used to but is definitely get addicted to. the room smells filthy and the sounds of you chanting his name combined with the squelch of your cunt is pornographic.

“gonna be a good girl and come around my cock?” your walls flutter at his words, like his permission has you ready to come. you come undone with one more thrust, your cunt is milking him as if coaxing him to come. “fuck fuck fuckkkk.” he pulls out just in time to come onto your stomach, shooting thick gooey ropes onto your soft skin. the white contrasts the blue and purple that is starting to bloom around your neck and tits.

you blearily watch it happen, disappointed he didn’t come inside, but warm and fuzzy from your release. there’s one thought nagging you though as you rest comfortably on his sticky soaked sheets. “it wasn’t a one time offer right?”

“no fucking way, i’m never letting you go.” rafe looks at you like you’re crazy, he’s ready to propose. there’s no way in hell he’s making this a one night stand. after all he’s broken you in, now it’s the fun part.

taglist: @ggraycelynn

[sincerelyneo]

cowgirl | p.js

“the bull i ride is not mechanical”

💿now playing: cowgirl by nicki minaj, lourdiz

❯ summary: Watching his city-girl girlfriend ride a mechanical bull in front of his childhood friends—and a crowd of sleazy locals—Jisung starts to feel both irritated and horny…but mostly horny.

❯ pairings: jisung x fem!reader

❯ genre: western!au, smut, boyfriend!jisung

❯ words: 3.6k

❯ tags:18+ minors dni!, jealousy, cat-calling, unprotected sex (don’t do this!), creampies, dom!jisung, dirty talk, overstimulation, swearing, gendered terms, literally just them fucking in cowgirl for 3k words.

Jisung had never brought a girl home for the holidays—especially not a city girl. But here he was, leaning against the doorframe of his childhood bedroom in his parents’ ranch, watching you fuss with the hem of your dress in the mirror. The corners of his mouth twitched upward. He could already hear his friends teasing him. 

“Babe…” he began, sneaking up behind you to wrap a hand around your waist. “It’s just a little dive bar. You don’t have to wear a dress—”

You turned to face him, one perfectly manicured hand resting on your hip, the fabric clinging to your curves in a way that made his mouth go dry. “The dress is cute, Jisung. I’m wearing it.”

You pick up the black heels Jisung had picked out for your birthday—surprisingly pretty for a country boy with calloused hands and mud-splattered boots. Slipping them on, you smile as he takes you in from head to toe with a thick gulp. 

“It’s not that it’s not cute,” he mumbles, shoving a hand through his hair. “It’s just… People don’t usually dress up to drink beer around here.”

You grabbed your coat and gave Jisung a quick peck on the cheek, effectively shutting down any of his further protests. He always does this, gets in his head about the silliest things. 

 “Well, maybe they should,” you quipped, your heels clicking against the wooden floor as you headed for the door. “And besides, I’m not from around here.”

Jisung sighed, reaching for his own jacket while trying to ignore how the sight of you in those heels made his chest tighten. “It’s a small town, Y/N, we don’t get newcomers often. People are gonna stare.”

You paused at the door, glancing over your shoulder with a teasing smile. “Let them.”

Jisung shook his head, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile as he followed you out to his truck. The drive to the bar was quiet but comfortable, the faint hum of country music from the radio filling the car. He stole glances at you as he drove, his chest tightening every time he caught the way the traffic lights reflected off the pretty necklace settled into the cleavage of your chest.

That measly little jewel probably cost the same price as the dive bars around here, if not more. When Jisung finally parked in the gravel lot, you stepped out, your heels clicking sharply against the ground like you were walking into a five-star restaurant instead of a bar with duct-taped barstools and a jukebox that only half-worked. Jisung couldn’t help but laugh softly to himself—his friends were going to have a field day ribbing him for this.

Inside, the low hum of chatter and the twang of a guitar drifted from the jukebox, and the faint smell of beer and peanuts lingered in the air. Jisung spotted his friends immediately—Chenle, Mark, and Jeno huddled around a table in the corner, beers in hand, their laughter loud. 

“There he is!” Chenle’s voice rang out over the chatter, a wide grin spreading across his face as he stood to clap Jisung on the back. His eyes flicked to you, his grin growing impossibly wider. “And this must be the city girl we’re always hearing about.” His eyes flick to your feet. “The one with fancy heels.”

“Very fancy,” Jeno added, his eyes also dropping to your shoes. 

You roll your eyes and bite back a retort. Instead, you allow them to lead you to their table, which was already sticky with spilt beer and the remnants of forgotten nachos. You perched carefully on the edge of your seat, legs crossed, the hem of your dress riding just a little higher than Jisung would’ve liked. He sat beside you, thigh pressed against yours, one hand lazily draped across the back of your chair, the other resting possessively on your knee. 

Mark raises his bottle toward you. “You’re a good sport for coming out tonight. Most people from the city would’ve run a mile the second they saw the mounted deer heads in here.”

“I’m not that brave,” you let out a playful chuckle, “I gotta say, they’re a little creepy.”

Just then, Jeno leaned in, nodding toward the little crowd gathered near the back of the bar. “You’re just in time. Jaemin’s up.”

All eyes turned toward the mechanical bull, where Jaemin—one of Jisung’s childhood friends, apparently known for his total lack of fear and abundance of poor judgment—was psyching himself up to take on the challenge. The operator hit the switch. The bull kicked into motion.

At first, Jaemin held on surprisingly well. Cheers echoed through the bar as he flailed his free arm dramatically, hamming it up like a true showman.

“Look at him go!” Mark hooted.

“He’s gonna break his tailbone again,” Jeno said around a mouthful of fries.

Then the bull jerked hard left—and Jaemin was launched like a rag doll, landing on his back with a loud thump and an even louder groan.

You visibly winced. “Ouch.”

Chenle caught it. Instantly.

“Aww,” he drawled, tilting his head toward you with a mischievous smirk. “That too rough for you, city girl?”

Jisung didn’t miss a beat. “Watch it.”

That only made Chenle grin wider. “What? I’m just saying, we all know you, she probably can’t handle anything that gets a little rough and tough.”

You turned slowly, lips curling into a sweet, deadly smile. “Is that right?”

Jisung shifted beside you, hand tightening just slightly on your thigh. “Babe…”

But you were already standing.

“Someone sign me up,” you said, downing the last sip of your drink and tossing your coat onto the back of your chair. “I’ll show you what a city girl can handle.”

The boys went feral. Chenle practically howled, Jeno pounded the table, and Mark nearly fell off his chair.

Jisung stared at you, his eyes sharp and teeth tight. “You’re not serious.”

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” you tossed over your shoulder as you made your way toward the pit.

Jisung watched you walk away, his jaw slack. “You guys are so dead if she breaks her ankle.”

You made your way, weaving through the crowd with determination, the clink of your heels on the wood floor cutting through the noise of rowdy laughter and country music. You weren’t doing this for them—not really. This wasn’t about proving something to Chenle or Jeno or any of the wide-eyed boys hollering from the table. This was about you.

You were sick of the looks. The patronising smirks. The constant “city girl” jabs. Like wearing lipstick and spending money on jewellery made you fragile. Soft. Less than.

As you approached the edge of the bull ring, a few older locals, all men, leaned against the rail, beers in hand, smirking like they’d already written you off. 

“Careful up there, sweetheart,” one of them called. “That thing’s mean.” Another one chuckled. “Don’t chip a nail.”

You didn’t even look at them. Didn’t blink. Just climbed the platform with a calm, practised grace, heels disregarded now, your bare feet silent on the rubber mat as you swung one leg over the mechanical animal.

The bull was cool beneath your thighs, the leather seat slightly worn down. You wrapped your fingers around the rope, adjusted your posture, and locked your legs like you’d seen Jaemin do—except you meant business. No theatrics. No flailing limbs or cocky smiles.

The operator raised a brow at you, half amused. “You need me to show you the ropes, Princess?”

“No,” you said. “Start it.”

Behind you, the boys were still hooting—Mark yelling something incoherent, Chenle practically foaming at the mouth—but your eyes stayed fixed forward. Your jaw clenched.

You weren’t here to play cute.

You were here to hold on.

And prove every last one of them wrong.

The bull jolted beneath you with a sudden snap of motion—but you didn’t flinch.

You wrapped your fingers tighter around the rope, feeling its rough texture against your skin. Your legs locking around the bull's body, thighs flexing and back arching to hold on as tight as possible as it bucked and twisted beneath you.

The crowd leaned in, watching as you matched its rhythm with so much control. Every roll of your hips, every sway of your torso—it wasn’t just balance. It was command.

You weren’t holding on for dear life like Jaemin had. You were riding it. Owning it.

And people noticed.

“Holy hell,” someone near the front hissed through clenched teeth. Then a whistle cut through the air, followed by a crude comment that made Jisung’s knuckles go white.

“Damn, whoever she’s riding like that at night is a lucky son of a bitch.”

There were groans, gasps, even a few slow claps as you leaned back just enough to taunt gravity—and won. The hem of your dress rode high along your thighs, pink panties peeking out just enough to tease, your hair whipping around your face. 

Jisung’s jaw locked. He hadn’t taken his eyes off you once. His fingers drumming furiously against the beer bottle in front of him, the other hand clenched in a fist on his thigh. Every lewd comment hit him like a shot to the gut.

Mark leaned in, grinning. “Dude, your girl is killing it.”

Chenle howled beside him, half-laughing, half-stunned. “Woah. I take everything back—she might be the hot—”

“Finish that sentence, Chenle, and I will murder you,” Jiusng deadpans, making his other friends laugh. 

But he wasn’t laughing.

Not even close.

All he could do was watch as you swayed effortlessly on top of that bull, powerful and magnetic, while a sea of half-drunk cowboys who didn’t deserve to look at you muttered under their breath like they were seeing something holy. And they were, except it wasn’t theirs to gawk at. 

His jaw ticked. His eyes stayed locked on you. And his pulse pounded with something that felt a whole lot like possession.

Not because he didn’t want you to ride.

But because they didn’t deserve to watch.

The longer you rode, the tighter Jisung’s grip on his beer bottle hardened. He didn’t care if it smashed and sliced up his skin; nothing would compare to the rage bubbling in the pit of his stomach right now. Every time you shifted, every time your body moved with the bull, your tits bounced, dress rode up, comments flew.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

His chair scraped back across the floor with a harsh screech as he stood, the sound sharp enough to cut through the cheers. His eyes were locked on you—still moving like you belonged up there, and he hated it. He cut across the floor, ignoring the way heads turned as he passed, ignoring the crude commentary still dripping from the lips of too many drunk, wide-eyed men. He had to, if he didn’t, he’s certain he’d be facing an assault charge. 

You caught him approaching from the corner of your eye just as the bull slowed, the operator eyeing Jisung warily. You gripped the rope with one hand and looked down at him, breathless but unbothered. 

“Stop, Y/N,” Jisung growls, his voice carrying over the buzz of the bar. “Get down.”

Your brows lifted, chest still heaving, but before you could answer, a guy at a nearby table—cowboy hat tipped too far back, lips shiny with beer—slurred, “Aw, c’mon, man. Don’t kill the fun!”

“Yeah, man! She’s giving us a show. She’s got that bull beggin’ for mercy,” another slurred voice. Then another: “She’s got me beggin’ for mercy!”

You felt the shift immediately—not in the machine beneath you, but in the room. The energy, the tone. The cheers had morphed into something different. Something gross. Objectifying. Disrespectful.

Your eyes flicked to Jisung.

Standing at the edge of the pit, hands clenched into fists at his sides, jaw tight enough to crack. His eyes burned—worry and anger twisted together behind the fury of protectiveness. You could practically feel it pulsing from him, the way his whole body was saying: Enough.

And that’s when you made your decision.

You swung your leg over the bull and dismounted in one smooth, grounded move. The guys nearby booed. Someone whined, “Aw, c’mon, sweetheart, don’t stop now,” but you ignored them.

Because the only person in the room whose opinion mattered was the one pleading with you. You walked right up to him.

He looked at you, eyes stormy. “You’ve made your point,” he said roughly. “We can leave—”

You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you reached up, tugged his hat off his head, and slid it onto your own, tilting it just so.

His breath hitched.

“I may be a city girl,” you said purposefully loud enough for every invasive man in that dive bar to hear, “but I know the rule…” 

You stepped in closer, chest to chest, your fingers curling around the front of his shirt.

“Wear the hat…” —your voice dropped to a whisper, sultry and teasing as your lips brushed his ear— “…ride the cowboy.”

Jisung’s breath stuttered. A growl curled low in his throat. His hand was on your lower back in a second, guiding you, almost possessively.

“Truck. Now.”

You don’t really remember much after the dive bar—just a blur of quick goodbyes, the creak of Jisung’s truck door, and the hum of tires on gravel. What sticks with you is the way his fingers curled tight around the steering wheel, the hard line of his jaw, and the thick, loaded tension hanging between you as he drove back to his family’s ranch. 

That same tension that followed you up the porch, then slammed you against the living room wall. His mouth on yours—hot, messy, impatient—while old family photos rattled and fell to the floor.

And thank God his parents weren’t home. Because fuck, nothing was going to stop him from making sure you kept your promise.

Ride the cowboy. 

You had no problem putting on a show for every fucker within a five mile radius—so when Jisung hooks your legs around his waist, carries you to his bedroom, and finally gets you naked, exposed and laid out bare for him, he decides he wants a show of his own.

The exclusive one.

The private one. 

The one just for him. 

“Sit on my cock, Y/N,” he says, voice almost pleading but overpowered with a command. 

He’s looking at you, at the mess he’s made you in the last ten minutes with his tongue. You’re completely wrecked—chest falling with shaky breaths, lips swollen, skin flushed and covered in the marks he likes to leave behind. Marks he wishes were permanent. 

Because look, Jisung may be desperate right now, but he’s not selfish with you. Never would be. He always makes sure you cum first—likes to wring you out until you’re trembling—before expecting you to take his cock. 

“Don’t make me beg,” he mutters, leaning in, breath hot against your cheek. “Not tonight. Because I won’t.” 

You pout, teasing, hips shifting to straddle him and make him twitch beneath you as he slides up the bed, resting his back against the headboard. 

“But I like it when you beg.” 

“And I like being the only one who sees your panties,” he bites back, eyes narrowing. “But that didn’t happen tonight, did it?”

Your smirk fades just a little, and he lets out a low growl, hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise. 

“So, sit on my cock, baby,” he says lowly, “Ride me. Because that’s the only way this is going to work tonight.”

You bite down on your lip, fingers wrapping around the base of your boyfriend’s cock as you run him through your dripping folds, teasing his head slick and slow. “God, I think I love it even more when you’re bossy.”

You breathe out—barely a whisper, words all shaky and broken because you sink down on him. Your pussy taking every impaling inch of him inside you through a single motion. Jisung’s head falls back, dilated eyes fluttering closed as his pink lips part on a sharp exhale. 

“Move,” he growls instantly, hand gripping a handful of your ass, fingers digging in hard.

It’s different tonight. Jisung usually likes to take his time. Wants to feel every second of the way you fit around him—loves to savour the stretch. To sit in the feeling of knowing he’s the closest he can possibly be to you before chasing his high. But right now, that isn't that. Now there’s no patience, no softness in his tone.

This isn’t needy. It’s commanding. Dominant. And you’re not about to deny him.

You start to move—gentle at first, just to tease, rolling your hips in lazy circles as you adjust to the full size of him. And the way he watches you… it pulls a needy little sound from the back of your throat.

His eyes are glued on you. Hooded and dark. Jaw locked as he drinks in every inch of your body. The bounce of your thighs, the way your tits move with each grind, the slick drag of your cunt around him—it’s all too much and still not enough.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, fingers digging into your skin, guiding your pace as you start to ride him harder. “Look at you…taking me like that.” 

You toss your head back with a moan, letting his grip take over your rhythm, whilst he watches like he’s mesmerised—obsessed. Because he is. 

His hands slide up your waist, thumbs brushing over your hips before he moves one to your stomach, pressing down just enough for you to feel where he is inside you.

“Right there,” he murmurs, breath catching. “You feel that? That’s mine. All fucking mine. All fucking yours.”

You whimper, grinding down harder as his cock hits that spot that always makes your legs shake. Jisung’s eyes darken even more—half-lidded, smug, wrecked.

“God, you’re so hot,” he sighs, one hand coming up to cup your breast while the other stays pressed to your stomach. “So fuckin’ good at this now.”

“Always been good at this,” you say, breathless, trying your best to stay in control—but that one comment. It has him bucking up suddenly, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips.

“Yeah?” he rasps, voice rough as his hands guide you to ride faster, harder. “You think that’s all you, baby? It’s not. I taught you this.”

Your eyes flutter, the words hitting just as deep as his cock. “Jisung—”

He grins proudly. “I made you this good. Trained you to ride my cock just like that. Look at you—fuck—you take me like you were made for me.” His thumb brushes over your clit, teasing and pressing. “My perfect fucking girl.”

You can’t even form a proper response—just moan and clench around him as you chase your high, the pleasure climbing fast and sharp.

“Remember when you couldn’t even take half of me without crying?” he murmurs, grinning through gritted teeth. 

You lean forward, palms on his chest, moving faster, harder, desperate. "Jisung," you gasp, nails digging into his skin. "I'm close—"

The tension in your body reaches a breaking point. The desperate roll of your hips, the way he hits all the right spots—it’s too much. And then, fuck, it hits. The pleasure crashes over you, your pussy trembling, clenching around him like a vice. You collapse forward into his neck, kissing along the curve of his skin as you whine, your orgasm rippling through you, gripping tight around his cock.

But Jisung doesn’t stop. He holds your hips in place, groaning as your walls flutter around him, his cock continuing to slide in and out of your pussy with a punishing force. 

“Don’t fucking stop,” he rasps, his breath hot against your ear. “Keep going, baby. Keep riding your cowboy like you promised.”

You can barely catch your breath, but his words push you forward. You force yourself to keep moving, keep meeting his thrusts even as your body trembles, still sensitive from your orgasm. His cock stays hard inside you, unforgiving, and his hands guide your every motion—pushing you to put on a show for him—for him alone.

“Fuck,” he groans again, his eyes locked on the way your body bounces over him. “Atta girl, Make it good for me.”

Your legs are burning from the effort, but you won’t disappoint him. You want him to feel as good as you do. So you push yourself harder, your hips rolling down onto him with all the control you can muster. The wet, slick sounds of your movements mix with the breathless moans escaping your lips. 

Jisung’s hands slip down lower, fingers finding your clit again, rubbing small, teasing circles that have you gasping. It’s as if he’s trying to kill you with the over-stimulation, and with the way he looks at you, you know—this is his way of punishing you for how mad he was earlier.

“I fucking love the way you ride me, Y/N,” he whispers, his voice rough. “You’re so fucking perfect—Fuck… I’m gonna cum,” he groans. His hands move to your waist, pulling you down harder against him, forcing you to take him deeper.

“Please,” you rasp, breathless. “I want to feel you… all of you.”

His hips thrust upward, meeting yours as he struggles to hold off any longer. With a final, guttural groan, his entire body tenses, and he cums deep inside you, holding you in place. You feel him pulse, his cock twitching as he rides out his orgasm, each throb shooting thick ropes of his cum inside you. His breath is fast, uneven, and his eyes are completely consumed by the sight of you, by the way your body moves with his.

He pulls you close, letting you collapse against him completely as a lazy smile spreads across his face. “Fuck, baby, what have you done to me?” he murmurs, “I think you’re gonna have to ride me every time we fuck from now on.”

Now that doesn’t sound like a bad idea…

[dollishmehrayan]

BATBOYS WITH A STYLISH READER ── .✦

a/n: so I tried to base this off of me because I like genuinely LOVE fashion and creativity (my closet is seriously so full rn but I keep buying and buying but soon I’m gonna donate some pieces I never wore/ won’t wear again when i’m like moving in 5/6 months (in April) but anyways yeahh this is requested by the wonderful @luvly_writer (I GENUINELY DONT KNOW WHY MY MENITONS ARENT WORKING TODAY!?!?

tags: (batboys x stylish reader ᥫ᭡)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Dick’s always had a decent sense of fashion, but after meeting you, he realized his wardrobe could use some spicing up.

“Okay, I need help,” he says, holding up his closet of endless leather jackets and dark jeans. “It’s starting to feel like I’m a character in a some main character show..” (this tiktok HELPP here)

You pull together a sleek but casual look for him, fitted trousers, a patterned button-up, and a blazer. When he sees himself in the mirror, he whistles.

“Are you sure I’m not about to walk the runway?”

He loves when you add your flair to his outfits, often saying, “This is why I’m with you.”

Eventually, Dick starts mimicking your style in small ways—accessories, boots, and bolder colors. He’ll even joke, “You’re rubbing off on me in more ways than one.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Jason scoffs at the idea at first. “I don’t need to be styled. My leather jacket and boots are timeless, I don’t need like bags and purses like you.”

But then he starts noticing the way you turn heads wherever you go and how people always stop you to ask where you got your hat or etc from, and he gets curious.

One day, he half-jokingly says, “Alright, fashionista. Make me look less like I just rolled out of a biker gang.”

You have so much fun dressing him in a sharp, dark button-up, fitted jeans, and Chelsea boots. When you suggest a leather trench coat instead of his usual jacket, he raises an eyebrow but ends up loving it.

“I look like a villain trying blow up something in broad daylight,” he says, smirking. “But, like, a hot one.”

