#not even scratched up too badly

[astronomical-bagel]

you ever see a video of a cat playing in the sunshine on some warm concrete and get so jealous that you start crying?

[crescentmp3]

fell today. i am literally a 2cm tall little guy and i am being met with such hard challenges

[foldingfittedsheets]

My best friend growing up was a matter of convenience over compatibility. The boy across the street was only a year older than me. We had some common interests but our personality types were a terrible clash. I remember fighting with him just as vividly as any peaceful activity.

We were stuck in the same boat though. There was no other kids to socialize with except our odious older brothers, and being together was slightly less wretched than being alone. Most of the time. Our parents joked that we were like an old married couple, always fighting. We’re both gay now.

His family was better off so he brought more toys and video games to the friendship table. My family had more land so we had animals to play with and secret forest clubhouses. We hung out most days but he refused to acknowledge me at school for the sin of being both a year younger and a girl.

He was a terribly sore loser though. When playing fighting games he’d win four out of five rounds but if I won the fifth he’d turn the console off before letting my character do a victory dance. I was fairly prosaic about this. He liked to play them and I went along. When I won I got to suggest other activities.

Now, I mentioned we both had older brothers. His older brother was only three years above him. They scuffled in a normal sibling manner but the older brother was cognizant that he was bigger and stronger and these fights were more what I would characterize as fencing. There was rules and treaties in place.

My older brother was five years older than me. When we fought it was a no holds barred pit fight. I went absolutely feral. Significantly younger and weaker I unleashed my greatest weapon which was absolute berserker tactics. I bit, scratched, went for the balls, I was a menace. I paid no heed to any injury done to me if it let me land another strike. Most of our fights ended in a stalemate of me pinned or him bleeding too profusely to continue harassing me.

I never considered that I was getting more fighting experience than my friend. When scuffles broke out between us without a controller in hand I won every time. He’d jokingly smack me and we’d go down in a ball of flying hair and monkey screeches, but I always ended on top.

The trouble was, I found, that afterward he was no fun at all. His fragile childhood masculinity couldn’t take these defeats from someone younger and more female than him and he’d always sulk home afterward. I didn’t care for that, especially because fighting him was much more fun than my horrible brother.

Then one day I found the secret. I’d whapped him far too hard upside the head and he began to cry immediately. Full of guilt I whimpered that he’d really hurt my knee. He stopped crying. He hurt my knee? Then we were even! He’d hurt me just as badly and therefore the fight was a draw.

I was delighted by this logic. Every fight thereafter I saw no shame in playing up some injury he’d dealt me retroactively. I had no pride to lose and shamelessly acted beaten to avoid hurting his feelings. Our fights were milder as a result, and we both went away feeling elated by the childhood violence rather than defeated.

[venmondiese]

A Cure For A Bad Day

Summary: Aemond has one of his worst days ever, nothing seems to go right. At night, at least, he gets the company of his new wife as he bathes.

Based on Ewan Mitchell's and TGC 'Scene Reactions' when he says "When we did that scene, when he had the rain machine going in, the dye on the eyepatch... it just stained the wig"

✧Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader ✧Warnings: MDNI 18+, p in v sex, bath sex, breeding kink, overall very sweet, aemond discovering feelings. ✧Word Count: 5.2k ✧ Ao3 link: here ✧gifs: by myfandomprompts

Aemond is known for many things. He is fierceless, perfectionist, well trained with the sword, and bold. Those things he was proud of. 

And all those things, he was not today.

He trained by morning, and Criston Cole was waiting for him. The sword felt slightly different on his hand, weird, but he just took it that he slept badly and that's why his arm felt numb. 

Now, after losing his eye, he had to learn things differently. He had a considerably big blind spot, and so he learned how to keep it aware of his surroundings as training with the sword. Yet, those things do not have in mind the little rocks on the ground, which he stepped on and twisted his ankle as he tried to defend Ser Criston’s attack.

And with that, he twisted his ankle and slightly cut his hand. 

He was annoyed, but he tried not to pay attention to it. A silly mistake. The rock was on his blind side, how could he notice? It was a rookie mistake, and it burned his cheeks to remember it. 

By the evening, after eating, he decided to ride Vhagar. His girl liked long rides, not so fast but more calm, and prowling around the crownlands skies.

 He did not anticipate the rain. 

For some reason or another, Vhagar was as grumpy as him, and she did not seem to want to go over the clouds in the rain. No, she wanted full on take a bath on the rainfall.

And Aemond had to bear it. But what was worse was when he realised that his eyepatch had dyed his hair. He just picked the worst eyepatch today. 

His hair was slightly silver auburn, and just in some parts. He hated it, and it made his day ten times worse as he realised the eyepatch had been too tight, and it had been suffocating his scar without him realising. 

He had trouble with the sensibility on his left side of his face, and just today he put his eyepatch too tight. It made him furious.

And he decided to make it everyone’s problem. 

He was laying in the bathtub, next to the fire as he had a horrible headache. He came in, demanding a bath as the servants had to rush to get him hot water.

 He took his own clothes off, kicking his boots away, refusing any servants touch as he undoes his own leather jerkin, he unties his breeches, grunting and mumbling in frustration, hating each instance of this day. He thinks a bath will help him to relax even a bit. He just wanted to sleep, and end up with this horrible day. 

His scar itches, and it drives insane. It was as if the itchcame from the deep parts of his cheekbones and it drove him mad. He was at the edge of peeling his own skin to scratch his damn scar. 

Only in his undergarments, he ignores the chilling cold from the chamber, and he walks barefoot as the servants fill the bathtub with hot water. As hot as possible. He walks over the chimney, and throws the eyepatch in, hoping it burns in hell. 

His loose hair, tinted with the dye of the eyepatch. If he only knew who was the mastermind behind it, who decided to spend coins on it; he would kill them. And they better hope this stupid dye can get off with the bath, or head will start rolling. 

The water was hot, but he paid no mind. He liked boiling hot, and he sat against his as he let the attendant boy prepare scents and the oils to put on the water, and to wash him. Aemond didn’t allow him to wash him; yet. He wanted some moments of peace in the hot water, so he remained a good amount of time still.

“Bring me the ointment that Maester Orwyle prepared for my eye” Aemond’s voice is low, yet demanding as the boy gets out, not without bowing to the prince.

He waits, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that would calm his nerves, his headache. He believes it works, so he is focused on it, as he accommodates his legs on the water, trying to be relaxed.

Time is a bit dizzy, and when he hears the door open, he can hear the servants speaking hushedly, as if wanting him not to hear. Good, because he didn’t want to listen to them either. 

He can hear the little taps that the shoes do as the maid leaves the oils for his hair on a near table, and takes his hair on her hands, gently. He doesn’t turn to face her; he just wants the damn dye to get off. 

Hands wash his hair, and if he wants to relax, this is making it impossible. The little tugs and the awful way that scrubs his hair to take the dye off, and the weird caresses on his neck from time to time. 

“You are not doing correctly" he grumbles to the servant with closed eyes as his migraine is persistent. "Learn how to wash a prince's hair" he adds, sharply.

“Apologies” The voice comes as a murmur, a bit strained if even, as the hands go to his neck, and all the way up.

“My prince” He adds sharply, he cannot believe his luck today. “When you address a royal member of the Targaryen House, you use their title. My prince” he says, patronisingly and even angry. 

“Yes, my prince” a little cough at the end, he either thinks the maid is trying to hold back a laugh or embarrassment. Not that he cares, as he has his eye closed and a hand on his temple, his head resting on his hand, that caresses his forehead trying to get that awful headache away

Aemond's face was scrunched up in pain, as his eyes were closed. "Are you new at this? I swear... I am starting to believe that they are just sending me incompetent maids to attend to me..." the young prince groaned.

His body stiffens, as arms go to wrap his neck from behind, and before he can sit up properly, he feels the maid kiss his cheek lovingly as she giggles. “Apologies, my prince…” 

The voice is clear as day, and if his hand was going to fetch the little dagger on the table by his side, it stops. 

He turns his head to his right, seeing your wide smile as you wait for his reaction. He groans, rolling his eyes, which causes you to laugh loudly.

His new wife, she always liked to tease him and cling to him, always hugging him, taking his hand in hers or kissing him all over. He didn’t mind; he always allowed her even at court. But he won’t admit that he likes it too.

“Wife” he greets you as he sighs, and he feels your hand rubbing circles in the back of his neck. 

“I know, I do not know how to wash hair. You’ve made it completely clear”

“I thought you were a servant” he says, looking at her. “You are a highborn lady, you don’t need to know how to.”

“True…” you say, moving some of the wet hair out of his face, and squeezing it so it isn’t dripping. “I heard that my prince had a horrible day, and he was in a bad mood. Servants do talk, you know…” you say looking at him with a smile “Wanna tell me about it?”

Aemond sighs and looks at you, as you take the sponge to wash his body. He sighs as you pour some of the water in his chest and start scrubbing softly.

“"A terrible day... I stepped on a rock, and twisted my ankle and cut my arm in the process... Then i wanted to relax with a ride on Vhagar, but it started to rain, the fucking dye of the eyepatch got all over my hair and eye.. I have the worst migraine now..." his voice is rough, and he seems annoyed at the memory of it. “And I haven’t seen you as much as I’d like”

It wasn’t the worst day he has ever lived. Maybe. When he lost his eye it could be the top one. He won Vhagar, at the cost of his eye. It was an amazing thing, traded for the worst thing that has ever happened to him. He was still living the consequences of it today, as his scar stinged on his skin.

“Not your best day, I see” you say softly, scrubbing his chest. He enjoys it, as he looks at you, leaning back in the bath as you scrub his chest. “I’m sorry to hear it”

“I don’t need pity” 

You chuckle “It is not pity” you say softly, looking at your husband. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

Aemond stays silent. He is not used to someone caring about him like this. Sure, his mother cared for him, and so did Helaena But not like this. 

“Be by my side”

The silence is a bit comforting, as you wash his body. He looks at you deeply, and he cannot help but think how stunning you are. You didn’t find any discomfort in washing him, in caring and tending to him. You never once seem disgusted by his lack of eye, by his empty eye socket, or his ugly scar. Never once you discarded him. 

It was more than often that you placed the ointment prepared by maester Orwyle on his eye, his scar, where his nerves were permanently damaged and they brought discomfort to him. You never once complain.

“You look different” he says, looking at you in the dim lights of the room.

“Different how?” you ask, as you finish brushing his hair, making sure the dye is almost completely getting off his wet hair. He has little curls, which makes you smile like an idiot.

“I do not know. Shining. Radiant. Lovely.” He murmurs, moving one of his wet hands to tickle a strand of hair on your ear. “Different”

“So I usually do not look radiant or lovely…”

“Not what I meant” he groans and you chuckle softly. “You were sick. Now you look much better in… spirits.”

“You look different too” You say looking at him with a smile. Your eyes fall to his chest, and you smile. He notices how you get flustered at the sight of his nakedness. 

“More wounded” he says ironically, leaning back with a sigh. 

“Stronger” you correct him smiling. “More… mhm. I’d say more… Hot”

“You think I am hotter when I'm wounded?”

“Not what I meant” you say chuckling under your breath, “I meant… I like seeing you like this... Leaning back is so... manly, and hot…" 

“Oh, do you?” he asks slightly amused, leaning back still as he looks at you, nodding and smiling. Aemond frowns a bit, and he hisses then you accidentally hit his new wound on his wrist. 

“Sorry, love” you say, kissing his hand, and smiling. “You know, when I was little they cured my wounds like this. With a kiss”

“Did they?” He asks, trying to remain interested even with his headache. 

“Yes. Like this” She says kissing near his wound, a very feather-like kiss. “See? Does it feel better?”

You look at him with an adorable expression, as if you truly think that this would make him feel better. Aemond blinks, as he looks at you. 

It ticks him the wrong way that you care about him. Why would you? Perhaps it is a womanly thing. He wasn’t so sure. Perhaps as his wife, it is your burden, having to make a maimed man feel better. 

The prettiest maiden in court, chained to a maimed man, deformed and always wounded, stuck in the pain of his eye to see beyond. Wasting your best years with him. 

And he cannot decipher why.

“Aemond?” You ask as he trails off. 

“Yeah” he clears his throat, awkwardly, and he moves his legs a bit. “I guess so” 

“Where else does it hurt?” You ask sweetly.

He sometimes hates how kind you can be, he doesn’t know what your upper intentions are, but after all, you are his wife even if he can’t decipher you.

“Well, my eye, obviously…” he says a bit embarrassed “And… my left foot, I guess. And my arm, because I slept on it… and…”

You nod, looking at him as he speaks. He is intimidated, he realises. You make sure to hear all of what he has to say, with your sweet eyes. 

You move to the end of the bathtub, and move to kiss his ankle softly, no complaints, no hesitation. Nothing… odd, about it. Only out of tenderness. You kiss his shoulder, and his left cheekbone, softly, to make sure it doesn’t burn on his skin. He just lets you, because it makes you happy, thinking that it helps.

And he doesn’t realise that it actually helps him, in a way. The smile on your face makes him smile too, and he sighs.

“Better?” 

“Mhm” he hums in agreement, looking at your face. “Better when you're with me, yes” 

He is utterly head over heels for you, even if he isn’t good with feelings. He loves you, even when he seems slightly annoyed by you. 

“And you?”

“And me?” You ask curiously.

“You were sick. Coughing like crazy, and all your body ached.” he says softly, “in confinement, away from me… Do you truly feel better?”

“I am better. Lady Westerling got all of us sick” you say with a slight smirk. “my body still aches a bit, but it’s…” you hesitate a bit, slightly nervous.

“Then join me” he interrupts, moving to try and get you in the bathtub with him. "The hot water will do good to you..."

"It will burn my skin, I hate how hot you take these baths..." you protests, moving his hands off your waist as he tries to pull you in.

"The Blood of the Dragon, wife" he says smugly, smirking. "It is cold, anyways. It is barely warm"

"You like it boiling hot" You say smiling to him, and he presses a kiss on your jaw.

"I do, indeed." He admits "Come on, get in with me"

“Aemond, my nightgown…” you protest, and he rolls his good eye.

“You have others, let it get wet” You seem to give in, as he helps you get in, holding your hand as you enter the bathtub. “It will do good to your aches.” He insists, taking your waist in his hands to place you on his lap.

“I think it is an excuse” you say, blushing a bit as you accomodate on his lap.

“A good one, you must admit” he says looking at you, and he passes his hands all the way up to your back.  “But an innocent one, I must admit” he says, and you tilt your head as if asking him to elaborate “I don’t think I am up for anything, I am too tired for it”

You hum, his still wet hair made him look almost cute. His little curls...

“The dye came off” you say, as he leans to kiss your neck a bit. “I can go to the tailor and ask them to make another eyepatch one for you. More fancy. With real leather. Maybe add some fancy dragon scales in it” 

“Hm. Fine” he says looking up at you, smiling at how delicious you were. He places a kiss on your hand, and he smiles. “What is bothering you?”

You stay still, blinking a bit. “Court. Ladies… at court. They don't seem to like me much. I mean, they like me but I always feel excluded. Like I am doing too much for them to like me”

Aemond looks at you, a bit surprised by it. He places his hands on your waist, and he certainly was thinking about how to comfort you. He wasn’t a court charmer either, so he hummed.

“I thought you had friends.” 

“I do… I guess. They just never seem to think of me when doing things. They do not hate me, no… I am the new one…, and so they just…. Don’t include me”

“I’ll include you” he states nodding. “I’ll bring you with me everywhere. Training, riding Vhagar, in the library, all of it.” He proposes softly. 

“Hm. It would be pleasant.”

You smile softly, your hands, now wet and in the water, move from his abdomen all the way up to his chest.

Your husband was well fit. A prince of the realm, training with the sword since he was little. He practised almost every day, and was very detail-oriented in his field. And that paid off, as he was lean; yet muscular. 

You two were still newlyweds. Maybe three months since you two married, and things were a bit awkward still. You tried to decipher his odd behaviour and he tried the same with yours, starting to know each other personally, yet there was a bond, a silent affection you both shared for the other.

His body felt warm. He had stayed at the bathtub for Gods know how many hours, and he was all wet and shiny. You hand caressed his muscles, going up from his abdomen to where his wispy chest hair were. 

“What is in your mind?”

You hum, and smile “How handsome my husband is” you murmur “How good he is to me…” you add “How much I truly like you…”

Aemond raises his eyebrows, and he looks at you as your hand caress his torso up and down, slowly, as if you were tempting him. 

“Oh?”

You nod softly, and even if he doesn’t know you too well; he knows this face.

You move to kiss his neck, your arms wrapped around his torso as you leave little kisses all over his skin. He chuckles a bit, at your little desperation for the demonstration of love, you were such a physical person for him. 

“Darling, what are you-”

“I just missed you” You say, and he can see in his head the pout you would form if you weren’t so eagerly kissing his neck. 

He chuckles as his hand holds your waist firmly on his lap, and he leans his head back, facing the ceiling as you two spoke. “Very eagerly, I see” 

“You are tired. But let me…” 

Your arms wrapped around him, holding him as you press gentle kisses there, and he smiles, starting to feel the boiling arousal in his abdomen, looking at the ceiling as if it could distract his mind. 

“Very well” 

His arms went to the edges of the bathtub, as he felt the fabric of the nightgown against his chest, and he certainly was starting to enjoy the constant nibbling and wetness of your kisses. 

Aemond lets out a quiet groan, enjoying the gentle bites at his neck, as he feels his neck a little warmer. “You little minx- Did you just give me a hickey?”

Your giggle tells him all, as you move your lips to the start of his clavicle. His good eye closes as he enjoys the way your mouth feels against his sensitive skin. 

“You are simply… delicious” you murmur, your kisses going lower to his chest, before stopping a moment.

“Do not tell me you want to leave a hickey there…” He says, moving his head down to look at you.

As he imagined before, your mouth turns into a pout as you frown; most adorably he must add. 

“Oh, please! Let me try” You ask him “It is a way to show you that I missed you” You add, trying to convince him as he chuckles, making a mocking sound. 

Aemond rolls his eyes as he feels your eager mouth sucking the skin of his chest, as if he was some kind of… not even he knew. It felt strange. Worshiped and feral. That’s how it felt, at least for him.

Once you separate, you look at your work, your thumb moving along the bruised skin with a satisfied smirk. 

“Looks so good on you” you swear, as if it was a matter to be known. 

“If it makes you happy” he says, accommodating on his seat, the water moving along with him. “My turn, then?” 

You shake your head with a giggle “You always make it a mess!”

That he did, and he smiles a bit, seeing the lack of lovemarks of your neck.

It is you who eagerly kiss him, and press your body to his, as if needing him. He isn’t one to complain, as he feels your eager lips pressing against his and your tongue invading his mouth. Rather bold, to his taste. But he likes it.

Your hands on his shoulder make their slow way down, passing temptingly slow from his chest, to his abdomen. He gasps in the kiss, as if he was some kind of maiden, when he feels your hands underwater on his crotch and touching his cock. 

He frowns a bit as he separates, trying to demand an answer. “Wha-” he tries to ask before you shut him up with a kiss, not even letting him speak.

Rather eager, aren’t we… He thinks, but he isn’t one to complain, as your touch is like magic to his dick. In the water is odd, he has to admit, but his member thinks otherwise as he gets aroused from your eagerness.

You smooch him with kisses, and he feels… intimidated, in a good way. You don’t even allow him to breathe without going for another kiss, desperate. Feral.

He has a feral wife, it seems. 

“Darling, what are you…” he asks amused as you break the kiss, just to move your wet skirts all the way up, but he can’t see much of your pussy in the water, which he dislikes a lot. 

“I missed you” you repeat “A lot.” 

“It isn’t as if you were confined in a tower for years. It was barely two days. And I visited you-”

“I need you, husband” you state impatiently, as your knees move to the sides of his hips. “so, if you are tired, I’ll do it” 

He blinks, surprised and taken aback. He is rather amused and aroused, at his bold wife.

“Alright” he says, looking at you as you can do the work alone. 

He isn’t tired for sex, not at all. He can certainly get the energy, maybe not perform as usual, but he’ll do it if you ask. You didn’t even need to ask for it. But seeing you in control is better than that.

You rode him once, for later to admit that it wasn’t your favourite position, because you grew tired quickly. He didn’t mind, but now he thinks he’ll have you riding him at least once a week.

The way your dick enters your body is slow, as you slowly lower yourself on it. He can see your face contoured with pleasure, how you shut your eyes, and your hands grip on his shoulders as you whimper on it, you open your mouth and he leans to kiss your neck a bit, as if wanting to give back the affection you give him.

More than bounce on it, you find it more practical to grind on it. Your hands, that move between his waist and his shoulders, as if you didn’t know where to hold him to help you grind against his cock.

“That’s so good…” you whimper as you grind on his cock. 

The water moves around, the harder you grind, the harder it moves on the bathtub. He is even sure that some of it has overflowed the bathtub, as he looks at your pretty face, as you moan needily. His hand moved to pull down your nightgown, just enough to expose both of your tits in the firm fabric. He pulls it down to expose your shoulders a bit, and it is a sight that only arouses him more.

“It’s so good, baby?” He asks looking up to you, and he leans his head to kiss your nipple, gently. 

He knows you missed him. You are not rough, or a mess on his cock. You are doing it so prettily, so sweetly, he knows that you truly have missed him and his touch. 

“Yeah, so-so good.” You babber a bit, nodding as he kisses your other breast softly. He does not hold you, he has his hand on the back, trying to keep him firm as you ride him. 

His right hand holds your waist, as he notices. Your arms are on his shoulders as you whimper and moan, grinding him, not even minding the water around.

He has to admit, in the bathtub isn’t as comfortable as outside of it. The water doesn’t help to be smoother, if anything, he has the impression it does the contrary. It may be just him, as you don’t say anything against it.

“So eager, baby…” he says amazed, and now he feels like the one worshipping you. He just adores you, he realises, as he sweetly talks you through it “You just needed me, this badly?” He asks, kissing your jaw.

The little nods you give him are enough to get him moving his hips slowly up to meet your little grinds and bounces.

He kisses your breast again, and the other, and the other. He adores you, how the little mewls from your mouth are so arousing for him as you clench your pussy around him. 

“Aemond…” you whine. “Feels.. amazing, so good...” you repeat, as if you couldn't think of anything else, as he looks up to you. 

