#now i'm only eight days behind

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ snuggles for hire

summary: first years try helping you out with your touch-starved problem type of post: short fics (blurbs?) characters: leona, floyd, jade, vil additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

"Really? That's it?" Ace scoffs.

"So, they haven't been hugged in a while. Okay? Neither has Deuce,"

Deuce glares. It's almost menacing. "That's not true, and you know it! I get lots of hugs every time I visit home!"

"I do, too. But that's just the thing, though, ain't it?" Epel says. "They don't have no home to get hugs from."

The huddle of first years goes quiet. Some days, you become such a part of their world, they forget you're really not from it.

"...Okay, point taken," Ace sighs. "But they have Grim! And he only stinks like, half the time!"

"If memory serves, Grim usually sleeps on the floor..." Epel says. "Poor prefect, all lonely. Now even their sleep is suffering 'cause of it!"

Jack rubs the back of his neck. "It must be tough, not having anything to look forward to,"

Another melancholy silence. Finally, Ace stands, hands on his hips.

"Well, let's do something about it, then. There are tons of boys at this school- one of them should be willing to help,"

It's eight in the morning after another disappointing attempt at rest, and now you can't even sleep in. Damn visitors.

You throw open the front door.

"What? What could you possibly- wh- Leona?"

The housewarden smirks. He looks a little too proud of himself for this early in the morning...

"A little wolfie told me you weren't sleeping well. Lucky for you, that's my specialty. Now, are you gonna let me in, or what?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, letting himself in and making himself comfortable on the couch in the foyer.

He pats the spot next to him.

"Listen..." you say. "I don't know what you heard, but I'm fine."

"Don't be proud. I don't pity you, I just... owe you. Now get your butt over here, yeah?"

Leona isn't so scary when he's asleep. He's more like... the world's largest pillow. Of course, you're at risk of being smothered until you crawl into a better position, but once you're on top, he's surprisingly warm and comfortable.

You can tell you're being watched before you hear anything.

And you think you might just know wh-

"Shrimpyyy!"

For two boys so tall, the tweels are awfully quiet. Especially when it comes to "surprising" you in random places. This time: the hall.

Floyd pulls you into a bone-crushing hug while Jade watches from behind, smiling subtly.

When he finally lets you down, you're dizzy. (Though, at this point, you'll take whatever physical touch you can get).

"Shrimpyyy, why didn't you tell us you were lonely? We had to squeeze it outta Spade," Floyd pouts.

"His face makes fascinating expressions when he's afraid," Jade says, merrily.

Before you can answer, Floyd's already got you under his arm (seriously? Where do they find the strength?) and is heading straight towards the hall of mirrors.

You already know there's no getting out of this one...

Floyd is, unsurprisingly, all over, from leaning his whole body weight against you to lying across your lap, to biting your shoulder (in his sleep...?) Oh, and he drools, too.

Jade sits on your other side, one hand holding yours, the other leafing through an almanac from twenty years ago.

You're almost hesitant to admit just how nice it really is.

"And nothing else has worked?" Vil says, throwing open the door to your bedroom with no regard for a "hello" or, "how are you?"

You blink. "...Hello to you, too. May I ask what you're talking about?"

He storms inside, standing over you with his hands on his hips.

"Just that I overheard Epel Felmier asking my vice housewarden if he would be willing to satisfy your need for physical affection. You've been struggling? With sleep? And you didn't think to come to me, first?"

He almost sounds... offended that you didn't.

"...Well... I wasn't making a big deal about it,"

"So, no teas, no vitamins, no pills- nothing has helped?"

You shake your head. He sighs.

"Perhaps it is purely psychological... very well. Get up. I hope you don't toss and turn much, I'm a light sleeper,"

Vil is completely still when he sleeps. No tossing, no turning, no drooling, no snoring. He also insists on sleeping on his back, you, clinging to his side, and a single arm around you. Just as elegant as when he's awake. He'd be a true sleeping beauty if not for the mumbles of nonsense that come from him every few minutes. You swear you can make out your own name, once or twice or three times...

He is warm nonetheless, and his mumbles and idle stroking of his fingers on your waist is enough to satisfy you for a night of good sleep.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Dolly III

~ part 3 of the Dolly series

pairing: lee felix x afab!reader

genre: smut, fluff, elements of horror

synopsis: as a rare doll collector, a unique sex doll piques your interest and you have to own it.

wc: 8.2k

warnings: mentions of bruises, blood and needles, some violence, haunted dolls

nsfw warnings: grinding, praise, lots of kissing, body worship, handjob, cum tasting, oral (m and f), unprotected sex, creampie

~ divider by @bunnysrph

"Good morning, Matilda. Prudence, how do you do? Ah, Mr. Avery. Looking particularly swell today." the dolls stare at you with their big eyes and smiling faces while you greet them just like every day.

Whistling about the kitchen as you prepare breakfast, your life companions are always there to listen to you and bring you comfort.

"You know, we have an exciting new family member arriving to us today. I'm expecting all of you to act polite and give him a warm welcome to his new home." you point your spatula at the dolls that were decorating the kitchen.

"I mean all of you!" you yell out, chuckling after.

"We all know what happens to naughty dolls. You don't want to experience the same scorching punishment they did." you smirk at them and though they are usually silent, it seems like they're even more quiet now.

Alive in your mind, they've heard you and are now shivering in fear but anticipating the arrival of the newest addition to your precious collection.

You really do expect them to be on their best behavior.

Not long after breakfast, your package arrives.

You practically rip open the huge box and tear off all the covers and bubble wrap, throwing them carelessly behind you.

"Oh!" you gasp.

"My my, you're just such a beauty, aren't you?" you smile at the doll staring at you from the box.

"You look like a little angel." your hands cup his cheeks.

"So soft. So sweet. You're going to be perfect for us." you look at him fondly. "Welcome home, Felix."

You lean down to kiss his cute nose, observing the freckles on his face.

He is just stunning, every little crease on him looks perfect and most importantly; he looks alive.

Yes, people might be creeped out by your love of dolls, collecting them, playing with them and hanging out with them but you never cared.

They were everything to you ever since you were a little girl so you spent so much money on getting the most rare and unique dolls you could, even getting a few ones that were supposedly haunted.

The thought of that exhilirated you, and you were convinced all of them were alive especially after you'd find them in different places or hear them giggle and whisper.

You loved that, respected the dolls and their needs but you always let them know that you were the head of the house.

It was going to be the same with this special doll.

As soon as you saw the ad, you wished you could buy all eight of them and have the rarest and craziest collection ever but they were so expensive so you settled on getting only Felix.

He just seemed so sweet and innocent to you, out of all 8 of them, you thought he looked the most doll-like and would go perfectly with your porcelain doll collection; just one of many you had.

You didn't care much that he was a sex doll, but seeing him now up close made you understand the appeal for that too.

You grabbed the manual to skim over it, not really caring about what it says, you were more interested in the letter that was in Felix's hand.

You slowly picked it up and opened it.

Hello,

my name is Felix and I am your comforting doll.

I love cuddles, hugs and kisses, sweets (especially chocolate). And videogames!

Please always keep me close to you as I love to feel your warmth, and no matter what you do with me always end it with a sweet kiss.

"You're a little cuddlebug, hm?" you pout at him. "You're just becoming cuter by the second!"

Finding another paper tucked in the pocket of his jeans, you pull it out and open it too.

My darling!

I'm ready for our first cuddling session!

I hope you bring fluffy pillows and enjoy our first night together.

"Ah! So adorable!" you squeal. "Let me introduce you to everyone." you add, quickly grabbing him and lifting him up.

"Fam, this is Felix, a very special doll. I expect you give him a warm welcome and help him feel at ease here. This is now his home as much as it is yours and I will not tolerate any sour behavior!" you say.

Of course, it's quiet but you know that they've understood you.

One of the ventriloquist dolls lips open and you chuckle.

"Yes, Parker. I know he's pretty. Now close your mouth or you'll catch flies." you chuckle, standing up and making your way to the doll.

With your fingers on its chin, you gently close the wooden doll's mouth.

"Now, where were we? Ah, yes! That outfit is atrocious. But don't worry, sweet Felix. I already prepared clothes that I know will fit your pretty face perfectly." you smirk, hoisting Felix in your arms and lifting him up.

Once you make it to your bedroom, you gently lay him down on your fluffy bed and open your wardrobe, looking at the neatly hung up outfits you had ordered online right after ordering Felix.

The dolls on the shelves all stare at him as you whistle a tune, picking out his outfit.

"This should do it." you grab one of them and make your way towards your bed.

"Let's get you out of this... whatever it is." you grip the hem of his shirt, slowly lifting it up and gasping when you notice his abs.

"Interesting." you poke his stomach and then his side. "I bet you're ticklish." you add, sliding his arms out of the shirt and tossing it aside.

"Oh!" you gasp again, noticing a few freckles on his chest. "You're so precious, Felix." your finger traces his beauty marks gently, almost making you hypnotized.

You snap out of it and unbutton his jeans, pulling the zipper down and feeling your face flush when you realize your touch had aroused the doll.

"Did you get excited, precious dolly?" you giggle at him, before looking around at the other dolls who were fixated on Felix.

"It is rude to stare." you chastise them, but they continue looking as you slide his pants down and toss them on the floor.

"I think you need help with this, Lixie." you chew on your lip as you hook your fingers in his boxers.

As soon as you slide them down, a wave of embarassment washes over you as you stare at his hard cock, glistening at the tip.

It seems that there are a few freckles on his length too and your thighs press together involuntarily.

It's been a while since you've been with someone, most people you tried to date couldn't understand your obsession with dolls and there was no way you were going to choose them over your doll family.

But, seeing that Felix was a doll and a sex doll at that, you didn't see harm in using him for what he's made for.

"We can help each other, but you can forget about putting that inside me." you warn, lifting your dress up and pushing your panties down.

"This will have to suffice, my little Lixie." you giggle as you throw your leg over him and press your wet core against his cock.

Slowly, you start grinding against him, your arousal coating his cock and balls, little whimpers leaving your mouth as you close your eyes and throw your head back.

It really has been so long, and Felix is so warm and pliant, laying under you taking it.

You speed up as you feel your high building up, you look back down at him and notice that his cheeks are rosy, making him look even cuter.

You whimper as you stare at his pretty face, his tip catching onto your clit a few times and almost slipping inside.

"Don't be naughty, Lixie. Or I'll have to punish you." you whine as his cock catches on your entrance, the tip twitching inside you.

It's as if something flashes in his eyes and you whimper loudly, cumming all over his cock and riding your high against his throbbing erection.

"You didn't cum yet?" you pout, remembering there was something about that in the manual.

"Ah, yes, you like having your hair pulled on." you smirk and continue grinding against him, your fingers now tangled in his hair.

"Cum for me, my angel." you pull on his hair and his cock twitches against your wetness before he explodes on his abs, the warm liquid pooling around his belly button and making you more wet as you grind on him once again, his cum smeared on your cunt.

You look at him as you stop your movements, your heart beating fast.

"Look what a mess we made, Lixie." you shake your head before getting up and heading to the bathroom, the dolls chilling in your room still with their eyes fixed on Felix.

You come back after cleaning yourself up to clean him too, so you can dress him in the clothes you bought him.

It's a bit of a struggle but you get a feeling that Felix really wants to cooperate.

"There, now you look like a real angel." you smile as you lean back, satisfied with the white loose pants and the white shirt, embroidered with golden flowers.

"I have some work to do on you yet." you sit him up and then grab some of your makeup.

You gently work on his face, putting some light gold eyeshadow on his eyelids, a few sparkles under his eyes and he seems to be pouting.

"You think I forgot to give you a sweet kiss, don't you?" you smirk. "I didn't, don't worry."

You finish up on his eye makeup then grab a pink lipstick, opening it up and applying it on your lips first.

"A finishing touch." you lean in, holding his face before you press your lips into his heart shaped ones, kissing him gently.

You giggle as you lean away, removing the smeared lipstick and repairing what stayed on his lips with your finger as he practically stares at you.

His eyes seem shiny and warm, something deep and dark inside them too and you can't look away.

"My sweet Lixie. So good for me." you kiss his nose and then his cheeks, making sure to kiss his pretty freckles.

You almost get completely lost in him, forgetting about the dolls watching you until one of them falls down onto the floor with a loud thud, making you jerk away from Felix.

"Jonathan! You startled me!" you reprimand the wooden doll before standing up and coming to it.

You take him in your arms and look at him.

"Are you jealous?" you ask as you gently put him back in his place, fixing his shirt and hat.

"Don't worry, I love you all equally." you pat the doll's head before turning to look at Felix.

You have a feeling that might change soon.

-

You take Felix to your workshop, a small room where you dedicate your time to repair dolls, sew their torn clothes or make them new outfits, sometimes even making a few dolls of your own.

"Welcome to my workshop, Lixie. I spend lots of time here so I guess you will too. Now, I should've started with this, but you... distracted me." your eyes fall down to his crotch before you look up at him.

"I will make sure you have everything you need and I will always treat you well, but of course I expect that to be reciprocated. Which means you are to behave well in this house, listen to what I say and be good to your brothers and sisters. If you ever do something to break the rules, there will be repercussions. And trust me, you don't want to get on my bad side." you wave your finger at the doll and it seems like he's listening intently, his eyes seemingly fearful as you sit across from him, making eye contact.

"Don't be scared, Lixie. I have a feeling that you're a good boy and that you'll be obedient. We will have no problems, you and I. I'll even reward your good behavior." you smirk at him, caressing his soft cheeks.

You lean in to press a kiss on his lips before you turn to your table and start working on your broken dolls.

Felix stares at you from where you left him, his hands tucked in his lap and eyes fixed on your hunched frame.

You almost forget about his presence as you concentrate on your work, every detail you sew into their clothes, the love you pour into them, in a way giving them a soul of their own.

Your hands seemed to dance as you kept working, until you felt a sharp pain in your neck.

"Ow!" you mutter and sit up, realizing you've been hunched over for too long, your shoulders tense, pain throbbing in your neck. "Time for a break." you announce, your stomach growling after that.

"And food, I guess." you turn to Felix, finally acknowledging his existence.

He looks to you like he wants to say something, even though he is sitting still.

"What is it, Lixie?" you lean in closer, looking right into his eyes.

He stays silent.

"Ah, you're shy. You'll come around. I'll wait for you to show yourself to me." you smirk, kissing his nose, your fingertips tracing the pretty freckles on his face.

After giving him a little kiss, you take him to your garden, which was thankfully surrounded by a tall wooden fence, hiding you away from the rest of the world.

"Sit here and I'll be right back." you sit him down on one of the fancy chairs, brushing away the hair that fell into his face.

You bring a few of your other dolls, sitting them down on the other chairs, bringing all of them a set of china; plates, cups and everything.

It's all themed with pink flowers, making everything look even more proper and fancy.

"Socialize." you wave your hand before disappearing into the kitchen, preparing a quick lunch for yourself.

You walk out into the garden some 15 minutes later with a plate of food for yourself and a glass of juice.

"I hope you're being nice to Felix." you say as you sit down, eyeing the four dolls sitting around the table, Felix being exactly across from you.

He looks a tad timid, and you're 100% sure that the expressions on his face keep changing, you know you're not just imagining it because other dolls you own have changed expressions or positions, some even giggled and whispered.

With your doll experience, Felix doesn't scare you, quite the opposite, you're waiting for him to start talking.

You make small talk with your dolls, about this beautiful day, how sunny and warm it is, how good lunch turned out.

As you continued talking, suddenly one of the cups started shaking and you look at the porcelain doll sitting next to Felix.

"Jenevieve. Don't do that! Behave." you warn but it's too late, the cup flies right into Felix's side, hitting him hard before crashing onto the floor, pieces of it flying everywhere.

Anger bubbles up in your veins as you take a deep breath in.

"You little bitch." you almost growl at the porcelain doll before standing up abruptly and grabbing a fistful of her hair.

"That's it, you're getting punished!" you seethe, walking back into the house as you carry her by her hair all the way down to the basement.

"You're gonna think long and hard about your behavior. And after you do, you will apologize to Felix. Like it or not he is family now." you say before laying the doll in a box and locking it.

"I know you're claustrophobic. So this will be a nice lesson for you never to misbehave again." you smirk before making your way back upstairs.

You quickly run to Felix, gasping when you notice a single tear running down his cheek.

"I'm sorry, angel." you wipe it away quickly, kissing his cheek after.

"Let's see the damage." you undo his shirt and sure enough there is a bruise forming on his side.

"For this, Jenevieve will get a week in the dungeon." you say angrily, your fingertips brushing against the bruise. "I'll take care of you, sweet Lixie. I promise that'll never happen again."

-

The same evening, you brought Felix to your bed, stripping him out of the shirt so you could take care of his bruise.

You flip through the manual seeing the warning about not bruising the doll and anxiety washes over you, hoping he wasn't now damaged in some irreparable way.

You rummage through your bathroom cabinet, finding a cream that was used for bruises, skipping back to Felix.

"Well, you're warm, you can blush, bruise and cry. And... cum." you giggle quietly. "So I guess this would help you?" you purse your lips before taking some cream out and gently applying it on his bruise.

"There-" you pause, seeing a bulge growing in his pants. "Really? You're so sensitive." you tsked, your hands on his thighs, gripping the flesh shortly.

You look at Felix's face and melt.

He's blushing again, his cheeks rosy followed by the tips of his ears becoming red.

"You're such a cutie." you coo at him. "But you're gonna have to wait a bit. I have to take off your make up and brush your hair. I want you to be all comfy in bed." you nod to yourself, getting up to retrieve makeup wipes and a brush.

You start gently removing his makeup, leaving little kisses on his cheeks and nose, pressing your lips into his plush ones.

After cleaning him up, you take the brush and sit him up more comfortably so you can start brushing his hair.

"Oh you really like this." your eyes widen as you notice him twitching in his pants. "Like your hair played with, my pretty angel?" you twirl a strand of his soft hair between your fingers.

"Give me three minutes." you hurry to your bathroom to get ready for bed before skipping back to Felix excitedly.

"I'm here sweetie." you grab his face and crash your lips against his.

The way he was made, his lips seemed to be kissing back, so soft and sweet against yours.

You kissed him for some time, already addicted to his taste before you started leaving kisses on his jaw, all the way to his ear.

He only seemed to become even more red, the color seeping onto his neck and chest.

"My shy Lixie." you giggle, leaving kisses on the column of his neck.

He feels so soft and smells so sweet, making you want to do this forever, just kiss him everywhere as he lays and takes it.

You liked being in control, it made you feel powerful as your hands roamed all over his body, his skin so soft like a baby's, you couldn't stop touching him.

Your lips covered every inch of Felix as you kissed his chest, his arms, his stomach, his hands.

Taking your sweet time to worship him.

You slid his pants off, getting up to put them on the chair where you've already left the shirt.

Felix was blushing profusely and he was very warm as you touched him, his cock throbbing, the tip red and angry, glistening with his wetness.

"You're working yourself up, dolly. You need to calm down a little or I won't give you what you want." you smirk, sliding your hands on his supple thighs, up to his balls where you lightly grazed them with your fingertips.

His cock twitched in protest, his face even redder now.

"If you act naughty, I'll leave you like this all night. Don't test me, my little prince."

Felix's lips seemed pouty at that and you waited a little, only gently caressing his smooth arms, the redness of his face and body subsiding slowly until only his cheeks were rosy like before.

"Good boy." his cock leaked and twitched at the praise.

"Ah, my dolly likes to be praised?" you giggled delightfully, smoothing out his hair.

"I'll keep that in my mind." you winked at him, fingertips grazing against his length before you finally wrapped your hand around him.

"Good boys get rewards." you coo at him, thumbing at his wet slit.

Felix's ears become red again.

"I'll take care of you, sweetie. Don't worry." you whisper as you lean down, leaving kisses all over his skin as you start moving your hand.

You play with him for as long as you want to, torturing his cock as you alternate between fast and slow movements, at times using only one hand and then both or fondling his balls, your lips never leaving his heated skin.

You explore him with your tongue, swirling it around his nipples and noticing how he got even more wet because of it.

"So sensitive. Cute." you kiss his lips, your hand tangling in his hair.

"You wanna cum, dolly? Ah, I wish I could hear you beg, I bet you'd sound so sweet all desperate for me." you coo at Felix, gripping his hair and pulling it back as you jerk him off faster.

He explodes all over your hand and himself, making you gasp from the amount that spurted out, curiosity taking you over as you scoop some of it on your finger, licking it up.

"Mm. Are you strawberry flavored?" you chuckle, swirling your finger in his cum to lick at it again.

"Maybe cotton candy?" you giggle again before kissing him sweetly.

You clean Felix up and cozy up to him, curling your body around his as you wrap your arms around him.

You hope that from that day on, everything goes smoothly; without any more incidents.

The following week passed by just as you expected, with no incidents, the dolls now on their best behavior after they've witnessed Jenevieve being dragged down to the basement.

Felix became an obsession of sorts, you just couldn't keep your hands off of him.

You've never owned a doll like him, and to say that you're infatuated is an understatement.

Constantly kissing him and touching him made you equally as aroused as it did him.

You wanted him in every way, but you didn't want to use all his capabilities on your own, instead you wished he'd snap out of it and do it by himself, participate and react to your touches more than just heating up, blushing or twitching.

You felt sad every day you had to leave for work, leaving Felix alone with the other dolls.

You warned them not to try anything or you'd burn them to a crisp.

But as you finally let Jenevieve out, hoping she had learned her lesson, you had no idea how it would actually make all hell break loose.

"Now, Jenevieve I hope you're sorry for what you've done and that you understand why it was wrong. This can never happen again, okay?" you told her before putting her back in her place.

You sat Felix on your bed, caressing him and kissing him for some time.

"Be a good boy, Lixie." you kiss his forehead.

"And all of you too. Behave or else." you give Felix one last kiss before leaving the house.

It was obvious that some of your dolls felt neglected.

This was their home and in their eyes Felix was an intruder they had to get rid of.

He was taking up all your time, soaking up all your attention, getting all your love.

There were dolls that didn't agree, they liked Felix and thought he was sweet just like you did.

Some were just scared to share their opinion, afraid of being locked in the basement, smashed to pieces or burned into ashes.

The neglected dolls had come up with a plan.

They were going to destroy Felix so by the time you come home, there is nothing left to salvage.

-

"I'm home!" you announced cheerfully as you entered your house, a bag of groceries secured in your arm.

Whistling, you made your way to the living room but stopped dead in your tracks when you saw a few drops of red liquid on the floor, something that looked like blood.

You stood in shock for a moment before dropping the bag of groceries on the floor, as they made a loud thud sound, the apples you bought rolling around your living room.

With a gasp, you started running up the stairs, all of them painted in little red dots, anxiety building up with each step you took.

When you reached your bedroom, a shriek escaped your lips, echoing off of the walls.

Felix was thrown on the floor, his body and face bruised and cut up, the outfit you dressed him in torn into pieces.

What was most concerning was the blood dripping out of his wounds.

Your heart started beating fast in fear.

Noticing Jenevieve standing in the corner together with some of your other dolls made your blood boil, your body starting to shake with rage as your eyes blurred with tears.

With a loud growl as rage took you over completely, you ran downstairs to grab your sledgehammer.

"I told you. I told you to behave!" you screamed at the culprits, lifting up your weapon and smashing the first doll that was nearest to you.

"How could you do this?" you cried, continuing to pound your sledgehammer on the dolls, damaging your wall and furniture in the process.

Jenevieve was last and you smirked at her.

"Goodbye, bitch." you said before smashing her into pieces, the sound of porcelain breaking was so satisfying in your ears.

"Do any of you have anything to add?" you looked at the other dolls coldly, the ones that didn't dare move from their designated place.

"Didn't think so." you added, fresh tears sliding down your cheeks as your eyes caught sight of Felix again.

"Shit!" you exclaimed, falling down to your knees and grabbing his face gently.

He was crying.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry I left you alone with them Lixie! I will make this right, I promise!" you cried as you held onto him.

You ran to your bathroom to grab a first aid kit, running back to Felix as fast as you could.

You tended to his wounds, tears falling down your face onto his cheeks and mixing with his own.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." you kept whispering as you took care of him, worry growing inside you when Felix became colder to the touch.

"I think this one needs stitches." you noticed a gash on his hand. "How did they do this? I'll never let anyone hurt you again, Felix."

That night, you brought Felix to your workshop, sewing up his wound and hoping that he would heal just like the bruise from his first day here was healing.

You didn't want to look at your dolls, opting to take Felix to the guest room, the only empty room in the house, getting him all comfy in your fluffiest blankets before you joined him under the covers.

"I love you a lot Lixie. Even though it's only been a week. You're my favorite doll ever." you kissed his cheek before cuddling him, holding him close to your body as you felt him warm up.

A smile spread on your face.

He's going to be okay.

Over the next few weeks, Felix's wounds have healed nicely.

You've asked to work from home so you could be with him all day.

It was quiet in your house, all of the other dolls were now even more afraid of you, after your little sledgehammer revenge.

You cuddled Felix a lot, holding him close whenever you could, playing with his soft hair and doting on him the entire time.

His face seemed to change throughout that time, from an expression of sadness and pain back to happiness and his rosy cheeks.

Once he was fully healed, you decided to bake a chocolate cake to celebrate his recovery.

Of course, he was in the kitchen with you, watching you work on the sweet treat.

You had more than one sweet treat in mind, you thought, giggling to yourself as you swiped some chocolate cream on your finger.

"Mm. So tasty." you smirked, looking directly at Felix.

"You wanna taste?" you took some more, coming closer to him and pressing your finger on his lips.

"Come on, I know you want it." you smirked. "I'll let you taste something even sweeter later."

He didn't react in the way you wanted him to, but his face was quickly becoming red.

Sighing, you leaned back and continued making the cake.

Once it was finished, you decided to let it cool down and take Felix to your living room.

"Look at that. I didn't even touch you." you giggled, the bulge in his pants evident.

He was finally all well and healed so you let yourself explore his body with your hands and lips.

It didn't take long for you to strip him, your eyes glued to his pretty cock, all hard for you.

"You make me wanna do things I usually don't." you sighed, gently stroking him.

"But you've been so good for me, so I gotta reward you." you laid Felix down, kneeling between his legs.

You kissed his thighs, lightly biting into his skin and noticing how he twitched at that.

You wanted to taste him and have him in your mouth which is something you were usually uncomfortable with but Felix made you want to do all those things you thought you never would.

"My good boy." you praise him, your lips pressing gentle kisses into his leaking cock.

Felix's body flushed as you kept kissing and licking at him, your hands sliding slowly on his soft skin, mapping him out.

You kissed his tip, tasting his pre-cum, sweet like cotton candy and you couldn't wait anymore as you wrapped your lips around him.

Your tongue tingled from the sweet taste as you swirled it around his head, a moan escaping your lips and making him leak even more.

Felix's fingers twitched on his side and your eyes widened a little as you took more of him in.

Hoping he would move again, you started bobbing your head faster, taking him in deeper, moaning around him and creating vibrations around his throbbing cock.

His fingers twitched a few more times, every time his tip hit the back of your throat it seemed to make him move.

Determined to snap him out of whatever trance he was in you gave it your all, drooling around his length as you sucked him harder, your hand squeezing his sensitive balls.

Taking you by surprise, Felix came, filling your mouth up with his cum and making you sputter as you didn't expect it.

You managed to swallow some, the rest making a mess out of his crotch.

You knew he was supposed to cum only after you pull on his hair so how did this happen?

Now, you had an even bigger inkling that Felix was alive.

A smirk spread on your lips as you stared at his reddened face.

"D'you want a taste, angel?" you giggled, your hand between your legs.

"Yeah, you do." you added, gathering some of your juices before bringing them up to his lips.

You pushed your finger in his mouth, making him taste you.

"I know you like that, my pretty prince."

You gave him a few kisses before cleaning him up.

"We can eat some cake tomorrow." you told him as you laid him down in your bed, the guest room now becoming your room.

As you cuddled up to Felix that night, you had no idea that he would finally wake up while you slept.

-

Felix's eyes widened as he fought for breath, his heart beating hard against his chest.

He gripped at the sheets, fisting them in pain as his whole body hurt.

You were sleeping peacefully on your side, facing him and for some reason he was terrified.

Felix saw what you did when you got angry so he didn't want to upset you in any way even though you treated him well, so well that he knew he loved you as much as you loved him.

But with confusion and fear running through his veins, he decided not to wake you up, instead he got up quietly in search of food and water.

He knew that if he took something from the fridge, you'd know he was awake so Felix made his way to your pantry, his feet padding on the floor quietly.

On his way there, his knee collided into a chair and he cursed quietly, his eyes widening as he looked back to the direction of your room.

Felix gulped, listening for some time and after deciding it was safe he entered the pantry.

He found some cookies and in his hunger he devoured most of them, accidentally leaving the wrapper and the crumbs behind.

After drinking some water, Felix returned to bed, deciding to let you sleep and maybe tell you that he's alive tomorrow.

-

Waking up the next day, you started the morning like any other, kissing Felix's sweet face.

But, something was different this morning.

His eyes were closed.

"Hm." you looked at him and he seemed to be breathing but it was so early in the morning that you thought you had dreamed it up.

Suddenly, your phone rang, scaring you out of your thoughts.

"Hi, Jackie!" it was your childhood best friend, the only person who tolerated your obsession with dolls.

She didn't mind it much and she loved you for who you were, the two of you grew up together, going through all the ups and downs with each other.

"Hey, y/n! I'm in town this weekend so I thought we could catch up." she said cheerfully.

"Of course, I'd love to!" you sat up, momentarily forgetting about Felix as you made your way to the kitchen with a smile on your face.

"Great, I can't wait to share all the tea I have." she said and you giggled before noticing something weird.

There was a glass you didn't touch on the counter, and your pantry door was open so you walked towards it as Jackie yapped in your ear.

As you turned the light on, you noticed half eaten cookies on the floor, the wrapper pulled apart seemingly with teeth.

"What? Do I have rats in my house?" you chuckled.

"I'm not a rat." a deep voice said behind you and you shrieked, turning around, your phone almost slipping out of your hand.

"Y/n? What's wrong?" Jackie asked.

"I'm gonna have to call you back." you said as you hung up, staring at Felix as he stood before you with his eyes wide, a timid look on his face, his cheeks rosy and lips pouty.

His hands were clasped together as he played with his fingers.

"F-Felix?" your eyes welled up with happy tears.

"It's me." he said, the depth of his voice shocking you once again, you didn't expect your sweet angel would have such deep vocal chords.

"Oh!" you laughed in delight, throwing your arms around him and hugging him tightly.

Felix gasped at your onslaught of love as you squeezed him so tight that you knocked his breath out of his lungs.

"I knew you'd come to me eventually, my angel." you gently took his face in your hands, your thumbs moving back and forth on his cheeks slowly.

"Y-you're not mad at me?" he asks cutely, blinking at you.

"No, no, not at all! Though, you left a mess." you shake your head and his face becomes redder.

"I'm sorry, I will clean it up." he says timidly and you giggle.

"Oh, you are so adorable!" cuteness aggression takes you over completely as you pinch his cheeks and kiss his plump lips repeatedly, making him giggle.

His stomach growled and he looked at you embarassingly, his face red and you chuckled.

"You need a proper meal." you said, deciding to make the classic eggs and bacon combo.

You took his hands and led him to the chair, sitting him down.

"Let me help you." Felix beamed at you.

"It's okay, Lixie. I like taking care of you."

"I know, but I want to do the same for you."

You melted instantly, kissing him again, it was hard to be apart from him.

The two of you made breakfast together, albeit clumsily as he was still confused about everything.

After eating, the two of you sat in the garden, you with your cup of coffee and Felix with his cup of hot cocoa, two slices of the chocolate cake you made last night served on the fine china.

"What made you wake up?" you asked.

"I- I'm not sure. I tried doing it before, I only managed to move my fingers or toes slightly, sometimes my eyes. It was honestly like I was imprisoned in my own body. I wanted to- to reciprocate, hold you properly and take care of you like you do to me." he said, looking away as he blushed once more.

"Ah, you are so sweet my prince. Just how I imagined. I knew you were alive, I was just hoping and waiting for you to break out of the hypnotized state."

"You think I was hypnotized?" Felix tilts his head at you.

"Do you remember anything before coming here?" you ask, reaching out to touch his hand gently.

"I remember this big cold room. And water. So much water. And there were others but I can't remember their faces. We were all there in the big room. There was a voice talking to us, I- I don't know what it said. But I think it was giving out commands." the more Felix talked about his past, the more worked up he was getting, his hands shaking, a thin sheen of sweat covering his forehead.

"Hey, hey it's okay. You don't have to tell me everything right away. It must be upsetting." you quickly stand up, holding his face and caressing him.

"I don't wanna go back there."

"You won't." you smile, sitting in his lap.

Felix freezes, his eyes wide and lips falling open, his face taking on the familiar rosy color.

"Y/n." he looks up at you cutely and you lean in, kissing him lovingly.

"You're no longer just my dolly. You're my boyfriend now." you giggle and he smiles the most beautiful bright smile you have ever seen.

"Oh! I am?"

"Mhm." you nod and lean in to kiss him again, your tongue licking at his bottom lip and he opens his mouth, letting you explore him properly now that he's awake, your hand tangled in his soft hair.

"I love you, Lixie." you kiss the tip of his nose.

"I love you y/n. Thank you for everything. For being so good to me and helping me heal when those dolls..." he shivers.

"Of course. Sorry if I went a little crazy. I know I can be insane sometimes. It's just when I saw you like that on the floor, I felt my heart break. I needed to smash them into pieces so they can never hurt you again."

"No, I'm glad you did that. If I could, I'd fight back."

"I know you would." you smile, shifting on his lap as you caress his face.

Scooting closer to him, you feel him press into you.

"I'm sorry." Felix whimpers, looking everywhere but at you. "I know you don't want to... you know."

"I do. Now that you're awake." you nod and his eyes widen.

"Oh?"

"Let's go inside." you giggle at his shocked expression.

"W-what do I do?" Felix looks at you unsurely as you sit on your bed. "Usually you're in charge..."

"You can take the lead, angel. Whatever you had in mind all this time, you can do now." you smile at him, taking his hands in yours to reassure him.

"I wanna worship you like you do to me." he blushes profusely and you chuckle.