Jason doesn’t fully change his wardrobe, but he starts incorporating your suggestions—better fits, fewer holes in his shirts, and maybe a sweater or two. He always claims it’s to “shut you up,” but deep down, he loves how confident it makes him feel when his s/o chooses stuff for him.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim’s wardrobe is functional. It’s not bad because there’s a DIFFERENCE, Timothy drake wayne dresses in suits and is high end and chic but regular tim well… tim Is tim but he DOES care about what he wears just not like that serious about it, but it’s very much “guy who spends more time in front of a computer than a mirror.”

One day, he asks, “Do you think I should update my wardrobe? You know, to look… presentable?”

You practically light up, dragging him out for a shopping spree.

He’s a little overwhelmed by how excited you are, but he secretly loves the attention.

You pick out layered outfits—hoodies with tailored jackets, clean sneakers, and pants that actually fit. When he tries them on, he’s surprised at how good he looks.

“So this is what it feels like to be stylish,” he muses.

Over time, Tim starts borrowing pieces of your style. He’ll wear scarves, experiment with glasses frames, and even tuck his shirts in occasionally. You catch him researching minimalist fashion on Pinterest once, and he sheepishly admits, “You’re a bad influence.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian has a sharp sense of style already (thanks, Talia and Bruce), but he finds himself intrigued by your unique flair.

“You have a good eye for aesthetics,” he says one day, almost shyly. “Perhaps you could lend me some… insight.”

Styling Damian is like working with a blank canvas—he’s open to trying new things as long as it doesn’t compromise his dignified image.

You help him experiment with layered textures, sleek boots, and subtle patterns. He refuses anything too colorful but surprises you by agreeing to a deep emerald green blazer.

“I look… distinguished,” he admits, staring at his reflection.

He starts taking inspiration from your wardrobe, incorporating more modern and creative touches into his outfits. Every now and then, he’ll ask, “What do you think of this?” before leaving for an event.

Damian also becomes oddly protective of your style. If someone tries to copy you, he’ll say something like, “Flattery may be the sincerest form of imitation, but it’s wasted when done poorly.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce is already a style icon, but when he starts noticing the effortless way you put together outfits, he gets curious.

“What would you do with this suit?” he asks, gesturing to one of his many black ensembles.

You tease him for being so predictable but suggest a few changes—adding a pocket square, switching up his tie, and choosing a dark navy instead of black.

When he steps out in the new look, even Alfred raises an approving eyebrow.

“Now I’ll have to think about my outfits.”

He begins to take subtle cues from your style, occasionally asking for your opinion before galas. You catch him sneaking glances at your Pinterest boards once, and he pretends it’s for “business purposes” (you had to private your pin board after because he keeps buying 10 of each of what you put on your Pinterest board.)

[aakeysmash]

maybes and sunscreen

college!sukuna masterlist

after almost a year of living together, you and college!sukuna are so accustomed to one another that you naturally slip up in the other’s conversations. maybe it's because you're both homebodies, or maybe it's because you've reached the silent agreement to keep the activities you do with yuuji hidden to preserve his innocent childhood (you learned that rumors run a long way inside your campus), or maybe it's because you started to ask sukuna less private questions, since he now seems to want to answer them even before you formulate them.

either way, the two of you always mention the other in conversations, and you don't even seem to notice, but your friends do.

"how about your house, man?" suguru asks sukuna from across the table, sipping his soda. they're sitting outside with satoru for lunch break, slouching on white plastic chairs, waiting for practice to start in less than ten minutes. days are getting longer the more summer break gets nearer, and the breeze flowing through the newly green leaves of the trees is a nice change from the humid stench of the locker rooms.

"dunno. the woman of the house is gonna bake cookies today," he shrugs, scrolling through his phone. he finds himself on a blurry zoomed in photo of a kitten covered in milk, and he smirks, hitting send after having selected your contact. you're going to love it.

"and?" geto asks, confused.

"and i don't know if she wants me to help her or not," sukuna continues, not bothering to look up from his screen, acting like he's not going to pester you until you let him help. and steal some of your cookie batter, too.

"it's the finale, bro, we've been talking about it since december. are you really not going to watch it for some cookies?" his raven haired friend exclaims, baffled. satoru only lowers his glasses on his nose, crossing his arms on his chest.

"oh, i'm going to watch it. got her hooked up on it too," the pink haired man says, a certain tilt to his voice matching the tilt of his head, as if he's saying are you crazy? i'm not missing it. "i don't know if she'd want you there, though."

geto rolls his eyes and satoru snickers, shaking his head. "we just want to watch the game on your tv. are you afraid she's going to feel uncomfortable with us there, my lord captain?" he mocks, sighing. lazily, sukuna glances his way.

"it's not her i'm worried about," he says, raising one of his eyebrows, maroon eyes squinting on a spot behind his friend's back.

"what does that even mean?" mutters geto, even more confused. it’s not like they’ve never seen you or have never been inside your house when you were there, so what’s different this time?

suddenly, sukuna grins like a madman, uncrossing his legs from on top of the table and standing up with his helmet under his arm.

“where are you goi-“ his dark haired friend starts, but satoru puts one of his hands on the other’s shoulder, effectively stopping him, whispering just wait.

sukuna takes a couple of steps, getting out of the gentle shadows of the trees above the table, still grinning.

“hi, baby. did you miss me so much you had to come to see me at practice?” he asks your nearing figure. you’re wearing a dress, the breeze soothingly flowing through your hair, and he takes a second to admire how graceful you look in the middle of the green garden. are the flowers you picked with yuuji the other day still fresh? maybe he should get more. maybe you’d like that. maybe you’d smile. maybe you'd thank him.

“i’m here because i knew you were never going to bring sunscreen with you, dickhead,” you huff, blowing your hair out of your vision, frowning. his grin only grows before he forces it away. typical.

“i don’t need that shit,” he rolls his eyes, turning on his heels and going towards the stadium. he knows you’re going to follow him. and you do.

“put it on! i’m not joking, sukuna,” you whine, trying to fall in step with him. “it’s going to be so good for your skin, come on.”

“it’s sticky and i don’t like feeling like a pussy,” he growls, going faster toward the benches inside the stadium and plopping down on them.

“you like pussy, though,” you shrug, forcing yourself between his parted legs, rummaging through your bag.

“i like you too, baby, but that doesn’t mean you’ll let me stick it in your pussy, does it,” he asks you smugly. you punch him on the shoulder, bewildered.

“you’re so disgusting,” you scoff, opening the little spf tube you brought in your purse just for him. "and don't tell me you like me when you never listen to me in the first place," you playfully add, caressing his face to smooth it out, and he lets you get his unruly hair off of his forehead. maybe he likes how you don't take the things he says to heart. maybe he just says them because he knows he's getting a snarky comment back.

“you didn’t say no, though,” he chuckles, closing his eyes and letting himself bask in your presence. your touch on his features is relaxing. he honestly thinks he could fall asleep if you were in any other setting.

“i’m letting you talk just because i’m in a male dominated field and even if i don’t agree i don’t want to die,” you deadpan. you smear the white cream on his nose, on top of the horizontal tattoo, and massage it into his skin. then you do the same thing with his other markings, making sure they’re protected enough to shimmer in the blazing hot sun.

“i wouldn’t let you die on me anyway,” he mutters. he gets both of his hands on your exposed thighs, keeping you closer, softly rubbing his thumbs in your muscles. "are you fucking finished? i hate this," he bites, frowning. you hum, lazily smiling down at him, rubbing his frown away with your fingertips.

"you're going to be the prettiest girl on the field," you coo. you can feel his mean glare from beneath his eyelids, and you almost shiver. "you're so going to thank me in a couple of years," you add, resting your palms on his cheeks and turning his head up. he opens his eyes slowly, staring into yours intently. his thumb catches on the fluttering hem of you dress while he draws little circles on your legs. he hears his coach screaming for his team to start running, but in this moment, he doesn't care that much. maybe the heat is getting to his head. maybe the soft smile you're looking at him with is making him a little bit weak in the knees.

"wanna make cookies today? we can watch the match together, perhaps ask the brat if he wants to join too," he says, rough voice kept low, almost as if this was a you and him kind of thing. maybe he already planned to ask you to do something with him when he was talking to his friends just a couple of minutes ago. maybe he lied, telling them you were the one who chose to do something, when it's not true. maybe the way satoru is patting suguru on the back with an "i told you so" look on his face isn't casual. maybe the one he was worried about all along was himself.

"wouldn't you prefer to watch it with your friends?" you ask him, tilting your head, positioning your thumbs on the fake tattoos on his cheekbones. almost as if you could cover their pupils and make him see less.

"wouldn't you prefer to watch it with me?" he genuinely responds, a somber look on his features. you think it's the first time he doesn't have a mocking grin on his lips. you ruffle the pink hair just above his left ear.

"maybe."

[sinner-as-saint]

run for your life

Mob!Bucky x Reader 

Summary: He was away from the city for a while, chasing after some bastards who betrayed him. But the traitors were no longer breathing now and Bucky Barnes was finally able to come home to the city he ruled. Mostly, he was excited to come back and see his girl again. However when he got to the strip club where you worked as a waitress, he didn’t find you there. They told him you didn’t work there anymore. No one knew where you went, or why you left. Nobody even knew your real name. Now it was up to him to search the whole wide world to find a nameless girl – one he was obsessively, mindlessly in love with. 

Themes: slight stalker!bucky, possessive!bucky, mild degrading kink, smut, FLUFF, opposite aesthetics, mild daddy kink (nicknames only), cosy little town vibes 

a/n: some fluffy mob!bucky to end the year <3 Thank you so much for always supporting my silly little fics. Merry Christmas my darlings, and happy New Year!! See you soon ;)

He didn't know where exactly he would end up locating you, but finding you in a cosy, small, coastal town in the south of France was not on his list. 

You being the owner of a gourmet bakery was not on his list either. Bucky was confused, surprised, but mostly confused. How did this happen? At first, when Sam came to deliver him the news of your location that morning, Bucky didn’t believe him. Had Sam not been Bucky’s oldest, most loyal friend Bucky would’ve never believed him at all. 

“I’m gonna need you to stop being a dumbass and go find this girl!” Sam, ever the voice of reason yelled at Bucky who had been drowning in his sorrows. “It’s been months, and I can’t keep covering for your ass. I have my own shit to do, my own men to command.” He used that cool, authoritative voice of his. “Pull yourself together, Buck. Go find her.” 

Sam was right. Of course he was. He always was. And it had really been months since that damned night… 

— 

Bucky couldn’t wait to get out of his plane the moment it landed. It was late at night, but the perfect time to go to the club. He had missed it. Well, not the whole club really. Bucky had missed you. 

He had a… special connection with you. His girl. His only girl. His favourite girl. 

This time, he thought, he would do whatever he can to solidify whatever was happening between the two of you. Maybe he’d even get you to go on a real date with him. Maybe that would lead to something more. He was smiling to himself just thinking about it. 

He often thought back to the night you met. He was at the club after a long day of being the dark ruler he was. All he wanted was a drink and a pretty woman on his lap. That’s when he found you. 

Right as he walked in, you caught his eye. Walking around serving drinks, wearing a little see-through red dress that brought every man you walked past to his knees. 

Once he got to his booth, Bucky called you over. You walked towards him sheepishly. 

“I’ve never seen you around here before, beautiful.” He said, patting his thigh. He noticed the way you hesitated. Must be new, he thought. 

You carefully perched on his lap, holding your empty metal tray to your chest. Bucky smirked as he looked at it, like you were putting a makeshift barrier between the two of you. When you remained quiet and squirmy, Bucky spoke up again. 

“Come on, babygirl. Talk to me, it’s okay.” He whispered at his nuzzled your neck. “I don’t bite. Unless you ask nicely, then I might.” 

His warm breath against your skin tickled. You chuckled as you pulled away to look at him. “Um, I’m just a waitress. I’m not supposed to…” You trailed off. Both of you were aware of the no-contact ‘rule’. But there was a natural, unexplainable spark there that neither of you could ignore. 

“Hmm,” His chest rumbled. “How about we go somewhere private?” He whispered into your ear and noticed the way you shivered. 

You hung your head, clutching your metal tray. “Waitresses aren’t supposed to go into the VIP rooms, sir.” You said quietly, just loud enough for him to hear you above the sensual music. 

Bucky smirked. Then leaned in and whispered, “I suppose I can bend the rules a little given I co-own the club.” 

You froze and went to stand up immediately, already apologising but he wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you on his lap. 

“It’s okay, babygirl. You’re not in trouble, I promise.” 

The two of you ended up in one of the VIP rooms. Nothing happened, you just kissed and talked and kissed some more. Bucky promised to come back. And he did. For months. Again and again and each time he did, you were drawn to him like he was gravity from the very moment he walked into the room. 

And that night he landed after being away for weeks, he expected you to run right into his arms the moment he’d enter the club like you always did. He even got you a nice little gift to make up for the time that he’d been away. It was a rare, red diamond choker. He could already imagine how it would look around your neck. Like a brand. His. 

But then he got to the club. And he noticed everyone was avoiding his eyes almost anxiously. And his girl was nowhere to be seen. He searched for you in the main area for a while, then even searched the VIP rooms, vowing to commit horrible crimes if he ever found you in there with another man. 

But no. 

He called Sam, who co-owned the club, and Sam had no idea who he was talking about. Bucky asked the staff members, and one bartender finally told him that you’d resigned a few weeks ago. And no one knew where you went. He asked for your full name, but no one knew that either. 

Not even Sam. “I didn’t even know we had a new waitress, Buck. I have more important shit to worry about.” He’d said, adding to the burning sensation in Bucky’s chest. 

“She left me.” 

Sam had no idea what his best friend was babbling about. And during the many months that followed, Bucky was a mess. A mess like Sam had never seen before. Frantically scanning country after country, searching for a girl with no name. He was in love, and he wasn’t giving up. He would find his girl come what may. 

—

But now Bucky knew where you were. 

And he was more confused than ever. He had even more questions. 

Bucky spent a whole week in that little town. Watching you, learning your routine, observing and questioning. He disguised himself as a local and always kept his distance even though his hands itched to touch you. 

At first he was bothered by how you were fine with living the same day everyday. Your routine seemed boring at first, but the more he watched, the more he realised it was sort of therapeutic. The normality of it all. 

He rented an apartment on the other side of the street from your bakery, and he spent hours watching you. 

You lived right above the bakery. A quaint apartment, with flower pots all around the french windows. Sometimes when you forgot to turn the lights off at night, Bucky spent the whole night spying on you, counting your breaths as you slept on your couch in front of the TV. 

You’d wake up at the crack of dawn, then you’d feed your dogs. He noticed you had two. Lazy, both of them. Then you’d get downstairs and within half an hour, the cool air that entered his apartment carried the smell of the sea and baked goods. 

All he wanted was to cross the cobblestone street and drag you to his bed, demand answers while fucking some sense into you. But the more he watched you, the more his anger diminished. Temporarily. 

The genuine smile on your face as you served your loyal customers all day, especially the ones who always came early in the morning on their way to work. The occasional sound of your voice or your laughter that slipped past whenever someone didn’t close the door right. The sound of children squealing and laughing whenever you gave away leftover baked goods or donuts in the evenings. How you knew almost everyone by name. How sometimes you invited neighbours over for wine nights. How you went on little walks in late, cool evenings, forcing your lazy pets to walk but then ending up having to carry them on the way back. They were spoiled, he realised. He hated to admit that he was jealous of the damned dogs who got so much of your attention while he starved for it. 

He wasn’t angry by the end of that first week of spying, he was just hurting. How dare you live a whole new life without him? How dare you laugh and seem like you don’t miss him? He’d just spent months looking for you and here you were, just going about your day like you didn’t care? Like none of those nights you’d spent together mattered? 

Meanwhile he was shaking just reminiscing the way your touch felt across his skin. He remembered the first time the two of you crossed that line in one of the VIP rooms…

You were wearing that red dress again. Fucking tease, he hissed each time you moved or squirmed on his lap. 

“Baby, please,” He groaned. “Just… let me touch you. Daddy will make you feel good, so good babygirl, I promise.” He pleaded, hands caressing your soft, warm thighs. 

You shook your head, popping another one of those chocolates he brought you into your mouth and sucking your fingers after. Torturing him. 

“We can’t,” You insisted, with nothing but mischief in your eyes as you looked at him. “You made these rules yourself, remember?” You chuckled when he groaned again when you straddled him properly. 

“I don’t give a shit about rules.” He hissed, nuzzling your neck. Slowly, he kissed up and down your neck. “I just wanna taste you. That’s it. Just a taste.” 

That’s how he found himself on his knees, face in between your thighs. His skilled tongue making you whine and whimper as you tugged on his hair. Bucky hummed in appreciation the more he tasted you. 

“Come on daddy’s face, baby…” 

That’s it. 

Bucky decided he would go see you the next morning. He would drag you back home if he had to, but he wouldn’t spend another day without you. Who did you think you were? No one just tosses him aside like this. He’d remind you who he was and then you’d both go home right away. 

—

Bucky woke up to a thunderstorm. Weather around here was unpredictable. He got out of bed and immediately looked outside to find your bakery empty. No customers in sight because of the heavy rain, lightning and thunder. The golden light was on though. 

He decided it was time to go have a talk with you. He promised not to lose his temper. He would go in there calmly, talk it out with you. Ask you what the fuck you are doing here, and then he’d take you home. 

But that ended up not happening. 

Bucky crossed the slippery cobblestone street, walked into your comforting, sweet smelling bakery and froze. He froze right there at the entrance. 

As did you. Standing there behind the wooden counter, oven mittens in your hand and apron in another, you stared at Bucky with nothing but pure shock and surprise on your face. A thousand thoughts, mainly questions, crossed your mind. 

What is he doing here? How did he find you? Why is he dressed casually like a local, wearing soft colours instead of his usual suits? How long has he been here? What is he doing here? 

You let out a little gasp. “Bucky?” 

Wrong move, apparently. Because his demeanour changed in a nanosecond. His calm and collected-ness was forgotten instantly. Jaws clenched, with a murderous look in his eyes, he walked closer, more like charged at you, and around the counter before you could even get a word out. 

He had you pinned to the nearest wall before you could process it all. Knocking down a framed picture in the process. Towering above you, he looked like he was beyond pissed. 

“Bucky, I—,” 

“Shut up.” He hissed, voice cold with bitterness and anger. He watched how you shivered when he pinned your wrists to the wall on either side of your head. “Shut the fuck up.” 

He leaned closer, chest pressing against yours leaving no space in between. He closed his eyes and sighed for a moment, trying his hardest to see reason but he was angry. So angry he couldn’t think. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He spoke with such a low voice that you trembled against him, causing him to tighten his grip around your wrists, surely bruising them. You didn’t care. 

You winced, “I can explain.” Fuck, you’d missed him too. It had been months since you last saw him. He was just as handsome as you remembered. His hair was a little longer now, his beard a little thicker. But he made your heart race just the same. “Please Bucky,” You whispered, “let me explain everything to you.” 

“No.” He growled before pressing his mouth to yours, angrily. Like he wanted his kiss to hurt. And it did. 

His rough facial hair scratched your skin, his teeth nibbled on and bit your lips. His hands damn near crushed your wrists in his strong grip. And he didn’t give you even the briefest second to breathe. He kissed you just like how he imagined he would do once he found you. Ravenously. Pouring everything he felt into it. Desperation, anger, hurt, obsession. He couldn’t get enough. 

“Bucky…” You gasped against his lips when he finally pulled away. Breathing fast, you tried to get a look at him but he just seemed even more angry. 

“Turn around,” He mumbled, forcing you to turn around anyway. Fuck, the sight of you in that long, flowy, sundress was doing things to him. He was never this bothered when you used to parade around in your little see-through dresses, but somehow the sight of you in this pink, floral dress was making him act like a caveman. 

His movements were rash and angry. He almost tore your dress off of you while he shoved his rough hand in between your legs and touched you where you desperately wanted him to. You whined and trembled against the cool wall when he slid a finger in, fucking you with it while he hissed into your ear. 

“I should punish you for what you did to me,” His deep voice made his chest rumble against your back. “I should tie you up and fuck you however I want.” 

Your dress was partially off, bunched and only hanging on around your waist. Being so dishevelled made this even dirtier. You were moaning by now, hoping the heavy rain would blur your actions from anyone who walked by the shop. Or god forbid, walk in. 

“How dare you think you can just leave me?” He demanded, sliding another finger inside you and making your body come alive. 

You were embarrassingly wet at this point, and the sounds your body made as he finger-fucked you were lewd. But you couldn’t get enough. 

More, more, more. You mentally chanted. 

Bucky wasn’t having the silent treatment, so he smacked your thigh to get your attention. You yelped. Your skin stung as he smacked it again, on the same spot. Harder this time. You cried out even louder as he kept taunting you. “Answer me, you fucking brat!” His lips brushed against the back of your neck as he spoke. “Why did you leave me?” 

You cried as he kept fucking you with his fingers you even as you came. His fingers sliding in and out with ease now. The sounds you made were wanton. “You… you left first.” You tried to argue. But failed miserably. 

He chuckled in that dark and dangerous way of his. “I left for work.” He said, “And I promised you I’d be back.” He reached deeper inside you, curling his fingers just enough to make you mutter incoherent things. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” 

“Please, please, please…” You begged. “Please I need to come, Bucky please.” 

“Oh?” He chuckled again, slowing down his movements purposely. “No one touched you, huh?” He playfully bit on your exposed shoulder. “You’re so fucking wet it’s dripping down my hand, babygirl.” He boasted. “Is it because no one has touched you these past few months? Hmm?” 

