#something you watch on replay but not on live tv

[skyguytoast]

Are requests still open? In case they are I got this idea for one shot in which hayden and y/n watch football match maybe champions league ans he isnt as big fan since its more of european competition while y/n on the other hand is. I just know you will write it fantastically like always. Love, xx

HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN X YOU - FOOTBALL TIME

WARNING:  none, just fluff WORDS:  515 A/N: Hi angel ✨ Yes, I always open for request, literally made my day (and night).  Your idea is so cute, fluff Hayden + football + cuddle? It’s giving boyfriend goals and I’m obsessed. Although I know nothing about football, so, if doesn't make much sense, sorry, probably is my inability with this sport. I try google, so I guess I know what a offside means and throw some team and soccer players’ names.⚽ anyway, comments, reblogs are appreciated. kisses and good reading 🥰🤩

The living room was gloomy, the only light coming from the flicker of the TV screen and the gentle glow of the fairy lights strung above the window. You were bundled up in a mountain of throw blankets, nestled into the corner of the couch like a gremlin with a bowl of popcorn in your lap and a fire in your eyes.

Hayden was next to you, legs stretched out, hoodie sleeves pulled halfway over his arms, and wearing the softest look of confusion on his face as he tried to follow the game on screen.

“So wait… that was offside?” he asked, brows furrowing as you groaned dramatically at the ref’s call.

“Yes!” you said, half-laughing as you threw a piece of popcorn at the TV. “It was clearly offside, his foot was over the line—look at the replay!”

Hayden squinted. “Okay, first of all, you’ve got eagle eyes, cause I literally see two guys and a ball, and that’s it.”

You grinned, turning to him with sparkling eyes. “You’re trying. That’s what matters.”

He shrugged, the faintest blush dusting his cheeks. “Well, you love it, so I figured I should at least know what you're yelling about every tuesday and wednesday.”

“That’s love,” you teased, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

“That’s something,” he muttered, but he smiled anyway, soft and helpless under your touch.

You shifted slightly, resting your head against his shoulder as the commentators droned on about goal differentials and aggregate scores. Hayden wrapped his arm around your waist automatically, pulling you closer, like it was second nature. And honestly? At this point, it was.

“You know,” you murmured, voice muffled against his hoodie, “if we’re still traveling in London, we’d probably be at a pub watching this with fifty other people.”

“Would you rather be doing that?” he asked, with genuine curiosity in his voice.

You tilted your head to look up at him. “No way. I’d much rather be right here, in my boyfriend’s hoodie, stealing his popcorn, and forcing him to care about the Champions League.”

He laughed, deep and quiet. “Alright, well then… who am I rooting for again?”

“Real Madrid, obviously,” you said, as if it were a fact of life.

“Got it. The one with the white jerseys and the guy you keep calling a football star?”

“Vini Jr.,” you said dramatically. “And yes.. Look how he's carrying the game on his back”

Hayden smirked, brushing his fingers through your hair. “You know, I think I’m starting to like this. Mostly because you get really passionate, and it’s kind of hot.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you only care about the game because I care?”

“Absolutely,” he said without shame. “I’m here for the kisses, the cuddles, and the half-time snacks. The football is a bonus.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling as you leaned in to press your lips to his. “Fine. But you better know what offside is by the final.”

He kissed you back, slow and warm. “As long as I’m on your side, I think I’m good.”

[jupiterpilgrim]

What You Deserve

An Yujin x Male Reader

word count: 13K

Rain pelts the windows of your cramped apartment, a steady gray drizzle that’s been going all afternoon. It’s the kind of weather that makes you want to crawl under a blanket and disappear, and honestly, that’s pretty much what you’ve been doing. You’re sprawled on the couch, still in the same faded hoodie and sweatpants you’ve worn for three days straight, a half-empty bag of Doritos tipped over on the cushion next to you. The TV’s on, some random sci-fi rerun flickering across the screen, but you’re not really watching. Your head’s a mess—has been since the breakup hit you like a truck a week ago. Everything’s fuzzy, like you’re moving through fog, and the ache in your chest hasn’t let up for a second. You keep replaying the last fight, the way she—your ex—stormed out, leaving you feeling like the world’s biggest loser. Again.

The knock at the door jolts you upright, spilling a few stray Doritos onto the floor. You freeze, heart thudding. Who the hell would show up now? You’re not expecting anyone—haven’t even showered since… what, Tuesday? Hesitating, you shuffle over, socks scuffing against the hardwood, and peek through the peephole, then—holy fuck—it’s An Yujin standing there, and your heart does a dumbass somersault right into your throat.

Yujin. Your Yujin—or ex-Yujin, whatever—looking like she just strutted out of some wet dream you’d deny having.

Months—literal months—since you last saw her, and yet here she is, looking like she never left. You fumble with the lock, hands shaky, and crack the door open just enough to see her fully. She’s soaked from the rain, dark hair plastered to her neck, but somehow that only makes her more striking. She’s wearing this oversized black leather jacket, unzipped, over a cropped white tank top that clings to her skin just enough to show off her collarbones and the faintest outline of her bra underneath. Low-rise jeans hug her hips, frayed at the knees, and she’s got these scuffed-up combat boots that somehow tie the whole look together. Casual, yeah, but the kind of casual that screams she knows exactly how good she looks. Water drips from her jacket onto your doormat, and she tilts her head, smirking faintly, like she’s already won something.

“Hey,” she says, voice low and smooth, cutting through the sound of the rain. “Can I come in? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You’re too stunned to argue, stepping back to let her through. She brushes past you, close enough that you catch the scent of rain mixed with whatever expensive perfume she’s still obsessed with. The door clicks shut behind her, and suddenly your dingy living room feels way too small. She glances around, taking in the mess—empty takeout containers on the coffee table, a stack of unopened comics you’ve been meaning to sort through—and then her eyes land back on you. They’re piercing, like she’s already peeling you apart layer by layer.

“Jesus, you’re a wreck,” she says, but there’s a softness to it, a fake kind of concern that you’re too foggy to clock right away. She shrugs off her jacket, tossing it over the arm of your couch like she still owns the place, and flops down onto the cushions, legs crossed, tank top riding up just enough to show a sliver of her stomach. “Heard about what happened. Mutual friends, you know how it goes. You okay?”

You blink, still standing there like an idiot by the door. Your brain's scrambling to catch up. "Uh... Yes. I mean, no. Not really." Your voice cracks, and you hate it—hate how pathetic you sound. You shuffle over to the couch, sinking into it, hands fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie. "It's been... Rough. A week ago. Still kinda blurry."

She nods, leaning forward a little, elbows on her knees. Her eyes don’t leave yours, and it’s unnerving as hell. “I bet. Breakups suck. Especially when it’s someone who didn’t deserve you anyway.” She pauses, letting that sink in, and you feel this weird flicker of warmth, like she’s actually on your side. “What happened? You don’t have to spill everything, just… how you holding up?”

You swallow hard, staring at the floor. The rain’s louder now, drumming against the glass, and it’s easier to focus on that than her face. “I don’t even know. We fought. She left. Said I was too… I dunno, clingy or something. It’s all a mess in my head.” You laugh, but it’s bitter, hollow. “I’m not good at this stuff. Never have been.”

Yujin makes this little sound, like a hum of sympathy, and shifts closer, perching on the edge of the couch now. Her boots scuff the floor, and you can’t help but notice how her jeans stretch tight over her thighs. “That’s rough,” she says, voice dipping softer. “Sounds like she didn’t get you. Like, at all. You’re too sweet for someone who’d pull that crap.” She tilts her head again, hair falling over one shoulder, and it’s unfair how gorgeous she still is, even dripping wet and casual as hell.

You shrug, feeling the weight of everything pressing down harder. “Maybe. I just… I feel like I screwed it up. Like I always do.” Your eyes flick up to hers for a second, then dart away because looking at her too long makes your chest tight in a way you can’t explain.

“Hey, no,” she says, firm but gentle, leaning even closer now. You can feel the heat of her presence, the way she fills up the space between you. “Don’t do that to yourself. You’re not the screw-up here. She didn’t see what she had, that’s on her.” She reaches out, just brushing your knee with her fingers, and it’s like a spark jumps through you. You flinch, but don’t pull away.

You’re quiet for a minute, the room heavy with the sound of rain and your own uneven breathing. She’s watching you, patient but intense, like she’s waiting for you to crack open. And you do, a little. “I’ve just been… sitting here. Feeling like garbage. I don’t know how to shake it.”

Yujin nods, like she gets it completely. “Then don’t shake it alone,” she says, voice dropping again, pulling you in. “You don’t have to. I’m here, right? I showed up because I wanted to see you. Check on you.” She smiles, small but sharp, and it’s like a lifeline tossed into the mess of your head. “Why don’t I stick around? We can talk. Or not talk. Whatever you need.”

You should say no. You know you should. Months ago, she was the one who left you spinning, who made you feel small and needy and not enough. But right now, with the rain and the gloom and the way your whole world feels like it’s caving in, she’s the only thing that looks solid. The only thing that feels like it might hold you up. So you nod, slow and shaky, and mutter, “Yeah. Okay. Stay.”

She leans back, settling into the couch like she never left, and you’re already sinking deeper into something you can’t quite name—but it feels warm, and you’re too tired to fight it.

“Hey,” you say, voice rough from disuse, “you want some hot chocolate or something? It’s crap weather out there. You’re soaked.”

Her eyes flick up to yours, and for a second, you catch this glint—like she’s surprised you’re offering. Then she grins, slow and lazy, and nods. “Yeah, that sounds good. You still make it the same way?”

“Pretty much,” you mutter, pushing yourself up from the couch. Your legs feel wobbly as you shuffle to the kitchen, heart thudding harder than it should. You can’t wrap your head around it—she’s here. Showed up in the rain, no warning, looking like that. You grab a couple of mugs from the cabinet, the chipped blue one she always used to pick and a random green one for yourself. The kettle’s already half-full, so you flick it on, digging out the cocoa powder and a bag of mini marshmallows from the pantry. You’re moving on autopilot, but your brain’s buzzing—why now? Why her?

She calls out from the living room, voice carrying over the hum of the kettle. “You know, I still can’t believe I walked all the way here in this. Guess I just had to see you for myself.”

You glance back at her, catching her stretching her arms over her head, tank top riding up again. “Yeah, well, I can’t believe it either,” you say. The water boils, and you pour it into the mugs, stirring in the cocoa until it’s smooth. A handful of marshmallows goes into hers—she always liked it loaded—and you carry them back, handing hers over carefully. Your fingers brush hers as she takes it, and you pull back fast, sitting down with your own mug cradled in your hands.

She takes a sip, closing her eyes for a second like she’s savoring it. “God, this takes me back,” she says. “You always made this when I was pissed off or whatever. Like clockwork.” She opens her eyes, locking them on you, and there’s this weight in her gaze that makes you squirm.

You shrug, staring into your mug instead of her. “Yeah, guess some things don’t change.” The steam warms your face, and you take a sip, letting the heat settle into you. It’s quiet again, just the rain and the faint hum of the TV, and you feel this pull—like you need to say something, anything, to fill the space. “So… uh, it’s been rough. With her. The ex, I mean. We fought all the time. Like, nonstop. She’d get mad over the dumbest stuff—me staying up late reading comics, or forgetting to text her back right away. And I’d just… I’d try to fix it, but it was like nothing I did was enough.”

Yujin’s listening, mug resting on her knee, her fingers tapping lightly against the ceramic. She doesn’t interrupt, just nods a little, letting you spill. You keep going, the words tumbling out now that you’ve started. “It got worse toward the end. She’d yell, I’d shut down. One time she threw my Switch across the room ‘cause I was playing Zelda instead of, I dunno, staring at her or something. Broke the screen. Then she’d act like I was the one overreacting when I got upset. It was exhausting.”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” Yujin says, her tone even but with this edge—like she’s pissed on your behalf. She shifts, sitting up straighter, and takes another sip. “She didn’t get you at all. Throwing your Switch? That’s psycho. You don’t mess with a guy’s games.”

You huff out a laugh, small and shaky. “Yeah, right? I was so done by the end. But it still… it still messed me up. Like, maybe I was the problem. Too clingy, too needy, too… whatever.” You trail off, staring at the marshmallows melting into your hot chocolate, feeling that familiar pit opening up in your gut.

Yujin sets her mug down on the coffee table with a soft clink, leaning forward now, elbows on her knees. “Hey, don’t do that. Don’t let her flip this on you. She sounds like she sucked to be around, plain and simple.” Her voice is firm, and when you glance up, her eyes are intense, boring into you. “I heard about her, you know. Mutual friends, like I said. Word is she was never that nice to begin with. Kinda had a rep for being a control freak.”

“You… you knew about her?”

She shrugs, casual, but there’s something sharp in it. “Enough. Heard you were dating again and… I dunno, it bugged me. More than it should’ve.” She pauses, looking away for a second, out at the rain-streaked window, then back at you. “Guess I didn’t like picturing you with someone else. Especially not someone who’d treat you like that.”

Your throat goes dry, and you fumble with your mug, setting it down before you spill it. “I didn’t… I mean, it was quick. After us, I just… I didn’t know what I was doing.” You’re stumbling over your words, and she’s watching you, unblinking, like she’s piecing you together. “Maybe I jumped into it too fast. I’m not good at that stuff—figuring things out on the fly. You know that.”

Her lips twitch, not quite a smile, but close. “Yeah, I know. You’re not exactly Mr. Impulse. Always overthinking everything.” She says it like it’s a fact, not a jab, but there’s this undercurrent—like she’s pointing out something you missed. “But it’s not your fault she was a trainwreck. You don’t have to carry that.”

You lean back in the couch, running a hand through your hair. “I guess. Still feels like I should’ve seen it coming. I’m not… I’m not good at picking people, you know? Always end up with someone who makes me feel like I’m lucky they even bother with me.”

Yujin’s quiet for a beat, then she slides off the couch, moving to sit on the coffee table right in front of you, close enough that her knee bumps yours. She’s all sharp edges and soft glow—wet hair framing her face, tank top clinging just right, eyes locked on you like she’s daring you to look away. “You don’t need to feel lucky,” she says. “You’re better than that. Better than her. And honestly? You were always too good for me to deserve back then, too.”

You freeze, caught in the weight of her words. She’s so close now, and the room feels smaller, the air thicker. “You don’t mean that,” you mutter, half to yourself, but she shakes her head quick.

“I do. And you need to hear it.” She reaches out, just resting her hand on your arm, and it’s like the heat of her skin jolts you awake. “You’re a mess right now, yeah, but you don’t have to be alone with it. I’m here. I came here for you. In the freaking rain, no less.” She laughs a little, soft and real, and it’s the first time tonight you feel something lift—like the fog in your head’s thinning out.

You look at her, really look at her, and she’s stupidly gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous that makes your nerdy, self-doubting brain short-circuit. You feel that old pull, the one you could never shake with her, and it’s comforting and terrifying all at once. “Thanks,” you say, quiet, barely audible over the rain. “I�� I needed this. More than I thought.”

She smiles, small but warm, and squeezes your arm before letting go. “Anytime. You know I’ve got you.” And the way she says it, the way she’s looking at you, you almost believe it’s that simple—even though deep down, you know nothing with her ever is.

“I missed you,” you say, voice low, almost lost in the sound of the storm. You didn’t mean to say it out loud, but now it’s out there, hanging between you like a live wire.

Her eyes flick up to yours, and for a second, she just looks at you—searching, maybe surprised. Then her lips curve into this slow, easy smile, and there they are: those dimples. Two little indents that used to drive you insane, the ones you’d poke with your finger when she’d laugh, just because it was cute and she’d pretend to hate it. They’re back now, and your chest tightens like someone’s squeezed it. “Yeah?” she says, voice soft but teasing, leaning in just a fraction. “You missed me?”

You nod, swallowing hard, because what else can you do? She’s got you pinned with that look, and you’re already sinking. The fabric of the tight tank top hugging her like a second skin. You can see the faint outline of her bra, the way her collarbone catches the light, and your brain stumbles over itself. Your hands twitch, nervous energy spilling out, and you grip the mug tighter to keep them.

She notices—of course she does. Her smile tilts into something sharper, more knowing. “What’s with you?” she asks, tilting her head so her hair falls over one shoulder. “You’re all jumpy now.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out at first. Your throat’s dry, and she’s just sitting there, looking like that, and it’s scrambling you. “I—uh. You’re just… you look good,” you manage, lame as hell, but it’s all you’ve got.

She laughs, soft and low, and those dimples deepen. “Thanks. But you’re dodging. What’s going on in that head of yours?” She leans closer, resting her elbows on her knees, and now she’s really in your space—close enough that you can smell the rain on her, mixed with that sharp-sweet perfume she’s always worn.

You hesitate, but she’s got you locked in, and the words spill out again before you can stop them. “I mean it. I really missed you. Like… a lot.” Your voice cracks a little, and you wince, but it’s true, and she can tell.

Her smile softens, less teasing now, more real. “I missed you too,” she says, and it’s quiet, almost like she’s admitting it to herself as much as to you. She sits back a little, crossing her arms under her chest—yeah, that’s not helping your nerves—and looks at you with this steady, unreadable gaze. “Way more than I thought I would. You’re so damn low-profile, you know that? No socials, no updates, nothing. Made it impossible to keep tabs on you.”

“Wait. You… you tried to keep tabs on me?”

She doesn’t even flinch, just shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Yeah. Couldn’t help it. You just… disappeared after we split. I’d scroll through your friend’s posts, hoping you’d pop up in the background or something. Pathetic, right?” She laughs again, but it’s self-aware, almost sheepish, and it’s so unlike her usual confidence that you don’t know what to do with it.

“You were stalking me?” you ask, half-joking, but your pulse is racing now. The idea of her—Yujin—digging around for scraps of you after everything… it’s doing something to you, lighting up a part of your brain you’ve tried to keep dark for months.

She smirks, unbothered. “Stalking’s a strong word. Let’s call it… checking in. But yeah, maybe I was a little obsessed. Can you blame me?” She leans forward again, and now her hand’s on your knee, light but deliberate, and your whole body locks up. “You’ve got this way of sticking in my head. Always have.”

Your mouth goes dry, and you’re staring at her hand like it’s burning through your sweatpants. “I… didn’t know that,” you mutter. She’s looking at you like she’s daring you to push, and you’re too weak to resist. “You really thought about me that much?”

“More than I should’ve,” she says, voice dropping lower, and there’s this edge to it—like she’s letting you in on something dangerous. “Kept wondering what you were up to. Who you were with. Kept thinking about how you’d look at me with those big, dumb puppy eyes when I’d push your buttons.” Her fingers flex against your knee, just enough to make you twitch, and she grins. “Like that. Right there.”

You’re flustered now, heat creeping up your neck, and you hate how easily she’s getting to you. “Shut up,” you mumble, but it’s weak, and she knows it. You push anyway, because part of you needs to hear more—needs to feel this wanted. “So what, you were just… lurking? Keeping score?”

She laughs, tilting her head back, and those dimples flash again, killing you all over. “Not lurking. Just… noticing. And yeah, maybe keeping score a little. Wanted to see if you’d crash and burn without me.” She pauses, eyes flicking over your face, and her voice softens. “Didn’t expect to hear you were dating someone else so fast, though. That stung.”

You swallow, caught in the twist of it—guilt and this weird, messed-up thrill. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t like that. I didn’t plan it. Just happened.”

“Yeah, I get it,” she says, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—jealousy, maybe, or regret. “Still sucked, though. Finding out you were with her. Kept imagining you doing all the stuff we used to do. Made me wanna claw my eyes out.” She’s grinning when she says it, but it’s tight, like she’s masking something raw.

Your head’s spinning now, and you can’t stop yourself—you keep digging, chasing the high of her words. “So you were, what, jealous? Obsessed enough to hate it?”

She leans in close again, her face inches from yours, and her voice drops to this husky whisper that makes your stomach flip. “Yeah, jealous. Obsessed, maybe. Whatever you wanna call it. I didn’t like sharing you. Still don’t.” Her hand slides up your thigh, just a little, and it’s enough to set your nerves on fire. “You’ve always been mine, you know. Even when you’re not.”

You should pull back. You should laugh it off, call her out, something—but you don’t. You’re hooked, reeled in by the way she’s looking at you, by the way her confession makes you feel like you’re something. “That’s… kinda messed up,” you say, but your voice is shaky, and your body’s betraying you, leaning toward her instead of away.

“Maybe,” she murmurs, and her lips are so close now you can feel her breath on your skin. “But you like it. I can tell.” She pulls back just enough to smirk at you, those dimples mocking you, daring you to deny it. “Go ahead, tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t miss this—me, right here, knowing you’re all I think about sometimes.”

You can’t. She’s got you dead to rights, and you both know it. Your heart’s hammering, and she’s still got her hand on your thigh, and every nerve in your body is screaming at you to close the gap. “I… I don’t know what to say,” you admit, because it’s true—you’re a mess, and she’s unraveling you stitch by stitch.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she says, voice soft but commanding. “Just don’t pretend you don’t feel it too.” And she’s right—you do. You’re nervous, flustered, but under it all, you’re wanted, and it’s been so long since you’ve felt that. She’s watching you, waiting, and you’re already too far gone to pull back now.

And then, casual as hell, she slides off the table and swings a leg over yours, settling right onto your lap. Just like that, like it’s nothing.

Your sanity cracks.

She’s warm, solid, her weight pressing down on you in a way that shorts out every rational thought you’ve got left. Her tank top rides up slightly as she adjusts, showing a sliver of skin above her jeans, and you’re trying so hard not to stare, not to lose it completely. Your arms stay glued to the couch, fingers digging into the cushions like that’s gonna keep you grounded. She notices, of course, and her smirk deepens, those dimples flashing like a warning sign.

“God, you’re so tense,” she says, voice low and teasing, leaning forward just enough that her breath brushes your jaw. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle me being this close?” Her hands settle on your shoulders, light but deliberate, and you feel the heat of her palms through your hoodie.

You swallow hard, throat tight. “I… uh…” Words fail you, because yeah, she’s right—you’re barely holding it together. She’s sitting on your lap, talking like it’s normal, and your brain’s frying.

She tilts her head, hair falling over one shoulder, and her tone shifts—still playful, but darker, laced with something raw. “You know, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You with her. Some other girl sitting right here—” she presses her hips down a little, just to make her point, and your breath hitches—“where I used to be. Like she could just slide in and take my place. Drove me up the wall.”

You blink up at her, caught off guard by the edge in her voice. “You… you were that jealous?” It’s a dumb question, but you’re too scrambled to care.

Her eyes narrow, and she leans in closer, her fingers tightening on your shoulders. “Jealous? Try insane. I’d hear stuff—Rei or whoever running their mouth about you two—and I’d picture it. Her on your lap, her hands all over you, her thinking she could have you like I did. Made me wanna track her down and scratch her damn face off.” She laughs, sharp and bitter, but her gaze is steady, pinning you in place. “Stupid, right? But I couldn’t shake it.”

Your mouth’s dry, and you’re just staring at her now, the heat of her body sinking into you, making it impossible to think straight. “She… she didn’t compare,” you mutter, almost to yourself, but it’s loud enough for her to hear. “Not even close. She wasn’t you. Didn’t… do what you do. Didn’t make me feel like this.” Your voice cracks a little, and you hate it, but it’s true—she’s got you surrendered, always has, and no one else ever came close.

Yujin’s smirk softens into something dangerous, something triumphant. “Yeah?” she murmurs, shifting again, pressing herself closer so her chest brushes yours. “What do I do to you, huh? Tell me.” Her hands slide down from your shoulders, resting on your chest now, and you can feel her heartbeat through her fingertips, fast and steady.

You hesitate, your arms still frozen on the couch, but she’s not letting you off that easy. She leans in, lips hovering near your ear, voice dropping to a whisper. “Go ahead. Touch me. You know you want to.”

It’s a mistake—you know it’s a mistake. Once you cross that line, there’s no going back, no pretending this didn’t happen. But your hands move anyway, slow and shaky, lifting from the cushions to settle on her. One lands on her arm, the other on her waist, and the warmth of her skin hits you like a shockwave. She’s soft but firm, the curve of her waist fitting under your palm like it was made for it. Your fingers flex, testing the waters, and she lets out this quiet little hum that sends a jolt straight through you.

“There you go,” she says, voice silky, pulling back just enough to look at you. Her eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, and she’s got that look—like she’s already won. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Been too long since you had your hands on me.”

You nod, barely conscious of it, because yeah, it does. “I missed this,” you admit, quiet and rough, your thumb brushing along the edge of her tank top where it meets her jeans. “Missed you. Your body… you look hotter now. If that’s even possible.”

Her smile lights up, dimples popping again, and it’s like a reward. “You think so?” she asks, voice bright with this twisted kind of joy. She shifts in your lap, deliberate, rolling her hips just enough to make your breath catch. “Good. ‘Cause I’ve been thinking about you too. How you’d feel under me like this. How much I missed having you fall apart for me.”

Your hands tighten on her instinctively, one sliding up her arm to her shoulder, the other gripping her waist harder. “Yujin…” you start, but it’s weak, and she knows it. She’s got you wrapped around her finger, and you’re not even fighting it anymore.

“What?” she murmurs, leaning in so her lips are barely a inch from yours, her breath hot against your skin. “You gonna tell me to stop? Or you gonna admit you’re still mine?” Her fingers trail down your chest, slow and teasing, and your resolve crumbles a little more with every inch.

“I… I shouldn’t,” you say, but it’s half-hearted, and your hands are already moving again, tracing the line of her spine through the thin fabric of her top. “This is a bad idea.”

“Maybe,” she agrees, but her voice is dripping with confidence, and she’s closing the gap, her nose brushing yours. “But you’re not gonna stop me, are you? You missed me too much. Missed this.” She presses herself closer, thighs tightening around your hips, and you feel every bit of her—warm, alive, overwhelming.

“Yeah,” you breathe, giving in, your hands sliding down to her hips now, pulling her against you like you can’t help it. “I did. Missed you. All of you.”

She sighs, but it’s not soft—it’s resigned, almost dramatic, like she’s wrestling with something inside her. “God, you mess me up so bad,” she says, shaking her head, but she’s smiling again, dimples flashing as she cups your face with one hand. “I’m out here losing my mind over you, and you’re just… sitting there, letting me. You’re the worst, you know that?”

You laugh, small and shaky, because it’s all you’ve got left. “You’re the one who climbed into my lap,” you point out, your hands roaming now, one slipping under the hem of her tank top to feel the bare skin of her lower back. “Kinda hard to ignore you.”

“Good,” she says, and her voice drops again, husky and intent. “I don’t want you to ignore me. I want you to think about me. All the time. Like I think about you.” She shifts again, grinding down just enough to make your head spin, and her lips are so close now you can taste the hot chocolate on her breath. “Tell me you still want me. Say it.”

Your hands are all over her now—one on her back, the other gripping her thigh—and you’re done pretending you’ve got any control here. “I want you,” you say, low and rough, and it’s like letting go of a weight you didn’t know you were carrying. “Always have. You know that.”

Her eyes flash, victorious, and she leans in, finally pressing her lips to yours—just a graze at first, testing you. But you’re already gone, pulling her in harder, kissing her like you’ve been starving for it. She tastes sweet, like cocoa and something sharper, and she kisses back like she’s claiming you all over again. When she pulls away, she’s breathless, grinning, those dimples mocking you as she whispers, “See? Told you you’re still mine.”

You don’t argue. You can’t. She’s got you—hook, line, and sinker.

The rain’s still pounding outside, a steady roar that fills the room, but all you can focus on is Yujin. She’s got you pinned—figuratively, literally—straddling your lap like she owns you, and honestly, she might as well. Her hand shoots up, grabbing your cheeks with one firm grip, squeezing just enough to make your lips pucker slightly. Her eyes lock onto yours, sharp and unyielding, and it’s like she’s staring straight through you, peeling back every layer you’ve tried to build up since she’s been gone.

“Say it,” she demands, her thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “Say you belong to me.”

You’re already a mess—heart racing, breath shallow, her weight pressing into you like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered. Your hands are still on her thighs, fingers digging into the denim, and you can feel the heat of her through it, steady and real. “I belong to you,” you say, the words spilling out fast, rough, like they’ve been waiting there all along.

Her grip tightens for a second, then loosens, and she tilts her head, studying you. “Good. Now tell me—who do you belong to?”

“You,” you answer, no hesitation this time, your voice steadier even though your pulse is hammering in your ears. “I belong to you, Yujin.”

She smirks, satisfied, and there’s this glint in her eyes—like she’s won some game you didn’t even know you were playing. “That’s right,” she says, leaning in closer, her breath hot against your lips. “And no other girl—no one—better come near you again. ‘Cause I don’t know what I’d do. To her... To you.” Her voice drops, and it sends a shiver down your spine—not from fear, but from how much it gets to you.

“It won’t happen,” you mutter, hands flexing against her thighs, squeezing harder like you’re trying to prove it. “Not again. Promise.”

Her smirk softens into something almost sweet, and she closes the gap, kissing you hard and sudden. It’s not gentle—her lips crash into yours like she’s staking a claim, teeth grazing your bottom lip for a split second before she pulls back, just enough to breathe. It’s a reward, yeah, but it’s also a reminder: she’s in charge. Always has been. Your head’s spinning, but you lean into it, chasing the taste of her—cocoa and that sharp edge that’s all Yujin.

“This is for your own good, you know.” Another kiss, quick and firm, then she pulls back to look at you, her hand still holding your face like you’re something precious she’s molding. “I’m the only one who gets you. The only one who knows how to deal with you—how to take care of you.” Her voice is soft now, almost hypnotic, weaving around the sound of the rain. “No one else understands you like I do. You need me.”

You nod, dazed, because she’s right—you do need her. You’ve been a wreck without her, and now she’s here, filling up every empty space like she never left. Her body’s pressed against you, warm and insistent, and you’re hyper-aware of every point of contact. Your hands slide up her thighs, slow and tentative, and you can feel the muscle under the denim, the way she shifts under your touch. She’s solid, grounding, and it’s driving you insane.

She feels it too—your dick’s already hard, straining against your sweatpants, and there’s no hiding it. Her hips shift, just a little, and she smirks again, that knowing look that always unravels you. “Look at you,” she says. “Already falling apart just from this. You’re so easy.”

You groan, low in your throat, embarrassed but also with desire. Your hands grip her tighter, pulling her closer, and she lets you, settling fully against you now. Her hand slides up, fingers brushing over your jaw, then tracing down the side of your face, slow and deliberate. “You’re such a mess without me,” she murmurs, almost to herself, and her eyes are dark, drinking you in. “My little boy. Mommy’s boy.”

The word makes you shiver—mommy. You used to call her that, half-joking but not really, because she’d always take care of you, always know exactly what you needed. Hearing it now, from her lips, in that low, commanding tone—it’s like a switch flips. Your whole body reacts, a jolt running through you, and she clocks it immediately, her smirk widening.

“Yeah,” she says, dragging the word out, her hand resting on your cheek now, thumb brushing your lips. “Mommy’s boy needs some affection, huh? Some care. Look at you—just sitting there, all needy and lost without me.” She shifts again, grinding down subtly, and you can’t hold back the sound that slips out, a quiet, desperate little noise that makes her chuckle.

“Please,” you mutter, barely audible, and you’re not even sure what you’re asking for—just her, all of her, whatever she’ll give you. Your hands are everywhere now, roaming up her thighs to her hips, fingers digging in like you’re afraid she’ll disappear again.

She leans in, kissing you again, slower this time, savoring it. Her lips move against yours like she’s memorizing you, tongue slipping past just enough to make your head spin before she pulls back. “I’ve got you,” she whispers, forehead resting against yours for a second, her breath mingling with yours. “Always have. No one else can do this—make you feel like this. You’re mine, and I’m not letting you forget it again.”

You nod, helpless under her, and she slides her hand down your chest, slow and teasing, resting it just above your waistband. She doesn’t move further, just lets it linger there, and it’s enough to make you twitch, your dick throbbing under her weight. “See?” she says, voice smug but soft. “No one else gets you like this. All wound up, practically begging just from me talking to you. You missed your mommy, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” you admit, voice rough, hands squeezing her thighs again, desperate for more but too wrecked to push for it. “Missed you so much. Just… need you.”