 He is just surprised you have gotten this far without begging him to take control. They way he’d take your waist and flip you around, to make you hold the other edge of the bathroom, just to take you from behind, again, and again, and again. The water would overflow the bathtub completely, and his seed would be securely in your womb. 

But you don’t ask him, and he doesn’t do it. He likes the sweetness of it. He likes how you look at him needily for both of your lips to meet on a kiss, passionate as your bounces and grind are slightly weaker. 

“My special girl…” he murmurs, kissing you again and again, not minding if they are pecks or if he has the opportunity for his tongue to play with yours. “I love you”

You nod, whimpering and whining as you say it back. I love you, I love you, I love you. Again and again, as if it was some prayer.

“Aemond” you moan into his mouth, 

“I know. Can you feel how good you take me?” He asks softly, kissing your chin, as he holds your waist to help you bounce on his cock. The splash of the water amuses and arouses him, and he groans at the sight of your nightgown fully soaked, glued to your figure.

“Mhm. Yes, yes, Gods, yes” you said, probably numb and already cockdrunk, just enjoying the feeling of his cock so deep inside.

“You want me to fill you, hm? To make you round with my seed, baby?” He asks, looking at you, moving to kiss your neck. 

He is also rambling at this point, as you squeeze him in the perfect way, asking to be filled with cum. He ignores how the water splashes his chest and back, how it is practically soaking the carpet under the bath, and making a mess. He has to remember how wet it might be so you two don’t slide on the floor. 

“Aemond, I… oh, Gods, Aemond!”

You little moans are music to his ears, as he holds your waist to move you down to his cock, to his taste. Not as rough as usual, but certainly desperate enough to want to cum.

“Will you cum for me, darling?” He asks, as he feels your hips grinding more desperately on him, and he throws his head back on the edge as he feels his balls tighten as well. You did wonders on him. “Cum for me and I’ll fill you up as you so much like” he promises, almost feral for you to cum. 

Your release made him moan, loudly, as he held you tight on his cock as he cums as well. He looks lazily at you, panting and whimpering still, which only serves to fuel the last remains of arousal on his abdomen, filling your womb with his cum. He hopes it takes root  and to see you grow pregnant as moons pass by.

“Thank you” you say, breathless against his chest, kissing his cheek sweetly. 

He smiles a bit, by how pleasure drunk you obviously were. He moves you slightly, to pull out from you and accommodate you on his chest, which you take comfort in. “Nothing to be thankful for. I thank you. Having sex is rather… good for when one had a bad day” he says smiling. 

You smile, and look at him, caressing his chest as you remain in this position, calmly breathing as he tries to stop panting. 

“Have I made it better?” You ask, softly, looking up to him.

He chuckles softly, almost amused by how ridiculous the question was.

“Just by having a sight of you, you make my day better” he says. 

Even if he was new to this whole marriage thing, even if sometimes he didn’t know you that well as your ladies-in-waiting and sometimes just allowed you to be even if it bothered him. He didn’t understand you most of the time, but he certainly adored you, very dearly. 

“I can make it even better” you say almost proudly, and he raises his eyebrow, looking at you laying on his chest. The water wasn’t even hot anymore, but more cold than he could bear. 

“Oh, how so?” He asks amused. “Did you claim a dragon? Only that can top the amazing moment that we just-”

“I am with child” you say simply, looking at him with a smile. 

He stops on his tracks, and looks at you as he takes in what you said. He blinks, looking at you, and you smile awkwardly at him. Was he happy? The prospect always puts him in a good mood. But maybe it wasn’t as you thought? One thing was words, and other actions.

You watch his eye as he seems to have hundreds of thought per second, his face slight confused as he frowns a bit, before his lips turn into smile full of disbelief.

“Are you joking?” 

“No... Maester Orwyle informed me this morning” you say softly. “He says that probably our wedding night was fruitful. I don't know. I don't look that pregnant, after these months. We have to figure it out in these days, so we can see when the birth is due... It's funny, because at first we thought it was from the sickness, that I got the worst part… but I just happened to be sick and pregnant”

That's why Maester Orwyle looked at him with a slight smirk as he helped desinfect his arm after training. You probably asked him to keep the secret so you could tell him.

That's why there was something off about you. He couldn't get exactly what, but something was off. It made sense, how nervous you were and how you tried to tell him before, but he was a fool to not notice it.

“Oh, my love…” he says, as he wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly to him. “Oh… I don’t… I... What can I even say to that?”

He is surprised, and he can’t believe it. You were pregnant. You actually were. His little offspring, growing in your womb right at this moment. Your stomach was not firm by any mean, he couldn't decipher it even if he liked so.

“That is… That is the best thing anyone has ever told me” he admits, chuckling a bit in surprise. “You are going to be a mother. And you are going to make me a father” 

"We are, indeed" You say smiling to him. "In some months, it will be me, you and a weeping babe"

He can feel his nose burn as he smiles, the image on his head as he forces himself not to cry of happiness, a weird chuckle comes out of his mouth.

"You are right" he says looking at you. "So, you are definitely moving to my chambers now, aren't you? No more personal chambers, no more confinement when sick. You are not leaving my side, not you or our little dragon" He states nodding, not for discussion. He can't have you just wandering around without him near to protect both of you.

He smiles, as you giggle. His day certainly got better, all thanks to you. His hands caress your back soothingly, as he is just... happy. He forgets about his horrible day, how his ankle still hurts or how his scar stings on his cheek and forehead as he smiles. What is that compared to the joy of knowing that he will be a father? A father to your children as well?

“Now, how come Lady Westerling got my pregnant wife sick?” he teases you as you roll your eyes. “She is in so much trouble, who does she think she is? Both my wife and my sweet baby? Oh, she is not going to see sunlight ever again-”

“Aemond!” you giggle, but he smooches your cheek with kisses that only makes your giggles grow louder.

[thevillainswhore]

New Tricks

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: After your brother has to cancel movie night, you’re ready to resign yourself to an uneventful evening back at your dorm, alone and dejected. But what you didn’t count on, is your brother’s best friend and roommate, bursting through the door and asking you to stay; to spend the night with him, instead

What unfolds, however, while you spend time with the star football player, both shocks and astounds you — one confession in particular. 

Bucky Barnes, the Prince Charming of campus, the man you have been crushing on for an eternity, is a virgin.

Warnings: first kisses, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, big brother!steve, college!bucky, shy bby bucky, mutual pining, swearing, pet names, huge ton of reassurances, lots of praise, big hints of subby bucky

Author’s Note: beta’d by my baby @rookthorne

Okay, so where to start with this… the idea for this fic sprung from a certain someone 👀 and I just had to write it. Thank you to my girl for being a huge support through this, I love you 💗

These two have my whole heart and who knows? Maybe more will come of them 😌 for all my playlist lovers, you’re welcome - new tricks playlist ❤️

New Tricks Masterlist

I hope you enjoy this as much as I’ve loved creating it 🥹

Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, your impatience starts to wane thin. For ten whole minutes, you have been waiting for Steve to open up. And knocking like a crazed woman is beginning to get old; so is waiting on the doorstep to his front door. 

“Oh, for–” You grumble, and you lift your arm up to bang against the door for the umpteenth time,  when your hand misses it entirely, owing to the fact it swings open to admit you with such enthusiasm, it creaks and threatens to bounce back off of the wall.  

Bucky — your brother’s roommate, best friend, and your crush — sheepishly smiles and scratches the back of his neck. 

The line of his shoulders slump when he lowers his arm, and you notice (and appreciate) just how broad and muscled he is. He must have just been working out, or you interrupted him — nonetheless, you’re thankful for the sight before you, and how it makes the crush you harboured for the brunette for years roar to life all over again. 

Excellent, you inwardly sigh.

“Buttercup,” Bucky says — the affectionate nickname born from his sappy personality always makes you swoon, and his hesitant smile morphs into a wide one. You’re left fighting  internally to keep your giddiness at the sight of him to a respectable level.  “Hey, you. Sorry I didn’t hear you; I was listening to music.” 

Your gaze continues up to his hair, finding it tied back with an elastic at the nape of his neck.  Oh, how you wished you could run your hands through–

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, furrowing his brows. 

Embarrassment floods you and you realise far too late that he probably has asked you a question, or several, while you were daydreaming. “Sorry, Buck,” you squeak, praying that the heat crawling up your neck was not as obvious as it felt. “What was that?”

His soft, puppy-eyed expression brightens when you meet his gaze. “It’s fine, doll. Everything okay?” 

No matter how badly you want to stand and unashamedly stare at your brother’s best friend and roommate, your true intention behind your visit comes to mind. 

“Can I come in?” you ask, lifting the bag of snacks you brought up higher. Bucky’s eyes glance down at the bag, and then back up to your face. “Stevie planned our movie night and he isn’t answering his phone — I told him I was on my way and I asked him if he wanted anything else.” 

The confusion that creases Bucky's brows and downturns his lips in a small frown makes you narrow your eyes. 

“Surely he didn’t forget,” you accuse, still staring into Bucky’s face. “I make the trip down from campus every two weeks. It’s been two weeks.” A sudden, encompassing guilt fills Bucky’s eyes, and he starts to worry his bottom lip with his teeth — a sight far too hard to ignore. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Um– I just–” Bucky stutters, and you watch as his fingers twitch and fidget — a nervous tic. If he didn’t look cute while stumbling over his words, you would feel sorry for being so blunt. “I just thought that– Uh, I thought it was cancelled. The movie night, I mean.” 

You step forward slightly, and Bucky opens the door wider. A wordless invitation. 

Bucky rushes to clear a space on the entryway coat rack for you, when he suddenly says, “You know, because of his date, an’ all.” His words falter at the look you shoot him. You stop taking off your coat, and you drop the bag of snacks to the floor, ignoring the crinkle and rustle of plastic. 

“What do you mean date, Barnes?” The use of his last name causes a flush of deep red to pattern his cheeks, but you don’t let up. There’s music playing from down the hall of the apartment – right where Steve’s bedroom is. “What’s going on?” 

Bucky skittishly fidgets and glances around the apartment, before meeting your heated gaze. “I– Look, I didn’t know–” 

You silently mouth a curse, beyond frustrated with your older brother, and with yourself for taking just a second to indulge and admire just how sweet Bucky is when he is unsure. “Fine,” you huff, and you turn to walk straight towards the source and to investigate it yourself.

Bucky’s frantic footsteps behind you don’t deter your haste. “Wait, stop — Buttercup, wait!”

Forgoing a courtesy knock — having had enough of banging on his front door — you barge straight into the room with as little as a greeting call or warning. 

“What the shit–“ 

The door to Steve’s bedroom slams against the wall, and you come face to face with the blond in the middle of a dance off with himself in the mirror. “Sis! Hey,” he gasps, holding his hand over his heart in fright. “What’re you doing–?” 

In lieu of an answer, you cross your arms and stare at him, unimpressed and exasperated with his antics. “Don’t you hey sis me.” The fear in Steve’s eyes as you stomp towards him almost vindicates your indignation of being uninformed. “What do you mean you’re going on a date? It’s movie night!” 

Steve has the decency to look ashamed. “Flower, I swear, I’m sorry,” he rambles, and he takes your hand, directing you to sit down on his bed. “I would’ve called to let you know but everything was so last minute.” 

The grip he has on your hand is firm, assuring you of his true intentions, even when he turns the Roger’s charm up to an eleven to worm his way back onto your good side. “I swear sis, I wouldn’t bail on you without a good reason.”

“Okay,” you say, staring into his face — still not wholeheartedly convinced of his graces. A line of questioning is in order, you decide. “So, who is this good enough reason?”

“Natasha Romanoff.” The dreamy, love-struck sigh that leaves Steve’s lips after her name is uttered has you reluctantly trying to hide your giggle; the righteous anger and frustration slowly leaves your body in his admittance.  

The fact that he has been obsessed with the college’s most popular redhead since forever, was a balm to the annoyance. You truly did feel happy for him underneath it all. 

And, in the end, it’s how you decide to let him off the hook — though not without teasing him, first. “No way, the Natasha Romanoff? How the hell have you managed that one?” 

Steve pushes your shoulder, and the force of his shove knocks you sideways onto the covers of his bed. “Fine,” you grouse, sighing heavily and resigning yourself to a night on your own. “I’ll let you off this time.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Flower,” Steve promises. And you believe him. He has always kept his word; ever since the two of you were kids. 

“Good,” you say, smiling softly. “I expect an apology at my door in the next few days, though.”

Laughing, Steve nods, and then he stands from his bed. 

“I’ll leave you to it then, I hope you have fun, bro.” 

It is an impossible task for you to hide your dejected hurt from Steve, though. Clever and perceptive as he is, he detects the subtle sombre undertones underlying your reassurances, narrowing in on them like a dog to a bone. 

You get to your feet with a quiet sigh, and as you move, you miss the thoughtful expression on his face; the perk of his ears at the almost indistinguishable shuffling of feet just outside of his bedroom. “How about you have a movie night with Bucky, instead?” 

You stop in your tracks, frozen in shock at the sudden and downright surprising suggestion. “Stevie,” you admonish, “Bucky does not want to waste a Friday night with me–“

“I don’t mind!” Bucky shouts eagerly from the doorway, and you spin around to face him. The nervous fidget of his curls his fingers and hands around one another, over and over. 

Had he been listening that whole time? 

Guilt begins to flood you. Imposing on any plans Bucky  may have made was a burden you did not want to bear,  and you couldn’t fathom who would want to spend the night with their best friend’s little sister. “Thank you, Bucky, that’s really sweet of you,” you placate, smiling at him. “But I know you’ve probably got better things to do on a Friday night than be with me.”

Bucky seems to swell in the doorway, his chest puffing up and he sets his jaw, a determined glint in his eyes. “Actually, Buttercup,” he retorts, crossing his arms in a decisive move. “A movie night with you sounds perfect.” 

The confidence in his tone takes you by surprise, and you flounder for a second while you stare into his steel blue eyes. “Really?”

“‘Course,” he replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “It’ll be fun.”

His words, and charming smile, ultimately win you over.  

With your attention wholly focused on Bucky as he begins to talk about what movies to watch, you miss the knowing, victorious smirk that curls Steve’s lips.  

“Okay,” Steve calls from the doorway, looking back at the two of you, and you can’t help but be frustrated by his stalling. “Be good and behave while I’m gone. Oh, and, no staying up past your bedtimes — Bucky, her bedtime is ten o’clock sharp.”

The scowl on your face only serves to make him laugh, and you huff your exasperation before your hands grip his biceps; the only way to get him out the door is brute force. “Get out, Stevie,” you grunt, pushing with all your might, but it is to no avail. Steve is as immovable as a statue made of marble. “Don’t you have to go see Natasha?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, and you hear the rustling sound of fabric. “Don’t you?”

Instinct tells you to duck, and you do so, just in the nick of time to avoid the pillow Bucky launches across the room from his place next to the couch. The pillow hits Steve square in the face with a comical thump. 

You burst into laughter at the stunned look of disbelief on Steve’s face, and you look over at Bucky, who is leaning against the sofa; a smug grin pulls his lips up and scrunches his nose.  “Get the hell outta here already, punk.”

With Steve distracted by Bucky’s betrayal, you take the chance to shove him out of the front door and watch delightedly as he stumbles in the hallway. “Hey–!” The door slams shut behind him, cutting him off. 

Giggles shake your shoulders as you put your back to the door, leaning against it with all of your strength as Steve turns the handle — evidently not finished in the war of quips. 

Bucky’s laughter from his place by the sofa makes your stomach flutter, and he walks closer, just as Steve stops attempting to break down the door. 

With the end of Steve’s attempts to forcefully open the door, you turn and face the wood and peer out of the peephole. A blond mop of hair is just within view. “Bye Stevie!” you call through the door, “Have fun, wear protection!”

Steve’s reply is muffled by the wood, and he flips you off before walking away.  

Shaking your head, you turn back to face the living room, and you see Bucky fussing around the sofa and coffee table. The strong aroma of a sweet, spicy scent fills your senses and you inhale deeply, letting the tantalising smell fill your lungs, before you ask, “Bucky, what are you doing?”

He sends you a furtive glance before looking back down at the snacks laid out on the coffee table, neatly placed next to two already filled glasses of drink. A bag of popcorn threatens to spill from his arms. “I’m, uh– I’m setting up? For the movie–?”

You could not help but notice how fast the bravado and confidence he displayed in the presence of Steve vanishes when he was with you, and you alone.  

“Oh, sweetie,” you coo, walking closer. “I thought we could watch the movie in your room, instead of out here. It’ll be more comfortable, at least, and we can spread out. Is that okay?” 

The popcorn bag that threatened to spill from his arms bursts instead, scattering the popped kernels all over the floor, making him yelp. “Ah! Uh– Okay, we… We can if you want?”

You nod once. “Absolutely. I’d rather be in your bed any day, then out here,” you tease, amused by the way Bucky’s eyes bulge and his cheeks flush. Then you look down at the popcorn all over the floor, and add, “But first, let’s clean this up.” 

Bucky starts to clean up the mess, and he tells you to grab the movies you agreed upon from the collection in the bookshelf. 

The selection to choose from is packed, as it always is. “Why don’t I grab a couple?” 

“Sure,” Bucky answers, sweeping the popcorn into a dustpan. “I mean, why not? May as well go all out.”

You grin and grab a couple of cases. “Do you need some help–”

“No, I’ve got it, Bubs,” Bucky interrupts. You look over your shoulder at him to see the blankets bundled high in his arms, and before you could protest and insist you help carry them, he shuffles off in the direction of his bedroom. 

Then, you glance down at the coffee table to see that the snacks and drinks are missing. “Did you grab the snacks?”

“Yeah!” Bucky calls back, muffled by the walls between the two of you. 

A fond sigh falls from your lips and you follow after him, DVD cases in hand.  

The tension in the air of his bedroom is charged with something you could not quite describe, and the butterflies in your stomach roar to life for it. You square your shoulders, and smile through it. “It’s no different, it’s no different,” you mutter under your breath; a mantra for confidence. 

Though, it is short lived. 

Bucky throws the blankets onto his bed with a grunt, and both the TV and DVD player switch on, ready to accept one of the disks you held in your hand. 

A shuddery breath falls from your lips, and you make your way to the player to place the first disc in. It whirrs to life as you turn to look at Bucky, who is placing the snacks on a tray table, his tongue between his teeth as he works. 

“Okay,” he hums, turning to face you, a shy smile on his face. “You ready, Bubs?” Without waiting for an answer, he walks past you to the light switch, his index finger poised to flip it off. 

You look down at your body, the warm outerwear you had thrown on to get to Steve’s apartment suddenly becomes scorching hot against your skin, and an idea comes to mind — flustering him has given you a rush of confidence before… 

“Almost,” you say, a hidden smirk on your lips. The layers of warmth are soft in your hands while you take them off, and you’re left in a thin tank top and soft, cotton shorts. “Now I am.”

A faint choking noise comes from the doorway behind you when you place the warmer clothes on Bucky’s desk chair. Inwardly, a coy smirk lifts the corner of your lips; outwardly, you look over to him, concerned and ever curious. 

His face, normally soft and kind whenever he looked at you, is taut with embarrassment; blotchy and red. His eyes are frantically looking anywhere, and everywhere around the room but at you. 

“Buck?” you say, getting his attention. His eyes meet yours. “You okay?”

The fidgeting is your first clue that he is struggling with something, and it is a battle to keep the teasing smile off your lips when his hands run constantly through his long hair and or come to a stop in the pockets of his grey sweats. 

Patiently, you watch while he repeats the same actions several times, each pass of his hands only serving to make him even more flushed. “Yeah. Yep,” Bucky coughs. “Mhm. Just great, thanks.” He looks up to the ceiling and gulps loudly. “You’re really wearing those? Uh– Just those, I mean?” 

You thin your lips to try and hurriedly fight off a smile as you grab your warm, fluffy socks from your bag. “Of course, silly,” you tease, shaking your head once. “I always wear my comfy clothes on movie night.”

The room turns deathly silent when you bend at the hip to pull the socks up your feet. 

Peering up from your task, you see Bucky staring at your legs, evidently thinking he hadn’t been caught and his eyes begin to trail upwards, towards your chest. The slackjawed expression amuses you, though you feel the beginning sparks of your own shyness come to life.

“Buck?” A nervous laugh bubbles in your chest, and you play with the hem of your tank top at the heat in his gaze. “Bucky?” you try again, “Are you ready?”

“Uh– Yeah, yes,” he rushes, quickly flicking the light off so his face is cast into shadow. You could have sworn he looked like a kid getting caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar — wide eyes and a deepening blush that spread down his neck.  

Bucky had always been a little shy in your presence, this you knew. Whenever you come over to visit Steve, or you bump into Bucky on campus, you always notice a remarkable difference in his normal, unwavering charm that he had in familiar company. 

This lack of swagger gives you the impression that you unfasten the young, boyish version of him; the one ruled by nerves, and hindered by a severe lack of confidence. 

Sure, you enjoy spending time with him here and there when you hang out at your brother’s apartment, but never before have you been this close to him, and alone. 

“Why don’t we–?” You gesture towards Bucky’s bed, and before he could either protest or agree, you jog to the edge and jump onto the plush mattress with a squeal of laughter. The blankets cover you easily as you roll yourself in them. “This is perfect,” you sigh, happy and content. 

“And where am I meant to sit?” Bucky laughs, appearing in your eye line with a bright, amused expression. “You blanket hog.”

“Fine,” you drawl, and you disentangle yourself from the cocoon of blankets. 

“Why, thank you, madame,” Bucky says, extending his hand in a mock salute, and he sits down in the now available spot, before sidling up the mattress, to rest his back on the headboard.

The broadness of his shoulders don’t leave much room between the two of you, and you decide to snuggle up to his side in a bid to get comfortable. You feel him tense with the proximity, but he doesn’t push you away or say anything.

“Are you ready now?” you ask, reaching for the remote. “For the movie?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” he rasps, nodding quickly.

Despite his initial nerves, Bucky settles comfortably in your presence — half of the movie goes by undisturbed with only the occasional shuffling to get comfortable after getting a snack, or a drink.  

That all changes the moment Bucky becomes restless,his leg twitching against yours constantly, and he repositions himself every couple of minutes. From the corner of your eye, you see his mouth opening and closing; the courage building within him to speak up. You bite your tongue against the urge — let him speak first, you chided yourself. 

“So,” Bucky eventually says, his voice quiet. “How are your classes going, Buttercup?” 

You take your eyes off the screen and face Bucky, but he’s already looking at you, his eyes bright from the glow of the TV. 