"Of course." you say, the two of you starting with loving kisses, layers of clothing slowly coming off.

Felix lays you down gently, looking panicked for a moment, like he doesn't know what to start with, and as his eyes travel all over your body, the redness on his face spreads to his ears and neck.

Ultimately, he decides to do what you did, leaning down to kiss your neck first.

You throw your head back, giving him space as his plump lips gently travel on your skin.

You close your eyes as Felix's worships you, his lips so sweet on your hot skin, his hands caressing you gently as he slides them on your arms, then to your waist and tummy before slowly going up to cup your breasts.

"L-Lixie." you whimper as he plays with your nipples before leaning in to kiss them, his tongue darting out to swirl around the sensitive bud before his pretty lips wrap around it, sucking gently.

"Ah!" you moan, arching into him, arousal dripping from your core.

Felix whimpers when his finger touches your warmness, feeling how wet you got just for him.

He finds your clit, gently rubbing it in circles with his fingertips as he continues sucking on your breasts.

"Want you." you whine and he lifts up.

"C-can I taste you?" he asks, licking his lips and you nod eagerly.

Felix leaves kisses on your tummy all the way down to your core where he presses his lips against your clit.

"Mm, angel." you moan, making him moan too.

His tongue darts out as he starts licking at you and your eyes roll back.

He groans into your core, already addicted to your taste as he spreads you with his thumbs, pushing his tongue in eagerly, as deep as he can.

Your legs tremble a little, your hand ending up in his hair as you hold him down.

Felix keeps grunting into you, his deep voice sending vibrations through you as he laps you up, his button nose pressing perfectly against your clit.

Being sensitive, you can't hold it in too long as you explode, your juices spilling on his lips and chin.

"You taste so sweet." he looks up at you, licking at his lips.

"Come here, I need you." you make grabby hands at him and Felix giggles as he slides up, slotting himself perfectly between your thighs.

"Are you sure?" he asks and you nod.

"Please."

"Anything you want, darling." Felix whispers.

You feel his tip caress your folds and you whine, wrapping your legs around him as he sinks in, slowly opening you up just for him.

You embrace each other, your bodies moving together as Felix makes love to you until you're crying and trembling in his hold, your nails digging into his back as he finally releases his warm cum inside you, filling you up to the brim.

That night, Felix got to embrace you just how he always wanted.

The next few days pass by in perfect bliss.

You and Felix are attached at the hip, always together, always in each other's arms, lips constantly touching.

You took him out on so many dates and he loved being outside, seeing other people enjoying their day too, feeling the warm sunlight on his face, the gentle breeze caressing his hair.

You'd never been this happy before, never having someone who had seen you at your worst and still loved you for who you are.

Felix also loved helping you around the house, giving you massages and doing everything he can to make you feel comfortable.

He even told you of the dolls who were always nice to him so you'd take them out in the garden to hang out with you and Felix on a nice picnic date.

Even your friend Jackie was happy for you, first asking you to explain how the hell did he go from a doll to a human.

"So, basically, you were alive the whole time?" she scratched her head, as the three of you sat in your garden.

"I guess I was."

"So, do you remember how you were made? Like, are you human or?" Jackie asks, her eyes widened in wonder.

"I honestly have no idea. As I told y/n, I only remember that there was a room and that I was suspended in water."

"It's all so peculiar." you shake your head. "But it doesn't matter. What matters now is that Felix is alive and he is safe here." you kiss his cheek and he blushes instantly.

"If you're happy y/n, I'm happy too." Jackie smiles at you.

"Thanks, J." you giggle.

The rest of the afternoon Jackie fills you in with all the drama that happened in her life since you last saw each other, both you and Felix entertained after getting a scoop.

That night, Felix falls asleep quickly and you stay up just for some time, caressing his face and admiring his beauty.

"Good night, my sweet Lixie." you kiss his forehead before nuzzling into him and falling asleep.

Felix's night is filled with nightmares, after opening the topic of his past with Jackie today, memories started flooding in his mind.

People in white suits, their faces unrecognizable. A huge ceiling with big silver pipes. Water tanks with bodies floating inside them all in fetal position. Connected to a machine with a steady beeping sound echoing off of the walls.

The feeling of dread creeping up his spine.

Felix woke up with a loud gasp, covered in sweat, his heart almost leaping out of his chest.

"Lixie? What's wrong?" you sit up quickly as he jostled you awake.

"I- I had a nightmare." his lips tremble, tears sliding down his cheeks.

"It's okay, it was just a dream." you embrace him as he nuzzles into your neck.

You caress him until he calms down.

"It was about that place, wasn't it?"

He nods at your question and you sigh.

"How about we eat some ice cream?" you try to cheer him up and Felix nods quickly, a small smile already appearing on his face.

The two of you are in the kitchen when a loud banging on the door scares you both.

Both of you exchange a fearful look.

The banging starts again.

"Don't." Felix shakes his head, his hands trembling.

"It's okay." you reassure him, making your way to the door.

When you open them, you see five men in suits standing on your doorway, all their faces devoid of any emotion.

"Are you y/n l/n?" one of them speaks in a monotone voice.

"Yes, I am."

"So you've purchased Felix, the comforting doll?"

"I did. What is this about?" you ask confusedly.

"We are here to take him. There's been a malfunction and we need the dolls back at our company."

You scoff at them.

"No." you cross your arms.

"Miss, it's in your best interest to cooperate with us."

"Who the fuck do you think you are to know what's in my best interest?" you frown as two of the men exchange unimpressed looks.

You groan and in an attempt to shoo them away, you lift your leg up and kick one of the men right in his shin.

He doesn't even budge, doesn't make an expression or a sound that would indicate he was even hit.

"Get her out of the way." the man in the very back says and two of them grab your arms as you start screaming and kicking.

Three of the other men walk inside just as Felix runs up to the corridor, hearing your screams.

"Y/n!" he yells out, as the men grab him.

"Felix!" you kick around, tears sliding down your cheeks as you try to tear away from the men but to no avail.

"Let him go! He's alive! I love him!"

"Please don't take me away from her!"

Both of you scream but nobody listens to you.

One of the men takes a big needle out of his suitcase and before you can react he pushes it into Felix's neck, injecting him with some kind of liquid.

You scream as his body goes limp and they lift him up, walking out of your house.

"You'll get your money back, don't worry." the last man says and you scream at him, your tears flowing like a wild river.

"I don't want it! I want my Felix!" you cry, running after them but they've already pushed him into the backseat.

One of the men holds you back as they all pile in the car, leaving quickly as you fall down to your knees and cry.

Your heart hurts for breaking your promise of keeping Felix safe.

Your mind races with a thousand thoughts.

What are you going to do now?

Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @juskz @quokkacidal @chuuyaobsessed @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @lixies-favorite-cookie @thelostprincessofasgard @linocvp1d

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the many firsts

a/n: you have no idea how many times while writing this first instalment that i needed to take a break, if you know what i meaannn 🫠

summary: “alright, I’m sorry, geez,” Steve huffed with only a whisper of sincerity, “just come tonight, please? I mean, have you ever even been to a real party before? So how would you know that you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it? Just stop by for a second, and if it’s not for you, then you can just leave, simple as that.” 

warnings: innocent!reader x stepbro!steve rogers, frat!bucky barnes, frat!ari levinson, smut, dark content, college au, move in day at university, frat party, alcohol consumption, kissing, virgin!reader, corruption kink, voyeurism, overstimulation, first orgasm, edging, dirty talk, size kink, masturbation, handjob

word count: 8043

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

take her under your wing au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist 

“Thanks for the ride,” you uttered as Steve’s car finally rolled to a stop in the campus parking lot. Cracking open the passenger side door, you slipped out and trailed back to open up the trunk, “but I can do this on my own, you know,” as the lid floated up to reveal the Tetris-like stacks of both of your stuff, you glanced up at Steve as he rounded the corner of the vehicle as well, “you really don’t have to keep up your end of the deal, our parents aren’t here to see.” 

“It’s alright,” his burly arm reached over you to fish out a laundry basket stuffed to the brim with your things, “I know it was just your mom babying you as usual and whispering in my dad’s ear to get him to make me watch after you.” 

“She doesn’t baby me, she just cares, a lot…” you shot back defensively, “and I don’t need anyone to watch out for me. I’m eighteen, not seven.” 

“Oh yeah?” he let out a faint scoff, “so you wanna just haul all this junk around campus, looking for your dorm, which you have no clue where is yet?” 

Your eyes then slowly narrowed in his direction before you muttered, “…well, maybe you could give me just a bit of a hand… just in the name of saving time instead of wasting my first day getting lost.” 

And as you filled your arms with as much stuff as you could carry, Steve noted, “hey, I'm not offering to be your fucking tour guide,” as he slammed the trunk shut behind you, “don’t worry, I won’t now try to make you suddenly like me,” he spoke of the ship that sailed away a long time ago. 

Arms full, you crossed the crowded parking lot till you reached one of the open gates leading into a lush green area where little paths weaved across the lawns and connected all of the towering buildings. 

“Welcome to Highridge University,” Steve breathed as you walked under the gateway, “best fucking years of your life.” 

For so long, you had dreamt of this moment, finally being out on your own, away at college, meeting kindred spirits and sipping from the well of knowledge. Glancing around, your teeth clamped down on the smile that rapidly grew and faintly calmed the jittery nerves that still tensed up your abdomen in nauseating butterflies. 

“Where are you gonna live, again?” his glance briefly drifted to you. 

“Uh…” one-handed, you swiftly scrambled to get out the papers folded up in your pocket, “… Manning Hall, room eight,” you read out loud once you finally found the information on the crumbled piece of paper. 

“Manning, alright,” he exhaled, “I started out in Lichfield myself, but I’ve, uh–, dated a few girls who lived in Manning,” his comment promptly caused your eyes to roll in your skull before your feet began to shuffle after him as he led the way. 

As you tried to keep up with his long stride, you watched as his gaze suddenly dipped to the contents of the laundry basket he carried before something caught his eye. 

“Ah, no way,” he chuckled as he shifted the hamper to free his one arm and snatch up an item, “I can’t believe you brought this with you.” 

Glancing over, fury swiftly began to simmer in your chest as you watched him clutch the brown plush bovine visage of Chocolate Milk, an old stuffed animal of yours. 

“Hey!” you swiftly snatched the soft cow out of his hand. 

But the loss didn’t get to diminish his flame as he only spotted the others buried deeper within the basket, hidden beneath the mass of Chocolate Milk, “oh my god, there’s more!”

“Will you please stop?” you begged as he picked up both an ivory bunny and a caramel-coloured bear, “okay, fine, so I brought a few stuffed animals with me, big whoop!” you screeched in hopes that he would for once show you an ounce of mercy as this was in fact your first time being away from home, so the sense of comfort that those toys brought seemed better than if you’d begged your own mother to stay with you till you settled in. 

But even when Steve let go of the teddy bears and settled them back into the hamper, his laughter still continued to rumble in his chest, “oh, you’re so adorable, fuck…” 

His laughter had thankfully subsided by the time you reached Manning Hall. Once you’d received your key, your feet began to carry you down the long corridors in search of your new home. 

When you found the correct door, it already stood ajar, prompting you to slowly push it open before you peeked your head inside. 

On the floor, next to one of the nightstands, there sat a dark-haired girl your age, haphazardly stuffing the small drawer with some of her things. 

“Hi,” you gently tapped your knuckles against the open door before crossing the threshold. 

Glancing over her shoulder, her eyebrows floated up before she exclaimed, “oh! You must be my roommate!” before she sprang up and rushed towards you, “hey, I’m Kate,” she reached out to shake your hand. 

Setting down enough stuff to free one palm, you grasped hers and offered her a timid smile, “nice to meet you, I’m Y/n.” 

Coming in behind you, Steve bumped against your side as he squeezed his eclipsing form in through the doorway, “where do you want this shit?”

“Oh,” you tried to get out of the way before his stride tumbled you down, “on the bed is fine, I think,” you gestured to the empty one. 

Slipping in past you both, Kate then asked as he placed the hamper down on the small mattress, “is this your boyfriend?”

You nearly choked on your giggle as your wide eyes soared to stare back at her, “him? My boy–, no,” you tried your best to ignore the flutter that tingled deep within your belly at her assumption, “that’s my stepbrother. He’s just already a senior here, so we drove together.” 

“Oh,” she exhaled before her face screwed up in immediate regret, “sorry.” 

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, your stepbrother briefly glanced down at the screen before muttering, “well, I'll let you girls talk. I'm gonna go grab the rest from the car and then be on my way.” 

Offering him a small nod, your gaze shadowed him as he exited the small dorm room, your eyes only ripping away from his fading visage down the hall when Kate soon uttered, “hey, I was about to go get my student ID. You wanna join?”

“Sure,” you nodded, stuffing both of your hands in your pockets, “do you know where it is?”

“Actually, I do,” she cocked her head proudly before sharing, “my girlfriend goes here, so I’ve already been visiting this place for an entire year.” 

“Wait, wait, wait, let me readjust my grip,” the frat bro with a buzzcut wheezed to the other guy carrying the heavy beer keg. They were barely halfway up the steps that led to the fraternity’s porch as you approached. 

“Seriously?” the one that looked like a Norse god halted with a huff, “you can’t keep pausing every five seconds or we won’t get this thing inside till next year!” 

“Hi,” the quiet tone of your voice caused them to drop their squabble as both of their eyes promptly drifted directly towards you, “I’m sorry, is this the Kappa Alpha Nu house?”

“It most certainly is, gorgeous,” the blonde one let his stare take a journey down over your frame, “why? You wanna join?”

“No,” you shook your head, “I'm just looking for someone.”

“Okay,” the other one nodded, “well I'm pretty sure everyone’s inside,” his head invitingly tilted towards the open front door behind them before he added, “except for if you’re looking for Frank or Billy, they haven’t arrived yet.” 

Slipping in behind them, the entryway that met you was generous and wide, with a broad staircase off to the side that stretched up to an open landing where numerous hallways spewed forth and weaved deeper into the house. Peeking around, you first poked your head inside the living room that bloomed off to the left, though the room that met you was completely vacant. 

Though as you twisted to take your search somewhere else, a figure appeared from out of nowhere, curving around the corner, before you blindly bumped directly into the mass. 

“Ow, fuck!” he cursed before you stepped off his toes that your shoes had accidentally stomped down on in the collision.

“Shit, sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going–…” your apology then promptly faded from your lips as you blinked up into the blue eyes of none other than Bucky Barnes. 

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” your stepbrother’s best friend blinked back into your wide eyes before his glance dipped down to the deep neckline of your shirt, “and since when did these stop being mosquito bites?” he teased as a smirk began to bloom on his lips. 

As you then tugged at your shirt to cover up more of your cleavage, Bucky only continued to brashly stare.  

“Do you know where Steve is?” you avoided his inappropriate comment with a roll of your eyes. 

“Yeah, he should be down any second,” his brawny arm curled up before he leaned his weight against the wall behind you, “so, how the hell are you? Taken any showers lately?” he briefly wiggled his brows, recalling the time over the summer when he had come over to hang out with his friend, only to naturally walk into your bathroom right as you were washing shampoo out of your hair. 

“I’m fine,” you sighed as your cheeks began to burn, “glad to finally have a bathroom door with a lock that actually works.” 

But then, before Bucky could torment you any further, three separate pairs of footsteps creaked on the staircase. 

“Hey, Buck,” you heard Steve call out before he reached the bottom of the steps, “did you remember to invite the Delta Phi girls tonight, because–,” his sentence then crumbled as his gaze landed upon you. Stopping in his tracks, he blinked down at you with his eyebrows harshly knitted together before his glare flickered to his friend, “what is she doing here?” 

Crossing the width of the entryway, you dipped your fingers into your pocket and said, “you forgot your phone in my room,” before you fished the device out and stretched it up towards him. 

Finally crossing over the threshold behind you, the two guys hauling the keg perked up, “already trying out the new wares on campus? Nice.”

“What?” you twisted around to glare at them, your heart suddenly thumping in your chest, “I’m his stepsister…”

“Oh…” one of the guys on the staircase beside Steve murmured before turning to utter closer to him, “this is her? Seriously?” though hushed, his voice was still loud enough for each and every person in the room to hear what he said, “that’s your stepsister?” 

The clearly lewd undertones of his cadence flew directly over your head as you then blinked up at Steve and asked, “you told them about me?”

“Oh yeah, he has,” the shaggy-haired one on the other side of your stepbrother eyed you a moment before he shifted down the last steps, “I'm Ari, president of this madhouse,” the towering man leaned against the thick bannister before he pointed out each other fraternity members surrounding him, “this is Marc, Thor, Curtis and I'm guessing you already know Bucky.”

“Yeah,” you briefly entertained Bucky and threw a glare over your shoulder at him, “our paths unfortunately crossed back in high school.” 

As your eyes fluttered back, Ari, still standing tall before you, tilted his head and asked, “you stopping by our annual beginning of the semester bash tonight?” 

“Oh,” you breathed, taken aback by the unexpected invitation, “thanks, but I don’t think I should. I have freshman assembly early tomorrow morning, and anyhow, I’m not really much of a party girl,” your fingers began to fiddle with the hem of your sleeve. 

But then, before you could share any more of your completely valid reasons, Steve spoke up, “oh, come on,” he nearly groaned, “I was told to take you under my wing, so I can’t very well stand around and let you waste away your college years just like you did back in high school.” 

“What’s wrong with how I spent those years?” you scoffed and crossed your arms across your chest. 

“Uh, you had no life, no friends, nothing,” he counted on his fingers, “you were basically a nun.” 

Throwing your hands up into the air, you exclaimed, “oh, well, I’m sorry we can’t all be the fucking prom king and go to parties every weekend without it affecting one’s GPA!” 

“Alright, I’m sorry, geez,” Steve huffed with only a whisper of sincerity, “just come tonight, please? I mean, have you ever even been to a real party before? So how would you know that you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it? Just stop by for a second, and if it’s not for you, then you can just leave, simple as that.” 

“Drinks for the beautiful ladies,” Lloyd winked as he and Bucky slithered into the cluster of sorority girls to hand out some beverages. You were leaning up against the nearby wall, shyly only having one foot into the conversation as your new roommate, who now stood with her arm around her girlfriend, Yelena, encouraged you to join in and meet everybody. 

“Fuck off, Lloyd,” the redheaded ringleader of the girls barked after she’d seized a cup from him, “I can’t deal with you tonight.”

“Still playing hard to get, I see,” Lloyd only smirked back at Natasha’s scowl. 

“Oh, I very much am not,” she uttered coldly. 

“See, every party you tell me that and every party, I don’t care. It’s part of our thing,” he briefly waved a finger between the both of them. 

“It is not part of our thing, we don’t have a thing, we will never have a thing.” 

Though his feet didn’t shift at her warning, as his stare only narrowed to a squint before he concluded, “…so what you’re saying is there’s a chance.” 

“Just leave me alone,” she threw up a hand between them to shield her from any more of his desperate attempts, “go flirt with some sad, lonely freshman.”

Though as you watched from the sidelines, you swiftly felt yourself stiffen up as Lloyd suddenly saddled up next to you and flashed you a dazzling grin, “hello… are you by any chance sad and lonely?” 

Sucking in a breath, you nervously blinked up at him, “not particularly.” 

But before the frat guy could make any other attempts, and make you that much further overwhelmed, Bucky’s palm landed on Lloyd’s shoulder before he offered him a band-aid for the rejections.  

“Hey, I think I saw those twins from Callahan’s class out on the dance floor a bit ago,” he leaned in slightly to utter over the booming music that rattled the entire frat house. 

“Really?” Lloyd gasped, promptly renewed with vigour before he darted off, leaving Bucky alone next to you.  

“He seems… nice,” you tilted your head as your gaze traced him onto the dance floor, briefly flickering to Thor behind them all as he controlled the music and put his own spin on it. 

“Ah, he’s not that bad when he’s sober,” Bucky shrugged before shifting to face you, “here,” he then held out a plastic cup for you to grasp.  

“Oh, I’m not really much of a drinker–,” you tried to protest before Bucky rolled his eyes and shoved the beverage into your hand, “oh, okay, sure,” you blinked back into his steely blue eyes as he then brought the cup up to your lips and guided you to take a large gulp. The searing sting caused you to swiftly tilt your head back down as you then coughed because of how strong it was, “oh my god, what is that?”

“Just drink it, it’ll help, trust me,” he urged as you stared down into the well of what must have been pure liquor. 

Cautiously, you took the older guy’s advice, sipping slowly as you let your gaze wander the space, though as you did, you expected Bucky to leave, but to your surprise, he didn’t shift to move away from your side, which then only caused a timid bubble to ache within your belly as your stare nervously flickered up to him, clueless as to what you should do next.  

“So…” you exhaled tensely as you tried to make conversation, “you guys do this kind of thing a lot? Throw parties here?” 

“Yeah, pretty much every weekend,” Bucky nodded after taking a sip of his own drink, “although this one in particular, the beginning of the year bash, it always gets a bit wild. Probably because we haven’t seen each other all summer long, so some years it gets a bit out of hand.” 

“Oh… like, how wild do you mean? Does it turn into a clue movie?” you half-joked. 

“No, nothing quite like that,” he chuckled at your slight terror, “although Scott did almost drown in the pool one time, so…” he shared, pointing to the man erratically shaking his thing in the centre of the dance floor, “he was fine, woke back up, but just don’t get alarmed if anyone pulls something particularly stupid before the sun comes up.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded faintly, “thanks for the tip.” 

As your gaze continued to flicker across the expansive space and the drunken students letting loose, his own stayed glued to you before you eventually heard him utter, “so, have you gotten the grand tour yet?”

“What?” your neck swiftly twisted in his direction.  

“Of the house,” he faintly gestured to the walls around him. 

“…you wanna show me around?” 

“Sure,” he shrugged, “well, I’m kinda just waiting around for it to become my team’s turn in beer pong, so I’ve got the time to kill.” 

“Oh, alright,” you breathed, your pulse suddenly picking up at the thought of wandering the halls by his side. 

“Cool,” he nodded before shifting his gaze to the room you already stood in, “so, this is the place,” he spread out an arm as if you hadn’t just been standing in this spot for twenty minutes. 

“Yeah, I already figured that one out on my own,” you chuckled briefly before the palm he slid over your lower back caused it to fade away. 

With his hold, he guided you around the corner, into the entryway, “so, the kitchen, dining room and the door to the basement are through there,” he then pointed to the different corners of the abode, “and through there is the living room and this room we use for meetings and shit.” 

He then ushered you upstairs, where barely any partygoers had ventured up. Pointing down the various long hallways, he guided your vision to the different doors all down each of them, “so, Frank, Billy, Curtis and Miguel’s rooms are down that way,” he then gestured to the opposite direction, “Scott, Thor, Lloyd, Ransom and Marc are down there,” before his feet then shifted down the last corridor, “and down here is my room,” he pointed to the closed door that had his name on it, “Steve’s, Andy’s and Ari’s.”

Though as he spoke, your eyes fluttered to the door at the end of the hallway, standing slightly ajar. The movement that caught your eye on the other side caused you to swiftly glance to Bucky with a look of alarm, though he clearly couldn’t spot it from where he was standing as he continued to chat, his voice soon fading and flying over your head as your stare wandered back towards the dark room. 

On a bed in the centre of the room, there was Ari, hovering and grunting above some blonde girl you didn’t recognise. It took a second for you to realise what they were doing, though when it sank in, a small gasp escaped your lips and caused the leader’s eye to snap up from the whimpering girl beneath him and lock with your own stare through the sliver. You wanted to look away, you knew that you should have, but you couldn’t. 

And as you stood there, paralysed and suddenly panting, a wide grin began to bloom upon his lips as he held your eye and began to roll his hips with even more force, causing the chick on the bed to nearly fall off the mattress as each thrust drove her closer and closer to the edge. 

Though as you finally managed to snap out of your trance, you nearly coughed as you scrambled to blink back to Bucky, “I’m sorry, what did you just say?” 

“I said that I’m gonna go take a leak,” Bucky cocked an eyebrow as he watched your chest rise and fall rapidly beneath your shirt, “you good?”

“Yeah,” you breathed foggily, “I think I just need a second before heading back downstairs again…”

“Oh, well, I'm sure you can go hang out in Steve’s room for a bit,” he cracked open the door behind him and gestured for you to slip inside. 

Slowly, your feet shuffled deeper into the room, the plastic cup in your hand soon resting on the windowsill as you momentarily cast your glance outside at the people down in the front yard, playing a rambunctious drinking game. 

Though as your frame sank down with an exhale to sit on the edge of the bed, your head swiftly burying itself in your hands, loud moans seeped through the wall from the other room as they crescendoed in a cacophony that caused your head to spin. 

Or perhaps it wasn’t just the lewd acts that were to blame for why you suddenly felt so dizzy. Ground unsteady beneath your feet, even though you were already sitting down, you noticed how inebriated you truly had become. Not that you had imbibed that much, but as the lightweight that you admittedly were and the minuscule experience your body had with such substances, it didn’t take much to have you feeling more molten than you ever had before. 

“What are you doing up here?” you suddenly heard, causing your face to crawl out of its hiding place in your palms. Glancing up, you saw Steve’s shadow in the doorway.  

“Steve!” you jumped slightly at his unexpected arrival, “you scared me,” you clutched your chest gently as you watched him shut the door behind him. 

Moving over towards the desk in the corner, he briefly dipped down to find a bottle of whisky that rested in the bottom drawer. Casting a glance back at you over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed as he studied your form, “did I just walk in on something?” he asked as he unscrewed the lid, “you waiting for someone to come up here and fuck you on my bed? Kinky.”

“What? N-no! Oh my god, no,” you sputtered, sensing a mortified heat rush up to your cheeks, “I swear, Bucky was just showing me around a bit, and I wasn’t ready to go back to the chaos downstairs yet, that’s all, he was the one who said it was okay for me to take a break in here.”

“Hmm… you’re still sweet on him, aren’t you?” he guessed before tilting the bottle back for a swig, “is that what was happening here? Were you waiting for him to get back? Did I just cockblock you from finally getting that stick fucked out of your ass? If so, then I feel like I have a responsibility to warn you, he is hung like a fucking horse, so don’t be discouraged if you can’t take him.” 

“I–, what?” you panted, blinking back at him wildly, “no, I’m not! I-I don’t like him, I’ve never–, what are you talking about?” 

“Chill! I’m only joking,” Steve swiftly chuckled at your perplexed panic, “I mean, not about his size, both a blessing and a curse, you know,” he cocked his head, “seriously, you don’t gotta freak out like some innocent little virgin,” he laughed, though his words only caused you to freeze up, a reaction he swiftly picked up on, “…unless you–, oh shit,” growing silent, his stare stayed glued on you as he slowly sat the bottle in his hand down upon the desk behind him, “you are, aren’t you?” 

“Well, you don’t gotta say it like that!” you groaned, keeping your eyes averted to the floor, “it’s not some terminal illness.”

“Sorry, no, I didn’t mean it like that, I just–… fuck…” he exhaled, “really?” 

“…yeah,” you nervously fiddled with the hem of your skirt as you felt the mattress dip beside you, “you know my mom has never let me date anyone…”

“What about like other stuff?” Steve’s tone tickled your hot skin as he now sat right next to you, “you’ve done that, right?” though you only managed to meekly shake your head as an answer, “really? No one’s ever like touched you before? Or you’ve played with someone else?” he pried, and you once again shook your burning face from side to side, “wow,” he exhaled, “well, then I can’t even begin to imagine how much you must masturbate, damn.”

“I–, I–…” you tried to utter, though the truth of your inexperience seemed too difficult to say out loud, rendering you to once again wobble your head. 

“Wait, seriously?” his eyebrows soared up even higher, “you haven’t that either?”

“Well, I’ve–, sort of–, I don’t know,” you stumbled, your gaze still hazy on the floor. 

“How have you done it?” he then asked, making it that much harder for you to fill up your lungs with oxygen. 

“Oh god,” you jaggedly shifted your vision to the ceiling, “this is so mortifying.”

“No, it’s okay, you can tell me,” he pushed in a gentle tone you didn’t think he had in him. 

Gnawing at your bottom lip till a metallic taste met your tongue, you hesitantly muttered, “…kinda just, I guess, sit on a pillow or a stuffed animal or something and then–…”

“Shit…” a low groan rumbled in his chest, a sound that shot straight down between your thighs and worsened the throbbing already distracting you down there, “that’s the only thing you do? You just hump your pretty little pillow till you cum?”

“Well, I don’t know if I–, uh, reach that per say, I just kind of rock till it builds and then I’ve always stopped because–, I don’t know…” you uttered, mortified that your inebriated state had nudged you to share such matters, especially with him, “it’s stupid, I know. My anatomy knowledge is great, much better than yours, I know where stuff is and how things technically work, but when I was younger, I know it’s dumb, but it all kind of scared me, like what if I did it wrong and ruined something, and I know now that statistically speaking the odds of something like that happening are really, really low, but–, yeah…” 

Steve’s eyes never left you for but a second, merely stared as you shared and eventually, after silence had swept through the room like a crisp breeze, he parted his lips and uttered, “do you want me to teach you?”

Finally, you turned your head to meet his gaze, “…you’re my stepbrother…” 

“Yeah, of a couple of years,” he had the audacity to shrug, “and for most of that time, I’ve been away at school, so like, are we really?” 

A stunned scoff then bubbled out of your throat, “our parents are married, so yes, that makes up stepsiblings.” 

“Well, for now,” he tilted his head slightly, “were you living in the same house as I was over this summer? They clearly aren’t newlyweds anymore…” he stated before leaning in closer, “so, what do you say? Will you let me help you?” your eyes flickered down to your knee as his knuckles slowly inched closer and ghosted against your skin, “I promise, it’ll feel so fucking good, you don’t even know…” he nearly whispered as if he was trying to sell you on a drug you’d instantly get addicted to. 

“I–…” you panted, “but wouldn’t it be weird that it’s you showing me?”

“No, it wouldn’t be weird at all,” his head gently shook from side to side, “unless you want me to go grab Bucky, I'm sure he wouldn’t mind either–”

“No, no!” you swiftly squeaked, “that’s not necessary,” as sharing such a secret with Steve had been bad enough, the thought of repeating the whole ordeal with someone else made you feel as if you might faint. 

“Okay,” he breathed before he slowly began to inch closer, an action you swiftly put a stop to when you pressed a palm to his chest.

“Wait, what if I don’t like it?”

“Then you just tell me, and I’ll stop,” one of his hands floated up to rest on top of your own, still pressed against him, “promise,” he offered you a reassuring smile. Steve’s glance then flickered down to your lips before his eyebrows twitched slightly as he wondered, “so, if you’ve never done any of that stuff before, does that mean you’ve also never been kissed?”

“…well, I've played spin the bottle a few times, many years ago, does that count?” you recalled the awkward pecks in your youth. 

“Not really,” the corners of his lips twitched before he asked you, “can I kiss you?”

“Can you–…” you echoed faintly before whispering, “okay,” utterly spellbound as you stared back at him, “what should I do?”

“Just relax,” he then gently grabbed each side of your face with his wide hands, “and follow my lead.” 

It simultaneously felt like an eternity as well as only the blink of an eye before Steve had closed the gap and pressed his lips to your own. At first, it was soft and slow, his right thumb briefly swiping against your cheekbone as he kissed you, but then you felt his tongue flicker forth, making you gasp, before he seized that opportunity to slip past your guard and let his tongue dance against your own, the sensation of which caused you to positively melt as you relaxed into the kiss and mirrored his efforts. 

You had no clue how much time had passed once you finally parted, and you blinked your dazed eyes back at him. 

And in your haze, he first shifted back deeper onto the bed, before he gently manoeuvred your frame to slot you in between his legs, “here, lean back against me,” he drew you closer till your back was pressed up against his chest. 

Twisting your neck to look up at him, you were still too stunned to speak, only suck in a shaky breath as he then pressed a peck to your temple. 

“You ready?” he murmured against your hairline as his hands slid down atop your own, his fingers swiftly interlocking with your smaller ones. 

“I think so,” you uttered nervously. 

“So, let’s start off with the basics,” his low voice only worsened the tingly sensation that now roared in your body like a roiling flame, “could you tell me what places you’ve explored before and where you haven’t yet?”

“…well, I guess I’ve touched most places before…” you hesitantly began, “my hands usually run all over my body when I–, you know… but I’ve never put anything inside, and I only touched my–, uhm, clit one time, a really long ago,” your confession began to make you feel so dizzy, you feared you might faint at any moment, “and it was just really intense and–, I don’t know, I was scared that it was too much, so I never tried it again, not directly anyway, just–, you know, pillows and such…” 

“Alright,” he uttered, letting go of your hands. 

Your eyes grew as they then traced Steve’s touch, first sweeping up to gently cup both of your boobs. Your cunt clenched around nothing as he briefly brushed his thumbs over the pebbles of your nipples, poking through the thin fabric of your shirt. You found yourself barely breathing when he eventually let his palms roam further south till they were at your hips, and his fingers began to hike up your skirt and let it crumble around your waist. 

“Let me see…” he murmured directly in your ear as he poked at your bent legs to pry them open, “oh my god, look at you…” you felt the deep groan vibrate in his chest as he caught sight of your panties and the embarrassingly soaked patch darkening the cotton, “you are so fucking wet…”

Steve then slowly slid his touch down over your covered core, merely cupping your lightly, though still making it near impossible for you to breathe. But your whole body twitched as he lightly curled up his hand till only the tips of his fingers still grazed you, before he then began to draw a feathery pattern of circles, tickling your deprived centre. 

“How does that feel, huh?” he kept up the ghostly touch. 

“I-it’s–, o-oh my god,” you whimpered, doubtful if you could take whatever else he’d dare to throw at you when even such a light touch managed to make you tremble, “Steve.”

Seizing his teasing, his fingers then hooked in the hem of your underwear before pulling them to the side, sticky strings of your arousal clinging to the cotton, “oh, fuck…” he groaned before his instincts overtook him and his fingers caught the waistband before ripping them down your legs till their rushed journey halted at your ankles, resting around them and loosely trapping them together. 

Pushing your legs further apart, one hand then traced your inner thigh while he hooked his other burly arm across your chest, just beneath the swell of your tits, occasionally squeezing so tightly that your boobs were pushed up even higher as he efficiently strapped you in, impossibly close to his broad chest. 

