#my favourite kind of raspberry

[allmyandroids]

💛🌿🌱Golden Queen Raspberry 🌱🌿💛

[pretypidge]

i hung a rose my mom brought me upside down to dry about a week ago, so the petals dont drop, and unclipping it today holy goodness it smells so sweet wow

[mandoalorian]

lessons in love

──── ୨୧ ────

lesson one: kissing

pairing: congressman!bucky barnes x f!reader

synopsis: after thinking you've met the man of your dreams, you're ready to take things to the next level. one problem: you've never even kissed a guy before. so, you knock on your best friend's door with a proposition, and ask him to teach you everything there is to know about sex. no strings, no feelings, just lessons. but the closer he gets, the harder it is to pretend it's only practice.

rating/warnings: 18+ explicit content ahead, minors do not interact! ⚠️ male masturbation, making out, unspoken feelings, pining, a smidge of angst, bucky has a fear of rejection/not being good enough, virgin!reader, experienced!bucky, reader drinks alcohol, mentions of politics, reader is dating a jerk and doesn't know it.

word count: 8.0k

ෆ series masterlist | next part

You stepped out of your apartment at the exact moment Bucky Barnes unlocked his own across the hall.

It wasn’t the first time your mornings had lined up like this. He knew it wasn’t coincidence, not really. He’d long since memorised the sounds you made while getting ready—the soft shuffle of your feet, the hum of a hairdryer, the clink of a mug meeting the counter. Some mornings, he stood by his door with his hand on the knob, pretending to fumble with keys just to run into you like this.

And there you were. Hoodie three sizes too big, hair still damp, yawning into your sleeve. His favourite version of you.

“Morning, doll,” he said casually, holding up your mail like a prize. “The latest threat to your bank account has arrived.”

You blinked, slow and groggy, then narrowed your eyes when you saw the Bloomingdale’s logo on the catalogue. “Bucky, did you read my mail again?”

He gasped, hand to his chest. “I would never.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I was protecting your financial well-being,” he insisted, voice going mock-serious. “You nearly cried over that suede coat last month. I’m acting in your best interest.”

“You’re acting like a nosy neighbour, again,” you muttered, taking the mail from his hand.

He let you, though he didn’t quite let go right away.

And you didn’t notice. Or maybe you just didn’t think twice about it.

You never did.

He watched you leaf through the envelope lazily, eyes soft with sleep and trust. The kind of trust he still didn’t think he deserved. But you gave it to him anyway—effortlessly. Like handing him your heartbeat.

“Come on,” you said, already walking toward the stairs. “Coffee?”

“Obviously,” he replied, falling into step beside you.

He didn’t have to ask where you were going. He never did. You always went to the same quaint little café on Saturday mornings, always shared the same slice of raspberry coconut loaf, always sat at the table by the window with the wobbly leg. And Bucky loved a routine, even if he never said it out loud.

Especially one that involved you.

The building creaked softly as you descended together, your steps a little too light, his a little too heavy. When the sun touched your skin through the glass entryway, you tilted your face toward it and smiled.

That smile—God, that smile.

You didn’t know what it did to him. How it made something ancient and restless inside him go perfectly still.

You pushed through the front door and into the street, the early morning light gold and sleepy. A dog barked somewhere. A bike rolled past. You reached for his arm without warning, slipping your hand into the crook of his metal elbow like it belonged there.

Like you belonged there.

He swore his breath caught for a second.

It was always like that. You touched him so freely—so fearlessly. You held his metal hand when you were tipsy, tugged on the plates when you needed his attention, rested your cheek against the cool surface like it was nothing. Like the arm hadn’t killed people. Like it hadn’t nearly killed him.

And every time, it undid him a little more.

“God, I’m starving,” you groaned, leaning into him. “Do you think they still have that raspberry loaf?”

“I think you single-handedly keep them in business with how often you order that thing.”

“It’s so good, Buck. You can’t deny it.”

“I wouldn’t know, every time I order a slice to try, you end up stealing it from my plate.” Bucky smirked.

You gasped, scandalised. “I share with you.”

“You leave me crumbs. Literal crumbs.”

You bumped your hip into his as you walked.  “I’m just a girl. I need sugar.”

You’re sweet enough already, he wanted to say. But instead, he didn’t answer. Just smiled, the tight kind, the kind he had to control.

You didn’t notice the way his eyes lingered on you—on the light catching in your eyes, on the way your hoodie slipped off one shoulder, revealing just enough skin to make Bucky’s heart yearn. You didn’t see the quiet hunger behind his eyes, the ache that lived just under the surface.

He wanted to memorise everything. The sound of your laugh, the curve of your knuckles, the way you pointed your toe out when you walked. Every piece of you. Etched into memory.

But you were his friend. Just his friend.

And he could live with that.

Because if friendship was the only way he got to keep you close, he’d take it. Even if it hollowed him out a little more every time you smiled at him like he was just Bucky Barnes, your neighbour. Your best friend.

Not the man who watched you like you hung galaxies from your fingertips.

Not the man who would burn the world down just to keep you safe.

You tightened your hold on his arm as you turned the corner. “You’re paying, by the way.”

“Wasn’t aware I wasn’t paying.”

“You’re my favourite sugar daddy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

You grinned up at him, mischief in your eyes. “You love it.”

Bucky couldn’t resist the smile tugging at his lips. 

The two of you walked slowly, like you had nowhere to be — and you didn’t, not really. That was the beauty of Saturday mornings. No Congress meetings. No global threats. Just coffee, a shared slice of cake, and the one person on Earth who made him forget what the rest of his life had looked like before this.

You tilted your head toward the nearest tree, watching sunlight filter through its leaves, and Bucky watched you instead.

“This neighbourhood’s changing,” you murmured, pointing across the street. “That used to be a laundromat, didn’t it?”

“Yeah. You used to drop your delicates there and then come over to my place to complain about how everything smelled like lavender.”

You laughed. “I still hate lavender.”

He smiled softly. “I know.”

You looked up at him at that. Something flickered in your expression, brief but curious, like you hadn’t expected him to remember something so small.

But he remembered everything.

Like the way you always brought a spare hair tie but never used it. The way you couldn’t walk past a bookstore without wandering in. The way your lips pressed together when you were trying not to say something too honest.

You kicked a little rock on the sidewalk and it skipped ahead of you.

He filed that away too. He always did. Like collecting evidence of the person he couldn’t have but would’ve worshipped if you’d only let him.

You stopped at the corner where the café sat, all old bricks and chipped blue paint and hand-drawn chalkboard menus. He reached for the door and held it open without thinking. You paused just before walking in, brushing your hand against his stomach briefly—just a friendly touch, just something easy and natural—but it burned like a brand.

Inside, the place smelled like roasted espresso beans and sugar. The usual barista waved at you both.

You smiled at her and then up at him. “Iced latte. Two shots. Oat milk. No syrup.”

“You think I don’t know your order by now?”

“I like to keep you on your toes.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was no bite to it. Just warmth. Just a quiet affection he’d never let himself name.

You drifted toward the back table—the one with the wobbly leg—and pulled out your favourite chair, the one with the chipped white paint and the tiny carved heart in the corner that you'd pretended to hate but never actually swapped out.

He stepped up to the counter and ordered your drinks, adding the raspberry and coconut loaf without hesitation. They gave him the biggest slice because they knew it was for you.

By the time he joined you at the table, you’d already folded your arms on the tabletop and rested your chin on them like a kid, watching him with lazy amusement.

“You know,” you said, “if I were a stranger, I’d assume we were dating.”

His chest tightened. But he managed a smirk.

“If we were dating, you’d let me eat more than a third of the cake.”

“If we were dating, we'd live together, and you wouldn’t keep stealing my mail,” you fired back.

“You love it when I steal your mail.”

You grinned.

God, he wanted to reach across the table and tuck that loose strand of hair behind your ear. Not because it was in the way—just because he could.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he pushed the raspberry loaf toward you and watched you light up like you’d been handed a gift.

You broke off a corner and handed it to him without thinking. He took it with a faint smile, letting your fingertips brush.

He wondered—again—if you noticed how often you touched him. If you knew how he soaked up every second of it like a starving man.

You sipped your coffee and hummed in satisfaction. “They made it strong today.”

“Good. You get bitchy when you’re tired.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And you get soft when you’re around me.”

He looked at you. Really looked. And for one terrifying moment, he wanted to say something real.

I do. I get soft. I get stupid. I’d say yes to anything you asked me, even if it tore me up inside.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair and said, “That’s your influence. You’re corrupting me.”

You didn’t deny it.

You just smiled, eyes bright with affection, and reached for another piece of cake.

And Bucky Barnes, hardened soldier, century-old weapon, killer turned Congressman turned best friend—sat there, letting you have the bigger half, just like always.

The coffee shop hummed with weekend ease — low music from the speakers, baristas laughing behind the counter, the soft hiss of steamed milk. Your fork tapped against the plate as you divided the final bite of raspberry loaf without asking, pushing the smaller piece toward him.

He gave you a look.

“Don’t fight it,” you said lightly. “You’ve had enough.”

“I paid for it,” he muttered, but still took the bite.

You laughed, sipping your drink. Your lips were pink from the berry glaze, and you wore that tired little smile — the one you always had when you’d slept like shit but tried to hide it. He noticed it all. Of course he did.

Your phone buzzed on the table beside your latte. You glanced down and grinned.

That grin made his stomach turn, but he didn’t know why yet.

“Who’s that?” he asked, casually enough.

“Oh.” You picked up the phone and typed quickly, still smiling. “Congressman Blake.”

His chest tightened before his brain even caught up. “The one from judiciary?”

“Mhm.” You looked up, eyes still sparkling. “He’s taking me to dinner tonight.”

It hit him like a punch.

You. Dressed up for someone else. Smiling like that for someone else. Letting someone else close enough to ruin you.

His jaw locked before he could stop it. “Blake’s—”

“Don’t.” You cut him off before he even said it, tone playful but warning. “Don’t do the overprotective big brother thing.”

He tried to keep his voice even. Tried not to let anything show. “I’m not. Just… Blake? Really?”

“What’s wrong with Blake?”

He’s a sleaze. He cheats. He brags about interns behind closed doors. He’s not safe. But he couldn’t say any of that. Not without sounding like a jealous asshole.

“Nothing,” he said flatly. “Just didn’t realise he was your type.”

You tilted your head. “And what’s my type, Barnes?”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not when every version of your type in his mind looked a hell of a lot like him.

You sipped your drink again and shrugged, clearly brushing it off. “He’s nice. He’s… ambitious. Confident. And he actually asked.”

That part stung. You’d never said it before, but it was true. Bucky had never asked. He hovered. Protected. Lingered too long when you hugged him, always brushed his thumb along your lower back when he walked you home. But he never crossed the line.

You leaned back in your chair, looking suddenly shy. “Anyway. I think it’s time.”

“Time for what?”

You looked down at your hands, fiddling with your straw wrapper. “To… take that step. You know.”

He went still. “What step?”

You hesitated, then looked him dead in the eye. “I want to have sex with him, Buck.”

He froze.

There was a high-pitched ringing in his ears, and for a second, the café blurred at the edges.

You kept talking, like you hadn’t just detonated a nuclear bomb on his morning.

“I know it’s stupid. I know I should’ve done it sooner or—whatever. I mean, we’ve been seeing each other for a week and a half, and I’m not used to this sort of thing. To be honest, I wonder if it's a little fast. But Blake keeps making moves, and I think tonight will maybe be the night? I mean, he’s hot, and he wants to, and I want to, I guess.”

Bucky blinked. “You want to have sex with Congressman Blake?”

You flushed instantly, but nodded. “Well, yeah. Bucky, were you just listening to a word I said?”

He sat back, stunned. You. Sweet. Soft. Letting someone like Blake touch you?

The metal fingers on his left hand flexed beneath the table.

You rushed to fill the silence. “I just think… I don’t want to mess it up. And he’s… I don’t know, experienced. I want to be good. I want to be enough.”

That last part did something awful to him.

“Don’t say that,” he said sharply.

You blinked. “Say what?”

“That you’re not enough. That you need to impress him.”

You gave him a look, somewhere between touched and confused. “Buck…”

But he couldn’t let it go. Not now.

“You don’t need to prove anything to him,” he muttered, jaw tight. “He should be lucky you’re even giving him the time of day.”

You went quiet. The warmth from earlier cooled around you.

“You sound mad,” you said softly.

He looked at you then — really looked. You, sitting across from him with your heart cracked wide open, trusting him with this truth. And all he could feel was helpless. Furious and heartbroken and helpless.

“I’m not mad,” he said, quieter now. “Just… surprised.”

You tried to smile. “You thought I’d die alone?”

“No,” he said instantly. Then softer: “I just didn’t think he deserved you.”

Your smile faltered.

For a second, you just stared at him, eyes wide and unreadable. But then your phone buzzed again, and the moment passed. You reached for it like nothing had happened.

“Anyway,” you said lightly, “I’ve gotta go and do some errands. He’s picking me up at eight. Think I’ll wear that little pink dress. You know the one I wore for my cousin’s wedding?”

Bucky nodded numbly.

He was your date to your cousin’s wedding last year, after you’d begged and pleaded with him. You told him you only wanted him there so your family would stop asking inappropriate questions about your love life. And wow, you played the part of girlfriend so well. That was the night when he’d nearly told you the truth.

You stood, slinging your bag over your shoulder, and leaned down to kiss his cheek.

“Thanks for the coffee,” you whispered. “You’re my favourite.”

Then you walked out, leaving him alone at the table, heart sinking to the floor, and an empty plate with few coconut flakes and a smear of raspberry frosting. 

──── ୨୧ ────

Bucky stared at the ceiling.

Then he stared at the floor.

Then he paced to the window, looked out at your door across the hallway, and paced back again.

And again.

And again.

His hands were in fists. Then on his hips. Then raking through his hair.

He couldn’t sit still.

You’d smiled when you said it. You’d meant it. It wasn’t some joke, some hypothetical. You really wanted to have sex with that asshole.

Fuck.

He muttered it under his breath and stopped in front of the counter, where he’d pulled up a dozen tabs on his phone for raspberry loaf recipes and hadn’t committed to any of them.

“This is stupid,” he mumbled to no one.

But still, he preheated the oven.

It wasn’t even about the cake. It was just—something. A thing to do with his hands that didn’t involve punching walls or texting you thirty times with half-written apologies and I didn’t mean to sound like a jealous jackass, I just—

He scrolled through the ingredients list again and set out what he had. Flour. Eggs. Sugar. Raspberries. Coconut milk — because you didn’t like regular milk, said it made your stomach feel weird. He always remembered the little things.

His thumb hesitated over the coconut flakes. Too much? No. He added them. You liked the texture.

He cracked eggs too hard. Spilled flour on the counter. Burned his finger on the pan and didn’t even flinch. All he could think about was you.

Your smile. Your laugh. The way you’d touched his arm at the café and leaned against him like you weren’t afraid of him at all. The way you kissed his cheek and told him he was your favourite right before walking out the door to go on a date with Blake.

He growled under his breath, rubbing flour into his temples.

The phone on his kitchen island lit up.

He stared at it for a long time, then tapped Sam’s contact. One ring. Two.

Sam picked up, slightly out of breath. “Bucky Barnes, to what do I owe the pleasure? This phone call isn’t therapist mandated, is it?”

“No. I stopped seeing Dr Raynor,” Bucky replied, eyeing up the mess in his kitchen and grabbing a towel with his empty hand. 

“And so now you’re calling me because… you miss me?” Bucky could practically hear Sam’s smirk on the other end of the line. 

Bucky sat heavily on the barstool, elbows on the counter. “Sam I need help. It’s Y/N. She’s going on a date tonight.”

“Okay… and?” Sam deadpanned. 

“She wants to have sex with Congressman Blake.”

There was a beat of silence. “Damn, is that politician who voted against women’s reproductive rights? Or was it the one who got those sustainability protestors arrested at Capitol Hill? Wait— is this the guy you pushed into the vending machine that one time?”

Bucky leaned back, eyes closed. “All the same guy.”

“Fucking super villain,” Sam muttered. “She needs to stay clear from him.”

“She kept calling him hot and— and I just sat there like a fucking statue while she told me she was giving herself to that slimeball.”

“You know you’re allowed to tell her how you feel, right?”

“No,” he said immediately. “I’m not.”

“Buck—”

“She’s my best friend.”

“She’s not a child.”

“She trusts me. I’m not gonna break that.”

Sam sighed. “Then why are you pacing?”

Bucky stopped in his footsteps, cheeks burning. “I’m not.”

“You’re lying again.”

There was a long pause.

“I’m baking.”

“You’re baking,” Sam repeated, a little dumbfounded by the confession. 

“She loves raspberry coconut loaf,” Bucky muttered finally. “Figured I’d… I don’t know. Drop one off.”

Sam made a sound between a laugh and a groan. “You’re hopeless.”

“Yeah.”

Another pause.

“Do you want her to be with that guy?” Sam asked quietly.

Bucky’s chest caved in. “No.”

“Then say something.”

“Sam, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because she deserves soft,” he whispered. “She deserves first kisses and safe hands. Not a guy with a kill count.”

“And Congressman Blake is the guy who has that? I don’t think so Buck,” Sam replied. “She knows you and she knows your past. She’s not afraid of you, and she certainly wouldn’t want you to dote on her like this. Now, go finish up this cake and if you can’t tell her how you feel, at least wish her luck on her date. God knows she’ll need it.”

The oven beeped. The cake was done. And the conversation ended not long after that.

“Thank you Sam,” Bucky said, reaching for the oven handle.

“Love you, buddy,” Sam replied before ending the call. 

He took the cake out with trembling hands, set it on the cooling rack, and stared at it like it might offer answers. It looked a little crooked. One corner had cracked.

Didn’t matter.

He was still going to knock on your door in twenty minutes, warm cake in hand, and apologise for everything — even if he couldn’t say the one thing he really wanted to.

When Bucky finally managed the confidence, you opened the door in a rush of perfume and warmth, barefoot but otherwise fully dressed. Too dressed. Dressed like sin in a silk wrap dress the colour of blush wine. Your eyes were lined, lashes fluttering, cheeks glowing. And Bucky?

He forgot how to breathe.

“Hey,” you said brightly, clutching a delicate little purse in one hand. “Oh my god, is that—?”

He held out the loaf cake like an apology wrapped in parchment paper.

Your whole face lit up.

“You baked for me?” You took it from him with both hands, like it was something precious. “Bucky, this is—thank you! You didn’t have to. I’m really sorry about earlier, by the way. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s okay,” he muttered, eyes darting anywhere but your cleavage. “I was kind of an ass.”

“No, you were just being protective. You always are.” You gave him that soft smile that always disarmed him. That made him feel seen. “I’m just… I really like Blake, you know?”

His jaw clenched. He stepped into your apartment when you gestured for him to follow.

“I’m happy for you.” A bare face lie; but he knew he wanted to at least get to a place where he could be happy for you, his best friend. He hated the way he seethed with jealousy. 

You twirled around once and held your hair up. “Can you zip me up?”

He blinked. “What?”

“The back.” You turned around and revealed the bare expanse of your back, smooth and soft, the dress gaping where the zipper ended halfway. “I couldn’t get it myself.”

His fingers shook. He hoped you didn’t notice.

The zipper whispered upward slowly, every inch of skin sealed off like a secret he wasn’t meant to know. You smelled like lavender and coconut, something sweet and warm and home. You looked over your shoulder and smiled at him.

“Thanks, Buck.”

He cleared his throat. “You look… nice.”

Nice. That’s what he landed on. Not breathtaking. Not beautiful. Not like my heart was carved out and put in a dress just to mock me. Just nice.

You beamed like you hadn’t noticed his agony at all.

“I really want this to go well,” you said, turning toward your mirror to fix your lip gloss. “He’s not perfect, I know, but he’s charming. And hot. And I don’t know, there’s just something exciting about him. Like he knows what he’s doing.”

Bucky’s stomach turned.

“And I want to be good for him,” you went on, dabbing something shimmery onto your cheekbones. “Like… I want to know what I’m doing. I’m tired of being the clueless one. All my friends lost their virginity ages ago, and here I am, still fumbling in the dark.”

You turned to him then, a half-laugh on your lips, like you expected him to laugh too.

But he didn’t.

Your smile faltered. “What?”

“You’re a virgin?” he asked before he could stop himself. His voice came out lower than he meant, rougher.

You blinked. “Uh… yeah.”

He stared at you. Of course you were. Of course you waited. Of course you were soft and good and didn’t give yourself away to someone who didn’t deserve it—

“I mean, it's not typically something I announce at parties. I just…” you shifted, suddenly shy, “I want to be ready. For him. I want it to be good, you know? But I don’t want to go in completely blind.”

He didn’t speak.

You bit your lip. Then looked up at him with a spark of something hopeful. Something dangerous.

“That’s actually kind of why I was hoping you’d come by. I was thinking about what you said, about not trusting Blake, and I get it. He’s a little unconventional. But you’ve always looked out for me. Always been honest. And I trust you more than anyone.”