“Yes…” You had tears streaming down your face, and you nodded breathlessly. “Please…” 

But instead of making you come all over his fingers, Bucky pulled away for a brief moment. You couldn’t see him, but you could hear him undoing his trousers. And moments later, he was rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet folds. You shivered in pleasure.

“I’m gonna teach you what happens to people who think they can run from me, babygirl.” He growled as he pushed his cock into you, making you cry out loud as he stretched you out. 

After months of not having him, right now he felt huge inside you. Just like that, memories of nights spent with him came flooding back in. You moaned as his fingers found your clit again, rubbing it in sync with his thrusts. 

His hand gripped you by the hips, holding you against him as he sped up into you, fucking you like he hated you. Like it was punishment. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck and licked, and bit on your skin as he fucked into you relentlessly, earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls.

“Did you think I’d never find you?” He asked, fucking into you. “I bet you thought you’d gotten rid of me, hmm?” 

You’d missed him too. He could tell by the way you were starting to clench around him already. Bucky nibbled at the skin under your ear and you lost all control you had left. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was how good he felt inside you. 

“See, it didn’t have to be like this, baby…” he mumbled angrily against your skin while he fucked you like an animal, “I could be nice and gentle with your body, but you just had to be a fucking brat and leave me with no warning.” He spat, growling in your ear as he pounded into you, your chest slamming into the wall with each thrust. It hurt in the best way. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” He moaned against your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. Your legs started to shake as he quickened his pace, pounding into you mercilessly.

The pleasure, the pain, the heat of him… was too much and you couldn’t hold back anymore. 

“Bucky–,” You choked on your words as you came undone, walls clenching around him, and a loud moan erupting from your mouth as he made you come hard. It was almost blinding. 

His thrusts became irregular as he came right after you did, cock throbbing against your pulsating walls, moaning out loud when he felt your walls pulsating violently around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He came while biting down hard on your shoulder. So hard that even you cried out, still coming down from your high as you felt him spill deep inside you. 

That bite on your shoulder hurt. And like a chain reaction, everything began to hurt. Having him here hurt. Memories of being with him in the city, in the dark rooms of that club hurt. Realising how fast your life changed hurt. 

You didn’t realise you were sobbing quietly until you heard Bucky apologising profusely. Suddenly no longer angry. No longer feeling betrayed. 

“Fuck, baby. I’m so sorry.” He kissed that sore spot softly, his bite mark on your shoulder repeatedly as he wrapped his arms around you, securing you in the comfort of his embrace. “I don’t know what came over me, babygirl. I’m so sorry, please look at me. Hey, hey,” He pulled away and turned you so you faced him, still with tears in your eyes. “Babygirl, I’m so sorry.” He whispered, wiping your tears away, then kissing your face repeatedly. 

You remained like that for a few minutes. Arms wrapped around one another, standing there against that wall while it rained like hell outside. Bucky didn’t stop apologising. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been an animal like this with you, I—,” 

You cut him off finally, “Shh, it’s okay.” You pulled away from his warm chest to look up at him. “I needed this.” You said, sniffling as you gently cupped his rough cheek, caressing his face with your thumb. “I needed you like this.” 

He just hugged you close again, kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry.” He apologised one final time. “I’ll listen, I promise. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.” 

You smiled faintly at him. “Then I should lock up down here and we can go upstairs. I don’t want to scare my neighbours by risking them finding us like this.” You looked down at your partially torn dress and Bucky’s unbuttoned trousers. 

Much to your surprise, Bucky said, “You go ahead, I’ll close and lock up.” 

You frowned at him even as you desperately tried to get the top of your sundress to cover your chest. “You wouldn’t know how to…” You trailed off as realisation set in. He was a calculated, smart man. He didn’t just apparate on your doorstep with no planning. “You’ve been watching me.” You stated, raising an eyebrow at him. 

Bucky gave you a rare, guilty look. 

You sighed and shook your head. “I guess I chose this life by getting involved with you.” You gave him a faint smile. “Alright then, lock it. Leave the key in the little basket by the door.” You started walking towards the stairs, then turned around again and said, “Make sure the windows are properly locked too, because of the rain and stuff.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky nodded.

You smirked at him. 

With that you took the stairs and Bucky watched you go with a fond smile on his face. No one ever ordered him around. He hated it. But coming from you, he quite liked it. 

Bucky chuckled at himself because never in his life had he ever imagined he would one day be closing up a bakery in a small town, all for the woman he’s obsessively in love with. But he didn’t mind it one bit. 

After following your instructions and double checking the windows, he made his way upstairs as well. Again, he didn’t know what he expected your place to look like – and all that spying only allowed him glimpses of your apartment – but he never expected your space to look so… 

Pink. With occasional gold accents. Pale pink couch, the one you often fell asleep on while watching TV, and fluffy white pillows and rugs to go with. Paintings hanging on even paler pink walls. The kitchen he couldn’t quite see but he assumed it’d have to be all white. Pink dog beds, with fluffy balls of brown fur sleeping on them – wearing pink collars no less. 

He couldn’t see your bedroom from the living room given the door was closed but given the pink, fluffy robe and socks you wore he could imagine just how pink it must be. 

“It’s so girly.” He commented, as if surprised. Maybe he was a little. After all, he knew you as the seductive goddess he met almost every night at the club. He never realised that it was all just a show, that it was all just a persona at work. In a way, stepping into your space felt so intimate. He liked it. 

You chuckled. “Coquette, please.” You corrected as you handed him a glass of red wine while he took a seat beside you. He did look a little out of place in your apartment, a dark and broody man like him. But then again, he was here and that’s all that mattered. 

He turned to look at you and couldn’t resist holding your hand and pulling you onto his lap again. “Come here,” He said, “I’ve missed you.” 

As you straddled his lap, your robe exposed some of your shoulder and Bucky saw the very noticeable bite mark he left on you. He grimaced when he saw it. He placed his wine glass to the side and traced the bite mark with his thumb carefully. 

“I’m sorry, babygirl.” He whispered, leaning in to nuzzle your neck and kiss the bite mark. And breathe in your scent. Fuck, he’d missed it so much. “You smell a little different. Fruitier.” 

You giggled when his hair tickled your skin. “I made blueberry compote earlier this morning. Perhaps that’s why.” 

You could feel him smiling against your skin. Then he pulled away to look at you. His hands shamelessly slid under your robe, eager to touch your skin. Relishing it this time, not in a feral hurry like he was earlier. He seemed visibly calmer too. 

“We used to spend hours like this at the club, remember?” He spoke, and immediately you were overwhelmed with nostalgia. 

Hours, days, weeks, months. Some days back then you would wake up in the morning already excited to see Bucky in the evening. And it wasn’t because it was all sexual. So many nights all you two did was drink, laugh and talk about everything. He once told you that apart from Sam, you were his only real friend. 

Bucky kissed you, breaking you out of your reverie surely thinking of the past as well. It was a slow, gentle kiss. It was consuming you. His hands caressed your thighs which were still a little sore from earlier. You winced in pain when he massaged the spot where he spanked you. 

Bucky pulled away from the kiss, apologising again as he kissed down your chin. “I’m sorry, babygirl.” 

You smiled at him after taking a sip of your wine. “Stop pretending as if we were always vanilla or that this is scandalous in any way shape or form.” You chuckled as you leaned in to whisper in his ear, “We both know this was nothing compared to how we used to be.” 

Bucky smiled, a little sadly. “I missed you.” He repeated. “Tell me,” He said, “Tell me everything.” 

You finished your wine. “What do you want to know?” 

“Why did you start working at the club?” He caught the look of sadness that suddenly appeared on your face upon hearing the question.

“I… I had to drop out of uni because my grandparents fell sick.” You explained. “Mom and dad were travelling for work at the time, and I was the only one who could take care of grandma and grandpa. The treatments and all ended up costing a little more than what we had so I needed a job that paid well, I also needed one that would allow me to be flexible with my time so I could take care of my grandparents.” 

Bucky nodded, “Hence the club.” 

You nodded in confirmation. 

“Your parents never intervened? So you could finish your education?” He questioned. 

“No.” You said, almost emotionless. “When they found out what I was doing, where I was working to earn the extra money we needed… they kind of disowned me. And vowed to never talk to me again.” You chuckled, humourlessly. 

“They don’t deserve you.” Bucky said quickly, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you close. “You were so brave baby, I wish you would’ve told me all of this.” 

You slid your fingers into his hair and massaged his scalp gently. “You were already taking care of me.” You said, “You mended my heart a little each night when I saw you.” 

“I wish I could’ve done more.” He kissed along your collarbones, then froze again as if he remembered something. “I almost forgot,” He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a sleek black box. “I got you something.” Then clarified, “Well, I got you this months ago. I would’ve given it to you had you not run away from me.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, “I didn’t run from you, I–,” 

He cut you off with a finger on your lips. “Tell me about that part in a minute,” He opened the slender black box to reveal the red diamond choker inside. “I had this made for you.” He watched your face intently. 

“Bucky…” You hesitantly reached for it, running your fingers over the beauty of it. It was a simple design. Elegant, timeless. Way too expensive. “I can’t take this,” You began protesting, “It’s too much.” 

Bucky made a face and said, “Oh shut up.” He was already clasping it around your neck before you could protest any further. “It’s a gift from daddy,” He whispered against the corner of your lips. “You deserve it, babygirl.” 

When he pulled away to look at you, his heart almost broke again at the sight of the tears in your eyes. 

“What is it?” He asked, wiping your tears away for the second time today. “Is it that ugly?” 

You laughed through the tears. “No, it’s the prettiest thing I own.” You sniffled. “The only piece of real jewellery in fact.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” 

“Remind me to get you a whole collection.” Bucky pulled you closer and kissed you deeply. 

Then it turned into something more and by the time the afternoon rolled around, the two of you had lost count how many times you’d made love on your pink couch. Slow touches and cuddles, and soft kisses always resulted in the two of you fucking again. 

—

In the late afternoon, while snacking on random things Bucky realised you still hadn’t explained how you ended up here. 

“Grandma and grandpa’s bakery.” You explained, watching the rain pour outside. “They left it to me. They died within weeks of each other,” You said with a melancholic smile on your face, “I always knew that would happen. They loved each other too much to live without one another for too long.” 

You turned to look at Bucky who pulled you onto his lap again and held you as tightly as possible. You weren’t crying this time, but being held felt nice. 

You continued, “I had funerals to plan, I had to pack up my life and move all the way here, I had to take on the responsibility of the bakery and renovate this apartment. And you were already gone at the time so…” You sighed. “I didn’t know if I should leave a note or not. I didn’t know if you were actually coming back or–,” 

“I would never abandon you. I thought you knew that.” Bucky said, a little annoyed at that. “I made you a promise, did you not–,” 

You couldn’t help but argue, “Yeah well, I didn’t know if what we had was real enough for you to come back to.” 

Bucky frowned. “Baby…” 

You gave him a small smile, and pressed your forehead against his, rubbing your noses together. “I know now. It is.” 

When you finally pulled away from his addicting embrace you said, “I’m gonna get started on dinner. You can shower in there,” You pointed at your bedroom door as you got up from the couch. Bucky tried to grab you again but you pulled away laughing. “The weather is clearing up, we can have dinner outside on the patio.” 

You threw him a wink and made your way into the kitchen. 

Bucky finally got up and walked into your bedroom. Just as he imagined, the place was all white, gold, and pink. He actually laughed when he walked into the bathroom and found it pale pink as well. He’d grown to love it too by now. 

–

You were busy at the stove, making your best seafood pasta, when you felt strong arms wrapping around you from behind. 

“How’d you like my bedroom?” You asked, smirking already as you pictured him in your very girly space. 

“It’s very pink. The bed looks comfy,” He whispered into your ear, “I’m gonna fuck you in it later.” 

You chuckled and passed him another glass of wine. As you turned to face him again, you couldn’t help but laugh out loud. There he was, one of the scariest men you knew, standing in your grandma-core kitchen, wearing a fluffy white robe with pink clouds on it. 

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t comment on it. I can already hear Sam laughing his ass off and he’s not even here.” 

You laughed even harder before you kissed his cheek. “It suits you.” You said. Then you handed him a couple of plates and pointed at the patio which could be seen from the kitchen window, “Can you set the table?” 

He finished his wine and then mumbled on his way out like a grumpy old man, “First close the bakery, now set the table,” He shouted from outside, “You know, if this whole thing was your elaborate plan to hire me as your domestic helper, you could’ve just asked, babygirl.” 

You laughed at him from inside the kitchen. You shook your head as you watched him. Wearing your fluffy robe, setting the small table on your patio. The view of the ocean from that patio was to die for, and the setting sun was just sublime. The golden lights you’d hung above the cute little dining area added to the cosy atmosphere. Now with the weather a lot nicer than it was hours ago, you could hear the small town coming alive again. Voice and laughter, children cycling down the cobblestone. 

And Bucky. Bucky was here too. Winking at you from the patio. And you thought your life had ended when your parents disowned you. You scoffed at the thought. Then you thanked whatever god was listening for bringing Bucky back to you. 

— 

During dinner, Bucky filled you in on what he was up to while you were gone. And you did the same. One bottle of wine turned into two, then you and Bucky laughed at random things while you did the dishes. 

Then you found yourselves in your bed. And like he promised, Bucky made love to you there as well. 

His muscular body hovered above yours. He looked down at you with nothing but love and desire in his eyes as you undid the ridiculous robe to let his cock out. He was hard already. 

“Think I like you a lot in this robe.” You teased. 

Bucky laughed before leaning in for a kiss again. He nibbled along your skin, from your mouth to your neck as he parted your legs and slid into you.  

You gasped as your walls welcomed him perfectly. He was nice and snug inside you, stretching you out in a way that had you whining and whimpering under him in no time. 

Bucky laced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head on your pink covers as he sped up into you. Your eyes rolled back once he started moving in and out of you. Taking his sweet time, loving the way his warm skin rubbed against yours. 

He leaned in and kissed your lips again, groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you slowly. “I love you.” He breathed against your mouth. “So fucking much.” He kissed along your skin and moaned into your ear as he sped up. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.” 

“Oh Buck,” You smiled up at him, “I love you.” 

“You’re mine.” He whispered, leaning down to kiss you as he made you come again. 

“And you’re mine.” 

— 

You woke up some time in the middle of the night, thirsty after all that wine from earlier. But the moment you sat up to get out of bed, Bucky woke up too. Asking in his groggy voice, which you had never heard before but concluded that it was kind of hot, “Where are you going? What is it?” 

You smiled and kissed his forehead while getting out of bed, “Just thirsty. I’ll be right back.” 

Bucky got up after you, getting out of bed as well. “I’m coming too.” He said, “I worry this girly room might engulf me if you leave me here alone.” He joked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he followed you out and into the kitchen. 

Truth is, he didn’t want to be apart from you for even a second. 

You handed him a glass of cold water while you put some water to boil to make tea. Some green tea should put the two of you right back to sleep, you thought. 

So there you were in your cosy kitchen, wrapped in a soft blanket. Bucky leaned against the counter watching you. He was shirtless, just in some white, cotton pyjama pants that you lent him. They didn’t fit him at all but something about him in your clothes made him seem adorable. 

You were both quiet. But you could feel Bucky thinking. He looked like he was trying to find the right way to ask you something. You didn’t know what. But he had that little frown on his forehead. You wanted to kiss it away. 

“What is it?” You asked. 

Bucky avoided your eyes, choosing to stare at the floor instead as he asked, “Do you think… I mean, would you ever come back home?” 

Ah. The few moments of silence which followed were heavy. You didn’t like how that question put some kind of metaphorical distance between the two of you. 

So you took a few steps and leaned into him. You placed your hands on his muscular, toned chest and said, “This is home, for me.” You gave him the truth. “That city was never home now that I think about it.” You smiled faintly, “The only good part was you.” 

Bucky nodded. “So,” He began, then stopped to clear his throat and spoke again, “You won’t ever leave this place?” 

You slid your hands up across his skin, feeling the warm, strong muscles underneath your palm. You traced his collar bones, then his neck and finally cupped his face in your hands. He wrapped his arms loosely around your middle. 

“I love it here, Bucky.” You stated. “It’s quiet, and peaceful. It looks boring at first but it’s what I’ve always wanted.” You said. “Plus my grandparents left me this, it’s all I have of them.” You paused for a while, hating that look of hurt in his ocean blue eyes. “I won’t leave. This is my home now.” 

Bucky was quiet. Even his breathing was slow. 

You let go of him, took a step back and said, “Maybe you should head back.” It felt like the words sliced you from the inside. It hurt to even utter them. “You have a life there.” You gave him a sad smile. Followed by a faint chuckle. “Unless you want to take up fishing then I’m afraid there’s nothing for you here.” 

He scoffed. “There’s you.” He said as if that was more than enough. 

“Bucky.” You warned. 

He shook his head, then reached for his phone which he’d forgotten in the kitchen earlier tonight. “Sam will probably fly out here to beat me up when I tell him.” He spoke, none of what he said made sense to you though.

“What are you–,”

“And he’ll have to work twice as much. But he’ll do great, I know. He’s Sam after all, strongest man I know.” Bucky carried on, ignoring your questions as he typed away on his phone. “I’ll do as much as I can from here, maybe fly back to the city once or twice a year to show my face.” 

“Bucky,” You warned again, “What are you talking—,” 

Bucky continued, cutting you off each time you tried to get a word in. “I’ll have to call my people, actually I have a lot of phone calls to make if–,” 

You cut him off this time, stepping closer to him again and grabbing him by his broad shoulders. “What are you talking about?” 

Bucky gave you a lovesick smile. “Well if you’re not going back to the city, neither am I.” He answered. You froze. He continued. “I’ll have to buy us a bigger home somewhere around here. We’ll keep the apartment and bakery of course, but maybe we could use some staff to help with maintenance and to keep the bakery running.” 

He made a mental, makeshift plan while you had silent tears streaming down your face. 

He continued, “We’ll get you back in uni, whichever one you want and whichever offers distance learning because there’s no way I’m letting you live on some campus away from me.” He paused, then said, “I’ll have to actually take up fishing. Maybe I’ll buy a few boats, you know I always wanted to be a yacht broker.” He sounded almost… hopeful. “Retirement sounds nice.” 

You sniffled. “Buck…” 

Bucky kept talking while he gently caressed your back. “I’ll have to learn French,” He groaned, “At this grown age.” He added. “I’ll have to know what's a chocolate croissant and what’s a pain au chocolat if I want to occasionally help out with the bakery. I can’t be uncultured while my wife is this connoisseur, you know? The locals will laugh at me.” 

“Wife?” You questioned through tears and a faint, barely there smile. 

He rolled his eyes. “Baby, I’m wearing your clothes, sleeping in your girly room, eating off of your floral plates.” He explained, “If you don’t marry me, I will lose my reputation.” He joked. 

You laughed, and sobbed as you threw your arms around him, hugging him as tightly as you could. 

“You don’t have to do this.” You spoke through tears. Your heart felt so full, you didn’t know how to handle a man like Bucky changing the course of his life for you. All for you. 

Bucky hugged you back, kissing the top of your head. “I want to.” He said, “I have to. Otherwise you’ll run away again.” He teased. 

You laughed quietly. “I won’t.” You said firmly. 

“Good,” He sighed, squeezing you tightly in his arms before letting go. “Now I have to tell Sam.” He looked genuinely worried. 

You giggled, then leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Tell him in the morning.” You whispered, your hands already trailing down to the waistband of the pyjama pants. 

Bucky chuckled before leaning in to kiss you, deeply. “Okay baby,” He whispered, forgetting everything else as he got lost in you all over again. 

He made love to you right there in the kitchen, sliding in between your legs as you sat on the edge of the counter. Slow and gentle. Kissing you softly, making a mess of you as he made you come over and over and over again. Whispering against your heated skin, your wet, open mouth, “You’re mine…” 

“All yours,” You answered, holding him tightly. Your nails scratching down his back, your skin burning in all the best ways as his beard scratched it each time he kissed you. 

This time, he made you a different promise. 

“If you chose to run again, you better run for your life and pray I never find you, babygirl…” He whispered into your ear as he slid inside you again. His cock made it hard for you to focus on anything else but you tried your hardest to hear him out. “Because I won’t be this kind if I ever have to hunt for you again.” 

You laughed, but ended up moaning as he bit down on your other shoulder this time. Marking you as his again.

[ipushhimback]

we were drunk, it happens - pt. 2

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

pairing: lando norris x verstappen!reader warnings: smut (marked with 3 red stars), oral (f receiving), p in v, no protection word count: 3k summary: Y/N attends a GP, saying if Lando wins he will be rewarded

Only a couple days later, Y/N got a message from Max.

The Monaco GP is next week. I know you are not really into F1, but I’d love for you to come, and I am sure Kelly and P would also be happy to have someone to spend their time with. What do you think? – Max

Y/N really hated Formula 1, but not because of the sport itself. She loved the fast cars, the races, how everyone wants to be the best. But her dad had ruined it all for her when they were kids.

She had always loved karting. Sometimes she was even allowed to drive Max’ kart, but when she told her dad that she also wanted to kart competitively, just like her brother, he had said she couldn’t. How could she even think of that as a girl. She would never have a chance in the sport.

Sometimes she thinks that her dad was right. She probably wouldn’t have come far as a woman, but she still would have loved to race.

Maybe it was for the better. Jos wasn’t known for being the best dad to Max. He had always pressured him. Punished him when he wasn’t good enough. And Y/N knew how it affected Max now. She didn’t know if she could have handled that as a kid.

So, from there on she had avoided Formula 1 as much as possible as it simply reminded her too much of her father.