Painstakingly slow, he slid his touch closer and closer to your glistening core, till he reached the places that you never had the nerve to truly touch on your own.

“Oh, f-fuck!” you gasped as the rough pads of his fingers just lightly dragged through your folds. 

“Christ, you’re sensitive,” he kept on peeking over your shoulder as he drew a slow circle over your clit, “look at you, fucking trembling like a leaf, and I've barely touched you yet.”

“Barely?” you echoed breathlessly, “what do you mean–, how is this barely? I-I don’t know if I can–, it’s–, fuck,” you whimpered against his touch, “it’s too much,” your thighs trembled on either side of his wide palm, “I don’t know if I can take it, I think you might have to stop.” 

“No, no, no, it’s not too much, you can take it, I know you can,” he urged before he bent his strong legs and hooked them over your own, trapping your wiggly limbs and holding you down and open for him, “just trust me, I’ve got you, all you gotta do is just relax, okay? Just give into it.” 

His feathery pressure on your puffy pearl then increased, making your hips buck beneath his touch as a moan rippled out from deep within your lungs.

“Oh, fucking hell, there you go,” he smiled from behind you, “look at that little pussy, fucking crying out now that she’s finally getting some attention.”

Your fingers twitched just beneath his arm, still flexing over your ribs, and a murmur slipped out past your whimpers, “I can’t believe this is actually happening…” 

Though as Steve’s touch drove you mad, his fingers slipped down to catch some of the slick that leaked out of your untouched hole, before he went into autopilot and didn’t sweep back up to bully your glistening clit, but instead began to circle your virginal entrance. 

“No, wait,” you instantly began to freak out, “n-not there!” 

“You sure?” he let himself trace your tight opening one last time, “alright, maybe next time then…” 

Once his fingers had swept back up and focused in on your puffy pearl, rolling it firmly beneath his touch, you felt your body reach the agonising point where you’d always chicken out. 

“Steve, I–”

“Hm?” he hummed in your ear and kept up his efforts, surely feeling your clit throb beneath his fingers, “you getting close?”

“I-I–,” you gasped, trying your best to fight the feeling, “this is usually when I stop.” 

“Oh yeah?” you could plainly hear the smirk on his lips. 

“Mhm,” you nodded, staring down at his efforts that barely even paused. 

“So, this is what you’d do, huh? You’d ride your pillow and then just stop?” as he uttered that last word, he abruptly took his hand away, “just leave yourself all edged and needy?” your hips bucked after his fading touch, “that’s usually something I’d do to my girls just to be a menace and make them all dumb and desperate, but that’s just what you do to yourself all of the time?” your whole frame quivered against him as you weakly tried to grab for his hand, even as he brought it completely out of your reach, “damn, gotta admit, wish I had known that earlier… I could have sneaked into your room afterwards and lent a hand, helped you go all the way. That’s what you needed, wasn’t it? You just needed your big bro to come in and hold your hand through it because you got scared? It’s okay, I’m here now, I’ve got you, big brother’s got you.”

“You’re not my brother–” 

“Damn right, I’m not,” he nearly chuckled before he began to touch you once again, rendering any retort you had lined up to fly straight out of the window as shaky moans instead flowed from your lungs.

Though the cruel pause had given your body enough time to calm down just a tad, it barely took any time at all for Steve to push you back towards that intimidating ledge and hold you there as you peeked over the edge. 

“Steve, I don’t know if I can–, it’s–” 

“Baby, it’s okay, you can do it,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “just trust me, it’ll feel so fucking good, you don’t even know,” the hand he had plastered against your ribs slid up to grasp one of your tits, denting the softness with his long fingers, “just let it happen, relax.” 

Shaking uncontrollably, your face tilted to hide in the bulk of his arm as the most blinding and overwhelming sensation you’d ever felt in your entire life rippled through your form, white-hot pleasure in a dose that you hadn’t thought imaginable.

“Oh, there you go, fuck,” he moaned and tried to draw your very first orgasm out as long as he could, “atta girl, that’s it.” 

When his movements finally stopped, his messy hand slipped down to rest against your twitching thigh, hazy whimpers ever flowing from your lungs as you reeled in the staggering sensation. 

“Holy shit…” you eventually managed to pant shakily. 

“Told you it’d feel good,” he uttered cockily before pressing a kiss to your temple. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as he then began to caress your thigh gently, sweeping his touch up and down the goosebump-ridden flesh till your breathing began to slow. 

But then as you felt yourself relax even further back against him, wiggling slightly to get more comfortable, you noticed something hard poking your back. Assuming that it was something in his pocket, you shifted once again, but still couldn’t escape it, though with each of your squirming attempts, a low groan was conjured deep within Steve’s chest.

“What is that?” you then muttered, “is it your phone? Could you take it out of your pocket?”

“No, it’s not my phone,” he couldn’t help but chuckle at your innocence, swiftly causing you to freeze up, “you got me hard.”

Gasping loudly as if he hadn’t just had his hand on your pussy, you shot up to a sitting position and swiftly crawled around to direct your wide eyes straight at him. Skirt falling down to cover you back up, your panties however still remained around your ankles as you shifted to kneel on the bed before him. 

“Oh my god,” the stunned expression plastered all over your face caused him to melt, “you’re so cute…” 

Blinking back at him, you stammered, “that was–… you’re–…” 

“Hard? Yeah,” he casually uttered, “kinda impossible not to be after what just happened,” he let his hand drift down to palm himself through his pants, guiding your vision to flutter down as well to finally look at the prominent bulge that strained against the zipper of his jeans. And as his touch slowly rubbed against the mouthwatering hardness, teasingly squeezing it for an ounce of relief, his head then cocked as he continued to stare at you, “can I ask you something?”

Downright hypnotised as you stared down at the overwhelming display of his arousal, you only managed to hum as a reply, “mhm,” as you stayed transfixed on the clothed hardness that somehow both terrified and exhilarated you at the same time. 

“Have you ever seen a cock before?”

Meeting his unwavering gaze, you blinked, “…in textbooks and stuff…”

“How about up close?” he asked and you swiftly shook your hazy head, “you wanna see mine?”

“I–… what?” 

“Do you wanna see mine?” 

“U-uh…” you could barely think as you felt the sore sensitivity between your unsteady thighs somehow blossom back into the same agonising tingles that had taken hold of you before, “okay.” 

A sharp breath filled your lungs as you watched him free his dick. Your eyes swiftly grew even wider as he enveloped the hand, still glistening with your juices, around the fat girth. Slick and sloppy sounds filled the room with every leisurely stroke as he began to slowly jerk himself, your thighs unconsciously squeezing together at the show. 

“You good?” he chuckled lightly at the way your eyes had gone glassy. 

“Mhm…” you foggily nodded, struggling to grasp onto even a single thought, “it’s–… a lot bigger than I imagined…” 

“Have you been imagining what my cock looked like?” he relentlessly teased. 

“No, no, I mean, just in general,” you fumbled over your words as he kept up his silky strokes, “yours is bigger than I imagined them to be in real life.” 

“You wanna touch it?”

“…t-touch?” your eyes fought to blink back up and lock with Steve’s own. 

“Yeah, come on,” he then grabbed your hand and brought it towards his length. At first, he let you just graze your fingertips against his dick, guiding your touch as he slowly dragged it across the velvety skin, all the way from the bulbous head, glistening with shiny precum that beaded at the tip, to the fat base where his heavy balls bloomed beneath. 

“Oh–,” you swallowed as he then wrapped your fingers around his girth before engulfing them with his own broad hand, still shiny from your wetness, “it’s–, really hard.”

“Yeah, well that’s what you do to me, baby,” he smiled as he tightened his fist around your own, though even so, his girth was still too big for your own fingers to meet on the other side, “this is all for you…” 

His free hand then grabbed your chin before he ravenously pressed his lips to your own, kissing you fiercely as he began to move your hand and guide your touch over his throbbing length. 

Eventually, as you broke from the kiss, you peeped down at his cock, tight in your grasp. 

His fingers kept on clutching your chin, holding you close, as he then purred, “here, like this,” his wide hand flexed around your smaller one, “a little tighter, don’t be scared, you won’t hurt me–, yeah,” he then moaned as you obeyed his command, “fuck, that’s it…” briefly letting his eyes flutter closed as he breathed through the pleasure. Though as he blinked his gaze back open, his broad thumb brushed against your knuckles as he asked, “you wanna try on your own?”

“O-okay,” you uttered before his guiding touch faded and you timidly tried to emulate his efforts, “like this?”

“Yeah, that’s good,” he groaned as you slowly slid your careful touch up and down the length of his cock, “shit, you’re a natural, baby,” his fingers that clutched your chin briefly shifted before his thumb poked up to brush the pad against your bottom lip, “keep going like that and I’ll blow in no fucking time.” 

“Oh,” you swiftly ripped your stare away from his dick as you misunderstood his words, “should I stop then?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled before claiming your lips once again, not holding back in the slightest as he let the kiss grow sloppy and desperate. 

Rejoining his touch to your own, he began to speed up your actions, making you stroke his thick girth even faster than before. And as he tilted away from the greedy kiss, a glossy string of saliva still kept you both connected. 

Panting as he neared the finish line, he cast a brief glance down at his fat cock slick in both of your hands, before he threw his head back and moaned loudly as he unravelled at your touch. 

“Fuck…” he panted as he let go of your palm, now sticky with his hot load just as his own hand was as well. Chest still rising and falling rapidly, he caught your frame and tugged you even closer, “come here,” he murmured as he pulled you into a limp hug. 

“Was that okay?” you asked in a small voice as you curled into his chest. 

Catching your jaw, he tilted your head back enough for you to catch his eye before he uttered, “that was fucking perfect,” and he kissed you once again. As he drew back, his gaze lingered, eventually fluttering down towards your lips before he brought his fingers up towards them, still messy with both your nectar as well as his own load, “open up.”

“What?” your brows knit together as you blinked down at the sticky digits he ghosted against your lips, tilting your head back slightly in confusion. 

“Give it a taste.” 

“Why would I do that?” you nearly laughed. 

“Because it’s normal,” the older guy told you, “most people love cleaning up after their messes, so you probably do too.”

“Seriously?” 

“I shit you not,” he said, though you kept on staring back at him in doubt, “what, do you want me to prove it to you? Fine,” he then extended his thumb for him to suck it clean, “there,” he released the dinger from his lips with a pop, “now it’s your turn,” he twisted his hand back down towards your mouth. 

And hesitantly, you found yourself parting your lips for him, “there you go…” he groaned as he slipped two of his long fingers inside your mouth, “see? Tastes good, doesn’t it?” his gaze stayed transfixed upon your lips wrapped around his messy digits as he slowly let himself shift his fingers, greedily fucking your face for a bit, “shit…” he cursed as you licked them clean and he pulled them back out, a murmur swiftly slipping from his lips as he continued to stare, “I can’t wait to train this little mouth to do all sorts of tricks…” 

“What?” you asked as your mind began to scramble for the meaning. 

“Oh, nothing,” he sighed and ignored your naiveté before he pulled you back in for another hug, “nothing at all, sis…”

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[jiminiecrickets]

PRIMADONNA. GOJO SATORU / M!READER

summary. the easiest way to a man's heart is through his stomach – in more than one way.

wc. 9k

tags. smut | dom top reader, sub bottom gojo, husbands gojo/reader, teacher reader. anniversary sex, "sir" for reader + "puppy" for gojo, oral (r. receiving), praise + degradation (gojo receiving), humping, riding, light s/m, bondage (wrists), overstimulation + multiple orgasms (gojo), belly bulge + size kink, crying, off-screen gojo in lingerie

"Satoru."

You smile, your eyes crinkling at the corners.

"If I don't get delayed, I'll be returning at night after my mission. It's a long plane ride back, so don't stay up for me, alright?"

Satoru was miffed, to say the least. How dare they steal away his husband on such short notice? You barely had time to pack a suitcase. And worst of all? It coincided with your anniversary.

For the first time in ten years, he would be spending that day alone. He wanted to be angry – angry at those spineless geezers cooped up in that musty room – but all he could really feel was disappointment. You'd been an anchor for so long that he felt listless without you by his side, throwing the weight of your name behind his whenever he did something he thought was right.

Whatever. At least he woke up to a 'happy anniversary' voice message from you that morning.

"An exponential is a function of the form f of x equals a to the power of x, where a cannot equal one, zero, or anything less than zero. You'll want to note down these eight laws on the board. I'd recommend putting them in a table at the top of a page so you don't have to go flipping for them in exams. I'll go through them one at a time."

Satoru drops the white stick of chalk for a pale blue one, which he then uses to scrawl a line of numbers in a blank space on the left side of the blackboard. "So – a to the x, a to the y equals a to the x plus y. This is a biggie! You'll see it a lot. When bases a are the same and the terms are multiplied, the exponents are added. Added. Don't multiply them."

"Sensei!" Yuji's hand shoots up into the air. "Why aren't they multiplied?"

"Great question!" He glances over the board, then erases a large chunk of old numbers in one fell swoop. Nobara stops writing immediately with an odd expression and Satoru laughs, waving a hand as if to dissipate her troubles. "You can copy off Megumi's notes for that example, Kugisaki. Just leave a space for it."

He continues, "Now, Yuji, we remember that an exponential is multiplying the base by itself a certain number of times, yes? Let's use two raised to the power of three. That's two times two times two. Now, if you have two to the power of four, that's two by two by two by two. Phew, what a mouthful. Are we tracking?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good! We'll multiply these terms now. Wait!" He raises a finger and splits the two strings of numbers into two sets of brackets. "Putting these brackets here to separate the terms for clarity... Anyway – because the base number, two, is being multiplied over and over—" He slashes a little multiplication sign between the two brackets. "Ta-da! You've got two multiplied by itself seven times, so the answer is two to the power of seven. Therefore, you can skip this whole process in your written answers and just add the powers! Yay!"

"That's crazy."

"When it clicks, it clicks, right?" Satoru snaps his fingers, and to Yuji's left, Megumi snaps out of staring out of the window. "No slacking, Megumi! I can see you daydreaming over there."

"Kinda hard not to with only three students," Nobara mutters under her breath. At least when she dozes off, it's not with her head turned ninety degrees and propped on a fist. Seriously – it's like Megumi never learnt to nap discreetly at the back of the class. Come to think of it, she's certain he's never hidden earbuds under his hair, either.

"Sorry," he murmurs nonchalantly. "I'm not a maths person."

"Megumi, you're tearing me apart."

He shrugs.

"Since what you're doing is obviously more important than listening to your awesome teacher, would you like to share with the class?" Satoru drawls with a shit-eating grin. He sets the chalk aside, dusting off his hands, and leans over his desk, hands flat and forming a triangle with his thumbs and forefingers. "Is there a girl, Megumi-chan? A boy? Ah, a teenager's first love – I still remember mine as if it were yesterday..."

"Cut it out, you're not that old." Megumi glances outside again. Satoru follows his line of sight, but nothing stands out to him. "There was a guy on campus. Looked like a weirdo."

"Oh, for the love of – do you not remember what a finger to the lips means?"

Behind his blindfold, Satoru's eyes shoot open. It's uncomfortable, but so is his face-splitting smile, so wide it hurts his jaw.

None of that matters. He explodes with joy.

"Baby!" he squeals. He launches himself with the speed of a fastball at the person standing in the doorway. It's a miracle nobody goes crashing through the opposite wall.

"You're back, you're back," Satoru coos, burying his face in your shoulder and squeezing your middle so tightly that your spine pops. "Oh, man, you have no idea how much I missed you!"

You laugh, a little wheezy from having the air knocked out of your lungs, and pat his back. A ring glints on your finger. He presses himself deeper into you and you have to brace to stop yourself from toppling over. You close your eyes and inhale the soft floral scent of his hair, which draws out all the tension in your body. Lord knows you've accumulated a lot of it recently.

"There, there," you hum, gently grasping the back of his neck to peel him off you. For the first time, you get a good look at him. He hangs from the nape of his jacket like a kitten, a big dumb grin on his face. His pale cheeks are flushed, and your heart races a little from his sheer excitement. It's flattering.

What a sweetheart.

"We can talk later," you murmur with a smile, setting him down on flat feet. "Just wanted to stop by to drop off your lunch."

He glances down at the lunchbox-sized insulated bag in your hand. He accepts it gently, cradling it like gold. "My lunch...?"

"Mm, that's right. I hate to imagine how you fared without me." You slip a hand into the pocket of your pants. "I'll cook tonight, okay? Anyway, that's all. Toodle-oo."

"Wait!" Yuji slams his hands against his desk as his chair screeches against the ground. "Did I hear that right? Did sensei call you 'baby'?"

"Yes," you say, and Satoru's heart flutters at the pride in your voice. "You must be Itadori Yuji, and you must be Kugisaki Nobara. Satoru spoke of you often. Nice to finally meet you – I'm Satoru's husband."

Nobara replies in kind with a little bow and a polite greeting. Megumi's the only one still sitting, sheltering his eyes with his hand as if he can hide from the inevitable embarrassment. She turns to Satoru with an accusing glare, her hands on her hips. "No way you scored a guy like that with your personality! What'd you do, huh? Promise him money?"

"He hasn't even introduced himself yet and you're already taking his side?" Satoru whines, both of his arms wrapped around your own.

"I can tell that he's a respectable and dutiful man. You, however..."

"I mean, opposites attract, right?" Yuji offers kindly.

"Yuji! Are you saying I'm not a respectable person?" He huffs. "I'm telling Suguru to work you guys twice as hard tomorrow morning. Ridiculous..."

Nobara jabs an accusing finger at him. "You're ridiculous. Which is why I'm so shocked that anyone with any sense would marry you."

"Thrice as hard."

"Easy," you murmur to Satoru fondly. "But he's right about one thing. I haven't introduced myself properly. My name is YN Gojo-LN. You'll have me as a teacher next year. Call me LN-sensei – helps avoid the confusion."

Satoru tugs on your sleeve with a pout. "C'mon... I like it when you use my name. They're not gonna get confused by it. After all, I am the prettier one."

"Hard disagree, sensei," Nobara says flatly.

You smile as Satoru presses himself further into your side, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. "Don't worry, darling. You're plenty good-looking to me."

"You think so?"

"I know so, my beautiful little lily," you say affectionately, pinching his cheek. He holds your hand to his cheek, leaning into it, and Nobara nearly gags at the dopey expression on Satoru's face and the way his leg kicks up behind him like a schoolgirl with a crush. She glances at Megumi with disbelief written on her face and jabs a thumb over her shoulder. He nods solemnly as you coo over Satoru, your voice light and bouncy like a summer breeze.

You turn your attention back to the three first-years, all looking far more attentive after their break from staring at slanting strings of numbers. "It was lovely to meet you – and good to see you, too, Megumi, I can see you slouching there – but Satoru is only one-out-of-eight exponential laws explained. I'm not about to be the cause of bad grades. Ciao, everyone."

Reluctantly, Satoru unfolds himself from around you, and you're quite surprised. You'd think he'd fight harder to keep—

He seizes your wrist in a steely grip and drags you out into the hall. He shuts the door on his students' exclamations.

Immediately, he collapses into your chest, rather more raw and vulnerable than earlier. You wrap your arms around him and coo into his ear, cupping the back of his neck. He sighs, short and sharp and a little shaky, and his breath puffs against your collarbone.

"I was worried I'd lose you," he whispers, hands gliding all over your body as if to prove to himself that you're all still there, warm and complete and ready to embrace him. "Those damn idiots, taking you from me. Especially at a time like this..."

"Relax, dearie," you hum, and the old nickname makes his lips twitch upwards. "I was your equal for a while. I won't keel over so easily."

"You took on two special grades at once and went in ill-prepared because they couldn't do their damn jobs. How am I supposed to trust them when they can't even count to two?"

"Then trust me," you implore, cupping his cheek. He's always been thin, but you're glad you're back. Maybe he'll be less cranky with some meat in his stomach. "Always said we'd get through this together, didn't we? That includes dealing with the elders. I've got your back, but let's not make problems now – not when we have Yuji to look after."

He sighs and pushes his cheek into your shoulder a little harder, rubbing his face into you like a cat. His hair tickles your cheek. His grip tightens, then loosens. "Ugh. You're crampin' my style. Rebellion suits me."

"Obedience suits you better," you murmur lowly, and Satoru shivers at the timbre of your voice. Your hand slips down to cup his chin, lifting his face to yours. His breath hitches. "Listen to me, Satoru. You know I'm right."

He exhales shakily as you dip your head, lips brushing his. He leans into it, trying to take more, but you turn away. "But—"

"Satoru."

Heat zings up his spine. Your nails dig slightly into his skin and he swallows harshly, burning up under the weight of your gaze. Half condescending and half tender, you rake your stare over him from head to toe. It lasts no longer than a second but Satoru's knees weaken anyway.

"Just don't do anything without me," you whisper, bringing his face closer to yours. You press your lips to his and he fists the front of your shirt tightly, gasping as your free hand glides down his waist to rest on the small of his back. He arches slightly and tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

He tastes like sugar and oranges and despite the not-so-sweet flavour of the coffee you had earlier, he devours you as if his life depends on it, tongue twisting with yours. He moans softly at the smoky roasted taste, dark and rich. Even after all these years, he marvels at how perfectly he matches with you – the yin to your yang, the shrike to your thorn. He'd be missing out any other way.

His heartbeat quickens. You can feel it beneath his ribs, his chest pressed to yours, and even through his thick clothes you can feel him yearn for you – the very essence of his bright soul twists and tumbles, reaching for yours. He is the orchid to your oak and just as needy.

Before you forget yourself and get too handsy in the middle of the school hallway, you draw away, tugging your hands back to your sides. Satoru whines softly with the loss of your touch and your lips on his. He lifts his face, lips pursed into a pout as he chases another kiss. You press a finger against his lips with a chuckle.

"Not yet, Satoru. You still haven't promised me."

He pushes your hand away impatiently. "Promise." He puckers up and leans in again.

You click your tongue and grab a fistful of his hair, keeping him at bay the same way you would with an overly-affectionate cat. You lift a brow. "And what are you promising?"

He groans, and you know he's rolling his eyes under his blindfold. "That I'm not gonna make trouble for us. I promise I won't square up against a bunch of geriatrics. Happy, baby? Can I get my kiss, now?"

"Only one more." You dip in, and Satoru hums appreciatively. You open your eyes again with a tiny smile. "There. Now, off you go. You have maths to teach, nerd."

"You're a nerd," he rebuts automatically. "You don't have to leave, y'know. Just sit in the back, like the principal does."

"I'd just be a distraction for you."

"But you'd make me happy. Come on. It's our anniversary."

"The answer's no, Satoru." You smile, tugging his hair gently, and his head feels light. He understands why they call it lovesick. "G'luck, sweetheart."

His bottom lip juts out and he crosses his arms, glancing aside. He ruffles his hair roughly as if to drag himself out of his own thoughts. "Fine... Will I see you later?"

"Mm. I'll take a nap when I get home and then start on dinner. I was thinking something Thai?" You touch his shoulder and he shivers slightly, fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist. It's endearing how infatuated he is with you. You fix his blindfold, smoothing out the sides. "Get home safely, Satoru."

"Yessir." He darts in one last time, sneaking in one last kiss on the cheek. He grins, playful and flushed, as you grumble something about being an 'enabler'. You lift a hand and begin to turn away.

When you're halfway down the hall, he calls out, "You better make it up to me, hot stuff!"

"You're spoilt enough as it is," you call back, eyes crinkling. "Toodles!"

Satoru hums a little tune under his breath as he steps back into the classroom, sliding the door closed behind him. There's a bounce in his step as he moves towards his desk, hovering over a textbook and flipping forward a few pages to find new equations to throw up on the board.

After a pause, with Satoru's soft humming the only thing filling the room, Nobara finally breaks the silence.

"So, sensei... are you gonna tell us what that was all about?"

He glances up, a clueless smile on his face. "Eh? What was what about?"

She stares, appalled. "Uh, the fact that you're married? To the coolest-looking guy I've seen here? He must really be something if he's got you wrapped around his finger like that..."

Megumi sits up in his seat, picking up his pen and ruler and busying himself with ruling new margins into his blank pages. "He's not much better than Gojo, Kugisaki. Together, they're both total fools."

"How can he be more of a fool than he already is?"

"You never mentioned a partner, Gojo-sensei," Yuji says, having clearly abandoned any notion of learning. His notebook isn't even open anymore. "How'd you meet?"

"I didn't take you for a romantic, Yuji," Satoru coos, though he tosses his piece of chalk onto the blackboard's ledge and dusts off his hands. He circles the desk to sit back against it, clasping his hands with a wide smile. "We met here, actually! He's older than me, and he was the one who gave me a campus tour and showed me my room. He was just as handsome back then as he is now. I liked hanging out with him a lot."

Yuji's eyes are wide with intrigue. "Oh! Were you high-school sweethearts? That's so neat, sensei!"

"In a way," he replies, voice soft with fondness. "At first, it was a political marriage. He has an influential name and a uniquely powerful technique, so our families thought it was a good idea to pair us up so the other clans would be less likely to stand against our decisions. We became good friends, so we grew to be alright with it – we were basically already living in each other's rooms, anyway. Marrying him meant I could eat his curry more often, so I was honestly pretty eager to move in with him after graduating."

"Really? You seemed like the type of person to be bad with spice," Nobara comments, tilting her chair on its back legs. "Guess I was wrong."

Leaning back, Megumi speaks around Yuji's body. "No, he is. LN-san often makes two dishes – one with spice, one without. He started when I was a kid, but he still does it for Gojo."

Nobara clicks her tongue. "What? Seriously – he's way too good for you, sensei! I can't believe this. The idea that someone like you had a boyfriend at my age when I don't... I'm, like, actually upset."

"I mean, I also gained two children shortly after, so maybe you should wait a bit for a boyfriend, Kugisaki," Satoru says thoughtfully, tapping his chin. Megumi's face reddens at the statement and his knuckles turn white around his pen.

"Don't say that," he scoffs. "Your marriage had nothing to do with the two of us!"

Pouting, Satoru wags a finger in his direction. "So rude, Megumi-chan! I'm telling your dad. No curry for you for a month."

He rolls his eyes and his mouth curls. "You're annoying."

Nobara snorts and hides her snickers behind her palm. She leans in Yuji's direction and whispers, "Guess he's got a favourite parent."

He nods in agreement. Clearing his throat, Yuji dutifully raises his hand, looking grave. "Sensei, if you're married, why don't you wear a ring?"

"Hm? I do! Wanna see it? Oh, of course you do, you asked," he says cheerfully. He thrusts a hand down the tall neck of his collar and pulls out a silver chain, off of which hangs a platinum band studded with tiny, glittering diamonds. He beams, turning the pretty little thing this way and that to catch the light. "His is more traditional, 'cause he's a fuddy-duddy, but silver suits my skin tone better and diamonds are a classic."

He unclasps the chain from around his neck, and Yuji and Nobara instantly shoot up out of their chairs to inspect the ring closer. They ooh and ahh over it, discussing the bevels and facets and whatnot. He slips the band onto his left hand and shows it off with a beaming smile, nodding proudly when Nobara remarks how well it really does suit him.

"Why is your face so red, Gojo?"

The abrupt question is Megumi's. Like clockwork, everyone turns to him, then turns to Satoru. In response, he only tilts his head with an oblivious smile pasted on his face – his white hair flops over, like a dog's ears. "Eh?"

Megumi sighs and lowers his gaze, scratching tornadoes aimlessly into the margins of his page. "You're terrible – it was two months, not two years. The separation anxiety is crazy."

"He does seem like the type to be clingy," Nobara whispers to Yuji.

"It's not sepa—he thinks it's cute!" he sputters, lifting his bejewelled ring finger as if it's his middle finger. "Look – he married me for it! Jeez, Megumi, you really know how to make a guy feel bad. And you know what that means."

Megumi's face scrunches. "You're gonna follow him around the house like a lost puppy for the rest of the day."

"Right you are!" says Satoru giddily. "I'm sorta disappointed you don't live with us right now. I could've made it so much worse for you if you and YN went out in public. You'd be begging to learn about exponential and logarithmic functions then."

He turns towards the board and claps his hands, startling all three of his students as the sound echoes through the room. "Speaking of! Rule number two: power x over y with identical base a is equal to a to the x minus y. Back in your seats, boys and girl – I hope everyone's awake now. Let's power through every rule before class ends! Heh – geddit? Power? Because – oh, you're all no fun. I'm funny. Let's continue."

—

With a jingle of keys, Satoru twirls through the front door. "Honey, I'm hooome!"

Your voice floats through the hallway. "In the kitchen!"

He kicks his shoes off and dumps his messenger bag onto the couch. He bounds into the spacious kitchen and slithers up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

With a chuckle, you take half a step back from the open flame of the stove. "Careful. It's hot."

"Not hotter than you." His voice is muffled against your shoulder. "Didja miss me?"

"Only a little bit. You are a handful." You stir the pot, picking shards of bone out of the broth. Satoru salivates. He can already feel the tender meat falling off the bone. "You're home early, baby. Dinner won't be ready for a while."

"Rushed back to see you." He kisses your neck, inhaling deeply. The scent of your cologne is heady and woodsy, and he's embarrassed to admit that he's used it on himself when the ache really got to him. "Maybe we can... spend some time together...?"

You laugh, the sound rumbling through your chest, and Satoru smiles automatically. "Eager little thing. You really want to do that now, when I'm obviously very busy?"

"Well, the veggies aren't a pressing concern," he points at the covered bowl, "and the soup's not done. Put it on low and you have both hands free to do things with me."

"And what 'things' would that entail, Satoru?"

"Fun things." He pushes his blindfold up, revealing his startling blue eyes. He looks up at you through his white lashes, a cheeky smile spreading across his face. "Things involving this," he points at his lips, "and this." He points at yours.

Because your hands are damp from dealing with the vegetables, you can't touch him, but you turn and lean in his direction and he drapes his arms over your shoulders. You hum, taking in his beauty like an old-timey knight with his secret lover. "Sounds a bit boring, honestly. We did that earlier. Any other ideas?"

His eyes widen with betrayal. "What—? Fine! This—" his lips "—and this." His hand lowers to the zip of your jeans, brushing over the front. His tongue flickers over his lower lip as he glances down, as if he's imagining it already, and you struggle to keep your composure. His eyes lift to yours. "Yeah?"

You draw in a breath. "Nah. You don't last long enough for that."

"Mou," he whines, brows furrowing, "I can! Just let me show you – y'know, I've been practicing. I've definitely gotten better."

"Whore," you mutter affectionately, slipping out of his arms to wash your hands. You tug your sleeves higher and Satoru sighs dreamily at the sight, cupping his cheek. "You seriously want to do this now? I could burn down the house on accident."

"Yes, I wanna do it now," he huffs, hooking a slender finger beneath his blindfold, as if showing off how long and pretty they are. "The house is insured."

"You – You're ridiculous, baby." You dry your hands and face him properly, gaze flickering over his body. He squirms slightly, fidgeting with his collar. "Hm... Suppose I say yes. What would you do?"

"Ah," he breathes, stepping closer. He places his hands on your chest, pretending to fix your collared shirt, and you rest one on his hip, tugging him in. He flashes you a flustered smile as he bumps into you. "Well, I'd, um – I'd kiss it."

"Mm."

"And I'd... lick the tip, 'nd..." He shakes his head and headbutts your shoulder, eyes squeezing shut with an embarrassed titter. "Babe, don't make me say it! I'll show you, okay? I'll show you how much I missed you. Spoilers: it's a lot."

"Well, when you put it like that..." You dial down the stovetop's heat until the flame is all but gone. Satoru's grin widens. "I'm interested."

He smirks and pecks your cheek, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the kitchen. He pushes you down on the couch in the living room, taking a moment to shuck off his jacket and tug his shirt hem out from his beltline. He drapes himself over your lap, long legs bracketing yours, and places his hands on your shoulders.

Naturally, your hands come to rest upon his thighs.

He pauses. Have your hands always looked so large compared to him...? He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing. His cock stirs in his tight pants.

You lean back with a soft sigh, stroking his thighs absently. Your touch borders on his ass when it shifts up his hips and his breath hitches. You lift a brow, seemingly unaware of his racing heart. "So? Now what?"

"Shut up," he mumbles, reaching to help pull your t-shirt over your head. "Just admiring my hubby, y'know? Most would be flattered. You're mean for no reason."

"A second ago you were ready to jump my bones." You allow him to toss the shirt on the couch beside you, and his hands run appreciatively down your chest and stomach. "Let's go back to that."

"Yessir," he says breathily. He meant it teasingly, but it comes out with a slight tremor in the middle. His cheeks flush as you grab the front of his shirt and drag him towards you.

He whimpers softly as you press his ass down against your lap, his lips trapped against yours. He rocks his hips. The half-hard bulge in your pants demands his attention, and he moans your name as you pop open his shirt roughly, hands exploring his soft, smooth skin.

"Excited, are we?" you murmur, nibbling the side of his neck. The wet heat of your tongue makes him shiver, nails digging into your shoulders.

"S-Says you," he retorts, gasping softly as your callused fingers find his nipples, cute and pink. He jerks, stomach tensing, and reaches for your belt shakily, undoing it defiantly. "Not f-fair. Fuck, be gentle..."

You shake your head, exhaling softly as Satoru manages to fish you out of your open fly. Your length slaps his wrist. "We can be gentle or we can be done in time for dinner. Your choice."

Twitching as you flick his chest again, he whimpers. "You..."

"I?"

He gulps, blue eyes trained on the thick cock in his hands. He grips the base and twists his fist up and down the shaft, brushing his thumb over the slick slit. You groan softly, switching your attention to the other side of his neck. He tilts his head with a tremulous sigh, allowing you better access to his fair skin.

"I really did miss you, you know," he says quietly, stroking you to full mast. "Your smile, your body next to mine when I wake up... and this cock. Nothing's better than your cock."

With a chuckle, you squeeze his hips, feeling them twitch under your grip. Cute – sensitive. "Yeah? My pretty doll missed my cock?"

"Mhm. Tried other things while you were away." He shuffles off your lap, sliding between your knees with ease. He gazes up at you, one hand on your thigh and one hand on your cock, and licks his lips, glancing away. His cheeks are red. "But nothing can get me off like you can. You always fill me up so good, always treat me right..."