He stepped back, wary of the way your voice softened.

“So…” you stepped closer, eyes wide, tone casual but far too sincere. “I was wondering… if maybe you’d help me.”

His brow furrowed. “Help?”

“With learning,” you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Like… teach me.”

The words landed like a thunderbolt.

You laughed nervously when he didn’t respond right away. “Not everything at once, obviously. Just the basics. Kissing. Touching. Whatever you think I should know. I mean, who better to learn from than someone I already trust, right?”

Bucky was silent.

Then: “You want me to teach you how to—”

“—how to have sex, yeah.” You said it quickly, breathless. “But like… in stages. Slow. You don’t have to if you think it’s weird, I just—I really want my first time to be good, and I figured if I have to learn, I’d rather it be with someone who makes me feel safe.”

Someone who makes me feel safe.

Not loved. Not wanted. Not the man you’ve been quietly obsessed with for years who would rip the world in half to protect you.

Just safe.

“Bucky?” you said softly, your voice a little nervous now. “You don’t have to say yes. I just thought—”

“I’ll do it.”

You blinked.

He said it again, quieter this time. “I’ll help you.”

Relief bloomed in your expression. You surged forward and wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging him like you always did — like it didn’t mean anything. Like it didn’t make his heart splinter.

“Thank you,” you murmured into his chest. “You’re the best, Buck. Really.”

He held you gently. Let himself have the moment.

One more second. One more breath of your perfume. One more illusion of something he could never really have.

“Tomorrow night?” you asked brightly, pulling away. “We can start simple. Just kissing.”

He nodded, throat dry.

“Great! I’ll bring wine.” You smiled again, radiant and entirely unaware of the devastation you’d just left in your wake. “Wish me luck with Blake?”

He forced a smirk. “Break a leg.”

Then you were gone — slipping into your heels, grabbing your purse, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and floating out the door like a dream wrapped in silk and naiveté.

Bucky was left stood in your living room, alone, with a sinking heart and raspberry cake crumbs on his shirt.

──── ୨୧ ────

The restaurant was dimly lit and swanky, tucked into the corner of a cobblestone street in SoHo. You were seated at a private table beside the window, candlelight flickering between you and Blake.

He looked good. Too good. Slicked-back hair, watch glinting under his cuff, shirt crisp and expensive. He grinned like a man who had never been told no, and flirted like it was second nature.

"You clean up well," he said, eyes raking over your body with a smirk. "Though I gotta admit, you looked pretty damn good when I saw you on Thursday. That little T-shirt situation you had going on in the hallway? Dangerous."

You flushed, laughing a little despite yourself. "Yeah, sorry about that. It was laundry day and I didn’t expect company."

"I didn’t mind." He winked, then flagged down the waitress with a pointed glance and a once-over that lingered just a second too long.

You watched him, brows lifting subtly.

She walked away after taking your drink order — a sweet rosé for you, bourbon neat for him — and Blake leaned in with that megawatt smile.

"So," you said, twirling your straw, "do you know my neighbour? Bucky Barnes?"

His smile faltered.

"Yeah," he said after a beat. "Guy’s… around."

You blinked. "You’ve worked with him?"

“Sure. He’s kind of a dinosaur, honestly.” Blake shrugged, reaching for the breadbasket. “Weird loner type. Barely speaks in meetings. Creeps people out, to be honest. All that staring and brooding. Makes everything heavier than it needs to be.”

Your jaw tightened.

“He’s a good man,” you said quietly, the edge in your voice unmistakable. “Sometimes, I can’t believe he even chose a career in politics but he really wants to help people. He fights for change.”

Blake chuckled, caught off guard. “Alright, alright. Didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers, sweetheart. You’re right. He’s… loyal. I’ll give him that. But Congressman Barnes and I don’t align on the same things.”

You weren’t sure what he meant by that, and didn’t dare ask. “How come you’re in politics?”

“Fortune, I guess. Power. The ability to get anything I want with a snap of a finger. My dad was a Senator so I’m following in his footsteps.”

You nodded, feigning an attempt to understand, but the glow you’d come in with dimmed a little.

Still, Blake recovered fast. He leaned forward and complimented your eyes, your dress, your laugh — all with a polish that should’ve made you melt. And it almost did. His voice was smooth, his words practiced but alluring, and when he touched your hand across the table, you felt your pulse stutter.

“You know,” he said softly, tracing a lazy circle against your wrist with his thumb, “You are so stunning up close.” His eyes dropped to your mouth. “This is unfair.”

You smiled bashfully, biting your lip.

Dinner arrived — steak for him, something creamy and pasta-based for you — and conversation flowed. Kind of. He liked to talk about himself, but you didn’t mind much. It made you feel like you were in the presence of someone powerful. Someone who wanted you.

At one point, his hand landed on your leg under the table. Light at first. Harmless. But then it inched higher. And higher.

You jumped slightly, thighs tensing under his touch.

Blake raised his eyebrows, smiling like he knew exactly what he was doing. “Too fast?”

You nodded, cheeks flushed. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t be sorry,” he cut in quickly, drawing his hand back. “You’re worth the wait.”

You stared at him, breath caught in your throat.

“I mean that,” he added, his tone softening. “Look at you. Smart, funny, beautiful. Not like the usual girls I take out. You’ve got something extra.”

You didn’t know what to say to that.

When dessert was offered, he waved it off and paid in full, leaving a cash tip with a wink at the waitress (which you pretended not to notice). Then he walked you out, hand brushing your back possessively.

“Tomorrow night?” he asked, opening the car door for you.

You blinked. “You want to go out again tomorrow?” You remembered your plans with Bucky, and wondered if you could fit in another date around them. 

“Of course I do.” He smiled, leaning closer. “Assuming you don’t have plans with your broody neighbour.”

You forced a laugh. “He’s not broody.”

“Mhm. I’ll text you, darling, and we can arrange plans.”

He kissed your cheek — too close to your mouth — and you slipped into the backseat with a flurry of nerves and butterflies.

As the car pulled away, you clutched your purse in your lap and thought about his hand on your leg. How it had made your stomach flip. How you hadn’t known what to do with yourself.

And tomorrow, he’d want more. Probably much more.

You weren’t ready. But you wanted to be.

──── ୨୧ ────

The silence in the apartment building was deafening.

You’d gone hours ago. Dressed in that slinky blush dress, eyes sparkling like precious gems, perfume sweet like vanilla clinging to the hallway even after you left. And Bucky hadn’t been able to sit still since.

He’d paced from the kitchen to the living room, rearranged the throw pillows twice, turned the oven on and off. Every creak of the floorboards made him glance at the door, hoping—praying—you’d forgotten something and come back.

You didn’t.

Instead, he’d stared at his phone like a man possessed, checking the time, the weather, the news. Anything. Everything. Just not you.

He should’ve turned the TV on. Maybe put on a record. But all he could do was think—think about the way Blake might have looked at you. Might have touched you. His stomach churned at the thought. Instead he tried fixating on you. The way your lips parted when you laughed. The way you’d asked him to tie the back of your dress, turning around so trustingly while he tried not to breathe too hard behind you.

God, he was a fucking mess.

You were out with a man who didn’t deserve you, and Bucky had stood there in your apartment holding a damn loaf cake like a second-place ribbon. All he could do now was imagine that guy’s hand on your leg, his mouth on your skin, and he had to get up again. Pacing. Rubbing at his face.

He didn’t want to know what was happening. But God, did it kill him not to.

So when your name lit up his phone at 11:32 PM, he nearly dropped it fumbling to unlock the screen.

you: home now 🥱 you: date was okay. he talks a lot

His stomach unclenched slightly.

You were home. You were texting him. You weren’t in Blake’s bed. You weren’t sending that same message to someone else.

bucky: Glad you’re back safe. bucky: He say anything weird?

He watched the typing bubble bounce.

you: just weird little comments. like he’s used to people hanging on his every word you: but he said I’m worth the wait 💀 you: so I guess I’m irresistible

Bucky let out a breath through his nose. A crooked smile threatened the corner of his mouth, even as he shook his head.

bucky: Obviously. bucky: Glad he didn’t try anything.

You replied a beat later.

you: he tried. I just… wasn’t ready.

His heart twisted. Part relief, part ache.

bucky: Good. bucky:  I mean not good that you weren’t ready. bucky: 😆 bucky: Sorry I didn’t mean to press that.  bucky: Slippy fingers. bucky: You don’t have to rush anything for some guy who can’t even respect your space.

There was a pause.

you: I know you: that’s why I’m asking you for help

His mouth went dry. He stared at the screen like it might combust in his hand.

you: tomorrow night okay? you: wine + lesson 1? you: blake’s taking me out again around 8, so maybe like… 6?

Bucky had never typed faster.

bucky: My place at 6.

Another pause.

you: you’re the best buck

His chest constricted.

bucky: Not even close, doll bucky: But I’ll try to be.

──── ୨୧ ────

Bucky had cleaned the apartment twice.

He didn’t mean to. He’d done the usual once-over in the morning, vacuumed, wiped the counters. But by 3pm he was scrubbing the inside of the microwave, reorganising the bookshelf, folding and refolding the blanket on the couch like the way it sat would change the course of fate.

You were coming over. For… lessons. Intimacy lessons. A phrase that had been echoing in his brain on loop since your texts last night. He’d barely slept, barely thought about anything else.

You trusted him with this. You chose him.

He stood in front of the mirror at 5:53pm, staring himself down. Fresh grey T-shirt. Jeans that fit just a little too well. Hair tied back into a man bun because it just wasn’t sitting right. A faint dab of cologne he hadn’t touched in years. Nothing too heavy. Just enough to make your heart skip if you leaned in close.

He looked like he wasn’t trying too hard. He looked like a liar.

At exactly 6:00pm, you knocked on the door.

Bucky practically tripped over his own feet getting there. He paused, steadied himself, then opened it.

And nearly forgot how to breathe.

You stood there in comfy joggers and a slouchy cardigan, wine bottle tucked under your arm, your hair tied up loosely like you hadn’t overthought it at all. You looked beautiful. Effortless. Like home.

“Hi,” you smiled, stepping in past him like you’d done a hundred times before. “You clean for me, Barnes?”

He rolled his eyes, shutting the door behind you. “You wish.”

You grinned, walking into the kitchen. “Liar. It smells like pine cleaner in here.”

He smiled despite himself, watching you drop your bag on the counter like you lived here. The sight made his chest ache. He wondered if you could hear how hard his heart was beating.

“You want me to pour this?” you asked, holding up the wine bottle. “Or are we going in dry?”

He choked. “Jesus, doll.”

You just laughed. “Sorry. I’m nervous.”

He joined you at the counter and took the bottle from your hands. “You’re nervous?”

“I’ve never done this before, remember?” you teased. “I nearly kissed a guy in ninth grade, but uh, that’s it.”

“What happened?” Bucky asked, popping open the bottle of wine.

“I ran away,” you replied bashfully and something in Bucky softened. “I have been doing research, though. Watching movies. Notting Hill. Pretty Woman. And I noticed, when the characters kiss, they always do something with their hands. And I’ve never even considered that before. Made me realise there’s a lot more to kissing than just, lips.”

Bucky tried not to picture where he wanted your hands. He tried really, really hard. “I guess.”

He poured two glasses, handed you one, and tapped the rim of his to yours.

“To lesson one,” you said.

He raised an eyebrow. “What’s the title?”

You grinned. “Making Out. Advanced level. With tongue.”

He nearly dropped the glass.

You walked over to the couch and plopped down with a cozy sigh, folding your legs beneath you. “You coming?”

Bucky followed, sitting beside you with a casual ease that was anything but. You turned to face him, sipping your wine once more before setting it aside.

“So… how do we start?”

He swallowed hard. “Well. Usually people don’t talk about it this much.”

“I like to be prepared,” you said sweetly, shuffling closer. “C’mon. It’s me. We’ve done worse together.”

Not like this, Bucky thought.

But he nodded. Let himself lean in.

You tilted your head up to meet him.

The first kiss was soft. Simple. Barely there. A graze of your lips against his, similar to the innocent brush of hands you’d share when you slipped past him, or the quick hugs you’d greet him with.

You pulled back a fraction, eyebrows lifting. “That was it?”

Bucky scoffed a laugh. “It’s not a race, doll.”

You grinned. “Okay, okay. Again?”

He nodded once.

You kissed him this time — a little longer, lips pressing to his with more certainty. Your hand landed gently on his thigh and he almost forgot to breathe. He kissed you back, slowly, savouring it, like his entire world was ending and he was memorising the taste of the last good thing.

Your lips parted.

Tongue brushed.

You both gasped.

You pulled away with wide eyes. “That felt… weird.”

He blinked. “Bad weird?”

“No,” you whispered. “Good weird.”

And then you kissed him again.

This time, Bucky cupped your cheek — warm hand tilting your face up, cold metal fingers brushing against your jaw. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t even pause. You just melted.

Your hand slid up his chest. You moaned — soft and surprised — into his mouth, and he made a noise so low it shocked even him.

You pulled back, breathless.

“Was that okay?” you asked.

Bucky’s pupils were blown wide. “Yeah. That was—yeah.”

You shifted closer, nearly straddling his thigh. “I feel like I could kiss you for hours.”

God, don’t say things like that, he thought.

But all he said was, “I’m not stopping you.”

You kissed again. Again. Deeper this time. Slower. The kind of kiss that curled your toes and made your brain go static. Bucky let you tug his shirt lightly, your fingers curling in the fabric as your body moved closer. You were pressing into him, soft chest brushing against his, and his whole body was buzzing.

Then you pulled back, blinking up at him, lips red and swollen.

“I feel kinda drunk,” you whispered.

He smirked. “You only had half a glass.”

You looked at his mouth again. “No, like… from that.”

And Bucky, with all the restraint he had left, cleared his throat and nodded. “That’s… that’s normal.”

Your mind was a haze and God, you loved the feeling. You kissed him again, and again, relishing the way his short beard grazed over your skin and how soft his lips felt. 

There was no hesitation anymore — not on your part, anyway. Your lips moved over his with practiced ease, like kissing Bucky was something you'd always known how to do. It wasn’t rushed, or awkward. You just melted into him like you belonged there.

But your hands… your hands weren’t quite sure where to go.

First, you cupped his face. Gentle, sweet. Your fingers brushed his stubbled jaw, thumb tracing the edge of his cheekbone. He could hardly breathe.

But then, uncertain, your hands moved — dragging down to his broad shoulders, feeling the solid muscle beneath the soft cotton of his shirt. You squeezed, a soft appreciative sound leaving your throat, and Bucky nearly groaned.

“You okay?” you mumbled against his mouth.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “You?”

You nodded against him. “Just… don’t know where to put my hands.”

He laughed under his breath, breath hitching as your hands began to roam again — this time down the curve of his chest. His heart stuttered.

“Here’s good,” he murmured, voice low as his hand found yours, pressing it gently over his sternum. “So’s here…” He guided you to rest your palm against his stomach, where his muscles jumped beneath your touch.

You slid your hand down further on your own.

Down his abdomen. Over his waistband.

Then down, across his thigh.

He tensed under your touch. The muscle in his jaw ticked. You didn’t notice — or maybe you did, and just thought he was nervous like you. But your hand stayed there, warm and soft, fingers lightly brushing over denim.

Dangerously close to where he was already hard. Achingly hard.

Bucky’s stomach tightened. His breath hitched against your lips.

You pulled back, blinking up at him innocently. “Is this okay?”

His voice cracked. “Yeah—yeah, it’s fine, sweetheart, just—”

But then your thumb brushed just a little too close. And he flinched. Subtle. Barely a shift. But you felt it.

Your brows furrowed, concerned. “Bucky?”

Shit.

He pulled back a little, drawing in a shaky breath. His hand moved from your waist to gently cup your cheek again — thumb brushing along your jaw to soothe you, even though he was the one falling apart.

“You’re doin’ perfect,” he murmured. “Just—let’s slow down for tonight, okay?”

You blinked, flustered. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No. No, not at all.” He smiled — soft, tender, reassuring. “You’re just… really good at this.”

You smiled at that, a little dazed. “You think?”

“I know,” he said, and the way he said it made your whole chest flutter. “If this was your first lesson, I’m kinda scared of what you’ll do to me by lesson five.”

You grinned, cheeks flushed. “Five whole lessons, huh? You planning on surviving that long?”

He snorted. “Not sure.”

You looked at him for a moment. Really looked at him. And he wondered if you could see it. The hunger he was trying to hide. The ache in his chest. The ache somewhere lower.

But you just leaned in, pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek, and whispered, “Thanks, Buck. I feel a lot better now. I should probably head back to my place, Blake is picking me up soon and I still gotta get ready.”

“Anytime, doll,” he said quietly.

You stood, stretching your arms above your head, and Bucky tried not to stare at the sliver of skin that peeked out beneath your hoodie. He watched you walk to the door, watched you turn back for one last smile before slipping out into the hall.

And then he sat there on the couch, alone in the dim light, still tasting you on his lips and aching in his jeans.

──── ୨୧ ────

Bucky hadn’t moved in what felt like hours.

The apartment was dark now — just the dim lamp in the corner casting long golden shadows over his living room. Your lip balm still lingered faintly on his mouth, vanilla-sweet and haunting. His hoodie still smelled like you. The blanket you’d been curled under was bunched on the couch, warm where you’d left it.

And he was still sitting there.

Hard as a fucking rock.

He leaned back against the cushion, ran a hand over his face, then down through his hair. He exhaled shakily. Tried to think about anything else.

Didn’t work.

Because it wasn’t just the kiss. Not really. It was the sound of your breath hitching when he touched your waist. It was your tiny moan when his tongue slid over yours. It was your hand—fuck, your hand—dragging down his chest, his stomach, to his thigh. So damn close to where he was straining in his jeans he thought he might’ve blacked out for a second.

You didn’t even notice what you were doing to him.

Or maybe you did.

And maybe that made it worse.

He stood, finally, and walked slowly to the bathroom — like his body weighed double. He flicked on the light. Avoided his reflection. His jaw was tense. Lips kiss-bitten and swollen. His jeans still painfully tight.

He let out a breath, then unzipped them. Freed himself with a hiss.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, bracing one hand on the cold sink as the other wrapped around his cock. Already leaking. Already aching.

He tried not to think about you.

But your voice was there, soft and breathy in his ears. “You think I’m good at this?” Your fingers ghosting over his thigh. Your body curled into his on the couch. Your mouth, warm and open against his.

“Jesus,” he groaned, jaw clenched, head falling back.

He started slow, fist pumping with deliberate pressure, teasing himself the way he imagined you might. He imagined your hand instead of his. The curious way you'd look at him while learning. The way you’d giggle softly when he moaned. How wide your eyes would go when you saw him like this for the first time.

“Yeah,” he muttered to no one, breath hitching. “Just like that, doll…”

He jerked harder now, breaths coming quick, thighs flexing, hips twitching. His back hit the cold wall behind him and he let it happen, let his legs shake as he chased the thought of you — you with your pretty lips and shy smile and warm eyes, the way you’d whispered “thanks, Buck,” like you had no fucking clue what you were doing to him.

You were so sweet. So good.

Too good for him.

But God, he wanted you anyway.

He came with a low, desperate groan, biting down on a whimper as heat spilled over his knuckles. His metal hand smacked against the tile wall. Breath ragged. Heart racing. His name on your lips still echoing in his ears — imagined, but real enough to ruin him.

Bucky leaned his head against the wall, eyes fluttering closed.

Lesson one was over. And Bucky Barnes was absolutely, completely fucked.

──── ୨୧ ────

Sebastian Stan taglist: @notreallythatlost @houseofaegon @bunnyfella @sunday-bug @wintrsoldrluvr @maryevm @mcira @monsteraddicts-world @positivenergy @cherriesnmango @navs-bhat @hits-different-cause-its-you @avivarougestan @allhailbuckybarnes

Lessons In Love taglist: (let me know if you want to be added!) @sebastians-love @sweetserendipity65 @sangsterizada @mrsalexstan @alpinescoowner @buckyslqve @morganfullaaa

[nanamiskentos]

BED CHEM— geto suguru minors dni. art by to00fu !

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (b) and let the show begin !

prologue. → ditching your friend's christmas condo party for your scrumptious, needy boyfriend? yes please!

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. geto suguru x afab!reader

warnings+. awful usage of brainrot slang to weird geto out (mission successful), making out, messy sèx, crèampiè, nothing crazy !

word count. 5k! song inspiration. bed chem — sabrina carpenter

a/n. happy 1 month birthday to this blog!!!!!! 😭 kind of fitting that i celebrate with a geto fic <3

mp3. where art thou? why not uponeth me? see it in my mind, let's fulfill the prophecy !

"hey," you say, holding up the dress and crinkling the red satin in your fingers, "what'd you think of this one?"

it's a gorgeous number, a sheer, corset bodice with a daring thigh-high slit, all set to softly drape off your shoulders. the kind of dress that screams 'sexy without trying too hard' and 'television heroine vampire heiress'. your goal in life.

geto doesn't even glance up from his latest obsession, crouched by the kitchen counter. he's eye level with a pavlova, drizzling raspberry glaze over it like he's performing surgery. without missing a beat, "it's cool. for someone desparate in witness protection," he deadpans.

you scoff, clutching the gown like the aforementioned television heroine, "you just say weird shit sometimes. what does that even mean? and a day one hater, didn't even look up..."