But how could she say no to her brother. Moreover, it could be a great opportunity to spend some time with Lando. Even though they had agreed to no feelings. But honestly, Y/N didn’t know how long that would work. Or if it even could work. She had doubts.

I’m not sure. Is dad going to be there? - Y/N

No, I don’t think so. At least he didn’t say anything to me. But that doesn’t mean anything. - Max

Ok, then I guess I will come. Would you or Kelly pick me up? I don’t want to have to search for a parking lot. - Y/N

Of course. See you then. – Max

Somehow, Y/N was even looking forward to attending the Grand Prix. She didn’t know when the last time was that had happened. But now she just had to hope and pray that her dad wasn’t going to be there as well. Then she would for sure go home. She would just take a walk as it was only half an hour from her home.

She picked up her phone again and opened her chat with Lando. They exchanged their numbers before he left, so they could chat about when they could meet up again – but no feelings involved, of course.

Gonna be at the GP next week. You better win, Norris. - Y/N

She waited a bit, but Lando didn’t go online. He probably was at training, Y/N thought. But just as she wanted to out her phone on the coffee table in front of her, her phoned signaled an incoming message.

Really? How come I have never seen you at one before? But if I win, I wanna be rewarded… - Lando

Long story. But ofc you will. Why else would I tell you to win? – Y/N

K. Have to get back to training, bye. – Lando

Yeah, bye. - Y/N

Y/N couldn’t help but grin. Lando had interrupted her training. For her. To answer an unimportant message. She leaned back on the couch pillows, sighed and smiled to herself.

She sat back up. No feelings. He is probably an arrogant, rich person. She would just end up hurt if she fell for him.

She took a deep breath and got up from where she was sitting. The world champion’s sister made her way to the kitchen where she took a cup from the cupboard and made a huge coffee. The pill she took earlier did little for her headache, so she hoped that the caffeine was going to help.

Then she took her laptop and decided to watch some silly show to take her mind off Lando.

***

A week later, Y/N was ready to go to the GP. She was wearing a bright blue summer dress, her favorite. It had a lot of little white flowers printed on the fabric and it had a quite low neckline, which she hoped Lando would notice.

She actually thought about wearing something orange, in fact it had been one of her favorite colors to wear for quite a long time, but she couldn’t wear papaya-similar colors when she was there to support her brother – or when she was at least pretending to support her brother. Because even though she did not have feelings for Lando – no, really, none – she had been so horny the last couple of day, she just needed Lando to win this Grand Prix.

So now, Y/N sat in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water while scrolling through instagram and waiting for her brother and Kelly.

She watched her Labradoodle puppy trying to catch his own tail which made her laugh, so she got up to pet him.

Eventually she heard the doorbell ring. She quickly went to open the door, but instead of her brother or Kelly, it was P standing on the doorstep.

“P! Hey! What are you doing here? Are you going to drive me to the Grand Prix?”, Y/N was joking which made the five-year-old giggle.

“No, silly. I can’t drive. But Maxie said I could ring, and I have to tell you to hurry because we are late.”

“Ok, I just need to get my jacket from upstairs”, Y/N said.

“No!”, Penelope exclaimed. “You can’t. Maxie said we are late. Now come on.” P grabbed Y/N’s hand and pulled her outside and towards the Audi that was parked in front of her house.

The young woman new better than to argue with the little girl so she decided to just follow her. Who needed a jacket anyway. In the worst case she would just ask Max or Kelly for something warmer to wear.

An hour later Y/N was hanging around with Kelly and P around Max’ garage and she regretted that she didn’t come later. They have been standing around for what felt like hours and the race wasn’t even close to get started. The only thing that prevented her from going home again to sleep and coming back later, was P who was full of energy and Kelly who just couldn’t keep up with it anymore, being 9 months pregnant.

“Y/N, can we go to Lando? I wanna see him and tell him good luck. Can we go? Now?” P looked at Y/N with that cute little pout. “Please?”, she added after seeing the critical look on Y/N’s face.

“P… Lando is probably really busy, just like Max. Does it really have to be now?” If the Dutch woman was being honest with herself, she just really didn’t want to see Lando right now.

No. That was not correct. She wanted to see him. And that was the problem. She shouldn’t do that. No feelings. Just fun. That can’t be that hard, right?

Wrong. It can be hard. Not falling for a handsome guy with the curliest curls in the world, the cutest, widest smile existing on planed earth, the prettiest blue eyes that seemed to be green in different lightning and – stop.

“It really has to be now! If I don’t wish him luck, he won’t be good and he has to win!” P looked at her with these pleading look Y/N just can’t resist so there she was, walking with P to the McLaren garage.

“You know that Max would kill us if he saw us here?”, Y/N said jokingly. “By the way, don’t you want Max to win? Why Lando?”

“Maxie won too often. Now it is Lando’s turn. It is boring with Maxie. I like drama. And we don’t get drama when Maxie always wins. And Lando is great! He always plays with me and lets me do his hair. He has nice hair. It is curly.” P grinned happily while she explained to Y/N why Lando was so great.

A bit later they were standing in front of Lando’s garage and Y/N went to the first mechanic she spotted.

“Sorry, where is Lando? P wants to tell him good luck for the race. Is that possible?” Y/N just hoped that the mechanic would recognize P or her so she could go to Lando.

“I know her. Who are you? I am sure you understand that I can’t just let anyone to him.”

Y/N nodded. “I am Y/N Verstappen. You know, Max’ sister? Kelly didn’t come with us because, well she is pregnant and probably sleeping somewhere.”

The mechanic looked satisfied with the answer. “Ok. You just have to go straight there and then the third door on the left side. There should be his name on the door. Just knock. He will open if he isn’t preparing for the race at the moment.”

“Ok thank you. Have a nice day, bye!” Y/N looked at the five-year-old next to her who had a content look on her face.

Just a minute later they were standing in front of a wooden door, they could hear loud music from inside, so Y/N knocked again, even louder this time.

“God, how isn’t he deaf already”, she murmured more to herself than anyone else, but P commented it anyway.”

“Because he is Lando. He is not becoming deaf ever. He is great.” The older woman could barely hold the laugh that was threatening to spill over.

“Yes, he really is”, Y/N said with a laugh, shaking her head at P’s enthusiasm.

Finally, the door was opening, and Y/N was standing in front of this handsome guy Lando.

“P!”, he explained.

“Hi Lando! I want to wish you good luck. Y/N said you were busy, but I had to because you have to win, ok?”, the girl asked in just one breath while falling forward and demanding a hug from the driver.

Y/N could only laugh. Too adorable was the childhood crush Penelope obviously had on the older guy.

“That’s great! Thank you, P! So, you are going to cheer for me? Isn’t Max going to be sad?”, Lando asked.

“No, he will understand. You will win. I know because I wished you good luck.”

Lando just laughed, and Y/N couldn’t help but admire how cute he was with Penelope. And that laugh… she could listen to it for hours and- stop.

***

Lando did in fact win. And Y/N couldn’t be happier about it. During the Podium celebration – Lando came in first place, Max in second and Oscar in third – she just stood in front of it, being impatient.

But then finally, Lando came to her, already changed into a hoodie and simple jeans, his hair damp from the shower he probably had.

“So… what about my reward? Should we drive to your place again or mine?”, Lando asked with that damn smirk on his face.

“Mine. I need to feed my dog.” Lando shot you a surprised look.

“You have a dog? Why didn’t I see him already?” Y/N noticed how disappointed Lando looked.

“I just got him like a week ago. He is super cute, but right now he is at my neighbor’s, and I don’t want her to spend even more of her time taking care of my dog.”

Lando just hummed and led the younger woman to his car. She let out a whistle when she saw how nice it was.

“I assume you won’t let me drive that beauty?”, she asked the brunette.

“You want to?” Y/N nodded enthusiastically.

“Go for it”, Lando eventually said, throwing his key in her direction and she caught it easily.

She let out a high-pitched squeal when she sat in the driver’s seat and started the engine. Carefully, she pressed the accelerator, and the car shot forward.

“This is so crazy, oh my god… I will steal that beauty from you.”

It only was a short drive to Y/N’s home, so she had actually thought about driving differently so she could enjoy the feeling of the car even longer but honestly, she didn’t want to. She knew exactly what would happen when they arrived, and she didn’t want to wait any longer for it.

But it turned out she did not know what happened next. Lando kneeled down and cuddled with her dog who seemingly enjoyed that as he fell asleep right in Lando’s arms.

“Can you leave Milo alone? He’s not the reward I meant…”, Y/N said a bit disappointed because she knew her puppy was cute, but she didn’t imagine Lando just playing with her dog for the next hour.

***

Eventually Lando set down the sleepy puppy who immediately curled up on the couch and they went upstairs, not wanting Milo to watch them do whatever they were planning to do.

“So… now I will finally get my reward?”, Lando asked, this stupid smirk back on his face.

“Oh, shut up! You were the one who needed to cuddle with Milo”, Y/N said before stepping forward and pulling Lando to her by grabbing the strings of his hoodie.

She tilted her head up and just a moment later, Lando’s lips were on her’s. Y/N hummed and opened her lips slightly.

Lando moved towards her bed, not breaking the kiss, until Y/N flopped on the mattress. He pulled back just enough to have access to her dress so he could pull it over her head, leaving her in just her underwear. Y/N then tugged at Lando’s hoodie, and he ended up helping her by slipping it off, as well as his pants. Y/N stared at his chest.

She knew she had seen it all before, when they hooked up after the dinner, but the memory of the night wasn’t too present anymore, and honestly, Y/N didn’t know how she could ever look at Lando and not think how hot this guy looks.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Lando kisser her again, rougher this time. More demanding than anything else did he press his lips on her’s. Her back arched off the bed which Lando saw as his chance to get his hands behind her back to open her bra.

“So gorgeous”, he whispered on her lips and pulled back just for Y/N to feel his mouth closing around her nipples, making her gasp.

His lips trailed lower until he stopped above the waistband of her panties. His index fingers hooked into it, and he pulled them down until he could throw them to where he thought the rest of the clothes already is.

His went even lower until his lips hovered just above her. Y/N’s breath hitched as she looked down at Lando who was spreading her legs. He looked up at her, his eyes dark and his pupils dilated.

The first touch of his tongue felt… electric and it made her back arch. He teased her with fast licks and gentle pressure which made Y/N move into his direction.

“Patience. Trust me”, Lando said, and Y/N would throw a pillow at him if it hadn’t felt this good.

But it wasn’t long until Lando grew more and more impatient, and he didn’t want to continue teasing Y/N.

His tongue worked not only faster but also firmer and soon she was teetering right on the edge. Her hands came down to grab his hair, pushing him closer to her and she couldn’t stop the loud moan from slipping through her lips.

Lando hummed against her and the vibrations just pushed her even closer to the edge. His fingers joined his tongue as he curled them in her, pressing into that sweet spot.

When Lando realized that Y/N was about to come he worked even more precise, rougher. And just like that she tripped over the edge, and she felt the release wash over her. Lando didn’t stop thrusting his fingers in and out of her until she rode out her orgasm.

Y/N felt her legs tremble and she slowly opened her eyes again just to see Lando over her. His lips were glistening from her juices as he moved to press a kiss on her lips. She tasted herself on his lips, the taste blending with the champagne he drank earlier on the podium and just the taste of him.

She pulled back just enough to mumble, “Need you, Lando. Please.”

Lando didn’t say anything just moved to get rid of the boxers he still wore. Y/N couldn’t help but stare at him, her lips parting slightly.

“Like what you see?”, he teased her though it was apparent that he wanted it just as much as she did. His cock was hard and leaking and huge. Y/N really didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of that.

“How did that fit the last time?”, she blurted out and wanted to take it back immediately when Lando chuckled.

“Wanna find out?”, he said and even though he was just teasing, Y/N knew that if she just said no, Lando would stop immediately, no questions asked.

But she nodded, wanting to finally feel him in her. Lando positioned himself between her thighs, teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock.

Y/N breath hitched as he pushed into her with one hard thrust. Her hands flew to his shoulder, and she was sure that her nails would leave marks on his skin, as she adjusted to the stretch. Lando stilled just for a moment before pulling out nearly fully before slamming back into her.

Y/N moaned his name which just seemed to fuel the Brit, and he started thrusting into her even harder.

“God, you feel so god”, he moaned, his hands gripping her hips and Y/N was sure she would have bruises by tomorrow.

Only after a few thrusts Y/N was already close again, still sensitive from her previous orgasm.

“Lando, I-“, her voice broke but Lando hummed, knowing exactly what she wanted to say.

“I know. Come for me.”

Her orgasm hit her even harder this time, her body still high from before and Lando came just a moment later, with himself buried deep inside her.

For a moment, neither of them moved but then, Lando slowly pulled away, collapsing onto the bed just next to Y/N.

She stared at the ceiling, her chest still heaving as she was catching her breath.

“Happy with your reward?”, she asked Lando.

“Very. This was amazing.”

Y/N rolled to the side to face Lando, a grin tugging at her lips.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Norris,” she said with a sly grin.

A/N: Should I write a pt. 3? I kinda want to but idk if anyone wants to read it

[littlelamy]

i luv shopaholic reader🛍️how about when she comes back him from a long day of shopping she makes rafe sit down and look at everything she got bonus if barry happens to be there😭

a/n: i am happy you love her! i was so scared to write out the ask so i feel so much better know so many people like shopaholic reader! 😝thank you for sending a request 🤍

you push open the door with a grin, arms heavy with bags from your long day out. the living room lights cast a warm glow, and you spot rafe lounging on the couch, his long legs stretched out, one arm lazily draped over the backrest. barry is there too, slouched next to him, probably running his mouth as usual.

rafe’s eyes land on you immediately, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. "well, well, look who’s back," he drawls, glancing at the mountain of bags in your hands. "how much damage did you do today?"

you step into the room, dropping your bags with a dramatic sigh. "enough," you tease, leaning down to start rummaging through your purchases. "and now you get to sit here and admire all the amazing things i got."

barry chuckles from the other side of the couch. "oh, this should be good. let’s see what you got for pretty boy over here."

rafe rolls his eyes, shifting in his seat. "barry, shut up."

you pull out the first item, a sleek black dress that you’re particularly excited about, holding it up against your body and giving a little twirl. "so… what do you think? date night material?"

rafe’s gaze darkens, his eyes raking over you slowly. "definitely. though i’d prefer if you weren’t wearing anything at all."

you toss the dress at him, heat creeping up your cheeks. "behave."

rafe catches the dress, his smirk widening as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "come here and i might."

barry snickers. "damn, she’s got you real bad, huh?"

ignoring barry, you pull out a pair of shoes next. "these? i bought just because i knew they’d drive you crazy."

rafe’s eyes flick down to the strappy heels, and you can see the flicker of approval in his gaze. "put ‘em on."

"you wish." you flash him a playful smile, slipping the heels back into the box. "maybe if you’re good."

barry throws his head back, laughing. "this is better than i thought. i’m staying."

rafe’s eyes narrow at barry, but he turns his attention back to you, a more dangerous edge to his voice. "you really gonna make me sit here and watch you play dress-up all night, or are you gonna come over here and give me a real show?"

you walk closer, your eyes locking with his, the tension crackling between you. "a real show, huh?" you lean down just enough so that your lips are inches from his. "what do i get out of it?"

rafe’s hand moves to your waist, pulling you the rest of the way until you're sitting in his lap. "you’ll get more than you can handle."

barry rolls his eyes. "okay, i’m outta here before it gets x-rated."

you laugh, but the sound fades as rafe's hand slides up your thigh, his lips brushing against your ear. "now, show me what else you bought, or i’ll lose interest real fast."

you smirk, giving him a teasing look. "oh, i don’t think you’re gonna lose interest anytime soon."

taglist (if you want to be added comment below): @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @wniektty

[enhaflixer]

ENHYPEN ASS vs. TITS - ENHA HARD HOURS MDNI 18+

cw: smut obvs like so much, but also riki's has a lil ass eating at the end so if ur not comfy w that don't read it, i personally think its hot sexy mwah mwah mwahiasd ydgwieudnoedoqwim asf so...

-

HEESEUNG — TITS MAN TO THE POINT OF SPIRITUALITY

He loves them. Loves them.

Big ones, small ones, soft, perky, natural, fake—he’s an equal opportunity worshipper. But yours? YOURS?

He treats them like holy ground. Kneels for them. Sleeps with his face in them. Whines when you wear a bra like it’s a personal attack.

“Why would you trap them like that?”

“They need support.”

“I support them. Every day. Emotionally. Spiritually.”

You’re doing dishes? He’s behind you, groping.

You’re getting dressed? He’s on the bed, hands behind his head, smiling like an idiot while watching them jiggle into your bra.

You take your shirt off? He sighs, like something’s been healed deep in his soul.

He’ll pull your top down mid-makeout just to cup them gently and go:

“Sorry, I needed that. I’m better now.”

In Bed? He’s feral.

Titty-fucking? Yes. Every time you offer. Sometimes when you don’t.

He’s panting the second you squeeze them around his cock, groaning “oh my god—your tits are so fucking perfect—” while leaking all over them. He’ll finish on your chest and just… stare.

Sometimes traces your nipples with his tongue and mutters praise like a man possessed:

“So soft. So pretty. Look at you. Let me suck on you, baby. Let me have you.”

He cums harder when he’s touching them. Moans louder. Cries a little if you let him fuck them and your mouth at the same time.

Soft Hours? Heeseung, Please.

When he’s falling asleep?

Face planted right between them.

Wakes up and kisses them before he kisses your mouth.

If you ever even joke about disliking them?

“Hey. Don’t do that. Not to my favorite girls.”

He holds them during cuddles. Talks to them sometimes. Probably has a little name for them. Definitely has a favorite boob.

If you ever walk in wearing a loose tank top, no bra, all soft and sleepy?

He goes feral.

Like, drop-the-controller-in-the-middle-of-a-game feral.

“No. Come here. No, I’m not joking. Get over here. You look like that and expect me to focus? Be serious.”

JAY — ASS MAN TO THE GRAVE.

This man is not okay about it.

He tries to play it cool. He tries to pretend he’s above it. But his eyes? They betray him every. single. time. You bend over in front of him once and he forgets his name, his birth date, his purpose in life.

“What did you say?”

“I said pass me the—”

“No, I’m sorry. I blacked out. Say it again but maybe… don’t arch like that this time?”

You walking around the house?

He’s watching.

Not even subtle. Doesn’t blink.

You turn around and catch him, and he just smirks like—

“I paid for dinner, I get to look.”

If you wear leggings or those tiny shorts he hates but secretly loves? He’s groaning the second you leave the room.

If you wear nothing? He’s hard before you even speak.

In public?

You’re his plus one at a fancy dinner. You lean forward to pick up your bag and his hand is immediately on the small of your back.

“Don’t bend over in that dress. Unless you want me to ruin it.”

He’ll whisper filthy things in your ear just because he knows your thighs will clench.

“Gonna have to remind you who that ass belongs to when we get home.”

You do not make it home.

In bed? Jay doesn’t play.

He lives for taking you from behind.

Spreads your cheeks just to stare. Smacks it once. Then twice. Then again—just because he can.

“Look at this fuckin’ view,” he groans. “Tell me who it’s for.”

He grabs handfuls of your ass while pounding into you, low moans spilling from his lips with every bounce.

“That’s it, baby. Make it clap for me.”

He’ll cum and stay inside, pressing his palm to the curve of your back like he’s still claiming it.

If you’re riding him in reverse? He’s DONE. Gripping your hips, whispering, “that’s it, baby, give me the show,” while he holds your ass open and watches himself disappear inside you over and over.

Soft Hours? He’s down bad.

He walks up behind you when you’re brushing your teeth, wraps his arms around your waist, and rests his chin on your shoulder just to grind the smallest bit against your ass.

“Just letting you know I’m thinking of your ass.”

Worships it like it’s art. Might kiss it before kissing your lips. If you’re lying face-down on the couch, he’s kneeling beside you and purring.

“This is where I wanna live. Right here. I’ll build a house.”

Bonus Jay Dialogue:

“If I die and come back as anything, I want it to be your ass.”

“You’re unwell.”

“No, baby. I’m obsessed. There’s a difference.”

JAKE SIM AND THE TITTY ERA™

It starts as a joke.

You’re lying on the couch, wearing the tiniest tank top known to mankind—braless, of course. Jake’s head is resting on your chest, dead silent, completely still, until—

“Left one’s Luna,” he mumbles.

“I’m sorry??”

“And the right one’s Veronica. Luna’s a little softer. Veronica’s got attitude.”

You blink.

He looks up, dead serious.

“What? I see them more than I see half my friends. They deserve names.”

From that point on—it’s over for you.

Jake is no longer a man. He is a titty prophet. A chest scholar. A boob poet.

And he has zero shame.

When You’re Just Hanging Out

He’ll be cuddled up next to you, arm around your waist, hand casually resting on Luna like she’s his comfort plushie.

“Veronica’s in a mood today. She keeps poking out.”

“You’re insane.”

“You’re just jealous you don’t have Veronica and Luna.”

He will say good morning to them.

He will say good night to them.

He will literally bow to them when you take your shirt off.

When Things Get Heated

You’re on top of him, tits bouncing in his face, and he’s fully whimpering.

“Oh my god, look at them.”

“They’re literally just—”

“No. No they’re not. Don’t disrespect them in front of me.”

He talks directly to them while fucking you.

“That’s my girl. Look how good you look. You’re stealing the whole show.”

And then moans like he’s being blessed.

He sucks on one, then the other, then goes back and forth like he’s trying to make them jealous of each other.