Her smile’s all victory now, dimples flashing as she kisses you again, quick and firm, then pulls back to look at you. “Good boy,” she murmurs, patting your cheek lightly, and it’s condescending as hell but it lights you up anyway. “Mommy’s here now. Gonna take care of you, give you everything you’ve been missing.” She rocks her hips again, just enough to drive you crazy, and her hand slides back up to your face, holding you there so you can’t look away. “You don’t need anyone else. Just me.”

And you believe her—because right now, with her on top of you, her voice in your ear, her touch burning through you, it’s all you want. All you’ve ever wanted.

You lean in and press your lips to her neck. It’s instinct—your mouth finds that spot just below her jaw, soft and warm, and you kiss it slow, dragging your lips against her skin. She tastes like rain and that sharp-sweet perfume, and it’s intoxicating, pulling you in deeper. Your hand starts moving, sliding down her side, fingers digging into the curve of her waist. She’s thicker now, softer in this way that makes your gut tighten, and you squeeze, feeling the give of her flesh under your grip.

She sighs, soft and airy, tilting her head back to give you more room, and it’s like she’s melting into you. “Fuck,” she mutters, voice low, her hands resting on your shoulders for balance. “You’re too good at that.” Her tank top’s tight, stretched over her chest, but it’s not enough—you need more of her. Your fingers tug at the hem, and she gets the hint, shifting back just enough to peel it off in one smooth motion. It lands somewhere on the floor, forgotten, and now she’s sitting there in just her bra, black and simple, hugging her curves like it’s doing you a favor.

Your eyes drop, and you can’t help it—you’re staring. She notices, smirking as she grabs your hand, guiding it to her tummy. Her skin’s warm, smooth under your palm, and she presses your fingers into it, letting you feel her. “Been a while, huh?” she murmurs, voice teasing but heavy with something else. “Missed this?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, your hand sliding up slow, tracing the dip of her stomach, the way it curves into her ribs. She moves your hand higher, deliberate, until it’s resting over her bra, cupping her breast. They’re medium, soft, spilling slightly over your palm as you squeeze, and she lets out this little sound—half sigh, half moan—that hits you right in the gut.

“Got a surprise for you,” she says, leaning in close, her lips brushing your ear. “Wanna see?” Her tone’s playful, but there’s a challenge in it, like she’s testing how far you’ll go.

You nod, throat tight. “Yeah. Show me.”

Her smile’s all teeth, wicked and bright, and she reaches back, fingers deft as she unhooks her bra. It’s slow, deliberate—she slides the straps down her shoulders one by one, letting the fabric fall away like she’s unwrapping something precious. When it drops, you freeze, swallowing hard. Her breasts spill free, and there they are—nipple piercings. Small silver bars glinting under the dim light, cutting through the soft pink of her nipples. Your breath catches, and your dick twitches in your sweats, already straining against the fabric.

“Like ‘em?” she asks, voice husky, watching your face like she’s feeding off your reaction.

“Fuck yeah,” you say, raw and honest, eyes locked on her. “They’re perfect.” They’re bold, unexpected, and so her—a little wild, a little dangerous, and you’re losing your mind over it.

She leans back slightly, letting you take it all in, and her voice drops lower. “They’re sensitive as hell now. Took a while to get used to, but… worth it.” She’s smirking again, daring you, and your hand’s already moving, brushing over one breast, thumb grazing the piercing. The metal’s cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of her, and she gasps, sharp and sudden, her body arching into your touch.

“Shit,” she mutters, biting her lip, and you can see it—how sensitive they really are. Her nipple hardens under your fingers, and you roll the bar gently, testing it. She sighs again, louder this time, her hands gripping your shoulders tighter. “You’re gonna kill me with that,” she says, but she’s grinning, eyes half-closed, loving every second.

You hesitate, hand still on her, and glance up. “Can I… suck them?” It’s polite, almost awkward, because you’re so wound up you can barely think straight, but you need to ask.

She laughs, soft and real, tilting her head like she’s charmed by it. “God, you’re cute. Yeah, of course you can. Go for it.” She shifts closer, practically offering herself up, and you don’t waste time.

You lean in, lips brushing her skin first, just below her breast, tasting the faint salt of her. Then you move higher, closing your mouth over her nipple, the piercing cool and hard against your tongue. You suck, slow and careful at first, feeling the way she reacts—her body tensing, a quiet moan slipping out. The metal rolls in your mouth, smooth and strange, and you flick your tongue over it, testing. She groans, low and ragged, her fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer.

“Fuck, that’s good,” she breathes, voice rougher now, her hips shifting in your lap. You can feel her pressing against you, the heat of her through her jeans, and your dick’s throbbing, trapped under her weight. Your hand’s still squeezing her other breast, thumb teasing the piercing there, and she’s squirming, every sound she makes driving you further into this haze.

You pull back for a second, just to look—her nipple’s wet from your mouth, the piercing glinting, and she’s flushed, chest heaving. “So sensitive,” you mutter, almost to yourself, and she nods, biting her lip again.

“Told you,” she says, breathless, her hand sliding down your chest now, teasing the edge of your hoodie. “Keep going. Don’t stop.” It’s not a request—it’s a order, and you’re too far gone to do anything but obey.

You dive back in, sucking harder this time, letting your teeth graze the bar just enough to make her hiss. Your hand’s roaming now, sliding down her side, squeezing her thicker hips, her ass, anything you can reach. She’s solid and soft all at once, and it’s messing with you, how much you’ve missed this—missed her. Every sigh, every little twitch of her body, it’s like she’s pulling you apart piece by piece, and you’re letting her.

“Fuck, babe,” she breathes, voice ragged, her fingers tangled tight in your hair. “You’re so good at that—shit, don’t stop.” The pet name hits you like a spark, lighting you up, and you groan against her skin, pressing your face closer, hungry for more of her. She’s warm, soft, the faint taste of her skin driving you wild, and you flick your tongue over the piercing again, slow and deliberate, just to hear her gasp.

“Yeah, like that,” she murmurs, her head tipping back, eyes half-shut. “God, you’re such a sweet boy, huh? My sweet little babe, driving me crazy.” Her words drip with that mix of affection and control she’s always had over you. You switch to her other breast, mouth closing over it, sucking hard, and she moans, louder this time, her hips rocking against you. “You’re starving for me, aren’t you?” she says, smirking through it, her voice all husky and teasing. “Can feel how much you want this.”

You pull back just long enough to mutter, “Fuck yeah, I am,” voice rough, desperate, before diving back in. Your tongue circles her nipple, teasing the piercing, and she’s squirming now, thighs tightening around your hips. Your hands are everywhere—gripping her waist, sliding up her back, squeezing her breasts—because you can’t get enough. She’s thicker, curvier than you remember, and it’s got you ravenous, every touch feeding this ache that’s been building since she walked through the door.

“Missed my body this much, huh, honey?” she asks, leaning down so her lips brush your ear, her breath hot and uneven. “Can’t keep your hands off me.” She shifts, grinding down harder, and you groan into her skin, your dick twitching painfully in your sweats. You’re so hard it’s borderline unbearable, trapped under her weight, and she knows it—fuck, she loves it.

“Yeah,” you rasp, pulling back to catch her eye, your mouth wet from her skin. “Missed you. Missed this. You’re fucking unreal.” Your hand slides down, cupping her ass through her jeans, and you squeeze, pulling her closer. She sighs, pleased, and runs her fingers through your hair, tugging just enough to make you look up at her.

“Look at you, my needy little babe,” she says, grinning, those dimples flashing as she watches you unravel. “All worked up just from sucking on me. You’re too cute.” She leans in, kissing you messy and deep, her tongue sliding against yours, and you’re drowning in it—her taste, her heat, the way she’s owning you without even trying.

You’re panting when she pulls back, and she’s flushed now, chest heaving, her pierced nipples glistening from your mouth. “Shit,” you mutter, staring, and she laughs, soft and smug, like she’s got you exactly where she wants you. Your hands are still on her, roaming, and your dick’s screaming for relief, pressed tight against her. She feels it—has to—and her smirk turns wicked.

“Poor thing,” she coos, shifting back just enough to slide off your lap, slow and deliberate. “You’re rock-hard, aren’t you? Been dying for me this whole time.” She stands in front of you, close enough that her knees brush yours, and you’re staring up at her, chest tight, hands flexing on the couch cushions because you don’t trust yourself to touch her without losing it.

“Yeah,” you admit, voice hoarse, eyes locked on her. “Can’t help it. You’re… fuck, Yujin, you’re killing me.”

“Good,” she says, and there’s that edge again—possessive, commanding. She reaches down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your sweats, and your breath catches as she tugs, slow and teasing. “Let’s see how bad you’ve got it. Lift up for me, babe.” You do, no hesitation, raising your hips so she can pull them down, taking your underwear with them in one smooth motion. They hit the floor, and you’re bare under her gaze, dick hard and aching, precum already beading at the tip.

She steps back, just a little, eyes raking over you, and her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “Damn,” she mutters, almost to herself, then looks back up at you with a grin. “Look at you, all ready for me. My sweet boy’s been holding out, huh?” Her voice is dripping with mock sympathy, but you hear the hunger in it, and it makes your head spin.

“Only for you,” you say, raw and honest, and her smile softens, just for a second, before that wicked edge creeps back in. She drops to her knees in front of you, slow and deliberate, and your stomach flips as she settles between your legs, hands resting on your thighs.

“Gonna take care of you,” she murmurs, leaning in, her breath ghosting over your skin. “My needy little babe deserves it.” And you’re gone, completely, because she’s got you—every inch, every thought, every desperate fucking heartbeat.

The rain’s still drumming outside, but it’s nothing compared to the pulse pounding in your ears. She leans in closer, her breath hot against your skin, and you tense, every muscle coiled tight, waiting for her to make her move.

“Fuck, babe, look at you,” she says, her eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second before dropping back down to your cock. “This thing’s as big as I remember. Thick too—goddamn perfect.” She licks her lips, slow and deliberate, and you feel it like a jolt, your hips twitching involuntarily. She notices, and her smirk widens. “Missed me that bad, huh?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, voice scraped raw, hands gripping the couch cushions because if you don’t hold onto something, you’re gonna grab her and fuck her mouth yourself. “Missed your mouth on me. Been too fucking long.”

She hums, pleased, and her fingers finally wrap around you—loose at first, just sliding up the length of your shaft, her thumb brushing the tip where you’re already leaking. “Missed this too,” she says, almost to herself, her grip tightening as she gives you a slow, teasing stroke. “Love how you feel in my hand. So heavy. Bet you’ve been dying for me to suck you off.”

“Fuck yeah,” you groan, head tipping back against the couch for a second before you force it forward again—you’re not missing a damn thing. “Please, Yujin. Need it.”

She chuckles, low and dirty, and leans in, her lips brushing the head of your cock, just enough to smear the precum across them. “So polite when you’re desperate,” she teases, then sticks her tongue out, flattening it against the tip, licking slow and filthy. Your whole body jerks, a curse slipping out under your breath, and she grins like she’s won something. “Tastes good,” she murmurs, then drags her tongue down the side, tracing a vein, taking her sweet time.

You’re shaking now, barely holding it together, and she knows it—loves it. “Shit, Yujin, stop fucking around,” you grit out, voice tight, hips shifting toward her mouth. “Suck it already.”

“Bossy,” she mutters, but she’s still smiling, those dimples flashing as she opens her mouth and finally—finally—takes you in. Her lips wrap around the head, tight and wet, and she slides down slow, sucking just enough to make your head spin. You groan loud, guttural, your hands flexing on the couch because you want to grab her hair, shove her down further, but you let her set the pace.

“Fuck,” you hiss, watching her—her cheeks hollow out as she pulls back, spit pooling at the corners of her mouth, then she sinks down again, deeper this time, taking half of you. Her tongue’s working the whole time, swirling around the tip when she pulls up, pressing flat against you when she goes down. She’s so fucking good at this—always has been—and you’ve missed it like hell, the way she makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters.

“Mmm,” she hums against you, the vibration shooting straight up your spine, and your dick twitches in her mouth. She feels it, pulls off just enough to talk, her hand stroking you slow and slick. “God, I love this cock,” she says, voice raw, eyes locked on yours as she drags her tongue up the underside, sloppy and shameless. “So fucking big, fills my mouth just right.” She dives back in, sucking harder now, her head bobbing slow and steady, and you’re unraveling, piece by piece.

“Shit, babe,” you groan, head tipping back again, but you can’t take your eyes off her for long—watching her lips stretch around you, her tongue flicking every time she pulls up. “You’re so fucking good—missed this so much.” Your hips buck a little, chasing her mouth, and she moans around you, the sound filthy and perfect.

She pulls off with a wet pop, spit trailing from her mouth to your cock, and she grins, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. “Yeah? Missed me sucking you off? Bet no one else comes close, huh?” Her hand keeps moving, jerking you slow and tight, and you shake your head, breathless.

“No one,” you pant, “not even fucking close. You’re… fuck, you’re everything.”

Her eyes light up at that, all smug and satisfied, and she leans down again, kissing the tip like it’s a tease before taking you back in. This time she goes deeper, throat relaxing as she slides down, down, until her nose is damn near brushing your pelvis. You curse loud, hips jerking up, and she takes it—lets you hit the back of her throat, gagging just a little before pulling back, eyes watering but still grinning.

“Goddamn, Yujin,” you rasp, hands finally giving in, sliding into her hair, not pushing, just holding. “You’re gonna kill me.”

She pulls off again, gasping a little, spit dripping down her chin, and her hand’s still working you, slick and fast now. “Good,” she says, voice wrecked, “then you’ll die happy, babe.” She dives back in, sucking hard and sloppy, her tongue all over you, and you’re barely holding it together, and she knows it, feeding off the way you’re falling apart under her touch. Then she shifts, slow and deliberate, sliding her mouth lower, and your brain short-circuits when you realize where she’s going.

“Fuck, Yujin—” you start, but it cuts off into a groan as her lips brush your balls, heavy and tight, aching from how worked up she’s got you. She doesn’t hesitate—just dives in, sucking one into her mouth, warm and wet, her tongue rolling over it like she’s savoring every second. Her hand’s still wrapped around your cock, stroking you steady and firm, and the combo’s fucking lethal. Your hips jerk up, involuntary, and you feel her moan against you, the vibration hitting you like a shockwave.

“Goddamn, babe,” she murmurs, pulling back just enough to talk, her voice muffled against your skin. “These are so full—been saving up for me, huh?” She switches to the other one, sucking harder now, her tongue flicking and teasing, and you’re losing it, hands gripping the couch cushions so tight your knuckles are white.

“Mommy,” you groan, the word slipping out before you can stop it, raw and desperate, and she freezes for a split second, like it’s flipped a switch in her. Then she pulls off your balls with a wet pop, eyes snapping up to yours, dark and hungry.

“Fuck, say that again,” she demands, her hand pumping your cock faster now, slick with spit and precum. “Call me that again, babe.”

“Mommy,” you mutter, voice wrecked, and she moans, low and filthy, like it’s the hottest thing she’s ever heard. She leans back in, sucking your balls again, her tongue working them over with this skillful precision that’s got you shaking. She’s relentless—alternating between them, pulling one into her mouth, then the other, her lips stretching around you, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucks. All the while, her hand’s jerking you off, tight and steady, and you’re a mess of moans and curses, barely able to think straight.

“Shit—fuck, mommy, you’re so good,” you pant, head tipping back, your whole body tensing as she works you over. Her free hand slides up your thigh, squeezing, nails digging in just enough to sting, and it’s like she’s claiming every inch of you—mouth on your balls, hand on your cock, owning you completely.

She pulls back again, letting your balls slip out of her mouth, wet and messy, a string of spit connecting her lips to you before it snaps. She wipes her chin with the back of her hand, grinning like a goddamn demon. “Taste so fucking good,” she says, voice rough, her eyes locked on yours as she gives your cock a slow, teasing stroke. “Been dreaming about this—getting my mouth on you again. You’re a fucking wreck for me, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you gasp, chest heaving, dick twitching in her grip. “Can’t—fuck, can’t get enough of you.” Your hands slide into her hair now, shaky and desperate, but you don’t push—she’s in control, and you both know it.

She hums, satisfied, and gives your balls one last lick—long and slow, dragging her tongue up from the base to the tip of your cock like she’s savoring you. You shudder, a loud “shit” slipping out, and she chuckles, dark and smug, before climbing to her feet. You’re panting, flushed and sweaty, dick glistening from her spit, and she’s standing there like she’s just getting started.

“C’mon,” she says, voice low and commanding, holding out her hand. “Bedroom. Now. We’re done messing around on this couch—I wanna really fuck you up.” Her eyes flick over you, taking in how wrecked you already are, and her smirk turns sharp, dangerous. “Gonna have some real fun with you, babe.”

You’re on your feet before you even realize it, grabbing her hand, letting her pull you up. Your legs feel like jelly, dick still painfully hard, swinging free as you stumble after her. “Fuck, Yujin,” you mutter, half-dazed, watching her hips sway as she leads you down the hall, jeans hugging her ass just right. “You’re really killing me.”

“Good,” she throws back over her shoulder, not even turning around. “That’s the plan. You’re mine tonight—gonna make sure you don’t forget it.” She pushes open the bedroom door and tugs you inside, kicking the door shut behind you, and turns to face you, eyes glinting with something wild.

“Get on the bed,” she says, and it’s not a request—it’s a order. Your heart’s pounding, dick throbbing, and you’re so hungry for her you can taste it, feel it in every shaky breath. You’re fucked, completely, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, still buzzing from her mouth on you, when Yujin steps back, hands on her hips, eyes locked on yours like she’s about to put on a damn show. The room’s dim, just the faint glow from the streetlights slipping through the blinds, but it’s enough to watch her every move. She kicks off her boots first, casual and quick, then her hands go to the button of her jeans. You’re mesmerized, can’t look away as she pops it open, sliding the zipper down slow—teasing, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath as she peels the jeans off, inch by inch, the denim hugging her hips before dropping down her legs. She steps out of them, kicking them aside, and there she is—just in her panties, black and simple but barely holding back what’s underneath. Her thighs catch your eye first—thick, juicy, the kind of curves you want to sink your teeth into. They flex slightly as she shifts her weight, and your dick twitches, already rock-hard from the sight alone.

She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, smirking when she catches you staring. “You like?” she asks, voice low and cocky, dragging them down slow, letting the fabric roll over her hips, then her thighs, until they hit the floor. And fuck—there’s her pussy, glistening in the low light, already wet like she’s been thinking about this as much as you have. She’s got this neat little patch of hair, lightly trimmed, a perfect pattern that draws your eye right to her, and you’re practically drooling.

She steps closer, slow and deliberate, hips swaying just enough to fuck with your head. You’re still sitting there, hands twitching, when she stops right in front of you, close enough that you can feel the heat rolling off her. Your hands move on instinct, sliding up to her waist, gripping her soft skin, and you pull her in, pressing your lips to her tummy. It’s warm, smooth, and you kiss it slow, dragging your mouth over her, tasting her faintly—salt and that addictive edge that’s all her.

“Mm, good boy,” she murmurs, voice dripping with that dom energy she wears like a second skin. Her hand slides into your hair, stroking it, fingers curling just enough to tug lightly. “You’re already so fucking gone for me, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you breathe against her skin, voice rough, trailing more kisses down her stomach, slow and hungry. You’re standing now, can’t stay still anymore, your hands roaming up her sides as your lips move lower, chasing that scent—that fucking pull—drawing you in like a drug. You pause just above her pussy, nose brushing the trimmed hair, and inhale deep. It’s musky, sweet, so goddamn addictive you feel lightheaded. “Fuck, I missed this,” you groan, almost to yourself, your mouth watering. “Missed you.”

She laughs, low and smug, her hand tightening in your hair. “Yeah? Then stop teasing and eat my pussy, babe. Show me how much you missed it.” It’s a command, sharp and final, and it’s all you need to hear.

You drop to your knees, hands sliding down to grip her thighs—thick and solid under your palms—and pull her closer. She spreads her legs a little, giving you room, and you dive in, no hesitation. Your tongue drags up her slit first, slow and deliberate, tasting her—wet and slick, already dripping for you. She’s tangy, hot, and you groan against her, the sound vibrating through her as you flick your tongue over her clit.

“Fuck, that’s it,” she hisses, her hand shoving your face tighter against her. “Right there—don’t you dare stop.” Her hips roll forward, grinding against your mouth, and you’re all in now, licking and sucking like you’re starving. You swirl your tongue around her clit, teasing it, then suck it hard, letting your teeth graze just enough to make her gasp. Her thighs tremble under your hands, and you squeeze them, pulling her closer, burying yourself in her.

“Goddamn, you’re so fucking good at this,” she pants, voice breaking a little, her dom edge slipping as she starts to unravel. “Missed that mouth—shit, babe, keep going.” Her hips buck harder, and you’re drowning in her—her taste, her heat, the way she’s soaking your chin. You slide a hand up, fingers brushing her entrance, but you don’t push in yet—just tease, letting her feel it.

She moans loud, shameless, her grip in your hair turning rough. “Fuck, don’t play with me—eat me like you mean it.” You do—tongue plunging deeper, licking up every drop, sucking her clit until she’s shaking. Her pussy’s pulsing, slick and swollen, and you’re obsessed—drinking her in, feeling her thighs clamp around your head. “Yeah, just like that—my good fucking boy,” she growls, and it hits you right in the chest, fueling this desperate need to please her.

You pull back for a second, gasping for air, lips and chin dripping. “You taste so fucking good,” you mutter, raw and wrecked, diving back in before she can even respond. You’re licking harder now, sloppier, tongue everywhere—her clit, her lips, dipping inside just to feel her clench. She’s cursing, moaning, starting to ride your face, and you let her, hands gripping her ass now, guiding her as she bucks against you.

Your tongue’s working overtime, lapping up every bit of her, and she’s so fucking wet it’s obscene—her juices coating your lips, your chin, sliding down your neck. You groan into her, the sound muffled against her skin, and it’s like you’re drunk on her, hunger spiking with every taste.

“Fuck, babe, you’re killing me,” she mutters, voice rough and shaky, but she’s not pulling away—she’s leaning into it, giving you more. She shifts, lifting one leg and planting her foot on the bed, spreading herself wide open. Her pussy’s glistening, creamy now, this thick, delicious slick starting to leak out, and it’s driving you wild. You can see it—white and sticky, clinging to her folds—and you dive in deeper, tongue plunging inside her, chasing it like it’s your fucking lifeline.

“Shit—oh my god,” she gasps, her hand tightening in your hair, shoving your face harder against her. “Yeah, just like that—get in there, fuck.” Her hips roll, grinding against your mouth, and you’re surrounded by her—her heat, her scent, that addictive cream coating your tongue as you dig it in, scooping it out. It’s filthy, messy, and you’re loving every second, sucking hard, letting it smear across your lips as you tongue-fuck her with everything you’ve got.

She’s melting, you can feel it—her thighs trembling, her breath hitching in these sharp little bursts. “You’re so fucking hungry for me,” she moans, half-laughing, half-wrecked, her leg wobbling on the bed as she opens up even more. “Can’t get enough of my pussy, huh? Look at you, drowning in it.” You groan again, louder, pressing your face so deep into her you can barely breathe, licking up that creamy slick like it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted—because it is.

You squeeze her ass harder, pulling her closer, fingers sinking into her thick flesh as you keep going, relentless. Her pussy’s pulsing around your tongue, soaking you, and you’re a fucking mess—face shiny, lips swollen, chin drenched. You slide your tongue out, dragging it up to her clit, sucking it hard, then dipping back down to thrust inside her again, catching more of that cream. It’s coating your mouth now, sticky and sweet, and you’re growling against her, primal, desperate, completely lost in her.

“Fuck, don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop,” she pants, voice breaking, her hips bucking harder, practically riding your face. “You’re gonna make me—shit—” She cuts off, moaning loud, her whole body tensing, and you double down, tongue plunging deep, sucking her inner walls, nose grinding against her clit. Her pussy’s so creamy now it’s spilling out, dripping down your chin, and you’re licking it up, swallowing it, starving for every drop.

She’s shaking hard, leg slipping a little on the bed, but you hold her steady, keeping her open as you push her over the edge. “C’mon, mommy, cum for me,” you mumble into her, voice muffled, needy, and that’s it—she snaps. Her hips jerk, a loud, ragged “Fuck!” ripping out of her as she cums, hard and messy. Her pussy clenches around your tongue, flooding you with more of that thick cream, and you’re drinking it, lapping it up through her shakes, her gasps, her nails digging into your scalp. She’s trembling, falling apart, and you don’t stop—sucking, licking, letting her ride it out until she’s boneless, breathless.

You finally pull back, face drenched—her juices glistening on your mouth, your chin, even your nose. You’re a fucking sight, shiny and wrecked, and she looks down at you, chest heaving, eyes dark and satisfied. She grabs your face, rough but slow, and leans in, tongue darting out to lick across your lips, then your chin, tasting herself on you. It’s filthy, hot, and you just sit there, dazed, letting her do it.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” she murmurs, voice low and raw, dragging her tongue up one last time before kissing you hard, sloppy, her taste all over both of you. She pulls back, smirking, wiping her thumb across your wet mouth. “Such a good boy for me—look at you, all shiny and fucked out from eating my pussy. Did so good, babe.”

You grin, still catching your breath, hands still on her thighs, feeling the heat of her skin. “Anything for you,” you say, and her smirk softens just a little, that dom edge giving way to something softer, something proud. She ruffles your hair, still panting, and you’re sitting there, heart hammering, completely fucking gone for her.

She stands up, all curves and confidence, and nods toward the bed. “C’mon, babe,” she says, voice low and commanding, like she’s summoning you. “Get over here. Time to give you what you deserve.”

Your legs feel like rubber, but you’re up fast, stumbling after her like a fucking puppy, too wrecked to play it cool. She’s already climbing onto the bed, and you follow, heart pounding, dick still hard and aching from everything she’s already done to you. She turns, lying back against the pillows, then pats the spot beneath her, eyes glinting with that dom energy that’s got you hooked. “Lie down,” she orders, and you do—no hesitation, flat on your back, staring up at her like she’s a goddamn goddess.

She swings a leg over you, straddling your chest first, and fuck, the view—her thighs framing your face, her pussy still glistening, her pierced nipples catching the light. She slides down slow, deliberate, until she’s hovering over you, her weight pressing you into the mattress. “This is how it should be,” she says, voice dropping, dark and possessive. “You under me, obeying me, worshiping me like the good boy you are. That’s what you want, right?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, hands twitching at your sides, dying to touch her. “Fuck yeah, Yujin. Always.” Your voice is shaky, raw, and she smirks, loving how gone you are—how you’re hers without even trying.

“Go ahead then,” she murmurs, leaning down so her lips brush your ear, her hair tickling your face. “Touch me. Show me how much you’ve missed this.” Your hands move fast, sliding up her thighs, feeling the thick, warm muscle under your palms, then higher, over her hips, her waist, that soft tummy you kissed earlier. She’s solid and real, every inch of her screaming power, and you’re just… lost in it, fingers roaming like you’re trying to memorize her all over again.

She shifts, grabbing your cock with one hand—firm, no bullshit—and you groan, hips jerking up at the contact. “Easy,” she warns, smirking down at you as she lines you up, the tip brushing her pussy, wet and hot and so fucking close. “You’re gonna take what I give you, yeah? No rushing me.”

“Yes, mommy,” you mutter, half-dazed, and her eyes flash, that word lighting her up. She sinks down then, slow and deliberate, and you both sigh—her pussy’s tight, slick, swallowing you inch by inch like it’s meant to. You’re stretching her out, and she’s gripping you so good it’s like she’s pulling you apart. “Fuck,” you gasp, hands clutching her hips now, digging in, and she moans, low and sweet, settling all the way down until you’re buried deep.

“Goddamn, you’re big,” she mutters, almost to herself, adjusting her hips a little, and you feel her clench around you, hot and wet and perfect. “Missed this cock—missed you.” She leans forward, hands braced on your chest, and you still can’t believe it—your Yujin, back on top of you, fucking owning you like this. Her hair falls over her face, and you brush it back, needing to see her, those sharp eyes, that cocky little grin.

She starts moving then, slow at first, rolling her hips like she’s testing you, seeing how long you can last under her. “Look at you,” she says, voice dripping with control, “just lying there, taking it like a good boy. You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” She lifts up, then drops back down, harder this time, and you groan loud, hands sliding to her ass, squeezing, trying to pull her in deeper.

“Anything,” you pant, staring up at her, completely fucking surrendered. “You’ve got me—fuck, you’ve always had me.” She’s riding you now, steady and relentless, her pussy gripping you so tight it’s almost too much, cream leaking out, smearing your hips as she moves. Her thighs flex, muscles working, and you’re just holding on, letting her set the pace, letting her use you.

“That’s right,” she growls, leaning down closer, her voice rough against your ear. “You’re mine—my good little boy, letting me fuck you like this. No one else gets this, you hear me? Just me.” She speeds up, slamming down harder, and you’re a mess—moaning, hips bucking up to meet her, but she’s in charge, pinning you down with her weight, her hands digging into your shoulders.

“Fuck, Yujin—mommy, please,” you whimper, and she grins, wild and triumphant, loving how you’re breaking under her. She straightens up, sitting back, bouncing now, her breasts swaying with every thrust, those piercings glinting, and you’re just watching, worshiping, hands roaming her body—her thighs, her ass, her tummy—anywhere you can reach.

“Keep saying it,” she demands, voice sharp, hips grinding down, working your cock so deep you’re seeing stars. “Call me that again—tell me who you belong to.”

“Mommy,” you moan, hands gripping her ass tighter, feeling her clench around you, wet and filthy and so fucking good. “I belong to you—only you. Fuck, Yujin, I’m yours.”

“Damn right,” she snarls, and she’s moving faster now, slamming down onto you, the bed creaking, her pussy soaking you, dripping down your thighs. “Gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t think straight—‘til all you know is me.” She’s relentless, dominant, and you’re surrendering completely, lost in her rhythm, in her heat, in the way she’s taking you apart piece by piece. You’re hers, and she’s proving it, and all you can do is moan and hold on as she rides you into oblivion.

Yujin’s still riding you, hips slamming down with that steady, punishing rhythm that’s got your whole body buzzing, the bedframe creaking like it’s about to give out. She’s in total control, her pussy gripping you tight, wet and hot, cream dripping down your cock, pooling on your hips. You’re a fucking wreck beneath her—moaning, hands roaming her body, completely surrendered to the way she’s owning you. Then she shifts, leaning forward, her face hovering just above yours, close enough that you can feel her breath on your lips.

Her eyes lock onto yours, dark and commanding, and one hand slides up your chest to your throat. She wraps her fingers around your neck—not hard, but firm enough to make your pulse jump under her grip. “Open your mouth,” she orders, voice low and sharp, like she’s daring you to disobey. You don’t even think about it—your lips part fast, jaw slack, ready for whatever she’s got.

She smirks, pleased, and leans in closer, tilting her head just so. Then she lets it happen—spit pooling on her tongue before she lets it drip, slow and deliberate, right into your waiting mouth. It’s warm, slick, landing on your tongue, and you shudder, tasting her, feeling it slide down your throat as you swallow. It’s filthy, raw, and it’s got your dick throbbing even harder inside her. Before you can even process it, she crashes her lips onto yours, kissing you hard and messy—tongue diving in, mixing her spit with yours, her teeth grazing your lip like she’s claiming you all over again.

She doesn’t stop riding you—not for a second—hips rolling, grinding, keeping you pinned beneath her as her mouth moves against yours. You’re drowning in it—her taste, her heat, the way she’s squeezing your neck just enough to make your head spin. Your hands slide up her body, desperate for more, landing on her breasts. You squeeze, fingers sinking into the soft flesh, and she gasps into your mouth, a sharp, sweet moan breaking free. Those piercings make her so damn sensitive, and you can feel it—the way her body reacts, the hitch in her breath, the way her pussy clenches tighter around you.

“Fuck, babe,” she mutters against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you, her hand still on your throat, thumb brushing your jaw. “You’re so fucking good—playing with my tits like that.” She’s still moving, hips circling, riding you deep, and you squeeze again, harder this time, rolling your thumbs over her nipples, tugging lightly at the piercings. She moans again, louder, sweeter, her dom edge cracking just a little as the sensitivity hits her full force.