"and yet," geto mutters, still hyper-focused on his dessert, "i know i'm right."

you throw the dress onto the couch dramatically, "suguru, you bought this dress for me."

that gets your boyfriend's attention and he looks up, catching the gleam of familiar red satin, and visibly gulps, "oh. my bad. it's, uh, hot you'd look hot, i mean."

"nice save, baby," you arch a brow.

he tosses his inky black hair back, some of it falling right back into his face, "what's it for?"

you sigh, propping your legs up on the worn couch, "that big party, remember? my friend who got married and had a kid last year, y'know her right?"

geto hums, popping a fresh blueberry into his mouth, without taking his eyes off the pavlova, "mmph," he says through a mouthful, "the one who married the guy who cheated on her like thrice?"

you grin, delighted he remembers the gossip you've spoon fed to him over time, "yeah, well, apparently he tried making it up to her by buying her an entire condo."

geto wrinkles his nose in disgust, "tacky. ya' just can't buy class."

"totally," you sigh, "but it's so nice in there. and when she hosts parties there, i can't really complain. it's like, so gorgeous."

then, you glance back at your focused boyfriend, watching as he artfully arranges more berries atop the meringue, "mhm, speaking of gorgeous, are you gonna stand there making love to the pavlova all night, or are you gonna help me accessorise this thing?"

geto glances at you, his violet eyes narrowing playfully, "why so needy? jealous of whipped egg whites and sugar?"

you flop your arms to your sides with a dramatic sigh, "what if i am?"

geto exhales as though you are his most tiresome, and favourite thing in the entire world. grabbing a silver spoon from the cutlery rack, and dipping it into the sticky-sweet raspberry glaze. he's striding towards you, and there's that signature air of both exasperation and amusement, "open."

you comply, simply because dessert trumps dignity, and not before biting down on the spoon with unnecessary force just to mess with him. the glaze simply melts on your tongue, and you smack your lips, "mmm. wait, this shit's really good. what's it for?"

geto laughs, stepping closer to swipe his warm thumb across your bottom lip to catch a stray bit of glaze, "for us, jus' us. thought we'd have something sweet for christmas."

you clutch your chest like a damsel, "i thought i was your sweet thing for christmas."

your dear boyfriend rolls his eyes, swatting your arm lightly with the sticky spoon, leaving a smear of glaze, "tch, what am i gonna do with you?"

you gasp in mock outrage at the sensation, but geto's expression shifts, softening as he swings a knee up onto the arm of the couch, "wan' me to come with ya?"

you blink, thrown off from his hauntingly beautiful features that you'll never get tired of, "come with me where?"

"that party, love."

your jaw practically hits the floor, "wait, really? you actually want to? thought you hated these things?"

geto's lips quirk upwards, shrugging a shoulder, "the things i do for my pretty girlfriend."

cue the squeal. exaggerated just enough to irritate him, just a bit. you clutch his arm, bouncing slightly, "aw! you really do love me!"

geto's exasperated look cracks, softening into something far more quiet and fond. he places a hand on your head, ruffling through your hair just enough to make you scowl at the mess, "don't push your luck," he warns. but his tone betrays his amusement, "i just feel bad i haven't gone to any of the others with you."

"i'm glad you said that, though, suguru," you start, already scheming as you lean forward and rest your head on his knee like its the most natural pillow in the world. he lets out a soft puff of breath, almost instinctively leaning down to press a kiss to your temple.

"remember those high-waisted pants i said would look really good on you?"

geto frowns, "the ones you said made me look like a...and i quote, a slutty mushroom?"

"bingo. you should wear them. the world deserves to see your delicious gyatt —"

your baiting words are accentuated by a pinch to the back of his dark sweatpants but cut off by his sharp exhale, and the way his fingers, which had been lazily tracing the curve of your ear, freeze mid-motion.

"my what, love?" geto asks, his tone a mix of suspicious and the kind of dread reserved for people who know they're about to regret asking a question.

"gyatt," you repeat, completely unrepentant, no shame nor misery, "it means —"

"i know what it means," geto cuts in, deadpan with a faint and tell-tale blush creeping onto his tan skin, "i'm cutting off our wifi. all our electricity actually."

you laugh, patting his muscular thigh lightly before squeezing it again for good measure, "oh, so you do know what it means. that's embarrassing for you, babe."

"and yet, somehow, i still have the moral high ground," geto grouches, pinching the bridge of his nose, "and you say that i say weird shit. now you're bringing gojo's tiktok fuckery into my own home."

"first of all, it's our home," grabbing the red dress and standing, almost knocking him off the couch's arm, "second of all, my big and tall and beautiful boyfriend is such a cutie patootie when he's embarrassed."

geto groans, tilting his head back, "stop. you're emasculating me."

you pause in the doorway, "you cry everytime we watch strawberry shortcake. you do that shit to yourself."

"that was one time!" geto protests, but you can hear the smile colouring his voice.

"two times."

"the mermaid episode was emotionally poignant. power of friendship and moral honesty despite the promise of treasure," he calls after you, "you wouldn't get the timeless themes!"

well, mission accomplished. the dress fits you like a second skin, hugging all the right places. and you're not even ashamed of how long you spend admiring yourself in the mirror. the way the corset lifts your chest, well, it's definitely giving hot and sexy vampire now.

you delicately pat a glitter bomb compact over your skin, letting the soft shimmer catch the light on your collarbones and shoulders. it's a fine balance, you think, but you know there's a fine line between 'faintly glittered-up' and looking like 'fenty beauty just projectile-vomited rosé rave' all over you.

"suguru!" you call out, expecting a snarky reply but hearing nothing. typical. "suguru!" you yell again, just because you can. you wander out of the bedroom, only to find him already in position: stretched across the couch, legs draped lazily over the armrest.

and fuck, he looks good. wearing those wide-legged pants you suggested, and obviously, you were right about them. a crisp white top with the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off his forearms. geto's hair is pulled back into that high, slightly messy knot he's so fond of, but a rogue and choppy strand has escaped, brushing against his cheek.

the whole look screams 'effortlessly hot' and you can imagine how smug he'd be if he knew what you were thinking.

"oh. hey, love," he greets casually, scrolling through his phone and still draped over the couch like a catalog model who knows all his angles. but then geto looks up, and the phone nearly slips out of his hand.

"uhhh, hey," he says, his eyes widening as he takes you in, and his rosewood lips part, as he says it again, clearly dumbfounded, "hey."

you laugh, crouching down next to him, amused by the way he's visibly short-circuiting, "not bad yourself," you tease, "what were you looking at?"

before he can stop you, you lean in to peak at geto's phone, pressing yourself against his side. glitter from your collarbones transfers onto his skin, but you're too busy laughing at his dimly lit screen to notice.

"suguru!" you gasp, your shoulders beginning to tremor, "fuckass yahoo answers, of all places. wait — i can't believe people still use that. stop moving your phone, let me read!"

is it good or bad if my girlfriend says i have a gyatt?

geto's ears turn deliciously red, and he locks his phone with an exaggerated click, "okay. nosy mcgee," and he's grumbling, "makin' me sound like a loser."

you pat his cheek lightly, grinning like a cheshire cat, "it means i think you're scrumptious," you say with mock seriousness, "like top-tier snackish. like, as in, i like your ass."

geto huffs, his lips twitching despite himself. and then, leaning forward, he presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. you wrinkle it instinctively, thinking of all the concealer and powder you had layered earlier.

"well," he says, as he brushes a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, "i think you're pretty too."

you sigh dramatically, "just pretty? why did i end up with a nonchalant man?"

geto gasps, his mauve eyes widening in mock offence as he juts his lip forward, "hah, 'scuse me. i'm not nonchalant. i'm like the total opposite of nonchalant. i'm like...chalant."

you snort, catching his stray fingers as they linger close enough to your lips for you to playfully nip at them, "yes. you are. my very chalant boyfriend. what a hero."

geto rolls over to his side, so he's facing you. absolutely wrinkling his white shirt, "thank you for recognising my efforts."

but then his tone shifts, his gaze running over you, "but seriously, you look hot. like crazy hot. like wow, my girlfriend is insanely hot," and he leans in slightly, "and i jus' can't stop looking at your two, beautiful, perfect..."

it hits you that his gaze has dropped to the swell of your chest.

"suguru! my eyes are up here, you dog."

"shit, been caught." and he's still laughing at your grumbles, grabbing your wrist and gently pulling you up in one swift motion, dragging you alongside him towards the bedroom.

"hey!" you protest half-heartedly, trying to dig your heels into the carpet, "the front door's the other way, genius. we're gon' be late."

geto doesn't stop his stride, glancing back at you with a pleading look that's also smug at the same time, "yeah, but you're the one who looks like that. don't think i can function. i need a minute."

"geto suguru, everybody. one-minute wonder. all he needs to finish."

you hear your boyfriend's scoff, as a teasing laugh escapes him, "hah, can't help being like this, can ya? got a gold medal when it comes to pissing me off."

you smile sweetly, "it's because i love you."

geto rolls his rich-plum eyes, his hand guiding you towards the bed as he shakes his head, "you know i love you too, right?"

"duh."

"good," geto says, and with that, he's leaning in. pressing a hot kiss to your jaw, then moving to your waiting mouth. it's messy, sloppy, the kind that makes your pussy clench a bit. sue you, eh? it's just the effect that geto suguru has on you.

you let out a soft whine as his tongue smears across your satin-finished, ruby lips, perfectly lined not ten minutes ago. but then geto's pulling away, circling his finger lazily in the air. a wordless demand that leaves your thighs clenching in anticipation.

you playfully huff, but spin yourself away from him. planting yourself on all fours, hearing geto grunt as he seems to appreciate the view. tsk, your predictable, eager boyfriend.

his large hand is running slowly down your spine, like he's savouring the way the satin clings to you. it's sending shivers down your body, and you're certain that if geto were to push your dress up and cup your core with a large hand, he'd pull it away wet and dripping.

"ah, pretty. so pretty, aren'tcha?" and his fingers are tugging taut at the ruched dress, like he can't quite believe you're real and his. despite three smooth years of professing your love to one another.

"suguru," you protest, "y'know 's not a cheap dress, babe."

you can hear the amusement tinging his smooth voice, "i know. i bought it, remember? don't want you worryin' your pretty lil' head over it."

you let out a soft sigh as you feel him entirely lean his weight over you, enveloping you in that heady scent of leather and cardamom. scooting your ass back, so tight satin would faintly drag across his very pronounced erection.

"f-fuck," and geto's laugh is sharp, disbelieving. half a huff, and half a chuckle, but entirely in awe. broad, warm hands are gliding over you before the gentle press of his palms come to rest on your hips. he's sliding your dress up, letting satin rustle with a soft, whispering sound. leaving your skin exposed to the sudden and sharp kiss of the christmas air.

"wow," geto whistles quietly, appreciatively. he seemed to be enjoying the sheer red thigh-high tights that clung to the plush of your thighs like a second scarlet skin, and you gasp as he hooks a long finger underneath the lace border, snapping it once briefly in a mild sting.

his hands are so close to where you need them most, and it's so utterly infuriating. he's practically dancing his finger tips over your inner thighs, ghosting so close to your underwear. panties that were surely languid, weighty by now. you could feel the damp cotton growing far more slippery and tacky as geto suddenly ran a finger over your clothed cunt.

and you can hear the elation in his voice as he lifts a finger up to his mouth, swirling his tongue around your syrupy taste, "hah, you're practically a super-soaker. that's pretty cool."

you scowl, fighting the urge to swivel around and pounce him in retribution, "y-yeah, thanks," but the bite in your words is tempered by the lazy heat that coils in your stomach, "but you're taking too l-long, baby. can't you jus' -"

and you're deciding to take matters into your own hands, as geto seems fascinated by how thin, clear strands create small bridges between his fingers. you reach for the waistband of his high-waisted pants, running your own hand down his absurdly slender waist, right over a godly chiselled torso.

"y'got impatient, didn't you, love?" and now geto's scowling, hauling your wrist back to pin it behind your back like you foretold. but not before planting a soft press of lips to your inner arm, gentle and tender.

but you flex your fingers behind your back, stretching them out, groping at the air. your boyfriend must have noticed, almost immediately because of course he does, and you can hear a soft, knowing coo from behind you.

"ah, 's what you want, right?" he teases, sliding his cool, slender fingers over yours, intertwining them effortlessly, "just wanted me holdin' your hand, how cute."

"maybe i was j-just stretching," you huff, but squeezing his hand tighter.

geto hums, unconvinced, as his thumb brushes lazily over the back of your hand, and you can hear the sound of fabric rustling behind you, "sure. totally not begging me to hold your hand like some lovesick, little dove."

but any retort falls away from your tongue, right when you feel something heavy, and hot smack against your tailbone, leaving a faint, moist kiss that feels cold when it patters off, "now pay attention."

you muffle a small, desparate whine, as geto has one hand tangled with yours and the other being used to hold and smack his thick cock once more over the base of your spine, "hope s-she's ready f' me now."

you feel as though all the air has been utterly pushed out of you, just from geto practically splitting you in two. you don't even have to look at geto to know that he's absolutely wrecked already, just from the throbbing, curved tip of his cock pushing past your tight walls, snagging with only the mildest resistance.

you can almost see it in your mind's eye, picturing it all just from his low curses and gasp.

how his chin must have tucked low enough to kiss his sternum, feathery strands of hair spilling over his forehead. those inky lashes fluttering in disbelief and surrender over hazy mauve eyes.

"s-she's always so eager to take me," geto croons, and his eyes are practically glued to the way your puffy folds bulge and drool over his shaft slowly feeding inches into you, "almost there, love."

"look at, hah, t-that," your boyfriend drawls, but you can hear how entirely undone he is, that tremour cutting off the end of his words in a sharp gasp as you arch yourself into him, letting that stretch take you so deliciously.

"keep your back arched like that, love," geto murmurs, and his hands are guiding you, pulling your hips back in a gentle, rhythmic push-and-pull over his cock. leaving you to feel his girthy shaft rummage and jostle around your insides, leaving a hefty divot at the edge of your cervix in a way that has you suddenly keening out a faint moan, "doing s-so well for me."

and fuck, the sound of his groin smacking wet kisses against your ass has you feeling like your head was going to explode, and your heart was going to give out, pressing right up into your throats. but you can tell geto is pleased, ruined even as he slowly drags his cock out of you at a filthy, slow pace.

if only to make you feel every throbbing vein on him, and how it imprints on your gummy walls.

there's something just so right about him being in you like this, having his pretty love bent over and absolutely stuffed full of his cock, something that just makes sense.

and right now, nothing else in the world matters save for you, and geto can't bring himself to even care about deadlines, or a decent and sensible christmas dinner, or some stupid party. not when he's letting his weighty, drooling tip loll out of your folds.

thick and heavy like a heated rod in the cool air of the evening, as he pushes two long fingers to spread open your syrupy folds, running the angry-red tip over your gloss, before finally pushing himself back inside.

"i w-was gonna say it was this dress, love," geto stammers, swirling his hips around, trying to rustle right into you, "but i think it's just you. ya know w-what you do to me right, hah, don'tcha, pretty?"

oh you are more than aware. and that heightened sense of perception is only exacerbated by how the thick curve of his cock is bruising into you. slamming into you with a heavy smack!

geto's world tilts, leaving him teetering on the edge of an embarrassingly early orgasm. but he feels little shame, not when his head is so heavy and his lips sting, caught under the desparate press of his teeth. every shallow breath he takes feeling like it's just unravelling him further, circling the tips of his fingers over your clit, just so you can whine and arch yourself into him more.

geto decides to play that card more, wrapping a thick arm around you to pull you into the air slightly. that faint increase in angle making you buckle as his weeping tip pulls symphonies of thick, angry squelches from your sensitive cunt. each jostle of his sharp, staccato hips feeling more and more shaky.

"not too much, r-right?" geto's breath hitching in uneven bursts, caught somewhere between delirious laughter and incredulous, overstimulated sobs.

that sweet, and unsteady wheeze results in tears pricking at geto's eyes from the delicious heat of your pussy, falling over the feverish nape of your neck, "know you wanted to go o-out, wanted to wear this pretty dress but i think 'm gonna d-die if i stop now, 's okay with you, yeah?"

"not t-too much, suguru," you hiss, feeling crystalline tears pool in your own lashes, just from pure please, "f-fuck, 'm already so close."

and you truly are, he's drilling himself into you at a beastly place, jostling a large hand over your chest, brushing over the lace lining the corset bodice, as if he's desparate to get his hands into your dress, to brush his thumbs over sensitive nipples.

his cock leaving searing trails of precum against your drooling, fluttering walls, leaving behind a wet trail that almost burned you. the force of his crashing hips leaving stamps in their wake, and geto's gasping and groaning at the faint cling of your dewy pussy, snatching him in quick, forceful bursts.

you shuffle precariously, still jostled against him, as you push down the bodice of your dress. probably damaging the framework a bit, but it's so worth it to hear geto almost sigh in relief, letting his hands run over the fat of your tits. pinching, swirling his fingers over the soft skin.

geto thinks he might just collapse over you in a weak heap when he hears your whine, "wan' more, s-suguru."

yes, more. that's exactly what geto wants to give you. he wants to see you milk him dry from the heavy balls swinging against your skin, wants to see you heave breaths of air as his seed drips out of you. wants to have you pressed against him for hours on end, to flip you over so your ankle lock behind his neck.

his imagination must have been working overtime. for like the peak specimen of male virility that he is, geto suguru just ends up cumming instead.

and with an embarrassing, heady grunt from him, geto's pulling his pulsating cock out of your folds, doing his best to keep himself steady enough to use his other hand well.

to keep running his fingers in tight circles around your clit, while he lets his spurting cock pump load after load of translucent, white fluid paint your spine a pretty pearly sheen. coming right on you.

it's so messy, it's so filthy and geto feels mildly numb as he decides to push his still throbbing cock, one that is still spurting right back into you, as he pushes his weight onto you, taking care not to force you too harshly against the crumpled sheets.

and geto just can't help himself, can't stop himself from leaving sloppy, wet kisses to the back of your neck, to your cheek. can't help himself from tilting your face back so his mouth can meet yours, and he can taste that raspberry syrup from earlier on your tongue, sweet and tangy.

and geto doesn't even care that he sounds ruined, raw and brittle. absolutely tattered as he whines, "we d-don't have to go to that party, right? hnngh, jus' need to hear you say that we don't have to, i think 'm gonna need some more of her. milking me so w-well."

he doesn't hear much apart from your gasps, your short cries like a mantra of "ah, ah! suguru!"

you weren't even sure how much time had passed, an hour even. or more. and you vaguely wondered if your friends were still there. sitting at some christmas party in some luxury condo, whispering over flutes of champagne, wondering about where you were. unaware that your adonis-esque boyfriend had been pounding himself into you, stretching you out over his cock until you were seeing heavenly stars.

until you were feeling thick ropes of white paint your insides once more, and streaks of dark dimmed your vision, and mauve and violet flashed behind your eyes.

you're tugging at the hem of your dress, still laughing fondly as you watch geto. his tousled, choppy hair falling out of its knot, and his eyes half-lidded and blissed out. his crumpled white top clings to his lean frame, and he's propped up lazily against the headboard with his other thick arm slung back behind his head.

"give me another hour, and we can do it again, love," geto huffs, his voice still a little raspy from earlier.

you shake your head in amusement, despite the mildly uncomfortable feeling of slick sticking beneath your thighs, splattered over your beautiful dress, "mhm, what a nice way to spend christmas, huh?"

geto stares at you adoringly, and his eyes are heavy with contentment, like he can't quite believe that you're here, and for a second, you think maybe the world would stop right there, in this perfect moment.

he runs a thumb over your face, pressing down on your lower lip, "i think it's better than some party," and geto's tone is dreamy, lazy, "no offence to your friend."

you snicker, thinking about whether you're going to need some well-thought excuse for your dear friend. or whether you're going to spill the whole truth for her.

but just as you're about to pull geto's plush mouth into another lazy kiss, his brow furrows. a sudden, concerned shift in his expression.

"hey," your boyfriend mutters, reaching to find his phone, "what's the humidity like tonight?"

you blink, caught off guard, "humidity? what's it matter?"

well, your skin feels unusually sticky, like the air itself is clinging to your sweat-dampened skin. despite the cool air of the december night. and there's that sweet, pleasant tiredness settling into your bones.

geto's suddenly sitting up, his eyes wide with realisation, "wait, love. fuck," he's muttering, scrambling up to his feet, "the kitchen!"

before you can process what's happening, he's racing for the door, and you stare at the empty spot on the rumpled sheets where your broad boyfriend was sitting not ten seconds ago.

"what is wrong with that man?" you murmur, but you hear a panicked cry from the kitchen, something about that damned pavlova going limp and soft with the heating on.

you bite back a small comment about something else going limp and soft, deciding to save that one for later when he's back in bed.