“They’re going good,” you reply, just as quietly. “Yeah, they’re busy — hectic, even, but good.” 

The fabric of the comforter ruffles as you turn your body towards him — your shorts ride up with the movement, and your bare thighs brush against his sweats. Bucky tenses while you settle in and only relaxes when you stop shifting in place. “This time of year is always busy, the coursework and exams,” you continue, shrugging your shoulders. “But I’m managing okay, thanks.” 

Bucky nods his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, all those art projects you’ve gotta finish, it must be tiring.” 

Shock slackens your features and you reel back — you could not recall telling him what you studied. “How do you know what major I’m taking?”

“I– um,” Bucky stutters, suddenly overwhelmingly shy. “I hear you talking to Steve about it. Y’know, when– When you come over, on movie nights, and other nights.” 

You can sense Bucky is not done explaining; he licks his lips and stares at his lap, where he fidgets, again. Quietly, as if embarrassed, he continues, “I see you lugging your big canvases across campus sometimes, too. From class, and– And from the window, when I’m actually studying.”

Warmth creeps up your neck again and you blink rapidly. You hadn’t noticed that he took so much notice of you before now, and you couldn’t help but feel endeared over it. 

Desperate to shift the attention away from yourself, you blurt, “How’s, uh– How’s training going for football season this year?”  

Bucky freezes for a second, then trips over his words, “Oh, it’s good– Yeah, it’s great. Coach says I’m progressing well, so I’m doing alright, I guess.”

“So modest, Buck,” you tease. It was common knowledge on campus that Bucky is the star player of the college football team, while also being scouted to join the professional leagues. You place your hand on his arm and squeeze his bicep reassuringly, lending him a bit of your confidence. “Don’t you sell yourself short, I’ve seen you play — you’re amazing!” 

He inhales sharply and grimaces, an expression that contorts his handsome face. “You really think so?” 

“Bucky,” you say slowly. The tense line of his body is obvious as you shuffle closer, but you are determined to prove your point; assure him of his talent and abilities, for all of a shy puppy that he is.  

“Listen to me, honey,” you continue, and Bucky refuses to meet your gaze, instead focusing on his hands. “Everyone can see it, all of us — all of the women in the crowds, all of the kids that watch you from the sidelines. We’re all screaming for you.”

His skin is warm under your palm, but you don’t remove your hand. Instead, you grip his arm and shake it a little. “You’re amazing.”

Bucky stays silent — contemplative of your words, and you take the opportunity to think over the reason why Bucky chooses to stay in on a Friday night. 

There is no questioning the fact that Bucky Barnes could pull anyone he wanted, whether it was to party, or to fuck, but to your recollection — and from what Steve had slipped in the past — no one has ever witnessed Bucky bringing anyone home, drunk or otherwise. No partner he could call his own, either, and he didn’t brag about the obvious charm he held over the many women on or off campus. 

Cautiously, you venture towards the subject of your curiosity. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be going out on dates on a Friday night, like Stevie? Surely you’ve got tons of girls lined up for you.”  

Bucky’s silence turns deafening, unnatural. His body becomes stiff and he looks to be barely breathing. 

“Buck?” You sit up and look into his face. It’s pulled taut with what you could only guess as shame, but that made no sense, and with a mounting, swelling horror, you realise you may have pushed him too far; teased beyond the point of what is acceptable between friends. “Hey, did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry–”

“No! No– I… fuck.” Bucky throws his head back against the headboard and covers his face. “Oh, God,” he groans, muffled by his hands. “Shit.”

“Bucky–” You hesitate, unsure of what to do or what to say. You’ve never seen Bucky behave like this, so anxious and uneasy. “I– I’ll go, it’s alright, I’m sorry,” you say quickly, and you start to shuffle off of the bed when you hear his muffled voice say something behind his hands. “What was that, I didn’t–?”

A heavy sigh lifts his shoulders, and they slump back down as he exhales. “Ihaventevenhadmyfirstkissyet.”

“Sweetheart,” you say quietly, and you shift back towards him. The curtain of hair he’s so fond of covers and conceals his eyes from view, but you refrain from tucking it behind his ear. “I did not understand a word of what you just said.” 

Bucky clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably, looking up at you with a great effort. “I– uh.” His hands land on his thighs with a finality not unlike the final siren at his football games, and he utters a reluctant, “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” 

His bedroom is quiet enough you would hear a pin drop. The TV had long powered off, since the movie finished while you talked, and the tension was palpable; a living, breathing encumberment that could not be cut with a knife. The flickering light from the still burning candle on his bedside drawers makes shadows dance across Bucky’s face. 

Okay, you think privately, so what? 

Bucky hasn’t kissed anyone before. It was justifiable — too busy with life, training and keeping up his GPA. You didn’t have to make a big deal out of this. “That’s okay–” Then the reality of the situation hits you, and your mind screeches to a halt. 

If Bucky hasn’t had his first kiss… “Does– Wait, does that mean–?”

“Yes.” Bucky squeezes his eyes tight and refuses to look at you — it is obviously a painful confession, yet he still forces himself to spit it out, putting voice to the doubt in your mind. “I’m a virgin.”

Now that catches you off guard. 

Bucky… is a virgin? 

Bucky, the star football player; built like a Greek god with the charisma to match. 

Sweat beads on his forehead and he looks like he is about to bolt from the room in his fear, and you realise all of your thoughts had shown in your expression. 

“Oh,” you manage, blinking slowly. The hand that was gripping his arm had moved without you realising, and you hastily place it back on his bicep. “Oh, Bucky.”

No other words come to mind. 

When you came to visit Steve for movie night, a calm, easy tradition in your routine, you never expected to end up in this kind of situation; on the other side of a confession that has left you speechless with shock, all while a strange confliction brews deep within your guts. 

You had been there once, and what you wouldn’t have given to have the opportunity to experience it with someone you trusted wholeheartedly — like you did Bucky, your mind supplies not-so-helpfully. 

The realisation hits you harder than you expect, and you gasp quietly, still gripping his arm to reassure him. 

Bucky moves his hands to cover his face again, and his chest rises and falls with a sharp hitch. The nervous pants for air that part his lips bring you back down to earth and away from that revelation. You know he’s embarrassed; ducking his head to his chest and glancing up as though you had scolded him. The entirety of his toned body is rigid with fear, each muscle clenching and poised to run, to save what dignity he feels he has left after such a confession. 

It’s difficult not to stare at the veins that line and bulge from his forearms down to his deft hands,  and you almost feel guilty for it; he’s in distress, fretting over the reveal of his lack of sexual prowess, but you cannot help the lingering gaze over his body. He just looks so pretty. 

From the get go, ever since you had met the star football player, you have always fantasised about him. The silent crush on Bucky had developed into such a deep attraction you almost couldn’t bear it any longer. 

Having convinced yourself of the non-existent reciprocation kept your tongue at bay, in the past.  And while Bucky’s virginity is a surprise, it did not hinder or lessen your feelings for him, quite the opposite; the heady weight of it settling over your mind like a blanket. 

What was stopping you now? What would be the harm in testing the waters?

To hell with it, you decide. The springs of the mattress creak as you move to shuck the blanket off of your body, then your legs. 

Bucky audibly gulps behind his hands when you move closer, and he positively freezes, like a deer in headlights, as you lift your leg up and over his thighs to straddle him. The soft brush of his sweatpants over your legs sends a shiver up your spine, and you sit down, settling your body comfortably on his thighs, just above his knees. 

“What– What are you doing–?” Bucky whispers, and his words are muffled behind his palms. You grin, unseen by your quarry, and you shuffle up his thighs to his hips, your clothed cunt just below the seam at his crotch.  

The sound of Bucky choking on his own spit is comical. 

You pull his hands away from his face, the urge to kiss each palm overwhelming; feather-soft brushes of your lips against the soft skin sends the pulse in his throat racing. “Buttercup, please– This is embarrassing enough–”

“Bucky,” you whisper, cutting him off. “Look at me.”

Blue eyes meet yours, and you pour all of the unspoken words between you both in your soft gaze, willing him to feel the yearning. “Kiss me.” 

“But–” He hesitates, a fish out of water again. His mouth hangs slack from the shock of such a bold request, and you place your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him before he can carry on protesting. 

You pout, placing a hint of pleading in your tone, “Please?”

He looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads. “I– What, I mean,” he flounders, arms hovering at his sides, hesitant to touch you — terrified of taking it a step too far. “I don’t know–“

“Aw, Buck,” you coo, smiling softly. Carefully, you shuffle further up his lap until your knees brush against the headboard of his bed. Gently, you place your palms on Bucky’s toned chest, just above his beating heart hammering away — not wanting to frighten him. “I’ll show you, okay?”

“Yeah.” The tremble in his voice makes your heart ache, but you smile encouragingly.

“Here we go,” you soothe. He smiles weakly back, eyes still wide with shock. “I’ve got you.”

You slowly and steadily move closer to Bucky’s face. A shudder racks through his whole body when he feels your breath against his neck, and you peck his stubbled cheek before sitting back upright to face him.

“Okay,” Bucky shakily says, fisting the blankets in his hands. “Okay. That was okay.”

“See? It’s not so bad,” you tease, and you tilt your head to the side, sticking out your cheek. “Your turn.” From the corner of your eyes, you watch his eyes sweep across your face, still hesitant and nervous, but a slither of curiosity now shining through. 

Broad, strong shoulders lift in tandem with his deep, grounding breath, and he steadily leans in before he second guesses himself. He resolutely does not touch your body, but he manages to find the confidence to gently press his lips against your skin, kissing your cheek. 

This time, he sits back and looks up at you for direction and reassurance. 

You consider it, ignoring the fluttering of your heart. His touch was sweet, but polite; a kiss on the cheek that you would give a friend after such a long time apart. And, in the end, you want Bucky to gain more confidence and actually enjoy kissing — he shouldn’t have to be ashamed to want it. “Good, that was good,” you say, keeping your tone mellow so as to not spook him.

He is making good progress, and gentle encouragement is the way to ensure it continues, you reason with yourself. “Now, I want you to do the exact same thing, but start gradually moving towards my lips.”

“Oh– Okay, okay,” he breathes, and his eyes widen slightly before they dart down towards his lap. 

That needs to be rectified immediately, before he shuts down, you hastily think, and you react swifty, your hands roaming from his chest and up to the sides of his neck, adding a little pressure to bring him back down to earth. 

There was an innate need for him to know that he could trust you; that you would treat him with the respect he deserves. 

Gently, you lift his head up, forcing him to look at you, and the downturn of his lips makes your heart ache. All you want to do is soothe the fear and rid the worry from his pretty eyes that pierce you, even through the strands of hair that have fallen in his face. 

“You’re okay, Buck,” you soothe, rubbing your thumbs over his warm, rosy cheeks. The movement and assurance seem to do the trick. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

A minute passes, and you watch as the confliction flitters across his face; an inward battle to assemble his courage to bridge the gap between you both.

There is another minute of silence, when he slowly advances, leaving his palms flat on the covers of his bed as he kisses you on the cheek.��

“That’s it,” you praise, sitting still in his lap, but smiling softly in encouragement.

Bucky hesitantly returns the smile, and he doesn’t move away, rather, he decides to stay close. “You did good,” you say, still smiling, and he takes you by surprise when he moves forwards again to place another tiny kiss even closer to your lips. “Oh–”

The soft brush of his lips makes you freeze, and he takes his time, building his confidence with each peck he makes. 

Finally, he reaches the corner of your lips, and he stalls; confidence wavering and faltering with the daunting task. You go to part your lips to speak on instinct, to encourage him, when he suddenly moves even closer to your face, making you hastily shut your mouth and brace for what was to come; willing for your heart to slow down the tattoo it beats against your throat.  

“Okay,” Bucky whispers more to himself, and he clears his throat before licking his lips. “Okay, okay. Just–” His lips connect with the curve of you own, the brief and fleeting connection enough to tell you that his lips are plump; ripe to swell and redden with a passionate make out session. 

Hastily, Bucky withdraws, but not all the way back — he lingers and only allows the tiniest space between your faces.

“You did it, sweetheart,” you coo, keeping your voice low. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Th– Thanks,” he stutters, and the rosy blush he sported turns a splotchy crimson. Interesting, you think.  

You turn your head to look at him, and the proximity of his face makes both of your lips brush against each other. The intoxicating softness consumes you, and you cannot deny the reality that Bucky is there, he is right there. A torture that intensifies in the billowing silence, while a burning, reckless spike of adrenaline rushes through your veins.

“Do you want more?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence and shattering the tension. 

A harsh breath falls from Bucky’s lips, and he presses forward to kiss you properly for the first time. 

Whatever you had been expecting for a first kiss from the inexperienced, sweet, charming man beneath you, flew out the window. Your lips slot perfectly over his, a chaste kiss that held enough need and want to be something far more; it could not hold a candle to the sex you had with past flings.  

The kiss, unexpected as it was, lasts only for a couple seconds longer before Bucky pulls back from it, panting lightly — puffs of air fanning over your slightly parted lips. He lingers, bumping his nose into yours to keep close. 

But eventually, Bucky pulls all the way back to rest against the headboard. 

The silence is not deafening — not like it was before, and you open your eyes, blinking slowly. 

Bucky is already staring at you. His eyes are glazed over with hunger, and he's out of breath, the rise and fall of his chest faster than before. 

You fare no better. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, but it still feels like it’s lodged in your throat. No words are spoken between the two of you; just an invisible string that keeps you entwined to one another. 

It’s difficult to find the words to say, especially after something so raw and vulnerable; so new and budding. You want him to feel safe, like he had done good, though; you want to tell him he has nothing to worry about, not with you. 

And just as you open your mouth to speak, to praise him for how well he had done, Bucky slides his hands up your thighs, over your waist, and up to your neck, cupping the back of it in his large palm. “I want–” 

To your utter shock, he drags you closer, his lips greedily slotting over yours for a far deeper kiss.  

Bucky can’t get enough of you; already addicted and demanding more. You can’t be mad for it, not when he’s a sensational kisser — he’s good, far too good. The basics have you dizzy with want, and you decide on a whim to challenge him, to push him a little further and test the boundaries. 

You part your lips as Bucky pulls back, and before he could kiss you again, you tentatively tease your tongue against his lips. The sensation makes him sit rigid again beneath you, and he chases your tongue, the surprised moan he lets slip vibrates into your mouth.

The power of such a move has you smirking into the kiss. 

You only plan to stoke the fire by pushing him into the deep end a little — the prospect of overwhelming him too risky, but when you feel the effortless slide of Bucky’s tongue entering your parted lips to dance with your own, it leaves you physically stunned and unable to move. 

Bucky compliments you perfectly, as though he is a natural, and someone so timid should not be capable of that — it’s dangerous. 

It escalates — tongues dance and lips clash, and Bucky’s breath is heavy on your lips, as yours is on his, when he pulls back for air. There’s a pull that you can’t ignore, not any longer, and you bring your hands up from his neck to his hair, threading your fingers through it, making him moan quietly against your lips, “Bu–”

Your nails scrape against his scalp while he speaks, and you squeak in shock as Bucky’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against your clothed cunt. “Oh, fuck–” he gasps, and his body turns rigid with fear again while he pleads for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, so sorry, Bubs– I–”

Quickly, you place your index finger over his lips. “Hush, you. It’s alright. I loved it,” you reassure, and suddenly, it turns into a game for you — you are desperate to see how Bucky plays along, how close to the edge you can get him. “Let it go, it’s okay.”

Bucky’s breath hitches as you grind down hard against him, and his hands rush down from your neck to grip your waist. The unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful; a delight to be the cause of, and a Cheshire Cat grin splits your lips. You’ll be damned if you don’t get more from him, you decide.

“Fuck,” he grits out, the grip of his hands on your waist turning painful. “Fuck, yes.” 

You moan and allow him to move your body where he wants it — predictably, he perches you straight on his crotch and his hands wander, slipping beneath the tank top you wear to brush against your skin. 

The resolve he had held onto so strongly is starting to slip, and you inwardly scream with joy at the dilation of his pupils, the heavy pants of his breath — a poor, virtuous man is melting into a puddle at your feet. 

The position of your body gives you an impression of just how big Bucky is, and with his cock hard, you can feel the girth and the size of him against your cunt  — a crime, you think, that it wasn’t inside you.

Your motions of grinding down into him have the tip of his cock catching on your clit through your shorts, and the thin material has no pretence of protectiveness, and you greedily lap every single, last sensation up while shamelessly taking more.  

“Bucky,” you whine against his mouth, and in turn, he nips at your swollen bottom lip before sucking on it. “Fuck– S’good.”

“Buttercup, baby,” Bucky slurs, and his fingertips dig into your skin, unknowingly marking you in his lust-fuelled haze. “Fuckin’ feel good, please,” he whimpers, unable to keep kissing you with the way his moans and litany of quiet cries fall from his lips, longing for more; too far gone, he can’t help himself anymore. “Need more, please.”

You’re all too pleased to listen to his cries for you; begging would taste so much sweeter, though. Next time. “Okay,” you soothe, pecking him on the nose. “I’ll give you more, sweetheart.”

The bed creaks as you shuffle up Bucky’s lap, and you move your hands to grip the headboard. “Don’t keep quiet on me,” you warn. 

“Wha– Fuck!”

You pant as you grind down on Bucky’s cock, the effort of making your hips work this hard and fast steals your breath, but the sounds — oh, the sounds falling from his pretty lips make it all worth it. 

The added friction of your lace panties against your soaked clit only amplifies the pleasure for you, and it’s all you can do to keep going.

Bucky throws his head back and groans to the ceiling, but you follow him, leaning over and panting into each other's mouths and kissing messily, barely able to put anything behind them as you work the both of you closer to release. 

You pull back to look at him, and the slope of his neck is too tempting to leave alone — the  loose strands from his hair are sticking to the sweat gathering on his skin, and you watch a bead of it roll down a curve of corded muscle. 

Of course, you weren’t going to let it go — you want him to crack.

Bucky moans, his breath stuttering as your tongue chases the bead of sweat, and you latch onto his skin, sucking steadily at his pulse point. “Baby– Baby, please, fuck,” he babbles, forcing his head back further to expose more of his neck. 

You oblige, all too willingly and with a giddy enthusiasm; the bow of your lips trace over his Adam’s apple and down to his collarbone, where you bite down gently. 

“Shit, shit,” Bucky suddenly exclaims, his words slurring together. “No– No, please, I ca– Can’t,” he begs, and you pull away from his neck, brows furrowing in concern. “Please, I don’t want to– To, shit–”

Words seem to be out of his grasp, and you wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts while you watch the thread of his restraint wearing thin, so close to snapping when he’s this overwhelmed with the pleasure you are giving him. 

You can’t have that, though. 

Bucky was torturing himself, not allowing himself the pleasure of giving into his base desires - what he needs. “Can’t what, sweetheart?” you ask. “You can’t cum?”

Bucky nods his head frantically, his eyes widening. You consider him, the sweat on his brow and upper lip, the way his eyes plead for something more; he’s so desperate to not cum, to let go. 

It’s plain as day that he is holding himself back, when you knew deep down that he is itching to relinquish control and give in. 

You decide then to push, to throw caution to the wind and make him take it. “Why not?” you whine, grinding back and forth, back and forth, over his painfully hard cock. “Doesn’t my pussy feel good, baby?” 

Bucky whimpers and scrunches his face up, cock throbbing as he grows closer to finishing. You don’t think he realises how he rambles to himself, “Fuck, yes! It does—fuck, it does baby.” 

“Think for me, sweetheart,” you say, leaning close to his face. “Just think for me, how good being inside my pussy would be.” The lure of being inside your cunt cracks the last of his resolve; control slipping through his fingers before he can grasp hold of it.  

You smirk, watching how his brows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut. “Just think, Bucky,” you repeat, “How wet and tight I’d be for you. How I would scream for more; beg for more of your cock and what you give me.” 

The sound Bucky makes is close to a wounded animal, and his grip on your waist is sure to leave bruises. “Oh, sweetheart,” you coo, mouthing softly up his neck until your lips brush over the shell of his ear, and you whisper, “Doesn’t that sound good, baby?”

Something snaps within him. 

The headboard of the bed thumps against the wall as Bucky tumbles over the cliff, his restraint long gone, and he wraps his arms tightly around you, curling them around your waist to hold you impossibly close. You feel something wet on your neck, and you realise belatedly that Bucky is crying silently, overwhelmed with the pleasure. 

To reassure him, you thread your fingers through his hair again to scratch at his scalp. You feel his lips move up and down your neck, placing open mouthed kisses over the skin “Are you okay?” you ask softly, careful to not move in his hold. “Bucky, baby?”

“Mhm,” Bucky hums, and he buries his face further into your neck, nodding frantically. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

A victorious smirk pulls the corner of your lips up. You know you have him — Bucky’s too far gone to come back down now, and he won’t be able to stop. 

“Go on,” you purr. Bucky hungrily grinds up into your heat, seeking it out and forcing a gasp from your lips with the pressure. “That’s it,” you push, and your last deadly blow has the dam breaking, once and for all: “Cum for me then, pretty boy.”

“Oh, oh, fuck– Baby–” Bucky moaned, but you keep steady pressure over his cock, and his hips start to stutter in rhythm. “Shit!” 

“That’s it, that’s it, sweetheart,” you coax, just as a damp patch stains the crotch of his sweats, and his legs tremble under your thighs. There’s a loud thump as his head hits the headboard of his bed. 

“Fuck–” Your own climax begins to mount, the tension of it unbearable, and just the band snaps, you cry out to the ceiling, “Bucky!”

The room is full of pants for air, the synchronised rise and fall of your chests in tandem with the twitching muscles of your body; the rushed gasps for breath a symphony to your ears.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, and you finally look at Bucky — only to be taken aback with the awestruck expression on his handsome face. His lips are stretched wide in a dopey grin, and his eyes, while normally so bright and soft, are glazed over with post-orgasm bliss. 

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispers. You feel the brush of his fingers over your waist and thighs, a soothing touch that in combination with his words sends another wave of heat up your neck. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

You smile nervously, suddenly speechless with the earnestness and fondness in his voice. Instead, you shuffle down his thighs to rest your arms on his shoulders more comfortably, and you play with the hair on the nape of his neck — the soft locks damp with sweat. 

The two of you stare into one another’s eyes, then, you rest your forehead on his to whisper, “Well, handsome, not so bad for your first kiss.”