He leans forward, wrapping his pink lips around the head of your cock. His eyes flutter shut and his tongue swirls around your slit – the taste of your precome curls a ball of arousal in his lower belly, and he widens his knees slightly in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure. It doesn't help.

"Fuck, Satoru," you murmur, combing your fingers through his silver hair. His blindfold acts as a headband for his bangs, and you're afforded a full view of his creased concentrated brows and his wide-blown pupils. He bobs his head, thick lashes fluttering against his cheekbones, and swallows several inches of your cock.

But that's as far as he gets before he gags and pulls back, gasping wetly as his pale chest heaves. Nervously, he glances up at you, only to grow more desperate at the lazy grin on your face.

You prop your cheek on a fist. "What was that about improvement, Satoru? Seems about the same to me."

His frown deepens. "It's not my fault! You're just—"

"Excuses don't befit you."

His jaw snaps shut audibly. He reaches forward, taking your cock in both hands, and spits on it, smearing it down your length. You hum softly as he takes the tip into his hot mouth again, and his tongue flicks against the glans hungrily.

His nails dig into your thigh as he regulates his breathing, slowly bobbing his head down half of your length.

You have to hand it to him – he's gotten quicker at getting to this point. Still, he's shuddering, and he's clearly a mess, eyes glistening and lips slick with saliva. He looks small, shoulders pulled in, and so, so pretty as he chokes down your cock, determined to do it right.

"Oh, Satoru," you purr sympathetically, petting his hair. "Nearly thirty and you still can't suck cock to save your life... what'll I do with you?"

He pulls back with a slick pop, eyes wide and glossy. His voice is hoarse. "N-No, I can! I can, I promise, j-just let me try again—"

"You're my good boy, aren't you?"

The words die in his mouth. Head foggy, he nods, throat bobbing as he stares up at you.

You stroke his cheek, smiling softly as he leans into it and kisses your palm. "Let me fuck your mouth. Maybe your toys are just too small to be of any real help, huh?"

Ashamed, Satoru swallows, picking at his shirt cuffs. He inclines his head a few degrees, barely a nod, but he allows you to gently guide his mouth around your cock once more. He wanted to show you how much he loved you, how you wouldn't have to do all the work anymore, but there was something so addicting about the way you controlled his body that he was a little glad to have failed. His eyes slide closed as you grip the back of his neck and hold back his bangs, guiding your cock down his throat.

He moans softly, his own dick throbbing inside his pants as you hit the back of his throat. He swallows around it dutifully, grasping your thighs for balance as you pull him down on your cock.

"Good boy. That's it. Such a good boy f'me." Your voice is a low murmur, flowing in one ear and out the other. Satoru whines quietly, the vibrations making you groan, and saliva drips down your shaft. You lean back and lift your hips slightly, pushing into his mouth.

He gags slightly but settles quickly, tongue gliding against the velvety veins of your dick. Your grip on him is firm but gentle – if you let go, he'd slump like a ragdoll against your leg, no doubt about it. He rocks his hips pathetically against nothing, whimpering as you fuck his throat, and you take pity – you shift your leg between his knees.

He fists your jeans, knuckles white, and moans as he grinds against your leg, his cock throbbing against his zipper. His whimpers sound broken, choppy, in a way you recognise as gratefulness. Thank you, thank you. Your dick pulses and he swallows, drooling and panting with his lips stretched white around you. He swallows greedily around you, the shape of your cock distending his slender throat.

"It's okay," you hum, brushing the tears from the corner of his eye. "You don't need to do anything. Not when I'm here. You just need to be my pretty puppy, yeah? Let me take care of everything. I got you."

A rough shudder runs through his body. He shoves his cock against your leg. He twitches, hips jerking involuntarily, and you can't help the fondness in your voice when you coo at him.

"Oh, sweetheart..."

Carefully, you pull him off of you, and his tongue lolls out of his mouth as he pants, eyes clouded and hazy. His grasp on your leg tightens as you lean forward, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

"Poor thing. Must be pretty pent up, huh?" You pull him up, and it takes a moment for him to find his balance. You tug his slacks down his hips, but the square something in his back pocket gives you pause. You dip two fingers inside and pull out a black packet.

"Condoms?" You glance up at Satoru, who looks anywhere but at you. "You planned this, didn't you? Dirty puppy."

He wrings his hands, finding his voice. "I-I'm sorry... I just – it's our anniversary, 'n' I thought—"

"You thought you'd be cute," you finish for him, and he nods with a soft pout. You reach in again and pull out another. And another. It's a row of them, separated by perforated tear lines, and his face grows red as you lift a disbelieving brow at them. You let the string of them hang from your fingers like a grocery receipt.

"Satoru... How many of these do you think we need?"

"I don't know! I'd rather be safe than sorry."

You chuckle and lean forward, pressing a kiss against his stomach. He cups the back of your head, slender fingers playing with your hair absently. "You're too cute. Wanna put one on for me?"

"You just like it when I touch you," he mumbles, but accepts the little square. He kicks off his slacks and underwear and takes a seat on your lap, tearing the packet open with his teeth at the same time. His eyes flick up to yours as he slides it down your shaft, his hands warm and pretty wrapped around you. He squeezes – you groan softly – and he whispers, "All done."

"Thank you, baby." You stroke his hips. He giggles in response.

"You can put it in," he murmurs, squeezing your shoulders as he leans forward and aligns your tip with his entrance. "I... Last night..."

"Hm." You watch him rub the tip against his hole – psyching himself up for it, you realise with a smile. "Was that before or after our call?"

His grip tightens. "Ah... After."

"Yeah?" Your smile takes on a dangerous edge and he gulps. "So, when you said you missed me..."

"S-Stop teasing me," he demands, his voice lilting with a whine. His brow furrows and he lowers himself on your cock, gasping as the head breaches his hole. The lube makes the glide easier, but the delicious burn of the stretch has his eyes fluttering and rolling back. The warmth... he's missed this. A toy couldn't have him shaking on his knees on the first thrust. Pain makes tears prick at his eyes. "Ohh, god..."

Satoru braces both hands against your shoulders, his toes curling in his black socks. He whimpers softly as you lean forward, pressing your chests together, in order to ease your cock deeper inside him. He rocks his hips, shallow and jagged, and presses his lips fervently to yours as he drops his hips and takes you all the way down to the base.

Tears prick at his eyes and he moans, long and loose and relieved. Your cock rests perfectly against his prostate, hot and thick, and every minuscule shift of his body has you rubbing deliciously against it. His cock throbs, dusky against his alabaster skin. His stomach flexes.

"Good?" you whisper, hot breath fanning against his throat. He shudders and nods, reaching back and spreading his asscheeks to swallow you deeper. His head falls to your shoulder as he lifts and lowers his hips messily, lips parted to gasp and pant softly.

You take over, hands big and rough on the creamy meat of his ass. There are new calluses on your palms, and a shard of annoyance cuts its way into the pleasured fog of Satoru's mind. Trying to appoint you clan leader through marriage – and therefore safe from the nuisance of arduous missions – had backfired fantastically, and now all those old coots know how much you mean to him.

Like, what was the point of marrying you to each other if you both still had to do the dirty work? Why couldn't he, as the strongest and least likely to complete the paperwork, simply come home to your kisses? You might hate him for making you do all the accounting and logistical work, but at least you'd be safe. He's very good at shoulder massages. The occasional assassin would be like swatting a fly to you.

"Sweetheart," you croon, snapping him out of his stewing displeasure. You grasp his chin in your hand and turn his face to yours, pressing a light kiss to the tip of his nose. He hums softly. "What's wrong?"

"I want you to be here every day," he whispers, pressing his cheek against yours. "Don't wanna have to make up for lost time like this. Drives me crazy."

"Oh, puppy... I know. But hey," you say, thrusting up into him and making him gasp, "you're hot when you're needy. And I'm all too willing to indulge you."

He clenches down around you. His cock twitches. "Mm, really? We could try using up all those condoms..."

You roll your eyes. "You're incorrigible."

"What does that – ah!"

He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as you thrust up roughly into him and drag him down at the same time, his ass slapping your hips. He scrambles to brace himself, his cock dripping a weak spurt of precome on his stomach. His chest heaves, his face flushed and his eyes wide. His eyes are blown with lust, deep ocean-blue, and his lip quivers as you repeat it, fucking up into his soft, eager little hole hungrily.

Satoru pants, breaths rough and uneven, as he tries his best to ride your cock. But with every thrust, you slam against his prostate and knock the thoughts out of his skull. He stutters and moans, trying to repeat himself – because really, what do you mean he's incorrigible? – but you've got a wicked grin on your face that spells nothing but trouble for him.

"W-Wait," he squeaks out, arms trembling as he tries to hold himself up on your chest. "I'll—!"

"Come for me," you grunt, rolling his hips on your cock in a way that has his vision blooming with stars. "Lemme see you, Satoru. Let me see you, puppy."

He lets out a loud, sharp whine as his body jerks and his cock spurts, painting your stomach with thick ropes of white. The flush of his cheeks extends down his neck and chest, prettily pink, and he collapses against your chest, lazily rolling his hips and riding out his high.

Cooing his name softly, you pet his hair, which he melts into like pudding. His hum is like a purr when your nails scrape lightly against his scalp. "Good boy... so gorgeous when you come, aren't you? Did so well for me, sweetheart."

You begin to tug his blindfold down, as the rapid flickering of his eyes betrays how overwhelmed he is, but he shakes his head, nudging your hand to instead pull it off.

"No," he whines, raising his bright, flitting eyes to your face. They steady when they focus on your face, and his features soften. "Wanna see you. All of you." He exhales, a little shaky. "You still haven't finished."

"It'll be too much for you. Let's stop here."

He scowls. "How do you know that?"

"I—"

"Yeah, that's right. You don't. I can keep going." He lifts himself up on his knees until just the tip rests inside him, then drops back down. He swallows a whimper. "S-See? M'fine!"

Your brow furrows slightly as you hold him still. "Satoru—"

"Please," he interrupts, eyes wide and pleading. "Baby, please, I can do it. Want you to come, too, okay? I want to – because I love you."

You didn't think sudden love confessions in the middle of sex could be so hot.

A breathless grin makes its way across his lips when you glance away and sigh, your hands tightening on his waist. It's the perfect place to grab, slim and fitting just right against your palms. He places his hand against your stomach between his legs, arching his back ever so slightly.

"Well," you drawl, shifting slightly. His breath hitches as your cock brushes his prostate. "Then maybe you could show me how much you love me."

"You—" He lets out a bitten moan as you move his hips, helping him grind against you. "Baby."

In response, you only offer a smirk, eyes glinting.

He sighs shakily and nods, leaning back and bracing against your knees. The position tightens him up and you groan, head tipping back against the couch backrest. He traces shallow ovals over your lap, his hole fluttering against you with every tug.

"Feeling unsteady, puppy?" you remark, but it's softer than your usual teasing. You trace his ribs, thumbs brushing over his nipples. He whimpers.

"No," he breathes, quickening his pace. His half-hard cock smacks his stomach with every harsh drop of his hips, the reddened tip dripping and slick. "I got it."

It's hard to act as if the sight doesn't affect you. His lean muscles flex with every shift, and as he sucks in a shuddering breath, a bulge pokes his belly. The print of it appears and disappears with each roll of his hips.

"Fuck," you hiss, gliding your hand down and pressing a thumb against it. Satoru twitches and stutters at the sight, letting out a ruined cry when words fail him. His breath grows ragged as he rides you harder, eyes wet with need. The bulge in his tummy moves with him.

His white hair is dark silver at the ends, stuck to his temples. A thin sheen of sweat coats his body, shimmering when it catches the light. With his milky skin, it's as if he's been brushed with crushed pearls.

You reach up and brush a thumb against his bitten lower lip, plush and warm. He parts them and presses his tongue against the pad of your thumb, moaning as you push it in. He grabs your wrist, nails digging into your skin, and lavishes wet kisses upon it. His tongue swirls around your thumb as if it was your cock and he pants hotly, lips pursing ever-so-slightly around it.

Your cock throbs inside him. The beginnings of a smug grin tug at his pillowy lips, and his eyes flash confidently. They falter and roll back into his skull as you bury your cock inside him with a rough thrust – he melts into your touch, his pretty little cock pulsing and dripping precome down his shaft and balls.

"You're so good to me," you chuckle throatily, pushing your thumb deeper into his mouth. He moans sharply. The whiplash between your warm, caressing palm and the violence with which you fuck him makes him downright dizzy. "Maybe I should take long business trips more often."

At that, he lets out a wrecked little sob, shaking his head. He leans deeper into you.

"No?" He shakes his head again, cerulean eyes clouded and unfocussed as you force his hips up and down from tip to base, knocking the breath out of his lungs. "Oh, sweet thing..."

His legs quiver. He's barely holding himself up, his sensitive hole aching with the sharp burn each time you pull out. You press his face into the crook of your neck and he mewls as you tug his arms behind his back, your hands strong and firm. He feels powerless like this, buried in the scent of your sweat and cologne, and all he can do is moan.

He stiffens when something snaps around his wrists. He arches back, trying to spot it. "What—?"

"Sh-shh, puppy. You're too antsy. Gotta learn to take it slow." You smooth out his blindfold, twisted several times around his slim wrists. You glance down at him, your hair tickling his cheek. "Don't you?"

It feels like he's breathing soup. His heart hammers and he clenches around you, knees and feet scrabbling for purchase against the couch without the use of his arms. He whimpers, tugging at the bindings. His fingers flex. "Y-Yes, sir..."

"Good boy."

And god, do you take it slow. He's a mess in minutes, teary-eyed and trembling, as you use him like a toy, lifting and lowering him on your cock, which feels all too big and thick in his swollen, abused hole. He swears he can taste it. He babbles, his sudden orgasm going totally ignored even as he sobs and calls you everything under the sun ranging from his usual pet-names to your title. You ignore him, focussing on keeping your thrusts steady and even.

"Sir," he gasps wetly as his aching cock twitches valiantly. "Sir."

"Yes, puppy?"

His brain is melting out of his ears. Hot tears streak down his flushed cheeks, wetting your shoulder. It's humiliating, being trapped like this on your cock, and he can't help the new ball of arousal swirling low in his belly.

"Too deep..." He lets out a wet whimper as his cock begins to harden again. Oh, stamina. "P-Please – come already..."

"I'm trying pretty hard." You hum, rolling him in your hands like a scientist with their pet project. You sigh as if disappointed. "You're all loose – like a whore."

Choking out a devastated moan, he shuffles on his knees, walls squeezing and swallowing your cock with renewed vigour. "Sir, I'm – 'm not—"

"Please, Satoru. You already admitted to touching yourself while I was away – you couldn't wait just a few weeks for me to come home. If you were good, you would've kept your hands to yourself. You forget who this—" you lift his hips and tap his asshole, making him clench and whine "—belongs to."

Few weeks? Few weeks? Satoru wants to cry. It isn't his fault his love language is physical touch. Going cold turkey for so long was agonising.

"'M sorry," he whispers, eyes squeezing shut as you dance your fingers over his swollen cock. "O-Oh...!"

You huff, shifting on the couch. You hold him up, his delicate hipbones slotted into the V of your thumb and forefinger. "I know you are, but I'll remind you anyway. You belong to me."

You set a punishing pace, fucking up into him and dragging him down to meet your thrusts. His hair bounces and he cries out, arms flexing against the blindfold. His eyes roll back and he moans, open-mouthed, against your neck, broken little half-sobs punched out of his throat.

He can't get a single full word out. Even his cracked, ruined 'fuck, fuck, fuck' is peppered with whines.

Then your hand comes down, hard, on his ass.

His eyes widen. His mouth opens in a silent scream. He comes.

You groan as thin streaks of come splatter your stomach, his cock rutting against you through it. His hips jerk and he starts to sob openly when your pace only quickens, his ass rippling with each thrust. "Fuck, sir," he wails, "y'feel so good...!"

You massage his stinging cheek, whispering sweet nothings in his ear that float him away into a soft cloud of thoughtlessness. It's so easy to give up control to you – so easy to hand himself over. If he has nothing else to give, you will have him.

Even through the fog of pleasure, he remembers how to kiss you. He would know how even if he lost every memory. He moans into it, raspy and wrecked. His toes curl and bliss weighs down his bones as you groan his name and thrust up once, twice, into him, cock throbbing hotly against his soft, gummy walls. Finally, you sink into the couch, holding him close.

He lays there, slumped against you, as you catch your breath together. His eyes flutter shut, the image of your face as you come seared into his mind, and he giggles drunkenly to himself.

You were so good to him even when you were mean.

Gently, you ease his blindfold off his wrists, and he immediately wraps his arms around your shoulders protectively. You're his, and his only. He sits quietly as you clean up to the best of your ability with him on top of you, and he whines softly when you try to set him aside.

"Satoru," you try.

"I'm sore," he retorts, feeling your chest rise and fall with your breaths. His voice is deliciously ragged and raspy. "Fix me."

"No."

"Then I'm staying right here."

"The house will burn down."

"Let it."

Incorrigible. You sigh and lift him just enough to do up your zipper, then lift him in a princess carry and rise to your feet. Satoru purrs and clutches you tighter, rubbing his cheek into your shoulder as you carry him through the house. "Let's find you some new pants, sweetheart."

"M'kay."

"After that, you're on your own," you warn him, stepping sideways through the bedroom door. He uses it as an excuse to tuck his head in the crook of your neck. "I need to check on the soup. I'll call for you when dinner's ready."

"Mm..." He gazes up at you with a sugar-soft look in his eyes. He rubs his hazy eyes as you set him down on the bed to open up his extensive wardrobe. "But I need to set the table..."

"I'll do it. You just take care of clean-up, yeah?"

"Mhm." Satoru tugs the open sides of his button-up shirt closed and fixes the long hem over his milky thighs. He sighs softly, watching you gather his pyjamas with soft blue eyes. "It's really good to have you home, you know. Everything's back to normal."

"Is that right?" Your voice softens and you cross the room, ducking down to Satoru's level. Expectantly, he lifts his face, closing his eyes, and smiles as you brush back his bangs and press your lips to his forehead. "Then you better make sure to spoil me rotten."

He catches your hand before you can pull away. With a teasing, bitten-back grin, he lowers it, and tugs his shirt hem up. He places your hand on his thigh, dragging it higher.

"Like this?" he whispers, coy when he flutters his lashes at you.

Your fingers dig into the soft, sensitive meat of his thigh. He mewls softly, plush pink lips parting.

You tear your hand away, drawing in a sharp breath. "Fuck. Later. Soup first."

Satoru huffs and rolls his eyes, leaning back on his palms when you scramble out the door. "Stupid soup," he mumbles to himself petulantly. "Why would he eat anything else when I'm right here? Stupid noodles. Stupid husband."

A voice breaks through the silence from down the hall. "I heard that!"

"Good!" He collects the clothes you'd picked out for him, smoothing his fingers down the soft cotton patterns. "I ain't a liar!"

He mumbles a radio song under his breath as he tosses away the plain black boxer shorts into the wardrobe. A sly smirk flickers across his features as he pulls out a pair of baby-blue panties from a drawer, placed right at the front and tucked into a neat little square. It's a pretty thing, lacey and soft, and it sits nice and high on him, accentuating his slender hips. They make his legs go on for ages.

He tucks it into his stack of clothes with an innocent hum, and then off he goes, prancing into the bathroom with an extra pep in his step. He doesn't lock the door behind him.

Satoru understands that you enjoy taking care of him, pampering him like a princess even when he pulls your hair and takes your toys. You always will. It's a wonderful thing, to be loved so sweetly; no one else could do it better.

He needs to return the favour, he thinks, glancing at his clothes and the little secret they hide. Nothing feels like it could ever measure up to what you do for him, but he can do this, and it's a start. Perhaps it'll get him closer to being your equal.

[cntloup]

Happiness

"Hey! What are you doing?!" he nearly shouts as he quickly rushes to take the bags of groceries from you.

You're eight months pregnant and your husband has been immensely loving, helpful and considerate, but safe to say overbearing at times.

"I just wanted to help." you say sheepishly, a slight pout forming on your lips.

"I've got it." he says, tone harsher than he intended as he grabs the bags without even looking at you, then leaves, thinking nothing of it.

You stomp your feet to the bedroom, well, as well as you can in your state and slam the door behind you.

He's startled at the sound and it dawns on him just now what he has done, "Fuckin' hell." he grumbles under his breath.

He finds you lying down on the bed and walks over to sit beside you.

"I'm sorry, love. I shouldn't have talked to you that way." he apologizes in a much softer voice.

He places one hand on your waist and the other on your belly, tenderly rubbing soothing circles only for you to pull away and turn your back to him.

His heart shatters in his chest as he stares at you with desperate, apologetic eyes.

And shortly after, he hears the soft sound of your sniffles.

He shuffles on the bed to get closer to you, lightly touching your arm, "Love?" he beckons softly, eyebrows furrowed as he feels truly concerned now.

"Please, lovie. Talk to me." he pleads, fingers gently brushing against your bare arm.

Your hiccupped cry gets louder by the second until you’re full on sobbing as you curl into yourself.

"Fuck! I'm so sorry, love." he apologizes again, feeling more and more desperate and helpless.

He lies down behind you and pulls you closer to him by the waist and his hand rests on your belly.

He murmurs 'I'm sorry' and 'I love you' into your hair over and over again, not really knowing what else to do in order to calm you down.

Until suddenly he hears your burst of giggles, not sure if he heard correctly.

"It tickles!" you giggle again as his breath tickles your neck.

He slightly shifts in his place, supporting his weight on his arm and lifting himself up to look at you in surprise of the sudden change in your mood.

You turn your head to look back at him with a lovely smile, making his breath hitch in his throat.

"Yeah?" a mischievous smile forms on his face and his hands move to your sides.

And before you can react, he's tickling you mercilessly.

"Siii!" you whine in between uncontrollable laughter and thrashing your arms around trying to stop him from his brutal tickle attacks as he smirks and laughs at your attempts, enjoying this way more than he should.

Until all of a sudden a loud drawn-out gasp leaves your mouth and he immediately stops, "Fuck! Are you ok? Did I hurt you?" he asks in deep concern as his eyes stir around, looking for any sign of damage.

You just take his hand and place it on your belly with no words and at first, he looks confused, but quickly realizes what you meant, his eyes lighting up as he feels your baby's kicks against his palm.

He feels tears prickle the corner of his eyes and can't help but kiss you with such flaming love and fierce devotion that he feels for both of you.

And you spend the rest of the day in each other's arms, feeling your baby's kicks with pure happiness in your hearts and he soothingly rubs your belly and kisses you when you whine in pain.

[suhtorus]

mama's day. gojo satoru

fluff. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ parents au, non sorcerer au, mom!reader, family fluff, two unnamed sons and one baby girl. a little gift for myself ! ᡣ𐭩

little sunshines au

satoru has a plan for your birthday—a very detailed one.

step one. wake up the nuggets

it takes him less than two minutes to get the oldest out of bed, and there's really no point in waking up his baby girl since there's not much an eight-month-old can do.

the problem is your toddler.

"c'moooon, don't you wanna give mama her gifts?"

satoru's tone grows exasperated the longer his son refuses to cooperate, kicking his legs and throwing his nemo plushie at his face.

"no!"

the five-year-old immediately shushes his baby brother, only making the latter whine even more, tears now running down his chubby cheeks.

satoru feels his face fall upon seeing his son so upset, he should've expected the little ones not to take it too well to be woken up at six in the morning.

"hey," he tries softly this time, caressing the soft blond hairs of his toddler, "I'm sorry, mochi. can you forgive papa? go back to sleep, I'll wake you up when breakfast is ready, okay?"

the sobs end and now there's only small sniffles coming from the sleepy kid.

"oki."

step two. make breakfast

"like this?"

satoru leans down to inspect his son's work, brows furrowing as he tries, and fails, to read whatever gibberish his son tried to spell on top of the freshly made waffles.

with a loud smooch on the kid's cheek, satoru squeezes him in a tight hug, grinning proudly the way a father would. "a masterpiece. mama's gonna love it."

dad and son work surprisingly silent, focused on their own tasks. it doesn't take them long to have plates full of food and fruits, as well as freshly made juice.

"why don't you grab these," satoru hands his son two bags with the names of expensive brands on them, "while I go get your siblings. okay?"

"on it!"

step three. gifts

"happy birthday, mama~"

"ma-ma!"

you wake up with a start, surrounded by four pairs of blue eyes staring down at you.

"happy birthday, love of my life, mother of my kids, my one and only!"

satoru pecks your mouth as your brain processes the beaming faces of your three nuggets. your boys sit next to you, one on each side, while satoru holds the baby in the air right above your face.

your confused face finally eases into one of happiness (and relief).

"thank you, my little babies!" you smile drowsily, urging yourself to blink the sleep away as you smooch the faces of all three of your children. "mwah, mwah, mwahhh–"

your husband can't help but smile upon seeing you smothering the kids with kisses. and with his hold still on his baby girl, satoru tugs her away from you and nods at your lap.

"open your gifts, baby. we got you aaaall of your favorites." he winks at his son and the little one covers his mouth behind his tiny hand, giggling. "and we also made breakfast for mama, right?"

with a pointed look from satoru, your toddler remembers the plate of food on his lap.

"eat waffu, baby." your two-year-old offers you the plate full of waffles, pushing it towards your mouth, insistent. "eat it."

step four. spoil her rotten

your two boys happily run across the gardens while your baby girl crawls on the grass, squealing right behind her brothers.

"liked the surprise?"

your husband's arms wrap around your middle from behind. his hold is the greatest comfort you could've asked for.

"you mean waking up with three of your clones staring down at me while I sleep?" you snort, but there's no real bite in your tone. "I loved it. especially their drawing of me surrounded by blue-eyed mochi."

your eldest had insisted on drawing their little family—with you right in the center—and satoru thought it'd be funny to add the mochi instead of the kids.

"oh, but I'm not done yet, sweetheart." he spins you around in his arms, now grinning at you. "an entire weekend. you and me. what do you say?"

a groan slips past your lips and he immediately frowns, indignation clear on his face.

"c'mon, pretty. it's been a while since it was just the two of us." satoru goes for the puppy eyes, knowing that by doing so he already has a fifty percent of chance of winning. "you're not only a mother, but also a wife. let your doting husband pamper you."

"and who's watching over the kids? the baby??" you try to reason, glancing at your nuggets as they giggle their little hearts out as they play together. "satoru, we can't just leave."

"sweetheart, relaaaaax. ijichi got us covered."

oh, that poor man.

you make a mental note to give nanami a call.

[lilacgaby]

˗ˏˋ🖍️crayons and connections

pairing: prohero!katsuki x nanny!reader

summary: after a harsh relationship he really didn't want another try at romance for a while. at least, not until he hired you. he thought he loved the way you cared for his kids, but you both knew it was something more.

tags: fem!reader, domestic au, use of pet names, no proofread, fluff, cursing, taking care of kids, a millisecond of angst i swear trust me, comfort

(a/n: i couldn't get this au out of my headdd)

wc: ~3k

katsuki was honestly sick of his wife.

she would nag him constantly, asking for his cards and attention without ever asking about him or how he was doing. everything was an argument now, most of their nights would eventually end up with him on the couch.

the only lights of his life were his newborn son and one year old daughter. he had adopted the 'staying for the kids' mindset, but her skipping out on their shared daughter's first birthday was his breaking point.

who knew 'i want a divorce' would be the happiest words he'd ever uttered such far? watching her cry and swear she'd be better feeding the hole of despair that had opened over their three year relationship, that had only really blossomed because she got pregnant.

he had made her sign a prenup, thankfully, so he got to keep the house. with a payment and some paperwork he was left with full custody of his kids in his house, to sleep in his bed for the first time in ages.

well, only because he hired you.

it was only natural that he needed a nanny, i mean he was gone for most of the day patrols. after taking some in for interviews, he eventually landed on you after some hours of questioning.

he was exhausted, some of these hags were terrifying, both in their practices and appearances. he relaxed a bit at the sight of you. you were really pretty.

"hi mr-- um bakugo was it?"

you and no idea who he was? it kind of hurt but would end up working out in his favor.

"yeah, just katsuki's fine."

"oh, okay! i'm [name], uh-- i have a couple years experience for babysitting and i worked as a nanny for some other families too--"

as you rambled about your past experience and why you were good for the job, katsuki's mind went elsewhere. you looked breathtaking just speaking there, he swore your hair was flowing in the wind and that the sun shone brighter around you.

not to mention you were really sweet, he had saw you making small talk to the hags earlier, which meant you really were a saint.

"so uh-- yeah that's all about me... uh, hello?"

"oh! yes? that was all really impressive [name]. so, would you be available from eight in the morning to about ten at night? those are my current patrol hours, and obviously you'd be compensated for this trial."

"yes, that's perfect for me! when can i start?"

"uh.. tomorrow?"

"okay!" you stuck out your hand, a small smile on your lips. "nice to meet you katsuki."

he shook your hand firmly and you bowed before leaving.

the next day you arrived earlier than anticipated, he was suited up in his heroes outfit, relishing in the moments where his kids were still asleep.

he heard a knock at the door and opened it. it was you, a tiny purse behind you. "hi katsuki! woah wait a minute.. are you like a hero?"

he shrugged his arms. "yeah, you know only like top three, nothing big."

he saw your eyes widen. "oh wow! sorry for not recognizing you, i don't really keep up with all that stuff-- but im sure you're really strong!"

he nodded, "hell yeah i am. anyways, come in."

you were greeted by a large family home. you were sure your apartment was the size of the kitchen alone. huge halls and grand staircases filled the space, lavish chandeliers all shaped as explosions hung from the ceiling. not to mention the crazy amount of trophies displayed.

the rocking chairs and baby blankets scattered about were seriously out of place, making you giggle a bit.

when he looked back at you, you immediately slapped your hand over your face. "something funny?"

"no, no it's just-- your house is so nice!"

"thank you? anyways, i'll take you up to their rooms now."

you followed behind him, even his kids had huge rooms. you were super kind of jealous.

he opened the door and waved you over to see a small, adorable baby boy sleeping in a cot. "this is kei, he's only eight months." he whispered. "he fusses a lot, but he loves music."

he closed the door slowly behind, and walked to the room straight across. a tiny toddler laid in a princess bed, the room drowning in all things pink. "this is kioko, she's a handful. she turned two a bit ago." he whispered, closing the door behind him to give you a basic rundown of the schedule.

"so, they normally wake up around eight. there's a lot of formula for kei in the kitchen, and kioko just likes cereal. kioko can and will play all day, but kei gets real sleepy."

you nodded along making mental notes of everything.

"they eat lunch around three, but a snack before then is fine. dinner is at seven and they go to sleep at eight."

"okay, i think i got it."

he nodded. "i think you do too. there's extra keys in the counter by the door. call my assistants if there are any emergencies, i wrote the number on the fridge."

you nodded again, "kay, i got it. you get going though, it's already eight twenty!"

"fuck. okay, i'll see you later."

"bye katsuki."

the door closed behind him and you were alone. you decided to start prepping a bottle. just as you finished, you heard the wails of a baby ring throughout the halls.

you walked up to the cot, speaking softly. "hi kei, i'm [name]." as you picked him up, he gurgled in confusion. "i'll be taking care of you from now on, let's go eat."

you kept him in your arms. he was looking up at you curiously, making you smile as he touched your face. as you walked to his sister's room, where sure enough she was awake too.

"hi kioko, im [name]. i'll be taking care of you, okay?" you said, reaching out a hand for her to shake it.

she grasped your hand. "okay. go eat?"

"yes, let's go eat. follow me, okay?" she followed after you sleepily, her blanket and stuffed animal in her arms as you led her to the kitchen.

you placed her brother in a high chair first, giving him his formula. "can i pick you up?" you asked her.

"up-up!" she said, raising her arms up in the air. you carried and placed her into one too. "so, what do you wanna eat?"

"cookie!" she pointed to an expensive cereal brand you'd never even seen before. "oh, okay."

you placed a bit in a tiny bowl, adding some milk. they ate relatively peacefully, were they really as crazy as katsuki said?

yes, yes they were. kioko was a ball of energy, walking any and everywhere. she wanted to play every single game known to mankind. it didn't help that hide and seek was hard in such a huge house.

kei clung to you. as you searched for her he never wanted to leave your side, he'd start sniffling when you even left his sight.

lunch and dinner were a blur, you made the food katsuki had told you to on the sticky notes he'd left around. you had a bit too, and man did these kids eat good.

kioko finally crashed, tugging on the back of your pants. "sleepy time." you were washing dishes, so you wiped your hand clean to ruffle her hair. "okay, go wait for me in your room."

you finished up, picked up kei from where he was sat by his activity cube, and walked over to kioko's room.

you read her a book, 'the giving tree.' she fell asleep halfway through, utterly tuckered out from the day. kei fell asleep against your chest, you went and laid him down in his cot.

you looked around the house, seeing the mess. you sighed. "let's do this."

the house was sparkling once you were done, a pot of coffee on the stove as you waited for katsuki to get back. you seriously didn't know how you were going to go back your one-bed apartment now that you've seen how the rich live.

the door sounded, it was katsuki. "hi katsuki! how was uh-- patrol?"

he was covered in soot and dirt from head to toe. you internally sobbed at your hours of mopping going to waste. "oh uh, it was good. caught some guys and shit."

"ah, that's cool!"

he looked around. "did my brats cause you any trouble?" he eyed how clean everything was, from the dishes to the floor.

"they're full of energy, but so cute it makes up for it."

he wore a soft smile. "yeah, they really are."

"you know, they both look exactly like you. it's cute."

he flushed slightly, "yeah?"

"mhm, oh! i had leftovers from earlier? if you wanted some."

"yeah, i'll eat them." she smiled and started to grab her things. "so, does this mean i pass?"

he smiled too. "yes,

yes you did."

days melted into months of your routine with kei and kioko. some days katsuki would come home early, letting you play games all together. you'd cook with him sometimes too, laughing at how precise he was about it.

everything got a bit real the second kei spoke his first word to you.

"mama."

you and kioko got so excited, recording a clip to send it to katsuki immediately.

the entire day you were so happy, treating the kids to a secret extra snack, and letting them beat their favorite baby popcorn.

a knock on the door was heard, you were feeding kei so you walked over to the door with him in hand. you thought it was odd, why would katsuki knock?

except it wasn't him, it was some woman. "uh.. who are you?"