Titty-fucking? Oh, baby.

It’s not a kink. It’s a calling.

He’s panting, groaning, fully worshipping the view with his cock between them and his fingers gripping your sides like he’s trying to survive it.

“Luna, you’re an angel. Veronica, stop staring at me like that—fuck—fuck.”

He finishes all over them, then kisses the tops like a gentleman.

When He’s Being Soft™

He lays his head between them to fall asleep.

Literally nuzzles like a baby.

If you move, he groans dramatically and pulls you back in.

“You’re squishing them.”

“Good. That’s where I wanna die.”

When you’re feeling insecure?

He gets angry.

“Don’t talk about them like that.”

“Jake, I’m just saying—”

“No. No self-slander. They’re iconic. They’re powerful. They’re literally the best part of my day.”

He’ll kiss your chest over and over until you melt.

Then look up with that soft, sleepy smile and go:

“Tell them I said thank you.”

SUNGHOON — TITS MAN. DEADPAN. UNWELL.

“I wasn’t staring.”

He says.

While blinking at your chest.

Not moving. Not breathing. Just… evaluating. Deep in thought. Like your tits are a visual exam and he’s making sure he gets every answer right.

The Outside: Composed. Cold. Deadpan.

You walk out of the bedroom in a braless tank top? He doesn’t say anything.

Just glances once. Looks away. Then glances again.

“You good?”

“Yeah.”

Stares harder.

You lean forward on the counter. He zones out so hard he doesn’t hear what you said. Eyes locked. Hands twitching.

“Are you even listening?”

“I’m trying not to lose my fucking mind, actually.”

The Inside: Imploding. Exploding. Melting.

Sunghoon’s not dramatic. But your tits?

They undo him.

He acts like he doesn’t care, but you catch him gently adjusting his sweatpants every time they bounce under your shirt.

He tries to make it your problem.

“Why would you wear that?”

“I live here??”

“Okay but you know what that top does to me.”

When you finally take your bra off in front of him?

Silence.

Eyes wide.

Lips parted.

Then:

“…Yeah. Okay. I’m gonna need you to come here right now.”

In Bed? He’s Possessed.

He doesn’t even go for your mouth at first.

Just pulls your shirt up and moans the second he sees your chest.

Stares. Palms. Thumbs your nipples until they harden. Watches you squirm.

“Sensitive?”

“Yes—fuck, Hoon—”

“Good.”

He loves sucking. But not sloppy. Not rushed.

Slow. Purposeful. Alternates between kisses and tongue. Stares at your face while doing it. Groans when you moan.

“Keep making those sounds. It makes them feel appreciated.”

You ride him? His hands are locked behind his head, watching them bounce with that lazy, half-lidded gaze like he’s hypnotized.

“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Making them bounce like that. You’re evil.”

Sunghoon’s Tits-Man Greatest Hits:

“You were talking and I heard nothing. They were bouncing and I panicked.”

“I’ve been really good today. Can I put my face in them?”

“They’re prettier than I deserve. But I’ll worship them like I do.”

“If they had their own fanclub, I’d be president, secretary, and treasurer.”

“I come for you. I stay for the tits.”

SUNOO — THE SNEAKIEST ASS MAN ALIVE

He is so unserious about it.

Pretends it’s not that deep.

But if you bend over in front of him, he gasps. Loudly. Like it’s the most disrespectful thing you’ve ever done.

“You can’t just do that while I’m eating!!”

“I dropped my phone!”

“I dropped my soul???”

Around the House? He’s Acting Up.

You’re in shorts? He’s watching.

You walk away? He hums under his breath like he’s rating it.

“Mhm. That’s a solid 9.6 today.”

If you so much as climb onto the bed in front of him, it’s over. He’s crawling after you. Hands out like a cartoon character.

He doesn’t even pretend he’s not obsessed. If you catch him staring?

“Yeah. And? I bought dinner. I get ass privileges.”

Loves pulling you into his lap just to squeeze. Always sits with you facing away so he can rest his head on your back and just hold. The ass. Casually.

“This is therapeutic for me.”

In Bed? He’s OUT OF CONTROL.

Sunoo doesn’t just love your ass.

He performs rituals on it.

Spanks it lovingly. Stares like it’s art. Spreads it slow and dramatic just to whisper:

“This is my happy place.”

Loves when you ride him in reverse so he can watch. Bites his lip, tilts his head, and says the nastiest shit in the softest voice.

“Bounce like that again, baby. Just like that. You’re showing off, aren’t you?”

He’s fully vocal. Gasps. Whines. Might literally sob if he finishes while holding onto your hips.

Loses all composure when he takes you from behind. Like—whimpering, full-body shaking, face buried in your neck groaning “you’re too good to me—”

Sunoo’s Ass-Man Greatest Hits:

 “This outfit is so disrespectful and I support it fully.”

 “No offense but if I die it better be face-down in that thing.”

 “You jiggle when you walk. That’s poetry, actually.”

 “It’s giving… distraction. It’s giving… girlfriend tax.”

 “Bend over one more time and I will moan. I’m warning you.”

JUNGWON — SWEET. TEASING. CRAZY-IN-THE-HEAD. ASS MAN TO HIS CORE.

He’ll help you clean the house, fold your laundry, and refill your water bottle like the perfect boyfriend he is…

…then immediately pull you into his lap while you’re still wearing your cute little shorts and whisper:

“Sit still, baby. Let me feel it again.”

Sweet on the surface… always.

He’ll come up behind you while you’re cooking, wrap his arms around your waist, and nuzzle your neck.

But it’s not romantic.

Because his hands are gripping your ass the whole time. He’s swaying his hips into you, barely hiding his hard-on, mumbling:

“You’re doing great. Just… keep standing like that for a few more minutes.”

But once his brain short-circuits? He’s GONE.

You bend over once—to pick up a sock, fix the blanket, anything—and his hands are on you.

Not playful.

POSSESSIVE.

Spreads you apart with both hands like he’s checking if you remembered who you belong to.

“Pussy's dripping already?” he murmurs, smirking. “Told you it missed me.”

Loves watching his cum leak out of you—loves it—mouth open, eyes wide, licking his lips like he’s about to dive back in.

“Look at her. it's still hungry, baby.”

He will eat you out from behind just to stay close to her.

Face deep. Hands gripping. Moaning like you’re his last meal.

He groans when you cum, tongue flat and wide and messy—then keeps licking just to overstimulate you, hands spreading you wider until you’re whining.

“Don’t run. You wanted me back here, didn’t you?”

“W-Won—”

“Nah. Be a good girl. Let me finish worshipping you.”

Jungwon’s Wild-Ass, Sweet-Boy Ass-Man Dialogue Greatest Hits:

 “Spread your cheeks for me. That’s it. God, look how pretty that is.”  “you’ve always been a lil slutty, haven't you? You’re leaking just from my tongue.”  “You said you wanted soft tonight, but your ass says otherwise.”  “I’m serious. If you keep arching like that, I’m not pulling out.”  “I’ll kiss your ass good night every day if you let me.”

RIKI — UNBOTHERED. UNHOLY. THE MOST CASUAL ASS OBSESSION ON EARTH.

He’s quiet. Chill. Always lounging.

But his eyes?

They never leave your ass.

You turn around and he’s already smirking, legs spread, head tilted back like—

“Damn. Look at her go.”

And by “her,” he means your ass. He says it with his chest.

So casual it’s actually terrifying.

You walk past in sweatpants?

He stares.

You bend over to grab something?

He groans.

You sit in his lap, all soft and cozy, and his hands immediately slide down to squeeze—hard.

“What?” he shrugs. “She said hi.”

He talks to her like she’s got a personality. Blames shit on her.

“I wasn’t trying to get hard. She was grinding.”

“I wasn’t staring. She winked first.”

And in bed? He’s… not normal.

He flips you over. Spreads your cheeks.

And just stares.

Doesn’t even blink.

Tilts his head. Brushes his thumb across your hole.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he says quietly. “She’s so needy. You feel that?”

He lives to fuck you from behind.

Hands on your hips, pulling you back onto him like a toy. Mutters things like:

“Look at her swallowing me. Damn.”

When he pulls out and watches his cum leak out?

He presses your cheeks together and moans.

Takes a picture. Doesn’t ask. Says:

“This one’s for her. She earned it.”

And he eats ass like he’s trying to win a gold medal.

Doesn’t warn you. Doesn’t stop.

He’ll lick everything with slow, lazy circles—palms keeping you wide open, breath warm, tongue deeper than it has any right to be.

He loves how sensitive you get.

He teases. He talks through it.

He chuckles when you shake.

“You always this shy, baby?”

“You’re licking my—”

“I know. She’s delicious.”

[holyblonded]

sweet 16 | something blue

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader, olga rios x teen!reader

summary: olga makes a big deal about a day you don’t even want to celebrate

notes: shout out frank ocean cause i was listening to white ferrari and it inspired me

You can’t remember a single birthday that felt like yours.

Well, except for your quinceañera, but that didn’t count. That day was a blur of discomfort and glitter, the kind of extravagance that felt too loud, too fake. Your parents had come back out of nowhere, like ghosts from a past you tried not to think about, throwing a massive party with people you didn’t know and music that wasn’t even your taste. They’d smiled and posed for photos, pocketed every envelope of birthday money, and then disappeared again, vanishing just as quickly as they came. That night, you stood in the middle of the dance floor, in heels that pinched and a dress that didn’t feel like you, surrounded by strangers and wondering why you didn’t feel happy.

After that, birthdays stopped meaning anything. They were just another day. Usually spent on the pitch, grinding. Because that was the only place that felt real to you.

But this year was different. This year, you were in Barcelona. And this year, you were with Olga.

Unfortunately for you, Olga loved birthdays. She didn’t just like them, she loved them. The kind of person who started planning months in advance, who believed every birthday was sacred, a blessing, a milestone meant to be celebrated to the fullest. And the fact that she’d missed your quince? That lit a fire under her.

Your sixteenth birthday was coming up fast, and Olga had decided it was her mission to make it unforgettable. Which, of course, you were very against.

“Olga, please,” you begged, following her into the kitchen where she was stirring something in a pot and scrolling through her iPad at the same time. “I don’t want a big thing. Just— just let me chill.”

“No,” she said flatly, not even looking up. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m serious! I don’t want a party.”

“And I’m serious,” she said, turning to face you with that stubborn glint in her eyes. “You’re getting one.”

You threw your head back and groaned. “I hate parties!”

“No you don’t,” she said, waving her spoon at you. “You hate weird parties. This one’s going to be amazing.”

“I don’t even know anyone here.”

“So? We’ll invite the girls from the team. Sydney, Vicky, Alexia’s friends—”

“I don’t want strangers at my party!”

“They’re not strangers. You see them more than anyone else.”

You huffed, trying another angle. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I already ordered your outfit.”

“My hair’s gonna get frizzy.”

“You have a whole drawer of products.”

“It’s too expensive.”

“I have the budget covered.”

You stared at her. “Are you seriously not gonna let me win one argument?”

“Nope,” she said cheerfully.

Defeated, you slumped into a chair. “This is so unfair.”

“Life’s unfair, cumpleañera. Now, what kind of cake do you want?” (Birthday girl)

Eventually, you gave up. There was no stopping the force that was Olga on a mission. She went right back to planning, flipping through a binder of ideas like this was a wedding, not a sweet sixteen.

You wandered into the living room, dragging your feet, and dropped onto the couch with a dramatic flop. Alexia looked up from where she was lounging on the other end, casually flipping through a magazine. She arched a brow.

“She’s still on her party planner mode?” she asked.

“She won’t listen to me,” you muttered, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. “I just want a quiet day. Maybe some cake at home. That’s it.”

Alexia gave a little smile. “Olga doesn’t do ‘quiet.’ Not when it comes to people she loves.”

You peeked at her through your fingers. “But it’s so much. She’s on the phone right now trying to rent out a rooftop venue.”

Alexia glanced toward the kitchen, where she could faintly hear Olga saying something about table arrangements and lighting setups.

“She means well,” Alexia said after a moment. “She just… does it all a little extra.”

You sighed and let your hands fall into your lap. “She’s doing more for this birthday than anyone ever has. I know I should be grateful. I am. It’s just, y’know, too much.”

Alexia nodded. “You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t feel overwhelming. But maybe… let her do this one. For her. For you.”

You were quiet for a long time, watching the ceiling like it might offer answers. Then you muttered, “Fine. But I’m not dancing.”

Alexia smirked. “We’ll see.”

The sun was just beginning to warm the training pitch, but you were already sweating. Passing drills. Touch drills. Finishing drills. A standard day at Barça Femení training, and you were trying to focus, really, but your head was somewhere else. Somewhere between dreading your sixteenth birthday and trying to figure out how to survive Olga’s nonstop planning spree.

You were paired with Sydney and Vicky today, the three of you jogging back to your station after a water break. Sydney nudged you with her elbow.

“You good?” she asked, squinting at you. “You’ve been sighing all morning.”

You kicked a loose piece of turf. “It’s nothing, just… my birthday’s coming up.”

Vicky blinked. “Wait, what? Your birthday?”

You shrugged. “Yeah.”

Sydney’s mouth dropped a little. “You didn’t say anything. When is it?”

“In a few days.”

“Dude!” Vicky said, half-offended. “We had no idea!”

You shrugged again, eyes on the grass. “I don’t really talk about it.”

“Why not?” Sydney asked gently.

You hesitated, then let out a long breath. “I don’t really do birthdays. Like, at all. They’re kinda… complicated.”

Both girls quieted, their attention sharpening like they knew this was important.

“Back home, it was just another day,” you said. “Usually I just went to a park, shot balls into a fence, got in a run. Kept it chill.”

“That actually sounds nice,” Vicky said softly.

“Yeah, it was. Simple. Peaceful.”

Sydney gave you a look, eyes kind. “So what’s going on now?”

You groaned. “Olga’s going all out. Like—party planner, venue, decorations. I told her no a million times but she’s not hearing me.”

“Have you told her why you don’t want it?”

“I’ve tried,” you muttered. “But try reasoning with Olga when she gets like this. She acts like birthdays are sacred.”

Vicky nodded. “Oh yeah, she gets that look in her eyes like she’s already imagined the whole thing. There’s no stopping her once she starts.”

“She’s got this binder, guys. A binder.”

Sydney and Vicky both broke into laughter. “Okay, okay,” Sydney said. “That’s intense.”

You managed a small smile, grateful they weren’t making fun or pushing. Just listening.

“Still,” Vicky said gently, “maybe she’d get it if you really opened up to her.”

“Maybe,” you muttered, though you didn’t sound convinced.

Before they could respond, a whistle blew, signaling the next switch in partners.

You barely had time to look up before Alexia was beside you, sliding an arm around your shoulders like it was decided. “Let’s go, pequeña.”

You shot a betrayed look at Vicky and Sydney, but they just gave you encouraging thumbs-ups. Traitors.

The two of you jogged to your new drill station, working on tight ball control and finishing. For the first few minutes, you stayed quiet, just focusing on the movements, the touches, the runs.

Then Alexia spoke. “So. Birthday stress?”

You kicked the ball a little too hard. “You heard?”

She gave you a look. Of course she heard. You hesitated, trying to stay vague. “It’s just… not really my thing.”

“Not your thing, or something else?”

You didn’t answer right away, but from the corner of your eye, you saw Vicky and Sydney watching. Vicky gave you a look—tell her. Sydney nodded like she agreed.

You sighed. “Look. I’ve never really celebrated a birthday, okay?”

Alexia paused. “Never?”

You shook your head. “The one time I did… my parents showed up out of nowhere. Threw this huge quince. I didn’t know half the people there. They made it a big thing, and then they took all the money I got, dipped again. Haven’t heard from them since.”

Alexia’s expression softened immediately.

“So after that,” you continued, voice lower, “I just… stuck to doing my own tradition. Shoot some balls, run some drills. I like that. It’s simple. Quiet.”

Alexia didn’t say anything for a moment, just nodded slowly.

“I get that,” she said finally. “I do. But for Olga… she missed a lot of your life. She’s trying to make up for it. In the only way she knows how.”

You shrugged. “Yeah. I get it. But it’s overwhelming. All the noise, the people, the decorations. It doesn’t feel like me.”

The drills wrapped up shortly after, and the whistle blew for lunch. You were already plotting your escape route toward the locker rooms when Alexia slung her arm over your shoulder, gently stopping you in your tracks.

“Hey,” she said. “You’re strong for telling me that. I’ll talk to Olga for you.”

Your head shot up. “Wait, really?”

She smirked, amused by how quickly your mood flipped. “Don’t look so shocked. I’ve got some influence.”

You beamed. “Thank you.”

Alexia rolled her eyes playfully. “Go on. Vicky and Sydney are probably already hoarding dessert.”

You jogged off toward your friends, already feeling lighter. Maybe this birthday wouldn’t be so bad after all, not because of a big party, but because people finally saw you

The living room was calm and quiet for once, filled only with the low hum of the air conditioning and the occasional clink of Alexia’s spoon against her teacup. She sat curled up at one end of the couch, phone in hand, legs tucked beneath her, her face relaxed in a rare moment of stillness. Her eyes flicked now and then toward Olga, who sat beside her, laptop perched on her thighs, posture tense, brows knitted in fierce concentration as she scrolled through an online catalog of evening dresses.

“Do you think she’d like red?” Olga asked out of the blue, shifting her body slightly to angle the screen toward Alexia.

On the screen was an extravagant, designer gown. It shimmered with every scroll of the mouse— floor length, with a dramatic slit, glimmering stones across the bodice. It looked more like something meant for a gala or a film premiere than a sixteenth birthday party. Alexia blinked once, eyes scanning the price before flicking up to meet Olga’s face. She reached out and gently closed the laptop with a quiet click.

“Lex,” Olga frowned, confused and a little offended. “I wasn’t finished.”

“You need to be,” Alexia said, her tone soft but firm.

Olga sat back slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She doesn’t want this, Olga.”

Olga let out a small breath of disbelief, shaking her head. “Yes, she does. She just doesn’t know it yet. She acts like she doesn’t care, but that’s just her thing. She would’ve told me if she really didn’t want it.”

“She did tell you,” Alexia replied, steady and calm. “You just didn’t listen.”

That silenced Olga.

She looked at Alexia, her mouth parted like she was going to argue, but the older woman’s tone kept her still. Alexia sat forward slightly, setting her mug on the coffee table.

“She told me at training today. Me, Sydney, and Vicky. She said birthdays feel… hollow to her. Like they’ve never belonged to her, like they were never really about her.”

Olga’s brows pulled together as Alexia continued.

“She’s never had a real birthday. Not one she wanted. Her parents threw her a quince, yeah—but it wasn’t for her. They invited strangers, made a big show, took the birthday money and disappeared. She hasn’t heard from them since. That’s the memory that really stuck.”

Olga’s face began to shift, her lips pressing into a thin line as her eyes filled. “No…”

“She told me she’s spent every birthday on a football pitch. Just another day. Just training, grinding. Trying to be the best. And she was fine with that, Olga. It made her feel in control, like it was hers again.”

Olga wiped at her face quickly, as if the tears were a mistake. “Why didn’t she say anything to me?”

“She did, cariño,” Alexia said gently, reaching over to rest a hand on her arm. “She tried. But you were so excited, already calling vendors, talking about decorations. She didn’t want to ruin it for you.”

“I thought—” Olga’s voice cracked, and she shook her head as more tears slipped free. “I thought I was doing something good. I thought this would make up for everything she didn’t get. I just wanted her to feel… special.”

“She knows you wanted that,” Alexia reassured. “But this party doesn’t feel special to her. It feels overwhelming. Like a performance she doesn’t want to give.”

“I missed so much,” Olga whispered. “I lost contact with her for so long. If I had known, if I’d seen what was happening to her, I would’ve—”

“You’re here now,” Alexia said, voice firm but kind. “And you love her. But loving her means listening, too. Loving her means showing her that she doesn’t have to prove anything to deserve kindness.”

Olga sank into the couch, eyes glazed, heart heavy with guilt. “She’s just a kid. My baby sister. She shouldn’t have to explain why she doesn’t want a party. She shouldn’t feel like she owes anyone a smile just because it’s her birthday.”

“No,” Alexia agreed. “But that’s the world she grew up in. That’s what she learned. And now we have to unlearn it for her.”

There was a long stretch of silence between them. Olga finally reached over and opened the laptop again, not to keep browsing, but to close every tab she had open. She shut the device slowly, let it rest on the coffee table, and pulled a blanket into her lap. Her hands were shaking just a little.

Across the city, you were sprawled on a grassy patch at random quiet park, surrounded by Sydney, Vicky, Ona, Jana, Patri, Pina, and Salma. You were laughing mid-story, eyes lit up for once, as you described a ridiculous training moment with exaggerated flair. You had no idea what was happening back home. You had no idea someone had finally heard you.

For the first time in years, you weren’t dreading your birthday. You were just being sixteen. And you were safe.

The front door slammed shut behind you as you kicked off your sneakers with the lazy force of someone who’d spent all day on their feet.

“I’m back!” you called, voice echoing through the apartment. “And I swear to God if someone finished the cereal—”

You didn’t even finish the sentence before you heard footsteps, fast ones, and suddenly Olga was there, arms wrapped tight around you like she thought you were about to disappear.

You froze. Like actually froze.

Your arms stayed at your sides, stiff and confused, your body tense. Olga didn’t say anything at first, just held you like she was trying to squeeze every ounce of guilt out of herself. And slowly, cautiously, your muscles relaxed. Your arms came up and curled around her, kind of awkward, kind of unsure. But they were there. You let her hold you.