Bucky starts to laugh, then giggles take over as he faceplants into your chest, nuzzling himself against your tits in shyness. 

After a while, Bucky starts to shift in place, and you start to rise up off of his lap, when his sudden stiffness alarms you. “Bucky? What’s the matter?”

“I— I don’t, I didn’t mean to—“ He stutters, looking down at his crotch. You follow his gaze, utterly confused — there is nothing abnormal, only the wet patch of cum staining the material. 

Your confusion only increases, and you look back to Bucky’s face. It’s blotchy and red from embarrassment. “Bucky?”

“I– Oh, goddamnit,” he mutters, and he looks down at his lap again pointedly.

The realisation washes over you; a lightbulb suddenly going off in your head. He was embarrassed over coming in his pants. “Bucky, sweetheart,” you say, moving to cup his cheeks and force him to look at you. “Listen to me, okay?”

Blue eyes meet yours, his gaze pensive. You muster the warmest, kindest smile; no judgement apparent in your own eyes as you stare at him. “There is no need to feel ashamed.”

“But–” Bucky tries. 

“No, listen to me,” you interrupt, and you lean in closer, bumping his nose with yours before reassuring him, “There's no need to feel ashamed, sweetheart.”

His pure, innocent gaze doesn’t fail to make you swoon even more over him. “It doesn’t?”

“Of course not, you know why?” Bucky shakes his head, eyes wide and intent to listen to anything you have to say. Your lips hover over his as you whisper, “Because I love you making a mess for me, baby.”

The weekend passes by swiftly, a tangle of bedsheets and limbs; kisses and fleeting touches that turn into passionate embraces. 

It was only when Steve came home on the Saturday night did he kick both you and Bucky out of the apartment with a yell of, “Bye! Have fun, kids!”

You decided to take Bucky back to your dorm-room — an easy decision when you get to watch how his eyes trail over your body as you walk down the halls holding hands. 

And on Sunday morning, bright and early, a series of knocks on your dorm-room door wakes you out of your slumber. “Damn,” you grumble, blinking slowly into the dimly lit room. The curtains are drawn, but a slither of gold peeks from behind the fabric; right over Bucky’s face and the mess of his hair. 

You sigh and tiredly throw the covers off you, mentally preparing yourself to get out of bed, but before you can get up, two arms curl around your waist and tug you backwards into a muscled chest. The warmth of the embrace makes you sigh contentedly.

“No,” Bucky groans before burying his face into your neck and smothering you with his body; trapping you with his arms and winding his legs around yours. “Dun’ get up.” 

You giggle as he starts kissing your shoulders and nibbling at your neck — the stubble of his jaw tickling the soft skin while his lips soothed over it. “I have to,” you say quietly, and you grab his arm to pull it off, only– 

“Nuh-uh. Where y’think you're goin’, Buttercup?” The deep rumble of his morning voice has you inner self trembling, memorising your antics of your weekend together. “Can’t leave me.” And to solidify his claim, Bucky clings onto you like a koala. 

“Bucky, you big goof.” You slap his arm, but he just grunts his protest, clinging to your body tighter. “Come on,” you say, wriggling — it’s met with no success of him releasing you. “Get off of me so I can answer the door.”

But you should have known that he is far too stubborn to let up that easily — a stubborn puppy that refused to give up his treat. “No. Tell ‘em to fuck off.”

“Fine.” Your only hope is an attempt to bribe him, you decide, and you look at him to find he’s staring at you through a half-lidded eye, the other eye obscured by his pillow. “How about you let me go, and I promise to give you unlimited cuddles for the rest of the day, no moving whatsoever?” 

That gets his attention, and he perks his head up to lean closer to yours. “I wan’ unlimited kisses, too,” he negotiates, pouting his lips and narrowing his eyes. 

You cannot help but chuckle. “Deal, handsome.”

Bucky plonks backwards onto the bed, star fishing in his sulking — the treat now successfully taken away. 

With your newfound freedom, you sit up and stretch, ignoring the grumbles and quiet whines of, “Bein’ left alone ain’t right,” and, “Tell whoever it is to fuck off, I mean it.”

The bedsheets rustle under you when you scoot to the edge, the warmth of Bucky’s body and the softness of the covers already sorely missed, especially when you stand up and slip into your fluffy, warm gown and slippers. The brush of Bucky’s shirt over your skin makes you smile, the fabric soft and worn but oh so perfectly Bucky. 

“Hurry back, Buttercup,” he calls after you as you walk slowly out of the room. “Please—don’ leave me too long.”

“Drama queen,” you whisper, quiet enough he wouldn’t hear. The knocking comes again and you curse the cause — if it’s your friend from class asking to borrow your notes again, you were going to slam the door straight back in their face. Aloud, you say, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t bust the hinges.”

You prepare the speech to scold your friend as you walk to the door, and you grab the hand;e — the metal of it cold from the chill overnight. The door swings open with a loud creak, and you start saying, “What are you–”

The lack of a presence, or anyone at the door, stops you short — not even a shadow of someone running away down the hall.  “Fucking door dashers,” you groan, and you turn on your heel to go back inside when the toe of your slipper bumps into something on the ground. “What–?”

A gift basket, filled to the brim with an assortment of chocolates and scattered gift cards to your favourite stores, is innocuously sitting there. In the middle of the basket, poking its head out next to a bouquet of your favourite flowers, is the head of a stuffie Golden Retriever, the fur irresistibly soft and the eyes bright — much like Bucky’s. Its mouth held a note scrawled in messy cursive. 

“Okay,” you mumble, and you kneel down to look at it closer, worried that there had been a mix up or confusion of a dorm number. As you near the letter, you realise that the messy scrawl spells out Flower. “Wait.” 

That meant only one person was responsible. 

Your fingers tore open the letter and unfold it; the messy scrawl continues on the inside, too.  

Flower, I’m sorry for bailing on our movie night. 

I know you’re pissed, but I hope this and the beefcake attached to your back makes up for my mistake. 

Love ya squirt, 

Your big bro.

“Stevie,” you say, eyes darting over the lines of script. “You sneaky bastard.” There is a post script just below his sign off, and you continue to read.

P.S. Date went well, tell you all about it on movie night next week? I’m sure we’ll have guests joining us x 

Shaking your head in amusement, you place the note back with the stuffie, and pick up the rest of your basket. “What am I going to do with you,” you mumble, stepping back into your dorm to place the basket on the entry table to admire it again. 

“Wha’s happenin’?” a voice rasps behind you, and sure enough, the aforementioned beefcake in the letter from Steve plasters himself to your back; arms around your waist and his face tucked into your neck again. “Back to bed, c’mon.”

Bucky drags you backwards, chuckling deeply at your squeal of laughter that echoes down the hallway to your bedroom. “You made me a promise,” he grunts, and he pulls you back into bed and underneath the covers, intent on making sure you fulfil your end of the bargain. 

Part Two, Part Three

[jasmineoolongtea]

it turns out, gojo satoru hates silence. to be more accurate, he hates the sound of total nothing when it comes to you.

that's not to say that he wants you to scream at him like all hell's breaking loose but he just wants something from you, good or bad he doesn't care, over this suffocating silence. you don't even look at him; instead, you focus on attempting to secure the sterile white bandages on top of his injuries. you pretend like you don't see the crimson red of his blood seeping through them as you do.

"baby..." his voice is barely above a whisper, a rare occurrence for someone who's always been the loudest in any room he's in. he gets no response from you, only the sight of your jaw tensing up as you grit your teeth. satoru tries and fails to meet your eyes.

"baby. please, talk to me." he pleads softly, using his other unoccupied hand to reach out to you. you freeze slightly at the feeling of his fingertips upon your arm.

a small sigh of defeat escapes him. "see? i'm fine, nothing's gonna hurt me alright? it's just a scratch, that's all." as if to emphasise his point, he raises his arms up in a show of goodwill, swallowing the harsh wince of pain that threatens to escape his lips.

for what feels like the first time in forever, you look back at him, your eyes meeting his cerulean ones. "that's not the point, satoru." you state, finishing up your bandaging of him. "what if one day you do get hurt badly?" the clang of your tools hitting the metal tray table echoes within the walls of the infirmary.

he brushes off your concerns with a wave. "that's not going to hap-"

"okay, but what if it does?" you cut him off bluntly. your expression is serious, deadly serious with your unwavering gaze and slightly furrowed brows, to the point where he's rendered speechless for the first time.

"have you ever thought about what would happen to the people you leave behind... about me?" your words trail off at the end of your sentence, your voice faltering slightly as well. maybe it's a trick of the light but satoru swears that tears are welling up in the corner of your eyes.

his chest tightens with an uncomfortable squeeze, his gaze falling to the floor. no one dares to speak for a moment, whatever words and phrases of reassurance satoru would typically throw your way now suddenly seem shallow and lack any sort of weight behind them. the air is tense around the both of you.

you don't even need him to respond to know the answer to your own question as it would be a resounding no. for most of his life, satoru lives and breathes like he's untouchable, detached from most things including other people. being someone who has been leagues above everyone else since birth does that to a person.

however, it seems that this has caused him to forget that others around him don't share his fate and that no matter how detached he still believes himself to be, there are still ones who crave his connection and see past his facade of godhood and more as the human he truly is underneath it all.

"...i'm sorry, baby." he murmurs under his breath as he looks back up at you, sincerity and raw vulnerability evident in his expression. "i promise that i'll be more careful next time." he brings your hands to his lips and presses a soft kiss against your skin, letting himself bask in the warmth, your warmth, that is radiating off of you.

"there shouldn't be a next time." you huff half-heartedly, trying to stand strong in light of his previous behaviour which led to this moment but you feel your knees start to turn into jelly the moment his lips graze your hands.

a faint laugh escapes him. "i'll make a promise on that too." he adds, spreading his legs slightly just so he can pull you against his chest and into his arms.

gojo satoru is used to living only for himself but now, he has to remember that he has someone to come home to and he's going to make sure that he starts living like he did. only a shame he didn't see this earlier.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hm… Have you ever think about Aventurine, Sunday and Dan heng with fem reader that has chubby cheeks?

When you’re eating, they can’t stop looking at your cheeks that keep puff and being squishy. You remind them of small hamster, really cute.

Give your cheek a playful bite, squish your cheeks like a stressball for him, or nuzzle his cheek against your?

I love chubby cheeks… and my hsr husband and waifu;)

Aventurine would absolutely adore the fuck out of your chubby cheeks, especially when they’re being squished and tugged between his fingers.

It was his favourite pastime that he’d gladly trade everything else for if he ever were to choose to do one thing for the rest of his life.

He’d prod your cheek if you weren’t giving him enough attention for his liking and find himself fascinated at the way they recoiled.

If Aventurine were a cat, you’d be the laser of the laser pointer that he’s trying his hardest to catch because that’s how invested in your cheeks he was.

Now would Aventurine nibble your cheeks? Yes and he would act indifferent about it too as he shrugs his shoulders as a mischievous smile graced his lips. ‘I must’ve mistook your chubby cheeks as a sweet treat, oops.’ He’d say and you knew he wasn’t in any regard remorseful of his actions.

He’d do it again in a heartbeat but he really does love your cheeks and won’t let you or anyone say anything bad about them, ever.

Sunday

Find your chubby cheeks endearing and cute.

He gives your cheeks the most affection, whether it’s kissing them, caressing them with his fingertips or even giving them a playful nibble as he laughs when you squeal.

‘I cannot help it my sweet, your cute plush cheeks were left unguarded to my attack.’ He chuckles as he kisses your cheeks again, loving how they felt under his lips that he couldn’t help but take another nibble.

When he’s stressed, he would sit himself in front of you, hold your face and begins playing with your chubby cheeks with the most focused look on his face. It would’ve been cute if he wasn’t playing with your cheeks as though they were mouldable as clay.

You: hard day sweetie?

Sunday, pinching and prodding your cheeks: what gave that away my beloved.

You: just a guess.

Your cheeks would be aching for days afterwards but at least Sunday makes up for it by massaging them and smothering them in affection.

Dan Heng has found himself developing cuteness aggression because of your cute fucking cheeks! How dare you!

He tries to act nonchalant when staring at you when eating, his eyes focusing in on how your cheeks would puff up, much like a chipmunks would when stuffing their cheeks with food for the winter. However he must’ve not been subtle enough for the lenses of march’s camera with the amount of pictures taken that day.

He just wanted to squish your cheeks really, really badly and maybe even chomp on them a little, a thought brought about thanks to his dragon noodle side, but he restrained himself from doing so out of respect for you and your boundaries.

However don’t be surprised when he goes and nuzzles his cheek against your own in his sleep and purring a little also. He may even lightly bite your cheek in the process while you were unaware, so when you bring up the teeth marks on your cheek, Dan Heng felt his face flush with heat as he looks away from you and scratched his nose.

You knew it was him but found his expressions of getting caught too adorable to scold him for the fact that you now had to spend the day with people asking if you been bitten by a cat or something in your sleep.

‘Yeah…sure.’ You’d trail off as you side glance Dan Heng, who kept his back to you, knowing damn well you were staring at him as his movements came off as more stiff than normal.

[oneforthemunny]

surprise, surprise |eddie munson x reader|

prompt: eddie forgets your birthday. or maybe he doesn't.

my birthday is in a few days and i wanted to write a little birthday ficlet blurb :) no aus, just eddie.

contains: angst/fluff. birthday doom. kinda asshole eddie?? kinda asshole friends?? really fluffy sweet ending. language.

“So,” Heather leaned over, chin propped in her hands dramatically slumped over the counter. “What’re you doing this weekend?” 

“Nothing,” You hummed, fingers flicking through the crinkled bills. “Why? You know something fun going on?” 

“It’s your birthday.” Heather gawked playfully. “You’re not doing anything for your birthday?” 

You rolled your eyes lightly, pushing the cash drawer closed. “No.” You shook your head, voice tight. 

“Eddie isn’t taking you out?” Heather’s brows furrowed. “Or you’re not going home? Going out? Are you getting a cake?” 

Your heart sank, a familiar burn rising in your chest. You didn’t speak about your birthday much, not much of an occasion for celebration to you, more of one that was dreadful. Another year closer to death, you’d grumble cynically. Still, when Eddie hadn’t even acknowledged it, when your friends had all blown you off for other plans, a new kind of ache formed in your chest. The sting of being forgotten, of being unimportant and discarded- on your birthday. 

It left a bitter taste on your tongue, sardonic and painful when you spoke about your impending birthdate. “No,” You shook your head, chin ducked to your chest. You had never wanted a customer to come in so badly, save you from this painful conversation with your co-worker. “They’re all busy.” 

“Oh.” Heather quipped, face falling at your tone. 

“I mean, it’s my fault.” You added quickly- defensively. Why you were so defensive over the people who had discarded you so easily, you weren’t sure. “I should have planned something earlier, but… I dunno, I got busy and life got super hectic and it just slipped past me-” 

“-No,” Heather shook her head, curls unmoving with the abundance of Aquanet she used, still. “That’s really shitty of them, all of them. It’s your birthday.” 

You stayed silent, wiping the counter half heartedly, swallowing back the familiar burn in your throat that choked you. “I mean, if it was my girlfriend or my friend, I would be buggin’ about their birthday.” Heather shrugged. 

“Yeah, me too.” You muttered. Bouts of memories pouring back into your mind. How you’d planned a party for Eddie, baked him some stupid cake from scratch that was in the Lord of the Rings. You’d gone to countless second hand stores trying to find the ancient recipe, and it took you a day to perfect. Now, he couldn’t even be bothered to take you out? Get you a cheap store bought cake? 

“I’m sorry.” Heather muttered, a solemn, nearly guilty pout on her lips. “Well, you’re off tomorrow, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I get off at three. What if we go out? We can go to the bar- oh, there’s this new band playing in Franklin. Tommy could drive us.” Heather, ever the bubbly optimist, grinned, eyes shining with pride. It was endearing, made your heart squeeze with an ache you weren’t quite sure how to describe. 

“I’ll even get you a cupcake. A good one, from Nadia’s.” Heather added. 

“You don’t have to do that.” You shook your head lightly. You and Heather were work friends, hung out on the rare occasion after work to bitch about work, about the other coworkers, the pain-in-the-ass customers of the day over glasses of Pinot. Selfishly, it felt nice to have someone excited for your birthday. 

You hated that you wished it was Eddie, your own friends. 

“What’s your flavor, hm? Chocolate?” Heather pressed, brushing you off cheerily. 

“Don’t get me a cupcake. I’ll throw it up if we’re drinking. All the icing and liquor.” You snarled your nose playfully. 

“Fine. I’m buying you a drink then.” Heather nodded. She paused, nails drumming on the counter too. “And, I mean, if you want Eddie to come too, of course he’s invited.” Her eyes cut to yours carefully. “I didn’t know if you wanted him to come.” 

“I mean, I don’t know if he’d even be able to.” Your lips pursed, a cutting edge of annoyance in your tone. “He’s so busy.” 

Heather cringed, shooting you an apologetic look. “Yeah, that… I’m sorry, that sucks.” She mumbled. 

A stiff silence fell between the two of you over the whirr of the air conditioning blowing through the vents. “Since it’s so dead, why don’t you go early?” Heather suggested. “I can cover closing.” 

“Heather, Mel will be pissed-” 

“-Mel will be pissed if she has to pay both of us for standing around.” Heather gave you a pointed look. “And you came in before me. I got it.” 

“Are you sure?” You hesitated. “I don’t care to stay in case there’s a rush-” 

“-At seven?” Heather scoffed slightly. “Go. I’ve got it.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Yeah. I’ll call you when I’m on my way, ‘kay?” Heather chirped. 

“See you then.” You waved, cringing at the sing-songy Happy birthday! Heather shouted at you. 

You pulled open your cubby, gathering your purse, your umbrella. You wrote your time on the clipboard, the phone taunting you on the hook next to it. Any other day, you’d call Eddie- call home or the shop, wherever he was, just to let him know you’d be home early. He’d always reply with a silly comment that had your cheeks rushing with heat, warmth swelling in your chest. 

Tonight, you decided against it. He was too busy, anyway. Too busy at the shop, with his friends, at band practice. You tried not to dwell on it, let your mind spiral and spin down a damning dark hole of what ifs. It consumed you anyways, on your drive home, the radio playing on a static filled station that you didn’t bother to change. Background noise drowned out by your own hammering heart. 

Eddie’s van was parked in the gravel of his driveway, leaving just enough space for you to slide in under the covering attached to the trailer. He always let you have that spot, closer to the door, protected from the elements- so considerate. 

It was hard to fathom that it was the same boy who had forgotten your birthday, brushed it off like it was just another day. 

Your throat tightened around the ever growing lump, hands tight from the white knuckled grip you had on the wheel when you turned the keys out of the ignition. The stairs squeaked under your weight, the screen door hissing with the familiar soft screech when you pulled it open. 

“No- Henderson, what the fuck is the matter with you?” Eddie huffed, his voice trailing in from the living room. 

You paused, hand catching the door as it fell, quieting it as it latched. The air was thick, warm with a sticky, sweet smell. Music playing in a low hum from Eddie’s beloved boom box he kept in the living room. 

“You said to hang it!” Dustin’s shrill tone cut through the air. 

“Yeah, hang it high- Jesus Christ, I shoulda just waited until Robin got off.” Eddie was hidden by the wall, but you could practically see him pinching his nose, hand running over his curly bangs. “Can you- Can you go see if we can ice the cake yet?” 

“Yeah, what do I do?” Dustin questioned, a silence falling between the two of them. Your lips curled, swallowing a giggle. “What? I’m not a master chef or something. You act like I should know this. There wasn’t a cake making class-” 

“-There was, you moron. Home Ec, which clearly, you failed.” Eddie huffed in annoyance. You froze at his heavy footsteps, voice carrying closer and closer.“Whatever, can you- just make it look nice in here? Put the rest of the streamers up and- shit!” Eddie flinched, jumping at the sight of you in the doorway. Wide eyed and still, like you’d been caught. 

“Baby,” Eddie’s breath startled. “Hey, uh, what are you- you said you didn’t get- you’re home already?” His voice lifted, carried high in a squeak of surprise. 

“Yeah, I got off early. I thought you were working late.” Your brows furrowed at the tear of plastic, leaning to look around the corner. “What are you doing-” 

“-Don’t look in there.” Eddie snapped, his hand falling on the doorframe, arm blocking your vision. You jumped, glaring at him with annoyance. “I thought you closed tonight?” 

“I thought you closed tonight.” You huffed, arms crossing over your chest. “Clearly that’s not true. What is this? Another campaign night?” You rolled your eyes, body burning with irritation, jaw wound tight with it. 

“What? N-No, I-I thought you wouldn’t be home until later, and I’d have more time-” Eddie rambled, side stepping to block your view behind him. 

“-Ed, I don’t care if that’s what it is.” Your shoulders deflated, a wave of painful exhaustion, disappointment falling over you. “I just wish you would’ve let me know before you invite all these people over to play your game, so I could-” A shimmering glimmer of multicolored sequins caught your eyes, shining in the yellowed light of the kitchen, iridescent hued droplets cast over the cabinets. There, draped over the chair in bright, glittering letters, a small sash that read Happy Birthday! in obnoxiously big letters. 

You paused, eyes scanning towards the cake, cooling on the rack next to the mixing bowl of icing, the icing spatula still in it. Paper mache streamers taped to the ceiling, hung in swooping bouts mixed with the shiny streamers and balloons all the way to the living room. Eddie had brought out the folding table from the crawl space, even put a plastic tablecloth from the store over it to hide the yellowing stains that would never fade. 

Dustin’s eyes met yours, wide and darting between you and Eddie, still holding the roll of streamers he’d yet to hang. “Uh, Happy Birthday?” Dustin shrugged. 

Eddie huffed, shaking his head at him. “Fuck, I-I’m sorry, it was supposed to be a surprise.” Eddie’s foot bounced with anxious adrenaline. “I thought you didn’t get off until eight, and-and I had it all planned, sweetheart, I really did. Steve’s getting the pizza, and everyone’s coming over at seven thirty-ish, and I- I was even going to have them park at Wayne’s in the back so you wouldn’t see.” 

Your chest felt deflated, void of any air, words, anything. Eddie chewed on his lip, hands twitching next to his jeans. “It was going to be this whole thing, fuck!” He huffed. “It was going to be a whole big thing, and…” 

Eddie’s heart leapt when your eyes finally met his. His fingers still drummed against the rough material of his jeans, veins filled with icy excitement, fear, anticipation? He wasn’t sure. 