“Shit, that feels—mmph—so good,” she groans, head tipping back for a second, exposing her neck as she rides you, her hand loosening on your throat but still resting there, keeping you in check. You’re obsessed—hands kneading her breasts, feeling the weight of them, the way they bounce with every thrust she makes. Her nipples are hard against your palms, the piercings cool and firm, and you pinch them lightly, just to hear that sound again—that soft, desperate moan that slips out of her.

“You like that, huh?” you rasp, voice hoarse, watching her unravel a little, your hands working her over as she fucks you. “So sensitive, mommy—fuck, you’re so hot.”

“Don’t get cocky,” she snaps, but it’s breathy, half-lost in the pleasure, and she squeezes your neck again, leaning down to kiss you rough, shutting you up. Her tongue’s aggressive, licking into your mouth, tasting her own spit still lingering there, and you groan, meeting her halfway, kissing her back like you’re starving for it. All the while, she’s riding you hard, pussy soaking you, tight and slick, driving you insane—but you’re not cumming yet, not until she says so. She’s got you locked down, and you’re loving every fucking second of it.

You keep playing with her breasts, squeezing, teasing, rolling her nipples between your fingers, and she’s melting into it—moaning into your mouth, her hips stuttering just a little as the sensitivity catches her off guard again. “Fuck—babe, you’re gonna make me lose it,” she gasps, pulling back, her lips swollen, eyes dark and wild. “Keep touching me like that—don’t stop.”

“Never,” you mutter, hands roaming her chest, obsessed with how she feels—soft and heavy, the piercings adding this edge that’s got you hooked. She’s still in charge, still dominating you, but you can feel her slipping, her moans getting louder, her pussy fluttering around your cock with every move. You’re surrendered, completely—hands worshiping her, body pinned beneath her, just taking it, letting her ride you into the fucking ground.

Yujin’s riding you like she’s lost her damn mind, hips snapping down faster now, harder, like she’s chasing something she can’t quite reach. The bed’s groaning under the pressure, sheets tangled around your legs, and the room’s thick with the smell of sex—sweat, her, you. She’s a fucking vision above you, hair wild, skin flushed, those pierced nipples bouncing with every thrust. Her pussy’s soaked, gripping you tight, slick and creamy, and you’re so deep inside her it’s like she’s pulling you in, refusing to let go.

She leans forward, her breath hot against your face, and you catch the shift—her dom edge is cracking, slipping into something rawer, needier. “Fuck, babe,” she pants, voice shaky, her hand sliding from your neck to brace against your chest. “You feel so fucking good—don’t stop touching me.” Her thighs are trembling, muscles flexing as she grinds down, and you can feel her getting close, that desperate edge creeping in.

You don’t waste a second—your mouth latches onto her breast, lips closing around her nipple, the cool metal of her piercing pressing against your tongue. You suck hard, flicking it with the tip, and she gasps, loud and sharp, her whole body jerking against you. “Shit—yes, like that,” she moans, her voice breaking, hips stuttering as she rides you even faster. The sensitivity’s killing her, you can tell—those piercings amplifying every move, every graze of your teeth, and she’s losing it, moaning louder, more demanding, like she can’t get enough.

“Goddamn, you’re so fucking sensitive,” you mutter against her skin, switching to the other breast, sucking just as hard, your hand squeezing the one you left behind. She whimpers, sweet and needy, and it’s got you reeling—your dick throbs inside her, the heat and pressure building fast. Her pussy’s squeezing you so nice, wet and tight, and you’re right on the edge, barely holding it together.

“Fuck—I’m close,” she gasps, leaning down, her forehead pressing against yours, her eyes half-lidded and wild. “You’re close too, huh? I can feel it—your cock’s fucking pulsing.” She’s panting now, her breath hitching with every thrust, and you nod, words caught in your throat because yeah, you’re right there with her, teetering on the brink.

“Cum with me,” she says, voice dropping low, almost a growl, her hips slamming down mercilessly. “Want you to cum inside me—give me a creampie, babe. Fill me up.” And fuck, that’s hot—your ex never let you, always made you pull out, but Yujin? She’s begging for it, demanding it, and it’s driving you insane. “You want that?” she asks, smirking even as she’s falling apart. “Wanna pump me full?”

“Hell yeah,” you groan, hands gripping her hips now, pulling her down harder, your voice rough and desperate. “Fuck, Yujin, I’d give you anything—gonna fill you up so good.” She moans at that, loud and needy, her pussy clamping down on you like a vice, and you know it’s coming—both of you, barreling toward it together.

She’s relentless now, riding you fast, wild, her hips rolling and grinding like she’s trying to milk you dry. “Come on, babe—cum for mommy,” she pants, voice strained, her nails digging into your chest. “Give it to me—now.” Her pussy’s squeezing you so tight it’s almost painful, wet and hot and pulsing, and you can’t hold back anymore—your whole body locks up, a hoarse “Fuck!” ripping out of you as you cum, hard and deep inside her.

The second she feels it—your hot, thick cum spilling into her—she’s done for. “Shit—yes!” she cries, her voice breaking into this gorgeous, desperate moan as she cums too, her pussy clenching around you, sucking you in deeper. You can feel it—the way your load pumps into her, the way her walls flutter around you, taking it all, and it’s fucking beautiful. She keeps riding you, shaking, her hips jerking as the orgasm rips through her, and you’re gasping, overwhelmed, watching her fall apart on top of you.

“Fuck, Yujin,” you mutter, voice wrecked, hands sliding up to her waist as she slows, still rocking against you, milking every last drop. Her pussy’s dripping now, a mix of her cream and your cum leaking out, smearing across your hips, and she’s trembling, chest heaving, those sweet little moans spilling from her lips as she rides out the aftershocks.

She collapses onto you, heavy and warm, her body pressing you into the mattress, her head resting on your shoulder. You’re both panting, sweaty, and you can feel her heartbeat against your chest, fast and wild like yours. Your hands roam her back, tracing the curve of her spine, and you’re still inside her, still hard, her pussy pulsing faintly around you. For a minute, it’s just that—the quiet, the closeness, the rain tapping the window—and then you open your mouth, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

“I love you,” you say, soft and raw. It’s not planned, just spills out, and you feel it—how much you mean it, how much she’s got you twisted up inside.

She lifts her head, slow, looking at you with those dark, sharp eyes, and for a second you think maybe you fucked up, said too much. But then she smiles—those dimples popping, soft and real—and it’s like a weight lifts off you. “I love you too,” she says, voice quiet but steady, leaning down to kiss you, slow and deep, her lips lingering against yours. “You’re mine, you know that? All fucking mine.”

It’s intense—romantic and possessive all at once, and it hits you hard, makes your chest tighten. “Yeah,” you mutter, hands tightening on her hips, pulling her closer even though she’s already plastered against you. “Yours. Always have been.” And it’s true—she’s got you wrapped around her finger, always did, and the idea that a girl like her, this fucking goddess, wants you? It’s insane, a damn miracle, and drives you up the wall.

Then she shifts, slow and deliberate, lifting herself off you with a wet, filthy sound as your cock slips free, still hard, glistening with her cum and yours. She glances down at it, smirking like she’s proud of the mess she’s made, then slides off the bed, standing tall and beckoning you with a lazy flick of her hand.

“C’mon, babe,” she says, voice hoarse but dripping with that dom edge, her dimples flashing as she grins. “Get up. We’re not done—got something else for you.” Her thighs flex as she moves, slick and shiny from the orgasm, and you’re already stumbling out of bed after her, legs shaky but too fucking hooked to care.

She turns, facing you, and steps close—real close—her chest brushing yours, her breath hot on your neck. Then she shifts, spinning around so her back’s to you, ass pressing against your hips, and fuck, the view—those long, juicy thighs, thick and glistening, still wet from everything you just did. She looks over her shoulder, smirking, and reaches back, grabbing your cock with one hand, guiding it right between her legs. “Stand still,” she murmurs, voice low and teasing, as she closes her thighs around you, trapping you there.

“Shit,” you groan, hands flying to her hips on instinct, feeling the soft, warm flesh squeeze your dick tight. Her thighs are soaked—your cum, hers, all mixed together, slick and messy—and it’s fucking perfect. She starts moving, slow and sensual, sliding her thighs back and forth, and it’s like nothing else—soft, juicy, gripping you just right. “Yujin—fuck, that feels so good,” you mutter, voice rough, already half-lost in it.

“Yeah?” she says, glancing back, her voice dripping with dirty satisfaction. “You like this, huh? My thighs fucking you—look at you, babe, already a mess again.” She tightens them, squeezing harder, and you hiss, hips twitching as the pressure hits just right. Her thighs are long, wrapping you up completely, and the way they slide, slow and deliberate, wet and warm, it’s got your head spinning.

“Goddamn, you’re unreal,” you pant, hands sliding down to grip her hips tighter, feeling the muscle flex under your fingers as she works you over. “Missed these thighs—fuck, they’re so soft, so juicy.” You’re babbling now, too caught up to care, and she laughs, low and smug, loving how you’re falling apart.

“Thought you’d like it,” she says, voice husky, picking up the pace just a little, her thighs gliding over your cock, slick and tight. “Gonna keep you right here, babe—nice and cozy between mommy’s legs. You love that, don’t you? Trapped like my good little boy.” Her words are filthy, possessive, and it’s lighting you up, every syllable sinking into you, making you harder, needier.

“Fuck yeah,” you groan, leaning into her, your chest pressing against her back, hands roaming her sides, her ass, anywhere you can reach. “Love it—love you, Yujin. You’re fucking killing me.” Your dick’s throbbing, slick with her juices, and the way she’s got you locked between her thighs, it’s slow torture—sensual as hell, every slide dragging you closer to the edge but not quite there.

She tilts her head back, resting it against your shoulder, and you can feel her smirk, feel the heat of her skin against yours. “Poor thing,” she teases, voice all mock sympathy as she squeezes her thighs again, making you curse under your breath. “Can’t get enough of me, can you? Bet you’d stay like this all night if I let you—fucking my thighs ‘til you’re begging.”

“Please,” you mutter, half-joking, half-desperate, your hands digging into her hips, pulling her back so your cock slides deeper between her legs. “I’d fucking beg for it—you know I would.” She’s got you so wound up, the softness of her thighs, the wetness still clinging to them, it’s unreal, and you’re losing yourself in it, in her.

“Dirty boy,” she murmurs, voice low and pleased, her thighs tightening again as she moves, slow and deliberate, dragging it out. “Look at us—both dripping, all messy from earlier, and you’re still so fucking hard for me. You’re obsessed, babe—fucking obsessed with your mommy.” She rolls her hips just a little, enough to make her thighs shift, and you moan, loud and shameless, because yeah, she’s right—you are.

“Fuck, Yujin—can’t help it,” you say, voice wrecked, leaning forward to kiss her neck, tasting the salt of her sweat. “You’re so hot—so fucking perfect. These thighs—shit, I’d die right here.” Your hands slide up, cupping her ass, squeezing, and she sighs, soft and sweet, like she’s enjoying it just as much.

“Mm, keep talking,” she says, voice dipping lower, her thighs sliding faster now, still tight, still wet, the friction building slow and steady. “Tell me how much you love it—how much you love me.” She’s demanding, controlling, and you’re giving in, every word spilling out raw and unfiltered.

“Love you so fucking much,” you pant, hands roaming her body, fingers sinking into her flesh as she works you over. “Love these thighs—love how they feel, how they’re squeezing me. Love your pussy, your ass, every fucking inch of you. You’re a goddess, Yujin—my goddess. Can’t believe you’re mine.” Your lips brush her shoulder, her neck, needy little kisses as your cock throbs between her legs.

She moans, soft and low, her thighs trembling slightly as she keeps going, the sound of her skin against yours wet and filthy. “Fuck, babe—that’s it,” she says, voice breaking a little, her dom edge softening into something needy. “Keep telling me—keep worshiping me. You’re so good at it—my perfect boy.” She tightens her thighs again, slowing down just to tease, and you whimper, hips jerking, desperate for more.

“Shit, you’re amazing,” you mutter, voice hoarse, hands sliding up to her waist, pulling her back against you as she moves. “So fucking sexy—so strong. Missed this—missed you. You’ve got me so fucked up, Yujin—can’t think about anything else.” Your dick’s sliding between her thighs, slow and sensual, and it’s driving you insane, the softness, the warmth, the way she’s got you locked in.

“Good,” she growls, picking up the pace a little, her thighs flexing as she squeezes you tighter. “That’s how it should be—you thinking about me, needing me. No one else gets this—gets you—like I do. You’re mine, babe—fucking mine.”

“Yeah—yours,” you gasp, hands gripping her harder, feeling the tension building, your cock throbbing with every slide. “Always yours—fuck, Yujin, I’d do anything for you.” She’s got you so close, the slow drag of her thighs, the wetness still clinging to her skin, it’s all too much, but you don’t want it to end—you want to stay here, wrapped up in her, forever.

She turns her head slightly, lips brushing your jaw, her breath hot and uneven. “You’re so fucking cute when you’re wrecked like this,” she murmurs, voice soft but still commanding. “All needy and hard for me—bet you’d cum right now if I told you to, huh?”

“Fuck, yeah,” you groan, hips twitching, your dick pulsing between her thighs as she keeps that tight, sensual grip. “Just say it—please, mommy, tell me.” You’re begging now, shameless, and she laughs, low and dirty, loving how you’re breaking under her.

“Not yet,” she says, voice firm, slowing her movements just enough to keep you on the edge. “Gonna make you wait—gonna make you earn it. You’re gonna cum when I say, and not a fucking second before.” Her thighs squeeze again, and you moan, loud and ragged, your hands sliding up to her back, clutching her like she’s the only thing keeping you upright.

“Shit—please, Yujin,” you mutter, voice cracking, your whole body trembling as she keeps you there, teetering. “You’re so fucking good—so perfect. Love you—fuck, I love you so much.” It’s spilling out, raw and desperate, and she hums, pleased, her thighs sliding slow and deliberate, keeping you locked in that sweet, torturous rhythm.

“Love you too, babe,” she whispers, turning her head to kiss you, slow and deep, her tongue teasing yours as she keeps fucking you with her thighs. “My good boy—my perfect little toy. Gonna take care of you—gonna give you everything.”

Yujin’s got you pinned in this tight, sensual cocoon of her thighs, and it’s like she’s crafted this moment just to drive you fucking insane. Your dick’s rubbing right up against her pussy now—not inside, just grazing her lips, teasing her clit with every pass—and she’s moaning, soft and low, this needy little sound that’s got your head spinning. The wetness of her, the heat, it’s all mixing with your cum from before, dripping down between her thighs, making everything so goddamn slippery and filthy. You’re a mess, hands shaking, and they fly up to her breasts on instinct, fingers sinking into that soft, sensitive flesh.

“Fuck, babe,” she groans, her voice rough and thick with pleasure as you squeeze her tits, thumbs brushing over those pierced nipples that make her whole body jolt. “Yeah—keep doing that, keep touching me.” Her thighs tighten even more, squeezing your cock harder, and you can feel her pussy lips parting slightly, your shaft sliding right along her slit, catching every bit of her slickness. She’s dripping again—her arousal mixing with the cum leaking out of you—and it’s driving you wild, the way she’s grinding against you, her moans syncing up with every slow, sensual drag.

Your hands knead her breasts, rougher now, pinching those sensitive nipples just to hear her gasp, and she’s losing it—her dom edge softening into something raw and desperate. “Shit—your cock feels so good,” she mutters, head tilting back against your shoulder, her hair sticking to your sweaty skin. “Rubbing me just right—fuck, I could cum like this.” She speeds up, thighs working you faster, wet and messy, and you’re groaning, hips bucking up to meet her, your dick throbbing so hard it’s almost painful. The friction’s intense, her pussy lips slick and hot, sliding over you, and you’re leaking a lot now—precum oozing out, dripping down her thighs, mixing with everything else. She glances down, sees it, and moans louder, voice breaking into this dirty little laugh.

“Goddamn, babe—look at that,” she says, panting, her thighs squeezing tighter as she watches your cum run down her legs. “Leaking all over me—fucking love that. You’re such a mess for me, huh?” She’s reveling in it, the way you’re losing control, the way she’s got you spilling without even cumming yet, and it’s pushing her harder, her movements getting sloppier, more frantic. “Gonna milk you dry like this—fuck, you’re so hard still.” Her words are raw, filthy, and it’s got you reeling, hands gripping her tits, thumbs rolling over her piercings again just to hear that sweet, needy moan spill out of her.

“Fuck, Yujin—don’t stop,” as your hips jerk, chasing the rhythm she’s setting. She’s moaning too, her pussy quivering against your cock, and you can feel it—she’s close, teetering on the edge just from this teasing, grinding tightjob. But then she shifts, pulling away just when you think she’s about to lose it, and you groan, half in protest, half in desperation. She turns her head, smirking down at you, her eyes dark and wild. “Not yet,” she says, voice hoarse but firm. “We’re switching it up.”

Before you can even process it, she’s sliding off you, your cock slick and shiny from her thighs, still leaking, still aching. She grabs your arm, tugging you gently but with that no-bullshit strength, and you follow, stumbling to the edge of the bed. You sit there, legs spread, chest heaving, and she steps right up between them, turning so her back’s to you again. “Stay right there,” she murmurs, glancing over her shoulder with that cocky little grin, dimples flashing, and you’re nodding, too wrecked to argue.

She grabs your cock, firm and sure, giving it a slow stroke that makes you hiss, your hands flying to her hips. Then she lines you up, her pussy hovering just above you—wet, creamy, glistening—and sinks down, slow and deliberate, taking you in inch by fucking inch. You both sigh, loud and shaky, as she settles onto your lap, her ass pressed tight against your hips, your cock buried deep inside her. “Fuck,” you groan, head tipping back, hands gripping her waist like you’re afraid she’ll vanish again. “You’re—so fucking tight, Yujin.”

“Yeah?” she says, starting to move—small bounces at first, testing you, her pussy squeezing you so good it’s got your eyes rolling back. “I love this cock stretching me out, babe.” She’s still got her back to you, and it’s a goddamn sight—her ass bouncing, her thighs flexing, all that juicy thickness working you over as she rides you reverse. Your hands slide down, cupping her ass, squeezing, and she moans, picking up the pace, slamming down harder now.

“Shit—look at you,” you mutter, voice rough, watching her move, the way her pussy swallows you whole, creamy and dripping, leaving a slick ring around your base. “Riding me like a fucking pro—fuck, you’re so hot.” You’re babbling, too caught up to care, and she loves it—you can tell by the way she moans, louder, needier, her hips rolling as she bounces, driving you deeper with every drop.

“Gonna fuck you senseless,” she gasps, hands bracing on your knees now for leverage, her body rocking back against you, fast and filthy. “My good boy—taking it so well, letting me use you like this.” Her pussy’s gripping you tight, pulsing, and you’re groaning with every thrust, your hands roaming her ass, her thighs, anywhere you can reach. She’s relentless, ass slapping against your hips, the wet sound of her pussy on your cock filling the room, and it’s got you on fire, every nerve screaming for more.

“Fuck, Yujin—harder,” you growl, hands digging into her flesh, pulling her down rougher, and she obliges—just slams onto you, her moans turning into these sweet, broken little cries. “Love this—love you,” you mutter, half-aware, your dick throbbing inside her, leaking more cum now, dripping out with every bounce. She’s feeling it too—her pussy’s quivering, soaking you, and she glances back, smirking even as she’s panting.

“Love me, huh?” she teases, voice breathy, slowing down just enough to grind her hips, dragging your cock inside her slow and deep. “Keep saying it—fucking love hearing it.” She’s got you pinned, emotionally, physically, her pussy squeezing you so tight you’re seeing stars.

“Love you—fuck, I love you so much,” you say, voice hoarse, hands sliding up to her waist, guiding her as she picks up speed again. “You’re everything—fucking everything.” She moans at that, loud and sweet, her pussy clenching, and you’re both a mess—sweaty, sticky, her thighs slick with cum and arousal, your cock leaking inside her, making every thrust wetter, sloppier.

She’s bouncing on you now, harder, faster, like she’s on a fucking mission, her pussy gripping you so tight it’s like she’s trying to wring you out. She’s not slowing down—hell no—she shifts her hand down between her legs, fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in quick, sloppy circles. “Fuck, babe,” she pants, voice high and shaky, her head tipping back so her hair brushes your chest. “Gonna cum—need it so bad—gonna cum all over your cock.” Her desperation’s thick, raw.

She’s wild now, moaning like she’s lost it, her thighs trembling, her pussy soaking you—wet, creamy, dripping down your shaft as she rides you. “Shit—look at me,” she gasps, glancing back over her shoulder, her eyes dark and frantic, those dimples nowhere in sight now—just pure, unfiltered need. “You feel that? How fucking wet I am? All for you—fuck, you drive me insane.” Her fingers are working her clit faster, her moans turning into these sharp, needy little cries, and you’re just holding on, groaning, your dick throbbing inside her, so close but not there yet because she’s got you under her spell, waiting for her to call the shots.

“Goddamn, Yujin,” you mutter, voice rough, hands digging into her hips as she slams down, over and over, her ass jiggling against you, the wet slap of her skin on yours filling the room. “You’re so fucking hot—ride me, fuck, don’t stop.” She’s relentless, her pussy squeezing you tighter with every bounce, her fingers rubbing herself sloppy and fast, and you can feel it—her walls fluttering, her body shaking, she’s right on the edge. “Cum for me,” you growl, hands sliding up to grip her waist, pulling her down harder. “Wanna feel it—c’mon, mommy, soak me.”

That does it—she snaps, her whole body locking up as she cums, hard and loud, a broken “Fuck—babe!” ripping out of her as her pussy clamps down on you like a vice, pulsing, gushing, her thighs quaking against yours. She’s shaking, gasping, her fingers still circling her clit as she rides it out, and holy shit, the way she squeezes you—it’s intense, almost too much, your cock leaking more, dripping inside her, but you hold it together, barely. She’s moaning, desperate and sweet, her bounces turning erratic, sloppy, like she’s milking every last shudder out of herself, and you’re just watching, mesmerized, your hands roaming her ass, her back, feeling her unravel.

“Shit,” she pants, slowing down, her chest heaving as she leans back against you, her pussy still twitching around your cock. “That was—fuck, so good.” She’s trembling, catching her breath, but then she turns her head, looks at you with those wild eyes, and you know she’s not done—she’s got more in her. “You’re close too, huh?” she says, voice ragged but teasing, her hand sliding down to where you’re still buried inside her, feeling how hard you are. “I can tell—fuck, you’re dying to cum, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you groan, hips twitching up into her, your voice wrecked. “So fucking close—Yujin, I’m gonna—” You can’t even finish, too wound up, and she grins, wicked and sharp, sliding off your lap in one smooth move. Your cock slips free, slick and shiny, still leaking, and she drops to her knees in front of you, grabbing it with both hands before you can even catch your breath.

“Give it to me,” she says, stroking you fast, her hands tight and slippery from all the mess. “Cum in my mouth—want it all over my tongue, babe. C’mon, give it to mommy.” She’s pumping you now, relentless, her grip firm, and you’re moaning loud, no holding back, the sound ripping out of you as your hands fly to her hair, gripping, guiding her. She’s so fucking good—too good—her hands working you like she’s done it a thousand times, and the way she’s looking up at you, eyes dark and hungry, begging for it, it’s shredding you.

“Fuck—please, Yujin,” you gasp, voice breaking, your hips bucking as she strokes faster, her tongue darting out to teased the tip, flicking over it, salty and wet. “Gonna cum—shit, I’m gonna cum so hard.” She’s moaning now, soft little hums against your cock, egging you on, and she’s begging—begging—her voice dripping with lust. “Do it—cum for me, babe—fucking cum, I need it.”

That’s it—you’re gone, groaning loud and ragged as your cock pulses, the first spurt hitting her tongue, hot and thick, and she takes it, opening her mouth wider, stroking you through it. “Fuck—yes!” you mutter, hips jerking, and she’s pumping you, milking you, cum spilling out—spurt after spurt, more than you thought you had left after all that leaking. It’s a lot, coating her tongue, dripping from her lips, and she doesn’t stop, hands sliding, squeezing every last drop out of you until you’re shaking, gasping, your cock twitching, hypersensitive as hell.

She pulls back, slow and deliberate, her tongue curling out to show you—white and thick, pooled there, a fucking mess—and you’re just staring, chest heaving, completely wrecked. “Look at that,” she murmurs, smirking, then closes her mouth, swallowing it down slow, savoring it like it’s some gourmet shit. She leans in after, licking the tip of your cock—soft, careful, but it’s so sensitive you flinch anyway, a shaky “Fuck, Yujin” slipping out as she cleans you up, every swipe of her tongue making you twitch.

She stands then, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, grinning wide—those dimples popping, but there’s nothing innocent about her now. You’re still gasping, pleasure buzzing through you, when she steps close, grabbing your waist, pulling you flush against her. Her skin’s hot, sticky with sweat and cum, and she’s dominating—her grip firm, her eyes locking onto yours like she’s staking a claim all over again. “You’re mine,” she says, voice low, intense, her fingers digging into your sides. “Officially—fucking mine. No thinking about other girls, no looking at them, nothing. Everything you’ve got—it’s for me now. Got it?”

You nod, fast, still too fucked out to argue, your hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer. “Yeah—promise,” you mutter, voice hoarse but sure. “All yours, Yujin—no one else. Swear.”

Her grin softens, those dimples turning almost cute, and she leans in, kissing you deep, her tongue sweeping into your mouth, tasting you, tasting herself. “Good boy,” she whispers against your lips. “I love you—fuck, I really do.”

“Love you too,” you say back, raw and immediate, your hands tightening on her, pulling her in so there’s no space between you. “So fucking much, Yujin—you’ve got no idea.” It’s intense—this pull between you, this messy, wild, overwhelming thing—and you’re both standing there, breathing hard, wrapped up in each other like nothing else exists.

She smirks again, that playful edge creeping back, her hands sliding down to your ass, squeezing. “Oh, I’ve got some idea,” she teases, pressing herself against you, and fuck, you’re still half-hard, still twitchy from everything she’s done. “You’re crazy for me—and I’m crazy for you. We’re stuck like this, babe—deal with it.” She laughs, low and dirty, and you’re grinning too, helpless, because yeah—you’re in deep, and it’s exactly where you wanna be.

—

You stir awake, the kind of groggy wake-up where your limbs feel heavy and the world’s still fuzzy, like you’re wading through a dream that hasn’t quite let go. The room’s bathed in this soft, gray light, the rain still pattering against the window in a slow, hypnotic rhythm—same as yesterday, like the weather’s stuck on repeat. You blink, rubbing sleep from your eyes, and that’s when you feel her—Yujin’s stare, warm and steady, prickling your skin before you even turn your head. She’s right there, propped up on one elbow, lying on her side, and fuck, she’s a vision—dangerous, sexy, like some kind of predator playing house. Just that tank top, white and worn-in, stretched thin over her chest so you can see the faint outline of her nipple piercings pushing against it, and these tiny panties, barely hanging onto her hips. Her hair’s a tangled mess, spilling over her shoulder, and she’s got this lazy, smug smile, like she’s already claimed the morning—and you—before you’ve even had a chance to catch your breath.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she says, voice low and scratchy, still thick with sleep but laced with that teasing edge she’s got down to an art. She stretches, slow and deliberate, arching her back so the tank top rides up, showing off the smooth plane of her stomach, the dip of her navel, and you’re already hooked, eyes tracing every inch like you haven’t seen it a hundred times before. “Slept like a fucking rock, huh? Guess I wore you out.” She slides closer, her bare leg brushing yours under the sheets, warm and soft, and it’s so easy, so natural, like she’s picking up right where she left off—like the months of chaos, the screaming matches, the way she’d smashed a plate against the wall and told you you’d regret leaving, never happened.

“Yeah,” you mutter, voice rough, still waking up as you shift to sit up a little, the sheets slipping down to your hips. “Guess I needed it.” You catch a glimpse of her thigh, thick and glistening faintly in the dim light, and there’s this flash in your head—her voice, sharp and venomous, “You think you can do better? Good fucking luck,” the way her eyes had burned with something wild, something that made your stomach twist with fear and want all at once. But now she’s here, soft and close, her hand already sliding up your arm, fingers curling around your bicep like she’s testing her grip, and it’s hard to hold onto that memory when she’s looking at you like this—like you’re hers, and she’s never doubted it.

She leans in, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle, then pulls back, smirking as she swings her legs off the bed. “C’mon, let’s get coffee—rain’s not stopping, so we’re staying in. My rules.” She’s up now, padding across the hardwood, her tank top barely covering her ass, those panties hugging her hips just right, and you’re watching, shameless, because how could you not? She glances back over her shoulder, catching you staring, and her smirk turns sharper, dimples flashing like a trap snapping shut. “Like the view? Better get used to it—gonna be seeing a lot of me around here.”

You follow, slower, your feet hitting the cold floor as you drag yourself out of bed, boxers hanging low on your hips, still half-dazed from sleep and her. The apartment smells faintly of last night—sweat, her perfume, something musky and lived-in—and the rain’s a dull roar outside, sealing you in this little bubble with her. She’s already in the kitchen, rummaging through your cabinets like she owns them, pulling out mugs, coffee grounds, moving with this easy confidence. “Found the good shit,” she says, holding up the bag of beans you’d forgotten about, some overpriced blend you’d bought on a whim. “You’ve been holding out on me—thought you were all instant crap now.”

“Nah, just lazy,” you say, leaning against the counter, arms crossed as you watch her work the coffee maker like it’s hers. She’s humming under her breath, some tune you don’t recognize, and it’s so domestic, so fucking normal, it’s messing with you—because the last time you saw her, she was screaming, “You’ll come crawling back, watch,” her voice cracking as she’d shoved your stuff into a bag, tears streaking her face. Now she’s here, barefoot, pouring water into the machine, her tank top slipping off one shoulder, and it’s like that never happened—like you’re picking up from some perfect moment that never broke.

She turns, catching your eye, and steps closer, sliding her hands up your chest, fingers brushing your collarbone. “You’re quiet,” she murmurs, tilting her head, her breath warm against your jaw. “What’s up? Thinking about how lucky you are to have me back?” She’s teasing, but there’s this weight in her words, this quiet insistence, and you feel it—this flicker of something off, something that makes your throat tighten. But then she kisses you, soft and slow, her lips tasting faintly of toothpaste, and it’s gone, washed away by the heat of her mouth, the way her body presses into yours.

“Lucky as hell,” you say, forcing a grin, your hands finding her hips, sliding under the tank top to feel the bare skin of her waist. “Still can’t believe you’re here—thought I’d wake up and you’d be a ghost.” It’s half a joke, half true, and she laughs, soft and low, pulling back to grab the mugs as the coffee maker gurgles, filling the room with that rich, bitter smell.

“Not a ghost,” she says, handing you a mug, black and steaming, her fingers brushing yours as she does. “Real as fuck—sticking around this time.” She takes a sip, leaning against the counter opposite you, her legs crossed at the ankles, and it’s a picture—her in your kitchen, rain streaking the windows, the world outside blurry and distant. “Gonna make this place mine again—you cool with that?”

“Yeah,” you say, sipping your coffee, the heat biting your tongue as you watch her over the rim. “Feels right—having you here.” And it does—too right, maybe, because there’s this quiet hum in your head, this shadow of her voice, “You’re nothing without me,” the way she’d cried and clung to you after the fights, promising it’d be different, only to blow up again days later. But now she’s calm, sipping coffee, her tank top slipping down one shoulder, her eyes warm and steady, and it’s easy to shove that noise down, to let the moment wrap around you like a blanket.

She sets her mug down, stepping closer again, her hands sliding up your arms, resting on your shoulders. “Good,” she murmurs, kissing you again, quick this time, her lips soft and familiar. “Cause I’m not letting you out of my sight—lazy day, just us. Rain’s got us trapped anyway.” She pulls you toward the couch, tugging you down with her, and you go, coffee abandoned on the counter, your body sinking into the cushions as she curls up against you, her head on your chest, one leg slung over yours like she’s anchoring you there.