"oh, so he thinks he can replace me so quickly? newsflash, bitch, i'm his ex wife."

"can you not curse in front of the kids?"

"i'll do whatever the fuck i want. you know why? because i'm actually connected to those kids. you're just playing mother, he'll dump you eventually."

she slammed the door behind her. "star her mama?" kioko asked behind you.

"yeah, stranger."

you had gotten a bit weird after that, acting weird about affection and things surrounding it. you didn't know why, but she really did make you question your role in their lives.

you weren't a mother, you were a nanny.

katsuki finally got fed up with your new, odd attitude. he questioned you with a look in his eye.

"why you been acting so weird?" he asked, his mouth full with food.

"huh? i don't know what you mean?"

he pointed his chopsticks at you. "you've been acting all weird 'round 'em. you don't like that they call you mom or something?"

"no! it's just.. don't you think it's weird?"

"no. i'm happy that they like you so much."

"you don't think i'm trying to replace their mom?"

"they never really had one in the first place. she was never around, so if she said some shit to you know she wasn't half the person you are."

"oh.."

"so she did come."

"yeah. she did."

"[name]. you are ten times the person she ever was. you're perfect without trying. actually, you do try. and that's why..

that's why we all love you."

you both turned red, which made you laugh. "thank you katsuki."

you reached out and held his hand.

"seriously, thank you."

he put a restraining order on his ex the next day, also going to get flowers for you as it was his day off.

you'd started to sleep over after that, the affection between the two of you growing gradually.

he gifted you a room in the house, fully furnished with about ten thousand dollars left in one of the drawers so 'you could decorate for yourself.'

that room went mostly unused though, as most nights you'd end up cuddled with katsuki in his bed.

the fridge was filled to the brim with photos by kioko, who'd love to draw all four of you as one big family.

katsuki even asked her for a small one, one that he now keeps in the back of his phone case for good luck.

he asked you out officially with kioko's help, her unwanted help that is.

she snuck out after bedtime where he was speaking to you on the couch, you in his arms as he was mustering up his courage--

"pleaseeee have a play date with daddy, pleasee?" she said, using her puppy eyes.

"we all love you a lot, but he loves you this much!" she spread out her arms to make a point, making you laugh.

"okay! okay, i already said yes kioko. go to sleep, okay?"

"yay!" she ran up to her room and you heard the door close.

"so.. about our playdate?"

he took you out to a fancy dinner of your choice, telling you to order whatever you'd like. his mom was babysitting so you two could relax.

he'd learned a lot about you from his kids, your favorite color, the music you liked, the way you like your eggs, but it was different to hear it from you.

he thought you were so gorgeous and kind, so sweet to him and the lights of his life. who was he kidding? over the last year you'd become a pillar of his life.

he enjoyed going home knowing you were there with his kids, you were there to hear about his stresses and support him.

he was happy to support you, to let you stay in his house. to let him pay for things for you, to let him make you smile.

one 'playdate' turned into multiple, you went out every other week.

he knew he had to do something, a grand gesture to show you just how much he loved you, how he wanted to continue building this perfect family of his forever.

he knew how much you treasured the opinions of his kids, he loved that about you.

so, he got them in on it. kioko and kei each held a gift for you, one of your favorite flowers and the other of your favorite perfumes.

you were at a seriously gorgeous park, streams the only noise you could hear for miles. you saw your two favorite kids sitting on the picnic blanket.

"kioko, kei?"

"mommy!" they ran up to you, kei handing you the bouquet of roses, and kioko handing you a vial of perfume.

"aw, thank you you two. where's your dad?"

"hes waiting for you! come come!"

"come!"

they guide you to a secluded area, with a natural arch of overgrown vines, where katsuki is waiting for you.

"katsuki?"

"[name]."

"what's all of this for?"

"you." he took your hands into his, looking deeply into you.

"you're important to me. you've.. you've become the thing i was missing. the thing i searched for in other people.

and, you've become that to the people i care about the most too.

so,"

he got down on one knee infront of you.

"will you marry me?"

the word yes escaped you before you even realized it. you tackled him into a hug, which prompted kei and kioko to join in.

everything was just so sweet from then on.

kioko was the flower girl at your wedding, kei was the ring holder.

your first kiss shared under the altar was magical, the memory of it forever engrained in your memories, and in your lips.

your honeymoon was bittersweet, as you missed your two headaches. but you and katsuki also enjoyed the private time alone with eachother, embracing and finding comfort in eachother's presence.

when you got home though, your picturesque family was about to have a new addition,

you were pregnant.

whilst everyone was debating whether or not you'd have a boy or girl, to everyone's surprise once you and katsuki cut the slice of cake open..

it had both colors.

you we're having twins.

as you looked over at katsuki, a shocked expression on his face, all you could do was laugh.

laugh because you couldn't have ever imagined a life this perfect for you.

but it was a wax-drawn line of fate that led you to katsuki,

and you'd always be thankful for it.

tag: @kovu-bunnbunn

[jiminrings]

four seven eight, phase 3 (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 9k

glimpse: jungkook's secure when it comes to being a husband and a dad, knowing that he grew to love being both after everything you've been through. what he isn't so secure about is the possibility that it's everything he'll ever be.

alternatively, jungkook pursues his dream of making a film, even if it means making your rival his main lead behind your back.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

[ the return of 478jk (derogatory), major angst, fluff, the weight of devotion except jk's mean this time, flashbacks to phase 1 (im so sorry), the both of them r in an identity crisis, The Return of yoongi, yearning and the ache of unfulfillment all over, eventual redemption ]

notes: FINALLYYYYYY after a long wait, phase three is finally here :-) the og era of 478 is a time i'll truly never forget so now that i'm putting them in Several Inconveniences again, i look forward to creating another era with u citizens!!! mwah thank u love yew

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook likes to be needed.

He likes to be needed fully, sometimes even all at once to the point that every mention of his name makes him think that his assistance is needed. He wants to be needed like the way you rummage through your old film canisters that you dumped in a large drawer just to retrieve a specific picture of him; needed like the way you sigh in relief when you find said roll.

Jungkook wants you to seek him in a crowd, past all the banners of your name from your fans and lanyards of your staff, and ask specifically him for a cold water bottle he keeps in his bag for you. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t even mind if you ask it from him indiscreetly — he wants to be needed, even if neither of you are alone with each other.

He’s used to the feeling of being needed because it’s practically routine for him. The way Jungkook loves you has changed and evolved (needlessly to say for the better) through the years, and although he tries to look for the balance in it all, there’s a tiny, tiny part of him that wonders what would’ve happened if neither of you changed.

It’s perhaps the change in seasons, or maybe it’s the build-up of the stupid little things Jungkook’s seen recently; one of those things happen to be a ridiculously long thread by your fan, who happens to also be a fan of Yoongi, assuming that your marriage with J*ngkook (that’s exactly how they typed his name out) is ending, hence your recent collaboration on a brand deal. Jungkook, of course, has half the mind to go on his secret stan account and snark at said poster before reporting, but even then, there’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch.

Whatever weather it is outside nowadays or whichever stupid little thing pisses him off online, Jungkook can’t shake off the nagging question of what if in his mind.

When Jungkook cleans your water bottle every night for you to take to set the next day, he wonders if the two of you would still be together if only he didn’t rush to your place by the exact second your month-long break ended, right when he takes off the rubber from the cap to clean the ridges thoroughly.

When he blowdries your hair (even if you tell him not to bother) after you begrudgingly take a shower because you can’t sleep in bed after going outside and not washing up the second you come home, he wonders if you would’ve kept loving him even if the very incident with Sora didn’t push him to change, right when he sees you close your eyes while his hands scratch your scalp.

When Jungkook sounds out syllables to Hwayoung and tries his very best not to baby-talk her (he can’t help it sometimes) as he recounts his day to the toddler, he wonders if you would’ve even had a daughter with him if he stayed the same silent lover that he used to be, right when she parrots your name back to him with a smile.

“Young-ie’s probably starting to need me less and less,” he sighs to you with a pout, eyebrows knitted in concern as he gives you his rookie version of a blowout he’s still trying to perfect. Jungkook can’t flick his wrist the way professional hairstylists do, just in the same way you can’t pick up why he’s brought up the thought out of nowhere.

“How could you say that? She’s the biggest daddy’s girl ever,” you chuckle, placating him with the truth despite your initial confusion. If you weren’t fully awake awhile ago, you certainly are now — mostly because Jungkook springs up an unbelievable idea, and partly because whenever he tugs the brush at your hair, your whole head comes along with it.

“Not really. More like biggest mommy’s girl, you mean,” he defensively scoffs, apologizing quickly when he hears you wince at a particular experimental tug he does on your ends.

“Should we wake her up right now and let her decide?” you murmur, your eyes locking with his on the mirror.

Jungkook, at his most comfortable state, wearing ratty oversized pajamas and glasses on his face that he’s yet to update the prescription on, has never felt more competitive in his life.

“Well we could-…”

“I was joking,” you deadpan, the silence between the two of you getting long enough to the point that you suddenly find yourself laughing, effectively getting Jungkook out of his daze.

“… I knew that.”

You may have had an inkling about Jungkook feeling slightly off before in the past weeks, but all it took was his random, unprompted question tonight for you to solidify that seed of concern in your chest.

Jungkook likes to be needed, even if he can’t say the same that you need him as much as he thinks you do. He thinks it’s a perfectly rational feeling to want to be needed by both your wife and your daughter, and although he’s not as receptive to being needed as much by anyone other than his family, the feeling still stays the same.

He has all the time in the world. You’ve enabled him to do so even if he’s the one mainly looking after Hwayoung while you worked, but despite that, Jungkook doesn’t feel needed enough.

There’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch with neither your constant affection nor Hwayoung’s grabby hands. There’s an unplaceable, agitating urge in Jungkook’s chest to put a pause on everything and be back to who and what he used to be, despite your affirmation that he is needed.

There’s that tick going on in Jungkook’s brain that amplifies everything he does to seem wrong; that makes him grumpy when he wakes up to prepare you breakfast whenever you had early shoots, that makes him purse his lips when his daughter asks him to watch the same movie with her for the third time in the week.

All of the uneasiness in him, however, disappears when Namjoon, the acclaimed screenwriter that he has for a friend (whom he actually met through you), calls him up with an offer that Jungkook can’t refuse.

It’s an offer that releases the ache from his bones, makes him want to blowdry your hair better, and watch the same movie over and over again with his daughter — but Jungkook postpones saying it to you when you come home and want nothing more than to be in his arms, and for Hwayoung to be in yours.

( ♡ )

Jungkook could wait more.

He convinces himself that he can because although there’s a date set for the short film that Namjoon’s pitched for him to produce, it hasn’t grown yet to become the unstoppable force against Jungkook’s immovable object: family.

He knows he needs to tell you eventually and that he’s not really asking for permission in the first place, but there’s a sense of guilt in him whenever the thought of breaking the news to you comes into mind. He’s not nervous per se because he knows you’re as supportive of him, if not more, like he is with you.

It just happens that it’s within the fine details that Jungkook truly feels hesitant to tell you that he has to leave for awhile.

Jungkook could wait more, and although that means he has to deal with the occasional voice in his head telling him that lying to you (even under the guise of protecting you) has the capacity to bite back at him, he manages. He swallows down the words whenever you unintentionally give him an opening to tell you about the news of him going abroad, and just settles for holding your hand.

He could wait more because telling you now wouldn’t be the right time, now when you’re on your day-off as you’re close to wrapping up your current project before moving to the bigger, more exhausting one; not now when you have a time of reprieve to spend with your family before taking on the biggest project of your career to date.

Jungkook hums to himself as he looks down on Hwayoung who has a tiny shopping cart to herself, her strikingly round eyes that she got from him (Hwayoung looks more like him the older she gets) looking up to his own.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he lulls, mumbling loudly enough for only her to hear. “You’d understand if appa left for awhile, right?”

“Left?” she questions, holding up her left hand at the mention yet she reels at his query, brows furrowing as she seems to digest the question. “Why?”

“Yup. That’s your left. Good job, baby,” Jungkook praises, the knot in his throat growing when he looks to his daughter who looks confused at the sudden query, again, that came out of nowhere. “You would, won’t you?”

Hwayoung hums because she doesn’t quite understand, but that’s the thing that Jungkook fears most — she’s young and smart and although he wants to use those facts to his advantage, he realizes that Hwayoung being the age that she is in now could also prove him to be dispensable.

Jungkook likes being needed, but he’s much too afraid of the possibility that Hwayoung won’t even recall him as soon as he leaves.

Your husband’s snapped out of his reverie when you go downstairs with a skip in your step, the tell-tale mischievous tone to your voice already predicting that Hwayoung would make the two of you chase after her in the backyard all day. “What are the two of you plotting again?” you ask playfully, hands on your hips as Jungkook chuckles at the sight of his two girls.

“Nothing!” Hwayoung giggles, the word slipping out of her seamlessly as she even shakes her hands fervently, accustomed to what you mean exactly with your tone of voice. She’s young and bright and you see so much of Jungkook in her, even if Jungkook would argue otherwise.

Jungkook’s dazed this morning with the way his gaze locks in from far away, his bottom lip bit between his teeth more often than not as if he’s always at war with himself.

“You okay, Kook?”

“Mhmm. Couldn’t be better,” he hums half-heartedly, his lips grazing your temple as he guides you to sit down on the carpet with him. “You finally slept for more than eight hours. That’s good,” he says as an afterthought, the pauses in between his words growing in distance as his gaze is fixated on everything but you.

Jungkook looks at your daughter who’s now pushing Miso around the house in her shopping cart, and while your cat (who’s always seemed to hate your husband) looks more than pleased at being played with, she meows to Jungkook and only at him with a hiss at the end of her spiel as if in warning — as if Jungkook is guilty of something that only the two of them know about.

Almost as if out of everyone in the room, it’s only your cat who knows that Jungkook’s lying.

Jungkook can wait, but he’s certain that he can’t wait any longer because if his brain is unoccupied for long enough, he’ll start to hear Miso cursing at him through her yowls.

“Hwayoung doesn’t look like she needs you any less,” you say gently, your line of sight following Jungkook’s as he tenses at your words.

“Oh,” he sighs, jaw grinding down to a halt. “Right."

Your words seemingly came out of nowhere, even if the both of you know deep down that they’re influenced by his impulsive thoughts from last week.

“You can say the same for me,” you add, not as an afterthought, but as a lesser-known fact that Jungkook seems to forget every now and then.

There’s a weight in his chest because all of a sudden, Jungkook can’t wait anymore. The itch in his mind has already been scratched too much that it had already bled and scabbed.

There’s a weight in his chest that reminds him he can’t wait anymore, because in hindsight, the weight of him and everything that comes with him settles on his shoulders.

Maybe, Jungkook doesn’t want to be needed as much.

( ♡ )

Jungkook drops the news on you while you’re folding laundry.

He was meant to go for sincere but the way the words leave him, right when you’re in the middle of folding Hwayoung’s pajamas that she’s about to overgrow in the soonest, it sounds as if he’s been dying to tell you; now that he has, he sounds beyond relieved.

“Namjoon offered me a script,” he announces, taking the pajamas from you to put in his pile as he sees your eyes widen, the remnants of the heavy mascara they used on you on set awhile ago highlighting your surprise. “He wants me to produce.”

“What?” you punctuate, tilting your head as you try to make sense of what Jungkook’s saying. You know he’s speaking and you’re familiar with said words; you just never expected for them to be compacted in the same sentence, meaning the way that he makes it out to be. “Kim Namjoon, as in the producer for In Terms of Eternity?”

He chirps at that, posture straightening as he tries to jog your memory. “Yeah. You’ve worked with him before and introduced us, then turns out Jin’s also a friend of his and-…"

“I mean I know Namjoon and that you’re friends with him, Jungkook,” you interrupt, trying to reel yourself in as you’ve lost your focus trying to fold Hwayoung’s clothes and talk to your husband at the same time. “But I didn’t know you were that close for him to ask you to produce something for him.”

Jungkook doesn’t completely crash from the high he’s in over finally telling you the news, but there’s that spike that flashes briefly over his face, the frown on his lips letting on more than he shows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?"

You sigh at the impossible position the both of you are in, the words that try to line themselves up in your temple being no match to the way they translate out-loud. “It means nothing. I’m just… surprised that he’d ask you to be a producer for his script, that’s all. It came out of nowhere.”

Jungkook recoils at that, a stubborn brow raised as he tries to keep his composure. “Because you don’t think I’m capable of being a producer?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you inhale sharply, gripping a random article of Hwayoung’s clothing beside you to pace yourself. “Namjoon’s.. big. He’s established, and well, you’ve never become a producer before.”

“And you have?” Jungkook digs, even if it’s unnecessary to do so, and the way his face falls at the forthcoming regret that creeps up to him lets you know that he thinks so too.

“Jungkook,” you try again, quirking your lips to the side as you try to manage with the pace he’s set you up on. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. This is all new to me. All new to you, even. If anything, it’s nice that Namjoon trusts you a lot.

“He does. We’re close,” he nods, clearing his throat as he feels that the both of you could move on to the other phase of the news you had interrupted him at. “As a matter of fact, we’re taking it on a global scale.”

Jungkook doesn’t get why your face falls.

He doesn’t get why your shoulders rise and fall, not in relief, but out of controlled tension that threatens to pour over.

“What?”

“The script. The film,” he smiles, trying to get you to finish his sentence and connect the dots together but to no avail. “It’s… it’s — we have to film in the US for a few months.”

“What?” you repeat, the knot in your throat tangling up more and more hesitance in you the longer it stays there.

“I said, we have to-…”

“No, I heard what you said,” you interrupt, jaw clenching tightly as you try to grasp everything Jungkook has said.

You don’t get why Jungkook’s smiling.

You don’t get why he’s completely at ease and only in confusion as he sees you piece everything out.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Kook, all of this is new. Everything you’ve just said is and will be new,” you chuckle humorlessly, running your hand through your hair in frustration as you try to relax. “I’m happy for you, believe me, but Jungkook, what you’re saying is serious. It’s a lot to take in,” you pause, eyes wide as you repeat the words to yourself. “You. Producing. In the US, of all places, a-and for months.”

There’s not one exact emotion that runs through you because the longer that Jungkook looks at you, ecstatic, while you’re weighing what he’s just said like a bag of bricks — you feel even more conflicted.

Your husband wrings his hands together, nervously smiling at you as if he’s asking for permission, but the both of you know that his mind’s already set. He thinks the opportunity of producing a short film that’s been drafted by his friend is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, eager to take off even if he’s had no experience at all in the industry.

“I don’t know, baby. It’s just been so long since I got this excited and alive, y’know? It’s a nice change of pace and I get to do something nice-…”

“Isn’t being with your daughter nice?” you ask abruptly, unable to mask the conflict that’s been brewing in your mind ever since Jungkook pulled you aside to talk. You feel hesitant; disconnected even from wrapping your head around his wording.

Even convincing yourself that you’re just spent from working sunrise to sundown doesn’t work. No matter how hard you try, Jungkook’s tone remains as is.

“Y/N,” he sighs, lips in a tight line as he screws his eyes shut. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything, Jungkook,” you grit, crossing your arms in defense. You feel guarded more than ever, not because you’re the one whom he’s pertaining to, but because your Hwayoung is involved and you won’t sit around for it. “It’s just that when you put it like that, it sounds like taking care of Hwayoung is a chore.”

You used to be sure awhile ago that you were seeing double because in between memorizing scripts and going from schedule to schedule without any time to rest in between, you’ve been worried sick because Jungkook hadn’t texted you the whole day. You were shocked enough to come home to your daughter playing by herself downstairs (with Miso watching her the whole time), even more-so when you saw Jungkook engrossed in a highly-enthusiastic phone call.

Jungkook sighs as if talking to you completely exhausts him, pinching his nosebridge before muttering under his breath. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me?” you blink in surprise, tilting your head in sheer confusion. You’re about to shrug it off but he does that thing again, the one where he almost rolls his eyes at you but realizes it at the last minute.

“Nothing.”

“Say that again, Jungkook.”

“My god,” Jungkook groans, throwing his head back. He runs his hands through his hair frustratedly, sucking in a rushed breath. He looks straight at you when he gives his grievance. “I’m just saying! Why do you get to live out your dream but I don’t?”

“This is my job,” you bite back instantly, the second it took for you to digest his words being enough time for him to groan again. “If it were up to me, do you think I’d work six days a week? Do you not know how much it kills me to stay away from my family?”

You’re at a loss for words, the tiny bit of insecurity you have being dug up once again. You feel guilty because you actually don’t — you know to yourself that you still dedicate so much of yourself to Jungkook and Hwayoung even if you work full-time.

Jungkook chokes up a laugh in front of your face.

“Then quit your dream if you’re so miserable.”

Your jaw clenches quickly in annoyance, unable to retain the disbelief that builds up in your chest. “My dream is my job! It’s why we’re living this life in the first place, Jungkook! Your dream is this project that was pitched to you like what, two weeks ago?”

“Can I not live my life the way that I want to?” he asks exaggeratedly, eyes wide in defense. “Why am I only your husband and why am I only Hwayoung’s dad? Why can’t I go to the US a-and try things out? Why can’t I be free from all this even for just a while?”

Your mouth falls apart at that, your moment of shock simultaneously being Jungkook’s instance for guilty. He wants to reel it in right then and there, but the small part of his pride grows to hold him back.

“Do we hold you back that much?” you whisper, the headache that has been building in your head since this morning shrinking to the size of Jungkook’s words. “What are you getting so angry for? I’m not saying no. I’m asking you why you’re so hellbent on suddenly leaving to do this.”

A large part of you, if not all, feels more disappointed than angry. Hwayoung has not and should never be an afterthought for the both of you yet Jungkook brings her up with you like mere variables.

You can grasp the fact that being a parent is a full-time job like yours yet what you can’t get a hold of is your husband’s apprehension; his sudden need of pursuing something beyond your family.

“Because I’m scared, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers, exhaling heavily. “I’m scared that this is all what life could ever be for me.”

It’s only when you’re completely silent that he comes back to the severity of his words, the tension that’s been building up in him breaking the moment that you break eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry for being your wife.”

“Baby, that’s not-…” Jungkook tries to correct himself, hot on your heels as you get up from your seat on the couch. You’re not even speeding up yet he catches you just as urgently, the hold he has on your arm doing little to put you at ease.

“And I’m sorry for making you a dad.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m-…”

“You should do this project if you really want to,” you quip, back still turned to him as you enter the bedroom. Jungkook noticeably stops in his tracks, the furrow in his brows fading because you’ve put him on whiplash.

“What?”

“You’ve held down the fort while I was out being the breadwinner. It’ll be nice for you to do your own thing,” you smile tightly, eager to sleep on the whole thing just so you don’t stay hung-up for too long.

“What about Hwayoung? What about your film? They want it to be an entry for the Academy, right?” he asks in concern, different from the worry he had awhile ago when he thought you were against him leaving.

You nod, easily shrugging despite the weight on your shoulders. “I’m her mom, of course. She’s gonna come first. And for the film, I think I can still do it. I’ll juggle them both if I have to.”

Jungkook nods, eyes set on the floor. He didn’t think this far at all.

“Do you want to hire a nanny? I know a friend.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t trust nannies.”

There’s an overwhelming silence that engulfs the both of you, the white noise machine in your nightstand unable to fill it completely. Jungkook looks at the ceiling while you look at Hwayoung who’s sprawled in the middle of your bed, clutching Miso like a teddy bear — she already fell asleep waiting for the both of you.

“I didn’t mean what I said awhile ago, I’m sorry. It came out the wrong way,” Jungkook apologizes after some time, hand darting out to hold yours while you only hover above your vanity, taking off all of your jewelry except for your wedding ring.

“When do you leave?” you ask, still unable to meet his gaze.

“Next week,” he clears his throat. “When do you start filming?”

You nod, coming into terms that Jungkook would leave no matter what you say. “Next week.”

You’re arranging the covers when your husband tries to hold you again, voice strained and rushed. “Y/N, I really am sorry. I love being your-…”

“Shh,” you interrupt, pursing your lips. “Hwayoung’s sleeping.”

( ♡ )

You asked for a day off.

You’ve rarely ever asked for them throughout your entire career because you were built on the mindset that at the end of the day, you’re also an employee no matter what gig you land. Be it the cameos you used to book with Yoongi or the titular characters you take from studio after studio, you’re still the employee who had worked her way up fairly.

You didn’t ask for it during that instance when you fell sick after back-to-back shoots because you didn’t want to waste anyone’s time. You didn’t ask for it when you woke up with the type of fatigue that settled in your body no matter how hard you closed your eyes or laid your head against the cushions.

You’ve never asked for it for your sake, but you’ve asked for a day off now because Jungkook’s leaving for a place you can’t come and go to as you wish.

Unlike your house or the hotels you book for him and Hwayoung to be at whenever you have to film out of town, Jungkook’s out of reach. He’s one call away, granted that your timezones match up and there’s a connection strong enough for it to continue without a hitch. He’s far from your grasp and he will be for months on end, and you don’t think you can ever stomach working on the same day he’s leaving.

“Are you seeing me off at the airport?” he asks during the car ride, voice audible enough for only you to hear and not Hwayoung who’s sprawled across both of your laps, sleeping soundly with her plushie that resembled Miso.

“I will, but I don’t think I can see you off near the gate. I can only manage up to here,” you answer honestly, willing yourself not to break down even if the both of you are still in the car, away from any prying eyes of the media that lurks outside. “So can Hwayoung,” you add, a large part of you being grateful that she’s asleep when Jungkook has to leave so neither of you would hear her cries.

Jungkook sees that hesitance in you, the same kind that softens him into fragments.

“It’ll only be for awhile, okay? Just for a few months,” he smiles tightly, rearranging his backpack next to him, the keyring that held Hwayoung’s second-favorite toy (not the ultimate favorite because she won’t ever let him take it) clattering loudly. “I love you,” Jungkook murmurs. “Do you know that?”

“Mhmm.”

“Say it back.”

You refuse to do so because saying it back feels finite, perhaps even forced, because although you love Jungkook, saying so at the moment only weighs you down as reality sinks in. “This is gonna be easy for us, right?"

“It’s not like we’ve never been in a similar set-up before,” he shrugs, the pout on his face casual as he tries to level with you.

“But this is different, Jungkook. This is beyond different. We have Hwayoung and now, we’re both working,” you stammer, chest rising and falling as you wrap your head around everything. “This— this isn’t Seoul to Jeonju. This isn’t a leave by day, come back by night type of trip. This is-…”

“You’re freaking out,” Jungkook interjects, his soft yet stern voice cutting through your thoughts as he lays a hand on your thigh, the platinum of his wedding band looking right up at you.

You surrender in defeat, not because you’re fighting with your husband, but because there’s simply no other answer he could ever conjure for you as to why this is happening.

“Why aren’t you? Why am I the only one scared?” you whisper.

“You’re not supposed to be.”

“Of course. It’s not like you— we put everything on the line,” you clear your throat, looking down on your shoes as you convince yourself. You ignore how you’re still not entirely aware of what’s with Jungkook’s project, other than the fact that Namjoon’s the screenwriter, all in favor of giving you a semblance of sanity before Jungkook leaves you and Hwayoung. “Right?”

( ♡ )

You wonder if Jungkook already ate breakfast.

You wonder if he ate the supposedly excellent in-flight meal that comes with first-class tickets, or if he ate the ramen he’s always had a penchant for eating especially during your trips, whether by land, sea, or air. You wonder if he’s grumpy with the altitude and the way he has to pop his ears ever so often, along with the way he always seems to be too long for airplane seats turned into beds.

You call but Jungkook doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll never not purchase in-flight wifi because he’d rather knock himself out than have to read a book or something of the sort. You message, but then again, your husband doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll much rather reply via text than to record a voice note because he’s shy with people hearing him in public spaces, albeit closed.

Hwayoung waits patiently beside you, swinging her legs back and forth on the couch as Miso stays up with her. She should’ve been in bed half an hour ago but you let her stay up with you, all in the pursuit of getting Jungkook to respond.

“Appa?” she asks again after a minute of you trying for her dad but through another app, her pout reminding you of Jungkook’s who’s unreachable.

You try not to frown in front of her, leveling yourself as you settle for kissing her forehead to cover up the sigh that originates deep from your chest.

“Not yet, Young-ie.”

.

.

.

There’s no text from Jungkook when you wake, but there is a picture of him in the buffet of the private lounge he’s staying at during his layover.

Atleast Jungkook did eat breakfast and Hwayoung was able to sleep without him (the first of what you dread is many), nevermind the dull thrum in your chest in Jungkook’s absence.

( ♡ )

Hwayoung's been behaved the whole time you were on set.

With Jimin prioritizing his voluntary role of being a babysitter to your daughter over his position of being a manager to you, you became instantly comforted at the reassurance that you're not in this situation alone.

It's only been a week since you started working right after Jungkook left, his absence rearranging every system you've previously had in place. You do your very best to have Hwayoung still thriving, and even just the reminder that you are succeeding at being the only present parent for the meantime melts all of your fatigue away.

Your trailer's more equipped for her than it is for you, the space apparently reminding Hwayoung of home so much that it's enough to make her remind you that Miso should go join the both of you sometime. Your dressing room's always been hers, and so has been the affection of everyone close to you.

“I take my role of godfather very seriously.”

Yoongi explains even if you haven't asked him anything. In fact, you weren't talking to begin with. It's not in his nature to talk for the sake of talking (that's Jungkook's), but even with Hwayoung in his arms and you still being lost in your thoughts, he can't help but to feel concerned.

“I can tell," you snicker, finally taking notice of the sight in front of you. The earpiece that was previously on Yoongi is now slung over Hwayoung's shoulder, obviously too big on her. She wanted it as an accessory (it reminds her of the toy stethoscope she'd put on Miso as a collar) and with Yoongi being himself, he can't bring himself to say no.

Your shooting day's nearly over and although today wasn't as long as your previous record of hours on end, you already seem exhausted. Yoongi, of all people, knows what scenes wear you out. You hated doing monologues as a rookie and still despise monologues (but with random, out-of-place advertisements in between) as a veteran — you’ve done neither today.

"What's with the frown?" he asks gently, not only because Hwayoung’s been quiet for the past two minutes and she’s getting groggy, but also because if he were to ask you any louder, he feels as if you’d break.

"It's nothing," you answer automatically, looking at Hwayoung to ground yourself. "Just usual family things, I guess."

"Trouble in paradise?" Yoongi asks with a chuckle, abruptly stopping his fit of amusement when he gets goosebumps starting from the tail of his spine. He instantly recognizes it as deja vu. "I've asked you this before, haven't I?"

The realization doesn’t hit you until he points it out.

"Mhmm," you hum absent-mindedly, playing with the hem of your dress. “I don't think the problem now is anything like how it was before, though."

One night several years ago, you and Yoongi were sat side-by-side in the booth of a club, the heartbreak you had over what Jungkook’s done (and haven’t, at the time) being the wedge between you.

Now, Yoongi’s standing in front of you while you’re sat down, your daughter with Jungkook in his arms.

“Me neither. I don't know how you and Jungkook can encounter any problem worse than last time, to be honest," he chuckles, shaking his head at the recollection of the hell you’ve been through. "Also, I think I can say that because I literally don't know what's going on with you. But if you do tell me-!"

"You're so nosy,” you snort, the brief moment of playfulness welcome because your head aches the longer that you dwell over your worries.

"I can be the judge to see if what you're going through now is worse than before," Yoongi shrugs to fake nonchalance, unaware that you’re gasping in awe until you kick him lightly in the shin.

Hwayoung’s asleep in his arms.

"She's never did that with anyone before," you murmur, fishing for your phone to take a picture, but not before quickly skimming to see if Jungkook’s sent you any messages; he hasn’t. “She only either sleeps in mine or Jungkook's arms. Not for my parents, not for my in-laws. Just me and him."

Yoongi smiles proudly, stroking Hwayoung’s hair proudly. "What can I say? I'm godfather of the year."

He only sways her gently back and forth, rocking her with the patience and attention that remind you of Jungkook’s when Hwayoung was a newborn.

You’re calm and quiet to see her adjusting so well already, but you can’t help but to feel lost because you feel the exact opposite. No one’s gonna stroke your hair for you and tell you to take your time — those are Jungkook’s tasks alone, yet your grievances are also because of him.

"Jungkook's producing this short film in the US. It's by his friend," you mutter under your breath after some time in silence. Yoongi flicks his eyes up at you as if you’re talking about the weather, careful not to make you feel more conflicted than you already are. “You know… by Namjoon.”

"Since when was he into that?" he asks out of curiosity, eyebrows furrowed because he didn’t know that your opening line would ever transition to this point in the conversation. Yoongi catches a second wind the longer he processes your words, the scoff that leaves his lips making his bangs loose despite the hairspray on them. “Since when did Jungkook and Namjoon belong in the same sentence?”

"I don't know either.”

"So we're both producers now?" he snickers, the teasing already coming natural. "Nepo husband alert."

You roll your eyes in recognition, clearing your throat as soon as the laughter died between the two of you. “We got into this argument and I don't know, I-I realized I was being selfish for a moment because I didn't want him to go at first, you know?" you admit in full sincerity, exhaling the lump that forms in your throat. “He said he was afraid that this is everything he'll be. My husband, Hwayoung's dad. So on and so forth."

Yoongi only listens this time, giving the occasional hum there to remind you that he’s still there.

"And last night, he, uh, he forgot to call," you gulp, already feeling the weight of your worries settle in your stomach. "The call wasn't even for me. It's for Hwayoung because he promised he'll still read her whatever she wants."

The three of you cherish that time together because normally, it happens as soon as you get home from work. Hwayoung’s long graduated from storybooks and has now branched out to the most ridiculous texts that Jungkook indulges her with nonetheless — from the ingredient list at the back of milk cartons, and all the way to Reddit threads of how cats find their way back home to owners.

"He's been secretive about the whole thing and I-I… I do that too with my projects, I get it. But only at first because I'm literally bound to an NDA," you stammer, pinching your nosebridge to get past the frustration. “I’m just-…!" you give up, admitting the truth. "I did some snooping."

"And?" Yoongi prompts, tilting his head in anticipation.

"I think he's been secretive because the main lead's Eunsu."

Yoongi recoils at that, so much so that it almost wakes up Hwayoung.