“I’m sorry.” Eddie whispered, stepping to hover over you, voice dropping to a soft coo, hands sliding over your cheeks. “I’m- I wanted it to be a surprise.” 

You swallowed thickly. Eddie’s touch was soft, but it left you with a tingling burn when his thumb delicately traced your cheek bone. “You- This is for me?” You squeaked. 

Eddie’s lips curled in a half smile, brows creasing. “Well, yeah.” He said playfully. “Who else would it be for?” 

Your brain was deafeningly silent, stunned at every new detail you’d discover. “You said you were busy.” Was all you could muster out, blinking up at Eddie. “You said you had to work late.” 

“I might have fibbed a little.” Eddie tilted his head sillily. “Told a little lie so I could get this set up.” He nodded towards the living room, a balloon floating near the doorway. 

“I just really wanted to surprise you.” Eddie’s shoulders fell. “I was trying to outdo you. Tryna out do what you did for mine. I called all your friends- even Alexandra,” You rolled your eyes at the mention, she was Eddie’s least favorite friend of yours. 

“And I… I just wanted to surprise you.” Eddie blinked down at you. “Just wanted your day to be special.” 

Your day, the phrase wrapped around you, swirled through your veins like a warm hug, squeezing your heart. 

“I’m sorry, it… I didn’t think about work.” Eddie shook his head, running a hand over his forehead. “I didn’t even think about it, and I-” 

“-Eddie,” Your voice caught in your throat. 

Eddie tensed, cringing with expectant dread. He’d ruined it, blew it, the tears were coming and they were deserved. You’d done so well on his, surprised the hell out of him with the cake, decorated for his birthday campaign with lanterns and candles you’d thrifted. Gone all out for him, and he couldn’t even pull off a simple surprise party. 

“I’m sorry.” Eddie whispered, head pressing to yours. His eyes cut around the room, making sure a certain Henderson pest was lurking. 

“Sorry?” You repeated. “Eddie, I-I am surprised.” You choked out, looking around the room with gleaming eyes. 

Eddie paused. “You are?” 

You nodded. “Yeah, I thought you’d forgotten.” You admitted. “I thought everyone had forgotten.”  

Eddie’s brows pinched in a confused scowl. “You thought I’d forget?” He muttered. 

A watery laugh fell from your lips before you could stop it. “Yeah.” You admitted. “You were really convincing.” 

Eddie’s chest boasted playfully. “Oscar worthy?” 

“You’d sweep the competition.” You jested back, arms sliding over his forearms. His hands found home on the small of your waist, pulling you into him. 

“I didn’t forget your birthday.” Eddie said softly. “Just… for the record.” 

“I can see that.” You giggled. “Thank you. It’s-It’s really sweet.” 

“Yeah? I’m glad you like it.” Eddie’s hands rubbed down your spine. “It would look better but… Robin and Nancy didn’t get off until later, and it’s just me and Henderson.” 

“It looks great. Perfect.” Your cheek pressed to the soft cotton of his t-shirt. His nice shirt, Eddie always called it. Broke it out for special occasions. 

“Not perfect. Fucked up the main part.” Eddie grumbled. “I can call everyone, let them know that they can park out front since there’s no surprise anymore.” 

“No, don’t do that.” You shook your head lightly, chin propping against his chest to look up at him. “I’ll leave and come back, and you can still do it. I can pretend to be surprised.” 

Eddie’s lips curled, pulling back to look down at you. “You’re gonna pretend?” He tilted his head. 

“My turn to act.” You teased, brow lifting gently. “Give you some competition.” You poked his tummy playfully. 

Eddie grinned, pulling you back into him, lips sliding over yours in a soft kiss you savored. Melting into each other, fusing into a gooey puddle- it was corny, a cliche. One you’d roll your eyes at if it was anyone else. 

“Happy birthday.” Eddie muttered, lips brushing and tickling your own. 

“Thank you.” You whispered back, hands finding the base of his neck, pushing him back into you. Eddie’s hand fell against the wooden door frame, steadying himself in a rapidly heating makeout. 

“Uh,” Dustin’s voice interrupted the two of you, just as Eddie’s hands were sliding under your work blouse. “Yeah, I-I finished with the streamers.” 

Eddie glared at him, jaw ticking in annoyance when you pulled away. “I’m just going to grab my makeup bag, and I’ll go.” You whispered, cheeks flooding with heat. 

Eddie huffed, rolling his eyes at Dustin when you left. “What? What did I do?” Dustin threw his hands out. 

“Such a fuckin’ cock block, Henderson.” Eddie muttered, stomping into the kitchen. “Put the plates and shit out, will ya?” 

Your performance was Oscar worthy, Eddie decided later, when you stepped through the door of the now darkened trailer, gasping when the lights flickered on and everyone jumped out. You looked positively radiant, glowing with excitement at the small crowd of friends crammed into the doorway. Eddie kissed you, sloppier than he should have, especially in front of everyone, but he didn’t care. Overwhelmed with affection for you. 

He couldn’t tell if you were still pretending when he brought out the cake, the room singing in a harmonious tone to you, candles lit and glowing in the dim light. Eddie didn’t miss the way your eyes sparkled, fingers pressed to your lips at the now iced cake. When your fingers curled under his chin, sharing a fork-full of cake with him, kissing him after so quickly it left his head spinning. 

His birthday girl, it was your day. Eddie never thought he’d love a random day as much as he did. He had no idea how important that day would become when he’d first met you, how it would engrave itself in his mind forever. 

He was glad it did. Looking at you, giggling with your friends on the couch, then again, the next night, singing with Heather at the crowded bar- Eddie’s chest heart swelled. Proud that he’d surprised you, hopeful that he’d get to for the rest of his life. 

Next year, he’d do it right. Really pull off the party you deserved. He’d start saving now, planning too. He decided it that night, tucked between the sheets, your head still on his sweat soaked chest. He could still taste you on his tongue, lips numb from the time he’d spent between your legs. Lashes fluttering in sleep, curled into him, Eddie pulled you closer. He’d get it right next year, you deserved it. 

[ddejavvu]

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

summary: your BeReal for the day is, perhaps, a little too real

contents/warnings: smut (18+, minors dni)

There's no mistaking the notification that chimes on your nightstand. It's BeReal, the unique sound lets you know, and you're not in the best position right now to answer it.

You're in the best position, period. You're sprawled out against Aaron's silky bedsheets, the fabric soothing and cool against your flushed skin. You're sweaty, hot, and bothered, your cunt begging for more as Aaron drives his cock repeatedly through your sopping folds.

"Fuck," You hiss, partially at the feeling of Aaron's teeth scraping at your collarbone, and partially because you panic at the sound, "Aaron, my- gimme my phone."

"Don't you think this is a little more important?" He grunts, nearly knocking his skull into your jaw as he lunges for a kiss. He takes you by surprise, and you're nearly pulled away from your urgency to post when his tongue practically slips down your throat.

You nearly gag on it, and your nails take a break from scratching up his back to weave through the short strands of hair at the back of his neck. It's not long enough to tug, but he huffs at the feeling of your nails scraping across his scalp, and rocks his hips into yours slightly faster.

"Oh, fuck, Aaron," You pant when he finally lets you breathe, burying his head in your shoulder to bite at the skin there instead, "Aaron this is so hot, I wanna- please, I wanna post it."

"No face," He instructs, and you're more than happy to choose a different area of his body to focus on, "Don't need Garcia figuring us out."

The moans that escape your mouth, albeit muffled by Aaron's own, are so pornographic that you're paranoid they'll somehow be captured in the photo you snap. When you finally get your hands on your phone you aim it at Aaron's back, as well as the red stripes left by your newly manicured nails, and snap a photo. Then, with the front camera, your jaw that's been sucked sore by Aaron, and in the corner of the shot, his short black hair and strong jawline nestled against your skin. You keep it just as he's instructed, vague enough of a profile so that your coworkers shouldn't be able to figure out that it's him, and his post without a second thought. You feel the buzzings of replies soon after, but you're no longer capable of caring about them while they vibrate against your nightstand, much happier to focus on Aaron's relentless jackhammering into your pulsating cunt.

--

Gathering in the conference room the next day means that you get a lot of shit-eating grins. You'd expected it, what with the soft porn you'd posted, and you're surprised when even Rossi offers you his congratulations.

"Nice going, kiddo," He knocks elbows with you, and you laugh sheepishly.

"You saw?"

"Morgan filled me in," He nods, "Garcia was the first one to know, of course, but it spread very quickly."

You don't have it in you to be embarrassed in front of your team too badly. You're all adults, and they're more proud of you than anything, even if Reid's smile is extra awkward today.

"Just be glad Hotch doesn't have the app," Emily laughs, and for a moment you forget that they don't know you're together. But you play it off with a wry smile towards her as your Unit Chief walks through the door, and you're happy to let your attention drift to him as he speaks.

His tone is authoritative, like always, and you fight to stop something from stirring between your legs. You tune into what he's saying instead, something about a double homicide in Kansas, and that helps dissuade any distracting thoughts you might have had.

"-and those pictures are... not on the monitor." Aaron narrows his eyes at the black screen, and Garcia nearly breaks the remote trying to get it to respond.

"Sir, I'm trying! I'm sorry," She frets, mashing all of the buttons at once in her panic, "It's not working, I- I think the batteries might be dead?"

"I changed them two weeks ago," Hotch shakes his head while taking the remote from her, stepping up towards the monitor to fiddle with the buttons beneath it, "It's alright, Garcia, it's not your fault."

He cranes his head down to peer at remote in his hand, intent on making sure no acid has leaked from the batteries, but when he does so, the back of his neck is no longer covered by his shirt collar, and it's bright red.

There's clear marks from your nails, red streaks that haven't faded in the mere hours they've been left alone and probably won't for another day. It barely takes any time for a room of profilers to connect two and two, and Penelope's position as technical analyst doesn't hinder her realization.

Your hand shoots over your mouth as the rest of your team exchanges incredulous gasps and jeers, all looking rapidly between you and Hotch. He turns to raise an eyebrow at them all and his eyes land on your bashful grin.

"Remind me to rub some aloe on the back of your neck when we get home," You mumble sheepishly, and there's only more scandalized comments made about how you two go home together.

Aaron's jaw clenches and he sighs defeatedly at the realization that you've both been caught, a hand flying up to cup the back of his neck.

Everyone waits with bated breath to hear what he has to say for himself but he can't manage to muster up anything to save the awkward situation.

"We'll look at the details on the jet," He grumbles, setting the faulty remote on the counter and snatching his bag off of the ground beside his chair, "Wheels up in thirty, and we never speak of this again."

[absfawn]

slight continuation for this bestfriend!abby drabble

bestfriend!abby who, after a few weeks of that night, which was spent fucking herself to the mere thought of you, can’t seem to look you in the eyes whenever she’s near you. you occupy her mind a little too much, always creeping into her head even when she’s trying to ignore those rush of thoughts, to ignore the rush of heat between her legs when you look over at her, mid read of your book, bite your lip and giggle. somehow unaware of how badly she has it for you. but she can’t seem to stop, no matter how hard she tries. most days she’s focused on the way your lips wrap around your thumb, sucking the sugar off your skin when you’re done eating the strawberries she picked up for, and wonders how it would feel to have those same lips wrapped around her clit, messily licking at her cunt. she wonders how it would feel to feel the way you slip your fingers between her folds and right up to her clit, teasing her. abby can barely ever focus on whatever you say to her because she’s always too occupied thinking about your cunt pressing against hers, grinding into her without a single thought in your pretty head.

her mind spirals the day she finally sees you. her baby blues finding it hard to look at your face, more or so sneaking glances at the sleep shorts, legs exposed fully for her eyes and hers alone. she wonders what your skin would feel like under her touch, what sound you would elicit from between your lips if she sunk her nails into the skin. the words are coming out your mouth, but they don’t reach her ears, her lips wedged between her teeth and she’s thinking about your thighs tightly wrapped around her head, fingers buried in her hair, scratching at her scalp as your back arches off the mattress when she finally makes you cum against her tongue, gushing over her lips and chanting her name like it’s the only one you’ll ever know for the rest of your life. maybe she should feel mortified that she’s always thinking about you like this. you, her best friend, who knows every single thing about you. should best friends think of each other like this? thinking about them in ways that they would probably be nervous about? maybe that’s the problem, abby knows you would probably find it fucking flattering she’s had sex dreams and dirty thoughts about you.

“abby? are you listening?”

she wants to scream, yell even, but she doesn’t, she sinks her teeth deeper into her bottom lip, so hard it draws blood, and hums in your direction. “yes, what?” she grumbled out, acting so nonchalantly like she doesn’t want to pin you to the couch and devour your pussy like it was like her lifeline. “what’s up?”

there’s a glint in your eye, one she misses because she’s looking away from you before you have the chance to find her gawking, nosing through the magazines you left out on the table from last night, and shakes your head with a soft laugh. “nothing, was just wondering if you were coming out with me tonight, you remember? the party”

“the party— oh, that party,” abby sighs in realization and slumps more into the chair with a strangled groan, one that has you huffing over and throwing a pillow at her. “you know i don’t like mel.”

“no, but you like me, so you’ll come with me, right?”

abby’s breath hitches in her throat at your choice of words, and she really can’t stop the way her face heats up, surely you don’t know about her big fat crush right? before she’s pinching the bridge of her nose and shrugging. “what do i get for agreeing?”

“you can help me pick a dress!”

jesus fucking christ.

not only does she have to go through hours of you finding the perfect outfit, which she will enjoy a little too much, but then she has to witness your drunk self and the way you’ll be dancing with your friends, grinding up on them like you do every time you go and out have fun with them. she can handle seeing you in baggy clothes, but when you put barely anything on, she’s going to really have to test her patience and not think about all the sinful things she wants to do to you any time you’re in her sights.

maybe abby will need to get drunk out of her mind tonight to stop the thoughts about you that never seem to end, no matter how hard she tries. you drive her insane and you’ve got no idea just how badly.

“fine, but only because it’s you.”

[twstedstoryshop]

FINALLY, I return properly. Kind of. Reason I've been away for so long was because of insane convention season and also had this bad boy in the works. This is one of two commissions done for a friend. Hope you all can enjoy yourselves for the crumbs I produce. -SK

CONTENT WARNING: Blood, violence, depressed s/o, and mentions of toxic past relationships.

Your New Boyfriends Runs Into Your Ex

While Rook Hunt was one of many to find camaraderie in a den of villains, that didn’t mean chivalry was dead to him. Certainly not him.

Under his keen gaze, he knew that when a certain topic was broached, you would shy away instantly. Paled knuckles, a panicked gaze, and your bottom lip near to splitting open by how badly you chewed down.

It was like he was seeing a rabbit or deer caught in a trap, frantic with no escape. Though his heart had been trained to a perfect steel and not feel for his quarry, when he sees that look in your eyes, all defenses fall away.

The topic? Well, the worries of what the future held for you. Moreso in far off days. Would you continue to have your friends by your side? Would someone ever cherish you? Have a deeper connection?

For Rook, it was a no-brainer because of course! Who else was more worthy of adoration and praise than his dear petite grâce? As he would declare this in all his usual grandeur, a small smile would form on your lips, but that happiness never reached your eyes.

Doubt clouded that sweet gaze of yours. In its own way, seeing such clear eyes be veiled by sadness was heartachingly beautiful. Yet it was a beautiful scene Rook couldn’t bear to behold for too long.

When it came to keeping track of you, Rook was extra considerate. If one can call it that… In his mind, he kept careful track of those you interacted with. He watched your mannerisms, your dialogue, anything amiss he would file it away. But for the longest time, it didn’t seem like an outside force was troubling you.

For a moment, Rook considered that whatever wounded your heart was a scar from a distant past he had yet to uncover. What he didn’t expect was said wound abruptly appearing on a normal day.

From a vantage point, perhaps from a second story window or among the trees that dotted the campus, Rook had caught sight of you stone-still on your walk. Before you, an NRC student he couldn’t recall. He didn’t really have time to register the man when Rook had just attention all on you.

Your wide, hollow eyes. Your chest rising and falling rapidly. How you froze so perfectly under the gaze of this man. It was a scene Rook was all too familiar with. Prey terrified beyond its own mind to run, to hide, or even fight.

Your rational mind couldn’t comprehend what your ex was even saying to you as panic held you in its overbearing clutch. The world grew dizzying and just when you felt like your heart would give out, right then and there, a broad arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“Ah, there you are, ma petite grâce. I was looking all over for you. You made me a bit worried, you know!”

It was hard to look up at him as Rook’s hat was tipped just enough for the shadows to mask his features. But your ex needed only one glance for the role of prey to be forced on him. Green eyes with a gaze so sharp, so precise like a notched arrow perfectly aligned to fire, bored right into him.

It didn’t take much time before the ex backpedaled away with his tail between his legs, now only leaving you with Rook.

Rook would face you, gripping your forearms firmly. His expression, soft though. He called out for you, trying his best to snap you from your daze. When you finally realized it was him now before you, your body moved on its own before you could think. A heaviness made you fall against his chest. You shivered, maybe tears and sobs escaping you.

Rook held you so close against him. Like he was cradling a sculpture of the most delicate porcelain. As if one scratch or knock would crumble you into fine dust.

A single hand held the back of your head protectively, letting you weep as much as you wanted against his shirt. His chin nestled along your hair. You would be so blissfully unaware of Rook’s gaze. A complicated stare into space as his mind swam with many thoughts.

Rook always found beauty in the oddest of places. Yet for the first time, there was something Rook found utterly detestable. A vile image that was a blot in his picturesque vision and that was your ex, the source of your pain. But from that ugliness, he did find a most exquisite sensation. A drive to hunt. An unyielding need to protect you.

While he couldn’t spring into action earlier, his quarry was marked. A hunter is patient and he can wait as long as he needs to for one slip-up, one more attempt to dare get near you, and Rook would be sure to let loose a vicious arrow.

There is a tension between you and Floyd on certain days. While most times, it would be all fun and games, just him and his little Shrimpy. But Floyd wasn’t blind to the weight you carried.

It would irritate him on a dime when you obviously had thoughts clouding your mind. So much so that you fidget anxiously or not even pay attention to him. His sharp voice would call over the din of thoughts and you’d see the eel practically inches away from your face.

His dual colored eyes glared at you and a slight frown pulled at his lips. “Geez, what the hell is goin’ on with you!?” He doesn’t mean to be so crass, but to see his Shrimpy unsettled, it frustrated him. 

Moreso that he can’t exactly pinpoint what was going on with you, that he can’t just squeeze it to a pulp and boom, no more problems!

He knew you had your walls and such walls took time to lower to let him in. Floyd had the patience as a waiting moray eel, but if he had the proactiveness to actually act upon his patience? That’s a whole other story. When it came to you, he just wanted to see you happy and unbothered. All reasoning would flutter out the window.

It may or may not have taken a lot of squeezing and thinly veiled threats to your friends for them to fess up information you couldn’t bear to unload on Floyd. A common name would be passed around, an ex from your past. Just the thought that someone else had their hands on you nearly made Floyd break bones if not for the pitiful yelps of your friends to release them in time.

Questions whirled in that skull of his. Why have you never brought this up to him? What did this ex do to you that made you shy away from him? Where was this scumbag now? All of these worries would bleed into his daily life and if it weren’t for Jade and Azul to straighten him out, he would have been throwing tantrums left and right.

It wasn’t until one day that all his frustrations would come to a boiling point into a final, satisfying crescendo. At least for him.

Work was to be done at Mostro Lounge. Floyd was on duty to be a waiter along with yourself. Both of you have opted to be in an awkward silence in your relationship and it was evident by how you both avoided one another, unsure of how to really talk about your issues.

Floyd had taken an order from a particular student, one he could easily sniff out as a rude bastard by his mannerisms and his tones. But if Floyd’s temper got the better of him, he’d never hear the end of it from Azul. He would hand off the order to you to at least serve drinks.

Everything seemed normal until suddenly a glass shattered. All eyes shifted to you who shivered in place. The tray rattled in your hands and below you a cascade of broken glass.

“Y-you…” “The fuck…? What the hell are you doing here!? And look at what you did to my drink! You’re still incompetent as ever, tch!”

You wanted to cry, scream, run away. You felt so ashamed, being treated like garbage again from an ex you swore you’d never let walk all over you again. But at the height of stress, you couldn’t bring yourself to stand up for yourself. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic…

That is until a sing-song, nonchalant voice slid right up behind you. “Ahhhh, what a shame. I apologize on the behalf of our lil waiter here. They’re just nervous is all. Here~ Why don’t I make it up to ya? I can serve ya a drink right here, right now. On the house~” “Finally, some decent fucking service…”

You looked up at Floyd and saw that dangerous glint in his eyes. How his pupils honed on the poor fool as his smile widened so tightly across his face. He reached for a spare glass that was left on the table, presented it with a flourish to your ex, and coyly said, “Readyyyy~? Watch carefully.”

Then, his hand flew so quick to grab a clump of your ex’s hair and slammed it squarely on the glass. The crunch of glass, your scream, and the screech of chairs being pushed back as patrons jumped.

“GYAHAHA, YOU LIKE IT!? IT’S MOSTRO LOUNGE’S OWN PERSONAL RED. Ahhhh, but the red comin’ from you? Pfft, it ain’t worth the shit under my shoe…” Your ex could barely register what was even being said to him from the glass embedded in his face and blood gushing from his nose and broken lips.

Hands covered your mouth in terror as you could barely register what was happening. From panicked students screaming to Azul and Jade holding Floyd back from beating the poor ex to a pulp. All you could really register was the horrifying satisfaction deep in your chest, seeing the one who hurt you so much battered under the hand of someone who protected you…

Leona has his own ways of caring but most of the time, if you cannot read between the lines, it may come off as uncaring.

He does care, but don’t expect a coddling man rushing to be your knight when you are feeling sorry for yourself. The last thing he wants to do is pity you as he knows all too well the humiliation of being pitied.

Instead he observes, he watches, he’s keen to everything you do that isn’t a part of your daily life. In sly ways, he tries to break your moments of dissociating. He calls your name sharply to snap you out of your funk and gives you a menial task.

Telling you to maybe preen his mane, join Ruggie on an errand, what have you. It’s better to keep yourself occupied than whatever is plaguing your mindscape.

Sometimes, he will even abruptly lean against you, his weight toppling the both of you over. Even if you protest under him, he will insist he’s really tired and just wants something warm beside him to help him sleep. In truth, it’s just another way to stop your self-deprecating thoughts.