“Love this,” she says, voice muffled against your shirt, her fingers tracing lazy lines on your stomach. “You and me—chill, no bullshit. Missed it—missed you.” She tilts her head up, smiling, those dimples making her look almost sweet, almost innocent, and your chest tightens—love, yeah, but something else too, something you can’t name. “You’re not gonna fuck this up again, right?” she teases, but her eyes linger, searching, and you feel it—this quiet pressure, this need to say what she wants to hear.

“Nah,” you say, brushing her hair back, your hand resting on her neck, thumb grazing her pulse. “Not letting you go—love you too much.” It’s true, raw, spilling out easy, and she hums, satisfied, nestling closer, her body warm and solid against you. The rain keeps falling, a steady drone, and you’re here, tangled up with her, the past a faint echo you can barely hear over her breathing. She’s got you—completely—and you’re telling yourself it’s luck, pure fucking luck, that someone like her—sharp, beautiful, unstoppable—wants you this bad, needs you this close. And she’s smiling, marking you with every touch, every word, like she’s never been anything but yours.

[traveler-at-heart]

Undercover

Summary: Natasha and you play a happy couple for an undercover mission.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

-----

It’s mortifying.

As you lay in bed, looking at the ceiling, the moment replays in your head over and over and over again. How you wish you had an off switch for your brain.

This is supposed to be an undercover mission, and yet you can’t keep your true feelings hidden from Natasha.

Undercover as a married couple, no less.

Today, while you were sitting in the living room of your “newlywed home”, reading a book, Natasha approached you. Her hand rested on your shoulder.

“I’m going out for a run” she had said. You nodded absentmindedly, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

“I’ll start dinner now”

And it wasn’t until you heard the door shut, that you snapped out of it.

You didn’t have to pretend inside the house. There was absolutely no reason for you to kiss any part of her like that, no one was watching.

Your cheeks flushed and your palms began to sweat. Feeling stupid and exposed, you tried to cook dinner, finding it hard to focus on what to do.

If Natasha noticed the slightly burned meatloaf, she didn’t comment on it. Even as you downed your wine quickly and poured yourself more, she remained stoic and acted as usual.

The night went by in a blurr and now you’re staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Natasha is in the study, doing surveillance and thank God, because sharing a bed after what you did today?

Impossible.

How do I get myself in these situations?

—

“The Maggia” Fury said, looking around the room. There were only five people there, which told you this was an important mission. “What do you know about it?”

“Family of criminals, from Europe, mostly Italy. Loose alliance at that, each family just stays out of the other’s way” you casually said. Hell, you could go on and on about them for much longer.

“Someone does their homework” Fury nodded.

“Show off” Natasha leaned forward, whispering in your ear. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, but you tried your best to hide it.

You feared your best wasn’t very good.

“Their operations consist mostly of loan sharking, narcotics and prostituion” Maria continued. “But, we recently recieved intel that the family in New Jersey is playing something more dangerous”

“Potentially, HYDRA and the smuggling of Trinium”

“What’s Trinium?” Rogers, who had been following in silenece, finally intervened.

“Incredibly rare element and highly explosive if exposed to a special charge”

Of course, it was always about blowing something up.

“We’ve located the leaders of the Jersey family. You two will be sent immediately to start the undercover mission, as the timeline indicates that the purchase will happen in less than three months. Sorry for not getting you a gift, but your wedding was done in such a rush” Fury slid down the files towards you and Natasha.

You took it and were about to hand it to Steve, since he was sitting behind you, but Fury just chuckled, shaking his head no.

Maria had to bite the inside of her cheek to not laugh at your shocked expression, while you turned to look at Natasha with wide eyes.

“Oh, darling, I’ll make you so very happy!”

—

Just your luck, Natasha decides to stay and work from home on Friday. Your plans of eating junk food and wasting away watching reality tv to feel better after your slip up are down the drain.

Instead, you are out gardening. It’s part of the cover, you insisted since you moved. What kind of person would not make an effort to improve their house? One they were planning on living in for years to come.

And truly, you had outdone yourself. In the month you’d spent here, the grass went from dry to green, all kinds of flowers blooming thanks to your hard work and the knowledge provided by years of helping your mother.

It doesn’t matter if the sun is burning your skin or sweat is dripping down your back, you absolutely cannot spend the morning inside the house with the woman who you have a crush on, and who probably knows your true feelings now, thanks to that stupid, stupid…

“Hey” her voice snaps you back to reality, looking up to meet her green eyes, soft and gentle.

“Hi” you reply from your place in the ground, wiping your forehead. “What’s up?”

“You’ve been at it for hours now, and it’s getting too hot. Come get some rest”

“It’s fine, I just need to…”

She calls your name, more of a plea than a warning not to argue with her and you sigh, standing up. As you go up the porch, she hands over a glass of cold lemonade and you take it, realising that you were very much in need of some refreshments.

“What are you doing?” you mutter when you put the glass down, and she takes her hands in yours.

“You’ve been acting strange since yesterday”

“Natasha”

“Did you act on instinct?” she asks, her lips inches from yours.

“Y-yes”

“That’s what a good agent does. You act natural. It’s not something you put any effort in. You don’t drop the cover under any circumstance”

She is throwing you a life line, a gracious way to salvage some of your dignity -if you have any left, that is- because you both know, you are not that good of an agent.

“She’s walking towards the house” Natasha warns, your back to the street. You don’t look behind you, allowing the redhead to pull you into a heated kiss that steals your breath.

“Hey, neighbors”

You turn around, Natasha’s hand falling to your lower back. Waving at Beatrice Costa, the both of you fake smiles. It’s still hard to believe this regular looking woman is leading a criminal organization next to her husband.

“Your garden is looking spectacular!” she admires.

“Thank you, Beatrice. I’ll stop by to give you some flowers when the hydrengeas bloom”

“As long as your wife doesn’t get jealous” the woman jokes, and you feel Natasha’s hand snaking around your middle, pulling you flush against her front.

“She does” the redhead says in a teasing manner, making your neighbor/suspect laugh.

“Anyways, I came to invite you two over for dinner tomorrow. To thank you for last week”

“Oh, it was no bother, really” you say, smiling.

“I insist. Eight o’clock?”

“Sounds great” you nod, and once she says her goodbyes, Natasha turns you around in her arms, still not letting go of your waist.

“See? It’s working. You’re doing great. Nobody questions us” she eases your nerves over what happened yesterday.

Nobody questions you because you are really in love with her, that’s the truth.

“What are you doing?” you say, your breath hitching when she leans over, about to kiss you.

“She’s still around” Natasha says, letting you close the distance to meet her lips.

By the time she drags you back inside, so you can have lunch, the only thought in your head is the feel of her lips in yours.

—

It had been a simple ruse, so simple that it was a wonder it worked.

Natasha made sure Beatrice’s car would malfunction. She always parked outside, and you made sure to be Natasha’s lookout as she drained the battery.

Morning came, and true to her routine, the woman was ready to leave home when the luxurious Mercedes Benz refused to turn on. It just so happened that you were running by, and as any good neighbor would do, offered to help.

What a coincidence, your wife knew enough about cars to fix the issue and send the woman on her merry way.

Beatrice was too polite and too rich to waste the opportunity to thank you -and flaunt her wealth- so next morning she stopped by with a tiramisu from the most expensive bakery in town, to thank you both.

And fuck, it was good tiramisu.

Now, she would greet you and Natasha when either one of you would run past her house (part of your intelligence operations).

Four weeks after the start of the mission, and it had finally paid off, as you received an invitation into the lion’s den.

“So, what’s our game plan here?” you say, looking over yourself in the vanity mirror.

“Enjoy the evening” Natasha says, smiling at your reflection.

“What?” you turn to look at her, confused. “We’re gonna be inside their house. We could bug it”

“Their phones are tapped. That’s all we need. And the man’s computer. But maybe I’ll excuse myself and break into his study”

“That’s too dangerous” you protest. Even if they act like normal people, they’re life long criminals with an extensive network. And you don’t feel prepared to take over anything if Natasha’s compromised. “Could you not?”

“If you have any idea on how to hack into their financial system, sure”

You huff, annoyed at her bored tone. As if she’s not risking herself over something that can be done a million other ways.

“Nat, I don’t want anything bad happening to you. We’ll find another way, ok?” you insist, putting on your heels.

“Ok, darling” she nods, as a spouse would do to calm their crazy wife and you glare, but take your win.

Without another word, you prepare to leave the room, when you feel her arms around your middle.

“What are you…?”

“Clothing tag was out” she says, fixing your sweater. “There. Perfect”

Her words, accompanied by a squeeze to your stomach make your head fuzzy. Clearing your throat, you nod and go down the stairs, picking up a bottle of wine from the kitchen counter.

“Trust me” you say when Natasha gives you an inquiring look. “Ready to go?”

“After you, sweetheart”

As you walk down the street to the Costa residence, Natasha takes your hand, running her thumb over the back of it. She might sense your nerves, or is apologizing for before. Either way, you keep a light conversation until she knocks on your suspect’s door, her arm firmly around your waist.

“Welcome!” Beatrice says, ushering you into her home. It’s elegant and big, but not too flashy or pretentious. “And what do we have here?”

“Just a little gift. It’s actually one of the bottles we got from our honeymoon” you take the lead, your hand in Natasha’s as you navigate the luxurious home all the way to the dining room.

“Oh, this is close to the place where my family is from originally”

Oh, what a shock. It’s not like you know everything there is about the Maggia, along with the history of the Gulf of Naples.

While Beatrice goes to the kitchen to check on the food -made by their staff, of course- Natasha looks around the room. You know that inquiring look, as she evaluates every threat and possible complication should you be compromised.

To help her ease into the environment, you take her hand in yours, feeling less exposed because you’re in front of other people who should believe your relationship is real. The mission is the only way you can justify your desire to feel Natasha’s touch.

By the time Beatrice comes back, Alessandro is right behind her and he introduces himself. His clothes scream old money, and the watch on his wrist screams fucking loaded of ilegal money as well.

“This wine is magnificent” he comments when you sit down and begin to eat.

“Le Lune del Vesuvio” you say, looking at Natasha across the table. “We spent our honeymoon in Italy and I just had to drag Nat to Pompeii for a tour”

“Are you familiar with the region?” Alessandro asks and you nod, having practiced everything.

“Yes, I did my dissertation on cultural identity in Pompeii”

“She’s a genius, my wife” Natasha says with a smile, impressed at how much detail you’re putting on everything to keep them engaged.

“Well, Beatrice’s family, the Fortunatos are from the same area. The Costas are from Sicily. So we are very happy to hear that you know it so well”

“How did you two meet?” Beatrice pivots, and Natasha is happy to answer.

“I was working on a client’s divorce settlement and needed an art expert. Y/N was the only one with the knowledge to help our lawfirm. A divorce brought us together” she says, looking at you with a smile.

Such a romantic.

“Oh, that’s lovely. Well, not for the divorced couple. But not everyone can get a happy ending, I suppose” Beatrice says.

It’s your turn to ask the usual questions and Natasha acts surpirsed, following up the way any normal person would, as if you don’t know every single detail about their lives and criminal record already.

When the conversation pivots to Alessandro, you perk up. This has proven to be the hardest part of the mission, as he keeps a tight leash on all their financial records through obscure third parties.

“You know, I also teach some finance classes. Would you be open to giving a lecture on art appraising? I think it’s an interesting market” he turns to you.

“That would be interesting” you say, groaning internally. Now you’re gonna have to actually work on a presentation, for fuck’s sake. Nobody told you you were gonna be quizzed to this extent during the mission.

Natasha hides her smile with the glass of wine, and you kick her under the table. Her smile fades just a little, but you can still see the teasing in her eyes.

She’s having too much fun with this.

—

The next morning you wake up to a note from Natasha. She’s picking up a “special” package, which means she’s coordinating with Maria the next stage of the mission.

You’re surprised to find a bouquet of flowers adorning the dining table.

Natasha is doing her share of the mission and you have to focus on yours, which is the fucking presentation. There better not be a Q&A session or you’ll lose your damn mind.

Moving to the study that also works as a surveillance room, you pull out your computer and begin to work. To be fair, you enjoy art enough to know more about it than the regular person. You had also been in contact with appraisers and auction houses back in your Interpol days, as you tracked ilegal art dealers.

For obvious reasons, you can’t mention that bit.

You’ve been working for a couple of hours when you hear the front door open, Natasha hurrying up the steps.

“Hey” she says with a frown.

“Everything ok?”

“You didn’t answer my text. Have you even taken a break to eat?” she puts down a heavy box in front of you.

“Sorry, I was preparing for the lecture”

“I got you your favorite food for lunch. And did you see the bouquet?” Natasha insists.

“Uh, I did… but is there a reason for…?”

“You seriously don’t remember?”

“Is it our fake first date anniversary, baby?” you tease, leaning forward. Natasha’s so worked up it's almost comical.

“Y/N, it’s your birthday”

“What?!” you turn to look at the calendar. “Holy crap, how could I have forgotten my own birthday?”

You are so focused on the mission, this completely slipped your mind. What were you supposed to do any way? Being undercover meant cutting off contact with the rest of the world. The timing sucks, but work is your priority right now.

“Work on that thing tomorrow. You should be resting and having a special day”

“Nat, it’s fine. It won’t be the first or last birthday that I’m stuck at work” you sigh, rubbing your eyes.

“Please?” she reaches for your hand, and the gesture is so gentle that your heart skips a beat. Natasha is very serious about taking the day off.

“Ok” you nod, and the hint of a smile can be seen on her face as you take her hand. She gets plates for the both of you and even agrees to watch Project Runway, which she loathes and you love. Without either one of you noticing, you end up across the couch, your legs on her lap.

“Our dinner reservation is at seven” she says, her hand going up and down your thigh.

“Dinner?”

“What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t take you to dinner?” Natasha smiles, making you blush.

“Well, no one really knows it’s my birthday, so…”

You leave out the most obvious part of how her logic is flawed: you are not even married.

“I know it’s your birthday. Come on. Just let me spoil you once?”

You clear your throat and nod, afraid that if you speak, your voice will give away how much those words affect you. Natasha telling you she wants to spoil you?

That alone is the best birthday gift you’ve ever gotten.

—

It’s honestly a lot more than you could have asked for. The restaurant is beautiful, the food is amazing, and Natasha is looking at you in that special way that makes you feel so happy and confused at the same time.

If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn you saw love in her beautiful emerald eyes.

“How’s your food?”

“Here” you take a forkful of your pasta and offer it to her.

“Really good. Almost as good as the one we had in… where was it? Naples?” Natasha teases, and you smile.

“That’s the city. The whole region is actually really beautiful… maybe I should take some of that time off and travel again” you ponder, thinking about how life has been all about work for the past years.

“Where would you go? Aside from Naples?”

“Sorrento, Lecce, maybe Positano. I don’t know, I guess I’d spend it around the south, just because the food is that good” you sigh, dreamily.

“How come you know so much about it?” Natasha inquires, smiling softly.

“My parents owned a house, because my grandparents were from Salerno. So we’d all spent every summer there, until they sold the property” you explain, letting the waiter take your empty plate. The memory of hot days, cold water and delicious food comes back to you, coupled with the places you’d visit, driving everywhere with your family.

“So, maybe you were destined to be on this mission” Natasha says, smiling.

“I don’t know if destined or it was Fury messing with me” you slip up, hurrying to take a sip of your wine. He had teased you endlessly about your crush on Natasha, and he was probably laughing his ass off as he prepared your identities.

“Whatever it was, I’m happy we’re in this together” Natasha admits, smiling to you.

“Me too” you agree in a low voice. Then, you look at her and smile mischeviously. “So, since it’s my birthday, can we get a nice dessert?”

“I’m already on it” Natasha raises her hand, the man bringing a plate with a slice of chocolate cake and a candle. “Make a wish”

What could you possibly wish for? You wanted to spend time with Natasha, get to know her, have her look at you the way she was doing right now.

Your wish was granted already. Still, you smile, and lean forward to blow out the candle.

—

“Maybe this is a bad idea”

Natasha is hovering. Hovering and following you and asking all kinds of questions while you prepare your bag.

“It’s gonna be fine” you say, again.

“It’s too risky”

“All I have to do is place this phone next to his computer” you lift the device that Maria sent. “And we’ll have access to his files”

“What if he notices?”

“I better run fast then” you joke, but Natasha doesn’t laugh. “I’m a SHIELD agent, not a history nerd with no fighting skills”

“Except you are a history nerd” she mutters and you turn to glare at her.

“You know what, Romanoff”

“Can I at least drive you there?”

There’s a moment of hesitation on your side. Does she think you’ll screw up the mission? Or is she actually worried about you? Either way, she looks conflicted and there’s no reason to not give her some peace of mind.

“Alright”

On the way to the lecture, you review your notes, missing the way Natasha smiles at the things you’re saying about the subjective value of art and how it has changed throughout history.

Such a nerd.

“I’ll be in a cafe monitoring everything. Call me when you’re done and I’ll pick you up”

“Yes, darling wife” you say with a slightly mocking tone, the same way you always call her your wife in public, but with no one else around.

As you exit the car and walk towards the university, Natasha calls for you.

“I didn’t get to wish you good luck” she explains, pulling you close and kissing you softly. “Good luck”

“T-thanks” you say, out of breath.

Natasha nods, letting you walk as if she didn’t just do the sweetest thing in the world.

You try not to think about how much you’ll miss this when the mission’s over.

But now you have to stay focused.

Alessandro waves his hand in the air, and you walk towards him with a smile.

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this”

“It’s not a problem, really”

It totally is, you criminal motherfucker.

“Oh, I forgot my laptop, could I use yours? I have the deck on a flash drive”

Alessandro hesitates for a second, but his mask slips back to place instantly. If you really were a regular person, you never would have noticed his concern.

It means he keeps everything hidden there.

“Sure. Let me just…” he quickly types his password, and you look around the classroom, pulling out the phone and placing it on the table next to his computer. “All set”

“Thank you”

As the slideshow is projected in the auditorium, you look around the room, feeling more confident.

“So, how much would you guys pay for a banana taped to a wall?”

—

“I’m telling you, he keeps everything there” you say to Natasha, browsing through the device. “There’s some encryption, though”

“My expertise”

“Show off”

“Let’s get something to eat” she changes the subject.

“You don’t wanna go back home and check if it’s working?”

“I think a few hours won’t make a difference. We won’t be long, detka”

You think Fury would disagree, but she’s calling you detka and your gayness outweights your sense of duty.

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Anything you want”

“Pizza”

“Anything but pizza” she says, making a face and you laugh.

“Natasha!”

“Sushi” she proposes.

“Fine, sushi it is”

The evening is spent talking about everything but the mission, and by the time you’re driving back home, all you want to do is get in bed and sleep.

“Where are you going?” you ask when Natasha walks to the study.

“You did your part, now I have to work” she explains with a smile.

“Fine” you close the door to the bedroom, joining her in the study. “Either way you’re gonna wake me up when you come back to bed. Might as well help you now”

“Sure” she says, even though you know next to nothing about code and hacking.

While she works on the computer, you look at the window, yawning and stretching in the couch.

Natasha finds out that Pluto is the banking organization they use for their covert operations. To access the accounts she needs a code-string of numbers.

“How many numbers?” you ask, half asleep.

“Six”

“Not coordinates. Could be dates. Most of them like to write down the dates of their oldest founders' tombstones anywhere they can, like a fucking tramp stamp” you joke, falling asleep. “Get into the database and try those”

“Maybe…” Natasha begins to say, but when she turns around you’re snoring.

And what does she know, you are right, the key to the algorithm is based on tombstones’ dates. Talk about morbid.

“Nerd” Natasha says affectionately. Deciding it is enough work for the day, she closes the laptop, helping you up to your shared bedroom.

Truth is, she’s not ready to finish this mission.

—

The end is near, you both can tell. With the encryption finished and the communications that you have intercepted, SHIELD has enough to arrest them.

According to the conversations you recorded, the exchange is set to happen two weeks from today. So you have two more weeks of fake domestic bliss. And then back to being just colleagues.

“I’ll be home as soon as I have a response” Natasha says.

“See you later” you say from your spot in the couch.

“No good luck kiss?” she jokes, referring to the time she said goodbye to you before the lecture.

But you’re not messing around when you stand up and place a chaste kiss on her cheek. If these are the last two weeks you get to do this without being questioned, you’ll make the most of them.

“Be safe”

“You too” she smiles, squeezing your hand.

The sun is setting, but you don’t feel like cooking anything or watching television. Instead, you decide to go out for a run, passing by the Costa mansion out of curiosity.

“Hey, neighbor” Beatrice greets with her signature wave. She often looks like royalty waving at the commoners. “Want some refreshments?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’m just out for a short run”

“Come on, you could use some rest! I’d love to hear how the presentation went”

Feeling cornered, you nod, stepping foot inside her mansion. Beatrice has a glass of lemonade ready, which surprises you, but you take it and sip slowly.

Damn, even her lemonade tastes amazing.

“Heard those students were fascinated by your presentation” she encourages you to speak, and you nod, the movement making you a bit fuzzy.

“It was fun… yeah”

“Everything ok?” Beatrice comes close to inspect your face, and you try to step back. Your leg gives in, so you end up on the floor.

“I’m not sure…”

It isn’t until the very last second you understand the woman drugged you.

—

Everything is upside down or so you feel as you struggle to open your eyes.

“See? I told you she’d be fine”

“Oh, shut it. We’ve been waiting for hours” a man says and you blink several times. Their names come back to you slowly.

The mission.

Was your cover blown?

“Y/N, dear, I do apologize. My wife may have overdone it with the clonazepam” Alessandro says. You try to move, but your hands are tied behind your back. “Yes, about that. Don’t worry, we won’t keep you here for long. We just really need to use your connections in the art world to smuggle a tiny, tiny thing”

Good news (for you). The cover is safe.

Bad news (for them). Natasha is gonna kill them.

It looks like you’re in an abandoned warehouse, and judging by the sound, it’s close to the river.

“Yeah, uh… look. I don’t know how to say this, but you’d be better off crossing the border, whichever one. South, north”

“I’m not following” Beatrice says.

“Well, I’m afraid Natasha’s gonna kill you when she finds you two” you grimace, almost feeling sorry for them. They truly don’t know what’s coming.

“No offense, but I think a Maggia family will be more than safe from…”

“The Black Widow?” you say, with a smug smile.

“Bullshit” Beatrice snaps, pulling you by the hair. “Stop the nonesense and help us out. Or we’ll send you home to your loving wife in a body bag”

There’s a loud crash outside of the warehouse, and a widow bite is shot close to Beatrice’s foot as a warning.

“Hands off my girl” Natasha says, gun raised and pointing at Alessandro. “You ok, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Sorry for missing dinner”

“It’s fine. We’ll heat it up when we get home” Natasha jokes. With a nod, you throw yourself to the floor, shattering the chair. Beatrice throws a couple of punches, and she’s quite the fighter.

While Natasha is engaged in battle with Alessandro, the woman escapes and you’re following close behind. The drug is still in your system, and you can tell by the way your steps are a little clumsy.

Beatrice leads you to the edge of the river and you catch up to her out of breath.

“It’s over” you say, hearing Natasha step right behind you.

“Cap’s got the other one. Let’s bring this one in” she says, walking past you. She fails to see the gun that Beatrice is hiding, and you push Natasha out of the way. The bullet passes between you both and you launch your body against Beatrice, knocking her down.

Still, your diziness makes you lose your footing and you fall to the river.

“Rogers, Hill!” Natasha calls over comms, borderline hysterical. “Someone come in”

“I’m here, Romanoff” Tony says, flying over the redhead.

“What the hell took you so long?”

Tony’s suit scans the river and finds you.

“She’s ok, I’m getting her out now. Handcuff our suspect there”

Natasha turns to glare at Beatrice, punching her so hard she’s knocked out.

“Bitch” Natasha says, handcuffing her.

Maria approaches to make sure Natasha doesn’t kill Beatrice, while the redhead sprints towards the spot where Tony drops you off.

“Are you ok? What hurts?”

“J-just cold” you mutter, holding on to her hands.

“Let’s take her to the Medbay. Romanoff, stay so you can lead the rest of the mission” Steve says.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” Natasha screams so loud that every agent on the scene turns to look at her. “I’m going with her to the hospital, I don’t give a crap about your mission, Rogers”

“Tasha, I’m fine” you insist, but enjoy the way she pulls you against her, her hands on your lower back. Natasha kisses the top of your head, leading you to a car that will drive you to SHIELD’s medical facility.

Fury turns to look at Hill, amused.

“Remember our little bet?”

Maria rolls her eyes, annoyed. She pulls out a twenty dollar bill and reluctantly hands it to her boss.

“So not fair”

—

Bruised ribs, a potential cold from your night swim and a minor concussion. All things considered, it could have been a hell of a lot worse.

Natasha seems to disagree, which is why she pushes to postpone the mission debriefing.

“You need to rest” is all she says.

Back in your old room, you shower, enjoying the hot water and clean clothes. Natasha is still sitting on your bed when you walk out of the bathroom.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep without you” she confesses shyly, which makes you smile.

“Me neither”

“I thought I lost you”

“I got lucky. Those two idiots actually thought I was an art dealer” you chuckle.

“You’re a very convincing art nerd” Natasha teases, and you want to pull back but she grabs you by the waist. “I wish I still had two more weeks”

“It doesn’t have to be just two weeks” you say, running your hand through her hair. “I don’t want to pretend to be with you, Natasha. I want to be with you, for real”

“Yeah?” she looks up at you, a guarded expression on her face.

Instead of answering, you lean forward, kissing her softly until she pulls you to straddle her lap.

“You know, we never consumated our marriage”

“Seems like we should get on with it” you laugh as she flips you over, making you lie on your back.

“Just as long as you don’t fake an orgasm” she jokes, kissing every inch of your body.

“Promise I won’t”

Your reality turns out better than any undercover mission could ever be.

[menagerofmischief]

sweet as sin -> cl16

main masterlist / navigation

porn star!charles chronicles -> here

tags: everyone's got normal lives (no F1), mentions of porn/OF, very very suggestive (or very light smut idk?), mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex toys

a/n: this is just an introduction to the au. if you have any ideas or things you think would go well with the au, send an ask and lmk <3

“Oh, I don’t know, Gwen!” You said, swirling your straw around in your drink as you eyed the friend. “Other than the fact I’m moving soon, my life is a bit too boring lately. I’m done with dating apps after the last big failure and I just need something interesting to happen!”

“You mean you need to get laid!” She accused, mischief sparkling in her eyes as she giddily sipped her mimosa, already a bit tipsy from all the previously consumed ones. “When was the last time you had a good orgasm?”

You coughed, nearly choking on your drink as you stared at her with wide eyes. “We’re so not talking about this!”

“I’ll take that as a ‘very long ago’,” Gwen said, eyeing you over the rim of her glass. “Just because you’re not dating doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun.”

“Didn’t you hear the part when I said how all the guys are sleazy and disgusting?”

She chuckled, flashing you a smile. “You can have fun on your own. Nothing wrong with that, in fact, it’s my favourite.”

“God,” you laughed, swatting her arm. “You’re definitely too drunk for 12 pm, Gwen.”

However much you tried to push it from your mind and deny, Gwen’s words stuck with you through the rest of the day. A constant echo in the back of your mind that played like a mocking tune whenever you found even a second free.

With a groan you pushed yourself up from your couch, the TV show playing on the screen already long abandoned. In the silence of your apartment you could hear every step you made, every thud of your feet against the ground seemed to echo like a thump of your heart within your chest.

You reached your bedside, eyes narrowed in a glare as you rummaged through the drawer in search of your old vibrator, an unfamiliar sensation stirring in your chest once you finally pulled it out, the thing still fully charged and ready to be used. 

You settled on the bed, head nestled on the pillow as you closed your eyes and tried to tease yourself but it was so damn hard when nothing came to mind. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you reached for your phone, holding it up in a slightly shaky hand you unlocked it and made your way onto the good old trusted … twitter porn.

Your fingers hesitated over a video of a guy. His face was half visible, but his body was in the full picture and he looked sweeter than sin. Hard abs, perfectly toned, arms worth salivating over. Yeah, the guy was made to be pornographic, that you were sure of.

You clicked play, watching as he teasingly ran his hands down his body, wrapping one big hand around his equally as big dick, the sound of his low groaning coming through the speaker.

A sigh slipped past your lips as you mimicked his movement, running your hands down your body, teasingly scraping your nails along your skin before slowly reaching your fingers under the waistband of your shorts.

The video ended just as your fingers reached your clit and a low spark of annoyance ran through you. “Fuck …” you muttured, staring at the replay button. Then the words under the video caught your attention.

Want more? Check out my OF ;)

Next to them was a link. Without thinking twice, or much, you pressed the link, watching as his OnlyFans page loaded up.

You glanced at the vibrator next to you on the bed, Gwen’s words, or more so the “You can have fun on your own,” echoing inside of your head once more.

“Fuck it!” You whispered into the darkness of your room, and then pressed the subscribe button.

taglist: @alenix @briefkittenearthquake @gamesetcheckeredflag @yara011

[meadowfics]

my pain, your gain

kang dae-ho x f!reader

your missing boyfriend reappears after ten days, suddenly becoming a millionaire

you went to work, a busy cafe, just like any other normal day

the 14:00-22:00 shifts are the ones you hate the most. the type of shift where you feel like there is no business, validating your reasoning as to why you shouldn't be here.

however, when you remember the amount of expenses you have to pay for. rent, groceries, cleaniness, hygiene, etc... you suddenly have a good work ethic.

before you left for your shift, you kissed your boyfriend dae-ho goodbye.

it was normal for you, except you did not notice the tense pulling on his eyebrow and his clenched jaw. you did not notice the debate shown on his face.

when you got home, around midnight due to public transport chaos, throwing your cafe apron by the washer for later.. you called out for dae ho.

the apartment was quiet.. too quiet. as if you lived alone.

"baby?"

"dae?"

"honey, are you home?"

when you checked your bedroom to see that he was gone, you assumed that he visited one of his sisters outside of the city while you worked. fine, at least he could have told you.

the sleep you had was normal, yet cold, due to the absence of dae-ho.

you woke up, feeling at ease until you reach over, your hand hitting the cold soft sheets instead of the body of your lover.

hours turn into a day, and you're broken.

you can’t stop replaying your last conversation with dae ho before you left for work, over and over, trying to find clues about why he left.

the tired body of yours can barely function at work, forgetting orders, zoning out, and apologizing when your boss points it out. your coworkers look worried, but you wave it off, saying you’re just stressed.

sleep is a distant memory. you lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, imagining him walking back through the door like nothing happened.

each day goes by, and when you’re home, you sit on the couch or the floor, staring at the tv, not even watching what’s on.

your mind is stuck on dae-ho..where he is, if he’s okay, or if he really just left you behind.

some nights, you stand by the window, hoping to see him walking back into your life. you tell yourself it’s pointless, but you can’t help it.

you try calling his friends, even people you barely know, asking if anyone has seen him. no one has any answers, and a few of them suggest maybe he left you on purpose. it breaks something in you every time you hear it.

not your dae-ho, he would have told you if there was a problem in your relationship.

sometimes you sit in his favorite chair, holding onto one of his hoodies, and crying silently.

its day 10.. when you get home from your late shift two weeks later, it’s the same routine.

you drop onto the floor in your apron, zoning out in front of the glowing tv.

just an hour after your deadly routine, you hear the sound of your door clicking.

your heart stops, and for a moment, your eyes snap towards the door, you think you’re imagining it.

then you see him... your dae ho.

he looks older, more worn, like the world has weighed him down in the ten days he’s been gone.

your stomach twists when he steps closer, his eyes meeting yours, and you instinctively back away.

“you’re alive?”

you watch as he flinches, his hand pausing mid-reach.

“i can explain,”

he says, his voice desperate, and you motion for him to go on.

dae ho pulls a thick wad of cash from his jogger pocket, placing it in your hands. you feel the weight of it, flipping through the stack with trembling fingers.

“how much is this? where did you get it?” your voice cracks, and your chest tightens as he hesitates.

“it’s 25 million won,” he says, and you gasp, the money slipping from your hands onto the floor.

“where did you get this kind of money? is this… blood money?”

he pauses, his expression guilty but honest.

“kind of,” he admits.

"I earned it though from playing games.. I did not hurt anyone I swear!"