“…Okay, what’s wrong?” you mumbled into her shoulder, voice wary. “Did someone die? Did I die? Are we in the afterlife?”

Olga gave a wet laugh that turned almost immediately into a sniffle.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling back just enough to look at you. Her eyes were glossy and red-rimmed. “I’m so, so sorry. For not listening. For not hearing you. And for… for not being there sooner. For not saving you when you needed someone.”

You blinked. “Okay, uh… wow. Where’s this coming from?”

“I should’ve known what was happening,” she whispered. “I should’ve found you earlier.”

You frowned, a little overwhelmed, but you reached up and brushed a curl off your forehead. “Olga,” you said, voice quieter now, “you’re here now. That’s what matters. You did save me.”

That sentence just broke her. Like fully broke her.

Her face crumpled, and she let out a soft sob as she pulled you back into a hug, crying now for real. Not soft movie tears. Full-on weeping into your shoulder. Her body shook with it, and your eyes widened as you stood frozen in her arms.

“Uhhhh,” you said, patting her back like she was a malfunctioning printer. “Alexia?”

From the kitchen, Alexia let out a very unhelpful laugh, where she sat perched at the island with a glass of tea.

“Alexia, help me!” you pleaded, your voice somewhere between desperate and traumatized. “She’s leaking! What do I do?!”

Alexia set her tea down, still grinning. “You comfort her.”

“I don’t know how to do that!”

“Just hold her,” Alexia said, smug. “Tell her it’s going to be okay.”

“I’m not a Care Bear, Lex! I don’t do emotions like this!”

Olga was still clinging to you, sniffling into your shirt, while you stared at Alexia like she’d just told you to perform surgery.

Alexia leaned forward, eyes dancing. “This is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. The overly affectionate big sister who wants to hug the world, and the emotionally stunted gremlin who thinks feelings are contagious.”

“I do not—” you started, but then Olga let out another sob and your arms immediately tightened around her.

You sighed. “Okay, fine. Feelings aren’t contagious. But they’re definitely… wet. Why is crying so wet?”

“Because it’s healthy,” Alexia said, smug as ever.

You rolled your eyes and looked down at Olga, who was still in the thick of it. Her face buried in your hoodie now, her fingers gripping tight like she was afraid you’d vanish if she let go.

You softened a little. “I mean it,” you murmured, rubbing her back a little more naturally now. “You saved me, Mana. Maybe not then. But you did now. So don’t cry over something that’s already fixed, okay?” (Sister)

Olga pulled back just enough to see your face, her own streaked with tears, and nodded. Her lips wobbled into a smile. “Okay.”

You let out a breath. “Okay good. Because I don’t know what I’d do if you started snotting on my hoodie. This thing is vintage.”

Alexia burst out laughing almost spilling her tea.

Olga laughed through her tears, finally stepping back, and you caught her wiping her face with her sleeves, still kind of a mess but a little steadier.

Alexia raised her glass of tea. “To sisterhood. One hugs too much, the other panics at mild human contact.”

You flipped her off without even looking. But when Olga looped her pinky through yours a second later, you didn’t pull away.

You woke up before the sun even touched the skyline.

There was something about birthdays that made your chest feel heavy the moment you opened your eyes. Not because you were excited, not because it was special. Just… because it always felt like something was missing. And maybe that something used to be people. But now? You weren’t even sure anymore. It was like your body remembered something your heart didn’t know how to name.

So instead of waiting around for the feeling to settle into sadness, instead of letting your thoughts spiral the way they usually did on days like this, you got up. Quietly. Carefully. Slipped out from under the blanket. Pulled on your hoodie, tugged it low over your face. Tied your sneakers tight. And then you left, keys in your pocket, phone on silent, the world still asleep around you.

Barcelona’s streets were still half-dreaming. Everything was bathed in blue-gray light, the kind that made the buildings look softer, the roads smoother, like the city had taken a breath and held it. You liked it like that, when the world was slow, when nothing demanded anything from you, when you didn’t have to brace yourself.

You walked quietly, hands in your pockets, head down as your feet carried you to the place that always made you feel a little more grounded.

Your café. The one tucked into the corner of an old street, just out of the way enough to be quiet, just cozy enough to feel like it could belong to you and no one else. With the ivy that curled around the windows and the little mismatched chairs on the terrace. The one that reminded you of home, before things got bad. Or maybe it just reminded you of the idea of home. What it could’ve been.

You pushed the door open. The soft jingle of the bell above the door felt like it greeted you personally.

“Lavender hojicha latte,” you murmured to the barista.

They smiled at you, soft, familiar. “Azulita, right?”

You blinked. Word had gotten around.

You hesitated, then gave a faint smile. “Yeah.”

“I saw you play at the last game again

Atletico. Great job.”

Latte in hand, you made your way to the park just a few streets over. The one no one else ever seemed to use. The goalposts were rusted and crooked. The grass was patchy. But it was yours. You set your bag down, took out your ball, and started shooting.

There were no drills. No cones. No schedule. Just you, the ball, and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

It was instinct. Therapy. Religion.

You didn’t think about anything, just moved. Your touches were light. Your strikes were clean. Every shot hit the back of the net with a satisfying thud. And for a little while, there was nothing else in the world but the ball and the sky and the ache in your legs.

By the time you stopped, your hoodie was stuck to your back with sweat, and the sun was high overhead. You checked your phone for the first time all morning.

12:04 PM.

“Damn,” you muttered, more amused than anything.

You packed your stuff and walked home slowly, almost lazily, letting the wind cool you off. When you stepped into the apartment, it was quiet. Peaceful. Still.

You dropped your bag by the door, kicked your shoes off into a corner, peeled off your hoodie and tossed it onto a chair. Then you collapsed onto the couch face-first, arms flopping dramatically to the sides.

Just for a minute, you told yourself. That minute turned into a full nap.

You didn’t stir until you felt fingers brushing your hair back gently and someone whispering your name like they were scared to wake you.

“Azulita…” Olga’s voice.

You groaned sleepily but didn’t move. Then came a hand on your back, rubbing in slow, steady circles. Alexia. You didn’t even have to look to know.

You let out a soft breath. Your body relaxed into the touch before your mind even caught up. “Mmmph… what time is it?” you asked, voice raspy with sleep.

You sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your palm, blinking against the soft light coming through the curtains. When your vision finally cleared, you stilled.

Olga and Alexia stood in front of you, side by side, both smiling, both holding a small cake between them.

“Happy birthday,” Alexia said, her voice warm.

You stared. The cake wasn’t big. It wasn’t extravagant. Chocolate frosting, a handful of rainbow sprinkles, homemade. One candle burning slowly in the middle.

But what undid you completely were the words piped in careful cursive across the top:

“Happy Birthday to my Little Blue.”

Your breath hitched. That name. Blue. It was the kind of nickname that only meant something when it came from her. From Olga. From the days before it all went sideways. When you were just a messy little kid clinging to her big sister’s arm, trusting her with everything. When she would whisper “my little Blue” into your hair as she braided it. When she was all you had, and then, she wasn’t.

You blinked fast, but the tears welled anyway. “This is…” you tried to say, voice cracking. “This is my first birthday cake.”

Olga stepped forward, her eyes soft. “Then it had to be the right one.”

You looked between them, at Alexia’s kind eyes and Olga’s trembling smile. Your chest felt tight in a different way now, not because something was missing. But because something was finally there.

Love. Safety. A home you never thought you’d have.

You looked down at the candle, flickering gently, and tried to breathe through the lump in your throat.

“Make a wish, Blue,” Olga whispered.

Your eyes stung. You closed them. And you didn’t even hesitate.

“I wish you never leave me,” you whispered, so soft only they could hear.

Then you blew out the candle. Silence fell over the room— gentle, sacred. Like even the air knew not to disturb it.

Olga was already crying again, the way she always did when her heart got too full. Alexia gently handed the cake off to set it down, then wrapped an arm around her waist, steadying her, holding her like she always did.

And you just sat there, stunned. Small. Full of something you didn’t even have a name for.

This wasn’t some big party. There were no cameras, no balloons. No forced smiles. Just a cake. A nickname. A wish you meant with everything in you.

And for the first time in your life, your birthday didn’t feel like a bruise waiting to happen. It felt like a promise. Like a beginning. Like home.

[yulin-pop]

⤷ ✧ 𝐋𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡 𝐅𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲

order 89 | one-shot| Jade+Floyd | Fem reader

❀ NOTE: sorry to keep @kkalimarii waiting for this, a bit rushed but I hope my vision was visioning. While I was gone you dropped new art (now I have to go write a fic for it too LOL)

You hesitated before walking through the door, you looked down at yourself before looking back to which Floyd smiles at you.

He leans down to your level, “Are ya scared or something?” You shake your head then you feel a hand on your back.

“You have nothing to be afraid of.” Jade flashes a pristine smile.

“There’s a lot to be afraid of which includes you!”

Jade’s hand pushes you in and the door slams behind you. You held your breath as you walked down the hall.

“Make sure to smile and introduce yourself.” Floyd said, whispering in your ear.

You cry in your head, looking back at the decisions that brought you to a Leech family get together.

~

“Hey Shrimpy,” Floyd called while wrapping his arms around your shoulders from behind you, “Are you busy this weekend?”

You were startled but you figured Floyd would pop up eventually since you’re in Mostro Lounge, just dining alone. You put down your phone, you knew there was no getting out of a conversation with Floyd. “As far as I know, not at all.” You looked up at him.

“Cool, you’re coming with me then.” Then he walked off. He was unpredictable as always, you couldn’t begin to think what he was going to drag you into. Your calls to him for more context and to come back were useless.

You figured you’ll ask him about it the next time you see him.

The door swung wide open and Floyd slumped down on the chair. “Jade, tell Ma and Pops we have a plus one for this weekend.”

The other twin nodded his head, “I almost let it slip my mind. Who did you decide to invite?”

“I just walked out and saw Shrimpy sitting there so I picked her.” Floyd laughed.

You were pretty much clueless on what event you’d be attending until you got a text from Jade.

Jade

I’ve cleared us to leave campus for this weekend with the Headmage. Rest assured in that regard. Meet us in the mirror room Saturday at 3 PM. Of course, dress in formal attire.

You

Okay

But one little thing

Where are we going?

Jade

Apologies for not informing you sooner

You’ll be joining us for our annual banquet, an important day for our family.

You

What are we celebrating?

Jade

The banquet is to honor the alliance and uphold the relations between families.

You

???

You didn’t know what to think, it seemed like one big joke everyone knew about but you. You knew it was too late to back out. “Do I even have any formal clothes?” You asked yourself out loud, Ace leaned over and skimmed over your texts with Jade.

“What’s happening with you and the twins?” He was just as surprised as you were. You pushed him away from your phone and pulled it close to your chest.

“I don’t even know. Floyd asked if I was busy this weekend and said I’m going somewhere with him. Apparently it’s a family banquet?”

“I’d be scared if I were you. You know what I heard about their family?” He brought you in closer to whisper in your ear. "I hear they’re even more messed up than Octavinelle. The only reason they got so powerful and rich was taking out other families, like literally taking out. Before they were two rival families that were brought together because the son and daughter fell in love. Now the two most influential families fused to become that thing.”

You gasped and covered your mouth before leaning in to ask a question. “So they’re like… aquatic mafia?”

Ace nodded his head in all seriousness.

“And I’m gonna meet them this weekend?! I wonder what they’re like in person.” You put your hand on your chin and thought.

Maybe one eye color came from the mom and the other came from the dad. Most likely the twins took after their dad the most in appearance and height. The mom can’t be that tall, probably wears heels to compensate. Maybe she wears fur coats and scarves like the mafia wives do in movies. You couldn’t even begin to think how they would act, given they raised the Leech twins and they’re mafia.

You snapped back from your thoughts and you realized Floyd had his arm around you while Jade put his hand on your shoulder, both slightly shaking you.

You tilted your head up and laid your eyes on a muscular man with sunglasses, you couldn’t see his eyes but you were certain his glare alone would kill a man, there were several notable scars across his face making him even more menacing. His hair was two toned but grey and blue unlike the twins. They seem to have hair more like the tall woman with flawless skin. You could tell she doesn’t need makeup to stand out. When you look closer, her sharp features like her eyes and nose were much more alike to the twins. She was adorned with pearls and gold that you knew couldn’t be fake. Despite her extravagant heels, she still wasn’t as tall as her husband. Her mouth curled into a giant smile.

“Oh this is the girl.” She cooed, “I already know your name.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

She’s beautiful!

“Hello it’s nice to meet you my name is [name]—“ You stuck your hand out for a hand shake but the girl pulled you into a hug.

“You two are almost catching up to me now.” The tallest man went over to the twins and simultaneously ruffled the top of their heads. Floyd reluctantly nodded while Jade smiled awkwardly while greeting him back.

You were about to choke from how hard she was squeezing you, it was like Floyd if he wasn’t holding back— actually if Jade and Floyd were both trying to squeeze you at once is a better way to describe it.

Floyd watched and pouted until Jade put a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “Mom, humans are quite fragile so be cautious with the strength used.” She turned her head and let go of you.

She put her hand against her cheek and smiled, “How silly of me, I’m sorry for that dear. But…” She put her arm around Jade’s neck and brought him into a hug.

Floyd, while trying to fix his hair, was pulled into a hug with the other arm. “I missed your adorable faces. My little boys look so grown!” She cooed.

“I still can’t beat her…”

“I didn’t know you could get any stronger…”

They both remarked in apprehensive voices. Though you were still regaining your breath from her embrace, you thought it was funny how the twins were overpowered by their mom. Though you turned your attention to their father, who you haven’t spoken to yet.

“Hello it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Leech, my name is [Name], thank you for inviting me.” You tried your best to be polite.

Seemingly it worked, “You’re a sweet one, the pleasures all mine. I’ve been wanting to meet you. Besides Azul we hear about you the most.” He was friendlier than he looked. His toothy grin revealed his jagged teeth much like the rest of his family.

You smiled back, “Only good things I hope.”

Once Jade and Floyd escaped from their mother’s embrace, they went up next to you.

“Tell the boys to call home more or text back faster.” Their mom pouted and crossed her arms, “But I guess they forget or are too busy anymore… I’m sure whatever it is, they're doing it related to their education.”

You smiled, they really aren’t aware of their violent tendencies exerted towards their classmates. Though given they’re the ones who raised them it’s likely their fault.

“How are they in class? What sports do you partake in? What foods do you like? Which one do you talk to more? How long did it take until you could tell the two of them apart?” More and more questions bombarded you from the mother alone until her husband came up and gruff yet gentle placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Honey, she can’t understand a word you’re saying.” He softly spoke to her and she covered her mouth in realization. You could make out a smile behind her hand and her husband smiled back gently.

“Apologies for my lack of composure. I’m just happy to hear my boys have friends besides Azul.” She admitted, the twins cranking their heads in response.

“It must be hard for you, poor girl.” Their dad added making their expressions contort.

“Jeez, can’t you lay off for one sec?” Floyd muttered with apprehension before silencing himself. Jade shared a similar attitude but stayed silent. You could tell there was no talking back for them, nobody would talk back to mafia parents after all.

Mrs. Leech grabbed your arms and glided her hands down to yours, “Look at your outfit, dear did no one tell you the color scheme we chose this year?” She fussed for a quick second and turned towards her sons. You couldn’t see her expression but Floyd slouched and Jade avoided her gaze. “No matter, I’m sure we have something that will work. Follow me, we’ll find something.”

She led you away with a brief remark to the rest of her family and left only the men of the family.

“Wearing all white to our banquet it’s like she’s trying to get married to one of y—“

“Don’t get it twisted.”

“It’s not something to be overthought.”

Mr. Leech let out a hard laugh before patting their backs, “It’s lonely without you boys. Your teenage years are precious, so tell me all about it.” He gently moved them.

Jade opened his eyes and spoke up. “All has been adequate. We’ve been sticking by Azul and performing duties as vice housewarden is no chore. I’m happy to have this responsibility.“

Floyd chimed in, “I’ve been focusing on basketball lately, no diff since when you last checked up on us.”

His expression remained unwavered, he leaned in to whisper “Don’t lie, how many fights have you gotten into? Not including each other.”

Father like son and that certainly applies in this situation, but in this case it’s less like fights and more like attacks.

Enough time passed to where Jade began to wonder where you were, Jade and Floyd went off to greet family members. “Hey, Jade, any idea when Shrimpy is coming back?”

“None at all, she’s with Mom after all.” Jade said back then moving to greet other family members. Even realizing Floyd had managed to sneak away.

Floyd skipping out isn’t out of character but he should know better, must’ve gotten bored and went off to find more interesting things.

“Floyd… I told you I still need to change back.” You firmly said but his grip on your wrist only tightened.

He didn’t even look back at you, “Mama wouldn’t let you change out of it, you look too good anyway.” He stated.

You coughed at his words, “What did you say?”

He stopped and looked back at you, “I said my mom wouldn’t let you and you look good in that dress.”

Your eyes flickered between him and his hand at your wrist, you thought too deeply into his words. He’s just saying that as flattery, or as a joke. It’s not something to be taken seriously but you couldn’t deny how warm your face felt.

“Let me introduce you to my family, they all want to know about you, Shrimpy.” He pulled you along again with no resistance on your end. He tugged you along until he felt you stop, he smiled back but realized where the real resistance came from.

Jade gently intertwined his fingers with yours and stood firm. “There you two are, I was feeling so lonely.”

“Jade!” Both you and Floyd called out with different tones.

Floyd, with a tug of his arm, groaned and pulled you closer, “Butt out you prick…”

Jade, with a defiant step, laughed and got closer to you two with the same grip on you, “You need to greet everyone else yourself, don’t be rude. May I add, you look stunning in that dress. It’s a blessing to see you like this.”

You couldn’t react with how your wrist was being crushed by one and the other being squeezed until it was numb, you couldn’t feel either of your hands.

The proud parents of two stood far from the sight but undoubtedly focused. “Hard to believe Floyd has the upper hand in this. I always thought Jade was more of a lady’s type.” The mother of the twins said with a hint of pride and sarcasm.

“That may be true, they may be very different but if you look closer they’re very similar too.”

“Ah, so basically they have the same chances?”

Just as the father opened his mouth to speak, Floyd tugged at you hard enough for you to trip over your own feet only staying off the floor thanks to Jade’s reflexes.

“[Name], are you alright?” Jade said before looking back at Floyd.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you just let go!” Floyd said in response to his glare.

His father then spoke up again, “More or less.”

[oldsoul007]

Guess

older!joel miller x brat!younger!reader

summary: Joel never asked to be saddled with you—wild, reckless, and always testing his patience—but what started as a favor turned into something he couldn’t ignore, and by the time he realized he was in far too deep, it was already too late.

a/n: I never got over brat summer, forced proximity, tension, banter, kissing, suggestive scenes

joel miller masterlist

The first time I see Joel Miller, he’s scowling.

Like, really scowling. Deep line between his brows, mouth set in a firm, unimpressed line, arms crossed over his chest like he’s already exhausted before I’ve even said a word.

And that just makes me want to push his buttons.

He was older—forty-five, maybe—but damn if he didn’t wear it well. Tall, broad, built like a man who knew hard work and even harder days. The kind of man who didn’t waste words or time on things he thought weren’t worth it.

“Y/n,” Tommy grins, throwing an arm around me, “meet my older brother, Joel.”

Joel gives me a once-over, slow and deliberate. I feel his eyes drag over me, taking in my short dress, the bare skin, the slight smirk tugging at my lips. And just for fun, I shift my weight, tilting my head, letting my smile turn just a little more smug.

Tommy, oblivious, keeps talking. “Figured you two should finally meet since you’re always hangin’ around.”

Joel sighs, clearly already over this interaction. “Yeah. Great. Nice to meet you.”

I raise a brow. “Wow. So warm. So welcoming.”

Tommy snorts. “Don’t take it personal. He’s always like this.”

“Like what?” I ask, tilting my head, eyes flicking back to Joel.

Joel just stares at me, like he’s debating whether or not to entertain me. Finally, he mutters, “Serious.”

I grin. “And I’m guessin’ Tommy here told you I’m the opposite?”

Joel doesn’t answer, but the way his jaw flexes tells me enough.

Oh, this is gonna be fun.

I step a little closer, watching him carefully, waiting to see if he pulls back. He doesn’t—just watches me, unimpressed, unreadable, but I don’t miss the way his fingers twitch, like he’s restraining himself.

“You got somethin’ against fun, Miller?” I tease.

Joel exhales through his nose. “Just don’t got patience for trouble.”

I grin. “Good thing I ain’t trouble then.”

His eyes flick down to my lips for half a second before snapping back up. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Sure.”

Tommy laughs, clapping Joel on the back. “She’s a handful, huh?”

Joel shakes his head, muttering something under his breath before looking back at me. “You always this much of a pain in the ass?”

I beam. “You always this grumpy?”

His jaw tightens. I know I’m getting to him. And I love it.

Something about Joel Miller tells me he’s the type to resist—to hold himself back, to act like he doesn’t want.

But the way he’s looking at me now?

Yeah. He wants.

I never planned on ending up at Joel Millers house.

But life has a funny way of screwing with me.

One busted pipe in my apartment—water everywhere, maintenance useless, and suddenly, I had nowhere to stay. Tommy was out of town, and before I could even think of booking a motel, he was already on the phone, talking to Joel.

“Just for a few days,” Tommy had said. “Joel’s got the space.”

Joel, who was already looking at me like I was a problem before I even stepped foot in his house.