[angelicgirlmj]

an angels guide: romanticising spring °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

hi angels! it’s finally here… SPRING!! my most favourite season, the suns slowly emerging out the sky, blossoms forming and the days are feeling slowly but surely longer. winter always sticks around just that bit tooooo long for me so to keep my mood and energy up here’s a little guide to romanticising spring now that it’s finally arrived!

wear colours. fill your wardrobe with colours, wear a floral pattern or a brightly coloured pair of socks, be the colour that’s slowly beginning to emerge back into the world.

make a spring playlist and listen to it every morning while you get ready for the day.

try out a lighter, spring like perfume. my favourite at the moment is a beautiful vanilla scent.

eat fresh fruits and vegetables. as more come back into season, fill your plate with colour and abundance. feed your soul, stomach and eyes!

spend time outdoors every day. make it a non negotiable for yourself that you spend time outside, even if it’s only a few minutes, get sun and fresh air on your skin.

make a pinterest board full of outfits, activities, food and anything that encapsulates spring for you.

go through your belongings and donate any you don’t need to charity, spread some kindness and give back to your community.

host a picnic with friends, family or yourself! make lavender lemonade or another floral drink, bake a cake (however messy it turns out) and find a beautiful spot.

read poetry that reminds you of spring, i love mary oliver for this time of year!

find beautiful leaves and petals and press them dry to have as keepsakes.

spend too long making an elaborate drink for yourself. my spring favourite has to be an iced raspberry matcha - tart and pretty.

find a softer, spring makeup routine. think lots of blush and pale eyeshadows for a delicate, floral look.

make your own herbal teas - my favourite recipe is 1tsp each of chamomile, jasmine, dandelion root and peppermint!

wake up to watch the sunrise, open your windows wide, breathe in the cool morning air and calm your mind and body with some light yoga or meditation. let yourself be in the moment.

try some spring journal prompts (will have a post on this coming soon) in a cute journal.

switch oatmeal bowls out for yogurt bowls (my current obsession).

surround yourself with spring media, watch spring films and listen to spring music and read spring books.

go on a cute solo date - i love going to a cafe to read but you could do so many things, go pottery painting or on a walk or to the cinema!

have a deep and thorough spring clean, clear out your space and prepare for a new season.

make a spring bucket list (would be happy to share mine if you’re interested!).

thank you for reading angels! have the most magical, romantic spring ever. take the opportunity to cherish this moment and appreciate how wonderful you are for surviving another winter.

love, m.

[hannahsturniolo]

ᴄʜᴀᴘsᴛɪᴄᴋ ᴄʜᴀʟʟᴇɴɢᴇ

Warnings: kissing, fluff.

Summary: Nick’s new launch with kool-aid is coming out soon, and you and Chris decide to do a chapstick challenge with the flavours on your YouTube channel to help promote it.

♡♡♡♡♡♡

(You in pink , Chris is orange)

You both sat on the couch in front of your camera.

“Hey guys welcome back to my YouTube channel, today I’m here with my amazing boyfriend Chris, and we’re going to be doing the chapstick challenge with nicks new kool-aid launch.”

You said smiling into the camera.

Chris was smiling from ear to ear beside you. Looking at you as you speak to the camera.

“If you don’t know what the chapstick challenge is, basically I’m going to put one of the flavors of chapstick on my lips, and Chris will be blindfolded. I’ll kiss him and he has to guess what flavor it is”

“I’m just excited I get to kiss you that many times.”

You let out a loud giggle, and playfully slapped his arm.

“Chris there’s only 3 flavors”

“Chris doesn’t know the flavors, Nick gave me a sneak peek before anyone, so it’ll be a surprise to him.”

“You ready?”

“I’ll always be ready.”

He said with a smirk.

You tied a blind fold on him.

Seeing him with a blindfold was turning you on, but you had to keep your composure.

First lip balm was the grape.

“Okay baby, this is the first one” you said reaching over to kiss him on the lips.

He pulled you in for a passionate kiss trying to taste the flavor.

“Oh this one is nice, hmmm… I’m gonna say grape because all I smell is grape off your lips” he giggled.

“Yup, it’s grape” you laughed as he pulled off his blindfold to check.

Next one was blue raspberry lemonade.

You lean in to give him another kiss.

You pull away waiting for his response.

“Hold on, kiss me again, I couldn’t tell.”

You reached over to kiss him again, and you slowly pulled away waiting for his guess.

“I was just kidding baby, I had my guess in my head, I just wanted another kiss” he laughed. “It kind of tastes like lemonade?”

He pulled off his blindfold to look at you. “It’s blue raspberry lemonade” you giggled.

“I knew there was another flavour along with the lemonade, just couldn’t put my finger on it.”

“Okay now, we’re onto the last one!” You said getting all excited.

He put his blindfold back on and you leaned over to kiss him for the last time in this video.

“This one’s my favourite, yum, it kind of tastes like a fruit punch kind of?”

“So close babe” you laughed.

“Hmmm, like a tropical punch?”

“You got it baby” you said as he took of his blindfold and gave you a high five.

“Woooooo!”

All you could do was laugh.

“Okay thanks everyone for watching this video. If you’re interested in nick’s launch with kool-aid it comes out may 1st, and you can get all 3 flavours that Chris tried today…. Have a good day everyone”

You reached over to turn off the camera, and looked at Chris.

“That was fun” Chris said.

“I can tell” you giggled looking down at his noticeable boner.

[tinytennisskirt]

ifffff ur into this… stoned sex with art 😼🙏🏻❤️‍🔥

No Consquences

summary: you and art have been close friends for some time now, there’s definitely something lying underneath that friendship, and it cracks wide open when he comes over to smoke with you.

warnings: smut! unprotected sex, smoking weed, tension, fluff, lots of laughter mwah

and ofc i’m into this. so into this. never stop.

your phone buzzed. you were already having a hard time putting down the book you’d spent all day reading- you’d only taken a break to shower about an hour ago and you were still laying in the towel in your bed because you’d picked up the book again.

it was raunchy. and it was really well written for a raunchy, steamy novel! you’d never read one this good before, the men are always overbearing and written to be sexy so they just come off as try-hands, but the man in this book was perfect. kind. sweet. you put your bookmark in and grabbed your phone from by your feet.

art: patrick stopped by earlier he says hi n he brought me some pre rolled stuff.

art: can i come over?

you loved how the pieces fit together. any time patrick came to visit, art’s room somehow became a mess. he hated to impose, but your room was the best option. you smiled, writing back.

you: bring iced tea

art: already bought it

you: you know me so well

art: on my way over :)

it took art about five minutes to come and knock on your door. in that time you’d managed to throw on a tank top and shorts, the window open and the summer air pouring in and circulating the room. you ran a brush through your hair and answered the door.

you and art had been friends since college started, both at stanford for tennis. and against your realization, the friendship might have been a little more. it was a steady thing, becoming friends like it was the easiest thing in the world. he was a good friend, knew you well, knew your secrets and kept them. he was your closest friend here at stanford and you saw him almost every day, just out of habit.

he showed up in a black t-shirt. and sweatpants. not just a regular black shirt, but one that was just a little tight. he had the pre-rolls in his left hand and a giant thing of iced tea in the other. by the frosted look of the plastic, it was cold. you grabbed onto the door at the sight of him, an unconscious thing. he looked really nice.

“you like the raspberry one right?” he asked, referencing the iced tea in his arm. his forearm rested right against the label you were staring at. you blinked.

“yeah! hi.”

“hi,” he smiled, tilting his head a little. “you okay?”

“i’m okay,” you smiled, moving out of the way, letting him come into your room. he didn’t often wear black. the shirt must have been new or… “how are you?”

“i’m alright,” he smiled, sitting on your bed. “patrick visited for three hours and my room is a mess. looks like someone set off a bomb in my dresser.”

“of course,” you nodded. you’d met patrick about a year ago and he was also a fast friend. but he was a messy guy. “he couldn’t even stop by to say hi, i can’t believe him.”

“i said the same thing, i said you’d be heartbroken, but he’s got some date with this girl lana.” he shrugged. “he’ll be back tomorrow probably.”

“don’t clean your room just yet,” you said, grabbing the air freshener and your lighter from on top of your coffee maker. “you get the glitter lighter today.”

“pink?”

you tossed it to him, “pink.”

“my favourite.”

“as it should be,” you hopped onto the bed and sat on your knees, pushing your hair behind your ears. “anything else happen today?”

“mm- not really,” art said, opening the box of joints. “i was sleeping in until patrick came around so it was that and then this. i checked the tennis schedules, co-op doubles this monday-“

“partners?”

“yeah,” he chuckled. he was about to ask. “that and class schedules tennis history? since when do we have to do tennis history.”

you grabbed his arm gently, “oh my god i saw that when i was with abbey the other day.” you shook your head, “i think it makes us more worldly,” you nodded. “i forgot about it.”

art moved closer to you, near the window above the bed. with a click of the lighter he lit the end and inhaled, blowing the smoke out the window the best he could before handing it to you. your eyes lingered on his bicep- for fucks sake. it was a good shirt. that was all. you sat up and did the same, inhale, hold, exhale. “oh my-“ you coughed, “-god.”

art laughed and his hand rested on your bare knee. “you’re okay.” his thumb moved just gently, once. it wasn’t unlike him to be touchy, just was who he was, but for some reason today you were hyper focused on it. his hand was cold, but soothing. you passed him the joint and cracked open the iced tea. “so what do you think of-“ he exhaled out the window. “this shirt.” you blinked like you’d heard him wrong. “new.”

“i like it,” you said, looking the other way. your eyes wanted to fall on the shirt again but you were afraid of what would happen and how you’d react if you looked right now. you took a swig of the iced tea.

“patrick said i look like a personal trainer.”

you laughed, wiping your lower lip with your thumb. his eyes were trained on you and the lack of bra. you looked back at him, eyes falling over him in the black t-shirt again and just as you feared, your mouth fell just a little open. “you do- okay- i see it. he’s not wrong.”

“i’m getting rid of this shirt later,”

“no!” you protested a little too loudly. “don’t let us change your mind about it.” you tried to save yourself. “i think it’s the sweats.” why did he look so good today? was it really so different? you shook your head and hit the joint twice that time. “i like the shirt though.”

he smiled that almost-shy crooked little grin when he took the joint back. you could not stop coughing, which made him chuckle as he took his hit. the conversation continued, those slight little bantery jokes filling the room with laughter that only increased as you felt the weed take its effect like a wave washing up and over you.

the radio behind you playing some cd you both liked and the iced tea shared between the two of you while you felt things settle in. it was like a buzz, like constantly lapping of water against a shore. it was dizzying and made your head spin just a little. you kept laughing about things and nothings. you leaned into his shoulder when you laughed and his hand stayed on your knee, occasionally flattening out against the lower parts of your outer thigh, almost fidgeting the way his hand grazed back and forth. maybe you were too high, but he was all you could think about.

usually, it was that he was there and that was fun, but as the sun set and the night crept on and you continued feeling the high increase, you could only think about him. him and his t-shirt, his biceps, his forearms, his hand that was on your skin while you talked. he was smiling that perfect grin of his and you swore you were staring, but neither of you could tell.

you were giggling, one leg up and the other one still folded under you, leaning against the one that propped you up. “think you’d ever cut your hair?”

“i get my hair cut,” he replied, rubbing his left eye. “every three months.”

“i mean like- short.”

“mmm- no.” he answered, taking a bigger hit. “my mom had me cut it short when i was a kid, i had a bowl cut.” he laughed and you laughed with him, a little uncontrollably at the imagery. you wondered to yourself if he had a picture. “a short-“ he couldn’t breathe he was laughing so hard, “short bowl cut. so bad.”

“oh my god.” you laughed, leaning into him again. he leaned the same, you met in the middle, hands intertwining, a desperate grab at anything sturdy. you couldn’t stop. he smelled good, you noted, he always did. cologne and spice and did he smell better than he did before? the other times you though he smelled good, did he smell this good? it was strange. he smelled so good. too good. you hummed as you stopped laughing, trying to dull it down. “but you wouldn’t cut your hair short?”

“feels wrong.” he said, trying to compose himself again. you went back to your regular statures, his hand went right back on your leg, his thumb doing the very same thing. it was hot- he needed to stop being hot, it wasn’t fair. it wasn’t right. he was your best friend. he had to stop. you looked at his hair, his curls. the warm, dim lights of your room made them seem like they were glowing gold. “it wouldn’t be bad- just wouldn’t be me. could be bad though.”

“no, not bad. i like your curls.” you said, trying to keep down another giggle. you couldn’t risk spiralling into laughter again. you extended your hand and gently moved his hair. he scrunched his nose and closed his eyes as you did, letting you. his hair was soft. “don’t ever cut your hair short.”

he chuckled, “not even a bowl cut?”

you giggled just slightly, tousling his hair just a little more, scooting yourself a little closer to play with his hair. it was mindless, just nice to feel while your body felt as if it were floating and hovering over itself. you felt even more spinny as the new hits of the second joint kicked in. you felt oddly like you were made of air. your felt your eyes struggle to be properly open, you could see art’s eyes pink in the dim light. his eyelashes. you were sat up on your knees hitting the joint again, your other hand still in his hair and you passed it back to him. he hit it and set it down on the makeshift cardboard ashtray that had become a thing while you were talking before. his movements seemed slow, but fast at the same time.

you moved just a little closer without thinking of it, on your knees, sort of above him but not really. both hands of yours touched his hair, pushing the curls around his ears behind them. low-lidded, he just watched you. his head tilted up just a little to look at you. to see you. “i’m so high.” he said, quietly, like you weren’t alone.

“me too.” you giggled just a little more and he joined in. his laughter was sweet in the air and your hands stayed pushing curls away from his face just gently. you weren’t thinking about it, just him. just how he was really pretty. you felt his hand move from where it was, meeting with just above your hip, where your hip met your waist. his hand felt like it was going through you, just a little. it didn’t even phase you that he was touching you, just that his hands felt strange on your skin and the reminder that you were high circulated your mind again.

your body hummed and seemed to buzz. like all of your skin was soft static. his other hand met that other side of your waist, resting just above the hip bone. his left thumb was underneath the hem of your tank top. you were smiling at him the way you usually would, no teeth, nothing wider than that- but he wasn’t smiling back. at least not in the same way- his face rested soft and a little open-mouthed in a gaze that felt similar to that of a deer. looking at you through long eyelashes.

your hands in his hair didn’t feel real. his hair was spun gold and your hands were like clouds. limbs felt alien. but your body felt complete. your eyes felt tired though you knew you weren’t and he was looking at you for what seemed like forever and maybe you were looking at him forever too. reality was, it was only a moment, not too long at all.

he’d been your friend for almost a full year. he’d held your hand at certain points, you’d hugged probably a hundred times, but this felt different. the music playing seemed to fade out. your hands still pushed through his hair, gently. the waves of your high were only continuing to bring you upward, higher. his hands didn’t move, yours began to slide down just slightly.

inching further, curls tucked behind his ears and moving your hands down, almost subconsciously. you felt like you were floating and falling at the same time and it was dizzying. his eyes did not leave you. not even as your hands moved down behind his ears. everything was serious until then.

“you have that thing in your eyes with different colours,” you noted. your voice felt echoey, like a toy microphone. “it’s pretty.”

“you’re pretty.” he replied, lips barely moving. and you giggled, your response was to giggle. it was uncontrollable, you couldn’t help it. neither could he. he said you were pretty. art donaldson, your best friend here at school, said you were pretty. he thought you were pretty. you giggled just a little madly and you leaned, of course, into him, but your hands on his jaw now, leaning turned into slightly losing balance, his you leaned forward and you almost kissed him.

you pulled back at the last second so that your face didn’t crash into his, though you didn’t go far. your noses touched as your giggling died just a little, “oh my god, i almost kissed you-“ you said a little breathily. your nose grazed his. his eyelashes fluttered as his eyes fell from yours to your lips, then back again.

he grinned, laughing just a little. the world seemed so quiet aside from the buzzing in your ears and his light chuckle. you both swayed just a little, challenged to be steady, failing. laughing, swaying so much, heads tilted just perfectly enough to have his lips graze yours. or yours graze his. it feels unreal, like you’re watching it from across the room instead of feeling it, but your hands are on his jaw and his are still on your waist, trying to keep balance harder than you thought. “i’m sorry.” he mumbled. and you felt his words against your lips, apologizing for the way they grazed against yours despite not moving away. not changing what he was doing, in fact it happened again.

you giggled at that. so did he. but it died quickly. as your hands slid under his jaw. as his hands slid just slightly more under the back of your tank top. your lips grazed his once more, “i’m sorry.” you smiled, it was against his lips. the tension was thick, there was no other way to go.

a beat passed. your lower lip dragging across his slightly open mouth, your head tilted just a little. one more beat. lips brushing, hands on each other, feeling everything and nothing at the same time. high, so high, so fuzzy, so airy.

being this close, kissing him felt like a need. not a want. in this state of being, in this place, him in your hands, there was nothing that felt more right. kissing him. having him. and it seemed he was thinking the same thing.

your lips grazed his once more and mutually, that graze turned into a kiss. your lips pressed properly against each other’s. your hands holding his face, his hands pulling you closer. lips meeting lips fully, entirely, slowly. god, it felt so slow. a comfortable slow, not a painful slow. with your eyes closed it felt like the world was spinning around you. it was the mix of him and the weed that was so dizzying.

his lips were soft. oddly. soft, pillowy, warm, and sweet. he kissed so gently, so easily, no tongue, just lips. lips against yours. when he pulled your waist you gladly moved forward, onto his lap. it wasn’t far. moving onto his lap felt like falling through him. his hands on your waist felt like air and if you focused on his lips you couldn’t feel his hands at all. it was strange, but it was so good.

you weren’t thinking about how he was supposed to only be your friend- you weren’t thinking about how easy it was to kiss him, how neither of you had to say a single thing for it to be known, to be mutual, to kiss like this. slow and deep and god, more intoxicating than the weed.

you only felt his hands again when they moved, one of them up the back of your tank top, flat against your skin. soft. and his movements felt like the waves of your high but you knew they weren’t actually. you felt your body flush warm in reaction. like a delayed response, god, he was kissing you. you were kissing him- god, you were on his lap. your knees were on either side of his legs and your chest was pressed against his when you moved even closer. was closer possible?

you needed him like nothing you’d ever needed before. feelings underlying now surfacing. it was slow, the way he began to lean backward. tilting until his head hit your pillow and you were now on top of him. it felt like falling, despite the speed. falling into him, god you wanted to. his hand sliding down your hip. he was hard. you felt it underneath you, you felt everything, you felt his eyelashes against your face, you felt everything how could you not feel how painfully hard he was in his track pants? it came naturally to press against him now that you were on top of him.

was it wrong that him being hard from kissing set a fire that spread through your body? you had a hard time keeping balance, your hands moving down his jaw and to the back of his neck. his hand slid further up your shirt.

you giggled, just a little. you couldn’t help it. between kisses, between heavy kisses. your head spun. “what?” he asked, obviously just as out of it as you were. he spoke against your lips, sporting a dazed smile.

“we’re kissing,” you grinned.