“games? what do you mean?”

deep down, you know dae ho never lies. why would he start now?

he promises to explain everything, but he says, “not tonight. i’ll tell you everything, i swear. but tomorrow, when the sun comes up, i’ll pay off my debt. i’ll pay off yours. we’ll leave this place, and i’ll give you the life you deserve..."

he takes you to the atm up the street. when the screen shows 15,199,998,733 won, your knees almost give out.

he holds onto your arm, steadying you as your heart pounds.

“it’s real,” he says softly. “and it’s ours.”

"me along with four other people won the game. their names are gi hun, hyun ju, myung-gi, and jun-hee. I'll introduce you to them next week. gi hun says if we ever need anything then we can call him at anytime.

you trust him because you always have, that does not stop the unease that settles in your stomach.

you ask him again about the games.

again, “not tonight.”

as you both walk back to the apartment, the weight of the money in your life is overwhelming. you hold onto him tightly, glad he’s back, but the mystery of what he went through lingers.

even as you fall asleep beside him that night, you can’t stop thinking about the games he mentioned. they’ll haunt you, just like the ten days he was gone.

I hope you liked :)

[thewritergx]

Gentle Torture: Dbf!JoelxF!Reader Part 2

Part 1, Part 2

Summary: Joel Miller has been losing his mind since your father's party. When he's forced to check on you, he can't hold back anymore. Pre-Outbreak.

Warnings: Smut: Age Gap (Joel in his late 30s, reader starts out at 18), Dbf!Joel, Kissing, Oral (F!Receiving), Fingering, unprotected PinV, slightly rough, some overstimulation, choking. Pet Names: Sweetheart, baby girl, good girl, little girl.

Word Count: 3.5K

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

I have been obsessed with the dbf trope lately. This story is very much inspired by @pearlessance. Please go check her out.

Please feel free to like and repost. Click here if you’d like more stories from me. Text divider from @cafekitsune.

Days passed and you have not seen or heard from Joel once. You try to go on with your everyday tasks, but the memory of the shared kiss and Joel’s warm body pressed against you replays again and again in your head. You find yourself constantly looking for him, waiting to hear his echoed laughter as he makes dumb jokes with your father. You cannot help but overthink. Were you a bad kisser? Did you do something wrong? Did he hate you? 

You tried to bury yourself in work. You scheduled as many hair and nail appointments as you could in the small town, even giving clients discounts. You knew Joel was avoiding you, all the same. That much was crystal clear. 

Joel was a complete mess. Shame and anger guilted him. How could he have been so stupid? He was so possessive and desperate over you. Over his best friend’s daughter. It was pathetic. He could not get your little moans out of his head. Could not stop replaying the way you shivered at his light touches. Could not stop imagining what your little cunt would feel like wrapped around him as he plows into you. He could not sleep, could not eat. Jerking off was not even working anymore.

Joel hated that he had been ignoring you. He hated that he had to lie to your dad, telling him he was sick with the flu. He knew it was for the best, and again he started to question if there was any good in him at all. You were so young, so innocent. He knew it was wrong, so wrong. But you wanted him. Needed him, just as much as he needed you. Joel wished you hated him. Wish you had screamed at him and told him to get the fuck off you. Wish you did not let him cause those beautiful moans to leak out of you. He did not deserve it. Did not deserve you. 

The days were dragging on and Joel missed you. Even missed hanging out with your dad. He was scared. He did not know if you ever wanted to see him again. Maybe it was just a one-time thing for you, something that just happened in the moment. 

In the last few days, he left for work late, waiting until he heard your car pull out of the driveway next door before he even got out of bed. He came home late, an entire hour after he knew you would get home, just so he did not have to pass you outside as you walked into your house. 

You were fucking his entire life up. 

Joel sat idly at his kitchen table, nursing a cup of hot coffee and watching the news on TV. The sound of his cell phone ringing shakes him from the TV. He picks it up, annoyed to see a text from your dad. 

‘Hey Joel, know you're not feeling too hot. I’ll be out of town this week on a work trip. I was wondering if you’d check on y/n while I’m gone?’

Joel's face darkens. Damn it. It's not like he has an excuse to say no. 

‘Yeah, no problem. I’ll stop by when I get off later’ Joel responded, slamming his phone down on the table. Fucking great. 

The day passes and you get home, excited for some alone time. You slip into a thin pair of shorts and a crop top, ditching your shoes in the doorway of your room. Your mind cannot help but wander to Joel. What was he doing? Where was he? You turn on the TV in the living room, curling up in a blanket, hoping it will distract you from him.

Joel drags his feet the entire day. He tries to stay at work as late as possible, but he knows it’s just slowing the inevitable. When he pulls up to his driveway, he can’t help but picture you inside your house, all alone. He knows he shouldn’t but his legs beckon him to your front door. He could just text you, and ask if you need anything. But instead, he was standing outside, hating himself. 

A knock at the door startles you and you sit up straighter. You stand slowly pausing the movie as you step towards the door. You open it in shock, a tired Joel Miller in the doorway. He’s wearing jeans, boots, and a dusty work shirt. His forehead is slightly beaded with sweat from the hot Texas sun and fuck his skin is so golden. It is clear to you he has been working all day, dark circles under his eyes. 

“Hey, my dad’s not here”, you mumble, hardly peeking out from behind the door. 

“I know. He told me to check you,” Joel spoke calmly even though his skin was crawling to slam the door open, come inside, and have his way with you. 

“I’m fine,” you responded with a roll of your eyes and a hint of fire in your tone. 

Joel stands there, hands buried deep in his pockets, eyes locking onto yours. His gaze darkens at your tone, fist tightening into balls. “Text if you need anything. You know where I'll be.” His voice comes out with a low, gruff frustration. 

“I’m not a child and I don’t need anything,” you scowl, closing the door harshly behind you before stumbling back towards the couch. Who did he think he was? He could be all sweet one second, kiss you like he was possessed, and then not talk to you for days? You were over it. Completely fucking over it. 

Joel stands at the door for a moment, jaw clenched in anger, annoyance, and desire. Even when you were pissed at him, you were so fucking beautiful. So perfect. He thinks about knocking again but forces himself to turn around and walk home. 

Joel lays in bed later that night, staring up at the ceiling in defeat. He cannot get you out of his mind. The way you looked at him so hurt earlier fucking killed him. 

His mind thinks back to that night, your tiny frame and silky smooth skin. The way you came on his fingers, god the way you moaned his fucking name. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight and before he processed what he was doing, he was getting dressed and walking back to your house. 

The moon cast a silver glow over the street, each stride Joel took leaving his heart racing. He swore he could feel his blood pumping and his ears rang. He stood on the porch praying you were still awake. He had no idea what time it was, didn't even bother to check his phone when he left. His chest grew tight and he gently knocked on the door.

Of course, you were still up, tossing and turning with annoyance in your bed. Joel didn’t know it but you were just as exhausted as he was. Your heart pounded in your chest as a quiet knock stirred you out of your daydreams. You quickly walk to the front door, flipping on the living room light. You looked through the peephole, surprised to see Joel, his head down. You open the door, slightly smiling.

Joel looks up, surprised to see you standing in a pair of black panties and a loose-fitted t-shirt. The sight of you like this drove him crazy, his mind going blank for a moment. 

He’s so lost in you, he doesn't even realize that he's walked inside the house. His eyes roam over your body and he tries to think of any words to say. 

“Joel…” you whisper, your voice soft and breathy. His name was a plea, a trembling surrender to him. 

It causes Joel to snap back to reality. He takes a deep breath, his eyes wandering down to your exposed legs. It takes every ounce of restraint to not pull you into his arms and take you right here on the front door. 

“Sorry, I-I came over here like this…Can’t sleep. I, fuck. I had to come see you,” Joel stands awkwardly, running a hand through his hair, his voice shy and sheepish. You had never heard him sound nervous before. Despite the obvious need he felt to touch you, he stayed locked in place, a few steps away from you. 

“Me either” you muttered, nervously playing with your fingers. 

Joel lets out a quiet sigh, his eyes scanning the room like he had never been here before. He’s completely unsure of what to say or do, his mind too drunk on how sexy you look in front of him. 

The two of you stand in silence, both too nervous to move. 

“Where have you been?” You ask, the environment of the room drying out your throat. 

Joel shifts uncomfortably at your question, his gaze wandering to your eyes before landing on the floor below you. “Been busy,” is all he can force himself to respond with. 

“Right, busy” you roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Joel knows you don't buy it. It was obvious to the both of you that he was ignoring you. What the fuck was he supposed to say? He feels so fucking guilty. Guilty for ignoring you. Guilty for leaving you in the kitchen like that. Guilty for not being able to fuck you properly that night. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry sweetheart. I shouldn’t have ignored you like that. I just…You don’t know what it’s like, even standing and talking to you, I can't stop thinking about taking you in that room and fucking you until you beg me to stop.” 

Your skin grows hot at his words and you take a step closer to him. Joel's heart races, your body close enough that he can feel your warmth. He’s trying his best to keep composure but it’s getting harder and harder with each passing second. 

“What are you doing?” Joel asks, his voice low and stuck in his throat. An involuntary shiver escapes him.

“Just need to be close to you, need to feel you,” The sound of the subtle plea in your words nearly breaks Joel. A low growl escapes him and in a second he closes the gap between you. His eyes are locked on yours. 

Joel's hand cups your face gently, his tough hands so tender on your soft skin. “You have no idea how much I want you”. His toned body towers over you, a shiver rushing down your spine as he leans his head down, lips hovering an inch above yours. 

He groans, finally meeting your lips, and all his resolve breaks. His tongue seeks out yours, nipping at your bottom lip. He explores your mouth, mapping out every inch, filled with a hunger Joel can't seem to control. His hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him and his muscles quiver in an effort of restraint. He wants to take you right here, bend you over and fuck you from the back. But he knows he has to be gentle, has to give you as much pleasure as possible. 

Joel’s arms wrap around you, lifting you off the ground with ease. He holds you tightly, placing your legs around his waist. His hands make a home on your ass and he carries you to your room, his steps slow and calculated in the dimly lit house. 

He uses a hand to open the door and gently lays you on the bed. Your brain is all fucked out already. His eyes roam over your form, studying every inch of you like you might disappear. 

Joel gently hovers over you, supporting his weight on his forearms as you resume kissing him. His lips explore your neck, making his mark on you with soft bites and sucks. You melt beneath him, moaning soft cries. 

You lift your hips up, the thin material of your panties allowing you to feel the hard bulge in Joel’s sweatpants. He lets out a groan, allowing you to groan against him. He never wanted it to stop. Joel’s hands roamed down your body, leaving a line of fire in the wake of his fingers and he traveled from your neck to chest, to your waist. 

“Such a good girl,” Joel praised, lifting himself onto his knees. He gently pulls at the soft fabric of your shirt. “May I?” Joel asks softly, meeting your eyes. 

You nod your head, arching your back off the bed. Joel is practically crying when he lifts the t-shirt over your head, your perfect tits on display. Your nipples were the perfect shade of pink, erect in the cool air. 

Joel swallowed hard, undoing the buttons of his flannel and throwing it off his shoulders. You had never really gotten a chance to see him without a shirt on. God, he was toned, his strong arms flexing with every movement. 

Joel wrapped his lips around a perfect perky nipple, a sweet hint of vanilla to your skin. Little ‘ohs’ escaped you, your hand traveling down to Joel’s toned back. He licked at the soft bud, massaging the other gently. He didn't realize just how big your tits were til he was face deep inside them, leaving soft hot kisses on the fat. 

He pitched your nipple, twisting it softly between two fingers. You relaxed into his touch, gently caressing his back and moaning his name over and over. Joel would never get tired of the way each letter spilled out of your mouth. 

Joel released your swollen nipple with a pop, quickly swallowing the other. Your hips grinded against him more and you could only take so much teasing.

“Need more”, you pleaded, back arching and hips writhing.

Joel was quick to give you what you wanted, bringing a hand down to rub you through the thin fabric of your panties, dampness creating a dark circle at your entrance. Your eyes slowly move down, watching Joel’s hand gently massage the swollen outside of your pussy. 

You whine at the view, Joel's large hand gently playing with your lips. He used a finger to hook the material, pulling your panties down in a swift motion. He tosses them somewhere, dragging his body until his knees are planted on the ground. He grabs your thighs, pulling you until your ass is just hanging off the bed. 

“Bet you taste so fucking good. Gonna let me eat that pretty little pussy?” 

“Please,” you whined, needing his touch more than air. 

Joel placed soft, wet kisses on your thighs, wrapping his forearms around the back of your thighs, holding your legs apart. You stayed still, waiting as he blew cold air on your clit, gently separating your slippery lips when his fingers. His breath was a new sensation, your body craving more. His soft lips hovered above your pussy, licking a long thick stripe from your entrance to your clit. Joel's tongue was soft and warm against your sensitive skin, licking small cat licks between your slit.

Joel brushed his tongue in a circle around your clit, your hand gently grabbing at his hair and the other pulling at the blanket below you. He flicked his tongue up and down, left and right, faster than you could have anticipated. Loud slurping sounds filled the room and you wondered how Joel was even breathing.

His nose brushes against your clit, lapping his tongue at the entrance of your cunt without warning. He pushed it in and out, tasting every drop of arousal your pussy could provide him. 

“Better than I ever fucking imagined,” he vibrated against your core, sending a shock wave through you. He hummed, tracing your clit again.

Joel licked the sides of your entrance, gently sliding the tip of his middle finger inside you. You let out a gasp, moaning his name and tightening the grip on his hair. Joel quickly found the best pace, paying great detail to the way your mouth hung open and eyebrows furrowed. Your legs clenched around him in desperation as Joel sunk his finger further inside. 

“So beautiful,” he mumbled to himself. Joel couldn't believe he was knuckle deep in his best friend's daughter, a girl half his age…again. Fuck, you weren't even 20 yet. 

Joel brushed the thought away, pumping his finger in and out, swirling and curling them to open you up as much as he could. He searched for your sweet spot, hitting it over and over as he lapped his tongue in your slit.

You bucked your hips, so close to release. Joel knew it. He pumped his finger faster, sucked your clit more, and spit roughly on your pussy, his saliva running down the back of your ass cheek.  

Your orgasm shot through you, wave after wave hitting you like lightning. Joel’s grip on you tightened, unwilling to let you slip out of his hands until he was sure you had ridden your orgasm all the way through. By the time he came up for air, his hair was a mess and his chest was rising and falling, leaving him all out of breath. 

“That’s my good girl,” He groaned, hovering above you and kissing you deeply. 

God, he was obsessed with how responsive you were. 

Joel stood at the edge of the bed, carefully removing his shoes and pulling down the sweatpants that hung loosely from his waist. You watched as he undressed, the bulge in his boxers undeniable. Joel Miller could not believe all the choices he made in life had led him…here. Standing above you, your legs sprawled out, pussy wet and glistening for him.

You swallow your nervousness, eyes locked on his member as he kicks off his boxers. His cock sprung free, precum gathering at the top. He was bigger than you imagined, not huge but definitely more than the average. Joel's cock stopped just below his belly button, the tip a shade lighter than the rest. He looked delicious, his balls a perfect size to slap your clit.

Joel smirked as he met your eyes like he was reading your thoughts. 

“You done this before?” Joel asked simply.

You nodded your head. “Just a couple, with my ex-boyfriend”.

Joel hummed, a slight smirk painted on his lips. “That’s good”. Joel felt himself ease a bit, no longer nervous he was the first man to be inside you. It made him feel less creepy, less like a piece of shit. 

“It’s been, kinda a while and he wasn’t… as big as you.” You whispered, your voice coxed with fear and trembling.

“That’s okay, sweet girl. I’m gonna be so gentle with ya.” Joel responded tenderly, placing a light kiss on your neck.

Your stomach fluttered in anticipation. He was so…new to you. 

Joel stepped closer, hovering about you and bringing your legs up, bending them at the knees so your ankles hung next to his shoulders. He placed a soft kiss on your ankle, caressing his hand up and down your shin. 

Joel lined his thick cock with your entrance, the tip teasing you. “You think you're ready for me, baby?” Joel asked, softly cupping your cheek. 

You nodded in agreement, softly closing your eyes.

“Need to hear you say it, baby” Joel spoke, a serious tone hidden behind the layer of desire.

“I’m ready Joel. Please…put it in.” 

Joel hummed in response, biting the inside of his cheek. He gently grabbed the base of his cock, pushing the tip just inside your tight hole. He was seeing stars already. God, how could you feel this good?

You inhale sharply, throwing your arms around his broad shoulders, and dragging your nails down with more force than you intended. You hoped it didn't hurt, but the thought of leaving a mark on him drove you crazy.

“Relax, baby. I got you. I got you.” Joel groaned into your neck, pushing himself further inside you. He placed a kiss on your lips, swallowing your cries of pleasure. Joel stayed in place as long as he could, his body screaming to push its way inside, fuck you until you were a mess of tears.

You have never been stretched out this much. Joel’s hard cock hit the back of you with a rough pressure, causing a yelp to escape you and your hands to reach out towards his stomach, pushing him out some. Joel tried to stay gentle but he knew you could take him. He grabbed your wrist, pushing it away from him and sinking back inside. 

“Too big,” you cried, a single tear forming in your eyes as Joel pulled out of you, the tip crashing back down and hitting your soft walls. You were so fucking tight around him, you were practically sucking him in. 

“You got it, baby girl. You can take it.” Joel growled, slamming gently into you with clenched teeth. “Take my cock, baby.” 

The bed creaked below you, the frame hitting the wall with an audible thud. Joel pushed your thighs down, ankles bouncing with each thrust. He was completely fucked. He would crave you every night now. God, why was he doing this?

Your vision blurred, a jolt of electricity pooled in your stomach, a fire igniting so hot in you. “Fuck yes!” you screamed, creamy white arousal gathering at the bottom of Joel's cock. The sight sent him into hyperdrive, thrusting into you like his life depended on it. Joel paid your orgasm no mind, continuing his thrust as you whined and wiggle under him, completely overstimulated by his touch, the way his cock was hitting you at that perfect angle. You were sure you’d never have sex like this with anyone other than him again. 

“Fucking good slut, taking me so well,” Joel growled, his thrust too hard for you to handle. “Told you, you could” Joel laughed, wrapping a hand around your throat and giving it a light squeeze. You gasped, swallowing as air slowly escaped you. He knew he shouldn't be here and this was why. He was trying so hard to be gentle, but he still couldn't stop himself from making a complete mess of you. Before you knew it, you were screaming out his name again, tightening your walls around him and cumming harder than ever before. “Ah!”, you whined, feeling Joel crash into your cervix hard. 

Your high-pitched moans reduced to soft cries, hips bucking, pleading for a break. You tried to wiggle out of his grip, tried to push him off a bit, but Joel was unmoveable. He grabbed your wrist, pushing them above your head and holding your hands in his. His finger intertwined with yours, engulfing you in his grasp. You clenched your walls around Joel, body almost rejecting his thick cock.

“Love this cunt, baby. Fucking love ya” Joel growled into your neck, his thrust becoming messy and uneven. “Fuck, gonna fucking cum baby. Where you want it?” Joel asked, sweat pulling at his forehead. He had hoped to last long, craved to have you cumming over and over again around him. But you were so warm, so fucking tight around him. He would have believed you if you told him you were a virgin.

“Oh fuck,” you cried Joel’s dick hitting you with so much force you thought you might be bruised. 

Joel groaned, pulling his cock out and quickly cumming on your stomach before you got a chance to process what was happening. 

“Goddamn, you were made for me,” Joel whispered, crashing on the bed next to you and pulling your shaky body on top of him. "My sweet little girl."

You stay like this for a while, Joel gently caressing your hair as your eyes get heavier and heavier. Finally, you both could rest. 

[starlightdelrey]

the view between villages

platonic ! f1 grid x reader

summary: f1 is a dangerous sport - it's common knowledge. but accidents - bad accidents - aren't as common. seeing the youngest (and only female) driver crash and not immediately respond is something the boys never thought they'd have to experience, and the rest of the world is just as devestated.

cw: major accident, graphic descriptions of injury and vehicular damage, graphic descriptions of car accident, mentions of death, blood and gore, negative emotions such as sadness and regret, angst, mentions of religion,

song pairing is "the view betwen villages" by noah kahan

(not based on any particular race)

today's race felt off to begin with. When y/n had attempted to leave her aging yorkie, comet, in her hotel room - like she had done for the past couple months - he began to whine.

"poor baby," she mocked, but turned the small TV on and switched it to the channel that would be broadcasting the race live. "look, com. watch me on the tv."

the dog had complied and jumped onto the un-made bed, but when she left and closed the door, he had whined once or twice before calming down.

she made a mental note to get him checked out at the vet, but got distracted when she showed up to the paddock and got a look at the track.

"the weather wasn't as shit yesterday during quali," she said off-handedly to max verstappen, who was chatting to the engineers.

"are you worried?" y/n was a good racer, it was clear - but whenever max saw how small she looked in comparison to everyone else on the team he had a small sense of dread. it wasn't new, just annoying.

"nah." she grinned at him, her hair already pulled back into a french braid for ease during the race.

---

"lights out.... and away we go!"

the lights blink out and y/n is already gunning it, attempting to bypass the boys from mclaren.

she discovered early on that locking up would be her main issue today, and she made it clear on her radio.

"i keep locking up."

her voice was calm but shook a little as she struggled to steer, and she spoke only in short sentences to prevent stuttering.

"copy."

finally, she worked out a system to braking that prevented the struggle, but in speeding up, found that she'd made her way into a mass of cars.

"watch out, y/n. keep out of trouble - wait until everybody else has moved out of each others way."

"ok. pulling back-" the radio crackled and then went silent as a car careened into the side of her.

---

the audiences at home got to watch a replay of the impact.

somewhere in australia, a family consisting of two parents, a teenaged boy and a little girl are watching the race.

the boy reacts first, jolting. "was that logan sargeant and y/n y/ln?"

"yeah... turn up the volume?"

the mother grabs the remote and obliges, terse.

"was that the girl driver?" the barely 5 year old asks, brows furrowed.

"baby, go play in the other room." her father dismisses her, and when she slowly shuffles out, eyes trained on the screen as the commentators relay the details, her dad huffs.

"now. and don't look at the screen anymore."

she squeals and runs out, and the boy starts to jiggle his knee up and down as they wait for more information.

across the world, houses go silent.

---

"and it looks like logan sargeant attempts to pull away from the crowd but misjudges the distance between himself and y/ln. we can see him here slam right into the right side of the body of her car, and she goes spinning out, right into barricades. oh! and if we slow it down, you can see that the force of her chassis hitting the barricades not only forces the car to lift fully off of the ground, but it also tips - the top of the vehicle flips up into the barricade until it falls back into place. that is a nasty hit for rookie red bull driver y/n y/ln."

the commentators keep talking, thinking nothing of the accident, until the cameras switch to the red bull team, who are trying to get into contact with the girl.

"y/n, are you okay?"

silence.

"can you respond? y/n we need a vocal response. anything, okay kid? even if you can just hold down on the radio button so we know you're there."

no response.

the commentators continue.

"and it looks like we're getting no response from red bull driver y/n, who has just crashed."

---

his whole body jerks on the impact, and he spins out off the track, coming to a shaky stop.

"shit, shit, shit!" his voice cracks.

"are you okay, mate?" the radio crackles at him as he's fighting back tears.

"yeah - was that y/n i hit?"

"yes, we can confirm the crash involved both you and y/ln. we are receiving word that it is a red flag crash."

"is she okay?" he doesn't get a response at first, so he tries again. "is y/n okay?"

"no word yet. sorry, logan."

"fuck! i'm so sorry - i really thought it was clear, i just... fuck."

"calm down, sargeant. wait for pick-up and keep yourself collected. we'll tell you as soon as we find anything out, okay mate?"

"sure."

he lifts himself from the smoking chassis and the world watches as he kicks it out of frustration before letting his head lower.

there's a sickening feeling in his stomach as he sees the girls unmoving vehicle.

he pictures her inside, and the fact that she's so much smaller than the older men cause his mind to unravel with pictures of her limp and unconscious.

---

inside the car, y/n blinks her eyes open, groaning.

her ears are ringing and her head hurts, and the body of her car is so warped that it's vacuum sealed her into the vehicle.

in the back of her mind, y/n feels the pain in her right thigh and left ankle, and her right shoulder feels dislocated.

"kid, we need an answer." the radio's muted and crackling, and when y/n tries to respond, she realizes that something on her end is fucked because they're still begging for an answer.

she goes to climb out of the car, but a sob tears out of her chest at the immense pain that suddenly blooms throughout her whole body.

she falls heavily back onto the seat and pants, closing her eyes.

she feels slight relief from the pain when she fully relaxes and closes her eyes, and nestles into her seat a little to get comfortable.

the need to sleep takes over her and she obeys, nodding off.

---

inside her hotel room, comet's ears pull back in concern as he hears his owners name being called out repeatedly from the television.

---

"red flag, max. we need to restart the race."

verstappen stills, his ears suddenly ringing. he has a bad feeling about the red flag but just can't place it.

"what's happened?"

"there was a crash between a williams and y/n. to the pit lanes, please." the voice on the other end seems calm, but there's a waver to it.

"fuck, are you joking? are they both okay?"

"the williams driver... logan sargeant, we're hearing, is up and out of his chassis. we've heard nothing from y/n yet."

he'd fight them, ask for more information, but knows that red bull would be the first to hear anything.

"tell me if you find anything out."

"copy."

as he drives to the pit lane, max replays her grin at him as she reassures the dutchman.

"nah." her nose is scrunched and hair pulled out of her face.

he thinks about how bulky the helmet looked on her, the barely 20 year old driver somehow never managing to put on any muscle, no matter how hard she tried.

he prays to jesus, zeus, allah, and even the virgin mary - surely she'd have sympathy to max's prayers, as she's lost someone dear to her before. any deity he can think of is immediately begged to ensure the safety of his partner.

---

a whining noise pulls y/n back into consciousness, and she furrows her brows.

"i'm trying to sleep, com. shut up." when she opens her eyes and sees the battered cockpit in front of her, she realizes that she's not hearing her dog cry, it's just the ringing in her ears that are back.

and then suddenly all she can see is comet waiting for her. comet, waiting in a hotel room that she'll never re-enter. what's gonna happen to the mutt if she dies? her parents are over-seas, she has no boyfriend to look after him. comet would be all alone.

and then all the guys on the grid are flashing through her head. she knows, vacantly, that logan crashed into her. he'd never forgive himself if she died. verstappens win streak would be fucked if he was grieving over his teammate. even lewis hamilton, who was the first driver to openly back her as the only woman on the grid.

she screws her eyes shut and lets out a heavy sob, steeling herself.

---

the commentators are no longer focused on the race.

"and i think i can speak for all of us when i ask, where is the goddamn safety car and ambulance? young driver y/n y/ln has been stuck in the wreck for about a minute and a half now, and there has still been no aid for her. which is a cause for concern about the overall safety of f1, as- oh my god!"

---

charles is already on his way back to the pit lanes, muttering manifestations under his breath for y/n to be okay.

he's shaking, filled with lead and a lump in his throat. he and y/n aren't super close, due to their team differences, but every time he spoke to her she had a certain gleam in her eye that one only had when they weren't afraid of death.

this worried him. racing was her life - would she succumb easily? it was a known fact that many drivers drove as if they had nothing to lose.

the idea of her choking on mortality in her chassis scared him more. maybe her body was broken, and the pain was all she could feel as the life drained from her? he worried for those that would have to witness the blood and bruises when she was pulled from her car.

"we've got an update on y/n."

he was pulled out of his mind. "tell me. please."

"she's getting herself out. the paramedics were taking too long, so she took it upon herself, apparently." a startled laugh falls out of charles' lips as he cheers back.

---

muscles screaming, y/n forces herself to lift out of the cockpit, allowing her body the only relief of rest once her upper half is slung over the halo. for about five seconds she stops, before she forces herself to continue.

the safety car and paramedics are here now, and camera crew for the live footage plus the netflix crew are close behind.

people are shouting at her to stop, but she continues to claw her way out of the wreckage.

she's crying and praying to a god she never knew she believed in as she forces her broken legs out of the car, sliding over the side to the ground.

she stands and looks around at the medical crew who are advancing towards her and tries to take her helmet off. she can't, and they're reassuring her that they'll do it for her.

y/n looks out at the audience and raises one arm to greet them. she's met with immediate raucous applause and, swaying for a few seconds, she falls.

---

"you would never believe it. this lady is pulling herself out of her car. as the camera zooms, you can really see the absolute strength this is taking her - hold on, we're getting audio now."

the world watches with bated breath as the coverage of her climbing out of the car begins to play. you can hear the agonised screams she lets out as she forces herself to exit, and just how broken some of her limbs look. her left ankle hangs limply, and she has to use both arms to force her right leg out of the cockpit.

"what a magnificent scene. y/n y/ln has kissed death, and still lives to tell the tale. we see her now, standing on the track as the medical staff come to her aid, and she falls. a very fair response to what she has just gone through. a round of applause to y/n y/ln, the girl who kissed death!"

---

"so lando, congratulations on p4. obviously, the whole crash between logan and y/n caused a damper on the overall race. how do you feel about it?" the interviewer pushed a mic at his face.

"the crash? yeah, it was terrifying not knowing if she was okay or not. i'm not surprised she ended up climbing out of the chassis herself," he laughs softly. "i've never known her for being patient."

"how do you feel about her new nickname?"

"nickname?"

"people are calling her 'the girl who kissed death'."

lando can't stop a high-pitched laugh from escaping. "girl who kissed death? that's stupid. oh god, i can't wait for her to find out about that. she'll be proper pissed off."

"right, well, thanks lando. have fun celebrating!" the interviewer bids him farewell.

---

a few months later:

over the healing process, y/n was forced to give multiple statements, post social media posts, and even a quick video from the hospital bed, but when she sees comet, her resolve finally fails.

she begins to tear up as the scruffy dog barks at her, jumping up and down.

"someone's excited to see you," lewis hamilton, the temporary guardian of the dog, grins.

roscoe stomps his feet and licks y/n, panting at her.

"awe, little babies. i was so scared of dying and leaving comet all alone, but i think he would've been fine."

lewis glances down at the kneeling girl in front of him and tsks, nudging her with his foot. "don't say that, y/n. nobody would've been fine."

"yeah?"

"yeah. have you seen all the tiktok edits of your crash? people were terrified. i was terrified."

y/n doesn't say anything, but stands to hug the british man.

he holds her back, before clearing his throat. "save that love for death. heard you've kissed it before."

"fuck off."

--- la fin ---

[dior-luxury]

hi!! how would bllk 11 react to the reader complimenting them out of the blue and they get all flustered ><

Complimenting Them So Much They Get Flustered

( ✧ ) ────── fluff - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] bllk 11

- [𝐩:𝐬] none

Note: This is so cute omg! ♡( ◡‿◡ )

Isagi Yoichi

You’re sitting on the couch with Isagi, the two of you sharing a lazy afternoon in his apartment. He’s in his usual hoodie, glasses on, scribbling down notes from a recent match while his game replays on the TV. You watch him for a moment—focused, dedicated, completely in his element.

Without thinking, you say softly, “You know… I really admire how hardworking you are. It’s honestly so attractive. I’m lucky to have you.”

His pen stills mid-sentence. “H-Huh?” he blinks, looking over at you, face turning an unmistakable shade of pink.

You smile at him. “Just saying. You’re kind of amazing.”

Now he’s spiraling. “Wha—wait, where did that come from? I mean—thank you—but like… you really think that? Me? Attractive?”

He tries to compose himself, but he’s already hiding his face in his notebook, peeking at you over the top like a shy puppy. His mind’s racing: Was I being cool just now? Was that when she thought I looked good? Should I do that more? But all he can manage is a choked-out, “Y-You’re the amazing one, though…”

He avoids your eyes for the next ten minutes, stammering every time you smile at him.

Rin Itoshi

Rin is notoriously hard to read, even when you’re dating him. You’re both walking back from a café, his hand loosely holding yours in his coat pocket. He’s quiet, focused on the path ahead, when you glance up at him and blurt out, “You’re so beautiful, Rin. You honestly take my breath away.”

He stops walking.

You keep going for two steps before realizing he’s not beside you. You turn to see him frozen in place, eyes slightly widened.

“…Did I say something wrong?” you ask, tilting your head.