Now, standing in his doorway, duffel slung over my shoulder, I give him my best grin. “Miss me?”

Joel just sighs, running a hand down his face. “Just don’t make me regret this.”

“No promises.”

His jaw tightens, like he knew I was gonna say that.

I step past him, into his space, and the second the door shuts behind me, something shifts. It’s one thing to tease Joel out in the world, to push his buttons when there’s always somewhere else to go. But here? His house?

There’s nowhere to run now.

And by the way his eyes flicker over me—quick, sharp, like he already regrets agreeing to this—I can tell he’s thinking the same damn thing.

The first night at Joel’s place is… tense. In a way that has nothing to do with the fact that my apartment is currently unlivable and everything to do with him.

He didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat when Tommy volunteered him to take me in. He just grunted, muttered something about “just for a couple nights,” and now here we are.

Joel’s house is simple. A little messy but lived-in. It smells like sawdust, coffee, and whatever soap he uses. I shouldn’t be noticing those things, but I do.

“You got a spare bedroom, or do I gotta fight you for the bed?” I ask, dropping my bag by the couch.

Joel gives me a look like he’s already regretting this. “Spare room’s down the hall. Not much in there, but it’s got a bed.”

I smirk. “A bed and a grumpy host? Wow, I’m spoiled.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, running a hand over his beard like he’s trying to summon patience. “You need anything, just… don’t.”

I grin. “Don’t what?”

He glares. “Don’t push it.”

Oh, but that’s my favorite thing to do.

—

It’s late when I finally settle in. The house is too quiet, too still, and I can’t sleep. Not used to this place, not used to him just a room away.

I pad down the hall, oversized t-shirt hanging off me, socks silent against the wood floor. The lamp in the living room is still on, and Joel’s sitting on the couch, looking lost in thought.

“Can’t sleep?” I ask, leaning against the doorway.

He looks up, eyes flicking to me—just for a second, just long enough to make me feel barely covered. He exhales, looking back at his floor. “Didn’t expect you to be the quiet type at night.”

I snort, walking over to perch on the arm of the couch. “Bet you thought I’d snore or talk in my sleep.”

Joel shrugs. “Still debatin’ it.”

I watch him for a moment, the way the lamp casts shadows over his face, the way he looks at everything except me. There’s something charged in the air, something neither of us want to acknowledge.

“You don’t like this, do you?” I tease, nudging his knee with my foot. “Having me here.”

Joel takes a slow look up at me. “Ain’t about likin’ it. It just is.”

I hum, watching him closely. “You’re so bad at lying.”

Joel’s jaw flexes.

And I know, I know, if I keep pushing, I’ll get something out of him. But for once, I don’t.

Instead, I stand, stretching dramatically. “Alright, Miller. I’ll stop bugging you. For now.”

Joel huffs. “Doubtful.”

I grin, heading toward the hallway. But just before I disappear into the dark, I hear him mutter—just low enough that I almost miss it.

“Sleep tight, trouble.”

And damn it, that shouldn’t make my stomach flip. But it does.

—

The thing about living with Joel? It’s too easy to mess with him.

I’ve been here for three days now, and I swear, every time I walk into a room, he looks like he’s debating whether or not to strangle me or throw me out. And honestly? I love it.

Like right now.

He’s standing in the kitchen, coffee in one hand, flipping through the mail like it personally offended him. His shirt is still wrinkled from sleep, hair a little messy, eyes heavy with whatever dreams he never talks about. And I? I’m perched on the counter, swinging my legs, eating the last piece of toast he made for himself.

Joel notices. His eyes flick to the empty plate in my hand, then to his own very empty hands, and then—then—he exhales so sharply it’s almost funny.

“Really?” he grumbles, setting the mail down with way more force than necessary. “You ain’t got hands to make your own damn food?”

I grin, taking a slow, deliberate bite. “Yours just looked better.”

Joel mutters something under his breath, something that sounds suspiciously like a curse, and turns to pour himself more coffee.

“Y’know,” I continue, voice sweet, “for a man who claims he doesn’t like me being here, you sure do take good care of me.”

Joel tenses. His grip on the coffee pot tightens.

“Wouldn’t have to if you took care of yourself,” he mutters, taking a sip.

I smirk. “Aww, Joel. You worried about me?”

He doesn’t answer. Just glares over the rim of his mug like he’s daring me to push him further.

So, of course, I do.

I hop off the counter, stepping closer, my bare feet silent against the floor. Joel watches me warily, like I’m a stray cat that might bite. I stop just in front of him, tilting my head.

“You sure you don’t like having me here?” I tease, my voice dropping just a little, just enough to make his fingers twitch.

Joel doesn’t move. Doesn’t step back. But his eyes darken just enough to make my stomach flip.

“You really wanna test me this early?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

The challenge sends a thrill down my spine. I grin, leaning in just a fraction, enough to feel the heat radiating off him.

“Maybe,” I whisper. “Depends on what happens if I do.”

Joel huffs a laugh—one of those deep, frustrated, you’re-gonna-be-the-death-of-me laughs. Then, suddenly, his turn to get close. He leans down, voice right against my ear.

“You keep pushin’,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin, “you ain’t gonna like what happens.”

My pulse jumps. My smirk falters—just for a second.

Joel sees it. And the bastard smirks.

Then he pulls back, grabbing his coffee, walking away like he won this round.

I exhale sharply, watching him go, my skin still tingling.

I really need to stop underestimating him.

—

I know he’s awake the second I step through the door.

The lights are dim, but Joel’s still sitting on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, the other holding a half-empty beer. He looks relaxed—pretends to be, anyway—but his eyes flick to me the second I walk in.

I smirk. “You waitin’ up for me, Miller?”

Joel exhales sharply through his nose, setting the bottle down on the coffee table. “Just happened to be up.”

Uh-huh.

I ignore him, walking into the kitchen, feeling his eyes drag over me as I move. The dress I’m wearing is short, tight, and backless—very backless. My tattoo is on full display, the black ink running across, teasing the dip of my lower back.

I reach for a glass, pouring myself some water, letting the silence stretch, letting him look.

Finally, I hear him shift behind me. “Where the hell were you?”

I take a slow sip. “Out.”

“With who?”

I glance over my shoulder, raising a brow. “Didn’t know I had to check in with you, dad.”

Joel clenches his jaw. His fingers flex on his knee. “Y/n.”

I turn fully now, leaning against the counter, glass in hand. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” The lie is so blatant, so immediate, that I almost laugh.

I take another sip, watching him. “You sure about that?”

Joel doesn’t answer right away. His gaze flicks lower, over the curve of my back, the exposed skin, the ink. His jaw tenses even more—like he’s mad. Like the tattoo itself is personally offending him.

I set my glass down, smirking. “Something wrong?”

Joel exhales, drags a hand down his face. “You got no damn shame, you know that?”

I grin, stepping closer, closing the space between us. “And you got no damn claim,” I say, tilting my head. “So what’s your problem?”

Joel watches me, something dangerous flickering behind his eyes.

I lift a finger, tracing a slow, teasing line down my own spine, over the tattoo he won’t stop staring at. “You like it?” I ask, voice low.

His nostrils flare. His fists clench.

Then—just like always—he forces himself to lean back, to put space between us, to shove all that tension down deep.

I take my time walking past him, making sure he gets a real good look at what’s been driving him crazy all night. I can practically feel the heat of his stare burning into my skin, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking back.

Not yet.

Instead, I reach for my water again, taking a slow sip, just to draw this out a little more. Joel exhales, long and slow, like he’s trying to keep himself calm.

I almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

“You always go out dressed like that?” His voice is low, rough, like he’s forcing himself to sound casual.

I smirk against my glass. “You always staring at me?”

Joel lets out a sharp breath, but he doesn’t deny it.

I finally turn, leaning back against the counter, crossing my arms so my dress shifts even higher up my thighs. His gaze flickers, betraying him for half a second before he locks it back on my face.

“I just don’t get why you feel the need to—” He waves a hand vaguely at me. “—put everything on display.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Everything?”

Joel rubs a hand down his face, muttering under his breath. “You know what I mean.”

I grin. “What, you don’t like my tattoo?”

He clenches his jaw. “Ain’t about the tattoo.”

I tilt my head, watching him closely. “Then what’s it about?”

He doesn’t answer.

I push off the counter, closing the space between us, slow and deliberate. “Is it the tattoo, or is it the fact that other people got to see it?”

Joel tenses. Just a flicker. Barely noticeable. But I see it.

And I know.

I smirk. “That’s it, isn’t it?” My voice drops, just above a whisper. “You don’t like that someone else got to look at me like this.”

Joel’s breathing is heavier now, his fists clenched at his sides. “Go to bed, y/n.”

I step even closer, close enough that I can feel the heat of him, smell the faded whiskey and aftershave clinging to his skin. “Make me.”

His jaw flexes. His hands twitch. For a second, I think he might actually do something, might finally snap and grab me, kiss me, claim me like we both know he wants to.

But then—

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face before turning away from me. “You’re a damn brat, you know that?”

I grin, victorious. “And you love it.”

Joel mutters something I don’t catch, shaking his head, still refusing to look at me.

I lean up on my toes, just enough to whisper near his ear. “Sweet dreams, Miller.”

Then I turn and head toward my room, my steps slow, unhurried, knowing damn well he’s watching.

Knowing damn well he won’t sleep tonight.

Not yet, anyway.

—

Joel is a walking contradiction.

Always looking out for me, always acting like I’m some damn problem he’s gotta fix. But then, when he thinks I’m not paying attention? He watches me.

Like right now.

I’m sitting on the tailgate of his truck, sipping a gas station soda, swinging my legs while he loads up the last of the supplies he picked up. The summer heat is thick, sticking to my skin, making me feel slow, lazy.

Joel, meanwhile, looks like he’s one deep breath away from losing his patience.

“Where’d you run off to last night?” he asks, not looking at me.

I smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

That gets me. I raise an eyebrow. “You are keepin’ tabs on me.”

Joel exhales, setting down a case of water a little harder than necessary. “Just know when you start trouble.”

I grin. “Who says I started trouble?”

He gives me a look.

Fair enough.

I take another sip of my drink, watching him work, the way his shirt clings to his back, damp from the heat. My stomach tightens, and I blame it on the weather.

“You got somethin’ to say?” he mutters, not turning around.

I smirk. “Nope.”

“Then quit starin’.”

I laugh, kicking my feet against the truck bed. “Oh, that’s rich.”

His jaw tightens. “What’s that mean?”

I tilt my head. “Means I see you lookin’, too.”

Joel freezes.

It’s quick. A small thing. But I notice.

For the first time, he actually looks at me, really looks. And there’s heat there, burning under all that restraint.

I set my drink down, hopping off the tailgate, stepping close—too close.

“You ever wonder what’d happen,” I murmur, “if you stopped pretendin’ you don’t want me?”

Joel’s breath is slow. Measured. He doesn’t step back. Doesn’t move.

“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for,” he says, voice low, gruff.

I tilt my head, biting back a grin. “Maybe I do.”

Something flickers in his eyes. Something dangerous.

For a second, I think maybe—maybe—he’s gonna snap. Gonna grab me by the waist, drag me in, let all that tension finally break.

Instead, he just exhales, long and slow, before stepping back.

“You’re trouble,” he mutters.

I grin. “You like trouble.”

Joel shakes his head, mumbling something under his breath as he turns away.

But his hands? They’re clenched into fists.

And that tells me everything I need to know.

—

Joel’s been trying to ignore me all damn day.

Which, honestly? Fair. I’ve been making it real hard for him.

I’m leaning against the counter in his kitchen, the space between us just enough for me to feel that slow, simmering tension that’s been building up all afternoon, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of—well, that’s the game, isn’t it?

Joel walks in, fresh from a shower, hair damp, t-shirt clinging to his chest just enough to make me look. He barely glances at me as he grabs a water from the fridge, pretending I’m not there.

Like I’ll just let him get away with that.

“You ever gonna put on some damn clothes?”

I smirk, not even looking up. “I am wearing clothes.”

Joel exhales sharply, taking a long sip of water. “Not enough.”

That makes me grin. Gotcha.

I stretch, letting the hem of my shirt ride up just a little. “Oh, relax. It’s just a t-shirt.”

Joel scoffs, finally looking at me. His eyes flicker down, slow, then back up, jaw tightening. Yeah, he noticed.

“Guess,” I say suddenly, watching him.

His brow furrows. “What?”

I sit up, tilting my head. “Guess what I’m wearing underneath.”

Joel exhales, shaking his head. “Not playin’ this game, y/n.”

“C’mon.” I stretch, making sure the hem of my shirt lifts just enough to tease. “Just one guess.”

“Clothes.”

I grin. “Not much of ‘em.”

That does it. His grip tightens on the bottle, jaw going stiff. He still doesn’t turn around, but I see it—the way his shoulders tense, the way his breath goes a little heavier.

But then, to my surprise, he plays along.

Joel finally turns, slow, lazy, eyes dragging over me in a way that makes my stomach flip.

Slow. Controlled. Like he knows exactly what this is doing to me.

And I feel it—his presence filling the space, the heat between us thick and undeniable. Joel stops just a breath away, too close for comfort, but I don’t move. I won’t.

“You’re awful pushy tonight,” he mutters, eyes dark as they settle on me.

I tilt my head, not backing down. “You’re awful curious for someone who doesn’t wanna play.”

Joel’s eyes drag over me, deliberate and slow, as if he’s taking in every inch, every detail. Then, like he can’t help himself, he leans in a little more—close enough that I feel the warmth of his body, the weight of his presence.

His breath hits my cheek, and I’m sure my heart skips a beat. I freeze, barely able to keep my focus.

The space between us is thick with something heavy, something that has my pulse racing, but Joel’s not moving. He’s standing there, looking at me like he’s debating something—maybe whether or not to keep playing. I keep my eyes locked on his, deliberately challenging, just to see how long he’ll stand there before he breaks.

I know he can feel it too—the weight of the air between us. It’s thick. Electric.

But I’m not the one to crack first.

I lean back a little, letting my hands slide across the cool counter, trying to act casual, like I’m not aware of every inch of space between us, of how close he’s standing now.

Joel doesn’t say anything for a while. He just watches me—his eyes intense, like he’s studying every move I make, waiting for me to slip up.

And then, in one smooth motion, he steps forward, close enough that I feel his presence without him even touching me. Just the weight of his gaze, the pull of his body.

I freeze for a second, breath catching in my throat. Damn it.

He doesn’t rush—he never does. Joel’s always deliberate, calculating. But I can see it now, the way his lips press together, the faintest twitch of his jaw like he’s trying to hold something back.

Without saying a word, his hand moves slowly to the bottom of my t-shirt. His fingers brush against the fabric, barely grazing the skin of my thigh. The touch is light—almost too light—but it still sends a shiver through me.

I stay still, even though every part of me is aware of what he’s doing, of the way his hand hovers, teasing, as if he’s testing my patience.

“Alright,” he drawls, voice lower now. “Guessin’ you want me to say somethin’ like… lace?”

My mouth goes dry.

Oh.

I wasn’t expecting that.

I recover fast, tilting my head. “Maybe.”

Joel takes a slow step closer, his eyes locked on mine, like he knows he’s caught me off guard. Like he’s finally flipping the script on me.

“Red?” he guesses, voice all deep and rough.

I swallow. “Wrong.”

“Black, then.”

I press my lips together, refusing to react.

“Bet they even have a little bow”

Joel just huffs a quiet laugh, taking another slow sip of water, looking way too satisfied with himself.

I narrow my eyes, sitting up. “You think you’re real smooth, huh?”

He just shrugs. “Ain’t that hard, darlin’. You’re an open book.”

And then, just as I’m about to respond, he shifts again—moving in, just enough to make the back of his hand brush mine. The contact is so light, but I feel it like a damn spark.

His lips are so close to my ear now, and I know he’s teasing. He’s testing me, waiting to see what I’ll do.

But I don’t move. I hold my ground, staring up at him, willing myself not to let the heat get to me.

“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “but you ain’t nearly as subtle as you think you are.”

I try to keep my cool, but there’s a hitch in my breath.

Joel steps back then, like it’s nothing. But I can feel the pull, the weight of what just happened. I know he’s not done with this—not by a long shot.

—

Joel is pissed.

I see it in the way his shoulders tense as he shoves open the bar door, his grip firm around my wrist, dragging me outside like I’m some wayward kid in need of a lesson. The humid Texas night air wraps around us, thick and sticky, but it’s nothing compared to the heat burning between us.

“What the hell was that, y/n?” Joel snaps, letting go of my wrist just to turn and face me, standing toe-to-toe like he’s ready for a fight.

I roll my eyes, crossing my arms. “I was having a drink, Joel.”

“You were flirtin’ with every damn guy in there,” he growls, his hands landing on his hips like he’s holding himself back.

I smirk, tilting my head. “Oh, that’s what this is about? Didn’t realize you were keepin’ tabs on me.”

Joel huffs, his nostrils flaring as he shakes his head. “I am keepin’ tabs on you. Tommy asked me to keep an eye on you, and you—” He gestures toward the bar behind us, exasperated. “You don’t make it easy.”

I laugh, the alcohol warming me but not enough to dull the way my pulse spikes at his words. “I’m twenty-five, Joel. I don’t need a damn babysitter.”

“Well, you sure as hell act like you do,” he shoots back, eyes dark and burning with frustration.

That gets me. My spine straightens, my chin tilts up, and suddenly, I’m really not in the mood for this conversation.

“Excuse me?” I take a step closer, poking a finger against his chest. “I don’t belong to you, Joel. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Joel exhales sharply, like he’s trying to get a grip, but it’s useless because I can see it—the tightness in his jaw, the way his fingers flex at his sides, the way his eyes flicker down to my lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back up.

Oh, he hates this.

Hates that I push him.

Hates that I get under his skin.

Hates that he wants me.

“I didn’t say you belonged to me,” he mutters, voice lower now, rougher.

“But you sure as hell act like it.” My voice is quieter too, the space between us shrinking, the air crackling.

Joel clenches his jaw, breathing hard, and for a second, I swear he’s about to say something—admit something. But instead, he just lets out a frustrated growl, dragging a hand down his face.

“You drive me crazy,” he mutters.

I grin, stepping even closer, my chest nearly brushing his. “Yeah? And what’re you gonna do about it?”

Joel goes still.

I see it—the moment something shifts between us, the way his breathing changes, the way his fingers twitch like he wants to grab me, pull me closer, do something about it.

But instead, he just exhales sharply, turns away, and runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to physically shake me off.

“Get in the damn truck.”

I laugh, but there’s something breathless about it, something shaky. Because if he had made a move—if he had snapped—I don’t know if I would’ve stopped him.

Hell, I know I wouldn’t have.

But for now, I just smirk, walking past him with a slow sway in my step, knowing damn well he’s watching me.

And as I climb into his truck, I wonder just how long it’ll take before Joel Miller finally breaks.

—

Sometimes, Joel does the dumbest shit, and I can't help but laugh at how he digs himself deeper without even realizing it. I've been pushing him all night, just little jabs here and there, watching him get more and more frustrated. It's my favorite game-seeing how long I can mess with him before he finally cracks.

But this time? This time, he really crossed a line.

He thinks he knows what’s best for me, and the way he treats me like some helpless kid? It drives me insane. I’m 25, not a teenager, but he always acts like I need someone to babysit me. It’s honestly infuriating.

But I guess he just couldn’t let it go anymore.

I’m standing there, crossing my arms, staring him down as he tries to come up with something to say, but all he can do is look at me like I’ve broken his favorite damn toy. He’s so damn stubborn, but right now, there’s something in his eyes I’ve never seen before—guilt.

Then, out of nowhere, Joel drops to his knees in front of me.

What the hell?

For a moment, I just stare at him, caught off guard.

I'm not even sure what he's doing, but the way he looks up at me-like he's some kind of punished dog-throws me off balance. He's trying to make a statement, I can tell. He's not embarrassed, but he's also not letting this go.

"I messed up," Joel says, his voice gravelly, as he slowly slides his hands up to rest on my thighs.

I blink at him, not sure how to react. The tension is different this time-this isn't about him giving in; this is something else entirely. There's no fear in his eyes. No submission. He's still the same stubborn bastard he's always been, but there's something else there too-something challenging.

He wants to make things right, but he's doing it on his terms.

"You're not sorry enough for this to work," | tease, holding back the grin that's threatening to break free.

He smirks, eyes flicking up to meet mine. He's still got that damn cocky attitude, even with me standing over him, and I don't know whether I want to slap it off him or kiss him.

Maybe both.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, his hands tightening on my thighs, but there's no hesitation in his voice. "But I'm not getting off my knees until you know I'm serious."

I let out a laugh, not backing down, my body giving off every signal that I'm in control. "And what's that supposed to mean? You think this is gonna impress me?"

His grip on my thighs tightens, pulling me in closer, and now I can feel the heat of him through the fabric. But instead of giving me an inch, he's still staring up at me with that damn challenge in his eyes.

"You want an apology? You got it," he says, voice low and steady. "But l'm not some puppy you can just command. Don't think for one second you're gonna play me like that."

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. I was expecting him to grovel, to at least try to show some weakness. But Joel? Joel doesn't do weakness.

"I never said you were a puppy," I murmur, looking down at him with a smile that's too smug for my own good. "But you are on your knees."

His eyes darken as he holds my gaze, not backing down, not even a little. "Yeah, and I'm here because you deserve the apology, not because I'm asking for permission."

The heat between us shifts again, and it's not the playful teasing anymore. It's something more-something a little darker, a little more real. He's not going to give in, but he's also not letting me win either.