“yeah,” he replied, his own smile widening to match your grin. “is that okay?”

you nodded and he kissed you again. and you were kissing him again. you moved forward, his head happily tilting back when you kissed him just a little harder than before. not much faster, only harder. the same way you felt him underneath you. with your eyes closed the imagery in your head was sparks. fire. you pressed against him, hips rolling instinctively. you felt his other hand grip just slightly harder, some sound slipping between your lips from him. that hand under your shirt was now on your hips, bracingly, guiding you. and friction was good. god, it was so good.

you couldn’t find any spare time to think about consequences. it didn’t feel like there could be any when he kissed like this. he was a good kisser and the hands that were guiding your hips as you ground against him were smart and calculated. paced.

the tilt of your head, the feeling of his hands on your body. feeling that pulsing need along with the heat of a dizzy high. it felt like flying to have your eyes closed, you were afraid you’d sink through him. the kiss deepened, the pace increasing. you let out a small sigh between kisses, feeling the rocking all too well. his left hand left your hip and was back on the bare skin of your back.

he was so hard it must have hurt. and your bodies pressed together so perfectly. and his hand was under your shirt. you sighed, moving back down just slightly. and moving down meant your shirt moved up just slightly- and art didn’t mean to, but he continued his accidental movement and slowly, your shirt was raised over your head. it fell somewhere you didn’t care to look. the air from the window hit your bare skin and his hands came back to holding you, sliding over your now entirely bare back. you nearly shivered.

shirtless, braless on top of him, it was only fair he do the same. you grinned between kisses, your hands swapping place with his, slowly trailing along to trade. hands up your waist, coming to rest on your jaw while yours trailed down his side, coming up underneath the hem of the t-shirt you were so fond of on him. he stopped kissing you only to pull it off. you weren’t sure of what was going on, but you liked it. moving back to kissing him felt like a constant loop but it was just the weed. every time your lips connected it felt like the best thing in the world. so deep, so slow.

your chest pressed to his now, but that didn’t stop you from running your hand down his chest. he was soft, like silk, all of his skin aside from the light happy trail from his belly button down. half-lidded, your lips grazed against each other’s, both catching your breath for a moment. shirtless. you beamed, your cheeks hurt from smiling you wondered how that happened when all you were doing was kissing. it was a pause, just a slight pause and you looked at him, meeting his eyes.

his mouth hung just slightly open, he looked dazed, gone, but it turned into a reciprocated smile with ease. his eyes didn’t even glance down. but it was easy to know that you both wanted the same thing. he was out of it, so were you, feeling spinny and high and with those unspoken words you kissed again. this time harder, faster, and it was only a moment before you tugged the drawstrings of his pants.

you rose up just slightly and kissed over him again. he was bracing all he could, trying to pull you back against him desperately, but it took a second for him to figure out what to do. you moved to the side of him while he took them off, still kissing you, hands in your hair when they could be. the moment he kicked them somewhere, your hand rested against his bare chest.

he kissed you like he needed you the same way, yet he was so gentle. everything about him, all movements gentle, his hand in your hair, your roots. he was warm like the breeze in from the window. he felt like air and god, so good. his lips against yours, still soft, but the kiss heavy with intention, both of you dizzy with a lust that filled the room. it was with that hand on his chest that you dragged a gentle finger down his stomach, over the waistband of his boxers and gently let your hand slide over his dick, which stood properly, tenting the fabric.

he made a noise close to a whine when you touched him. it sent another little fire dancing through your veins. you’d never thought about what he’d sound like. or what he’d taste like- but you’d been in the know for about ten minutes. and you wanted him. he wanted you. your hand pressed over him, back and forth just once before your hand slid the other way and rimmed the edge of his boxers. he took them off. it was easy to.

you lost your balance just a little and rolled the wrong way but he brought you back, hand on your waist again. you looked down- he was impressive, pretty. gorgeous. smooth. your lips crashed against his again. every pause felt like minutes and seconds at the same time. and your hand found it’s way to him and he moaned into your mouth. it wasn’t just the marijuana, god, his moan was possibly the most sobering thing. all your thoughts cleared from being clouded. you needed him more, more, more.

you worked him up and down, sitting up on your knees to get that leverage you need. his hum against your lips felt like the best thing in the world. you could kiss him until you died. all of it felt unreal. like you weren’t truly there. like you’d wake up, maybe. you’d kissed him in a few misplaced dreams but you’d never thought it would ever happen though if you asked any bystander, especially patrick, he would have said it was a long time coming. it just so happened today it all crashed in. today you felt everything and god, you’d feel more.

you weren’t sure how long you’d been doing it but your hand wasn’t cramping. or maybe you couldn’t feel it. you were immune. it was probably ages. he moaned into your mouth and it was everything. fuck. “stop- stop, stop, stop-“ he mumbled. “i’m- close.” he said it like he was shy about it. you stopped the first time he said it. he still kissed you, leaking over your fingers. your body was hot, aflame, burning, feeling like the bed was rocking like a boat on the water, worsening when he said he was close. worsening when he looked up at you, eyes soft, tugging at the bottom of your shorts.

he kissed you as you took them off. eager, excited. so excited, but he wouldn’t let you touch him again. or he would, he just wanted to touch you more. he would have done anything. your hips knew more than you did, directed toward him and he took it seriously, pulling you back over him by your waist. his upward dick pressed to your bare stomach, his hand on your left boob, gently squeezing as he kissed you. your hands cupped his face once more and you raised yourself just a little. enough. felt like a freefall. every little detail, every little feeling was felt tenfold. bared to him, there was no room for insecurity, you knew he wouldn’t judge.

and you moved a certain way, sitting back up on your knees, him sitting up to chase your lips and it was dangerous, how close you were. lips on lips, touching, feeling, sitting up and the overwhelmingly all-consuming. his hands slid over your chest, your waist, your bare hip, your ass.

“art-“ you said between kisses. bodies

moving in sync.

he didn’t stop, your hands on his jaw, the back of his neck. “mhm?”

“art, are we-“

“if you want.”

“i want.” you said breathlessly. you could feel that crooked grin against you. “do you?”

“so bad,” he sighed. his hands were tight on you. holding. really holding. his words were the right words. “i’m sorry.”

“shhh-“ you kissed him again. and this time when you lifted yourself to kiss him, to get that leverage over him again, he fixed things below. so that when you moved back, which you did, you sank down onto him. slowly. easily. dizzily. you were surprised it was such a smooth movement. he felt like… “god-“ you breathed.

his noise was muffled. or he tried to muffle it. you pushed down onto him and felt as he slowly, so slowly, filled you. you fit like a puzzle piece against him. feeling everything already, of course you felt every inch as it pushed up. neither of you cared about anything except each other and this, here, now, as you slowly began to ride.

it had been ages since you’d last had sex with anyone and already, this was better than you’d remembered. food tastes better high, best believe sex feels amazing. not only that, but art’s hands on your body, his mouth on your own were delicious and ten times better than you could have ever imagined on their own. sharing air, breathing hard as you slowly rocked on him, moving up and down at the same time.

his hands rested on the crook of your hip that bent around his body and it was the best feeling, being pulled and pushed. neither of you cared about the open window. “fuck…” he groaned. “i-“ his words succumbed to a moan. it felt like power. you pushed against him, grinding with him fully inside you, causing your own moan to mix with his. low, quiet, breathy. “oh my god-“

you were a little proud of yourself. the sounds he was making- he way he grabbed onto you for dear life. his fingers dug into your skin but it didn’t hurt. all you felt was good. your entire body hummed with pleasure. you could feel him and his hands and that was enough. you rocked on him, bouncing just slightly, trying to feel more. chasing a different high. he was above average not by much, but more than you’d ever had, and you could feel every inch. your head spun. it felt so good, you could see colours when you closed your eyes.

“fuck,” he breathed. he sounded like he couldn’t breathe. neither could you- i mean you could but you’d much rather kiss him. or it was less of a kiss, more sharing air while you rode him. it didn’t matter, it was perfect. his body pushing against yours, having him buried deep inside you hitting everything just right, his fingers dipping into the flesh of your hips and ass. he moaned like a whine and it drove you crazy, helping you pick up the pace. he must have liked it, fingers digging deeper, “oh my- fuck- you’re-“ he couldn’t speak. he couldn’t say anything. he couldn’t think. neither could you.

you just grinned, but it was cut short by a fervent kiss. one of his hands held the back of your neck keeping you pressed close as you continued against him. skin on skin, warm, sweaty, sticky in the best way. you moaned, feeling everything a hundred times over, those waves of high crashing against waves of pleasure. how long you’d been at it was a mystery again, but you felt like you could go forever. his hips raised to crash against yours, filling you entirely every time with a grinding force in between. deep.

his moans were deep, from his stomach. both of you not thinking much about volume or sounding pretty as you fucked. it sounded like sex, it smelled like weed, music playing gently in the background sounded unreal and echoey. it felt like heaven though after this you were sure you would never truly see it. it didn’t matter. not now. you were fucking your best friend and it was possibly the best thing you’d ever felt in your life when mixed with the marijuana.

moving in sync, with a pattern, with a repetitive motion- “i’m s-so-“ he couldn’t speak still. he groaned as you used your common sense to figure out what he was trying to say, picking up the pace, fucking him harder. god, you needed it harder, needed it now. you’d forgotten protection but this was worth it. he grabbed you harder, kissed your harder, you felt his teeth just once as he did. “god-“ you could feel he was close and honestly, you felt it too. a knot in your stomach, begging to be undone.

like he was psychic, you felt his hand slip down between you. down your thigh, over your stomach, down to where you met him. his hand made things worse. or better. but worse. he knew exactly where to touch, finding it immediately and intensely, more pleasure pulsed in your veins. he would get you off like this. fuck impairment, he would. you moaned louder than before and you felt him smile. his smile was so pretty. sometimes you just thought about his smile and who wouldn’t, when he smiled at you more often than anyone? you breathed his air now. he breathed yours.

“i’m-“ you tried. he got you back. you couldn’t speak. you smiled too. “i’m so-“

“mmm-“ he replied, hand working. hips still raising desperately to crash against yours. fuck. you were close. so was he. you were unravelling. you felt your muscles contract and so did he, your moans were in sync and he didn’t give a fuck who heard. the people in the dorms above, below, beside, all probably hated you now. the people in the common room probably hated you now. hell, anyone walking outside should hate you.

he spoke quickly, with no air in his lungs, “i’m going to-“ he was waiting. high, waiting, ready. hand still going, he knew what he was doing. you could feel it all. “oh my god-“

you were saying the same things, his hand working fucking magic, god you were so close. you put a little extra force into it, feeling how he touched you making you come undone, you just needed for it to peak. he had no restraint. he didn’t want it. you were high, you needed higher, god, you were so close.

“i’m- fuck- pl-“ between a moan and whine from him. he was trying so hard. “please.”

you smiled, biting your lip just slightly as you felt yourself closer, closest. “art-“ you sighed. you thanked the weed for giving you endless stamina. you couldn’t feel anything but him and how you were coming undone right now, everything coming to peak, crashing waves against a wall. your body flashed hot, flushed pink, god- his hand was so good. you felt yourself tighten around him, the tightest you’d been the entire process and with a muffled moan, you felt him follow you over that edge. he held his breath, you could tell. his hand on your hip gripped tightly, bracing as he finished hard into you.

you felt, warmer within you. deep. it was a good thing you had plan b in the pill cabinet. you were a mess, he was a mess. it was the greatest orgasm you think you’d ever had. it wasn’t just the weed. it was him. it was this. he was thinking the same thing. it was you.

breathing hard, harsh against each other, you rode it out until your hips just had to stop. his hand retracted and came to rest on your other hip. and you kissed him. you didn’t know what else to do, you didn’t want to do anything else, just kiss him. those waves pulled back from the shore with no impending tsunami and just calm. just calm. high, calm. this kiss was gentle, soft, not hungry, not anything else but peaceful. your hands cupped his face, your lips were warm with that dulled passion. only a moment.

you disconnected, his cum seeping out just a little but you passed him a folded towel from your desk chair. it was wordless. you didn’t want to move, but you had to, so it was quick when you cleaned yourself up the best you could, going to the bathroom and opening the cabinet, doing what you had to and coming back within four minutes. it was a good thing that minutes felt like seconds when you were high.

you came back to where he was laying on your bed on his back, also cleaned up with the tilt of a nearby water bottle onto the towel you gave him. you just flopped down onto the bed next to him, still without clothes. “wow.” you sighed, resting a hand on your stomach, staring at the ceiling.

“wow,” he replied. when you closed your eyes the room still spun like a record. the room was silent a beat, just another moment, before you felt that giggle bubble up and escape your lips. but he chuckled too. it was hearty and strong and you both couldn’t stop it. laughing too hard, too much. you were both still catching your breath. you couldn’t stop laughing.

it made sense. laughing fits weren’t out of the ordinary after smoking weed, but sex sure was. and feelings, admitting to any wouldn’t seem too real right now so all you could do was laugh. the unspoken words were just about as loud as the action and that was funny. you turned onto your side just a second to face him and he cut your laugh short by kissing you again. just because he wanted to. actions just as loud as words. kissing you after sex, meaning he wanted you. all around. and you kissed him back and it meant the same thing. only breaking to breathe and laugh. it was peaceful.

it only went on for so long before you both calmed to tired high. his hand, pretty, soft, pushing your hair behind your ear and sliding down your neck, your shoulder, squeezing your upper arm just gently. not a word was spoken until you smiled to break the kiss. “is this weird?”

“no,” he replied. “just don’t tell patrick.”

“why?” you smiled.

he grinned his winning smile back at you, “because i want to.”

“uh huh.” you laughed and shoved him just a little, it was more like a touch. you didn’t mind if art told patrick. it didn’t feel like this was just a whim sort of thing. you liked art. really liked him. you shook your head, “ugh, i’m still high.”

“hungry.” he replied. “pizza?”

“dining hall.”

“not open.”

“ugh.”

“we have iced tea?”

“pizza.” you nodded. and like nothing was different at all, you both got dressed again and headed out. he held the door for you. it didn’t feel like much had changed at all. you were tired, that was one thing, but with art it just felt right, what you’d done. there truly was no downside. no consequences. not with him.

“you really shouldn’t wear that shirt in public.”

“why not?”

“shhhh.”

taglist: @ellzbellz18 @colorful-teaparty @ke4s @lalalandofive @ladystardust-thinks @iluvsmut36 @swetearss @xoxog0ssipg1rl @reallycreativeusername @kaaaiiaaa @bayleequits

[muffinpink02]

Cravings

Okay, this is my first little family/baby story. Its my first attempt at fluff and cute stuff, I hope it makes sense. Let me know what you think. I've already started another one so hopefully you like this.

Summary - You’re pregnant, married to Alexia. Your cravings get you a little emotional. Just little bits and pieces of your pregnancy and Alexia helping you every step.

Warnings - swearing

You stood on your tiptoes as you rummaged in your snack box, trying to look for your latest obsession.

“Babe! Where are those salted caramel chocolates we got? The gold packet ones?” You shouted for your wife as you scanned the cupboards. 

Being pregnant wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. Yeah, your body had completely changed, and your mind had gotten foggy, and your emotions were hard to keep up with and you struggled to do simple things like put your shoes on. But, having Alexia as your wife made the whole experience worth it, the girl was a saint. 

When you were around 6 weeks pregnant you had suffered with some morning sickness, though thankfully it didn't last too long. When you were rushing to the bathroom at 4am, flopping to your knees, trying to get your vomit in the bowl on time, Alexia wouldn't be far behind you. She would always be by your side, rubbing your back as soon as she heard you jump out of the bed. 

“It's okay, amor. Here’s some water, clear your mouth.” 

You rinsed your mouth, washing the taste of acid from your tongue. She helped you back to bed, stroking your cheek until you fell asleep against her chest. She would always feel so bad for you, she hated watching you in any kind of pain.

Then came the cravings. At first it was anything sweet and juicy. You became obsessed with fruit, the berry family in particular. Blackberries, blueberries, raspberries if it had a ‘berry’ at the end of it you had to have it. And your most favourite berry was strawberries. You found yourself going through a pack of the sweet fruits every 2 days. 

Anything with the flavour of strawberry you had to have. Strawberry ice cream, strawberry jam, strawberry drinks, strawberry sweets, you even changed your lips gloss to strawberry. If it had a trace of strawberry then you had it in your mouth. Alexia joked that the baby was going to come out with red skin and green leaf’s for hair.

The fixation then progressed to strawberry milkshakes. You discovered the obsession when you and Alexia were out in town, you had both stopped to look at a display in the shop window. But your attention was caught by a whole other shop. Alexia hadn't even realised you had gone until she noticed she didn't get a response to her question.

“What do you think? ….Bebé?” 

The blonde looked to her side where you had just been standing, she only had to look a few shops down, when she caught you watching the milkshakes being made in the other window. She smiled as she walked over to you, eyeing your ever growing belly as it poked out under your t-shirt. 

“Want a milkshake, amor?” Alexia wrapped her arms around you, her warm body pressing into your own.

“Yeah, a strawberry one.” You smiled as you felt her kiss your cheek.

So, Alexia brought you a milkshake, asking for extra strawberries without you even having to ask.

The milkshake obsession then became something you wanted, no, needed everyday. 

So, in the mornings before training Alexia would make your strawberry milkshake alongside her protein shake. You didn't know how, but the girl would always make the fruity drink so much better than you ever could, no matter how hard you tried, hers always tasted sweeter.

As soon as you found out you were pregnant you stopped playing for Barca and went on maternity leave. And of course Alexia became super protective over you, though it wasn't a shock to you when she did, she was protective with you before you even became pregnant. 

Slowly you had to reduce your personal training as you got further along. Alexia watched you like a hawk when you wanted to do any kind of weight training, making sure you never did anything over 5kg. She would take regular walks with you and even joined your swimming classes, as they were deemed ‘safe’ enough for her. 

She insisted on carrying all the bags when you went grocery shopping, not letting you carry anything that could potentially ‘hurt’ you or the baby. Though you secretly loved the extra attention. Until Alexia wanted to build the baby cot alone, because she was scared you would hurt yourself with the hammer, and you had to put your foot down. 

Alexia was also amazing with her hands, and not just for other things. If you ever complained about a painful back or sore feet she would be on you in seconds, massaging your muscles until you couldn’t even remember the ache you had. She would run you baths, make your favourite dinners and always make sure you and the baby were getting your vitamins. 

She was simply the best, you saw a whole new side to her, you didn't think it was possible but it made you fall in love with her more everyday.

Anything you wanted to buy for the baby the Spaniard would look into the product, and study the reviews for hours, making sure it was good enough for the baby. If there was even one bad review from 3 years ago she would ask you to look for another one. “Just in case, amor.”

She of course brought every book you could read on pregnancy and child care, reading them at night before bed. Telling you all the tips and tricks it had for expecting mothers. You listened while you stared at your wife, her serious tone was on but you could only watch her beautiful features as she spoke, making you wonder what parts the baby would get from her. 

You hoped they got everything from her.

One afternoon you came back from a shopping outing with Ingrid. You both walked through your hallway, but was stopped in your tracks when you saw a new gate between the rooms, it was a baby gate. You looked at Ingrid who was already smiling, she knew what Alexia was like. 

“Ale, baby? What's this?” You called out.

The blonde skipped down the hall, a proud smile on her face. 

“It's for the baby, so it doesn't get into trouble.” She tapped the gate proudly, looking at the object like it was a brand new Bentley. 

“But the baby won't be walking for a long time. I don’t know if we need this yet.” You chuckled as she eyed the bars.

“No, no. It's better to be ready. We can get used to it before the baby comes.”

“She has a point.” Ingrid chimed in.

“Sí. Ingrid gets it.” The blonde nodded at the raven haired girl. 

“If it makes you happy, then I’m happy. Now, open it up so we can get through.” 

Alexia moved to open the gate, but it wouldn't open for her.

“Wait, I think it's this way.” The blonde frowned as she tried to pull the handle. But still, she couldn't open it. “Cosa estúpida.” 

“Let me try.” You dropped your bags and attempted to open the gates yourself, but you couldn't do it either. 

“Why won't it open?” You sighed in annoyance.

“No, pull it. Pull that bit up. Towards you.” Alexia tried to direct you.

“I am doing that!” 

And just before you were about to have a domestic, Ingrid silently leaned forward and with no fuss opened the gate like it was the most simplest thing to do. You both gapped at the Norwegian, wondering what kind of trick she used to open it.

“Do it again.” Alexia stared at the gate, wondering how on earth Ingrid was able to open it.

Luckily by the 50th try you both had learnt to finally open it. 

Alexia hated leaving you in the morning when she went to training. She would wake up 20 minutes early just to have extra cuddles with you, or talk to your belly. Your heart would melt when she spoke to the ever growing bump. She had felt silly when she first started doing it, talking to a belly with a small human inside felt weird, but she slowly got used to it.

It actually became something she looked forward to, you would read or scroll on your phone as the blonde shared the events of her day with the bump, she even did it when you were fast asleep, having her own private conversation with the little human. And of course she spoke it in her mother tongue, there was no chance that baby wasn’t going to learn Catalan. 

One afternoon when you were five months pregnant she was talking to the bump, her face resting gently against the side of your stomach, stroking your skin. She promised the ‘Berry’ (as she liked to call it), that she was going to take them to all the Barcelona games and how she was going to train the baby to be a midfielder or striker, and definitely not a defender. 

You chuckled at her words. Earlier that day you had visited Alexia at training. All the girls excitedly greeted you, everyone wanted to feel your stomach, and you gladly let them, you had missed them all so much. 

“Sí, that's a defender in there, I can tell.” Mapi said confidently, smiling at you. 

“No, it's going to be a goalie.” Cata insisted.

You laughed as you watched Alexia’s face drop, the group then all started arguing about what position the baby would play, Alexia had sulked on the way home, but you only laughed at her pout. You were suddenly pulled from your memories. 

You both felt it. Alexia jumped away from you in an instant.

“Oh, Déu meu. Did you feel that?” She looked at you with wide eyes.

“Yes! It kicked!” You gasped as you touched the spot.

“Like a footballer! Berry has a strong kick!” She touched your belly in awe, staring at the bump. Then came another kick. The blonde gasped as you both felt the little life  wiggling inside you.

“That's definitely a striker in there.” She smiled playfully.

You rolled your eyes at the big child in front of you. 

“I love you, amor.” Her large hands cradled your bump, she looked at you with so much love it almost overwhelmed you. 

“I love you too, baby.” You whispered. 

You watched as she kissed your bump, you stroked her hair out of her face as her smile grew. You felt your own eyes water at the beautiful women in front of you. You couldn't believe that this was your life, you felt so lucky that she was the mother of your child.

By 6 months your cravings changed to everything salty. Peanuts, chips, crisps, pretzels, salty popcorn, you name it you had it. You added salt to nearly every one of your meals. Alexia had to conversacate the condiment out of fear of your obsession. 