Though he will speak up in annoyance if your depressed thoughts start to bleed into your relationship. It will sting, but he means well. He tells you gruffly that he’s not in the mood to lay next to baggage. He wants only his partner, dammit.

You may argue, you may not, it depends on how you react but at the end of it, one way or another, you’re going to have to face him and this problem that hangs over you.

If you take time before approaching him or spill everything in one go, he will wait patiently and listen. But cowardice by running away he won’t accept and would want answers promptly.

One way or another, the truth has to come from you and you explain the thoughts that coil around you like a petulant serpent. A name and face that digs into your chest horribly. Your ex and the ways he has hurt you in many ways.

Leona listens stoically, letting you share your story before acknowledging and commending the strength it took for you to finally admit this. He knows all too well the pains of the past, he shares in your frustrations. But the past stays in the past for a reason.

Now it’s you and him now. You define yourselves here in the present. If anyone says otherwise? Well, he’d like to see them try.

Who would have known that such a time would come so soon when one day, someone had the gall to start harassing you right in the Savanaclaw dorm.

That same face that always lingered around you like a ghost was here right now in the flesh, taunting you at the edges of the Spelldrive field. Your ex sneered at you, wondering what the hell you were doing around here during his practice hours. Had the nerve to accuse you of stalking him despite your split.

Your anger boiled your blood, your face flushed. Your nerves alighted with a burning fury that made the dorm’s dry heat pale in comparison. But your body did not respond to you. Your throat froze despite wanting to curse and yell out at your ex.

What neither you expected though while your mouth gasped for something, anything to throw at this scumbag, was a lion’s roar peeling across the field. A shadow loomed over your ex and both of you looked up to a silhouette blocking the sun and a pair of piercing green eyes.

Astride his broom, Leona stared squarely at the ex. “For a minute, I thought I heard annoying squawks from a mangy vulture, but now I just see a whelp. Having the nerve to approach my partner…”

Without missing a beat, Leona lowered himself to the ground and sauntered right over to your ex. Your ex tried to stand his ground but anyone could tell he was practically shaking in his spot.

“So.... What were you two talking about?” It was such a simple question. So trivial. But the way Leona spoke each word, it was like a pair of hungry jaws were ready to snap behind every syllable. He dared for your ex to slip up.

“N-nothing… Nothing at all… I was l-leaving…” “Hooo?” Leona’s tail whipped behind him in amusement. “So you just waltzed up to my partner and gawked at them? Nothing left your useless, flapping gums? I can hardly believe that.”

Leona’s knuckles cracked as he flexed his hand and for a quick second, you swore you saw wind and dust particles gather between his finger tips. The air felt still and you heard your ex gulp audibly from a dry throat. Then, a sudden calmness.

“But if you were just about to leave, then by all means, scurry along. I hate people wasting my time.”

To which your ex immediately did, turning on his heel, so close to make a run for it. Then, like a giant paw slamming atop a helpless mouse, Leona’s hand roughly grabbed his shoulder and stopped him.

“A warning since I’m feeling so generous today… Don’t ever let me catch you near them again. Ya hear me? Or else, I’ll make you a nice addition to the scenery. We could always add more sand and bones.” Leona cracked a toothy smirk with darkness in his eyes. His fangs glinted in the sun and it was then you truly realized the fierce lion you had taken in as your boyfriend.

[4m1rz]

Young Luv

NMIXX Sullyoon x Male Reader

Kink: multiple creampies, class sex, mommy kink

Special thanks to @lustspren for giving me the idea for the title of the fic. Also thanks to @mode-lfy for beta-read it as well being the inspiration of the fic.

It was a normal day in PJY University. All of the students have done the middle term exam and are waiting to know how they did and what their results will be. This also includes Han Yechan, despite him being nervous about it.

Han Yechan is in the final year of university. He is well known to be the top athlete in the university as being the notorious basketball player of the university. He is always getting picked for basketball matches, whether it's against other universities or the nationals. This even happens in his final year as he is still being scouted for those matches.

However, due to him being too active with his basketball matches, his grades were always at the lowest. This causes him to always get scolded by the lecturers that teach his classes. Some lecturers even threaten him by saying that they will report it to the coach of the basketball team, hoping that he'll get dropped off from the team.

This makes him scared a bit despite the fact that he believes that the basketball coach would not be removing his name from the team. Unfortunately, no matter how he tries, he is not able to catch up with the learnings due to his hectic schedule. This does make him a bit frustrated and almost given up as he does not want to repeat his semesters.

This time however, he is confident that he will pass the exam. The reason; he had an amazing tutor that helped him to study back the subjects he's been missing for such a long time. His tutor also tries the best to make him focus on his study and gives advice.

Back to the present time, Yechan is at the entrance of his classroom. As he opens the door, he notices there are some students already in the classroom. However, there is one girl who takes all of his attention which is the class representative, Seol Yoona or mostly known as Sullyoon.

Sullyoon is the daughter of the university director, Seol Taehyun. She is always being talked about all around the university because of her beauty. However, there's also some students and lecturers in the university who talk badly about her.

The first reason is about how inappropriate she wears on the university campus. This can be seen with how short her skirt is and the unnecessary accessory all over her uniform. She is also being talked badly about because she always gets good scores in exams as if she bribes the lecturers that teach her by using his dad as a threat. Nonetheless, there is still someone that believes how she actually is.

Back to the present time, Yechan walks towards where Sullyoon is sitting and greets her. “Hey there Yoona, how are you doing today?” He says. Despite almost all of the students and lecturers calling her Sullyoon, only Yechan prefers to call her by her real name. He believes that her real name suits her and sounds prettier, which makes him constantly calling her that.

This makes her look at him with her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Hey Yechan. I'm doing just fine. Are you excited to know your result for this exam?” She chimes which makes him giggle and scratch his head awkwardly. “I sup-pose… Well then, I'm going to my seat.” He exclaims, to which she nods and lets him go to his seat.

Several minutes later, everyone else was already in the class and the lecturer, Ms Song Jimin had finally arrived. She teaches the subject a bit first before announcing that she'll be giving the results of the exam. This causes some students to be nervous yet excited at the same time.

And with that, it is time to announce the grades for every student in the class, starting from the lowest and progressively moving to the highest. After Ms Song reveals each student's result, they go to the front and take the exam paper. However, most of the students in the class feel weird as Yechan’s name hasn't been called as they know that he always has the lowest grade.

“Now, I'll announce the ones getting the highest grades for the exam. This time, there's two people in this class that achieve the highest grades...” The lecturer says and then continues. “The first person is, as always, our class representative, Sullyoon.” She says to which it is followed with an applause from everyone in the class. Then, Sullyoon goes to the front and takes her graded exam paper before Ms Song says to her, “Keep up the good work.”

“For the second person, oh wow… I didn't expect this would happen. It's Han Yechan.” She says it with a very surprised yet excited tone. This results in all of the students in the class to be shocked and engage in small chats amongst each other as this incident hasn't happened till now. Then, he shyly walks to the front and takes the exam paper.

“I didn't expect you'd ace this exam, Yechan. Did you cheat or is someone able to tutor you?” Ms. Song asks him which makes him chuckle sheepishly before answering. “Yeah, I had someone to tutor me. That someone is able to make me recap the whole subject without letting me be distracted. I really have to thank that person later.” He says.

After that, he walks back towards his seat. As he was going back to his seat, he felt someone had passed a folded paper on his used-to-be-free hand. Nonetheless, he waits until he is finally at his seat before unfolding the paper to which there's something written on it:

‘Stay with me here after class’

-SY-

After he reads the paper, he looks to the possible culprit which is Sullyoon to see that she's looking back at him. Then, she gives him a sultry wink which makes him giggle a bit. He is eager to know what she is up to later on.

About 3 hours later, at around 5 pm, the class ends; to be frank, it's the only class of the day. Everyone in the class starts to leave the classroom one by one, except for Yechan and Sullyoon. After it is confirmed that there's only the two of them in the class, Sullyoon walks towards the door before closing and locking it.

After that, she walks towards Yechan's seat before sitting on his table. However, before she sits on his table, she lifts his head before pecking his lips which makes him a bit stunned. “Congrats baby, I knew you could ace this exam.” She says.

Well, there is a secret that both of them have been keeping from anyone else in which they are secretly a couple. They have been dating in secret for about 4 months now since the day that she agrees to tutor him. The person that he has been thanking earlier is actually her.

That is also why he didn't believe any of the rumours that had been pointed towards her. Despite sometimes asking her dad to do or buy stuff for her, she is mostly independent and very hardworking. This is mostly due to her dad trains her to do things by herself and not hoping for others yet still pampering her with love and wealth. He also remembers how diligently she tutors him for the exam.

“Hehe, thanks… It is all thanks to my beautiful, sexy and diligent tutor right in front of me. I thank you so much for it, babe.” He says and gives her a wink. Somehow, she suddenly frowns after he says that. Then, she leans forward and grabs his necktie before tugging it towards her, making their face really close.

“That’s not what you should call me right now, baby. Come on, call me correctly.” She says while giving him a sultry smirk. Knowing her agenda, he playfully rolls his eyes before saying back. “Ugh, fine. Thank you so much for tutoring me, mommy.” This makes her giggle before releasing her grip on his necktie.

“That's more like it, baby. You're such a good boy.” She exclaims and returns him back with a wink. “Oh please mommy, don't act like you're the dominant one here. I still remember the way you begged me the last time I rammed your pussy.” He retorts with a playful mocking tone. This only makes her giggle even more.

“What can I say, my sweet, strong baby has an amazing dick, mmmmh…” She says and licks her lips, imagining how he always fuck her. He is only able to shake his head while looking at her expressions.

“... Anyways, since you did excel in this exam, I will tell you your gift as promised. Well, it's in front of you right now.” She chimes and gives yet another wink. “So… you're my gift huh? Hehe, I guess you finally want to fulfill your fantasy of getting fucked in the classroom, mommy. About time we make these soundproof walls for good use.” He retorts and smirks at her.

Apparently, the whole university building had soundproofing walls installed about a year ago, thanks to Sullyoon asking her dad for it. She says that she wants it to make her even more focused in class but deep down, she really wants to have sex at school which is on her bucket list.

“Mommy has been planning for this since forever…” She says. Then, she suddenly lifts her skirt a bit, showing her laced purple panties that already had some wet spots on her crotch region. “... besides, don't you want to help mommy fulfill her bucket list of getting fucked in school?” She continues before biting her lips seductively.

This causes his dick to start getting hard underneath his pants, creating a bulge. She smirks even more, seeing how her actions make him hard already.

“Alright, fine mommy. I'm also getting impatient with all of your teasing. Let's start now.” He says which makes her feel giddy. “Now that's a good boy. However, mommy has set up some rules. Mommy only letting you to fuck my pussy for up to 3 rounds. Also, you must cum with mommy for each round, understand?” She orders to which he nods to it.

After that, she gets down from the table and starts pulling down her skirt and panties at the same time. This also indicates him to pull down his pants and boxers, revealing his already hard dick. Upon seeing his hard dick, she smirks more before getting onto his lap, sitting right on top of his dick. Then, she starts to grind on it which makes both of them moan.

“Mmmh, mommy… I thought you wanted to do this quickly.” He whines which makes her giggle. “Be patient, baby. Mommy wants to… mmmmh… make your dick wet enough first.” After a while, as she confirms that his dick is wet enough, she lifts herself a bit. Then, she holds his dick, aiming with her pussy before plunging down, making both of them moan even more.

“Oh god, your pussy still feels so tight, mommy… Even af-ter what we did two days ago, mmmmh.” Yechan chimes. As Sullyoon keeps on riding his dick, both of them start to unbutton each of their shirts before removing it, leaving him fully naked while her with only a matching laced purple bra which he then unclasps and removes it from her.

After removing her bra, he immediately attacks her tits with licks, sucks and bites which makes her squirm more. “Mmmmh, that's it baby. Make mommy’s tits feel good, oh gosh!!” Her response makes him do it more to her a lot more erratically.

About 15 minutes later, both of them feel each other about to have their own releases with his dick pulsating and her pussy throbbing. “Go on t-then, baby. Cum with mommy. Mommy needs to be filled right now, mmmmh…” Sullyoon groans, which leads to them to cum at once and also indicates the first creampie for her.

Five minutes worth of pantings later, she gets up from his lap and their mixed cums start to get out from her pussy. “Oops, it starts leaking. I guess you have to fill mommy with your cum again, baby.” She says to him with a smirk on her face. This makes him scoff before getting up and carrying her towards the lecturer table.

As he put her on the table, she instantly spreads her leg, insisting him to fuck her in that instance. However, instead of inserting his dick back into her pussy, he inserts two fingers inside her and starts fingering. This makes her shocked which leads to her whining madly.

“Nnngh, come on baby. Fuck mommy’s pussy again, I need it!!!” This makes him chuckle and pulls his fingers before pushing his dick back into her pussy. “Y-Yes, baby. Fuck this needy mommy of yours, nice and hard, mmmh.” She squeals loudly, feeling the pleasure from getting her pussy filled with his dick.

As he thrusts his dick back inside her pussy and starts fucking her again, he wants to ask the one question he had since before they did this. “So mommy, that purple lingerie… mmmmh… seems new. When exactly did you buy- oh god- those? How exactly have you been…. mmmmh… planning this?” His question makes her chuckle with moans in between.

“Oh baby, mommy just bought that purple lingerie a couple days ago. You see, mommy has been planning this… mmmmh… since our exam ended a few weeks ago.” She answers, yet she continues more. “Mommy knows that you have worked hard for the test… and I might have been spoiled with the results earlier than the rest of us since my dad got the info from our teacher. That's why I've been preparing for this.”

Her answers make him become more ecstatic which causes him to thrust into her pussy even faster and harder from their first round. This causes her to moan as loud as she could, as if she was screaming for her life.

“Y-Yes baby!!! Keep fucking my pussy. Make mommy sore really good at the end of this session, oh god!!” Her moans just keep making him more aroused to which he complies with keep fucking her pussy. It didn't take a long time after that before both of them cum at the same time yet again, which also makes it the second time he fills her up with his cum.

“Make sure you hold it in this time, mommy.” He warns her to not let his cum to get out from her pussy. However, as soon as he pulls out his dick, a huge load of their mixed cums spill out from her. This makes him sigh before looking at her face to see a huge smirk is formed on her face.

He then puts his hand around her neck, lightly chokes her. “You really know how to make me infuriated. Such a bratty mommy you are.” He playfully mocks her to which she nods pretty quickly to it. “Yes baby, I am your bratty mommy. I love to make you mad so that you could fuck mommy harder and harder.” She answers with gleaming eyes.

Her answers just make him only able to shake his head, baffled at her brattiness. Minutes later, he lifts her once again and carries her towards the classroom door. Then, he bends her over before lining himself at her back.

“Y-Yah, why here? Don't we have somewhere else in this classroom to fuck?” She asks with a worried tone which results in him scoffing. “Oh please mommy, you're the one who is always asking for having sex in public places. Besides, when we did it, your pussy seemed to be wetter, as if you really wanted us to get caught.”

She shakes her head to what he just said, trying to deny his exclamation. However, it is futile as he pushes his dick back into her pussy to experience that her pussy is indeed, feels a lot wetter than their previous two rounds. With a smirk on his face, he mouths ‘I told you so’ at her before pounding her pussy again.

She still tries to retaliate, meeting his poundings and shaking her head continuously while looking at him innocently, she tried though. However, it is no use as he hardens his poundings every time she tries to meet his pounds. In the end, she just whimpers before admitting her defeat.

“F-Fine, you win. Mommy always wanted us to have sex… nnng… in secluded public places. Mommy also loves adrenaline when doing it and hopes we might have a moment when we almost got caught doing this.” This results with him humming in satisfaction towards her response as he's still pounding her pussy.

As time goes by, both of them are at the brink of cumming for the third and final round of their sex sessions. “G-Gosh, baby… I'm so close and I know you are too. Fill mommy’s pussy one last time with your hot cum, please, mmmmh!!!” She insists on him. In the end, he obliges and after a minute later, he releases the final load of cum for the session deep inside her pussy. This also triggers her to cum all over his lower body.

As both of them are panting after that tiring session, Yechan roams his hands all over Sullyoon's body, trying to prolong the sensation of their orgasms. This makes her hum, feeling the warmth of his touch. Amusingly, he ends it by giving her butt cheeks some spanking which makes her yelp and turns her head towards him before giving her a playful yet deadly glare.

He then pulls his dick from her pussy after he feels that he has felt relaxed enough after his orgasm. Fortunately, this time, there is just a small amount of their mixed cums spilling out. “I guess you do know how to save my cum inside of you after all, mommy.” He says with a big smirk on his face which makes her scoff as if he's mocking her.

“Anyways, do you like the prize that I have prepared for you, baby?” She asks him, right after she turns around from her previous position. He just nods as an answer. “It was, indeed. Honestly, any present from you is good enough for me, but this is definitely top tier. At least, we're able to fulfill your bucket list.” He continues not until there's a loud rumbling sound coming from their tummies.

This makes both of them chuckle, knowing that both of them are exactly hungry. “Well then, I guess we better get something to eat. We did spend our time here without knowing it's almost dinner time.” Sullyoon says while looking at the wall clock in the classroom.

“I guess you're correct, Yoona.” He says which results in him getting pinched by her. “Yah, I told you to call me that when we're in public. You can only call me baby or mommy when it's just the two of us.” She whines and follows it up with her lips pouting. This makes him chuckle, seeing her looking so cute at the moment before giving those lips of hers some pecks.

“Hehe, I know… It's just, I love to see your pouting lips when you're upset.” He explains. “Anyways, let's get back dressed and get ourselves our dinner. I'm sure you're up for more rounds after dinner. Gonna get your other two holes to be filled with my cream.” He adds more with a smirk on his face to which, there is also a smirk appearing on her face as well. Nonetheless, they went back to where their outfits are left, putting them back on before leaving the classroom.

[yandere-daydreams]

Black Cat!Wanderer, who you find in an alleyway behind your apartment complex, badly bruised and barely conscious. He's poorly dressed, even for a hybrid, shivering and deathly pale, but he still finds the strength to snap at you as you approach him. You have to bribe him with fish you can't afford and a blanket nicer than anything you'd buy for yourself before he lets you so much as touch him, and even then, he's quick to growl and tell you to get away from him as soon as you try to pet him. He's a temperamental kitten, but considering the state he's in, you can't say you blame him for being so defensive.

Black Cat!Wanderer, who lets himself into your apartment after a few weeks of alleyway visits and offered meals. He doesn't scratch at your door or ask to come in. You find him splayed out on your couch when you get home, muttering that it'd been too long since the last time he saw you and scowling into a clawed-up pillow. He still comes and goes as he pleases (you wouldn't try to keep a hybrid so clearly used to being on his own contained), but he spends most of his time curled up on your bed or trailing after you around the house, still pretending he'd rather be anywhere on earth other than in your lap. He says that you're just like every other human, that he only hangs around you for the food and a warm place to sleep, but the way he purrs when you scratch at his ears says otherwise.

Black Cat!Wanderer, who doesn't just visit you at home, either. He always seemed to ""coincidentally"" be passing by your office just in time to walk you home from work, and doesn't seem to consider a quick grocery run or shopping trip to be a good enough excuse to get rid of him. You're lucky he's a cat, rather than something bigger, something more difficult to pass off whenever he follows you into a cafe or bodega. He's lucky that he's so cute, or else you might call his bluff and start treating him like the housecat he won't admit he wants to be.

Black Cat!Wanderer, who doesn't know that you know he likes to cuddle up to you while you're asleep. Most of the time, he'll wait until you go to bed properly before curling up against your side, but you've found him laid out on top of you after passing out on your tiny couch, fast asleep despite his best efforts to always scurry away before you notice he's there. You never considered yourself a catperson before you met him, but god, sometimes you feel like you could spend the rest of your life fawning over your shy little alley cat.

Black Cat!Wanderer, who's been with you long enough to be hyper-aware that there are people - humans, nonetheless - you'd rather spend time with than him. He doesn't need your attention, he doesn't need you, but he's not going to lose you to a human, either - not when you're the only person he can stand to be around.

Black Cat!Wanderer, who might just be a cat but still has teeth and claws as sharp as any predator. Following the coworker you've mentioned just a few too many times home is child's play, and it only takes a few seconds to drag his claws across their throat, to dig his teeth into their jugular and shut them up before they can scream. It's just like killing a rat, something you've praised him for a thousand times, even if he still cringes when the taste of iron hits his tongue.

Black Cat!Wanderer, who spent enough time as a stray to know the best places to put something he doesn't want anyone else to find. The body is dropped into a gutter with a loose grate, the blood washed off of his face in a relatively clean drainage canal. He's home by sunrise, and he can't control the way his chest rumbles as he slots himself against your side - happier than he's ever been before.

Black Cat!Wanderer, who'd do anything to make himself the center of your little world.

[sylverstorms]

~Honkai: Star Rail Women and How they Hug You~

Characters: Kafka  |  Black Swan  |  Acheron |  Firefly  |  Robin |  Himeko  

Warnings: None, SFW.

Kafka is always hot. In every sense of the word. 

Even in the heart of winter, she is a source of endless heat when you join her on the couch after missions. With her mauve hair loose, she is the personification of temptation as she languidly motions for you to come closer. Once you’re within reach, her fingers slide like liquid over your nape, pull you flush against her, with your head resting on either her shoulder or her generous chest. 

She loves to talk low in your ear while she holds you like this, fingernails gently scratching at the base of your neck. Sometimes, she shares details about her missions. If she’s in a naughtier mood, however, expect the kinkiest things to fill your ears, until you’re blazing red. 

Black Swan feels like a cool spring. A calm oasis for you to rest in, for however long you wish. 

All you have to do is speak her name into the aether, and she will come to you, as soon as she is able. Be it after nightmares or long days, you always smile when you feel your bed dip with a familiar weight. Her graceful arms encircle your neck, guiding you onto her chest. If you’ve closed your eyes, overcome by the bliss, before you see her amused smile, then you will feel it on your skin when she kisses you. 

Hugging her is heavenly. Like you’re enveloped in a cloud. Soft, fresh, plush in all the right places. And as soon as she asks you how her ‘dear’ or ‘darling’ is faring, if you missed her, that is when you utterly melt.      

Acheron is steady and so very safe. 