He doesn’t answer right away. Then his brows knit together, and he looks away, ears visibly red. “Don’t say dumb things like that out of nowhere.”

You grin. “It’s not dumb if it’s true.”

He exhales sharply, face still a bit pink. “I’m not… used to that.” He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “You’re ridiculous.”

But his grip on your hand tightens. And though he faces forward again, his thumb starts brushing slow circles on your palm. You catch a small smile tugging at his lips despite his best efforts.

And when you tease him later, “So, you liked it,” he just grumbles, “Shut up,” but you spot the blush creeping down his neck again.

Nagi Seishiro

You find Nagi sprawled on your bed, arms stretched out like a starfish, phone in one hand, a bag of chips within reach. You lie beside him and rest your head on his shoulder, watching him scroll aimlessly.

Then you murmur, “You’re so effortlessly cool, Sei. Honestly… just being near you makes me feel like I’m living in a dream.”

He freezes. For a guy who lives life on ‘easy mode,’ you just threw him into hard mode without warning.

“Huh? What’s with that cheesy line?” he mumbles, phone slipping from his hand. His face is turning bright red, and he turns his head toward the ceiling as if hoping it’ll save him.

“I’m serious,” you giggle. “You’re insanely hot and charming, and it drives me a little crazy.”

He groans dramatically, dragging a pillow over his face. “Ughhh… don’t say stuff like that outta nowhere, it’s too much effort to deal with.”

But then he peeks out from under the pillow and mumbles, “You’re cute for thinking that, though.” He nudges you with his foot, lazy smile appearing. “Now you gotta cuddle me ‘til I recover.”

You roll into him, and he wraps an arm around you with a satisfied sigh, whispering under his breath, “My girlfriend’s too sweet… it’s unfair.”

Yukimiya Kenyu

Yukimiya is getting ready in the mirror, trying out different accessories. He looks stunning, as always—hair neat, eyes sharp, every movement graceful. You’re perched on the bed, chin in your hands, admiring him.

“You’re like a work of art, Kenyu,” you say dreamily. “I don’t know how you’re even real.”

He turns slightly, surprised. “Huh?”

You repeat it, slower this time. “You’re absolutely gorgeous. But more than that… you’re thoughtful, kind, and driven. I’m really proud of you.”

He stares at you for a beat too long. Then, unexpectedly, he laughs—nervous, caught off guard. “You can’t just drop compliments like that when I’m trying to fix my cufflinks,” he says, voice higher than usual.

You walk over, gently fixing his sleeve for him. He goes quiet, watching you, the flush on his cheeks spreading.

“I… appreciate that. A lot,” he says, finally. Then, almost in a whisper, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being loved like this.”

You smile and kiss his cheek, and he stares at his reflection with a dazed little grin.

“I look like a tomato,” he mutters.

Otoya Eita

Otoya’s the type who flirts with you constantly, always tossing compliments like confetti. But you’ve been planning this—waiting for just the right moment to throw him off his game.

You’re at the gym with him, watching as he finishes a set of pull-ups, muscles flexing under his shirt, hair messy with sweat. He jumps down, looking at you with that usual smirk. “Like what you see, babe?”

You lean against the wall casually and say, “Actually, yeah. You're ridiculously hot, Eita. But more than that… you’ve got this quiet determination that’s seriously attractive. You act all playful, but you work so damn hard. It’s sexy.”

He stops mid-wipe with his towel, eyes blinking rapidly.

“…Huh?” He laughs, but it’s the nervous kind—the one he uses when he’s caught off guard for once. “Wait—was that a real compliment?”

You grin. “Mhmm. 100% sincere.”

His smirk wavers and you catch it: the slightest pink tinge blooming on his cheeks. He tries to recover, tossing the towel over his shoulder and flexing a little. “Well, if you’re gonna talk like that, I might die of happiness.”

Then he leans in close, his usual swagger returning in waves, but you can see the truth in his eyes—your words hit. Deep. “You keep sweet-talking me like that, I’ll start thinking you’re obsessed.”

You whisper back, “Maybe I am,” and he actually chokes.

Mission: success.

Karasu Tabito

Karasu’s chill to a fault. He’s witty, confident, and borderline smug when he wants to be. But you’ve seen glimpses of that soft, quieter side—the one he tries to hide. And today, you plan to poke it.

He’s lounging on your couch, legs kicked up, hoodie halfway falling off one shoulder, scrolling through TikTok and occasionally showing you something dumb. You lean over and rest your head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

“You know,” you murmur, “you’re incredibly attractive. Like, not just physically, though duh. But your mind? Your confidence? The way you never let anything shake you? That’s the hottest thing in the world to me.”

His hand holding the phone pauses mid-scroll. He slowly tilts his head to look at you. “…The hell?”

You glance up. “What?”

“That was outta nowhere.” He squints, trying to act like he's unaffected, but the tips of his ears are already red.

You keep going, relentless. “And I love how you always know what to say. You make me feel safe. Like I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”

He stares at you for a solid few seconds, phone forgotten, expression unreadable. Then he groans and covers his face with a throw pillow. “Why are you like this?” he mumbles, voice muffled.

You giggle. “Flustered?”

“I’m not flustered. Shut up.” He peeks out and mutters, “But if you keep talking like that, I might have to marry you or something.”

Meguru Bachira

You’re walking through a park with Bachira, fingers entwined, as he excitedly talks about his newest soccer moves and how he wants to try them in the next match. His energy is contagious—he’s practically bouncing beside you.

You watch him, your heart swelling. Then you stop him mid-sentence.

“Meguru.”

He turns to you, curious. “Hmm?”

You smile softly. “You’re amazing. Like, seriously. Your passion, your joy, the way you play with your whole heart… it inspires me. And your smile? It lights up everything. I love being around you.”

He stares at you, completely frozen. His mouth opens slightly, but no sound comes out.

“…H-Huh? Wait, wait, say that again.”

You take a step closer. “You heard me.”

He clutches his chest dramatically, pretending to stagger. “I—my heart! Babe, you’re trying to kill me!”

You laugh, and he grins wide—but there’s a visible pink flush on his cheeks now. “You’re not allowed to be this cute without warning,” he pouts. “You’re supposed to be the normal one in this relationship.”

You wrap your arms around him, and he buries his face in your shoulder, mumbling something that sounds like, “I don’t deserve you, but I’m gonna keep you forever anyway.”

You melt on the spot.

Niko Ikki

Niko’s reserved. Not in a shy way, just... thoughtful, a bit guarded. He’s not the kind of guy who fishes for compliments. He’s more comfortable showing love than receiving it. Which makes surprising him that much sweeter.

You’re both sitting on the floor of your apartment, a puzzle half-done in front of you. He’s concentrating hard, brows furrowed. You admire the way his fingers move, gentle and precise.

“You’re so handsome,” you say suddenly.

His head snaps up. “What?”

You smile. “And really smart. You don’t talk much, but when you do, it always means something. I think that’s rare. And really attractive.”

He blinks. “Where’s this coming from?”

You shrug. “I’ve just been thinking about how lucky I am.”

He lowers his gaze, clearly trying to hide how flustered he is. A small, uncertain smile tugs at his lips. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you say, nudging his shoulder. “Just let me love you.”

He clears his throat, cheeks tinged with pink, then mumbles, “...You’re kinda dangerous when you talk like that.”

You tilt your head. “Dangerous?”

He nods. “Because it makes me want to hold you forever.”

Aryu Jyubei

Aryu’s doing his self-care routine—facial mask on, robe tied perfectly, classical music playing in the background while he paints his nails a glittery silver. You’re lounging on his chaise with a drink in hand, admiring him.

He’s talking about his favorite moisturizer when you suddenly interrupt: “God, Jyubei, you’re literally the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Like, you're so flawless it makes me feel like I’m in a movie when I look at you.”

He freezes, brush mid-air. “...Excuse me?”

You continue with a soft smile. “And it’s not just the outside. You're confident, thoughtful, and—strangely—you always make me feel more secure about myself, too.”

He drops the nail polish brush back into the bottle a little too fast.

“Stop that,” he says, turning toward you with an expression caught between horror and flustered delight. “If you say things like that out of nowhere, I’ll combust. And then who's going to maintain this beauty?!”

You laugh, but his face is red, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

He tries to brush it off, dramatically fanning himself. “You’ve got no idea the effect you have on me, darling. That was so unfiltered, so raw—ugh! I need a moment.”

He gets up, robe swirling, muttering, “I must look in the mirror to recover my sense of self.”

But you can hear it—soft under his breath: “...She really thinks I’m that amazing?”

And later? He absolutely brings it up while cuddling. “Say it again,” he whispers into your hair.

Chigiri Hyoma

You’re sitting on a blanket under the cherry blossoms, sharing snacks and watching petals drift down. Chigiri looks ethereal in the soft light—hair glowing, eyes half-lidded, the very picture of peace.

Then, out of nowhere, you say, “I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as beautiful as you. It’s almost unfair.”

He chokes on his rice cracker. “H-Huh?”

You lean closer. “Seriously. You’re graceful and fast and insanely strong. And you’re so kind to me. Being with you feels like breathing after drowning.”

He stares at you, stunned. Then his whole face slowly lights up like a firework display—pink, then red, then redder. “You can’t just say stuff like that,” he mumbles, eyes darting away, ears fully flushed.

You gently poke his cheek. “Why not? It’s true.”

He hides his face behind his sleeve, muttering something unintelligible. You catch the words “too cute” and “my heart can’t take it”. He tries to maintain his cool-guy act, but when you kiss his temple, he audibly whimpers.

Later, when you’re leaning against him and holding hands, he quietly whispers, “You’re beautiful too… you know that?” And even though he’s the one flustered, he still wants to return the love.

Reo Mikage

You’re curled up on the massive couch in Reo’s penthouse, watching him work through some business emails. He’s in full CEO mode—reading, typing, hair pushed back, sleeves rolled up. You’re supposed to be quiet, letting him focus, but you can’t help yourself.

“Reo,” you say softly.

He glances over. “Yeah, babe?”

“You’re brilliant. Like, insanely brilliant. You could do anything—run a company, become a world-class player—and somehow you’re still humble. You amaze me.”

His fingers freeze over the keyboard. Slowly, he looks up. “…Did you just compliment me out of nowhere?”

You nod. “Because I meant it.”

He blinks, clearly caught off guard, mouth slightly open. Then he leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, trying to compose himself—but the flush rising in his cheeks betrays him.

“You can’t say stuff like that without warning. What do you want, a yacht?” he jokes, trying to play it cool.

You grin. “Just wanted you to know how proud I am.”

He sets his laptop aside, walks over, and drops dramatically onto the couch next to you, head in your lap. “You’re gonna turn me into a puddle,” he groans, burying his face in your stomach. “Do you know how dangerous your love is? I could give up everything just to hear you say that again.”

And you do say it again. And he melts, completely.

Barou Shoei

Barou’s in the kitchen, apron on, cooking you something he swears is "the ultimate fuel." He moves with purpose—sharp, focused, intense. You lean against the doorway, just watching him like he’s your favorite show.

“You’re incredible, Shoei.”

He grunts without looking at you. “Damn right.”

“No, really,” you continue. “You’re strong. Not just physically, but mentally. You don’t bend, you don’t break. You’re so passionate and unshakable. That’s insanely attractive.”

Now he stops.

Spatula in hand, he turns his head slightly, one brow raised. “What the hell brought that on?”

You walk over and wrap your arms around his waist from behind. “Just facts. I love how much pride you carry. Makes me feel safe. Makes me proud to be yours.”

His whole body tenses. “…Tch.”

You peek around and catch it: the red ears. He’s glaring at the pan like it personally insulted him, but his neck is beet red.

“You’re embarrassing me,” he grumbles.

You kiss his shoulder. “You love it.”

He turns, pointing the spatula at you, completely flustered. “Don’t think I won’t turn this kitchen into a war zone if you keep talking like that.”

But then he quiets down and mumbles under his breath, “Thanks, though. I… needed that.”

And when you turn away to give him space? He smiles. Just a little.

Hiori Yo

Hiori’s sitting on the couch with you, laptop open, working on strategy notes. His glasses are slipping a little, and his brow is furrowed in that serious, beautiful way he gets when he’s deep in thought.

You gently nudge him. “Hey.”

He hums without looking up. “Mm?”

You lean your head on his shoulder. “You’re so thoughtful. And smart. And kind. You never make a big deal about it, but I notice. Every little thing you do—it makes me feel loved.”

His fingers pause mid-type.

You feel his body tense just slightly. “…That was out of nowhere,” he murmurs.

You nod against him. “I know. Just wanted to say it.”

He slowly closes the laptop, then turns to look at you—eyes soft, but wide, like he’s trying to process it all.

“You really think that about me?” he asks quietly.

You reach up and tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “Every word.”

He takes your hand, holds it against his heart, and leans in until your foreheads touch. “You always say the things I don’t know I need to hear… Thank you.”

His voice cracks on the last word, barely above a whisper.

You sit there in silence for a while, his arms wrapped around you, your heart beating in sync. He doesn’t say much after that—but later, you find a little note in your bag:

“I’ll spend my life trying to be the man you already believe I am.”

Nanase Nijiro

You and Nanase are sprawled out on the floor building a Lego set—something relaxing after a long week. He’s humming softly, sleeves rolled up, completely focused on the tiny pieces.

You glance over and say, “You’re really cute when you’re focused.”

He freezes, brick halfway to his hand. “W-What?”

You crawl a little closer. “Actually, you’re just really cute. Period. You’re sweet, patient, hardworking... and I always feel calm around you. You’re like… emotional safety in a person.”

His hands drop into his lap. He stares down at the Legos like they betrayed him. “I… I don’t know what to say…”

You lean in and boop his nose. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

His face goes bright red. “You can’t just—! That’s not fair! That’s like… a sneak attack!”

You giggle, and he hides his face behind his hands. “I’m not used to being complimented like that…” he mumbles.

You gently pull his hands away. “Get used to it. I love you.”

His lips part slightly like he wants to say it back, but instead he throws himself into a hug, burying his face in your shoulder and whispering, “You’re gonna make me cry if you keep being so sweet.”

You hold him tighter. “Then I’ll hold you through it.”

[purplereina11]

New Signing, New Beginning Part 7

Mia Larsen was Barcelonas new summer signing

Alexia Putellas is a club legend who just can't seem to talk to her

Mia was staying with Keira the night of the El Classico, she was relaxing on her sofa watching the TV as Keira was getting the spare room ready, something she hovered to help with but was scolded so skulked away. There was some Spanish soap on the television her grandparents watched religiously, she found herself invested and if not home to catch it had them record the episode for her. She smiled at the text she got from her Gran assuring her she was recording the episode for her incase Keira didn’t watch it.

“Hey” Kiera spoke as she came into the living room, she looked at the TV “Oh god you like this too?” Keira flopped onto the sofa, “Alexia loves it, her and Lucy used to always talk about it, she used to watch it, I haven’t a clue what’s going on ever”

“Why did you not just put subtitles on?” Mia spoke like it was the most obvious suggestion and it probably was

“She wouldn’t let me, she said I would pick up Spanish better if I didn’t have them on” Mia giggled moving her head to look at Keira before her attention turned right back to the episode, “Not that has proved to be true”

“It’s nice you two are still friends”

“There was no bad blood there, we just.. ran our course I guess. Ona makes her so happy, and she’s a good person. She helps me a lot with my Spanish”

Mia hummed, “I noticed that, Aitana has the thankless task of the Catalan I’ve noticed”

“We don’t all grow up in multi lingual houses Mia” Mia smiled, “I think Aita has given up, to be fair it just wasn’t going in at all, languages has never been my thing”

“You understand a lot”

Keira nodded, “Yeah I understand it just can’t speak it” Keira pointed to the Tv, “Thought you were watching this”

“It’s fine, my gran text she’s recording it for me”

Keira swooned, “That is so adorable”

“Yeah.. she’s the best”

Both looked as there was tapping at the door, Keira furrowed her brows as Mia looked back to her silently asking are you going to get that, Keira pulled herself off the sofa and towards the door she pulled it, “Oh, hi” she smiled at Alexia at her door, Mia hadn’t turned around to see who was at the door she just snuggled under her blanket that little bit more.

She felt her body get goosebumps when she heard that voice, one she’d not heard in some time now, it had been maybe 4 days since they’re confrontation, Mia had lost count of the nights she’d laid awake replaying it over and over in her head. What she would say when Alexia made the move to make it less awkward between them again. If she had the chance. Mia had become an expert in not being where Alexia was until today.

Alexia opened her mouth to ask her question when she got the sweetest smile on her lips, “You watch this? Lucy said you hated it”

“Oh um” Keira looked and from here you couldn’t actually see Mia, “No.. Mias here, she watches it” Keira silently gained Alexia’s attention her eye contact told her to go say hello, “What did you need?”

“Oh, I needed sugar.. please”

Keira nodded, “I’ll put some in a cup”

“Gracias”

Mia sat tense whether the captain would come acknowledge her or not, she knew she was here but there conversation moved past Mia’s presence quite quickly. Mia’s chin rose to look above her, feeling her presence, her attention was fully focused on the show, Mia lowered her head back down. For a second she thought Alexia had pointedly come over to actively ignore her, “Hola” her voice was timid, Alexia was fearful she’d get the angry face from Mia that had played on repeat in her dreams.

Mia swallowed, “Hola” that came out quieter than she intended, Mia found herself wanting to make small talk but she figured she’d let Alexia fill the silence, she obviously came over for a reason. Maybe actually mustering up the courage to apologise, who knows.

Alexia glanced as Keira appeared with a cup, “Gracias” Alexia stared at the sugar in the cup, “You were great today”

“Thank you” Mia spoke softly, Alexia waited for her to say something else, smile at her, just even acknowledge she was stood behind her but she never. Alexia admitted defeat despite her abysmal attempt and retreated back to her apartment a few floors up.

“Mia” Keira said softly as she sat back down

“I know i did wrong but she started it”

“Are you 12?”

Mia smiled, “No, but she loves reminding me she’s the captain so she can make this right that’s what a captain should do”

+

Mia was fiddling with her shorts as she walked down the corridor, “Bon Dia” she rose her head and Alexia was right in front of her. Alexia smiled ever so slightly, she really wanted to make amends with Mia but she just didn’t know where to start with it.

“Bon Dia” Mia lowered her head again and went walking straight by her, Alexia took a breath turned grabbed her hand before Mia even knew what was happening she found herself in the meeting room door shut and Alexia blocking the exit. “I’m not doing this with you again”

“Sit down”

“No” Mia fought back, “Why should I sit down?”

“Sit” Alexia rose her voice slamming the chair back out from under the table, “Down”

The girls in the locker room next door fell silent hearing Alexia raise her voice, Keira swallowed there was only one person Alexia would speak to like that. There was only one other person missing.

“Sitting down isn’t going to happen, what, do you want” Mia had her back up, and rightfully so here Alexia was speaking to her like shit again. Mia could feel all these emotions swirling around her body as they stood silently neither making a move Alexia looking everywhere but her as she searched for some words to say.

Mia silently urged Alexia just to make this right, apologise, do something because holding her hostage in the meeting room wasn’t achieving anything. It was pointless. Futile. Fruitless. It was getting them no where. It wasn’t achieving anything. It was just building more anger and resentment towards the captain on Mias part.

“This is stupid” Mia moved by Alexia, she didn’t mean to bump into her as she opened the door.

“Stop” Alexia slammed the door back shut, turning Mias body to face her. They were incredibly close, Alexia could feel Mia’s breath. She was lost in every sense Mia was infiltrating. Her touch, her smell, her sight. The words weren’t coming yet again and she could feel Mias anger building again.

“Say something then” Mia whispered into the smallest gap between them, Alexia practically pushing her against the door.

“Please, just, sit down”

Mia put her hands on Alexia’s stomach forcing some distance, “That’s not what you needed to say” Mia slipped out the door making sure to slam it, the girls in the locker room heard the door slam followed by something clattering. Alexia had kicked a chair. Mia appeared in view walking straight through the locker room.

“Mia” Keira spoke getting to her feet

“I’m fine” Simply stated before heading out to the gym for today’s recovery session. It was Keira and Ingrid that went after her.

Alexia was noticeably missing for some time, she arrived finally her eyes scanning to see where Mia was. She was tucked in the corner on the treadmill, Pere talking to her, she didn’t say a word however. She was just nodding, she got a little smile towards the end.

Alexia plonked herself down between Mapi and Patri to began stretching, “I need your help” she directed at Patri, “I” Alexia looked to Patri and to Patri, her friend looked anguished. “I don’t know what to do, I keep making it worse.” The pain in Alexia’s face and voice was evident, the spaniard clearly torn apart about the way her friendship or lack there of with Mia was going.

“What happened?”

“I pulled her into the office, she wouldn’t sit down” Alexia looked like she was almost going to have a panic attack recounting the story.

“You shoved her into a door?” Patri asked

Alexia’s head dropped, “She’s never going to forgive me”

Patri put her hands on the captain’s neck yanking her to kiss her temple, “You need to speak to her, she’s just a person Ale why do you find it so hard to just speak to her”

Alexia shrugged, she knew she’d finally figured it out, but she would never get the opportunity to explain to Mia she doubted now.

+

Alexia sat nervously in the restaurant waiting on an arrival, Patri told her to be here and she’d get Mia here. Alexia looked at the time and she should have been here by now, maybe she’d arrived seen it wasn’t in-fact Patri she was meeting and just left.

Her head rose and she froze much like Mia had, their eyes locked over the restaurant, Mia instantly knew. Her dinner date wasn’t Patri. It was Alexia all along. She did think it was odd the restaurant choice Patri had suggested but it became clearer. A waiter approached Mia as Alexia rose to her feet, she told him with a smile she was meeting a friend and she’d seen her. That smile quickly dropped however as she began closing the distance to the table way at the back Alexia stood awkwardly.

“Buenas Noches” Alexia said softly watching as Mia took her seat, she lowering herself back down. She hoped they could work this out.

Mia placed her bag on the floor took off her jacket and poured herself a glass of water, Alexia felt it was a good start she’d at least stayed. It was a good sign.

“Don’t blame Patri”

Mia sipped her water finally looking at Alexia, “Who else am i to blame?”

Alexia shrugged, “Me i guess, I asked her to get you here so we could talk” Mia simply nodded as her glass was lowered back to the table

“Talk then” Mias attitude wasn’t helping Alexia’s sweaty palms but she knew it was justified. She had to ignore it. She needed to start the ball rolling tonight in making this amends with Mia.

“I don’t know how to speak to you” Alexia just started if she over thought what she was going to say or how to say it, it wouldn’t come out, “And I know it sounds stupid because we’ve had conversations but” Alexia stuttered slightly, “I feel like.. you are the only person that’s ever come here that when you look at me you aren’t looking at Alexia Putellas, you’re looking at.. me” Mia lowered her gaze, “I’m not used to that, and it makes me feel vulnerable around you. I don’t let myself be vulnerable around many people especially people i’ve just met. It scares me. And. I don’t know why but my natural reaction is to just be mean to you and i don’t know why. And i hate myself for it, i really wish i wouldn’t do that”

Mia rose her eyes back to Alexia’s as they were interrupted, Alexia ordered the wine she knew Mia liked when asked about food Alexia checked Mia knew what she wanted and they ordered. Mia sat back looking around the restaurant she’d never been here before, she looked back to Alexia. “Me to”

Alexia swallowed, “I’m sorry”

Mia softened almost instantly, she didn’t speak as the waiter brought over their wine and poured them each a glass, Mia gladly sipped hers needing the courage. She watched as Alexia looked past her out into the restaurant, Mia didn’t know how it got to this and maybe her avoiding Alexia only proved to deepen the tensions. “I don’t actually think your a dick by the way” Alexia moved her eyes to Mia, “Maybe a little bit but id had quite a bit to drink and i was out of order, i shouldn’t of spoken to you like that ever let alone in-front of the team”

Alexia let herself curl her lips ever so slightly, “I don’t even know what you mean by dick”

Mia lowered her head as she smiled, “In England we use it as an insult or to describe someone who’s being not very nice or aren’t nice, it’s a harsher way of saying jerk basically”

Alexia lifted her chin briefly now understanding, “Well as you say, I was being, a dick” Mia laughed, “What’s funny?”

“Just your accent when you speak English” Alexia tilted her head, “It’s cute” Alexia blushed, this was going better than Alexia thought it would be, even if Mias laugh was at her expense. Mia silently tore off some bread as she chewed she felt maybe she owed it to Alexia to tell her the truth. “You know when you asked me what Olga wanted”

“That was none of my business i shouldn’t of asked”

“It sort of is your business” Alexia’s face pulled in confusion, “As Captain… she wants me at Madrid”

“What?”

Mia shrugged, “She said if i say the word Toril would put an offer in in the January window”

“You want to go?” Mia simply shook her head eating some more bread, “Did you say that?”

Mia nodded, “Despite it appears it’s your life’s mission to make me hate it here, I like it, i enjoy the football”

“I am sorry”

Mia nodded finally making eye contact, “I know. But, we’ve been here before”

Alexia knew her apology was appreciated but she also knew her actions from here on out would speak louder. She needed to not let herself try to push Mia away just because she was infatuated with her in a way she never had with someone before. Mia was different. She knew that. She knew she’d be punching to even attempt to pursue Mia but the way she’d been behaving, it was never going to happen.

Patri had told Alexia Mia thought she was attractive. It gave Alexia hope.

“You do realise your now down a midfielder” Alexia rose her head from dipping her bread, “I’m going to kill Patri”

Alexia smiled, “I made her do it”

Mia hummed, “Bet the capitana line came out” Mia rose her eyes, “Am i really that scary to you that you couldn’t just speak to me”

Alexia shook her head, “You make me nervous”

Mias forehead wrinkled in response, “Why?”

Alexia shrugged, “Everyone else always seems to be so impressed by Alexia Putellas, you don’t” I feel not good enough is what Alexia missed off the end of her sentence.

“I am impressed by you, of course i am all you’ve achieved and what you can do. But i understand there’s a person behind all that, one that deserves just as much acknowledgment. I want to know you Alexia, not ‘Alexia Puetellas’ even though she is pretty cool” Alexia rose her eyes, “If that makes you nervous i’m sorry but you’re going to have to get over it, because clearly just not speaking isn’t something you want either”

Alexia laughed softly, “Why do i feel like i got you here to sort things and you ended up being the one to fix it”

“Because i’m just that amazing” Mia smiled sitting back sipping her wine, “Plus i need you on my side when I punch Patri tomorrow”

“I’ll hold her if you want” Alexia joked making Mia’s smile even bigger, “Although.. seems it was worth it”

Mia nodded as she spotted there food coming over, “Seems it”

Mia let Alexia come back to her grandparents in the taxi they stayed in the restaurant just talking for hours, Mia’s cheeks hurt from the smile Alexia kept on her face all evening, she was funny. Unintentionally witty and incredibly charming. If Mia wasn’t mistaken she could have sworn at one point they were gently flirting with each other, the ride to her grandparents home was held in a comfortable silence.

Mia unlocked the door and flicked on a light as she walked into the bungalow dropping her bag and keys on the table to her right she had breakfast at every morning, Alexia dipped her head as she followed her inside, closing the door behind herself. She took in her environment she smiled, it screamed grandparents, family pictures scattered around the space, “I’ll be back, make yourself comfy if you want”

Alexia simply nodded as Mia disappeared off into a room off the kitchen, she let her eyes scan around, her lips tugged seeing Mia’s picture the club took in her kit on her first day, framed on the mantel piece one side. Alexia let her feet carry herself to the opposite side, she scanned the family picture, she instantly spotted Mia big smile on her face flanked by Alexia knew were her parents she was the perfect mix of both. Alexia carried on wandering, looking at more pictures of the grandchildren, nearly all Mia’s pictures were football related, she either had on a football shirt, or a football was visible in the picture.

Alexia rose her eyes as Mia reappeared opening the fridge, “You were a cute kid” Alexia commented, Mia smiled as she got two bottles of water out of the fridge, closing the door coming towards her holding one to her.

“Thanks” she tittered at the comment

“Why is that funny?” Mia just shrugged, opening her water, “And you say I’m weird”

“No.. I say you’re awkward” Mia swigged some of the water, “You want to go sit by the pool?”

“You have a pool?” Alexia asked, Mia started walking backwards

“Follow me La Reina” Mia turned, she got to a door soon enough opening it to a rather large back garden considering the quaint size of the bungalow. Alexia shut the door behind her self as she saw Mia was already lowering her self to sit on the edge of the pool her feet dipping into the water. Mia spoke as Alexia silently joined her, “I like to sit here” she pointed up, “You get a real good view of the stars” Alexia watched Mia as she stared up at the sky clearly mesmerised, “You never saw this many stars in London” There was a subtle curve of Mia’s lips as she kept her gaze on the night sky, unaware how Alexia was admiring her taking in every inch of her, relishing in the interrupt view “My dad loved space, he was always so intrigued by it, he’d sit for hours at his telescope just looking. He never really liked football, but that was the thing we could talk about, instead of watching a game together we’d go look at the stars together” Mia laughed gently to herself at the memory, “Mum would hate how many space documentaries we’d watch, one Sunday he promised it would be finished before Barcelona played, it didn’t. She missed the first half, she was so angry she refused to cook dinner.” Mia swallowed as she seemed to catch herself, she glanced seeing Alexia watching her and lowered her gaze, “Anyway, you didn’t come here to listen to me witter on about space”

“I like listening to you.. it’s cute when you speak English” Alexia smiled proudly when Mia rolled her eyes shaking her head

“I’ll push you in the pool”

“You wouldn’t dare”

Mia looked to Alexia a playful glint in her eye, “You clearly don’t know me very well”

“You’d actually push me in the pool”

Mia smiled as the water bottle came to her lips humming as she nodded before taking a sip.

“When you think you know someone” Alexia jokingly shook her head, before she knew it. She was in the pool, Mia on the side laughing at her as she popped back up.

Mia was laughing it soon faded when she saw Alexia’s face, “No, don’t even think about it” Mia pointed at her, “Alexia” Mia couldn’t help but laugh when Alexia took hold of an ankle. “I’m sorry”

“Oh well” Alexia took her hand and pulled her in to.

Alexia was laughing when Mia appeared back through the top of the water, it was a beautiful sound Mia could listen to it forever. It faded when they realised just how close they were floating. Mia’s favourite thing about Alexia was quickly becoming her eyes, her dark brown eyes that always seemed to draw her in. Even when Alexia had nothing nice to say they were the softest part of her. They’d change colour in the sun and become brighter, they’d glint when she was feeling cheeky. 

Mia got goosebumps when Alexia’s arm slipped around her waist gently gripping her waist as she helped hold her up, it was an excuse to be closer in truth. Mia slipped her arms around her neck and they held each other silently for what felt like an eternity. But it still felt not long enough when Mia felt Alexia start to pull away, she smiled feeling her peck her check. Mia let her arms fall her hands resting on Alexia’s strong shoulders instead she spotted Alexia swallow a nervous lump in her throat. Mia whispered when Alexia’s eyes trained to her lips, “What you waiting for?” Alexia’s eyes shot back to Mia’s own, “Mapi isn’t coming”

Alexia let a simple breath push out in amusement, a warm feeling washed through Mia as Alexia came closer, it felt like fireworks going off inside her as her face leaned in closer. Their lips brushed together, tentatively. It was brief, sweet, innocent and she expected nothing less from the awkward Alexia. She’d felt Alexia’s shoulders relax under her fingertips the second their lips brushed, Alexia had been imagining this moment since the day they met. The way Mia’s lips would feel against their own, how her body would feel against the brits. It was everything and more than she imagined.

Alexia cleared her rambling thoughts her lips still painfully close to Mia’s that one simple kiss wasn’t enough. Her heart raced as she reconnected there lips, Mias body setting on fire as there lips moved in perfect synchronicity body’s pushing together as her back gently touched against the wall of the pool. The cold forcing her chest forward in an attempt to relieve the sting of the cold. She let her hands come to Alexia’s jawline when Alexia used one hand to hold her self up the other still around Mia. It may of been a slow kiss but it certainly was intense.

Mia licked her lips when they parted, both their breathing was unsteady and fast, they didn’t speak neither wanting to pop the bubble of bliss they were in. Alexia’s thumb was slowly moving up and down on her waist as there breathing was slowly becoming under control.