"Eunsu? As in Park Eunsu?" he repeats, the scowl on his face getting deeper the more that you stay indifferent. “Eunsu as in your nemesis?"

You relent, the mention of her finally hitting close.

"Nemesis sounds a little childish."

Yoongi scoffs immediately, rolling his eyes at your correction. “I mean yeah, because people keep pitting her against you when she doesn't even come close," he shrugs easily, make you tut in warning. "What? I'm just saying what everybody's been thinking."

To know that you can still confide in Yoongi no matter what comforts you — what doesn’t is that this time around, your gut feeling’s stronger than it had been the last time.

"I hope I'm wrong."

"I hope so too," he exhales, shaking his head in disbelief. "What kind of asshole sleeps with his wife's enemy?"

"Don't put that out there,” you grumble, the unintentional yet weird arrangement of words making you dizzy.

"Sorry. It's a metaphor, dummy," Yoongi surrenders, clearing his throat. "Okay. Retake. What kind of husband produces a film featuring his wife's rival?

"Hopefully not mine."

( ♡ )

It takes little effort to love you.

Loving you specifically doesn’t have to be hard.

Jungkook thinks that loving you isn’t hard when you serve as the peace to his otherwise hectic and turbulent mind. You manifest into the comfort he looks for in all seasons, be it the heat pack you wordlessly put in his coat pocket or the scrunchie you put around his wrist no matter the weather whenever his hair got too long.

You don’t text him at every hour of the day whether you were working or not, but you’ve made it a point to always check up on him multiple times even if the both of you are at home, going as far to randomly waking up in the night to pause your breathing and check up on his with a hand on his chest.

It’s easy love — one that could be grasped by everyone because as the world has proved to him time and time again, you’re easy to fall with and for.

You may not coo and awe at every single thing he utters, but the adoration behind your eyes always makes him warm from the inside because you held onto him, no matter how anticlimactic his stories could be.

Neither you and Jungkook are easy, that much he knows.

He knows it because although it’s never been his intention to come home late during his allotted short break between filming (it’s disguised as a break even if he only came back to take care of work-related matters personally), you make it known that you’re irked with him for every other reason.

He knows that you aren’t easy because for the past three weeks he’s been gone, you’ve reiterated twice in the last hour alone how you’ve asked him again and again who will star in his short film. You’ve asked Jungkook repeatedly to give you details outside of Namjoon and the vaguest bits he could ever give you, establishing the fact that he isn’t even bound to an NDA.

It’s the persisting barrage of questions in your head that bothers you without a single break. It’s the hovering feeling of doom above your head because having no answers to any of them, on top of Jungkook closing himself off with or without the physical distance between the two of you and being Hwayoung’s sole caregiver, that your patience ultimately thins.

Your annoyance towards your husband is clearly obvious and it bothers him to the point of frustration. Jungkook’s been convinced since last week that if he just dodged your questions for long enough and blamed it on the connection of your call, he wouldn’t have to answer to you; he wouldn’t have to explain the fine details of the project he’s kept from you.

If he had only avoided you for long enough, you would’ve forgotten about the rumors surrounding Namjoon’s upcoming screenplay that had been leaked to the press, and the roster of actresses thought out to be the main lead of his short film.

If he had only ignored your pleas for long enough, he would have never succumbed to the preliminary guilt that comes with lying to you under the impression that he’s only being protective, pushing him to drink until his vision spins — enough for him that when he admits the truth to you, your face of heartbreak directed at him isn’t as anguishing.

“Fine, fuck it! Since you’re so nosy, yes. Eunsu is my main lead, there! She’s my muse!” Jungkook just about yells, breathless from the burn of alcohol in his throat that spreads all the way to his chest, and from the back and forth he’s been going at with you for the last hour.

“Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?!” you retort, fists clenching at your sides as the thought of Jungkook with Eunsu, with her of all actresses, in a foreign place at almost every minute of the workday irking you.

“Would it have made a difference? You’d still be angry at me,” he rolls his eyes, placing a hand on his hip as he tries to stabilize his gaze on you.

“And even then, you wouldn’t do anything about it, right? Because that’s just your nature, Jungkook,” you scoff, your dig at him being incredibly low yet you steel your pride, unwilling to back down at the thought that Jungkook’s been lying to you for three weeks– perhaps even longer.

He presses a tongue to his cheek as you pertain to the past loud and clear, the sarcastic nod he gives you making your breathing tremble.

“Why? Why does it have to be her?” you try again, this time with your jaw clenched so your anger won’t flare up because you’ve been dying to have a decent explanation from Jungkook for weeks.

“Why can’t it be her?” he counters. “B-because she’s what, she’s your rival or something? You’re jealous? Bitter?”

The knot in your chest tightens, the recall you have of the woman who had sabotaged you repeatedly when you were still a rookie putting a metallic taste on your tongue. She’s hindered you in ways that not even Yoongi could explain fully despite being the closest friend to you in the industry, the vitriol you’ve had for Eunsu in the past reviving back to life.

You have no words except for the fact that begs to be acknowledged without a single syllable.

“I’m your wife, Jungkook,” you exhale shakily, the gravity of it seemingly not enough for him because he refuses to use it as a reason to get on your side.

“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think everybody knows that by now?” Jungkook spits. “When I’m producing my film with Eunsu, I don’t want to be your husband, Y/N! I’m sick of it,” he seethes. “Eunsu has nothing to do with me. Why should I fight your battles for you? Why do I have to carry your grudges for something that doesn’t even concern me?”

Jungkook’s the drunkest he’s ever been in his life, yet he utters the clearest words you’ve ever heard him say.

“This is showbiz, Y/N. It’s inevitable for you to get caught up with shit.”

“You’re talking as if being my husband and being Hwayoung’s dad is a chore.”

“Because maybe it is!” Jungkook bursts with a cry, the tears that spring out of his eyes momentarily blinding him. “Because maybe, I’m fed up trying to be sickeningly devoted to you all the time.”

There’s something akin to white, hot, searing pain that spreads across your chest all the way to your temple, the tremble of your lips not enough for Jungkook to realize that you’re on the verge of sobbing.

“Sometimes I hate this. I… I-I hate this life I’m living because of you, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers. “I hate how you’re so, so perfect in juggling everything. I hate how I could spend an hour just convincing Hwayoung to eat a single carrot and you come in the room, and she finishes the bowl with a smile on her face. I-I hate how you never complain whenever you need to do late night feedings after a long day because I’m already snoring. I hate how with or without work, you’re still just—…” he stills, looking at you with a distraught gaze. “You’re still so content. You’re still able to be yourself like you’ve always been.”

There’s no words left in you; no thought at all that could ever pick you up from the ground and gather yourself the way you’ve always had whenever you and Jungkook had felt the furthest from each other.

“Jungkook,” you sniffle, even if he waves you off half-heartedly. “I’m sorry if-…”

“There it is. There it fucking is again!” Jungkook whines, foot agitatedly stomping against the floor as he pulls at his hair. “You’re apologizing for being so perfect in life that it’s making me feel bad!”

“But I’m not! I’m far from it, what the hell are you talking about?” you rasp, the sarcastic laugh that goes past your lips making his ears ring. “I’m sorry if it seems that way but I’m telling you myself that everything is not perfect the way you make it out to be. I’m sorry because it makes you feel bad, but if anything-…”

Jungkook raises a finger at you, his jaw tightening the longer he stews in displacement.

“Don’t. Don’t. Don’t tell me how content you are with everything despite being exhausted, or how you juggling everything is worth it. Don’t tell me how good of a dad I am."

“Then what can I say to make it lighter for you, Jungkook? What can I say that won’t make you resent me?” you grit in surrender, chest falling so lowly, you’ve forgotten to breathe for a long second. “Do you hate the life that we’re living now so much that you can’t even look at me?”

Love isn’t always a matter of ease and although it’s always stuck to you, you prove now that Jungkook coming home to you at this instance, in this light, that he makes love the most difficult thing.

“Do you hate the life that I gave you so badly?”

“I don’t,” he answers, mouth dry as his vision spins. “Sometimes. Tonight, though — maybe I do. It comes and goes.”

“Then what can we do about it?” you whisper, your vision hazy as you look at him. “Where do we go from here?”

“It’s getting late,” Jungkook only whispers, unwilling to look at the bed you share. “I have an early flight tomorrow.”

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 9

Series Summary: In order to save money for law school, you accept a job working as a maid for high end clients. You aren’t supposed to know whose home you’re cleaning, but your curiosity is peaked by your first client, and when the two of you have a shocking and surprising run in more than just your curiosity peaks.  Word Count: 5k CW: see small red lettering below the cut AN: I'm going to miss them!! I'm absolutely heartbroken that I'm done, but so fucking proud of myself for what I've created. Thank you to @lotusbxtch for being my beta from pretty much the very beginning. I am so grateful to you and so honoured (yes, with a u because I'm Canadian lol) to call you my friend. Also little shoutouts to @for-a-longlongtime, @alltheirdamn, @mermaidgirl30 and @littlevenicebitch69 for listening to me go on about them for 80% of 2024. As always, graphics and dividers by @saradika-graphics

My Masterlist || Series Masterlist

TW: unprotected p in v, one spank, multiple orgasms and Overstim hinted at, pining, heartbreak

Eight Months Later

Joel

“I got yelled at by a feisty brunette last night at that gala,” Tommy says as the two of them sip whiskey at the bar of the club. 

“Probably deserved it.” Joel deadpans and closes the folder of invoices he’s looking over.

He should be doing this in his fancy, and newly renovated, office across the street. He was in the large office for all of three minutes the day after you left when he could only see the ghost of you. From the chair you sat in when you first asked him to teach you how to be a sub, to the door he pinned you against and confessed how out of his mind he was over you, everything was you, and it had to go if he had any chance of following what you needed from him. Joel hasn’t even been in his room at the club out of the fear of what it would do to him. Would I still be able to smell the lavender of her shampoo in there? Still be able to hear her beautiful cries of pleasure and pain bouncing off the walls?

“She thought I was you,” Tommy says, glancing over at his brother and interrupting Joel’s impending spiral.

Joel sighs, slipping his reading glasses from his face before taking a long pull of the amber liquor from his crystal glass. Tommy looks straight ahead as he continues.

“She’s doing great, by the way. Or at least that’s what her friend said when she was scolding me.”

 Joel winces at his words, “Of course she is, Tommy.” Even though it's been almost a year since you left, just the mention of you rips his barely-mended heart back in half. It doesn’t seem to matter how much time passes, he still feels like he did in his kitchen. 

The very fibers of his being ache just as hard for you now as they did then. He longs to see you and touch you, to feel your warm, soft skin under his hands again. Anyone before you was always, ‘Yes, Mister Miller,’ even when they weren’t in a scene; but not you. You weren’t afraid to be curious and unapologetically yourself. He hasn’t laughed as hard with anyone, including Tiffany, as he did with you. But the part that he misses the most is the way you look at him the first time you see him. Your eyes soften, velvety pink lips parting slightly before they curl into a smile that makes his heart hammer behind his ribs. Then, he watches your shoulders relax and it makes him feel like he hung the moon and stars for you, and if he could have, he would have.  

He clears his throat and then rasps, “She’s too smart to not be doing well.”

Tommy stands, bringing his hands to rub at Joel's shoulders. He squeezes his tense deltoid muscles and with a hint of mischief in his voice he says, “Lots of pretty girls here tonight if you feel like moving on.”

Joel shakes his head and pulls away from Tommy’s grasp with a grunt. “Never gonna happen. Get outta here before you get yelled at two nights in a row.”

“Just too bad for me that you aren’t a hot brunette,” Tommy says with a laugh.

“I have brown hair,” Joel replies defensively, running his fingers through the grown out curls. 

“Not to kick you when you’re down, but it’s mostly grey at this point.”

Joel holds up a single finger at Tommy over his shoulder as he laughs and walks away. 

Two and a half years later

You

You’ve been up to your eyeballs in studying as you prepare for your finals. These last few years in California have been the hardest yet most fulfilling time of your life. Two nights in a row now, you’ve fallen asleep in the library, only waking when your Spotify would switch from the white noise playlist you use to help you focus, to your “getting ready” playlist. After dragging yourself to your dorm room in the dead of the night, you’d get a few restless hours of sleep before heading right back to your favourite studying spot. You can’t believe that in just a few short weeks you’ll be graduating and stepping into the life you’ve always envisioned for yourself.

The unmistakable FaceTime jingle fills your AirPods. Jamie’s name is splayed across the screen of your phone, along with a photo of the two of you at Albany Beach when she visited this past Christmas break. You put your highlighter down and slide the answer toggle over. 

“Hey!” She says, her warm smile shining up at you. You squint, trying to place where she is. You don’t often let yourself think of Joel, but the cracks across your screen make FaceTiming difficult, and the selfish side of you always wishes you had grabbed that new phone before you left. Your head cocks to the side; broken screen or not, you don’t recognize the background.

“Where are you?” You ask.

“Oh, I’m good, thanks. How are you?” She jests with a mocking eye roll.  “I’m at a cabin.”

“What cabin?” You say, glaring at her jokingly. A deep laugh comes from the otherside of the phone and your eyes widen. “Who’s that?”

The man's voice comes from offscreen, “I can’t believe you thought she wouldn’t ask where you were. She’s going to be a lawyer, for god's sake.”

“Jamie, who is that? What is going on here? Blink twice if you need rescuing!” You joke. 

Jamie blushes, looking over the phone at whoever that voice is coming from. “I just wanted to call to see how the studying is going, and to let you know that I got the graduation tickets.”

A glass of white wine appears in front of Jamie and she smiles before puckering her lips in a kissing motion towards the man in the room with her. “Ok, seriously, who the fuck is that and where are you?”

“I was also calling to let you know that Laren can’t make it anymore and Odette is in New York,” she takes a small sip of her wine.

“Oh, well that’s ok,” you say, trying to squash the disappointment and hoping it doesn’t show in your voice or face. You wished that at least two of your three best friends would be there for you. “It can just be me and you, baby!” 

“Well…I’m wondering if I could maybe bring my boyfriend? Might be a good opportunity for you two to meet.”

“What? What boyfriend?” You say, officially abandoning all study materials until you get some answers. Jamie raises a perfectly manicured finger and calls the mystery man over. 

You swallow hard as Tommy Miller appears beside her. 

Jamie glances up at him, her bright green eyes full of admiration, his mirroring hers. The starry look in their eyes tells you everything you need to know; they’re so far gone for that even a search and rescue team wouldn’t be able to save them. She looks back at you. “Meet again, I guess.”

You try to push for answers, but either of them give in, claiming you need to focus on finals. Before you hang up, Jamie promises to tell you the entire story when you see each other next. You’re happy for your friend, especially seeing the way Tommy looked back at her. Even through your cracked screen you could see the love, but as you try to go back to studying you have a hollow feeling in your stomach.

Graduation Day

You

The late afternoon sun fills your dorm room, boxes of your belongings stacked haphazardly around you. After walking the stage tonight, you are going out to dinner with Jamie and Tommy, and then he has paid for a hotel suite so the two of you can have a girls’ night. You can’t wait to hear how Tommy went from, in Jamie’s previous words, “my dad’s new asshole friend” to her boyfriend. 

You step in front of your floor length mirror, zipping up the black graduation gown over your knee length, form fitting, deep emerald velvet dress. The California sun has been good to you, your tanned legs and sunkissed nose and cheeks are glowing. You place your blue and yellow Berkeley Law stole over your head and then grab your cap, ensuring the ‘Class of ‘28’ tassel is secure. You fluff your curls one last time as a light knock comes from your door. 

“Ready to graduate, gorgeous?” Ronan smiles at you, eyes trailing down your gown. He’s the type of handsome that’s almost painful to look at, but more importantly - you wouldn’t have made it through these last three years without him. You met the first day - the lock on your door wasn’t working, and he waltzed in on you half naked when he mistook your room as his. 

You smile at him in your doorway now; remembering the way you screamed at him that first time, trying to cover your chest, and him scrambling to close the door. His eyes were clamped shut, and he slammed his finger so hard that you had to take him for stitches. Now, several years later, he fills out his graduation gown perfectly with those wide rugby shoulders, a sight you couldn’t even have imagined back then. Whichever angel made him didn’t make a single mistake - he’s tall and insanely broad, with dark sandy blonde hair, and clover green eyes that in the right light are a golden hazel. He’s easily one of the smartest men you’ve ever met and an incredible athlete. The cherry on top, because of course there’s more: he’s an international student and has a panty-melting Irish accent. 

“Beyond ready. Let's become lawyers, babe.”

He steps aside, one arm out in a ‘ladies first’ gesture. Handsome, charming, and thoughtful - a dangerous trifecta. You slide your hand in the crook of his muscle-lined arm and walk across campus together.

Ronan jerks his head towards the coffee cart. “Remember when you spilled your entire coffee on your new puffer jacket?”

You glare up at him, you saved for weeks to buy that jacket. “No, but I remember you throwing up in that trash can after the Halloween party last year.” 

“Well, if Beach Party Barbie had helped Lifeguard Ken with all those shots we wouldn’t have had that problem, would we?” You laugh as Ronan puffs out his chest, but you both know he was more than willing to take your half of the ‘Best Couples Costume' shots. 

Finally, you reach the courtyard where the law students will be walking across a stage that acts as the symbolic bridge to the rest of their lives. I’m a lawyer, you think to yourself and try to force a smile. The magnitude of the day only really starts to sink into your bones as you see the friends and families of your classmates start to take their seats. The excited feeling you had earlier starts to morph. You’re proud of yourself for what you’ve done these last three years, and this was just the first step. You have so much to look forward to, so why do you feel a sense of dread building in the pit of your stomach? 

Ronan walks you to where you need to line up alphabetically, kissing your cheek and then, after leaning in and placing his large hand on your lower back, he whispers a joke about how you better not trip. You glance around the thick crowd for Jamie and Tommy. After realizing it’s hopeless to try and spot them in a group this large, you slip your cap over your hair and get in the procession line. 

You try to soak in every minute of the day, from the speeches to the birds chirping in the background, but something akin to loss flutters at the base of your spine. You’re just as sad to be leaving Berkely as you are excited to carve out your future. Leaving here isn’t what’s causing you to feel this way, however. You try to tell yourself that maybe it’s just nerves; even with all the job offers coming in from your internships, it’s normal to be nervous about what comes next. 

As the student union president gives his toast to the family and friends, you look down at your lap, pushing back the cuticle on your left thumb. Maybe it’s leaving Ronan. He’s been an anchor for you, grounding you almost every day of the last three years and you don’t know how you let yourself become this dependent on anyone, especially a man, again.  

You shake your head at yourself and try to move your focus to the cuticle on your other thumb. Seeing the skin clean from the nail bed eases the tension slightly for you. ‘I’m allowed to be nervous when leaning on people, but not everyone will leave me,’ you recite almost automatically in your mind, the mantra you’ve had these past few years whenever you feel yourself getting this anxious. Just as you finish the thought, a car revs in the distance and the realization of what - or who - you’re actually missing slams through you so hard that you almost feel winded. Your lungs ache, tears pushing behind your eyes as his name rings loudly through your mind.  

Joel.

You kept yourself busy since the minute you left Austin. The busier you were, the less time you had to focus on the void in your heart. During the school year, you didn’t have to find things to stay busy with; law school nearly chewed you up and spit you out. Over the summers, you worked as an intern and visited your friends. There was never a quiet moment, never too much time alone with your thoughts, and it was better this way. You can confidently say that you’d only thought of Joel six times since you walked out of his house that day: when you fell asleep on the beach and were so sunburnt you could barely move for three days; when you failed your first test; when your rusted SUV, that acted as your ticket to freedom at eighteen, died on the freeway in rush hour (from that point on you had to rely on public transportation to get you to the homes you cleaned). When you experienced your first earthquake; when you stayed up for forty-two hours straight after your partner in a group project didn’t have their side of the work done; and, lastly, this past New Year’s Eve when you were in Austin and thought you saw him at a party. 

“Is he here?”, that little box of feelings that you shut away in a vault long ago wonders. “Has anything changed for him in the last three years?” 

The small smile that pulls at your cheeks, and the excited flutter of your heart when you think about the possibility of seeing him again, proves that maybe nothing has changed for you. As the minutes tick by, your mind races with all the possible scenarios for after the ceremony. What if he is here? What will you say? What will he say? How will Ronan react, you know he has strong feelings about what happened between you and Joel. Even worse though, what if he’s not here? But maybe he’s at the hotel where Tommy and Jamie are staying?  

Before you know it, your row is standing and walking single file towards the stage. With each strike of your high-heeled strappy sandals against the concrete, a memory of Joel floods your system. The toast he made you in his kitchen, the kiss in that dimly lit hallway on your birthday, the way he walked you through his club and how calmly he talked about you being in charge before going into the voyeur room. The multitude of orgasms he gave you within the four walls of his private room. Him singing on the small stage of the dive bar you found, followed by him spanking you right there in the bathroom with his hand clamped to your face to keep you quiet. His strong hand grasping your thigh as he drove you to his house. The way he tasted on your tongue. The smell of his skin: all ash and leather, occasionally mixed with whiskey or mint. The feel of his body: hard, broad and hot. His shuddered breaths as he confessed so many things in so few words. 

‘It’s only you, sweet girl.’

‘Just call me Joel.’

‘I know, and I’m so proud of you, sweet girl.’

You carefully walk up the stairs, forcing the thoughts of Joel from your mind, just in time to hear your name announced as a graduate of Berkeley Law. You float across the stage, grabbing the piece of paper that acts as your degree until the real one comes, shaking the hand of the Dean who flips your tassel before you walk to the stairs on the other side; the stairs that symbolize the ending of your time here and the beginning of the rest of your life. 

As you reach the top of the steps, you look out into the audience and see Jamie. She pumps her fist in the air and before you can process the empty seat beside her, you feel it; a strong tug from behind your navel. It takes you less than a heartbeat to find him and the sight before you floods your body with a familiar warmth. Standing under a large tree at the edge of the audience, dressed in all black, and holding his Stetson hat to his heart, is Joel. For the first time in years you feel whole again.

 You keep your gaze on him, worried that if you so much as blink that he’ll be gone. You are supposed to follow your classmates, but you veer left, walking towards Joel. The closer you get, the more at ease you feel. He’s real, you think, he’s here. You stop a foot or so in front of him. 

“Hi, Freckles,” he whispers, his voice cracking slightly. His eyes dance around your face, almost as if he’s trying to memorize this moment. You can’t help but wonder if he’s feeling exactly how you are.   

“Hi, Sweet Cheeks,” you say, the same tremble in your voice, as you try desperately to hold it together. “You’re here.”

He nods and you give him a tight-lipped smile as your mind races. There’s so much you want to say, but now that he’s standing right there in front of you after three years, you don’t know where to start. 

Joel breaks the silence, jutting his chin in the direction of the other graduates as he says, “I saw you come in with your boyfriend. When I saw you kiss, I was going to leave, but I made you a promise.”

You knit your eyebrows together and take a step closer. “Boyfriend?”

“The man you walked over here with,” Joel says, his black Stetson sliding down the chest you so desperately want to touch as he drops his hands to his sides. He’s left no barriers between the two of you except the heartbreak that’s evident on his face. 

You laugh quietly, “No, he’s - that’s Ronan.”

Joel nods. “Okay.”

“He’s my friend,” you clarify, and when Joel’s face stays the same, you add, “And he’s still as gay as the day we first met!”

Joel lets out a whoosh of a breath and closes the distance between the two of you, his free hand comes to one of your curls, twirling the end of it around his thick fingers. Soft and silky meets rough and calloused. “I’m so proud of you, Freckles.”

You don’t miss how he watches your tongue dart between your lips, “Thank you.”

“So? How does it feel?” He gives you a soft crooked smile, his dimple carving into the short facial hair of his salt and pepper beard. Between that smile, and the way his brown eyes wash over you, you’re overcome with affection. He let you go. He did exactly as you asked him. He didn’t chase you or try to convince you to stay. You told him if he really loved you, then he’d do exactly this; and in turn, he did what he said he would. 

He showed up. 

“I love you,” you state and the air between you turns electric, almost like this moment could either set you both aflame or act as a generator for your future together. Joel gives you that look, the one that makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe. He lets the curled end of your hair slip from his fingers, reaching up towards your graduation cap but hesitating.

“May I?” He rasps and swallows hard.

You nod, and knowing exactly what he’s going for, you take the Stetson from his other hand and place it on your head after he removes your cap. The brim of it blocks out everything but the two of you.

“Say that again, sweet girl,” he murmurs.

“I love you,” it’s barely a whisper this time. “Even after three years apart, you are everything to me. I asked you to let me go so I could accomplish this, and you did. You’ve always done what I asked, what I needed. I’m not sorry for what happened between us, but I am sorry that I missed out on getting to spend the last three years with you looking at me how you are now. I love you, Joel Miller.”

He brings his lips within a breath of yours, and your body practically vibrates with the knowledge that if you leaned just a bit forward, you’d finally have his mouth on you again. You can almost taste the mint on his tongue as the familiar fragrance of ash and leather surround you. “I have dreamed of hearing those three words leave your beautiful lips more times than I can count, baby. You’re it for me. I’ll do anything for you, even if it means breaking my own heart, but I’m always going to be here for you, rooting for you and encouraging you. I’m glad you’re not sorry, because I’m not, I’m so fucking proud of you. I love you, too, my sweet girl.”

Finally, he presses his warm, firm lips against yours while pulling you tight to his body. You wrap an arm around his neck, holding the black cowboy hat against your head with your other hand. It doesn’t matter that the ceremony isn’t done, or that there are hundreds of people to your right. For the first time in three years, everything goes quiet. He hums contentedly and you feel yourself melt against him, tilting your head so he can deepen the kiss. He parts his lips, letting you take the first swipe of your tongue against his. Need floods your system, and based on the way he grinds into you, he’s feeling the same. 

He breaks the kiss, but doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours. “Take me home,” you practically purr.

“Where do you want home to be? I’ll go anywhere,” Joel rasps, running his nose down the bridge of yours. 

“Austin,” you respond, your breath catching as his lips ghost along the side of your mouth.

“I sold my portion of the club to Tommy and Tess. I don’t have anything holding me in Austin anymore, sweet girl. If you have a job offer you really want, that’s where we’ll go.” You pull back to look at him. You can tell by the set of his jaw that he’s serious. 

“I want to go to Austin. I have a job offer there.”

“Good thing I told Tommy not to touch my room at the club then.”

“That’s a very good thing,” you moan and then pull him in to kiss again. The audience behind you erupts into cheers, celebrating the accomplishments of every student in that crowd. 

You’re a lawyer, and suddenly, the future doesn’t seem so scary.

Joel

Taking you home to Austin that night unfortunately wasn’t an option. After finding Jamie in the crowd, and being formally introduced to Ronan, he called the car to pick up the three of you. You all met Tommy at the restaurant, celebrating with all the expensive homemade pasta and overpriced wine that you wanted; even though seeing you in that curve-hugging velvet dress was slowly killing him. Joel had kept at least one hand on you since seeing you again, and he doesn’t plan on changing that anytime soon. 

He didn’t want to rush you on your big night, so he waited patiently, listening to you tell stories of your last three years, and revelling in the evident joy that you and Jamie share over being together again. When dessert comes around he catches Tommy’s attention and gives him a small smile. It’s fitting that the two brothers, who have been so close their entire lives, would fall in love with best friends. 

Once in his room, he spent two hours stripping you down at an almost painfully slow pace. He kissed every inch of your skin twice over and has pulled five orgasms, and counting, out of you so far. 

Now, Joel is seated in the wide velvet arm chair in the corner of his hotel suite. His cock is buried deep inside of your tight cunt as you straddle him. Your skin feels like butter under his hands as he trails them along your back and the globes of your perfect ass. He’s missed tying you up, but this is what he longed for: the earth shattering intimacy he feels with you in these moments.   

“Please,” you mumble into his neck, desperate to move your hips.

“Not until you answer me,” he demands softly. “How many times was it that you needed me, but were too stubborn to reach out?”

Earlier tonight you told him about the six times you really needed him. He’d kissed you softly after each confession, returning the trust with a time he needed you. After the last one, he’d pulled back to look at you with dark eyes. He’d hated that you needed him and he couldn’t be there. He’d clenched his back molars twice before he said you’d be denied six orgasms the next time you were at the club, but tonight you have permission to come as often as you need to. 

He swats your already reddened ass cheek and your pussy flutters as you cry out. “Mister Miller, stop. Please, just let me move.”

“Do you need to use your safeword?”

“No,” you respond with a pout. 

“How many times?” He says again through gritted teeth, even though already knows the answer. 

“Six,” you sob. 

He tuts and then growls, “That doesn’t sound like my good girl, does it?”

You shake your head against his throat and moan a sound of disagreement.

“Do you want to come for me again?”

“Yes, Mister Miller. Please!”

He trails his fingers up and down your back again, the thin sheen of sweat on your skin makes it easy for him to caress you. He smiles to himself at the shiver that racks through your body at his touch. You react so beautifully to him. “Yeah? You wanna grind your swollen little clit on my piercing, baby girl?”

“Please,” you whine again, stretching out all the vowels in the word.

“Show me. Ride my cock, take what you need.” 

You lift your head from the crook in his neck and pull back slightly, rocking your hips back and forth; a sultry laugh leaves his lips at your eagerness. You look at him with hooded eyes, hair stuck to your forehead. His eyes trail down your neck to the bruises he sucked into your collar bone earlier and then to your breasts; both of which are covered in his marks. He watches the little gold nipple clamps, and the chain that connects them, bounce with each flick of your hips. 

“That’s it, sweet girl. You look like a goddess, my goddess. Who do you belong to?”

“I’m yours, baby,” you say through shallow breaths. He pulls at the chain and you cry out in pain. “S-sorry, Mister Miller.”

“Again, sweet girl. Tell me who you belong to.”

“Oh fuck, y-you, Mist -” his hands come to your face and when he whispers your name the rest of your sentence dies on your tongue.

“Just call me Joel.” The commanding voice of his alter ego is gone as he says it. 

Your hips slow, changing from a frantic back and forth to a sensual swirling motion. “I’m yours, Joel. Forever.”

He kisses you softly, a silent telling of how vulnerable he is at this moment. “Don’t ask me to let you go ever again.”

The smile you give him causes his heart to skip, “I won’t.”

“You might, sweet girl. I won't survive it if you do, so I’m going to remind you of this moment as often as possible for the rest of my life. Remind you how much you’re loved and supported. You’re mine, Freckles.” Your hips swirl and he feels you tighten up around him. “Come for me, my sweet girl.” 

“Fuck, fuck, Joel!” It’s a cry and moan all at once. 

“I’m here, it’s ok, baby.” With that, your body shudders and you fall into him as you shatter. Your pussy clenches and releases rapidly around his length. His cock twitches, and once he can’t hold it anymore he relaxes, letting his orgasm rock through him in time with yours.

“I’m yours, too,” he gasps as he melts into you.

The End

Coming Soon:

Curious how Jamie ended up with her "dads new asshole friend?"

Part 2 of the BDSMaid Trilogy coming mid 2025!

Also, stay tuned for the epilogue for Joel and Sweet Girl.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

bath. l Joel Miller

Summary: Joel is immobilized and giving you a hard time

Warnings:  nothing much, some intimacy, shared bath, Ellie wants to get rid of Joel, boring conversations

A/N: it's something before something, so it's boring. it doesn't contribute much. if you want to support my tired mind, feel free to . kisses

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

A broken collarbone wasn't what Joel expected. When the doctor at the clinic in Jackson, where you took him the next day, told him that he would be immobilized for a few weeks, Joel just sighed heavily. He was put in a sling and told to take care of himself so that the bone would heal properly. 

It was humiliating.

Even when you left the clinic together and you took his left hand in yours, he didn't feel any better.

"I'm useless now." he mumbled, watching you choose apples and vegetables for dinner.

"Not at all." you replied calmly. "You'll just rest now. See how good it will do you."

Where did you get that optimistic belief? Joel had no idea. He was glad that your argument hadn't affected your relationship, because his head was telling him all the tragic scenarios, but now he was dependent on others for help. And worst of all, he couldn't help you,

You were the one who brought the box of food home. And then you hung the laundry out in the warm spring sun. You made dinner, and Joel...

"Can you take him somewhere?" Ellie rushed into the kitchen for the third day, a blush covering her cheeks. "He's unbearable!"

"Please, have mercy on him." you sighed. "This is the first time since..."

"He just came asking if I did my homework!" Ellie rolled her eyes and raised her hands in despair. "I'm not eight! Can we abandon him somewhere? In the forest, for example?"

You looked at her with amusement. "Of course not! But this is new to him. You know he doesn't go on patrol now, that he can't do much in the stables either."

"So you're sacrificing me?"

"Hey! I can't drag him around with me forever, he's an adult."

Ellie folded her arms across her chest and looked at you with satisfaction. "Maybe he's getting on your nerves too, huh?"

"That's not... That's not true!"

But sometimes it was like that. Joel was looking for something to do, something he could do with one hand. When he tried to help you with the laundry, it took longer than usual. Things weren't going his way at the stables either and when you went to visit him there, you saw how furious he was. Even Tommy washed his hands and didn't want to come near him.

"Fine." you finally sighed "I'll take care of him. He won't follow you around anymore."

The girl's face lit up. "I'm sure you'll have a great time!"

You didn't know if she was joking or serious.

You found Joel in the bedroom where he had been struggling with his shirt for a few minutes. He was already irritated enough and when you stood in front of him to help unbutton it, he only mumbled something incomprehensible.

"Don't pout like that." you said, smiling "That won't help you."

"Ellie already complained about me?" you nodded "I just wanted to..."

"I know, and she knows it too. Don't think about it now." You carefully took off his shirt, noticing how he winced when you helped him free his arm. "I'll draw you a bath."

"I can do it myself."

"Let me take care of you, Joel." you murmured, kissing his pouty lips.

This was amazing. A completely different level of sensation and pleasure. The bathroom was filled with steam and the pleasant scent of lavender. He could feel your body behind him, your legs were on his sides, and his back was resting on your chest. Joel closed his eyes in pleasure. You slowly washed his hair, massaging his scalp carefully. This made him turn into a purring mess, which he clearly liked.

"When was the last time someone really took care of you, huh?" you chuckled as a soft growl escaped his chest.

"I can't remember. You take care of me, don't you?"