Now you are 8 and a half months pregnant. You only had 2 weeks to go before the baby was set to arrive. So, now it was just a waiting game.  A long, uncomfortable waiting game.

“What ones?” Alexia walked into the kitchen. 

You looked through your snack cupboard, trying to find the chocolate you had become obsessed with. Your two cravings of sweet and salty had combined and got you into your new favourite obsession of salted caramel chocolate. 

“The ones we got the other day, I’m sure I bought 3 packets.” 

“You finished them, don't you remember? I even warned you that you didn't have any left after that.” She chuckled as she stroked your neck.

You felt your eyes prickle with heat, your tears making your eyes glassy. Of course you knew this wasn't a normal way to react just because you didn't have the chocolates you craved, but you were hormonal, and tired and everything hurt and your back was killing you and your feet were sore and the TV in the background was too loud.

“Oh.” Your voice cracked.

Alexia's eyes widened in panic. “What's wrong, bebita? Are you okay?”

You sniffed, you tried to hide your face as you felt the tears prick your eyes. God, you felt stupid. Crying over a chocolate bar. You felt Alexia’s hand travel to your back, stroking you with the softest touch. 

“Y-yeah, yeah. Sorry, I just really wanted th-” You couldn't finish your sentence as the hormonal dam broke. 

Alexia really panicked then. “Bebé. Shhh it's okay, don't cry. I can get you more.” She pulled you into her chest. “I’ll go get you a crate of them, please don't cry.”

You sobbed into her chest, you couldn't believe you were crying over this, you knew it was just your hormones, but you couldn't control it.

“I’m sorry Ale, I’m just… it's just everything hurts. I can’t get comfortable in any position. I’m hot then I'm cold. My bodies changed so much. I can’t even see my feet anymore! My boobs are killing me. I hate the smell of my favourite perfume and now I’m crying over fucking chocolate.” 

“Hey, shh it's okay. You don’t have to explain yourself. I’m sorry, bebé. Let me get your chocolate, and whatever else you want, we can get a take out tonight or I can cook your favourite meal. Does that sound good?” The blonde kissed your forehead. 

You nodded in her chest, you felt like a sulky child. At least you knew Alexia would be prepared when your child would have their tantrums, or she would just give in and give them chocolate.

“Good. Come sit down. I’ll run you a bath.” 

The blonde ran you a bath with your favourite bath soaks. The bubbles were nearly flowing out over the sides once she was happy with it. She helped you into the warm tub, stroking your hair back as you settled.

“Okay. I won't be long. Be careful when you get out okay.” 

You rolled your eyes and smiled. “I will Ale, thank you for this.” 

“Got to look after my babies.” She kissed your head and winked at you.

She closed the door and made her way to the shops for your chocolate.

You sunk into the hot bath, breathing in the sweet coconut bath milk that Alexia used. You already felt better, Alexia always knew what to do to make you feel at ease. She was always calm around you even when she wanted to panic. 

You laid for another 20 minutes soaking your muscles. You carefully made your way out of the bath, wrapping your fluffy towel around you. 

You began to get your joggers on when you felt a shooting pain, you grabbed your belly on the sharp twinge. Then another one came, but it was a lot less painful then the first. You took in a deep breath as you put on your t-shirt. 

Your doctor told you that you might potentially get pains closer to the due date. So you tried not to overthink it. You looked at your phone, Alexia should have been home by now. That's when you saw her texts.

Alexia - They don’t have the chocolates in the store, going to another one xx 

Alexia - They don’t have it in that one either, I’ll go to Summers.

Summers was over a half hour's drive, you didn't want Alexia to drive so far for a chocolate bar. You called her phone, she answered by the first ring.

“Hola baby, you okay?”

“Ale, you don't have to drive to Summers, it's too far.”

“I’m 5 minutes away now, it’s fine, amor. I know you want this. I know you would do it for me.”

You smiled. “Yeah, okay, well thank you, you’re the best.”

“I know.” You could hear the smile in her tone.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Let's hope the baby gets your humble characteristics.”

The blonde laughed down the phone. “I hope Berry is every piece of you.”

You felt your heart melt at her words. The girl really knew how to make you melt.

“I’ll see you in a bit.” 

“Sí, i'll see you soon.” 

You hung up the phone and made your way to the sofa, trying to find something you could watch without ruining anything you and Alexia watched together. But as you clicked through the options you jumped with a flash of pain.

“Fuck!” 

The pain came again, quicker and longer. You panted as you felt the twinge trickle into your back, causing you to drop you to your knees, you gritted your teeth as the throbbing ache swept down to the bottom of your stomach.

“Owwwww! Shit!” You cried out.

You still had 2 weeks till your due date, surely this wasn't labour? It was just the pain the doctor told you about. Braxton hicks, that's what it was. You grabbed your phone, you tried to call Alexia but she didn't answer, because she was out getting your stupid chocolates! 

Then you called Ingrid. Your best friend. Her and Mapi only lived a 2 minute walk from you. Maybe they could drive you to the hospital. The line rang, Ingrid picked up after the third ring.

“Hello, sweet pea.” She sang down the phone.

“Hey, do you think- fuck!” 

Another sharp pain stabbed through your body.

“Are you okay?” Ingrid asked, panic in her voice. 

“Yeah, well, no. I’m in pain, I don’t really know what to do. Alexias half way across town and-”

“I’m coming over.” 

“Thank you, Ingrid. Sorry I don’t want to be a nuisance- oh my g-” You groaned as another sharp pain hit you.

“Mapi, get your shoes on. Stay on the phone, we’re coming now.”

“Okay.” You breathed out.

You put the phone on speaker as you cradled your belly. You could hear Mapi’s confused voice in the background. You pushed the whispers of hair out of your face as you felt your body start to heat up from the pain. Why did this have to happen now? 

The girls must have sprinted to yours as they were at your door just over a minute later. Ingrid let herself in with her spare key. You heard their feet as they rushed through your hallway.

“I’m in here gu- uys! Owww!” You groaned.

You felt Ingrid kneel beside you. Her hand instantly rubbing your back.

“How long have you had the pain?”

“Maybe 10 minutes.” You sighed.

“Do you think you're in labour?”

“No, the doctor said this would happen. I’m not due for another-”

Your sentence was cut short as you felt a stream of water coming from between your legs. You waters broke.

“No, no, no, no, please! Fuck. Not now!” 

“Ay dios mío!” Map shouted from the door. “We need to get her to a hospital!”

“Mapi, calm down.” Ingrid's tone was low.

The raven haired girl turned back to you, her face was calm but firm.

“Can you walk?” 

“Y-yeah, I think so.” 

“Okay, I’ll help you. Come.” 

Your best friend slid her arm under your own, helping you to your feet. 

“Okay good. Breath. Mapi, call Alexia.” 

Mapi stared at you with wide eyes, she looked more scared than you, to be honest she probably was. She hadn't even heard Ingrid’s instructions, her whole body stood still, frozen with fear. 

“Maria! Come on. Call Alexia.” Ingrid repeated.

Her brown eyes finally snapped to Ingrid. “Sorry, yeah. Call Alexia, I can do that.” 

The girl mumbled, panic setting over her shaky voice. You watched as she aimlessly patted her body, looking everywhere as if she had no clue what she was looking for. She finally found the device in her back pocket, she took a deep breath, looking for her best friend's name in her phone..

Ingrid looked at you. “Okay let's go.” 

You nodded your head, but as you took a step to walk the worst of the pain finally came crashing down. Your knees gave in once more as your muscles spasmed from the ache. 

“Fuck, Ingrid I can’t!” You groaned as you knelt to the floor.

Alexia smiled to herself as she slotted the big box of caramelised chocolates in the boot of the car. She was able to sweet talk the shop owner into selling her the large supply with a photo and signature. She felt so proud of herself, she couldn't wait to show you her little accomplishment. She got in the car ready to drive back home to you, that's when she looked at her phone to see Mapi calling. 

She pressed the green button as she lifted it to her ear.

“Hola-” The blonde flinched as the sound of your screams penetrated down the phone.

“Mapi? Wh-whats going on?”

“Ale, y/n’s in labour, you need to get back.”

“What? She’s not due yet.” Alexia felt herself panicking hearing your painful moans in the background.

“Her waters broke. She’s ready. We’re going to take her to the hospi-”

A deafening scream came from the depths of your stomach. There was no way you were about to move, not with the pain you were in. This baby was ready to come out. 

Mapi looked shell shocked as she held the phone to her face, her mouth gaping at you. “I don’t know if we’re going to make it to the hospital.” The defender whispered. 

Ingrid held your head, helping you move to whatever position you needed, she grabbed the big pillows of the sofa and tucked them behind your back, her calming presence was everything you needed right now but the one you wanted most wasn't here.

“Where is she? I nee-  ahhh! Oh my god it hurts so bad! MAPI! Tell Alexia to get home now!” You started to sob.

Alexia started her engine and her phone speaker on loud. “Mapi, tell her I'm on my way, I’m coming, I promise.”

Poor Mapi didn't know what to do, she looked at her girlfriend for help. Ingrid stroked your hair, your sweaty forehead making your hair stick to your skin.

“She's coming, sweet pea, isn't she Mapi?” Ingrid looked at her girlfriend urging her to say the right thing. 

“Y-yeah, Alexias on her way. She's already half way.” The defender stuttered. 

You threw your head back as another contraction rippled through your body. 

“Breath, try to breathe.” Your best friend stroked your back. 

“Mapi, let me talk to her.” Alexia said as she pressed her foot on the gas. 

“Sí, sí.” Mapi put the phone on speaker, allowing you to hear Alexia. 

“Bebé?” Alexia's voice rang over the speaker.

“Ale! Please, I need you. Come home, please!” You begged, hearing your lover's voice.

“It's okay, amor. I’m on my way. I’ll be there as soon as I can, I promise.”

“Okay.” Your lips quivered. 

“Mapi, keep me on the phone.” Alexia called out as she overtook some vehicles in front of her.

“Sí, I will. You're next to her now.” Mapi gingerly placed the phone on the table next to you. 

“I’m here okay, cariño?” 

“Yeah.” You whispered.

Ingrid stood up. “Mapi, comfort her, I’m going to call for an ambulance.”

“W-what? Me? B-but you’re so good at it.” 

Ingrid stroked her girlfriend's face. “You'll be fine baby, you can do it.”

Ingrid gave no room for argument as she started to call the ambulance service, walking out of the room.

Mapi slowly turned around, she had never been so scared before. Walking out to a stadium of 30,000 people was less scary than this. She took a deep breath before walking over to you. She slowly crouched next to your side, trying not to make any sudden movements as if she was in a cage with a wild animal. But in all honesty, you kind of sounded like one.

You felt her hand gently rub your back. “Can I get you anything? Water?” 

“Your hand.” You whimpered. 

Mapi smiled as she gave you her hand, but the smile quickly disappeared as you squeezed it with a force not known to man. 

“Dios mio! What have you been eating!” The girl cried out in pain.

Alexia couldn't help but laugh as she heard Mapi cry out. 

“I can hear you, puta!” Mapi groaned.

“Sorry Mapi, I just need you.” You sobbed as you looked at the defender.

That made Mapi smile even if she was wincing through the pain. But it made Alexia feel so guilty for not being there, even if it was out of her control.

“It's okay, breathe with me.” Mapi breathed out.

You breathed with her, but it didn't subside the pain.

Ingrid walked back in. “They’re on their way, but it won't be for another 30 to 40 minutes.

“What?!” You and Mapi shouted in unison. 

“I can't wait that long!” You cried out.

Alexia was driving as fast as she could without being too dangerous, she definitely went through a few red lights, only because the roads were clear enough, but she was more than willing to get a speeding ticket if it meant she could be with you.

“The operator said to remove your bottoms and get towels ready incase you have the baby.”

“I’m so scared, the baby’s not due for another 2 weeks.” Your voice was shaky.

“I know, sweet pea. Everything’s going to be okay, I promise.” The raven haired girl mustard up a brave smile but you could see through it, you could tell she was worried too.

Then you felt it. An agonising pain pushed right at your core. It was happening, the baby was coming. 

“AHHHHHH! It's coming!” You screamed. 

Alexia felt dread take over her body as she heard your pain.

Ingrid jumped into action, kneeling at your feet. “I'm going to pull your trousers and knickers off okay?”

You nodded. 

Ingrid quickly removed the clothing off of you. “Mapi, go get some towels.” 

Mapi went to move but you had a python grip on her hand. The defender eyed her girlfriend for help, too scared to ask you to let go herself. the Norwegian smiled sympathetically at her. 

“You may have to let Mapi go, honey.” 

You didn't even realise you were still holding on to her, you hesitantly let her hand go. You didn't miss the way Mapi winced as she stroked her own hand from the pain. 

“Okay keep breathing, nice deep breaths.” Ingrid said.

You followed her instructions, you tried to take deep breaths, but was cut short when another crippling contraction swept over your body. The pain was nothing you had ever felt before. 

“Erghh! Oh my god! It burns. It's coming, Ingrid!” 

Ingrid was between your legs, her green eyes popped open as she saw the start of your labour.

“Okay, I’m going to call again. I might need help.” She pulled her phone.

Mapi walked in just in time to see what Ingrid was talking about, you would have laughed if you weren't in so much pain. Her eyes bulged out of her head, like a cartoon character, her face turned to a shade of grey as she also saw the start of the birth. 

“Ay dios mío.” She whispered. 

Alexia heard Ingrid, she was only 10 minutes away, she was determined to get home to you. 

You screamed as you felt a deep pressure at the bottom of your back, it made you feel sick. 

“Where’s Alexia, I need her!” You cried out.

“I’m here, cariño. I’ll be there I swear!” Alexia said over the speaker.

Mapi then came back rushing over to you, the pain in your voice made her want to comfort you.

“Hey, need my hand?” The brunette smiled as she grabbed your hand.

You nodded at your friend, tears rolling down your cheeks. “Thank you.”

You took her hand as you felt Ingrid stroke your leg.

“Hello? My friends in labour. I can see the start of the baby.” Ingrid was on the phone to the operator. “Okay, thank you.”

Another jolt of pain hit you, making you squeeze Mapi’s already crushed hand. You watched her wince in pain, easing off her as much as you could.

“I’m sorry, Mapi.” You sniffled.

“No, no it's okay. I’m okay.” The Spaniard gritted her teeth as she tried to hold back her own tears.

The Norwegian put the operator on speaker. 

“Hello, I’m Julia. I’m going to talk you through the steps, okay? You’re doing great. Keep taking big deep breaths for me. How much of the baby's head can you see?” 

“I can see the baby's hair.” 

“Okay great. Can you tell me roughly a measurement?”

“Like 5cm?” Ingrid squinted.

“Okay. She’s going to be ready to push any minute now.”

Alexia was nearly home, 5 more minutes and she'd be there. Until she saw the police lights in her rear view mirror.

“Fuck!” She mumbled.

Alexia reluctantly pulled her car over to the side of the road. She quickly muted herself on her end of the call, not wanting you to hear the commotion. She tapped her finger anxiously against the steering wheel as she watched the police officer slowly approach her car. She rolled her window down ready to apologise and hopefully be on her way.

“You know you’re going over the speed limit- oh my god, Alexia Putellas! I watched your game just the other day, you played so well. How's y/n getting on? She must be close to having the baby now?” 

Before Alexia could answer you let out a high pitched scream over the speaker phone. The police officer looked at Alexia with a confused look.

“Yeah, that's actually her. That's why I’m rushing, she's in labour.” Alexia hoped that would be enough for the police to let her go.

“Oh! Oh right, why aren't you with her?”

Alexia stared at the police officer, was he really asking this?

“Erm, it's a long story, but it's why I was rushing.”

“Ah, I remember when my own were just born. There’s nothing like it.” The police man stared off into the distance, clearly reminiscing. 

Alexia smiled politely. She really didn't need this interruption.

“Ahhh! Fuck! It hurts!”  You shrieked over the phone speaker.

Alexia looked at the phone, your cries made her so anxious, she just wanted to be with you.

“Oh sorry, I’m holding you up. You get on your way. Try not to rush too quickly. Good luck with being a mama!” The police officer nodded as he went on his way, leaving Alexia to finally get home to you.

You couldn't believe this was happening. 

You were so scared that Alexia was going to miss the birth of your baby. Alexia had been with you every step of the way with the pregnancy. Every appointment, every scan, all the birthing class, she was there, holding your hand throughout it all. Now the mother of your child was out driving around town, trying to make you happy, all because you wanted a stupid fucking chocolate bar.

“Okay, give me a push.” Ingrid said.

You took a deep breath as you tried to push as hard as you could.

“Amazing, you're doing really well.” Ingrid smiled at you. 

“Well done.” Mapi gritted her teeth next to you, trying her absolute best not to sound in pain.

“Mapi, what’s going on?” Alexia shouted over the phone speaker.

Mapi jumped at the voice. She grabbed your phone with her free hand, her other hand was sweating in your own. 

“T-The babies coming.” Mapi stuttered from the pain.

“Merda.” Alexia muttered under her breath, pushing her foot on the pedal. 

“Okay, you’re doing it. I can see the top of the head! There's so much hair!” Ingrid smiled brightly. 

“There is hair Ale! The baby has hair!” Mapi repeated Ingrid’s excitement. 

Two more minutes and Alexia would be home. Just two more minutes. 

“Okay, another big push.” The nurse called out over the phone.

“Ready?” Ingrid stroked your knee, her eyes were on you, giving you a reassuring smile. 

You nodded, taking another deep breath. Your body was tired, everything hurt, and your bottom half was burning. It felt like something was ripping you apart. Like that scene from Alien. You just wanted Alexia to be here to tell you everything was going to be okay.

“Eerghhhh!” You pushed again. The pain was unreal. “No, no, no! I can't do it!”

“You can! You're doing so well! The heads out, I can see a face!” Ingrid shouted enthusiastically.

Alexia wheels screeched as she messily parked up outside, nearly forgetting to pull the handbrake up in her rush. She ran as quickly as she could to your front door, keys in hand. 

“Okay, if you can see a face you've done the hardest part. You're done really well. Another big push.” Julia’s happy voice chimed in.

Alexia rushed down the hallway, she easily jumped over the baby gates she had installed, cursing them as she leaped. She turned the corner just in time.

You looked up to see your wife standing at the door. Her face was similar to Mapi’s reaction.

“Ale.” You whispered, not having enough energy.

The blonde rushed over to you, she knelt by your side, pushing your hair off your sweaty cheeks.

“I’m here, baby. I’m right here. You’re doing so well.” She kissed your sweaty head. 

You nearly started to cry, your emotions bubbled to the surface, finally having your wife with you in the scariest and happiest moment of your life. 

She brought your hand up to her lips, kissing you as she looked into your eyes, you could see she was scared but you couldn’t miss the love she had for you.

“You ready? Another push.” Ingrid asked from your bottom half. 

Alexia squeezed your hand, reassuring you. “You've got this, baby. You can do it!”

You took another deep breath, readying your body to do what seemed impossible.

“That's it! Push, push, push, push! It's coming!” Ingrid spurred you on.

Your whole body shook as the little life entered the world.

And she was loud.

“Oh my, god. You did it!” Ingrid laughed in disbelief.

You looked down to see a tiny little baby, crying in Ingrid’s hands. 

You felt Alexia grip your hand, you looked up at the blonde, she was gazing at the baby and you swore you saw her fall in love. She was smiling from ear to ear, her hazel eyes starting to tear up.

“I can hear crying, that's amazing. Wrap the baby up, cover the head, and place the baby on mum's chest.” Julia instructed. 

Ingrid did just that, she gently and neatly wrapped your daughter up placing her on your chest. 

“A little girl.” You whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks. 

You looked up at your wife, she had tears rolling down her cheeks, as she looked at the baby on your chest. 

“She’s so beautiful.” She whispered as she kissed the top of your head. “You did so well. Are you feeling okay?” 

“I’m fine, just tired and sore.” 

She brought her lips to yours, kissing you gently. “I love you, amor. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“Don’t be sorry, it wasn’t your fault. Besides, I had two very good midwives. You smiled as you looked at the couple who were now sitting next to each, smiling at your little family. 

Alexia chuckled. “Thank you so much chicas. How’s your hand Mapi?” 

“It’s seen better days, but I’m glad I could help.” The defender smiled as she pulled Ingrid closer to her.

“Do you have a name?” Ingrid asked. 

You and Alexia looked down at the already settled baby, then back at each other.

‘Rudy.” You both said in sync. 

“Rudy Maria Putellas. I like it.” Mapi smiled before Ingrid started rolling her eyes.

“No, just Rudy Putellas.” Alexia smiled, not taking her eyes off the baby.

“But, we do want to ask you guys something.” You looked at the couple in front of you. Ingrid was already smiling and Mapi looked scared all over again.

“Would you like to be Rudy's Godparents?” Alexia asked.

“100 percent, yes.” Ingrid smiled so hard her cheeks resembled a chipmunk.

You looked over at Mapi, her eyes had glazed over, she looked like she was about to cry.