Mia spoke first, “Shall we um” she started when she saw Alexia’s jaw chatter very briefly, “Shall we get out, it’s a bit cold” Alexia nodded, she reluctantly removed her arm from around Mia and without her body against her own her jaw now had a mind of its own. The heat of Mia or between them no longer shielding just how cold this pool was.

Alexia hovered at the door, Mia looked back when she didn’t follow, “I’m dripping everywhere”

Mia smiled, “Your fine, it’s tiles it’ll dry” Mia kept going, she headed to the bathroom to grab them some towels. She smiled when she came back and Alexia still wasn’t inside. “Alexia you’re going to get sick just come inside” Mia put the towel around Alexia, “Please” Mia smiled when Alexia slipped by her into the home.

Mia showed Alexia her room, got her some dry clothes out and offered her the hairdryer she left her to it whilst she used her grandparents room to change out the wet clothes.

Alexia came out Mias room in a pair of her barcelona shorts and a plain grey jumper to see Mia already on the sofa the soft light of her phone lighting her face. She looked when she heard Alexia, “You, sticking around or do you want me to drive you home?”

“I’ll get a taxi”

“You’re not getting a taxi, you’ll either stay here or i take you home”

“Sorry, who’s captain?”

“My house” Mia rose to her feet with a smile, “My rules” Alexia got a smile like Mia hadn’t seen before, was this the Alexia everyone else got because if they did she was incredibly jealous. She was hot. “What you doing Putellas?”

“I’m not dragging you out it’s late”

“Ok” Mia glided by Alexia whose smile just got bigger, “No funny business though, i’m not that easy” Alexia laughed and as she turned Mia stood staring. “Why is that so funny?” Alexia shrugged, “You’ve been talking to Keira haven’t you?”

Mia got into bed moving over to the other side next to the wall, she tried to hide how amused she was with how awkward Alexia was being about the situation. It was just adorable. “I haven’t” Alexia lay flat on her back, stiff as a board, “Should i?”

“You could just ask me” Alexia turned her head to Mia and Mia was just honest, “I’ve had three relationships”

“Why did they end?”

“First one, just ran its course we were young, second, she moved to Germany for football so we ended that, Third that’s the one that Keira would say sent me spiral into ‘Fuck buddy era’ that we won’t count or get into”

Alexia turned onto her side, the casual conversation easing her into there wasn't an expectation, “Why?”

“She was 10 years older than me, based in America but it worked somehow. Til it didn’t when she asked me to marry her”

Alexia looked over Mia’s face, “Well the fact your not married tells me how that ended”

Mia smiled turning to her, “I said no, and that was that. Rather abrupt way to end something i was quite happy in but i was 24, i wasn’t ready for that and she obviously was being older.” Mia laughed softly to herself, “You know what they say to get over someone get under someone else, i sure did that” Mia looked away, “Don’t even know why I’m telling you that doesn’t paint me in a good way”

Alexia smiled softly, “Your just being honest, who am i to judge” Alexia took a breathe, “I’ve not dated in 5 years”

Mia looked to Alexia, “Not to ruin this moment but you not dating is a hate crime to all the gay women of Barcelona” Alexia thankfully smiled, “You get how hot you are right?” Alexia’s smile grew, “I’m being serious” Mia giggled, “Answer me”

“You think i’m hot?”

“I know Patri told you, that women can’t keep a secret unless it’s about who she’s sleeping with then she’s surprisingly quiet on the matter”

“Patri’s seeing someone” Mia’s eyes went a little wide, “Mia!”

“Buenas noches dulces sueños” Mia turned to face the wall smiling hearing Alexia laughing softly.

“I won’t say come on”

“No”

“Mia” Alexia reached forward and Mia squirmed under her touch, “Are you ticklish?”

“No”

Alexia laughed as she tickled Mia her body trying to get away but the wall blocking her route, Mia ended up on her back directly below Alexia’s gaze. “Tell me”

“No”

“Mia”

“Stop” Mia laughed grabbing at Alexia’s hand, she finally let Mia prize it off her but only because their fingers laced. “If you watch her, you’ll figure it out” Alexia furrowed her brows, “Watch her, all i’m saying”

The pair spoke some more before Mia was slowly falling asleep, she woke in the night and Alexia was wrapped around her. She smiled and let herself go back to sleep, in the comfort of Alexia’s strong arms.

+

It was match day as Mia entered the locker room Patri made a beeline for her, “Well?”

“Well what?” Mia looked up at her as she sat down

“What happened?” Patri looked awkward as Alexia entered the room.

“As if i’d tell you” Alexia took her spot beside her, “Liar”

Patri put both hands on either of Mia’s cheek, “I’ll find out, I always do”

“Big talk from someone with big secrets”

Patri narrowed her eyes and walked away, “I’m watching you”

“Enjoy the view my love” Mia pouted a kiss at her as she took her seat the other end of the locker room.

Mia felt nervous her and Alexia had been here before, today would be the day to see if they’d actually turned a corner or not.

Mia lowered her head as they started to hover to come out for the warm up, Alexia chose to stand beside her which she never did. “I’m serious” Alexia spoke hushed, “I want that pan cake recipe” Mia lifted her head and smiled, “They were good” Mia made Alexia pancakes in her Grandparents as Alexia sat patiently at the table watching her,

“I know, you had 5” Alexia couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as they jogged out for the warm up.

Alexia turned jogging backwards, “You promised you wouldn’t judge”

Mia mimicked the coach doing the warm ups, “No judgement just pointing it out”

+

Mia was starting today’s game, it was 20 minutes in and Barcelona were three nil up when she was pushing forward with the ball once again.

Mia was tackled and the whole stadium stood still. 

The thud was sickening the cry she let out sent chills down everyone’s spines. Alexia sprinted over to her, “Mia” she got onto her knees hand on her back, “Mia..”

“I think she’s broke my ankle”

Alexia moved when the medical team got to her, she walked away visibly worried, “Is she ok?” Keira asked

“She said she thinks she’s broke her ankle” Alexia said before moving back to hover worried for her, she couldn't just leave her side. She needed to be there for her.

Surely Mia’s season couldn’t be over just like that. It wasn’t fair. The team spent a long time with Mia before the signal was shown to sub her off and Alexia’s heart dropped seeing Mia’s face when she sat up. She looked devastated, players just knew when something was bad. It’s only a feeling players who’d gotten hurt know. It was the feeling they all dread.

When Mia was in the back she let her emotions out, hiding her face in her shirt as she cried this wasn’t suppose to be how it went, she’d had a dream start to life at Barcelona. It couldn’t all end like this. She heard a cheer go up, Barcelona were clearly fine without her scoring multiple more times. That fourth goal, Alexia scored.

She held up one finger on one hand and five on the other.

15 for Mia.

She had to be ok, she just had to be. There was no way around it.

[whisperofwonder]

The Best Medicine

Kageyama Tobio x reader - 1k words

Your daughter is sick. Kageyama stays home with her.

Reader is referred to as "mommy"

"She'll be fine," Tobio assures you. "I'll be here with her all day."

"I know," You sigh. Ever since you left work early yesterday to pick your daughter up from daycare, you've been fussing over her. It's just a fever and a cough, something that the doctor assured you will go away on its own with some medicine and time, but you can't help but worry just a little. It makes sense for Tobio to stay with her today - it's the off season, and he doesn't have any training scheduled. You're the one in the middle of a big project at work.

"I just gave her more medicine," You continue as you gather your things for work, "And it should keep her knocked out for a bit. The rest is good for her." You're saying it as much for yourself as for Tobio's benefit. He nods along anyway. "Just remember to have her eat a little something when she takes the next dose," You add as you pull on your coat.

"I will. Don't worry," He says more firmly, gripping your shoulders and looking you in the eye, forcing you to stop moving for just a moment. "We'll be just fine here. If anything comes up, I'll give you a call right away."

"Okay." You manage a smile. "Thanks, Tobio."

"Of course. I love you," He leans in for a peck before he releases you.

"I love you too," You reply on your way out the door, "I'll see you later."

With that, you're gone, and Tobio turns back into the quiet house. He doesn't have much lined up for the morning, he just starts a load of laundry and then settles on the couch with a replay of a recent match on the quietest setting. He takes a few notes every now and then.

Eventually, lunch time draws near. After heating up a quick meal for himself, he's slotting his few dishes in the dishwasher when he hears the call.

"Mommy!" Your daughter whimpers, and he closes the dishwasher, making his way to her room before she has a chance to call out again. It's just about time for her next round of medicine, anyway.

"Hi, baby," He says gently, brushing sweaty strands of hair away from her forehead. She's still warm, but the fever has definitely gone down.

"Want Mommy," She insists, her lower lip jutting out in a pout.

"Mommy's at work," He reminds her. You'd said goodbye to her this morning right before you left. "She'll be home later." She doesn't look pleased, but she doesn't say another word. "Are you a little hungry?" He asks, changing the subject.

"No," She shakes her head.

"Not even for some applesauce?" He asks as he gently tugs the blanket off of her. "It will help the medicine make you all better."

She hesitates for a moment. "Kay," She agrees quietly. He picks her up, carrying her to the kitchen. If she weren't sick, she would have scrambled out of bed and darted down the hallway on her own. It's clear she's still not feeling like herself.

After the snack of applesauce and dose of medicine, he lifts her to his hip again, prepared to tuck her back in bed. Her eyes are already drooping. In her room, he moves to lay her back down on the pillow, but she clings to his neck.

"No, Daddy," She whimpers into his chest.

"I'll read you a story," He suggests, settling down on the edge of the bed with her still in his arms.

"Don't wanna story." She shakes her head, scrubbing a fist at her eye. "Wanna watch TV."

He sighs and softens. "Okay," He agrees. In the living room, he puts on one of her favorite shows. He moves to set her down on the couch, but she clings to him again.

"No," She shakes her head.

"No?" He echoes, then settles her on his lap. "Alright." If she wants to stay close to him so badly, how can he say no to that? She leans against him, soft and warm in his arms, entranced by the colorful animations on the screen and clutching her bunny.

The older she gets, the less interested she has become in sitting still and cuddling. It seems she's always on the move, running around and playing. It isn't often that he gets to just hold her like this.

His eyes wander from the screen down to her, eyes drooping again as she slips her thumb in her mouth. Just this once, he decides to let it slide. She's getting so big. Sometimes he doesn't even realize how quickly. Soon enough she'll be off to school, maybe joining sports or the band, spending time with all of the new friends she'll make. She won't be his little girl who fits in his arms like this forever - he should savor this moment.

Time blurs by as he holds her, half-paying attention to the show as one short episode turns to another, half-dozing himself. He doesn't even realize how long it's been until he hears the door open.

"I'm home!" You say as you step inside. It isn't long before you find them in the living room, your daughter cradled against Tobio's chest. He smiles at you, and your daughter stirs against him, woken by the slight commotion.

"Hi my love," You coo at her, "How are you feeling?" She only hums in response, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Why don't we let Daddy get up?" You ask, reaching for her.

"Hm-mm," She shakes her head, snaking her arms around his neck again and burying her face against him. You look at him with wide, surprised eyes, and he can only return the expression. Earlier, she'd pouted because you weren't there. He's just as taken aback.

"Well," Your expression softens as you whisper, "I guess you had a good day with Daddy then." You lean in to kiss him, and he returns it. "How long have you been sitting here?" You ask.

"A few hours," He estimates, "But I don't mind." He presses a kiss to the top of her head. "She'll be begging for you before you know it," He predicts, and you shake your head with a smile. You both know he's right. For now, if snuggles with Daddy are what she wants, how can you deny her?

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When They Accidentally Bring Up an Insecurity| Changbin

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

One of the things you loved most about Changbin was his strength, both physical and emotional. He was your rock, always there to support and protect you. You could tell him anything and everything.

But there was one thing about yourself that you kept hidden, an insecurity that had haunted you for years: your appearance.

You never felt quite good enough, always comparing yourself to others and feeling like you fell short. As you grew up you learned to love yourself, but after Changbin had taken a liking to you, you found yourself thrown into a world of other worldly beautiful people. And it just seem to dig up what you had taken so long to bury.

One evening, Changbin came over to your apartment, excited to spend a cozy night in together. You had just bought a new outfit, hoping it would make you feel better about yourself.

It was stupid, but you and Changbin dressed up even when you guys had stay at home dates. It was a silly little tradition that had happened when you guys had decided to skip out on an award ceremony to stay home and recreate music videos.

Ever since then, all your home dates still had classy attire.

You were in the bedroom, trying it on and examining yourself in the mirror. You couldn’t help but feel dissatisfied.

Changbin walked in, smiling. “Hey, you ready to watch that new movie? I've been waiting for forever.”

You turned to him, seeking validation. “How do I look?”

Changbin’s smile widened. “You look great, as always.” He bounced on his feet antsy for the movie. "I have it set up on the TV, I just came to grab some blankets.

You hesitated, feeling the familiar doubt creeping in. “Really? I’m not sure if this outfit is flattering…”

Changbin approached you and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. along with a cheek kiss. “You look the same as always Y/N, I don't see any difference.” He reached into your closet, grabbing an extra big and fluffy blanket. "Do you want popcorn or chips tonight?"

His words, meant to comfort, hit you like a punch to the gut. Your mind twisted his meaning, interpreting it as him saying you always looked unattractive. You felt a lump form in your throat as you turned away, trying to hold back tears.

“I'll grab the chips,” you muttered, walking past him and into the living room.

Changbin followed, confusion evident on his face. “Did I say something wrong?” His tiny legs followed your longer ones - another insecurity.

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak without your voice breaking. You grabbed a bag of chips, then the remote and started the movie, hoping to distract yourself. Changbin sat beside you, his excitement to watch the movie coming back after the weird encounter.

He looked to see your face at all the funny parts- as he did with everything you guys watched, because he loved to see the way your eyes shut and your mouth upturned whenever you laughed, your nose wrinkling.

But instead, his hearty laughter, died down more and more as he realized that something was up.

The movie played on, but you couldn’t focus. Your mind kept replaying Changbin’s words, and the sting of them deepened your insecurities. You felt tears welling up, and finally, you couldn’t hold them back any longer. You stood up abruptly, muttering an excuse about needing some air, and headed to the balcony.

Changbin paused the movie and followed you outside. He found you leaning against the railing, wiping away tears.

“Hey,” he said softly, touching your arm. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You took a shaky breath, deciding to let it out. “Do you think I'm unattractive?” You cried quietly.

Changbin’s eyes widened in realization. “Y/N, what on Earth made you think that?"

You sniffled and continued to wipe at your face. "Y-You said you didn't see a difference. When-when I tried to look beautiful you-you said that." You choked out and Changbin sighed, pulling you into his arms.

You let yourself lean into him, his hugs always a comfort to you. Just enough pressure to not suffocate you, but still give you a feeling of stability.

He swallowed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize. You are beautiful, inside and out. I love you just the way you are, and I never want you to feel otherwise.”

You continued to hiccup into his chest.

"I didn't know that was something you struggled with...I'm a dumbass aren't I?" He chuckled lightly. "I struggled with the same thing, yet I couldn't even recognize that you were feeling the same way..." He sighed and put his face into your hair. "Y/N I wouldn't trade anything in the world for you. I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever met. I thought that when I first saw you. I thought that on our first date. I thought that when we had our first kiss. And I'll continue to think that for the rest of my life. Please believe me when I say that."

He gently lifted your chin to look at him.

"When I said I didn't see a difference it's because you always look like the moon to me in a world full of stars." You felt an ache in your chest from the sincerity in his eyes and couldn't deny the love you felt for the man in front of you.

From that moment on, Changbin made a conscious effort to be more mindful of his words. He reassured you of your beauty and worth, offering compliments and support without hesitation. He also took the time to understand your insecurities, listening to you as you opened up about your struggles.

And you never felt as if he complimented you just to make you feel better. You genuinely could see the love in his eyes, and the genuine meaning of the words he was telling you.

One evening, as you were both getting ready for a night out, you stood in front of the mirror, trying on a new outfit. Changbin walked into the bedroom and smiled as he saw you.

Changbin looked at you with a soft smile. “You know, I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” he said.

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Sure, I am.” You said adjusting the top you had just put on.

“No, really,” he insisted. “Not just on the outside, but on the inside too. You have the kindest heart, and that’s what makes you truly beautiful.”

You turned to him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I love you,” you replied, feeling a sense of confidence you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Changbin walked over and wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I love you,” he whispered. “And I want you to know that you’re perfect to me, just the way you are.”

You leaned back into his embrace, feeling a sense of contentment and peace.

"I almost don't want to go out." He said with a Changbin certified pout.

"Ah, you don't mean that."

"I do." He whines. Then sighs. "But alas...I have to go out. I have some big plans for tonight." He said shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Big...plans?" You turned to see Changbin walking towards the front door. "Wait- Bin what do you mean big plans?" You ask rushing to finsih putting on your shoes to follow him to car.

You just watched as his little legs moved faster, disregarding the open front door as he waddled down the walkway to get to the street.

"Seo Changbin!" You called out, rushing after him. The only answer his hearty little laugh.

(this is how i envision that last scene)

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel

[libraryofgage]

Good Vibrations Five

One | Two | Three | Four

I meant to have this posted so much earlier but then my brother went to the ER and got hospitalized and that became my whole fucking weekend lmao

He's fine now but it was a very stressful and exhausting couple of days

Anyway, this series was line jumped on Ko-Fi! To learn more about line-jumping, please go here

If you ever have a free moment, btw, I suggest looking into assistive devices because they're so cool and interesting to read about!

Okay, I'm done now lol

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

------

Steve spends most of Sunday on edge, his leg bouncing whenever he manages to sit down as he waits for Eddie. He's already stress-cleaned the kitchen and the living room, shoved everything into his closet in his room, and made sure anything that could make noise (the TV, the stereo, the radio) were turned down to a volume that wouldn't blast Eddie's eardrums to shit.

When the doorbell rings, a strobe light in the corner of the room flashes, demanding his attention. The system is something simple but needlessly expensive, one his parents got installed when his hearing was half-gone. A strobe light sits in one corner of each main room, just above the closet in his bedroom, and on the outside of the house facing the pool. Ideally, he should be able to see it no matter where he is.

He stops at the door and takes a deep breath, wiping his palms on his jeans even though they aren't sweaty. Steve pulls open the door before he can doubt himself.

On the other side, Eddie looks conflicted as he stares at the doorbell. His hand is half-raised like he's ready to ring again. Steve watches him jolt at the door opening. "How'd you hear that?" he asks, glancing between the doorbell and Steve with a confused expression.

It's that more than reading his lips that tells Steve what his question was. "Strobes," he says, gesturing for Eddie to come inside. "Here, watch that light when I press the button."

He waits for Eddie to stand just inside the doorway and stare at the light Steve pointed to. Once he's in place, Steve leans out and presses the doorbell, the strobe flashing in the corner of his vision. He rings twice just to make sure Eddie gets the picture before closing and locking the door.

"That's fucking metal," Eddie says when Steve looks at him, grinning brightly. "I didn't know you could do that."

Steve shrugs, waving his hand for Eddie to follow as he heads to the living room. "It was cheap to get but expensive to install. My parents had to rewire the whole house when we got it," he explains.

He sits on one end of the couch and watches Eddie hesitate before sitting on the other. Now that Steve is paying attention, he can see the plastic bag in his hand. "What's that?" he asks.

"Oh!" Eddie sets the bag between them, pulls out cling-wrapped plate of cookies, and sets that on top of the bag. "My Uncle Wayne got some cookies from a neighbor and insisted I bring them," he says. The words are rushed, though, and Steve guesses he's flustered based on the red in Eddie's cheeks.

Steve blinks, frowning slightly. "Say that again. Slow down," he says, focusing on Eddie's mouth to catch the shapes of words.

"Sorry," Eddie says, licking his lips before repeating himself, visibly forcing himself to speak slower.

Steve almost misses Eddie's words again, his brain replaying Eddie licking his lips and helpfully wondering what it would feel like to lick them himself. He manages to catch Eddie's general meaning, though, and smiles gratefully. "Cool, thanks for bringing them," he says, considering the plate for a moment before adding, "I could teach you the sign for cookie."

"Well, I am here to learn, big boy," Eddie says, grinning.

Steve wipes his hands on his jeans again, shifting to face Eddie directly as he ignores the nickname. He doesn't have the time to overthink about it. "I'll go slow, and then you try," he says, waiting for Eddie to nod.

Once he does, Steve holds his left hand flat, makes a loose claws shape with his right, and touches his fingertips to his left palm. He then lifts his right hand slightly, rotates it like he's using a cookie cutter on dough, and brings his fingertips down to his left palm again. "Just, uh, pretend your cutting cookies out of cookie dough," he explains.

He watches closely as Eddie attempts to replicate the motion. He rotates his hand a little too much, making Steve wince in sympathy for his wrist. "No, you don't need to go that far," he says, reaching over to grab Eddie's hand. He rotates it a few degrees, enough to get the point across without causing any strain on Eddie's wrist. "Like that. Try again."

Eddie gets it right on his next try, and Steve smiles brightly at him. "Yeah, you've got it," he says, leaning back against the arm of the sofa behind him. "Cool, uh, let's try asking what kind of cookies you like."

When Eddie nods, Steve thinks before making the sign for cookie again. He then points at Eddie and places his hand flat on his chest, his fingers spread. Steve pulls his hand forward, touching his thumb and middle finger together, and then makes a peace sign, keeping his hand horizontal. He does the same with his left hand and touches the fingers of that hand to the bottom of his right wrist. Finally, he circles his left hand behind his right, over the top, and comes back to the bottom of his wrist.

When he's done, Eddie looks sufficiently lost, staring at Steve like he's an enigma and something wholly impressive for knowing how to sign so smoothly. It makes something warm and floaty linger in Steve's chest even when he tries to remind himself he's not that good at signing.

"Can you, you know, do that again? Slower, maybe?" Eddie asks.

Steve nods, flashing a reassuring smile before repeating the motions and walking Eddie through them.

---------

When Eddie pulls up to his trailer, he's still in a daze from spending three hours with Steve. The time had flown by after they settled into a routine of Steve signing something and patiently correcting Eddie as he fumbled through the motions.

A gentle tap on the window has him jerking in his seat, heart thumping wildly as he looks over to see Wayne standing outside. Eddie hurries to shut off the van and slide out, awkwardly smiling. "Hey. How was work?" he asks.

"Fine," Wayne says, brushing past the question easily to ask Eddie, "You doing okay, son? You sat there for a good minute."

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Totally fine. Nothing wrong at all," Eddie says, grimacing at his own awkwardness that clearly advertises something is wrong.

"Uh-huh. How about we talk inside."

Eddie's shoulders slump with defeat and he nods. "Yeah. All right."

He follows Wayne into the trailer, flopping into one of the chairs at the dining table and reaching for the box of cereal he'd left there that morning. Wayne gets himself a beer before sitting across the table. "So, you went and saw a friend today. One you wouldn't tell me the name of. And stole Ms. Burten's cookies for."

Eddie winces, shoves a handful of Honeycombs into his mouth, and chews them slowly to give himself time to think. He could be honest. He knows Wayne is kind of like him in terms of liking guys; the only difference is Wayne likes women, too. He knows Wayne would be supportive and understanding and probably have good advice. He knows Wayne won't judge him for anything.

He just...almost wants to keep Steve for himself a little longer. Eddie likes having a private crush, something that stays close to his heart and makes him feel fuzzy whenever he sees the object of his crush.

But a private crush doesn't go anywhere, and this is the first time Eddie feels like there's somewhere for this crush to go. Robin all but confirmed that Steve wouldn't reject him for being gay or out him to the whole town. If anything, he'd reject Eddie for being, well, Eddie, but the way Steve stares at him is reassuring.

"Steve Harrington," he says, the name slipping out after he swallows the Honeycombs. "I, uh, was at Steve's place. Learning sign language. Because he's deaf."

A few seconds pass in which Wayne just stares at him. Then, he sighs. "Ah, hell, kid. You don't really have a crush on the Harrington boy, do you?" he asks.

"He's like us!" Eddie says, quickly dismissing that concern before Wayne goes down his warning spiel about crushing on guys who aren't gay.

"You sure about that?" Wayne asks, eyes narrowed like he doesn't trust Eddie to be a reliable source of information.

Eddie nods, shoving another handful of Honeycombs in his mouth. "Totally sure. Robin Buckley confirmed it," he says around the cereal.

"Sounds a little too good to be true," Wayne says, sighing as he takes a swig from his bottle and sets it on the table. "What's the catch."

"It's not a catch. Just, uh, something to get used to, I think? I mean, he's deaf, so...yeah," Eddie says, grimacing at how awkward that sounds. Is there some smoother way to share that news? Is there a guide somewhere? Maybe Steve can give him some pointers the next time they hang out.

Wayne slowly nods and takes another sip of his beer, expression thoughtful as he considers his next words. "I know a few guys at the factory that're losing their hearing," he finally says, tapping his finger on the neck of his bottle. "Seems tough."

"That's it?"

"Well, whaddya want from me, kid? Sage advice? I ain't enough beers in for that."

"I...don't know what I wanted," Eddie admits, huffing as he closes the cereal box and pushes it back to the middle of the table.

"Whelp," Wayne says, free hand smacking down on his thigh before he pushes himself out of his chair. "I'm gonna watch the game, then. You're free to join me or go pine in your room if you prefer."

"I don't pine," Eddie says, his voice nearly cracking on the last word.

"Sure, you don't. Whatever you say, kid. Just make sure I've got a beer in my hand before you start waxing poetic about his eyes later."

Eddie makes an offended noise that he definitely won't be calling a squawk. He can't even argue, though, because Eddie's brain is already thinking about his hazel eyes and the two little moles by his lips and....yeah, Wayne has a point.

-------

Tag List (the tag list is completely filled up! There definitely wasn't enough room for everyone who requested a tag orz

Please follow the tag "good vibrations Steddie" or put on notifications for my blog to see when new parts are posted :D)

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@plasticcrotches, @hannahhook7744

[whisperturnedecho]

Comfort zone

George Clarke x fem reader / angst and warm fluff

Summary: George shows up when he's most needed.

Warning: burglary, anxiety

The second you walked into your flat, you could tell something was wrong. The curtain seemed off—it was out of place, enough to make you pause… please, no.

You stepped into the living room, and that's when you saw it. Drawers were pulled open, the floor was a mess. You started looking for valuables. Your jewellery…  gone. Your laptop… gone. Even the little purse with cash that you kept in the drawer under the TV? Gone.

Someone had broken in while you were at work. That's when it dawned on you. What if they'd been watching you? Keeping tabs on when you leave, when you come back? The idea made your skin crawl. Even your potted plants were carelessly thrown over.

Your mind snapped to the dusky blue box in your closet. You had hidden it well, but you knew it was there. Inside was George’s bracelet… the one you couldn't bring yourself to throw away, even though you both went your separate ways.

You tore through the closet, throwing your folded clothes aside without a second thought. The box should've been there. It had to be. But when you reached the spot, it was gone. Your stomach dropped. Of course, they took it. They wouldn’t have known its worth wasn't about money. It felt as though they'd stolen a cherished piece of your past.

And just like that, you were back in Prague, walking the cobbled streets with George; listening  to him laughing at his own jokes. That bracelet… his gift from that summer… came rushing back into your memory. You could see it vividly: George pulling your chair closer during dinner, making you shut your eyes as he covered your hand with his and placed the box in your palm.  "No peeking," he laughed. "Trust me."

When you opened your eyes, there it was. A beautiful silver Pandora bracelet with a heart charm. He scratched the back of his neck, as if he had no idea what a girl would like. "I thought you would like it; you can add beads and charms to it," he shrugged, and his smile was so honest that it made your heart ache a little.

With trembling hands, you called your friend Liv. "Someone broke in," you said, your voice cracking on the words. "They took my laptop, my jewellery, money." Liv didn’t skip a beat. "What?! That’s insane. You need to get out of there. Come over, okay?"

Liv opened the door and hugged you like her life depended on it, while Isaac was already in the kitchen, making tea. Somehow, you managed to explain it all, the mess, the stolen bracelet, everything. Liv looked horrified. Isaac handed you the tea, and it shook in your grip. He plopped down beside you. "You're not doing this alone, alright? We’re in this together."

Liv followed up, "You’re staying here tonight," like it wasn’t even up for discussion. "Isaac will help you deal with everything tomorrow. You need to rest."

Liv set up a bed for you in the guest room. You decided to go to bed early, unable to process everything that had happened. Once you were alone, the tears returned. It wasn’t just about the break-in, even though that was bad enough. It was about George… they took his bracelet. You hated how much you still missed him. How his words, "You just don't move on, do you? It's exhausting," still cut deep, even after four months. It was said in anger, but it kept replaying in your mind. You ended up crying into your pillow until it was soaked.

The next morning, after dealing with all the calls and paperwork alongside Isaac, you finally arrived home. He stuck around when the police officer showed up, pictures were taken, a report was filed, and yes, it was rough. Isaac pitched in to clean up the mess, but no cleaning could make the bad feeling disappear.

By the time evening rolled around, you were drained. You gave Isaac a warm kiss on the cheek, thanked him for everything, and headed to the sofa, ready to collapse.

You settled in front of the television, glad it was still there, to watch a couple of episodes of YOU on Netflix.

There was a knock at the door. You froze… dread rising in your chest. Normally, you didn't think twice about someone stopping by, but today was different… you were already on edge. And standing there when you opened the door, as if he could feel your unease, was George.

You stared at him, unsure what to do. His curls were messy. His smirk was a little hesitant, but he was just as handsome as you remembered. Maybe even more so now, after your time apart.

"Can I come in?" he asked, curious about your next action. You hesitated, but your feet moved on their own, letting him step inside. As soon as he entered, the energy in the room became familiar.

"When Isaac texted me about what happened, I cancelled the shoot, I couldn’t not come and see you Y/N."

You stared at him, a bit thrown off. George rarely cancelled work. "Why?" The word just slipped out before you could even think. He shook his head and shrugged off his brown leather jacket.

With a cup of coffee, he listened while you laid it all out: the stolen laptop, the jewellery, the cash, and finally, the bracelet.

"Even the bracelet?" he murmured, almost to himself. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh.

"I'm glad Isaac was there for you, but that could have been me. Can you tell me why you cut me off? Why couldn’t we even stay friends?" he said like a man with a bruised ego.

You didn't respond right away. You didn't even know how. You got up and started pacing. Finally, you managed, "Do you seriously not know? You hurt me, George. You made me feel like… like I was the problem. Like I was the one that couldn’t move on. Well, guess what? I don't run to you the moment something happens."

"I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t realize how much my words hurt you."

"They did."

You sniffled, wiping your eyes as you let yourself sink to the floor. Slowly, you pulled your knees up and curled into a ball, trying to make yourself small. You rested your head on your knees and wrapped your arms tightly around your legs, holding yourself.

George sat there, watching you for a moment. He could see you shut down. You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn't lift your head. "Come here," he gestured as he moved closer, "let's sit like we always did."

His eyes caught yours, warm, smiling. You nodded and sat down in a spooning hug, letting him pull you into his arms. His chest supported you, solid and familiar, you realized just how much you had missed him. Missed this.

"I wish you hadn’t taken off the bracelet." He leaned his head lightly against your shoulder. You felt his beard on your jaw.

"I had to. I couldn’t keep looking at it every day, knowing it wouldn't change anything."

He tilted his head, and you could feel the soft warmth of his breath on your skin. "I thought I needed to be on my own. I felt that you were in my way, god I hate even saying that out loud Y/N."

George's hands started moving over your arms, the way he always used to do to calm you down. It made your eyes well up. Memories flooded back, and without even thinking, you leaned into him. His arms tightened around you like he was trying to keep you from falling apart, and the warmth of his touch spread through you, removing some of the cold you had been holding onto.  You missed him, and missed the safety of being in his arms.

The tension in your chest started to ease, as you relaxed into his hold. "I hate living without you," you whispered. It felt so good being close to him.

"I hate it too," George replied instantly, his arms tightening as if to emphasize his point. "I miss you, Y/N. And I need you to know, I haven’t been with anyone else since you. I talked to a couple of women on Hinge, but I couldn’t bring myself to go on an actual date with any of them. I knew I’d just compare them to you, and let’s be honest… no one wants to be on a date with a guy who’s clearly still stuck on someone else."