"So, what do you want?" l ask, my voice almost a whisper, the challenge still there but mixed with something else.

Joel doesn't hesitate. "I want you to stop testing me and accept that I'm not going anywhere."

And for just a moment, it feels like he's got me right where he wants me.

But then, I realize-he's not the only one who knows how to play this game.

"Well, if you're so eager to apologize," | start, running my fingers through his hair, "maybe you can make it up to me in a way I actually want."

Joel looks up at me, his hands still gripping my thighs as his breath catches. There's a flicker of something in his eyes-something wild, but also totally surrendered.

"Name it."

The words land between us with the weight of a promise. And for the first time, I feel the air between us change completely. I step back, my body a little off balance from how suddenly he's shifted everything.

But damn, if that doesn't make my heart race.

And then—

His hands are on me.

Gripping my waist, dragging me in hard, pinning me against the wall like he can’t hold himself back another second.

“You happy now?” His voice is low, rough, wrecked. His breath is hot against my lips, his hands firm, possessive on my hips.

I grin, breathless. “Ecstatic.”

And then he’s kissing me.

It’s not soft. It’s not slow. It’s everything he’s been denying himself—all the tension, all the frustration, all the goddamn hunger crashing down on us at once.

I moan into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. He groans, deep and low, like he needs this, like he’s craved this for so long it’s driven him mad.

His hands slide lower, gripping my thighs, lifting me effortlessly against him. I wrap my legs around his waist, gasping as my back presses harder against the wall, his body solid and hot against mine.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he growls, dragging his lips down my jaw, my neck, biting just enough to make me gasp.

I laugh breathlessly, tugging his head back up, eyes locked on his. "Took you long enough to admit it."

Joel glares at me, but there's something wild behind it now, something dangerous. "You got no idea what you just started."

I smirk, running my fingers down his chest, feeling the way his breath shudders at my touch.

"Then don't stop," | whisper.

And he doesn't.

—

It’s like once we started, we couldn’t stop.

Every touch, every look, every little moment of tension we used to ignore? Now it’s all fire.

It starts in the kitchen. I brush past Joel to grab a glass of water, my fingers barely skimming his arm, and I swear I hear his breath hitch. It’s subtle, but I know him. I know how much I get under his skin.

And then, before I can even turn around, he’s on me.

One hand grips my waist, the other presses into the counter beside me, caging me in. His body is warm against my back, his breath hot against my ear.

“You do this on purpose,” he mutters, voice low, rough, like he’s barely holding himself together.

I smirk, tilting my head slightly, just enough that his lips graze my neck. “Do what?”

Joel exhales sharply, his fingers tightening on my waist. “Brat,” he murmurs, but it sounds wrecked, like he’s already given in.

And he has.

Because in the next breath, he spins me to face him, pressing me against the counter. His hands grip my hips, his body hot against mine, and I can feel the tension rolling off him.

“You’re playin’ with fire,” he warns, lips barely an inch from mine.

I grin, dragging my fingers through his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp.

Joel groans, kissing me.

Hard.

It’s desperate, messy, like every ounce of restraint he had is just gone. My hands tangle in his hair, pulling him impossibly close, gasping into his mouth when his fingers dig into my skin.

We barely make it to the hallway before he grabs me again, pressing me against the wall, his mouth never leaving mine.

“You just can’t help yourself,” I murmur against his lips, breathless.

Joel groans, his forehead pressing to mine, his grip firm like he's staking a claim. "Neither can you."

And he's right. Because the second we're alone again, I'm on him-hands in his hair, pulling him down, both of us too far gone to stop now.

Because now that we've started?

We're never stopping.

—

I leave the bathroom door open on purpose.

And the glass shower door? Yeah, that stays cracked, too.

The hot water cascades down my body, steam curling through the air, fogging up the glass just enough to blur the edges but not enough to hide me. I know Joel’s home. I know he’ll walk past. And I know he won’t be able to help himself.

It takes a minute, but then—there he is.

I catch the movement out of the corner of my eye, the way he pauses in the doorway. I can’t see his face through the steam, but I know that look—the one where his jaw tightens, where his fists clench like he’s fighting every urge in his body.

I smile to myself and tilt my head back, letting the hot water pour down my neck, dragging my hands slowly over my skin.

Joel exhales sharply. “Jesus Christ, y/n.”

I bite my lip. Bingo.

There’s a beat of silence, thick with tension. And then—I hear him move. The rustle of fabric. The soft clink of a belt buckle. The sound of a shirt being pulled over his head.

My pulse spikes.

The shower door swings open wider, and suddenly—Joel is there.

Steam clings to his skin, droplets forming against the hard planes of his chest, his broad shoulders.

His eyes are dark, locked on mine, his expression somewhere between exasperation and something dangerous.

“You really are a damn brat,” he mutters.

Before I can reply, his hands are on me, gripping my waist, pushing me gently but firmly against the cool tile. His body is hot, solid against mine, his breath warm against my skin as he leans in.

“You left that door open on purpose,” he accuses, voice rough, wrecked.

I smirk, fingers sliding up his arms, feeling the tension there. “Maybe.”

Joel exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.” But there’s something else in his eyes now—something wild, something hungry.

His hands grip my hips, fingers pressing hard into my skin, and he kisses me.

Hard.

It’s desperate, messy, like he’s been waiting for this, like every ounce of restraint he’s ever had just snapped. I moan into his mouth, pressing up against him, feeling the heat of his body, the way his hands roam, gripping, claiming.

"You gonna keep playin' games, sweetheart?" he mutters against my lips, his voice rough with need.

I grin, breathless, pulling him closer. "Always."

Joel groans, his forehead pressing against mine, his breath heavy, his fingers digging into my skin like he needs this.

And then he kisses me again.

And this time, neither of us stop.

—

The first night back in my apartment should feel good. Should feel like a breath of fresh air. No more waking up to Joel grumbling in the kitchen, no more stolen flannels, no more him lurking in doorways like he’s just waiting for me to do something reckless.

But it doesn’t feel good.

It feels wrong.

I don’t like waking up alone. I don’t like the quiet. I don’t like that Joel just let me go without a damn word.

So I do what I always do. I go looking for trouble.

And I find it at his doorstep.

Joel barely reacts when he opens the door and sees me standing there, arms crossed, wearing one of his shirts I forgot to return. His face is unreadable, but I know him. I see the way his shoulders tighten, the way his jaw clenches.

“What’re you doin’ here?” he asks, voice low, cautious.

I step inside without waiting for an invitation, brushing past him like I belong there. Because I do.

“I dunno,” I say, throwing myself onto his couch. “Figured I’d see if you missed me.”

Joel exhales sharply, closing the door, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s already tired of this conversation. “Y/n—”

“—You didn’t even call me.” I cut him off, watching him carefully.

He shakes his head, pacing like a man who’s got too much in his head and no idea how to get it out. “Didn’t think I needed to.”

I scoff, leaning back against the cushions. “Bullshit.”

Joel stops pacing, pinches the bridge of his nose, and mutters something under his breath.

“What?” I push, sitting up. “Go on. Say it.”

“You know why,” he says, finally looking at me. His eyes are tired. Guilty. “I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have let things go as far as they did.”

I laugh. A short, bitter thing. “Let things go as far as they did? You mean you finally gave in? You finally admitted you wanted me?”

Joel clenches his jaw, turning away, but I’m already off the couch, already closing the distance between us.

“You do want me,” I say, softer now. “You just don’t want to let yourself have me.”

He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t say a word. Just stands there, looking like a man at war with himself.

“You think it was a mistake?” I ask, my voice steady even though my chest feels tight.

Joel doesn’t answer right away. And that silence? It kills me.

Finally, he exhales, voice rough. “I think it ain’t fair to you.”

I stare at him, disbelief creeping in. “Fair? That’s what you’re worried about? Jesus, Joel, I’m not some kid you need to protect. I know what I want.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t get it—”

“No, you don’t get it,” I snap. “I waited for you to stop fighting it. I waited for you to stop treating me like I’m too young, too reckless, too much for you. And the second you let yourself have me, you run?”

Joel’s breathing is heavy now, his hands flexing at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “I ain’t runnin’—”

I step closer, forcing him to look at me. “Then what the hell do you call this?”

His face twists, something breaking behind his eyes. “I call it tryin’ to do right by you.”

My chest aches. God, he’s so damn stubborn.

“You don’t get to decide that,” I say, softer this time. “You don’t get to make that choice for me.”

Joel looks at me, looks through me, and I see it—that need, that longing, that war inside him.

But I won’t beg.

So I take a slow step back, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “Fine,” I say, voice carefully even. “You wanna push me away? Go ahead. But don’t you dare pretend it’s for my sake.”

I turn, heading for the door, my heart hammering in my chest.

And I wait.

I wait for him to stop me.

But the door closes behind me, and Joel lets me go.

—

I should slam the door in his face.

I should.

But I don’t. Because it’s Joel. And even after everything—even after he let me walk out that door without a fight—I still want him.

And the bastard knows it.

He stands there, looking rough around the edges, like he hasn’t slept. He rubs the back of his neck, shifting on his feet, like he doesn’t know how to say whatever it is he came here to say.

“I fucked up,” he says, finally.

I snort, arms crossed. “No shit.”

Joel exhales, glancing down for a second before his eyes meet mine again. They’re dark, tired, but honest.

“I was scared,” he says, voice lower now. “Ain’t used to wantin’ something this bad. Ain’t used to thinkin’ maybe I could have it.”

That stops me.

Because this? This is new. This isn’t Joel pushing me away, telling me I’m too young, too much, too reckless. This isn’t him trying to convince himself he doesn’t need me.

This is him admitting that he does.

I swallow, my throat tight. “You can have it, Joel. But not if you keep pulling this shit.”

He nods, like he knows, like he’s been sitting with that realization since the second I left.

I should make him work for it. Make him suffer a little. But then he steps closer—slow, cautious, like he’s making sure I don’t shut him out first.

And when he speaks again, his voice is hoarse.

“Come back.”

It’s not a demand. Not a plea. Just Joel laying it all out, raw and real, for me to decide.

I let out a slow breath, studying him, making him wait.

Then I step forward, just enough that I can tilt my chin up and brush my lips against his—light, teasing, cruel.

His breath hitches. His hands twitch at his sides, like he’s dying to touch me.

And I smirk. “Took you long enough.”

Joel groans, grabs me, and finally—finally—kisses me like he’s making up for every second he wasted.

[0mg-bird]

i would love it if you did a fic about bob finally introducing his shyer!girlfriend to the daggers! cute teasing, fluff, all the works <3

unrelated, but would you ever consider making a masterlist?

Hi! Thank you for the ask! And yes, I will be working on a master list soon, it just takes too much work for me to do as of this moment 😭. Bear with me y’all! I’m new at this! Anyway, here’s the story, hope you don’t hate it <3

Bob Floyd x Shy!Girlfriend Reader

“No.”

“Sweetheart.”

“Absolutely not, Robert.”

Bob sighed, leaning against the door while he watched you comb your hair. He’d brought up the idea he’d been toying with all day, only to get the answer he suspected he was going to get from you.

“Honey, it won’t be horrible. Look, the squad wants to meet you, and I want to introduce you to them."

He's hard to resist, looking at you with those puppy dog eyes of his. You understood his reasoning, but the idea of being surrounded on the beach with a bunch of cocky aviators...well, that was something you didn't really like the idea of.

You groan, looking at his reflection in the mirror before fully turning to face him. You give him a pouty look, one that makes him come forward and hold your face in his hands. "They're not gonna like me." You say, muffled from the way your cheeks are squished in his hold.

"Yes they will." He says.

"I'm boring."

"Your the most interesting thing in the world, honey."

He was always so sweet with his words, he calms your nerves every time. You know it means something to him to have his squad know who his girl is, so you try and be brave, pushing your worry out of your mind. You smile reassuringly. "Okay." You say. "It's a date."

Bob smiles, leaning down to kiss your lips, then your forehead. "It'll be a good day, I promise."

As you get into his bed, surrounded by the scent of him, he pulls you closer. "Maybe then they'll stop saying I'll never get laid." He states, making you look at him with disbelief.

"What, are we in middle school?" You ask.

He lightly chuckles. "You're gonna see the level of immaturity these guys have on Saturday, then you'll understand."

And when Saturday came, you gripped onto his hand like your life depended on it. You wore a white baby doll dress over your bikini, your sandals in your hand as you walked across the sand. As the two of you come closer, you see the group of pilots all gathered, setting up camp.

"Well, look who showed up." One of them call out as you come to join them.

You immediately blush at the amount of eyes on you They all look you over, almost like they were detectives and you were a case they needed to crack. You get introduced to them and quickly come to learn just what Bob meant, this group of the best fighter pilots in North America were no better than kids.

"I uh, I brought some snacks if y'all want some." You say, laying out multiple floral tupperware containers that were filled with homemade goods. Immediately, the boys were on it, fighting over who got what. They reminded you of seagulls.

Natasha, who was the most excited to meet the girl who Bob spoke about non stop, is yelling at the boys to mind their manners. "You wouldn't even think they were functioning adults." She jokes, making you smile.

You wait till the last minute to take your cover off, looking at the well built bodies around you made you retreat to modesty as a defense. You didn't put on your usual bathing suit because Bob said you should wear his favorite one. One that showed more skin, one that drew more attention to you. Stupidly, you agreed with him and put it on. You regret that decision now.

"Aren't you hot?" Nat asks as she pulls her tank top off.

"Oh no, I'm good." You say, giving her an awkward smile and then dig in your bag for the bottle of sunscreen.

You didn't really think it'd be embarrassing to pursue the routine you always have with Bob when you come to the beach, so as he, Hangman, Coyote and Rooster stand, talking about something way above your pay grade, you come to Bob's side. You try not to interrupt their conversation, but words slowly start to slow and they get distracted by the way you pull Bob's glasses off his face. You squirt some of the sunscreen out and into your hands, then you gently apply it to his face. The three others stop and watch, faces full of amusement as you make sure he has an even coverage. Bob doesn't mind, he was never one to be embarrassed of the loving acts you do for him, so you find it strange when you turn around and see the guys watching you.

"That's awfully sweet of you." Coyote comments, and you make the mistake of taking him literally.

"Bob, do you get your mom to fly in and do it for you when she's not around or do you just risk the sunburn?" Hangman teases, making the other two laugh.

You look at the tall aviator. "Sunscreens important, Jake, do you need some? I could help you with it or I'm sure your boyfriend here could do it for you." You say, motioning to Coyote.

Rooster bursts with laughter, wheezing at the joke you make, and behind you, Bob stands with a proud and smug look on his face.

Jake fumbles with his words, in disbelief that you’re being outspoken.

Back at your beach blanket, you clip your hair up and look around, making sure no eyes were directly on you as you pull your dress off and drop it into your bag. Any previous jokes that some of the boys made about Bob finding a goody-two-shoes for a girlfriend, are immediately regretted when they see how great you look in a bikini.

Payback looks ultimately confused. "Anyone else wondering how Baby on Board gets to sleep with a girl like that?" He asks out of ear shot from you.

"Probably because he's not a total dick like you are." Nat suggests.

"Bobby?" You get his attention as you lay on the blanket, holding up the sunscreen, silently asking him to get your back so you can tan for awhile.

At the sound of the name, some of the boys laugh, making you blush.

"Hey, Bobby, will you get my back next?" Fanboy teases, making Bob glare as he sits beside you. "Did he just glare at me?" He asks, in utter disbelief that Bob was capable of it.

Bob undoes the back of your suit, gently running his hands over your bare skin. "Are you good here for awhile? We're gonna play a game of dog fight football." He asks.

You turn your head to look at him. "I'll survive."

He ties your suit back together, then meets your lips as you lean up to kiss him.

It was peaceful, laying and watching the aviators goof around, running up and down the beach. You had no idea that the questions being asked between plays were all about you.

"What'd you do in order to win her over?" Rooster asks, grunting as he throws the football.

"I'm still trying to figure that out." Bob huffs, blocking Fanboy so he can't intercept.

"She's cute, doesn't talk much though." Fanboy adds.

"She does, just not to people she barely knows." Bob defends.

As Hangman runs by, he pauses. "Be honest with us, Bobby, you ever get bored of her?"

Bob looks at him like he's crazy. "Never. One of these days, Hangman, you'll learn that crazy bar girls don't make girlfriends. Maybe my girl's shy but she's a whole lot better than whatever new girl you can't make stick around."

The ones around them laugh at Hangman getting called out for the second time today.

"Jokes aside." Rooster says. "I'm happy for you, man, she seems good to you."

Bob looks back at you lazily reading a book, your feet kicking back and fourth in the air behind you. "Yeah, I really like her...actually I'm gonna ask her to move in."

They all gasp.

"We'll say a prayer for you man." Coyote shakes his head.

At some point, you had rolled onto you back and let your hair down, sunglasses on your face as you rest your eyes. Though, your sun is covered by a shadow after a while. You open our eyes, gazing up at the man who's standing above you. You prop yourself up on your elbows.

"Hi." You grin, watching as Bob pulls his sweaty shirt off, revealing his toned upper body. You move your sunglasses down your nose to get a better look, then take them off entirely.

"Hey, you ready to go into the water?" He asks, making you shake your head.

"I'm good on dry land, sailor."

Bob gives you a smirk. "Now, that's just not going to do."

"I'm okay here, Bobby, go have fun with your squad, they're already in the water." You say.

"So you want me to join them and leave you here?" He asks, making you nod in agreement.

He hums, pausing before leaning down and scooping you into his arms. You gasp, flailing in his hold but his grip is too strong. "Bobby, no! Put me down!"

"Not a chance."

You form a death grip, arms holding tightly around his neck as he makes it to the water with you. "Don't do this." You laugh loudly.

"Are you ready?" He asks.

"No! Bobby!"

He loosens his grip, pretending to drop you, making you yell and tighten your grip around him even more. The dagger squad starts chanting ‘overboard’, and you feel the cool water slosh up against you as Bob walks further in.

“Bobby!”

“One.”

“No, baby, please.”

“Two.”

“Robert Floyd!”

“Three!”

He falls sideways into the water with you, making you sink under before you pop back up, wiping your eyes. You can’t help but laugh, splashing him as he pops up in front of you.

“I can’t believe you.” You say, wrapping your arms around him.

He grins boyishly. “Sorry, honey.”

The squad watches as the two of you swim beside each other.

“So…Bob is getting laid.” Coyote says.

“He’s the only one who is.” Rooster adds.

[angelltheninth]

Hi just wanted to say that I love reading your invincible fics !! If your still accepting requests; would it be ok if I request dating hcs on Mark , Eve and Rex please 🙏 (separate if possible) love them so much (reader I’m fine with female or gn ^^)

I love those three too! I will gladly accept your request.

Pairing: Mark Grayson, Eve Wilkins, Rex Sloan x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, dating, kissing, flying, power use, flirting, banter, established relationship, superheroes

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Dating one of them would be great, but imagine dating all three?!

The best boyfriend you could ask for, will take care of you no matter what you need

More on the shy side when you first begin your relationship and easily flustered

You have to be the one to kiss him first, he doesn't exactly have a lot experience with dating

Always got tongue tied around pretty women and you are no exception even after you begin dating

Uses his powers to impress you, or tries to impress you, but he almost crashes into a building because he was too busy flirting with you to notice it

Happy to be affectionate in public, always holds your hand while you walk together

Stays up late to talk to you, Mark is pretty stubborn when it comes to ending the call first

Listens to your heartbeat from far away because it helps him relax and puts him to sleep easier

His phone is filled with pictures of you in various outfits, some of which you bought on your dates, others that you had in your closet and sent pictures to him

The best kinds of dates are the nightly flights he takes you on, high above the city, somewhere private, there are so many romantic spots to explore around the world

Eve compliments you a lot before and after you begin dating, that and affectionate touching are how she expresses her love the most

When she wants to kiss you and you're on the other side of the room she floats right next to you and plants a quick kiss on your cheek right before moving away

If you want to kiss her back you're gonna have to catch her first, which might prove a bit of challenge but the reward will be worth it

Kisses your hand a lot and enjoys the way it makes you blush, you're like a pretty princess

Doesn't let anything interrupt your cuddling sessions and if there's anything either of you need to grab she will levitate it within arms reach

Loves helping you with your makeup and buying you makeup and various accessories, most of them matching

Not shy about taking showers together when either of you spends the night at the others place

Absolutely melts on the inside when she wakes up and sees that you cooked her favorite food to make her feel better when she had a bad night or a bad mission

Hugs you tight when you sleep next to each other, kissing your forehead before she fully falls asleep

On your anniversaries she always tries to come up with something new and fun for the two of you to do together

Big flirt compared to your previous boyfriends and will use any chance to make you blush

Can be the big spoon or the little spoon, it doesn't make much difference to Rex as long as he gets to hold you in his arms all night long

Enjoys leaving kiss marks and bite marks on you, grinning like a lovesick fool when he sees them on you while you're getting dressed

Kisses you in front of his friends and teammates when ever he gets the chance

When it's your anniversary he makes his own fireworks, maybe slightly less flashy but he wants you to see the effort he put in

Gets slightly jealous when he sees other heroes trying to flirt with you

Often works out in front of you since he knows you enjoy seeing his muscles, and the occasional invitation to get into the shower with him after he's done

Huge fan of sleeping over at your place and leaving his clothes there, but he pretends he does it on accident

Actually he does that specifically to see how you're wearing his clothes more and more, during the day and when you're going to sleep, wearing one of his shirts

Instead of just kissing you he will often instigate a long make out session, he can't keep his hands off a pretty girl like you