“Mapi, are you okay? Are you crying?” Alexia asked in a teasing tone, smiling at her friend.

“Huh? What? Allergies. Do you have a cat? I’m allergic.”

“Mapi, we have a cat.” Ingrid smiled sympathetically at her girlfriend, knowing the girl was clearly just emotional to be asked to be a godparent.

“Hello? The door was open. Did someone call an ambulance for a mother and baby?” The ambulance crew arrived. 

“And a broken hand!” Mapi called out, rushing to the front door.

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “She’s a big softy, she would love to be a godparent to Rudy.”

You and Alexia chuckled, but your attention quickly went back to the baby on your chest as she started to squirm.

The paramedics checked you and baby Rudy over, everything was looking great, but they still took you in to get checked by the doctors and a couple hours later you were allowed to leave. 

You and Alexia gave Rudy her first bath together, laughing as she sneezed in the baby tub. Alexia dried her off and took her to her room, she got her nappy on her and creamed her little body.

“Okay, baby grow.” You mumbled as you looked through her draws.

“I actually have one mind.” Alexia looked guilty suddenly, smiling at you playfully.

She reached into another draw and pulled out a Barcelona home kit baby onesie. She turned it around to show your number on the back. Her dopey smile looked at the kit then back at you. You felt yourself go completely giddy. You looked at the woman in front of you, her proud smile made your heart melt. In that moment you felt so complete, you had your little family in front of you, with the woman that you loved with all your heart. 

“Do you like it?” She asked as she moved back to Rudy.

“I love it. I love you, Ale.” You kissed her cheek as she began to dress Rudy.

“I love you. I love both my girls.” She bopped Rudy's nose.

Finally, you got the baby down in her cot, thankfully she was already fast asleep. You smiled as you looked at her face, you could already see Alexia’s features in her. You both stood over the cot, staring at the little bundle in front of you.

Then you remembered something.

“Ale?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Did you ever get the chocolates?” 

[nostalgiaforplacesweneverknew]

Lewis Pullman characters as summer foods | 0.5k | Headcanon? I don’t know how to categorize this, me trying to be clever and funny, a tiny bit suggestive because Viv’s thirsty.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ▹ So, the first day of summer in the northern hemisphere is this Friday! I quickly slapped this together in celebration, because I have beeeeen waiting for summer to arrive. Again, I still haven’t seen all of his films so I’m going off vibes. Feel free to disagree lol.

Todd Stevens is the big thick slice of sweet, subtly tangy, juicy watermelon (chilled first, of course, we aren’t heathens). The kind you bite into without a care for how it’s smearing all over your cheeks. The juice dribbles down your chin and your arms, but you literally could not give less of a crap. You have as many slices as you fucking want and nobody would bat an eyelash.

Harrison Knott is shaved ice with cherry and blue raspberry syrup. Kind of boring and maybe it doesn’t always look all that satisfying, but you know what? It gets the job done.

Bob Floyd is an ice cream sundae from that hole in the wall diner just down the street, the one with a flickering neon sign in the window and a jukebox in the corner—looking so sweet with the rainbow sprinkles, whipped cream, and chocolate syrup.

Calvin Evans is a nice cold glass of lemonade. Refreshing and sweet, with just the right hit of sour—the kind where, on a hot summer’s day you are just so damn parched, and you can’t help but gulp it down.

I’ve also decided that Rocco Gauthier just cannot be a sweet treat or dessert. He has to be a thick, juicy burger. Handmade, the kind you make for big family cookouts/BBQs. Or a jumbo hot dog. Must be sandwiched between soft and airy brioche buns—complete with all the toppings. You complain it’s too much, and you practically have to unhinge your jaw to take a bite but when you do? Your eyes are rolling back into your head with how good and satisfying it is.

I think Ben Mears might be a good old-fashioned s’more. Warm, gooey, sweet… and a slight hint of smoke after being toasted over an open flame. So perfect on those slightly chillier nights under the stars.

Major Major is a classic ice cream sammy, but it’s your favourite flavour sandwiched between two real cookies of your choice. It’s a little messy, but boy do you have fun eating one and it’s soooo satisfying.

Jordan Weaver is frozen yogurt or a sorbet of some kind. Never your first choice, and quite honestly, you shit on it as a concept for the rest of the year. But on a hot enough day? You ain’t gonna to say no.

Miles Miller is a nice slab of ice cream cake. You honestly can’t go wrong with one and even if you aren’t a cake person, it’s still pretty dang good and always hits the spot.

Bob Reynolds is a big pile of full-fat creamy soft serve swirled tall into a waffle cone. Maybe even dipped in chocolate if you’re feeling adventurous. An indulgence, an expensive one, one that you’ll start getting every other day if you’re not careful. The extra calories go straight to your hips and thighs, but who the fuck cares when it tastes amazing and makes you feel so damn good?

Thomas Keefer is that funnel cake from the big amusement park you go to with your friends every summer. Expensive as shit, never as good as you remember it, the portions get smaller every year, and you promise you won’t get it again the next time you’re here… but if you’re being honest, you know that’s a lie.

Rhett Abbott is a rocket pop because I would draaaag my tongue all over that thing, ‘nough said.

Sooooo what do you think? lol I want to hear your thoughts.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Please a Johnny storm x reader? The reader is a baker and she bakes valentines treats for Johnny even she gives Johnny family too

‘No.’ You said.

‘I didn’t even do anything yet!’ Johnny exclaims as he pulled his hand away from your Valentine’s Day heart cookies with raspberries and white chocolate chip that were on the cooling rack. It’s not his fault they smelled amazing and that you were an absolute genius when it came to baking delicious foods, besides Johnny was naturally under the assumption they were for him, especially seeing as how you would always leave him a tupperware box filled with everything you’ve baked for him.

‘They are not for you this time.’ You told him as you watched his eyes widen in disbelief before gesturing to the heart shaped cookies on the cooling rack, as though the thought of you making something for someone else outside of him was something he couldn’t fathom, and he couldn’t. ‘Not for me? I’m your boyfriend and it’s Valentine’s Day, who else could they be for sweetness? Nobody asked you to be their valentines behind my back did they?’ He says with a pout forming on his lips that never failed to make you smile at how cute he was being, even if it was as when he was being all whines and pouting over not getting something he wanted.

‘It’s for your family.’ You replied with a chuckle as you focused on piping the four chocolate cherry muffins -one for each family member including your goofy, hotshot of a boyfriend- with fuchsia pink icing, smiling when you felt Johnny’s arms latch onto your waist as he rests his head on your shoulder, his doe eyes were now soft as was his smile as he watched you do what felt like second nature to you with curiosity and awe. Johnny didn’t know how you could so effortlessly make such delicious treats, but it was only just one more thing that he adored about you, for watching you bake happened to be his favourite thing to do becuase it meant that he got to be your taste tester for your first batches.

‘My family doesn’t deserve your sweet treats, Valentine’s Day or not.’ Johnny stated as though it made perfect sense, but to you it sounded as though you were listening to a child like tantrum on how your boyfriend didn’t like to share your creations, only ever wanting to selfishly hog them all to himself under the guise of wanting to give you some constructive criticism; of which somehow includes taking extra tastes tests to reaffirm his thoughts on your baked goods.

You scoffed as you set aside the icing bag to look at Johnny, resting your hands on his shoulders. ‘And let you eat everything like the gluttonous monster that you are? They at least deserve something from me to show my gratitude in being welcomed into the family.’ Which was true. Sue, Reed and Ben had been nothing but sweet and welcoming to you when Johnny first brought you to the Baxter building, apparently to them Johnny only referred you as the really cute baker that smelled like cookie dough before they got your actual name that night at dinner.

In actuality Ben wanted to help you bake this morning, but you were very insistent that you do all the baking for him and his family for this particular day, a day of supposed celebration of love where love of all kinds was encouraged to be shown through overly expensive gifts. You hated that aspect and decided to make the people you love sweet treats with your barehands, after all it was better then buy some mass produced sweet treats that wouldn’t taste anywhere near as good as your own.

Johnny’s smile widened upon hearing you speak so kindly of his family, loving how you were wanting to show your thankfulness towards them by making something from your barehands, something that Johnny had soon learned was your version of a love language with how often you did similar things with him now and then. ‘They love you more than enough.’ Johnny reassured you as he pecked your cheek, holding you closer to him just so he could cover more of your face in kisses, all the while as he whispered words of comfort to your overworking mind. ‘But I will always love you more becuase I am your boyfriend, not that I’m jealous that they’re getting all this sweet stuff and I’m left on my own.’

You couldn’t help but laugh as you moved back to grab one of the chocolate cherry muffins and present it to Johnny. ‘I didn’t forget you stupid, you know I’ll always think of you when I bake.’ You tell him as you watched his eyes shine excitedly as he reached out for the muffin, shoving it into his mouth and groaning as the taste of cherries and sweetness of chocolate hit his tastebuds.

‘Is it because you love me?’ He says through a mouthful, something you smack him playfully on the bicep for before wiping smears of fuchsia icing near his lips.

‘No because I frequently remember the time I had to stop you from getting salmonella.’ You said and Johnny looks at you unimpressed, remembering that embarrassing moment in his life as well as you did, though he was too proud to stay so but you were able to see through him and knew his true feelings on certain things.

‘That was one time! We promised we wouldn’t talk about that.’ He whines as he swallows the remains of the muffin before placing his head against yours, where you could almost taste the cherries and chocolate on his lips with how close he was to brushing against your own. You smile as your hands reached to hold his face, caressing his cheeks as you felt yourself at home with the silly man you got to call yours in front of you.

‘Sure now I need my beloved taste tester to help me bring all these treats to his family, all without feeling tempted to eat them after devouring his own muffin within seconds.’ You whispered to Johnny, looking him deep into his beautiful brown eyes, only to find love and affection looking back at you as you felt yourself wanting nothing more then to stay within his arms for the rest of the day but you really needed to give Ben, Sue and Reed their valentines baked goods. ‘Do you think you can do that for me?’ You finished.

‘For you sweetness? I’d do anything.’ Johnny answered honestly and he kept his word as he helped you give his family their sweet treats, albeit teasing Ben a little bit before giving him his treats per your request; and not once did he take sneaky bites behind your back either and you treated him greatly by giving him his baked goods, all of which were filled with his favourites you’ve made in the past.

You may not like valentines as a whole, but if baking for your loved ones and seeing their happiness upon their face whenever they took a bite? Then you’d be more than willing to keep doing so into the nearby distant future for your family.

[secretsandwritinggs]

Baby, you're my sugar

pairings - Cobra Kai characters x you/non-binary reader

kg's notes - i just wanted to make something that was cute, fun, and overall a new layout of how I would present my headcanons. so here are the Cobra Kai characters sharing their favourite sweets with you, because they love you!

Demetri Alexopoulos - he would really love to share a Whatchamacallit or Cherry airhead with you and tear off small pieces and feed them to you. he goes from doing that to having it in his mouth to 'feed' you like that when you know the truth is he wants a kiss from you which you happily accept with chocolate on your face from the Whatchamacallit.

Miguel Diaz - he would love lots of Spanish candy and would tend to bring you back a lot of it, especially since he makes frequent trips to Mexico to visit family. the different varieties and textures make you both excited (and nervous) to try them and he'll make sure to take note of which candies you prefer so the two of you can enjoy them together, even if some of them aren't in his personal preferences but he likes seeing you happy.

Robby Keene - he's definitely spicier than anything actually sweet, but he tries to get something not so spicy for you to try, which makes you scoff and say you could handle it. he looks at you funny knowing that you're either lying to him or telling him the truth, either way he's intrigued about how motivated you are to try his "spicy" candies. if he doesn't eat candy he shares the corn nuts with you and you say the ranch flavor is your favourite.

Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz - he's the type who really appreciates sour candy and if you don't like it he's willing to share his dark chocolate with you. he wasn't raised eating candy, so you two would share a slice of fruit like: watermelon, apple, orange, or whatever kind he has in his pantry the moment. you actually started his love of chocolate (he would never admit this to your face but he would tell Demetri and Anthony) after telling him to get you some during your period since it helped you with the cramps, even though he retorted with a banana when you asked for the chocolate.

Anthony LaRusso - he would get the little variety packs like Kit Kats, Buenos, or anything chocolate related. he's not a big fan of regular-sized or larger chocolate (like King-size Hershey bars), since it now makes him uncomfortable to eat so much chocolate again. he would unwrap it and feed it to you instead of allowing you to make it yourself, although he would only allow you to take a couple of pieces of chocolate before hiding it in his room. he got better at hiding candy because you were sneaking around while he was trying to hide it once.

Samantha "Sam" LaRusso - similarly to Eli, she would rather eat fruit than real candy, but she sometimes eats real candy and it normally comes from Italy instead of here, America. she's not a fan of chewy or gummy candy, so the cappuccino candy she likes comes as a hard candy to make it last longer, plus she says it's better than the coffee you might get at a coffee shop. you're on the fence about that. it's not your favorite thing while it's hers and you offered her yours to see if she would like it and that is to be determined…

Tory Nichols - she's used to sharing a lot of things especially with her brother (Brandon) because that's all she knows, so it's no surprise when she offers you pieces of her chocolate. she's more on the bitter side of things like something rich—an espresso or a cappuccino if you will for her chocolate, although there are rare times when she would eat Sour Patch Kids or Jolly Ranchers (blue raspberry and watermelon are her favorite flavorus).

I will add Kenny, Shawn, Aisha, and the adults depending on how well this does. Okay tootles everyone!! :3

[sanotymanjiro]

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

𝙝𝙖𝙟𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙪𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙮𝙖

𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩

fluff, soft, high school umemiya, healthy relationship, cutesy

🫐ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

umemiya loved looking after things and festered a huge sense of responsibility for many things, be it his plants, his furin members, or you, his girlfriend of three years. he was an early bird and so he would always have to drag you out of bed after failing to wake you properly which always resulted in him carrying you on his large back instead.

umemiya: y/nnnnnn!! come onnnnnnn!! wake up or youll miss my star pancakes, i seriously spent ages learning how to make them yk. i even picked some strawberries that i grew for- no! don't go back to sleep!!

he steps back and places his hands to his hips, pouting slightly while huffing and trying to catch his breath. waking you was like trying to start a car with no engine and there was no point in that what-so-ever so umemiya stretched his arms and came closer. his hands steadied him by resting either side of your head causing the mattress to duck under the new weight which finally got you to peek a singular eye open groggily, reluctantly. silver silk hair sliding and cascading his face, lips upturned into a pout, ocean eyes carrying their usual life and kindness, a thin line of pink etched from his forehead over his eye to his soft cheek. you couldn't deny the flip of your stomach but your drowsiness somehow won you over more than your beloved boyfriend and you slammed your eye shut again, eliciting an annoyed whine from umemiya.

umemiya: y/n! just get up alreadyyyyy! ...fine then.

without another word umemiya wrapped his thick biceps around the back of your thighs and he hurled you into his grasp.

y/n: ughhhhh put me downnnn...

but your whine was more surrendering than resisting so umemiya paid you no mind as he happily bounced down the stairs with your sleepy form slumped against him. he sat you up carefully at the kitchen table, and hummed a soft tune as his hands busied themselves with your hair.

umemiya, clearly proud of himself: baby look, i got your favourite baby blue hair tye~

y/n, still half asleep: mhmm...

umemiya's smile never faltered as his rough fingers worked through your soft strands with utmost care, untangling the knots and smoothing down the bumps, blue orbs locked onto his task because right now nothing was more important, that's how he was.

once he was sure your hair was to perfect standard he eased your head onto the back of the chair before landing a soft peck onto the tip of your nose and strolling into the kitchen. the kitchen was his territory, he loved to joke about if you married him there would never be a day when you had to enter it and you knew that was true. umemiya could cook everything from sushi to stir fry and even michelin meals, the man was a proper chef. the best part? all home grown, his own garden and his own vegetables and fruits. within minutes he slid a perfectly presented plate of sizzling fluffy pancakes, drizzled in honey and topped with his home grown summer fruits, strawberries, blueberries, raspberries.

of course making the food wasn't his favourite part, he loved to look after you so it only made sense for feeding you to be his favourite task of them all, already seated beside you with a bite of pancake impaled on a fork hovering at your lips while his free hand brushed your intrusive fringe back.

umemiya: here, open wide.

and you didn't have to say anything, umemiya would talk endlessly about something cute sakura did or something funny the old lady from the bakery said to him yesterday, because you were the one he was most comfortable with, enough to share every little detail about his life with such ease. yawning softly as you finish your pancakes your eyes would finally fully open, landing on the larger male's face.

y/n, a warm, satisfied smile sitting on her face: they were really good, thanks ume.

that's all it took for the fattest grin to invade his face and a shade of pink to paint his cheeks as shaking hands would gather the now empty dish before you.

umemiya, already with his back to you out of shyness: of course of course! i tested them on the guys first ya know! would never make you the lab rat honey!

he was so sweet, responsible and cute at the same time. even after years together just a simple compliment from you was enough to turn his face the colour of a tomato and its another thing you loved so much about him, his honesty. you remember an incident where a girl had kissed ume back in the days you first started dating because she had no idea he was taken yet but when the guys came to tell you about it you had smiled, 'i know already, ume told me'. he was always so up front about everything with you and it was something you appreciated greatly.

umemiya: you want chocolate or strawberry milk?

y/n: hmm...chocolate is fine. is it cold?

umemiya: course course! here love.

you weren't even allowed to lift your own arms by yourself because ume does that for you, positioning the glass between your hands and guiding it to your lips before finally giving you free reign and sliding into the seat beside you again. even as you drink, lost in your own world, those ocean eyes remain glued to your soft features, head cradled in his arms which rest on the surface of the table and the usual giddy smile still in place. umemiya loved looking after you but also loved watching you, especially when you would be sat studying, his broad hands would slip under the shoulders of your shirt and rub at the tension in your posture, easing the ache and helping you sit straight, that's what he loved most, giving you massages. whenever he would catch you seated he would take his chance or sometimes he would get you to lay down, especially when you had cramps, working through the knots in your back and legs before returning his fingers to the soft skin of your nape and shoulders.

now you may wonder where you fit into the equation or feel as if you give nothing in return for the love and attention you're showered but that would hardly be true. from tutoring him, patching up his wounds after a fight, enforcing your hair and skin routines on him not to mention your whole career in biology that you had been studying for in recent years was all for him, to show him how much he meant to you. just think the look on his face when you teach him things he's never even thought possible such as how to grow roses and contain them so that they last forever, he would be over the moon and so whenever he would wish you good luck on your studies but never prying into what you were actually doing it gave you a sense of warmth and excitement, you would finally be able to show him how much you've learnt about plants for him, stand by his side and support him with the things he loves, for the rest of your lives.

umemiya had many people in his life that he treasured but you were by far his favourite person, his pretty girlfriend and the same goes for you, your puppy-like boyfriend was the best boy you had and will probably ever meet.

2025 @sanotymanjiro

first wind breaker one shot!!

ume is such a cutie hbjgfvcdcgvhbj

taglist (for my followers): @luffy7e | @evangelin3 | @tiredgecko | @yutamy1beloved | @fuyusdreaming | @bluehalfweeb | @artsjiwoo | @beetusbritt | @dollrndo | @yanyandam | @tetsuyuuuuuuu | @dolledupformanjiro | @scarlettstrawberrys | and everyone who wants to read!!

[blossomarlia]

hey, i saw you were writing for joel miller and it literally made my day <3 if you're comfortable, can i request one where maybe reader is younger and is his neighbour and she just flirts w him? idk if this is useful at all, just rlly want to see your version of joel!!

hi thanks for your request- i'm pretty new to writing joel so lmk if you have feedback!

joel miller x younger!reader

warnings: obvious but not super-weird age gap, smoking

The cigarette sits unlit between your lips as you lean over the edge of your porch. It’s a warm night, and still you’re close enough that Joel sees the goosebumps raised on your bare arms in the soft blue light. The windchime hanging from the wooden slats above you casts striped shadows over your face.

“It’s my favourite one,” You say, a smile in your voice. “Don’t stop playing.” 

He keeps his face purposefully impassive, hands still and silent on his guitar. “Didn’t know you were listenin’.”

You shift, and your teeth are bright when you grin. The summer moon softens harsh edges, dilutes the sharp tang of the world you’re surviving in, mellows the usually-tense air between you and Joel. He’s been determined to find you annoying since you moved into the house next door; it’s easier in the daylight, when you aren’t rumpled and carrying a sweet and familiar smell on the breeze from your porch to his. 

“Please keep going,” You say. “I’ll trade you- a song for a smoke?”

He stares at the pack of cigarettes you’re offering- homemade with practiced hands, clearly. You must’ve traded something special for these. “Who found you tobacco?”

“Not tobacco. Raspberry leaf and thyme from the greenhouses, and some lavender,” You respond easily. "It's good for stress."

Your porches are close enough together that if Joel reached out, he could take the pack from you, but he shakes his head and the distance remains unclosed. 

“Don’t smoke,” He lies. If it’d been one of Eugene’s mix he might’ve considered it. “An’ I don’t sing for strangers.”