It’s like nothing in the world can touch you while you’re with her. She’s not one to initiate long embraces first, hesitant due to her powers, but if the two of you are alone she will often cast you a longing look that speaks volumes of how badly she wants to be close to you. One she hopes you don’t catch, even though you always do.  

When she hugs you, her strong arms wrap around you like you are the most precious thing in the world. She likes to tuck her chin onto your shoulder, sometimes turn into your neck, breathing you in. Her body is firm from years of combat, but her skin is so soft to the touch. The corner of her lip always tugs upwards in amusement when you caress her abs (which is every chance you get).

Firefly is an absolute sweetheart. 

Do you want to hold her? She will stop whatever she is doing and immediately come over to you. More often than not, she ends up curled into your lap with her arms around your shoulders. Adores nuzzling into your neck and pressing her cheek against yours like a little kitten. If you kiss her jaw or temple, she will melt in your arms. 

Very sensitive. If your lips caress her neck, best believe she will make a sound and immediately turn tomato-red. No matter how long you’ve been together, flirting in this position will result in her cheeks growing hot. Which only makes you want to tease her that much more. 

Robin is always a delight to hug. Cosy and sweet and soft. 

She absolutely flushes at the smallest hint of PDA if other people are around, but she will not deny you ever. Behind closed doors is a different story though. The girl will come over to you and wrap her arms around you from behind, silently asking to be held because she’s often too shy to say it. If you toy with her hair, massage her back or nuzzle into her wings, she will shiver against you. 

Likes to trace small shapes on your skin with her fingertips when you’re cuddling. Will die inside and go to heaven if you do it to her first. If you simply lay together, relaxing, she may start humming a tune by your ear in her angelic voice. A privilege reserved for her one and only <3

Himeko is soothing in every way. The way she smells, the way she touches you, the way she makes you feel. 

She is gentle like the warmth of a fireplace after a long trudge through snow and she never gets tired of holding you. You don’t even have to ask. One look and she will know to come over and embrace you. If other members of your team are around, she establishes small points of contact, like an arm around your waist or a hand at the small of your back. Until you are alone, where she will fully guide you into her arms. 

Loves to gently massage your back or run her thumb in small circles between your shoulderblades. Always exhales a soft chuckle if you kiss her collarbone and tell her how good she feels. You are so comfortable when you sleep against her perfect body that you have trouble sleeping without. Not that she minds this one bit.     

[hannieehaee]

LOST IN STEREO

18+ / mdi

summary: after kicking you out of your own band to seek success with the band on his own, vernon finds his plans falling through, all the while you'd reached success on your own. now leading your own label, vernon finds himself having to earn your forgiveness, not realizing how badly he'd hurt you years back.

content: friends2enemies2lovers!vernon, band!au, drummer!vernon, guitarist!reader, unrequited crush (kinda), pining, vernon kicks you out of your band bc ur a girl (asshole, ik), really incorrect music industry terminology (i know nothing about music oops), afab reader, reader becomes a producer after being kicked from vernon's band, seokmin, chan, hannie and kwannie are in the band, smut, penetrative sex, dry humping, fingering, etc.

wc: 8.8k

a/n: i know the summary and content are all over the place, but i promise the story in itself is coherent</3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

"Fuck! Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?"

He winced at the sudden sight of you upon turning a corner in the huge building he was currently exploring, never having expected to bump into you there.

"I work here, Vernon. I would've expected you to do some research on the labels you're auditioning for."

"W-wait. What do you mean you work here?"

"I'm a producer here. What? Surprised?"

"N-no!" he spluttered.

Fuck, you looked good. No, scratch that. You looked beautiful beyond belief.

How long had it been? Three? Four years?

He still felt horribly about it. You know, that whole situation in which he threw you under the bus for his own benefit – only for everything to come crashing down on him immediately after. Not only did he feel like an asshole, but also like a huge idiot. Letting go of a friendship just for a failed attempt at success would go down as the dumbest thing Vernon ever engaged in.

In his defense, he was a teenager at the time. Okay, maybe he was freshly 19, but it felt like the same thing back then. He had been an idiot who dumped his best friend and crush just for a chance in the music industry. What he had thought that to be the smartest move to make for the future of your shared band ended up becoming his greatest mistake. To this day, he still thought back on it with shame.

What sucked the most was how talented he knew you were. That, and the knowledge that he had been the sole person to blame for taking this opportunity away from you – from taking your own band away from you.

He quickly came to realize that it had been a horrible mistake, but it was too late by then. Contractually speaking, you had never really existed within the group. Your friendship had also crumbled soon after, despite your reassurance that all you wanted was the best for the band, even if that meant they'd continue on without you.

At the time, you had been the band's sole music producer, and song writer, and engineer, and you were the one who had a macbook with garage band on it, and–

"Vernon!"

Fuck. Had he been in his head this whole time?

You looked annoyed. Also way more grown and mature than when he last saw you at 19 years old. Fuck, did he mention you looked insanely hot?

"Sorry, I, uh, as I was saying," he cleared his throat, "Of course I'm not surprised. You're the most talented person I've ever known."

And Vernon truly meant his words. As teenagers, your dream to become a successful guitarist had been what inspired him to dust off his drums and go on this adventure with you, employing a few of your other friends to join your wannabe pop-punk band.

You weren't just a dreamer, like Vernon. Vernon knew you weren't just all talk. If anyone could walk the walk, it was you. With your innate ability with not only the guitar, but a myriad of other instruments, Vernon always admired you for your natural talent with music. The insane confidence you carried also did not help matters. It sure did not help the irrevocable crush he'd had on you since he met you. The air of security you always carried with you was something Vernon looked up to and was insanely attracted to. Sometimes it'd make it difficult to be around you without revealing his crush, as he would constantly swoon over your mere presence.

His feelings for you not only as a childhood friend, but also as his unrequited crush, only made the whole situation worse. At first, he dumbly thought that you understood why he had to ask you to leave the band, but it was obvious to him within only a few weeks that what his decision had done irreparable damage to your friendship.

Thinking back to it, he realized how stupid it was for him to even consider joining a label that denied your entrance simply due to your gender. Attempting to create the image the label had wanted to force on them should've been the first red flag. Taking Vernon aside to talk him into kicking you out should've been more than enough for Vernon to break out and whisk you away from a label that clearly didn't deserve you.

Sadly, Vernon had been too invested in making it big at the time. He truly would've given anything to find success as a musician as soon as possible – and apparently you should've taken those words literally.

It had been about a year since you first started the band at that point. Your very low budget garage band consisted of you, Vernon, and a few of your friends. Vernon was on drums, you on guitar, Hannie was bass, Kwan main vocals, Seokmin keyboard, and Chan second guitar. It was the perfect setup, if Vernon had anything to say about it.

The entire composition of the band had been yet another thing that formed all thanks to you. As much as Vernon insisted on saying it had been a shared effort, he now knew better. He needed to give credit where it was due. If it wasn't for you, Vernon never even would've met the guys he now considered his best friends, as you had been the one to take charge of recruiting more members into the group.

Despite that, you allowed Vernon to have the role of co-leader in the band with you. The way you had rationalized it was that you didn't believe in a monarchy; you much more wanted to have a democracy, so you believed that being co-leaders beat a singular leader by far.

This also demonstrated the intense trust you had on Vernon. Except Vernon's greedy mentality at the time did not respect this vision.

Surprisingly, even to his younger self, it didn't take much convincing for the recruiting manager of the label to convince Vernon into kicking you out. Just one signature from him, and all the male members of the group would be secure under a semi-established label that would guarantee them the exposure he'd been wanting, oh so badly, for the past year of being in the band. All he thought of was his future success, completely ignoring that his best friend would be left behind in the process. Simultaneously, he ignored the protests of his members, believing this to be for the greater good for the band.

In your usual supportive fashion, you were a trooper through it all. Your initial reaction was one of confusion and hurt, but it was quickly wiped away under the facade of being happy for your friends. If you couldn't find success with them, you were glad they'd be able to make it big without you.

Vernon made the mistake of believing these words, not realizing that he had just broken all your trust, and along with it your heart.

Then came the other end of the stick.

To no one's surprise, the record deal fell through. Kicking you out before agreeing to sign the group should've made alarms go off in Vernon's head on its own, but everything that came after was somehow worse.

The label had attempted to poke at every single detail about the band, trying to form them into something they could never see themselves becoming. Their looks changed, their sound changed, and fuck, Vernon just could not stop thinking about you throughout it all.

Before it all completely fell apart, they had been able to perform a few shows. Though they were nothing too big, they were far more than the small pubs in which you guys had performed before sighing the contract. Vernon was completely unable to enjoy any of this, though. The blank space on stage kept his mind uneasy. He constantly wondered about you and reminisced about your beginnings together.

This arrangement only lasted a few months. That was when everything truly went to hell. With lack of cooperation both from him and the rest of the guys, it wasn't too hard to get the label to drop them.

It just wasn't a match. Vernon would be the first to admit that greed got the best of him. Taking the very first signing offer that they got had been too naive of him, leading the band to be labeless and without a lead guitar and female vocal. And also leaving Vernon without a best friend.

A few years were spent attempting to break out once more, only achieving certain virality online through the first year of trying. It wasn't until recent times that Vernon and his band really blew up through some original work of Vernon's they had posted online. That's what actually led to Vernon's current position – touring one of the best labels for people in his genre after having established a solid fanbase online as an independent band.

Since Vernon had lost contact with you soon after kicking you out of the band, he eventually gave up on finding you (though memories of you would still haunt him). Not having kept up with your individual career, he never knew you actually made it out and into the big leagues on your own. You being a renown producer under an artistic name made sense to him, though. It explained why he had not heard of your name during all that time, and it also made sense with your past experience making music when you were in the band. Hell, you were the one who taught Vernon everything he knew about producing.

Despite being incredibly glad that his mistake hadn't made you lose your love for music, Vernon still felt disheartened at seeing you. In another life, the two of you would've made it here together, hand by hand and as the best friends you'd always been (hopefully even more by now). But now you were here, successful but at completely different rates, and with you feeling clear disdain towards Vernon's mere existence.

You simply scoffed at his compliment, rolling your eyes.

"I don't need your praise, Vernon."

Well, it seemed like he couldn't really win regardless. It also didn't help that he felt like a total loser standing in front of you, now aware that you had made a name for yourself.

He had heard your artistic name before, but since you apparently stuck to being a producer rather than be on stage, he never put a face to the name.

"I, uh, are you one of the producers we're auditioning for?"

"Yeah. Good luck with that, Vernon," you seemed far too pleased with yourself. There was venom in your eyes Vernon had never seen before in all those years he knew you.

"Listen, I-"

"Whatever you're going to say about our past, you can save it. Nothing you can say can make up for what happened. I won't get in your way during your meeting with the label. Only because I still love the rest of the guys," you softened a bit, before getting that serious look in your eye again, "But I also won't do you any favors."

Gulping, he responded, "Yeah, I, uh, okay. I understand."

Without any further comments, you bumped into his shoulder as you walked away, leaving a breathless Vernon behind.

He was well aware that you hated him, and with good reason too. Yet he couldn't help the rapid beating of his heart throughout every second of your interaction. With the passing of years, he had thought he was fully over his crush, but it all just came crashing down on him all at once upon your first meeting.

Now he really needed to get into this label. Not only for his career, but to somehow get you back.

"Dude! Did you see Y/N? She stopped by the studio earlier to say hi. Man, I told you you shouldn't have gone off on your own. I can't believe you missed her."

As much as Vernon wished Seokmin had been right about Vernon missing you altogether, he did wish your first encounter with him had been around other witnesses. Maybe that way your words to him would've had a little less venom in them.

"Nope. Bumped into her in the hallway while I was looking around."

"Shit ...", said Chan, "How was it?"

"Brutal. She hates my ass."

"Completely understandable, you know, considering," chimed in Seungkwan, sitting on the couch of the conference room's waiting room.

After a short tour of the building the label was homed in, the group was directed to wait in the waiting room as the execs arranged the paperwork necessary to sign them – should they come to an agreement. Vernon had made the dumb mistake of asking if he could explore the place a bit on his own, never having imagined he'd bump into you on the way. At least now he knew you'd be one of the higher ups waiting for him on the other side of that door.

"Dude, stop. I've been feeling like a dick ever since it happened", Vernon groaned into his hands, suddenly snapping up to look to his members, "Did you guys know she was working here? Did you know she was the Hissfit?"

"We didn't really keep contact," Seokmin shook his head.

"Yeah. I knew of Hissfit, but I never would've guessed it was her. Damn, that's kinda hot of her," said Jeonghan.

Jeonghan's comment peeved off Vernon a bit, but he had bigger things to worry about at the moment.

"Do you think she hates all of us, or is it just me-"

They all varied in their response, but the consensus was that Vernon was the only member you still saw with venom in your eyes.

"Yeah, man. It's just you," confirmed Chan, "I thought she'd hate me for taking over lead guitar after she left, but she was pretty nice to me just now."

Vernon was about to air out his endless concerns and frustrations at the stupid acts of his 19-year-old self, but had to close his mouth back up when the door to the conference room suddenly opened, revealing you and two other men close to your age.

"Come on in, guys," said one with shaggy hair and a strong build, gesturing at the boys to come in.

All five of them took a seat on one side of the gigantic table that took up most of the space in the room while you and the two men took a seat on the opposite side.

You looked so put together and professional, looking over the papers sitting in front of you while Vernon stared and stared, hoping you'd look his way.

"Okay, first of all, I wanna welcome you guys. I know one of our producers, Soonyoung, already gave you guys a quick tour of the place, but I wanted to give you a formal welcome," began the taller guy of the two, "My name is Seungcheol, but you probably know me as S.Coups."

"I'm Jihoon, but you must know me as Woozi," said the shaggy-haired man.

Then it was your turn.

"I'm Y/N. Also known as Hissfit."

Vernon winced when all his members woo'd at you, dapping you up with all confidence in the world despite not having kept in contact with you for the past few years. He wanted to join in, but you seemed too genuinely appreciative of it for him to want to dampen your mood by reminding you of his existence.

"We are the owners and cofounders of Universe Factory Records," added Jihoon.

"We're well aware you guys know our friend Y/N here," Seungcheol patted your back, rubbing it afterwards in a soothing manner, – completely unnecessary in Vernon's eyes, but okay – "but for business' sake, we will put a pin on that at the moment."

"We don't want any good or bad blood getting in the way of business, so we thought it'd be best to not discuss those matters here today," continued Jihoon, "All we care about is giving a passionate group such as your own and opportunity to join us. I can speak for all three of us when I say that you truly fit the core message of our label, and we'd love to sign you."

You nodded along to it all, even holding Vernon's eyes in yours for a few seconds before looking away.

"We'd love that, Woozi-Nim," intercepted Seokmin, bowing his head a bit at Jihoon.

"We just have a few contractual points to get to and then we can get to business, okay?", Seungcheol clapped his hands decisively.

A few moments later, your HR guys, Jun and Minghao came in to oversee the contract with the eight of you, making sure both parties understood everything written on the fine print. This took about thirty minutes, but ended very amicably.

"Is there a leader to the group who'd like to speak for any modifications you'd like to make to the contract?", asked Seungcheol just moments before the papers were about to be signed by everyone present.

"No, we're more of a democracy," said Vernon, not realizing the irony of his words fast enough.

You scoffed loudly at that, giving Vernon a sarcastic smile.

"Are you sure about that? Any other member who can confirm this fact?", you turned to the rest of the members in mock curiosity.

"Y/N, I-"

"Sorry, it's my bad. I shouldn't have asked," Seungcheol chuckled awkwardly, gesturing to the papers once more, "You can all sign whenever you're ready."

With some hesitation, Vernon signed.

He knew it was the right decision. That this way he would not only get to live his dream with his best friends while being housed under such a successful label, but that he'd also get another chance with you.

It'd just take a lot of work.

One of Vernon's favorite parts about the contract with Universe Factory was the luxury dorms that came along with it.

Being housed in a penthouse with all his friends seemed like one of the most unachievable dreams, yet here he was.

And the best part was that you owned a penthouse of your own right upstairs.

As far as he understood, this was a business owned building, housing any artists who wished to live at close proximity to the label's main headquarters. Vernon's group chose to agree to this form of housing without a second doubt, having always had the dream of living in the capital of the music industry – Los Angeles.

It had been about a month since the signing, and Vernon had caught sights of you far more times than he would've thought thus far. Unfortunately, none of them had gone well for him.

You seemed to be more than happy rekindling your friendship with the rest of the members, but always refused to spend any time with Vernon one-on-one. If at any moment you were left alone with Vernon, you'd scoff and walk out, even if Vernon attempted to call you out on it.

And Vernon's crush only got worse with the time he spent with you (albeit it always was while other people were around). Seeing you so relaxed in your loungewear when you'd spontaneously stop by the dorms to see Jeonghan or Chan (or literally anyone but him) as you laughed and joked around with them was messing with Vernon's head.

You were just so pretty and perfect and put together.

There came a point where Vernon was quite loud about his crush, constantly whining to his members about how much you still hated him. You were the only person to be unaware of it. Hell, even Jihoon and Seungcheol knew, always giving Vernon looks when he'd stare at you a little too long.

Except you never looked his way.

The only times you ever looked at Vernon were to curse him out or blatantly distance yourself from him whenever you got fed up of his presence.

Even now, as you huddled into a corner of the couch when the rest of the guys conveniently (re: at Vernon's request) left the two of you alone halfway through the movie you'd all been watching.

Attempting to be as casual as possible (he wasn't), Vernon slid from sitting on the arm of the couch to try and scoot closer to you, eyes glued to the TV in fear of you leaving if he dared look your way.

"Vernon-"

"Wait! Don't leave! Just stay sitting. I- I won't bother you, okay?," he was quick to apologize, sensing that you'd either scold him or tell him to fuck off.

You nodded, expressionless as you turned your bead back to the TV again, seemingly not too bothered by him.

It was rare for you to not use his exasperation as a reason to tell him off, so Vernon went against his own words and spoke again.

"Will we ever talk again?"

"What?"

He sighed, turning to you, "Will things ever go back to normal? I- Is there any chance you'll ever forgive me?"

"I don't wanna talk about this with you," you went to get up, only to be stopped by Vernon as he got up also, lightly grabbing your arm.

"Please. You have no idea how much I've regretted it since then. At least let me apologize," he pleaded with you.

"It doesn't matter if you regret it, Vernon. You still did it."

Wincing, he tried to come up with an answer that might satisfy you, but the truth was that there was no way for him to reason his actions at that time.

"I'll never not regret it. I .. I wish you were still out there with us, not just producing behind the scenes."

"Vernon-"

"Do you ... do you still play?"

"What?", you appeared annoyed at his interest.

"Do you still play? At any shows? For fun? You were always the best guitarist I'd known. Chan's nothing compared to you," he joked.

You looked down in what seemed to be shyness, "Chan's pretty good. He's gotten so much better since I last saw him."

"It wasn't the same- It's not the same. You were supposed to be there. I love Channie, but the dynamic completely changed when you left- when you-"

"When you kicked me out," you corrected.

He took a few steps towards you, both hands encompassing your arms in order to get you to look at him.

"I kicked you out, and it was the worst mistake I'd ever made. I lost my bandmate and I lost my best friend. I miss you every day. Every time I perform and I look to the front and you're not there, I remember what an idiot I was. You made this. You made the band, you got all the members. Fuck, you taught Channie everything you knew and all I did to repay you was throw you away," his eyes never left yours as he spoke, despite how guilty he felt at seeing the sudden sadness in yours, "Please tell me you at least still play. Please tell me I didn't take that away from you."

"I ... After you kicked me out, I couldn't trust anyone else. If my own best friend was willing to get rid of me like that ... If all my friends stood by and did nothing, then I couldn't trust that someone else wouldn't do it again."

"Y/n, I-"

You stepped away from his hold, creating some distance.

"I didn't want to play anymore, so I started selling my music. That's how I met Jihoon And Seungcheol. They were already on the process of founding Universe Factory. They saw something in me and took me in. We were equals," you explained, "So, no. I haven't played since then, Vernon. I'm a producer now."

It made Vernon miserable to know that the girl he once knew had changed. He understood why, specially having been part of the cause, but he felt even more regretful at knowing that he had damaged your ability to trust so badly. Ever since he knew you, you loved nothing more than to play for people. From talent shows to small shows at local pubs with only twenty people in the audience, you'd always happily sign up if it meant a chance to play for anyone willing to listen. Now you didn't have that in you anymore. All because Vernon had broken your trust.

Vernon chose not to bother you anymore after that. You seemed happy with your new life. Vernon seemed to be the only source of negativity in your life, so he chose to step aside and let you live your life. He would no longer try and see if there was any space for him there anymore. If that's what made you happy, then so be it.

It had taken a while, but after four months of being signed into Universe Factory, Vernon's band had finally released their new album.

The rollout consisted of 12 original songs, with a deluxe version including three extra songs coming a few months later. It hadn't been fully fleshed out yet, but the album itself had been a success by all means.

Throughout the process, Vernon had unfortunately not made much progress with you. Things seemed to be a bit more peaceful now that he had decided to leave you alone, but you never once tried to seek him out, so he assumed that this was the end of it. You were happy to ignore him and keep him out of your life, and as much as Vernon wad pained by it, he felt too remorseful by his previous actions to try and bother you anymore.

Vernon was happy to spend time with you whenever studio sessions came up. As one of the main producers of the company, you had been thoroughly involved in the album, which meant that you spent a grand majority of your time in the studio with Vernon and the rest of the band. Though you would rarely engage with him directly, you didn't outwardly ignore him. You remained professional and respectful towards him. He wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

After the grueling process of finishing up the album and releasing it, there was a small lull in the group's timeline. The album did amazingly well, specially with all the promo your label did for them. A tour had even been announced for later in the year, but for now things were quiet. The fruits of their labor were paying off and now everyone got a bit of time to rest before preparations for tour began.

Despite being done with work for a few weeks before getting to rehearsals for tour, Vernon still liked to come around the company and play around with the studios the label had available for their artists. He liked to mess around and try to experiment with new stuff to develop his skills. During the album-making period, he had observed you intently, learning from you without your knowledge.

Today was one of the many times in which Vernon had decided to come around the studios, in search of the one his group used throughout the process of making their album.

That was when he noticed the half-closed door, with the soft strumming of a guitar coming from the inside. He was about to turn around and leave, assuming that someone else had taken up that studio for a bit, but then he heard a melodious voice accompanying the guitar in perfect harmony. It was you.