"I'm sorry I cut off contact. I handled it poorly. And for what it's worth… I haven’t been with anyone else either," you admitted.

"That’s because you’re mine," George stated, not even hesitating. His words sent a jolt through you, but it felt too soon.

“It’s okay, love” he said quietly when you didn't reply. “I just… I needed you to know how I feel. That's all."

You turned to face him, locking eyes. Your hands found his cheeks. Breathless, you said, "Kiss me." He didn't move away, didn't even flinch… he just stayed right there until he put his hand on the back of your neck and pulled you in. His lips were warm and plump. Every kiss drew you deeper in, making it feel like stopping was out of the question.

You locked your legs around him and pressed your lips on the corner of his mouth, over his jaw, down his neck. He held you so close that it nearly hurt. When you looked up you saw a tear in his eye. "I have waited for this moment Y/N."

It felt like the weight in your chest was finally lifting. "I'd like you to stay George."

----------

If you enjoyed reading, let me know. It will encourage me to write more. ❤️

[hocktuah]

ｌｅａｒｎｉｎｇ ｔｈｅ ｇａｍｅ

☆ ｎ． ｈｉｓｃｈｉｅｒ ☆

summary: some cuddling on the couch leads nico to discover your dirty little secret.

word count: 934

“That bastard should’ve never been allowed to stay on the ice.” Nico shakes his head beside you on the couch. Its unaccommodating size and low price tag could make it serve better as a loveseat, but you're all the more grateful for the purchase if it means you and Nico could stay this close anytime he came to visit. You sneer alongside him at your television during the replay of Nico suffering the intentional ram of a hockey stick to his groin. 

“Wait—you mean he didn’t get a…penalty?” You query, quiet and unsure. The sport was never something that interested you prior to meeting Nico, and falling hard for him too. Howbeit, you tried hard to catch onto the lingo and rules of the game whenever he spoke of it so conversation could flow easily. The last thing you wanted to be viewed as was clueless, especially when it came to your new boyfriend’s passion.

“No penalty, no finger wag, nothing! It’s like these refs just turn a blind eye to injury so they can keep up the facade of safety implements in the NHL.” He folds his arms, and turns to you. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the people who truly care about the player’s wellbeing show it. But as you can see…” he untucked one of his arms and motioned to the TV, which now showed the next faceoff of the game, “there’s a few rotten apples in the bunch.” 

“Do you…do you get injured a lot without the other team facing repercussions?” Another reason you never enjoyed hockey was the brutality of the sport. Much like football players getting tackled into turf, the idea of being slammed against walls and constantly losing teeth never sat well with you.

“I mean, once in a blue moon. And if someone on the team gets tripped or hurt purposely by some goon on the opposite side, we make sure they won’t walk out with a win if we can help it. As for being injured itself,” he shrugs, “what can you do? It’s all part of the game.” You nod solemnly, turning to stare at his concentrated profile.

“Thanks for watching these with me. I hope you’re not bored. I just like to be putting effort in the off season by watching old plays and seeing what we can improve on.” He rolls his eyes at himself. “God, I’m starting to sound like Coach.” He scrubbed face in an attempt to hide his growing blush. 

“No, you sound like a captain who takes pride in his team.” You take his hand and interlock your fingers together. “I could never be bored learning something you’re passionate about.” A heartfelt smile overcame his face, as his eyes flickered between your face and then your joined hands. He brought the bundle of fingers up to his lips to kiss it.

“Here, let’s cuddle.” As he turned to readjust the throw pillow beside him, your eyes enlarged in fear and your grip on his hand tightened. 

“Neeks, wait—” You saw his eyebrows furrow, and knew it was over for you. Now, it was your turn to hide your face in your hands as he grabbed the thick book you'd hidden behind the pillow and read the title aloud. 

“Hockey for Dummies.” A devilish grin builds on his face as he flips through the pages of the neon yellow paperback, littered with colorful highlights, post-its, and small, inked reminders in the margins to ‘ask Nico about this’. “Y/N…were you studying for me?” 

“No, clearly I was planning to take your spot as captain for next season.” You replied defensively. His smile never faltered, and your cheeks stayed burning. “Okay, so what if I was?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with that I just…I want to know why you couldn’t ask me about all of this to begin with. You were already up-front with me on our first date when I told you what I did for a living.” While that was true, you still felt like you owed him something to show how much you cared for him and his career. Being available to watch every game he played proved to be impossible with your work schedule and extracurriculars. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t educate herself outside of your post-scrimmage phone calls for any future conversations.

“I didn’t want to sound stupid talking about a sport you’ve played forever.” You gnawed on your bottom lip while picking at a hangnail to distract from the tightening in your throat. ”I know how much your career means to you and how hard you’ve worked to get there. And I love hearing you talk about it, but when it first came up I couldn’t understand half of the terms of the sport and I wanted so badly to but felt bad asking—” His warm hand cupped your neck in an instant, his lips colliding with yours not a second later in a short, sweet kiss. When you separated, you felt caught up in a daydream you never wanted to escape.

“I love you.” He admitted, while you floundered. “I don’t want you to ever feel bad about asking me something. Never. Okay?” A few seconds of silence transpired between the two of you, until you finally gained the courage to do what he advised, and ask him something.

“Could…can you say it again?”

“Which part?” 

You clarify, “the first one.” He inhales deeply through a fond smile, and proceeds to pepper kisses all over your face, repeating the three words like a mantra: “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

[airybcby]

I'm loving this blk event and coincidentally my most listened to song was Juno by Sabrina Carpenter 😭😭

I LOVE JUNO OMG!!!

if your top song was juno by sabrina carpenter, i'd pair you with...

oliver aiku

જ⁀♡⊹｡° lock me down tonight

♡ a/n — for my spotify wrapped event! - masterlist -

♡ content — oliver aiku x fem! reader, fem! reader, pregnancy, established relationship, older aiku, younger reader, age gap! (oliver is 40ish and reader is mid 20s) but it's not explicitly mentioned, established relationship, oliver is retired

♡ synopsis — retired soccer player, oliver aiku, has been labeled a 'lady killer' since his young age. many people suspect he'll be a bachelor forever, never settling down. but that's because they don't know about you.

The cheers from the stadium replayed in Oliver’s mind as he stepped into his car. The post-game commentary had been lively—he’d spent most of the broadcast joking about Manshine City’s defensive mistakes and marveling at the precision of the winning goal. It was all second nature by now, but something about being on the sidelines made his chest ache, even after all these years.

By the time he pulled into the driveway of his home, the hum of the crowd and the sharp buzz of studio lights were far behind him. A faint glow from the living room window greeted him, along with the rhythmic sway of the porch swing in the evening breeze. He locked the car with a practiced flick of his wrist and pushed open the front door.

The scent of lavender and chamomile hit him first—your favorite candle burning low on the coffee table. You were curled up on the couch, dressed in one of his oversized sweatshirts that practically swallowed you whole. A hand rested on your growing belly as you scrolled absentmindedly on your phone, your engagement ring catching the light every time your fingers shifted.

He leaned against the doorframe for a moment, watching you.

“You’re home late,” you teased without looking up, sensing his presence like always.

“Blame Manshine City’s backline,” he said, kicking off his shoes and crossing the room to sit beside you. “It’s a disaster I couldn’t stop talking about.”

You chuckled, setting your phone down. “And here I thought you’d mellow out once you retired. Guess I was wrong.”

“Hey, just because I’m not on the field doesn’t mean I’ve lost my touch.” He reached out to tug playfully at the hem of the sweatshirt. “But you… you look way too comfortable.”

“Is that a complaint, Mr. ‘Unobtainable Bachelor’?” you shot back with a smirk, gesturing toward the TV where a rerun of his broadcast played. The announcers had been gossiping about his status—again—speculating why the infamous Oliver Aiku never seemed to settle down.

He groaned, grabbing the remote to switch it off. “Don’t start.”

You laughed, leaning into his side. “It’s funny, that’s all. They’re so sure they’ve got you figured out. Little do they know.”

He glanced down at you, his expression softening as he traced the curve of your cheek with his thumb. “Yeah, little do they know.”

The silence stretched comfortably between you for a moment, broken only by the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen. Then, you nudged him.

“Did you eat yet?” you asked, your tone shifting to one of quiet concern.

“Not yet.” He shrugged. “I’ll grab something in a minute. Wanted to see my girls first.”

Your hand found his, guiding it to rest over your stomach. The baby stirred slightly under his palm, and he couldn’t help but grin.

“She’s gonna kick like crazy,” you murmured. “Especially when you’re around. I think she knows it’s you.”

“She’s already got good taste,” he quipped, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Takes after her mom.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “Smooth talker.”

“Always.” He stood, stretching, and then gestured for you to stay put when you made a move to join him. “Stay. I’ll grab us something from the kitchen.”

Before you could argue, he was already heading toward the fridge, humming a tune you didn’t recognize. Watching him like this, in the quiet of your shared home, you felt a sense of calm settle over you.

Let the world believe whatever it wanted about Oliver Aiku. Let them cling to the outdated image of a man who’d never commit, who’d always be chasing the next big thrill. You knew the truth.

He wasn’t just yours on paper, marked by a ring and a child on the way. He was yours in every unguarded moment, in every joke, every touch, every time he walked through the door and looked at you like you were his whole world.

And that was all that mattered.

i couldn't figure out a good way to make smut understandable, so i made it cute, i hope you don't mind!

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Four: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship, sexual content, pervy behavior, male masturbation, panty kink, sex daydreams [eventual warning for smut; be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin is doing his very best, he just loves you and wants you to be comfy around him. Just let him worm his way into your heart babe [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. I’m illiterate so apologies in advance MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: July 8th

Mr. Nelson’s funeral was today, it really was a beautiful ceremony as I look back on it. Even more so when my inner self smears the background enough to bring you to the front of the mental image.

You’d spoken to the man a handful of times, but I didn’t expect you to come. When I saw you accept the invite to the event on Facebook I thought surely it was a mistake. That was until you messaged Luke and asked him to accompany you, funerals make you nervous, but feeling obligated to do something and avoiding it makes you more nervous.

So your moral support was happy to attend and fight off dear old Alan’s corpse should he rise from the casket and set his sights on you.

And I though I had irrational fears, geez babydoll, how old were you when you watched Night of The Living Dead for the first time? If I had to guess it was too young. It’s alright though I get it, you know what movie traumatized me? The Mummy. Heebied my fucking Jeebies so bad I avoided the beach on family vacations.

You’re telling me there’s not a sarcophagus under all that sand? There’s at least one under there and you can’t convince me otherwise.

Solid ground for me only, please and thank you.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I had a thought that I initially considered to be a sweet reminder of my dear friend Alan. His obituary was in the newspaper and I happened to swipe one from the guest book table at the viewing as well. Have you ever scrapbooked before? I bet you’ve at least tried it.

Well I thought it would be nice to make him a page in my journal. A little celebration of life for the man who gave me an opportunity to grow and nurture my love for you.

Then I realized mid-glue stick on the newspaper clipping that the idea was something that a clinically insane person would do.

I’m not that guy. That guy’s not me.

But the glue was already on there and it felt wrong to toss Alan’s wrinkly old face into the trash so I pasted him into my journal anyway.

Crazy people don’t know that they’re crazy. I’m well aware that little idea was less than tasteful, just felt like I should mention that.

Date:

July 28th

Anakin Skywalker hadn’t been this happy since… ever. The previous record being his discovery of you, was now toppled into second place and overshadowed by ‘Move In Day’.

He could hardly contain himself. It was a dopamine high that he would ride out until he’d drained every last drop.

The movers lugged in box after box, furniture and books, until finally they dropped off the last load and thanked Anakin for the business. He eagerly shook their hand and shoved them out. He had preparations to make.

He set up his Tv, screen mirroring the live feed of the apartment building entrance to the big screen so that he could easily keep an eye out for you while he unpacked his kitchen.

He’d planned your ‘meet-cute’ meticulously, looking to your bookshelf and streaming services to gather intel on your ideal scenario. You were an odd bird, but he liked that about you. It’s part of your charm, it’s part of the challenge. You’re not as predictable in your tastes and interests as others can be.

Anakin formulated the interaction step by step, frame by frame in the storyboard of his imagination until he had the perfect scene. His box office hit that he’d replay over and over again until the next time he stood face to face with you.

It took quite some time and a load of practice. Discarded dialogue, awkward movements that made him feel stiff and less than human when he practiced them in the mirror. Endless options of clothes, shoes, and hair.

Should he get a new piercing? He wanted to. So he did, he knew you’d like it.

It’d match the one he already had on the opposite nostril. It made him feel more complete to add something so permanent to his body, he wished he could do something similar with you. He wanted you to be permanent, so maybe it’s his subconscious’s way of telling him that this was going in the right direction.

He was on the right path. His journey of life alone was coming to a close and a new trail would reveal itself. No more rocky, unsteady tread. No more sharp turns and blind spots, no more impossible inclines.

Scraped knees and bloodied hands would be distant memories. Maybe even distant enough that he could toss them into The Pit.

He would have no need for anger or sorrow anymore.

How could he feel anything but the warm embrace of love as he strolled down the flowered path ahead with you?

Who knew that you could position one box in 83 different ways and hate every single one of them? Anakin was so thankful there weren’t any actual surveillance cameras in the apartment building. It’d be really difficult to explain why he was in the hallway for an hour with his hands on his hips, scooting a box of books a centimeter or two at a time. Turning it sideways and then making sure the book on top was perfectly positioned and would effectively fall to the ground to catch your attention.

He checked his watch nonstop, stared at his Tv screen, willing you to just hurry the fuck up before he vomited from anxiety. He’d waited months for this. If he fucked it up now he’d… well he’d probably keel over on the spot.

Which would promptly traumatize you and not even his ghost would be able to peacefully haunt you. It’s hard to peacefully haunt someone if they watched you die, or at least Anakin assumed it would be difficult. He wasn’t willing to test that theory though.

So, he puffed up his chest and walked back into his apartment and rehearsed the upcoming conversation a few more times. He needed, desperately needed to ensure his facial expressions conveyed what he wanted.

Soft, trustworthy, dependable, safe, caring.

He practiced softening his eyes, knowing sometimes he stared alittle too hard. He worked on his facial fidget; chewing on the inside of his cheek was a quick tell of his nervousness. He didn’t want to be perceived as nervous, he wanted to be confident and sure of himself so that you would be confident in your soon to blossom affection for him.

His eyebrows, that’s a hard one, but he’d meticulously watched bar goers trying to flirt. The successful ones he learned, sometimes use their eyebrows in place of questions or words. A difficult concept, but one he studied until he mastered it.

Now, the other facial expressions and mannerisms… he gathered that information from your watch lists on your streaming services. For the visible examples at least, but your books were just as helpful in describing how he should approach you, speak to you, and simply exist near you.

He hadn’t realized these things were this important until now. Standing and posture was surprisingly very, very important to women. As well as hand movements and subtle glances and minuscule changes of expression.

You were worth the time and effort it took to learn all of it. He’d read and research and practice until he couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror any longer. He was determined to make sure you were happy with the results.

He was startled by a loud ping, someone had entered to building and holy shit it was you.

Anakin shook out his hands frantically, remembering the breathing techniques he’d learned as a child, he grounded himself quickly.

It’s okay.

‘She’s gonna love you. She’ll warm up to you quickly, you know everything you need to know about her to make her comfortable and loved.’

‘There’s no way she won’t fall head over heels.’

He smoothed out his band-tee and ran his hands through his hair quickly and headed to his door that was propped open slightly. A few boxes sat in the hall, including the most important one, the one instrumental to his plan.

The apartment hallway was ridiculously tiny, which worked in his favor in this situation.

He heard you come up the stairs, counted your steps until he knew you were almost at the door, 17 and a half steps. Then he swung open the door and bent down to grab one of the boxes.

As expected, he startled you and you dropped your keys. You always wore your backpack on one shoulder, one strap. So when you quickly went to scoop up your keys, your bag swung out of place and toppled a few books from one of the boxes.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Anakin could gloat to himself about his magnificent setup later, right now he needed to woo you with his sweet words.

“Oh, sweetheart I’m sorry.” He said softly, coming over to offer you a hand up.

“It’s okay, my bad.” You laughed, taking his hand.

He managed to keep calm and collected despite his insides boiling him alive at the willing skin contact.

“No, not at all. It’s my fault for startling you like that.” He chuckled, squeezing your upper arm and using his hand already in yours to give you a small handshake. Smooth.

“I’m Anakin.” He said with a bashful smile, dropping your hand and reveling in the lingering warmth your palm left on his.

You introduced yourself in return, gesturing to his apartment door.

“So I take it that you’re my new neighbor huh?” You said, making small talk as you crouched down to pick up the books you’d knocked over.

“No I’m just a one man moving crew.” He grinned.

“Very funny.” You laughed, standing up as you looked through the titles. “Hmm, you’ve got good taste.”

“You think so?” He asked, remembering to make his eyebrows swoop up toward the middle of his forehead to give a quizzical look.

“Oh yeah, this is one of my favorites.” You said, showing him the cover of The Silmarillion by Tolkien.

“Not many people actually read that one, I’m impressed.” He smiled.

“Impressed? Yeah well I’m jealous.” You laughed.

“What?” He chuckled, holding his hands out to take the other books from you.

“This is a really nice edition, it’s similar to mine. I recently lost it.” You sighed. “I think I must’ve left it the park or maybe it fell out of my bag or something.”

“Ah, that sucks… well, I mean I’ve read that one a few times now. It’s been well loved.” He said tipping the books in his arms toward the one you were holding. “Why don’t you keep it?”

He shrugged, acting nonchalant as though this didn’t mean the entire world to him and if you said no he’d sob about it later.

“You’re serious?” You asked in surprise, he was offering you a 50$ special edition book and you’d barely known him for a minute.

“Yeah, ‘course sweetheart.” He said with a cute, crooked smile. “Think of it as a… reverse house warming gift.” He chuckled.

“Thank you, I- this means a lot to me.” You said, grinning widely. “That’s real sweet of you Anakin. I owe you one.”

“No worries.” He chuckled, “I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it even sweetheart.” His gaze flickered quickly from your eyes to your lips, and he turned to go back into his apartment after giving you an almost-missed wink.

You stepped inside your home, and went straight to the bookshelf to put your new-to-you book where it belonged. After the fact you stood there and buffered, just staring at it.

‘There’s no way, this guy has to be too good to be true.’

But he seemed… so genuine. He didn’t ogle you, he didn’t make you feel weird or like he just felt obligated to speak to you.

He seemed to actually, really be a good guy.

Rare. Few and far of those exist in this day and age. It’s uncommon to meet someone who would do something, even as simple as giving you a used book, without expecting anything in return.

But he didn’t seem to expect anything. He didn’t seem to even expect a thank you, it was like he’d already decided he would give it to you before he even offered.

What are the odds that a hot, tattooed and pierced man moves in next door and gifts you an expensive book that just so happens to be an even better replacement for the one that you just lost? That couldn’t happen twice even if you tried to make it happen again.

What kind of second dimension did you step into? The land of dreamy men?

Diary Entry: July 28th

It’s late. But I have to write to you, it can’t wait til tomorrow.

Everything went more perfectly than I could’ve imagined. Thank you so much for being you sweet girl. It made my job of curating the scenery so much easier, you clumsy little thing. I am sorry for having to spook you though, but it worked didn’t it?

Research pays off. Always.

And of course there’s the issue of your book, I hated to see your frustration and your mad scowl when you realized it was missing from your backpack. I really did.

But I’d do it every goddamn day if I knew I’d get the same reaction out of you from giving you that new copy.

Oh god you’re… you’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful. You look angelic when you sleep but you look like competition for Aphrodite when you smile at me.

You smiled, grinned. You smiled all the way up to the corners of your bright and beautiful eyes. For me.

You even laughed for me.

It was so sweet I could taste it. The honey of your voice, I could fucking bathe in it. Just the sound of you speaking, knowing you were speaking to me. Really speaking to me.

In the flesh.

It’s intoxicating. It’s emboldening, it’s dangerous. I’ve never been more worked up in my life. I’m torn all to pieces from at two minute and 6 second conversation.

I think I’ll have to fucking recover from this like a damn hangover.

But what has me so drunk you might ask? Was it your laugh at my stupid jokes? Was it your perfect smile, your radiant glow, your soulful eyes? The softness of your skin or you willingness to let me touch you?

No baby. It’s how you said my name.

I wish I could’ve stayed longer, I wish I could’ve spoken to you more. But it’s so hard to concentrate when my dick is leaking precum down my leg at a rate that should probably be concerning.

The minute you closed that door I shoved those boxes into my apartment and locked the door. Took my elated ass straight to the couch and watched you in your living room, admiring your gift from me while I fucked my fist with a pair of your dirty panties in my mouth.

I couldn’t have your honeyed lips soothing my angry red cock just yet, but I sure as hell could imagine licking your gorgeous little cunt while I tasted you.

I tugged my balls and pumped my cock for over half an hour until I was a fucking mess for you in my new living room’s floor. The cool hardwood letting the heat from my flushed skin seep away from me as I came back down to earth.

I made myself dizzy. Didn’t give myself a break, didn’t slow down, just stroked my cock like the desperate little manwhore that I am for you. The only thing missing was you being there to watch me fall apart.

I think you’d like that wouldn’t you? Watching a man like me get on his knees and beg for you?

Diary Entry: July 29th

I’ve replayed that moment in my head for hours on end. The beginning always stays the same, but the ending… that’s been subject to many changes. It started off simple, we’d chat alittle longer, I’d ask you how your day was; you’d tell me it was ‘fine, thank you’.

Or you’d ask me why I decided to move in, why I chose this side of town, this side of town, this apartment building, across from you. That one always ended questionably and I’d rather not explore that one on paper.

My favorites however were the ones where you’d laugh at a stupid pick-up line and somehow we’d end up in your bed. The bed I’ve sat and watched you sleep in. Those were the best additions.

Now, I’ve been fortunate enough that you’ve been loyal, faithful and devoted to only me since the very beginning. So I don’t really have a clue what you’d actually be like in bed.

But god it’s so fun to imagine it.

You’ve got such pretty, soft skin. You let me mar it up with my teeth and soothe it with my tongue. You let me grip the pillowy flesh of your thighs to spread you open for me. You let me pinch and roll and pull your nipples until they were raw and begging for a break. You let me caress the sensitive slick covered folds between those beautiful pussy lips, plunge my fingers in as far as they’d go.

I took you from behind, watching your perky little ass bounce off my cock while I plowed into you. Your face smushed against the couch cushions and your body folded over the arm rest for me to fuck you like the good little girl that you are.

Against the wall with your arms around my neck while I’ve got my hands holding you spread open and in place by the crook of your knees. You promised you stay real still so that I could drill up into you like you deserved.

God damn. Do you know how good you look like that? Back arched against the wall, tits jiggling in my face with every thrust. Your legs pushed up and back to the sides of your torso, to pin you in place?

It was like a pretty pink flower had bloomed and spread its buttery smooth petals just for me.

Don’t even get me started on how good you suck cock. Have you ever been told you could be mistaken for a warm, wet Hoover? No? Didn’t think so cause that would be rude as hell, but I bet someone’s thought it before.

(Me. It’s me, I thought that.)

Fuck those soft lips. Fuck that smooth snake of a tongue. Fuck that tight, hot throat that just loves to take a beating from my dick.

Can’t wait to prove my imagination right.

Speaking of, my dick has been beat. Like actually. If one didn’t know any better they’d assume it’s on life support, but I’m a freak of nature. Cumming upwards of 16 times in the span of 40ish hours would probably put a weaker man in a hospital bed. Or maybe a psych ward.

But I am not a weak man even if my dick feels raw. I’d still fuck you if you asked.

I’d be curious to know if I’d be able to stave off cumming longer from all the abuse or if I’d be so fucking sensitive that I wouldn’t make it in half an inch.

Probably the latter.

Diary Entry: August 2nd

Being so close to you is killing me. Truly it is.

You’ve sunken your claws so deeply into my very soul and you don’t even realize it. It’s torture. To you, I’m just the new guy, nice dude who gave you a book. But to me? You’re my entire world.

I’ve been told I have the personality of a guard dog. Soft and squishy on the inside, dangerous and fierce on the outside. Which I suppose could be true, but really I think it’s for a different reason. For a human, a dog is one small but very impactful blip in your life. But for the dog? You are it’s life.

Am I comparing myself to a dog right now? Yes I am.

I’ll beg for you to throw me the scraps of your affections until you finally toss me a bone.

Bark.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I’ve been trying my best to give you space. To plan accordingly and in advance. I have our next two interactions simmering on the back burner.

I know that if I go too hard, too fast, you’ll be overwhelmed. That’s the last thing I want. I never want to be the thing that causes you stress, I want to siphon it from you. So, in one week I will set out to help you with a few of your errands and plant a few seeds.

But until then, we have late night snacks and couch chats with Boogie.

I’ve also been doing- you guessed it- more research to do with helpful vitamins and medicines. You’ve responded so well to your SleepyTime tea and since I’ve started making sure your birth control packet is plainly visible in the countertop basket directly beneath that cabinet, you’ve been taking it so well.

I’m so proud of you sweetheart, that’s my girl, look at you taking care of yourself. You’ve done so well in fact, that it’s in my personal opinion that you have earned a very special reward.

Anakin sat on his couch, the live feed of your living room screen mirrored to his Tv. He was watching you cook dinner, he knew you’d be making a stir fry. He’d seen it in your planner, so he’d taken the liberty of ordering himself the same, it’d be here any minute. As would your good friend Sam.

Anakin had originally burned red hot with jealousy at the thought of you inviting a man over to your apartment, that he hadn’t vetted via social media and a quick drop-in. But he was relieved to discover that Sam was just a girl from your book club.

This wasn’t one of his well thought out plans, this was decided upon this morning after you’d returned from book club. So, he was anxious to see if his hunches served him well. Sam seemed like a punctual gal, at least from what he’d seen on social media and the text messages between the two of you from weeks/months before.

Anakin had the wonderful idea to log into your cell service providers website to pull your deleted messages from their data bank. You really should have better passwords.

The thing he was most worried about was his door dasher arriving on time. It was rare that one was too far off on arrival time, but it would be his shit luck and lack of planning that could ruin this little glimpse of you.

The minutes ticked by and he was alerted to the new motion sensors he’d placed near the LED pathway lights on the paved entrance to the apartment building. He quickly switched over to the hallway feed at the front door, seeing that it was his door dasher.

Damn you Trevor. How dare you get there before Sam.

Not to worry, he’d call for the door code and Anakin wouldn’t answer the first time. It wasn’t much but it would buy him a few seconds.

Though it seemed to be that luck was on his side as it often was when it came to you. Sam was so kind, kind enough to let the delivery guy into the building. Which is technically a security concern but Trevor didn’t seem like the type of guy who’d be able to remember a 6 digit door code.

He was too busy staring at your friends ass to pay attention to the numbers she entered anyway.

The footsteps approached your door and his, Anakin waited until he heard Sam knock on your door before he opened his. Trevor stood patiently as Anakin slowly counted out his tip in cash and thankfully you were quick to let your friend inside. After the exchange was complete Anakin gave you a smile and wave.

He could’ve had a heart attack at the response you gave him.

A flirty little finger waggle and smile.

He had to remind himself to breathe and keep his expression a happy-neutral. He’d hate for you to see his blushing cheeks this early on.

“Have a good night girls.” He said as he closed his door and to his surprise you actually answered.

“You too!”

If he weren’t confident that you were a sweet and loving soul, he’d think you were trying to kill him with the siren song of your voice.

Stir fry had never tasted so fucking good.

Diary Entry: July 8th

Grocery day baby, here I come.

I love that you’re so predictable. I love that you’re so fucking cute and always try to strong arm your groceries in one trip. I love that it takes at least two good whacks to the trunk of your shitty old Nissan to properly close it.

It’s cute to watch you struggle with it, the annoyed huffs and angry scowl.

I thought you’d combust on the spot once when your paper grocery bag of flour and sugar ripped open and sent a plume of flour up on your black jeans. The parking lot was very empty and I was very glad because I’d hate for someone to have seen the cursing contest you had with yourself as you picked up your spilled items. Very unladylike you know. But it’s you so I don’t mind, I just like to hear you talk.

It’s almost time. I’ve been sitting in my car for about 10 minutes. Gotta account for the traffic on highway 76. Do you really have to shop all the way out there just because of the Whole Foods? C’mon baby they have the same shit at Kroger.

I’ve been watching your little blue dot on my phone and you’re rounding the corner so I’ll write you later doll.

I love you.

You pulled into the parking lot and sat in your car for a moment. Giving yourself the much need quiet to decompress from your work day and the grocery trip. After you’d checked your messages and scrolled for a moment you decided it was time to head inside before your frozen foods got… not so frozen.

You popped the trunk and fumbled with the faulty latch, your fingers feeling blindly under the metal lip until it finally detached and you were able to open the trunk.

You took a deep breath and scolded yourself for buying the extra few things that could’ve waited till next time. Second trips are for wimps and you weren’t one. So you loaded up your left arm bag by bag until you heard a humored puff of air and the beep of a car locking behind you.

“Need a hand sweetheart?” Anakin grinned, shoving his keys into his front pocket.

He waltzed over and took a few bags off your hands without waiting for a response. It took you aback, not because he hadn’t waited for permission, but because of the way he exuded an odd charm that made you falter.

“Anakin, really it’s alright I can get it.” You said, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion by his kind gesture.

“Mmm no, this seems like a two man mission sweet girl.” He smiled, gathering up a few the last few bags from the trunk and shutting it with one solid push.

“You really don’t have to-“

“I know I don’t have to.” He said tilting his head toward the apartment building to encourage you to walk with him. “I want to.”

“Thank you, that’s… thanks.” You smiled, a light blush creeping across your cheeks.

“Atta girl.” He chuckled, tapping in the door code and holding it open for you despite holding many more bags than you.

Something about the low tone of voice or maybe just the way he looked at you with his icey blue eyes… just sent a chill down your spine. A quick one that was gone in an instant, replaced by a warm glow in the center of your chest.

“Guess chivalry’s not dead.” You joked.

“I’m no knight.” He laughed, “but you’re sure as hell a princess.”

‘Oh that was smooth.’ You thought, trying to ignore the heat at the bottom of your stomach.

What is happening? How on earth can one man be so… everything? Kind, caring, chivalrous and gorgeous to boot.

You felt a wave of embarrassment at the squeaky giggle you let out. He had you tore up from one little comment.

True to the gentleman he seemed to be, he chose not to push it and tease you about your beet red cheeks. He just waited patiently for you as you unlocked your door.

“Do you want me to bring these in for you?” He asked, watching your movements closely.

“Oh that would be great.” You said in relief, leading him into your kitchen.

“Cute little place.” He said, looking around the kitchenette and over to the living room.

He sat down your bags on the counter and started unloading them neatly into rows.

“Oh, you-“

“Mmm mmm.” He shook his head with a smirk, “Just let me help, it’s no big deal.”

You let out a puff of air in an amused sort of amazement and pulled out your little step stool to open up the cabinets. Anakin snickered from behind you as you stepped up and started putting things away.

You shot him a glare over your shoulder and almost said something snarky until you realized he was folding your paper grocery bags in the same way that you always do.

“Huh.” You laughed. “I thought I was the only one who did that.”

“Did what?” He asked, his head cocked to the side.

“Fold the bags.” You said, turning back around to continue placing your things where they belonged.

“Oh,” he chuckled, “I dunno it’s just a habit I guess. Fits better in that stupid slot on the recycling bin this way.”

“Yeah I never really understood why they made them that way? I guess so people don’t just shove other trash in there.” You mused.

“Mmhm probably.” He agreed, stacking them neatly and gathering it in his hands. “Do you want me to take these out back for you?”

“I can do-“ You stopped yourself when Anakin raised his eyebrow and cocked his head to the side with a crooked smirk.

You sighed and gave him a downturned smile. “Yes, I would love for you to take them out back for me.”

“Good girl.” He nodded, clicking his tongue and heading for the door. “See ya princess.”

After he shut the door you let yourself breathe alittle easier, blowing out the air in a short puff through your nose. Maybe even letting a little smile cross your lips before you finished up your task.

You’d be thinking about that low rumble of his voice later. Good girl? Shit.

PART FIVE

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