"As much as you let me. Close your eyes." you poured a cup of warm water over his hair to rinse off the shampoo. "You should use this time, rest, get some sleep..."

His hand slid up your calf. "I feel useless." he mumbled. "Like I'm a fucking cripple or something."

"Nobody thinks of you like that." you wrapped your arms around him and kissed his temple. "Sometimes you're just a pain in the ass. Joel!" he squeezed your calf harder and you jumped. "Stop it, or I'll forget you're hurt!"

You both fell silent for a moment, soaking up this intimate time. These were special moments, you wanted to have them just for yourselves, because they made you feel that what you felt, that you were - was real. Only his voice, quiet but deep, tore you from your reverie.

"Do you remember the first time you hugged me?"

"Yes, I remember."

"I would never have dared to dream of being with you like I am now... I was convinced that I would lose you. It scared me. I didn't remember what it was like to have someone so close. I was sure that when you saw what I was like, you would run away."

You ran your fingers through his wet hair. You remembered exactly how tense Joel was then. You were sure that he would push you away, but he didn't. He just patted you awkwardly on the back as if he wasn't sure if he was doing it right. 

"I was scared too..." you said quietly, glad that Joel couldn't see your face. "I haven't done this in a long time... And you were... Yourself. I saw how you were to Ellie, but I was a stranger to you."

His hand found yours, he brought it to his lips and kissed it. "You were the best thing that happened to us, really. And certainly to me. But... You never told me."

"About what?"

"How did you even end up there? You said you were with a group, then you were left alone, but nothing more."

He felt it immediately. Your body tensed, you took a deep breath.

"This isn't a good time, you know. It's not even important."

"But-"

"We should get out, you know. I'll make dinner, you must be hungry."

Joel didn't protest. You could see the consternation on his face, questions swirling in his eyes, but he didn't want to push you. That was wonderful about him, he didn't push, he just waited until someone was ready to talk. 

It was the second time he asked you about it, and you dodged it again. Joel understood that no one wanted to talk about difficult and painful things, but he had a strange feeling that nothing good had happened to you. And that broke his heart.

"Tommy asked me today if I would go on the next patrol with Sam and Anthony." You said as you both sat down on the couch after dinner, and you reached for the book you were currently reading together.

"I was supposed to go with them." Joel noticed.

"I know, but I thought... After that last trip for supplies, I didn't go anywhere further than the beaten patrol paths. It could be fun."

Joel didn't think it would "be fun," but he knew that you cared about feeling active and important again. He talked to Shane, he knew that your joint patrols were peaceful, but there Walsh kept an eye on you. And now?

"If that's what you want." He finally said and saw the smile on your face. "Just be careful."

"I always am." You opened the book and glanced at the next chapter. "Alright, let's get back to our Bennet sisters. I really liked them."

Your calm voice soon filled the living room, but it didn't reach Joel's mind at all. He was still considering your words, strange fears starting to churn under his skin. 

If it weren't for that damned arm...

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again

[alchemistc]

His eyes aren't the right shade of blue, but he opens up for Buck like a dream, lips wide and wet and -

"Fuck," Buck says, and when he digs his hand in the man's - Henry? Harry? - hair it's too fine, too straight.

Henry-Harry hums around him and Buck sort of just wants to fuck his face but that's rude, that's so fucking rude, he doesn't even remember the guys name -

Henry-Harry swallows and Buck's hips jut forward, but the lines around his eyes aren't groove-deep and heavy with warmth.

"Hank," Buck says, and the man's eyes dart up, his brow raises, his lips tip up and his tongue swirls and he never knows that Buck had only just remembered his name seconds before he came.

---

The date goes... fine. Kelsey is sweet and delicate and when her hand scratches at his stubble the tips of her fingers don't catch - soft, smooth, the hands of someone who spends eight hours a day behind a keyboard. She kisses like a dream, but the angle is all wrong.

She fucks like a dream too, but afterwards, when Buck shifts to curl around her she rolls her shoulder and gives him a confused look and Buck remembers that she's more than a foot shorter than him and her shoulders aren't really wide enough for -

Buck rolls and tucks her head under his chin and he thinks Tommy Kinard didn't really know shit about firsts and lasts.

---

The music is loud and the beat is heavy and the man with a thigh between Buck's legs is dark - twisting dreads that catch silver in the strobe light, deep brown skin, cheekbones Buck would break an ankle for.

Buck considers asking him if he wants to take this somewhere more private. Buck considers asking him if he wants to come home with him. Buck considers the heft of the thigh between his legs and remembers the first time Tommy had gotten him off, dick barely even out of his jeans because they'd been grinding like horny teenagers and -

His voice is deep and low when he tips his head to whisper in Buck's ear, the tenor all wrong.

Buck lets him tangle their fingers together as he heads towards the single stall bathrooms down the hall

---

"Ex... boyfriend?" Heather asks, and there's a wrinkle around the shape of her mouth that sets Buck's teeth on edge, because hadn't the whole point of this been that Buck needed to play the field? He likes men. He likes women. He can't pick a number on the Kinsey scale because all he can think about is -

"I'm bi," Buck says, and her expression withers. That seems to be the default - men think he's waiting for the woman who will give him a picture perfect family, women think he's - "It was right there at the top of my profile. With a flag and everything."

Her nose scrunches. She's trying to play it off. She's clearly not one of the women who think it's hot. "Sometimes men do that just to like, seem less intimidating."

Buck's already reaching for his wallet. "And sometimes men just like dick as much as -."

Her hand draws over her heart and it reminds Buck of his mom and not in the teasing way he'd always told Tommy the same thing.

He apologizes to his server and hands her a twenty in his way out the door.

---

Jack is two weeks younger than Buck to the day.

He's beautiful. Auburn hair trimmed neatly, cow-brown eyes, a sharp jawline and scruff that never seems to go past six-pm shadow. He's sweet - not a mean bone in his body, and the first time he hangs out with Buck and Eddie he shoots Eddie a shocked look when he pokes fun at Buck.

He lasts two and a half months.

But Buck knows the game now. Buck isn't looking for forever. Buck is -

Buck is Buck. That's what he'd said in the end, anyway.

"I'm really sorry, Jack," Buck says, fingers drifting from their hold between Jack's.

Jack's smile is just a little sad, but far too understanding. "Hey, I've been an in-betweener before. It was fun while it lasted."

---

Either Tommy's blocked his number or he's really fucking good at swiping out of his notification previews.

Buck thinks about leaving a really shitty, incredibly mean hearted voicemail instead.

You're a coward sits Delivered for three months

---

Ashley's a nurse, and when she admits she's only ever dated women before Buck feels the sting of it, but he smiles all the same. He's chasing a feeling he hasn't been able to find since -

She stares at the sparse decoration of his loft and doesn't say a word.

"So, like -." Buck starts, but she tangles her fingers in his shirt and presses her lips to his and Buck realizes the stupidly large box of condoms he'd bought for his sex-a-thon the first four off after he'd finally convinced Tommy to fuck him is almost out.

Buck spends half an hour with his head between her legs before the tug in his curls gets insistent, and Buck tries not to think, for a while

---

"You're a firefighter?" Travis asks, head tilted excitedly, eyes on the LAFD tee hanging half out of his laundry basket. "Have you ever worked with the guys at Harbor?"

Five and a half months - nearly as long as they'd been together - and Buck considers asking Travis to leave instead of answering. He's got a heart shaped face and Buck can't detect a wrinkle on him. No smile lines around his eyes.

"Flew into a hurricane with them once."

Buck's not sure they ever left the eye.

---

Maddie gives birth on a Thursday. Miraculously they're all off shift except Eddie.

They name his nephew John Evan Buckley-Han and Buck spends an hour watching him sleep before he remembers exactly how long it's been since he'd last heard his name.

---

you haven't though, Buck sends, while Eddie presses him into the Uber and makes Buck promise to text him when he's home.

All the messages in the thread above have a Read receipt.

The dots appear. Disappear. Reappear.

Haven't what?

seen me around, Buck sends back, and it shows as Delivered long after his Uber drops him off and he shoots off a message to Eddie once he's collapsed in bed. He's gonna regret that last shot in the morning.

He should have gone home with the redhead instead of letting Eddie convince him to stay and play another round of darts.

---

Greg presses a kiss to Buck's birthmark and Buck politely peels himself off Greg's very nice mattress and tugs on his briefs. "Here for a good time, not a long time, huh?" Greg asks, and Buck remembers that this had always been unsatisfying.

He thought he'd found something he could build on. Turns out he wasn't making shit.

"Sorry kid," he says, sparing a glance at Greg's slim shoulders and the washboard abs that he'd make it his mission to look a little less dehydrated, if this were something serious. Maybe some lasagna in the freezer, the gnocchi he'd learned to make once Tommy got tired of flicking flour in Buck's hair.

"I'm like, five years younger than you."

Buck's already searching for the shirt Greg has tossed off the side of the bed half an hour ago.

---

Did you want me to?

Buck stares at the message for a full five minutes. Glares at it, really.

No, he lies, and leaves it at that.

---

He's not even at work when it happens. He's on a fucking date, and the television over the bar switches to a breaking news story about a helicopter crashing just off the 405.

Whatever Yarrow is saying to him gets lost when he sees the numbers dashed across the side of the hunk of smoldering metal that had once been an LAFD chopper.

---

Bobby meets him at the bay doors.

Eddie's already there too.

It's not good news. It's not bad news, either.

Buck only met Tommy's captain once, and he can see now that there were cracks, walls Buck hadn't realized he hadn't yet climbed, but she recognizes him and pulls him off to the side.

"Do you not answer your phone, Buckley?"

He's got six missed calls. The moment he'd texted the group chat and left Yarrow with the tab for the terrible IPA he'd gotten a taste for in those six months when the future had been clearer, he'd forgotten phones actually existed.

"I - sorry, were you trying to reach me?"

"You're listed as his ICE, Buckley."

Buck can't remember them ever even having that conversation.

"He'll survive," she says, voice firm, eyes unyielding. "You can't wring his neck about it until he's out of the woods, and he's a glutton for punishment."

---

"I have some things to say," Buck says, and Tommy eyes him warily from the bed where he's propped. They'd only pulled tubes ten minutes ago, and technically Tommy isn't allowed to speak for a bit. "We're gonna circle back around to the fact that you made me your in case of after you broke up with me once you can talk, so don't forget that."

He looks - guilty. Annoyed. Clears his throat and winces, scowls when Buck hands him the cup of ice chips but still uses two meaty fingers to grab a handful that he tosses into his mouth and chews. Loudly.

Buck leans back in his chair and stares at the cast on Tommy's leg, the bruising around his eyes, the flat mess of his curls.

"And if you call me Buck again I'm telling Angie you asked to have the morphine drip removed." It's a joke, and a lame one at that, but Tommy's eyes twinkle.

---

It's almost a year to the day when Tommy snags his wrist and reels him in for a kiss, hand palming Buck's ass as he noses at Buck's cheek and nearly trips over the last of the boxes Buck had gotten distracted from moving out of the hallway.

"You have too much shit," Tommy tells him, and Buck mostly thinks he's pissed that he still hasn't fully regained the muscle mass in his leg yet. He's lopsided and a little clumsy but every time Buck brings it up he inevitably ends up with a video of himself slipping all over an ice rink in the group chat, so he keeps it to himself.

"You love it."

Tommy's eyes soften when Buck runs a hand through his curls, the grooves of his smile just right. "I tolerate it. You, though..."

Buck isn't ashamed to admit he still feels butterflies every time Tommy says it.

"You I don't mind."

Buck scowls just to watch Tommy's face brighten mischievously. The hands around his waist are wide and strong and the finger pads catch in the worn cotton.

[gguk-n]

The One (Charles Leclerc x Reader)

Summary- In a world where soulmates exist. Each pair has a unique soulmate mark. Charles doesn't know what his mark is or if he'll ever meet his soulmate.

Charles Leclerc and Y/N Y/L/N grew up together. They didn't remember the first time they met, they'd always been a part of each other's lives. They did everything together. They were a package deal, you wouldn't find one without the other. Maybe, that's why they hadn't found their soulmate yet or seen a soulmate mark.

Y/N was in primary, maybe eight or nine when some people in her class had started to bully her. Charles was the only one who noticed that she wasn't herself. "Hey Y/N/N" Charles said trying to catch her attention. "Hi Cha" she replied, faking a smile. "You look sad" he pointed out. "I'm okay" she reassured him. "You can tell me anything" Charles said and she broke down crying. Charles soon found out about the bullying and took it upon himself to protect her. That day he returned home with multiple bruises and when asked, he just told them he was protecting his person.

Y/N was ten when her dad told her stop karting. It was her favourite thing to do since she got to spend all her time with Charlie. She would recount the events of the day to anyone after every race. The debriefs were fun, she mostly talked about Charles, actually she only talked about Charles. Hervé tried to reason with her dad to let her continue since she was inconsolable. "But papa, I love karting." she cried. "That's not very girly. Stick to things girls do" he told her sternly. Y/N spent most of her day crying until Charles came around. "I'm sorry we can't kart together" he said hugging her. "You can use my kart whenever you want" he bargained. Y/N smiled for the first time that day. Charles kept to his word, he would let her use his kart whenever she wanted; to this day, she was the only one allowed to touch his cars, even the Ferraris.

Y/N was with Charles when he won his GP3 and F2 title. She was the first one he met as soon as he got out of the car. She was crying with snot running down her nose. "You look ugly crying" Charles laughed and Y/N hit him. "I'm just happy" she said. "I know" he replied, hugging her for a very long time.

Charles was there when Y/N got rejected from her dream university. She had locked herself up and wouldn't open the door for anyone. Charles was the only one able to coax her out. "Wanna get ice cream?" Charles asked rubbing her back. She nodded. The pain of rejection melted away with the ice cream. That was when Y/N knew, the reason she didn't have a soulmate mark. It was because she had already met her soulmate. Charles was her one and only and she didn't need a a stupid soulmate mark to tell her that.

Y/N was also there when Hervé was sick and in the hospital. "Charlie, don't worry. I'm here. I'll made sure Hervé gets well soon while you go and race" she reassured Charles who was not ready to leave. "I trust you." he told her. "I know" she nodded.

Y/N was there when Hervé passed. Charles was a mess. He wouldn't stop blubbering, tightly wrapped around her as if she would disappear too if he let go, as she patted his back. "He's watching down on us. He's always with us" she said trying to console him.

Y/N was there when Charles got offered the Ferrari contract. She had heard him contemplate his choices when he had joined Formula One and now that Ferrari was offering him a contract, it was a no brainer for him. He was quick to sign the contract with Y/N right behind him, literally and figuratively.

Charles would spend a lot of his time wondering who his soulmate could be. And it saddened him to think that it would be someone who would never have the opportunity to meet his father. Y/N always wondered what her soulmate mark could've been, but alas, at least she had her soulmate even if he didn't know it yet.

It was the Monaco GP, Charles had finally broken his Monaco curse. As the checkered flag waved and Charles crossed the finish line; his heart was heavy yet warm. He couldn't believe he had done it, finally. He got out of the car and raced to his team; his family waiting for him. The first person he saw was Y/N, with tears staining her cheeks. Charles wiped her tears, "I won" he muttered. "I know" she smiled wrapping him in a tight hug. "I'm sure he must be looking down on you right now. He must be so happy. I know it" she whispered into his shoulder. "You always knew what he felt" he replied. "He would tell you how proud he was of you and how he knew you could do it" she elaborated while pulling away. As Charles eyes met hers for the thousandth time since they first met, his heart felt warm, his mind was calm and everything around him felt like it was where it was supposed to be. He was where he was supposed to be. He was with his soulmate. "Go on" she pushed Charles towards his team and smiled as he stumbled forward.

A couple days after the GP, Y/N was lounging around his mother's shop when Charles interrupted her. "Hey" he spoke slowly. "Hi Cha" she smiled. "I wanted to talk to you" he began. "Looks like it" she replied while using her two fingers to ease the worry lines on his forehead, nodding at him to continue. "You know how we've yet to get out mark or our soulmate" he pointed out. "I'm aware" she laughed. "What if, we've already met our soulmate?" he questioned. "hmm" she cocked her head. "What if we met them so young that we don't know, we don't know our mark was or anything" he rambled. "Where are you going with this?" she asked hesitantly. "What if our soulmate has always been around? With us, through it all" Charles suggested. She nodded with tears in her eyes. "What if we are each other's soulmates?" Charles proceeded hesitantly. Y/N jumped into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Took you long enough" she mumbled against his neck. "You knew" he asked, pulling away to look at her.

She nodded with her arms still around his neck, Charles placing his on her waist. "When?" he asked. "The day I got rejected from the university I wanted" she replied. "That long?" he asked. She just nodded. "You were always there, through my highs and lows" she explained. "You were with me through everything too." Charles interrupted. "I'm glad it's you" Y/N announced. "me too" Charles reiterated.

"Our mums will be happy" Charles said, as the pair walked hand in hand. "I think they always knew" Y/N stated. "That's even better. That means dad met my soulmate" Charles smiled. "Can I tell you a secret?" Y/N asked. "What?" Charles asked. "He always hoped we'd be soulmates" she replied. "No wonder you were his favourite" Charles laughed pulling her in for a kiss.

[mariasont]

I love your fics so much! Could you maybe make a pre-relationship fic of Spencer x reader Spencer rescues the reader from the unsub and calms them down?? I'm a big hurt/comfort girly lmao 🫶🏼😛

Pulse Point - S.R

a/n: thank you so much!!!! so sorry for taking so long! i hope you like it <3

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x reader

warnings: undescribed injury, lil bit of angst with a happy ish ending, pre-relationship ending

wc: 1.6k

Spencer had seen you in danger before. It came with the job—a stipulation of the unwritten contract you signed the day you joined the team. His mind had been conditioned to assess danger rationally, stripping away emotion to leave behind only what mattered: probabilities, outcomes, strategies. 

But then again seeing you, tied to that chair, unconscious and face drained of color, was something he wasn't sure any amount of mathematical modeling could prepare him for.

Your head had hung at an unnatural angle, the strands of hair clinging to the sweat slicking your skin in a way that sent a visceral wave of nausea rolling through him. Rope burns—thin, angry welts were already bruising—encircled your wrists. He couldn't breathe—his chest seized, ribs locking tight, as though his body itself couldn't handle the image of you in that state. The unsub's voice had faded into white noise, irrelevant against the single, all-encompassing command that had pounded in his head—get to you, get you out of here.

Now, sitting on the cold concrete of the clearing zone with you cradled against his chest, Spencer's mind spiraled in a loop—that singular thought repeating, relentless, fractal, like a Fibonacci sequence winding tighter and tighter around his sanity. The unsub was subdued—Morgan had handled it efficiently—but Spencer couldn't bring himself to focus on that, let alone process it. The edges of his awareness narrowed, his entire world reduced to you. Limp. Unresponsive. Alarmingly still. It made his heart pound so violently it felt like it might break him from the inside out.

His hands wouldn't stop shaking, a trembling he couldn't stop no matter how hard he tried. One arm braced under your knees, the other pressed against the curve of your back. He adjusted his grip carefully, terrified of moving you the wrong way, terrified of doing anything that might make things worse. His eyes flicked to your chest, tracking the uneven rise and fall of your breathing. Too shallow. Too inconsistent. But there.

Twelve to twenty breaths per minute—that's the normal respiratory rate for an adult at rest, he recited, mind retreating to the relative safety of cold, clinical facts. Yours, he estimated, was faster—high twenties, maybe—an expected adrenaline response to trauma. It was within the acceptable range. It should have reassured him. As long as it didn't drop below eight or spike above thirty, there was no immediate cause for intervention. The logic was sound. The science was sound. But that did absolutely nothing to stem the gnawing unease twisting through him.

Then you started to stir.

It was subtle at first, so subtle he almost thought he imagined it—a small, almost imperceptible sound slipping past your lips, the softest shift of you head against his shoulder—but it sent a jolt through him nonetheless.

Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy, the muscles in your face tightening with confusion as consciousness gradually took hold. Relief bloomed, but it died just as quickly. Recognition didn't follow. Instead, your expression twisted, your features contorting with something feral, something deeply afraid. Your breathing grew erratic, breaking into rapid, shallow bursts that rattled your frame.

And then you started thrashing.

"No, no—get off me!" Your voice cracked, raw with fear.

He tightened his arms just enough to stop you from hurting yourself.

"Hey, hey—stop! It's me—it's Spencer!"

You didn't react to his voice. It was as if you couldn't even hear him. Your body twisted violently, fighting something unseen, nails scraping at his vest, frantic and clawing, desperate to escape.

Spencer swallowed thickly, forcing himself to focus on what he knew. This was textbook trauma response. Cortisol and adrenaline were flooding your system, hijacking your prefrontal cortex, reducing your mind to survival instincts alone. It all made perfect sense—he could explain it in detail, rationalize it. But none of the logic in the world could prepare him for what it felt like to hold you like this and not be able to fix it.

"Look at me. It's Spencer. You're safe now. I promise, you're safe."

The words didn't seem to do much, falling flat and useless. Spencer felt a crushing helplessness as he watched, paralyzed while panic consumed you in a way he couldn't stop. His mind scrambled, clawing through years of knowledge, training, and case studies, all of which felt painfully inadequate now. It was one thing to understand trauma as a concept, to study it in a clinical detachment. It was another to watch it consume someone you cared about, to feel it in the way your body shook.

But then—finally—something shifted.

You froze. Not the rigid, terror-fueled panic from before, but something different. Tentative. Uncertain. Your breathing stuttered, still too fast, but the wildness in your eyes began to ebb like clouds parting just enough to let a sliver of sunlight through. You blinked, once, twice, and then your gaze locked onto his face, really seeing him this time.

"Spence..." Your voice was hardly above a whisper, like a fragile filament of sound, barely there but enough for his chest to ache all the same.

Relief washed over him so fast it left him lightheaded. 

"Yeah, it's me," he said softly, nodding quickly as though the motion itself might convince you. "It's just me. You're okay."

Wide eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, stared back at him as though searching for something—anything—to hold on to. The air felt like it was holding its breath, waiting. And then he saw it—the exact second the realization hit that you were safe. The fear in your face melted, replaced by something fragile, something breaking open. Your lip quivered, your breath hitching, and then, without a word, you lunged forward, throwing your arms around his neck.

Spencer froze.

He wasn't exactly new to your hugs. They didn't happen often—his aversion to touch usually kept that at bay—but when they did, they were always simple. After a particularly hard case or when the job felt overwhelming. But this? This was not that.

For a split second, his brain failed him entirely, unable to keep up with what he was seeing. He honed in on the small details—the way your hands clutched his shirt in tight, desperate fists, the way your trembling body seemed so much smaller than he ever remembered. He'd never seen you this way. The realization terrified him in ways he couldn't articulate.

But then that rare instinct of his took over.

With painstaking care, he wrapped his arms around you, like he was afraid you might break apart in his hands. One hand slipped to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair, softer than he thought himself capable of. The other stayed pressed firmly against your back, holding you to him, refusing to let go—because letting go felt unthinkable, impossible. He leaned into you, his cheek brushing against the top of your head, breathing you in. The familiar scent of your shampoo was still there, but beneath it lingered something sharper, something more metallic that made his fingers sink deeper into the hold.

"It's okay," he murmured, every word scraping against the tightness in his throat. "I've got you I'm not going anywhere."

He felt the sharp hitch of your breath against his chest, followed moments later by the damp heat of tears soaking into his shoulder. You were crying. The realization hit him like a physical weight, and his arms tightened around you instinctively. He wasn't sure who was shaking anymore—you or him. Maybe both.

He shifted his hand slightly on your back, his thumb brushing against your shoulder blade. But even as he tried to comfort you, his brain kept ticking like clockwork, unable to stop itself. Your pulse—it was still too fast. He could feel in beneath the pad of his fingers, pounding just under the surface of your skin.

The medics needed to get here soon.

His fingers moved without thinking, sliding to your neck, pressing lightly against the artery there. He told himself it was necessary, just a routine check to make sure nothing was wrong, but he knew better. It was selfish—a desperate need to feel the beat of your pulse under his fingertips, to remind himself you were here. Alive. That the worst was behind you.

It was fast, just as he'd predicted, but steady. Stable. A good sign.

Spencer let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, shoulders sagging. 

"You're okay," he murmured softly, though he wasn't entirely sure who he was trying to convince anymore.

He closed his eyes.

Minutes passed by, though they both felt impossibly long and far too short. You stayed against him just like that, breathing slowly evening out until the jagged edges of panic dulled into exhaustion. He said nothing more—words felt unnecessary, maybe even counterproductive. So he just held you.

When the sound of footsteps finally reached his ears, Spencer didn't move. Not until the medics appeared in his peripheral vision, and even then, he hesitated, tightening his grip on you for just a fraction of a second before forcing himself to let go.

"Hey," he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you. "The medics are here, okay? They're going to take care of you."

You nodded, but it was hesitant, your eyes swollen and puffy, and you clung to him just a little longer. Your hand wrapped around his sleeve like you were afraid to let go.

Spencer's eyes flicked to the medics, his voice low but insistent. "Be careful."

The medics nodded, stepping in to take over, and Spencer reluctantly released his hold. His arms felt empty, hollow, as they fell to his sides. Even as the medics worked, his gaze stayed glued to you, his eyes tracking every breath, every faint movement. He couldn't look away. Wouldn't.

It was then he realized a dangerous idea, that he cared about you more than he should, more than was professional. And it terrified him.

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[lxvebun]

if it's okay could you write something about simon asking the reader to stay the night and it will be the first time they sleep over? no pressure ofc!

Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader. Fluff! i'm yearning for fall/winter so it's written with that in mind. The heat is getting to me🥲 not proofread im nervous. Eng isn't my first language so I'm sorry for any mistakes!

“I should probably go."

It took you an embarrassingly long time to finally get those words out. Every minute ticking by only making you more and more nervous to actually say them. You truly don’t want to leave just yet. Don’t want to pull away from your place next to him, tucked into his side, soft, warm. A strong arm wrapping around you keeping you nice and close to him, occasionally his hand traces invisible heart shapes and silent i love you’s into your skin. 

(a habit that has shifted into his love language. Simon Riley loves quietly, but deeply. And moments where he can get his hands on your skin to spell out his devotion to you, fingertips burning pleasantly, leaving behind a trail of falling stars, is something he makes time for often)

It feels all too safe and domestic to leave just yet, but the colder months are approaching and it’s well into the evening now. The sky has already completely settled into a deep dark blue with clusters of stars and a bright full moon. The streets however are still lively, early sunsets and longer nights having no affect on most people's schedule. People are coming back from a long day at work, couples are running their last errands at the corner store and old grannies are coming back from their weekly bingo night down the street at the community center. Right now, it still feels safe enough to walk back home on your own. Without a doubt, Simon would offer to walk you, but he’s barely made it through your annual movie night and you’d rather not keep him from his much needed and well deserved sleep.

(it would not be your first time walking home alone at night, don’t tell Simon, but you prefer not to. Being so hyper aware of every movement and every sound is tiring and your 15 minute walk back home feels like you just finished a marathon)

He shifts next to you, the haze of sleep laced in his movements, a groan of disagreement falling from his lips as he throws a glance at his watch.

"T’is only eight, sweetheart. You never leave this early. Something wrong?" A twinge of worry coursing through his voice, brows furrowed at the thought of you being uncomfortable. His hand changes from tracing shapes to rubbing comforting circles into your side, albeit a bit frantically.

(he’s so attentive it honestly makes you wanna cry sometimes)

"No, nothings wrong," You begin. Smoothing the crease between his eyebrows with your thumb and placing a gentle kiss to his jawline. "I just don’t want to walk alone at night. Nor do I want to keep you from your sleep"

You’re quick to add the last bit, practically hearing the words "I'll walk you " escape from his mouth already.

He doesn’t make an attempt to remove his hands from your waist, or sit back up straight. On the contrary he’s taken it to melt into you a little more, pull you a little closer and you think he’s doing this to convince you to stay

(it's working)

even months deep into your relationship, every sweet touch and gentle kiss still manages to cause your heart to soar and flutter in your chest.

He takes a moment to just look at you, and it makes you avert your eyes at its heaviness. Too sweet, too piercing, you feel like he’s looking into your mind and soul, breaking it open like a book and taking everything in. Usually, he coaxes you with delicate words and a warm hand on your jaw to keep looking at him but he’ll let you look away for now. You who’s so sweetly tucked into his side, you who feels so warm and peaceful against him it makes him wanna squeeze you to his chest and never let go. How could he possibly let you go when you look so content and so safe in his arms. From the look in your eyes and body language alone he can tell you feel good here, that you want to stay. He’s right but It’s the nerves, the shyness and not being sure where his boundaries lie that make you pull away from this moment

"You could always stay the night." He whispers, honeyed and soothing. Making sure you know there’s no pressure behind his request. It makes something warm curl in your heart

He’s been thinking about it often, what it would be like to wake up next to you. Seeing you first thing when he opens his eyes all angelic and soft in the golden morning sun rays, sleeping in his bed, draped in his sheets. Would you have any special night routines, would you like to use a nightlight or do you prefer complete darkness, do you move around a lot, are you cuddly. It honestly takes over the majority of his thoughts when he goes to bed himself. Finds himself imagining in detail what it would be like and he swears that he sleeps best on those nights. He can only imagine how good he’ll sleep next to you.

Your silence would worry him if he wasn’t able to read you so well. A hitch in your breath, eyes looking everywhere but him, a shy smile tugging on your lips

(you’re so cute)

"I’d like that." Your voice comes out soft, a little vulnerable but you know you’re safe. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves.

You’ve been thinking about it too. Spend many nights imagining what it would be like to curl up in his arms and drift off to sleep. Waking him up with a plethora of kisses to his face. Making your respective morning drinks in the kitchen together, stealing kisses in between sips. Thinking about it always leaves you feeling a little dizzy.

His response comes in the form of a wet kiss to your forehead that trails down to your cheeks, then the corner of your lips before finally pulling you into one. You'll choose to spare him and not comment on the flush on his cheeks, just this once

"I’ll go grab a hoodie and some sweatpants, you can use those to sleep in"

reluctantly, although motivated by the image of you in his clothes, he stands up, warmth slipping away for a moment before it’s contained again by the blanket he drapes over you.

"I’ll grab the clothes, you pick another movie"

With that he makes his way to the bedroom to retrieve said clothes. Before you can pick up the remote to pick a movie however, his voice booms out of the bedroom

"Do not pick twilight. Can’t stand that edward fucker."

Perhaps the Notebook will be more to his taste then:)

thank you for requesting nonnie! and thank you for reading angels!

[lee-laurent]

Sparks in Jersey - Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke finally has the chance to wow the girl of his dreams

content: angst, fluff, underage drinking, kissing, suggestive jokes

wc: 7.1k

notes: requested!!! enjoyyyy

"Jack, stop!" Blair whisper-yelled, trying to stifle her laughter as the two of them crouched behind the bushes. "If you get caught, your mom's gonna ground you, and then I'll be next."

"She won't catch us," Jack whispered back, his wide grin not matching his feigned seriousness. He held up the spray can like a prized trophy, its contents intended for the blank patch of wooden fence at the back of the yard. "This is art, Blair. ART."

Blair rolled her eyes, nudging him with her elbow. "You're a menace, Rowdy. If I get in trouble, I'm blaming you."

"Yeah, yeah," Jack said dismissively as he shook the can and began spraying a wobbly rendition of a hockey stick.

From the corner of her eye, Blair caught a small figure creeping through the grass toward them. Eight-year-old Luke wasn't great at sneaking--his floppy hair and oversized hand-me-down hoodie made him a blur of movement as he crouched and tripped his way to their hiding spot.

"Guys!" Luke whisper-shouted, clutching a flashlight in one hand. "Mom's looking for you. If she sees this, you're gonna get in so much trouble!"

Jack turned to shush his brother, but Blair intervened first, pressing a finger to her lips. "Luke," she said softly, leaning toward him. "We're almost done. Be our lookout, and we'll owe you one, okay?"

Luke froze, wide-eyed, as Blair's attention zeroed in on him. He nodded so quickly it almost looked painful. "Okay. But if you get caught, it wasn't my idea."

The grin Blair flashed him felt like the sun breaking through the clouds. Luke planted himself by the edge of the fence, clutching the flashlight like it was his badge of honour.

Luke knew one thing for certain: if it meant protecting Blair, he'd do it.

~~

Blair Adams had lost count of people who assumed she and Jack were siblings. From the time they started grade school together, their lives had intertwined like vines--endless hockey games, late-night study sessions, and whispered secrets that only best friends would understand.

By the time high school rolled around, they were practically inseperable. If one of them was missing school, then the other was guaranteed to be moping around the whole day. So when Jack got drafted to the Devils and she got into Princeton, it wasn't even a question that they'd live together.

Jack was her family in every way that mattered. But his brothers? That was a different story.

Luke, the youngest Hughes sibling, had always been sweet--quiet in a way that balanced Jack's constant energy. Blair remembered him as the little boy who followed them everywhere, starry-eyed and eager to impress.

And now he was moving into their apartment.

Blair set her coffee cup on the counter, glancing at the clock. Jack had texted her that morning, reminding her about Luke's arrival, and while she wasn't nervous, she did feel... curious. She hadn't seen Luke since a couple Christmases ago, and even then, their interactions had been brief.

"Probably still a beanpole," she muttered to herself. She couldn't picture him as anything but Jack's little brother.

Still, the thought lingered as she tidied the living room.

~~

Luke sat in the back of the Uber, his hands fidgeting in his lap as they wound through Newark's crowded streets. His suitcase bumped against his knee with every pothole, but he barely noticed.

He was finally here.

His older brothers had always been larger-than-life figures in his world. Quinn was the golden child--quiet, disciplined, and effortlessly skilled. Jack, on the other hand, was the whirlwind--his humour and energy lighting up every room he walked into.

But Blair? She was someone else entirely.

For as long as Luke could remember, Blair had been part of the family. She'd been at every birthday party, every Thanksgiving dinner, and every summer barbeque. And Luke had always adored her, even before he knew what the word crush meant.

Back then, he'd thought his feelings were something he'd grow out of, like his obsession with dinosaur pyjamas. But as he got older, those feelings only deepened.

Now, at 20, with two years of college hockey under his belt and an NHL debut on the horizon, Luke felt ready. Ready to prove that what he felt for Blair wasn't some childish infatuation.