Even during the recording process, Vernon was yet to hear you sing or play any music. The demos were usually recorded by Jihoon, even when you had vast participation in them. The most he had heard your voice during that time had been when you'd direct the members on how to enunciate a line or two – and even then, Vernon felt enamored. Now here Vernon was, peeking from the small opening of the door as he witnessed you sing what seemed to be an original song.

Your back was facing him as you sat on the floor, simply facing the wall in front of you. Your voice was low, as was your strumming. It was likely you didn't want anyone to hear you. Almost as if you were hiding your skill, not wanting anyone to be aware of it.

Vernon couldn't help but think that this was the consequence of his actions. Did you think you weren't made to perform anymore? Not even in private? Had his betrayal caused this in you? The thought made him sick, knowing how much you loved music.

His thoughts were promptly interrupted by a sudden halt in your playing, hearing your voice speak up.

"I know you're there, Vernon," you said without even needing to turn around to face him.

"I- How did you-"

You began to get up, putting your guitar away, "I heard the door squeak a bit, and you're the only person who would be interested enough in hearing me play to stay and watch."

He knew you hadn't meant it in a self-deprecating way, but the thought of you believing that there wasn't a crowd of people who'd die to hear you perform felt like a punch in the gut.

"You still sound amazing. You got even better, somehow."

"Vernon, stop. You don't have to-"

"Please. Let me at least compliment you. I mean it. You're amazing. It's a huge disservice to the world that you're not out there performing your own music," he chuckled humorlessly by the end, attempting to appeal to you somehow.

Surprisingly to him, you chuckled back in a similar manner, choosing to recline against one of the tables in the room rather than leave now that Vernon was speaking to you – something you'd usually do if you were ever in a room alone with him.

"I've never been much of a soloist. You know that."

Taking a leap, Vernon chose to lean against the table too, taking a seat close to you.

"I'm sure people would be lining up for a chance to work with you, c'mon."

"Not, you, though. Right?"

He groaned, throwing his head back in frustration, "Listen ..."

"I'm kidding, Vernon, relax."

That surprised him. Maybe the time had allowed you to feel comfortable enough to tease Vernon about it. Fuck. You were speaking to him. That in itself was more progress than he'd had in years.

Usually, he would've responded with a joke back, but he decided to drive his point home instead.

"I'd kill for you to even consider playing with me again."

Your mood visibly shifted at that, squirming a bit and looking down at his words.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

This time your sarcasm didn't deter him. He had an opening. You were talking to him, after months of only doing polite small talk with him whenever you were forced to. Maybe it was time he was a bit stern too.

Standing up, he stood directly in front of you, towering over you a bit more than usual since you were leaning against the table.

"Listen. I know I hurt you. I know I did the worst thing I could've done to the person I loved most, okay? I think about it every day. I thought about it every single day after you cut me out of your life – which you had every right to do," he winced at the thought, "Seeing you again, knowing you made it big and that you're still making music made me so glad. So glad that even though I wasn't ever going to be part of your journey anymore, you still had music by your side. I ... I wish I had done things differently. I wish I hadn't acted so stupidly and been so easy to convince to leave you behind just for a taste of success. I deserve every bit of your hate for it, but- fuck ... but I will always keep doing everything I can to see if maybe one day you might forgive me."

"Vernon, I-"

"Wait, I'm not done," he interrupted you with a finger in the air, "I tried looking for you, you know? After you disappeared, I tried to get you back somehow. When we got dropped from the label just a few months later, I tried to find you, but you were nowhere. I wanted you back from the moment I made that stupid decision. I'd do anything for you to be up there with us on that tour, for your name to be on that album cover. Somehow we ended up making music together again, just with all this baggage in between."

"Vernon."

"What? I- Honestly I don't know what you could say to all my word vomit. I already know you hate me. Nothing I do will ever change it," he looked down with a sad look on his face.

"I don't ... I don't hate you."

His head snapped up to look at you.

"You- What?"

"I don't hate you," you repeated, "I don't think I ever did. I never left music completely, I just ... I felt so disposable. I didn't want to work with anyone who wasn't you, and you saw me as a replaceable asset. I didn't even feel like your friend at that point. I mean, it was so easy for Chan to go from second guitar to lead and just completely erase my existence from the band ... Erase it from your life."

"N-no. You have it all wrong," he got closer to you, grabbing onto your shoulders to make you look at him, "Nothing was ever the same. That's why it all failed. I couldn't function without you."

"Hah," your eyes wandered away from his in an avoidant manner, "I would've killed to hear that from you back then."

You took a breath, appearing to ponder whether or not to say your next statement, ultimately deciding on the former.

"I used to like you so much back then. Did you know?," you laughed at yourself, "It was, uh, one of the reasons why I left. I felt like I got rejected in every way. As a friend, as a bandmate, as ... as the girl who liked you."

Fuck.

It had been worse for you than Vernon ever imagined.

The same way he felt dejected at your disappearance, having been practically in love with you at the time, you must've felt that pain a hundred times over. The guy you liked threw you away so easily, of course you were going to assume Vernon would never return your feelings under those circumstances.

But you had it all wrong. Oh, so horribly wrong.

If you had ever given Vernon any indication of you liking him, he would've dropped everything for you. He knew that he should've done so regardless, specially considering you were best friends, but he was extremely immature and dumb at the time. His mind did not reason what effect his actions would have. At the time, your claims about being okay with leaving the band as long as it was for the best of its future were completely taken at face value by Vernon. Never would he have guessed that you had just said that to appease to him just because you liked him.

His prolonged silence allowed you to speak up once again.

"I really did want to try and root for you after you signed that contract, but seeing the guy I was so head over heels for throw me aside so easily settled on my mind after a few days. I realized there was no point either way. We would never be bandmates again, and you would never like me back."

"I didn't- I ... I had no idea. Fuck," he breathed a heavy breath, furrowing his eyebrows, "I was so in love with you. I'm ... I'm so incredibly in love with you."

He knew he fucked up in saying it, specially going by the shocked expression on your face. Your eyes were wide and your mouth agape.

"I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry. I know this isn't what you want to hear. I- I shouldn't have said anything, but I can't help myself anymore. I've loved you for years. I've been miserable thinking about how badly you hate me when you haven't left my mind for a single day. I love you. I'm sorry, I just ... I love you."

"Vernon ..."

He threw his hands up in frustration, "Don't. Fuck, I already know what you're going to say, just ... just don't-"

"Vernon, shut up!", you grabbed onto his head, making him lower himself down to you a bit and look into your eyes.

Vernon wasn't quite sure what your original plan was, but he saw you open and close your mouth a few times to speak, ultimately giving up to do something that would break Vernon's mind for the upcoming future.

Your lips against his own was something he thought of an embarrassing amount of times during his teens (and even now during his 20's), but it was always something he was certain would never happen. He had never actually planned for what he would do if you ever actually granted his wish. And so he remained limp against you for a few moments too long, making you pull away at the lack of reciprocation.

This was something he just couldn't have. In no world could he ever allow you to ever feel like he didn't want you. Never again. Before you could fully pull away, his arms wrapped around your waist, bringing you to your tip toes so that he could kiss you properly. When your feet flattened on the ground, his lips chased after yours, leaning down to keep himself connected to you.

The kiss was soft and delicate. There were some breathy sighs that were making Vernon's head feel fuzzy, but the kiss was innocent otherwise.

Or at least that was how it started.

Vernon wasn't sure who licked their way into the other's mouth first, but that bit of information didn't matter too much. What mattered was that gorgeous moan you let out when his tongue suckled on yours. What mattered was the way you let your body become limp against his touch, letting him back you up against the table and sit you on it. What mattered were your hands pulling at his hair in sheer desperation for more.

You weren't the only culprit, though. Vernon was equally, if not more, desperate for you. His mind and his body were in a battle, with one wanting to pull away and discuss what your current feelings for him where, and the other fighting the urge to flip you around and bend you over the table.

Thankfully, you made the decision for him.

Your hands snuck under his shirt, delicate fingers gracing the skin of his stomach before allowing your hands to freely feel up his abs and chest. Shuddering, he became lightheaded at the simple contact, having been in such constant want for your touch all these years that even the simplest of contact had him losing his sanity. Unlike you, his hands were not as daring as yours in fear of scaring you away somehow. They remained rubbing your clothed waist and hips, far too shy to do what they really yearned to.

Images flashed in his head of every nasty thing he wanted to do to you. Every single night in which you'd somehow invade his mind with a fog of lust came running back, a myriad of ideas making it all the harder to hold back. He wanted you to have control. As hard as it was to just sit there and will his already prominent boner into staying still, Vernon could not act on any desire. You had to be the one to initiate it.

And thank fucking god you did.

Within some short moments, your hands threw off Vernon's shirt, pulling him closer to you as you became even more shameless in how you felt him up. Seeing his hands remain stagnant on your waist, you disconnected his lips, staring into his own with a blissed out look on your face.

Fuck.

You were already fucked up. Your eyes had nothing but lust in them. They had a hard time not making their way to his lips, which were still dangerously close to your own. He couldn't blame you. Despite being out of breath from kissing all this time, his own lips were already aching to encompass your own again.

Before he could kiss you again with a petulant whine, your hands guided his own to your clothed breasts, pressing them up against his palms with a delicious little whine that made Vernon press his cock against the table under you.

"Touch me? Feel me up? Fuck ... want your hands all over me," you breathed between sensual licks at his open mouth.

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

How was he supposed to do this?

You sounded so pretty for him ... so horny and needy and just so fucking desperate for him.

You were the prettiest fucking thing he had ever seen – and you were begging for Vernon to feel you up? You were already begging and he hadn't even had the chance to actually touch you yet? Vernon had no idea how he was going to survive you, but he'd just have to will his body into doing so.

He didn't need any further instruction, his hands immediately following the task of rubbing and squeezing at every inch of skin. Every clothed curve was victim to his grabby hands, touching you and pressing you up against him like he'd die if he didn't. Your breathy little moans at his touch only made him feel like even more of a depraved animal.

You kissed and kissed and kissed. It was the nastiest mess of tongues and saliva, but Vernon couldn't help but feel extremely turned on by it. You were so ... so fucking desperate for him. Shameless in your actions, you licked and sucked at his tongue, holding his jaw in place so you could do as you pleased with his tongue. And when he couldn't match your pace due to how foggy his mind was? You stopped him, breathing against his lips that you'd show him how you liked to be kissed just before licking sensually into his mouth yet again.

Having been far too into the kiss, Vernon didn't even notice when you started undoing his belt, hands teasing his cock occasionally by gracing it through his pants and immediately coming back up when his hips tried to chase your touch.

"Baby ... Need you so bad," you moaned at him after a while.

'Baby'? He was 'baby' now?

Vernon couldn't even take a minute to process the lustful voice in which you had called him baby before his poor, weak, lust-ridden brain got distracted by you pulling your own shirt off.

It was almost comical the way in which Vernon froze at the sight. The two gorgeous mounds staring at him, pretty bralette encompassing them as you grabbed his hands and put them on your tits, begging him to touch you there. And Vernon wasn't an idiot. He touched you to his heart's contentment, groaning against your mouth every time you'd arch your back and press your chest up against his hands even more.

You were an entirely different version from the one he'd always known. You were so needy and soft and sensitive, completely unlike the stubborn and cold side of you you had shown him these past months. But Vernon wasn't about to complain when he had you so pliant for him, so whiny as you pleaded for him to touch you more.

His hands tugged and pinched at your nipples, lips swallowing every single cry of pleasure you let out. Your own hands scratched at his chest, with harsher marks being left behind every time he pinched at your tits relatively hard.

Growing easily frustrated, you separated his hands from your breasts, throwing off your bra before beginning to grind against him, encouraging him to push up his hips against your own.

Vernon was already painfully hard at just the privilege of feeling you up, so he was somewhat scared that he might end up cumming in his pants if you kept this up for so long. All it took was one single bump of your cunt against his cock for him to throw that concern aside and grind into your awaiting cunt as the two of you continued to kiss.

Breathless, he pulled away, finally getting to have a view of your nude breasts. That's when he lost control of himself.

He groaned and moaned and made every inhumane noise you could think of as he made love to your tits with his tongue. Never had he ever put so much dedication into anything as he did into making out with your tits. And fuck was it worth it. Your hips sped up against his own, hands burying in his hair as you pressed his head against your tit and cried his name in the prettiest of sighs.

There was no way in hell Vernon was going to last. He needed a saving grace.

Mustering all his willpower, Vernon disconnected himself from you completely, grabbing your hand and walking you over to the couch in the studio. On his way there, he kicked off his already loose pants and threw off his shoes. His original plan was to lay you down on it, crawl over you as he kissed every inch of your body and then worship his way into fucking you missionary, – so he could see and kiss you all throughout, just in the way he always imagined – but you stopped him in his tracks.

Pushing him onto the couch, you sat him down before shuffling your sweats off and straddling him, putting your hands on his shoulders.

"I wanna ride you. Can I?", you asked, getting straight to the point.

"You- you wanna .."

"I've been thinking about this since high school. And ... you kinda owe me, you know, after kicking me out of my own band," you joked.

"If letting you ride me is payback, then I take it back. I regret nothing," this granted him a frown and a slap on his chest, but he took it as a champ, enjoying the familiar banter he once shared with you.

Placing his large hands on your hips, he somehow got you even closer to him, "Ride me? Hmm, baby?", he kissed up your neck, taking advantage of the clear desire he knew you felt for him.

"I, ah ... Nonnie ... Please. Want your cock, it's so big," you sighed, neck tilting so he could have more space to kiss.

"Gotta prep you first, baby."

You shook your head, huffing, "'m already so wet, Nonnie. Wanna feel?"

With no warning, you snuck your hand under the tiny little excuse for panties you were wearing, gathering some tasty nectar for him to taste. He let out a gruttal groan at your taste, feeling lightheaded at the thought of someday having the privilege to eat your cunt until you begged and sobbed for him to stop.

But that would come some other day. Now, he needed to sit you down on his cock before he lost his mind. If you thought you were wet enough, and you were desperate enough to beg for him repeatedly, then who was he to deny you?

Helping you awkwardly remove your panties while he shoved his boxers down as much as he could while sitting, he helped you lift yourself up a bit to line him up, throwing his head back when you instead chose to drag his tip up and down your cunt.

"Baby ... If you don't sit on me, I'm going to fucking cum before I even get to feel you, and I don't wanna embarrass myself like that. So, please let me have it," he begged for a change, eyes squeezed shut as he attempted to make his body hold back as much as possible.

Taking pity on him (or likely just equally as horny), you finally sat down on him, showing very small signs of struggle at his size.

"F-fuck ... Nonnie, it's so big, it's so- Oh ... fuck."

"Nonnie! Feels so good ... Oh, it's so good, Nonnie."

"Baby, need more ... Need you to fuck me. Please? Cock's so fucking good."

"Want it in my mouth, Nonnie. It's so thick n so fucking big. Looks so, fuck, so delicious. Wanna choke on it so bad ..."

These were only some of the filthy expletives you cried out as you bounced on his cock like a depraved girl. You desire for him alone was enough to make Vernon want to give up and dedicate his body to your pleasure, knowing that your gorgeous body would always give him the same, if not more, pleasure in return.

It got so bad for him that at some point, he simply couldn't hold back anymore, his feet settling firmly on the ground before tightening his grip on your hips and beginning to bounce you up and down his cock while his hips canted up with inmensurable speed.

"Cunt's so tight, baby. Never letting you go again. 's all for me, right? Get to have you every day now," he mumbled against your chest, lips chasing your tits every now and then.

"Y-yes, Nonnie. All for you! Missed you so much, Nonnie. Thought of you every day," you hiccuped, back arching to give him better access to your tits, "I was so heartbroken over you ... Never letting you go now. You're mine. Right, Nonnie?"

He nodded and cried at your words, heartbroken just at the thought of your own heartbreak. He had to remind himself that none of that mattered anymore. Now he finally had you. The dam had finally broken and allowed the two of you to end your prolonged animosity and give you a chance to finally be his. Just how he had been yours all these years.

Your love making (if you could even call it that considering the animalistic nature of it) could only last so long before Vernon finally burst, which meant he had to take matters into his own hands and make sure you found your end with him. Reaching between you, his hand searched for your clit, finding it in only a few seconds. Disconnecting his head from your chest, he went back to kissing your neck, reaching your ear so he could talk you through your orgasm.

"Need you to cum for me, okay, baby? Love you so much ... Need to cum together, pretty, yeah?",

"L-love you! So much, Nonnie ... Never stopped."

Those were the last words you managed to let out before your orgasm took over you, whining the prettiest cries Vernon had ever heard. The tightening of your cunt finally allowed Vernon to let go, joining you in your high as neither of your hips halted their movements.

Holding you all throughout, Vernon had never felt as close to anyone else as he did to you in this moment. If you needed to hate him in order to protect yourself from his betrayal, then Vernon fully accepted it. No part of him blamed you for keeping him at an arm's length at all times. Specially if this was the final outcome. Now that he finally had you, he didn't care what journey he had to live through to get here. All he cared about was the gorgeous girl of his dreams crying in his arms as pleasure overtook her.

Your orgasms had been so incredibly intense that you needed some moments to catch your breaths before speaking up. That, and all the emotions that must've been going through your minds.

Holding each other despite the silence, you stayed like that for a few minutes, simply nuzzling against each other as a demonstration of love for one another. Vernon's mind still couldn't believe the reciprocation of your feelings. His heart was still beating far too loud under your touch, but he felt at ease.

"I really do love you," he spoke against your neck, "And I'll never stop regretting what I did to you."

You created a small distance between you to look at him, caressing his cheek in your hand as you spoke.

"I'll never be okay with what you did, but I love you. You were young, and you made a mistake. I can't stand hating you anymore."

He smiled, turning his head to kiss the palm you had against his cheek.

"You can hate me, as long as you love me too," he said. He knew it made no sense, but he also knew you understood.

"I love you," you said again with a smile.

"I love you."

to read short 2.3k word continuation you can go join my monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, comfort sex, face riding, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 714 (teaser); 2379 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Isn't it unprofessional for you to ask an ex member to join the band again just cause you're sleeping together?", asked Chan as he tuned his guitar absentmindedly.

"For the last time, that's not why I'm asking her. I've wanted her back for years, you guys know this. I'm just rectifying a mistake."

You giggled from your seat on the couch, enjoying that the guys still gave Vernon a hard time for what he had done all those years back.

The news of your relationship had come as a surprise only to a few people. Most of your friends had seen it coming from miles. The sexual tension was just too high, or at least that's what Jeonghan had said when you first broke the news, Seungkwan nodding in agreement.

After that day in the studio, you and Vernon entered an annoyingly disgusting honeymoon phase. Unfortunately for everyone else, this phase seemed to be endless. Two months in, and you were still attached to the hip, unable to keep your hands or eyes away from each other.

Your newfound revelation of love for Vernon also brought back up old dynamics between the two of you. With his encouragement, you began occasionally playing with the guys, sometimes joining in as second guitar on stage, standing at the back, right next to Vernon and his drums. Your relationship was a point of conversation for fans, but you still kept it private among the people in the company.

Currently, Vernon had made the executive decision that he wanted you to officially be featured in a remixed version of one of their most successful songs from their debut album. The plan had already been there, but Vernon's suggestion of having you on the track rather than anyone else had surprised some people at the company, especially when they found out you agreed.

Vernon had been incredibly busy all week, leaving this as the first time he'd been able to see all of you together to briefly discuss the future plans for the track. His plan was to make a quick stop and then finally rest in your arms back at your apartment.

"Anyways, you should never forget that she was lead guitar before you ever were. We could always just send you to the back again," interrupted Seungkwan, giving Chan an unserious yet pointed look.

Chan raised his hands in defense, "Hey! I'm not the one who kicked her out!"

Groaning, Vernon walked over to you and buried his face in your neck, tired features clear in his face as he wrapped his arms around your waist, "Make them stop. Please."

Giggling again, you opted for a better option, taking the clearly tired boy by the hand and leaving the studio, bidding your goodbyes to the guys.

You had only stopped by to say hi to your friends while on your way to your apartment, knowing Vernon was tired from a long day of recording for various other activities he had recently embarked in as a new face in the industry. They were already aware you'd be recording a song with them, but simply enjoyed giving Vernon a hard time. Maybe even more than you did.

On the ride home, Vernon had fallen asleep, absentmindedly cuddling against you on the back of the car. Vernon had naturally taken on the role of the main face of the group, which also came with endless work and promotions he sometimes had to do solo, just like today. You were more fortunate in that area, making most of your money off royalties and not needing to make public appearances at any point.

When you finally arrived home, you continued dragging Vernon along with you, who would only groan occasionally at the thought of even stepping foot into the elevator. Making it all the way to your suite had taken a while due to the size of the building, but when you made it, Vernon immediately threw off his shirt and stripped down to his boxers, letting himself fall face first into the bed, groaning at the mattress cushioning his fall.

You stared for a few moments, thinking of what you could do to help your tired boyfriend relax after a tiresome week of work. Then the idea suddenly came to you.

...

find 2.3k word continuation on either kofi or patreon!

[groovyangelkisses]

I LOVVEVEVEV OLD MAN LOGANN!!! I wanna be his housewife sooososo badly. I wanna cook for him when he has a long day and let him grope and grind against me while I cook because he deserves every part of me (OLD MAN LOGAN FOR LIFE!!)

i LOVEEEE the way you think, sweetpea!!!!

being his happy lil housewife with a sweet little gingham apron he had someone handmake you for christmas </3 makin' him his favorite baked goods when he comes home from driving and dealing with mean customers. massaging his shoulders while he rants and eats dinner, running your fingers through his gray hair, scratching lightly as he pauses to sigh out "'s nice, thank you baby" <3

i am a free use!logan ENTHUSIAST. so you're cooking dinner for him after a long day, same lil apron on and your hair pushed away from your face in a big claw clip— messy but dedicated, of course. and he comes home, shoulders slumped, little brown paper lunch bag (that you packed) tucked between his fingers as he strolls in the kitchen closer to you, already palming himself as he watches you. the only way you even know he's home is the loud groan he lets out when you stand on your tiptoes to reach the spice cabinet— your legs and back extending. your head whips around and he's already on you, fumbling with his belt and pressing his readers up his nose as he flips your little apron up, and reaches around the front of you to unzip your jeans with a whispered, but steady "too fuckin good... too fuckin' sweet for me.. my good little wife"

<3