You press a hand to your heart in mock-offence. “Is that what I am?” “Well, we ain’t friends.”

“I wasn’t planning on ‘friends’,” You say evenly, then laugh at yourself. “Although I’ll take what I can get. You’re kind of intimidating, you know that?”

Joel grunts. He knows well enough.

“Thing is, Tommy tells me you’re actually a total softie if I just try hard enough.”

“Tommy likes to talk a lot of crap,” Joel mutters. He puts his guitar down against the edge of the bench he’s on- it doesn’t seem like he’ll be playing much more tonight. You light the cigarette in your mouth, inhaling with closed eyes. Joel looks away. “It’s gettin’ late. I should-”

“You usually play until the early morning,” Your gaze lands back on his face, full of something bright. “Don’t tell me I’m the intimidating one, Miller.”

Joel’s jaw ticks. “Like I said, audiences aren’t my thing.”

Maddeningly, you seem to find him funny. “I promise not to clap.”

“I’m not playin’ for you, kid.”

“Kid?” You repeat near-silently, eyes still on his. Joel feels the challenge without knowing what he’s being challenged for. You’re goddamn impossible. He wants to know what you’re thinking and hates that he does, hates that he’s distracted by you, hates that he knows he’ll think about this for days to come. 

“What’d you mean, that was your favourite one?” He asks, knowing he shouldn’t.

You cock your head. “What?”

“You said, it’s my favourite one. When you came outside.”

“Oh. I meant the song- it’s my favourite of all the ones you play. It’s so pretty, kinda familiar. Was it popular Before?”

He swallows harshly, reminded uncomfortably of your age while simultaneously diverted by the line of your neck and collarbone, illuminated in the gentle night. “I guess.”

“You guess,” You muse lightly.

“You must listen to me play pretty often, to have favourites.” He sounds fuckin’ stupid, even to himself. Jesus. Just go inside. 

“I guess,” You repeat his words back to him. “It gets hot in my house in summer. I crack my window open at night and I hear you playing.”

“I’ll stop f’it wakes you-”

“I like hearing you, actually,” You interrupt softly. “Please don’t stop.”

Joel is silent for a long moment. A cricket takes up its guiro-song from somewhere near your letterbox. “Alright,” He says. 

“Alright,” You nod once. 

Another breeze spinning from you to him, and Joel recognises the sugary jasmine and clean coconut scent of a lotion he brought back from a supply run to a mall. He’d usually dismiss something like that, but Ellie convinced him to bring it back for the hygiene pile in town. Joel’s intrigued by the sweet-smelling luxuries that you allow yourself, the lotion and cigarettes and candles you keep at your windows. There’s something sharp in Joel that likes the idea of bringing you things you enjoy, making your world even softer and sweeter. 

He sighs. He must be losing it, if it’s taken all of ten minutes for his brain to take him in this direction. What Tommy would say, if he knew… 

Joel pulls his guitar back onto his lap. “You don’t say a goddamn word,” He says as gruffly as he can. “And I keep playing.”

You make a very obvious effort not to look pleased. “Okay.”

Joel takes another breath and focuses on anything but you, practiced fingers pressing the strings of his guitar as he starts playing again.

[heretyc]

7/11 [Coyle x Gooseberry x Barbi x Reader POLYAM] [MODERN AU] [SHORT]

An AU where Sinyala occurs, it's just more modern. TW for weed usage. You're implied to be high as a kite lol.

"Why in the shit are we at a fuckin'..."

Coyle's eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses, his lips pursed, "...7/11, at 2 in the fuckin' morning?"

"Baby wanted it," Barbi grunted from the driver's seat, the corvette's engine humming and eventually dying out. "She's high again."

Coyle rolled his eyes, which Gooseberry seemed to notice; she shot him a glare, her hand continuing its stroking of your head, "She was having flashbacks of the institution, you can't blame her."

"There are better ways to deal with flashbacks." Coyle raised a brow, turning to look at the two of you. "Like beer. Or a good nap."

"Horse piss can't compare to the delicious high of marijuana, copper." Barbi snickered, taking the keys out of the ignition; the sound of his keys was loud to your sensitive ears, making you hiss.

"Sorry, sorry...just wanted some munchies. There's none at the house."

"It's alright, dear," Gooseberry cooed, laying a kiss onto your head. Futterman chortled on her free hand, "Nothing hits more than munchies at 2s in the fucking morning."

"If you fuckin' say so," Coyle grumbled, getting out of the car, Barbi following.

None of you were dressed properly; Barbi was in his silk robe, pajamas and tank top, Coyle was in his t-shirt and sweats, and Gooseberry was wearing her favourite nightgown coated in teeth.

Futterman had his sleep cap. As he should.

You stumbled out of the car, Gooseberry sliding behind you in order to keep you upright. "What is it you want from in here, dear? I've never been," She hummed, looking at the convenience store with curiosity.

"Just some munchies, y'know." You wiped your face, your vision blurry. "Chips, candy, a Slurpee-"

"A Slurpee?" Franco snickered as he looked back at you, his hands in the pockets of his robe, "Only you would want a slurpee at this time, babydoll."

"I had a feelin's you were the person for us," Futterman honked, "What kind of Slurpee?"

"Blue raspberry and cherry mixed together," You stated, a brow raised, "Purple flavour."

"Fucking's hell, you're making me salivate!"

"Hush now, Dr. Daddy," Gooseberry's hand was gentle as she began to guide you to the entrance, the two men walking inside and Coyle holding the door open for the two [errm...three] of you. "Now, we should be in and out of here in no time."

That was a lie.

You stood in front of the Slurpee machine, staring at the swirling, icy sludge as it mixed atop the machines; arrays of blues and reds and greens and yellows...oh my! Your poor, high mind couldn't believe what you were seeing.

Barbi was gentle as he put a hand onto your shoulder. "What is it? Thought you wanted to get your..." He trailed off, looking up at the machinery, then into your eyes. "...Oh." He smirked. "Alright, I'll get ya your...purple flavour."

He grabbed the biggest cup they had, beginning to mix half cherry and half blue raspberry; once finished, he put a lid on it, then inserted the straw.

Out of pure curiosity, he took a sip, humming in delight. "That shit's pretty good...Red 40 tends to hit the fuckin' spot, no?" Barbi snorted. He placed it into your hands, gently moving you near the checkout. "Here, I'll get myself one. Just hang tight."

"I think we're about done," Coyle announced, his large arms full of snacks that could fill an army, or 3 Prime Assets and 1 Reagent.

"Are ya fuckin's crazy?" Futterman snarled, "All of that candy will rot your fucking teeths!"

"Hush," Gooseberry shushed the enraged goose, gently patting his head, "It's only for tonight, Dr. Futterman! And we'll brush really well before bed."

"Yeah, Dr. Futterman," Coyle teased, "We'll brush until our gums fuckin' bleed redder than the Commie flag. Promise."

"...Whatever, just save the pork crisps for mes!"

"Typical," Barbi snickered, putting a lid onto his own Slurpee; inside was a tropical punch-esque concoction, consisting of mango, coconut and a hint of Coca Cola, however he seemed to be carrying 2 others. "Goose, I got ya a cherry one, and Copper...I know how much you like your lime and Cola." Barbi made a slight face of disgust at the combination, but otherwise remained respectful.

"You know me so well! Now I just need yer pot of gold," Coyle teased. "Come on, let's check out."

The cashier had looked just as high as you; with long, dreaded hair in a ponytail and his eyes red, he merely smirked at the selection. "Damnnn...you guys got the munchiesss?"

"Just her," Coyle pointed to you, your eyes still stuck on the Slurpee machine. "We're offering moral and dietary support."

"Siiiick," he was slow to scan everything, but eventually the total came up to...

"53.29, brah," the cashier wheezed in amusement, "That's a crimeeee, man. Can't help the munchiesssss...here."

The total slowly came down to a mere twenty dollars, to which Coyle gleefully slammed into the cashier's delicate palm. "Thank you, my good man."

"You're welcomeee," the cashier slurred, putting the Slurpees into a tray and your items into plastic bags. "Enjoy."

And that's how you 4 had the most fun night of your life.

Except for Futterman, because he can't sleep knowing you had enough sugar to power a rhinoceros.

[wysteria-bloom]

▨ "i just wanted a taste..."

JJK characters taste your flavoured lipbalm

Genre : sfw, tooth-rotting fluff

Warnings : slightly suggestive i guess? Geto is Geto - not Kenjaku for obvious reasons :)

A/n : taking requests! You can read my profile description for rules

Characters : gojo, geto, shoko, nanami

⟢ gojo satoru ␥

Humming as you applied your lip balm, you looked over your shoulder at your boyfriend," Satoru, 'm leaving now." You murmured walking over to him.

Gojo grins when he hears you, reaching out to grab you just as you’re passing by. “Not so fast,” he says, his voice playful. He moves to kiss you, but stops as he sees something on your lips. “Hm?” he says, glancing down.

He looks back up at you, his lips still inches from your face.

You know just how to make his curiosity peak.

You raised a brow at him in confusion,"... what?" You deadpanned up at him," You look dumb."

“You’ve got something on your lips,” he says, running the tip of his finger along your bottom lip curiously, “What is it?”

"Flavoured lip balm... why?"

Gojo laughs when you tell him this. "Lip balm, huh?" he says, sounding just a bit suspicious. "Hm... You know, I think I need a taste test."

He reaches up to lean in and kiss you, but stops when he's an inch away from your lips. His eyes gleam with a hint of mischief. "Gotta see if you're speaking the truth. Don't want a liar for a partner, now do I?"

You let out a tired sigh," there's no need for the dramatics. If you're gonna kiss me then just do it." You rolled your eyes.

"Okay, okay," Gojo says, taking your chin in a gentle hand and then leaning in to kiss you. He presses his lips to yours, his fingers moving to wrap gently around your neck. The taste of the lip balm and his own mouth collide over your lips, the flavors surprisingly good together. His tongue darts in at the last second to run along your mouth, tracing along the outer edge of your lips with a playful, teasing feel.

You pull away with a groan," You're gonna lick it all off!"

Gojo breaks into a fit of laughter, then smiles. "Don't complain," he says. "I'm not going to stop until you tell me what flavor it is."

His hands cup your face, his fingers brushing your cheeks as he stares down into your eyes. "Hmm... raspberry?"

"You... could just keep guessing until you get it right?" You prompted, looking off the the side inconspicuously.

"True..." Gojo says, his tone thoughtful and then leaned down to kiss you again, "Blueberry? Blueberry pancake? Grape? Strawberry?" With each incorrect guess he dove in for another kiss.

He continues off in a steady stream, sounding more and more unsure as he goes. After a bit, he pauses, then grins, as if a new thought has hit him. "Wait... it's watermelon."

"Ding ding." You droned out lazily and then huffed," Jeez... I don't even have any on my lips anymore. It's not healthy to eat lip balm, y'know?" You grumbled out grouchily.

Gojo laughs. "I know, I know," he says. "I just wanted a taste..."

⟢ geto suguru ␥

"Babe, do you have any lip balm?" Suguru hummed out as he walked into the kitchen, tapping his lips cutely with that little smile of content on them," My lips are kind of dry..."

You turned around to face him and nodded," Yeah, I've got some on now. It's flavoured~"

"Flavoured? What flavor is it?" Geto was curious and walked towards you. He looked at your lips, intrigued by what he saw.

Geto suddenly leaned forward and gently kissed your lips.

"Mph!" your breath hitched in your throat by his sudden kiss but leaned into it almost immediately, your lips molding together.

The kiss made Geto's body heat up. As he stepped back slightly, he noticed the flavor of lip balm on his lips. Now he definitely knew it was strawberry flavored.

Geto's voice was as rough as always, but now there was a hint of something else, "You taste like strawberry..." His head tilted to the side in an innocent manner, but he was far from innocent.

"Y-yeah... your favourite." You stuttered out, blinking up at him before chuckling," I guess that's one way to get some lip balm."

He smiled down at you when he heard you chuckle and raised a teasing brow," I dunno... think I need a little more~" He cooed out gently as he pressed you into the kitchen counter, large hands settling on your waist comfortably.

His fingers gently grasped your waist as he pulled you closer once again. He brought his lips down on yours for another intimate and passionate kiss. The feeling of your body pressed against him was enough to drive him mad. Geto's eyes were shut and he enjoyed every second of it.

As the kiss broke off, he panted, "(name)..."

"You're... gonna end up kissing all of the lip balm off.." you mumbled out with a pout on your now glossy and plump lips.

"But it tastes so good." Geto licked his lips, taking in the scent of strawberry. "I want more... lots more." He was now leaning down to kiss you again.

For a second... the disgusting taste of curses were forgotten thanks to your sweet kiss.

⟢ ieiri shoko ␥

"Bleh... my mouth tastes gross." Shoko grouched out with a frown on her lips.

You snickered at her as she leaned onto your body lazily, head resting on your shoulder," That's typically what smoking cigarettes does, hun." You teased out.

"Shut up," she replies, but there's a smile on her face, and she seems to be leaning in for a kiss. The cigarette dangles from between her fingers, and if you get too comfortable, she might just have to ash it on your shirt.

"Leaning in for a kiss, how bold of you..." you hummed out, but you weren't bothered in the slightest as your eyes watched her lips closely with want.

"Who said anything about boldness?" Shoko asks, her voice soft. Her long fingers reach up to cup your cheek, the cigarette dangling between her fingers lazily. Her eyes hold yours for a few moments before she leans in for a kiss. As always, it's slow and deep, and she takes her time with you, letting it linger for as long possible. When she finally pulls away, she's got a small smile on her face.

She ran her tongue along her lips which now had your lip balm on it," Mm... tastes like chocolate." She hummed out lazily.

Your fingers gripped onto her hips gently, running them up and down soothingly as you smiled cheerfully at her," you like?" You wiggled your brows suggestively.

She chuckled," Yeah, I like," she smiled out," didn't know I was a sucker for flavoured lip-balm..."

"Definitely beats the taste of cigarettes, huh?"

"Certainly..." She leaned down again, lips pulled into a smirk," or maybe its your lips that are influencing me..."

"Huh... funny how things work like that, eh?"

"I'm not sure what tastes better..." Shoko chuckles, then shrugs. "If I'm going to be honest, I think I do like the taste of cigarettes."

"But... it's certainly an acquired taste," she continues, her tone shifting to a playful one now. As she leans down again, Shoko's eyes flicker to your lips and then to your eyes.

"But... you've made me curious about other flavours of lipbalm.. I think we need to try more."

And then she's kissing you again, deep and passionate.

Humming into the kiss, you shut your eyes and pulled her closer to you by the waist until she was halfway on your lap.

Shoko meets your kiss enthusiastically, her hands running through your hair, tugging gently. You can feel Shoko's heart racing against your chest, and her grip on you is tight and needy. She's not thinking, she's just following the feelings coursing through her body.

The taste and smell of the cigarette in her fingers is quickly forgotten as she just wants to lose herself in this moment. Even if there was now a permanent burn mark left on your sofa.

⟢ nanami kento ␥

A tired sigh fell from Nanami's lips as he walked into his home, taking off his shoes at the front door in exhaustion.

When walking into the house, he was greeted by the mouth-watering smell of food cooking.

"I'm home." He called out lazily to his partner, setting his briefcase aside.

"In the kitchen!" Your voice called back.

The tired man walked to the kitchen, setting his goggles aside to get a good look at his partner when his eyes first land on them but he was surprised when a blob of (hair colour) ran into his chest the second he stepped to the kitchen.

A soft groan escapes his lips as you run up to embrace him with excitement. He brings a hand up and rubs your back lovingly in return, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

“You know I don’t like you putting in too much effort for me when I come home, (name).” He looks at you with mild disappointment in his eyes, yet his voice is soft and calm, pressing a kiss to your neck.

You gigged lightly," Oh, are you saying you don't want dinner then~?" You teased out lightly with a gentle smile pulled onto your lips.

"Oi... don't get bratty." Nanami replies with a grumble, a smile of amusement threatening to twitch onto his lips, and he makes his way from your neck to kiss your lips.

However, your flavoured lip gloss surprises him, and he pauses his kiss to look at you.

"Since when did you start using lip gloss?" He asks curiously, his expression softening slightly as his thumb prodded at your bottom lip gently.

"Since today." You hummed out, leaning into him more, clearly wanting a deeper kiss from him," Do you like it?"

A soft smile spreads across his lips as you lean into him, causing butterflies to flutter through his stomach.

"I like it a lot," He replies simply, his expression softening further as he wraps his arms around you and draws you closer," Tastes like apple."

He gently pulls you towards him and tilts his head slightly to the right before kissing you deeply on the lips, one hand placed against your cheek as he holds you close.

The kiss took hold of you, wrapping around you and filling you with warmth.

Nanami's presence usually did this. The comfort and safety he provided was addicting.

As the kiss continues, Nanami's grip around you tightens, and he runs his fingers through your hair with his free hand. His lips part slightly, and his tongue presses against yours, his breathing quickening as he becomes immersed in the taste and sensation of your lips.

His eyes remain closed as he continues to savor every bit of your mouth, gently pulling you closer until your foreheads are touching and your bodies are pressed tightly together.

The kiss leaves you breathless as he pulls away moments later. Nanami's soft expression and his warm embrace causes some of the tension in you to melt away, and you notice that he's still holding on to you tightly, as if he's afraid you would disappear.

"You're addicting, (name)," he whispers quietly, his gaze locked onto yours.

"Hm... if I had known my lipbalm would affect you this much, I would have worn it sooner~" you giggled out, arms wrapping around his neck so you could pull him downwards and press kisses to his cheeks and nose.

"Oh please, you know very well that I don't need much to be swayed by you," Nanami chuckles quietly, his arms still wrapped around you as you pull him down and continue to shower him in affection.

His voice becomes slightly muffled as he buries himself into you, his body pressed against yours as he holds you close.

"Just you is enough for me..."

[angelicgirlmj]

an angels guide: solo valentines

hey angels! whether or not you are single this year valentines is more than just a celebration of romantic love, it should be one of platonic, familial and most importantly self love! oscar wilde wrote ‘to love oneself is the beginning of a life long romance’ and that quote feels so relevant and meaningful to me. after all the only person who will always be with you and experience every moment with you is yourself - you have to give them the love they deserve. with that being said here it is, an angels guide to solo valentines!

write a list of every single thing you love about yourself. doesn’t matter how long or short, how utterly random or specific it is, the point is for you to have a reminder of what makes you loveable in your eyes that is just for you!

read a self discovery book, it could be from any author, genre, fictitious or not, find a book that prominently features a journey of self exploration.

be kind to yourself. have that snack, go to bed a little earlier, take a walk even though it’s cold, stretch as you wake up, whatever helps you treat yourself lovingly and kindly.

buy a physical magazine - cute, girly and depending on the kind you get valentines themed! my favourites are vogue, the new yorker and the paris review!

write yourself a love letter. make it special, meaningful, sweet, whatever you need to receive in the moment. save it till valentines.

buy yourself a little treat. maybe your favourite flowers or snack, maybe a movie ticket, whatever it is get yourself a gift because you deserve to shower yourself with love!

have an everything shower or bath. be slow and mindful, light a candle and put on a playlist, spend as long as you want doing all of your favourite shower activities. use that shower lotion you save for special occasions and spray yourself with a favourite perfume even if you just are getting cozy for bed.

bake yourself something sweet (or savoury, i just associate sweet things with valentines!). maybe strawberry and white chocolate scones, dark chocolate raspberry mouse or a comforting tray of brownies. save it just for you or share with friends and family!

take yourself on a solo date, spend deliberate and conscious time alone. maybe it’s something small like getting a matcha and reading in a coffee shop, maybe it’s something bigger like a shopping spree at your favourite clothes shop or maybe it’s even a solo trip away! do whatever feels right, affordable and needed for you in this moment.

make a self love, valentines playlist!

declutter your room and make your space bright, cozy and comforting. celebrate and honour your space and self, take the time to pick through the things you love, clean them, treat them with care.

have a romcom film night! make a list, get your fave movie snacks, a drink and cozy blanket and settle in and get cozy.

be creative, learn a new creative skill or rediscover an old one, please use your hands, use your mind, make something just for yourself regardless of how good you think it is.

explore your city or town or the place you live by yourself (if safe and able to do so!), bring a camera or take pictures on your phone. stop and be in the moment, find pockets of brightness and beauty. bring your headphones, find a song that fits your mood. pick up pretty rocks or things you find them and save them. keep things that will remind you of yourself in this moment, this place and put them in a junk journal or memory box.

move your body in a way that honours it and is kind. do a dance workout with rests when you need, move slowly during a pilates workout, go for a run and take the time to breath deeply and drink cold, fresh water. love your body and all that it does for you.

i know for many (regardless of their relationship status) can feel at best bored or like this time of year is pointless, or at worse lonely and upset. this year i want you to focus on finding love within yourself, because, angels, you are so full of it. let internal love fulfill you and then let the external find you. what are your plans for solo valentines or solo valentines activities this month? let me know i would love to hear it and get some inspiration!

happy valentines! love, m.