He gripped the strap of his bag tighter. "Play it cool," he muttered to himself. "She probably still thinks you're a kid."

But what if she didn't?

When he walked into the apartment, Jack was already waiting, sprawled on the couch in sweatpants with his phone in hand.

"There he is," Jack said with a grin, standing to pull his brother into a quick hug. "Welcome to Casa Hughes-Adams."

Luke glanced around the space. It felt warm and lived-in, with mismatched throw pillows and the faint scent of cinnamon. It didn't escape his notice that Blair wasn't in sight.

"She's in the kitchen," Jack said, as if reading his thoughts.

"Who?" Luke asked, feigning indifference.

Jack smirked, leaning in. "Blair, dummy. And before you ask--yes, she's still single."

"Jack.." Luke warned.

"I'm just saying," he threw his hands up in mock innocence. "You two are gonna be living together. Might as well shoot your shot."

"Jack."

Jack grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. "Relax, Lukey. I'm just here to help. Now, go say hi before she starts unpacking your bags for you."

As Luke moved toward the kitchen, his heart thudding, he caught the glint in Jack's eye. Whatever he was planning, it was bound to be trouble.

~~

Blair was standing by the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed and a teasing smirk playing on her lips as Luke wrestled a suitcase. The duffle slung over his shoulder slipped down his arm, and he cursed softly under his breath, making her bite back a laugh.

"Need help there, big shot?"

Luke looked up, a sheepish grin breaking across his face. "Nah, I've got it. Totally under control."

Blair's teasing died in her throat. When did he get a jawline like that? she wondered, her gaze catching on the sharp angles of his face, the broad set of his shoulders, the way he carried himself--despite his current struggle with luggage.

She blinked, forcing herself to refocus. Relax. It's Luke. Jack's little brother.

Still, as he straightened and ran a hand through his hair, her stomach did a flip.

Luke caught her staring and raised an eyebrow. "Something on my face?"

"Nope," Blair said quickly, turning toward the living room and willing the heat in her cheeks to dissipate. "Let me show you where your room is before you destroy the place."

Luke followed her, taking in the apartment as he went. It felt surreal being there, sharing the space with Blair. The same Blair he used to follow around as a kid, who used to ruffle his hair and call him "Lukey." Now she was standing there, effortlessly beautiful, and he couldn't decide if the butterflies in his stomach were exhilerating or terrifying.

Once they'd unloaded his bags into the spare room, Blair escaped to the kitchen, grateful for the excuse to put some distance between them. She leaned against the counter, staring at the fridge as if it held the answers to life's most pressing questions.

Okay, so Luke's grown up. Big deal. He's an athlete; they all end up looking like Greek statues. She snorted at the thought and shook her head. Doesn't mean anything.

Still, the image of him smiling at her--his dimple making a rare appearance--lingered in her mind.

"Get a grip, B," she mumbled, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. "He's Jack's little brother. End of story."

But the flicker of doubt refused to fade.

~~

Later that evening, Jack stood in the doorway, pulling on his jacket.

"Wait, you're leaving?" Blair asked, arms of full of laundry she'd been folding on the couch.

"Yup," Jack said, popping the 'p.' "Dinner with some of the guys. You two have fun."

Blair frowned. "You didn't mention that earlier."

"Didn't I?" he replied innocently. "Must've slipped my mind."

Luke appeared from the hallway, his hair still damp from a post-flight shower. He glanced between the two of them, his expression cautious. "You're going out?"

Jack clapped him on the shoulder. "Yeah, but don't worry. Blair will take care of you." He shot Blair a pointed look before sauntering out the door, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.

Blair rolled her eyes, muttering, "Subtle as a brick, that one."

Luke cleared his throat. "So, uh, what's for dinner?"

They ended up in the kitchen, pulling ingredients from the fridge.

"How do you feel about spaghetti?" Blair asked, holding up a box of pasta.

"Sounds good."

They worked together in silence for a while, the only sounds the clinking of pots and the soft hum of the stove. But as the pasta boiled, Blair leaned back against the counter, studying Luke.

"So... how's it feel finally making the big move?"

Luke shrugged, stirring the sauce. "Good, I think. A little surreal, honestly. I mean, this is Jack's turf. I'm just trying not to screw it up."

Blair softened. "You'll be fine, Lukey. You're good at what you do. Plus, Jack thinks he's way cooler than he actually is."

Luke laughed, the sound warm and rich, and Blair felt her chest get tight.

As they sat down to eat, the conversation drifted to Jack--his quirks, his bad habits, and all the ridiculous things he and Blair did as kids.

"Remember that time he put hot sauce in my water bottle?" Blair asked, laughing.

"Oh, yeah. You chased him with a fucking hockey stick."

"I should've hit him with it," she shook her head.

Luke leaned forward, his gaze softer. "You were always good at keeping him in line."

Her laughter faltered under the weight of his words, their eyes meeting.

"Yeah, well," she said lightly. "Someone had to. Hell... I still do."

The rest of the evening passed smoothly, but as they cleaned up the kitchen together, Blair felt like something had shifted. Luke might not just be Jack's little brother.

And that scared her... a lot.

~~

Blair had always thought of herself as someone who adapted quickly, but living with Luke Hughes presented a unique challenge. Much different than living with Jack. He wasn't difficult, per se--in fact, he was the opposite. Too helpful. Too funny. And, if she was being honest, too damn distracting.

It was the little things that threw her off.

Like the way he always tidied up without being asked. She'd leave her coffee mug in the sink and come back to find it washed and drying on the rack. Or the way he'd linger in the kitchen, chatting about his day as she cooked, leaning casually against the counter with his stupidly charming, crooked grin.

And then there were his routines. Every morning, Luke came out of his room in sweats and t-shirt, his hair adorably mussed from sleep, to make a protein shake before his workout. The sight had become so familiar that it almost felt... domestic.

Get it together, she'd tell herself for the thousandth time as she passed him on her way to make her coffee. But as she caught the faint scent of his cologne mixed with his shampoo, she couldn't help the butterflies she felt.

Luke wasn't sure what he expected when he moved in, but things had been going better than he'd hoped. Sure, living with Blair was a constant exercise in restraint--her laugh, her quick wit, the way she'd hum under her breath when she thought no one was listening--it was enough to drive him insane.

But he'd made a plan.

Step one: Show her he wasn't a kid anymore.

It was in the small things. Like volunteering to carry the groceries or fixing the wobbly kitchen stool without anyone asking. He made sure to cook extras for her once in a while, too--nothing fancy, just enough to make her pause and say, "Wow, you've really got this adulting thing down."

Step two: Flirt... just a little

Luke wasn't reckless enough to come on strong, but he'd test the waters now and then--a playful nudge when they passed in the hallway, a comment about how her sweatpants made her look cozy. He lived for the moments when her cheeks turned pink, even if she brushed off his remarks with a roll of her eyes.

What he didn't expect, though, was how much just being around her would feel so... right.

~~

Blair was cozied up on the couch, her laptop balanced on her lap as she scrolled through pages of research for a project. Luke was on the other end of the couch, his long legs taking up more than his fair share of space as he half-watched a hockey game on the TV.

"Hey, where's Jack?" Blair asked, glancing at the time. It was past seven, and he hadn't returned from his workout.

Luke shrugged, not looking up from his phone. "He said he was meeting some guys for dinner. I don't know."

She frowned. "Didn't he do that yesterday?"

Luke smirked, finally looking at her. "Maybe he's just really into team bonding."

Blair narrowed her eyes. Something was definitely up. Over the past week, Jack had mysteriously disappeared more often that usual, leaving her and Luke to fend for themselves. It wasn't that she minded the company--Luke was easy to get along with--but the pattern was hard to ignore.

Later that night, as she was rinsing her coffee mug (the one Luke usually beat her to), her phone buzzed with a text from Jack.

Jack: How's it going? You two getting along?

Blair: fine. why?

Jack: No reason

Her gut was telling her he was up to something.

Meanwhile, Luke passed by, grabbing a glass of water and shooting her a quick smile. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Blair said slowly, slipping her phone into her back pocket. But as Luke left, she couldn't shake the idea that her best friend was trying to play matchmaker.

~~

Jack was still out and the apartment was oddly quiet. Blair had given up on her work and was now scrolling through Netflix in search of something mindless.

"You watching something?" Luke asked as he emerged from his room, a hoodie thrown on over his sweats.

"Trying to," she replied, tossing the remote in his direction. "Your turn to pick. I'm too indecisive tonight."

Luke caught it easily and plopped down beside her, the cushion dipping under his weight. He scrolled for a minute before settling on a documentary about space exploration.

"Space?" Blair cocked an eyebrow.

"Come on, it's cool," Luke said, grinning. "Plus, you might learn something."

She rolled her eyes, but stayed put. As the documentary started, she found herself leaning into the couch, her shoulder brushing against Luke's. It wasn't much, just the barest contact, but it sent a spark through her.

At one point, Luke turned to make a comment about the astronauts, his voice low and close enough that she felt the warmth of it on her cheek. She glanced at him, and for a split second, the room seemed to hold its breath.

But then Luke pulled back, casually sipping his water as if nothing had happened.

Blair just exhaled, turning her attention back to the stipid documentary.

~~

The rain tapped against the windows of the apartment, the kind of soothing sound that made everything feel a bit more intimate. Blair was on the floor, sorting through all of her notebooks from every year of college. Luke was on the sofa, tossing a ball in the air absentmindedly.

"You sure you don't want me to just toss all this for you?" he teased, nodding at the stack of papers that threatened to topple.

Blair shot him a glare. "Do you want me to throw out all your hockey gear?"

"Touché." He grinned. "But my gear gets me paid. Does this" --he picked up one of her notebooks, flipping through it--"get you paid?"

"Rude," she said, snatching it back, though she couldn't stop her smile.

Luke leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him. The movement drew her attention, and for a moment, Blair found herself distracted by how easily he seemed to fit into every situation. He wasn't a little kid anymore, and she was starting to notice.

"Why do you keep all this, anyway?"

Blair shrugged, shutting another notebook and hugging it to her chest. "I don't know. I guess in case I ever need any of it. Or... it reminds me of where I started. It's easy to lose sight of that when you're trying to figure out where you're going."

Luke set the ball down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "I get that," he said. "Sometimes I feel like... I don't know, like I'm chasing something. Trying to prove I belong. First at Michigan, now here."

"You? You're one of the Hughes brothers. People expect you to belong."

Luke laughed, but it was a quiet, self-deprecating sound. "That's the problem. Everyone expects me to be just like Jack or Quinn. And they're... amazing. Don't get me wrong. But sometimes it feels like I'm playing catch-up, you know?"

Blair’s chest tightened at the vulnerability in his voice. She shifted onto the couch beside him, her knee brushing against his. “You’re not Jack or Quinn,” she said softly. “You’re Luke. And that’s enough. It’s more than enough.”

"Do you really think that?"

"I know it."

"What about you?" Luke asked. "You've got this whole life mapped out--Princeton, your career. Doesn't it ever feel... heavy?"

Blair hesitated, surprised by how much she wanted to answer honestly. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “It’s like I’ve been so focused on what I’m supposed to do--keeping up with school, supporting Jack, being the dependable one--that I forget to think about what I actually want.”

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

The rain outside grew heavier, the rhythm filling any silence between them. Blair glanced at him, his profile softened by the dim glow of the lamp. She felt her pulse quicken, the air between them charged.

"You're not what I expected," she whispered.

"What?"

Blair hit her lip, searching for the best words. "When Jack said you were moving in, I thought it'd be... different. I don't know. But you're--"

"Not a kid anymore?" he finished for her, a small, teasing smile playing on his lips.

Blair's heart stuttered. "Yeah. Something like that."

The smile faded as their gazes locked. The teasing warmth in Luke's eyes gave way to something deeper, something that made Blair's breath catch.

He leaned in slightly--not enough to close the distance, but enough for her to notice. For her to feel the magnetic pull between them.

"Blair," he whispered.

Her name on his lips sent a shiver down her spine, but reality crashed over her like a wave of cold water.

She pulled back abruptly, breaking the spell. "I should... I should finish sorting these," she said, gesturing to the forgotten notebooks. Her voice sounded unsteady, even to her own ears.

Luke blinked, leaning back as if to give her space. "Right. Of course."

He didn't push, but the disappointment in his eyes was unmistakable.

Blair sat in bed that night, staring at the ceiling as the scene replayed in her mind like a broken record. She could still feel his breath on her, the way he looked at her like nothing else mattered.

He's Jack's little brother, she reminded herself, gripping the blanket tightly. This can't happen.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shut her brain off and fall asleep.

In the room down the hall, Luke lay awake, staring at the ceiling in the same way: This can't just be a crush anymore.

~~

Jack was sitting on a stool, arms crossed, a devious grin spreading across his face as he watched Blair finish her coffee.

"So," he said casually, "I was thinking we should do a group night. You, me, Luke, maybe a couple teammates and their girlfriends. Drinks, a movie, the works. Sound good?"

"Group night? Since when do you plan movie nights?"

"Since I'm such a generous, thoughtful friend," Jack replied. "Come on, Blair. You've been working nonstop. You need to relax."

Blair glanced at Luke, who was silently buttering toast at the counter. "Sure. Why not? It could be fun."

"Great." Jack clapped his hands together. "I'll set it up."

Unbeknownst to her, Luke caught Jack's michievous glance over Blair's shoulder.

~~

Two nights later, Blair was setting out snacks as Luke flipped through all the different streaming services the three of them were subscribed to. The apartment was warm and cozy, the perfect atmosphere for a chill night with their friends.

"Where is everyone?" Blair asked, frowning as she checked her phone.

Luke smirked, already knowing the answer. "Check your messages."

Jack: Oops! Something came up. Can't make it tonight. Have fun without me!!

She groaned, running a hand over her face. "Unbelievable."

Luke laughed, plopping onto the couch. "Guess it's just us, then."

Blair hesitated, tempted to go curl up in her bed with a mug of hot chocolate and watch a cheesy rom-com on Netflix. But as she glanced at Luke, comfortably lounging on the sofa, his smile easy as ever, she decided against it.

"Fine," she said, grabbing two coolers from the fridge. "But you're not getting out of picking a movie."

Half an hour in, the movie played, but Blair was much more interested in Luke than the plot.

He was relaxed, his arm draped over the back of the couch--not touching her, but close enough that she could feel the warmth of his presence. Every so often, he'd glance her way to catch her reaction.

"This movie's fucking ridiculous," Luke said, shaking his head at the over-the-top action scene.

"I feel like that's the point," Blair replied, tossing a piece of popcorn at him.

Luke caught it, popping it into his mouth with a smug grin. "Impressive, right?"

"Maybe you're the ridiculous one."

"And yet, here you are, stuck watching this shit movie with me."

She turned to scowl at him, but it faltered as their eyes met. The room seemed to shrink, the movie getting quieter. Luke looked down to her lips, catching himself and looking back at her eyes.

She looked away quickly, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "We should... get back to the movie."

"R-right, the, uh, the movie."

As soon as the end credits rolled, Blair busied herself with cleaning up, grateful to have something to do. Anything.

She'd enjoyed their unexpected time alone more than she cared to admit. Luke always made her laugh, left her feeling... seen. It was new. Different.

Too different, she thought as she set the popcorn bowl in the sink.

The idea of crossing that line with Luke felt impossible. Jack was practically her brother, and Luke was his little brother. No matter how much he'd grown, or changed, it still felt... complicated.

Luke watched from the couch as she washed the dishes. Her hair was messy from where she'd ruffled it during the movie, and the way she smiled as she hummed to herself made his chest ache.

"Hey."

"Yeah?" she glanced over her shoulder.

"Thanks for hanging out tonight," he said, his tone genuine. "Even... if Jack bailed."

Blair turned to face him fully, drying her hands on a tea towel. "Yeah, well, you're not the worst company."

Luke smirked. "That's high praise coming from you."

"Don't let it get to your head."

"Too late," he chuckled, standing up to grab a drink, his shoulder brushing hers as he reached for a glass. The touch was subtle, almost nonexistant, but Blair felt like her skin was on fire.

Luke caught the way she stiffened, but instead of pulling back, he stayed close, voice lower. "You know, you don't have to keep pretending."

"Pretending what?"

"That you don't like being around me."

Her breath caught, her mind racing for a response, but he stepped back, giving her space.

"Goodnight, Blair," he teased, heading to his room.

She wasn't sure what she felt more: frustration at herself for the way her heart reacted to him... or the undeniable truth that Luke wasn't wrong.

~~

The post-game energy was infectious, the crowd buzzing as fans lingered in the arena, snapping selfies and chatting excitedly. Blair stood near the players' tunnel, sipping a beer and watching Luke from afar.

He was good at this, she realized. Not just the hockey part--though he'd had an impressive game tonight--but the whole... persona. The awkward Luke smiles, the attention he gave to fans, the way he handled it without the sass his brother did.

She wasn't the only one who noticed.

Blair stiffened as a blonde girl, maybe a year or two younger than her, leaned close to him. She was bold, confident in the way only someone used to getting attention could be.

Blair tried to brush off as she watched Luke smile politely, but then the girl handed him her phone. Luke hesitated for a moment before taking it, his expression unreadable.

Her stomach twisted. She didn't want to feel this way--this hot, irrational pang of jealousy that clenched her chest like a vice. But when the girl's face lit up, giddy with what was probably Luke's number, she had to look away.

It wasn't her place to care. She had no claim over Luke. He was free to flirt with whoever he wanted.

~~

Blair was laying in her bed, a half-empty glass of wine resting on her bedside table. The room was dark, her laptop playing an episode of Law and Order that she'd already seen.

She heard the front door open, a bag hit the hardwood floor. Then Jack strolled into her room, flopping onto her bed like he owned the place.

"Alright, what's up?"

Blair glanced over at him. "What do you mean?"

"You're drinking wine in the dark and watching a show you've seen a million times. That's weird."

She groaned, burying her face in her duvet. "You're insufferable."

"Yeah, but I'm also right." Jack leaned back against the headboard. "So spill. What's got you all mopey?"

She grabbed her glass of wine, downing the rest of it. "It's nothing, okay? Just drop it."

Jack gave her a long look, his smirk softening into something more serious. "Blair. I've known you for, like, ever. You're not okay. Just tell me."

"It's... it's Luke."

Jack's eyebrows shot up, and his grin was immediate. "Finally."

"This is exactly why I didn't want to say anything!"

"No, no, this is great!" he sat up, his excitement bubbling over. "You like him! Like, like-like him."

"Can you not make it sound like we're in middle school?" Blair shot back, though her face burned at his words.

"Okay, fine... but you're into him, right?"

"I don't know. Maybe," she whispered.

Jack nudged her shoulder. "You do."

Blair let out a frustrated laugh. "Jack, it's complicated. He's your brother. I've known him since he was a kid. And tonight, at the game, there was this girl, and he was..."

Jack frowned. "And you were jealous."

She bit her lip but didn't deny it.

Jack leaned over, grabbing her glass from her and putting it down on the nightstand. "Blair, listen to me. Luke's not a kid anymore. He hasn't been for a long time. And he's crazy about you. He's been crazy about you since he was old enough to know what a crush was."

"He doesn't--"

"He does," he interrupted firmly. "And I'm telling you, you don't have to feel guilty about this. If you like him--and I think you do--then let yourself have this. You deserve it. He does, too."

"And... you're okay with it? With us?"

Jack grinned. "Blair, you're my favourite person in the world. Luke's my brother. If the two of you make each other happy, the yeah, I'm okay with it. More than okay."

~~

Luke couldn't help but notice that Blair hadn't talked to him after the game. He didn't even see her until the next morning when she was making her daily coffee.

"Morning."

"Morning," she said, not even turning to look at him.

He grabbed some frozen fruit from the freezer, getting ready to make his smoothie. "You okay?"

Blair hesitated, taking a look at his face. He looked tired, like he hadn't slept much, but his eyes were still as warm as always.

"Yeah. Just... thinking."

"'Bout what?"

"About how much things have changed. And how... how much you've changed."

"Good change or, uh, bad change?"

"Good... I think."

Then air felt heavier, but not in a bad way. Luke clicked his tongue, about to respond when Blair brushed past him, wrapping her housecoat around her tighter.

"I'm gonna get ready for class."

~~

Luke was tired of just waiting for things to change. Blair deserved more than casual glances and hesitant words. She deserved to know how he felt, and he decided it was time to show her.

He looked down at the litle notebook resting on the table, one he'd seen Blair scribbling in late one night while she thought no one was around. It didn't seem to be much--just a collection of her to-do lists and random thoughts--but it had sparked an idea.

Blair arrived home from classes, balancing her tote bag and a paper bag of takeout. She kicked the door shut behind her, surprised by the warm glow of the apartment. The living room was dimly lit, a few candles flickering on the coffee table.

"Luke?" she called, setting her things down.

"In here," came his voice from their balcony.

Blair crossed the room, stepping outside to find Luke leaning against the railing. The table next to him was set with two plates, her favourite flowers in a simple vase at the centre.

"What's all this?"

Luke stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I just... I wanted to do something for you. You've been working so hard, and I thought you could use a break."

"Luke, you didn't have to--"

"I wanted to," he interrupted.

He pulled out one of the chairs for her, gesturing for her to sit. Blair hesitated but eventually lowered herself into the seat. Luke took the spot across from her, his nervousness barely contained.

As they started eating, Blair couldn't help but notice the little details--how he'd ordered her favourite dish, how he kept the conversation light but still genuine. It was thoughtful... thoughtful in a personal way.

After dinner, Luke retrieved something from inside, returning with a small, wrapped package.

"What's this?" Blair asked.

"Just... open it," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

She tore the paper carefully, revealing a leather-bound notebook. It looked old; the edges were slightly worn, and the faint smell of ink and must wafted from it.

Blair ran her fingers over the cover, her breath catching. "This is... like the one I had as a kid."

Luke nodded. "You, uh, you told it about me during one of our late-night talks. How you used to write everything down--your dreams, stories, your plans for the future. I thought... you could start again... as an adult."

Blair's throat felt tight as she opened the journal. It was so simple, but it meant everything.

"Luke..."

He stepped closer, crouching slightly to meet her eyes. "Blair, you've always been this incredible, unstoppable force. And I just... I wanted you to have something that reminds you of that."

She stood, clutching the notebook to her chest. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you matter to me, Blair. More than you know."

"Lu-"

"I know I'm just Jack's little brother to you," he said quietly, his voice steady despite his vulnerability. "But I'm not a kid anymore. And I've been waiting my whole life for you to see me--really see me."

Blair stared at him, processing his words. For so long, she'd fought against the pull she felt toward him, telling herself it was wrong, that it would complicate everything. But in that moment, with Luke standing in front of her, open and unguarded, she couldn't deny it anymore.

She reached up, her fingers brushing against his cheek. "You're not just Jack's little brother."

Luke's eyes widened slightly, his breath hitching as her hand lingered. Slowly, carefully, he leaned in, his forehead resting lightly against hers.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered.

But she didn't pull away. Instead, she closed the space, her lips brushing his in the most electrifying kiss of her life. Years of tension and unspoken moments poured into their kiss.

Blair pulled away, her cheeks flushed. "You've always been waiting for me to see you?"

"Yeah. And you were worth the wait."

~~

The morning after their kiss, Blair replayed the moment over and over again. Every glance, every touch, every whispered word from Luke had burned itself into her memory.

"Morning."

She jumped as Luke's voice cut through the quiet. She looked up to find him standing in front of her, his hair mussed.

"Morning."

"So... about last night."

Blair swallowed, setting down her coffee. "Yeah... we should probably talk about that."

Luke nodded. "Look, I'm not sorry it happened. But I don't want to make things harder for you. Or for us."

Blair's lips pressed into a thin line. "Jack's going to notice if things... change. And the rest of your family... I just don't want things to get too complicated too fast."

"So, what? We sneak around for a while? Keep this a secret?"

"Maybe," Blair said through her nervous smile.

Luke grinned, stepping closer until he was right in front of her. "I can work with that."

When his hand brushed against hers on the table, she didn't pull away.

Keeping their relationship under wraps turned out to be equal parts thrilling and frustrating.

There were more stolen moments in the kitchen, their hands brushing as they cooked. Blair would catch Luke staring from across the room, his eyes filled with something new.

Once when Jack was napping in his room, Luke cornered Blair in the hallway, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was quick but left her breathless.

"Someone's going to catch us," she whispered, trying to sound stern but failing.

Luke smirked, hands resting on her waist. "You worried about Rowdy? He sleeps like a rock."

Still, the constant sneaking around wasn't without its challenges. Jack had a knack for walking in at the worst possible times, forcing Blair and Luke to spring apart like guilty teenagers.

"Why are you both so jumpy lately?" Jack asked one evening, narrowing his eyes at them as they sat on opposite sides of the sofa.

"Jumpy? We're not jumpy," Blair replied quickly, her voice a little too high-pitched.

"Yeah," Luke added. "You're imagining things, Jack."

Jack's eyes narrowed further, but he didn't press--yet.

But it didn't take long for him to connect the dots. He wasn't oblivious, despite what Blair and Luke seemed to think.

The knowing grin that spread across his face when he walked into the kitchen and caught them in what they thought was a private moment. Luke's hand was on the small of Blair's back as she stood by the stove, and her laugh was just a bit too soft, too intimate.

"Oh my God," he startled them both.

"Jack! Wha--"

"No way," Jack interrupted, pointing between them. "Are you two fucking?!"

Luke sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Jack, just--"

"You are!" he shouted. "This is amazing. I knew it! I fucking knew this would happen!"

Blair groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Jack, can you not make this a thing?"

"Oh, it's already a thing," Jack said, crossing his arms triumphantly. "And I'm a genius for making it happen."

"Making it happen?"

Jack shrugged, completely unbothered. "I gave you two all those nights alone. The movie night? You're welcome."

"You... you're telling me you've been matchmaking this whole time?" Blair gasped.

"Matchmaking, nudging, masterminding--call it what you want," Jack said with a smirk. "Point is, I'm responsible for this."

"Yeah, sure, Jack. All you," Luke rolled his eyes.

"So, when's the wedding? Can I be the best man and the maid of honour?"

~~

The sound of goal horn echoed in Luke's ears, but this time, it wasn't in celebration. Another defensive breakdown. Another minus on the scoresheet.

Luke sat in the locker room after, still in his gear, staring blankly at the floor. Around him his teammates untaped sticks and headed for the showers, but he felt frozen.

The reporters were outside, ready to dissect every mistake he'd made that night. The fans would be tweeting about his rookie performance. But worst of all, he'd let himself down.

When he finally got home, it was late. Blair was waiting for him on his bed. The second she saw him, her face softened.

"Hey."

Luke dropped his bag by the door, sinking down into his bed beside her, leaning his head on a pillow with a deep sigh.

"Rough game?"

He nodded, jaw tight. "I keep messing up. It's like... no matter what I do, it's not good enough. I'm not Jack. I'm not Quinn. I don't know if I'll ever be."

Blair reached over, resting a hand on his arm. "Luke, you don't have to be Jack or Quinn. You just have to be you. And you're amazing, even if you don't feel like it right now."

"What if I'm not? What if I'm not cut out for this?"

She shifted closer, wrapping her arms around him. "You are, Luke. And so do a lot of other people. You're allowed to have bad days. It doesn't make you less."

~~

Blair's phone buzzed with yet another text from her mom.

Mama: So... Luke? Are you two really together? Luke as in Jack's little brother?

She sighed, tossing her phone onto the bed beside her.

Her relationship with Luke had been public knowledge for a few weeks now--thanks to Jack's slip of the tongue at a post-game interview--but the fallout was more stressful than she could've anticipated.

Her parents were surprised but supportive, though their questions about the long-term implications left her feeling uneasy. And Jack? He was thrilled that the world knew now, that he didn't have to hide the secret.

"What if this changes everything?" she murmured aloud as she folded her laundry.

"What changes everything?" Luke asked, walking into her room with a bowl of cereal in hand.

Blair hesitated, her hands stilling on one of Luke's sweatshirts. "Us. You. Me and Jack. All of it."

Luke set the bowl down. "Blair, what are you talking about?"

"It's just... I don't want this to mess things up. With your family. With Jack. If something went wrong, it'd be--"

"It's not going to go wrong. And even if it did, that's on me, not you. You're not responsible for holding everything together."

"But I feel like I am. Jack's been like family to me my whole life. And now, with us, it's like I'm risking everything."

Luke took her hands. "You're not risking anything, Blair. Jack loves you. My family loves you. And I... I'm not going anywhere, okay? No matter how hard things get."

But the cracks began to show.

Luke's schedule grew more demanding as the Devils pushed for a playoff spot. Practices ran longer, travel days piled up, and his rookie season came with added scrutiny from fans and the media.

Blair was juggling her internship and her last semester of classes. Their time together became scarce, and when they did have a moment, it was often overshadowed by Luke's frustrations or Blair's anxiety.

"It's like no matter what I do, it's not enough," Luke paced the living room, hands in his hair. "I make on mistake, and everyone is on my ass. Meanwhile, the vets can screw up all night, and no one says a word."

Blair looked up from her computer, bags under her eyes. "Luke, I get it. I do. But can we just... not right now? I have a huge presentation tomorrow, and I'm barely keeping up as it is."

"I didn't mean to dump that on you. I just... forget it."

He turned to leave, but Blair reached out, catching his hand. "Lu, wait. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just--"

"It's fine," he pulled his hand away. "Good luck with your presentation."

The strain between them was becoming harder to ignore, and she didn't know how much longer they could keep pretending everything was fine.

~~

As soon as Luke entered the apartment, Blair warpped her arms around him. "I know it's been hard," she said quietly. "But I'm here. Always."

Luke exhaled, snaking his arms around her waist. "I know. And I'm sorry. For everything."

"We'll figure it out. Together."

"Yeah... together."

~~

The past few weeks had been spent making quick apologies and sharing half-hearted reassurances that everything was fine. But it wasn't fine. She'd spent so much of her time worrying about what other people wanted that she'd forgotten to think about what she wanted.

And she wanted Luke.

Jack: Game tonight. I snagged you a ticket. Go

~~

She slipped into her seat, spotting Jack on the ice with HUGHES on his back, just like hers and Luke's. He turned, catching her eye, and throwing her a thumbs up.

She spent the whole game watching Luke, her stomach flipping every time he would touch the puck. And when he scored in the second period, she leaped to her feet, cheering louder than everyone around her.

After the game, she waited by the players' tunnel, spotting Luke emerging from the locker room, his hair damp, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Luke!" she called.

His head snapped up, mouth dropping in surprise. "Blair?"

"Hey."

Luke glanced around, clearly aware of the people watching, but Blair didn't care. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

"You were amazing!"

"I... I didn't know you were coming."

"I wasn't sure I was going to," she admitted, pulling back from their embrace to look in his eyes. "But then I realized I was being stupid. I don't care what anyone thinks. I'm with you because I want to be."

"You sure?"

"Completely."

~~

Blair attended every home game she could after that. No more secrets and they were feeling the best they had together. She supported him through the highs and lows of his rookie season. And Luke helped her study, even letting her practice her presentations on him.

"You know," she said softly. "I think we're pretty good at this."

Luke cocked an eyebrow. "At what?"

"Us."

He leaned in, lips brushing her temple. "Yeah. We are."

Jack entered the room, a smirk on his face. "Told you so."

[black-fist-order]

Holyshit. Well here's a conspiracy theory for ya.

I've been wondering why Trump has allowed Elon free reign to upstage him and do what he wants. I'm sure he has to know the public has been calling Trump Elon's lapdog. And then there's the Time cover with Elon sitting behind the presidential desk. Trump should be fuming, but during Elon's press meeting in the White House, Trump just sat there like a castrated sad clown while Elon's kid told him to shut up.

But why? Why would Trump let himself be upstaged and mocked - especially by a child? He already won the election. He doesn't need Elon's money anymore.

But then Jess told me something Elon's kid said during an interview with Tucker Carlson.

When asked if Trump would win the election, the kid says "yes" and then says "they’ll never know."

https://gizmodo.com/elon-musks-kid-keeps-saying-weird-stuff-about-trump-2000563118

During the election, I knew something was up when Trump began accusing Kamala for cheating in Pennsylvania. That's very specific. And historically, he only blames others for things he's doing.

As a programmer, I know anything is hackable. An 11 year old girl at the hacking convention DefCon in Vegas was able to hack into a voting booth in 10 minutes. And that was back in 2018!

And while the voting machines aren’t connected to the internet per-se, it only takes 10 minutes to pop in a USB and get out. And it just so happens there was a bomb threat in PA where they emptied the building. But it wasn’t just one building, it was 67!

Of the 67 locations, 56 were in 11 counties that voted for Joe Biden in the 2020 election, including the eight most populated. Those high-population Democratic counties include voting locations for Milwaukee, Wisconsin; Detroit, Michigan; Phoenix, Arizona; Atlanta, Georgia; and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/amp/rcna179006

Hacker kids do this stuff for the fun of it. Imagine if they were getting paid millions of dollars?

And now, Musk has surrounded himself with these kids who have notoriously gained access to federal records, our records, with ease.

Four hours before election results were called, Elon announced that Trump was the winner and he had an "app" to prove it.

And then, there's this... Trump is a complete idiot and actually said this out loud after the election...

"He (Musk) knows those computers better than anybody. All those computers. Those vote-counting computers," Trump told the crowd. "And we ended up winning Pennsylvania like in a landslide."

https://www.newsweek.com/donald-trump-elon-musk-voting-machine-2017657

"They will never know."

Trump even said repeatedly before the election, "I don't need your vote." It's a weird brag that indicated he had already won.

I had been saying Trump was going to cheat long before the election. But the comment was instantly shot down by both sides. Conservatives thought we were being hypocrites, and progressives thought we should be above Trump-style conspiracies and gracefully accept the outcome.

Looking into this now, I'm not surprised I wasn't the only one. The internet is all over this stuff.

https://www.reddit.com/r/politics/comments/1i5uovx/donald_trumps_voting_computers_comment_sparks/

Will this info ever come out? Will it even matter? I have no doubt Elon's guys are at the top of their game, and the only way this will ever see the light of day is if one of these guys talks.

But for right now, it's obvious to me why Trump is letting Elon do whatever he wants.

Because all it would take is for Elon to turn to a camera and say a few words to the world, "I helped Trump steal the election."

Boom.